yesterday i went to a party and i kissed this girl and she kept trying to give me her linkedin and i was like ...LINKEDIN? and she said yes linkedin. so i said i dont use linkedin. do you have instagram though. and she was like yes i do have instagram. you should add me on linkedin. and i said i dont use linkedin. and she said i will add you on linkedin. and i said girl give me your instagram you are NOT flirting with me through linkedin. and she was like. ok. fine. here's my instagram then. and gave me her instagram, which she clearly uses a lot, so it wasnt even that she only uses linkedin but rather that she just wanted to talk to me through linkedin specifically. fascinating woman if i wasnt already attracted to her her unwavering loyalty to linkedin wouldve drawn me in for sure
i’m in such disbelief right now and beyond disgusted.
i really hope y’all are choosing your morals over kpop; because we do not know these men at all. i will never side with or defend a predator and a criminal, even with little to no proof. even if there is the smallest chance he may be innocent, i will always believe the victim first.
some of you, as fans of the boys for years and him in general, i know you must be feeling disappointed and betrayed. you’re not dumb for previously supporting him, as we couldn’t have possibly known. but now is the time for a reality check and it’s time to wake up and take a step back. this just goes to show that we know absolutely nothing about them.
for sm to just outright put out a statement on their own before any rumors even surfaced and immediately kick him out? this has to be insanely serious and i’m terrified of what he could’ve done. the crazy thing is with everything currently happening in korea with the telegram situation, and korean women constantly being in danger in general because of the men there, i’m not at all surprised that celebrities are being exposed. sm has protected criminals before, and held onto lucas when his scandal came out as well as other artists who have been exposed for similar crimes. i can’t even imagine the severity of the current situation. we’ve seen what happened with the burning sun, and these men are not immune to being misogynistic, vile human beings.
members have already unfollowed him and deleted posts with him in them; his best friend of 17yrs has unfollowed him. the company taking the initiative and him getting kicked out of the group in less than a second before anything even came out, no denying the claims or even trying to defend him. that should be enough to tell you and understand how serious this actually is. i am beyond disgusted with him and this whole situation.
i sincerely hope the victim is doing okay and praying for them to heal and get the justice they deserve. and remember that your love for these celebrities should always be conditional, because we do not know them. it’s their job to put on a show and show you their public persona, but behind closed doors? we don’t know what they’re actually like. we put them on a pedestal and yet we don’t know what they’re really capable of. they are still men after all. i hope the police are taking this seriously. there needs to be consequences and these women need to be protected.
let this be a lesson to all of us. they don’t know us, and we don’t know them, not really, not at all.
ALWAYS choose morals over these strangers you idolize. and as women, we should be standing with the victims.
maybe not all men, but enough of them. and maybe not all men, but somehow always a man. and going forward, i will continue to support nct as a whole with the remaining members. however, keeping the situation in mind, i will be supporting from afar for a little while. if the situation escalates and other members are investigated and new information comes to light about the rest of them either knowing or possibly being involved, it would be best to step away for good. i will do my best to stay updated. but i do hope the rest of the members are doing okay, and hopefully no other members were involved; but this, just shows that they can always surprise us. you never think it’ll be your fave, until it is.
let’s hope this causes a domino effect and more of these people are exposed and charged for the crimes they’re committing.
sending love to anyone who has ever experienced sexual violence or has been targeted and been in a similar situation. it is not your fault and it never was!
love you all and my dms are always open if you need to vent. <3
❗️EDIT: also i wanna add that we need to not praise the rest of the members or any other celebrity for simply unfollowing him on social media. that is the least of anyone’s worries.
we don’t know if they were aware, we don’t know if they knew and were protecting him or turning a blind eye. it could be them trying to save themselves and clear their guilty conscience. maybe they didn’t know and are just as shocked as we are, we don’t know that either.
we blindly trust these people and believe they have good intentions but look at where that can lead to. fans being upset is valid, yes; but remember people with money and power will do whatever it takes to sweep things under the rug and make it go away in order to save face and keep their image and reputation.
Sonya Massey was a paranoid-schizophrenic woman who turned to the police when she was scared and suspected an intruder inside of her home; she was a Black, mentally ill, woman shot dead and executed by a white police officer solely because she said "I rebuke you" over a pot of water. she was DUCKING DOWN behind a counter repeating the words "I'm sorry" as he advanced and, eventually, killed her. Sean Grayson, a white police officer, executed her.
her name was Sonya Massey. she was a human being who deserved to live. say her fucking name. Sonya Massey.
edit: please do not erase or negate the fact that Sonya was schizophrenic. Black schizophrenic people are more likely to die at the hands of the police as well as be brutalised by them, and by negating the fact that she was schizophrenic, you are erasing that this was an execution fuelled by BOTH racism & saneism. please have some respect and continue to say her name, thank you.
if you can stomach it i would recommend watching the body cam footage of the sonya massey killing, i'll try to describe it but it's hardly possible. you can't truly understand the type of extreme, completely volatile aggression that happens with cops if you haven't seen it, and it's captured here very harrowingly.
several officers are in her house, calmly talking with her about her id and vehicle papers for some time. it's routine administrative stuff, no acute danger or stress whatsoever. one of them tells her to take her pot off the stove, remarking that they don't need a fire in the house now, she walks over into the kitchen and complies. he suddenly backs off towards the front door despite already being several feet away. she asks him where he's going, he says "away from your hot, steaming water." she repeats "my hot, steamin' water?" in an amused tone. then adds "i rebuke you in the name of jesus," in a similar joking tone while pouring the water down the sink. the atmosphere is completely calm, you might even say amiable.
she's at this point still separated from the cops by her kitchen aisle and several feet of additional distance. the cop prompts her to repeat what she said, she repeats her joke about rebuking him in the name of jesus [with the scary water she just poured out]. she doesn't even realise there's been a complete 180 in his head. he goes "you better fucking not, i will shoot you in your fucking face," she's stunned by the sudden abusive language for half a second, immediately he draws his gun directly at her head, she gets out a panicked "sorry!" and ducks behind the aisle, he rounds the corner into the kitchen specifically to advance right next to her, immediately fires 3 shots at her head from above at minimal distance. she's dead where she stood, or cowered rather, by the sink in her nightgown.
after a few seconds you hear the click of him turning on his body cam, saying "she came at me with a pot of boiling water." for the recording. he also nonchalantly tells his partner there's no need to get a med kit because it was a headshot. it's one of the most clear cut cases ever and it's fully recorded only because his partner did already have the body cam on throughout.
People who love you shouldn't make you feel ashamed of your interests and hobbies. What you enjoy is wonderful, even if it's uncommon, complicated, stereotypical, etc. Please keep sharing your lovely energy with the world.
you hate heeseung. you hate his snobby little voice, his stupid little glasses that are too big for him, his nosiness, and his ability to prove anything or anyone wrong easily. you hate hate hate the way you try to avoid him, but somehow he’s always around, and he can’t see how much you hate him. you swear nothing could make you like him, but after you get caught in a sticky situation with him playing your knight in shining armor, you realize that maybe he isn’t so bad after all.
pairing — heeseung x fem!reader
genre — one sided enemies to lovers, highschool au, he falls first she falls harder, oblivious x obvious, tutor x tutoree (kind of), childhood friends (ish because the whole one sided enemies thing) to lovers, long fic
wordcount — 19.7k (oops!)
warnings — profanity, kissing, miscommunication, parties/underage drinking, reader gets called and calls someone a bitch, food, violence (but literally just one slap and reader thinks about it but doesn't), yn is kind of the problem LMFAO, mentions of vomiting but no actual vomitting.
featuring — lia of itzy, miyeon of g-idle, hyung line of enhypen (sorry maknaes too many people), ocs : sooyun + teachers
disclaimer — i am not saying this is an accurate representation of these idols or trying to sexualize them at all. this is just something i do for fun.
yenqa — wow okay. ive been working on this since literally january 1st. i cant believe i actually finished this 😭 but if you’re reading (or about to) thank you! and i hope you enjoy months of my hard work <3
YOU WATCH AS THE SNOW FALLS SLOWLY TO THE GROUND
A blanket of white has got you and the guests at your house locked in for the night. You weren’t very happy with these strangers staying at your house for the night—In fact, you had just been completely shut down by your dad when you asked him to kick them out. It was obvious why he did that, but this definitely had to be your least favorite christmas out of the eight you had been through.
You snap out of your thoughts, continuing to eat whatever you had left on your plate, hesitating when you saw the amount of vegetables still left.
“Mom! I’m full.” You try to hide your plate from her, showing her instead a pout with a hand on your stomach.
It didn’t work—obviously, so you were stuck at the table, a frown on your face as you forced in the greens. Across from you, a boy your age, who didn’t seem to mind, he almost looked like he was enjoying it.
That’s impossible though, no one likes vegetables. Maybe he was doing it so Santa would get him an extra special gift?
You grumble when he finishes his place, showcasing his plate that had been licked clean to his mom. He stared at you for a second looking down at your—full plate then looking back at his mom, she said “Great job Heeseung!”. He returns his plate to the table with a smile.
Stabbing your fork back into your food, you stuff it into your face, hoping that you would enjoy it as much as Heeseung did. Again, it didn’t work, and the bitter taste returned to your mouth.
After what felt like hours of groaning and complaining, you had taken the last bite of your food, a proud smirk on your face when you made eye contact with the boy from earlier, who only smiled at you in return.
Throwing away your plastic plate, you realized that now it was present time, and Santa just had to reward you for your good deeds.
Rushing over to the tree, you spot everyone gathered around the area, opening their presents. You run to your present, recognizing the wrapping paper from last year. Looking at your mom for approval, she nods and you tear apart the paper, lifting up the box inside.
You squeal when you see the picture, you had been begging your mom for weeks for a Lego set, specifically if it was minecraft themed. And Santa had gotten you just that. You hug the box, squeezing it. You exclaim a loud “Thank you Santa!” before running up to your room to assemble the build.
Reading the directions, you start the house, quickly getting confused on how it isn’t looking like how it does in the picture.
“I think that’s the wrong piece.” A voice says, you whip your head around to see the same boy who sat across from you.
“Who are you?” Your eyebrows furrow at the sight, confused on why those were the first words he said instead of “Hi!” or something.
“My name’s Heeseung—Um, my mom told me to come upstairs and said we should be friends. Do you want to be friends?” He chuckles awkwardly.
You huff, “I’m Y/n. Also no, I don’t want to be friends, you’re mean.” You force your legos together, frustrated already with the pieces. You continue to reread the directions, pushing—what you think are—the exact legos to the board. But it doesn’t seem like it’ll fit. Maybe if you push it harder?
“Oh—okay.” You jump slightly, too focused to realize how he's been watching you for the past few minutes. “Do you need some help?”
Yes, you need help. But did you want to accept his help? This was your christmas gift from Santa, you shouldn’t have to share.
Glancing at the picture then to the building that had looked like an abstract rendition of it, you let out a sigh. I mean, it wouldn’t hurt, right? “Yeah, I guess.”
He takes a seat on the carpet next to you, focusing hard on the directions before breaking off the wrong pieces, reassembling it so you’ll be on the right track.
“Does this go here, do you think?” “No, it goes here.” That was a summary of what the conversation was between you, and somehow you were always the one asking the question. Sighing, you lean back, taking a short stretch break before starting again.
You’re shocked at his speed and efficiency, it almost seems like he’s always a step ahead of you. Geez does this guy ever slow down?
The roles are quickly switched as you are sitting watching him instead. Rummaging through each box only for his eyes to lighten up one he finds the right one. You watch him for a while, getting a break that you very much needed.
You hope that he waits for you to finish it, or that he doesn’t completely do it all by himself because again, it’s your Christmas gift, and he wouldn’t do that, right?
Not right, because apparently he’s a machine—he finishes the build. He stands up, pushes his stupid glasses up also and smiles at you, heading to the door. You think he’s going to say something else like “Sorry for taking away your present!” instead, he thanks you for sharing and happily skipping away.
Heeseung. Even his name infuriates you. He was very unpredictable and you hated that. Why did he just do that? He’s so rude. People don’t make sense—especially boys, they have cooties.
Your head was filled with calling him the rudest things you could think of—You even said a few curse words.
Though later you realized that you probably would never see him again, you were ecstatic, so ecstatic you had disassembled your legos just to rebuild it, to completely forget about your bad experience with the boy.
Only two weeks later were you disappointed to see that same boy, sitting across from you during dinner once again.
THE HIGHLIGHT OF THE DAY WAS THE PEN LIA FOUND ON THE GROUND.
It was a bright magenta color, topped with a donut at the very top. She showcased it proudly to you both, then happily tucking it into her pocket.
“I need a new pen, I keep losing mine! I think I’ve blown off so much money buying new school supplies” Miyeon sighed, tucking her hair back behind her ear.
“That must suck considering you didn’t just find the cutest pen ever!” She shoves the pen in Miyeon’s face, spinning it around boastfully.
“Well that magenta color is ugly!” Miyeon snaps, and they start bickering over if the pen is cute or not.
Not this again. Every morning they have some kind of debate, whether it’s whose outfit is cuter to who does Mr. Park (their astrology teacher) like more.
Though, no side ever ends up winning since they are quickly distracted by the loud ringing sound blaring through the speakers.
It’s like a ritual at this point, a staple to your morning routine—which also felt like a staple to your head because god were they loud.
Sometimes, you forget they even are friends until the bell rings, always happily skipping off to their class hand in hand. Which happens every time but no one seems to comment on it.
“Y/n, is this pen cute or not?”
You did not want to engage in this conversation at all, in fact you think a staple in the head would be nicer. But the ones above decided to look away from you, leaving you stuck in between their quarrel.
“Well I think-”
You’re quickly cut off—Thank god you’re cut off—by the bell. Quickly, you wave your goodbyes and start walking to the other side of the school to your first period. Step after step you walk past each classroom, looking in to see if you know anybody in each—
“Hey Y/n!”
You whip your head back to see Heeseung’s snobby little face. You hadn’t actually talked to the guy in months considering you two have such close connections. He was wearing a black hoodie and some baggy jeans, his glasses layed low on his nose, leaving you wonder how he can even see if they were that low. He looked horrible.
Okay maybe it wasn’t that bad.
Rolling your eyes, you ask, “What do you want?”
“Your mom said you needed some help in physics? If you needed help you could’ve just asked y’know.” He shrugs, keeping up with your pace even though you’re doing everything you can to leave him behind. Fuck those long legs.
“Leave me the fuck alone Heeseung, I don’t want your help.”
“Are you sure? I’d be happy to help-”
You put your hand up, stopping him right in front of the classroom, “No, I don’t need your help Heeseung, I’m fine on my own.”
Turning your head to his, you give him the nastiest glare you could muster, then walking to your seat—which was right next to his but you’ll think about the details later.
Sometimes you wished you could take three seconds before saying things because you definitely needed the help, you both knew it.
Anyone who had eyes could see that you were visibly struggling every time any physics related object was placed in front of you. The quiet room was often filled with your sighs and the loud erasing of your pencil, sometimes inducing a chuckle or two that would always end in a dirty look from you.
The bell rings soon afterwards and Ms. Nam never misses a beat to start taking attendance, which makes it impossible to ever be tardy without her noticing.
Though it doesn’t seem to work as well as she thinks it does, people who don’t care about their attendance, don’t show up anyways.
She never misses a beat either, she takes a sip from her mug then jumps up to teach, what you would do to see her falter just once–
“No spacing out in my classroom! Eyes up here everyone!” She makes eye contact with you–or the person in front of you, you couldn’t really tell, clicks her tongue, then continues reading. You groan internally, moving your eyes to zone out right on the board.
There seems like no end to her endless amount of explaining directions (which are on the board and everyone can read) and yelling at people who are talking–until there finally is.
After what felt like the whole class period she points to the table up front not being able to stop explaining why she does everything she does, including making it a big deal that the desk up front is where the worksheet is, and to not ask her where it is or where to turn it in.
She shuts up–finally, and the class gets up to the front of the class, taking worksheets for themself.
You’re about to get up when the crowd around the paper dies down when Lee Heeseung stops in front of you, saying he grabbed an extra one by accident and hands it to you.
He did not get an extra one on accident.
He just wanted to get your attention.
A simple plan, and completely foolproof– a win-win situation really. He gets to have your attention for an extra second, and you get your paper without having to walk up.
He pats himself on the back internally, before plopping down on his seat, right next to yours.
“Thank you?” You mutter, giving him a confused look.
He chuckles, shaking his head before looking down on his work.
Heeseung ignores the dirty look you give him–even though he’s not sure why you hate him so much, he ignores that too. Pretending in the little movie in his mind that you really really like him.
Scanning the worksheet, he rolls his eyes, not a single inch of his body wants to do this useless assignment but he forces himself anyways, internally groaning at every question.
Finishing the first three he moves onto the last question on that side of the page, he looks up at the clock, noticing that only ten minutes had passed.
He then lowers his eyes to your hunched over picture, glancing at the paper below you to only see a sentence written on the first question.
I don’t know?????
He watches as you giggle at your own antics. Letting out a breathy laugh himself while you hurriedly erase it and look around to see how much progress other people made.
Your eyes soon turn to his, locking eyes with him before giving him side eye-ing while looking away. Seems like Heeseung was on a roll today with your nasty looks, because that was his second today!
“Hey do you want some help?” He asks, and if he could slap his hand over his mouth–and maybe choke himself in the process if he wouldn’t look like a total weirdo to stop himself from saying that–He would. Though the words came out before he could even process that he wanted to help you, he tries to look the most genuine he can–just so you don’t get the wrong idea.
Sighing you look at him, mumbling, “No.”
He reads the question you’re on anyways. He can feel his heart start to race. His stomach tingles as he scoots his chair closer to yours, rereading the question at the top of the page.
“The mass is 32 grams and the velocity is 3 miles per hour. Do you know the formula for finding the amount of kinetic energy?”
“Umm– that’s why I’m still on the first question.” Oh lord.
He blinks once, then continues, “Oh! Sorry! Okay, so you would multiply the mass by ½ and then multiply that by the velocity squared. It’s simple math really.”
You stare at him through the corner of your eye, and Heeseung notices.
“I mean, that’s like middle school math. I’d be a little worried if you were struggling with a 12-year-olds problems-”
“Okay, that’s enough!”
His mouth is immediately zipped shut as he watches you do the math on your page, staring as your hands move delicately to write every number carefully. “It’s 144, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay–I don’t want your help, Heeseung.”
He raises an eyebrow, “Are you sure? I’m fine with helping you with the whole thing.”
You almost scoff, “I’m fine! Thank you so much for asking.” You turn your head away from his, gluing your eyes to the worksheet.
Met with the paper once again you’re in the same position you were five minutes ago, you had forgotten half–if not all these vocabulary words and didn’t understand a single thing he had said.
So you continued to zone out on the paper, rethinking every single life choice you had made up until this point of your life.
Maybe if you hadn’t worn that blue sweater last week–
“Y/n! How’s the worksheet going?” You whip your head to the sound, to see Ms. Nam’s smiley face–exactly like a robot. You’re convinced that you could write an essay on how she’s definitely not real, how she’s an alien or some artificial intelligence trying to fit in with other humans by becoming a teacher, it’ll surely be better than any other essay you’ve written–And maybe it could be your college essay.
You blink twice before completely processing her implements, looking down at your paper you subtly try to cover it in shame, trying to charm her with a small smile. “Great! I’m doing so great!”
She laughs wholeheartedly even though it wasn’t that funny. Finally she stops, looks down on your paper and silently judges all your silly doodles around the border.
Clicking her tongue–you hate it when she does that– Ms. Nam smiles, “If you need any help, you can just ask me Y/n.”
“Okay, thank you.” You don’t want her help at all, you think that Lee Heeseung would be a better company than her.
“Or you could ask your classmates!” She exclaims, acting like she discovered dinosaurs or something, “Your seatmate, Heeseung is very gifted in this subject! He’ll be very helpful if you need it!”
Okay maybe the offer for her help sounded pretty good right now. You look over to him to see a shy smile on his face, your eyebrows furrow at his innocent expression. You wish you could punch that stupid–
YOU THINK YOU’LL DIE TOMORROW IF ANYTHING ELSE GOES BAD FOR YOU.
It almost felt like the universe was plotting against you—okay maybe a bit dramatic but who could blame you? Your mom just told you the Lee’s were coming over for dinner.
“On a Tuesday? Any specific reason?”
Your mom chuckles, “I just wanted to see them honey, they’re family friends after all. And they haven’t come over for a while.”
“Didn’t they come over two weeks ago?”
“Last month, that’s a long time compared to someone who sees their friends everyday!” Your mom shrugs, cutting some green onions.
You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Sighing, you mentally raise a white flag, telling your mom that you were heading up to your room.
Letting out a sigh of relief you drop your backpack on the ground, staring at your room for a little bit too tired to decide what to do next. But, you pull yourself together, plugging in your phone and deciding if your outfit was good enough for guests to see.
Shrugging at your reflection, you move to sit down by your desk, starting on your assignments that you hadn’t finished because you were too busy messing around with your friends.
After finishing one assignment, you check your phone for messages, or just to cure your boredom. It was always a huge mistake on your part, but old habits die hard, right?
Wasting an hour just messing around on your phone, you begrudgingly put it back down, starting on some reading in the fat textbook laid ahead of you.
It seems like angels singing from heaven when your mom calls you down for dinner, because you’re sick of all these big words blending together in the textbook.
You're halfway down the stairs before realizing that the bane of your existence will be there. The lightened mood you once had now dropping leaving you wishing you could crawl back into your desk chair and pretend you hadn’t heard anything.
It was a shame that you were starving, so there was no excuse for you not to eat dinner with them. Mentally preparing yourself you walk down the few steps left, almost immediately being greeted by your Heeseung’s mom.
You're surprised to see no Heeseung in sight, just his smiley parents who are always happy to see you. You look around once more before asking “Where’s Heeseung, Auntie Lee?”
You don’t care, of course. But you can’t say you weren’t happy that his seat was left cold and untouched.
“He’s at the library, tutoring other students! ‘Said he wouldn't make it to dinner but he’ll be here later Y/n sweetie, don’t worry about him.”
Smiling, you nod acting like you give a fuck about him before taking your seat next to his empty one.
The dinner is going fine. Dining with people who are triple your age and too proper to be comfortable with isn’t really your favorite thing to do but it’s much better than having to do the same with the chair next to you being used.
Feeling optimistic you happily chow down the food your mother has served, relishing in the satisfying dish.
“So, Y/n how’s school?” Heeseung’s dad stares you down. It’s a very typical parent question they usually ask you to include you in somehow. You always have the same answer every time.
You put on a smile for him, “It’s good! Just a little homework here and there. The same old usual.” You’re careful not to ask about his work, not wanting to hear his whole dinner rant about how his coworkers or his boss is annoying the crap out of him. Instead you ask, “Have you been golfing recently?”
His eyes lighten and you know you asked the right question. “Just Sunday I went! I dragged Heeseung with me because everyone was busy” Letting out a hearty laugh, he continued. “He’s great at everything he does! He could be a professional if I pushed him harder!”
Chuckling to hide your hatred for his boy, you answer, “Better late than never, right Uncle Lee?”
“Yes! Exactly Y/n! Anyways–”
He’s cut off by the doorbell and everybody stares at your mom in confusion. You stand up letting everyone know to continue eating without you as you walk to the front door. Unlocking it, you stare up slightly to see Heeseung’s awkward smile.
“Thought you weren’t supposed to make it to dinner?” You squint at him, moving to the side to let him in, watching as he takes his shoes off.
He chuckles, “Did you miss me or something?”
“Are you stupid?”
His smile falls slightly, so slightly you’d miss it if you weren’t glaring at him so hard.
“They canceled, some family issues came up.”
“Why’d you come so late then?”
“Told me thirty minutes after it started, I knew you missed me.” Nudging you with his elbow he waits for you to start walking to the dining table.
You push him to the wall.
Then you start walking to the dinner table.
Walking until they spot you, you notice everyone's smile and kind greetings as he shyly waves to your parents. Seems like the mood is lighter now that he’s here, but your mood definitely lowers. He sits at his usual spot and you sit in your old spot. Right across from each other.
It’s crazy to you how much he can change from in front of you and your parents. He acts like he’s the most humble but smartest man alive and he’s yet to find out. He’s kind to you too, no teasing remarks, just smiles in your direction. You don’t smile back, moving your gaze elsewhere. It’s a shame, he is smart, but humble? You could definitely tick off a few points for him.
You don’t act differently, other than obviously not bickering with Heeseung in front of his parents. You’re tolerating him, it’s the most kindness you could give him after all.
Heeseung isn’t humble, if you could describe him in a word it would be weird. Heeseung is weird.
The aftermath of dinner was a huge bang.
It would be if you decided to slam the textbook into your head–which seemed like a pretty good option.
This time though, you were not being dramatic, because when you finished dinner you excused yourself to your room. Finishing your reading and the questions.
Unfortunately, you only had your physics homework left. And obviously physics is the best subject to exist. Ever.
It was so awesome that it had you staring into the textbook. Trying to process what the hell they were talking about in the text.
Rereading and rereading again and again, makes you wonder why you even try. Because it seems the only words you understood were the determiners that connected each intricate word.
Sighing, you close your book, leaning back in your desk chair. Closing your eyes you let yourself take a minute break.
It’s silent in your room, letting you focus on the small background noise of your parents conversing, probably talking about work, or you. Usually it’s you.
You didn’t mind though, if they talked bad it wasn’t in front of your face at least.
“Want any help? I dabble.”
You let out a scream, feeling your heart race as his unexpected entrance to your room.
Letting your face contort into a disgusted look you retort, “Jeez, no knock or anything? It’s like you’re out to kill me, Heeseung.”
“I think it’s the other way around, plus you know how good I am, I literally helped you in physics today.”
“No, I don’t want your help. Also “dabble”? Don’t act like you’re an eighty year old man.”
He laughs, raising his arms in surrender before taking a seat on your carpet floor.
You almost feel bad for the man, your nice, cozy bed is sitting right next to him but he sits on the floor. Which you definitely haven’t vacuumed for a while.
Turning back to your textbook you mutter, “You can sit on my bed, just sit on top of the blanket.”
A smile spreads through his face as he plops down onto your blanket, careful not to touch the mattress or any of your pillows. You nod in thanks for not getting his dirty outside clothes on your clean bed.
You’re not sure if he notices or not but he doesn’t say anything so you decide to leave it at that.
Refocusing on the textbook, you reread the words for at least the third time, flipping to the vocabulary page for each word you don’t understand–which was most of them so it must’ve been a funny sight watching your head go between two pages repeatedly.
You start to lose hope quickly, you read the question on your packet then reread the whole page. Scanning for any answer that actually could make sense with the question.
You were starting to enjoy the quiet that Heeseung had given you, whipping your head to see what he was doing to be so abnormally quiet you instead make eye contact.
There’s a weird prolonged moment of silence before you say, “You freak, why were you watching me do my homework?”
His eyes crinkle as he breaks out into a smile, “Was waiting until you would crack.”
“I don’t have any drugs on me.”
“Not that kind, Y/n. Didn’t take you as a bad girl,” He chuckles.
“I’ll be an annoyed girl if you don’t let me finish my work in peace.” You retort, rolling your eyes at whatever he’s implying. His smile turns into a smirk, and just by his face you can tell he has a smart way to annoy you.
“Y’know I could help, if you asked me.”
“Get over here and help me then?” Your eyebrows furrow. You’re ready to watch him rush over to you but instead he stays still.
He crosses his arms, cocking one of his eyebrows, “Asked me with a pretty please.” He adds.
You spin your chair back to the desk, eyes set back to the paper, “Kinky. No thanks.”
He leans back onto your blanket, sighing, “Your loss, we could be done with those questions in twenty minutes if you said so.”
You try not to get your eyes stuck behind your head from the amount of times you’ve rolled your eyes in the past three minutes.
It’s been pretty effective other than the fact you think it would be better to get your eyes stuck to get away from this homework.
You mean, Heeseung wasn’t the worst help last time, right?
Just this once you would ask him a favor.
Spinning around once again, you call out his name.
He looks up at you, instead of the sly smirk you expected, it’s weirdly soft. Whatever, just get this over with.
“Can you help me with this homework, pretty please?”
It sounded a little too desperate for your liking but you definitely were desperate. His soft gaze quickly turns into the smug look you’re used to.
He gets up from your comfortable bed, walking over to you, towering over your seated self.
“You’re on question two?” He stifles a laugh, but you can tell he’s teasing you.
“Oh wow he can read!”
Pointing to your textbook, you look up at him. “Just explain this section to me.”
And he does. You hate to admit it but he really does help. What would’ve taken you hours to finish you had completed it in just under thirty minutes.
Which was very surprising considering that you had a million more questions than answers, but he was patient. Which you didn’t like.
How could he be so patient with you when you’re asking questions like a broken cd? It’s almost suffocating how patient he was, it was like he had completely switched to a different persona.
How weird.
Once you’re finished you both sit on your bed in silence, but it was weirdly comfortable. You didn’t like anything about that guy, so why were you not kicking him out of your room?
You’re pulled out of your thoughts when he decides that it’s time for him to go home, he’s almost out of your room when you gain the courage to call out his name once again.
He stops in your doorframe, turning back to face you. You look down, unable to see–probably a smug look before pausing for a second and muttering, “Thank you.”
You look up again, surprised to see he doesn’t tease you, he doesn’t laugh, he doesn’t ask you to repeat it and yell it to the whole country. Instead he smiles, and nods before walking out your door.
Heeseung is weird, really weird.
“I THINK YOU’RE JUST TRYING TO GET MY ATTENTION NOW, Y/N.”
You don’t know how you keep getting into this predicament. Where you’re stuck asking the worst man to exist on how to find the answer to half of the questions but it always happens.
