and this is the last styling of this series, i hope you enjoyed it like me, every comeback riize had i just imagined how Seunghan would look and ah i wish we could see it TT luckily will see him in future comebacks so yes 🤭
let me know which one was your favorite, if you like ir, how did you imagined him!!! everything! i love feedback and a nice talk
ps: if you search for the pants on the second styling of this post i think you can see my vision more clearly 🙂↕️
okay 2 themes completely different but so cool and beautiful at the same time
i wanted seunghan to match the rider vibe sungchan has idk i like it, and the lightning strikes on the pants reminded me of that part of the mv where they appear with the name eunseok give to them so yeah
You don’t know when the realization hits harder—when he walks out of the bathroom shirtless, towel slung low on his hips, water dripping from his hair, or when he’s curled up on the couch in his hoodie, rubbing his eyes and mumbling half-asleep sentences like a literal baby.
Anton Lee.
Your boyfriend.
Your boyfriend.
Hot. Fine. Ridiculously cute. Somehow both a menace and a comfort in one perfectly built body.
And you? You just stare at him from across the room, cheeks warm, blinking like you're still trying to process the fact that this is real life. That he wants you. That he loves you.
He notices the staring, of course. He always does. And like the little smug punk he is, he smirks.
“What?” he asks, voice low and teasing as he approaches, still drying his hair with the towel. “You good, babe?”
You blink again, eyes flicking from his toned torso to his annoyingly perfect face. “I just don’t get it.”
Anton raises a brow, settling on the edge of the bed. “Don’t get what?”
“How I pulled you,” you say bluntly. “Like… look at you.”
He chuckles, cocky but affectionate, leaning forward to rest his hand on your thigh. “You’re really gonna act like you’re not hot? I should be the one asking that.”
You roll your eyes, but your heart’s doing little backflips in your chest. “No, but seriously. You’re like—model-tier fine. And then you smile?It’s insane. Sometimes I look at you and wonder if you fell out of a webtoon or something.”
Anton grins wide now, dimples deepening, the kind of smile that makes your knees weak even when you're sitting down.
“Babe,” he says softly, dragging his fingers along your jaw until he’s cupping your cheek. “You pulled me ‘cause you’re you. Smart, funny, sexy as hell, and a little weird—which I love. And honestly…” He leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. “The way you look at me like I hung the stars? It makes me wanna ruin you every night.”
Your breath catches.
He pulls back just a little, eyes dark and playful. “Still confused about how you pulled me?”
“...A little less now.”
“Good.” He presses a kiss to your lips—slow and lazy like he’s got nowhere else to be but here, melting into you. “'Cause I’m yours. No confusion.”
You’re still blushing, still kind of reeling from his words when he suddenly shifts, crawling up the bed toward you with that look in his eyes.
That look that says I’m yours, but you’re mine too.
“I don’t think you really get it yet,” Anton murmurs, voice a little deeper now, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he cages you against the pillows. “You sit there looking at me like I’m some dream—but have you seen yourself?”
His hand slides up under your shirt, slow, tracing the curve of your waist like it’s his favorite thing to touch (because it is).
“Do you know what it does to me when you smile?” His thumb grazes your skin lazily. “Or when you wear my hoodie and nothing else?”
You suck in a breath, eyes locked on his as he hovers just above you. He’s close—too close—but you don’t want space. Not from him.
“I think about you all the time,” he whispers, kissing your jaw, your neck, every inch he can reach. “When I’m at practice, when I’m on stage, even when I’m tired as hell—I’m still thinking about how fast I can get back to you.”
Your fingers tighten in his shirt.
He leans in more, lips barely touching yours, but not kissing you yet.
“And you still wanna sit there acting like you don’t deserve me?” he breathes, brows raised, a teasing smile on his lips.
You swallow hard. “Maybe I just like hearing you say it.”
Anton chuckles—a low, dangerous sound that makes your stomach flip.
“Oh, baby,” he smirks, finally kissing you. Deep, slow, possessive. “Then you better listen close…”
He kisses you again, firmer this time.
“...You’re the only one I want.”
Another kiss.
“You’re the one I dream about.”
His hand slips lower, making you gasp softly.
“And you pulled me because no one’s ever made me feel like this.”
He finally settles beside you, pulling you into his chest like he can’t stand not being close, lips still brushing yours between words.
“Pretty girl,” he whispers, “I don’t ever wanna hear you question it again. You’re it for me.”
And just like that, the room is warm with his presence, your heartbeat syncing to his, and all you can do is hold on tighter—because how did you get so lucky?
tell me you see the vision with the first outfit bc damnnnnnn he would look so good!!! i tried to mix those two looks and i love it (i also thought about Seunghan as Igloo from Kiss of Life)
and the second one i wanted him to match with Sohee ^^
this time is a series where i will be styling Seunghan as if he were in the last eras of Riize (as it should have been :))
I just know Seunghan would look sooo good with the long coat winter theme, and the part of the mv where they are dancing and riding bikes in comfy clothes,, yeah that suits him a lot 🥹
i'm so excited to do the next era, i hope i do well aaaaa
𓂃۶ৎ SYNOPSIS : When multiple leaked photos ignite a wildfire of speculation, the world is certain—BOYNEXTDOOR'S Y/N is secretly dating one of the members. But who? No one knows, and you refuse to clear the air. Instead, you turn the chaos into a game, scattering cryptic clues and half-truths while every member plays along, deepening the mystery. Every glance, every post, every moment is a riddle waiting to be solved. Is the answer hidden in plain sight, or are you leading everyone in circles? How far can a secret stretch before it unravels? And when it does—will anyone be ready for the truth?
𓂃۶ৎ PAIRING : boynextdoor x 7th member!reader
𓂃۶ৎ GENRE(S) : smau, romance
𓂃۶ৎ WARNING(S) : kys/kms jokes, sexual jokes, gay jokes, random timestamps/timeskips, profanities, mentions of food
𓂃۶ৎ STATUS : ongoing
𓂃۶ৎ YAYYYYY NEW SMAU!!! I've been anticipating writing this one and I'm so happy to finally share it with all of you! I just think this is a new interesting take of a smau bcs I believe I haven't seen anyone do such a smau before! Place your bets! Who do you think is y/n's secret boyfriend?~ 😉
𓂃۶ৎ This is purely fictional and does not reflect the idols' real personality!
contains: minji from njz is mentioned, reader is a camgirl, hookups and previous fwb relationship mentioned, protected sex, recorded sex, sex at the workplace mentioned
Neither of your jobs were fun. There was never any control in the amount of people that came in, no way of knowing when it’d be busy. There were Friday afternoons where there’s no business and Monday mornings when everyone was packed shoulder to shoulder. There were countless shoplifters that could never be picked up by the cameras due to the crowd and their ability to blend in and disappear.
There was always something wrong with the building itself. The sterile white interior was to hide that last week they found a rat in the food court, and the month before that there was kid missing for the better half of an afternoon. There were several buckets around the mall, picking up water from leaks and wet floor signs that were perpetually propped up.
Behind your register you spent all day handing gift receipts to customers. Over the years faces started to blend together and at this point in the day, someone only stuck out if they made a particularly terrible impression. If they asked about stock you didn’t have or if they needlessly gave you attitude they’d be on your mind for the rest of the day. At home doing dishes and randomly thinking about the tone of a strangers voice and getting so mad you have to leave to clear your head.
Your coffee always ended up becoming lukewarm because you constantly ended up working by yourself. You never had time to enjoy your coffee at the right temperature, and the corporate curated playlist became the worst type of white noise. Your customer service voice was wearing off, and standing behind the register with nowhere else to go was making you restless. Your knees nearly buckled during your last transaction, and you leaned all your weight against the table that the point of sale system rested on.
When the last customer left the store and people were browsing you finally had a moment to yourself. You had your wasted drink and your phone, tucked away beside the register in the place your manager chided you for. But she wasn’t here—she was never here—and the one thing that freed you from your customer service purgatory was stealing quick glances at your phone. Tiny moments of looking mindlessly at your notifications was what got you through the work day, and the act of defiance made you feel like you were in charge somehow.
You steal one glance towards the swinging door leading to the back of house. Your shift lead and coworker were back there, one on their break and the other pretending like they were doing work. When you realized neither of them were coming out even if you were screaming for help you pull your phone from its hiding spot beside the register. You prop up your elbows and rest your head in your hands, trying to hide that you’re looking at your phone and not bending down to stretch your body. You reason that it’s only fair you look at your phone, that’s probably what the two of them were doing in the back anyways. No one was in line to buy something and this was the fourth Shawn Mendes song you’ve heard in the last hour. You deserved to scroll around on your apps for a moment.
The time was what caught your attention first. That rush made the worst half of your work day disappear, and your coworker was due to come back on the floor any minute. You had a text from your annoying roommate about something annoying you were going to ignore until you couldn’t anymore. A notification of a TikTok being sent to you, something about threads on Instagram. You kept scrolling, waiting for something else.
For the past month that’s all that it felt like you were doing. Each time you looked at your phone you were waiting for a text message or a call. You wanted it to be from Anton, who used to work at the clothing store across from where you work. Your arrangement for your breaks was still so engraved in the back of your mind it had become a habit.
While you stare at your old text conversations with him, you see the swinging door open. You shove your phone into the cubby hole the same time Minji comes out. You relax seeing her, the one person who cares less about this job than you do. There’s no reason to play into the employee-of-the-month persona when it’s just Minji. She’s still finishing the food she got on her break and adjusting her uniform while she comes to you.
You didn’t even know what was happening in the store as Minji stood beside the register. You just looked at her, doing a quick scan of the store before reaching over you to grab her watered down drink. She took one last sip of mainly ice and water before tossing it in the garbage.
“You can go on your break.” Minji says.
You pull your phone from its hiding spot just for Minji to put her phone in the exact same place. She swallows the last of her food just in time for two people to wander. Minji greets them, a superficial hello as you grab the rest of your things behind the register.
Wordlessly you traded off with her, signing out from the system so she could sign in. You slide past Minji and she goes to your spot, standing on the anti-fatigue mat your manager got in response to you two begging for a chair.
After that you moved the fastest you had all day to make it to the back of house. Exactly what you expected was waiting for you behind the swinging door. Your shift supervisor was on her phone, looking at you from the side before going back to the loud video playing on her phone.
“Going on your break?” She asked.
There was a time when your shift supervisor was the hardest worker in the store. One step below the manager with none of the benefits, but she used to run the store diligently. Now she seemed to always be in the back on her phone, pretending to type something pertaining to business or ordering something else. Now she watches loud videos and was anal about time management, despite spending the majority of her day not helping on the floor.
But you’re not supposed to be focused on work. For the next thirty minutes you are free, nothing is tying you to work. You are trying to be in and out of the store fast, but your supervisor insists on having a conversation. When she pulls away from her phone completely you have to hold back a sigh, knowing you’re about to get a lecture on something unimportant. You were still pissed from when she took a customer’s side over yours last week, giving her a discount on her purchase even though she was in the wrong and rude. You wondered if she even remembered how the customer talked to you when she checked her watch quickly.
“Make sure you’re actually back in thirty minutes.” She says.
“Alright.” You say.
You don’t look at her anymore after you throw your jacket over your shoulder. From your bag you stuff your keys and wallet into your pockets, and you’re done. Your shift supervisor gets to sit in the back on her ass and get paid for it, but you can’t have a grace period with coming back from your break?
This is the exact reason why you and Minji abuse the fact that no one else wants to work here. You both get to be the worst employees in your own ways. She gives attitude back to the customers and is late almost everyday. You take extra long breaks and have a problem getting off your phone. What matters is that you two are here for every shift, even if you don’t want to be, and you two have been here for a long time. Like this place is purgatory or something worse you can’t escape. So you say okay to your supervisor telling you to come back on time, even when you both know you’re not going to. At the very most she’ll chide you and say something slick about being here on time, and Minji will say something under her breath about being grateful you two are here at all.
“Enjoy your break.” Your shift supervisor says.
“Thanks.”
You push the swinging door a little harder and clear out of the store a little faster. You don’t even look over your shoulder to tell Minji goodbye, and you don’t think twice about another unpredictable rush of people coming into the store. Minji is too focused on helping three customers at once to tease you about coming back on time. The best time to leave was when it was the busiest. If you were lucky by the time you came back the crowd would thin out.
You slip out of the chaos, enjoying the peace you’re going to have for the next twenty-nine minutes. You’re able to block out the grating music and Minji yelling for the next person to come to the register.
If this was a month ago, Anton would’ve been in the food court. He would’ve been sitting at the table right next to the yellow wet floor sign to sit at a table facing your storefront. He would’ve had his messenger bag slung over one shoulder and resting in his lap, eating whatever he munched on from the food court while he waited for you. You left your work in such a rush like he would still be there, looking at his phone but paying attention to who was coming in and out. You looked to the left to see the store Anton used to work at, the constant food traffic was something he hated. People going in meant they were messing with the clothes in the display, unfolding them and leaving it for Anton and his coworkers to fix.
When you found yourself stuck too much in the routine of seeing Anton you look up. On the second floor the images of his face and body sporting a luxury brand knocks you out of whatever trance you end up in. Anton from the past would see you before you saw him, pushing his white chair out from under the table until it grated against the linoleum floor. You can still see him accidentally knocking over his plastic cup from Auntie Anne’s in his haste to follow you. Anton from the past would’ve cut through the endless chatter and walked against the foot traffic of everyone else to keep in time with you. But the Anton now models for Gucci and Louis Vuitton, and his pictures are hanging up on the second floor to advertise the brand.
Still though, you can’t help but think about him. You would always look past Anton fixing his jacket and slinging his messenger bag just to fix it again. You liked looking from side to side in fake contemplation, like you both didn’t know where you were heading to.
Even if Anton isn’t here, you still do some of the same things. You turn on your heel the same way and head towards the exit against the foot traffic of everyone else. You look over your shoulder like he would be there, bobbing and weaving through the crowd to catch up to you. Sometimes you kept a distance other times you two would walk at the same pace, matching strides and everything. Without him there beside you, you imagined him still in the crowd, apologizing to everyone he was bumping into. You could see him vividly mouthing excuse me and sorry while you passed through without saying a word. He’d be moving sideways, trying to be as nimble as you were on your feet. He was too nice. If someone bumped into you, that was their fault. You were on your thirty minute break, everyone else was in your way.
The crowd didn’t thin out until you made it out of the food court. By the time you made it to the kids play area it was sparse. just the few people coming in from the parking lot or leaving the mall entirely. All the children that were ditched at the indoor playground stared at you walking in such a rush. Their mothers were busy shopping and the toys stopped being entertaining a long time ago, you didn’t blame them. But you kept the same pace when you normally would’ve slowed down for Anton to catch up, trying to make it to your car to maximize on your free time.
You looked up to the upper floors of the mall, the elusive place that had better hours and better pay than the stores on the ground floor. Up there they got hour breaks and a bigger staff discount. They also dealt with a different and more refined clientele, while you and your coworkers dealt with prepubescent shoplifters and adults who acted like children.
You looked even further up, until you made it to the glass ceiling where all the natural light came through. Moving up on the corporate ladder here meant being transferred to the higher end stores. But work doesn’t matter right now, you’re on your break.
You refused to slow down when you realized time was still ticking away. At this point, Anton would’ve started working up to a slow jog to close some of the distance. Another look over your shoulder and you would’ve seen he was closer, a hand over the strap of his bag and his other hand in his pocket. You zipped up your jacket. You could already feel the chill from the constant opening doors.
When you made it to your car, you were still thinking about him. You had to stop yourself from crawling in the backseat from muscle memory, and you spent your time in the drivers seat thinking about him. You had a secluded place in the back of the employee parking lot because of him. Your supervisor asked about why you were parked in the back corner of the parking lot all the time. You couldn’t tell her that you were too busy fucking the boy from a few stores down everyday on your breaks so you lied. You didn’t know that saying you had a tendency to bump into other cars would lead to you being quarantined in the back corner. The word spread fast, because even after Anton left and you tried rejoining your coworkers cluster of cars they started avoiding your vehicle like the plagued. So you stayed in the corner and you continued to think about Anton and what you two would do around this time of day.
Since Anton left there wasn’t anything that gave you that rush anymore. Knowing Anton was a couple strides behind you and he was closing in made it feel like you were young, no other worries beyond getting to your car as fast as possible. Getting closer and closer to your vacant car with the close-to-illegal tint blacking out all of your windows. That moment when it would just be you and him in the parking lot. Hearing his feet drag across the gravel in contrast to your light and quick steps. Not looking over your shoulder that one last time but knowing he was practically right there. Looking at his reflection in the window before you unlocked the back door. Crawling inside and closing the door behind you but leaving it unlocked just for him. That moment when you could see him but he couldn’t see you was always the best.
heyyyy
is your number still the same?
Everything else happened pretty quickly. Anton replied within the day and told you that he never left the city, he only traveled to each job.
But there was no way you could tell Anton the truth initially. Despite your previous arrangement, talking about what you did as a side hustle now felt too vulgar, especially because you were convinced he no longer wanted to be associated with the life he lived working on the ground floor of the mall. But something about Anton was so inviting, you couldn’t stop yourself from telling him that you did streams on the side to try and make extra income.
Anton surprised you after you told him. He asked if you needed help. Like you were coming to your workplace hookup and part time friend for help on your camgirl side quests. But Anton campaigned to help you, he was adamant that being a model made him a professional in terms of posing and lighting. Within the week you were sneaking Anton past your annoying roommate into your bedroom to help you take pictures and videos for your new Twitter account.
He was great help. The money started coming in, you gained followers faster than you ever had. You were getting the money finally, and you just needed a little bit more money to finally get a place of your own. The thought of a collaboration came to mind, and when you brought the idea up to Anton he campaigned for himself again, instead of a popular creator you were mutuals with.
You came around to the proposal quickly. The thought of working with someone you didn’t know already seemed crazy, but with Anton you could do it in the safety of your own apartment. So when he offered you agreed, and then you set time off for the weekend to film and asked your roommate politely if she could make herself scarce for a couple days.
“What if we went somewhere else to film?” Anton asked the question while you were putting back on your clothes after another photoshoot. He stood with his back facing you as if he wasn’t taking pictures of your naked body minutes prior. “Just to be extra safe? I think your viewers would like that too.” He added.
You told Anton he made a good point and that night he texted you to pack your bags for the cold and he picked you up directly from work at the end of the week.
The whole ride upstate Anton was adamant about going to a different location. He took his role as your director very seriously. A new location would interest your viewers, everything about it would bring people back. You two decided that a video would give you more money than a stream, and the longevity offered on posting to the platform was unbeatable.
When you and Anton arrived at the ski lodge you tried your best to not be amazed. You stopped mid-conversation to look at the cabin through the dashboard in amazement. Anton was still staring at you for a moment, and then he followed yours through the falling snow. The cabin was beautiful and laid out in a long line of the other cabins down the road.
“How much was all of this?” You ask when he puts the car in park in the shoveled driveway.
The thought of a private cabin in the snow and the cost was already piling on your never ending list of expenses. But Anton shook his head, even when he grabbed your bags from the backseat and let you lead the way to the cabin.
“The model money pays well.” Anton laughs to himself. You walk up the steps to the cabin and open the lockbox. “I came here for a photoshoot and they gave me a discount and everything.” He continues
When you open up the door your surprised again. You know that this is a resort, that it’s supposed to be a home away from home. But even with Anton turning on the light and coming in behind you to drop the bags by the door it’s peaceful. No loud roommate, no expenses, no work. There’s a peaceful stillness, even if you’re here under debauched pretenses.
“I think.” You point towards the common area with the long gray couch and the television hidden away in the entertainment center. “I think here would be a good place for it.” You motion vaguely to the area in front of the head of the couch. Anton walks beside you “We could set the tripod up there, ya know?”
When you look to Anton he’s nodding his head, but then he points upstairs.
“We should look at the other rooms too.” With his messenger bag over his shoulder and your backpack on his back he starts walking towards the stairs. You take off your shoes and follow after him. ”Just in case.”
Up the stairs you see the other rooms. To the left from the landing there’s one bedroom, then right next to it is the other. Anton follows you into each one, letting you turn on the lights and walk around in each room. When you turn back you see him waiting in the doorway. He’s already seen the entire cabin, he lets you choose the bigger room and brings your things up before he even thinks about grabbing his own things.
“Still prefer the couch I think.” Anton nods but still waits in the doorframe. He follows you like a shadow down the stairs, only creating distance when you sit down on the couch. His hesitation makes you pause. Your laptop is in front of you and so is the camera, and the tripod is already set up in front of you. “Once I’m done with everything up we can get started.” You say.
Anton is still off to the side from the couch, staring at you working. It feels like you’re at the mall again, instead of the food court it’s the wooden floors of the kitchen and your workplace is the living room.
You think about pressing further to see if Anton has gotten cold feet. Worse case scenario you can just have him film you, he’s done it before and you brought toys just in case. You shift on the couch and Anton finally comes closer. He sits on the furthest cushion of the couch and you prepare to hear the worst. Anton draws in a deep breath, and you push your laptop away.
“You’re not tired from the drive or anything?” Anton raises his shoulders and then motions outwards, like he’s trying to show you to let go of the burden. “Should we talk a little bit? Maybe get something to eat so we can clear our heads?”
You have to smile at Anton’s avoidance to look at you. The very first time you two met he was anything but assertive. Avoiding eye contact, delivering something for his manager and ending in a laugh when he realized how quiet he was being. He is better at holding eye contact now, but he still has to avert his eyes when he mentions why you two are here.
“Tryna take me out before we fuck, Anton?” You smile and Anton laughs too, breathy and exasperated before he smiles back. You motion towards your ready equipment. “My head is clear.”
The way Anton’s hands grip his thighs tells you he knows you’re lying. But you two haven’t caught up in forever, and you know he doesn’t want to be presumptuous. You cut him some slack, taking a deep breath of your own and crossing your legs on top of the bed.
“We should probably set some ground rules beforehand, though.”
Anton sits up on the couch and nods.
“I’m going to blur out our faces once we are done filming and we shouldn’t say eachother’s names.”
“What about pet names?”
Flashbacks to the sweaty backseat of your car and Anton moaning that you’re his baby into your ear makes you nod your head. It also makes you avoid eye contact, clearing your throat as you try to remember the other rules you wanted to set.
“I’ll ask before I do anything.” Anton looks from his lap to your face. He’s sincere, lips pulled to a tight line as he nods his head. “It’s your video and you’re in charge.” He says.
You knew Anton was different. When you became a camgirl you were exposed to an entirely different type of men. You saw the things they would say in your streams and on your posts, dirty things that had you wondering what they looked like on the other side of the screen. If you dressed pretty for a video they’d only tell you that it was nice like they knew it’d be coming off later. A setup for a terrible joke that you’d have to fake laugh at. He’s been eying you since he picked you up from work; not like he was tearing you apart but like he was trying to figure you out. No one has tried to figure you out since you started chose your profession.
You would’ve never guessed that Anton was so adamant about having you. Not in the way the other men wanted—he didn’t take you out to a disgusting bar hoping to score by paying the drink tab—but he brought you to a fancy cabin in the snowy hills and offered to take you to a fancy restaurant down the road that you’ve never been to before. He was treating this like a couple vacation. That seemed to be the way Anton wanted to have you. His pseudo-girlfriend, sitting across from him on a couch while you set up your camcorder to film you two having sex.
“Is your manager still an asshole?” He asked.
“Yeah. All she does is play on her phone in the back of house.” You answer.
What you really want to ask is why he hasn’t fucked you yet.
Like the worlds longest game of chicken, Anton has not made a single move on you. You two crossed over that line a long time ago, sometime between you pulling him on top of you during your lunch breaks. You two already talked about how awful your current managers and his former coworkers were, and he knew exactly how you liked to be touched. There was no reason to play this game, it could even be argued that this was all one big distraction from the task at hand.
You weren’t ashamed to admit that at this point in your life you had been around. Even if you were faceless in your videos and your streams that still counted as something. You were sure that Anton needed someone to match his outward demeanor. A shy, sweet girl, maybe he could find a model during one of his gigs. But he seemed persistent about you and getting to know you all over again. His doting wouldn’t stop you from making money, you knew he knew that. Sometimes it seemed like he enjoyed your resistance to his courting, that his shy chivalry didn’t have an affect on you.
Sitting across from him on the couch you still believed it. You were waiting for the moment Anton would start showing his true colors, being a little more like the other people you entertained. You wanted to call him a lover boy and pull at his beanie like you did when you both worked at the mall. You also wanted to tell him that he was doing way too much for you, that being here as his human dildo and photographer was more than enough. You still didn’t know how to possibly thank him for getting this secluded cabin away from your annoying roommate without even having to ask him.
No one tells you how cool girls who stream have to be. Men could be in this line of profession and do whatever they want. They can have no tact and still get laid just as easy. When you’re a girl who does what you do, you have to be indifferent. You have to treat everything like it doesn’t matter and you care less than you do. But you also have to be an angel, permanently with your customer service voice when you stream or interact with people over Twitter. You have to deny the sweet boys advances and lament that you’re too cool for them, even if you know nothing about them.
You also have to pretend like you don’t care that Anton hasn’t touched you since he started helping you with your side hustle. You have to pretend like you’re not so depraved by the thought of him and him alone that you start equating everything he does for you to sex. When he picked you up from work today that was sex. Him opening the car door for you and carrying your bags was also sex, and the way he let you take the biggest room was sex too. You had become so desperate in such a short amount of time that you had set up a system, all while dropping subtle hints you were too busy for a relationship.
You considered for awhile that Anton was seeing other people too. He definitely had to have a roster of his own, pretty models who liked his soft voice and gentle demeanor. You told yourself he was in a long term relationship that you didn’t know about and he was just looking to you for some fun, or helping out a friend. You also considered that he got his first model paycheck and needed a pretty thing to throw his extra money at.
You never asked Anton anything to confirm or deny your suspicions. You were too busy trying to ignore the fact that he hadn’t even touched you before you were searching up his ad campaigns in your free time. No one warns you about how cool you have to be. Treating everyone like another body is all fun and games until the body is young and interesting and kind and funny and hot and familiar and—
“I’m glad we’re here together.” Anton said.
“Me too.”
He closes a little bit of the distance on the couch, coming closer until only a cushion separates the two of you. You think to yourself again why he hasn’t fucked you yet. You would’ve settled for a quickie in the bathroom, or in the parking lot when he picked you up for old time’s sake. You would’ve settled for something as juvenile as grinding and heavy petting, anything would’ve mulled you over. You just needed your fun, that’s what you were looking for and what you were being deprived of because he was too busy treating you like his girlfriend.
Seeing how nonchalant Anton had suddenly become made you even more pent up. Was there something you didn’t know about him, was there something he was hiding? The more you thought about him, the more you realized you knew nothing about him. Just that he used to work a few stores down from you, and he modeled now and you were both pulled from your schedules to be here today.
Everything he did made you cling to his every move. When he moved even closer to you the camcorder was on the tripod now, and you shut your laptop and put it on the ground to move it out of the way.
The two of you are just sitting in silence, side by side. Even though neither of you have a time constraint, it feels like you’re running out of time. You should be pulling him on top of you, the longer you took the more footage you’d have to edit out.
“Are you usually like this?” Anton asks the question even though he knows the answer. He’s been recording and taking pictures of you for the better half of the month, and he knows that you’re never scared to film. But now you’re hesitant, it’s Anton who has to take the first step to put a hand on your thigh.
“I’ve never had to wait this long.” You move back to the corner of the couch so you’re propped against the armrest and the back of the couch. Anton immediately follows after you, turning on the couch to face you completely. When Anton covers up your body too much you put a hand on his shoulder, keeping the smallest distance between you two. But his hand moved to cup your cheek, and he’s grabbing at your thigh. “Why are you making me wait for so long?” You ask.
Anton pulls at you again, and he drags you from the armrest of the couch until you’re completely on your back.
“I wanted to treat you nice.” Anton’s hand guides your legs to wrap around his waist.
“You do treat me nice.” You say immediately. You pull Anton closer by a hand on his shoulder.
“But I also didn’t want you to think I was just around for sex.” Anton looks to the camcorder you propped up in the corner of the living room. The red dot blinks back at him, bright and a stark difference from the warm lighting of the lamp on the tiny table beside the couch. “Will this be in the video though?”
You turn Anton’s head to look back at you.
“Just pretend it’s not even there.” You say quickly. “I’ll edit it all out, don’t even worry about it.”
Anton smiles at you, and before you know it he has you flipped over on top of him. He guides you to straddle him completely, and then he’s pulling at the bottom of your shirt. He helps you push it off your body, and he balls up the fabric to throw it somewhere else in the room.
Even though you and Anton had gone all the way, you have never been put on such a display for him. Despite him recording you in various states of undress for your side hustle, there’s something different about you doing this just for him. Even if your camera records everything, you’re undressed just for Anton, and he’s looking up to you and gripping your chest like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you.
You don’t rush Anton’s hands. You let him be greedy and you let him take his time. You watch how you fit into the palm of his hand, how he wraps around you so easily.
Anton is holding onto you and then he moves so fast it almost makes your head spin. In seconds his chest is pressed to your front, and an arm behind him is keeping him propped up. He presses his lips to the valley of your chest. A gentle kiss turns into the feeling of Anton sucking at your skin. Your lips part and a tiny gasp slips out, Anton keeps sucking and you wrap a hand in his hair to keep him there.
He pulls away, and you can already tell the patch of skin is going to be ugly tomorrow. Anton is unaffected, instead looking up at you. His lips are still glistening with spit when he pulls you closer.
“Do you think I’ll still be a good fuck?” He asked.
As embarrassing as it was to admit, you knew he would be. Even when you tried your best to not give him all the credit, reasoning with yourself that his height would make him a good fuck on technicality, you knew there was something more to it. Anton had the tendency to be a gentleman, but a specific brand of chivalry that seemed to be an innate part of who he was. He held the door open for everyone without a second thought and he always waited for you to ask for help even if you were visibly struggling. He always offered to pay for anything you laid your eyes on. He knew how to throw his weight around and show off his strength in a way that wasn’t intimidating, but had a way of paying such intimate attention to everyone it made you feel like there was something more between you two. He is attentive, he is kind, he is hot, he is tall, he is strong, and you think about him all the time—of course you knew he’d be a good fuck.
Anton exhibited his strength again when you felt his hands scratch against your scalp, rough and demanding. As some sort of reprieve from the intensity you tried bringing your body closer to his. He was one step ahead of you—like he always was—and pulled you by your hair. You felt the pinprick sensation on your scalp and the tug made more of your neck and chest exposed to him. You could feel his eyes burn a hole the same place on your chest where there’d be a mark in the morning.
“How many people have you fucked?” Anton asked, eyes still on the angry splotch on your chest. “Since we stopped seeing eachother?”
He licked his lips and leaned his head towards the same spot before flickering his eyes up to you. The position Anton had you in currently was compromising and he showed no signs of letting go. By the marks on your chest and the numbness of your lips you could already tell that Anton had some sort of problem when it came to possession. He was clearly the jealous type too, evident in the way the word fucked fell from his lips. Like he had to gag the word out, like the simple thought of someone else touching you like this made him want to vomit.
The way Anton spoke made you think if you told him the truth of how many people you’ve seen there’d be nothing left of you by the time he was done. So you shook your head against the grip he has on your hair, trying to will the bass back to your voice.
“I don’t think you wanna know.” You say.
Your words hitch at the end when his hand palms your chest. Anton’s hands are soft despite the sheer size, but the way he pinches your hardened nipple is purposefully rough. Your sensitive skin is rolled between his middle finger and thumb, before he pulls your tit towards him. You whine from the pain and Anton looks at you eyes narrowed to let you know you gave him the wrong answer.
The answer to his question is much less entertaining, you couldn’t imagine telling Anton about all of the people who you entertain in your chats on your streams or the people that message you on Twitter. You also couldn’t imagine telling Anton that this was a slow week for you.
You finally casted your eyes down to Anton the same time he brought your chest back to his mouth. It was entirely too easy to hold you in the palm of his hand, to move you like you weighed nothing. You felt the absence of autonomy and it frightened you almost as much as it made you want to grind your hips on him again. The restriction didn’t stop you from moaning out when you felt Anton’s teeth graze your nipple, or whimpering when he brought his other hand to harshly pinch the other side.
You already feel an impeding orgasm just from how rough he’s being with you, you can feel your walls seize around nothing as you cause more of a mess on his lap. The feeling churning in your stomach almost made you sick as you looked down at Anton, tears dotting your waterline as it all became too much. He looked up from your chest to see your deep pout and wet eyes. Instead of cooing at you affectionately and asking what he could do to fix it he only laughed at you. With your chest in his mouth and his lips sucking on your skin he laughed. The vibrations made you jump and twist your hand around in his grip, desperately looking for his wrist to push your nails into.
“Were you thinking about me when you were with other people?” He asked. “Thinking about your boyfriend while you were playing girlfriend with other guys?”
You want to tell Anton that he is not your boyfriend and you don’t only entertain men. But once again, the truth seems to be suspended in Anton’s presence. So you nod your head, looking for some sort of reprieve from all the pressure. The fact that you look down at a fully clothed Anton while you’re getting more and more undressed is too much. Your bra came off a long time ago, and when you can get out of Anton’s greedy grip you try to push down at your waistband. You try to press your chest against his to kill two birds with one stone, but his hand that moved from your hair to your shoulder keeps you in place.
“Aht aht.” You could hear the mocking tone in his voice, your eyes refused to let you look down at the smirk that probably played on his lips. Your body unsuccessfully tried closing itself against Anton’s again, just to have his other hand tug on your hair again. “Don’t be embarrassed.” He coos.
Anton prevents you from pressing your body against his. You feel his eyes rake up and down your figure, again and again and you feel dizzy. You clench around nothing again and you whine, not stopping yourself from shaking your head.
“What’s wrong?” He asks.
Anton hand released your hair a while ago but you keep it in the same place. You can’t form a thought but the way Anton looks at you tells you he already knows. Still he tilts his head to the side. He gives you the chance to answer, the same way a predator lets it’s prey run away for the sake of the chase.
“Fuck me please.” You say.
When you appear to be the most hopeless, Anton goes for the kill. His hands releasing you completely makes you freeze, like you weren’t fighting against his grasp moments prior. He looks at you looking at him, and then his hands go to resting behind his head.
“Do your thing.” He says.
You reach for the buttons on his pants way too fast. You stand on shaking legs and knees to undo it with hasty hands, completely opposite of Anton’s demeanor. His hands are lax behind him, barely holding himself up while you push his pants down his leg. Your pants are caught like a constricting belt on your waist, the material on your leg rides up more and more with each move you make. You’re unbothered though, more concerned with getting Anton undressed before your own comfort.
The only way Anton moves is to reach into his back pocket as you push his pants down. He grabs his wallet, setting it on the table beside the couch as you continue pushing the denim down. Anton finally helps by lifting his waist off the couch, his fingers pushing his pants down the rest of the way. You follow suit, finally taking your pants off and letting it join the pile of clothes.
When Anton moved to lean against the back of the couch you went to straddle him again, completely naked while he still kept his shirt on. His hands were underneath your ass, kneading the skin harsher than he ever did before. He lifts you up with ease, and brings you back down until your clit bumps against his dick. There’s already a tiny dark stain blossoming at the bottom of Anton’s shirt from the precum leaking out from his tip. You start pulling at the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head so quickly it ruffles his hair.
“We never got to do this in your car.” Anton whispers it to you so low that you’re not even sure the camera would be able to pick it up. You’re becoming less and less aware of the camera recording you both, if you cared you would know that this was a terrible angle and it was barely picking up what was happening between the two of you. “Feels like the first time.” He laughs.
“It kinda is.” You look down to his lap, and you work the slimy latex of the condom he put in your hand over his dick. You never got the chance to put the condom on Anton, so you have your fun with him. You’re able to draw out a hiss from Anton and make him buck into your hand, and you’re able to make him lean his head back until he’s melting into the couch. “We get to take our time.”
Anton leans further into the couch and he’s nodding his head helplessly. He’s so different from just a few moments before when he was grabbing you roughly and leaving marks on your skin.
Like you two are desperately trying to make up for lost time you go through everything. You two are oscillating between being dominant and submissive, so quickly it’s almost confusing you both. Something tells you that you should be the dominant one tonight. That’s what your viewers are used to seeing, and technically you are the one on top. But you are at this place because of Anton, he’s the one that called you his girlfriend and meant it, and he was the one that was silently waiting for you to do what he wanted next. He was hard to figure out. He let you continue to jerk him off, letting out tiny sighs as your hand became slick from the lubricated latex.
You look down at Anton just to find that he’s already looking up at you. His eyes keep on flickering down to the mark on your chest, and for a second you think he’s going to lean forward and leave another.
“Can I touch you?” He asks the question while his hands continue to knead your ass.
You nod anyways, and instantly one of his hands is wrapping around your waist and the other is going to your clit. The sight of Anton’s hand superimposing you is intoxicating. The way he knows to apply just the right amount of pressure behind his hands makes you lose the pace you set with your own. He’s too attentive for his own good you’ve decided. When he lifts his hand up quickly to lick the tips of his fingers before going back down you’ve decided he’s dangerous. He makes you pitch forward, and when he presses a little harder you let go of his dick completely to hold the couch on either side of his head for dear life. When Anton speeds his fingers up your huffing in the crook of his neck.
“I always wanted to do this.” Anton whispers directly into your ear before kissing the shell. When you open. your mouth to reply he applies more force, causing only a strangled whimper to escape your lips. “You have no idea.”
All you could do was nod your head. You felt lost, out of breath as Anton continued working his finger on your sensitive bud. He didn’t stop even when your hand went to his wrist to try and stop his movement but he’s stronger than you. He just looks up at you and bites his lip, smirking when you struggle to keep eye contact.
“Does it feel good?” Anton laughs when he sees you can’t speak. “So good, right?”
You start reaching your hand down to grab his dick, desperately trying to convey what you need physically.
You’re grateful he gives in without you having to beg for it, because Anton finally takes his hand away from your clit to grab his dick instead. His other hand lifts you from his lap slightly, lining up at your entrance. His fat tip prods against you, and the way you already feel the burn in your legs. You were a seasoned professional, but with Anton looking up at you like you were the cutest thing in the world left you second guessing yourself.
“You gonna ride me?” Anton leans back on the couch and takes you with him, and you answer him by sinking down on him.
You sigh when you feel him push into you slowly, and when it’s down to the hilt you pull in a sharp breath. You can feel yourself pulsing around him already, and you tilt your head back when Anton moves underneath you.
“Is this for your viewers or for me?” You twist your head to the blinking red light, reminding you that you still are recording every single thing taking place. Anton follows your gaze over your shoulder, bringing you close by a hold on the back of your neck. “I’m your biggest fan, you know.”
You realize there’s no point in recording anymore, because Anton whispers everything into your ear and your body is blocking the view. The only thing the camera picks up is the wet sound of Anton bringing you down and down again on his dick. You don’t put on a show like you used to when it was just you and your toys, this is the real thing. Anton is living and breathing and warm, taking up all of you and getting you to take all of him again and again.
