Aticus @glassbangtan - Tumblr Blog

onto the next {kim seokjin x reader}

words: 15.9k

summary: you just need to start a new life. you need to get out of this small town and start fresh. you’re beginning to think you made the wrong decision until a kind man named seokjin offers to help you navigate the trains.

genre: uhhhhhh fluff??? angst???

notes: this literally has no plot, don’t let the summary fool you. but it’s cute!!! - masterlist - support my writing or ask about commissions!

----

you need to get out of here.

fuck, you don’t even know how it happened. you left school, and you had plans. so many plans. an entire life laid out ahead of you. once upon a time, you were one of those hopeful little kids, buzzing to get out of the education system so you could pursue the dreams you so desperately wanted to pursue.

but then you were actually given independence, and it spiralled from there.

you wouldn’t say it was too much. you’re not that dramatic. it was just a shift - a big shift. you ended up with a job at a nearby Chinese takeout, working from four in the afternoon to ten at night, dealing with drunk people and little kids and answering phones. it was good at first, just getting money, but over time, when the novelty wore off, you wondered what the hell you were doing there. this wasn’t part of your plan. you should be travelling the world right now.

so here you are, a few months into your mental breakdown, finally tipping over the edge.

you stare at the list of trains flashing overhead in bright red letters. in your pocket, your phone blares with the continuous text messages from your parents, asking how you are, if you’re willing to tell them anything yet, if you’re safe. you’ll text them back once you know what you’re doing, but for now, you just need to get out of here.

there’s plenty of options. more options than you can handle, really; you thought it would be easier than this. you’d just walk into the train station and pick a destination, and your life would finally begin. now, however, your mind is a tangled mess of emotions, doubt, and everything that comes with it.

you slump down on a nearby bench and duck your head in your hands. you don’t realise you’re crying until your sleeves start getting damp.

“are you alright?”

you don’t lift your head. “no.”

the bench creaks as the stranger sits down. a shoulder nudges your own, firm and warm, probably adorned by a bulky coat given the frosty weather of korea at the moment.

“oh. that’s not very good.”

you drop your hands. the next train finally closes its doors and speeds out of the station, leaving you with yet another hour to gather your thoughts; it’s the second train that you have let slip through your fingers, because you still don’t even know where you want to go.

you turn, glancing at the man beside you. he’s eating a packet of starburst, staring out at the railway tracks. he’s wearing a thick black coat over a hoodie, and he truly looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

he catches you staring after a few seconds and immediately offers you a starburst. “hungry?”

you hesitantly take one, though you don’t undo the wrapper. instead, you play with the sugary square, thankful to have something keeping your hands occupied.

“so,” the stranger continues, “why are you crying?”

how direct.

“i wasn’t crying.”

the man glances at you, raises a brow. his features are surprisingly handsome, a set of plump lips and kind eyes that take a little bit of fear from your body. “are you sure about that?”

“pretty certain.”

“did you miss your train or something? sometimes i feel like crying when i’ve missed my train; it’s very stressful.”

you blink. “no. no, i haven’t missed my train.”

he perks up. “oh, good! what train are you getting then? maybe i can help you with the times.”

that’s really the million dollar question, isn’t it? what train will you find yourself upon? what city will you find yourself travelling to?

you have no idea.

“i have no idea.”

the man pauses as if waiting for the punchline to some kind of joke. you unwrap your starburst and pop it in your mouth. overhead, a voice announces that the next train will be arriving in fifty minutes.

when the silence stretches beyond anything acceptable, the man awkwardly coughs and says, “you don’t know?”

“i don’t know.”

“so you’re just. . . crying in the train station for no reason, with no train to catch?”

“i never said i didn’t have a train to catch. i just don’t know what one i’m catching yet.”

the man nods. you can tell, somehow, that he still doesn’t understand what you’re trying to say, but he’s too polite to question you any further. instead, he looks up at the signs above and says, “i’m heading to Gwangju, if that helps.”