This time you had a plan. Ask literally anyone around you, then the teacher, then maybe the Cheeto crumbs on the floor from previous classes, then Heeseung.
So you tried, but turns out everyone in that class had one big friend group that excluded you and Heeseung so you gave up on that.
Then Ms. Nam. You had grown up the confidence to ask her only for her to reread the question in a stricter tone.
So absolutely no help at all because you had read the problem at least three times, and you definitely couldn’t ask her for help again or else you think she might use her robot powers on you.
Which left you with one live option. Which definitely was the worse out of the two.
“That wasn’t funny.” You huff, you turn your paper so he can see it clearly.
He leans over to your desk, and you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker from your lips to the paper.
He scoots his chair even closer to you, and you try not to flinch at his warmth that seems to fill up your senses all at once. You let out an awkward chuckle to express your uncomfortability, but he keeps reading the question you’re on.
“I told you if you wanted a tutor I could help.”
You huff, “I don’t want your help.”
“But you can’t stop asking for it, huh?” The boy smirks, his eyes locking into yours. He lets out a chuckle–Why was he laughing? Maybe it was your incompetence for physics. Why did you take this course anyways?
Not coming up with a quick enough insult back, you give him an exasperated look. Waiting for him to explain whatever was going on in the class.
Leaning back in your chair, you watch as he tries to explain everything in simple terms. How his hands resemble a model as he describes some kind of motion you can’t name.
After he finishes you look at him with a blank stare.
He lets out a breathy smile, almost awkwardly he waves in your face.
“Y/n, are you listening?”
“No.”
“GOD I HATE HER.”
After a dreadful four periods it was finally lunch, though the cafeteria was never the ideal place to eat–you could talk about the people around you, which came in handy for times like these.
“Sooyun? I still can’t believe she did you like that.” Miyeon sighs, shoving a–soggy fry into her mouth.
Lia nods in agreement, “Wait–catch me up again. She said you flirted with her boyfriend?” She gestures to you with her chin.
You nod angrily, “No but–she literally asked me to hold her drink at the party while she went to the bathroom. But she was gone for literally thirty minutes to god who knows where– So I gave her drink to her boyfriend because I had a curfew!”
Taking a sip of your water, you continue, “And then, she apparently sees our hands touching when I handed him the cup–which was not true, but she totally freaked out and accused me of trying to get with her boyfriend and ruin her relationship.”
Sooyun was your best-friend. She was smart, pretty, sweet–all the good things you could name about a person, would apply to her. Back in middle school you were so envious of her, because everyone liked her, all her crushes–even your crushes liked her.
You didn’t really mind, obviously you were slightly jealous but so was everyone else. Everything was going well between the two of you until you had started wearing makeup, and styling your hair. And people started liking you more.
All of the sudden she had become really self conscious around you, constantly reminding you that you were so pretty and she wasn’t. You didn’t really mind, of course–in fact you understood it and always denied her comments, after all you felt it about her just a few months back.
Then she had gotten a boyfriend, and totally distanced herself from you. There was nothing you could do except watch, she hadn’t done anything to you, so why hate her?
That’s until you found out that she had been talking bad and spreading rumors about you, that was when your boat had finally tipped, and you cut her off a week after that party.
That was four months ago, but somehow the wound was still fresh from the fact that–your childhood best-friend had totally dropped you the second she found a boy.
Miyeon’s eyes light up, “Oh! I remember that! Lia, that was the party where you did purple eyeshadow and someone asked if you got a black eye.”
The group bursts into laughter, you wince at the feeling of Lia’s hand hitting you a few times while laughing.
You three move on to new topics, Miyeon talks about whatever new thing her mom is buying her for an event, which reminds the other two of you to talk about something else. You all cut each other off with new stories or opinions to tell. But it works for the three of you.
That’s until Lia stops her story-telling abruptly as her eyes get caught onto something behind you. She immediately stops moving, Miyeon follows Lia’s eyes and catches on too, smugly smiling at the sight. You almost feel like you’re missing something.
“Why are you guys so weird? Don’t tell me Sooyun’s coming up to us.”
They exchange looks, and Miyeon starts, “Your boy-toy is totally staring at you right now,” She giggles.
Whipping your head around you don’t see anyone, turning back to them you watch them with confused looks.
Lia raises her eyebrows, “Lee Heeseung? Ring any bells? Blue hoodie, glasses–”
Cutting her off you whip your head around to see, As she said–Lee Heeseung staring at you, eyes widening once he’s realized that you found out about it. His friends, who you think are Sunghoon, Jake, and Jay don’t seem to pay any attention to him at the moment.
You study his features. You like the way his hair falls around his glasses– or how his hoodie looks just perfectly baggy, you would ask him where he got it if he wasn’t the most annoying person alive–Are you going insane? Did you seriously just compliment him?
His face contorts into something different, a smile. His friends give him teasing nudges but he ignores them.
Instead Heeseung chuckles like he always does for some reason and you give him an almost disgusted look, breaking literal air molecules as you turn back to look at your friends with an irritated expression.
Beat that physics.
Miyeon lets out a high pitched giggle, and Lia hit’s you even more, speaking nonsense and acting like he’s in love with you and vice versa or something. You wince at the feeling, hitting Lia as revenge.
You’re not sure why they’re freaking out, it’s just Heeseung. The guy who’s been annoying you since you were eight. The guy who everyone knows that you have something against. But the knocking you’re feeling from Lia’s hand says anything otherwise.
You’re not in love with Heeseung, you don’t even like him. You can’t stand his little smug smile or voice–you hate both. You can’t stand that his glasses style never seemed to change for the last six years he’s had them. You can’t stand how he’s so much smarter than you and makes sure you know it.
You can’t stand Heeseung.
He’s like a leech, one that you can’t seem to get off of you. From tutoring to him staring at you whenevers convenient. You’re starting to think he lives to annoy you.
“You can’t tell me he’s not cute.”
Miyeon’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you resist the urge to look back at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of you looking twice.
“I’m telling you now.” You retort, and the lie flows easily through your teeth.
YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE COME TO THE PARTY.
The idea seemed fun at first. Letting yourself be irresponsible after weeks of not doing illegal shit and not getting caught. You weren’t the party type but everyone had asked you to come to this party.
Everyone–meaning Lia and Miyeon–had begged you to come to this “rager” (their words not yours), but you had let them run off and do whatever irresponsible things they could think of.
And now you knew you definitely weren’t the party type.
You stood in the corner watching as everyone was either having the best time of their life or the worst time (you) and no in between. The bright disco lights had you wincing every few seconds when it was directed straight for your eyes.
Clutching your drink, you gulp another sip of it, feeling a slight burn as it runs down your throat.
Everyone was singing to some song that you didn’t know, like it was a classic or something. You swayed slightly in the corner, trying to feel whatever everyone else was feeling.
Pulling down your white mini skirt, you had wished that you hadn’t worn something so cute to something so not-cute.
You give the people making out nasty looks as you try to find someone you know and like–which sadly totalled to two people.
Feeling a little bit like a loser, you decide it’s time for yourself to leave. You find a random trash bag that is–seemingly, full of garbage and drop it in there.
Letting out a sigh of relief you scan everywhere for your two friends, you can see them having a ball dancing in the middle of a crowded pit. Walking up to the edge of it Miyeon’s eyes lock into yours, and you give her a signal that you are going to leave.
She sends you a thumbs up, then blows a kiss at you before repeating the words to Lia then pointing at you.
Lia shakes her head sluggishly, like you would absolutely change her experience if you left. You gave her a confused look, signaling again that you were leaving. Instead this time you turned around, not waiting for her approval.
Then, you look around for an exit to this absolute hell. You can see the door behind a crowd of people and it seems like it’s glowing in your eyes (or maybe it was the few cups of that god nasty punch you had). Whatever it was, it felt like it would be the exit to your grave.
You’re thankful that you didn’t wear big heels to this place, because you could barely even walk in a straight line–Let alone walk.
Somehow dragging yourself to the crowd of people blocking the exit, taking a sigh, you start to push yourself through this apocalypse.
You’re abruptly pushed into someone. Massaging the shoulder that was shoved, you look back to see the person you bumped into.
“Oh my gosh–I’m so sorry-”
Sooyun.
Your eyes widen, and it seems like your throat has gone dry.
She gives you the nastiest glare you’ve ever seen, fixing her hair before she scoffs, “What the hell is wrong with you? I have a drink in my hand y’know!” She waves the bright red cup tauntingly in your face. Taking a messy sip from it.
You watch as the red liquid drips down her chin and onto the floor, your eyebrows furrow at the weird sight, “Sorry, ‘got pushed into you.”
You weren’t really sorry, obviously. But you wanted to cut off any conversation with her as soon as possible.
“You’re such a bitch. You flirt with my boyfriend then you bump into me and make me spill my drink over my dress? You can’t stop asking for attention, huh?”
You scan her body, only seeing a drop of the red drink that has been on her own accord, looking up at her angry eyes it reminds you of the look she gave you during that party.
You were getting deja vu.
“Sooyun, that was an accident,” You argue, pointing at her, you continue. “And stop calling me an attention seeker when I have told you thousands of times that I wanted nothing to do with your frog-looking boyfriend!”
She gasps, quickly collecting herself to answer.
“You’re sorry?”
“For bumping into you, can you leave me alone?”
“See how I feel and then I’ll accept it.”
Sooyun launches her cup at you, you flinch, covering your face so your hair doesn’t get super sticky.
She laughs like a witch, then you feel the stickiness all over your clothes.
Looking down you see your outfit stained red from the forbidden fruit punch that she has–or had in her drink. Watching as the drink drips down your legs you try not to cry at the feeling.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You yell, trying to find an ounce of guilt in her expression only to find nothing.
“Well I said-”
Cutting her off, you yell, “This is not about the drink, this is about you. Calling me an attention seeker because I wanted to hang out while you had a boyfriend? Sorry–should’ve realized that you would’ve left me for any guy that looked at you since you were “so ugly”, right?”
She scoffs, trying to avoid looking at you. You take an exasperated breath, almost not believing that she would do something like this to you.
You continue anyways, “Well have you wondered why you can’t seem to find anyone that likes you? Because you do shit like this.” Gesturing to your stained red clothing, you look at her in disgust.
“So instead of calling me an attention seeker. Remind yourself that the last time anyone genuinely liked you was in middle school when you weren’t a fucking bitch.”
Your words were slightly slurred when you yelled that out, but she seemed to understand every single letter of it. She stands in silence, with an unamused face, you can’t tell if she’s thinking of what to say next or waiting for you to be finished.
You wish you could slap her, hit her, or really do anything to get your anger out. But the most you can do is yell, because you know that every second after you would regret doing that.
You can’t stand to look at her. Or anyone or anything at this stupid party, pushing her away from you, you walk as fast as you can without damaging your feet so you finally reach the pearly gates of heaven, the exit. And you push open the door, feeling the cold gust of wind blow through your legs.
Even though you’ve finally seemed to make her feel somewhat bad. You don't feel satisfied at all. In Fact you feel empty. You feel guilty. You feel as if you just shamed a person who’s just trying their best to fit in.
You shouldn’t feel guilty. But you do. But your mind feels like it’s being torn apart whether you should feel that way. Though now every little thing that irked you tonight seemed to be adding up now. Because you can’t stop the one single tear drop from spilling from your eyes.
Wiping it as quickly as you can. You look back to see if she followed you, only to be met with the nausea of the party running back to you. You need to go home.
Though everything seems to be going wrong for you tonight, because 1. you’re drunk and can’t drive home. And 2. you don’t have a car.
Squinting your eyes at the bright light emitting from your phone, you scroll through your contacts to find the one person you could call.
You dread hearing the ringing, it rings one, two, three times before it’s answered, your eye catches the time on the screen. 1:42. Ignoring it, you put the phone up to your ear.
“Y/n,” Even though it’s so late he has a light tone. “I knew you liked me but not this much.”
You burst into tears.
Processing the situation, he exclaims, “I’m so sorry!” He frantically answers.
“I didn't mean to make you cry—Y/n are you okay? Where are you right now? Are you safe?” He bombards you with so many questions but you can’t seem to find the strength to answer them all.
Through your hiccups and sniffles, you mumble into the phone, “I didn’t know who else to call.”
Hearing lots of shuffling from his side, you can assume he’s getting out of his bed. “Y/n I’ll come pick you up, where are you?”
“Yeonjun’s party. I-I’m sitting on the edge of the sidewalk.” You say through sniffles.
You can hear him let out a breathy smile, “You shouldn’t get that pretty outfit dirty by sitting on the sidewalk, is there somewhere else for you to sit?” He talks to you as if you were some kind of child, but you’re too exhausted to mind at the moment.
Standing up immediately, you lazily wipe off any rocks that could’ve gotten onto your clothes, “My skirt is already dirty, and my feet hurt” You whine into the phone, trying to wipe off the big red splatter on your white skirt.
The phone goes silent for a couple of seconds, and you don’t think you can take it.
“Seung, I’m sorry”
Seung. That’s the first time you’ve called him any nick name other than annoying. Heeseung smiles at the name, glad that you can’t see his rosy cheeks.
“For what, angel?”
The name slips by your ears, because you’re too focused on trying to stop your hiccups and talk rather than focus on a swoony nickname that he had just said.
“I’m sorry for calling you and-“ Another cry comes out of you, taking a pause, you start again “And I-I’m sorry for asking you for so much help in physics because I suck at it-“
“Y/n how much have you drunk?”
The car engine growls softly in the background of the call. You start walking in a circle though you can’t stop from tripping over yourself every couple of seconds, wondering if you had taken three or four cups of that punch.
“Only like three cups of that weird punch” You slur, your mind is brought back Sooyun, and your vision turns hazy, your hiccups start again and you feel like everything around you is suffocating you but the small voice coming from your phone.
“Heeseung.”
“Yes, angel?”
“Talk please. Anything–I don’t care. Just say something to get my mind off myself.”
“Okay.”
You pace around in circles listening to Heeseung’s smooth voice, chuckling at some of his smart remarks or his embarrassing stories that he knows he’ll regret telling to you. The hiccups soon fade away and are turned into small giggles of his silly remarks.
You must've done at least one hundred rounds around the imaginary circle you're tracing. Even though your feet hurt like hell and your heel is definitely about to break, you repeat the cycle. Waiting for a familiar man-
“I’m here, look to your left.”
Whipping your head to the left, you can see the outline of him. His black glasses caught your gaze and still somehow he looked good when he had just woken up. His arms are spread wide open, waiting to be filled.
You run into his arms.
Wrapping your arms around his neck you hug him as if he’d turn around and leave if you let him get a single breath of air.
He gently places one hand on the lower part of your back, the other hand he uses to tuck your head into the space between his shoulder and neck.
Heeseung is warm.
One word you never thought you would describe him as. Though hundreds of positive words seem to be spilling through your mind at the moment and you can’t help but close your eyes, and cry.
You can feel a wet spot growing where your face is but Heeseung doesn’t seem to care. You had fully expected him to push you away when your tears came rushing down again but instead he pulls you in tighter.
Mumbling nonsense into his shoulder you let the whole story out. Sooyun, the music that was too loud, the punch that had your legs moving awkwardly because of the stickiness–Everything.
He doesn’t laugh at you, he doesn’t offer advice, he doesn’t push your gross, wet face away, he doesn’t laugh at you for being such an emotional drunk. He listens. Just silence, with a few hushed mumbles of how you’re going to be okay.
You had always been given advice instead of a listening ear, and you never knew how nice it felt until now.
He pulls away slightly, wiping your tears as he whispers, “Let’s go home. Okay?”
You nod.
You’re mentally preparing yourself for your feet to shoot pain through your body when Heeseung picks you up. You scream, quickly slapping your hand against your mouth as you’ve disrupted the people leaving around you.
He picks you up easily, as if you were a feather. He bridal-style carries you to the car.
You hate yourself for getting so red because of him.
“You said your feet hurt, right?” He places you gently into the passenger seat of the car.
You hate how you can’t form a response. Your brain is too fuzzy from the alcohol and him to give him anything but a nod.
He just smiles at you, closing the passenger door.
The drive to your house is silent. A comfortable silence. Because you don’t think you could make any conversation while he has a warm hand on your thigh.
He stops in front of your house, parking the car then rushing over to your side, picking you up just to walk you to your door.
The story is a blur in your eyes, but before you know it, you’ve changed into your pajamas with a clean, bare face. Snuggly tucked into the comfort of your bed.
“THIS IS FAKE, RIGHT? YOU’RE KIDDING.”
You huff, “I’m serious Miyeon! Can you believe he saw me while I was crying my heart out? I thought pigs would fly before that ever happened.”
Lia raises an eyebrow, “But he comforted you didn’t he? I don’t see the problem.”
When you had woken up with a horrible headache and puffy eyes. You thought you had just cried so hard the last night that it was headache inducing. Trying to remember whatever you did last night you had found one of your blue sticky notes planted on your bedside table.
call me okay? let me know if you’re okay – heeseung
You had ripped the paper in half.
You were definitely not going to call him. Or contact him in any way.
That blue sticky note had brought out every single detail about the night before, and you’re left wishing to forget it again. You sigh at the bright blue sticking out in the trash, you were never going to drink again.
“The problem isn’t that he comforted me! The problem is that he’s going to tease me about this until the day I die–I mean, he can’t even help me with physics without poking fun at me.”
Lia sighs–Which you don’t appreciate at all but you stay silent. “Y/n, this is different.”
“How!” You exclaim, covering your face in shame.
“It’s different that you’re in completely different moods. Obviously he might tease you about something when you’re in a good mood. But when you’re fucking bawling your eyes out–anyone would get the hint that you probably shouldn’t joke around about stuff like that.” She argues, and you don’t want to agree, but her point makes sense.
You shake your head anyways, “But it’s Heeseung we’re talking about here! The guy who laughed at me when I started crying at the dinner table years ago.”
Miyeon chips in, “Yeah–years ago, he’s not going to be the same immature boy he was in seventh grade! And I’ve talked to him a couple times, he’s so nice. I don’t know why you hate him so much.”
Groaning, you’re annoyed by how they don’t understand your perspective.
Heeseung, from all the years you’ve known him. He’s been this snarky boy who’s always acted like the perfect boy to everyone else. You can’t help but feel jealous of him because everyone likes him. He’s perfect for everyone. Smart, funny, handsome. All the good qualities a person could have.
And you can’t stand it.
You’ve seen through his facade since the first day you met to now. And it’s left you wondering if he was just a good actor or he’s a sweet angel to everyone but you.
But you couldn’t care less. You hate him, end of story. Nothing will ever change that.
“I don’t think I can ever face him again.” You admit. You’re so embarrassed. So embarrassed that he was the only person who had ever seen you in such a vulnerable state.
“Y/n don’t be dramatic” Miyeon sighs.
“I’m not!”
Furrowing their eyebrows, they both give each other a look. As if they were communicating through their brains and they had blocked you out.
“What? Why are you looking at each other like that?” You exclaim. Brushing your hair behind your ears, your mouth transforms into a scowl.
Lia has a cheeky smile on her face, “I mean, if you hate him so much, why did you call him? Out of anyone you could’ve called?”
You scoff, “You think I have friends? Who else would I have called?”
“I thought you said earlier that you didn’t hesitate to call him though? Why would he be your first choice if he was the bane of your existence?”
You can’t think of an answer for that. And you have no idea why.
HEESEUNG ALMOST THOUGHT IT WAS A DREAM.
He knew you didn’t like him, or he thought he knew. So why did you seem so ready to open up? Or didn’t mind the amount of touch he had done or the amount of care he had provided? Heeseung was lost. So lost.
He kept telling himself, You were drunk or You had no idea what you were doing. But something inside him, a creeping feeling he had had told him that it wasn’t true. And that he was some sort of comfort to you.
Heeseung could almost smile at the thought. Being the first person you would call for anything, not even just comfort. If something had happened like you had seen a cute cat on the street or you tripped on a rock. He would want to be the first to know.
He had been in love with you since you had met. He tried his best to help you out but it always resulted in failure. He wasn’t sure why, or what he did. But he seemed to keep messing up, because you had never forgiven him.
Your parents had never lost contact with each other, but after that first encounter you had never seemed to talk to him again. Or any interactions would end up in dirty looks or straight up arguments.
It’s a shame that he’s so hopelessly in love with you. He didn’t know it when you had first met but one day it shined upon him and brought light to his day. He loved your warm smile when you were with your friends, that face you make whenever you’re focused on something, your stubbornness and refusal to take help (especially from him), and how you speak your mind whenever.
How long could you hold grudges?
It worried him. Because Heeseung just loves you. And everyday it had been itching him to say something, but his fear of rejection–which he knew would happen–would remove his hopes of ever even having a normal relationship–even a friendship with you.
When you had called him that night, he thought he was reading your name wrong.
Then when he had rubbed his eyes countless times he answered the phone.
Answering the phone, his first reaction was to tease you. Why would you be calling him in the middle of the night?
He definitely did not expect to hear you sobbing your eyes out. And before he knew it, running his ass off trying to get to his car as fast as possible. To get to you as fast as possible.
He didn’t tell you that he had his friends over that night.
The relief he had felt when he had finally reached you couldn’t be expressed in any form. The warmth he felt when hugging you had made his heart beat so fast he thought he was going to die.
When he wiped away your tears he felt like he was dying, it was too intimate, and as happy as he was that he was there to comfort you. He knew that you would regret it the day after.
“Do you think she meant it?” Heeseung asks. Voicing the thought that had been taking over his mind for hours and hours.
“I mean,” Jake answers, “Drunk words are sober thoughts?”
Heeseung sighs.
“If she’s sorry that means she doesn’t hate you, right? Because she feels bad?” Jay adds, giving Heeseungs shoulder a slap of reassurance.
“Heeseung you’re crazy for leaving your friends who’re sleeping over at your house. I expect an apology with tears next time.” Sunghoon rolls his eyes.
“Hey I came back didn’t I?” He argues, crossing his arms.
Sunghoon raises an eyebrow. “Apology with tears.”
Heeseung thinks he hates Sunghoon more than you hate him.
YOUR PACKAGE WAS SUPPOSED TO ARRIVE TODAY.
You had run to check the mailbox immediately after school, unlocking the key you were supposed to see a small package containing the lip tints you had bought two weeks ago, only to be disappointed when you were met with a sea of envelopes.
Rolling your eyes at the sight you walked back to your house, with a head full of disappointment
It was hard to focus on your homework when you were checking your phone for any updates on if it had arrived at your home or not.
And you were getting frustrated to see the only notifications you had were from your social media.
That is until you checked your phone the fifteenth time, and you heard the doorbell ring.
Running down the stairs, “I’ll get it!” You yell, unlocking the door.
Your package was being held by someone.
Your package was being held by Heeseung.
Heeseung was at your door. Holding your package.
“Hey Y/n! Can we come in?” Ms. Lee asks.
You snap out of your daze, “Yeah of course!” Moving to the side for them to walk in, “Sorry I didn’t know you guys were coming.”
Heeseung waves at you awkwardly and you can’t find it in you to wave back. Snatching the package from your hands you walk them to the living room. Then when you were out of focus, you bolted to your room.
Catching your breath you rip open the bag. Feeling excitement bubble inside you when you see the packaging you’ve been waiting for for weeks.
Trying on all the colors you bought, you’re pleasantly surprised to see that all of them look good on you.
Lifting the gloss with a squeal, you put them all safely on your desk, to be used another day.
Looking in the mirror at yourself you realize how not-pretty you look. You quickly curl your lashes slightly, and brush through the tangled and messed parts of your hair so you don’t look like a total mess in front of the guests at your house.
You’re not sure why you care so much. It’s just Heeseung and his family for god sakes. But you can’t help but put a dot of tint on your lips. You don’t want to look bad in front of the guy you hated so much?
You can’t believe he hasn’t mentioned the party in front of you yet. Instead he looks at you with pitiful eyes like he actually cares. You hate that. You hate him. But he’s still in your house downstairs. And there's nothing you can do about it.
Walking down the stairs, you spot Heeseung in the kitchen.
You’re confused on why he’s there until you see him cutting up scallions as a finishing touch. He’s helping your parents cook?
The last time he was fine with sitting in your room. So why was he avoiding it now?
He looks up at you watching him, he lets out a breathy laugh before looking back down. Focusing on not cutting off any of his fingers.
You despise the fact that he acts like there is nothing weird between the two of you. How you hate each other yet he was your first call to comfort you. You don’t like how laid back he is about the whole situation.
But, you keep quiet. Nodding to him you walk up to your mom. Asking if she needs any assistance cooking. She shakes her head no, but asks you to set the table.
Grabbing napkins, you place them in front of each seat before grabbing utensils and bowls. Repeating the process again.
You sit in your usual spot, but you think you’ve gotten something wrong when Heeseung takes the seat right next to yours which rightfully belongs to your mom.
You look at him with a raised eyebrow and he whispers, “They wanted us to sit together for some reason.” He shrugs.
Rolling your eyes, you take a sip of water to hide the fact that your cheeks were heating up.
When everyone is sitting down and eating. You realize that you had zero appetite at all. Picking at your food, you eat at a snail's pace while everyone is eating like a cheetah's.
You pretend to eat your food while contributing in the conversation whenever you’re mentioned. You take another bite once the taste is gone from your lips.
You haven’t realized how slow you’ve been eating until you see that everyone has finished eating except you and Heeseung. They had moved on to cleaning, or watching the ongoing golf game.
You also hadn’t realized that his knees were brushing yours.
The table is silent, and awkward. Looking at him ever so often, you’re embarrassed to make eye contact with him every time. Looking away as soon as you spot his eyes looking at yours.
“Hey Y/n.” He says, attempting to break the weird tension between the two of you.
You hum in response, finally gaining the courage to look back at him.
“Are you okay? If you want to talk about the whole “Sooyun” situation I’ll listen.”
You almost choke on your food. “No, I don't want to talk about it. Sorry I called you–I guess.”
He chuckles. Chuckles. You’re cut off by the small laugh he lets out, looking at him in disbelief for laughing at your oh so vulnerable state.
Your cheeks have never felt more warm.
“You’re a pretty crier, angel.”
He walks away before you could make one of your snarky remarks back. But for some reason, all you can think of is Heeseung and his weird smirk.
YOU WEREN’T SURE IF YOU HAD GOTTEN WORSE AT PHYSICS
But it certainly felt like it. Because you’re handed a random vocab quiz that you had definitely forgotten about–Not like studying would help– and you don’t understand any of the questions.
Some of them, you get lucky and know the other answer to. But a majority of the other answers were guesses with a randomly thrown in “i don’t know! sorry :(”
Yeah you were definitely failing this class.
Taking a break from the measly black text, you look at the people around you taking the test. Trying to see if they’re struggling as much as you are. Turning your head to the right you see Heeseung working on a question two ahead of you.
Sighing to yourself he looks up at you. He turns his paper to you with a teasing smile so that you could read it.
You try to read everything you can before whipping your head back to your paper so you don't have to interact with him more.
You erase half your paper before rewriting his answers with an explanation you think makes sense.
Scribbling and hoping that you’re doing things right, you apply that same logic to the rest of the paper.
Taking a deep breath before you walk up to Ms. Nam. You’re not the first one to finish, but definitely one of the earlier ones. She gives you a pointed look before snatching your paper.
Feeling a weight added onto your shoulders, you sit back down at your seat contemplating why you’re failing such a simple class.
Maybe it’s because Robots don’t know how to teach. But that was definitely false. Because why would Tim and Moby exist?
You tried to think of the better possibilities that could come of this test. Like maybe you’re guessing actually worked and you would get anything over a 80.
Or maybe you would fail out of the class and be forever known as the girl who couldn’t pass physics-
A chuckle comes from your right, you whip your head around to see Heeseung turning his head back at his paper.
Following his line of eyes, you see the answers on his quiz that he was almost done with.
You had gotten at least half of the third page different from Heeseung’s. But maybe he got the question wrong–Who were you kidding? Heeseung would never get half the paper wrong.
Looking up at the teacher's desk, you happily discover that her line of sight was being blocked by two students still working on the quiz.
Carefully, you take your phone out and open the group chat.
you :
guys i totally BOMBED that physics test oh lord
miyeonieee :
LMFAOOO we gotta get u a tutor or something
diarlia :
shes already got a tutor iykwim…
you :
heeseung is NOT my tutor.
diarlia :
notice how i didn’t even mention heeseung
i was going to say like jake or something
yn :
oh sure u were…
miyeonieee :
oh yeah hes good at physics
kinda forgot about him LOLL
you :
i can’t ask him to be my tutor i dont even know the guy
miyeonieee :
hes one of heeseungs bffs girl what
you :
its not like i keep a roster on him hello
diarlia :
you don’t need to cause you think of him 24/7 AYYYY
you :
girl stfu no i dont
You close the group chat.
Looking up from your phone you notice Heeseung turning his paper in, he turns back—locking eyes with you.
Time seems to still, just for a moment. You give him a dirty look, and he returns it with a small smile. When he sits down in his seat, his attention elsewhere is when you smile back. You don’t realize it for a few seconds, but when you do, you drop it completely.
You don’t know why but you’re starting to think you’re being too mean to Heeseung.
TODAY YOU’RE SKIPPING DINNER WITH THE LEE’S
You weren’t sure why you hadn’t thought of it before. But as you walked into the library, you felt a sense of relief.
It’s not like you hated having them over, you just hated having him over. They used to be rare dinners, where you and Heeseung would only talk if absolutely necessary. And you were fine with keeping it that way. But your mother and his had different plans, because it’s apparent that they had become super close again.
Dinners used to be once every few months, but recently it has become once every few weeks, sometimes even two weeks in a row.
Which meant that Heeseung would be staying in your room for a few hours every few weeks. And it felt weird.
It was new. A change that you couldn’t force yourself to like.
So you ran away.
Just for a little bit of course. Until they stopped coming over, and Heeseung stopped hanging out in your room.