“I watched everything, by the way.” Anton keeps his hand wrapped around your waist, moving you back and forth on him. “You sound so different now, though.”
“No I don’t.”
You start moving your hips the same way Anton guides you, doing anything you can to take back control. He responds by changing the pace, and then bringing your chest close to his mouth again. Right next to the mark he already left he leaves another, that’s angry and even bigger than the one before.
“Yes you do.” It’s pitiful that you squeeze around Anton at the bass in his voice. He’s sincere, and then you’re on your back with Anton looming over you. “I know the sounds you make on your little streams are fake, but you’re not playing it up for me at all.”
The new position lets Anton dig deeper into you, and it lets him go faster and harder too. You’re on display for the camera now , and you’re reaching behind you to find stability in the armrest. Your sounds are unfiltered, slipping through your parted lips. You’re loud and wrecked, and Anton is right. You’ve never made sounds without thinking about them first. Nothing about this is calculated, down to the ferine way Anton is fucking you. He’s crashing his lips onto yours and you’re moaning into his mouth, just when you think you can handle it one of his hands pushes on the back of your thigh.
“See?” Anton is struggling too, his words getting pushed out with each thrust. He looks down between your two bodies where you meet. “You’re never this loud for your fake boyfriends.”
“Baby.” You whimper and he looks to you. The light from the lamp catches the sweat beading at his forehead and the flush on his cheeks. “I won’t be able to use this footage if you keep talking like that.”
Instead of pulling back, Anton smirks again. He speeds up, making your chest move and making you lose your breath again. He holds onto you tight and brings his body closer to yours, strong and solid over you.
“We’ll just have to film again then.” You scratch his back and you can’t even verbalize that you’re close. Anton’s sweaty forehead is pressed to your chest, keeping you glued together. “I got plenty more for you.”
You can’t keep it together long enough to warn Anton. You just move your hand to his head, holding him close to your chest as you cum. Anton stills for you, and you pathetically lift your hips again and again to get more stimulation. You squeeze around him and Anton just coos as you, kissing the flaming skin on your chest and telling you how cute you are even if you’re treating him like a human dildo.
He continues murmuring to you and coaxing you down from your peak until you’re spent underneath him, laying completely flat on the couch until you start melting into it yourself.
Anton’s large hand that was wrapped around your waist moves to your lower stomach instead. Feeling his hand on you causes you to twitch, and when he teasingly applies force you groan and start to writhe underneath him. He laughs at your condition, seemingly unfazed as he backs away from between your legs to sit down on the couch in front of you. The only indication that he’s as wrecked as you are is the way he takes in deep breaths, but even then he is ready while you’re still trying to regain your composure. Anton rubs your knee and smiles at how your limp leg yields to the lightest amount of force.
“I definitely won’t be able to use any of the footage.” You say. You turn your weak head to the camera and Anton follows suit. You playfully kick at his chest with your foot. “I bet the lighting was terrible. And you kept on talking to me all crazy.”
Anton’s hands go to your ankle, wrapping around it. He guides a foot to one side of your body, propping himself between your legs again.
summary. you never expected a simple message on a random night to change everything. but there you were, two strangers in different corners of the world, connecting as if you’d known each other forever.
genre. mini smau/written, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, sorta college au (it’s implied anton is in university)
warnings. slight use of profanity, slight age gap (reader is older by two years) mentions of a same sex relationship, please excuse the times on the ss, the date and stuff is added for storytelling purposes-
💬 — nananti talks. hi! i hope you enjoy this idea i pulled out my ass, guess my riize bias challenge impossible. please excuse any grammatical errors and punctuation mistakes, (working on a few things thats i’m extremely excited to share so stay tuned)
part one | part two | part three | part four | part five
genre: enemies to lovers, idiots to lovers, crack (bonedo dynamics mentioned) pairing: jaehyun x afab!reader wc: 4.6k warning: they're both a mess, non-stop banters. they kissed at the end. fought because of an egg. listen: antukin — rico blanco, i like me better — lauv, gusto ko lamang sa buhay — itchy worms, but i like you — boynextdoor
you don’t even remember the last time you and jaehyun had a normal conversation. not that you ever really did—because for as long as you’ve both been part of your respective sports teams, the only thing you’ve ever exchanged were complaints.
it started with the mess.
“seriously?” you had scoffed one evening, walking into the gym after the basketball team’s practice, only to find discarded water bottles, sweaty towels, and even an empty sports drink bottle rolling across the floor like a sad little tumbleweed.
the volleyball team had practice right after, and nothing pissed you off more than stepping onto a court that looked like a post-apocalyptic wasteland.
so, like any responsible captain, you took it upon yourself to find the root of the problem. and that root had a name: myung jaehyun.
“hey, jaehyun, clean up your team’s mess next time,” you had called out after one of your shared gym sessions.
jaehyun, who was in the middle of chugging a bottle of water, raised a brow at you. “our mess?”
“yes, yours.” you gestured to the abandoned pile of trash near the bench. “you leave the place looking like a hurricane hit.”
he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shrugged. “not my fault you’re allergic to a little dirt.”
“not my fault you guys are allergic to basic hygiene.”
leehan, who had been dribbling a basketball nearby, snorted. “dude, she’s got a point.”
“whose side are you on?” jaehyun shot him a glare before turning back to you. “we don’t even leave that much of a mess.”
you let out a short laugh, stepping forward and kicking an empty bottle toward him. it rolled to a stop right by his foot. “oh yeah? then whose bottle is this?”
sungho, who had just been passing by, took one look at the scene and immediately pointed at jaehyun. “definitely his.”
jaehyun gave him a betrayed look. “are you serious?”
“i mean, statistically speaking, it’s more likely to be yours than mine,” sungho said with a lazy shrug. “i actually clean up after myself.”
“that’s a lie and you know it.”
“okay, but do i leave sports drink graveyards on the court? no.”
you crossed your arms and smirked. “see? even your own team thinks you’re the problem.”
jaehyun groaned, bending down to pick up the bottle before lazily tossing it into the trash can. “there. happy now?”
“ecstatic,” you deadpanned. “now do that, but every time.”
from then on, it became an ongoing battle. jaehyun’s team kept leaving behind their junk, and your team kept glaring at them from across the gym. you never actually fought, not really, but there was an unspoken war between the two of you—one built entirely on glares, sarcastic remarks, and aggressively wiping down volleyballs while jaehyun walked past you like he owned the place.
one time, after another particularly messy practice, you had stormed into the basketball team’s locker room, ignoring the immediate groans and complaints from the players inside.
“again?” you huffed, pointing toward the gym doors. “why do i have to keep reminding you guys to pick up after yourselves?”
leehan, who was in the middle of changing into a fresh jersey, blinked at you. “damn, i thought we locked the door.”
“she probably kicked it open,” riwoo muttered, adjusting his towel around his neck.
jaehyun, who was seated on the bench, barely looked up as he tied his shoelaces. “maybe if your team spent less time complaining and more time training, you’d actually win more games.”
your jaw dropped. “excuse me?”
he finally glanced up, a teasing glint in his eyes. “just saying.”
taesan whistled lowly. “oh, you’re dead.”
woonhak patted jaehyun’s shoulder like he was saying his final goodbyes. “it was nice knowing you, man.”
you took a deep breath, shaking your head as you turned on your heel. “you know what? forget it. next time i see even one of your bottles on that floor, i’m chucking it at your head.”
“looking forward to it,” jaehyun called after you, clearly amused.
god, you hated him.
as if the universe wasn’t already laughing at you, things got even worse when your teams had to start training together.
your school had decided that since both the basketball and volleyball teams shared the same gym, you might as well train under the same program for conditioning sessions. this meant early morning drills, weight training, and endurance exercises—together.
it was hell.
not because the training was hard (you could handle that), but because it meant spending more time around him.
the first morning session was already off to a bad start.
“alright, everyone, pair up,” the coach announced. “we’ll be doing partner drills for today’s endurance training.”
immediately, you turned to find one of your teammates, but before you could move, a familiar presence slid up beside you.
“guess we’re stuck together,” jaehyun said, his voice way too chipper for someone who just ran two miles as a warm-up.
you scowled. “who says?”
he gestured around. sure enough, all the pairs had already been formed, leaving you and jaehyun as the only ones unpaired.
“unless you want to run laps alone, i’d say this is fate,” he added, smirking.
you groaned. “curse.”
the drill was simple—one person would hold a plank while the other jumped over them repeatedly. then, you’d switch. simple in theory. infuriating in practice.
you started first, dropping into a plank position while jaehyun jumped over you. the first few were fine. but by the fifth jump, you were sure he was messing with you.
“are you—” you gritted out, arms burning from holding yourself up, “—doing this on purpose?”
jaehyun landed smoothly before hopping over you again. “doing what?”
“jumping so damn slow.”
“you should be thanking me. i’m giving you more time to work on your arm strength.”
you clenched your jaw. “i swear to god—”
“switch!” the coach called.
you got up, shaking out your arms before shooting jaehyun a glare. “watch how it’s actually done.”
he smirked, lowering himself into a plank. “looking forward to it.”
you took a step back, bounced on the balls of your feet, and leapt.
you might’ve landed a little too close to his back.
“jesus—are you trying to kill me?” jaehyun yelped, bracing himself.
“oops,” you said, not looking the least bit sorry.
from then on, training together became a battle of who could annoy the other more.
—
but the worst part? meal times.
since both teams had the same conditioning schedule, the coaches thought it would be a great idea for you all to eat together in the dining hall. something about team unity and bonding.
you called it suffering.
because every single meal, without fail, jaehyun would find a way to sit across from you.
like today.
“morning, partner.”
you didn’t even look up from your tray of eggs and rice. “go away.”
“nah, i like it here.”
you stabbed at your food aggressively. “why are you like this?”
“like what?” he asked, reaching over to steal a piece of your egg with his fork.
you smacked his hand away. “like that!”
leehan, seated next to jaehyun, chuckled. “dude, one day she’s gonna actually throw hands.”
“and i’ll be ready,” jaehyun said, grinning at you.
you rolled your eyes, turning your attention back to your food, determined to ignore him. but then—
clink.
you glanced up. jaehyun had casually placed his sports drink on your side of the table.
you frowned. “what?”
he smirked. “just marking my territory.”
sungho nearly choked on his juice. “bro, that sounds so wrong.”
taesan snickered. “he means his half of the table.”
you glared. “i hate you all.”
━
and then there was the winking.
the first time he did it, you thought it was an accident.
the second time, you realized it definitely wasn’t.
but by the fifth time? you were convinced he was just doing it to piss you off.
during games, during practice, even in the hallways—jaehyun had made it his personal mission to wink at you whenever he got the chance.
like during one of their practice matches.
you had been forced to stay behind in the gym, waiting for your team’s turn. so, unfortunately, you had a front-row seat to watching jaehyunshow off.
you sat on the bleachers, arms crossed, watching as jaehyun dribbled past a defender with ridiculous ease. he moved with that effortless confidence, quick on his feet, spinning past his opponent before driving straight to the basket.
the ball swished through the hoop, nothing but net. his teammates erupted into cheers.
jaehyun turned, scanning the gym, and then—
wink.
you scowled immediately. “oh, for fuck’s sake.”
your teammate, yuna, who was sitting beside you, snorted. “what is his problem?”
“he is the problem,” you muttered, gripping your water bottle with unnecessary force.
yuna hummed, clearly entertained. “you know, for someone who ‘hates’ him, you sure do pay a lot of attention.”
“i have to! someone needs to keep his ego in check.”
as if to prove your point, jaehyun jogged back to his side of the court, smug as ever, and made direct eye contact with you again.
you knew what was coming.
another wink.
you groaned dramatically, throwing your head back. “i hate him.”
woonhak, who had overheard from the bench, grinned. “that’s funny, ‘cause he sure loves pissing you off.”
you shot him a glare. “gee, really? hadn’t noticed.”
━
the winking didn’t stop. if anything, it got worse.
during practice, in the dining hall, even when you passed him in the hallways—he somehow found a way to send you that stupid, infuriating wink.
like today, after your volleyball practice.
you had just finished a brutal set of drills, sweat dripping down your back, when you spotted the basketball team lingering near the entrance. they must’ve been waiting for their turn in the gym.
and, of course, jaehyun was right at the front.
you barely spared him a glance as you grabbed your water bottle from the bench, but that didn’t stop him.
“looking good, captain,” he called out.
you narrowed your eyes. “shut up, jaehyun.”
he laughed, raising his hands in surrender before winking.
you swore you saw red.
leehan, standing beside him, sighed. “dude, what if she actually kills you?”
“nah,” jaehyun said, grinning, “i think she’d miss me too much.”
you threw your towel at his face.
━
but as much as you hated to admit it, life was never boring with jaehyun around.
even when the two of you were forced into situations that made you want to rip your hair out—like the latest disaster your biology professor had cooked up.
the day had started out normal enough. until you got your test results back.
you stared at the glaring red F on your biology test, feeling your soul leave your body.
beside you, jaehyun whistled, holding up his own paper with an identical F. “ouch.”
you turned to glare at him. “why are you failing?”
he shrugged. “dunno. wasn’t paying attention.”
“of course you weren’t.”
before you could spiral into a full-blown academic crisis, your professor cleared his throat, looking way too pleased for someone who had just failed half the class.
“since many of you didn’t do well on the test,” he began, eyes twinkling mischievously, “i’ve decided to give you all an opportunity to redeem yourselves.”
murmurs filled the classroom. you remained suspicious.
“you will be given a partner—someone who also failed.”
you immediately got a bad feeling.
“together, you will complete an assignment on responsibility and care. an experiment, if you will.”
you glanced at jaehyun, who looked just as confused.
the professor smiled. “for the next week, you will take care of an egg.”
silence.
then—
“a what.”
the professor clasped his hands together. “an egg! consider it a simulation of caring for a delicate, fragile life. you must protect it at all costs and document your progress. and, of course, your partner will be chosen randomly.”
your stomach dropped.
and then—
“y/n and jaehyun,” the professor announced.
you slammed your head onto your desk.
jaehyun, meanwhile, let out a low whistle. “well. this should be fun.”
you turned your head slightly to glare at him, cheek still pressed against the desk. “i swear to god, if you break our egg, i’m breaking you.”
he grinned. “relax, partner. we’ve got this.”
you groaned. “this is literally my worst nightmare.”
jaehyun leaned back, crossing his arms. “nah. your worst nightmare is me leaving the gym extra messy just for you.”
you lifted your head just enough to glare at him. “don’t test me.”
he winked.
you nearly flipped your desk.
“now listen carefully,” your professor continued. “your assignment is simple. you must keep your egg safe for one full week. if it cracks, you fail. if you forget it somewhere, you fail. if i so much as suspect that you’re not taking this seriously, you fail.”
you felt a headache forming.
professor lee’s eyes narrowed. “and trust me, i’ll know.”
a collective shudder ran through the class. professor lee was infamous for his unconventional teaching methods. last semester, he had made students carry around cabbages as part of a psychology experiment. cabbages.
you glanced at jaehyun, who was still grinning like he had won the lottery.
he thinks this is a joke.
you groaned. “i’m so screwed.”
“nah,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “we got this.”
you turned to him, deadpan. “jaehyun. you literally failed this class.”
he placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “so did you.”
“yeah, but at least i actually tried.”
he snorted. “right. well, don’t worry, partner. our egg’s in good hands.”
you didn’t believe that for a second.
“one last thing,” professor lee added, holding up a basket. “before you leave, come up and receive your child.”
you almost choked.
child?
yuna was practically vibrating with laughter beside you. “you’re gonna be a great mom.”
“shut up.”
jaehyun, on the other hand, was already making his way to the front, completely unbothered. when he returned, he was holding the egg in his palm, studying it like it was some ancient relic.
“alright, partner,” he said, plopping into his seat. “meet our kid.”
you stared at it.
it was just a normal egg. nothing special. fragile, small, and already giving you anxiety.
“we’re so failing this,” you muttered.
jaehyun scoffed. “have a little faith.”
you gave him a pointed look. “jaehyun. be honest. how long do you think you can go without dropping it?”
he paused.
then—
“...three days?”
you groaned again.
this was going to be the longest week of your life.
—
the first day of the project was already testing every ounce of patience you had.
you and jaehyun sat at one of the library tables, your so-called child resting in an old coffee cup between you. professor lee had made it clear that this assignment wasn’t just about keeping the egg safe—you had to document everything. feeding schedules (which made zero sense), bedtime routines, and even bonding activities.
you hated every second of it.
“this is the dumbest thing i’ve ever done,” you muttered, tapping your pen against the table.
jaehyun, who was busy doodling little lightning bolts around the word thunder in your shared notebook, smirked. “that’s because you lack vision.”
“oh, i have vision. i see our grades plummeting.”
he leaned back in his chair, tossing his pen in the air before catching it effortlessly. “relax, co-parent. we just have to act like responsible adults for a week.”
you squinted at him. “you literally left the egg unattended five minutes ago to go buy chips.”
he waved you off. “our kid was fine. independent.”
“it's an egg.”
“it's our egg.”
you exhaled sharply, choosing to ignore him as you scribbled in the notebook. but then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught him reaching for the cup.
you tensed immediately.
“what are you doing?”
“holding my child.”
“no. no touching.” you moved the cup further away. “i don’t trust you.”
he looked genuinely offended. “wow. you were the one who almost knocked it over earlier.”
“because you distracted me!”
“because you were making that stupid face while writing.”
“stupid face?” you gawked at him. “i do not make a stupid face.”
he shrugged. “if the shoe fits.”
you smacked his arm with the notebook. “contribute to this or i’m making you do the whole thing by yourself.”
“fine, fine,” he sighed, taking the pen from you. he twirled it between his fingers before scrawling something next to your notes.
you glanced at the paper.
“bonding activity: jaehyun teaches the egg how to shoot a three-pointer.”
you stared at him.
“you’re a menace,” you said.
he grinned. “and yet, here we are. bonded for life.”
you groaned, dropping your head onto the table.
and somewhere in the distance, leehan and taesan—who had been watching from another table—exchanged glances before bursting into quiet laughter.
the first time you stepped into jaehyun’s room, you had one goal: check on the egg, make sure it was intact, and leave.
but of course, nothing was ever that simple with him.
“welcome to the nursery,” jaehyun said, kicking the door shut behind him.
you rolled your eyes. “nursery? it’s your room.”
“our son lives here now,” he replied, completely serious. “show some respect.”
you sighed, stepping past him. his room was… surprisingly neat. you expected a mess—basketballs lying around, clothes thrown over furniture, maybe even an unmade bed. but aside from a few scattered notebooks and a pile of hoodies in the corner, it was normal.
too normal.
“where is it?” you asked, crossing your arms.
jaehyun walked over to his desk and held up a small shoebox. he lifted the lid, revealing the egg nestled in a bundle of socks.
you blinked. “you put it in a box?”
“i made a crib,” he corrected, placing the box gently on his bed. “cozy, right?”
you sat down at the edge of the bed, peering inside. "you could’ve at least used a tissue or something instead of Nike socks."
“those are premium cushioning. only the best for our kid.”
you scoffed, but you couldn’t deny that the egg was perfectly fine. untouched. safe.
and then, jaehyun did something unexpected—he sat next to you. not across from you, not at his desk, but right next to you, so close you could feel the warmth radiating off of him.
the usual chaos, the usual bickering, the usual tension that made you want to strangle him—it was still there. but something else settled in between the silence.
it was different here.
“so,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “how’s it feel knowing our son sleeps in my room?”
you turned to glare at him, but the second you did, you realized just how close he was.
your breath caught.
he was leaning on one arm, watching you with a lazy smirk, the kind that usually annoyed you to no end. but here, in this room, on this bed, it felt like something else.
something you didn’t want to name.
“i don’t care where it sleeps,” you muttered, looking away. “i just don’t want it broken.”
“i’ll take care of it,” he said, and for once, there was no teasing in his tone.
you swallowed. “good.”
but when you tried to stand up, he didn’t move.
“jaehyun.”
“hm?”
“move.”
he grinned. "say please."
you shoved his shoulder, and he finally let you go with a laugh, flopping back onto the bed as you practically sprinted for the door.
“same time tomorrow, co-parent?” he called after you.
you slammed the door behind you, heart pounding.
your hell starts the moment you start noticing things about jaehyun that you shouldn’t be noticing.
it’s the way he moves on the court—fast, precise, like he already knows exactly where the ball will land before it even gets there. it’s the way he runs a hand through his hair when he’s frustrated, the way he rolls his shoulders before a free throw, the way his eyes flicker to you after making a perfect shot, as if waiting for your reaction.
and it’s infuriating.
because now, even when you’re supposed to be focusing on your game, your team, your own plays—jaehyun lingers at the back of your mind like an annoying pop song you can’t get rid of.
but the worst part? it’s not just at the gym.
it’s when you’re in his room, sitting on his bed, checking on the egg like always. except now, you’re hyperaware of how close he sits, how he sometimes lets his arm rest against yours like it’s nothing. how, when you pout at him over something stupid—like the way he insists on calling your egg “junior” instead of a normal name—his gaze flickers to your lips for half a second too long.
and jaehyun?
he’s in denial.
because this was not supposed to happen. he wasn’t supposed to want to kiss you when you scolded him. wasn’t supposed to feel heat creeping up his neck when you absentmindedly played with your necklace while talking. wasn’t supposed to care that your team captain from another school once called you “impressive” after a practice match.
he wasn’t supposed to want you.
and unfortunately for him, his friends have noticed.
“so,” woonhak drawls one afternoon, lazily dribbling a basketball as they sit on the bleachers, watching you and your team wrap up practice. “when are you gonna admit it?”
jaehyun doesn’t even look up. “admit what?”
leehan snorts. “that you like her, dumbass.”
“i don’t,” jaehyun scoffs, leaning back against the bench.
sungho raises a brow. “right. that’s why you’re staring at her like she personally offended you by existing.”
jaehyun looks away immediately, only for leehan to chuckle.
“you do realize she probably feel the same way, right?”
that makes jaehyun freeze for a second.
taesan hums. “she still argue with you, sure. but i see the way she get all flustered when you compliment her. she didn’t used to react like that.”
jaehyun opens his mouth to deny it again, but then he thinks back.
to the way you stumbled over your words last week when he casually told you your spike was getting better. to the way your breath hitched when he tucked your hair behind your ear. to the way you hesitated before leaving his room the other night, as if you were starting to feel this too.
maybe his friends were right.
and that’s when jaehyun decides: it’s time to test the waters.
so he starts pushing boundaries—just a little.
at the gym, after practice, he doesn’t just wink at you like usual. he lingers, waiting for you to react, grinning when you groan and shove him away.
when you come over to check on the egg, he always has food ready, pretending it’s no big deal when he slides a plate toward you.
“i didn’t ask for this,” you huff, poking at the meal he made.
“didn’t say you did,” he shrugs, sitting across from you. “but you always look tired after practice. eat.”
and that confuses you.
because what the hell is he doing? what the hell does he want?
you’d always known jaehyun as the annoying basketball captain who drove you insane, but now…
now he’s holding your hand a second longer than necessary. now he’s calling you “co-parent” with a lazy grin that makes your stomach twist in a way you don’t want to acknowledge. now he’s casually running a hand through his hair while watching you in between classes, like he knows something you don’t.
and you hate that it scares you.
because if this is just another game to him, if he’s just messing with you—then why does it feel so real?
the egg cracks.
not metaphorically—though, honestly, it might as well be—but literally.
you’re standing in jaehyun’s room, holding what used to be your child (as he so dramatically called it), staring at the jagged fracture running across the eggshell. your breath catches in your throat.
“oh, shit,” you whisper.
jaehyun, who had been leaning against his desk, looks up from his phone. “what?”
you slowly turn to him, the broken egg cradled in your hands like a crime scene.
“we killed junior.”
for a moment, there’s silence. then—
“oh my god,” jaehyun breathes out, eyes widening.
“we’re failures.”
“we’re murderers.”
“professor lee is going to slaughter us.”
“okay, first of all,” jaehyun says, quickly moving toward you, “you’re the one who dropped it—”
“don’t you dare pin this on me.”
“—and second,” he continues, ignoring you, “we just need a replacement.”
you blink at him. “you want to… replace our child?”
“wouldn’t be the first time people switched babies at birth,” he shrugs.
“you’re insane.”
“do you want to fail?”
you purse your lips. no. but—
jaehyun sighs. “look, we can sit here mourning an egg, or we can fix the problem. your call.”
you scowl at him, but he’s right. begrudgingly, you set the cracked egg down and grab your bag.
“fine. but if we get caught—”
“we won’t,” he grins, already grabbing his car keys and intertwining his hand with yours, “let’s go, co-parent.”
—
you manage to replace the egg. you turn in your project. you pass.
but that’s not the ending.
the ending is this:
it’s late, and you’re at jaehyun’s house, sprawled out on his bed like always. the ceiling fan hums softly overhead, casting slow-moving shadows against the walls. the scent of his cologne lingers in the air—clean, familiar, a little too comforting. he’s sitting at the edge of the bed, lazily spinning a basketball on his finger, gaze half-lidded with concentration.
you’re supposed to feel relieved. the project is over. the ridiculous assignment, the stress, the stupid arguments—you survived it all. but your head is still spinning, not from exhaustion, but from something else. something heavier.
because things have shifted. you don’t bicker as much anymore. the teasing has changed. the tension isn’t sharp—it’s something softer now, something unspoken that curls around the edges of your conversations. something that lingers in the way his eyes stay on you a little longer than they should.
“so,” jaehyun says suddenly, voice cutting through the quiet. “you’re still thinking about it.”
you blink at him. “thinking about what?”
he finally looks at you, and the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s amused.
“us.”
your stomach flips. you sit up too fast, the mattress dipping beneath you. “there’s no us.”
jaehyun smirks. slow. knowing. like he’s heard the lie in your voice before you even said it.
“sure,” he hums, spinning the ball again. “but i think about it.”
your breath hitches.
“what?”
he tosses the ball aside. it rolls off the bed, thudding softly onto the carpet, but you barely hear it over the sudden rush of blood in your ears. because he’s shifting, leaning in, invading your space in a way that makes your pulse stutter.
closer than necessary. closer than friends should be.
“i think about how much fun it is to piss you off,” he murmurs, and his voice is different this time—lower, rougher. “i think about how much i like having you around.”
his hand lifts, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. the touch is barely there, but it burns.
“and i think about how, if i kissed you right now, you wouldn’t stop me.”
your breath catches.
because he’s right.
but the worst part? you don’t want to stop him.
you don’t move when his gaze flickers down to your lips. you don’t push him away when his fingers graze your jaw, thumb tracing slow, feather-light circles against your skin.
and when he finally tilts his head and closes the distance, when his lips press against yours in something hesitant but undeniably real—
Crazy what two years can do to a person. What do you mean the cutie pie, adorable ball of sunshine Chanyoung Lee, has turned into this tall, grumpy, and unfairly hot specimen who calls himself Anton?
Genre: childhood friends to lovers
Pairing: Lee Chanyoung|Anton x afab!Reader
Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+)
Notes: 19k words. Listening to Goodbye Summer by F(X) ft. D.O. Posted a little late because I got carried away, lol.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally, nor do I claim they would ever behave in real life like they were portrayed in this story. ALSO, if you see a similar story from a different blog for a different idol, that is me. xoxo, cal.
You rolled the car windows down, letting the salty air fill the car as you hummed along to the music playing through the speakers. It had been two years since you last made this drive, but every curve of the road was ingrained in your memory. You remembered how you used to count the palm trees as a kid, making up silly games to pass the time while your mom laughed at your endless energy. Back then, the beach house felt like the one constant in your summers, a place where time moved slower and the world outside didn’t matter.
Two years away felt like an eternity, but now, as the Lee family’s beach house came into view, it was like no time had passed at all.
Your mom stirred in the passenger seat, stretching as the car slowed down. “Did you sleep well?” you asked.
“I would’ve, if you hadn’t been singing off-key the entire time,” she replied, rolling her eyes playfully.
You gasped in mock offense. “Off-key? Excuse me, but that was a performance, mom. You’re just not cultured enough to appreciate my artistry.”
“Artistry, huh?” She laughed, shaking her head. “Is that what we're calling it now?”
You parked the car in front of the house, taking a moment to soak it in. The Lee family’s beach house looked exactly as it always had—whitewashed walls with a wide porch and tall windows that reflected the warm glow of the setting sun. For a second, it felt like you were stepping back in time, like the past two years hadn’t happened at all.
Aunt Hyejin was the first to greet you at the door, her arms wrapping tightly around you as she exclaimed, “Look at you! You’ve grown so much! You’ve gotten prettier too.”
You laughed, leaning into her embrace. “I could say the same about you, Auntie. You are glowing! What’s your secret?”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she teased, brushing your hair back to study your face. She squeezed your cheeks lightly before kissing your forehead. “Come in, come in! Junyoung is dying to show off how tall he’s gotten.”
Junyoung was quick to make good on his mom’s words, bounding down the stairs with a grin. He too greeted you with a hug, crouching down to your smaller frame.
“Told you I’d be taller than you one day!” he declared, puffing out his chest.
“And I told you I’d deny it when it happened,” you shot back, ruffling his hair and gasping because you had to tiptoe to reach the top of his head. “Wow. You really did grow up.”
The house itself was almost exactly as you remembered it. The same yellow curtains fluttered in the breeze, and the faint smell of ocean air and Aunt Hyejin’s cooking permeated the halls. It was comforting, familiar.
But there was one thing—or rather, one person—who didn’t match your memories.
He was sitting on the sofa when you walked into the living room, one leg crossed over the other, a phone in hand, and not the slightest hint of acknowledgement on his face. His hair was darker, longer, falling into his eyes in a way that seemed deliberate. His clothes—a loose linen shirt and tailored shorts—looked like they belonged to someone who spent their summers at yacht clubs, not building sandcastles on the beach.
“Chanyoung, greet them properly!” Aunt Hyejin chided with both affection and exasperation in her tone.
The man on the sofa finally looked up, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, you froze, searching for something familiar in the sharp line of his jaw and the effortless confidence in his posture.
“Welcome back,” he said, his voice lower than you remembered, more measured.
You blinked, trying to reconcile the image in front of you with the boy you used to know. Before you could say anything, your mom appeared beside you, greeting Chanyoung with a hug. He rose to his feet, smiling genuinely as he let your mom embrace him.
“You’ve grown so much!”
While they were catching up, Junyoung approached you quietly, whispering in your ear. “I know what you’re thinking.”
You glanced sideways at him. “I’m sure you do,” you scoffed. “When did this happen?”
Junyoung shrugged. “Dunno. He went to college and came back like this. He’s called Anton now by the way.”
“Anton? He hates that name.”
“Right?” he agreed, chuckling. “Dude gained some muscles and turned into this emo cool kid.”
The rest of the day passed without a single meaningful interaction with Anton. Not for lack of trying on your part—you simply didn’t get the chance.
It was subtle, his avoidance. The kind of thing no one else would pick up on. Your mom, Aunt Hyejin, and Junyoung didn’t seem to notice anything, too caught up in catching up. But you? You noticed. Every time you entered a room, Anton was suddenly walking out. If you so much as glanced his way, he was already looking elsewhere, pretending to be engrossed in his phone or staring at some invisible point in the distance.
And then at lunch, he didn’t even sit down to eat with everyone. “I’m going out. Back before dinner.” he said nonchalantly, already halfway out the door.
“Probably off to the clubhouse to meet his friends,” Aunt Hyejin explained with a shrug, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
You nodded along politely, but inside, you were itching with curiosity. What friends? Since when did Chanyoung—no, Anton—have a social life so demanding that he couldn’t sit down for a meal?
Eventually, the guessing—and the long drive—caught up with you. You slumped into your room, the familiar comfort of the bed almost tricking you into thinking nothing had changed in this place. But the moment your head hit the pillow, your eyes grew heavy, and the next thing you knew was waking up to the faint glow of moonlight and a dim bedroom.
You groaned, blinking at your phone. Dinnertime.
Throwing on a sweatshirt, you stepped into the hallway, still half-asleep and thinking only of food. You turned the corner—and walked straight into a wall.
Or, well, what felt like a wall.
“Ow,” you muttered, stumbling back and clutching your nose. You looked up to find Anton standing there, looking as unfazed as he had been since you got here.
“Oh, it’s you,” you said before you could stop yourself.
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say a word. Without thinking, you blurted, “What did you do to your hair?”
Anton didn’t respond right away. Instead, he tilted his head, like he was deciding whether to entertain your question. Then, he reached out and rested his hand on top of your head.
“What are you—”
Before you could finish, he brought his hand down to his chest, his eyes flicking between the two points as if measuring your height.
You scowled. “Hah! Wow. I see you got a few inches taller. Congratulations,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm.
Anton’s lips twitched, just barely, but he didn’t say anything.
“Ugh, whatever,” you huffed, spinning on your heel and stomping down the hallway toward the dining room.
Behind you, you didn’t see the way his lips curved into a small, teasing smile.
By the time you reached the dining room, the table was already set, laden with dishes that made your stomach growl on the spot.
The dining table was a sight to behold, as always. Aunt Hyejin had gone all out—steamed crab, grilled shrimp, roasted vegetables, and enough side dishes to feed a small army. The familiar spread made you smile; some things never changed.
The family had already gathered when you arrived, and everyone greeted you with warm smiles. “Sweetie, can you go get Anton?” Aunt Hyejin asked, beaming at you as she placed bowls of rice on the table.
You turned your head just in time to see him walk in, his hair still damp from what must’ve been a shower. He wore a plain white t-shirt, its loose fit and sleeves doing nothing to hide his defined shoulders. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’d walked out of a magazine ad.
Anton glanced around the table before taking the empty seat next to his mom. “Where’s Dad?” he asked simply, reaching for the pitcher of water.
“His trip is getting extended for a few more days,” Aunt Hyejin explained, placing a rice bowl in front of Anton. “He’ll be back next Saturday.”
You made a point of sitting as far from Anton as possible. Not that you were being petty or anything. Okay, maybe you were a little petty.
“Dig in, everyone!” Aunt Hyejin said cheerfully as she sat down.
You didn’t need to be told twice. The meal was as delicious as you remembered, and for a while, the conversation was light—updates on Junyoung’s basketball team, your mom recounting a funny story from work, Aunt Hyejin asking about your classes.
Then, inevitably, the focus shifted to Anton.
“So, Anton,” your mom began, her tone warm and curious. “What have you been up to lately? Your mom tells me you’ve been very busy.”
Anton looked up from his plate, his expression polite but detached. “Just the usual,” he said. “School, work, hanging out with friends.”
“Oh, right! You’re working at that startup now, aren’t you?” Aunt Hyejin chimed in proudly. “He’s been so dedicated, working part-time while keeping his grades up.”
You tried to hide your surprise. The Chanyoung you remembered hated being busy. He used to complain about school work piling up, always looking for an excuse to go to the beach instead.
“Wow,” you said, before you could stop yourself. “Who knew Chanyoung Lee would turn into such a responsible adult?”
Anton’s eyes flicked to you, and for a moment, you thought he might actually smile. Instead, he just shrugged. “People change.”
The casual way he said it annoyed you more than it should have. “Clearly,” you muttered, stabbing a piece of shrimp with your fork.
If anyone noticed the tension, they didn’t comment on it. The conversation moved on, but you couldn’t help sneaking glances at Anton throughout the meal. He barely spoke, answering questions with short, polite responses and deflecting anything too personal. It was so unlike the boy who used to dominate every dinner table conversation with ridiculous stories and bad jokes.
At one point, Junyoung leaned over to whisper, “You’re staring.”
“I am not,” you whispered back, cheeks heating.
“You are,” he insisted with a grin. “What’s your deal?”
You glared at him. “What’s his deal? He’s acting so weird.”
“If you ask me, I think you’re the one acting weird,” he whispered back.
You were about to retort when Aunt Hyejin’s voice prompted the attention of the table. “So, Anton, are you spending time at the clubhouse tomorrow too?” she asked.
“Yeah. A few friends are back in town, so I’ll be there a lot,” he replied, his tone casual.
“Oh, the clubhouse,” you deadpanned, unable to resist. “Sounds very exclusive.”
Anton’s eyes flicked to yours, something unreadable passing through his gaze. “It’s just a place to hang out,” he said evenly.
“Hm. Fancy.” You stabbed at your food with a bit more force than necessary.
Junyoung snickered beside you, “She’s jealous.”
You elbowed him hard, making him yelp. Across the table, Anton’s lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything.
When dinner was over and the plates were being cleared, Anton finally turned to you, his tone deceptively casual. “You’ve got some rice on your face.”
“What?” You froze, quickly swiping at your cheek.
“No, other side.”
You wiped again, glaring at him when his expression didn’t change. “Is it gone?”
He shrugged, standing up and grabbing his plate. “Sure,” he said, walking off, and you could’ve sworn you heard him chuckle under his breath.
Beside you, Junyoung was laughing so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.
The morning light filtered through the open window, and the cool breeze made the thin curtains sway gently. You stretched lazily, the familiar sound of waves crashing against the shore reminding you that you were in the Lee family’s beach house, finally back after two years.
You got up and brushed your teeth, observing your face in the mirror for any changes. As you stepped out of your room, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and waffles made your tummy growl. You could hear your mom and Aunt Hyejin talking.
By the time you made it to the kitchen, they were already preparing to leave. Your mom turned to you with a smile. “We’ll be downtown all day to see the market and buy some things for the house. What are your plans for today, sweetie?”
“I think I’ll go for a swim,” you replied, grabbing a mug from the cupboard.
“That’s nice,” Aunt Hyejin chimed in, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “I was thinking of asking Anton to show you around or take you to the clubhouse, but he went out for a jog early this morning.”
“Thanks, Auntie, but it’s okay,” you replied quickly, almost too quickly. “I don’t really care to see the clubhouse anyway.”
Your mom raised an eyebrow at your tone, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she kissed your forehead before grabbing her purse. “Alright, enjoy yourself. Don’t forget sunscreen!”
“Also, sweetheart,” Aunt Hyejin prompted, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Could you tell Anton when he gets back that I left a note for him? It’s on the fridge and tell him he needs to do it as soon as he’s back from his run.”
“Of course, Auntie. I’ll let him know.”
You walked them to the door, waving them off as they left, then headed upstairs to change. A swim sounded like the perfect way to spend your first real morning back—just you, the ocean, and some much-needed time to clear your head. Usually, Anton would wake you up early on your first day back and drag you to the beach for a swim, but you weren’t counting on it today.
When you made your way down to the beach, you weren’t expecting to find Junyoung and his friends there.
“Oh, it’s the old lady!” Junyoung called out to you as soon as he saw you, a cheeky grin plastered across his face.
“I’m not old, you brat,” you shot back, squinting at him. He’d gathered quite the group, and a few familiar faces smiled at you from where they sat on beach towels.
“Wow, you’re really here,” one of the girls, Hana, said with a laugh as she stood up to hug you. “It’s been ages!”
“It’s only been two years,” you chuckled, hugging her back. “But I can see that you’ve all grown up so much,” you added, marveling at how much they’d changed in two years. The boys were taller, the girls more polished, and there was an air of confidence about them that made you miss being a teenager a little.
“You sound like my grandma,” Hana teased, shaking her head.