Gwangju. you’ve heard wonderful things about that place. it’s pretty, apparently, though you can only base that off things you’ve heard from others.

“Gwangju,” you repeat, as if testing the word. “why are you going to Gwangju?”

he shrugs. “i just need to get away for a little while.”

your heart stutters, eyes snapping round to look at him. he sits completely straight, fidgeting with a strawberry starburst; his fingers are lovely, long and slightly bent in places.

i just need to get away for a little while.

oh, how fate works in the most wild ways.

“so do i,” you say. “i need to get away, too.”

his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “really? is that why you’re here?”

“i’m kind of looking for a place to start fresh, i suppose, yeah. i woke up this morning, grabbed my bag and just. . . walked here. i have enough money for a decent train fare, but i don’t have any plans.” you shrug, awkwardly glancing to the floor. “i don’t think i really thought it through, though, because now i have no idea what i’m doing.”

“well, that’s the fun, isn’t it?” the man nudges your arm. when you look at him, he’s grinning again, tiny little dimples appearing just beneath the points of his mouth. “don’t be scared. it’ll work out. what’s the worst that could happen?”

your stomach turns; you were kind of hoping he wouldn’t ask that question, because that means you have to actually ponder over everything that could possibly go wrong, and you’ve got a list. a mental list, compiled from the very moment you decided this was your next course of action.

the man must notice your sudden hesitation, as his eyes widen and he leans forward, trying desperately to meet your gaze before you fall too deeply into your own pessimistic thoughts. “okay, maybe i shouldn’t have said that. look, let’s not think about the worst that could happen, alright? how about we start by making sure this is something you actually want to do.”

“it is.” the affirmative spills from your mouth with no hesitation. “i need to do this. i need to.”

the man nods. “good. that’s alright, then. next step is probably figuring out where you actually want to go.”

you risk another glance at the red words flashing above your head; they look no less daunting than they did the first time you looked at them. so many places, so many opportunities, and you’re not sure whether you’ll fit in with any of them.

but you have to make your decision now. you have roughly half an hour to make your mind up, buy a ticket and get on that god damn train, so you really shouldn’t be wasting any more time.

“Gwangju doesn’t sound like a bad shout.”

the man’s eyebrows shoot up once again. “really?”

you shrug. “well, you brought it up. i’ll give it a go.”

he grins. “it really is a great place. we can get the train together.” he stands up. “come on, let’s get you a ticket.”

and so, it begins.

your heart doesn’t steady the entire time. you buy a ticket with the man - seokjin, you learn- by your side before the two of you take a seat at the edge of the platform, waiting patiently for the train to arrive. he pulls out a bag of pretzels and shares them with you, even though your stomach feels like it’s going to turn inside out with every bite; you’re too nervous to do anything besides nod and hum to everything seokjin is trying to explain, and he’s trying to explain an awful lot.

he goes into detail about the sights of Gwangju, and how he’s booked a B&B, and it’s going to be such a fun trip. you have so many questions about why he’s doing this, how he has the confidence to just get up and leave home like he has no commitments to anything. the questions don’t make an appearance, though, because you’re fairly certain opening your mouth will result in you vomiting all over the place.

finally, after what feels like forever, the train comes screeching to a halt and the doors open. you’re frozen in place for a moment, seokjin staring at the side of your head, waiting for you to make the first move. you kind of appreciate the way in which he waits, how he’s not pushing you to just get up and do it; if you really wanted to turn your back on this opportunity now, he wasn’t going to stop you.

you inhale and rise on shaky legs. seokjin follows close behind, letting you guide him to the train. you clamber on board and grab a seat, seokjin sitting down beside you. he pushes his hood off his head once he’s finally seated, letting out a quiet sigh of relief; his black hair sticks up, only getting worse when he runs his nimble fingers through the strands.

“are you nervous?”

“i think that’s pretty obvious.”

seokjin chuckles, flopping back in his seat with a lazy grin. “i know. i just thought i should get you to speak to maybe take your mind off things.”

you sigh; you have to admit, now that you’re on the train, and you know you’re not fully, fully alone, your nerves are dissipating just a little bit. you can breathe a bit better than before, and you haven’t had the urge to burst into tears in nearly an entire hour - it’s progress.