You had gone to the library to study. Maybe even read a textbook to understand a single thing about anything you were learning about Physics. Because it took you all your power to ask Heeseung for help, and it left you none to actually consume the knowledge he was giving you.
Today you decided that you were done asking for Heeseung’s help.
Scanning the library for different sections, you realize that you weren’t sure why you had never thought of studying at the library. The warm hues and the comforting sight of organization had never felt more pleasant. Finding a deserted seat you set your stuff down. Pulling out materials you would need.
After organizing your notebook and pencils, you mindlessly walk through each aisle. Postponing the actual study session.
The library is eerily quiet today. Though all libraries are meant to be quiet, there seems to be no pen clicking or keyboard clicking sounds.
You then realize that the library is filled with only a handful of people. And they’re all spread out throughout the room.
Walking in the aisle that you were supposed to look for, your eyes catch sight at the couple at the end of the aisle.
No, it’s not a couple. You then recognize that it’s Heeseung. The man who had made you ditch dinner at your house had also decided to be at the library today. You curse yourself for your bad luck.
Your eyes trail to the girl next to him. Too close to him for comfort. She looks up from the textbook to whisper something softly to him. Her hand touches his arms as they’re laughing. But Heeseung tenses up.
Wait.
That’s Sooyun.
Heeseung was with Sooyun at the library.
Sooyun was flirting with Heeseung.
Your Heeseung.
And what seems like the worst timing possible, you spot the textbook you were looking for. Right at the end of the aisle, right in front of Heeseung and Sooyun.
They haven’t noticed you yet, so slowly walking–careful not to make any noise. You dip down to the bottom shelf. Pulling out the textbook you need.
Okay all you have to do is stand back up and walk away and you’re good-
“Oh hey Y/n!” May Zeus strike you down–
Whipping your head back to Heeseung’s cheering voice, you strain a small smile, waving at him.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at dinner?” He asks.
“Why aren’t you at dinner?’ You retort, standing up from your squat.
He chuckles, “Tutoring, remember?” He gestures to Sooyun who gives you a smile–a bitchy one that’s for sure.
Fuck, you forgot he had tutoring.
“Right.” You nod, you’re about to depart when Sooyun cuts you off.
“Hey Y/n you get that stain out of your skirt yet? It’s really too bad that skirt was white, huh?” She laughs.
You’re not sure how to respond. You seem to be going blank a lot these days. You aren’t sure whether it’d be a good idea to punch her–which you want to do. Or if you should walk away like a civilized person.
“Don’t run out and start crying, Y/n! It was just a joke!” She continues. Feigning innocence.
She saw you crying. She saw you run out and start crying. Gosh it’s not like that night could get any worse. You’re sure Heeseung would step up to defend you, I mean–he heard your rant, and he even took the initiative to comfort you and get you ready for bed.
That’s until you hear a chuckle.
Heeseung just laughed at her joke.
Your shame soon turns into frustration. How could he just laugh along like you weren’t sobbing your eyes out to him literally minutes after?
Heeseung says something but you just miss it. Though it seems to be directed to Sooyun with a smile on his face.
“Shut the fuck up, Sooyun. Leave me alone.”
Before you know it you’ve turned and started walking back to your seat. You’re surprised your body remembered to bring your textbook with you. Because your mind was still processing the situation.
Sure, it was obvious Sooyun was going to bite back somehow. But watching Heeseung laugh along with her jokes hurts. And you don’t know why.
It’s obviously something he would do.
But for a second, you thought he had changed. You thought that he was turning a new leaf instead of the little boy who found joy in you knowing that he was smarter than you, but it turns out, nothing had changed at all.
You still hate that little boy version of him. And you still hate him now.
Though you had never liked the boy, disappointment blooms inside you. Catching you off guard like a lightning bolt, waiting to strike.
It’s an hour later when you decide to pack up and go home.
You had told your mom two hours at least–that this time you would actually look into the work for once. But that scene replayed in your mind like a broken cd. It took over your thoughts, making you rethink everything you thought you knew about him.
It’s made you realize that you don’t feel disappointed. You feel betrayed. You feel betrayed that he laughed at a joke at your expense.
It doesn’t make sense to you, why were you feeling betrayed anyways? You didn’t even like the boy.
Maybe you were being dramatic, maybe you were thinking about it too hard, maybe he forgot your rant to him.
Or maybe he only felt pity for you after the party.
You didn’t want to be pitied. You didn’t want to be pitied by him. So you did what you should’ve done–at least–twenty minutes ago, and left.
Driving home, you blast the music to cover your overwhelming thoughts. Turning into your driveway, you stop the car. Slamming the door too hard on your way out, you wince at the sound.
Walking in, you begrudgingly wave to everyone at the table, avoiding eye contact with your mom before you run upstairs to your room.
You didn’t want to cry about something so stupid. That would just be proving Sooyun’s point. So instead, you laid down in your bed, and slept.
HEESEUNG HADN’T SEEN YOU IN THE HALLS THE DAY AFTER.
His eyes scanned everyone that walked past his friend group–he was listening to the conversation of course–but it was a little obvious that he was preoccupied.
“Heeseung?”
Fuck.
“Sorry, what did you say?” He asks. Eyes off the few people passing them but now on Jake’s.
He rolls his eyes, which Heeseung kind of deserves, then says, “How was your tutoring session with Sooyun? Hope she didn’t badly flirt with you like she did with all of her other math tutors.”
His eyebrows furrow, “No I don’t think she did. Just a little too friendly I think.”
“She definitely was, I don’t even need to see you two to know,” Sunghoon says, “He was too busy thinking of Y/n anyways.”
His eyes widened as his head whipped towards Sunghoon. He felt his cheeks heat up at his comment. He was thinking of you during the tutor session, but that was beside the point!
That’s when he sees you. Your hair was perfectly down, and you were carrying your physics book. Heading to–what he assumed was–your shared first period.
You pass by him, eyes following yours, he waves. But, you don’t wave back–which he was accustomed to even if you rolled your eyes right after–instead, you turn your head away with a disgusted look on your face. Almost like you’re embarrassed that he was waving to you.
He gets nudged by Jay and that snaps him back to life. Jay teases him but his eyes are still following yours, watching you turn the corner and escape his view.
“I thought you were on good terms?” Jake asks, eyes gesturing to the spot you had just left.
“What?”
Jake looks around, “She looked kind of mad at you.”
“I don’t know what I did, maybe she’s still embarrassed about the party.” He sighs, rubbing his temple.
Heeseung can usually tell what most people are thinking. He has labeled himself as an observant person in his mind. But with all three of his friends staring at him like he was an alien. He definitely knew there was something he wasn’t getting.
He puts his hand down. Raising his eyebrows instead, “Why are you all looking at me weird?”
Jay’s mouth parts slightly, and Heeseung swears he sees a fly run in. “Dude—You’re saying you saw Y/n at the library?”
“Yes? What about it?”
“And you’re wondering why she’s avoiding you?”
“Is it because she thought she looked bad? Because if it’s that then she’s wrong because she looked-“
“Heeseung. You’re really making it obvious you’ve never talked to a woman before.” Jake buts in.
He was totally lost now.
“Heeseung.” Sunghoon starts, “Who do you think you were tutoring?”
“Oh shit.”
Heeseung was stupid—apparently. Because even though he swears he’s an observant person, he didn't notice how ignorant he was.
Another problem, he doesn’t know how to approach you and explain himself.
He watches as you sit down next to him, not even glancing at him before you put your head down
Pushing his glasses back, he forces himself to look up at the board.
Well—he tries. But his eyes keep lingering to you, who might just be the most gorgeous person to ever exist.
He raises his hand to answer a question Ms. Nam asks. He gets it right as always, but he doesn’t see you roll your eyes at him. Which nudges him in the wrong way.
Ms. Nam gives out a digital assignment, which he loves but you can’t seem to be bothered to do it.
He’s halfway through the assignment when he sees you pull out your laptop, clicking random keys to turn it on.
It’s almost dead. He watches as you search your backpack for a charger, only to be disappointed when you don’t have one.
“I have a charger, if you want to use it.”
Heeseung waits almost anxiously for your reply. Unzipping the compartment already before you answer.
“No.”
He doesn’t know how to react. He’s nervous to be around you when you’re upset–and in general–so he chuckles. Horrible timing—like always but he does that when he’s anxious.
“Okay, let me know if you need one.” He says, trying to offer a warm smile, in hopes of you returning one.
“I don’t. Leave me alone.” You don’t even spare him a glance.
He knows you’ll be annoyed. But he would never want to leave you alone—or avoid you, he wouldn’t even dream of it.
“I JUST—CAN’T BELIEVE HE LAUGHED!”
Yes—you were still upset. You had been avoiding him all day because you couldn’t even think about snapping about him. You would feel so guilty.
You were good at holding grudges. Why you hated Heeseung for so long was because a stupid grudge from when you were seven. You had always held little things against Heeseung for years on end. And it had built into this void of hatred for you.
But for some reason, you don’t think this grudge will last long.
“What an asshole. Next time I see him you’ll have to hold me back.” Lia says.
You let out a breathy laugh, taking a chip from the bag in front of you.
The salty flavor sits on your tongue for a few seconds, you chew it, swallowing it as you take another from the bag. You think at the rate you’re all eating at you’ll finish the bag of chips in five minutes.
Miyeon swallows her chip, rubbing her greasy hand on a napkin when she says, “So why are you upset? I thought you didn’t like either of them.”
“I do!”
“So why would them–hanging out together be a problem?”
You sigh, “I don’t know! It just irks me the wrong way–Plus he laughed at her joke! Even though he knows that I was super upset that day.”
You’re not sure why it bugs you so much. You tried to convince yourself that it’s because two people you didn’t like were hanging out and flirting. But you knew that wasn’t it.
You knew that you were so hurt by Heeseung for laughing more than you were by Sooyun for making that joke because that’s how Sooyun is. She tries to drag people down whenever she’s not given everyone's attention, then she acts like the nicest girl to exist when it is. You were foolish enough to fall for it, but you didn’t think Heeseung would be.
Heeseung is smart. There's no point in denying it. Heeseung is a genius. When he tries to be–And he flaunts it. So him falling easily for such a simple facade had you questioning everything you knew about him.
You thought he hated you. As much as you hated him. You thought he only approached you to annoy you just like the day you met. After you had called him crying you thought he had a change of heart, or maybe he actually didn’t hate you all this time.
It was obvious that out of the two of you, that you were the less smart one. But after being manipulated by your ex best friend so many times. You thought you could tell the difference between a real–genuine interaction or a fake one.
Turns out you were just as stupid as you thought.
“Y/n if you hate him because he’s rude, why would he offer to tutor you? Or he picked you up after the party and got you ready for bed? Or even the time he helped you with your homework? Why would he do that if he was such an evil person who hated you?”
“I don’t know. He’s weird.”
“Y/n.” Lia huffs, “Why would he be doing these things even though you’ve been rude to him?”
“I don’t know! What are you trying to say?”
“Y/n. The boy likes you.”
You snort, “That’s not funny.”
“I didn’t make any jokes.” Lia deadpans.
Your head spirals trying to process the new information. He loves to annoy you–why would he want to annoy you if he liked you?
You try to think of every interaction you’ve ever had. Racking your brain on how this could even be a possibility. This is Heeseung. The same guy who would look at you weird when you were passing by.
Wait. He stared at you weirdly. But it wasn’t a death glare. You didn’t know what it was. But you swear you could feel imaginary puzzle pieces together, as you come to conclude.
“That makes sense.”
And it really does make sense. But something in you doesn’t want to admit the fact you don’t think he could ever like someone like you.
“It does, doesn’t it? Now what do you think of that?” Miyeon asks, eating two chips in one bite.
You don’t know how to think about it. You don’t know how to feel about it. It’s impossible for something so small to make it feel like your world has been flipped upside down. But it seems to happen a lot recently.
The weirdest thing about this whole situation is that you don’t seem to mind. In fact, the idea of him liking you brings warmth to your chest. Like the warmth you felt when you were hugging him. Or the racing of your heart whenever you think about him.
“Oh my god.”
The room stops, just for a second before you continue.
“I like him.” You say.
The words sound foreign to you. Like you’re trying to speak a new language with no idea of what you’re saying.
But weirdly, you aren’t annoyed by the idea of you liking him and him liking you back. You actually think you like the idea of that.
Just as you had expected, you ran out of snacks after talking about Heeseung for the next thirty minutes. But you didn’t mind.
You actually liked talking about your feelings to them, it was something different that you had never experienced. Giggling over boys and talking about what they did or something you found weird, it was fun, something you had never done before but you couldn’t wait to do again.
Eventually, you had run out of the party sized bag of chips–that were half empty anyways so you didn’t really eat much–and much to your dismay, you had lost the rock-paper-scissors battle. Meaning you had to run to the grocery store to get more snacks.
They had given you a list to go off of. Arizona tea and a bag of barbecue chips for Lia, Hot Cheetos for Miyeon, and some snacks for yourself.
You didn’t mind driving to the convenience store nearby. It had given you a twenty break alone to recharge for a bit, since they were probably staying the whole day.
Pulling in the parking lot, you back into a space. Shifting gears, you park the car. Walking out and closing the door, you press a button on your key. Hearing the familiar beep that locks your car you push open the doors.
As you walk in, the cashier greets you. You awkwardly wave back, heading straight toward the chip aisle. You scan the columns for the familiar bags before you see someone else in the aisle.
You spot a bag of Hot Cheetos and reach up to grab it. Your hand reaches for it but you find another’s reaching for it too. Your eyes widen at the sight of him.
Why does the universe keep making you bump into him at the worst times?
“Y/n! Hey!”
A period goes by where you're just staring at each other, wide eyed. But you seem to bring yourself together quicker, snatching the bag of chips before he could get them.
“Hi.” You respond flatly, passing by him to get the chips you had wanted, and Lia’s barbecue chips.
Even though you’ve come to terms with your true feelings, it’s embarrassing how often you’ve missed seeing him these past few days. The grudge in you still sticks in the back of your mind, you watch as the same scene replays every minute you have of quiet. But you still don’t know why he would do something like that. Or why he was so nice to you these past days.
“Can we talk?”
You’re squatting on the floor trying to get the bag when he says that. You look up at him, “No, I really don’t want to.”
Quickly standing up, you walk away from him, walking to the cashier instead.
You pass by the drink aisle, and you see your reflection. You can feel your face heat up at how you look right now. Your hair was down but you could tell it was a little greasy, you had no makeup on–mostly because you didn’t think you’d see anyone here–and some old pink hello kitty pajama pants that you had definitely gotten when you were younger.
Walking to the end of the aisle, you sigh. This was not how you would imagine you looking when you saw him again.
Not that you had been imagining the scenario a million times over.
And not because you hoped that he would beg for forgiveness and you would reject him.
“Y/n, I really want to talk to you please.” He’s walking after you, and fast.
Turns out you were a very weak girl.
You stop, turning around, “Fine, but can we not talk about this here? I’m trying to get food.”
“I’ll wait for you outside?”
He hands you his card, and you raise an eyebrow at him.
“Let me pay for it.”
You think you’re going to die.
“Yeah, whatever.” Taking the card from his hand, you watch him walk away.
You don’t think you can face him. This time, for opposite reasons than before. You like Heeseung, but you still remember him getting all buddy-buddy with the bane of your existence. But you’re not sure if you’ll be able to remember that when you’re face to face.
The possibilities of this conversation scares you–so you take your time in the store, picking out an extra snack for your home.
You begrudgingly walk up to the cashier, using his card, you insert it into the machine. Following the directions on the screen you take your receipt, walking out with your bag in hand.
Walking to the door, you try to walk as slowly as possible, to try to prevent the situation as much as possible.
You soon find yourself face to face with him. Nothing seems to be coming out of your mouth, so the conversation stays silent.
He says, “I’m sorry.”
“What?”
You’re shocked. This was not how you expected the conversation would go. You’re speechless also, your mouth is slightly agape and you’re looking at him like you’ve seen a ghost.
“I’m sorry for being with Sooyun-Not together like that but I don’t want to tutor her–but I had to tutor her. Her family paid me really well and I’ve been trying to make some extra money to help out my parents–for college.”
Oh.
Your cheeks turn pink at his explanation. A pit continues to grow in your stomach while he keeps and keeps explaining himself–like he had done something so wrong even if it was for his college funding, when you seemed to be misunderstanding the situation this whole time.
“Y/n I’m so, so sorry–”
“Heeseung.”
“Yes?”
“I forgive you.” You were a weak girl anyways, “But, why did you laugh at her joke? I thought you would understand if anything.”
“I laugh when I’m nervous, I don't know how to respond–or how to defend you–and I got so nervous on what to say, I laughed. But I told her to stop but she didn’t listen. I didn’t mean to, I swear but it’s just a habit I need to get rid of. But I wasn’t trying to make fun of you I actually think you’re really cool and I don’t want you avoiding me-”
Oh god, how did you not notice that about him? The amount of times he’s laughed at weird times around you were too many to count. You’ve known him for more than half of your life, but you didn’t even notice this about him?
“I’m sorry–Oh my gosh.” You cut him off, this time, he’s surprised.
“I didn’t even–I totally misunderstood this situation and blamed it on you. I should be the one apologizing, I’ve been so rude to you all these years-”
“Y/n it’s okay.”
“No–It’s not okay. I’ve been such a bad person to you–”
Before you can even process anything, he pulls you into a hug. He lays his head on top of yours and you can feel yourself freeze.
“Don’t apologize, please. It’s not your fault.”
It definitely was, but you listen to him anyway.
You slowly relax, wrapping your arms around his neck. You squeeze him tighter, muttering apologies into his ear.
This time, you don’t have to be drunk to admit it. But when you hug Heeseung, he’s warm, a warmth like the summer sun you can’t help but bask in.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUTSIDE MY HOUSE?”
The cold air of the morning catches you off guard. The grass outside your house is frosted white, so are every roof in your neighborhood.
You close the front door, about to walk to your bus stop when you see a familiar car outside your house. With a familiar face outside of it.
“I wanted to pick you up–It’s cold.”
“I have a jacket.”
“Y/n–just let me drive you to school.”
You roll your eyes playfully, following him as he opens your car door, letting you sit down before he closes it.
The car is warm, and he’s already had the seat warmed up for you. No words are exchanged between the two of you when he pulls out of your driveway. You both listen to the quiet music that he was listening to.
You close your eyes and lean back into the chair, Trying to get back the sleep you had missed the night before.
“Tired?” He asks, his voice is barely above a whisper. But you can still hear the smile in his voice.
You chuckle, opening your eyes–you answer, “I couldn’t sleep last night.”
“I really couldn't either.”
You both know you both stayed up replaying that scene over and over. But you decided it would be best left unsaid, to wait for another day to unpack it.
When you get to school you open the door for yourself. Feeling the cold air wash over you. Taking a deep breath in the crisp air your breath comes out white. You blow out to see the white again.
Heeseung laughs at the sight, noticing his visible breath himself.
You two walk to the school doors from his parking spot. Your hand brushes and you’re quick to apologize.
He doesn’t respond, instead he takes your hand in his, interlocking each finger.
Your cheeks turn pink which if he points out–you’ll blame it on the cold weather.
“Can I come over saturday?”
“What?” God he was bold.
“I have a surprise for you.”
You frown, “I didn’t get you anything.”
“I know, it just reminded me of you.”
“I knew you were obsessed with me” You smile, but Heeseung doesn’t deny it.
He pushes open the door for you two, and you feel a wave of warm air. Which you really needed.
“I think your friends are waiting for you.” He points out, gesturing to your friends at your locker, where you usually meet in the morning.
“It’s okay, they can last one morning without me,” You squeeze his hand, but he shakes his head.
“No, go to your friends, I’ll see you in first period, Angel.” He gives you a teasing smirk, squeezing your hand one more time before walking to his friends.
Your eyes follow him, stuck in your position for a few seconds before realizing that you looked stupid standing in the middle of the hallway. You walk up to your friends, greeting them. They start pushing you around, teasing you for coming to school with him.
You aren’t paying attention though, because your eyes catch onto Heeseung and he chuckles, eyebrows raising at you.
You raise yours before your mouth cracks into a smile.
PRESSING THE DOORBELL HE WAITS PATIENTLY OUTSIDE YOUR HOME.
He’s been to your house thousands of times in the past few months. But today he’s extra nervous.
Maybe because he isn’t forced to come here, and you actually tolerate him this time. Either way, Heeseung is nervous.
The sound of the door opening brings him back to life, he’s met by your mother.
“Oh Heeseung! I didn’t know you’d be here today–Is your family coming over? It must’ve slipped my mind!”
He lets out a breathy laugh, “No ma’am. I’m here to see Y/n, is she here?” Pushing up his glasses, he waits anxiously for her answer.
“Oh of course she is!” She welcomes him in, patting his back as he takes off his shoes, “She’s just in her room.”
“Thank you,” He says, gripping the paper bag tight in his hands.
As he walks up the stairs he can feel his nervousness start to get to him. His breaths get shorter and his heart starts beating a few tempos too fast. What if you hated the present?
Taking a deep breath. He clears his mind, knocking on the door saying, “It’s Heeseung, can I come in?”
There's a small moment of silence that follows. You didn’t think he would actually come today.
“Come in!” You yell, he opens the door to see you snuggly tucked into your bed. you quickly sit up, letting a small smile grow on your face.
You internally pat yourself on the back for making sure you looked nice–but not too nice for a random day at home in the case he actually did come. Your eyes catch onto the brown paper bag behind him, but you don’t question it.
He hides the paper bag behind his legs, “Aren’t you going to ask what your surprise is?”
You laugh, “I didn’t think you were being serious.”
“Of course I was.”
Tapping the edge of your bed, you gesture for him to sit down, which he does. Before placing the bag in front of you.
“Can I look inside?”
“That was kind of the point–”
His sentence is cut off by your gasp. You pull out the box to reveal Lego orchids.
“Seung, are you serious?” You exclaim, admiring the lego orchids that he had bought you
Seung.
His cheeks turn pink, “I saw it at the store and I thought of you–Remember when we first met how we bonded over legos? That’s why I got them for you–If you don’t like them it’s ok. I can still retu–”
He stops working when you kiss him on the cheek, hugging him like it’s his last second on earth. “I love it so much–Though I wouldn’t say we bonded over legos.”
Heeseung isn’t sure what you mean, eyes furrowing when he sees your smile. But he doesn’t question it.
He watches intently as you open the box carefully, taking out each bag before reading the directions. Heeseung notices how you furrowed your brows trying to figure out what to do, or how you would tap his shoulder and show him the case if you wanted help.
It had been around a week since you had talked at the convenience store, and Heeseung thinks that was one of the best moments of his life. Recently, you two have grown much closer and Heeseung likes it. Heeseung loves it. Heeseung loves how you can hug each other and touch each other without it being weird, Heeseung loves how he can be around you without it being weird, Heeseung loves being around you, and he’s unsure why it’s taken you two so long to be like this.
Heeseung watches you quietly, but he doesn’t take his eyes off you, Like you’re a light leading him through a dark maze. He knows you notice his obvious staring, but neither you or him say anything.
Whenever you’re together, Heeseung notices that it’s quiet. Not like it’s a bad thing. He thinks it’s like a breath of fresh air. Hanging around someone where even if you don’t talk you enjoy eachothers company.
A strand of hair behind your ear falls into your face. Though you’re too focused on the legos to even think of it. Heeseung reaches his hand out, gently putting it behind your ear.
You look up and smile at him, and he smiles back.
The fan in your room blows softly in the back, creating white noise that fills the silence. Heeseung likes the white noise, but he likes your voice even more.
“Heeseung?”
“Yes, angel?”
“Why are you so nice to me?”
Again, Heeseung isn’t sure what you mean. This time, he questions it.
“What do you mean?”
You look at him with a soft frown–God he loves your lips.
“I mean–I’ve been nothing but mean to you all these years, right? But you still offered to tutor me and do all of this stuff for me, so–why?”
Fuck.
“Why not?” He chuckles, hoping that you’ll leave the topic alone.
“That’s not an answer, Seung.”
He knows it’s not an answer. But he offered to tutor him just so he could spend time with you–the girl he’s in love with. He doesn’t think he’s ready to tell you that–Turns out his mouth speaks before his head thinks.
“Because I’m in love with you.”
Your heart skips a beat.
Your frown deepens–He wish he could kiss it away–
“I’m being serious, Seung. Don’t mess around like that.”
He pushes his hair back, “I’m being serious too, Y/n. I've been in love with you–Hopelessly in love, since the day we met.”
Your mouth drops in shock, you don’t respond, so he continues.
“Remember when I said your mom asked me to tutor you in physics? That was a lie–She didn’t ask me to do anything. I noticed that you were struggling a little bit and I thought that if I could spend more time with you–and help you, then you would start to like me. Or even just tolerate me.”
“I don’t know what I did to make you dislike me, but for what it’s worth I’m sorry. You can get your revenge on me by slapping me in the face right now, but I really really want to be your boyfriend.”
The unsaid words in you can’t seem to come out. You can feel your heart beating out of your chest. Did you hear him wrong? Something in you can’t comprehend that Heeseung likes you. Since the day you met. Your mind races with possibilities trying to convince yourself that this isn’t true. But when you finally look up at him, you can see a small chuckle fall from his lips.
“It’s okay if you want to ignore that and pretend it didn’t happen–I get it.”
Heeseung tries to bring a smile to his face but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
You don’t know what to do. You can’t think of what would be a good response to this. So you let your heart take over, leaning in to capture a kiss on his lips.
His lips are soft. but he’s obviously startled. It takes a second before he melts into the kiss. He cups your face with his right hand, making your stomach erupt into butterflies–or erupt in itself, you couldn’t tell anymore.
You place your hand on his chest as he deepens the kiss. You feel sparks flying around you, like a firework show. It’s euphoric and so addicting you don’t want to pull away.
The smell of his cologne made you feel dizzy, the husky scent makes you yearn for more.
Heeseung pulls away first, catching his breath as you catch yours. Exchanging shy smiles while trying to get your heart to calm down.
“Was that okay?” You ask, nervously tucking your hair behind your ears.
“More than okay.”
Your smile grows into a toothy one, letting out a breathy smile you can feel your cheeks heat up.
“Was that a yes?” He asks.
“To what?”
“Me–being your boyfriend.”
And with a teasing smile, you answer, “Yeah–Okay.”
WHEN YOU PARTED WAYS WITH HEESEUNG THIS WAS NOT THE PERSON YOU EXPECTED TO BE STANDING AT YOUR LOCKER.
Every morning it was the same–or for the past week or two it has been. Get ready for school, go outside and make sure Heeseung was driving you, get picked up and leave for school, part ways with Heeseung once you get there–since you’re meeting in first period anyways, then talk to Miyeon and Lia at your locker.
But when you got to your locker, you noticed that the hall was weirdly empty today. Weird.
On rare occasions they’re both very late–which is once a week–you sit by your locker waiting on your phone until they come, or until it’s time to go to class.
This was not the case today, because someone was blocking your locker.
You recognized the back of her head immediately, walking up beside her you say, “Can you move? I need to use my locker.”
It seems like Sooyun is starting to like your attention. Every incident between the two of you she has instigated. Maybe she has a crush on you and is bitter that you’re dating Heeseung.
Whatever it is–you hope she gets the hint and leaves you alone. Which might be impossible considering the situations you keep getting yourself in.
She looks up at you annoyed that it was her locker you were standing in front of.
You try to mentally prepare yourself for whatever she’s about to say. Until she says, “I pity you.”
Okay, definitely not the worst thing she’s come up with–but pretty bad.
“Okay? Move.” And surprisingly she takes a step back, giving you enough space to open your locker and accidentally elbow her in the process.
“Aww” You want to vomit when you feel her rubbing your arm, “Y/n don’t be sad that I took Heeseung from you–You know he would never like you anyways.”
You try not to burst out into laughter.
Shaking her hand off you, you continue to take out your books, closing your locker. You try not to look at her but end up giving her a quick glance which she notices.
“It’s okay Y/n! I’ll take care of him for you.” She feigns innocence. But this time–it’s laughable, extremely laughable.
“Just like the multiple guys you took care of when you had a boyfriend, right?”
It comes out of your mouth before you can even realize it–And you swear you can hear someone gasp a few lockers down, but you don’t see who it is.
Guilt immediately takes over you when she stays silent for a few seconds. She looks at you once more and you swear you can see a hint of sadness behind her eyes. One that she doesn’t show but is still obviously there.
Slap!
You wince at her hand, hoping that she misses really badly and embarrasses herself too. You immediately change your mind about feeling guilty. Because did she just try to slap you? And why did you hear the sound but not feel it? You’re starting to think she did miss really badly–because you feel fine.
Opening your eyes, you put your hand to your cheek, you massage it–trying to make sure that you actually weren’t slapped until you see a hand, stopping her midway.
Looking behind you, you see Heeseung, once again–your savior from the devil herself. He quickly throws off her hand, turning to you with a smile.
“Heeseung!” She whines, “Y/n was being so rude!” Suddenly, her voice becomes two pitches higher–which makes you want to vomit.
You roll your eyes. Then your eyes catch a group of boys weirdly positioned near your locker–wait a minute. Those are Heeseung’s friends. Jay, James and Sungwoo–You think. You hear one of them chuckle at your situation.
You don’t blame them for eavesdropping. But they aren’t necessarily good at it. You had heard one of them gasp earlier. Giving them a death glare, you turn back to your current situation.
Heeseung is frustrated at her–and it’s kind of hot–he’s glaring daggers like you’ve never seen before. But somehow he speaks calmly. Though he’s also firm with his words when he says, “Leave Y/n and me alone. You’re annoying both of us.”
Elbowing him, you whisper, “Heeseung I don’t think that’s going to work.”
He looks at you, face immediately contorting to a softer expression. “Just trust me.” He whispers back, and you nod.