You rolled your eyes, flicking sand at him playfully. “Whatever, I’m going for a swim. Enjoy roasting me while I’m gone.”
Junyoung laughed, holding up a hand as if in surrender. “Don’t drown, grandma!”
You flipped him off as you walked toward the water, grinning.
The water was cool and refreshing, lapping against your skin as you waded in deeper. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the beach slowly coming to life. Families were setting up umbrellas, kids were building sandcastles, and a couple was walking hand in hand along the shore. It was a scene you’d witnessed countless times over the years, but it never failed to make you smile.
Your thoughts drifted to the summers you’d spent here as a kid. Each year brought new faces—tourists you’d befriended for a few fleeting weeks, locals who became your seasonal playmates. You’d always been quick to mke friends and form bonds, though many of them faded as quickly as they’d formed.
And, of course, there were the crushes. The endless parade of cute boys who caught your eye. Some of them, you tried to shoot your shot. Most of them, you’d never had the courage to talk to. As usual, those feeling faded when the summer was over.
Well, except for one. Sungchan.
He’d been your longest-running crush, a boy from the neighborhood who was a few years older. Every summer, you’d spot him on the beach or at the local shops, always surrounded by friends, always smiling. You never got beyond the occasional shy wave or stolen glance, but that didn’t stop you from swooning over him every chance you got.
You smiled to yourself, wondering what he was up to these days. Was he still living here? Still as effortlessly cool as you remembered?
Your gaze drifted toward the lifeguard tower, the only unfamiliar fixture along the beachline. It wasn’t there last time you were here, but that wasn’t the reason you couldn’t keep your gaze away. Sitting there, casually surveying the beach, was none other than Sungchan. And he looked even better than you remembered.
His features had sharpened with age, his shoulders broader, his smile just as dazzling. He wore a red lifeguard tank top and sunglasses, looking relaxed and confident as he chatted with another lifeguard.
“Of course,” you muttered under your breath, treading water as you stared. “He’s still ridiculously handsome. Great.”
You shook your head, forcing yourself to look away. You weren’t that starstruck kid anymore, and you weren’t about to start crushing on him all over again.
Soon, the water started to lose its allure when the morning sun climbed higher and the heat started to prick your shoulder. With a content sigh, you decided to head back toward the shore. You ran your fingers through your wet hair, mentally noting how good the ocean always felt no matter how many summers you spent here.
But just as your feet hit the shallows, a sudden shout caught your attention.
“HEADS UP!”
Before you could react, something smacked into your forehead with a dull thunk. The world turned slightly as you stumbled backward, landing awkwardly in the sand.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” A boy hurried over, looking horrified as he grabbed the Frisbee floating on the water.
“It’s alright,” you muttered, waving him off as you pushed yourself up.
“Hey, are you okay?” another voice called out—calm, authoritative. You turned your head, and there he was, Sungchan, jogging toward you.
The boy with the Frisbee immediately began apologizing again, but Sungchan dismissed him with a quick, “It’s alright, just be more careful next time.” His focus shifted to you. “Are you hurt?”
You shook your head, trying to brush sand off your legs. “No. I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh,” Sungchan cut you off, gesturing at your forehead. “You’re bleeding.”
“What?” You blinked, reaching up to touch your temple. Sure enough, there was a faint smear of blood when you looked at your fingers.
“Just a small cut,” he said, helping you up. “Come on, let’s clean that up.”
You barely had time to protest before Sungchan was already leading you toward the lifeguard tower. You waited by the steps as he grabbed a first aid kit with urgency.
“Sit,” he said as he stepped down. You sat and watched Sungchan do his thing. “This’ll sting a little,” he warned, dabbing at your cut with an antiseptic wipe.
“It’s fine,” you mumbled, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck. The proximity was overwhelming—he smelled like sunscreen and saltwater, his face far too close for comfort.
As he finished cleaning the cut, Sungchan grabbed a band-aid and carefully placed it over the small wound. His hand lingered for a second longer than necessary, his brow furrowing slightly.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” he asked suddenly.
Of course, he didn’t remember you. “I guess,” you said, offering a small, nervous smile as you told him your name. “From a couple summers ago.”
Sungchan’s hands paused for a second, recognition lighting up his face. “Ah! Yes. I remember you now.” He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Wow. You’ve… changed.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you quipped, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “You’ve changed quite a bit too.”
He smiled and pointed at yout cut. “You’re lucky it was just a small scratch,” he said, eyes lingering on you. “Or else I might have had to go full lifeguard mode and perform some CPR.”
You rolled your eyes, leaning back on the lifeguard tower. “I’m pretty sure I’d survive without the dramatic rescue.”
Sungchan chuckled, his voice dropping just low enough for you to hear. “You sure? Because I don’t mind saving you each time you need me to.”
A small laugh escaped you, feeling more at ease now. “Why, thank you. But I think I can handle myself.”
“Oh I don’t doubt it,” he said, his tone shifting to something a little more teasing. “But I really wouldn’t mind seeing more of you.”
You raised an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth twitching into a smirk. “Is that so? Are you flirting with me, Sungchan?”
He shrugged, pretending to look innocent. “Would it be so bad if I was?” he asked back, gaze flicking at your lips for a split-second.
Before you could respond, you caught movement from the corner of your eye. When you glanced sideways, it was Anton. He stood just a few feet away, his expression dark and unreadable. His eyes moved from you to Sungchan, his jaw tightening ever so slightly.
You waved at him. “Hey! You’re back!” you called out, remembering Aunt Hyejin’s instruction to remind him of a chore.
Anton didn’t respond, his eyes flicking over you briefly before he turned and jogged toward the house, his pace quick as if he had somewhere to be.
You frowned slightly, unable to dismiss the attitude. “I’ve gotta go,” you said, standing up quickly. “Thanks for this. And see you around, Sungchan.”
“Oh, you’re leaving?” Sungchan asked, his tone still light, but there was a spark of curiosity in his eyes. He stood up too. “Will I see you at the party tonight? 8pm at the clubhouse?”
You didn’t give it much thought as you glanced at Anton’s retreating figure. “Yeah! See you there!” You flashed a smile, already jogging after Anton.
“Anton, wait up!” you called, sprinting after him on the sand. Your feet sank with every step, making it harder to keep up. He didn’t even glance back, his strides deliberate and fast, like he was on a mission to get as far away from you as possible.
“Seriously? Are you even listening?” you shouted, frustration lacing your voice.
Still nothing. By the time you made it to the house, your chest was heaving, partly from running and partly from annoyance. Anton was already in the kitchen, chugging down a glass of water.
“Your mom left a note for you on the fridge,” you said, your tone sharper than you intended.
He didn’t say a word, just set the glass down, turned the fridge door, yanked the note and held it up for you to see without a word.
“What? It’s for you, not me,” you blurted, crossing your arms.
Anton simply folded the note in half, shoved it into his pocket, and walked away. You stood there, fuming, watching his retreating figure disappear around the corner. What was his problem?
Something was definitely wrong. Leaning against the counter, you tried to make sense of what just happened. Was it something you said? Something you did? You wracked your brain, sifting through every interaction you’d had with him, wondering if you somehow did something to offend or anger him in any way.
The last time you’d seen him was at your high school graduation two years ago. He’d been his usual self then—kind, supportive, making jokes to ease your nerves before the ceremony. If something had happened between then and now, it would have to be major for him to act like this after two whole years. But try as you might, you couldn’t think of anything.
And maybe that was true, this wasn’t about what you did. Maybe nothing had happened at all. Maybe this was just him now—more distant, more mature. The kind of guy who had outgrown childhood friendships.
Your chest tightened as the realization slowly crept in. Anton has changed. He doesn’t even look like the Anton you knew anymore. The messy bangs that used to fall into his eyes were gone, replaced by a clean, swept-back look that showed off his sharp jawline and cheekbones. Back then, he had that cute, boy-next-door thing going on, but now? Now he looked like he’d stepped out of some posh fashion campaign.
Even his eyes were different. They were the same shade, sure, but the warmth was missing. Instead, they felt sharper, like he wasn’t just looking at you but sizing you up, as if he didn’t quite know what to make of you anymore.
It was weird. And upsetting. Because no matter how much you tried to shake it off, it felt like the guy you used to know was gone. And you weren’t sure if you should feel proud of the man he’d become or mourn the boy you’d lost.
The tinkling sound of the door chime signaled someone’s arrival, jolting you out of your thoughts. Your mom popped her head in from the main door, flashing you a quick smile. “Hi, hun. Can you come down and help with the groceries? We’ve got bags of stuff to unload.”
“Yeah, sure,” you said, grateful for the excuse to stop spiraling. “I’ll go change first.” You pushed off the counter and headed for the stairs, trying to leave thoughts of Anton behind.
Chatter filled the kitchen as you unpacked groceries with your mom and Aunt Hyejin. They worked efficiently and synchronously, the kind of rhythm that only came from years of friendship.
“I’m telling you, we did not run into a celebrity at the market,” Aunt Hyejin said, waving a carton of eggs for emphasis.
“Then why did he look exactly like Gong Yoo?” your mom shot back, her tone smug.
“Because you see Gong Yoo in every man with nice hair and a sharp jawline,” Aunt Hyejin retorted, placing the eggs on the counter.
“What about that one time at the airport…”
You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as they continued their playful bickering. And just as your mood started to lighten, Anton walked into the kitchen. Without a word, he handed an envelope to Aunt Hyejin. His mom looked at it briefly and set it aside, mid-sentence with your mom.
Anton turned to leave, but then paused. “I’m heading to the clubhouse,” he said, his tone flat.
Aunt Hyejin looked up with a casual smile on her face. “Why don’t you take her with you?” she asked, nodding toward you. “I’m sure she’s bored hanging out with us.”
Anton’s eyes flicked to yours, holding your gaze for a moment longer than necessary. His expression was unreadable, but something in his stare made you shift uncomfortably.
You waved it off quickly. “It’s fine, Auntie. I’ll go next time.”
Anton tilted his head, lips curving into a faint smirk. “She doesn’t need me to take her there anyway,” he said, his voice laced with a condescension that set your teeth on edge. “She’s already got someone’s invitation to tonight’s party.”
The insinuation hit its mark, and for a second, you stared at him, trying to process the shade he’d just thrown. He didn’t wait for a response, though. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you simmering in annoyance.
Your mom and Aunt Hyejin exchanged a look. “Did you two fight?” your mom asked, eyebrows raised in concern.
“I don’t know,” you muttered, slamming a box of cereal onto the counter. “He’s been grumpy since this morning. I don’t wanna deal with it. And seriously, what’s up with his hair?”
“I think it looks great on him,” your mom said, glancing at Aunt Hyejin. “He’s grown so much in just two years. I almost didn’t recognize him at first.”
Aunt Hyejin nodded, a fond smile softening her features. “Yeah. Junyoung kept saying he’s got a glow up. We’re a family of late bloomers, you see.”
Their conversation continued, shifting to reminiscing about childhood antics and growth spurts, but you weren’t paying attention anymore. Your hands moved automatically, storing away groceries, while your mind replayed Anton’s jab over and over. Annoyance bubbled to the surface, threatening to spill over.
By the time the last bag was unpacked, you were practically seething. If this was the new Anton, you weren’t sure how much of him you could take.
The clubhouse was already crowded when you arrived. It was the same lively scene you remembered from previous summers: groups of people chatting at small tables, others lounging by the bar, drinks and snacks being passed around, strobe lights, and noisy music.
“Hey, you made it!” Sungchan’s familiar voice rang out above the noise. He was by the pool table, his grin as easy as ever, as he waved you over.
You smiled and headed his way. “Barely,” you teased. “This place is packed.”
“Summer crowd,” he said with a shrug. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
Sungchan was effortlessly charming, bringing you into conversations with people you’d only vaguely remembered from previous summers—or didn’t know at all. He had a way of making things feel casual, light, and fun, and it wasn’t long before you were laughing with his friends.
Somewhere in between introductions, Sungchan leaned closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “Did you come here with Anton?”
Your smile faltered. “No. Why?”
He tilted his head toward the bar. “Because he’s been looking this way every five seconds since you walked in.”
You followed his gaze, and there he was—Anton, leaning casually against the bar, a drink in hand. His relaxed posture contradicted the sharpness in his eyes as they flicked in your direction. He was talking to a group of people you recognized as the self-proclaimed elites of the clubhouse—the rich kids, the ones he’d always found insufferable.
You blinked, momentarily thrown off. Since when had Anton started hanging out with them? He used to avoid this place altogether, grumbling about the kids who were too rich, too smug, and too full of themselves. And yet, there he was, laughing along with them, fitting in like he’d belonged there all along.
Before you could dwell on it, a voice called out your name. You spun around to see Yejin, one of the friends you’d spent countless summer days with.
“There you are!” she called, waving from a nearby table. “Took you long enough!”
Grateful for the distraction, you turned away from Anton and made your way to Yejin, Hana, and Sohee, who greeted you with the kind of warmth and comfort that came from being with people you’d known for years. You got swept up in a hearty conversation—reminiscing, teasing, catching up on the details of two summers you’d missed. They bombarded you with questions, half-complaints about your absence, and enough inside jokes to make you laugh until your cheeks hurt.
“But seriously,” Sohee said, narrowing her eyes at you. “Where were you?”
“Life just got crazy, okay?” you explained, putting your hands up in mock surrender.
“Crazy? You ditched us for two whole years!” Hana chimed in, raising an eyebrow. “That’s two summers.”
“I know. So instead of holding me hostage for being gone, how about filling me in on what I missed?” you shot back, laughing.
Yejin leaned closer, her voice dripping with mischief. “We’ll fill you in, all right. But first—what’s going on with you and Sungchan?”
You opened your mouth to deny it, but before you could, Sungchan appeared beside you, an innocent smile plastered across his face.
“Am I the topic of conversation?” he asked, his elbow nudging yours as he stood beside you. “I see, you’re catching up with your friends.”
Yejin narrowed her eyes at Sungchan, feigning suspicion. “Mr. Jung Sungchan, what’s the meaning of this?”
Sungchan glanced briefly at you. “Nothing. Your cute friend just happened to be generous enough to spare some of her precious time for me.”
Your friends exchanged glances and burst out laughing. Sohee was uncannily loud. “Generous enough? Surely you knew she was head over—”
You lunged at him, covering his mouth before he could finish talking. “This party is amazing, isn’t it?”
Sungchan just chuckled. “It is. Like I said, summer crowd.”
The chat continued, most of the attention directed at you because obviously, they wanted to catch up with you.
“So, are you two like a thing now?” Yejin asked, her tone playful as she raised an eyebrow at you and Sungchan.
“Definitely not,” you replied, rolling your eyes.
Sungchan clutched his chest, feigning hurt. “Wow, didn’t even hesitate. And here I was, thinking we had something special.”
“Dude, we only started talking like five hours ago,” you retorted. “You’ll live.”
The group erupted in laughter, and Sohee grinned. “I don’t know, man. You seem to have some competition.”
“Competition?” Sungchan repeated.
Before Sohee could elaborate, Anton appeared beside him, clapping a hand on his back. “Don’t mind him,” he said, his voice smooth but pointed. “Sohee thinks everything’s a competition. Remember last summer’s beach volleyball? He still claims he didn’t cheat.”
Sohee gasped, his hand to his chest. “I didn’t!”
“Sure,” Anton drawled, his gaze flicking briefly to you before shifting back to Sohee. “Just like you didn’t accidentally trip over Hana to block that shot.”
“Speaking of beach volleyball,” Sungchan slid back into the group seamlessly, his charm lighting up the conversation. He nudged your arm playfully. “Weren’t you a former MVP?”
You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “I used to be. That was three years ago, though. I think I’ve gotten rusty.”
“Don’t be modest,” Yejin teased, grinning at Sungchan. “She was a menace on the court. You’ve seen her, right? Our team was unbeatable because of her.”
Hana pointed at Sungchan. “Remember when we massacred Bay Area-3 four years ago? Must’ve sucked,” she added, shaking her head in exaggerated pity.
You hummed contentedly, leaning into the lightheartedness. “Too bad the season’s over. I would’ve loved to do it again.”
“Hey, I was on that team too,” Sohee interjected, pouting as if his contributions had been forgotten.
Sungchan’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I think we need a rematch. Let me know when you’re ready to lose.”
Yejin scoffed. “You’re on.”
“I’ll referee,” Anton offered unexpectedly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Someone’s gotta keep things fair, after all.”
“Oh, because you’re so unbiased?” you quipped before you could stop yourself.
Anton glanced at you, his gaze steady but unreadable. “I’m just saying, someone needs to make sure Sungchan doesn’t get away with calling fouls on every play.”
“Hey, I don’t do that!” Sungchan protested, laughing.
“You totally do,” Yejin chimed in, pointing a finger at him. “Remember last time? Every time you missed, suddenly it was, ‘The sun was in my eyes,’ or, ‘That wasn’t regulation height.’”
The group dissolved into laughter, and after some playful banter, a spontaneous agreement was made to hold a beach volleyball rematch in a few days. Sungchan excused himself first, saying he needed to spread the word to his Bay Area-3 team.
To you, he added, “You can find me back at the pool table later. Have fun catching up.”
As Sungchan walked away, you felt a prickle of awareness. Anton’s gaze was on you again. You met his eyes and raised an eyebrow. What? you mouthed, a silent challenge.
Predictably, he didn’t respond. His expression didn’t change, but he looked away, taking a slow sip from his drink. The moment passed as one of his new, polished friends called him over. He offered your group a brisk goodbye before heading back to their circle.
You exhaled, but your chest felt tight. It was weird seeing Anton blend so naturally with people he’d once disliked. You hadn’t realized how much it bothered you until now.
“Since when has he been hanging out with those people?” you asked, unable to keep the curiosity—and maybe the faintest trace of disbelief—out of your voice.
Hana leaned closer, lowering her tone conspiratorially. “He went to the same college as some of them. It’s actually kind of impressive, in a way. I didn’t think any of them were smart enough to get into a good university.”
You nodded absently, your thoughts tangled. “It’s just... weird seeing him with them when he used to complain about them all the time.”
“Well, people change,” Yejin said with a shrug, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Maybe he likes them now.”
You didn’t respond. There was no point in sharing the discomfort curling in your stomach when no one else seemed fazed. Instead, you busied yourself with your drink as conversation shifted to lighter topics—new schools, old gossip, and what everyone had been up to since high school.
You smiled and laughed along, but your thoughts kept drifting. No matter how much you tried, they always found their way back to Anton.
The night was in full swing by the time you found yourself sitting at a round table with Yejin, Hana, and a few other familiar faces. Sungchan leaned back in his chair beside you, his easy grin practically lighting up the conversation.
“So,” one acquaintance said, raising an eyebrow as she swirled her drink, “how does it feel to be back after two years? Like nothing’s changed?”
You smiled, though the question struck a little too close to home. “It feels great, honestly. I didn’t realize how much I missed everyone until now.”
“You’re lucky we even let you back in,” another one teased, leaning forward with a mock stern look. “Two summers is basically an eternity.”
Yejin chimed in, pointing her straw at you. “I told you she’d just waltz back in like nothing happened.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but a new voice cut through the chatter. “That’s kind of her thing, isn’t it?”
Your head whipped toward Anton, who had been leaning casually against the wall nearby. His voice was calm, almost disinterested, but there was a sharpness to it that pricked at your skin.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, forcing a laugh that felt a little too light.
Anton glanced at you briefly, his expression unreadable, before looking back at the group. “She’s good at jumping back into things like nothing ever happened.” Then to you, he said slowly and clearly, “That’s just how you’ve always been.”
The table went quiet for a few seconds too long. Sungchan shot you a look—half amused, half wary—while Yejin frowned, the corners of her mouth twitching as if unsure whether to laugh or intervene.
You felt your cheeks burn, but you refused to let it show. “Well, some of us don’t go through drastic changes in just two years,” you shot back, forcing a smile.
Anton’s gaze flicked to you for a moment, his lips curling in a faint, almost imperceptible smirk. “Guess not.”
The conversation resumed, though the tension lingered in the background. Yejin quickly steered the group onto lighter topics, and soon enough, the table was filled with laughter again.
But you couldn’t shake away Anton’s words. They sat in the back of your mind, nagging at you even as you tried to ignore them.
Sungchan leaned closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “You okay?” he asked softly.
“Fine.” You smiled at him, grateful, but the knot in your chest didn’t loosen. Instead, your eyes found Anton again, now standing by the bar with a drink in hand. He didn’t look your way, but you were swearing at him in your head, determined to get to the bottom of whatever his problem was as soon as you were alone.
The wait didn’t take long. While you were squeezed beside Sungchan on a plush couch, his arm draped over your shoulder, feeling more carefree after several drinks, Anton appeared before you with his brows furrowed.
“I’m going home,” he said flatly, his eyes flicking between you and Sungchan.
You scowled. “And? What does that have to do with me?”
He sighed, taking your drink away and placing it on the table with a pointed glance. “Your mom would kill me if I left without you. Come on.”
You rolled your eyes and stood up, bidding Sungchan a quick goodbye. He let you go with a soft kiss on your cheek, his voice warm as he said, “Text me when you’re home, okay?”
You nodded, though you knew you’d probably forget. Your focus was already on Anton, who was heading out the door without waiting for you.
You struggled to catch up with his long strides, but you didn’t complain, knowing he’d just ignore you if you did. The alcohol made your annoyance simmer louder, and in your head, you practiced the scathing words you’d unleash as soon as you were alone with him.
But Anton had other plans. The car stereo blasted as soon as the engine started, drowning out any attempt you made to speak. You knew he was doing it on purpose, and it made you angrier.
The ride felt like an eternity, tension crackling in the silence between the loud beats of the music. When the car finally pulled up in the garage, Anton got out without a word, leaving you to stumble after him. He was already halfway inside the house when you kicked off your heels and stormed in.
“You’re back early,” Aunt Hyejin greeted from the living room, where she and your mom sat in their pajamas watching a movie. “Oh, what’s wrong?”
“Hi, Auntie. Hi, Mom,” you said briskly, barely glancing their way as you followed Anton up the stairs.
“What happened?” your mom called after you, but you didn’t stop to answer.
The alcohol made it easier to ignore the logic telling you to let it go. You caught the door just as Anton was about to close it, your hand slamming against the wood.
“What’s your problem?” you snapped as you pushed your way into his bedroom, slamming the door behind you.
Anton didn’t even flinch. He casually walked over to his closet, rummaging through it for a fresh shirt. “What is it this time?” His tone was too monotonous, almost mocking.
“‘That’s just how you’ve always been.’” You gestured wildly, your voice rising with frustration as you mimicked his indifferent tone. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Anton?”
His brow twitched, and for a split second, you thought he might actually look sorry. But no. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms like he had all the time in the world to deal with your meltdown.
“It’s not that deep,” he said, his tone infuriatingly calm. “You’re overreacting.”
You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Overreacting? You’ve barely said two words to me since I got here, and when you finally do, it’s to throw some passive-aggressive jab about how I’ve ‘always been’ like that? What is it exactly? Too loud? Too much? Too—”
“Annoying,” he cut in, his voice low but sharp enough to slice through your tirade.
The word struck a nerve, silencing you. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him.
“Annoying?” you echoed, your voice shaking. “Wow. So that’s what you think of me now? Or have you always thought I was annoying?”
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if this conversation was physically exhausting him. “Why are you so hung up on this?”
“Am I?” You took a step closer, your pulse quickening as anger spiked through you. “Alright then, sue me for always being like this. I didn’t change like you did. I’m still annoying, and I’ve—” You made air quotes, your voice dripping with sarcasm, “—‘always been like this.’”
“Enough,” Anton sighed, exasperated.
“What other grievances do you have against me, Anton?” you shot back, your patience worn thin. “Come on. Let’s hear it.”
“That’s enough,” he said firmly, uttering your name warningly in a way that made your stomach flip—not with fear, but with something far more complicated.
But you weren’t about to back down. “No, I’m not done. You don’t get to act like you’re some untouchable, brooding—”
Before you could finish, he grabbed your wrist—not hard, but enough to make you freeze. His other hand settled on your waist, and in one swift motion, he pulled you closer. You opened your mouth to protest, but his lips crashed into yours before you could even make a sound.
Anton kissed you.
It wasn’t soft or tentative. It was messy and careless, born of frustration and something you couldn’t put a finger on. Your hands pressed against his chest instinctively, not enough to push him away but not quite pulling him closer either.
When he finally pulled back, his breath was warm against your cheek. His grip on your waist loosened, but he didn’t let go completely.
“See?” he muttered, smirking as he took a small step back. “Still annoying.”
You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind a storm of confusion and something else you couldn’t quite name. Anton seemed completely unfazed, tugging his shirt off and changing right there in front of you. You were still frozen in place when he glanced back at you, flicking your forehead with an almost playful arrogance.
“Ow!” you groaned, snapped back to reality.
“It's just a kiss. Don’t obsess over it,” he teased, his eyes flicking to your lips for a moment before he turned, striding toward the door.
You stood there, the words echoing in your head—‘Just a kiss.’ He didn’t even look back as he walked out, leaving you standing in the middle of his room, heart still racing, mind still reeling.
You first met Anton when you were seven. It was the first of your many summers in their little hometown by the sea. Your mom had just finished unpacking your bags when Anton’s mother brought him over to say hello.
He didn’t say much, hiding behind her skirt and eyeing you like you were some strange creature he wasn’t sure he liked yet. But that didn’t last long. Later that afternoon, when the adults were chatting over iced tea on the porch, he shyly tugged at your sleeve and said, “Do you wanna see my pet turtle?”
You had gasped at the time, pleasantly surprised. “You have a turtle?”
“Yeah! It looks like a dinosaur!” he had responded with gleaming eyes.
That was all it took. One look at the tiny turtle swimming in a glass tank on his bedroom windowsill, and suddenly you weren’t just visiting strangers—you had a friend.
Summer after summer, the two of you grew closer. You didn’t get to spend Christmases together or birthdays, but summer break was sacred. Your families would get together at their beach house like a tradition, and that house quickly became a second home to you. Its wooden floors creaked under your bare feet, and the salty breeze always carried the sound of seagulls and laughter.
Anton was funny in a way that always caught you off guard, soft-spoken but bursting with energy when the mood struck. He had a wild streak too, like the time he dared you to jump off the pier into the ocean—even though you’d both been warned a hundred times not to. You ended up doing it, and you both got grounded for the rest of the week.
When you were eleven, he taught you how to ride a bike—well, tried to. He kept insisting he wasn’t laughing at you every time you tipped over, but you could see the way he bit his lip to hold back a grin. And when you finally managed to ride down the dirt path without falling, he cheered so loudly the neighbors peeked out their windows to see what all the fuss was about.
He wasn’t always the wild one, though. There were quieter moments too—like when the two of you built sandcastles on the beach and argued about whether a moat was necessary, or when you’d sit under the teepee in his room, eating popsicles and reading comic books.
For years, he was a head shorter than you, something you loved to tease him about relentlessly. “When are you gonna catch up, Anton?” you’d giggle, ruffling his hair.
“You’ll see,” he’d retort with a determined pout. “I’m gonna grow taller than you someday. Dad said it’s gonna happen soon.”
It became an annual joke, one he stubbornly refused to give up on even as the years passed and your height difference barely changed. Then, when you were sixteen, it finally happened. You came back that summer and found Anton waiting at the door, looking taller than he’d ever been. At first, you didn’t believe it, but the smug grin on his face told you he waited for you at the front door on purpose.
“You’re standing on something,” you accused, squinting at him.
“Nope,” he said, grinning wide as he tapped his bare feet against the porch. “I told you, didn’t I?”
By then, he wasn’t just taller; he was different in ways you couldn’t quite put into words. It was sometime after that same summer that you realized your feelings for Anton weren’t as simple as you thought.
You were teenagers, going through all the awkward, messy stages of puberty. He was becoming more handsome by the day, his boyish features sharpening in ways that made you notice things you hadn’t before. His smile seemed more charming, his laughter endearing, and you were left grappling with a new, inconvenient truth—you had a crush on your best friend.
It wasn’t like it was hard to fall for him. You’d never given it much thought before, but Anton had always been attentive to you. Having a crush on him made you see him in a different light, and his kind nature soon made your heart flutter. He teased you mercilessly, sure, but he always knew when to stop. If you were upset or sulking, he had this uncanny ability to bring you out of it without even trying.
He’d wait for you at the end of the dock whenever you hesitated to jump, his hand outstretched with a soft smile on his lips. If you got hurt—whether it was a scraped knee or a bruised ego—he was always the first to check on you. He never let you carry heavy things, always taking your bag without a word even when you protested. Sometimes you’d be shivering after a late swim, he would throw his towel over your shoulders and grin, saying you looked like a wet puppy.
He had this way of making you feel like you were the most important person in the world, even when he was teasing you. Like the summer he spent two hours untangling the kite you’d accidentally gotten stuck in a tree, refusing to let you help because “you’ll just make it worse.” Or the time he taught you how to skip stones on the water. He’d stood behind you, guiding your arm with his, his chest brushing your back as he whispered instructions, so close you could barely focus.
For a while, you were convinced you were in love with him. But even then, you knew better than to say anything. What if it ruined everything? What if your confession turned your friendship into something awkward and strained? What would his parents—your second family—think if you jeopardized the bond your two families shared?
So, you buried it. Tucked away that silly, puppy love into the deepest corners of your mind, letting it stay there as a bittersweet secret. You told yourself it was fine. You didn’t need him to love you back. It was enough just to be around him, to laugh with him, to call him your best friend.
And it worked. For years, it worked.
He went back to being your platonic soulmate, the person who knew you better than anyone else. The crush faded into the background, becoming a harmless relic of your teenage years—something you could look back on with fondness but without longing. Anton was family. Almost like a brother, considering the way you’d grown up together.
Or so you thought..
Now, you lay in your dimly lit bedroom, staring at the ceiling with your hand pressed to your chest. You could still feel the sensation of his lips on yours, and the memory played on a loop in your mind.
Anton had kissed you. On the lips. And you didn’t know how to feel about it.
No, that wasn’t entirely true. You did know.
The affection you’d convinced yourself was long gone—that you’d painstakingly buried under layers of denial—wasn’t gone at all. It had been lying dormant, quietly waiting for something to wake it up. And now, with one impulsive kiss, Anton had yanked it out of its slumber.
What made it worse was Anton himself. He didn’t seem the least bit affected. He’d walked out of the room as if the kiss meant nothing, leaving you to deal with the fallout alone. Did he even care? Did he even think about what it would do to you, kissing you like that and walking away?
You let out a frustrated sigh, pressing your palms to your eyes as if you could physically stop your thoughts from spiraling.
It was too much. Anton had been too much these days. And now, he’d managed to unravel years of carefully built denial with one impulsive, reckless kiss.
What are you supposed to do now?
The next few days were unbearable. You tried your best to pretend nothing had happened between you and Anton, but that had never been your strong suit. Pretending didn’t come naturally to you, and something as major as that kiss was impossible to ignore. And Anton? Oh, he must have been having the time of his life watching you squirm.
He didn’t ignore you anymore—not like before—but a big part of you wished he just stayed indifferent and mean. He’d sit beside you at breakfast, close enough for his knee to bump against yours under the table. He’d call your name just to ask something unimportant, so casually too like the kiss didn’t even happen. Then, every once in a while, he’d throw in a remark that made your stomach flip.
“Still thinking about it?” he asked once, leaning against the dock railing as you peered down at the clear water.
You’d nearly dropped your phone in the water. “About what?”
He raised an eyebrow, a sly smile pulling at his lips. “You know what.”
You wanted to strangle him.
And the worst part? He didn’t care if anyone else was around when he did it. Around family, he kept his teasing just vague enough that no one else would catch on, subtle enough not to raise suspicions. But his remarks were bold enough to set your heart racing and leave you panicking that someone might pick up on your little secret.
By the time a week had passed, you were on the brink of losing it.
Anton’s dad had arrived back from work, and to celebrate, the family decided on a big barbecue dinner. Naturally, you and Anton were tasked with picking up groceries. It was something you often did together, but that was before. Now you just wanted to be as far away from him as possible.
Still, you didn’t argue. Obviously you couldn’t risk drawing attention to yourself and raising questions. Since the kiss, you hadn’t yet been alone with him, and the thought of sitting in a car with just him was making your stomach churn.
When Anton leaned over to buckle your seatbelt—his hand brushing your arm in a way that felt entirely too intentional—you swatted him away.
“I can do it myself,” you snapped.
He smirked, leaning back into his seat as if you hadn’t just scolded him. “You’re welcome.”
At the grocery store, things were mercifully normal. The conversation stayed focused on the errand. You stuck to the list, pointing out items while Anton grabbed them, and for a moment, it felt like those times in the past when you did the same errand. But then, as you were scanning a shelf for the right brand of barbecue sauce, you saw a familiar face along the aisle.
“Sungchan!” you called out, waving a hand in the air and failing to notice Anton scowling behind you.
The sight of him brought a welcome distraction, and you walked over with a smile creeping onto your face. You exchanged pleasantries, and he introduced you to his mom, who seemed just as charming as he was. Over the past week, you’d been texting with him and had even gone on a few strolls along the beach. He was funny and easygoing, and things seemed to be going well—if only you could focus on this rather than having Anton occupy space in your head.
“Didn’t expect to run into you here,” he said, his gaze flickering briefly to Anton, who stood a few steps behind you, his hands shoved into his pockets.
“Small town,” you replied with a laugh.
You chatted for a few minutes before his mom gently reminded him about their errands. Before leaving, he leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek. It was quick and casual, but it made your cheeks burn nonetheless.
“See you soon,” Sungchan said, stepping back. “Volleyball match is on Tuesday. Don’t forget,” he added, glancing between you and Anton before walking away.
You turned back to Anton, hoping he hadn’t noticed your flushed cheeks, but of course, he had.
“You’re blushing,” he said, his voice teasing but sharper at the edges than usual.
“It’s hot,” you muttered, grabbing a random bottle of barbecue sauce and tossing it into the cart without even looking at the label.
Anton reached over, grabbed the bottle, and placed it back on the shelf. “This one’s for pasta. You’re a mess today.”
You glared at him. “Maybe I wouldn’t be if someone wasn’t constantly trying to mess with me.”
“Who, me?” Anton’s expression was pure mock innocence.
“Yes, you!” You snatched another bottle off the shelf, shoving it into the cart with unnecessary force before walking ahead.
He trailed behind, his voice light but carrying a certain edge. “So... you and Sungchan, huh?”
“What about us?” you said flatly, not bothering to look back.
“Oh, nothing,” Anton replied, leaning casually against the cart handle. “It’s just cute, that’s all. The way he looks at you like you’re a goddess or something. And that kiss on the cheek?” He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Real smooth.”
Your brows furrowed, genuinely wondering if he was being sarcastic. He looked at you and added, “Bet he writes poems about you in his free time.”
You scoffed. “Do you really think he’s that kind of guy? Have you seen him?”
Anton shrugged. “How would I know? I’m just making a guess since you’ve had the biggest crush on him for a long time and you once told me he looked like the kind of guy who writes poems for their girlfriend.”
You grimaced. “Ew. When did I say that?”
“When we were twelve,” he answered with a nonchalant shrug.
Your eyes widened slightly before you huffed. “Well, I was twelve. And I didn’t know what I was talking about.”
Anton scoffed mockingly. “No. He is that kind of guy. Romantic, spontaneous, and totally not like other guys who party till sunrise, chase after pretty girls and hookup for funsies,” he said sarcastically, smirking.
You turned to face him, your annoyance now outweighing your embarrassment. “What’s your problem?”
“No problem,” he said with a too-innocent shrug. “Just thought it was cute, that’s all. You’ve got a little admirer.”
You rolled your eyes, grabbing a pack of skewers and tossing it into the cart. “Whatever. It’s none of your business, anyway.”
“Nice, sure,” Anton drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I do hope you don’t end up as another notch on his bedpost by the time summer ends.”
“Are you seriously doing this right now?” you shot back in frustration.
He straightened up, his smirk softening into something you couldn’t quite read. “What? I’m just looking out for you. Making sure you know what you’re getting into.”
“By mocking me?”
“By being honest,” he corrected, leaning slightly closer, his voice dropping low enough to send a shiver down your spine.
You huffed, staring right back at him with no intention to back down. “Whatever I do this summer, whoever I do it with, is none of your business, Anton. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing since I got here. Keep ignoring me and continue acting like a total prick, because I’m done trying to figure out what I did so wrong to deserve this treatment from you.”
Anton’s smirk faltered, replaced by something harder to read. His jaw tightened, but instead of snapping back, he turned away. Without another word, he pushed the cart down the aisle, leaving you standing there, fuming and wondering if it was possible to strangle someone with barbecue tongs.
The silence that followed felt heavy, pressing against your chest, but you refused to dwell on it. Let him walk away if he wanted. Let him stew in whatever self-righteous attitude he’d decided to adopt this summer. You’re done walking on eggshells around him.
In the evening, you gathered in the backyard with your mom and the Lee family, everyone moving around busily to prepare dinner—setting up the table, checking the grill, and bringing out the salads and sides.
The sound of sizzling meat, the laughter and chatter, along with the faint echo of the waves lapping at the beach made you feel nostalgic. Barbecue nights like this had been a staple of your summers here. You hadn’t thought about them much in the two years you were away, but now that you were experiencing it again, you realized how much you’d missed it.
You focused on your tasks, determined to push away the tension from earlier at the store. The last thing you wanted was to let Anton get under your skin.
But Anton had other ideas. He was stuck to you like glue. Every time you moved to do something, he was right there, offering to help.
While you were helping Aunt Hyejin arrange side dishes, you were also trying to brush off the occasional bump of Anton’s shoulder as he reached for something nearby. It was hard to ignore the way he hovered close—not enough to draw attention, but enough to keep your nerves on edge.
“Need anything?” he asked as you washed the lettuce.
You glanced at him, your expression flat. “No, I’m good,” you said, shaking the excess water off the leaves.
He didn’t seem to take the hint. “You sure? I can—”
“No,” you cut him off, tugging the lettuce away when he reached for it. “I can do it myself.”
He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly, but instead of arguing, he grabbed a tray of meat and started skewering it—purposefully working a little too close to where you were standing.
The family, oblivious to your silent war, carried on. Junyoung teased you about your time abroad, nudging you playfully. “Bet you missed this, huh?”
“Missed what?” you asked, playing along.
“This. You can’t get this kind of barbecue anywhere else.”
You laughed but didn’t answer because Anton spoke first. “Junyoung, didn’t Dad ask you to get the charcoal?”
“Oh, crap. Right.” Junyoung hurried off, leaving you and Anton alone at the counter.
Your eyes flicked toward Anton who seemed too immersed in his task. “Move. I need space for this,” you demanded, motioning to the tray in your hand.
His gaze shifted to you for a moment, before he returned to the meat and vegetables. “If you’re done with that, come help me with these,” he said flatly.
Scoffing, you picked up the tray of washed greens and headed outside.
Once everything was set up, you took a seat at the long table, intentionally placing yourself as far from Anton as possible. Plates were filled, glasses poured, and lively chatter filled the air. But just as you lifted your fork, Anton’s voice caught your attention.
“Junyoung, move over. I’m sitting there.”
Your eyes widened as Anton casually nudged his brother out of the way, sliding into the seat beside you without hesitation. Junyoung gave you a confused look, and you could only shrug.
Anton glanced at you as he settled in. “You don’t mind, right?” he asked, his tone almost too sweet, like he wasn’t giving you a choice.
You grimaced. “Do whatever you want. It’s your house.”
To your surprise, Anton became uncharacteristically attentive. He refilled your plate with meat, made wraps for you, and handed over dishes you couldn’t reach. You tried to focus on the conversation around you, but it was impossible to ignore the sincerity in his actions—or the way his gaze lingered a little too long.
It wasn’t long before Anton’s father spoke up, his deep voice cutting through the chatter. “Well, it’s nice to see you two getting along again,” he said, his gentle gaze flicking between you and Anton.
Anton raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a half-smile. “What do you mean?”
“The two of you,” his father replied, pointing at you and Anton. “I heard whispers about how you two weren’t speaking while I was gone. Did something happen?”
“You noticed that?” Anton asked.
Your mom chimed. “Oh, we all did. You’ve been inseparable since you were kids. Of course we’d notice if you suddenly act like strangers.”
“It’s good that you’ve made up. I thought we’d have to mediate some big falling out,” Aunt Hyejin added with a laugh, glancing between you and Anton.
Anton’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t say anything, focusing instead on the wrap he was making.
“It was weird,” your mom continued, clearly enjoying the opportunity to tease. “These two were like peas in a pod growing up. They’d even sneak out at night to stargaze on the beach together. Remember that?”
You groaned inwardly. “Mom, please.”
“Oh, don’t act embarrassed,” your aunt said, waving a hand. “It’s cute! We all thought it was adorable.”
Anton’s father narrowed his eyes playfully. “So, what happened? Did you fight?”
Before you could stammer out a reply, Anton finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. “Nothing happened. We’re fine.”
“That’s it?” his father pressed, clearly unsatisfied.
Anton glanced at you, his gaze lingering for a moment too long. “That’s it.”
The table erupted into laughter, with your mom and Aunt Hyejin exchanging knowing looks.
“Well, I guess all’s well that ends well,” your mom said, smiling. “You two were always quick to make up anyway.”
You tried to laugh it off, focusing on your plate and ignoring the way Anton’s arm brushed against yours under the table.
As the meal wrapped up and people began clearing plates, Anton stood abruptly. He didn’t announce anything to the table, just leaned down slightly toward you, his voice low enough that only you could hear.
“Air?” he asked simply, gesturing toward the beach.
For a moment, you hesitated. Then, realizing the family’s focus was elsewhere, you pushed your chair back and followed him.
Anton led the way down the path toward the beach, hands in his pockets. You followed, keeping your eyes on the back of his head as your feet sank slightly into the cool sand. The sound of waves crashing on the shore stirred something in you—restlessness, maybe. Or nostalgia.
Then he stopped by the shoreline, where the water lapped softly, and sat down.
“Are you planning to stand there all night?” he asked, glancing up at you and tapping the space next to him.
You rolled your eyes and plopped down a few feet away, deliberately creating distance. The breeze tugged at your hair, and for a moment, neither of you spoke, letting the sound of the waves fill the silence.
“They think we’ve made up,” you said finally, breaking the stillness.
Anton huffed a quiet laugh. “They’ve got no idea, huh?”
“Not a clue,” you replied, smirking faintly. “I don’t even know why we were fighting. Or if it was even a fight in the first place. This is your fault.”
His brow quirked at that, but instead of biting back, he chuckled softly. “Maybe it was me. I’ll take the blame.”
“You’ve been sticking to me all night,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. “Acting all nice, making wraps for me at dinner… What’s that about?”
Anton tilted his head toward you, his expression unreadable. “Why? You don’t like it?”
You shot him a look. “No, it’s just weird. You’ve been a prick all week, and now suddenly you’re trying to play nice. What’s your deal?”
He leaned back on his hands, eyes drifting to the horizon. “Maybe I just felt bad,” he said finally. “For these past few days, I mean.”
You snorted, trying to hide the way his sincerity caught you off guard. “So, what? It took you this long to feel bad?”
His gaze slid back to yours, and this time, it lingered. The playful edge in his expression softened, replaced by something quieter, something heavier.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
The words hung between you, stirring up emotions you weren’t prepared to unpack. You wanted to brush it off, to throw a snarky remark his way and shift the mood back to something you could handle, but the look in his eyes kept you rooted in place.
You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but he beat you to it.
“I didn’t mean to treat you like that,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I didn’t mean to change… us.”
Your heart twisted, but you forced a scoff. “You didn’t mean it? Could’ve fooled me.”
Anton didn’t respond right away. He simply stared at you, his eyes tracing your features like he was seeing them for the first time. The ocean breeze carried the faint scent of the summer evening, and the sound of waves crashing filled the spaces his words left behind.
And for a moment, you thought he might close the distance. His shoulders shifted, his posture leaning ever so slightly toward you, his gaze dropping to your lips—so brief you almost thought you imagined it.
But just as quickly, he pulled back. His expression returned to the smirk you were all too familiar with.
“Welp, let’s not get too sentimental,” he said lightly, brushing sand off his hands as he stood up. “You might actually start thinking I’ve changed for the better.”
You blinked, caught somewhere between frustration and something softer, as he offered you a hand to help you up.
“I still haven’t decided if I like this version of you,” you muttered, brushing past him as you started back toward the house.
He chuckled, walking ahead of you and gently bumping your shoulder as he passed you. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”
A part of you wondered if the conversation was done for the night. But as you glanced at the back of his head, you couldn’t resist one last question.
“Why did you do it?” you called out.
Anton slowed but didn’t stop, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Do what?”
You caught up, falling into step beside him. “Why’d you kiss me?”
He didn’t react right away, his gaze shifting back to the path ahead. “You’re asking me that now? Have you been thinking about it all week?” he asked with a teasing lilt in his voice.
“I’m serious. Come on,” you said, keeping your tone light but steady. “It’s not because you wanted to, right? I was just getting on your nerves, and there was no other way to shut me up. Right, Anton? Right?”
Your heart thudded in your chest as the silence stretched. Anton finally came to a stop, his hands slipping into his pockets as he turned to face you. The moonlight caught the faint curve of his smirk, but his eyes were unreadable.
“Wrong,” he said simply.
“What?” you blurted, waiting for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.
Anton turned and kept walking, leaving you standing there, staring after him as the word echoed in your mind.
The weekend at the beach house passed in a blur. After your conversation with Anton, things between you weren’t awkward anymore, but they weren’t exactly normal either. You talked like usual, bantered like usual, interacted like usual—everything was as usual. Except for when his eyes would focus on you every now and then—the kind of look that seemed to communicate something your mind couldn’t comprehend, but you knew they meant something.
Sometimes, when it was just the two of you—bringing drinks outside or crossing paths in the hallway—you found yourself running through a dozen different scenarios in your head. Ones where the air grew heavy, his hand brushed yours, and somehow, the silence ended in a feverish kiss. You weren’t sure where these thoughts were coming from, but they made you giddy and nervous at the same time, unsure how to handle the growing interest that crept quietly under your skin.
Soon, the day of the volleyball game rolled around, and you headed to the beach with your friends. Sungchan was easy to spot near the net, casually chatting with a group while fiddling with the ropes. When he caught sight of you, his smile stretched wide as he jogged toward you.
“You finally showed up,” he teased, hands on his hips.
You rolled your eyes at his dramatic tone. “I’m literally on time.”
“Late, early—it’s all relative.” He grinned, taking a step back and gesturing to the setup. “So, wanna be on my team? I’m giving you a chance to switch sides before we kick your team’s ass.”
You scoffed. “How generous. But I’ve already pictured your defeat in my head, so, no thank you.”
His laugh was easy, but you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze softened as it lingered on you. That familiar charm of his—it was almost effortless, but you knew what you had to say.
“By the way, I have something to tell you,” you said, glancing past the others before looking back at him.
“Sure,” he nodded, his smile dimming just slightly. “That look is making me nervous, but let’s hear it.”
You took a breath. “You’re a fun guy, you really are. You’re nice too. And to be honest, I had a crush on you since I was like—” you shrugged—“twelve? I think?”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah, and I really enjoyed hanging out with you, but I don’t think I want to be anything other than friends with you.”
For a second, you worried how he’d take it. But Sungchan just stared at you, then let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “I knew you’d break my heart eventually.”
“Sungchan—”
“I’m kidding,” he cut you off, flashing his usual grin. “It’s cool, really. You didn’t drag it out, so thanks for that.”
Relief washed over you. “I just didn’t want to keep you hanging.”
“I know. I really appreciate that,” he replied, his grin turning teasing again. “Gives me more time to get to know other people. Lots of pretty girls in town this summer, you know? They’d be thrilled to know I’m still available.”
You couldn’t help chuckling. “Did you really just say that out loud?”
“Why not?” he said, smirking. “We’re friends. There’s no need to filter my words around friends.”
“Unbelievable,” you muttered, but the laughter that followed between you both was easy and genuine.
The volleyball setup was simple but lively—teams were already strategizing, with Sungchan’s voice ringing out as he rallied his group together. You lingered near the sidelines, soaking in the warm sun and salty breeze, until a familiar figure stepped into your peripheral vision.
Anton.
His hair was a little tousled from the wind, and he had that usual air of nonchalance as he approached. You noticed the faint furrow in his brow as his gaze shifted from Sungchan back to you.
“Are you ready for this?” you asked, keeping your tone casual.
Anton ignored the question entirely. “What were you two talking about?”
“Sungchan?” you asked innocently, tilting your head. “Nothing much. Just clearing the air.”
Anton narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything, his jaw tightening slightly before he turned his attention to the players warming up.
“Didn’t think you’d actually referee,” you teased, eyeing his rashguard and short outfit.
“Someone has to keep things fair,” he replied, his tone dry as his eyes flicked to Sungchan, who was busy high-fiving his teammates.
You raised an eyebrow, catching his not-so-subtle focus. “What’s that look for?”
He shrugged, but his casual tone didn’t match the sharpness in his gaze. “Just wondering why you were all chummy with him.”
“What?” you said, rolling your eyes. “I told you. We were just talking. We’re friends. He’s nice.”
“Too nice, if you ask me,” Anton muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening. “You do remember that he’s older than us, right?”
You tilted your head, amusement tugging at your lips. “Is that jealousy I hear, Anton Lee?”
“Not jealousy,” he shot back quickly. “Concern. You shouldn’t be fraternizing with the enemy.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Enemy? Aren’t referees supposed to be neutral and not pick sides.”
Anton’s lips twitched, but his expression remained guarded. “Not when it comes to him.”
“Sounds personal,” you teased.
Before he could reply, Sungchan’s voice called from across the net. “Hey, MVP! You ready to show us what you’ve got?”
A confident grin spread across your face as you turned to him. “Hope you’re ready to lose,” you shot back, adjusting your stance.
Anton muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “cocky,” but you ignored him, stepping onto the sand with the kind of ease that came from years of practice.
The game started fast, with energy running high as the teams gave their all to the game. You were quick on your feet, diving for saves and landing precise spikes that sent the ball flying past the other team’s defenses more than once.
“Still got it,” you muttered to yourself after a particularly clean shot, wiping sand off your knees.
“Nice!” Hana cheered, and you all huddled for a high-five.
Sungchan whistled, shaking his head as he retrieved the ball. “Alright, I’ll give you that one. But don’t think you’re getting another easy point.”
“Easy?” Hana echoed, smirking playfully. “Your team’s been missing half your serves. Why don’t you concede?”
“Less talking, more playing,” Yejin retorted, clapping her hands loudly.
The banter drew a laugh from the sidelines, where Anton stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Still, you caught the slight twitch of his lips whenever you scored, even if he didn’t say a word.
During a quick break, Sungchan jogged over, tossing you a water bottle. “You’re making me work harder than I thought,” he said, flashing his signature grin.
“Good,” you replied, taking a sip and wiping your brow. “I’m just getting started.”
Sungchan stood there for a few seconds, watching you. Then, out of nowhere, he asked, “So, how are things with Anton?”
The water caught in your throat mid-sip, and you barely managed not to spit it out. Coughing, you waved him off as he laughed and patted your back. “What? Why would you even ask me that?”
“Has he told you about it yet?”
“About what?”
Sungchan raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Don’t make me spell it out. The guy’s practically wearing a neon sign over his head that says, ‘I’m in love with her.’”
You rolled your eyes, brushing off the warmth creeping up your neck. “You’re so dramatic. He doesn’t—”
“Sure, sure.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But you’ve noticed, haven’t you? The way he gets all broody whenever we talk?”
“Broody?”
“You know, sulky. Jealous,” he grinned, casually draping an arm on your shoulder. “I didn’t think it would be so fun to tease him.”
Without thinking, you glanced over. Anton stood with his arms crossed, stealing glances at you and Sungchan. His face was unreadable, but the tight set of his jaw and the sharpness in his gaze gave him away.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, turning back to Sungchan, though your pulse quickened under Anton’s gaze.
Before he could respond, a sharp whistle broke through the conversation.
“Break’s over,” Anton called, his voice firm as he motioned for everyone to get back into position.
Sungchan glanced at him, then back at you, grinning like he’d just cracked a code. “See? Broody.” He threw you a wink before jogging back to his side of the net.
As the game resumed, you couldn’t help but notice Anton’s slightly biased officiating—whistling a little too loud when Sungchan’s team scored, or muttering under his breath whenever their team celebrated.
By the time the final point was scored—your team taking the win with a flawless spike—you caught Anton watching you again, his expression softening just slightly. But as quickly as it came, it was gone, replaced with his usual cool detachment as he blew the whistle to signal the end of the game.
The sound of cheers and laughter filled the air as your team huddled together, celebrating the win. Sohee slung an arm over your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear.
“Still the MVP, huh?” he teased, ruffling your hair playfully. “I don’t know why I thought this would go any other way.”
“Because you’re overconfident,” Hana chimed in, nudging Yejin with her elbow. “And we’re, you know, actually good at this.”
You smirked. “Don’t beat yourself up, though. You guys put up a good fight.”
“Good fight, my ass,” Sohee grumbled, flopping onto the sand dramatically. “We got obliterated. I’m never playing against you guys again.”
“Come on, Sohee,” you replied, tossing him a grin as you helped him up. “It’s just for fun. You didn’t do that bad.”
“He missed three serves in a row,” Hana deadpanned, earning a loud groan from Sohee.
“Okay, no need to rub it in!” Sohee huffed, dusting the sand off his hands.
Anton approached the group, his whistle still dangling from around his neck. “You all done patting yourselves on the back?” he asked, his tone neutral but his eyes briefly meeting yours.
“What exactly are we winning? Do we get a prize?” Yejin asked, looking around.
Sungchan shrugged. “Bragging rights?” he said with evident uncertainty in his tone and expression.
Your team groaned, unsatisfied. Sungchan stammered. “Hey, we didn’t decide on a prize when we talked about this game.”
Sohee raised a hand. “Okay, guys, since I’m basically responsible for our loss, ice cream’s on me for the winners. Losers can fend for themselves.”
“Wow, so generous,” Sungchan deadpanned, but he followed anyway, dragging his team along.
“It’s okay, dude,” Yejin said, clapping him on the back. “You’re rewarded enough. It’s not every day you get to play with an MVP.”
“You mean lose to an MVP,” Sungchan corrected, nodding toward you. “You’re a beast out there, seriously. Respect.”
“Respectfully defeated, you mean?” Hana teased, crossing her arms.
Sungchan shrugged, unfazed. “I’m not bitter. I’d rather lose to a skilled player than Sohee.”
“Okay, man. Low blow,” Sohee sighed, shoulders sagging in defeat.
Sungchan flashed you a knowing grin before his gaze flickered toward Anton. “Guess you’re proud of her too, huh, ref?”
Anton’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he only shrugged. “She’s decent.”
“Decent?” you echoed, narrowing your eyes at him. “Pretty sure I just carried my team to victory.”
“I’d rather not inflate your ego,” he retorted, smirking.
As the group headed toward the snack stand, you lingered for a moment, brushing sand off your legs. Anton hung back too, his gaze lingering on the horizon before he glanced at you.
“Decent, huh?” you said, crossing your arms as you turned to him.
His lips twitched. “You heard me.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You could just admit you’re impressed.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” he replied, turning toward the snack stand without waiting for a response.
Shaking your head, you followed, the playful energy from the game lingering in the air.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the group gathered around a bonfire on the beach. Drinks were passed around, the conversation flowing easily. More people arrived as the evening deepened, including some of Anton’s posh friends. They blended effortlessly into the group, their polished smiles and designer outfits standing out against the casual beachwear.
At some point, Sohee handed Anton a guitar with a knowing smirk. “Would you play something for us?”
Anton chuckled, adjusting the strap before strumming a few chords. The group around the fire cheered, and soon everyone was singing along, their voices blending beautifully with the melody Anton was playing.
You leaned back against the driftwood bench, watching him as his fingers glided over the strings with ease. There was something captivating about how relaxed he seemed—more confident, more self-assured. The shy boy you’d grown up with had always seemed happiest when he was off to the side, letting others take the spotlight. Now, he was in the center of it, getting attention without even trying.
In hindsight, this should’ve made you happy. Seeing him like this—more mature, more comfortable in his own skin—should’ve felt like a victory for the both of you. But you didn’t have time to process this because the joy of his transformation had been buried under your indignation, your frustration at being treated like a stranger.
You sighed and turned your gaze to the fire, trying to push the thoughts away.
Later, as the party stretched into the night, Sungchan plopped down beside you with a drink in hand.
“Long face at a party?” he teased, nudging your arm lightly.
You smiled faintly. “Just thinking about stuff.”
“Stuff like Anton?” he asked, raising a brow.
You gave him a side-eye, but his grin was disarming enough that you found yourself nodding. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” he echoed, leaning closer like he was fishing for details. “Come on, you can tell me. I’m great at giving unsolicited advice.”
That earned a laugh out of you. “Why are you nosy?”
He shrugged. “This is the most interesting thing that happened here since summer break started. I’m a little too invested.”
“Fine,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “Get ready.”
And so, you told him everything—how you and Anton had grown up together, spending every summer side by side, how he used to be this sweet, shy boy you adored. You told him about your silly teenage crush on him, how you’d skipped the last two summers, and how things were so different now that you were back. Sungchan listened intently, nodding along as you spoke.
“And then he kissed me,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “And now I’m… I don’t know. I can’t tell if I’m falling for him again or if I’m just confusing old feelings for something they’re not.”
Sungchan leaned back, letting out a low whistle. “That’s a lot to unpack,” he said, then smirked. “But hey, you’ve got options. If it’s real, great. If it’s not, at least you’ll know. Either way, you win.”
You rolled your eyes. “That’s not exactly helpful.”
“Look, all I’m saying is, maybe stop overthinking it. You’ll figure it out,” he replied. “But if you’re asking me? I think you’re not confusing old feelings. It’s just that the old feelings are stronger now that you’re older and wiser. Well, not so wise, but still wiser than when you were sixteen.”
Your laugh came out startled. “What makes you think so?”
“Just a hunch,” he said, winking.
Before you could respond, a shadow fell over the both of you. You looked up to see Anton standing there, his expression unreadable as he glanced between you and Sungchan.
“Time to go,” Anton said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.
You frowned, leaning back against the bench. “It’s still early.”
Anton huffed, unfazed. “I’d hate to ruin your night, but I’m tired, so let’s just go.”
You groaned, glancing at Sungchan, who gave you an exaggerated pout. “Guess this is goodbye,” he said dramatically.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” you retorted, but you smiled as you stood. “Thanks for listening.”
He gave you a two-fingered salute as you turned to follow Anton.
As you walked up the beach, the sounds of the party fading behind you, you glanced at Anton. “Can’t you go home by yourself?”
“You think I’m dragging you along because I want to?” he asked back, glancing sideways at you. “Take it up to your two moms if you have a problem with it.”
You huffed. “I probably should. One can’t go home without the other? What are we, fifteen?”
Anton didn’t respond, but you caught the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as he walked ahead.
The car ride was too quiet for your liking. Anton kept his grip tight on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched, and you couldn’t ignore the hint of annoyance on his expression.
You’d been stealing glances over at him, but he didn’t meet your eyes. The way he was acting—the sudden coldness after the bonfire, the way he pulled away emotionally—it was all too confusing and infuriating.
“Anton, you’re angry,” you said, your voice low but steady. “What’s going on? Another mood swing?”
He finally looked at you, his eyes dark, the frustration in them almost raw. “Can you mind your own business?”
“I can if you stop making me feel like this was my business too.”
Anton let out a sharp exhale, and with a swift turn of the steering wheel, he pulled over to the side of the road, stepping on the brakes so abruptly, you were jolted forward, the seatbelt digging into your chest.
“What the hell—”
“What do you want me to say?” he cut you off, his voice rough.
“What do I want you to say?” you echoed, heart pounding as anger rose in your chest. “Are you serious? You’ve been treating me like a stranger since I got here. You’ve barely talked to me, and when you do, it’s like I’m the last person you want to be around. What do I want you to say?”
You scoffed incredulously. “I want you to tell me what I did so wrong to deserve this.”
Anton’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, his jaw clenching so hard it was a wonder it didn’t crack. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, quieter, but no less intense. “I missed you. So fucking much.”
For a second, his words knocked the wind out of you. But the anger came rushing back. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense. You missed me, so you’re treating me like crap? What the hell, Anton?”
“I don’t know!” he snapped, his voice breaking slightly. He groaned, leaning back in his seat and pressing his hands to his face. “I don’t know, alright? I just—I couldn’t reach you. I couldn’t talk to you. You were supposed to be here, and you weren’t. And now you’re back, and I’m—” He broke off, dragging his hands through his hair in frustration.
You blinked, caught off-guard by the vulnerability in his voice. You opened your mouth to speak, but you didn’t know what to say so you closed it again. At that moment, it was as if the only thing you could do was reach out your hand and place it on his arm, squeezing gently in hopes that it would somehow comfort him, that it would be enough to express what your words cannot.
His head turned toward you, and the look in his eyes made your breath hitch. His gaze flicked to your lips, and before you could process what was happening, his hand was on your arm, pulling you toward him. Then his lips crashed against yours, desperate and unrestrained, like he couldn’t stop himself anymore.
And you couldn’t pull away—not that you wanted to. Everything you had been holding back, everything you’d been pretending not to feel, was suddenly pouring out in that kiss.
He tugged you closer, his other hand sliding to your waist as the kiss deepened, raw and messy, with a kind of desperation that matched your own. You could feel his heavy breathing against your lips as his body tensed beneath you, and it only made you want to close the distance even more. You wrapped your arms around his neck, clutching a handful of his hair because you needed to hold on to something—anything—that was real.
Anton’s hands moved to your neck, his touch possessive, as if he was trying to assure himself that you were here, that you weren’t going anywhere. You pulled away for a breath, your chest rising and falling quickly as you stared at each other, both of you trying to catch your breath.
“Anton…” you whispered, your voice trembling.
He pressed his forehead to yours, his voice hoarse. “Don’t say it. Just—don’t say anything right now.” He kissed you again, one hand slipping under your shirt but you stopped him.
“No.” You pushed him away gently, your lips curving into a small smile. “Not here. Come on, dude. Not in the car. Let’s at least make this special.”
He leaned back, a short, dark laugh escaping him. “I just kissed you till you’re breathless, and you call me dude after?”
You laughed lightly, still breathless yourself. “Are you seriously gonna hold that against me instead of focusing on more pressing matters?” You glanced at the unmistakable bulge in his jeans.
Anton grunted, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he shifted the gear stick, suddenly looking more determined than ever as he stepped on the gas.
You couldn’t help grinning at the look on his face. You reached for his chin, pulling him close just enough to press a soft kiss on his cheek. As you sat back, Anton’s fingers brushed against yours, holding your hand with a light squeeze as the car sped down the highway.
The house was quiet when you and Anton arrived. It was past 1am, and the soft hum of the house was the only sound that filled the air as you both tiptoed down the dimly lit hallway. Your footsteps were almost inaudible on the hardwood floor, but your heart raced in your chest. When you passed by his parents’ room, you both paused for a moment, checking for any signs of movement, worried that someone might wake up and catch you sneaking.
When you reached the upper floor landing, Anton grabbed your hand, pulling you closer to him. His lips brushed the side of your neck as you walked down the hall. The thrill of the risk only heightened your need for each other, and you couldn’t keep the smile from tugging at your lips as his hand slid to the small of your back, pressing you against him for a second.
“You’re gonna get us caught,” you whispered, though the mischief in your voice gave away the fact that you were enjoying this too.
He groaned impatiently. “Why is your bedroom so far away?”
“It’s not, you’re just dramatic,” you chided softly, pressing a soft kiss on his lips and slipping away when he moved to cage you in his arms.
The need for each other was overwhelming, but you couldn’t risk waking anyone up, couldn’t let anyone see this side of you two yet.
When you finally reached your bedroom door, you turned to face Anton, curling your fingers in his shirt. “Don’t you dare go in there without me,” you said, pulling him toward you for another kiss, the same fervent kiss he’d been giving you all night.
As you both stumbled into the room, the door clicking shut behind you, everything else disappeared—the house, the people, the secrets. The room was quiet except for the sound of your uneven breaths. He was so close, his familiar face somehow different now, his eyes tracing yours like he was seeing you for the first time.
“This is insane,” you whispered, a shaky laugh slipping out as you broke eye contact. “Are we really gonna do this?”
“Oh, it’s totally up to you,” he said softly, his voice dipping lower as he tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear. “But right now, I can’t stop thinking about you… like this,” he added, his fingers brushing on the sleeves of your shirt, tugging it off slowly.
You let him undress you as your stomach fluttered at his confession. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned forward, your lips meeting his. It started soft, tentative, like you were afraid to push too far. But then his hand found the back of your neck, pulling you in, and suddenly it wasn’t soft anymore.
The kiss deepened, years of restraint unraveling all at once. He laid you back against the bed, his weight hovering over you. As his lips trailed down your neck with slow and careful kisses, your mind began to spiral with a sensation that was both new and unfamiliar.
When he got rid of your bra and revealed your bosoms before his eyes, he had to take a moment and look at you—really look at you, with a face of disbelief and amazement. That gaze made you shy, but you tried not to show it, hoping he liked what he was seeing.
“This feels… a bit different,” he murmured, meeting your gaze. His voice trembled slightly, and it struck you that he was just as nervous as you were.
“Because it is,” you whispered back, your fingers brushing against his cheek. “But it’s still us.”
That seemed to settle something in him. He leaned down to kiss you again, only for a short while before abandoning your lips and moving to your neck. He licked and nipped at your skin, leaving a slight sting that sent shivers down your spine—a delightful balance of pain and pleasure. His lips trailed down to your collarbone, the center of your chest, and the soft hollow beneath your breast before moving to suck on your nipple.
The sudden jolt of pleasure made you arch your back, stifling a gasp that almost tore out of your lungs. Anton continued, eyes locked with yours, studying every expression you were making.
His hands grew bolder, fingertips traveling to your belly, down to your sex with curiosity and reverence. His motions were gentle at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But with each soft gasp or subtle shift of your body, his confidence grew. When his thumb brushed a spot that made you shiver, he paused, repeating the motion with a soft hum, like he’d just unlocked a secret meant only for him.
He already knew you so well—the way your eyes lit up when you were excited, the way your laugh sounded when you tried to muffle it, and the things that made you fold into yourself when you were upset. But this—this part of you—was new, uncharted territory neither of you had thought you’d ever explore.
“Didn’t know you could make that face,” he teased, tickling your ear.
A quiet laugh slipped out of you when his hand fumbled at an awkward angle. “You lost it,” you giggled and he let out a soft chuckle in return.
“Sorry. Where did it go?” he asked, grinning toothily. “Guess I’m not as smooth as I thought.”
You shook your head, still grinning, and cupped his jaw in your hand. “You’re doing fine.”
The laughter didn’t last long. It faded into urgency when you reached between his legs where his manhood was trapped in his tight jeans. Anton let out a pained grunt when your hand brushed it, murmuring “Fuck,” before backing away from you and stripping out of his clothes in a matter of seconds.
He dived back to your lips, crashing with intense fervor while his hand spread your legs wider. He held you tight as he positioned himself, shushing you gently as he slowly fitted himself inside. Every fiber in your body stood in attention, anticipating the delightful pain to shoot through you. And when it came, it was infinitely better than what you imagined.
Instinct took over as you clung to him, your pulse racing as he began to move at a languid pace, familiarizing before going at a steadier pace. The sheets twisted under your fingers, the soft rasp of his name escaping your lips as he pressed harder.
Every thrust ignited something inside you, every whispered murmur of your name leaving you more breathless than the last. You could no longer keep track of what was happening, too far gone to think clearly, but conscious enough to know you wanted more—more of him, more of this pleasure that was driving you insane in the best way possible.
After who knows how long, a throaty moan ripped out of you, your back arching as you let the high engulf you in waves. Anton kept his thrusts steady, riding through your high until your knees shook with too much stimulation. Then you fell back on the bed, limbs weak and your energy depleted.
When it was over, you lay tangled together, your pulse still racing as he held you in his arms. In the atmosphere was a quiet kind of understanding that didn’t need words. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, slowly pulling you out of the haze of desire.
You shifted slightly, looking up to find him already watching you. He was smiling, a little shy but undeniably happy. His hand slid up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face before letting his fingers linger on your jaw.
“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
You nodded, taking a deep breath as you smiled. “Yeah. We’re okay.”
The next morning, you woke up with Anton’s arm still wrapped around you, his warmth enveloping you nicely. The sunlight poured into the room and for a moment, it felt like nothing else in the world mattered. Your body was still tingling from the night before, but you were content and happy.
Anton stirred beside you, his arm tightening instinctively around your waist. He buried his face in your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
“You awake?” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly along your jaw.
You smiled faintly, glancing up at him. “Yeah. We need to talk.”
He nodded, exhaling deeply as he stretched, the movement shifting you slightly before he pulled you close again. “Figured you’d say that,” he said, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. But then his expression softened. “I know I’ve got a lot to answer for.”
The night had brought you closer, but it had also left things unanswered, things that neither of you could avoid any longer.
You stayed quiet, letting him speak.
“I was an idiot,” he began, his tone quieter now. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away when you came back. I just... I didn’t know how to handle it.”
You blinked at him, watching his face and saw the faint flicker of guilt and uncertainty in his eyes. This was a side of Anton you hadn’t seen in a while—the one who let his guard down, even if only for a moment.
“I thought I’d lost you for good,” he continued, his voice steady but low. “You didn’t come for two summers. No calls, no texts—it felt like you disappeared, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”
You frowned. “No one told you I was away for uni?” you asked sarcastically.
He huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I knew. But…” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. We didn’t talk much in the last two years. Different time zones, schedules, and all. You were out there, living your life. I see your posts online. You were killing it in school, making new friends, living your life. Hell, you even had a boyfriend at one point.” He chuckled bitterly, the sound more self-deprecating than amused. Then he continued. “I guess I got insecure and thought you were content living a life without me in it.”
“Come on. That’s not true,” you defended, scowling.
“I know,” he said quickly, cutting you off. “I know that now. But back then, it just... I don’t know how else to say it—it messed me up. Like I said, I was insecure.”
“So I decided to live my life too, and it was good. I learned lots of new things, met lots of people, and discovered interests in fields I didn’t know I had interest in. It was great.” He paused, swallowing hard, then muttered, “Then mom said you were coming for summer this year and suddenly, I was thinking about you again. I realized that I wasn’t mad because I felt abandoned and forgotten. I was just… in love with you.”
You gasped softly, pulse racing at his confession. Anton smiled at you as he continued. “I didn’t know how to deal with that and I knew you’d leave eventually, so I thought if I acted like you were a stranger, it’d hurt less when you’re gone. Obviously it didn’t. It just made everything worse.”
You could feel the sincerity of his words, the honesty finally breaking through the wall he’d built.
“You didn’t have to go through all that,” you said gently, your hand cupping his cheek. “I never forgot about you, Anton. I could never, even if I try. You and me, we’re like, stuck with each other.”
A faint smile broke through his solemn expression. “You make it sound like a punishment.”
You chuckled softly, your fingers brushing through his hair. “I mean, for me, it kind of is.”
His eyes widened slightly, surprised. “For real?”
“No,” you replied quickly, grinning and wrapping your arm tighter around him.
Anton chuckled. “You’re annoying.”
“You’re one to talk,” you retorted, your voice gentle and light.
For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet between you filled with the soft hum of the morning. Then Anton sighed. “I don’t want to screw this up,” he said. “Not with you. Not again.”
“You won’t,” you promised, your head resting against his chest as his arms wrapped around you. “I’ll kill you if you do.”
Anton’s expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, I’ll do my best. I love living my life, you see.”
You nodded, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. There was no need for more words right now. You were finally on the same page, and for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.
No one knew, and that was the beauty of it.
To the outside world, nothing had changed. You and Anton had always been close, always spent summers attached at the hip, so when you were together—laughing over shared inside jokes or disappearing for hours at a time—it wasn’t out of the ordinary. No one thought to question it. But for the two of you, everything was different.
You snuck out late at night, barefoot and giddy, to watch the stars from the beach. Anton would bring a blanket and a bottle of his dad’s wine he swiped from the kitchen, and the two of you would lie there for hours, trading stories and stolen kisses. Sometimes, you’d just sit in comfortable silence, your fingers intertwined, his lips occasionally pressing against your temple.
In the mornings, you’d meet for coffee at the little café down the street, pretending it was a casual thing when your families asked. But as soon as you were alone, Anton would squeeze himself beside you, smiling as he held your hand in his.
“Think they’re catching on?” he’d tease, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.
“No idea,” you’d reply, grinning. “We’d probably get married and they’d think it’s just us being silly.”
Anton gasped, covering his mouth. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
You rolled your eyes, feigning exasperation. “Oh my god. Can you go back to being nonchalant? I don’t miss your old dramatic self.”
“Aw,” he said cutely, leaning his head on your shoulder. “Come on, baby. You don’t mean that.”
You revisited the places you’d loved as kids, seeing them through new eyes. The old treehouse near the playground became your hideout, where you’d sit together, legs tangled as you reminisced about summers past.
“You used to boss me around so much here,” Anton would say, laughing when you nudged him. “Still do, actually.”
“You love it,” you’d shoot back, and he’d smirk before kissing you, his hand slipping beneath your shirt in a way that made you forget whatever you were about to say next.
There were days when you explored each other in ways that left you breathless—your skin tingling, your heart racing. Anton was patient and attentive, his touch both gentle and electrifying. He’d study you like he was learning a language, his lips tracing paths across your body as if trying to commit every inch of you to memory. You discovered parts of him, too—little things he liked, the way he shivered when you kissed just below his jaw, the way he whispered your name like a prayer whenever you gave him the ride of his life.
You got to know him in ways you never had before, and it made you fall harder. Behind his teasing and occasional grumpiness, there was a gentle boy, a vulnerability that he only ever let you see. And you held it close, cherishing every piece of him.
Together, you built a world of your own—one filled with secret smiles, lingering touches, and endless laughter. No one else was privy to it, and you liked it that way. The privacy made it feel more sacred, more yours.
You were looking for some cards in the drawers in Anton’s room when you spotted something familiar. Pulling it out, you found an old photo tucked between the pages of a dusty book. It was from one of those endless summers, taken when you and Anton were maybe sixteen. The two of you were sitting side by side on the wooden dock, feet dipped into the water. His grin was wide, his arm slung lazily over your shoulders, and your expression was somewhere between laughing and rolling your eyes.
“Hey, Anton,” you called out, walking into the living room where he was sprawled out on the couch. He glanced up lazily, but his eyes immediately sharpened when he saw what you were holding.
“Where’d you find that?” he asked, reaching for it.
“In your room. You didn’t think I’d find it tucked safely in your old guitar book?” you teased, holding the photo out of his reach.
He shook his head, smiling faintly. “Man, I looked so good back then.”
You snorted, flopping down beside him. “You’re ridiculous. You look the same, just taller and with more expensive haircuts.”
He raised a brow at you. “And you?”
You grinned. “I peaked at sixteen. Obviously.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “You were annoying at sixteen.”
“Funny you say that,” you said, leaning back into the couch, the photo still clutched in your hand. “Because I had a crush on you back then.”
The confession rolled off your tongue casually, but the way Anton’s head snapped toward you was anything but casual.
“You what?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
You shrugged nonchalantly. “No big deal. It didn’t even last long.”
Anton stared at you for a second, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he crossed his arms and pouted, sulking like a child.
“That’s unfair,” he muttered.
You blinked, caught off guard. “What’s unfair?”
“That you stopped liking me,” he said, scowling. “Because I was in love with you around that time.”
Your mouth fell open. “No, you’re not.”
He grumbled something under his breath and refused to meet your eyes, but the tips of his ears were red.
“No, you’re not,” you repeated, half-laughing, half-shocked. You grabbed his arm and shook him playfully. “Come on, be serious. You’re lying, aren’t you?”
Anton just tutted and gave you a side-eye. Her mom walked in at that moment, struggling to hook her necklace.
“Sweetheart, come help me with this,” she asked, handing the jewelry to you. You quickly rose to help her. As you did, she narrowed her eyes at Anton and said, “Now, what’s going on? Are you guys fighting again?”
“Anton’s a liar,” you teased, glancing briefly at him. “He said he had a crush on me when we were sixteen.”
“Really?” Aunt Hyejin asked, tilting her head a little. She looked at you just as you finished locking her necklace. “You’re only finding out about it now?”
“Mom!” Anton interjected, standing up and dragging Aunt Hyejin away.
“What? I thought she knew the whole time,” Aunt Hyejin said, laughing as they disappeared into a corner.
You stood there dumbfounded and confused, though your heart was fluttering so much it made your cheeks burn.
Later that evening, you found yourself standing in front of a mirror. “Can you believe it?” you scoffed, turning toward Anton, who was buttoning up his shirt. “Me, going to Belle’s cocktail party?”
Anton, leaning against the doorframe as he adjusted his cufflinks. “If you hate it that much, we can just ditch.”
You rolled your eyes, smoothing out your skirt. “No. I’d love to see how you ended up being friends with those stuck-ups.” You paused, catching Anton’s gaze in the mirror. “Sorry, I forgot they’re your friends now.”
He smirked, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Well, they’re still stuck-ups. But they’re chill when you get to know them.”
You snorted. “We’ll see about that.”
Surprisingly, you did see. The cocktail party was better than you’d expected. The rich kids, despite their reputation, were easygoing and friendly once you got past their posh exteriors. Anton, fit right in as a rich kid himself, but his attention was never far from you.
At some point, someone mentioned Anton’s ‘first love’, and your ears perked up.
“He told us about her once, when he was drunk,” Belle said with a grin, sipping her drink. “ We’ve never seen Anton act and speak so cutely.”
You raised a brow, curious but playing it cool. “Really?”
Belle nodded, leaning in conspiratorially. “Yeah. Apparently, she used to tease him so much he wanted to strangle her half the time, but he also couldn’t imagine life without her.”