You honestly didn’t think it would work–no offense to him. If you said that to Sooyun then she would’ve definitely tried to slap you again or something. But she stays weirdly silent. Muttering a small whatever and walking away to god who knows where.
Though you were pleasantly surprised it drove her away–you forgot to realize that Heeseung is smart. He knows how to work his way through conversations–when he’s not talking to the girl he likes–and get the outcome he wants.
You’ve watched him persuade Ms. Nam–who by the way, is as stubborn as a rock–to lift his grade up a few points for his “excellent participation skills” and his “ability to help others pass''. Which were true. But even if he was Isaac Newton you still didn’t think that Ms. Nam would agree.
“Gosh we just parted ways, are you obsessed with me?” You tease, feeling how he wraps an arm around your waist.
“I might be.”
Chuckling, you snuggle your head into the dip between his neck and shoulder. Quickly lifting your head up to look at Heeseung’s friends. You wave goodbye to them as you two walk to your first period.
On the way, you pass one of the entrances to spot Miyeon, coming in absolutely drenched. As you're about to go up to her the bell rings, making the hallways fill up with people trying to get to their class.
Luckily, you two make eye contact. You raise an eyebrow addressing her situation. In return, she laughs, showing her ripped umbrella.
Laughing to yourself, Heeseung looks at you with confused eyes. Telling him the story, he lets out a small chuckle. Telling his own story of how he broke an umbrella trying to fence Jay with it.
When you get to your first period, you take your seat next to him. You usually dreaded going to your physics class every day, but this time, you realize you don’t think you mind being in this class as much as you thought.
And after years of hatred and resentment, you feel like when you’re around him that you can finally breathe again.
6 MONTHS HAD GONE BY SINCE YOU STARTED DATING
But it seemed that every other week the Lee’s came over. It was more awkward than ever.
You can’t remember when it started, but Heeseung’s seat wasn’t across from yours. Instead, every other week that the Lee’s came over, or you went to their house–he had started to take the seat next to yours.
But as often as they visited–that didn’t stop them from making the situation awkward. For example–
“When are you guys getting married?”
You choke on your rice. Feeling Heeseung’s firm pat on your back when he lets out an awkward chuckle. “Not anytime soon–In the future. After college when we’re both situated.”
“Yeah what he said–” You choke out, drinking gulps of water to wash down the cough that's coming out.
You can hear him ask, “Are you okay?”
Looking to your left, you nod, smiling softly.
The hand that was on your back moves to squeeze your thigh. You stare at his face for just a moment longer, before turning back to the dinner table.
Together you continue to eat the food your mom has graciously made. The warm end of spring sun lays across you making the table glow a light orange.
The light makes Heeseung’s hair look a lighter brown than it usually is–And you like it a lot.
The conversation turns from your relationship to any small talk they can think of. Like the neighbor’s gossip or how someone else's daughter got accepted to Korea University which only had an 8% admission rate.
Sometimes you would butt in, giving knowledge on something they know less about or they would ask you if you knew the person. But for the most part you stayed quiet like you always did.
After you two had both finished eating, you had both been dismissed by your parents. You walk up to your room, and Heeseung follows hands interlocked with each other.
You let out a sigh of relief when you finally sit down on your bed, you lay back–tucking yourself under the blanket and you can feel a dip next to you.
Scooting closer to him, you can feel his arms wrap around you. No words are exchanged but you can hear the soft humming of the laundry machine or the tweets of the birds outside your window.
It’s not dark outside, but the sun has started to set. Casting a golden glow that peeked through your window covers.
You thought you were wide awake after dinner. but for some reason a yawn slips out of you. You close your eyes slowly.
“Are you tired, angel?”
Angel.
You swear you can feel yourself turn into mush whenever he calls you that. It was a nickname that had started soon before you were dating–but he never had gotten rid of it. And you didn’t mind at all.
“Hm?” You let out, barely above a whisper.
“Are you tired?”
Your body acts in weird ways when you’re around him. Sometimes you can feel your stomach burst into butterflies or how your cheeks start to burn. But recently you’ve been getting so sleepy around him.
You open your eyes, “Yeah kind of, I don’t know why.”
He raises his arm, his hand comes up to your face and lays his thumb on your cheek. Rubbing it soft and slow.
“You can go to sleep Angel, I don’t mind.”
You shake your head slightly, just so his hand won’t come off. “It’s too early, I don’t want to ruin my sleep schedule.”
He hums in response, moving his hand to play with your hair. “Do you want to watch a movie? We should get ready for bed first though.” He offers.
You agree, it’s barely above a whisper but he can still hear your voice.
Slowly sitting up, you both walk to the bathroom.
When you walk back to your room, he’s already sitting down, waiting for you to sit down next to him.
You're glad he’s already picked a movie, because you know if you picked you two would be spending hours just scrolling through the selection.
The movie starts– displaying the title “10 Things I Hate About You” in red text.
You smile at the movie, knowing that it’s one of your favorites. You snuggle in closer, wrapping your arms around his and laying your head on his shoulder.
It’s nearing the end of the movie when you mumble, “Did you mean it earlier?”
It’s pitch black now. The only light coming through your window was now the bright moon, reflecting the sun’s light.
You loved nights like these, where you would stay at your house, just watching a movie. But somehow Heeseung had always fallen asleep after you–curse his night owl habit.
“Did I mean what, pretty?”
“When you said that you wanted to marry me when we’re both settled down, did you mean it?”
He pauses for a second, and you hear the movie playing in the background. But somehow the sound felt so far away.
I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair.
His silence starts to worry you “It’s okay if you don’t I just–”
“Of course I want to marry you. If I could, I’d propose right now. ”
You can feel your heart start to race, you lift your head off your shoulder to look at his face. To make sure he’s not teasing you. But he’s looking at you with the most love sick eyes you’ve ever seen. You feel yourself grow small and flustered under his gaze, but he doesn’t falter. Only a small smile appears on his face.
I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare
“You’re serious?”
I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme.
“I haven’t given you any reason to doubt that, right?” He says that teasingly, but you can tell there's a hint of genuine questioning behind it.
“No.” You mumble.
“Okay–just in case you’re lying, I love you, Y/n. I love everything about you, I’ve loved you since the moment we’ve met and I’ll love you until the moment we die and even after that. I love you, Y/n, I hope you know that.”
You can feel your breath hitch as he says that. You two don’t say those words often, not because you don’t love each other but because you think that actions matter more than words.
You’re silent for a few seconds, processing every thing he’s just said. You can still hear the movie, but you seemed to have missed some lines–not that it matters anyways. You have the whole dialogue memorized.
I hate it that you’re not around. And the fact that you didn’t call.
When you realize he’s waiting for your response, you kiss him. You kiss him until the butterflies that flood your stomach get tired and stop flying, you kiss him until you can feel your lips grow swollen and red, you kiss him until the only thing he can think of is your lips on his.
When you pull away your both breathless, staring at each other with tinted red cheeks.
But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.
“I love you–by the way. That wasn’t a way of avoiding saying I love you.” You blurt out, and you can see the smile growing on his face from miles away.
He chuckles, squeezing your cheek in your hand before turning his head back to the long forgotten movie. “We missed the best part” He frowns.
“You’re saying I just made out with you for you to only care about the fact we missed Kat’s poem?”
Yeah, Heeseung is still really weird. But you don’t mind it. Not at all.
Hello, I’m Haya Orouq from Gaza City because of the war, my house and my university were destroyed. We lost everything, my family and I did not have anything left. We left our homes in search of a safe place and we were displaced three times to different places to survive, but unfortunately there is no safe place in Gaza. My mother is very sick and she is a kidney failure patient in need of treatment outside. She suffers from LS. Help me and my family to survive. Please I’m asking your help don’t let me down I have nothing to do I’m poor less and young trying to help my family I’m homeless now so please I’m speaking to your humanity to help my mom and my family
Your small donation can make a huge difference
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Hello, I'm Haya Orouq from Gaza City because of the war, my house and my univer… Haya Orouq needs your support for URGENT HELP help my famil
Maternity kits, medical threads and scissors, water testing kits, anesthetics, mobile desalination units, etc do you see the pattern? Israel is not only starving the people of Gaza but it also wants to ensure the spread of disease through contaminated water and surgical tools, as well as ensuring injured Palestinians suffer through horrendous pain.
synopsis: missing the last train out of new shanghai was not on the to-do list. however, your project partner liu yangyang promises fun, dazzling lights, and the warmth of a human connection for this festive weekend. perhaps even in the era of diamond and steel, the human touch means something after all.
genre: oriental cyberpunk, f2l, fluff
warning(s): swearing & several innuendos. also out-of-date jokes sorry guys i wrote this in 2021
words: 11.9k
a/n: this is just a rework of an old fic i posted here with another character! if you find any inconsistencies, it's probably because of that LOL also this is not a wincore revival but i did miss everyone on here !!
i. city plaza
Some idiot, somewhere along in history, decided to renovate a city into something so dazzling that the population shoots up to a hundred and fifty percent of what was before, and the rest of the damage comes along with the people. Promises are made and broken to build this city of extravagance. You have the belief that the more people there are in one place, the more difficult it gets to live there. This dazzling hellscape means colliding into too many people on the streets, too many bright lights outside your dorm room when you’re trying to sleep and the god awful sound of deafening firecrackers at every new year celebration.
Another idiot somehow roped you into his ‘midnight adventure: traditional version’ once he heard you missed the last train ticket out of the city. Liu Yangyang has a terrible way with words—but he has a way.
You were, by some unfortunate gamble of the gods, partners for a project that accounted for sixty percent of the grade. While that affair is over, you still haven't rid yourself of the predicament that is Yangyang. Gorgeous, yes, but too overwhelming. You smack your head against the car window only for him to jump in his seat beside you, hand gently driving over your forehead to check for damage. The neon city lays around you, and festive light projections float across the sky in intricate shapes of the ox and written messages. This is going nowhere. You came to this city sacrificing everything and yet suddenly, everything’s hanging on a string again.
The city lights of New Shanghai are cruel. Everything in this place is cruel.
Which is exactly why you’re in Yangyang’s car, parked by the middle level city plaza on New Year’s Eve. It is, in fact, illegal to hover by the city plaza on New Year’s Eve but Yangyang seems to either not care or simply doesn’t know. You forget the law doesn’t exist for rich kids. Out of all man-made wonders, rules are the most interesting.
“Shall we go?” he asks, voice bubbly as ever. Every morning, he chirps like the alarm birds outside your window. Yes, it has made you want to sleep forever at times.
“It’s just one night. And I’ll be with you, so you don’t have to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” you snap.
“Not afraid of the dark either?”
You pull your jacket closer to you. Here, the cold streets of the techno-jungle make you shiver more often than not. If you dare go out without friends, a city so grand will inevitably drain the life out of you. Your body alone cannot withstand the dazzle. And—you can’t be afraid of the dark after you’ve complained about the lights.
You look at Yangyang and back to the cityscape outside—large conglomerative blocks of buildings, some hosting advertisements with the faces of inhumanly beautiful models and some with the ‘Happy New Year!’ text animation floating about in increasingly complex patterns. You see the revolving top of one of the grandest skyscrapers, a Dior hotel, not the tallest but certainly the most pleasing to look at. It gleams from red to orange like the pulsating heart of a giant metropolitan beast. There are more funky buildings to look at, some not even the shape of austere corporate skyscrapers.
“Do you wanna go there?” Yangyang asks all of a sudden. “I heard the lounge is closed off from eleven. I can call some friends and we can book a room though—”
“No. No way. I’m not going to spend new year’s eve in a Dior suite.”
He grins. “Thank god. It’s so boring there. Only models and businessmen and whatever freak shit they do.”
You sigh. Liu Yangyang is a whole story in itself. He’s rich and popular—a dream of many—but so few are as welcoming as he is. When you’re in that position, you’re bound to have a little metal seep into your heart. Some hidden part of you, however, tells you to loosen up when you’re with him; just let it go and have a good time. There’s no reason why you shouldn't. The economy is on a steep incline, the people are happy and no other city compares to this place. You could learn a thing or two from Yangyang.
He looks at you questioningly, eyes waiting and the curve of his lips still. You notice his platinum blond hair is more styled than usual, you can almost smell the gel on it, and for a moment, you wish you looked as good as he does. A dark leather jacket accentuates his shoulders, the plain T-shirt underneath not of the flashy type. He looks like he’s ready for club-hopping and you, anything but. If you knew earlier that you’d be by the Strip around midnight on New Year’s, you'd have dressed better.
“If you stay any longer in my car, people are going to assume we’re…y’know,” he states, quirking his eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure it’s illegal, though. Like, who thought fu—”
You were wrong. There is absolutely nothing to learn from Liu Yangyang.
“I would get out of this car immediately and fall to my death before I let that happen,” you retort, crossing your arms.
“No, hey. What an inauspicious sentence. Besides, and I’m not bragging but you should know I’m really good at using my assets—”
“Don’t say a word.”
The heat of embarrassment flows into your cheeks at his implication. You look out the window, weighing out the pros and cons. The scenery is so bright that sometimes it hurts to look outside. It’s not midnight yet but the main streets are already getting crowded for the processions; the sound of laughter and conversation ring in the air. It makes you somewhat sad to not be home for this. But as they say, living in a big city can only be done if you sell your soul to it.
You’re directly above the level one city plaza, the people below looking unsettling in the way they’re so small and far away—they don’t even seem human at this distance. You wonder if you look like that to the people above this, to the level three elites who sit on top of the whole city..
You look back to your companion, who’s transfixed on the bakery across the road—either that, or just really, really zoned out. Knowing Yangyang, it could be either. When you tilt your head, waiting, you find that he has pretty features—a shaped nose and round, curious eyes, all in perfect alignment with plump, pink lips. His metallic ring earrings shine when the light hits them right. No wonder you get girls asking how close the two of you are often. Even in a world pushing manufactured love, boys like him make others daydream. You wonder why you’re the one he loves to drag in with him.
Yangyang flinches when he finds you staring at him. You clear your throat, looking away and hoping you can sweep this under the rug.
“Are you- are you by any chance mad at me?” he asks, a nervous smile awkwardly tugging at his lips.
“I- what? No. I’m not mad at you.”
“You look like my mother when I don’t clean my room. Or Ten's cats when I try to kiss them.”
A tiny laugh escapes you before you get back your poised demeanor. “I’m- I’m not mad at you.”
He smiles at you wordlessly and you feel a little conscious. You glance outside when the plaza music starts to get loud and look back at him, debating whether you should just give in.
“So… you’ll let me brighten your life now?” he asks in his regular baritone, grinning wider. “The semester’s over and it’s festival time! I bring good luck, I promise.”
Liu Yangyang is not a happy serendipity. He simply cannot be. However, he does make you laugh more often than you’d admit.
“Whatever. Go ahead. I just don’t want to be hungover on a Friday.”
“You don’t- you don’t have to drink to have a good time.” He laughs. “I would know. I’m sort of a lightweight. I don’t know why I told you that. I’m supposed to be cool.”
You giggle, taking a moment to think.
“Fine then. Show me your magical access key to our beloved Mobius Strip, the mightiest, grandest structure in all of New Shanghai.”
“Well, if you put it that way… I am pretty cool, huh?”
His smile is too harmless for you to roll your eyes. He’s too gentle, you realize all of sudden, to be as awful as all the uni frat boys you’ve had the misfortune of talking to. You watch him as he drives; his arm moves with ease and he tries to make conversation but you can only hum and respond in singular words. The closer you are to the Strip the more nervous you get. It’s like visiting all those dark places that your mother explicitly warned you not to visit as a teenager—but you’re an adult now. No one owns you. No one should be able to own you. The determination builds up slowly over neon lights and hazy street shops.
Nights here are the fun part. Everyone says that. Other than the fact that you can barely make out the colour of the sky under the vivid city lights, there’s something very enticing about the streets, the upper streets that wind around the city.
Yangyang drives the car to a level three street, the behemoth structure of the Strip now so close that all you can see beyond your window are its placid, white walls stretching out to infinity. You can see little gardens and shops, peeking out from between each strip and one of the shopkeepers wave at you the moment you pass. Yangyang says something along the lines of “thanks for the free noodles” to the woman, before gliding higher.
“Grandma makes the best glass noodles here,” he says, excitedly. “I’ll take you sometime. If you like.”
You hum, noting the joy he expresses at the idea of something so simple.
Level three streets are already thousand and a half feet above the ground. You try not to look down; heights aren’t something you’re very fond of even if you love the sky. You note construction work for street levels four and five, shivering at the idea. The winds of change are fucking cold.
Yangyang swerves the car off-road at one point and you clutch his arm by reflex.
“What the fuck? Don’t do that without warning me,” you say, breathing quicker. You do not do well with: sudden movement, jumpscares and boys with pretty smiles.
“Sorry,” he says, looking at you with concern. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
You let go of his arm, more embarrassed at yourself than mad at him. Driving the car closer to the Strip, he brakes carefully by the parking lot. The walls are covered in red wallpaper, a few lanterns attached to drones, floating along the path inside. It looks like a rooftop parking lot, though the mysterious dim lighting makes you walk closer to Yangyang.
“I heard this is gonna be a really cool event—they’ve got the latest AI tech hosting and crap but let me tell you the best part.”
He pauses for dramatic effect.
“The food!” He says, spreading his arms and grinning. “The food at private events is the best thing you’ll ever taste.”
You open your mouth but close it again in part horror, part confusion. “You’re… taking me to a private event?”
“Ah, don’t look like that. It’s really fun, promise.”
“I’m not even dressed for it,” you blurt, embarrassed.
Yangyang shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. It’s for rich kids, you know? If I’m being honest, none of them know how to dress.”
His confident statement gets a giggle out of you and you relax a little. You walk with him, further into the square platform and away from the cars. The sky disappears behind the dark roof and for a moment, you feel like you’ve entered a different dimension. It’s like the architecture models that your professors had on display for the Shanghai History class in your freshman year. Old stuff, that is. Before this place even had the first skyscraper.
You turn to your side and narrow your eyes at Yangyang, suddenly wondering how he finagled his way into bringing you here. Your iron-clad will is not so much iron after all. It’s not even steel, you think, once you catch yourself staring at Yangyang a bit too long.
You step forward to find the entrance to the club; it’s a little lonely to look at in the beginning. Then it clicks that it’s probably the back door. The red pillars encase a black door between them, the overhang of the gateway just a little above Yangyang’s head. You can see the hip-and-gable style roof of the larger building behind, looking like a skyscraper instead of the usual historical buildings you’ve seen on the internet. In glowing red letters, it displays a blinking ‘Club 2’ near the top of the door.
The moment you step on the stairs, a bunch of advertisements pop up on the door, bright bubblegum colours hurting your eyes. Yangyang taps at the little x at the corner of the display till it disappears and finally the door is a regular door. The colour is jet black like any other screening platform.
“I thought the rich were exempted from ads,” you say.
“They’re… more likely to buy things though.”
You make an ‘ah’ sound in contemplation when a whirring makes you jump into him. A little spherical drone flies its way out of an opening in the wall and stops right in front of the two of you.
“Sicheng-ge!” Yangyang says, waving frantically at the camera.
The little drone circles around Yangyang’s head before stopping right in front of his face. It runs a scan before turning sharply and beeping at you.
“My plus one!” Yangyang declares, pulling you by the waist. “Or whatever it’s called.”
Your ears feel warm but you don’t push him off. The camera focuses on your face, likely scanning to identify your age and occupation. When it’s done, a beep resounds and the door slides open to reveal a dimly lit pathway. The main entrance is much brighter, Yangyang promises, but for now it’s just the warm glow of the lanterns, Yangyang’s neon red striped jacket and the mechanical whirring of some sort of device in the darkness.
“What’s that sound?” you whisper and Yangyang stops.
He pauses to think. “Oh, they’re Sicheng-ge’s drones. He’s got like a million of them. I'll introduce you—he’s hosting this club event, by the way.”
He smiles at you reassuringly. If Yangyang’s not bothered by it, you’ll follow his lead. Though, you do take more nimble steps and stay close to him like he’s your lighthouse. (In a way, he is, with all that neon shining on his jacket.)
You’re surprised to find a garden, but then it gets stranger when you see brighter lanterns in the middle area. You see figures and before you can react, Yangyang takes your hand and into the central platform.
ii. orchid club square
Yangyang was right. None of them know how to dress.
The two of you stand in the middle of a crowd, who are in fact dressed either for: a) an impromptu pool party or b) a Sunday morning lecture. You blend in somewhat well given the variety though Yangyang’s painted looks have attracted the attention of quite a few giggling, murmuring onlookers.
You clench your jaw in mild annoyance.
“This is a tour,” Yangyang whispers to you. “I thought… you’d like to know what everything’s about.”
You feel grateful to him for once. Having some sort of knowledge about what you’re getting into makes you feel better about any situation. A set of mechanical clicking fills the air.
A woman—no, an AI bot is the first to greet you. She has pale white metallic skin and her dark strands of hair are in a traditional updo. Her lips are imperial red, shaped in a way that makes her seem as though she’s smiling but also not at the very same time. She holds an extravagant fan by her face at the perfect right angle, the patterns on it painted to imitate an ancient cherry blossom tree.
“Good evening, everyone,” she says, her voice pitched up and enthusiastic. It’s a little funny to imagine metal so lively.
You smell oranges and lavender as soon as she flicks her fan once and precise.
“Welcome to the New Shanghai nightlife!” The bot continues jovially. “The oldest surviving city on planet earth, the birthplace of the human race.”
“You are in virtual space,” she informs. “It might look like a courtyard stretching to infinity but it is only an illusion. However, the club is five hundred and sixty one metres wide and six hundred and twelve metres long. It is large enough to hold twenty-one blue whales in a line. That is, if they still existed of course.”
She giggles algorithmically.
“Where you stand right now,” she says, turning her head in a swift mechanical motion to you and you flinch. “This place is called the orchid club square. As you know, only VIP access lets you in.”
You glance at Yangyang worriedly and he shrugs. There’s no way she could know, right? That was oddly specific. But then she moves her head left to right to address the whole crowd in perfect grace. When her movement starts to get a little too eerie to watch any longer, you fix your eyes on the garden instead. You have no way of telling part real flowers from virtual ones and even so—all of them are beautiful. Maybe reality doesn’t make things any prettier.
However, when you look at Yangyang, the thought gets tossed out. You shake your head, in an attempt to get rid of the image of his face. It’s a little too late to be feeling this way. Either that, or the night is taking its toll on you already. The day was exhausting, considering it was the end of the semester.
The AI guide’s chatter fades into something quieter when you move the club square. It’s a rather empty space, fitting for a rave or just housing large crowds. The decorations are for the new year celebrations, banners of the ox in auspicious colours and a few drones projecting the rest. There’s a garden of evermore orchids lining the area in a perfect square and it’s so precise that it’s pleasing to look at. There’s a door at one edge, similar to the one you encountered before entering the club square.
The music that wafts through the air is so gentle, you almost forget there’s a celebration. The beat makes it livelier and even so, the rhythm of your heartbeat matches it in a soothing sort of way. Turning around, you spot the musical ensemble. It’s another AI, peering over a guqin with trained habit.
She looks the same, except she wears an electronic mask over the lower half of her face. It displays a blue musical note made up of noticeable pixels. She has no fan—instead, her fingers strum the guqin rhythmically, programmed with precision and grace. The sound is accompanied by the woodwind notes of a flute, though you’re not sure where that sound emanates from. There’s also a soft drumbeat which seems to come from the guqin bot herself.
You gasp when a few painted goldfish float through the air, almost real to look at if it weren’t for the glitch effect of holograms. One of them swims closer to you, opening and closing its mouth in rhythm and you giggle at its face.
Yangyang laughs, long finger pointing at the critter in amusement. “That’s adorable.”
He looks like a little kid and you giggle at his expression, with wide, delighted eyes and mouth open in focused mirth. He pokes at the goldfish and it makes a bubbling sound, gears shifting in ticking time before suddenly biting at his index finger. Yangyang lets out a low yelp, retracting his hand before clearing his throat in embarrassment.
“You’re like a cartoon,” you tell him, in between laughs. “No way are you real.”
He grins, in that same way he always looks at you and you look away, feeling hot in the face. It’s too enamored a way to look at someone. But of course, that couldn’t be true—he’s Liu Yangyang and you’re you. Parallel lines do not meet, even if they’re headed in the same direction.
“I think you’re unreal,” he mumbles.
iii. club 2
The doors open to a rather spacious arrangement, with several tables one one side and a sort of dance arena on the other where people are trying to out-dance each other. The intensity makes you move further away from it. It seems a little too festive and you can feel the energy slinking away from you. The music is more upbeat but you suppose the DJ tried to make it sound more eastern; the result is pleasing. He wears a smooth black helmet with a neon red beat visualizer on it, with written SFX appearing from time to time. Two pulsing golden horns glow at the sides of his head. You stare at it for longer than you’d like before composing yourself. You’re very impressionable when it comes to parties.
There are two floors to the club, above the bottom floor itself. The other two floors mostly seem to consist of private booths, however, covered with gossamer silk that glow iridescent. A few floating lanterns sway by the upper floors. The ceiling is open to a midnight blue sky and the stars look much larger than you’ve ever seen them—you suspect it’s an AR mesh over the ceiling. A few light shows project little dancing dragons and coins over the sky and you find them too cute to not stare at.
“Wow,” Yangyang says, right after walking in. “Why is Dejun on the table?”
You look where his eyes are focused on, though it’s difficult through the crowd of people, and find Dejun and Kunhang in some sort of old anime transformation pose atop one of the tables. It’s surprising that they’re not the weirdest pair here.
“Now, bear with me, it’s going to be boring as hell till the countdown and the fireworks,” he explains, waving his hands around. “But it’s a good place to have fun and make friends. You know?”
“Friends?” you ask, a little nervous. You’re not very proficient at making friends and it makes you anxious.
“Yeah! Don’t worry. ” He makes a strange gesture, bordering between posing for a beer ad campaign and looking like a motivational speaker for the army, before furrowing his eyebrows. “You just have to be confident! I’m learning too!”
He lets out a sweet laugh and it makes you laugh in turn, hand covering your mouth so you don’t embarrass yourself too much. You don’t believe the words much, but the glow over his cheeks makes you reconsider.
“You look really nice when you laugh,” he comments, a bright glint in his eyes.
“Whatever,” you reply, punching his shoulder lightly.
Just then, you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder to find Lana from your ethical AI class, smiling at you warmly. She looks a little tired, of people more than the time. Like you, she is also a scholarship student—and not a day has gone when she hasn’t soothed your anxiety about your classes. In stark contrast with Yangyang, you would trust her over him for most tasks. Even if you weren’t partners, you’re okay with the outcome. You glance at Yangyang.
“(name)! Oh my god, I didn’t know you were coming here,” she says. “Did Yangyang kidnap you?”
“I mean, sort of.”
“Hey.” Yangyang looks at you with betrayal.
“And how did you even manage to do that cool ass project with him as your partner?” she continues, squinting at him.
“Honestly, I don’t know either. He can be surprisingly helpful though.”
Yangyang looks from Lana to you in exasperation. “I’m literally right here,” he grumbles.
Lana laughs at his expression, patting his shoulder sympathetically.
“I just can’t believe you let him kidnap you and not me,” she says in mock indignance. “I’m a much better chauffeur, you know?”
“Do you even have a driving license?” Yangyang asks, laughing.
“I got mine before you, rat. Anyway, (name), I’m playing the guzheng. Do you wanna come see?”
“No,” Yangyang interrupts, suddenly grabbing your hand. “I… I mean you guys can go, of course. It's just the countdown’s close, so we have to go to the viewpoint.”
“That’s exactly where—ah. I see.”
"We'll join you another time, Lana," he says quietly, a cute grin on his face like a little boy would make to an older sister for more shares of chocolate.
"No, no. I actually remembered I left my friends in the corner. See you!"
She leaves her epiphany unsaid, offering you a smile and taking her leave abruptly.
“I thought you told me to socialize,” you complain to Yangyang.
“Yes, I’m so proud of you for that.”
“Yangyang, I swear if you treat me like a kid—”
“I’m not, I’m not. Sorry,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “I just need to borrow you for tonight. After all, I promised you, didn’t I?”
You sigh. “Fine then, what’s this viewpoint you’re talking about?”
“Oh, we’ll get there.”
Someone’s watching you. You turn around a full three-sixty but find only the same crowd of college-age kids. No one sticks out much, apart from Dejun, Kunhang and Ten, who are at this point performing some sort of strange ritual unbeknownst to any new year tradition, with a hell load of yelling.
“Oh my god, you’re dancing too?” Yangyang says, grinning ear to ear. “I didn’t know I’d have that much of a positive influence. Wow.”
“I’m- I’m not- never mind.”
Yangyang furrows his eyebrows. “What did I tell you? More confidence! See—”
He takes your hands in his, pulling you further onto the dance floor. You feel a rising panic but swallow it. There’s a beat of silence in which the two of you look at each other. Yangyang proceeds to perform the stupidest sequence of movements you have ever seen, certainly too awkward for his body to accept as natural but it doesn’t seem like he cares. He’s having fun.
You find yourself laughing. Taking timid steps, you try to loosen up although the inevitable embarrassment arrives in flushes of heat across your face. There are stars in Yangyang’s eyes when you join him—not the artificial jewels in observatories but the real kind that you used to see in your hometown.
You take a wobbly step back. It’s starting to get disorienting. If it were the real sky above you, you might even have felt better. Perhaps the purpose is to get dizzy.
“I’m a little thirsty,” Yangyang says, motioning to the table with food and drinks at a corner. “I’ll head over and be back.”
Unsure what to do, you follow him like a lost lamb and though it would be embarrassing at any other time, any other place, now and here are not part of that.