One guy added, “He even said she had this little laugh, you know, like a giggle that always got him. Man was a goner.”
“Yeah. He said she was his everything, but he was too scared to tell her. Isn’t that cute?”
Your heart skipped a beat as Anton avoided your gaze, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.
Later, as you walked down the beach with Anton, your high heels dangling from one hand and your other hand holding onto his arm, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The waves lapped at your feet, cool and soothing, as you glanced up at him.
“So,” you began, grinning, “I’m your everything, huh?”
Anton groaned, closing his eyes. “Don’t start.”
You laughed, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his jaw. “You’re so cute.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, but his hand tightened around yours.
You leaned against his chest, enjoying his warmth in the cool summer night.
“You were right,” you admitted, glancing up at him. “Your new friends aren’t so bad.”
“Told you,” he said smugly.
You rolled your eyes. “Don’t get cocky. I still think it’s hilarious you used to hate them and now you’re all buddy-buddy.”
Anton gave you a dry look. “Of course you do. I sometimes can’t believe it myself.”
You grinned mischievously. “Anton Lee, a social butterfly. Who would’ve thought?”
He chuckled softly. “Not me.”
The moonlight reflected off the water as you walked in comfortable silence, stealing kisses here and there. Your fingers were laced together, his thumb occasionally brushing against yours.
You glanced at him, the soft glow of the moonlight highlighting his features. It was hard to believe that this was the same boy you’d grown up with, the one who used to argue with you over who got the last piece of pizza or who could jump farther off the dock.
Being with him now, like this, felt surreal. But it also felt right.
“I still think you’re a loser, though,” you teased. Anton narrowed his eyes, and you saw the flicker of mischief in them a second too late.
“Take it back,” he said, his tone warning.
“Or what?” you taunted, stepping backward, a playful grin on your face.
He didn’t reply, already kicking off his shoes and rolling up his pants.
You shrieked, spinning around to run, the cool sand shifting under your bare feet. Anton’s laugh echoed behind you as he chased you down, his longer strides closing the distance easily.
“No!” you squealed, laughing so hard you could barely keep running.
It wasn’t long before he caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he lifted you off the ground. He spun you around, your laughter and shrieks echoing in the air.
Romantic relationships between childhood friends weren’t without their risks. You knew that. There was always the fear of ruining what had been there for so long, of losing not just a lover but a best friend. But as you glanced down at your intertwined hands, you realized you weren’t afraid.
Because no matter where life took you, as long as you were with Anton, you’d figure it out together.
univeristy!au taesan x fem!reader (ft. the rest of bonedo!)
SUMMARY: Meeting Taesan at a basement party doesn't go as planned, what happens when you can't get rid of him? Do you even want to?
GENRE: fluff, slightly suggestive in one chapter, university!au (mentions of fraternities, classes, lectures, dorms, etc.)
WARNINGS: Taesan gets punched, he doesn't deserve it but everything is okay | swearing | mentions of moaning but it doesn't get too crazy, reader makes fun of Taesan for it | fem!reader | heavy mentions of alcohol in the first chapter | EXCESSIVE flirting | ends with a confession!!
NOTES: I have never been to a frat party. I have never participated in Greek life. I do not drink for personal reasons. I have never dated Han Dongmin (unfortunately). In other words, this is likely very unrealistic because my information comes from speculation, reddit threads, and other fanfics on tumblr dot com. This was so fun to write
WC: 16.2k, divided into 6 "chapters" of varying length
RIDE OR DIE
You shift on your twin bed and feel the crinkly sheets shifting under your weight. You glance at the egg-shaped off-white clock on your wobbly, school-provided desk. The clock hits noon, your roommate will be home any minute and you’re hoping to power through the end of this report before then. Since you chose her as your roommate freshman year (because of maybe five instagram messages), Jen’s been your best friend, your literal ride or die, but she’s not the best body-doubling partner for cranking out assignments. When she’s with someone, she needs to provide commentary on whatever's going on, which is both a blessing and a curse. It’s a curse when it comes to being someone’s study partner.
The wooden door opens in an instant, and Jen’s frame appears in the doorway, flanked by about three bags. “Oh, dear roommate!” She greets you in song. She lets the bags fall from her arms with a thunk on the floor, and a couple papers scatter on the floor out of one of many of her partially-zipped backpacks. She marches towards you, waving her phone in your face. “Look at this! One of our sisters invited us to a party Sigma Chi’s is throwing this evening!” She says excitedly before steadying her gaze on you. You back up as a carefully manicured finger stretches out towards your face. “We need to go.” She always refers to her sorority sisters as your (plural) sisters, which you think is sweet. It’s her way of including you. You figure that, at some point, she decided ‘my sisters this, my sisters that’ got a little bit exclusionary.
“No.” You answer her and turn back to your computer, entering the link for a hopefully-penultimate citation. This is the one thing you’re maybe not so “ride-or-die” about with Jen. You like parties, sure, but you aren't going to give up a good night’s sleep (without midterms, and all) so easily.
“What do you mean? It’s going to be so much fun!” She whines. “We just finished our midterms, we need to celebrate! What could you be even working on anyway?”
“There’s a presentation after midterms for some fucking reason, I don’t know. Plus, it's a totally bad idea to bring me. Nothing good happens at frat parties.” You tell her, pointedly. You do this dance with her semi-frequently: she invites you, you say no, she asks why, you say why, she asks again, you (sometimes) give in. You’ve got this waltz down to a science.
“Can you finish it later? Come on, please? You skipped out on the last three.” She looks at you with pleading eyes, ignoring your advice. You wonder if this was how she got everyone to do her bidding; pouting at them with her big brown eyes. You eye her suspiciously. It was true: you had denied her invitation to the last three events and probably the last three hosted by Sigma… what was it? Sigma Key? Whatever. You don’t particularly like most frat boys. In your experience, they tend to be on the annoying side… the very annoying side. The avoid-at-all-costs side.
You look at her as a smile grows on your face, “Will you do my laundry for a week when we get back from break?” At this point, you were considering going anyway, but you were going to try and milk it.
“And I’ll take out the trash.” She smiles back. Now… maybe hanging out in a dingy basement flanked by drunk college kids doesn’t sound that bad, right?
“Promise?”
She raises her hand as if to be sworn in to lawyerhood—or whatever they call it. “I, your loving, adoring roommate, solemnly swear to do your laundry and take out the trash for two weeks when we get back from break.” You suppress a laugh.
“What time is the party?” Satisfied, you surrender, albeit happily. She does manual labor for a couple weeks and you only have to go with her for a couple hours? Sounds like a dream.
“11pm.”
BUDDING ALCOHOLIC
The faint taste of tequila on your lips is your only reminder of your promise not to get the fuck out of dodge. If you hadn’t pregamed this party, you would have been regretting coming right about now, even if it means two weeks worth of chores being eliminated from your future. The music is noise-complaint worthy and not that good, even as far as frat music tends to go. Your best guess for timing is that it’s about midnight, and a couple of your peers are already drunk by the looks of it, making out by the window and stumbling on the grass out front. It already smells like vomit as you walk through the front door. To be fair, you’ve never been to a frat house in the daytime, so maybe the smell of vomit is just a permanent feature.
“You’re the best! Thanks for coming!” She swings an arm around you, at least a little tipsy. You shift in your Jen-approved outfit: a (very) tight black tank top, light-wash jeans, and a pair of Jen-borrowed, frat-designated, almost-destroyed sneakers. You’ve gathered from your brief excursions into the world of Greek life that this is the frat uniform.
“Hey, Jen-fer!” A guy, clearly a brother, comes up to the two of you with a cheeky smile on his face. It seems like every time someone greets Jen, she has a new nickname. Or maybe he’s just drunk and slurring his words. The guy looks like “people call me Chad but you can call me tonight” personified in his khaki shorts and impressively only slightly wrinkled t-shirt, sporting your school’s mascot with ‘VARSITY BASEBALL’ across it in loud, chunky lettering. “Who’s this?” He inquires as a girl swings her arm around his neck. The smile never leaves his face as he leans down to peck her. You watch as the girl and Jen have some sort of telepathic conversation by exchanging big smiles and little waves — she’s a sister, maybe? You really only know the girls that Jen’s closest to: Madelin (spelled like mandolin), Avery (who you thought was a boy for a couple months because you only know one other Avery, a boy), Elliann (whose name you remember how to spell only because you wrote Ellyanne once and you got a talking-to), and Gene (whose contact you have saved as the jeans emoji).
“Ugh, Jay! She’s my roommate, I told you about her.” You smile weakly as she points her attention towards you, “this is Jay. You remember Jay, right? From Econ?”
“Yeah… from Econ.” You mumble something unconvincing because you very much do not remember Jay from Econ. There are about a million Jay’s at this school. There’s Jason’s and James’s and Jongseong’s and Joshua’s and Julian’s who all go by Jay. Hell, there’s even a Jachariah (pronounced exactly like Zachariah but substitute the Z) who goes by Jay in your English Comp class. You think it would make sense to go by Jack (Like Zack) because there are less Jack’s, somehow, but whatever. When you return from zoning out, Jen starts talking at you. Some people are touchy drunks, some people are sad drunks, but Jen is a very, very talkative drunk. To be honest, she’s a talkative sober too.
She asks you to choose between the two drinks in her outstretched hands, naming both, though you can’t identify the taste or ingredients either, even with the name provided. Both looked like water.
Fuck it, what’s the difference? “Um, that one.” You say, pointing to the red cup in her right hand.
“Great! Are you okay on your own? I’m going to talk to Ellen!” She smiles big. Who’s Ellen? You have no idea. “Oh, hey! Meet my friend —hic! This is Tay!” She waves to someone behind you, and beckons them over with a finger. Great, now you have a Tae to keep track of. Her goodbye is sonorous, “Bye bye!”
“Bye, Jen-fer.” You tease her with the drawling nickname, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she waltzes off. You break into a slow smile as you see her leave. If you could remember what feeling sober is like, you would know by the drowsiness alone you’re a little more than tipsy. If Jen is a talkative drunk, you’re a sleepy drunk. You take a big swig of the red cup and it burns as it goes down, making you cough instinctively to get rid of the sensation. After taking a moment to compose, you shotgun the whole cup. Aside from the burning, you’re left with the distinctive aftertaste of artificial sweeteners sticking to your throat.
You back up a little, and bump right into a wall. You curse, thinking you probably looked stupid doing that… that is, before you nearly jump out of your skin when the wall puts a hand on your shoulder. Sufficiently scared, you jump right back to where you started like a tennis ball.
In your inebriation, you're pretty sure it might be the worst mistake of your life to look at the wall when you land eyes on the definitely-not-plaster you bumped into.
You realize that she was saying Tae, not Tay. Tae, though you know him as Taesan, is the name of a—kinda emo—guy in your World Literature class who you decided was cute one time when zoning out in a lecture and have been a little shy around ever since. Why is he here? A frat does not seem like his scene. Your drunk self agrees with your sober self on the former issue, however. He is cute—really cute. His hair is straight and black and his bangs fall just above his eyebrows. You were definitely catastrophizing, because bumping into Taesan is maybe the best thing you could have hoped for at this Greek-whatever party.
“Oh… it’s Taesan!” It doesn’t even cross your mind to suppress the giant grin that spreads across your face as you say his name as you sway. “Can I call you that instead of Tae? Too many ay’s around, I think.” You mumble, feeling as cloudy as ever.
He shrugs, “Sure, I mean, I call you by your full name, usually.”
Mostly ignoring him, you continue, focusing on the way the edges of his lips curl like he’s suppressing a smile. Squinting at him, you monologue. “You’re cute. But you’re bad at…” You squint harder, circling your finger in front of his face as if to cast a spell. He looks a little confused with his straight eyebrows raised, but he doesn’t look scared—yet. If you were in your right mind, you would have been amazed and totally terrified that you hadn’t scared him off with the wiggly finger. Maybe the slipped compliment at the beginning helped build some rapport? “You’re bad at… analysis.” You decide on pinpointing a weakness of his. Now, his analysis is actually pretty good. Sure, he's not going to win any awards with it, but who is in an undergraduate World Literature class taught by a less-than-enthusiastic professor nearing retirement? The alcoholic fog is just a little much, anyway. Maybe you’re more of a lightweight than you care to admit.
“I think my analysis is pretty good, actually.” He frowns, but doesn’t seem offended in the slightest. He’s always quiet in lecture, you’re surprised he hasn’t made a quick excuse to get away yet.
You part your lips as you squint harder and point up at his face again, grasping for words that don’t come all that easy to you. “You… should kiss me.” As the words fall out of your mouth, he seems to look around a little bit in surprise. To your luck, he still doesn’t run screaming.
It’s his turn to point a finger at himself and his cool, bad-boy act slips, “kiss—kiss me?” He stutters, going wide-eyed and glancing around like this is a big reality TV-style prank and there are cameramen waiting in the shadows of this sticky, stinky basement, itching to catch him off guard. Perhaps you’re subconsciously practicing rejection therapy.
“Yeah… you should analyze kissing me.” You attempt a smile as you try to keep your eyes open. The music is pounding in your ears as you stare into the gap between him and the wall to his left.
Still dumbfounded, he tries to find words, now staring at you staring off into space, “well, uh… you… that would be cool, but… I don’t… I don’t think you actually want to kiss me. You smell like tequila.” The alcohol is definitely taking its toll on you, evidenced by the way you lean forward and slump onto the boy in front of you, closing your eyes. His words don’t even go in one ear and out the other, they go over your head entirely. You could feel his body heat even through his thick navy tee. You hear his heartbeat and—you’re no medical student—it’s loud. With your eyes closed, you hear the DJ switch the song to something with less bass and you feel a warm hand come to your shoulder blade, patting it awkwardly. You hear an attempt at words coming from his vocal chords, but you hear nothing identifiable as human language. Just a few um’s and maybe an uh.
“Hey, Tae!” You hear Jen approach behind you, calling out to the boy who you’ve designated as your new mattress. You open your eyes for a second, and you’re kindly greeted with a view of his chest. Slowly analyzing your field of vision (which includes a fuzzy wall and his shirt), you blink once, twice, and then, the third time you close them, they stay closed. As fast as that, you’re gone: disappeared, asleep.
Before you can open your eyes again, you’re assaulted by a pounding headache. You haven’t felt a headache like this since the first time you got drunk with Jen. You’d assumed you’d learned your lesson. This time, it’s not a good thing that you exceeded your own expectations.
You open your eyes and see a rather unwelcome sight of Jen who has her hands on your shoulders, shaking you. It’s certainly not helping your headache. As you come to consciousness, you become aware of the damp, suffocating sweat that clings to your body and the aching that you feel in each and every of your muscles and joints. You can’t even lift a finger.
“Hey. Wake up! Don’t worry, you’re not dying. It’s just a hangover.” She consoles you, but she doesn’t stop pushing you, however. “You drank way too much.” She laughs, drawing out her words and turning her head to the side as her hair falls in front of her face.
You muster your words, “what?” Your voice is grainy and low. You feel like pure, unadulterated hell. The pounding in your head doesn’t stop, it just migrates from one side to the other. Back to left to front to right and back again like a cue ball bouncing around the table.
“You… are… hung… over.” She says like she's trying to teach a baby to say mama. You groan and roll over, freeing yourself from her manicured hands and burying your head in your sheets. As you roll over, you feel the familiar and deeply uncomfortable scratch of the seam of your jeans. You were still wearing the clothes you wore to the party, hooray! “And,” she continues, “you’re going to tell me why Han Taesan is at our door.” Her voice sounds half like she’s scolding you and half like she’s waiting for you to spill. Processing this information, you scrunch your eyes and groan again.
“He’s not.” You deny with a murmur despite the knocking that you hear on the door. The person at the door, reportedly Taesan, knocks one, two, three times.
“He is. He wants to know how you are… tell me what happened between you two!” She urges.
“You’re lying. He is not at the door.” Maybe if you say it enough he’ll go away. Manifesting, you know? You want to know nothing about why he’s here. The party last night was a blur. You remember drinking, seeing a couple familiar faces, bumping into Taesan and then it’s dark and you wake up in your bed with Jen shaking you.
“He is.” She says solemnly. She cocks her head and continues in a more sympathetic tone, “do you want me to tell him to go away?” She asks.
“Yes.” Regardless of whether you want to see him, specifically, you don’t want to see anyone at all. You’re still in your clothes from last night, your whole body hurts, you feel like total crap, and you doubt you showered last night. You do not want to see Han Taesan, and that’s final.
“Yes, ma’am.” She says and jumps off the tall bed. Through half-lidded eyes, you see her crack the door and exchange words with the visitor. You confirm it’s Taesan when his stupid face appears in the crack. Almost involuntarily you close your eyes. As the saying goes, out of sight, out of mind. Even with a foggy mind and a throbbing headache, you know nothing good can come out of talking to him, or even seeing him, when you’re so wildly hungover. You feel like a ghost haunting your body. You hear the door shut, and you open your eyes to see Jen shimmying over to you with her eyebrows raised and a disbelieving smile across her face. You close your eyes again, you do not want to see or hear what she has to offer unless it’s an ibuprofen.
“I can’t believe he came to check up on you! Isn’t that sweet? I have no idea what was happening with you two before I got there, but he was so cute about you. He looked so nervous! It’s not like him at all.” You can practically hear her dancing around in excitement. “Your love life never goes anywhere, this is so exciting!” You grumble in protest at her jab at you. She’s been begging to let her set you up with someone, but the only people she knows are frat bros and sorority girls, neither of which are your type, usually. Is Taesan part of a frat? Doesn’t seem like him.
“Jen… advil… please.” You reach out for her with a weak hand.
“You’re not dying.” She assures you, but dutifully returns to your bedside with two little red pills, a bottle of water, and a bag of goldfish. This is how Jen is, you’ve learned; poking fun at you while still looking out for you. “Come on, take them.” She says, holding out the pills. “You’re lucky it’s a Saturday. For a hangover, you need water, food, and sleep.” She recites. Maybe hangover care is a required class for members of the sorority known for the most functions.
“Thanks…” You mutter, bringing a weak hand to your still pounding forehead. “What happened?” You ask. It might help to know what you’re up against in terms of embarrassment.
“Before I got there? No idea. After I got there? Well, you were passed out,” she laughs, “I had no idea you could fall asleep that fast. He looked crazy confused, having you slung over him and all, you know? Anyway, he was dry sober, he just got there. I had the car, obviously, and so he offered to give you a ride back to the dorm in my car. Now, I went with you, of course. For one, I’m always going to come with you when you’re asleep and being taken care of by some man. Two, there’s no way I’m letting any man drive my car without serious supervision.” Now, this elicits a stifled laugh from you, after which you immediately wince in pain. Laughing isn’t good medicine for hangovers, apparently. “Anyway, he picked you up bridal-style, it was really cute, and brought you to our car, and then drove both of us home. I put you to bed, and he left after.” She states, "I wiped your drool, don’t worry.” She nudges you with an elbow.
“Ugh, Jen. Don’t joke with me right now.”
“No, seriously, you did drool. It’s one of, like, five reasons I’m never going to put you in a room with alcohol ever again.”
“I told you it was a bad idea to bring me.” You lament. You don’t like the idea of drooling in the vicinity of Taesan. And he carried you to the car? Seriously, not a high point for your ego. It’s not even about your germinal maybe-crush on him. “Give me some goldfish.”
“You always say that it’s a bad idea, but okay.” She hands you a handful and you shove it into your mouth. It doesn’t mix well with the morning-breath taste and somehow lingering tinge of alcohol. Your head is pounding and if the headache doesn’t kill you, the embarrassment might.
THE ILLUSION
Dr. Woo claps his hands together as the final undergrad enters the lecture hall. The long tables that act as desks proceed away from the central board in stairs.
“Yeah. Big project coming up, right?” He says with a hint of fake enthusiasm. “It’s going to be a group project, if two people count as a group. Hooray.” A resounding groan emanates from the student body. Dr. Woo is visually unphased by this. “Despite the fact that choice is an illusion, you can pick your own partners. This is college. I don’t care.” He waves a hand dismissing any rebuttal, not that any was coming. Regardless of any other feelings about Dr. Woo, everyone knows he’s a great (read: easy) grader. “Anyway, go crazy. You all know the topic.”
Your heart drops as the room immediately erupts in chattering. Your circle was small at best, and you knew no one in World Lit except for… oh no. You feel a tap on your shoulder. Almost in slow motion, you turn around and see Taesan’s damned handsome face.
“Hey,” he says, very, very casually, “do you want to be my partner?” Oh, what the fuck.
“Um…” You furrow your eyebrows. It’s not that you don’t want to be partners with him, really. It’s just that you don’t want to recoil in embarrassment every time you work on a project worth 20% of your grade.
He cocks his head to the side, “so?” You’re pretty sure his face could bring world peace. Have him try to convince a warlord to stop fighting by flashing a smile and they’d be a pacifist in under ten minutes.
You sigh, “yeah. Sure.” You try to smile, it doesn’t work that well. Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen? Do it for the plot, right? Choosing to partner with him is definitely for the plot. You’re not entirely convinced that he’s pure in his intentions to partner with you; maybe this is part of a bigger frat boy scheme.
“My analysis is actually good, I swear.” He says as he pulls back the chair next to you to sit down. Is that a reference? To what? You are thoroughly confused, clearly remembering very little of that fateful night. He tucks his hands behind his head and leans back.
“What?” You laugh a little, if only out of awkwardness.
He presses his lips together and they contort as if a laugh is threatening him. “Nevermind. It’s nothing, really.” He is utterly unconvincing when he lies. Maybe he couldn’t convince the warlord.
“Taesan, what?” Your arms cross as you lean back in your chair. Around you, there’s a buzz of new partnerships and dates being set to meet. You two, however, are alone in your own world. In your periphery, Dr. Woo is staring you down. You’re pretty sure he can sense when work isn’t getting done. You can’t tell if he’s just a salty old man or a teenager with a gossip itch trapped in an old professor’s body.
Taesan notices, “Dr. Woo is creeping me out. I’ll tell you in the hall.” He picks up one of your pens and hands it to you in a non subtle suggestion for you to pack up.
You sling your backpack over one shoulder (despite how you’re told it’s bad for your back) and lead Taesan out of the lecture hall.
“So, are you partners with me just to make fun of me?” You probe him as he catches up to you. “I’m taking you to my dorm, by the way. We can get started on the project.” There’s a silent addition of ‘even if you’re being an asshole, I chose to be stuck with you for some reason’ when you give him a purposeful glance. Maybe Dr. Woo is right. Maybe choice is an illusion. He looks completely lost.
“No, no. It’s not like that, really. I didn't mean to make you feel bad, I just thought it was funny.” He turns around and shakes his head to punctuate his point.
“Is it better if I don’t know what happened at the party?” One eyebrow raises and you stare him down with some weird level of confidence. Maybe knowing that he’s seen you drooling, drunk, and looking crazy makes you feel like you don’t have much else to lose.
“No, nothing bad happened. You were just drunk. It happens to the best of us.” He shrugs as you enter onto the green.
“Don’t drag this out, let me bite the bullet if I want to.”
He laughs a little, “alright. In summary, you backed into me, told me I was cute, told me my analysis sucks,” so that’s what that was about, “and told me I should kiss you and I told you that you were too drunk,” oh, what the fuck, “and then you fell asleep on me and Jennifer came over. I carried you to the car and drove both you and her home because she had a couple drinks and I had none. I checked up on you because I knew you were going to have one hell of a hangover.” Great, you’re stuck with this fucker you borderline harassed while blackout drunk.
“You were right. It was one hell of a hangover.” You grumble, looking at the floor to avoid any eye contact with him.
“Don’t be embarrassed. You’re not the first person to tell me I’m cute when they’re drunk.” He teases and you roll your eyes. In your heart, though, this is deeply, deeply embarrassing. The thought of what happened stings like a blade in your heart and in your mind. It’s not as bad as the hangover, but it’s pretty damn bad.
“Yeah, right. I was drunk, okay?” Your words are biting. “Why are you partners with me, then? I wasn’t that great the one time you met me.” Maybe you don’t want to know the answer, but the words are already out of your mouth. You scuff your heels as you walk, still avoiding contact with the one and only Han Taesan.
“You’re cute and you’re smart.” He shrugs and you break your rule of avoiding his eyes because now you’re staring at him in disbelief. “Plus, you’re great at keeping me humble.” He meets your eyes now and you’re immediately regretting thinking anything about the previous compliment meant anything at all.
“If you keep being a jerk, I’m going to keep you humble as hell.” You grumble.
“Sorry,” he frowns mildly, “the first part holds more weight.” And now, you’ve flipped. It does mean something… maybe. You face forward again to hide a smile that he totally catches anyways. You’ve made great time alongside Taesan, you’re almost to your dorm.
“Thanks?”
“My pleasure.” He postures. “Why were you there in the first place? No offense, but you don’t strike me as an alcoholic. An alcoholic can handle being drunk better than that.” It’s sort of a compliment, you guess.
“None taken, I don’t believe that being an alcoholic is in the cards for me.” You snort. “Jen dragged me there. I told her it was a bad idea, but she convinced me to go anyway by bribing me with doing my least favorite chores for a week or two.” You explain, crossing your arms and he laughs. “No offense, you don’t seem like you’re part of the frat nor do you seem like an alcoholic. So, what were you doing there?” You redirect. It’s true: he doesn’t seem like a brother nor a drinker.
“I lost a bet. Riwoo bet me that I couldn’t fit fifteen grapes in my mouth and I wanted to prove him wrong because, well, he’s Riwoo, but I lost the bet.” A laugh bubbles up from your chest imagining the situation. Not only did he try, but he tried and failed. “My punishment was either to go to a frat or to do mine and six of my roommates’ laundry for a semester. I picked the frat, obviously. I’ve lived with those guys for long enough to know that all of them stink like hell.” He adds, grimacing. “Plus, ‘doing laundry’ meant changing the sheets and picking up laundry, too.” He looks at you, pointedly.
“You’re lying, no way.” You laugh, partly with him and partly at him.
“You clearly haven’t met my roommates, this way?” His finger points to the building that you’re rooming in with Jen. You pray she’s not there or you’re going to be met with a litany of highly invasive questions.
You nod at his direction, “yeah, there are like seven thousand people here and I can recognize about thirty faces max. That’s like nothing-percent.”
“Good for me, then. I don’t think I’d be the first person you’d be calling cute if they were there with me.” The tone of his voice is light, but in his eyes you see that he fears it’s the truth. Huh, Taesan is just like the rest of us, who’da thunk?
“Where did your cool guy act go?” You tease, leading him up the stairs to your dorm, distinguished by the handmade felt pennants, spelling your’s and Jen’s names. “Drunk me wasn’t lying when she said you were cute, seriously.” You assure him. “Now, I just have to learn if your analysis is as bad as she said it was.” You push open the door with your back, mostly so you don’t have to face him after calling him cute to his face. Last week, you would have run away on the spot; Taesan has you acting like a bad ATM—all out of order.
ENTOURAGE
You hated to admit it, his analysis was great. By spending hours writing and rewriting scripts to memorize for your oral presentation, you watched Taesan connect dots you didn't even know were there and recall obscure details from lectures that happened to be integral to the coherence of your project. You can practically see the cogs turn in his head, the way he bites the inside of his lip when he’s really focused, the way his face lights up when he gets an idea, the way he slides his thin wire glasses up his straight nose with a knuckle when they slip down because he furrowed his eyebrows too much.
This is how you find yourself at four on a Wednesday afternoon, weeks after your first incidental meeting with him: admiring his work on your dorm floor.
“Damn, Taesan.” You still kept to calling him his full name instead of Tae, you felt like it meant something. “This is amazing, I would have never thought to connect those passages, we read that first book ages ago!” You shook your head, his analysis was that good. Maybe not award-winning, but definitely worth an A, even in your harshest grader’s class. He smirks as he laughs a little, taking off his glasses and stretching his hands up, grasping at nothing while trying to stretch his back. You two had been sitting for hours on the hard floor of your dorm room; you told him to sit on your chair, but he refused, demanding he sit next to you so that he can ‘see what you’re writing’ better.
“You brought up At the Bottom of the River in the first place.” He deflects your praise. You’ll gladly take the compliment even if you had no part in his discovery. As you shrug his deflection off, you feel his arm come down around your shoulder and you jump a little, not expecting the touch. Of course, his hand feels nice where it rests, but you’re still not quite used to the way Taesan evidently shows affection. The first time he pulled the classic ‘I’m-just-stretching-actually-I’m-putting-my-arm-around-you’ move, you didn’t expect it in the slightest. You had finished a part you were putting off and he moved to stretch, suddenly putting his arm around you and shaking you while cheering you on about your victory. The laugh you let out when that happened was something entirely unprecedented for you, you laughed until your stomach hurt and your eyes watered, and you couldn’t even pinpoint why.
“Yeah, sure.” You look at him, exaggerating your skepticism with your one raised eyebrow, his arm still around you.
“When’s Jen getting back? Do we have time to mess around or should I go before she starts pestering you?” He asks, half-joking as he tilts his head towards yours. Jen had taken a liking to him, if not too much of a liking to him… for you. Whenever you and Taesan were together and Jen spotted you, she made the least subtle comments possible telling you to get together, wiggling her eyebrows and full of exaggerated winks. It wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Hey, look at the position you two are in right now: foreheads so close they’re almost touching, alone in your dorm, with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. Still, you’ve gathered that’s just kind of how Taesan is with his friends. From what you’ve heard, he’s like that with everyone. It’s not unique to you.
“She said she’d be back at five, so…” you check the egg clock, “like, thirty minutes?”
“Nice.” He purses his lips. “Are you nervous for the presentation? It’s tomorrow, you know?” Taesan has his sensitive moments, for sure. He sounds—he is—genuinely concerned about how you’re feeling about it, you can hear it in his voice. He’s not great at hiding things like that. Even when he’s making fun of you, it’s never malicious.
“I’m fine. I’m nervous, but it is a big presentation, after all. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” You tell him, flexing an arm to prove your point, though the action is inhibited by his arm still around you.
“Never doubted you for a second, Miss Independent. You can still be nervous though, it’s okay to be nervous.”
“Are you nervous? You sound like you’re projecting.”
He exhales, “yeah, I’m nervous as hell.” He laughs a little after the admission, but it’s not a humorous one.
“Hey, text me if you get nervous before, right? Doesn’t help to keep it to yourself. And, no offense, but I think I’ll be better at commiserating with you than your roommates, however lovely they are.”
He exhales. “Yeah, thanks.” He’s being surprisingly soft, and you can’t help but seize the opportunity to connect a little with the sensitive side of Taesan instead of the cool, nonchalant Taesan. From what you’ve gathered, his Nirvana-decorated headphones, monochrome black clothes, and his sullen resting face makes him less approachable to your peers.
“You’ll be fine. As you said to me when we were partnered, you’re cute and you’re smart. You’ve got it.” You tell him, leaning your head onto his shoulder. You wonder if he can feel your heart beating out of your chest. Can you feel someone’s heartbeat through their shoulder? Probably not, but the human body is full of surprises. One surprise is how hard you can see his pulse through his carotid artery, pulsing in his neck. Good God, this boy is going to get high blood pressure if his heart is always going a million miles an hour. “Tell me about writing music. I’m tired.” You tell him, closing your eyes.
You’re brought back to what you were told about the first time you met him. This time, however, you falling asleep on him isn’t so much of a surprise. Your knowledge of composition contrasts Taesan’s, you know little more than the basics. Asking him to talk about it is an easy route to a one-sided conversation where you get to listen to him talk, which is always a good time. He gets so animated, it’s hilarious and adorable.
“Your wish is my command.” He laughs, and you feel the vibration against your head and he starts on a critically tangential spiel.
Before you can get too comfortable leaning on Taesan listening to him talk about rhyme schemes, the door swings open. Jen walks in after opening the door with her signature slam. Why you haven’t gotten any complaints yet, you have no idea.
“Oh… my God.” You can practically hear her freeze in the doorway. Out of sight, out of mind, so you keep your eyes closed.
“Jen, no one’s dying.” You assure her, suddenly deeply uncomfortable, shifting on the floor.
“You’re right, no one’s dying. My heart is so happy, look at you!” She almost giggles.
“Is this a good time for me to go?” Taesan starts to ask the pivotal question that’s going to determine exactly how embarrassed you are going to be this afternoon.
“Yes—” “No—” You and Jen say in unison. You open your eyes just to glare at her, seeing her standing over you.
“No… I’m going to get to know my best friend’s… group project partner.” She winks very not-subtly at you. Taesan looks at you just as you look at him, and he shrugs.
“The more the merrier, right?” He asks. The rhetorical question becomes immediately very literal as Jen continues.
“Oooh… I like the way he thinks, girl.” She says, pointing to you. “Taesan, invite your roommates over, too. We can have a party!” She’s almost clapping with how excited she is, rolling back on her heels.
Taesan lights up, “oh hell yeah! I’ll see who’s available.” Oh, Taesan. Always the extrovert.
You groan, but it’s futile to try and stop the scheming. How did this get so bad so fast? “No drinking.” You instruct them.
“Half of them can’t even drink legally yet, plus, do you seriously think I’m going to drink the night before our presentation? No way.” He assures you, and you groan again in hesitant acceptance.
“I’m never letting you drink again. Don’t worry about that.” She promises you quietly before switching back to hyped-up Jen mode. “Oh, this is so exciting! When can they get here?” She’s sitting cross-legged in front of you two now, rifling through contacts on her phone in its sparkly case.
“Well,” Taesan pauses, “If they’d answer my texts—” ding! Almost like he scripted it, he gets a notification. “And there we go. Turns out they’re just hanging out at our place, all of them are free. Do you want them here now?”
“Hell yeah, I do! We should watch a movie… what movie should we watch? Don’t tell me they like horror…” She pushes her eyebrows together in what sounds half like a threat and half like a plea.
“Yeah, not that I know of.”
“We should watch 10 Things I Hate About You.” You suggest.
And that’s how you got to be sitting in a circle on your room’s floor with Taesan, Jen, and every single one of Taesan’s five roommates. You’d only briefly met a couple of them in passing before. Right now, you’re even managing to not cut each others’ throats out while playing UNO! What an achievement!
“And the color is… wait for it!” Taesan’s roommate with the light brown, almost orange hair and rounder, blueish-green black glasses says, leaning around to intimidate the others with a giant smile on his face. Everyone erupts in laughter at him. You remember that this is Riwoo, the one who dared Taesan to stuff 15 grapes in his mouth in the first place. “Blue!” He announces.
Your last card was red. Damn it.
Jaehyun immediately slumps over, Sungho frowns, Leehan stares at the card deck and Woonhak stares, terrified, at Jen when she jumps up, screaming “Uno!” as she slams her blue five on the pile. Shouts resound from the boys around you. Taesan is laughing.
As the room erupts around you, Taesan nudges you with his shoulder, showing you his card. His last color was red, too. “We’re both winners in my heart.” He tells you with a wink. What a sap. You push his face away with a hand, stifling a laugh as you feel a heat come to your cheeks. Your light push makes him dip away from you like the inflatable tube men outside gas stations.
“You’re so corny.” You tell him as you take in the scene unfolding around you. Inviting Taesan’s friends over was a great idea. Jen is yelling at Jaehyun, Jaehyun looks terrified. Woonhak and Sungho are yelling at Riwoo, Riwoo is laughing at them. Leehan is laughing at Riwoo laughing at Woonhak and Sungho.
Taesan catches you smiling at the camaraderie, “if people yelling at each other was all it took to make you smile, I’d have invited them over way earlier.”
“Taesan,” you laugh, “I don’t like schadenfreude. It’s nice to see Jen let loose sometimes. I don’t think she gets to argue with anyone very often.”
“If she wants anyone to argue with, I’m available.” He spreads his arms to punctuate his point. At this, you laugh even harder. As you look around again, you see everyone laughing and collapsing on the floor, except for Jen, who’s pretending to fume and sulk on her bed. You know her well enough to catch the smile that pulls at her lips.
“It’s like watching kids at the park.” You motion towards Taesan’s friends, who’ve clearly become very comfortable around you and Jen.
“This weird authenticity is kind of their whole M.O.” He smiles, very clearly adoring their antics. “Imagine having to do their laundry though. I’m glad I chose to go to the party instead.” He pretends to shiver which draws out a laugh from you.
“Yeah, if you had chosen to do their laundry you also wouldn’t have been able to see me drool on you when you carried me to the car.” You snort. You’ve made peace with your drunken night. After all, you’ve already lost your dignity and he’s still hanging around.
“It was so cute though!” He contests and you roll your eyes at him. You have sworn up and down that he doesn’t like you like… that. Even if he did like you, you’re pretty sure no one likes anyone else enough that their drool is cute. Therefore, Jen’s points are null. Simple as that.
“I’m just soooo adorable,” you roll your eyes, “you don’t have to rub it in, dude.” you smile incredulously at him, throwing one of your legs over the other, just short of taking out Riwoo’s leg.
“I’m not joking!” His tone is defensive in ultimate Taesan fashion.
“Yeah, sure.” You tell him as Jen reaches out to you and pulls you to your feet, leaving Taesan alone on the floor.
Jen whispers to you, “so, when’s the wedding?” You roll your eyes.
“Shut up, you always do this.” You groan. “Do you get some sadistic joy from seeing me uncomfortable?” You cross your arms, almost elbowing Woonhak. This room is not big enough for eight people to fit in comfortably.
“Can I be the maid of honor?” She ignores your complaints and you let out an exaggerated groan in response.
“Don’t make me regret not making him go home.”
“Fine, fine.” She looks to be backing down. That is until she smirks, meeting your eyes again. “I’m not the only one who sees something!” She says cheerily before bouncing off as far as one can, which is about a foot. She looks back at you and winks before (lightly) punching Woonhak in the back to get his attention. She’s immediately drawn into some debate of some sort or another. Earlier, Leehan had assigned you both fish and Jen had been assigned a ‘Cherry Barb’ and she immediately took issue with the name for some reason or other. It was very cathartic for Taesan to watch someone contest Leehan’s fish opinions. He was totally dumbstruck; it was hilarious. Then, of course, you got an informational speech from Leehan which quelled Jens’ argument. Now, she’s a Cherry Barb.
Maybe this is how it should be, friends arguing with friends and laughing about it after, cramped in a too small room. When you meet Taesan’s eyes, you see the sparkle in them tell you he thinks so too. Maybe your friends will become the opposite of children of divorce, gaining family instead of it being separated. Is that just children of marriage? Ugh, Jen’s infected you.
“So, when’s the wedding?” Taesan wiggles his eyebrows, clearly having heard the conversation. You roll your eyes.
BREAKING CODE
Jen is passed out on her bed on the opposite side of the room. The egg clock greets you with the time in blaring white: 11:32 pm. Head in your hands, you groan. No amount of free-on-youtube reality TV was going to calm your nerves. None of your favorite episodes are helping, even the one you have open on your computer.
After the boys had left, you guaranteed yourself that everything would be fine. Your presentation would go great, no questions asked. Now, sitting in your room practically alone, you feel way less optimistic.
Thoughts of Taesan cross your mind and you furrow your eyebrows, trying to shoo them. You wonder if he’s awake right now, if he’s anxious like you. You try to calm yourself by thinking that it could be worse, the presentation could be 30% of your grade. Unsurprisingly, that doesn’t help. Your phone, thrown aside earlier and laying on the bed, is practically inviting you to make a bad decision with its open, empty screen.
You stare out the window, contemplating whether or not to take the risk and text him. Your window opens up to a view of the door to enter your dorm building, and you can see the freshly fallen snow settling around it. The snow covers the creaky benches and even the overhang above the door. It’s while you're doing this contemplating that, to your fortune or maybe misfortune, the risk decides to take you with a ding from your phone.
On your home screen, you see a contact pop up and you freeze. You read the name again, it still says MOUNTAIN. Taesan put that as his contact name.
You look again, you weren’t hallucinating. It’s Taesan texting you. Is he nervous? Did he seriously take you up on your offer? You were simultaneously hoping that he would text you while hoping that he would never, ever even think to.
You steel yourself and open your phone, that’s when you get your answer.
[MOUNTAIN]: are you up
[MOUNTAIN]: i’m nervous are you
You did tell him to text you if he was nervous. That offer, however, happened when you were feeling a little bolder. You are not feeling especially bold right now.
[you]: i might be
[MOUNTAIN]: meet me lets go to the convenience store
[MOUNTAIN]: chills me out before midterms usually and this is like the same thing
You didn’t need to even try to make a bad decision, the bad decision came to you, enticing you with the lure of a convenience store and a chance to escape your stuffy dorm.
Resting your phone on your chest, staring at the ceiling like a corpse with the way your hands are positioned, you weigh your options. Mentally, you make a list.
PROs:
You see Taesan
You get a snack probably
CONs:
You see Taesan
It’s been established that crazy shit goes down when you see Taesan past like nine pm—it’s like your friendship is a vampire but night-intolerant instead of day-intolerant
The last time you made a for the plot decision it didn’t turn out that bad. Yeah, partnering with Taesan could have sucked, but it didn’t. Going to the party was a kind of yolo-esque decision, too, and that was kind of a blessing in disguise. You rationalize your preference for meeting him with the fact that you know him better now. He’s not a rando and, as far as you know, he’s not evil.
You only live once, right?
You pick your phone back up and text him before you can rethink it.
[you]: meet where?
[MOUNTAIN]: outside your dorm building in 10
You squint at the screen. His place is like a twenty minute walk away and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have a car, that would be weird for him. You can’t pinpoint why, but you don’t like the idea of him owning a car, despite the fact that he’s driven Jen’s with you in it. Ugh.
[you]: okay
You are totally chill about this.
Looking over at Jen in her bed, you decide you don’t want to be interrogated about this decision yet. She will not let you hear the end of it, and that’s not going to calm your nerves. It’s kind of against customary law safety recommendations to not tell your roommate where you’re going at night, but you decide that’s not applicable here.
Taking your computer off your lap and swinging your feet over the side of your bed as quietly as possible, you assess the situation. The nice thing about totally embarrassing yourself the first time you met him is that you now don’t particularly care about how you look. You’re wearing Jen’s mother’s giant Hartford Whalers hockey team brand shirt and some irritatingly red plaid pajama pants that totally crash with the cool blues and greens of your shirt.
Tiptoeing to the square, wooden-framed mirror hung in the entrance you check how your hair looks. You pull on your oversized puffer jacket as quietly as possible from the command hook-provided coat hanger adorning off the back of the exit door. The zipper is cold in your hands as you check to make sure Jen is oblivious to your impending excursion. She is still fast asleep, evident from the way her chest slowly rises and falls and the faint snores that you hear from her.
The door handle is freezing to the touch. You expected as much from a dorm building with as little central heating as it tends to cater, but it’s still unpleasant. The door opens with a loud creak. You stand assured that no one has successfully snuck out of any single one of these dorms because the floorboards creak and the doors practically announce over the loudspeaker when anyone opens them.
Thankfully, Jen is none the wiser as you glance back at her, she’s in the same sleeping position you last saw her in: lying on her stomach with one leg thrown up closer to her chest and an arm flung over her head. It’s completely bizarre and totally adorable of her.
You make your way through the straightforward yet somehow labyrinthine halls of your dorm building. As you approach the glass entryway, you see Taesan illuminated by the orange streetlight, leaning against the red brick of the adjacent building standing on a recently-hardened layer of snowfall. He’s layered an unzipped black puffer jacket, similar to yours, over a gray hoodie and accessorised with a hat that makes his head look round like an egg. He’s rubbing his gloved hands together to keep them warm. He sees you before you even open the door, and his face lights up when he does.
After suppressing a smile, you scold him, “I can’t believe you called me to meet you at this hour!”
“You told me I could!” He defends. You notice how you can see his breath against the cold air. It’s colder than you thought, you push your bare hands further into your pockets.
“How did you even get here so fast? Do you secretly live in the next building, or something? Are you my tropey boy next door?” You nudge him, wiggling your eyebrows as if this was some plot straight out of a fanfiction.
“Yeah, right.”
“Come on, you’re not secretly pining for me?” You tease him, sinking deeper into the collar of your coat on account of the biting wind that hits you once you leave the sanctuary of the protected building and, though you’re not willing to admit it to yourself, because the boy next to you makes your cheeks hot.
“Yeah, I’m secretly hanging off of your every word, just waiting for the moment I can confess my undying love for you.” He rolls his eyes. Noticing your hands shoved in your pockets, he changes the subject, “are you cold? I brought some extra gloves, do you want them?” His words are surprisingly considerate considering the incessant teasing you subject him to daily.
“Yeah.” You laugh, freezing as he takes the knit black gloves out of his pocket. Taking them from him and putting them on, you adjust them carefully. They’re far too big for you, but it’s the thought that counts, right? The “thought that counts” is definitely keeping your hands warmer. As you examine your new apparel with a smile, you feel a pressure over your head. Somehow, you hadn’t noticed him taking his hat off and now he is pushing it onto your head. You jump back, “hey! You could have lice!” Your smile disappears in favor of a pout. The hat does feel nice on your ears though.
Taesan bursts out laughing, “I do not have lice, I promise.” Still laughing, he elaborates, “plus, you’re cold. Your ears were so cold they were getting red.” You glare at him as he only laughs harder. Instinctively, you throw up your hands to cover your ears
“Point me to the convenience store or I’m going back inside whether you’re nervous or not.” You grumble.
“Okay, Miss Grump. Just follow me.” He says with a stupidly charming smile and grabs your wrist before picking up the pace. To him, picking up the pace means speed-walking, but for you, it means jogging.
“Ack!” You jump at the sudden movement, “Taesan! You can’t do that!” You try to free your wrist and, when you succeed, you cross your arms, standing solid in place as he turns around.
“If you don’t come with me, I’ll yell that you think Heath Ledger is super sexy during the presentation!” He yells, running backwards. Your jaw drops open. You want to trust Taesan enough to think he wouldn’t do that, but you also know Taesan well enough that he totally would do that. It was a bad idea to watch 10 Things I Hate About You with him, Jen, and his roommates after the Uno game. You do not need your personal preferences aired out to an auditorium of your peers and Dr. Woo. Plus, the only thing you like about Heath Ledger is that he essentially serenaded Kat Stratford!
Damn it. Stuck between would and would not, you narrow your eyes and start sprinting after him before he can turn a corner.
“You’re so on, Mr. Mountain!” He turns to look behind him, seeing you gaining fast on him as you run as fast as your legs will take you towards him. It’s his turn to be surprised, and he speeds up. After all, he wasn’t going that fast in the first place. As you close the gap between the two of you, you can hear his infectious laughter that makes you press down a swelling in your chest. You do not like Taesan, you assure yourself. It’s all in good fun. It’s only good fun. Focusing on the challenge ahead, you see Taesan just ahead of you, about to turn down a sidewalk.
He’s right behind a snowbank. If you’re the sun and the snowbank is the earth, he’s the moon in a solar eclipse.
It’s impulsive, your next action, truly. Presented with the right circumstances, however, you like to take your chances. With a shout that’s more primeval than you intended it to be, you grab onto his puffer jacket and tackle him onto the earth that is the snowbank.
It’s almost like slow-motion when you, with an evil smile, keep your eyes focused on Taesan as you see the world around you slowly become more horizontal as you fall, yourself falling on his back as he falls flat on his chest.
When his front compresses the snow enough to stop his descent towards the obscured grass, you hear him let out a moan. A moment of silence passes as both of you process what just happened. You’re propped up on your hands (gloved, thanks to Taesan) and he’s lying on his back, hands thrown above him because of his attempt at stabilization during the fall. His lips are slightly parted in shock, and his eyes are wide open, staring at you. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. He totally moaned when he fell. At least you can play teasing offense on him instead of having to defend why you tackled this man that is in no way, shape, or form your boyfriend. To be fair, men whimpering is hot. It’s just that you didn’t expect the man whimpering to be Taesan. It doesn’t really fit with his image.
You hold yourself up with one hand, clutching your stomach as you double over in laughter. “Oh my gosh, this is hilarious! I’m going to tell Riwoo that you moan when you get pushed around by women. He’ll never let you hear the end of it!” Taesan looks completely scandalized. His mouth is open and he looks totally terrified, you almost feel bad for him.
Almost.
He covers his eyes with his gloves, “don’t you dare say anything.” Tears form in your eyes as you attempt to suppress a laugh to try and spare any more of his dignity. That doesn’t extend to teasing, though. It’s simply too good of an opportunity to pass up.
“What if, during the presentation, I yell out that you moan when someone pins you down?” You theorize him, sitting down on the dry ground next to him, throwing your legs over his stomach.
Still holding his hands over his eyes, he mutters a defensive response, “it’s not like that!” Flat on his back, he looks, somehow, handsome with snow visible in and contrasting against his darker hair, and his gloves covering his reddening face in embarrassment. If you’re lucky, maybe this is how he felt watching you fall onto him when you were drunk the first time you met. It’s more adoration than disgust.
“Aw, there’s no shame in it.” You coax. He is completely and totally embarrassed, you can tell by the way his ears are bright, cherry red.
“Don’t tell anyone, okay? What do you want?” He whines, refusing to look at you even when you try to pry his hands away from his face.
“Whatever we do and wherever we go together, it’s on you. Monetarily, I mean.” You push a finger into his chest as he finally frees his eyes from his own grip, daring to look at you face on.
“You serious?” He groans, he’s still red but looks to be over the initial shock. Either from the biting wind swirling around you or because of your teasing, his cheeks are coated in a dusting of red.
“Yeah, unless you want everyone to know about your sexual preferences.” Releasing him from your pushed finger, you cross your arms and shrug innocently.
“This is blackmail. This is extortion!” He complains, covering his eyes again.
“So… yes or no?” You grab his wrists and rip them from his face, revealing his angsty stare.
“...Yes, I’ll pay. Will you let it go now?” His words are harsher and he’s sulking, glaring at you. Maybe you pushed it too far.
“Hey, I meant it when I said it’s nothing to be ashamed about.” You let go of his wrists, opting to rub his shoulder instead, in an attempt to reassure him. “Listen, I lost my dignity by falling on you and drooling when we met, and you lost your dignity just now. Let’s just say we’re even.” You smile optimistically, hoping it will psych him into believing you because what you say is the truth, even if it’s a touchy subject, apparently.
Once he’s reminded of your not-so-cute meet-cute, he seems to relax a little. “You did drool like crazy. Do I really have to pay?” He’s smiling now, thank God. He rests his hands on his chest, looking way more comfortable.
“Yup. You do.” You laugh, it’s a softer laugh than your earlier fit, though. “Convenience store?” You prompt him, offering a hand to have him get up. As your hand interlocks with his, a smile tugs at the sides of your lips and you still can’t tell if the heat in your face is from the wind chill or Taesan. “And, take your hat back, idiot. Your ears are red.” The hat traps all the heat radiating from your flushed face and it makes you almost feel sweaty.
He laughs a little before speaking, “thanks for the hat. My ears are just so cold.” He jokes. “The store is just this way.” He points to the right he was going to take when you knocked him down. He was leading you the right way, at least. “Never try to blackmail me again, I swear.” He threatens, pouting, and then shoves you, however lightly. He doesn't look very scary.
“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see.” You retort. He glares at you, keeping eye contact as you walk closer to the glowing, welcoming arms of the convenience store in the form of its bright lights, illuminating the street from the inside, casting an eerie glow onto the otherwise dark and snow-ridden street. In response to his look, you childishly blow a strawberry at him. This hasn’t been either of your finest hours. Your antics draw out a smile from him, at least. Practically skipping along, you try to change the subject to something less personal, maybe. “What did you expect when you called me out here? You said you were nervous, after all.”
“Yeah, I did say that. I got the pre-presentation nerves, you know? ‘Thought we could talk about it.” He rubs his neck. This is definitely a less personal topic, but that’s not to say it’s impersonal.
“So, talk.” You command, avoiding eye contact mostly so you don’t laugh, replaying him falling over.
“What is there to say? I had some nerves.” He laughs, opening the silvery door to the convenience store, stepping aside to let you through.
“What a gentleman,” you muse, “how’d you learn that? Rom-coms?”
“I’m allowed to be nice, too, you know. You watch more romantic comedies than me.” He rolls his eyes.
“I do it ironically.” You drawl. “I was nervous too, to be honest,” you were not going to tell him that you were watching rom-coms trying to relax, that would be a little too much ammo for him, “Jen was fast asleep and I was just kind of… lying there.” You pick up a miscellaneous chip bag, lazily inspecting it.
“Oh, I totally get it. The only other person awake was Leehan, and he was going to trap me in fish conversation if I even so much as approached him.” You snort at this. Even from your brief interactions with Leehan this afternoon, his passion is palpable. You can just see it in his face that he’s a little bit of an uber-nerd about those particular animals. Nerd is being used affectionately, of course. His interest is admirable. “Do you want those chips?” He asks, pointing to the bag in your hand.
“Not really, I like those other ones better.” You shrug, pointing to the alternative, an equally fluorescent bag of slightly better-tasting chips. “We can tame the worries together,” you smile at him, reaching behind you to grab your preferred flavor, “the question is how.”
“Going to the convenience store is a pretty good start.” He pushes his bottom lip into the top one. As you watch this action, he suppresses a smile, suddenly. “I have an idea.” Of course he does. He says this with a growing smile on his face as he locks eyes with you. “We should have a snowball fight.” Your own smile grows as he waits for your response.
“We should.” You nod. This time, you have an idea, a bad one. “Only if you moan again.” You charge him with the scandalous comment, and he looks affronted again, and immediately reaches out a free hand to shove you.
“Don’t say that so loud!” He hissed, looking around the almost empty store to see if anyone heard him. “That stays between you and me.” You roll your eyes but you can’t hide your amusement.
“Yeah, okay.” You walk off towards the cashier across the store to buy your snacks, sticking out your tongue at him. On the way, you inspect and in turn pick up a chocolate bar and a mediocre-looking apple to buy with your chips; it’s all about balance.
Taesan comes up behind you as you place your haul on the mini conveyor belt and gives a small bow to the cashier. He sets down two bags of chips and an enoki mushroom snack that has Japanese writing on it, for which you give him a disgusted look. Perusing his other selections, you smile when you see the second chip bag, for which you change your disgusted look for one of gratitude.
“Aw, did you get those for me?” You ask, pointing to the less perfect, but still pretty good flavor.
“No, I got them for… um…” He pauses, seemingly unable to think of someone else he would get them for. It’s kind of cute, if not a little embarrassing. “I got them for you. I can be kind, remember?” Sassy man apocalypse.
“Duly noted.” You purse your lips. You look at him expectantly, going from him to his card on the back of his phone, again.
“What?” He asks, innocently. Sungho wasn’t joking when he said that he looks like a cat. As he realizes you’re deadass, he narrows his eyes and turns to you, “are you serious about the whole paying thing?” He cocks his head.
“I was pretty clear. That is, unless you—” You’re cut off by Taesan clamping a hand over your mouth, for which he gets a repulsed and highly suspicious glare from the middle-aged cashier, he meets this with another bow, unclasping your face from his grip. When you’re let go, you raise your eyebrows at him as if to say ‘really?’ His hand smells like lavender soap, it’s kind of pleasant, actually. From the state of his and his roommates’ everything-but-sleeping room, you wouldn’t have guessed they were in possession of floral hand soap. When you’re done thinking about how he smells, you’re feeling a little embarrassed and also physically being led out of the store, hopefully after Taesan paid.
“Was that really necessary?” You ask, hands free because Taesan’s holding the store-provided bag that houses all of your treats.
“I don’t need anyone hearing about… that. Especially a middle-aged anyone.” He clarifies and fair enough. You take the opportunity, however, to scoop up a clump of snow (distinctly not yellow, you checked) and pitch it at him. Still carefully holding your bag, he looks at you with a sense of betrayal. “Oh, I’m going to get you.” He threatens before hurling a snowball that splashes against your only water-resistant coat.
Snowball after snowball is thrown, before your brief yet intense brawl is cut short by ice cold rain slicing through the air around you. Without Taesan’s hat, the sleet pummels your head and it hurts. Your puffer has no hood. Before you can let out an ‘ow,’ even, you find your oasis above you, a puffer. Taesan’s puffer. He managed to, in the short time it started sleeting and you noticed it, drop all of his stockpiled snowballs, pick up the convenience store’s bag, take off his puffer jacket, and cover your head with it, protecting you from the harsh, half-frozen rain. When you look at his face to your right, he looks totally angelic. The streetlight behind him makes him look like he has a halo from the light filtering through the edges of his hair. He’s smiling, despite all the teasing and irritation you put him through in the short time you’ve been out of your dorm.
“Yikes, that came fast.” He comments, looking around and noticing how the sleet pelts down around the two of you. “I’ll take you home, I think it’s our cue to wrap this up.” He suggests. His sweetness contrasts against the wistful feeling that unexpectedly forms when he mentions parting. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation or maybe it’s the chill getting to you, but you feel like you’re on cloud nine, it’s the most you’ve laughed since Jen told you the crazy goings-on between her highschool ex-girlfriend and one of her friends. Apparently, her ex-girlfriend is absolutely smitten for her friend and said friend completely ignores her at every turn. You laughed until your cheeks hurt that day. Your cheeks don’t hurt from laughing, necessarily, but it’s the same sort of freeing feeling. You don’t know what to make of that, but you’re damn sure you like the way he’s smiling at you.
“Whatever you say. Thanks for the roof.” You beamed, pointing up at the make-shift shelter he’s made for you.
“My pleasure, Miss Grump.” He says this with a posh accent that makes you laugh. You have no idea since when he’s started calling you Miss Grump, but there are worse names, probably.
“Don’t make me kick you.” You threaten, trying (and failing) to suppress the grin that tugs at your lips.
“Sorry, Madame Grump.” He corrects, still holding the cover over your head.
“I’m not even being grumpy.” You warn him, not even trying to hide the smile that spreads across your face. “Come on, get moving.” You cue him to start the walk back to your dorm.
“Your wish is my command, Miss—”
“Don’t you dare.” You threaten and bump your shoulder into his. The walk back to your dorm is short, it took you far longer to get to the convenience store because of… well… tangential events. Checking your phone, you finally learn the time. It’s fucking two in the morning. Great! You’ll get essentially no sleep, but that’s nothing a little caffeine can’t fix.
“I dare more than you think I do.” He purses his lips.
“Okay, I dare you to admit you moaned when you fell.” You challenge him with a smirk.
He groans, “I pick truth.”
“This isn’t truth or dare, you don’t get to pick. Plus, truth would be ‘did you moan when you fell.’” You can see your dorm from where you stand in front of the red brick building, it’s still brightly lit. Hopefully that means that Jen is still asleep and hasn’t woken up to turn the overhead off.
“You can’t subpoena me so I’m not playing this game.” He shrugs, stopping underneath the overhang above the glass door that marks the entrance to your building and the separation from Taesan. As he steps aside, taking his puffer with him and putting it back on, you’re suddenly and unfortunately aware of his body heat now that it’s gone.
“I’m less nervous.” He says with a smile that seems almost confidential, like a secret only you know. He’s undeniably easy on the eyes with his stupid hat and soaked gloves and hoodie.
“Me too.” The words come out of your mouth softly. Somehow, they’re vulnerable words to say. “Goodnight, Taesan.” After your parting words, neither of you make a move to leave. His full name feels more meaningful than his nickname, somehow. You stand there, lit up by the LEDs of the hallways, staring at each other, and you’re not entirely sure why. The tension might be thick, it might not be, you can’t tell by the way you’re focused on his face. Well, it’s not exactly his face. It’s the way his hair frames his face, yes, and the way that his eyes scrunch when he smiles, even slightly, it’s also the way his egg hat looks and the way his hoodie is so damp because he was trying to keep you warm and dry.
Then it’s all over. When the tension breaks, it’s not like it’s cut through. It’s more like it dissipates. It dissipates thanks to the man who barrels down the street adjacent to your bubble, blasting a Spanish ballad and singing his heart out. Soy capitán, soy capitán, soy capitán! blasts through the complex. You break eye contact with Taesan just to laugh at the oddity passing you. You watch him coast down the street on his green bike, singing, without a helmet, hands-free. Your mother would not approve. Taesan’s not laughing, but he’s beaming and staring at you as you crouch down because of your laughter. You try and convince yourself it’s not even that funny, but something about the era of the night just makes you heave with how hard you’re laughing.
“I mean,” recovering, you let out a sigh, finally releasing a breath that you don’t remember holding, “it is a college campus.”
“You can say that again.” His hands are on his hips, and he’s managed to pry his eyes away from you. The sleet’s stopped somewhat, but the ground is still icy from the snow and sleet and rain that have frozen and refrozen over the past few days. The same wistful silence settles between you two after the interruption.
“Maybe it’s a sign.” You laugh in disbelief. Now you’re sure you’ve laughed more than when Jen told you about her friend’s drama. Way more.
“A sign for what?” He questions, jocose and almost suspicious of your deduction.
“A sign you’ve violated like a million rules of common decency!” Another voice, one other than the singing man’s melody and Taesan’s and your chatter, is heard echoing throughout. “Han Taesan, I’m going to beat your ass!” The voice threatens angrily. At first, you don’t know where it’s coming from. At second, you don’t want to believe where it’s coming from. You slowly look up to your open dorm window and see Jen’s disheveled figure poking out with the single most serious scowl you’ve ever seen her wear. The only time that gets close to this nouveau expression is the time she decked a guy for… being a total freak for one of her friends, let’s say. Your body is confused on whether to panic, run, or just freeze. Waiting to act is still an action, and it’s the prognosis your body suggests. You freeze, looking from Taesan to the window, where Jen is notably absent.
You look at Taesan.
You look at the window.
You look at Taesan.
You look at the hallway.
Taesan looks terrified, you look utterly and visibly confused, and for Jen… well, it looks like there's smoke coming out of her ears as she storms down the hallway towards the doors that open to reveal your two-person symposium. Jen slams open the door and, if it wasn’t specifically made not to slam, the impact of the slam would have reverberated until even Dr. Woo heard it across the campus in his (probably sound-proofed) office where he probably still is because, you know, he’s Dr. Woo.
“You motherfucker, what did you do to get her to go out without telling me! What are you hiding? Are you a criminal? Are you a smoker? Oh no, you’re just a piece of shit trying to get in her pants!” Jen steps in front of you, blocking everything but Taesan’s head from your view. From what you can see, Taesan hasn’t been sucker punched yet. His eyes are wide and he’s holding his hands up like he’s waiting for her to swing, and maybe he is. You know he doesn’t know her well enough to know that she wants to beat the shit out of him, but she did say explicitly that she was going to beat the shit out of him so he had some reason to suspect that that’s what was incoming.
“W-what? I don’t— I didn’t do any of that stuff!” He’s shaking his hands wildly and Jen still looks like she’s about to swing by the way she’s pushing a finger into his chest. Still too shocked to do, well, anything except watch.
You see her rear up in a way that’s all too familiar to you, and when you remember you can move, “Jen, wait! It’s–” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you see her closed fist collide with his cheekbone and the impact make him reel back, clutching the affected area with a mittened hand. He almost knocks his head into the pole supporting the overhang, and you can see he’s visibly out of it. Is this a good time to mention that Jen is freakishly good at karate? What Jen is, however, not amazing at is analyzing the situation. As she battles with the follow-through of the swing, she loses her footing on the icy ground, falling flat on her ass. Now, both parties accompanying you are on the icy ground and you’re the only one still standing.
You act in a delay. “Jen! He didn’t do anything, I swear!” You reach for her shoulders that are no longer there, trying to stop an action that’s already happened. You watch as Taesan crumples further into a fetal position and you stand there in shock.
“See!” She spits, snapping her head back to look up at you. “He’s not even trying to help me up!” Her eyebrows are furrowed and angry.
“Jen,” you almost can’t help but laugh, “you decked him, he doesn’t even know what planet he’s on.” You look from your best friend to your… Taesan, and wonder how you attend to both of their bullshit situations at once. “Okay, first of all, Jen, please don’t punch his ass again—”
“Yeah, I’ll punch him in the gut.” She snarls, cutting you off.
“No! There will be no punching.” You declare, trying to sound confident but you’re so bewildered it comes out more as a question. You turn your attention to Taesan, whose nose is bleeding ever so slightly. He’s holding his hat-clad head in his hands and is grimacing in pain. You mirror him, a grimace appearing on your own face as you look upon his pitiful condition. This is going to be so fun to explain. “I came out here because I told him he could call me if he was nervous for the presentation tomorrow and I’d talk to him about it and so we went to the convenience store and… I’m fine! He’s not just trying to get in my pants, he would’ve done that already if he wanted to.” You ramble, using logic that probably wouldn’t withstand in court but works well enough when you talk a million miles an hour to a less than law-savvy subject, that subject being Jen. The subject, Jen, looks scandalized by this information.
“Where did my innocent baby go?” She pouts, getting up to put her arms around you. “Where did my sweet, lightweight, baby with no love life go? She’s sneaking out to see boys?”
“Jen, I’m a grown woman.” You tell her, incredibly blasé and stiff as she embraces you in a hug. From over her shoulder, you catch Taesan’s eye. When your eyes meet, he laughs and then winces. It probably wasn’t a good idea to welcome an uncontrollable movement when you have some sort of abrasion on your cheek and blood coming out of your nose. Jen pulls back to look at you and shakes her head, you can almost hear her saying they grow up so fast. Maybe this is the same kind of telepathy that goes down between her and her sisters. Maybe you get it. Jen, coming back to earth from her sappy, self-appointed caretaker meltdown, narrows her eyes and looks from you to Taesan, and then from you to Taesan, again.
She opens her mouth and lets out a puff of air as if to start speaking, but she only does so a few seconds later. “So… there was no reason for me to deck him?” She asks, raising an eyebrow in genuine confusion. You nod, solemnly. Her jaw drops and her eyebrows push together. She puts her tongue in her cheek, mind reeling. This is when she realizes she gave this poor man a bloody nose and probably a black eye for no damn reason. Suddenly, she fixes her gaze on you, “you’re the one I should be chewing out! Do you know how many staples of girl code you’ve violated?! You could have died!” She exclaims, clearly ready to give you a talking-to, way worse than when you spelled ‘Elliann’ as ‘Ellyanne.’ She’s like OSHA but for general female wellbeing.
You reach out to grab her hands that are moving dramatically to illustrate her point, “okay, you can chew me out after Taesan isn’t bleeding out.” She seems to relax like a combative patient injected with midazolam.
“I’m not bleeding out.” He huffs, but is still holding his nose bridge, so he’s still bleeding, at least, and that’s not exactly ideal.
“You look like shit, though.” You tell him
“Thanks,” he groans, “can I get some tylenol, or something?” Yeah, he totally looks like a hurt puppy. It’s kind of cute, you guess.
“Yeah, we’ll get you patched up.” You assure him, breaking away from Jen to attend to Taesan.
“No ‘we.’ Only you. Don’t let her punch me again.”
“We’re over the combat phase, it’s fine. Get up, do your legs still work?” You try to say your biting words as comfortingly as possible. It’s past two in the morning, you’re too over-tired to try to pick your words so they’ll feel better for the receiver. What’ll make Taesan feel better, physically, at least, is tylenol and making sure his nose isn’t broken.
“My legs don’t, my ass hurts like hell.” Jen complains, but helps in picking Taesan up anyway.
“It’s very hard to break a tailbone, a nose, on the other hand…” You raise your eyebrows but say no more. Taesan gets up just fine, but still clutches his nose. “Campus clinic’s probably closed, we have a first-aid kit, though.”
Jen issues a half-hearted-sounding yet fully meant apology in the form of a mutter of “sorry for punching you, man.”
“You’re cool, man. Cool that you were looking out for her.” He gives her a small thumbs up. It’s a weird moment of friendship between these two. For having met barely a week ago and having spent five hours together tops, these two have a more tumultuous relationship than most twin siblings at the age of nine, which is saying something considering most have chased each other with a knife by the age of five and a half. Jen has gone from asking to be the maid of honor to decking the presumed groom and now having a hopefully more stable relationship with said groom. So much plot it’s not even ‘for the plot’ anymore, you’re just riding the wave of unexpected inciting events.
“The more the merrier.” You mutter as you sling Taesan’s arm over your shoulder. Why he abets this when the damage is to his face, who knows. The more the merrier indeed in your cramped dorm, trying to ignore how the cold compress on his bruise keeps melting even though it’s so cold and the fact that you have an injured and sleep-deprived boy on your hands.
GOT GOOD
You bite the inside of your cheek, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to express your dismay. You kind of bombed your presentation.
Scrap that, you really bombed your presentation.
As you step out of the lecture hall following the sea of your peers, you step aside to press your back into a free wall. It’s one of the moments where you need to just detach. Crossing your arms for stability, you melt into the wall. The overhead light that you can see even through your closed eyelids is obscured every so often by a moving body. This drowsiness is familiar.
Amid the frequent passings of students, the light is masked for longer than would be caused by someone in passing. You know who it is.
“Hey, it wasn’t that bad.” You open your eyes to a squint and see Taesan leaning against the wall next to you. Despite how you try to ignore it, you’re immediately drawn to the squashed berry purple color that blossoms on the inflamed skin under his left eye, giving way to a lighter almost green tint near his nose. Jen got him good. Your blinks are slow, the scant hours of sleep are getting to you. You slept through your alarm, foreboding you from even getting coffee before the presentation. Despite his injury, he’s smiling.
“I lost where I was like every other sentence.” You attempt to mirror his smile, but it doesn’t really work, leaving you with a smile that reaches your eyes but not your lips, somehow.
“It’s Dr. Woo, you’ll be fine. He doesn’t care nearly as much as you do. We got all of our information out. It doesn’t matter how graceful it was.” He lays out his reasons and you cock your head, weighing the possibility that he’s right.
“Are you like a vampire, or something? You don’t need sleep?”
“I’m used to it.” He shrugs. Maybe living with five as many people as you do makes you sleep way less; especially since it seems like Taesan is their chaperone despite the fact that Sungho and Riwoo are older than him, you’ve learned.
“You shouldn’t be. Sleep is good.” You close your eyes again, and a silence settles over you. You’ve created your own little bubble in the hallway, and it might not even include Taesan. Right now, it’s just you and your desperate need for rest. You are not the kind of person to pull an all-nighter.
“I told you you were going to crash.” He reminds you and you hum in response. “Look,” he gets your attention by putting a hand on your shoulder, “the boys are out, come back to my place and you can take a nap. I know that your room still smells like disinfectant.” A smile creeps across your face at this. It’s true: your room smells like the pungent iodine that you used to clean the minor abrasions on his cheekbone. You still have no idea why Jen has that much power in her.
“Lead the way.”
“It’s way closer to this building than it is to your building, it’s barely any walk at all.” He assures you. Regardless, you have to speed walk to keep up with the pace.
“Do you have hot chocolate, or anything?” At your drawled request, he tsks. Pressing his lips together, you take that as a no.
“I’ll see what I can do. Woonhak owes me like nine favors.” He laughs a little at this, and you smile too. Unremarkably, it hasn’t become spring overnight, and so the wind is still nipping at your face. You were wise enough to wear your Taesan-provided gloves, though. Looking at Taesan’s face and the way the wind makes his face a little pink, you’re pretty sure you could find the whole color palette on his face. Except blue, maybe. You’ve got the other colors covered. Red for his cheeks, orange, yellow, green, and purple for his bruise. Huh, that bruise contributes a lot. “It’s just this way.” He says, guiding you with a pointed hand towards a complex highly similar to your own. Same red brick buildings and same overhang. The difference is that, you know from picking your roommate, this building is the apartment sector. Frankly, it’s incredible that Taesan and his roommates are all friends. You know other people who got apartments, or even quads, who aren’t so happy.
As you step into the entrance way, you feel the warm air hit your face. This building is much warmer than yours, maybe that’s a good thing. Walking up the stairs, Taesan is steady behind you. You wonder if he’s thinking about catching you like he had to the time you were drunk off your ass.
As soon as you enter the apartment dorm, your focus tunnel visions on the soft couch in the middle of the room. It looks like heaven as you step towards it. You were unfairly ripped from the comfort of your bed for that fuckass presentation and now you can return to your natural state, sleeping. You thank whatever power is out there because this is so incredibly opportune.
As soon as you shed your backpack and winter coat and collapse on the couch, you’re out like a light. No words from Taesan can wake you now, even if it is him professing his undying love for you. No, it’s up to your internal clock to make you up, lest you sleep forever.
Your internal clock does wake you up. You’re groggy, but it’s still light out, so you couldn’t have slept for so long. As you assess your situation, you notice two differences.
First, you’re warm.
A navy blue throw blanket has been carefully draped over you, and you’re pretty sure you didn’t do that yourself. You bite the inside of your cheek—happily, this time. It’s proof he does care, and maybe you’re letting the gesture get to your head. You do… not like Han Taesan, right?
Second, you’re alone in Taesan’s living room.
There are no signs of life, not from his roommates nor from the mountain himself. That’s more puzzling. You would have assumed he would have stayed for one reason or another, maybe he went out to get hot chocolate? He told you that he would have Woonhak do it.
Looking around the room, you take in the sights. There’s a modest TV with various video game consoles, there is a section of the room clearly designated for guitars, and it’s remarkably clean. Not too bad for five early 20-somethings and one 18 year old. It’s kind of impressive, actually. There isn’t any leftover food out and even the dishes in the sink have been rinsed, if not thoroughly washed. You pat down the area around you in search of your phone, mainly to check the time, but also to figure out where the hell Taesan went. Something about his absence hurts your heart in an uncomfortable way. You would have liked to see him when you woke up. Still… you do not like Han Taesan… do you? No, no. You don’t like him, that’s silly. He’s just your partner for a group project.
As you locate your phone, you hear the door open behind you and you swing your head around to see Taesan standing in the doorway with a hand behind his back and a bag in the hand that’s visible to you. Another bag, nice.
“Good morning.” He smiles at your state. The way he looks at you suggests your hair is out of order. You fail obviously as you try to subtly sort it out.
“I had a great nap. You have a good napping couch.” You bring a hand up to rub your right eye even though your mom says it causes astigmatism. It would suck to have contacts in right about now.
“Well,” he says, setting down the bag on the counter, “I have your hot chocolate.” You’re pretty sure your face lights up at this, it’s the perfect thing for this kind of dingy day. “And,” he continues, “I got it from a café near here; store-bought isn’t as good.” He takes a cardboard carrier out of the bag and presents his finds to you, two lidded cups.
“You sure know the way to my heart.” You mean that on a deeper level that you hope he doesn’t catch. “What’s behind your back?” You ask, pointing to the obvious hand still tucked behind him.
He looks sheepish and brings the hand to his front, “I got these for you.” His cool act is far gone, he seems almost timid. In his left hand he grasps a bouquet of an assortment of colorful flowers. There are assorted yellows, blues, pinks, purples, and reds. It’s like a sunset wrapped in brown paper and tied in a pretty twine bow.
“Taesan!” You exclaim excitedly, jumping up from the couch to go collect your gift. “Why?” You poke. He’s quiet for a second, the question seems to echo throughout the room. A chorus of ‘why.’ You meet his eyes for just a second, but the shared glance makes your heart beat faster. He seems to bite his tongue, there’s a shining reflection of the kitchen light in his dark brown eyes. You don’t see them crinkle up, indicative of a straight face.
He swallows like his throat is thick, “I got them for you because I like you… I like you romantically.”
You’re not sure if your heart swells or drops.
From this one statement, you learn two things. You learn that Han Taesan likes you, and you learn that you like Han Taesan. You really like Han Taesan. You like the way he’s cold but kind and the way his bangs fall and his endless care for his roommates and his hardworking nature.
You like Han Taesan.
You take the bouquet in your hands, analyzing the flowers. You notice they’re mostly tulips, but flanked by carnations, baby’s breath, and bluebells. A smile grows on your face as you look back up at him. He looks absolutely terrified. It’s not worth it to tease him here. He’s vulnerable, you should be too.
You begin to open your mouth, but before you can, he continues in an attempt at defense, “listen to me, please. I thought you were cute and smart even before the party and all of those incidents, but now that I know you I can’t not tell you. You’re witty and stubborn and playful and it’s so easy to talk to you. You were cute when you were drooling, I didn’t know that was possible. You make fun of me but I like it because you’re so kind. I… I like you.” He confesses, he’s talking fast and you think your heart might burst with excitement. Excitement isn’t the right word—euphoria? Joy? Happiness? Exhilaration? No word is quite right for how you feel about Taesan. “The tulips symbolize love.” He says under his breath and the flowers take on a whole new meaning. You feel like a tulip. Tulips symbolize love.
The smile that bursts across your face makes his eyebrows release all their tension immediately, “Taesan, I like you too. I really like you,” you tell him, “tulips symbolize love.” You look down at the bouquet and see the array of tulips that smile back at you.
“Can I kiss you? I’m not drunk, I swear.” He promises. The allusion to your first meeting makes you laugh. You met with an ask for a kiss, and now he confesses with an ask for a kiss.
“Yes.” You whisper, and he throws his arms around you, pressing his forehead to yours. You sway like that for a moment, you feel the cold of his jacket against your arms and the pressure of his hand on the small of your back. You look at him and in his eyes you see him. No walls, just you two. Just you and Taesan.
You wrap your arms around his neck, one hand still holding the bouquet and pull his lips to yours. Warmth blossoms in your chest—his kiss is soft and tender and he tastes like mint. Mint might be your new favorite flavor. His lips fit perfectly with yours. You feel the soft press of his fingers into your back, pulling you closer to him. Your lips part slightly and you’re out of breath before he even starts to pull away. His kiss is just like him, just when you think you know him all, he shows you a new surprise, something new. After stalling for just a second, he pulls you back to him and deepens the kiss. You could kiss this minty boy forever.
When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours again, fluttering his eyes open and shut.
“I wrote a song about this. A serenade.” He says breathlessly.
Even in the dead of winter, you think your heart melts all over again.
NOTES:
Shoutout Hartford Whalers even tho they sports disbanded!