The red and golden lights of the neon patterning the walls don’t seem as harsh anymore and you let your eyes rest on the boyish figure of Yangyang. You haven’t figured him out yet. Something tells you he’s more than a shallow image of the party-loving rich kids of Shanghai. In fact, in quiet, personal moments, he looks more out of place than you do—despite all that bright neon. You open your mouth to ask something when you’re interrupted by a dizzy Yangyang spinning into you.
“Sorry, (name),” he says, rubbing the base of his palm against his forehead. “I genuinely thought I was going to win that game.”
You shake your head, letting him get back to whatever spinning game they were at. He smells like wine and something tells you he’s poor at holding his liquor. The stakes must be high for that game, you figure, because you see Yangyang set aside his beloved shoe on the floor. To be the only scholarship student here suddenly feels scary and awkward.
Yangyang once again tugs at your arm, the touch reassuring as though he understands how you feel. But it isn’t true. There’s no way someone like him can understand someone like you.
“Yangyang,” you call. “Do you come here every year?”
“No, no. I do come for drinks though. I’m only here right now because a friend is hosting this.”
You shrug.
“And you,” he adds and you feel a hot flush rise to your face. “New years are the only time this place is PG-13.”
“I’m not a child,” you snap.
“My mom says childish people say that.”
“Then it's very rich coming from you, Liu Yangyang.”
He laughs heartily, leaning away. A creeping thought grows in your head that you missed out on a lot. But then again, you’ll always miss out on things if you’re not rich enough for them.
Yangyang flinches suddenly, almost knocking a plate off the table. He moves quickly, turning so that his side leans against the wall and the other arm cages you between him and the wall. His frame covers your view from whatever, or whoever arrived at the entrance that made him react so obnoxiously.
However, his lips hovering just a little over yours makes your breath hitch in your throat. This is the worst possible position you could've gotten into. The smell of mint interrupts your thoughts and you look at him with as annoyed an expression as you can muster over the heat of your face.
"Yangyang, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"
“I am… admiring the wall. Ooh, it’s got velvet over it, did you notice?”
“You’re going to have your head in it too if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”
"Just… sorry. Let’s stay like this for a few moments."
He flashes you an apologetic smile, his face close enough to make yours grow even hotter. A nervous chuckle erupts from his lips.
"Oh my god, get off. People are going to think we’re making out."
"We could do it for real."
"I'm going to scratch your eyes out."
"Sorry, sorry."
“Who are you even hiding from?”
“I’m not hiding… okay, forget that. Bodyguard-watcher-dude. It’s kind of hard to explain.”
“You have a bodyguard?”
“More like a babysitter.”
You try not to laugh, considering the proximity between your faces. “How come you have a babysitter? Actually, wait, I think I know.”
He huffs over your face and you restrain yourself from landing a swift uppercut to his jaw. Now you know the minty smell comes from mouth freshener.
“He’s a prosecutor. It’s weird that he stalks me in his free time. Even- even if… my parents are paying him.”
“They think you’re doing something illegal?”
“No. I don’t think I am.”
You rest your head back against the wall, rolling your eyes. “Really? That’s your answer? God, your brain cells rotted somewhere along the way, didn’t they? It’s all those parties.”
“I’m starting to feel like my mom hired you too.”
He looks back, and noting the absence of his so-called babysitter, he pulls back from you. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath and you let it out in a shallow effort.
“Your babysitter’s gone?”
“Not a babysit—I regret saying that. Look, I really don’t think they appointed him because they think I’m doing something illegal. I have never done anything illegal. Except that one street race but that’s because Lucas told me it was perfectly legal.”
“The what?”
“Anyway, the point is, let’s look forward to good fortune for this year, hm? Leave all the burdens to last year.”
“Fortune doesn’t favour fools.”
“I’m not stupid,” he complains, spreading his arms to express it further. “Mostly.”
You laugh, turning your attention to the food table.
“Ooh, pineapple tarts,” he exclaims, hand reaching out to grab one when you smack it.
“You’ve had, like, fifteen already.”
“Mhm,” he says, with a few more stuffed in his mouth.
There’s a pause.
“It’s me, isn't it?” you ask quietly. “I’m not supposed to be here.”
He gulps, lips parting and closing. “I brought you here. So you don’t worry about it.”
Rich people suck. You believe that strongly. But sometimes, just sometimes, when you have everything you can ever want, you start to want the same for everyone around you. Some people are special. You find Yangyang genuinely fascinating for being someone who makes friends when he’s supposed to be making more connections. You find him fascinating.
It makes sense for someone like him to be the way he is.
iv. fireworks viewpoint
“That’s the old Shanghai Tower,” Yangyang points to a building in the distance. “It used to be the tallest building once but… well, it looks like the little guy now.”
Lunar New Year’s celebrations are a big, big deal in New Shanghai. It means a break from university, work and every other affair to have as many priorities sorted in anticipation of the new year. And the impact is evident from this height, when you can see the city in its golden glory. It looks warm out there for once—although you’re not very sure if it’s because of the warmth that comes from right beside you. The little wooden boats float by on the river a little far off, various images blooming as holograms above them. You giggle at the large animated fishes swimming above the river with blank expressions and painted button eyes.
The golden clock shines bright in the sky, its holographic hands ticking down to midnight. It looks like something out of a fantasy movie, scattering golden pixels everywhere with each minute passing. The size of it alone reminds you of the scale of this city.
This is an empire. It's owned by the kings and queens who built it over the bones left from sacrifices. It's going to be owned by heirs and heiresses. You feel a looming sense of dread come over you. It's so beautiful and it can never belong to itself. It must always belong to someone. It’s the terms and conditions of human creation.
"Hey." Yangyang taps you on the shoulder and you try not to flinch. "What are you thinking?"
You hum. "Stuff."
"This place is pretty cool, huh?"
That, you can agree with. "It is. It's so amazing that I can't believe I'm here sometimes."
Yangyang laughs slowly. "I hope more people can live here. Not in level one. You know. No one should live in desperation."
You hold back a scoff, though you end up frowning. What does a rich kid know of desperation? He might as well be prince, and princes do not know how to beg. It must be something of a saviour complex. You shrink away from him. The new year music is starting to ring a little too loud in your ears.
"That would be difficult," you mutter.
"Not if you lower the cost of living conditions—ah. Sorry." He pauses and you feel a flicker of surprise in you. “It’s not appropriate to discuss. Or so my parents tell me…”
The expression comes from empathy. You’re sure of it. There’s some sort of passion and not the kind of coloured fire that flames up in parties, but a different one. The kind that says, if you can’t bear the heat then you can’t learn how to forge. You scoff. Which prince has possibly known heat?
“I- I get angry too,” you say quietly. “I think it’s something to be angry about.”
He smiles at you, leaning against the balcony railing.
You’re interrupted by a man in the attire of a waiter and it causes the two of you to jump away from each other. It’s not like you were very close in the first place but the proximity of shared words can play tricks on people. The man offers the two of you a screen and Yangyang’s face lights up almost immediately.
“We can order food with this,” he says. “Or book a table. The top strips are all reserved for members of the club. That’s the big daddy restaurants.”
“That’s… pretty cool,” you say, leaning in to glance over the browsing menu. “But don’t say that phrase to me again.”
“I can. And I will.”
“Ugh. Move on.”
“Okay, so we should drop by the convenience store for some ramen. I heard they taste better in the middle of the night,” Yangyang suggests all of a sudden, leaning in further.
It gets difficult sometimes to not be bothered by him, especially when there is a lack of distance. You look at him, pause and then sigh. “Sure. I guess. Are those free too?”
He opens his mouth in sudden realization and grins sheepishly at you. You roll your eyes.
“Do you have money then?”
“Uh.”
“How do you not have money? It’s the New Year!”
“I… uh—”
“Okay, you don’t have to answer that. But I’m not paying for you,” you complain. “You could always ask your parents for some money. What’s the point of being a party kid?”
‘Party kids’—it makes you laugh in amusement—is the colloquial term given to the children of businesspeople who had a direct hand in the economic progress of New Shanghai. You would sell your kidneys to be one and it still wouldn’t be enough.
His smile wavers at your statement but he shakes his head. “If I call my mom, she’ll start scolding me again about how my apartment room needs to be cleaner. Blah, blah, blah. You know.”
“She’s right- wait, you don’t clean your room?”
“Don’t take her side, (name).”
You bite down a smile and he offers you his biggest one.
“Oh, that place looks new,” Yangyang exclaims, a long index finger pointing to the preview of a sushi restaurant. You glare at him, his face nearer to yours than you would prefer but his eyes are fixed like a child ogling halloween candy.
“Let’s go,” he urges, looking directly at you.
You furrow your eyebrows, shaking your head vehemently. “We don’t have money. Or bit-credits.”
He sighs, deflating as though you just snatched the candy right from his hands. “But… I haven’t been there before.”
“So?” You exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You don’t have to try every food place in the city.”
“I need to eat,” he says as though it’s a very reasonable response. “I’m still growing!”
“Not mentally.”
He drops his smile, looking at you blankly. “You don’t have to get so smart with me, let me tell you.”
You snicker at the ‘offended’ expression on his face.
In the next moment, your attention shifts to the sudden crowd of people rushing to the balcony. Yangyang pulls you closer to avoid getting pushed by them, and you look around confused. It all makes sense when they start chanting the numbers, counting down from ten. You can only stare in awe at the clock and the otherworldly glee in the rhythmic chants. It’s like they don’t feel anything but joy at this moment. You let yourself smile.
The clock strikes twelve. The sound of the bell resounds throughout the city and the firecrackers burst into a thousand shades of red and gold across the sky. There’s moving images of animals, floating text and other animations which make the night sky seem like a screen. The sparks of the fireworks look like golden snow, or even happy little pixels.
You point your finger to the sky excitedly but when you turn, Yangyang’s eyes aren’t on the sky but on your hand outstretched towards it. He faces you, rather hesitantly as though caught red-handed.
“You’re- you’re… so pretty,” he says, softly and shrugging as if answering a question.
You wish he wouldn’t look at you like that. It’s the lonely speaking, right? The euphoria of human connection in this time and age—it can make you believe anything. There’s a myriad of colours blooming in the sky behind you, a city dazzling with diamond and ruby lights, people with much more stories to tell than you do. This city, this city, this city. This city will break your heart.
“It’s kind of crappy,” you mutter, to which Yangyang quirks an ear.
“Wh-what is?”
“This city. It’s got bright lights and fun and all those promises of success. But all I see are people desperately trying to survive. All I see are the same faces at the top and—I’m sorry. I’m getting carried away.”
“No, no.” He makes a vague gesture. “I’m listening.”
“We’re at their mercy,” you whisper. “My life is not my own. That’s crappy.”
Yangyang hums in response. “You're right. What’s the point of living a life that’s not your own?”
Looking at him again, you see the entire figure of his being against the fireworks and all the beautiful creations of the human race. His almost silver hair falls perfectly by his forehead, the contact lenses looking like glazed frost over his eyes. Just as vibrant and excessive as the city itself, Yangyang belongs here. This is his kingdom.
No, that’s not quite right perhaps. Yangyang belongs anywhere because he brings warmth. You're suddenly grateful he's with you because no one you know would possibly go out of their way to make you feel comfortable like this. You know Yangyang loves people and crowds. No one would do that for you at the expense of their own enjoyment. You smile at the prospect of solving the blinding mystery that he is.
"We… should leave," Yangyang says, all of a sudden. He eyes a man at the corner of the balcony, dressed in a business suit and looking blank. He sticks out like a sore thumb. You're not sure why he's in that getup.
"Okay," you say, not sure why you're so agreeable tonight.
Maybe it's the night. Sometimes all you can do is drag your feet over the asphalt and hope it'll be sunnier tomorrow.
v. two-four-seven convenience store
College boys are the most god-awful creatures on earth.
“Hey, do you always reach class on time?” Yangyang asks, eyes curious. He keeps asking a question every five minutes or so, trying to keep up conversation. You've already told him he doesn't have to. However, it makes you strangely comfortable to hear the sound of his voice periodically. You won't tell him that.
You nod, returning your gaze to the window, though the advertisements block your view. You can always try skipping the ad every five goddamn seconds.
It's your first time riding the train that travels through the Mobius Strip, and certainly the first time in a luxury cabin. Since it’s free for members of the new year club, you can heave a sigh of relief. You will never in your life, even if it’s genetically elongated, ever be able to afford a luxury cabin.
"Oh, that looks so good," Yangyang says, large hand smacking against the window to get rid of the colourful advertisements.
"It's a convenience store, Yangyang," you say. "It's got everyday ramen."
"No, look. It's a different brand. And they're giving a burger for free with two ramen cups!"
You furrow your eyebrows at him. "Well, I guess it's cheaper too."
"Oh, we can go to one of the upper restaurants too. They're free, remember?"
"I like convenience stores," you mumble. There's something about the lack of even lighting and crowds that made them a comfort spot for you.
“Quick,” he says, pulling you off the seat when the train stops.
“Yangyang!” you warn. He's so easily excitable that you find it hard to believe he's real sometimes.
However, when he turns around with his big puppy-dog eyes, you curse at yourself before you curse at him. Sighing, you follow him down the steps, his hand tenderly holding yours. Sometimes, you wonder if the human touch means anything at all in this diamond and steel era. Yangyang’s palm is warm against yours.
The ramen tastes awfully delicious on stolen time, and you would complain more if it weren’t for Yangyang looking at you with so serene a look. It annoys you and you try to grab his attention by waving your chopsticks in front of him. When it doesn’t work, you resort to swearing. You’ve never seen anyone respond with a smiling hum after being told to “eat shit”.
“Oh, this tastes so good,” he states, cheeks puffed with food. “I think I’m going to cry.”
“I- I think you’re crying because it’s spicy.”
“Oh.”
As usual, Yangyang pokes and prods at you with questions about your daily life, like you’re the most interesting thing in a city full of blinding lights, world-class robots and cyber-enhanced technology. You don’t understand how he doesn’t just grow tired of asking every single detail about you.
Apart from the fact that Liu Yangyang is most certainly an environmental hazard, some part of you cannot believe that he's truly terrible. There's something innocent about him, but all at once, something quiet and mysterious.
“Why are you always so curious, Yangyang?” you ask finally. “Why are you always running off to different places?”
“Because experiences never come twice,” he answers after some thinking. It seems to be a little difficult for him to articulate, deep contemplation over his features when he continues. “This city… all the lights and clubs and arenas, all of it will be gone someday. Like we don’t have telephones or those big computers anymore.”
You rest your chin on your palm, leaning in.
“This moment, right here with you… I’ll never experience it again,” he tells you. “We can have more midnight convenience store ramen sometime later but… each time will be different. I’d rather live now.”
You smile softly. “That’s a funny thought to live by.”
“Yours isn’t any better,” he says, patting your head. “Also, I’m like hot and young and popular and not a cyborg—how can I miss parties?”
You shake your head, laughing. He’s ridiculous. He’s completely ridiculous. In that moment, when you look at him, Yangyang seems to be smiling in a daze, eyes on your face.
“You look nice when you smile,” he says quietly.
"Thanks," you respond. "I should keep it a secret then, huh?"
"Not from me," he says, smiling.
Somehow, the extra minutes you have at the convenience store turn to a few multiplayer games and then, ditching technology, to an arm wrestling match.
"I feel like this game is kind of unfair," you say after losing almost immediately. He's clearly got stronger muscles. Does he work out? Probably against his will, you bet.
“My right arm’s a lot stronger than my left arm,” he says, before looking a little horrified. “That wasn’t a masturbation joke, by the way. I am so sorry.”
You roll your eyes. "Give me your left hand then- wait. You're right-handed?"
"That's not the- uh." He thinks for a moment, trying to gather words. “That’s not the reason.”
“I, uh, I heavily damaged this arm when I was a kid—don’t look like that, there’s a fun part to this. It’s made of titanium! And some other things. The names are too complicated.”
You drive your fingers over the arm, so warm and real and flushed red, anything but metal and code. You find curiosity blooming in you more than ever before.
“You know why I’m not with family,” you say, straightening. “But why aren’t you celebrating with your family?”
He gets quiet, thinking to himself for a few more moments. You almost regret asking when he answers, a hesitant sound leaving him first.
“None of us, uh… none of our parents can spare more than three hours. They’ll come in the afternoon tomorr—today.”
You can’t exactly respond to that very well.
“So all of us go hang out at the New Year’s Club.”
You frown. "But it's not a celebration without family!"
"We have new year lunches. And… it's the future. Traditions die. Very few grieve them for fear of being stuck in the past."
You feel partly horrified and partly dismal. "I… You could come with me next year, if you like."
You're not sure where the offer comes from but Yangyang lights up at the idea.
"I can? Oh, we'll have so much fun!"
"Slow down. There's a year to go."
Yangyang laughs. It's surprising the way he turned out. He must have gotten tired of waiting by the door. And now you know all the things about him that his parents don’t.
You smile at him, warming up to the idea of you and him as friends before scoffing at it again.
Right in the next moment, Yangyang dips suddenly to the ground, crouching below the table. You look around in surprise and fall to your knees with a yelp at the tug on our wrist from Yangyang.
“What the hell?” you hiss. “You’re starting to act really weird.”
“I- Sorry. It’s an emergency,” he says, but there’s no sign of distress in his voice. He simply smiles at you. Perhaps he’s never heard of the emotion as of yet.
“Your babysitter?”
“I say that once and on accident—yes, it’s my babysitter.”
You chuckle. He’s simply too cute at times.
“We have to be discreet now, okay? It’s like—what’s the movie called? Oh, Mission Impossible.”
“I’ve never seen that.”
“What? How can you not? It’s a classic! It’s got so many cool—ah, I’ll show you another time.”
You hum, staring at Yangyang’s facial features tense up and relax again as he scans the vicinity outside the window of the convenience store. It’s full of people, even at this hour so you can’t possibly know who’s looking at you from there.
Yangyang turns back to you. “Have you ever been to blue moon station?”
“The one with the pretty walls? No. No, I’ve never even gone beyond Strip Two.”
Yangyang smiles at you and right then, you feel like you’re about to resent whatever’s going to happen next. It’s in the ebb and flow of tonight’s itinerary, however, and you relax your shoulders just as he does a roll across the floor, looking back at you with a grin for executing it flawlessly.
“You’re so silly,” you mutter.
“I heard that,” he whisper-shouts back.
You’re not as afraid as before, you realize. The lights are absolutely mesmerizing.
vi. blue moon station
It drops a few degrees in temperature once you step foot onto the platform. You can see a bunch of scattered tourists, cameras hanging around their neck and a look of awe over their faces.
Yangyang takes off his jacket, shivering immediately but offering it to you nonetheless. When you refuse, he places it gingerly over your shoulders.
"Is that a…?"
"A tourist bot, yes."
"Oh my god, it's so cute," you say, crouching by the little red robot, a teal-colored smiley face popping up on its monitor.
"A lot of tourists in this station," you note.
"Yeah. It's very… visually pleasing."
That's true. The walls are screens with three dimensional graphics, immersive enough to catch one's eye. A single tree grows through the middle of the station, evergreen and alive with holographic flora and fauna. The sun shines eternally over the tree. It's so beautiful that you had trouble taking your eyes off it at first.
The walls next to you are currently displaying a walk through a fantasy forest, crafted by a visionary artist, no doubt. A blue butterfly flies past you and you stare at it before zoning out.
Sometimes, the lights are too disorienting. You start to feel dizzy, massaging your forehead when Yangyang brushes the tips of his fingers against your shoulder.
“You good?”
Yangyang crouches beside you with watchful eyes.
You nod, turning your attention to the tourist bot. It displays a plethora of information about the architecture of this place which you're sure no tourist will bother to read beyond the first two lines.
“You can make it do cool tricks too,” Yangyang says. “Watch.”
Yangyang pokes at it with his index finger, drawing a pattern over the screen. The bot proceeds to do an old internet dance, waving about its arms and hips. You laugh at it and Yangyang looks at you with the pride of a third grader with first place on their science project.
The colours on the walls change and you see the animation of a man and a fox, furrowing your eyebrows as you try to recall that image. They seem to be broadcasting fables through the holograms. You can’t deny that they’re pretty—glowing with auspicious colours and as animated as the real world itself. As if by compulsion, you hold Yangyang’s hand. It’s nice to feel the human touch real once in a while, especially in the overwhelming loneliness of city nights.
Yangyang looks at you brightly and right then, you feel less inclined to leave him.
“You know, I could teach you better ways to flirt than just grab my hand,” he says, grinning like an idiot.
“What?”
You move your hand. “I’m not flirting.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he responds quickly. “Can I please have your hand back?”
You shake your head, laughing. He worries you. Some part of you says you shouldn’t be worried. It’s not like you’re close friends. (Friends, maybe. Close, not yet.)
The night has a different opinion.
—
“Found you,” a voice declares, and the two of you jump into each other with a scream.
The man in the suit looks at you with a fatigued look in his eyes, hair somehow still neat though he breathes like his lungs are on fire.
“Care to tell me why you’ve been skipping my calls?” he asks after catching his breath. “It’s not like I wanted to follow you—you just needed to tell me.”
“I… I was busy?” Yangyang flashes a smile. “Kun-ge, I honestly had no idea you called. I don’t even have my phone.”
The man shakes his head. “Fine. Just head over to Jasmine for the night. And you can bring your date too.”
He gestures at you and you want to deny it as quick as you can. You do not, however. It’s almost like you’ve warmed up to the idea of it rather well.
“Okay,” Yangyang answers quietly.
vii. jasmine private lounge
You enter a lounge with the capacity of around a hundred people. Despite that, there are hardly five present. The walls are black with neon jasmines pulsating from blue to red. A grand piano lies still in all its elegance in the middle of the lounge, played by a plain white AI. It feels like an expensive place to be, and more so, it feels like someplace you’re not supposed to step foot into. There's a bar table at one side, opposite to the entrance which glows a hypnotizing purple. A flat lettering on the wall declares the time to be 3 A.M.
You and Yangyang sit a little too close on the artificially warmed couch, waiting for Kun to return. Yangyang reassures you that you haven't done anything wrong but the illicit outing of yours certainly says otherwise. You contemplate tasting the cocktail Yangyang ordered before finally giving in and find it pleasantly warm to taste. You take another sip.
“It’s a little strong,” Yangyang warns. “Don’t have all of—you had all of it.”
You shrug. Your throat certainly feels better now. This lounge is fucking cold.
"You know, Yangyang," you say with the warmth of confidence on your face. "You're a really nice guy."
He smiles incredulously. "Thanks. You're really nice too."
"And you're pretty decent-looking—"
"I know that."
"—and also popular. So why are you always hanging around me?"
"Uh, that's your question?"
You nod. Placing your cheek against your palm, you try not to sink into the couch.
"Because you're really cool!" He answers before clearing his throat. "I mean. I think you're fun to be around. You make me see things clearer."
"And what exactly are you wanting to see clearer?'
"You."
You blink aside your astoundment, straightening. "What?"
Your question is left unanswered because a man enters and sits across the two of you, a loud huff of annoyance leaving his mouth. It's not just his disposition but the architecture of his face that grabs your attention. He looks like an AI robot so perfectly crafted with coloured lips and flawless skin that you end up staring till Yangyang elbows you.
“He’s not an AI,” Yangyang whispers.
You furrow your brows and notice it is, in fact, true that he's not an AI. There are no ridges over the joints or hollowness in the eyes. He wears the same frost-patterned smart lenses as Yangyang does. However, it doesn't change the fact that the man is beautiful to look at.
“I’m never hosting a new year party again,” he mutters, sinking into the couch.
“It actually sounds kind of fun,” Yangyang interjects. “I can’t wait for my turn.”
“I’m sorry. Good luck standing at Longhua temple for three hours till midnight just to make sure nothing goes wrong. Without dinner.”
Yangyang makes a face at that.
"That's Sicheng-ge," he says, turning to you.
"Ah," you say in response, remembering the name vaguely.
"He let us into Club 2," Yangyang says, noticing your lost expression.
"I think Kun's looking for you," Sicheng says, eyes trained at the back.
His hands fidget with the dim blue buttons at the edge of the table, till a small compartment reveals itself under the glass. An old world-style cigarette is slowly pushed up and Sicheng picks it up. He offers the next one to Yangyang, who accepts it hesitantly. No one smokes tobacco anymore when nicotine is so readily available. Alas, human nature is to want things deadly and out of reach.
“So how’s Cat?” Yangyang asks, fumbling with the plasma lighter he picked from a compartment on the side.
Sicheng smiles a little, the smoke from his cigarette snaking around him as he raises a hand to dissipate it.
“She’s doing fine. Running everything as usual.”
“Of course. Boss lady.” Yangyang does an awkward salute.
“Oh, a new hair color too. As pretty as flower fields in the spring of ‘22.”
Sicheng’s lovesick rambling is interrupted by Yangyang hacking his lungs out. You turn to him and he avoids your gaze, reaching for a crystal blue glass of water one of the helper bots offer. So, he’s not even a smoker? Why did he think you would care?
“Anyway, Kun is glaring daggers at me now. You better get out of here.” Sicheng grimaces.
You turn around to see Kun by the bar table, gesturing towards Yangyang to come. You're not sure why but either of those men make you nervous.
"I'll be right back," Yangyang says, scrambling up and leaving you in a long awkward silence with Sicheng.
“So, uh, I’m assuming you’re oblivious to that lovestruck puppy following you around?” Sicheng asks, raising an eyebrow. “Or is this some game you guys are into? I’m not judging you for that.”
Your face heats up and you fidget with your collar. “The- A what? Game? Uh? I- huh?”
Sicheng tries to press down his smile but it’s evident enough for you to see. Did you say something funny? Did Yangyang say something funny about you? Oh, you’re going to kill him.
“For all that he talks, he’s kind of terrible at pulling together his own love life.”
“I- I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
It still unnerves you to look at him. He certainly looks more android than human when he’s not making any particular expression.
“Don’t mind me,” he says, offering you a reassuring smile. “You should find Yangyang before he lands the two of you in trouble.”
You turn to look at Yangyang through the glass and turn back nodding. Sicheng offers you a parting smile and you hesitantly make your way to the bar table.
"This isn't in my job description," Kun tells Yangyang just before you arrive. "I didn't know being a lawyer included babysitting."
The tips of Yangyang's ears heat up when he notices you.
"It's not babysitting," he murmurs. “Also, you’re not my mom.”
"You, Ten, Kunhang, all of you give me such a hard time," he continues but pauses right when he notices you.
"Oh, hello. (Name), isn't it?" He says, smiling politely. He's quite young and handsome for a lawyer. "Yangyang talks about you a lot."
"Oh," you respond. "Really?"
Yangyang glares at the older man. "You don't have to say everything, Kun-ge."
"You interested in law?" Kun asks, offering you a seat between him and Yangyang.
You make a face. The law is a tool for the rich and powerful. But then again, what isn’t? The world is in your hands when you have billions to spare. However, you still can’t imagine being a rich man's guard dog your whole life.
Kun chuckles. "You kids are interested in tech more, aren't you?"
Yangyang interrupts, "You talk like you're fifty years old."
Kun grimaces, resting his face against his hand. Shooting a glare at Yangyang, he finishes the rest of his wine.
You're not exactly interested in tech or engineering or the big kid jobs either. You just want a way to survive this man-made food chain. Rich eats the world till there’s nothing left on the plate. Then again, you'd rather be a pet than get eaten.
"Anyway," Kun turns to Yangyang. "If you see Ten, give me a call."
Yangyang signals with a thumbs up gesture, watching as Kun’s figure slowly makes its way out of the gate. It’s the two of you again and suddenly, you feel a strange sort of feeling overcome you. Leaning your throbbing forehead against Yangyang’s shoulder, you take some soft breaths and skip the part where you question your actions. It’s pleasant, at the very least. He shifts his chair closer, extending his arm around you so that your head rests against his shoulder more comfortably.
“You must be tired,” he mutters.
“You didn’t answer me,” you say. “Answer in a way I understood, at least.”
“Hm?”
“Why do you hang around me?”
“Do you not… want me to?”
“No. I like your company, actually. I can’t believe I said that out loud.”
Yangyang laughs. “You’re… you’re really perfect. As a person. At least to me, you seem that way.”
You scoff. “You’re a long way off there.”
“No. No, you felt like clockwork,” he continues. “When I first met you. I couldn’t believe you were real.”
You do work like a delirious robot on clockwork steroids. But you’re not very proud of it. You don’t think overworking is a good personality trait to have—even if it’s for survival. However, the faraway look in Yangyang’s eyes suggests that’s not what he means.
“I felt like I understood you,” he continues after a short pause.
You find it unbelievable. That’s the one sentence you could never imagine coming from him to you, much less agree with. But right then, as his warmth seeps into you, you want to agree desperately.
Yangyang feels an unexpected trickle of doubt down his throat. No matter how many times he’s practised in front of the mirror, the words don’t come out right when you’re with him. With everything you do, he feels more drawn in. There’s something familiar and something honest. And if he’s honest himself, he just likes you. What sort of a hypocrite should he be categorized as, to tell his friends to ‘just confess’ to their crushes when he’s a complete idiot when it comes to you? It can’t be that little voice from his childhood that tells him to stay in order.
Yangyang understands that there are rules to this world but he doesn’t get what those have got to do with him. He sighs, the sound somewhat grim when it comes from him.
"I've seen it before," he says, "People come from all over the country with hopes and dreams, and they get their hearts broken by capitalism."
You frown.
"I don't want you to go anywhere," he mumbles. "I hope you'll stay… even if- even if you feel like that, you know? If you're feeling lonely, I could—"
"Yangyang." You smile. "I’m quite comfortable here."
When you bury your nose into the crook of his neck, Yangyang thinks this is it. This is how he ends the sorry excuse of flirting he’s been trying with you and says something he regrets. It was never this difficult with the other crushes he’s had. He’s always left opening his mouth and then promptly closing it like a goldfish out of water every single time he wants to bring up dating with you. He’s always honest. So, what’s the big deal this time? This is so horrendously not cool of him.
You straighten. “We should get back home.”
“Can you- Can you not move so far from me, please?” Yangyang murmurs, hands gripping yours.
You smile, to yourself more to him but that’s one he likes the most.
“You’re a really interesting person, Yangyang.”
“I am?” He clears his throat and repeats the question.
“How are you so nice to people?”
“I think people are nice.”
“Why do you like parties?”
“They’re fun.”
“When the party’s over, who do you go to?” you ask, words mushing into each other.
“Home,” he answers, gulping down what seems like more words. “Like always.”
A hush falls between the two of you. You’re asking quite the questions.
“I’m sweaty,” you mutter. “I hate being sweaty.”
“You look wonderful though,” Yangyang mumbles, more to himself than to you. “Not that being sweaty makes you wonderful. You’re just nice.”
There’s another hush, the notes of the piano playing a faraway, romantic tune. He turns away and looks back at you again, but right in that moment, you lean forward to press your lips against his. It’s so sudden that he almost falls over backwards, his feet planted firmly on the ground the only thing preventing that from happening. The next thing he thinks is that your lips are on fire and it’s the most comfortable feeling he’s ever experienced.
The two of you fit into each other like clockwork, Yangyang thinks. It’s the one thing in his life that feels whole. Not that he isn’t whole by himself—he just loves your warmth. For a moment he feels like he’s on cloud nine and the next, his heart plummets when he feels you go limp in his arms.
It breaks his heart a little but he doesn’t—can’t bring himself to say much. He’s not this bad when he’s drunk, is he? Pulling you up by the waist, he texts Kunhang to bring his car down to the lounge.
This is going to be a long night.
viii. home
You wake up to the sun in your eyes and immediately know you're someplace you shouldn't be. This isn't your bed. The sun doesn't reach your bed in the morning. This isn’t the dormitory. You see a cubical alarm clock, a pixelated smiley face on it as it displays 10 A.M.
You get up and immediately shriek. You’re not wearing any clothes. Pulling the blanket up to your chin, you look around the room. It’s huge; the walls are multicolored with a little section opposite the bed reserved for photographs. There’s a lot of junk all over the floor that you don’t pay mind to when you notice Yangyang.
“Yangyang?!”
He rouses blinking slowly, hair going every which way and his eyes still unfocused. He looks like he’s had a difficult night.
“Why are you on the floor?” you ask, shrinking further into the ridiculously soft bed when he gets up. Massaging the back of his neck, he looks like he's looking at a mirage instead of a real live person. Unfortunately, he’s not wearing a shirt and you look away after a prolonged minute of staring. This is getting ridiculous. What are you doing here?
“Yangyang!”
“Huh? Oh!”
He seems to be finally awake. You should pop the question before it eats you alive.
"Did- Did we…?"
Yangyang blinks at you in confusion before a loud "oh" erupts from his mouth.
"No!" He says in between laughter. "No, we didn't. Oh my god, you’re so funny. You took off your clothes saying it's too hot and smacked me with them. I didn’t look, by the way.”
Your jaw drops. You can’t even form words through the pulsing headache.
“Your clothes are on the chair. And I didn’t touch your underwear. Out of respect."
You avoid eye contact in embarrassment.
“And… well, you did kiss me once. Twice.”
You look up alarmed and he raises his arms in defense.
“You- you were drunk so I had to push you off. You cried a little after that. Sorry.”
“Oh god.” You cover your face with your hands, sitting down on the bed. That has to be the most embarrassing thing you could have done.
“You- Don’t worry about that. You’re a good kisser. I was kind of surprised,” he offers in an attempt to make you feel better but you only grow hotter in the face.
“And- And I liked it,” he adds in a panic. “Wait, I don’t mean it in a creepy way.”
“I’m glad it wasn’t anyone else.”
“What?”
“You. It’s okay if it’s you.”
You give him a weak smile, still not over the embarrassment.
Yangyang laughs. “I… I think I should’ve said this before but… can I take you out on a date?”
“What were we doing last night then?”
“Well, that was- ah. You’re teasing me. Motherfucker.”
You giggle into your palm. When he takes a seat on the bed, you make a distressed sound and he jumps up immediately.
“My clothes,” you hiss. “Get out of the room so I can wear them.”
“Right,” he says, pointing an index finger at you.
He turns around right then. "By the way…"
You shriek, pulling the cover up all the way to your nose.
"Sorry," he says, averting his eyes immediately. "If- if that was a date, did you like it? Do you wanna go on another one?"
You can see him practically sweat bullets and you laugh at the innocuous questions. He’s too cute. You can’t believe you made yourself shake off the thought every time it crossed you. However indelicate his touch is, you welcome it nonetheless.
"Yes. Yes, I'll go on a date with you. You annoying, stupid, bratty idiot."
“Okay, that was mean.”
Watching his figure leave through the door, you relax your shoulders. In the end, people will always be people. No matter what shiny new toy you give them to play with, people will always search for happiness, and they will laugh and cry and fall in love with people and places and things over and over again. It's lovely to be human in an era of diamond and steel.
synopsis tiptoeing the line between love and friendship is always hard; but you love jaemin and jaemin loves you, you just don't know it yet.
pairing na jaemin x fem!reader
genre fluff, slight angst, university!au, best friends to lovers
word count thirteen thousand five hundred something
featuring nct dream, aespa
➸ notes happy early new year!! here is my first written work on this blog. apple was right— we need more longer written best friends to lovers oneshots on here so voila!! this has been in the works for a while. i think this is my new favourite thing i've ever written— it's so rinacore (fluff.) please reblog and leave feedback if you liked this <3 thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!!
everything we deeply love, will be a part of us forever. — unknown
You know Na Jaemin like the back of your hand.
Na Jaemin, whose smile is lopsided; the left part of his mouth drooping slightly lower than the other half. Na Jaemin, who hates dairy and strawberry flavouring, but still managed to eat a slice of your artificial strawberry flavoured fresh cream cake. Na Jaemin, whose mom texts you everyday to remind him to do his laundry, especially when he's at his busiest.
Said Na Jaemin sent you a text five minutes ago asking you to get him vacuum sealed chicken breast at the supermarket. No please, no thank you, no emoji indicating a smile in his tone. Just a 'hey, get chicken breast for me'.
You sigh, pulling your rolling basket to the chicken section of the meats aisle and Giselle just trails you like a lost puppy. She frowns when you start picking up slices of chicken breast and comparing them.
"Don't tell me... he asked for chicken breast again, didn't he?" Giselle asks. Her tone is a little too pointed and accusatory for your liking, but you brush it off.
Shrugging, you toss three slices of 500g chicken breast into your basket and move on, "He's having dinner at our place, Gigi. Am I supposed to give him nothing and let him starve?"
"Yes," she says, matter-of-factly. She walks ahead of you now, tossing a package of pork belly into the basket. "You can't keep buying groceries and feeding him. He's a grown man. He needs to learn to do things himself."
That you agree with. You're reminded of the time Jaemin spent the night at yours and Giselle's apartment and you tended to him the entire night. You like to say it's because acts of service is your love language, but both you and Giselle know that isn't true. Your love language is words of affirmation and quality time. You know this because you took a uQuiz during your ten minute break in your three hour psych lecture.
But the truth is you're undeniably, irrevocably, and imperatively in love with Na Jaemin.
Maybe it started when he nursed you back to health during your first year of university. You were dying (of a mild fever) during reading week and Jaemin spent all of his time tending to every one of your whines and complaints.
Or maybe it started in your first year of high school and Jaemin chose to go to the same hagwon you went to, so you two spend more time together (and possibly fail together).
But it also could have been back when you were in your second year of middle school, when you had no friends and Jaemin knew everyone, and he still chose to sit next to you in homeroom. He let you into his friend group and became your best friend within a few weeks.
Okay, that's enough of reminiscing in the drinks aisle.
You find yourself torn — do you get Jaemin the grape juice or the white peach juice? Turning to Giselle, you're met with a deadpan look and decide to place both bottles into your basket, pulling it behind you as you trail towards the cashier.
Since Jaemin's having dinner with you, you might as well get him something to drink, right? It's the least you could do. You don't want to see him smiling at his favourite brand of juice and thanking you with that lopsided smile of his.
Speaking of the man with the lopsided smile, he calls you right as you step into the checkout line. You put your phone to your ear and you're met with a shriek, "Y/N!"
Pulling the phone away, so as not to cause hearing loss, you wince, "Yes?"
"I need to stay the night—"
Before you can even answer, Giselle gives you a look that could kill. She gestures with her hand, signaling you to end the call, but you wave her off.
"Yeah. That's fine," you mumble, bringing the phone back to your ear. You aren't even sure of what he said when you were looking at Giselle.
There's a sigh of relief on the other line and Jaemin sounds like he's smiling, "Thanks Y/N. I owe you one."
You bid him goodbye as you move farther down the checkout line, pulling your wallet out of your bag.
Your current wallet is probably your favourite wallet, out of all of the ones you have right now. Jaemin gave it to you as a gift; he saw it in a shop display during his semester abroad in Japan and knew you had to have it (his words verbatim). It's pink (Jaemin's favourite colour, of course) and compact, with a polaroid of Jaemin and his cats where the wallet picture goes. You think if you ever lost it, you'd go insane.
The cashier tells you the total and you tap your card to the machine, watching as Giselle haphazardly throws your groceries into her My Neighbour Totoro tote bag. You collect your receipt and begin to trudge out into the mucky parking lot with Giselle in tow.
In the parking lot, Giselle throws her tote into the back seat, not caring for the goods inside. You furrow your eyebrows at her, "Please be careful. Don't stain my My Melody blanket."
Giselle shrugs, "You can always get another one."
Pouting, you think, no you can't. Jaemin bought you that for your car specifically. Huffing, you let her get settled in the passenger seat as you get into your car. Giselle pulls her sun visor down, before you can warn her not to, and a pile of post-it notes come tumbling down into her lap.
"Y/N, what is this?" she asks, picking one up to read. "'Y/N, good luck on your art history final!' You haven't taken art history since first year? How long have you kept this?"
Embarrassed, you pick up the pile of post-it notes from Giselle's lap and hastily open the middle console, shoving them into it. You can't meet her eyes, "None of your business."
Giselle smirks at you, "You're sooooo down bad. Like even worse than bad. Down worst."
You scoff at her attempt at a joke and pull out of the parking lot, the only thing on your mind being Jaemin. He's put a put a post-it note in your passenger sun visor for every quiz, test, exam, midterm, final; quite possibly everything you've ever you had. You keep them all for good luck, not only because you need the luck, but because you're sentimental and want to keep everything Jaemin's ever given you forever.
Maybe you are down worst like Giselle said.
But you won't tell her that.
—
You do know Na Jaemin like the back of your hand, because you expected him to be plopped down on the staircase leading to your apartment.
And he is.
You just weren't expecting him to be wearing a baby carrier for twins on his body. You also didn't realize that fully grown cats fit so perfectly in baby carriers. Another thing you failed to predict was the pet carrier on the ground beside him.
Because you're so engrossed in surprise, you leave Giselle behind to fetch the groceries in the back as you trudge up to Jaemin. Placing your hands on your hips, you frown at him, "Why are they here?"
Readying yourself for Jaemin's usual long winded schpiel, you shift your weight on to one foot as Jaemin smiles at you, hesitance on his features. But you're met with six words only, "They wanted to see their mom?"
You have just been Knocked Out! by Jaemin's reply. You're not only at a loss for words, but your heart has completely stopped. The only thing holding you up right now is your need to Keep Composure in front of your best friend slash crush.
"No, really, Jaemin," your voice cracks mid-sentence and you wish the earth would open up and swallow you whole, "why are they here?"
Jaemin pouts, accepting defeat, and explains, "Jeno killed a big spider in our bathroom and it turns out it was pregnant, so now we have hundreds of baby spiders crawling around our apartment."
Giselle catches up to you and frowns, "So you're just bringing your spider infested pets into our apartment?"
"Hey!" Jaemin exclaims, "Our—" he gestures to you and himself, "—children are not spider infested. I checked."
With a slight laugh, you lead Jaemin and Giselle upstairs, pulling the pet carrier into one hand. You climb up one step and angle your foot a little too close to the edge, stumbling forward. Jaemin's hands reach for your hips and keep you stable, nagging, "You should be more careful."
"Yes, mom," you mumble quietly. The placement of Jaemin's hands on your hips have your heart racing a bit too fast for your liking. Shaking it off, you continue your journey upstairs.
It's a good thing neither Jaemin nor Giselle can see your face.
—
Dinner went well; well in the way that none of Jaemin's cats disrupted your eating and Cooper didn't try to eat any of the cats. Jaemin thanked you for his chicken breast and fruit juice with a hug and a kiss to your forehead. Currently, you find yourself trying to melt yourself into Jaemin's chest. In a best friend way, of course.
Said Best Friend is going through his phone, his other arm wrapped around your middle, and his free fingers tapping at your side. You would be lying if you said that you weren't affected by the little taps on your waist. In fact, every time a finger leaves your waist, you miss it, but just for a mere second.
You look up at Jaemin, whose face is stark white, illuminated by his phone, then at his phone. He's reading spider killing updates from Jeno. It's not looking too good for him.
Then, you see it.
Attached to Jaemin's phone is a bracelet with all too familiar beads. A transparent pink heart bead, round pastel beads, a Kuromi bead, then another transparent pink heart bead lead you to letters that spell out Y/N ♡ JAEMIN ☆.
You reach up to grab at the bracelet and Jaemin smiles at you, "Just noticed?"
"Yeah," you nod. "Did you do this recently? I didn't see it last time."
Jaemin's smile grows bigger, like he's just learned something about you. His eyes wander over to your fingers that tangle around the beads and he answers you, "I did it yesterday. I realized I wanna keep a part of you with me everywhere I go, so I put it on my phone like a charm."
His answer, the sincerity in his eyes, and his soft smile have you at a loss for words. Letting go of the bracelet, you pull your eyes away from his, mumbling, "Cute."
Jaemin raises his eyebrows at you and replies, "You're cute."
Okay. Your face is too warm for your liking, so instead of egging Jaemin on, you push your face into his chest, as if it would open up and let you inside. Maybe then, inside Jaemin's chest cavity, you wouldn't have to worry about seeming flustered in front of him.
"Is my Y/N shy now?" Jaemin's voice lilts in a teasing way, and you bring up a closed fist to hit lightly at his other pec.
He throws his phone to the other side of the bed and brings his other hand to your other side, flipping you over so he's straddling you. His fingers move in a way that makes you highly uncomfortable because if you didn't know any better—
You burst out into loud laughter at the way his fingers move up and down your waist, pushing lightly to make the tickling worse. Your strength is no match for Jaemin's; you're unable to push away at his prodding hands and free yourself. Squirming and attempting to wriggle out of his hold doesn't help you either.
"Jaemin!" you cry out, "Stop! Please!"
His fingers halt as soon as you ask, and instead of tickling you, his hands grip around your waist, holding you in place underneath him. Jaemin's eyes are soft and he looks at you, but you can't fathom why. Your hair must be a mess from the way you were wriggling around on your bed and you're out of breath from laughing too much.
You must look extremely dishevelled, so why is Jaemin looking at you like you're the second coming of Christ? Like you're made of light?
You can't bring yourself to meet his eyes, but you can sort of make out the pout on his features as he looks down at you. His voice is soft, albeit a tad bit whiny, as he speaks, "Don't be shy with me."
You make the mistake of looking at Jaemin's face and if you weren't sure of your impending death earlier, you're sure of it now. Half lidded eyes, red round cheeks, and perfect lips tucked into a perfect pout; it's like he's looking right through you and you're 100% sure now that you could have a heart attack at any second now.
The people upstairs must have it out for you: they've given you the most beautiful best friend you could ever fathom, but you've fallen for him and you have no clue if he reciprocates your feelings. Once you get up there, you're going to have a long, stern talk with some of them.
Instead of answering Jaemin, you just nod at him, and his pout grows deeper. A big hand travels up to your jaw, grip not too hard, but enough to keep you still. He speaks with intent now, like he expects you to answer him, "Y/N. You don't have to be shy with me. There's nothing to be shy about."
There's actually a lot to be shy about, but you can't tell him that.
You finally open your mouth, "I won't be shy with you."
A fond smile makes its way on to Jaemin's features and he pulls his weight off of you, lightly patting your cheek as he gets up, "That's my girl."
He leaves your room, and you find yourself sprawled on your bed, dizzy from what just happened. If light touches and barely there grips could leave marks, then Jaemin's hand prints would be everywhere on you. You could look into a mirror and probably find his fingerprints on your face, around your jaw, and all over your waist.
If you didn't die earlier, these thoughts have killed you now.
you will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart always will be elsewhere. — miriam adeney
Growing up, your family always taught you that home is where the person you love most is.
And growing up, that person was always your mom. No matter what happened that day, that hour, or that exact minute, your mom was always there with open arms for you to run into.
Your mom did everything she could to make sure you felt loved, safe, and protected. She often made you your favourite meal when you were sad, she would sing you your favourite song to make you happy, and she would kiss your forehead goodnight as you slipped away into slumber. For all your life, your mom was your home.
Until university started, and you were whisked away from your sweet, suburban home, and into the apartments of the bustling city.
Then your home became Jaemin.
Sure, he wasn't so big and bulky when you started university; he was more thin and lean back then, but things change. He became your home away from home when you couldn't call your mom to make doctor's appointments for you anymore.
Instead, Jaemin would voluntarily come with you to your appointments. He made sure you were comfortable, that you weren't feeling any stress or uneasiness.
Which is why now, sitting in your car after your doctor's appointment, your shoulders deflate with sadness at Jaemin's reply to your question.
"I can't come to your mom's birthday celebration because I'm seeing my grandma tomorrow."
You shouldn't feel sad because Jaemin has every right to see his grandma. Especially because Jaemin's grandma lives alone in a different suburb. It only makes sense for him to see her every weekend.
Jaemin's grandma is his home.
Jaemin grew up in the same suburb you moved to when you were in middle school, but he would take the train across the metropolitan area just to see his grandma every weekend. She always greeted him with open arms, much like your mom did to you.
There were some times when you would go with Jaemin to visit his grandma, and when you met her, Jaemin made a lot more sense. Not only did he inherit his warm eyes and kind smile from her, but every little habit of his could be traced back to her.
She was so kind to you, despite only meeting her a few times, that it moved your heart. So there's sort of a bittersweet feeling in your chest. But you push it away, swallowing it deep down within your system so that you can't think of it anymore.
"Yeah? Say hi to her for me," you smile, beginning to pull out of the parking lot.
Jaemin pauses, like he's thinking about what he wants to say next.
"She's been asking me when I'm going to bring a girl home to meet her, before she, you know," Jaemin says. You weren't sure what you were expecting, you just know you weren't expecting that.
You swallow the lump that's just now formed in your throat and reply, "Well, your grandma's not that old. Hopefully, she isn't dying yet."
"Knock on wood, knock on wood!" Jaemin exclaims at you, pulling out his notebook with a wood panel design on its cover. He knocks hard on it three times, then slips it back into his tote bag. You're not sure if he's an idiot or a genius for carrying that thing around to knock on as its sole purpose.
"But why don't you bring a girl home to her?" you ask. You're not sure if you really want to know the answer to that, afraid you might get your feelings hurt unintentionally.
Whatever, you brought it on yourself.
Mentally preparing yourself for his answer, you grip your Pompom Purin-clad steering wheel tighter.
"There's only one type of person I want to bring home to her," Jaemin says. He looks out the window, watching the other cars pass by, as he continues speaking, "I want to bring her someone who reminds me of home, you know? Someone who just makes me feel at ease effortlessly."
You nod along to his answer, interest piquing at his honesty.
You know Jaemin is your home away from home, but are you his?
There's a sudden sinking feeling in your stomach, something that sucks all of the oxygen out of the car and makes it hard to breathe. You aren't sure if you can make it to Jaemin's apartment peacefully now.
—
The morning after your mom's birthday party, you find yourself staring blankly into the mountains of leftovers that invade your fridge. Sighing, you pull out the tray of fruit salad and plop down at your dining table. Jaemin would have loved to eat the food your mom cooked.
You shake your head in shame because you shouldn't be thinking of him right now. He probably isn't even thinking of you. Who cares if Jaemin is a big fan of your mom's soft tofu stew? Who cares if Jaemin would have spent the entire night entertaining your little brother? Who cares if Jaemin would have laughed at every one of your dad's bad jokes?
You don't.
Well.
You shouldn't.
You're stabbing into the little fruits, like they owe you something, when you hear it. There's a light knock on your front door.
For some reason, you take a look around and decide to open the door. You're not sure why your jaw decides to drop when you see a sheepish Jaemin standing there with a gift bag in his hands.
"What are you doing here?" you ask, shuffling back into the kitchen as Jaemin takes his shoes off. You take out another fork and hand it to him, pulling out a bottle of grape juice. "Aren't you spending the weekend with your grandma?"
Jaemin stabs into a piece of honeydew and inspects it before shoving it in his mouth, "Yeah, but she said I should come see you."
What a peculiar thing to say. You're intrigued.
Tilting your head, you take a strawberry, "Why would she say that?"
You watch as Jaemin tries to finds the correct words to say, rubbing the back of his neck and furrowing his eyebrows in thought. He opens his mouth just to close it and you tilt your head even more.
Huffing, he finally answers you, "I couldn't stop talking about how I missed you and how every little thing reminded me of you."
It's your turn to furrow your eyebrows because there is no way Jaemin just said that about you. In fact, you're so far up your ass about how you feel for him, that you're probably projecting onto him.
You bite onto the prongs of your fork, eyes trained on the tray of fruit in front of you, "I-I guess I missed you too."
What a bunch of lies. You missed him so much. The entirety of your stay at home so far was spent talking about how much you missed Jaemin. In fact, your brother even threw a pillow at your face to get you to shut up because you wouldn't stop incessantly talking about how you were possibly homesick (read: it was quite obvious you were very "homesick.")
"Now! Where's your mom so I can give her some of my grandma's seaweed soup?" Jaemin asks, pulling a container out of the giftbag. He rummages around your kitchen like it's his own, gathering a bowl and a spoon.
At that moment, your mom walks into the kitchen with very obvious sleep in her eyes. She blinks once, twice, then realizes that Jaemin is standing in front of her. She pulls him into a hug and exclaims, "What are you doing here? Have you eaten?"
Jaemin just chuckles as he pulls away, pushing the bowl of seaweed soup into the microwave, "I just came home to say happy birthday! And I will eat, don't worry."
Your mom smiles and pushes you towards the fridge, hinting that you should get food for Jaemin. She smiles at him, "Well, thank you! You know, Y/N was complaining nonstop last night because of how homesick she was!"
"Mom!" the whine spills from your lips faster than you can stop it, and all you get back in response is a light shove to the shoulder.
Jaemin laughs, "I get it, I get it. I was a little homesick yesterday too."
Your mom pats his back, "Are you feeling a bit better now?"
"A lot better, actually," Jaemin says. The microwave finally beeps and he takes the bowl out, handing it to your mother. "I'm glad to be home."
Your mom smiles at him, then looks at you with a smirk, "You're welcome here anytime, Jaemin."
You're not sure what just happened, but you're 100% sure you want to duct tape your mom's mouth shut so she can't embarrass you like that ever again. It's one thing to embarrass your own child, but another to possibly potentially ruin their life by hinting at their unrequited feelings to the person they have said feelings for.
Maybe you shouldn't have come home for the weekend.
—
Being in your university's drama department has its ups and downs. An up? Complimentary catering from the university dining hall during long days. A down? Long days.
Today has been one of those long days.
Not only were you up since five in the morning, you were also called to step in for the lead's understudy unexpectedly. The lead got strep throat two days ago, and that morning the understudy fell off a 6 foot ladder. Talk about breaking a leg, literally!
It's 11 in the evening when you finally manage to pull yourself under your duvet covers. The bright light of the moon is dimmed by the blanketing clouds and your lace curtains. There are zero remnants of cats in your room and Cooper is at Giselle's parents' house for the weekend.
You should be able to fall asleep.
You should be able to fall asleep, but you don't.
Because once you close your eyes, fatigue and exhaustion don't hit you like they should. Your guardian angels don't lift up your body and fly you to dreamland like you expect.
Your eyes open and drift off to your window, where the moon's risen in the sky.
It's daunting tonight. Its full form takes its place at the highest point in the sky and all you can do is blink at it in dread.
The full moon can't be keeping you awake, can it?
Huffing, you roll over and pull your phone out from your nightstand. There are a myriad of notifications that line your screen, but only one that catches your eye.
A missed call from Jaemin, not too long ago.
You press on the notification and put the call on speaker, not even realizing that the line connects immediately.
"Y/N? I thought you were asleep," Jaemin's voice is soft on the other line. By the way a cat is directly purring into the phone, you can tell he's cuddling with one of your children. "What's wrong?"
"Can't sleep," you mumble. Rolling onto your stomach, you squint at the tiny numbers at the top of your phone screen. 1:23am, it reads. "I've been trying for around two hours now."
Jaemin's silent on the other line for a second, then the purring stops, and he replies, "Do you want me to sing to you? Like your mom used to?"
You're somewhat embarrassed by the question, but you're too exhausted to care about that right now. You mumble a confirmation into your phone and plop your head on your pillow, like you know Jaemin's lullaby is going to put you to sleep.
You close your eyes and Jaemin begins to sing a song that's all too familiar to you.
Close your eyes and listen to what I'm saying
Before my story ends, you'll be dreaming
Little star, tonight, I will protect you all night
His voice is soft, sweet, serene as your breathing evens out. Despite your breathing being even, your body doesn't surrender to slumber. Instead, you find yourself conscious, with your eyes closed and your ears open.
You're my love, my everything, an angel from the heavens
You stole my two eyes, my world
Little star, tonight, I will protect you all night
"Jaemin?" your little voice causes Jaemin to stop singing and you feel hesitant to say it. "I don't think it's working. Can you come over?"
"Of course. I'll see you in ten."
Jaemin is pushing through your bedroom door in exactly ten minutes. He jumps onto your bed and presses his cheek to yours.
"Can't sleep?" he whispers; his voice is muffled because his cheek still pressed to yours. When you nod, you can hear the pout in his voice, "How come?"
"I had a long day and I don't think I can unwind from it," you mumble. Jaemin pulls himself away from your back and sits next to your laying figure, his hand already dragging itself up and down your back to soothe you.
Jaemin nods, to himself mostly, and whispers, "Just close your eyes and breathe. I'll be here as long as you need."
So you do just that. Your breathing evens out once again and you focus on the calloused fingers moving up and down your shirt. If you weren't so tired, you're pretty sure you would have suffered from a stroke a while ago.
It takes a while, but you succumb to sweet slumber, under Jaemin's touch. You can't see him, but his eyes travel your profile. They stop at your eyes, lined with long and thick eyelashes. They travel down the slope of your nose. From there, they go down your cupid's bow and stop at your lips.
Jaemin presses a kisses to the side of your head and lays down next to you.
Needless to say, that's the best sleep you've gotten in a while.
i once imagined you loved me a little bit, if you'll excuse the presumption. — f. scott fitzgerald
Being a drama major is hard.
Especially when you're tasked with kissing Jaemin's friend, fellow drama major, Lee Haechan. You are not only tasked with kissing him in a scene from a play, but you're also tasked with emoting romantic love for Lee Haechan during said scene from said play.
This should be easy.
The keyword being should, because it's not easy.
You have never kissed anyone in your twenty three year life span and you've only been in love with one person. You don't know how to act out being in love because you don't know how one acts when they're in love.
And if one acts like you when they're in love, then you're screwed. You're probably going to get a 0 in the Romantic Dramedies unit.
"I can't do it," you mope, forcing yourself down onto the table in front of you. You really shouldn't because the table is dirty and you're in the dining hall, but you can't really bring yourself to care. "I don't want to kiss Haechan and I don't want to act in love with Haechan and I don't want to do it."
Huang Renjun, an unimpressed bioengineering student, rolls a meatball across his plate and deadpans, "Then don't."
"But then I'll fail and I'll never get casted for a romantic dramedy," you whine some more. "How am I supposed to become an award winning actress then?"
Renjun reaches over the table to pluck a string bean off your plate. He munches as he speaks, "Why don't you just switch partners, then?"
You scrunch your eyes closed. You've explained this to him five times now, albeit with the omission of important information. "Everyone has a kissing scene, Renjun. It's the romantic dramedy unit."
"Sucks then," he shrugs. "I just don't understand why you're making such a big deal out of it."
Karina takes a seat beside him, placing her tray down and not even bothering to spare you a glance, "Y/N hasn't had her first kiss yet."
Renjun chokes a bit, then laughs as loud as he possibly can, "Wait— really? This is so—" you throw a string bean at his face and he scowls, "—Funny. This is so funny. You're in love with Na Jaemin and your first kiss is not going to be with Na Jaemin. Oh god, this is hilarious."
Karina pats your hand, as if to soothe you and apologize for feeding Renjun that information.
And if things can't get any worse, Jaemin has just taken the seat beside you, sliding a bowl of mac and cheese towards you, "What's up?"
At this point, Renjun wipes away a stray tear and grins at Jaemin, "Y/N's first kiss is going to be with Haechan and not with the guy—"
Before Renjun can finish his sentence, Karina throws a spoonful of creamed corn at Renjun. He frowns as they stick to his cream knit vest.
Jaemin turns to you and you sit up straight, frowning as you begin digging into your mac and cheese. "What's going on?" he asks.
You mix the pasta in your bowl, furrowing your eyesbrows, "Well, you see, in my acting class, we're doing the romantic dramedy unit and we're all supposed to do a scene of a play of the professor's choice. I have to do The Debutante with Haechan, and we have to kiss, so I'm worried I won't do so well."