SINGING MAN CAMEO! The singing man is a genuine character in my life. Living in the city center of a major city means I get LOTS of people doing weird shit like the emoji guy (who wears outfits only with bright fucking emojis, my friends have seen him too, he’s wacky), the tree guy (a man who always walks around with a fallen branch on his head, no idea why), and the supercar medical worker (woman in scrubs who drives down the streets with a loud ass car that looks like one of those fuckass shoes with big holes in them you know what im talking about the kidney shoes). I take a pic and keep them in a folder on my phone called “recurring characters.” I have never seen the singing man. He walks past my house every weekday at 11pm and I like to have my windows open and he sings loud Spanish ballads. I love him. Singing man my beloved.
Sorry this is a slowburn, it was forced out of me i fear. is this a slowburn? methinks so.
[thinkin bout you] taesan x f!reader | 5.8k words
high school au, childhood friends 2 lovers, slight e2l, fake dating, first kiss, moving away and reunion kinda ???, also bffs 2 lovers ish, smut at the end
note. happy (late) birthday to my lovely kay <333 hope u love it my cherry pie. sorry to everyone for how long this took, finishing this fic almost broke me. (and yes heres another taesan fic for the anon who was asking). also highly recommend listening to steve lacy while reading this, the plot was v inspired by infrunami and the entire lo-fis album :]
the first time you met taesan, he didn't give the grandest first impression. not that you really expected to be blown away by a six year old boy, but meeting him while he was covered in mud wasn't what you were anticipating either.
your family had just moved next to the boy's house, and as you picked dandelions and flowers from the front yard to collect and keep, you couldn't help but notice a young boy playing in the garden of the house next door. turning to see you, the boy giddily bounded over to you, introducing himself joyfully.
you should've been nicer; he was just another little boy enjoying the breezy summer day, but you couldn't help scrunching your nose as you eyed him up and down. his knees were green with grass stains and his arms and legs were covered with swipes of dirt, a bit of mud sticking to his cheek.
within a minute, his mother noticed her son poking his nose outside of the yard and came over to collect him, chiding his dirtiness and sending him back to his own abode. taesan pouted for less than a second before smiling brightly at you, waving happily as he ran back to his house. you frowned slightly at his bright demeanor.
although you were the same age as taesan, something both of your mothers were delighted by, you considered yourself more mature and too grown up for kiddish activities, and this logic applied to others your age as well.
growing up as well, you found boys to be immature and difficult creatures, always finding yourself repelled by their confusing antics. taesan was just any other boy to you, childish and juvenile.
despite your obvious disdain towards the young boy, your families still spent a great deal of time together. they were always encouraging the two of you to get along; you never had any of it.
taesan caught onto this attitude pretty quickly as well, wondering why you didn't like him. he decided he'd rather play with his toy cars and lay in the grass than dwell on it though.
this was how your dynamic was, the two of you in an unspoken agreement that it would be better to just leave each other alone.
you saw less and less of taesan after his parents decided to enroll him in a private school to finish out his middle and high school years. to be honest, you couldn't have cared less -- your childish neighbor was far from your mind as you immersed yourself in your high school sports, particularly enjoying volleyball and swimming.
being on both teams for your school and trying to keep your grades up took up the majority of your time, meaning you hadn't exactly experienced the infamous teenage romance, as your parents liked to call it.
you didn't know why your parents cared about your love life so much. you felt perfectly content with your school activities and your various friends, not feeling the need to burden yourself with a boyfriend.
taesan was similar to you in that way; after growing into adolescence and beginning teenagerhood he began to delve into music, writing and composing songs became his life. granted, he'd had a couple flings here and there, so he wasn't completely in the dark when it came to relationships.
for his final semester of his senior year, taesan ended up transferring back to your high school. you found out about this when you watched him run out the front door one morning as you were unlocking your car, ready to drive yourself to school.
you almost didn't realize it was him, granted the last time you'd gotten a proper glance at him was when the two of you were maybe 12. his once chestnut brown hair was dyed jet black, and the curliness of it had settled and loosened so it was just slightly wavy.
he'd grown at least half a foot, shoulders broad and sturdy. you eyed his long legs that carried him to the bus that he was practically chasing. biting a laugh back, you watched him sheepishly smile at the bus driver, who rolled his eyes before letting the boy on.
the next time you saw taesan was that evening actually. returning home after swim practice, you saw your mom in the living room vacuuming the floors. pausing for a moment, she unplugged the machine to greet you, hugging you gently and asking how your day was.
"nothing crazy. practice was fine too." your mom fought the urge to sigh out loud. you were always talking about sports while she was constantly hoping you'd come back telling her that you'd met someone.
"that's great, honey" she faked a smile at your denseness, turning around to continue cleaning.
"taesan's back." for a moment, your mom looked caught off guard before smiling again, hoping if she acted normal you'd be encouraged to continue.
"and?"
"he looks different" you spoke as you fell onto the couch, rubbing the back of your neck.
"it's been years since the last time you saw him, hasn't it?" you nodded.
"he's going to my school now." you smiled again thinking about how silly he'd looked this morning.
"i know, i invited him and his mom over for dinner today." your mom replied sheepishly, anticipating an outburst of sorts from her daughter.
"what?" you sputtered in surprise, eyes wide as you stared at your mom.
"what? they're our neighbors, plus i haven't had a chance to catch up with mrs. han in a while." you groaned at the idea of an awkward dinner and having to dress nicely. you trudged up the stairs to your room to wash your hair and find some decent looking clothes that weren't your team sweats.
++
you were helping your mom set the table when the doorbell rang, sighing as your mom giggled and turned to answer the door. hearing both of your moms' giddy voices around the corner as they greeted each other, you sat on the couch in your living room. taesan walked past his mom and your mom reuniting and appeared around the corner, meeting the sight of you scrolling on your phone on the couch, smiling as you texted someone.
"hey." your gaze immediately fixed on taesan. he had grown up well, his jawline defined and lips tinted pink. his mouth had sort of a natural pout to it, and his eyes were a pretty shade of chocolate. his hair was long, bangs growing out and parted down the middle to fall down his ears and frame his face.
you made note of his figure as well, shoulders broad and torso narrowed into his waist. he was tall, much taller than you'd thought this morning.
standing at the end of the couch you were on, his hands were stuffed in his pockets as he took you in.
you'd also grown up quite a bit in the past couple years. your once shorter hair was longer and flowed down your shoulders, with partially lightened streaks sprinkled throughout from swimming.
you were also quite toned from how active you were, and taesan's eyes traced the lines down your neck as you straightened your posture.
"hi." you replied, lazy voice contrasting your stiff demeanor. he eyed your dressy top and jeans before looking down at his old band tee and ripped jeans.
"was i supposed to wear something nicer?" he asked sheepishly, shoulders slumping in relief as you shook your head no and smiled at him softly.
dinner wasn't really anything unordinary, mainly consisting of your parents conversing with taesan's mother as you and the boy ate in silence next to each other. at one point, you heard your name tossed around in conversation, looking up in response.
"y/n! you and taesan should carpool to school together!" you fought to suppress a groan and eye roll as you watched your moms cheerily converse about the arrangement.
you enjoyed your drives to and from school alone, giving you some peace and solitude. no more of that, i guess, you thought bitterly.
++
"you ride to school in silence?" taesan asked after swinging your car door open and stepping in. you yawned loudly. early mornings never really agreed with you.
"i don't really have time to listen to music." taesan raised his eyebrow at this.
"don't have time? what are you, the president?" surprisingly, taesan's quips made you crack a smile. considering how you'd felt about him before, you figured riding with him would be a bother.
as you got to know taesan better, though, you realized there was much more to your neighbor than met the eye. he introduced you to his favorite bands and showed you various musical genres. he taught you about a new genre every week, on a personal mission to help you find your favorite. you enjoyed watching him geek out about music, and you began to learn which artists and genres you liked the most.
eventually, taesan would come wait for your practices to end, often sitting in the bleachers and working on homework with headphones shoved in his ears.
you'd always bound up to him after, breathing shallowly as you tugged his earbuds to let him know you were done. he found you to be like a puppy at times like that, panting and waiting for him to pack up his stuff so the two of you could return home.
"is volleyball hard?" he asked one day on your drive home. this week was indie, a soft steve lacy song floating through the air as you turned to look at him.
"not really, it's pretty simple." taesan's face told you he disagreed. before he open his mouth retaliate, you spoke.
"i can teach you."
spending time with taesan was easy. sometimes, you felt like you were going crazy, pulling any excuse from the book to spend time with him. the two of you clicked so well, something that caught you off guard much more than you'd like to admit.
++
the semester passed by quicker than you could blink, and suddenly you were swept up in end of the year preparations. before you knew it, you were graduating.
pulling the cap over your hair, you turned to your parents.
"how do i look?" they both smiled happily at you, mirroring your own bright grin.
the ceremony felt like a dream, or like you were watching yourself out of your own body. diploma in hand, you were now outside, taking pictures with your various teammates and friends and teachers. at one point, while you were snapping pictures with your friend, belle, you caught a glimpse of raven black hair in the crowd.
glancing over, you saw taesan taking pictures with a small group of boys, the same ones you'd seen him around school with. there were also a couple of guys also looked about your age but weren't in caps and gowns.
either way, taesan's smile shone brighter and grasped your attention more than anything else. his eyes shrunk into crescents and his teeth were pearly white; if you squinted, a halo would probably appear over his head. you watched with a small smile as his friends pulled at his cap and ruffled his hair affectionately.
eventually, the two of your moms found each other and you were being pushed next to taesan to take a picture together.
"smile, kids!" you couldn't help but smile at their giddiness. looking up at taesan, you saw him chuckling as well. his arm wrapped around your side as your parent's cameras flashed.
"you both look so lovely together!" your face reddened with embarrassment at your mom's words, and you quickly slapped her arm to shut her up. taesan was left watching you walk away from him, eyes trained on the way your hair swung and how the wind ruffled your gown.
++
with school finally out, summer was in full swing. you didn't have any plans in particular, wanting to make the most of the next few months before the next phase of your life.
your mother seemed to have other plans, though. while you could tell she was less than happy with your lack of a boyfriend or even a fling throughout high school, she wasn't even trying to hide it anymore.
"y/n honey, mrs. jung's son is single. he's a sweet boy, you two should go out!"
"mom i said n--"
"and you're free thursday evening, perfect! i just texted his mom back!"
the date went as you expected -- painfully awkward. the two of you simply didn't mesh, conversation always fading off into thick silence. your frustration with your mother certainly didn't help either, you thought as you accidentally slammed the boy's car door when he picked you up.
falling onto your bed, you sighed and yanked your phone out of your purse, calling taesan. he was probably working on some beats right now anyways. the phone rung for a few seconds before you heard his raspy voice on the other side of the line.
"what's up?" he spoke lazily. you could hear the squeak of his chair as he leaned back in it.
"my mom sent me on a blind date." hearing him snicker at the other end of the line, you frowned.
"no way, how'd it go?" you answered with a loud ugh, causing taesan to fully burst out laughing.
"terrible, it was so fucking awkwa-- stop laughing asshole!" you cursed at taesan's chuckles.
"when did your mom decide to be your wingwoman?" you groaned, rolling over in your bed and fiddling with the end of your blanket.
"i don't know, but i hope this is the last one." you sighed in response.
++
unfortunately, fate was not on your side; the date with mrs jung's son was only the beginning of your mother's antics. your friday night plans now routinely consisted of an uncomfortable dinner date and ranting to taesan about it after.
ringing his doorbell, you waited for someone to answer while scrolling through your phone. you deleted your date, gyuvin's, number and hoped to god he picked up on your disinterest and didn't text you again.
looking up as the door opened, you were met with taesan's mother. mrs. han pulled you into a warm hug as she asked how your night was.
"ugh, don't ask, mrs han. i don't know how many more of these dates i can do." she smiled fondly at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you two walked into the house.
"i'm sure you'll find the right guy eventually sweetie, he might be right under your nose." mrs. han elbowed you slightly, her expression playful. you laughed and kicked off your shoes.
"is taesan in his room?" she nodded and teasingly shooed you up the stairs.
taesan heard your slow steps up the stairs, not bothering to look up from his laptop until you were standing in his doorway, arms crossed. you were silently waiting: for acknowledgement and permission to come in. you knew you were always welcome into the boy's room, but taesan silently appreciated the way you respected his space.
"hey." he spoke, smiling and pausing the track playing from his laptop. he had been mixing, as usual. the second his voice left his lips, your shoulders slumped and you threw yourself face down onto his bed, groaning.
"i hate my life." you grumbled, the sound of your voice muffled by taesan's duvet. he chuckled, patting the back of your head playfully.
"there, there." he murmured sarcastically, and you rolled over so you could smack his hand away. taesan looked far more comfortable than you, in his pajama pants and a sweatshirt rather than a tight, uncomfortable blouse and skinny jeans.
the boy listened to you like a puppy as you delved into all the unfortunate details of your night.
"he showed up on a bike?" taesan's face was nearly red as he fought to not laugh. your already grumpy frown only deepened further, and you brought your hands up to massage your temples gently.
taesan's eyes locked on your fingers, mesmerized by your slow movements. moving his gaze down further, he quietly watched your muscles in your hand and forearm tense and contract with your ministrations.
the boy wouldn't tell you this, but he loved the nicer tops you wore, he loved when he could see the way your collarbone sat and trace the delicate curve of your neck with his eyes.
"taesan?" your quiet voice broke him out of his stupor of thought. his eyes refocused on your face, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. he hoped his hair was covering his reddened ears.
"why don't you just tell your mom you don't wanna go on dates anymore?" he spoke lazily, ignoring the way you narrowed your eyes, still trying to read into his previous glances. you shook your head, turning onto your back to face the ceiling. taesan was still propped against the headboard, his laptop and headphones now set aside.
"she won't listen. i know it's because she cares about me and thinks she's helping me out but i'm really tired of the whole routine." taesan's eyes softened. besides your teammates at school and him, you really weren't the most social person out there, blooming the most in the company of those you cared about the most.
taesan could tell the dates had taken a toll on you; the anxious preparation and stiff conversation wore you out much more than you let on. taesan was glad you trusted him with your thoughts and feelings -- he always wanted to be there for you through anything.
the boy moved forward so he was leaning over you slightly and nudged your shoulder with his knee.
"this is gonna sound really stupid, but you could just tell your parents that we're dating." you wanted to laugh but no words left your mouth, mind frozen trying to process what he was saying.
truthfully, what took you more off guard was the soft look in taesan's eyes as he looked down at you through his fluffy bangs. sitting up, you looked for any hint of playfulness or sarcasm in his face.
"really?" you asked confusedly. you hoped you didn't sound off put by the idea, the last thing you wanted was to hurt the feelings of the boy trying to help you.
"i mean, it would get your mom off your back, right? plus, she'd be pretty happy to know it was me of all people that you're with." with that, you smiled and rolled your eyes while shoving taesan lightly.
"oh because you're the hottest guy to ever walk this earth." you laughed as taesan sulked.
"that's not what i meant! you're such an asshole sometimes." taesan's pouted in the most exaggerated way possible, making you chuckle even harder. he was happy you were smiling again.
"besides your little ego trip, i do think it's a good idea." you spoke quietly, slightly embarrassed at how much you liked the idea of taesan looking out for you.
the two of you didn't really set rules, just that you'd hold hands and act a little more affectionate when the time called for it. to be frank, you and taesan didn't have to do much more than you already did; the two of you hung out pretty often anyways, now opting for calling your get togethers "dates" for show.
your mom was obviously thrilled when you told her about you and taesan. she went on a whole tangent about how she just knew the two of you would finally realize you liked each other.
what surprised you more was taesan's mom's reaction. she was not one bit surprised, even going as far as giving both of you a knowing look as you shyly stood next to each other in the kitchen while she brewed her coffee.
you were puzzled, not only by her meaningful gaze at the two of you but also at the redness flushing onto taesan's neck and cheeks. you told yourself he was just embarrassed that his mom was acting so blunt.
friday came along, and for the first time in a month, you were free. no stupid blind date, no painful conversation that made you want to rip your throat out and use it as a garnish for your pasta.
"we should celebrate." you blurted into the silent air. you and taesan were both laying on your floor, music playing from your laptop on your desk as the two of you sat in each others' company. taesan was writing in his journal, probably working on song lyrics, while you read a book. looking up from his notes, taesan clicked his pen and smiled at you.
"what do you wanna do?" you didn't have to look at taesan to hear the smile in his voice. while the two of you already hung out pretty much every day, it felt like the two of you were attached by the hip ever since your arrangement began.
taesan might've been going crazy, but he was enjoying your company too much.
he realized something was wrong with him when he starting smiling while taking out the trash; all because taking out the trash meant he could glance over at your house and wonder what you were up to.
what is going on with me? he thought to himself as he bumped his forehead on the lid of the trashcan, trying to snap himself out of his you-induced daze.
"wanna go see a movie?" you suggested timidly, waiting for taesan's reaction. you don't why you were so worried, you knew he was always down to do anything, but for some reason you wanted to pick something you know he'd like.
"can we get slushies?" taesan shot back, already getting up from the floor and reaching a hand to help you up.
++
"your parking sucks," the boy in your passenger seat quipped as you nearly took up two parking spots in the cinema's parking lot. looking around, the lot was nearly empty anyways. you turned and flicked his forehead, laughing as he whined dramatically.
"shut up, idiot." you watched taesan make an offended face and grab his chest theatrically.
"idiot? is that how you treat your poor boyfriend." you laughed at his loud gasping. reaching over, you ruffled your hand in his hair.
"i might be nicer if my poor boyfriend was the one driving us." you teased jokingly.
"fuck you, my parents needed the car!"
++
stepping past the ticket counter, the two of you made your way to concessions, looking for snacks for the movie.
“i got it.” taesan mumbled as he took your drink cup from your hands and walked up to the counter. you followed him with a teasing smile on your face, watching him pay for both of your drinks and a shared popcorn.
“i’m swooning” you joked as he took the receipt from the cashier and handed your cup back to you. he rolled his eyes in response, muttering something along the lines of you being annoying. you knew he didn’t mean a word of it, a small smile painted on his face as the two of you walked over to the drink station.
as you filled up your slushie, you suddenly felt taesan behind you. he quickly brought a hand to rest on your waist and bent to lay his head on your shoulder.
confusion overtook you. but more than that, you could feel your chest heating up and breaths shallowing. the skin of taesan’s chin rested on your shoulder and his breath tickled your ear gently; you had to physically restrain yourself from shivering.
after popping a cap on your drink and grabbing a straw, you turned to look at the boy behind you. you were already near whiplash from how close he was to you, his chest nearly touching yours.
“what was that about?” you tried to sound as unaffected as possible, hoping he couldn’t hear your heartbeat thrumming under your skin.
taesan looked at you for a second and looked over his shoulder again before taking a step back. his hands were shoved in his pockets and he bit his lip nervously.
“i think i saw my mom’s friend.” your eyes widened, tilting your chin to peek past his shoulder. if she was actually there, she was gone, probably in one of the theaters.
++
the two of you found your seats and your body finally cooled down. the more you thought about it, taesan's whole act wasn't really necessary. it wasn't like anyone was really suspecting of the two of you lying and the two of you looked enough like a boyfriend and girlfriend when you walked around.
sneaking a glance at your "boyfriend," you had never wished to know what he was thinking more than that moment. were the past 5 minutes replaying in his brain over and over again like they were in yours?
you couldn't even pay attention to the movie that was playing, mind and thoughts wholly dedicated to the boy eating popcorn next to you. the skin on your sides almost burned to feel his hands on them again.
clenching your fist, you fought to push the increasingly inappropriate thoughts about taesan away. you didn't understand why it was affecting you so drastically, you and taesan had been holding hands and hugging with no problem.
the way taesan's tall frame towered over you and had nearly wrapped around you as he rested on your shoulder made you head spin. he'd felt so warm behind you, like a blanket draping over you.
shivering slightly at the thought, you caught taesan's attention again.
"are you cold?" he whispered quietly, already taking off his zip up to give to you. you shook your head frantically, slightly horrified at him noticing your odd behaviour and misinterpreting it.
unfortunately for you, it was already too late and the boy draped the jacket gently over your legs, innocently smiling at you before looking back at the screen. you were absolutely certain there was no way you were surviving the next hour.
you were now fully wearing taesan's jacket as the two of you walked back to your car. you were trying to focus on anything besides the boy's warmth seeping from his hoodie into your skin.
taesan could tell something was off, eyes lingering on your slightly stiffened shoulders. at the same time, he was thinking about how he enjoyed the sight of you in his jacket a little too much for his liking. the sleeves reached past your wrists, almost to your fingers.
++
"did you like the movie?" taesan asked softly, glancing at you curiously.
you both were now sitting in your car, a slow rnb song playing softly from the stereo of your car. taesan's body turned slightly to face you. you, on the other hand, were staring straight ahead, not wanting make eye contact with him in fear of the visceral reaction you might have.
"um, yeah, that one girl was funny." you didn't even know why you were pretending you remembered the damn movie. your mind had been on the boy sitting next to you the whole time.
"you don't need to lie, y/n." your eyes widened at the boy's words. you were done for. taesan leaned forward, tilting his body and head so he could look you in the eyes as you stared intensely at your shoes. he continued.
"i can tell something's on your mind. what're you thinking about?" the boy asked gently, noticing your clenched fists.
"you." you blurted out before you could stop yourself. there was no going back. as the feelings you didn't realize you'd been holding for taesan flooded your mind, you couldn't drown them any longer. hearing a small gasp, you forced yourself to continue
"i know we're just friends, i'm sorry --" you began before taesan's voice sliced through the air, louder and stable than before.
"don't..." your stomach dropped, he definitely hated you know. you almost felt sick, praying he didn't think you were taking advantage of his kindness. he'd offered up this whole arrangement as a friend for your sake and sanity, and you went and fell for him.
"don't apologize for that, ever." taesan finally found the words he was looking for, and you looked up confusedly to see his eyes boring into you. his gaze was heavy, you wanted to shrivel underneath it.
his eyes ran over every part of you he could see, across your eyes and lips and down your neck and along your shoulders. they trailed down your arms that were wrapped in his jacket and brushed over your exposed legs. your tense fists and eyes screwed shut didn't go unnoticed either.
you couldn't bear to keep your eyes open any longer, silently begging him to do or say anything else.
"what does that mean?" you muttered, eyes still shut. taesan's stomach flipped and he couldn't help but smile at the sight of you so nervous, all because of him.
"i've been thinking about you, too." your eyes shot open in surprise, seeing taesan smiling at you warmly. his large hand reached over the console to wrap around your still clenched fist, his fingers working to unravel your hand and intertwine yours with his.
he placed his other hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him completely. you held your breath as his touch creeped up the curve of your shoulder, hand fully cupping the back of your neck. you wordlessly leaned into his touch, tongue coming out to wet your lips for what you knew was coming.
taesan thought you looked beautiful like this; the only thing illuminating the two of you was the glow of the dashboard, the light wrapped around you like a halo. your lips shone in the dim light, glossed over and beckoning to the boy.
your lungs felt they were on fire as you waited for taesan to something, anything.
"taesan..." your shaky voice was no louder than a whisper. the boy finally snapped out of his dazed state, leaning over the console to meet your lips with his.
taesan was as gentle as he could be with you, eyes closed and plush lips pressing against yours softly. the kiss lasted for a moment before he pulled away, opening his eyes slowly. while he was aching to go further with you than just a simple peck, the last thing he wanted to do was overwhelm you, knowing this was your first kiss.
you, on the other hand, had the front of his shirt pinched between your fingers, pulling him back to you within a second. you melted against his lips, eyes fluttering shut as your face grew hotter by the second.
taesan's hand that was holding yours moved to squeeze your thigh. you gasped lightly against his lips and his tongue moved past your lips, exploring your warm mouth.
your head was spinning from the unfamiliar sensations, eyes nearly rolling back as taesan used his hand behind your neck to cup the back of your head and tilt your face. your lips moved together in an unspoken synchrony; taesan could've sworn he saw stars when you bit his lip, groaning into your mouth softly.
the low music from the stereo was now joined by the lewd noises coming from your mouths. the two of you continued making out, your hand now gripping taesan's bicep while his fingers dancing along your shoulders.
you finally pulled away to catch your breath, opening your eyes slowly. a string of spit stretched between your and taesan's lips, lit up by the dashboard lights. taesan felt his stomach tighten as you wiped your mouth on the back of your hand, never breaking eye contact with him.
it wasn't until a group of kids your age walked past your car that the two of you remembered where exactly you were -- a public parking lot.
"we should get out of here." you mumbled as you switched the car's gear into drive. taesan simply nodded, still reeling from what just happened. as you pulled out of the parking lot, he licked his lips, hoping to get another taste of you. or what was left of you, at least,
the ride home was quiet, the only sound being the music from your stereo. the movie theater wasn't too far from your neighborhood anyways; your car pulled into your driveway a mere 5 minutes later.
you moved extra slowly as you switched the car into park and turned off the ignition, hoping taesan would take the opportunity to say something. the boy could read you like a book, practically feeling the anticipation and nervousness radiating from your body.
"what do you want to do now?" unfortunately, taesan did not say anything close to what you were expecting. you coughed, caught by surprise while also stalling so you could think of a response.
"i mean we both like each other, right?" you asked, face reddening within a second. taesan smiled and nodded. you continued.
"are you going to ask me to be your girlfriend?" you inquired teasingly. taesan playfully scoffed.
"why do i have to be the one to ask?" he whined, eliciting a giggle from you.
"i thought you were a gentleman." taesan rolled his eyes at your jab, reaching over to grab your hand and intertwine your fingers with his.
"y/n, will you be my real, not pretend girlfriend?" taesan spoke dramatically, like he was in front of an audience. you laughed even harder, fake swooning as he kissed the back of your hand.
"hmm can i think about it?" you nearly lost it watching the dramatic betrayal on taesan's face. he shoved your shoulder lightly, smiling as he crossed his arms stubbornly.
"i'm kidding, i would love to be your real, not pretend girlfriend." you sealed the deal by leaning forward to press a kiss to the boy's cheek, making a loud smacking sound that made the two of you laugh.
"i can't believe it only took you a week to succumb to me" taesan quipped as the two of you stepped out of the car.
"shut up mr. i've been thinking about you too." you shot back, jabbing the boy with your elbow lightly.
the two of you bantered and held hands in your front yard, the same place where you had fatefully met 12 years ago. and it was taesan's mom who once again beckoned him back, sticking her head out of the front door of the boy's house and calling his name.
a request i got and it kinda made me go a little insane.
contains: anton pretends to be an insecure little nerd to plot on the reader, fingering, reader is implied to be a virgin
Anton is a sweetheart. He’s non assuming and soft spoken, so quiet that he has to clear his throat each time he speaks. He’s kind, always extending the same tenderness and patience to people he received as a child. He’s one of the few men in his program that the girls didn’t have trouble approaching if they had a question or trouble with an assignment.
Each time anyone approached him with a question he was helpful, pushing his thick frames up his face before leaning to the paper. With a pencil he’d mark where the mistake was, and explaining it with a gentle voice that had girls leaning in even closer.
After they got a smell of his cologne and the look of his soft skin everything else was easy. The girls would tilt their heads in curiosity about Anton, intrigued at how someone so shy made it this far in life. How someone was so cute from afar but something more once you got close. All he had to do was avoid their eyes and chew his lip a few times before they were sliding their phones over to him.
Just in case I need help with another assignment.
Anton’s eyes would always widen in shock. Not from the surprise of being pursued but just how easy it all was. The girls never found out that Anton was red in the face from the rush and he ducked his head to hide a smile of satisfaction. They would laugh lightly seeing his reaction, observing what they thought was insecurity. Before going on about their day they’d touch his shoulder or pull on him playfully.
Anton is a sweetheart.
But he also has a problem.
He knows he does. His friends compared it to a sweet tooth that bordered addiction, or someone who would walk into a casino with a twenty dollar bill expecting to hit big. They sometimes even called Anton a psychopath when he’d get all giddy telling them about his day.
Anton knew he had a problem, but it was hard to stop when he got the sweet fix or hit the jackpot each time. Nothing could top the feeling of euphoria Anton would get when he’d come to one of those girls after they asked him to come to their place. He’d look at the messages in the comfort of his room and smile, knowing what it meant when they’d preface the study session by saying they were alone. He’s addicted to the game he’d play every time, faking the shy and insecure nerd that pretty girls were going to eat for dinner. Like they were throwing him a bone by inviting him to their apartment or dorm under the guise of doing homework.
They’d answer the door in something easy to take off or something that would cling to them like a second skin. If they were particularly desperate it’d be both, yoga pants that showed everything and a cropped shirt that rode up with every movement. Anton loved shamelessly gawking at the girls behind his glasses, shuffling from foot to foot in front of them before they invited him in. He waited for each direction, eyes darting around their room before he was invited to sit down or told to take out his notebook. He would purposefully be a step behind, showing how lost he was to be in a room that didn’t belong to him or his other intraverted friends.
He loved letting the girls make the first move. On their bed settling in as they really got a look at him in the setting of their room. Something about how clueless he was made the girls all the more strung up. He looked everywhere but at them, shrinking himself on their bed. His timidness made the girls love making the first subtle touch on his flexed arm, or purposefully grabbing his pencil so they could compare hand sizes. Anton loved acting like he was nervous wreck from the longing stares to the side of his face, like he hadn’t done this dance a million times before. He loved messing up his words while trying to act oblivious to the hungry look in their eyes. He loved the pretty smile the girls would get like he was the one falling into their trap.
His absolute favorite part was when they’d turn his head with their soft hands. Anton would falter from the eye contact, letting his lips part in confusion as they focused on him. The notebooks and assignments between them long forgotten as they shuffled closer to him on the bed.
“Have you ever been with a girl before?”
They’d always ask that. Voices light and airy, already having an answer in their mind.
“I have.”
He’d always answer with a stutter. The falter in his voice never made them push any further. They assumed by Anton’s darting eyes that the number was so minuscule asking about it would only embarrass him.
(He stopped being embarrassed of his conquests a long time ago. He also stopped being able to keep track.)
Anton is a sweetheart, with a problem of seeing pretty girls eyes flash when they realize that he is more than capable.
The moment was always the same. The mood in the room would change when Anton would sheepishly take off his oversized hoodie. Each time silence would settle over the room when they saw what he was hiding underneath. His undershirt hugged close to his body, showing the chisel and the hard work he put in at the gym. When he was feeling tired while working out he’d replay the sight of the girls taking in his toned body. They’d reach out to touch his chest as if they were expecting it all to be fake, other times they would just let out a breathless wow.
He always basked in seeing the girls try to maintain their composure. They would become the ones averting their eyes and stumbling over their words. They would be shellshocked on their side of the bed, wondering what else he was hiding. But Anton was still sweet, he always was. He would always wait patiently to see if this was really what the girls wanted. He would pick at the seam of his pants and look down to the forgotten homework to let them know they could go back to what they were doing and pretend this never happened. But the obvious bulge in his pants always made pretty girls reach for the waistband of their pants without a second thought.
Anton was never sure if they gawked at him in an attempt to get his confidence up or if they were truly surprised. As if his build and height were no indicator, each time Anton took off his pants to reveal his dick they were always so shocked. That’s when the resolve would truly fall, when their jaws would drop and they’d blink their eyes from the sheer surprise. Precum would leak from his tip just from the sight of them coming to terms with what was twitching and red and angry in front of them.
“You’re big.”
The infliction in their voice was always different. Some girls would be excited, others would be confused, a few times they almost seemed disgusted. Like there was no way the shy kid in the back of the class was hiding this.
“Am I really?”
Anton wasn’t an idiot. Even if he said it looking down at the bed, he knew that he was endowed and it was pretty. But sometimes he just needed to hear it an extra time, or look up to see a quick head nod when they couldn’t fathom saying it again. He was an insecure nerd after all. The quiet recluse in the back of class that barely had friends. An absolute sweetheart that threw girls around and manipulated their bodies into positions they didn’t even know about.
He loved being a good fuck. For a long time he believed he was put on the Earth to fuck pretty girls and to stop them from judging books by their covers. Anton was killing two birds with one stone by cooing at girls condescendingly while he gave them everything. It was his civic duty to exert his strength and to kiss girls until they were breathless and his glasses fogged. Each time he heard I didn’t know you had that in you an angel gained it’s wings. Whenever they’d tell their girlfriends what the shy nerd did to them in their dorm Anton was making the world a better place. Sometimes he would get called back, sometimes he would run through entire friend groups just to prove he was really committed to the cause.
No matter how many people Anton fucked, no one seemed to believe it. Like it was collective psychosis that the nerd was a good lay, or a big open secret everyone was hush about. Anton was still treated like he was meek, his soft nature made everyone believe he was an open book, so much to the point that they made wrong judgements about his character. He actually hated staying inside and enjoyed exploring the city and trying new things with his friends. He was a sensitive person but he could also advocate for himself and admit when he was wrong. He was quiet, but only because he valued personal, quiet conversations more than anything.
He eventually learned that people’s preconceived notions of him couldn’t be helped. Anton could fuck the entirety of the campus and people would still treat him like he was made of glass. He decided to be an optimist, finding the silver lining in people assuming he was the sweetheart with a cute smile. Their perception of him could’ve been worse, being shy was infinitely better than being loud and obnoxious. So when people would assume things about Anton’s personality he would only react positively. He would let his eyes go wide, acting shocked when someone would tell him about their first impression of him.
“I thought you were an asshole at first.”
You told Anton nonchalantly, as if his whole world didn’t crumble. You didn’t even spare him a second glance as you wrote on your lab report. You were too busy adjusting the calculations and reading over the proper way to dispose the chemicals a million times to make sure it was right while Anton sputtered to himself. He was caught off guard by your honesty and surprisingly quick answer as if it was on the forefront of your mind. You only tilted your head up for a second before you had the answer.
Anton didn’t know what to do about you. Just when he thought he had seen every girl in his major you came along, sitting in the back of class with him. You seemed to be the recluse of a person everyone mistook Anton for. You were in and out of class, not bothering to raise your hand during discussions or to socialize with your peers. You also didn’t seem to latch onto him like other girls of his major did. When they looked for Anton’s face in the lecture hall you walked right past him, not bothering to look up from your notebook or laptop. For the first time in his life Anton felt compelled to make the first move. He thought that you two had built up a good rapport, and that you saw him as your kindhearted and resigned classmate.
But you saw him as anything but that. You said it confidently too, and loud enough for your classmates at the next lab table to look over.
“What do you mean?” Anton said quietly.
You frowned looking up from the pamphlet. You were visibly annoyed, you even motioned to the undisposed chemicals to show him that you two still had class.
“Can we talk about this when our grade isn’t at stake, please?” You asked.
You weren’t commanding for his benefit. You weren’t taking into account that he might be afraid to hear a negative opinion about himself. You weren’t looking at him like girls had before, like you were trying to pick him apart for your own entertainment. You were willing to put validation for Anton on the back burner because you had other things to do. When Anton would have girls gush over him you were benevolent, indifferent to his fake insecurities.
The more you paid attention to your work rather than him, Anton found himself scrambling. He was working hard for your affection. When the teacher announced that class was over and lab reports were due the next morning he leapt at the chance to invite himself over. He was supposed to be shy and insecure, getting nervous over the mere thought of being alone with the opposite sex. His facade went over your head. Instead, Anton watched you do the cost-benefit analysis of inviting him over before you shrugged your shoulders.
“Alright. Just follow me.” You said before setting a ridiculously fast paced speed walk to the other side of campus.
But Anton followed you. He bobbed and weaved through crowds and essentially chased you across the common area while you continued on your pace. Other girls would walk with Anton, trying to pry information out from his clammy hands. You barely spared a second glance over your shoulder like you were trying to lose him. Anton followed you all the way to your dorm, then up the stairs, then waited for you beside your door as you put your backpack on your desk and pulled up a chair next to yours. You didn’t extend an invitation towards Anton to take a seat.
He waits for you to step in. He’s laid the trap by taking off his hoodie even though you kept your room cold, and shuffled his seat closer to yours. He put his elbows on the table next to yours coming closer to the lines you stopped writing on your paper.
He laid the trap. He can see you hesitate, looking from him to the assignment and then back to him. Anton keeps his eyes on the paper, rubbing his fingers over his lips to stop himself from smiling.
“Do you work out?” You asked.
Your voice didn’t have the sultry infliction that girls usually had when they asked him that question. You didn’t reach across and squeeze his toned bicep or shamelessly drag your eyes over his broad shoulders. You asked the question simply, no other intention except for wanting an answer.
“I do. Sometimes.” Anton said.
You only hummed and went back to your paper. Anton scooted closer to you, hoping his Le Labo Lavande 31 and the hand across the back of your chair was invading your space enough for you to really get a good look at him. Anton watched your eyes dart again. You were nervous, eyes wide and Anton felt the rush.
“You smell nice.” You said.
The line was pulled from the trap. You’re caged in and Anton looks to you. He knows about the death grip you have on your pencil, it makes him brave enough to invade your space even more.
“You forgot to write your observations here.” Anton says, trying to make lab reports as sexy as possible.
This assignment would’ve been abandoned a long time ago. If this was anyone else it would’ve never made it out of their backpack. You were adamant about your work, looking at the tips of his pretty fingers where you left a spot blank. He should have his report out too. He should be writing something just like you try to, instead Anton leans closer and he swears the pencil in your hand is going to break from the pressure.
Is this how he should’ve been acting with those girls all that time? This is real nerves rolling off your body. The anxiety almost makes Anton nervous by extension, he shivers when he finally lets his hand on the back of your chair touch your body. You stiffen and he’s amazed. You went from being indifferent to being too aware. He feels you back away slightly, but when his hand tightens on your shoulder you lean in. You’re hot and cold, not knowing what you want. He can feel you tremble, and your eyes dart from his eyes to his lips.
“I’ve never done anything before.”
Anton comes closer. His hand that pointed at a random thing on your paper turns into a fist as he distracts you completely. He brings himself forward until he’s in your line of sight, even when you try so hard to look at anything but him. He smirks when your eyes dart past him, and he fully lets his arm rest across your back. You’re malleable, before you refused to even bend to him but now you move from his slightest touch.
“What do you mean?” He asks. “You’ve never done what before?”
He should go for the nerds more often. The way you already seem sweaty and antsy just from thinking about what is happening makes Anton want to play with you some more. He knows it’s perverse, like a dog playing a smaller animal to death. He wants to see if you’ll twitch, if you’re playing dead just to try and make a run for it.
“I’ve never—I know that—” Anton raises his eyebrows and nods to each one of your broken statements. “It just seems like—”
“Like what?” He smiles and nudges you. His smile is toothy, yours is tightlipped to a straight line. “C’mon. Talk to me.” He continues.
“You smell really good.” You repeat.
You’re the twitching body of a mouse in his jaws. He just smile and nods at your statement, how you go back to saying old things in an attempt to catch your footing. He forces you to sit in the uncomfortable silence. He waits for you to say something knowing you can’t, he waits for you to touch him even if you’re caught like a deer in the headlights.
“I look good too, right?” He starts drawing shapes on your shoulder.
He’s having too much fun. He’s entertained seeing your intelligence fail you. You’re stumped, you drop your pencil to fully clench your fist.