Jaemin tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and he pouts, "Are you nervous?"
You nod, finally taking a bite of your food.
"Do you want me to help you go over your lines?" Jaemin asks. You don't notice how his eyes are fixed on you, looking for any sign of discomfort.
You nod again, and Jaemin smiles.
"But we're not kissing," you mumble, shoving more macaroni into your mouth. You don't know if you would be able to handle kissing Jaemin. But not only would you be kissing Jaemin, you'd also be having your first kiss with Jaemin. And not only would that be your first kiss, but it would also be a kiss of service, because he's kissing you to help you with your one act play. He's not kissing you because he's in love with you.
You don't notice the way Jaemin's shoulders deflate at your statement. And if you did, you would have forced yourself to pay it no mind.
Instead, you lose yourself in the low quality macaroni and cheese that your best friend got you for lunch.
—
Maybe going over your lines with Jaemin wasn't such a good idea. It's not that he's bad (he is very bad) and it's not that he's good (he very much isn't), it's just that you can't help but get lost in the soft galaxies that make up his pupils.
You've been trying to go over the kiss scene for over an hour now, but every time Jaemin's face gets too close to yours, you drop to the floor out of shock. What else are you supposed to do when the guy you've been in love with — for years, might I add — hovers around your face with his lips near yours? Pass out.
Or worse, die.
Okay, let's go. Take thirty three part two, since you're at the second kiss scene.
"What's your general trend?" Jaemin asks. Your eyes leave his face and flit down to your script.
Clearing your throat, you read your line, "Oh, I'm bright, quite selfish, emotional when aroused, fond of admiration—"
Jaemin is supposed to say his line next.
But he doesn't.
So you repeat yourself, "...Emotional when aroused, fond of admiration..."
And again, no word from Jaemin.
Which isn't like him. Usually, he's confident and knows just what to do. Plus, the two of you have been going at it, reading line after line in this study room, for almost two hours now.
You look up at him and he's looking directly at you, with something hidden deep in his gaze. It feels like your eyes must be playing tricks on you.
There is no way a glint of adoration, fondness, or even love just flashed through Jaemin's eyes as he looked at you right now. You're delusional.
Instead of confronting his eyes head on, you look back down at your script. The way in which your heart tries to break free out of your chest is telling you to just do it! Look him back in the eye!
But you're scared.
If he knows you like the back of his hand, he'll know with one look that you're head over heels crazy in love with him. He would just know.
You huff, "Jaemin."
"Yeah?"
"You were supposed to say your line after fond of admiration."
"Sorry. You're just so good at this," he mumbles. Like he's ashamed, maybe even embarrassed of himself, his eyes travel back down to his script, and he speaks, "I don't want to fall in love with you—"
You raise your eyebrows, as instructed, "Nobody asked you to."
Now if only Jaemin would fall in love with you. If only Jaemin would make your dreams come true, fall in love with you, kiss the ever loving hell out of you, and date you. If only he would look at you with all the love in the world, no softness left for small kittens and cute puppy clothing. You want Jaemin to be in love with you so bad, it might kill you.
But now is not the time for that. Now it's time to concentrate on emoting romantic love so that you might pass your romantic dramedy unit.
"But I probably will," Jaemin reads off his script, monotone. His eyes meet yours, then they travel south to your mouth, "I love your mouth."
It takes you everything to not freak out in the moment. It takes everything in you not to curl up into a ball on the floor, just because your best friend looked at your lips.
"Hush— please don’t fall in love with my mouth— hair, eyes, shoulders, slippers— but not my mouth," you mumble. Your features form a pout automatically, and your free hand reaches up to touch your lips, sullen. "Everybody falls in love with my mouth."
Jaemin's eyes are fixed on your lips, "It’s quite beautiful."
You look away, shoulders slumping, "It’s too small."
"No, it isn’t— let’s see."
Jaemin steps closer, like he's entranced; his face hovers around yours — your noses just a hairsbreadth away from touching. Your heart picks up its pace, practically trying to break free from its confines in your ribcage. He's about to inch closer, when your legs give out from underneath you, and you drop to the floor. Again.
"Holy shit— are you okay?" Jaemin asks, squatting down to your level.
He cups his hands around your jaw and inspects your face, looking into your eyes for any discomfort. He presses the back of one hand to your forehead, to see if you've randomly caught a fever out of nowhere (you haven't), pulls his hand away, and then presses his forehead against yours.
"I think I'm just really dizzy," you mumble, unable to meet his eyes. You know for a fact that if you met his eyes, you'd faint on the spot and Jaemin would definitely find out you're in love with him, because let's face it, what kind of normal person faints when faced with the love of their life?
"Do you think you can push through?" Jaemin asks. He doesn't make any effort to pull his face away from yours, like he's completely unaware of the effect he has on you right now. "Or do you wanna take a quick break?"
You pull away from his face, missing the way Jaemin falters for a split second, then hum, "I think that's all for today. I'll practice with Haechan tomorrow."
Jaemin frowns, "Are you sure?"
You nod, "I just really wanna lay down right now."
"Should I take you to your place or mine?"
That's a question you didn't expect, nor do you want to answer. Being around Jaemin for too long is bad for your health. He may be your best friend, but he is also the cause of potential heart attacks, strokes, and whatnot. It might be a good idea to just head to yours.
"I'm gonna go to mine," you answer.
"Do you want me to leave you alone?" Jaemin asks. By the way he can't look at you, you can tell that he's sort of hurt by the insinuation.
You take a breath. Do you: hurt the love of your life's feelings by going home alone and dealing with the repurcussions of your actions in the solitude of your dark bedroom or hurt yourself by bringing the love of your life home and dealing with the repurcussions of your actions in the solitude of your dark bedroom later?
Past, present, and future you be damned.
"No. Come lay in my dark bedroom with me," you force a smile and hold your hand out. Jaemin helps you up with a hand on your waist and you suddenly find yourself missing the coolness of the carpeted library floor.
—
Jaemin told you he was going to watch your play with Haechan. He told you, and you processed the fact, and you understood it.
And yet right now, with Jaemin's eyes on you as he sits in the front row of the hoard of students, you can't help but feel nervous. Like a parasite is eating away at your organs and you can't help but stand there in doom, rather than getting help and calming down. He gives you a thumbs up and a smile, and you force a smile back, nodding.
Haechan comes up to you, holding his fist out, "Let's break a leg out there!"
You press your closed fist to his and hiss, "If anything, I will be breaking your legs out there."
"Okay. Nevermind!" Haechan grumbles. He walks over to stage left, to the door prop.
Your professor yells for the scene to start and your mind slips from you; you become a new person. You become Rosalind.
You and Haechan bicker back and forth as the two characters do — flirtatious and nonchalant. The kiss is coming up faster than you expected.
You didn't want to kiss Haechan; Hell, you still don't want to, but your grade depends on it. You slip, acting all on your own, and your eyes shift towards Jaemin for a split second. And he's looking at you like that again.
Jaemin. He is all you can think about.
Jaemin, Jaemin, Jaemin, Jaemin, Jaemin.
It hits you; you shatter like a glass house, immediately, as fast as possible, and all at once. You do not fall for Jaemin piece by piece. This love is not gradual. It hits you like a brick wall, its impact leaving you stumbling backwards and looking for anything to ground you.
Instead, all you feel is an ache in your head and the pulsing of blood in your ears. Your heart feels like it will not stop, not even for a second, as long as Jaemin's looking at you like this. He is bright eyed and bushy-tailed, everything good in the world. He is pancake breakfasts and fresh squeezed orange juice in the morning. He's an afternoon nap; one that is dreamless, one that doesn't leave you groggy once you wake, and one that is just right. He's kisses on your eyelids when you want to sleep, but need to stay up doing a reading.
Jaemin is love.
And it hits you where it hurts, because you know he may never feel the same way.
"Rosalind, I really want to kiss you," Haechan remarks.
You blink. You don't want to say your next line. But you have to.
"So do I," you mumble.
Haechan steps forward. With each step he takes towards you, you want to take a step back. You want to leave your first kiss for the one you're in love with, the only one who have eyes for.
But you don't know if he'll ever love you back.
You remember the stage direction, bright and clear as day: They kiss — definitely and thoroughly.
So you let Haechan kiss you. His lips are soft on yours, the lightest pressure you've ever felt on your lips in your life. There are no sparks and the only reason your heart is beating so fast is because you're performing in front of a crowd and you've just had your first kiss with another actor.
The kiss is meaningless. It's for show and entertainment and fun.
So why do you feel so bad?
Haechan pulls away from you; he's breathless, but his eyes are dead on yours, "Well, your curiosity is satisfied."
The scene goes on and on and on and the second kiss flies by without any warning. Before you know it, the spotlight dims and your professor yells cut!
Jaemin follows you to the dressing room, where you let out a heavy breath you didn't even know you were holding. You lean on the table, shoulders slumping. Jaemin stands beside you, twirling a piece of your hair around his fingers, "How are we feeling?"
Heaving out a sigh, you pout, "I hated every second of it."
Jaemin's eyes soften at your demeanor. His hands travel to your shoulders and he gives them a light squeeze, "Why?"
"It felt wrong to me," you mumble. You're happy he can't see your face. Maybe your lovesick expression would have given you away had he seen it. "I'm just glad it's over."
"Do you wanna get some food and lay around in bed?" Jaemin asks.
"Yeah, after class," you reply. You push yourself off the table, letting Jaemin intertwine your fingers as you walk out of the dressing room.
He tries to smile at you; a gesture you would have really needed had the circumstances been different, but you can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes right now. Especially after what just happened.
—
As an I'm-so-glad-you-did-well! gift, Jaemin takes you to the diner to get you a chocolate milkshake and some fries. He watches you with a fond smile on his face, as you dip fry after fry in your milkshake.
"Soo..." Jaemin begins.
You mock him, "Soo..."
He grins, reaching over the table to pinch at your cheek with a coo, "Do you want to come to a party with me tomorrow night?"
"A party?" you ask.
You are somewhat startled by this revelation of a question. In your three years at university, Jaemin (and you, by default) has never once been to a party.
Well. It depends on your definition of a party.
You have gone to many drama department parties, also known as wrap parties, with Jaemin accompanying you. You doubt those are the same type of party Jaemin is inviting you to.
"Yeah. Mark joined a frat this year so he's inviting us to a party," Jaemin shrugs. He takes a sip of your milkshake then shudders in realization. "Why did I even drink that?"
You laugh at how cute Jaemin is, but then it hits you. Mark is in his last year of univesity, so why join a frat now? It's hard to imagine an awkward Mark surrounded by big, beefy frat bros. What would they even have in common?
"Why would Mark join a frat?" you ask.
"He said it's his last year of polisci and he wanted to have at least one normal uni experience," Jaemin shrugs again.
"Right," you roll your eyes, "because being your professor's favourite TA and lounging around the humanities faculty offices are not normal uni experiences."
Jaemin just narrows his eyes at you, one hand occupied with stirring your straw around in your milkshake, "So what do you say?"
You hum, taking a fry and holding it between your teeth. Jaemin's eyes wander to your mouth and they linger, a fact you don't notice.
You begin to speak and Jaemin looks into your eyes once again, "I guess we could use the experience. But if I don't like it, I don't want to step foot into a frat house ever again. Got it?"
"You got it, boss!" Jaemin salutes you and you chuckle, finishing the rest of your fry.
Sure, your only knowledge of frat parties come from shitty romcom movies from the '90s and your cousin Jaehyun's anecdotes from when he was in a frat, but what's the worse that could happen? Someone could potentially throw up on your shoes, someone could potentially sneeze into their palm and wipe it on you, and someone could potentially bump into you, causing you to spill your drink all over yourself, but really, what's the harm?
It's not like something could happen that flips your world upside down.
to love someone is firstly to confess: i'm prepared to be devastated by you. — billy-rey belcourt
Frat house parties are always insane.
Well, they always sounded insane.
Your cousin Jaehyun always talked about finding some horned up couple getting frisky in his shoe closet. There was also a time when he found his own girlfriend getting frisky in his shoe closet, with a guy that was not him. Not to mention another time, when he walked into his shoe closet and stepped in a puddle of fresh vomit and something that resembled semen. Not cool.
Thankfully, you are not a frat brother, nor do you choose to be one. If you ever were a frat brother, you figure your life might be going in a shitty direction. Thank god you also don't have a shoe closet in a bedroom of a frat house.
You stand in the hallway of your apartment, the only good enough place with lighting for a full length mirror selfie, and pout at yourself in the mirror. Your hands never leave your hips as you turn around, positioning yourself from pose to pose, trying to understand why you think you look awful in your outfit.
"Gigi, come here!" you shout, frown evident in your voice.
Giselle grumbles, trudging towards you in her pajamas, "Again? What's wrong with your outfit this time?"
Giselle emphasizes the words this time, because this is probably the seventh or eighth time you've called her over. (This is actually the tenth time, but no one else is counting but yourself.)
"I think I look weird. Do you think Greek life university students will think I look weird like this?" you ask. You're not one to be insecure, but being in a new environment means meeting new people, and meeting new people means making first impressions. You don't want anyone to think you're weird for wearing a black, glittery bandeau top and off-white cargo pants.
Giselle just looks you up and down and smirks, "Honestly? I think you look super hot— and, maybe tonight, you might get lucky if Jaemin decides to jump your bo—"
There's a knock at the door that cuts her off and you shoot her a wary look. It's very obvious that Jaemin is the one at the door and you hope that he heard none of Giselle's very stupid sounding sentence. She lets out a mumbled apology and makes her way to the door.
"Jaemin! Come on in!" you can hear Giselle exclaim. "Y/N's just looking at herself in the mirror! She thinks she looks weird—"
Curse Giselle and her big mouth.
"Why would she look weird?" Jaemin asks. Before you know it, they're standing to your side, Giselle's hands on her hips.
She smirks, "I think she looks hot. Do you think she looks hot?"
Jaemin looks you up and down, and he gulps. His voice cracks as he speaks, "She looks— looks, um, pretty."
"Pretty? Pretty fine, if you ask me," Giselle exclaims.
"Um. I'm gonna go take a seat in the kitchen," Jaemin creaks. He pads away to the kitchen and you blow a raspberry.
What he does mean by um, pretty? Is he lying? Does he think you look weird? Maybe you should reconsider your outfit, or even reconsider going to the party.
Giselle comes over to pat at your butt lovingly and whispers, "If he doesn't make a move tonight, I swear—"
You scoff, "Why would he make a move? He's my best friend."
Giselle gives you an incredulous look, like you just dissed her mom or something, "Are you insane? Do you not see the way he looks at you?"
You swat at her, "He looks at me the same way he looks at everyone else, Gi. There is no reason for him to look at me any differently."
Giselle scoffs at you and trudges to her room, not even bothering to look back at you, "Suit yourself."
You make your way to the kitchen, where Jaemin is fiddling with his fingers. You tilt your head at him, "Let's go?"
Jaemin nods and gets up from the table, following you to the foyer. He watches you slide your shoes on and grab your purse from the hook. His cheeks are pink, his hand rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. He doesn't speak until you're in the building hallway.
"I meant it, Y/N. You look really pretty tonight," Jaemin mumbles. He pulls your hand into his, but can't seem to meet your eyes. "And you smell really nice. Is your perfume new?"
Something warm bubbles up in your chest and you can't help but smile. You nudge his shoulder with yours, "Thank you, you're not so bad yourself. And yeah, it's new. I can't believe you noticed."
"It's you, of course I noticed," Jaemin admits. He gives your hand a squeeze and your grin only grows bigger. As expected of Jaemin, ever so the observant best friend.
You suddenly remember where you're headed and your heart sinks. What if Jaemin leaves you at the party for someone else? What if someone flirts with him right in front of you? Or even worse, what if Jaemin gets frisky in Mark's shie closet with someone else? You don't know what you would do or how you would take it.
As if Jaemin's noticed you suddenly tensed up, he gives your hand another squeeze and you come back down to earth. You can only hope for the best.
—
By the time you're at Nu Chi Theta, the party is jumping, the people on the dance floor are jumping, everything is jumping. It would be a lie to say you weren't overwhelmed, especially by the group of people that look at you like you have a third eye growing out of your forehead. But everytime you tense up, Jaemin is there to squeeze your hand as he pulls you through the maze of drunk university students and into the kitchen.
You bump into Mark, who looks at you, Jaemin, and your linked hands. He raises an eyebrow, "Are you two... finally...?"
You furrow your eyebrows at him, confused, "Are we finally what?"
Mark looks at Jaemin, who shrugs, and laughs awkwardly, "Um. Nevermind." He fist bumps Jaemin and gives you a weird side hug. "Glad you guys could make it. So what do you think?"
"Of... the frat house?" you ask, tilting your head.
Jaemin lets out a laugh from beside you, "It sure is a frat house. I don't think I've seen this many people ever. In my life."
Mark laughs, "Yeah, there's like so many people. All the time. I miss... not being in a frat. Um. Feel free to get some drinks and dance. If you need me, I'll be in my room. My door says Markle in big red block letters."
You nod and Mark stalks off to the grand staircase. Jaemin turns to you with a shrug and you roll your eyes, letting out a chuckle. "Should we drink?"
Jaemin narrows his eyes at you, "I drove us here."
You put your hands up in surrender, "Okay. Guess it's just me."
You pull your hand away from Jaemin's to mix yourself a drink. You've never done this before, but you've heard of a drink called rum and coke, so you opt for one of those. Pulling a solo cup from the stack, you pour an alcohol poisoning inducing amount of rum into your cup and the slightest bit of coke, just for good measure.
Jaemin just watches as you sip on your concoction, grimacing once you wince from the burn. You're not one to drink or tolerate alcohol well, so that one sip has you wobbly already.
"It's... okay," you mumble, taking another sip. Jaemin places a hand on the small of your back, as he leads you to an empty couch. The two of you take a seat, you tilting your head back to sip occasionally. You chatter about this and that for a few minutes, before a girl comes up to sit on the end of the couch, beside Jaemin.
"Hi," she says. Her voice is pretty. Her face is pretty. Her outfit is pretty. You feel sort of out of place looking at her. "I've never seen you around before. I'm Gowon, you are?"
Jaemin flashes her a forced smile, you can tell because it isn't lopsided, and speaks, "I'm Jaemin. This is Y/N. We came together."
As you take your sip, you choke because you snort when Jaemin introduces you. It was something you weren't expecting and to be introduced to a girl trying to hit on him made you want to shrivel up into a raisin. Jaemin smacks your back lightly, "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"
You shake your head and Jaemin turns to Gowon with a small smile, "Do you think you could get me some tissues?"
Gowon's smile drops, "Uh. Yeah. Sure."
Maybe it's because you're already starting to feel tipsy from your mostly rum drink, but you make a face at Jaemin. Why would he sabotage himself like that? That girl was really pretty and they would have looked so cute together. Maybe they would have gotten married and you could have been Jaemin's best man at his wedding, to someone that is not you. You want to cry just thinking about it.
You take another swig of your drink, to try to shake off your thoughts of Jaemin's future wedding, and Jaemin just tsks. He uses the sleeves of his hoodie to dab at your face lightly and purses his lips at you, "You're so funny, you know that?"
Shaking your head with a smile, you finish the last of your drink. Deciding to drink more, you stand up, and Jaemin gets up with you, but you pout, "Stay there."
Jaemin raises an eyebrow at you, "But you're tipsy."
You take a step forward, already wobbling worse than before, and wave a hand in dismissal at him, "I'll be fine."
It takes you maybe five minutes to walk to the kitchen without falling and you hold on to the ledge of the marble countertop to keep yourself steady. There's a low laugh from beside you and you turn to see a blurry shape in your vision.
"Need help?" the shape asks. You have no idea what the shape is referring to, so you shake your head. "But you're having trouble just standing. Let me help you."
You do as you're told and let the blurry shape help you. You're given a new drink, the cup you hold in your hands filled with a cold liquid, and you walk back to Jaemin. This time you're walked back with the blurry shape leading you.
"You should keep an eye on her," the shape says. Jaemin reaches up to pull you down on to the couch with him, and you find yourself snuggled in his side. The contents of your cup slosh around, but not enough to spill.
"What's in your drink?" Jaemin asks, peering into the cup.
"Dunno," you shrug. He takes the cup out of your hand to inspect it. You would have done it yourself, but you're bordering on drunk now and your vision is still blurry as fuck. You press yourself further into Jaemin's side, your nose digging into his sweater.
Your eyes close, so you don't notice Jaemin take a sip of your new drink. It's just cold water, thank god. He notices that you're snuggled into his side and he mumbles, "Do you want to sleep?"
You don't open your eyes as you answer him with a whine, "I want to lay down."
Jaemin pushes the cup back into your hand and stands up from the couch, laughing as you whine some more about him letting you go. He places a hand under your knees and the other at the crook of your neck, picking you up princess style. The feeling of being lifted up has you opening your eyes in realization and you look around.
Thank god no one seems to be looking at you, because you're feeling incredibly weird right now. That feeling is only heightened by your drunkeness and the fact that you're being lifted around the frat house bridal style. Jaemin trudges up the stairs and waddles around until his finds a door labelled Markle in big red block letters.
Frat parties have always sounded insane to you. And now, having experienced part of one yourself, you think they're nothing of the sort.
—
You find yourself sobered up and tangled in Jaemin's embrace at the peak of the party. You're able to feel the bass boom and thud and vibrate within the thin walls of Mark's room, but you pay it no mind. Kali Uchis' No Eres Tu plays on loop in the background.
You play with the pendant on Jaemin's necklace, not feeling bored at all. You thought that just laying around Mark's room would be boring, especially because of the party, but you find yourself content. Maybe it's because you're with Jaemin.
Now that you're mostly sober, you make a face at him, "Why did you introduce me to that girl?"
Jaemin laughs, you smile at the vibration against your face, "What girl?"
"You know, that girl. The one who came up to us on the couch," you say. You really want to know why he had to introduce you too. Sure, you're best friends, but that doesn't warrant an introduction to a girl who's clearly wanting to hit on him. "She clearly wanted to flirt with you, Jaem."
"Well, I didn't want to flirt with her back," Jaemin replies, matter-of-factly.
Oh.
There's probably a reason for that.
"Why?" you mumble. "She was so pretty."
"I think— no, I know. I know I have feelings for a girl," Jaemin whispers. The sinking of your heart is imminent, but Jaemin's eyes are sincere as he looks at you. "She's way prettier than that girl from downstairs."
Why is he telling you this now? Does he know? Is he trying to let you down gently?
You rack your brain for answers, not expecting Jaemin's next question.
"Have you ever had feelings for me?"
Get out of my mind, might like what you find
Be careful with what you ask for
I got what you need, I know what you like
I can make you addicted
His voice is soft, you could barely hear it over the music on your phone. His eyes look deeply into yours, as if he's looking, searching for something you want to hide. Something you don't want him to know.
You gulp, "Jaemin... I don't know how to answer that question."
A hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb tracing up and down your cheek. The moment would be heart warming, almost heart attack inducing if you weren't so sure Jaemin was gonna break your heart.
"Then... have you ever thought of kissing me?"
Another unexpected question. With the way Jaemin is looking at you like you're a Renaissance painting, holding you like you're the most experice glass work in the world, and whispering just so only you can hear him, your heart is going double, even triple what it normally should.
You don't want to lie to him, but you've always thought of kissing Jaemin. When he gets you macaroni and cheese in the dining hall, when he lays on your bed like it's his own, when he sleeps next to you, you always want to kiss him. But you can't tell him that. You can't ruin your friendship like that.
"No," you mumble, breaking eye contact.
Your eyes go down to his lips; plump, pretty, petal-like. You want to kiss him right now.
"Can I kiss you right now?"
God is playing tricks on you. There is no way on earth your best friend since middle school just asked if he could kiss you.
You want to. So badly. It's a carnal desire at this point.
But you can't stop thinking about your years long friendship. How Jaemin has your matching friendship bracelet hanging off his phone as a charm. How Jaemin walks you to and from your lectures, even if he doesn't have the time to. How Jaemin sings you Little Star when you can't sleep.
You can't ruin this.
Even if you want to.
Oh-oh, oh-oh
And if I wanted, I would have you, but not now
Oh-oh, oh-oh
If you want to wait, it snows in the spring
"Jaemin, best friends don't kiss," you reply.
His voice cracks, "Is that all you see me as?"
The air is sucked out of the room, tensions have risen and continue to rise, and all you can pay attention to is the throbbing of your head and Kali Uchis' voice.
It's not you, it's me, it's me
Disappointments, I have lots
It's not you, it's me, it's me
Don't fall in love, I break hearts
You don't know what he wants you to say. You're treading in mucky waters. Doomed if you do, doomed if you don't. What are you supposed to do?
"Are we not best friends?"
The colour leaves Jaemin's face, his smile dropping immediately at your answer.
Wrong move.
Jaemin shifts so he can leave the bed, your head raising just as fast as he leaves.
"Where are you going?" you ask, getting up to follow him as he leaves the room.
"I need some air," Jaemin mumbles. He's quicker than you, already halfway descended down the stairs. He doesn't turn back to look at you, eyes cast to the ground.
The vibration of the bass hits you all at once, and you fall over. Pushing yourself off the ground, you scramble to follow him, but you find that you can't find him in the crowds of the common areas. A door slams, but you can't make out which direction it came from.
You scramble back to Mark's room and sit on the bed, knees tucked under your body as you send Giselle texts.
» y/n <3 [1:13]: can you come pick me up
» y/n <3 [1:13]: might have royally fucked up
You're breathing heavy from running up and down the stairs. Your heart won't stop racing, neither will your mind. You don't understand what just happened. You can't piece the puzzle together and it frustrates you to no end.
The moment replays in your brain.
"Have you ever thought of kissing me?"
Why didn't you just say yes? Why didn't you just kiss him? Why did you have to rationalize it? Why don't you just let yourself do what you've been doing from the beginning? Live in the moment, feel, and don't think.
» gigi <3 [1:32]: i'm here bb
You gather your things and take a deep breath. You force yourself out of Mark's room and shut the door behind you, going as slow as you possibly can. Maybe if you go slow, time will stop and you could find Jaemin somewhere around the house. Maybe if you find him, you could apologize to him and he could clear things up for you. Maybe...
Maybe you should stop thinking about it for now.
"Are you ready to go?" a voice asks from behind you. You spin to find Giselle. You must look anguished because she immediately takes your face into her hands, concern painting her features. "Are you okay?"
If your heart could sink any deeper it does. You were trying to protect your friendship with Jaemin, but you ended up breaking both your hearts. Yours on purpose, and his unintentionally. You just don't understand how.
even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise. — victor hugo
You find yourself at Jaemin's apartment at six in the morning, after not sleeping at all that night. You must look like complete shit, because Jeno gapes at you.
"Did something happen? Why do you look like someone just killed your mom?" he asks, holding Luna in his arms.
You pinch the bridge of your nose, not even wanting to remember last night, "Something happened with Jaemin last night and I wanted to... I want to apologize to him. Is he here?"
Jeno shakes his head, "He didn't come home. I thought he went home with you."
Shit.
"Oh. Okay. Um. Thanks, Jeno," you mumble. "Did you kill all of the baby spiders?"
"Not yet, there's still a few more left," he says. He points to the wall behind you and you turn, your eyes meeting a giant tarantula climbing up the wall. "That's Taurus. Jaemin named him."
That's a very Jaemin thing to do.
"Well. I should get going," you say. "Bye Jeno. Bye Luna. Bye... Taurus."
Jeno walks you to the door and closes it behind you. If Jaemin isn't home, where else would he be? Would he be at Renjun's? Haechan's? Karina's? You don't know, but you've gotta try.
Renjun looks at you blankly when he opens his door, "Why would Jaemin be here?"
You shrug, "Maybe he's trying learn about bioengineering for free." You lean in and try to look around Renjun's apartment. "Are you sure he's not here?"
"Why would I lie, Y/N?" Renjun grunts. He walks away from the threshold and lets you in. You waddle around his apartment, checking behind his couch, looking underneath his bed, and peeking behind his shower curtain. There are no signs of Jaemin anywhere.
You walk back to his front door, defeated, "Thanks, Renjun. I guess."
Renjun taps your shoulder halfheartedly, "Hope you find him. And hope you fix this little lovers' quarrel."
You scoff and close the door behind you. Whatever does he mean by that?
Haechan doesn't even blink at you, when he says, "Jaemin is not here. It is 7:30 in the morning on a Saturday. Leave."
So you do leave. Your feet take you to Karina's apartment just three floors below Haechan's and she lets you into her apartment immediately. She forces you down on her recliner and shoves a cup of hot chocolate into your hand.
She sits across from you, slouched over on her coffee table as she looks at you with her big eyes, "So, what's wrong?"
You don't know where to begin, so you start from the beginning, "I'm in love with Jaemin."
Karina smiles, "Everyone knows that."
"And I wanted to save our friendship, so when he asked me if I ever thought of kissing him, I said best friends don't kiss. And he was like 'is that all you see me as?' and then I said 'are we not?' and then he, um, ran away," you explain.
Karina nods. And she closes her eyes. And she processes what you just said. She stays that way for the better part of five minutes. You're scared she's fallen asleep on you.
But as you're about to put your mug down, she opens her eyes, and she looks at you. "You know how when you're a kid," she begins, "and something big just happened and you know that no one can help you, except that one person? Like your mom. Or your dad. Whoever that is for Jaemin, he's probably there."
She's making a lot of sense. It would make more sense for Jaemin to go running into the arms of his grandma for comfort, rather than the people in your friend group. Jaemin goes to her every time he needs a taste of home. You know exactly where to go now.
You finish the remnants of your hot chocolate, slamming the mug down on the side table, and get up with a newly found confidence. You thank Karina and bolt out the door, already hyping yourself up to see the love of your life.
—
The drive to Jaemin's grandma's house is long. In fact, it's over 45 minutes long and you're stuck on the freeway for most of it. Seoul and its neighbouring suburbs be damned.
You park in front of her villa, bringing your keys and your wallet with you. Taking a breath, you push through the gate. You aren't really sure if you want to do this. What if his grandma throws you back out on to the street and chases you out of her house with a broom? What if she threatens to kill you? Even worse, what if she does kill you? What happens then?
You need to shake your head to rid yourself of these outrageous thoughts. You're so dramatic, a typical drama student. But Jaemin would encourage you.
Inside, you find Jaemin's grandma peeling pears on her deck. The screen door remains open and you can see the Saturday morning news playing on the TV. She looks up at you and she gives you a bright smile, one that looks exactly like Jaemin's.
"Y/N! Welcome, welcome. Sit down on the deck. Do you want a drink? Do you want some pears? Sit down, I'll get you some snacks," she rambles. You help her get up, taking a seat yourself, and wait for her to come back. She comes back with a tray with honey covered snack twists and a cup of warm water. She takes a while to sit back down, but when she does, she looks at you with love. "Are you here to see Jaemin?"
You take a snack twist and take a bite, chewing slowly to savour the flavour, "Thank you so much, grandma. And yes, is he here?"
Across the courtyard, a door opens, and out comes Na Jaemin, the one with the lopsided smile, in all of his bedheaded glory. His eyes aren't even open as he steps out into the courtyard. He takes a seat on the concrete and tilts his face up to the sky.
His grandma just tsks at him, "Jaemin, you have a guest."
"Not now," he mumbles. "I'm photosynthesizing."
His grandma scowls at him then turns back to you with a smile, "There's finally a girl at my home and he stares up at the sky like a fool. I'm so sorry, Y/N."
Jaemin's eyes pop open at the mention of your name and he finally rubs the sleep out of his eyes, pushing himself off the ground and walking towards you. "Can we have some privacy, grandma?"
Wordlessly, she makes her way into the living room, sliding the screen door shut and turning off the TV. Jaemin takes his seat in front of you and takes a bite out of the semi-peeled pear.
"Jaemin— I, um," you stutter. You don't know where to begin.
"Y/N. It's okay. You can just say you don't have feelings for me. I was wrong about you," Jaemin mumbles. His eyes don't meet yours, but you can tell he's defeated. His shoulders are slumped and his posture is shit. "Maybe I was delusional."
Your eyes widen, "What do you mean?"
Jaemin lets out a bittersweet chuckle, "Why do you look at me like that if you don't love me? Why do you look at me like I'm the reason there are stars in the sky? Why do you look at me like I'm the moon and you're the tides, being pulled by me? Why do you look at me like you hold every ounce of love for me in your gaze?"
"Jaemin, I—"
"I'm in love with you, Y/N," Jaemin states.
It's almost comical how you drop your snack twist and it falls off the deck and on to the concrete below. Your eyes widen even more and your jaw drops and your heart races like it never has before.
Your best friend is in love with you.
And last night he was trying to tell you.
But you're extremely stupid.
"Say that again," you say.
"I'm in love with you, Y/N. And I thought you were in love with me too— with the way you looked at me, the way you smiled at me, and your laugh— oh, god, your laugh. I thought those were for me. I was a fool. I was mistaken," Jawmin admits, sadly.
You want to cry. You want to cry really badly and you want to tell him that you've loved him all this time and that he was right.
You were wrong.
You knew Jaemin like that back of your hand, but it seems you didn't know him enough to realize that he was in love with you too.
Instead, Jaemin knew you like the back of his hand. He could tell that you loved him; from your actions, your gestures, your habits. But it was you who told him otherwise.
"I told you that I didn't want to bring just any girl home to my grandma. I wanted to bring her someone who felt like home. I wanted to bring you home to her," he continues.
It feels like your heart is breaking, but at the same time, it isn't. Your best friend is confessing to you and you're learning that you've just broken his heart.
"So I guess, if you're rejecting me, which I think you are, please do it gently. Please don't break me," he finishes. His voice is so soft, like he's about to cry.
You take the pear out of his hand, placing it back on the tray, and intertwine your fingers, giving him a determined look.
"Jaemin," you begin, voice equally as soft, "I've been in love with you for the longest time. Since the eighth grade."
Jaemin finally looks at you and you break; the tears that were lining your eyes now spilling down your face.
"And I— I thought you would never feel the same way, so I convinced myself that being best friends with you was enough. Even if I couldn't have all of you, I could have a piece and that was good enough for me. I didn't know that you felt the same way," you sniffle. "I'm sorry. I'm a fool. I'm sorry."
Jaemin looks at you like you're made of light; his hands grip yours like you're a piece of delicate glass. He pulls a hand away to trace a line underneath your eye, disrupting the flow of your tears, as he smiles at you.
"You're so dumb. You seriously couldn't tell I've loved you for years now?" he asks.
"No," you sob. "I'm actually so stupid."
Jaemin lets out a laugh and he makes his way over to you, pulling your form into his embrace and kissing the top of your head. He smiles down at you, your watery eyes meeting his, "Can I kiss you now?"
"Please," you breathe.
Jaemin leans down, one of his hands coming to cradle the back of your head as he pulls you closer. Your eyes close as your lips meet, the softest pressure pressed to your mouth. Letting out a content sigh, you pull away, only to have Jaemin press another kiss to your lips. You know just from the first two kisses that this is something you could get addicted to. His lips are plush against yours, the best thing you think you've ever felt before.
When you finally pull away, you raise an eyebrow at Jaemin, "What was the second one for?"
"It's not fair. Haechan got to kiss you twice," he pouts.
You laugh and his pout disappears instantly, lips pulled into a smile as you look up at him, "We had to do it for class. Did I ever tell you I was so sad that you couldn't be my first kiss?"
Jaemin's eyes widen in realization, "I can make up for that!"
You laugh again, noticing Jaemin's gaze soften. "Thank god. Now bring me to bed. I haven't slept at all."
Jaemin salutes you, pulling your body into his embrace, "You got it, boss!"
and i love you, i love you, i love you - and perhaps this is how the whole enormous world, shining all over, can be created - out of five vowels and three consonants. — vladimir nabokov
Jaemin pulls your wallet out of your purse, opening it to look at the polaroid of him and his cats. He frowns, "You know you should really change this to a family portrait."
"But I really like that one," you whine. "Your hair's pink and you look so cute with Lucy in your lap."
"Yeah, but how can you carry this around knowing that their mom is not in the picture?" Jaemin rebuttals.
Renjun takes his seat beside Jaemin, angrily chomping on a string bean, "You know, I get that you two are together now, but please, not in public."
"I have to," Jaemin states, "How else is everyone going to know that Y/N is mine and I am hers and we are each other's homes?"
Okay, maybe a part of you regrets telling Jaemin that you think he's your home, but he's got pure intentions. Maybe.
"Ugh, I'm gonna sit over there with Jeno and Haechan," Renjun mumbles. He tucks the string bean into his mouth and picks up his tray, stomping towards Jeno.
Jaemin just turns towards you, and he looks at you like you're made of light, and smiles, "You're my home."
You laugh, "And you're mine."
"And I love you."
"And I love you too."
Maybe you were a little foolish, believing that your best friend would never feel the same way about you, but when Jaemin's looking at you like that, there's no way you could ever doubt his feelings.
synopsis : the one where all of haechan's friends is in a relationship and yn just happens to know how to manifest romance
genre/s : mini smau, university au, mostly fluff, a little bit of angst, humor
part one | part two | part three
from reese, with love <3
the brainrot hit... and now here we are >_< if you're reading my other smaus, you'll see that i basically just used accounts from treacherous with pictures swapped out bec my brain was too tired to make new ones ;-; anyways, i honestly don't know when i'll update the next part, but taglist is open if you want to be notified! just send me an ask or lmk through a reply on this post ! thanks for reading :) thoughts and rbs appreciated, i'd love to know what you think! hope you're all doing well and taking care!
summary: it all started with a kiss from your best friend, mark. and most cases, one night stands do not usually end well... right?
note: best friend!mark, sexual implications, cursing/profanities, making out? and purely confused and panicking mark lee.
genre: 99.9% angst and 0.1% fluff | word count: 1.5k
-
mark never had a good night's sleep in a while until now.
he opened his eyes and the window to his left side almost told him “good morning”, so bright, so sunny. but he looked at the bookshelves beside a study table, and the bulletin board stacked with utility bills and polaroid films of friends just above a supposed to be a replica of surely an andy warhol pop-art painting.
this was definitely not mark’s room.
he was about to remove the blanket that is sitting on his legs when a figure beside him shuffled a little. the back facing him was bare, messy hair all he could see. but he instantly recognized it, and the room, for so long; because it was you.
slightly panicking, mark carefully removed the warm clothing above his thighs then there he saw that he was only wearing his boxers. right above, just a little, he could see the messy lining of his shirt, and it was definitely worn the other way around.
he rose from the bed carefully, avoiding causing any disturbance. mark made sure his footsteps were inaudible while he was looking for his pants and grey hoodie on the floor. he slowly picked his jeans up, but the belt still made a faint clang noise that he held it so tightly while putting it back on. he also removed his wrinkled, reversed shirt so it would be worn correctly this time before topping it with his grey hoodie.
then mark just… stood there in front of your bed, watching you, trying to recall what has happened last night. then it was all slowly coming back to him.
now, if you happened to wake up at this very moment, then what would he do?
-
mark bit his lower lip as he was trying to answer the question he is about to face later on. he suddenly felt the need to apologize.
maybe because may have been selfish.
he suddenly kissed you while watching before sunrise. maybe, just maybe, if the romantic and sexual tension were not so intense throughout the film, then he would not have needed to finally act upon what he has been thinking all this time.
but the fact that you gave in... god, he thought, you gave in. no sight of alcohol around, just pure sober thoughts. mark has no idea where he got the push.
but was he remember asking you if you wanted it. mark needed the confirmation, just to make sure you are on the same page as him.
“you want this, right?”
you were catching your breath from the heated kiss when he asked. and yes, you wanted more.
“i would not hold back this time, baby”, you giggled. you liked him calling you baby. “are you sure?”
“mark..." you replied. "baby…”
you were straddling him and started kissing his neck again. mark’s eyes were closed and feeling his crotch against your clothed sex, but he was not so sure that you understand; that if you continue along, the morning may not be the same anymore.
and now, with mark wondering, here we are.
so he removed your arms, now wrapped around his neck while you planted kisses on his cheek, and firmly intertwined his hand with yours.
mark looked you in the eyes so intently, your gaze could not leave his.
“i’m asking again,”, he emphasized. “are you sure you really want to do this?”
and it took you seconds to nod, as you had already caught what he is thinking—the consequences, the adjustments, the confrontation to be served via breakfast.
“mmh”, you hummed.
“words. i need to hear it.”
“yes, mark. i want this.”, you replied. “do you?”
“yes, i do… so much.” he put his palm on the right side of your cheek, just a little graze yet soft, so warm, so lovely. “you have no idea.”
mark has been staring at your still-sleeping figure for too long. too long, really. should he just leave a text that says, “hey... we need to talk about last night.”? or maybe go for an old-fashioned way and write a note saying “i had to go. errands.”, when in fact, it is a sunday morning and he is actually on work leave?
but omitting some words behind these questions, should he leave?—the simple question as it is, but would he be treating you the same as his one-night stands? for him, you deserve more than just ditching and letting avoidance do its own work at this point. you are a friend—the best friend.
you finally shuffled from your former position, still sleeping. from facing the back, your body is now almost facing where mark stands still. his fight or flight response is now asking him several questions. he wanted to run from the consequences he emphasized last night. he thought he could handle them but fuck, no.
mark, noticing that you were still unconscious made him run his fingers through his hair. slightly frustrated and he may have muttered "fuck, fuck, fuck!", a little too loud and-
“just lock the door when you leave, mark.”
mark froze on his feet, mouth agape at your sudden words.
you said it so... nonchalantly. and so you went back to your former position, facing your back against him once again too quickly but still, eyes closed.
you were waiting for him to leave immediately now you may have answered the thing that has been bugging him for minutes now.
and of course, you knew the moment you gave in, there was no turning back. you wish you could say “i love you.”, but you would have rather devour into the kiss, hoping your actions would translate those words instead. so you went along; touching him for the very first time, and feeling all of him for the last time.
but what hurts most is that you know where this is gonna go, that you will wake up to the sounds of shuffling and rummaging the one-night stand’s clothes on the floor, and the footsteps while the guy is putting his shoes on. and what has happened this morning so far is no exception.
maybe mark was too kind just to leave because you are you. and it stings more to know that you are just… a friend.
and it hurts more to see that he was ready to go.
so you just had to instruct him what others usually do. and you just wish you woke up a little later on an empty, messy bed—finding him gone for good.
-
mark felt a strong pang struck into his chest. he felt like his heart is being held tight, being twisted, being ripped into pieces.
and it hurts him more that you thought he was going to leave, that you thought he was going to be another one-night stand, and that you have already accepted that everything that you both went through is now ruined.
so when mark walked towards the door, your breath suddenly hitched but was inaudible. he clicked the lock, turned the doorknob, and you heard the door opening and closing.
you finally let out a sob that has been desperately wanting to be released as he was collecting his things.
tears damped your pillow until your cries lulled you to sleep.
-
your room is illuminated by the sunset, thanks to the always bright window. already past afternoon, you managed to escape the dreadful morning.
a little foolish of you, really, to check your phone and hope mark would leave a text. you chuckled at the ridiculous thought, only to find your notification bar empty.
but then you heard faint noises coming from your living room. a little shuffling and steps over there. you stood up and opened your door.
and there he was, actually in the kitchen, checking out what is in your refrigerator. you slowly walked in his direction.
“mark?”
he turned around and said, “hey.”
“what are you doing?”
“trying to cook.”
and he was holding his phone, and there appears to be a cooking tutorial paused on the screen.
“cook what?”
“pesto…? actually, dang, you don’t have enough ingredients so i’m just gonna do a quick run at 7/11 so—”
“mark?”, you asked, now more confused than ever, “you never left.”
for mark, this was never a mistake. he had wanted and waited for this for so long. this—overcoming the boundaries and just feeling you entirely–the making out, the fucking, the embracing, the tangled bodies, the intertwined hands, the how are yous, the sharing of joys and growing pains, everything and more; and most importantly, the i love yous.
he finally did not walk out the door for once, now that he has had you in his arms last night. no fumbling with the bags this time.
enough of the jealousy and the constant checking of his phone, waiting for a text after you went out on a date, thinking he is going to lose you to another guy because mark could never say how much you mean to him. no more subtle touching, like how he likes it when he wraps his arms around your shoulders. sometimes, he would just leave it there after saying he needs to protect you while crossing the street. and more, so much more.
mark needs more—never from but of–mark needs more of you. because good god, for once, he knows what love is—and love is the entirety of you.
so mark just shrugged with a sheepish grin plastered on his face.
“still here, baby.”
and you loved that cute, stupid smile every single time.
PAIRINGS. dream 00 line x fem reader
CONTAINS. fluff, angst, romance, college!au, art school!au & other various aus
WARNINGS. cursing, alcohol consumption, suggestive content, more to be added
INSPO. personal experience, the kdrama nevertheless, for the titles & beatopia by beabadoobee
NOTE. check end for extended authors note! while all of these take place in the same universe and are loosely connected, they can be read as standalones! if you’d like to be added to the taglist, send me an ask! and i hope u enjoy what is to come <3
The New School of Arts at Neo University has a top ranking, state-of-the-art program for all aspiring artists. With any distinguished college degree comes sleepless nights, copious amounts of coffee and hours spent working, but students Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun and Haechan find it especially difficult to balance their professional passions with, well, their personal passions. Will they be able to figure out the art of love before they venture out into the real world?
summary | as always, you and your friend, jisung, plan a sleepover to begin a new drama together. and, as always, you have to pause halfway through the second episode so you can go through your new-drama-ritual.
genre | park jisung x reader, friends-but-not-friends in the romantic way, fluff
wc | 1.1k
a/n: rn i’m really into the whole you’re more than friends but not dating trope…also does anyone else do this when they watch dramas
GIVEN THE OPPORTUNITY, you were sure Jisung would kill you right now. He would rip your phone out of your hands, throw it against the wall, and push you off his seventh-story balcony.
“Googling it spoils it for me too, you know!” he exclaimed, reaching for your phone as best he could. You jerked your hand back, rolling over onto your stomach and half-dangling off the bed. With a sigh, he gave up on his conquest, but that didn’t cease his complaining. “I mean, come on, who googles the first-kiss episode every single time they watch a drama?”
“Me, I do,” you said, frantically typing ‘when do they kiss’ into the search bar, followed by the name of the drama. Instantly, several YouTube videos and articles popped up, each with ‘kiss scene’ in the title. “Aha! Episode—”
“Shut up!” Jisung exclaimed, wrapping his arms around your waist. With a tug, you were sitting up on the bed again, pressed up against his chest. You mumbled a string of incoherencies, wrenching yourself from his grasp and turning to face him.
“I don’t see your issue. I mean, it’s not like the kiss episode spoils the plot or anything, so why lose your mind? It’s setting a precedent, a goal to achieve before we stop watching and go to bed,” you argued, frowning. He gave you an unimpressed look, rolling his eyes. You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Plus, the timing of the kiss scene is important. I mean, nobody wants to see one two episodes in, but nobody wants to wait for ten episodes. Right?”
“Right, okay, but wouldn’t you rather be surprised?”
“No, because I’ll be disappointed when the perfect-kiss-threshold passes and no kissing has happened yet. I need to know if this’ll be worth my time.”
“Oh yeah? When’s the perfect-kiss-threshold?”
“End of episode six to episode eight, obviously. Any earlier and things are no fun, and any later and things are boring,” you replied, talking as if this was some sort of scholarly information and that everybody should know your opinions on the pacing of dramas.
Jisung stared at you for a moment, a small smile forming on his face. His cheeks began to tinge a red color, and his ears were bright red, but that didn’t stop him from reaching for his goal.
“So, if we were in a drama, when would our kiss scene be?”
Ignoring the implications of the question, mostly for the sake of avoiding melting into a puddle of lovey-dovey-ness, you took it more seriously and genuinely contemplated it.
“Well, assuming you’d ever measure up to be the main male lead,” you mused, tapping your chin a couple of times. “I think we’d pass the threshold. God, we probably wouldn’t kiss until, like, eleven or twelve. We’d have a terribly boring drama.”
Jisung seemed appalled at your answer, maybe even a bit offended. “Seriously? What gives you that impression?”
Before you could stop yourself, you answered, “I mean, look at our relationship now.”
“What about it?”
“Are you kidding me? We’ve done just about every couple thing other than kiss. We go grocery shopping together, we hold hands whenever we walk anywhere together, we watch dramas and cuddle up together for hours at a time. We’d be the drama couple that goes fast but doesn’t want to admit it. The type to act like a married couple before we even called each other boyfriend and girlfriend.”
God, you wished you could keep your mouth shut. The moment you finished your tangent, you could feel your cheeks burning up, and you could see Jisung blushing even worse than before. He reached up and scratched his neck as if he was unsure how to respond to your slightly-too-real analysis of your relationship.
He shuffled around on the bed, returning to his position under the covers with his back against pillows propped up by the headboard. You stared at him for a second, loathing the silence between you before you did the same, feeling a sudden awkwardness with being near him.
“I mean, did you want to be boyfriend and girlfriend? Because, like, I’m not opposed, but…”
“I dunno, it’s kinda fun just being us, labelless and happy. Right? A couple of friends, pretending like they do normal friend things on a daily basis.”
Jisung slung an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. You leaned your head on his shoulder, cuddling up against his side and feeling comfortable in his warmth. “I mean, a kiss carries a lot of meaning. A lot of commitment.”
“No, you’re right. We’d have to be, like, really sure if we were gonna go that far,” Jisung agreed, flinching slightly when you wrapped your hands around his waist. There was something nice about not being in a relationship but still being romantically involved with one another. Especially since you were tied up in the same friend group and would be teased to high heaven if things became official.
It made you happy, being with him and living in the moment. Never rushing, never going too fast, just being wrapped up in your togetherness.
“I think we’d make a bad drama,” you finally said, focusing on the soft-yet-nervous pattern of Jisung’s breathing. “It’d be too indecisive and slow.”
“Yeah, I think so too,” he agreed, picking up the remote that he’d put down on his bedside table. “So, what episode do they kiss?”
“Seven. Right in the middle of the threshold,” you said, a deep sense of satisfaction pooling in your stomach. You could’ve giggled out of happiness for your current situation if you were brave enough. “I think we could make it by three in the morning if we played our cards right. It’s, what, 10? Yeah, three in the morning.”
“Is that factoring in differing episode lengths?”
“No, just rough estimates.”
“Well, let’s promise that we’ll go to sleep at three,” he suggested, leaning his head atop your own. “And we’ll forget about this ever happening. Deal?”
“Absolute deal.”
Jisung pressed play on the episode, but you weren’t lost on him turning his head ever-so-slightly, planting a small kiss on your forehead to signify just a little bit of commitment. To plant a little hope that, one day, you’ll reach your episode twelve and take the full leap. But, for now, you’d watch your drama and be happy as “friends.”
genre. fluff, tiny angst ! pairings. dream × gn! reader ! tw. mentions of food and a high jaemin ! a/n. this has been sitting in my draft forever now.
MARK
Mark softly hummed to the music that echoed from the radio, eyebrows knitted together as he passionately sung. The bedsheet underneath you crumbles as you shift to get a better look at your boyfriend. He stopped, sensing your eyes on him, and turned around to look at you. You giggled, looking at his dumbstruck face.
“What? Am I not good at singing?” he asked, adorably tilting his head. Big doe eyes looking at you in confusion.
“Who? The great Mark Lee, bad at singing?” he giggled at your indirect compliment. “I am not that good at singing, actually,” he rubbed his nape as he tried to find words, distracted by how close you were.
“Y’know, the characters in a movie would’ve kissed in a situation like this,” he mumbled without a second thought, instantly regretting it.
“well then, kiss me” “what?”
“Kiss me.” you pout your lips, inching your face closer towards him. He mumbled a ‘cute’ and placed his lips on yours. Bringing his hand to your cheeks, he slowly caressed the muscle as soft, plump lips melted into yours. The warmth in your chest grew, spreading to your whole body. Breaking the kiss, he pressed his forehead against yours and smiled gleefully before letting a small giggle.
RENJUN
Renjun was looking at you, memorising your features. You could tell he was having a hard time. “What is it renren?” “uh? Nothing.” he dismissed you, trying to get a closer look at your lips. He looked back at the canvas he was drawing on and sighed, erasing something and going back to looking at your lips.
“Are you drawing me?” You asked, amused. You sat beside him, wanting to look at the drawing, but he hid the canvas, “No, I’m not drawing you, I just wanted to take a look at your lips to get an idea about drawing them.” He stated, defending himself.
You nodded and moved away from him, wanting to give him space. He panicked, thinking that you were upset, “Hey, Hey, If you move away, how can I look at them properly?” You mumbled a quick ‘sorry’ and moved closer to him. “You can kiss me to get a proper idea.” You suggested to Renjun, who looked flustered at your proposal. Taking his hands in yours, you leaned in only to bump your noses.
He chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He tilted his head and told you to try again. A sigh left him as your lips finally made contact. His lips moved slowly against yours, trying to memorise them. You tasted the strawberry he was eating earlier, sour yet sweet. It tingled your lips. He pulled back, and the ghost of the kiss lingered on your lips. And, now strawberries remind you of him.
JENO
You watch your boyfriend as he plays games on his phone, admiring the way his muscles tensed whenever he got close to losing and the way he pouted his lips in concentration. God, you wanted to kiss those lips.
“Jeno, gimme a kisss!” you whine, grabbing his attention. He spares you a single glance before going back to playing.
“Babe, please wait. I’ll finish this round, and I'm all yours.” he said, tapping on the phone aggressively.
“You said that last time.” you whine again, louder this time. He sighs in defeat.
“Fine, c’mere.” you gladly scooted closer to him, pushing your face in front of his. He didn’t take his eyes off his phone as he leaned closer towards you. Eyes still glued to his phone, he pecks your lips. He finally looks at you, wide-eyed, lips still connected to yours. He reads your face, searching for any sign of discomfort. You chuckle at his reaction.
He falls on top of you, hiding his face in your chest while you struggle to breathe. “Jeno, move. I can’t breathe.” he shifts his weight to his side, still clinging to you. “I’m dead from pure bliss, and a kiss is required to be resurrected.” “What are you? Snow white?” “I'm Your snow white.”
HAECHAN
Like any other day, Haechan was messing around, trying to anger you. The satisfaction he gets from annoying people is incomparable. “Haechan, you snob!”You scolded your boyfriend, who smeared ice cream on you rather than feeding you. You tried to sound as annoyed as possible, but the smile on your face gave it away.
“That’s what you get for being greedy.” He stated. “I just asked for a bite of yours!” “You have ice cream yourself!” Fighting with him is rather pointless. He’ll win anyway. You let out a huff and looked at your half-melted ice cream, sadly staring back at you.
Looking at your long face, he decided to have some mercy on you. “Here, have mine.” He casually said, placing the ice cream near your lips. You smiled and eagerly leaned in to take a bite, only for him to smear on you yet again. He laughed victoriously, looking at your face. You lifted your hand to wipe it off before he stopped you, moving closer to you.
“What do you want?” You said, rather annoyed at him. He didn’t react and lifted your chin, his thumb barely brushing below your ice cream smeared lower lip. Shifting his gaze from your lips, he looked into your eyes as if asking permission.
You closed your eyes and felt his lips on yours. His lips were cold and comforting on a hot, sunny day. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him closer, letting yourself relax in his arms. Haechan carefully embraced your lips with his, with a certainty that there would be a thousand more kisses. He intertwined his fingers with yours, the ice cream, long forgotten now. Maybe, there is something comparable to the satisfaction he gets from annoying people.
JAEMIN
The loud music filled the living room, now transformed into a dance room as Jaemin danced. He moved effortlessly with grace, as if the music travelled through his veins. It was a sight to see, the passion in his eyes, the lithe movement of his body, the way he messily lip-synced to the booming music. Jaemin managed to look like an artwork so easily.
You were mesmerised by him. You watched his every movement with keen eyes. Jaemin noticed it, a smile making its way onto his face as he stopped his movement altogether. “Don’t stare too hard, your eyes might pop out.” He joked, making you cover your face. “Oh, c’mon, don’t be embarrassed now. Why don’t you join me?” He was dragging you before you could even answer.
Placing his hands on your waist, he spun you around. You can feel the sugar rush he was having from the amount of coffee he had drunk. You told him to slow down, but, right after, he toppled on top of you. You didn’t feel any pain from hitting the ground because you were too concentrated on how close he was. “Hi,” You said to distract yourself. “Hi,” he replied, catching your nervous tone. He smiled. He rested his forehead against yours and relaxed a bit.
“Can I?” he asked, shifting his gaze towards your lips. You nodded and closed your eyes as you felt his soft, warm lips on yours. Tilting your head to the side, you combed his locks. His lips moved softly against yours despite his high state. He broke the kiss and pulled back enough to let you both breathe. Chuckling, he looked at your blissed-out expression. “Hmm, your lips taste better than coffee.”
CHENLE
All you wanted to do now was rest between your boyfriend's arms as he sings you to sleep. It’s just not the best day, and even though you had done your best, you felt that it wasn’t good enough. That you weren’t good enough because that’s what the people around had taught you. And you just missed Chenle badly.
Reaching home, you unlocked the door and immediately searched for your lover, finding him petting Daegal on the couch. Greeting you, he smiled. His soft smile was enough to make you break down, but you managed to keep your tears at bay. But Chenle knew you, and he knew something wasn’t right. Putting Daegal down, he walked towards you with concerned eyes, “Baby, is everything all right?”
That was your last straw. You pulled him into a hug, sobbing into his chest. Rubbing your back, he helped you to vent out your feelings. “I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you with my worries,” you said, wiping a stray tear. Chenle sighed, “Hey, you aren’t disturbing me. That’s why I’m here, aren’t I? To listen to your worries and wipe your tears away, hmm?” interlacing your hands together, he reassured you. He nuzzled your noses. You smiled, thankful to have him by your side.
He rested his forehead on yours, and you were sure that you both had the same thought in mind. Tilting your head, you gave him permission. His lips landed on yours the moment you said it. Rocking you slowly in his arms, he combed your hair with his fingers. Time had slowed, and there was nothing in this world other than you both. You knew that you’d cherish this moment forever, the moment when you knew Chenle was your home.
JISUNG
Stargazing on the rooftop with your boyfriend of three months, huddled under the blankets with you. Can’t get any better, right?
It’s safe to say that Jisung was still shy in the relationship, and you often had to initiate things. Not that you were complaining. How could someone complain about his heated cheeks and shy eyes whenever he received the tiniest affections. It was adorable. He was adorable.
The moonlight shone on him, highlighting his features. He truly looked like an angel. Shifting closer to him, you rested your head on his shoulder. He glanced at you for a second and smiled, his cheeks heating up instantly. “You look pretty,” you complimented him, hearing his heartbeat pace up in the quiet night. “Huh? Oh, thank you.” He said, rubbing his nape shyly, an action you had come to adore.
Raising your hand, you placed them on his cheeks, pinching them. “You are really adorable,” He grinned cheekily at you. You let your hand stay there as your thumb caressed them softly. You couldn’t help but let your gaze wander to his lips. They looked welcoming, to say the least. Soft, pink lips that you can’t help but dream about. As you let your thoughts wander, Jisung noticed your gaze on his lips and unconsciously leaned towards you.
You placed your other hand on his back, and he placed his on your hips as your lips softly connected in the purest form possible. You pulled back, only to kiss him again. Jisung made you feel giddy and at home at the same time. The night did get better.