The pencil is rolling back and forth on your lab report, the small sound is the only thing that speaks. You’re still desperately trying to figure out how you got into this situation, how one thing led to another so quickly that his hand is reaching underneath the sleeve of your shirt.
“You look good, Anton.” You agree.
“Thanks.” Anton smiles and you do too, averting your eyes and nodding to yourself to feign indifference. Anton looks down to your shirt, still playing with your skin underneath your sleeve. “You do too.” He says.
Another bout of silence. You let yourself be touched, hands still clenched on top of the table. Anton rests his hand on top of your fist, smoothing over the protruding veins trying to coax them open. This is more fulfilling than playing with popular girls. The game still hasn’t ended for him. He’s on the fifth consecutive jackpot when you finally open your mouth again.
“I don’t.” Your hand opens and Anton clasps over it, smiling to himself when it disappears. “I don’t know what you want me to do.” You stutter.
You’re too cute for your own good. Finally you look at him with big eyes and your eyebrows raised. You give into his touches a little more, finally warming up to all the attention. Still your pupils shake, and Anton brings his hand from your shoulder to your face to keep you from turning away.
“Can I make you feel good?” He asks.
You could barely nod before Anton was guiding you up from your chair and backing you towards your bed. He watched you stumble when the back of your legs hit the edge. You looked up at him, your pretty eyes already looking wet. Maybe he really did have a problem. Because he loved seeing them widen in surprise when he put his hands underneath your arms, lifting you up just enough to set you on the edge of your bed. He loved seeing your jostled expression and the tiny yelp when you landed so perfectly on your sheets.
Anton watched you stay in place, catching your breath from the sudden movement. He watched your chest still as his hands went to the bottom of his tank top. He’s grateful to have such a captive audience. There’s no way he can pretend to be shy after this. You’re astonished as he slowly lifts his shirt, and he watched you shamelessly stare at him before you realized he could see you.
Anton let you eat him alive before he came up to you, until you had to tilt your head upwards to see him. You didn’t dare lift your hands from the bed, like he was going to disappear the moment you touched him. Like he was straight from a dream you only looked up to him, waiting for what he was going to do next. Anton wonders if you thought you’d end up in this position, with him looming over you and his hand creeping to a spot under your chin. He absolutely can’t stop doing this. The view is too pretty, your stillness is addicting. Like you’re too afraid to even breathe too loud in case it’d break the tension. He bends closer to your lips, eyes still open after you screw yours shut. You preemptively grip your mattress for dear life and he can’t help but smile.
He smiles into the kisses, each peck bringing you closer and closer to your mattress. When your back is against the sheets Anton climbs on, refusing the break contact. You look so pretty underneath him, eyes squeezing shut again when another wave of realization hits you. You’ve never been in this position before, with someone like Anton looming over you while still being so sweet. He runs his hand over the apple of your cheek, and fixes your shirt that left your stomach exposed.
“Is this okay?” Anton asks.
He knows it is, because your legs seemed to spread a little bit more and more with each passing second. By the time his hand drifts down to your neck you’re completely open, your soft pants bunching at the place Anton wants to touch you next. The valley of your chest gives him a straight path down, and your bent legs open further.
“Want me to touch you?” He asks.
He knows he’s cruel. You’re metaphorically dead and his face is covered in blood, but still he continues. He’s jumping around your body, reaching out a playful hand like you have the life to play back.
“Please touch me.” You whine pitifully.
Anton presses a chaste kiss to your forehead as his hands work past the elastic band of your pants and underwear. You flinch from his hands, then you preen your hips towards his fingers, then you pull back. He’s mocking when he coos at you, the time pressing a kiss to the side of your head. He almost feels bad. You’re clearly fighting against something, your eyes are shut tight as you press your head into the mattress. Anton tries kissing your eyes open, but it only makes you squeeze them tighter.
With you writhing underneath him, he took the time to look around your room. Your little pegboard above your desk where you had calendar marked with all the important due dates of upcoming assignments. Your neatly placed books and papers, your stuffed animals around your pillows. You didn’t make your bed this morning, instead laying on crumbled sheets and gripping whatever you could get your hands on. Your hand went to Anton’s forearm and clutched it, whimpering something that he couldn’t decipher.
“Does it feel good?” He asks.
You nod, and when Anton tries to pull away he feels your nails dig into his forearm. You seem unaware of what you’re doing, how you’re silently begging him to keep going. You’re just moving underneath him, already beginning to twitch helplessly. Anton purposefully pushes his fingers deeper into your clit until he knows he’s bringing you the smallest amount of pain. He’s pulling the strings, watching your body react to him because you can’t control it. By this point the girls would already be asking him to take his pants off, but you can’t even form a coherent thought. He’s having fun in his jeans, watching you twitch and twist and grip his arm with all your might.
“Anton.”
You flick your hips up and he presses his hand to your hip, pinning you to the bed. You still try to swivel, useless against his strength. He’s intrigued that you aren’t trying to be defiant but you simply can’t help it. All the other girls were pliant immediately, so desperate to please the quiet boy in class they underestimated. You’re defiant because you can’t handle it.
“What’s up?” He asks.
His completely even voice makes you whine. The flush across your cheeks tells him you’re embarrassed, red hot and real unlike his facade.
You don’t answer him. You just dig your nails into his arm and attempt to get his prodding fingers to slide in. He raises his eyebrows at your not-so-subtle attempts to get him to inside of you.
“You want me to finger you?” He asks.
You nod like a good girl and Anton almost feels bad for asking you the question in a mocking tone. He makes up for it by giving you what you want immediately, sucking in a deep breath to match your deep breath. He smiles when he sees you arch off the bed. This is so much more entertaining than anything else. Just two fingers has you making unfiltered noises and gripping the sheets. Anton has to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing, and he has half a mind to ask you if you’re okay in a serious tone. But he just continues driving his fingers into your hole.
He picks up the speed, just to hear the lewd sound you two make. It’s wet, Anton can already feel the mess on the palm of his hand. He pulls your waistband down to your knees, bringing your thighs closer together. He has to fight against your soft thighs clenching around his hand. He’s still able to drive his fingers in and out of your heat. He likes the resistance even though you clearly want more. Anton is surprised when you lift your shirt on your own accord. It’s obvious you’re doing it to relieve some of the heat you feel, but he’s still flattered nonetheless. His hand presses against your stomach, applying force to the lowest part.
“I can’t.” You whimper.
That’s when Anton finally laughs. He chuckles at how panicked you sound and how you turn your head in embarrassment.
“Do you want me to stop?” He asks while picking up the speed of his hand.
You nod your head but when Anton tries to pull his hand away you clench your thighs to keep him in place. He chuckles again, situating one legs on the side of your body and the other between your closed legs. He casts a shadow on you below him, and he can see your eyes open the slightest bit from his movements. He drives your legs apart with his knee, and continues pumping that spot deep in you that leaves you shaking your head.
“I can’t.” You whimper.
“You can.” Anton sees your eyes open, wide and staring directly at him as he drives your legs apart further. “You’re so close.” He says.
Your entire body moves from the speed of his fingers. Even your chests jumps underneath your shirt, and he wants to lift it up to reveal the rest of you. He lets you take it at your own pace since you’re giving him so much already. He just pinches and grabs a handful of your stomach, marveling in how soft you are.
“So cute.” Anton coos. “You had no idea, right?” He asks.
You shake your head and you don’t stop shaking it, like you’re trying to will away your impeding orgasm. Anton watches all of it. He’s never had a pretty girl twitch for him so much, or reach a greedy hand up to grip your chest. Something you do when you’re close, something he wants to do for you. His hand superimposes yours, and grips harder too. You’re arching into his palm and preening your hips on his fingers, and then he watches your body go rigid.
“You’re cumming.” Anton teases.
Your whimpering yes rips through the room, and Anton feels wound up himself. He has to set his sights on something else. Pretty confident girls are fun, but seeing your shame manifest in the way you push and pull at him is much more intoxicating. He likes that he knows what you want but you’re too scared to say it, it’s your body that has to act on its own to fulfill your needs. When you continue going, and your strangled moans turn to broken oh my God’s and your legs start shaking, Anton knows he won’t be able to get enough. He keeps pushing you further because he knows you can take it, and you continue whimpering. He doesn’t stop until you sound panicked, and your hand starts pushing his away.
He still looks down at you with a smile on his face. Your head is turned towards your fluffy comforter, exhaling and inhaling so hard you move the fur with your breath. He’s satisfied seeing what he’s done to you, and he’s even more amused when you turn your head to face him.
Your eyes are wide, your lips are swollen and slick from your mindless drooling. Anton feels something in his chest when your eyes move past his body to the prominent bulge in his pants. He’s a step ahead, shaking his head and moving back to rest on his haunches. That comes later, when he plays with you some more and you start voicing how badly you want to please him. When you reach your hand towards his crotch Anton grabs your hand instead, intertwining your fingers.
❀ pairing: chaebol heir!anton x rival!reader, implied fem!reader
❀ genre: enemies to lovers (but not really), fluff, suggestive
❀ word count: ~6.7k
❀ warnings: explicit language, mentions of dysfunctional families, one heated kiss scene
❀ summary: From the day you were born, all you ever heard was, “don’t fall in love with Anton Lee.” A better heir to a multimillion dollar conglomerate would follow their family’s advice. But you…not so much.
❀ a/n: sheesh, talk about writer’s block. This work has taken me so long and so much effort, but i'm very proud of how it turned out! It may have even helped me out of my slump. Also, please don’t judge me too hard. I know nothing about business and corporate families!!! As always, likes, reblogs, and replies are strongly encouraged. Happy reading!
Your head aches. The lights in the banquet hall are too bright and the clink of gilded silverware is too loud. Polite chatter buzzes around you like a pesky fly evading a swatter. The air is suffocating, overly stuffy with high end perfumes and colognes clouding the space. This is torture; the Lee family banquets always are.
It would be better if you could enjoy the food or engage with the various guests like everyone else does, but this is enemy territory. Your family had made it abundantly clear that this was not an event for fun, but rather for scoping out the competition. Lectures about a corporate acquisition going south and details about poor contracting simply entered in one ear and left via the other. You didn’t care why you had to be there. The knowledge of your forced attendance did enough to damper your mood, especially once you were hit with all of the rules around your presence.
Sit still, look pretty, smile politely, eavesdrop on any corporate plans, and don’t talk to Anton Lee.
You never understood your family’s obsession with keeping you away from him, the prized son and heir of the Lee empire. Everyone made sure to fill your mind with negative opinions and baseless rumors about the young man, as if to deter you from even giving him a chance. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice, however. You’ve never even seen the man, let alone had a conversation with him. Anton Lee was much more of a mythical being than he was a person, in your eyes. He was always whispered about, but never seen.
From what you gathered, he was around your age, tall, broad, and supposedly extremely handsome. He was known for his overly harsh demeanor, rumored to command a room with a simple word. His presence apparently spoke volumes, enough to speak to his blunt nature and bad intentions. It made sense, your parents would always say. After all, he is a Lee.
“Fix your face, honey,” your mother snaps with a forced smile. “You’ll give yourself wrinkles before you turn thirty if you keep scowling like that.”
It takes everything in you to fight an eye roll, biting back the string of expletives waiting on the tip of your tongue. “Sorry. I’m going to run to the powder room.”
You don’t bother to wait for her response before excusing yourself from the cocktail table, getting lost in the crowds of people as you head towards the bathroom. Away from your family, the air feels somewhat lighter, although it still reeks of entitlement. The throb in your head is insistent now, forcing you to escape to find relief.
You find yourself heading towards a set of grandiose double doors, hoping they will lead you anywhere but here. Luckily, your prayers are answered as you step through them onto a stone balcony. The crisp nighttime air does wonders to cool your heated skin, a slight breeze ruffling the loose fabric of your dress.
This is exactly what you needed, space and solace.
“Rough night?”
A soft voice makes you jump out of your skin, whipping your head around to find the source. Its owner leans up against the exterior wall, somewhat bathed in shadow. All you can make out is a glimmer of white teeth, reflecting the moonlight.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the figure apologizes, taking a small step forward into the light.
You feel your breath stutter in your chest as you take in the man. The first thing you notice is his sheer beauty, lips enticingly full and nose broad. His beauty is complemented by his tall stature, the height difference between you two becoming increasingly apparent as he approaches. Like this, bathed in the moonlight, it’s impossible not to notice the broadness of his shoulders and how they taper into a small waist. He fills out his all black suit beautifully, the garments clearly tailored to his every curve.
“Are you alright?” The man asks, stopping only a few feet away.
The concern in his tone is just enough to snap you out of your reverie.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just, um, needed some air.”
The man nods in understanding, leaning over to place his forearms against the balcony’s railing. You struggle not to eye the way his suit jacket stretches across an impossibly wide back. Instead, you mirror his stance, looking out at the beautiful gardens below, bathed in silvery moonlight. Just beyond the seemingly endless maze of hedges, you can make out what looks like a small lake, it’s surface rippling under the nighttime breeze.
“It can be stuffy in there,” the man says softly.
You find yourself hanging onto his every word, shocked that such a mild tone could come from such an intimidating man. “Yeah, it really can be.”
The man lets out a small chuckle, no doubt amused by your clear annoyance. “So I take it you’re not in the business.”
“No, I’m–,” you pause for a moment, not sure how much of your identity you should reveal to the stranger. “I’m related.”
He chuckles again, this time turning to look at you. “Hm, I guess I could say the same for me, then.”
A round of applause sounds from somewhere inside, and you curse under your breath, knowing your family will kill you for your absence. The man next to you seems unphased, as if he’s used to the party going on without him.
“I think I should get back.”
The man flashes you a smile, its brightness almost blinding in the dark. “That’s okay. It was nice chatting with you…”
“Y/N. And you are?”
“Anton,” he whispers. “I hope I can see you again, Y/N.”
An icy chill travels up your spine, momentarily freezing you in place. But you force yourself to remain composed, plastering a smile on your face. You silently thank your years of etiquette training and the countless social events you have had to smile for. With a slight nod of your head, you disappear back through the double doors, instantly choking on the scent of Chanel No. 5.
. . .
It’s easy to believe that your first encounter with Anton Lee would be your last, especially as the weeks pass without a single sign of him. It makes sense that he wouldn’t start making regular appearances at events after attending just once. He has managed to spend twenty years staying out of the spotlight, and you can’t imagine that changing now.
But, for some reason, you can’t help but search for him in the crowd of every gala or at the tables of any grandiose banquet.
He would be easy to spot, with his overwhelming height and dazzling smile. Maybe his honey brown hair would be slicked back off his forehead this time, or maybe it would hang in front of his eyes to conceal his bright gaze. You’re sure that he would still talk in that overly soft tone of his, somehow managing to command a room without a change in volume.
Even his absence begins to feel like a presence in and of itself, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. You tell yourself that it’s simple intrigue and nothing more. The first time you had ever laid eyes on your supposed family nemesis had been on a balcony bathed in the moonlight. Where had he been all these years?
More importantly, why had he disappeared again?
The question runs through your mind as you accept a flute of champagne from a waiter, eyes flitting around the charity dinner in hopes of spotting a specific someone. Somewhere near the front of the banquet hall, the Lee family is seated at a table with a few other wealthy families, but their oldest son is nowhere to be found.
You crane your neck to get a better look. Just to be sure, you tell yourself. But the contorting you force yourself to do has you leaning right back into a waiter, your elbow knocking into his empty tray. The sudden movement has your champagne flute slipping out of your grasp, icy bubbles splattering across your chest and down the front of your dress. You can practically feel the daggers that your mother is shooting you from across the table, always having scolded you about the embarrassment that comes along with being a klutz. Before she can part her lips to tell you off, you excuse yourself politely, dashing out to find a restroom to freshen up.
You let your heeled feet carry you through a maze of hallways, side stepping waiters and party guests as you move further and further away from the event space. It’s only when you travel down a flight of stairs that you find yourself a seemingly private restroom, briefly stepping inside to clean yourself up. No matter how much you dab at the stain in the center of your bust, the wine doesn’t seem to budge. You thank the heavens that it was champagne instead of a red, saving you some degree of embarrassment.
After a few minutes in the restroom, you find yourself wandering around, ending up in a much more secluded lounge space, equipped with a couple of couches surrounding a coffee table. You immediately collapse onto one, sighing as the ache in your feet finally lifts.
It’s only then that you feel your eyes begin to sting, a familiar rush of heat striking your face as a lump begins to form in your throat. The sticky sweet smell of champagne still clings to your body, your dress uncomfortable where the alcohol seeped into it. You’re sure that you look a mess, knowing that tear smudged makeup would be the last thing to complete your disheveled look.
“Another rough night?”
The soft rasp of a voice instantly has you perking up, breath caught in your throat as you take in the tall figure approaching you. His crisply pressed suit hugs his broad shoulders and cinches at an impossibly small waist. His lips are quirked upwards into a small smirk, clearly teasing. Something about it is enticing, setting off a stampede in your stomach.
“How could you tell?” You mumble, trying not to stare as Anton settles into a lounge chair across from you.
The man’s smirk just deepens. “Wild guess. What happened?”
“I spilled champagne on myself and now I look a mess.”
“You don’t,” Anton states, smirk dropping from his face. “You could never look bad.”
You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “How would you even know that? You’ve only seen me twice.”
Anton chuckles, finally relaxing into the plush of his chair. His legs separate ever so slightly at the action, allowing you to admire his mile-long legs. It’s almost frustrating, how perfect he looks. You imagine that if anyone never looks bad, it’s him.
“I’ve seen you way more than twice, Y/N.”
The simple statement has you turning your eyes away from his figure, meeting his open gaze. He seems so casual, so unbothered, as if that one sentence hasn’t turned your world upside down.
“Wait, what?” You find yourself tripping over your words in the rush to get them out. “Wh-what do you mean you’ve seen me more than twice? I only met you the first time at that contracting dinner a few weeks ago.”
Anton chuckles again, cocking his head in a puppy-like manner. “Yeah, that was the first time we’ve met, but I’ve seen you so many times. You and your family have been at every major event since we were kids. How could I not see you?”
“But, I’ve never–,”
“I know,” Anton interrupts. “I like to stay outside or in whatever lounge areas I can find. These things always make me really anxious.”
Wow, you didn’t expect such an honest admission from a man of Anton’s status. If anything, his candor makes him much more attractive, as if he could get even more perfect.
“You know we’re supposed to hate each other?” He asks, a small smile making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Apparently you’re my rival in the field, and I’m supposed to hate everything you say and do.”
Unfortunately, you know the feeling, causing you to let out a small giggle. “Oh trust me, I know. Do you, though?”
“Hate you?”
You nod, fighting a smile as Anton pretends to think.
“Nah,” he eventually answers. “My grandfather taught me from a very young age that I should never harbor negative feelings for beautiful women.”
The implication has heat rushing to your face, forcing you to struggle to keep your composure. “Well, my family has always told me that attractive men always have impure intentions.”
Anton chuckles, shaking his head slightly. He takes a beat before standing, letting his eyes rake over your still seated figure as he begins to retreat down the hallway. It’s impossible to decipher where the intensity of his gaze stems from. He eyes you as if he were hungry, trapping you against the couch with his stare alone.
“Then let me show you just how impure my intentions are.”
The man is gone with little more than a wink and a smile, leaving you with warm cheeks and the scent of champagne clouding your nose.
. . .
You’re surprised to see Anton as soon as the next event, only three weeks later. It’s a simple charity ball for some rare disease research, but for some reason, Anton has decided not to hide in the shadows for this event. It’s interesting to watch how despite his supposed anxiety, he is clearly in his element. He greets everyone kindly, shooting various guests a charming smile as he is introduced to them. His father looks proud of him, a hand kept clapped over his shoulder the entire time.
You wonder if he’s comfortable like this, with a blur of people and faces constantly passing by him. However, you are instantly snapped out of your wondering when a manicured hand grips your shoulder. The feeling of your mothers lips close to your ear sends a shiver down your spine, a perpetually bad omen.
“Straighten up,” she scolds. “We’re going over to talk to the Lees. Their son is making a public appearance at an event like this for the first time. No funny business.”
You would laugh if not for the uncomfortable way her nails dig into your shoulder. It forces you to instantly fall in line behind your father, taking a deep breath as you get closer to the Lees. What is only a few seconds feels like hours until you finally stand face to face with your supposed rival.
“Yoon Sang, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” your father greets, shaking the hands of the head of the Lee family.
He even leans in to place a friendly kiss on Mrs. Lee’s cheek. You find yourself standing frozen in place as the parents exchange greetings, unable to do anything but stare at the man before you. He sports his signature charming smile, mouth full of perfectly white teeth on display. Not for the first time, you feel your face grow warm.
“We thought it was about time for our Y/N to meet Anton. After all, they will be competitors when they take over the respective businesses, right?”
Your father’s comment snaps you back to attention. However, you are immediately distracted by the feeling of Anton’s large hand engulfing yours, his palm both warm and surprisingly soft to the touch. You have to glance upwards to meet his eyes, but it’s impossible to miss the amused glint in his stare.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I have heard so much about you.”
You force a smile on your face. “The pleasure is all mine.”
It’s easy to tune out the conversation after that, letting the adults blabber on while you reminisce about the feeling of Anton’s hand in yours. The man seems to be similarly distracted, clearly eyeing your figure. The silence between you speaks volumes, and you hope your parents are too deaf to hear it.
“We would love to have Anton over at our headquarters sometime,” your mother suggests, her piercing voice rising above the noise of the ball. “I’m sure Y/N would be happy to show him around!”
You don’t even have time to process the full body panic that begins to overcome you before Anton’s family is readily agreeing.
“I agree that it would be great for them to know the ins and outs of the business,” Mr. Lee replies with an overly saccharine smile. “We would love to have Y/N over for lunch at the estate as well. Who knows? Maybe they’ll find themselves to be friends.”
Your dad chuckles, obviously disgusted by the thought. “You’re so right. The two might even do a merger some day!”
As the group erupts into phony laughter, you feel the beginnings of a migraine tingling behind your left eye. Something about the cacophony of laughs and the dull classical music is making you ache, your stomach starting to swim with nausea. You dare a glance upward, fighting the pain that blooms in your head with the motion.
Anton’s gaze is bright where it meets yours, a soft smile poised on his full lips. His cheeks are dusted with a slight blush, clearly flustered by the implications. There’s a slight fidget in his fingers, twirling expensive rings as a means of soothing himself.
He’s cute, you realize, not for the first time.
It’s only after a few more moments that the families say goodbye, the Lees promising to send a lunch invitation soon. Anton shoots you another smile before he follows behind his family, suddenly looking small despite his large stature. You can’t help but smile as you watch his departure, suddenly realizing that your migraine has disappeared.
. . .
The Lee estate is just as gorgeous as you expected it to be, with tall stone gates and artfully placed landscaping. It looks impossibly large from where you’re seated in the car, causing nerves to begin to creep up your spine. You pass off the butterflies that begin to flutter in your core as obvious intimidation that comes with being on the property of your family’s biggest rivals. It surely has nothing to do with an overly soft voice, broad shoulders, and kind eyes.
“Remember,” your mother had told you before sending you off. “This is business. Reveal nothing and absorb everything. And most importantly, remember that Anton Lee is not your friend.”
You take a step out onto the perfectly paved driveway, surprised to already see someone standing by the door. Anton seems to perk up when you lock eyes, shooting you a polite smile. His wave betrays his excitement, though. You imagine that if he were a puppy, his tail would be wagging.
“Y/N, hey! I’m glad you actually came.”
“Please,” you shoot him a cheeky smile. “As if I could ever turn down an invitation from the Lee family.”
Anton lets out a slight groan. “Don’t remind me that this is ‘business.’”
“Well then what would you like for me to call it?”
Anton shrugs, turning to hold the front door open for you. It’s only when you pass through the threshold, Anton still standing behind you that he responds.
“A lunch date.” Before you have the chance to respond, Anton is shutting the door behind you both. “Come this way. Food’s on the patio.”
It takes a few turns down intricate hallways to get to a set of double doors that lead to the patio. As promised, there’s an assortment of sandwiches and salad laid out on a round table, two seats set across from each other. You would be impressed, if not for the even more stunning view that lay before you.
The patio looks out on sprawling gardens, tall bushes and blooming flowers swaying softly in the breeze. A little beyond the landscaping, a wooden dock leads out to a large pond, its greenish-blue water seemingly sparkling under the midday sun.
“Wow, this is beautiful,” you breathe out, unable to take your eyes off the sight before you.
“Yeah, it is, isn’t it? My parents have always had an affinity for water.”
You imagine that all of their properties have pools or lakes, much like this one. Meanwhile, your own family prefers the hustle and bustle of the concrete jungle, never expanding beyond brutalist modern penthouses in the tallest apartment buildings in the city. It must be nice, you imagine, to have a space that feels like a home and not just another office.
Eventually, the two of you sit, settling into a comfortable silence as you distribute food amongst yourselves. It’s quite amusing to watch Anton as he eats, clearly possessing the hunger of a growing young man while forcing himself to take small bites and practice the etiquette of an heir. You wonder if you look the same, so obviously restrained while you want to let loose, if only for a bit.
Despite the fact that you haven’t seen another person since you set foot in the Lee estate, you know that people must be somewhere. There are always eyes on you.
“I’m surprised that your family was so adamant about having me over,” you begin, settling back in your chair. “I thought I was the enemy.”
Anton smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well you know what they say. Keep the enemy close and all that.”
“Is that what you want to do? Keep me close?”
You know you’re treading in dangerous waters. All it would take is one word about the obvious flirting to Anton’s parents for you to become your family’s disgrace. You can practically see the headline now: Conglomerate Heiress Gets Rejected By Rivals’ Son. Your family would disown you. And yet, as color begins to flood Anton’s cheeks, you can’t find it within yourself to care.
“Yeah,” he says, voice coming out even softer than usual. “I think that is what I want to do.”
You duck your head, clearing your throat in an attempt to settle the flutter in your stomach. “I’d like that.”
A sudden interest in lunch leaves both of you munching away in silence. It’s peaceful, despite blushing cheeks and racing heartbeats. It allows you to realize that being around Anton is unlike being around anyone else in your family’s circle. Here, there’s no pressure to be prim and proper, no pressure to listen out for secret ins and outs of business.
It’s odd to find comfort in the one person who is supposed to bring you anything but. And yet, with the warmth of the sun on your face and the pleasant fullness in your belly, you’ve never felt more at home.
“You know,” Anton starts once you have both cleared your plates. “I think we’re supposed to be talking about business.”
You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Can I be honest?”
Anton nods slightly, honey brown hair shifting across his forehead.
“The business is the last thing I want to talk about.”
Anton smiles. “Trust me, I feel the same way.”
There’s a beat of silence, the two of you content to simply sit as the breeze ruffles the flowers that dot the landscape. When Anton speaks again, you watch his mouth, noting the way that his lips hold the same hue of the red tulips in the nearby flower bed.
“Can I show you something?”
The simple question has your gaze flickering back upwards, trying to ignore the way your heart races when his eyes meet yours.
“Sure,” you whisper, words instantly carried away by the wind.
Following behind Anton through the grass proves to be harder than you imagined, his long legs allowing him to move with a grace and speed that is difficult to match. He leads you in between a maze of flower beds, bringing you deeper into the garden until you’re surrounded by tall hedges on either side. From here, it’s impossible to see the house, so you just continue to follow behind Anton. You find yourself eyeing the broadness of his shoulders and the way his shirt shifts across the muscles of his back as he walks. It’s hypnotizing, so much so that you don’t realize that you have arrived at your destination.
“This is my thinking spot,” Anton says with a little flutter of his arms, clearly trying to present the space to you.
The hedge maze has opened up to a small central pocket, not housing much except for a small fountain and a stone bench. Anton is quick to take a seat, motioning for you to occupy the space next to him. It’s a bit of a squeeze, putting you and Anton close enough that you can feel the heat of his skin on your own. You dig your nails into the stone of the bench, hoping that it will steel your nerves.
“I like to come out here when my parents get in my head about the business. It’s pretty peaceful.”
“Yeah,” you say softly, despite knowing that no one is within earshot. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, it really is.”
There’s an airiness to Anton’s voice that has you turning to face him. You take in a sharp inhale when you notice that his eyes are already on you, the close proximity leaving your faces mere inches away from each other. The overwhelming rush of blood in your ears forces you to turn away, taking a deep breath to calm your thundering heartbeat.
“You take all the girls here?” You aim for teasing, but the slight break in your voice makes it err more on the side of desperation.
Anton shakes his head earnestly. “You’re the first person I’ve brought here who isn’t my family.”
The admission feels like a sucker punch to the gut. Except there’s no pain, just a rush of warmth that climbs up your throat like ivy. Anton is clearly surprised as well, his own words deepening the pretty flush that has taken hold on his cheeks. His bottom lip is trapped by his teeth, its plushness oh so enticing in the afternoon sun.
“Y-you know,” you stutter out, swallowing thickly before continuing. “When you said you had impure intentions, I thought you were joking.”
“I don’t think I could joke about how bad I want you.”
It should feel like a corny line. It should feel like something he says to all the girls. After all, he’s Anton Lee. He could get anyone he wanted at the drop of a hat. So why does it feel so real when he says it to you? Why does it feel like those words are meant for you, and only you?
Anton’s gravity is pulling you closer, allowing you to lean further into his space. You’re close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your face, coming out in gentle puffs that reveal just how fast his heart is racing. He has released his bottom lip by now, leaving it glossy with saliva. It’s impossible not to anticipate the smooth glide of it against your own.
A sudden vibration snaps you both out of your bubble, the two of you popping apart as if you were repelling magnets. It takes a few seconds for you to realize that the vibration is coming from your own phone, buzzing incessantly. You shoot Anton an apologetic look before stepping away to take the call.
“We need you back home,” your mother rushes from the other side of the line, not bothering to waste time greeting you. “Your father wants to hear about your business with the Lees before he heads to his strategy meeting in an hour.”
“But the Lee house is thirty minutes away!”
You can practically hear your mother’s eye roll over the phone. “Then you better get going.”
. . .
Business meeting, my house at 4pm?
The text comes as both a surprise and the most expected invitation in the world. In your flurry to leave his house the week before, you had made sure to leave the man with your number. In turn, he smiled wide, promising to invite you over for another “business meeting” soon.
Before you can inquire about how much business will actually be necessary to discuss, your phone buzzed again.
My parents just left for a business trip to Milan.
A flutter rushes through your stomach at the implications. It’s clear what that means, that the two of you will finally have a chance to act on your chemistry without the watchful eyes of competitive families. The two of you will finally get to exist as your own people, and not as rivals and heirs of major global conglomerates.
The thought alone has you spending extra time on your appearance as you get ready. You make sure your hair sits just right and that your lips are perfectly glossy before pulling on a swimsuit and heading over. You try your best to remain as still as possible during the entire ride there, knowing that nerves in combination with the late summer heat will be enough to set you aflame.
Your heart is slamming in your chest by the time you finally pull into Anton’s driveway. It’s accompanied by a soft flutter of affection when you spot Anton’s figure, waving at you from the doorway. The wide smile on his face alone is enough to melt you. But the relaxed fit of his muscle tee and the way his swim shorts sit low on his hips has your face flooding with heat.
He greets you with a tight hug when you cross the threshold into the house. You try not to swoon at the firm pressure of his arms around your torso, ignoring the heat of his bare skin on your own. Anton had never touched you before, not beyond a simple handshake exchanged in front of parents, always respectful to a fault. For the first time, you find yourself grateful for that fact, knowing that now that you’ve had a taste of his touch, you will forever be addicted.
“I’m so happy to see you,” Anton gushes. “My parents have been really getting on my nerves about business and competition lately.”
“So you decided to invite the competition over to chill?”
Anton smiles, cocking his head in a puppy-like manner. “No, I invited the competition over to swim!”
So that’s why he reminded you to wear a bathing suit mere minutes before you left for his house. It makes sense, from the minimal texts that the two of you exchanged. Anton was always excited about the balanced heat of late summer, citing it as the perfect time for a lakeside swim. You wouldn’t know, of course, never having the luxury of having a lake in your backyard.
“What about your staff?”
“I let everyone have the afternoon off,” Anton responds proudly before letting his smile sink into something softer, more private. “I just wanted us to have some time alone.”
The simple admission rings out loudly in the otherwise quiet house. It’s clear how badly Anton wants this, how bad he wants your company despite the taboo that comes with it. Unsurprisingly, you find yourself wanting it just as bad, if not more. You’ve never craved anyone’s presence the way you have craved Anton’s, despite him being the one person in the world that you supposedly need to keep your distance from.
A small nod on your end is enough for Anton’s smile to grow once again, pearly whites on full display as his eyes wrinkle at the corners. The sight alone has your heart beating a little harder in your chest, the minor flutter in your abdomen growing into a full stampede of emotions. The feeling only intensifies as Anton engulfs your hand in his, lacing your fingers together as he leads you out into the backyard.
The late afternoon sun sparkles against the water, illuminating everything in a blue-yellow glow. It’s the most captivating sight for miles, you’re sure, until Anton begins to take his shirt off. The way his muscles shift under his unblemished skin rivals the beautiful surface of the lake, sparkling in its own way. His shoulder blades dance across his back enticingly as he leans down to remove his socks and shoes.
He shoots you a smile over his shoulder before cannonballing right into the water.
It takes only a few seconds for the man to reemerge, slicking his honey brown hair off of his forehead. His biceps bulge with the movement before waving you into the water. It’s as clear of a signal as any, but you can’t help but hesitate, suddenly shy at the thought of stripping down to your bikini in the presence of such a man. But the delicate reflection of sunlight in his eyes and the easy smile on his face is enough to draw you in.
Before you know it, you’re discarding your clothes, taking a running head start to join Anton in the water.
Your skin is submerged in an icy chill, the water surprisingly cool for so late in the day. But soon the warmth of another body is nearing, making the cold that much more bearable. You resurface with a giggle, giddy from the feeling of swimming so long. Instantly, Anton is joining in, clearly happy seeing you filled with such glee.
“Fuck, it’s cold!” You exclaim, shrieking when Anton splashes a bit of water your way.
“It’ll get better,” Anton grins. “You just gotta keep swimming.”
It’s easy to do as told, letting your body relax as you continue to wade in the cool water. Eventually you let yourself fall into your back, feeling the contrast between the warm sun on your face and the cool water surrounding your body. It’s serene, allowing you to let your worries quite literally float away. However, the feeling of a chilled hand grazing your hip is enough to snap you out of your relaxation, scrambling to right yourself in panic.
“Sorry!” Anton chuckles. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just getting bored without you.”
“It’s okay,” you soothe, finding that the pace of your heart is beginning to quicken for an entirely different reason.
Anton looks especially beautiful like this, with his damp hair splayed messily across his head and drops of water dripping down his face. The sun has just begun to set, painting Anton’s skin with a beautiful golden hue. His eyes glisten just like the water, sunlight sparkling as it dances across the reflective surfaces. Like this, Anton seems so bright, so luminous, that hating him seems impossible.
“I’m really glad you came today,” Anton says, his voice dropping to that soft shy tone he always uses in the presence of others. “I’m glad to have someone who gets what it's like.”
You can’t resist the smile that begins to tug on the corners of your mouth. “You’re not just saying this to get my family’s business secrets?”
Anton huffs out a laugh. “No. I’m saying this because I really like you. I like spending time with you, even though I’m supposed to hate it.”
With every word, you find yourself drifting closer to the man, his hand remaining steady on your hip as you tread lightly. Despite the obvious effort to keep your head above water, you feel like you’re drowning. But the slick feeling of Anton’s skin against yours reminds you that you won’t drown. Anton won’t let you.
“I like you, too.”
The simple admission has Anton’s face flushing, the pretty rose color glistening orange in the light. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. You hate to dull his beauty in this moment, but you have to.
“But what about our families? It’s not like the two of us can ever be anything.”
Anton sighs, his face dropping with realization. “I know, but…is it crazy to say that I don’t care?”
The hand on your hip tightens, pulling you even closer into Anton’s space. It’s close enough that the two of you end up bumping knees every so often, constantly moving to keep yourselves afloat. Here, in his space, you can see the way that his lashes cast subtle shadows on his cheeks. It’s easy to count the few moles that pepper his face and neck, sitting stark upon unblemished skin.
When his eyes meet yours, it becomes clear what you wish to do. No, what you need to do.
“Anton,” you whisper. “What did you mean when you said you had impure intentions?”
The man moves to open his mouth, but before he can get the first syllable out, you cut him off.
“Don’t tell me,” you coo. “Show me.”
You would be lying if you said you never thought about the feeling of Anton’s plush lips on yours. In reality, you spent too many nights lying awake, thinking about the slick feel of his mouth on yours, of the way his large hands would feel clutching onto your body, of the feel of his soft brown strands underneath your fingertips.
But dreams never compare to the real thing.
Nothing could compare to the pure bliss of having Anton’s mouth slide against your own. He moves fervently, letting the kiss carry the twinge of desperation that you both have felt since you’ve met. It’s far from the polite way that you expected Anton Lee to kiss, but that makes it that much better.
His nose grazes your cheek as he tilts his head, angling himself to kiss you deeper. His tongue is warm as it eases its way into your mouth, the warmth a welcome contrast to the chill of the lake. The hand that was once grasping your hip travels down to your backside and thigh, lifting you up to wrap yourself around his waist. It’s improper, at the very least, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when Anton sighs softly into your mouth.
It feels like ages before the two of you part, chests heaving where they remain pressed together. You’re so close that you imagine that even water can’t exist between you two. Anton’s abdomen is solid where your core is pressed up against him, supporting your weight so that neither of you are at risk of sinking.
“That,” Anton whispers, “is what I meant by impure intentions.
You can’t help but giggle at the boy’s breathless tone, suddenly feeling giddy that you were the one to make him this way. You were the one to fluster the ever-perfect Anton Lee. It was you. It’s always been you.
“Our parents…” you mutter reflexively, your mind a war zone.
“Hey,” Anton coos, bringing a hand under your chin.
With just a gentle tilt, you meet his eyes, instantly getting lost in the way his gaze bores into yours. As if he can’t help himself, Anton leans in to place a quick peck on your lips. When you part, a soft whine escapes your lips, mourning the loss of your lover’s kiss.
“Y/N, we’ll figure it out. I won’t let this go south because of our parents.”
You nod nervously, trying your hardest to believe in the reassurance that Anton is trying to provide you. As if he could sense the residual nerves, Anton presses his lips against your forehead in a soft kiss. The sensation makes your eyes flutter shut, a content smile beginning to grown on your face. After a brief moment, Anton chuckles.
“Who knows?” He mutters. “Maybe our parents will get that merger after all.”
. . .
[8 years later]
BREAKING NEWS: Lee Enterprises and TOTAL, Inc. have announced a historic merger to form one mega-corporation. This announcement comes one year after CEO and President of Lee Enterprises, Anton Lee, and Chairperson of TOTAL, Inc., Y/N Y/L/N, announced their marriage. The new multinational conglomerate will be known as Lakeside, LLC, and is said to have a current stock value of over five billion dollars.
turnnoffyourmind
izzy806
andulkaphoto
gamechangershow
vaporwave
amandla
tangentwithtanner
ellievsbear
gummygunk
kianamaiart