“so,” he continues. “are you going to explain to me what’s really going on here?”

you flick your eyes up, raising a brow. “i didn’t lie; i was being serious when i said i just needed to get out of here.”

“yeah, i get that, but surely there must be something else to it. not everyone just. . . leaves.”

“isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?”

seokjin shrugs, folding his arms across his chest. he’s slouched in his chair now, legs spread, head tilted back. he’s so low that you have to look down to address him. “i travel for work, if you must know. getting on trains and travelling the country isn’t something i’m not used to. you, however, didn’t even know how to work the train system.”

you scowl. “that’s not true. i could have handled this on my own perfectly fine.”

“i don’t doubt that. i’m just saying, i’m still not convinced you’re telling me everything.”

“and why should i? i don’t even know who you are.”

seokjin hums, staring out into the aisle as more people clamber onto the train; it’s getting very full now, with some people having to stand as the seats become more and more occupied.

“good point,” he says. “at least tell me this; on a scale of one to ten, how prepared are you for this trip?”

you don’t hesitate. “zero.”

seokjin’s eyebrows rise. “z-zero? like, you have no preparation whatsoever?”

“i have my bag with me.”

seokjin waits.

you don’t say anything else, because you have nothing else to say. you have the clothes in your bag, and the money in your wallet, and that is all.

“i was planning on making the big decisions once i actually got to where i’m going,” you elaborate.

“do you have any friends in Gwangju?”

“no.”

seokjin struggles to push himself upright. “do you even have a place to stay?”

“i literally didn’t even know i would be on this train a few hours ago; of course i don’t have a place to stay.”

seokjin looks borderline horrified, all wide eyes and open mouth. he’s staring at you like you have two heads, waiting for you to say “sike!” and put him out of his misery.

you glance down at your hands. “have you got any of those pretzels left?”

“christ, y/n, you’re really taking this spontaneity thing to a whole new level. a dangerous level.”

you roll your eyes, even though you know he’s right. “i’ll be fine. i have enough money for a B&B for at least a night or two, and after that, we’ll see what happens-”

“you’ll see what happens?”

“why are you so worried? i’m fine! i’ll be fine!”

seokjin shakes his head, eyes still wide. “i’m not going to let you walk around an unfamiliar city with nothing but your good intentions; you can stay with me at the B&B for a while - until you get yourself on your feet.”

you blink, certain you’ve heard him wrong.

he slouches again, shaking his head as he murmurs about how some people can be so dumb, and how he never would have helped you follow through with such an insane plan, and how you pulled on his heartstrings when he saw you crying, how he shouldn’t be so nice because then he ends up on trains to Gwangju with people who clearly have some kind of death wish-

you slap his shoulder.

“ow!” he glares at you. “what was that for?”

“i’m not raiding your fucking B&B.”

he rubs his shoulder. “you’ve got no other options. two nights isn’t going to be enough to find you a job, or a decent place to live - keep that money you were going to spend on a B&B and use it for - like - travelling to job interviews or something.”

“i don’t even know who you are!” and that seems to be the main argument here, the most valid. you genuinely have no idea who this bloke is, besides his name and a few weird facts he felt the need to tell you whilst you were waiting for your train to arrive.

he shrugs like such a fact is no big deal. “i’ll take a thank you, actually.”

you scowl, glaring at him, but he doesn’t look up. stubborn little bastard. instead, he tilts his head out and stares back through the centre of the train, that infuriating little smirk on his face that tells you he knows he’s getting on your nerves, and doesn’t really care.

you cross your arms over your chair and slouch in the same way he is. “fine. but if you murder me-”

“i won’t murder you.”

“how do i know that for definite?”

he shrugs. “you don’t. but you’re more likely to die from hypothermia after you end up homeless on the streets of Gwangju in the middle of winter.”

that shuts you right up. he has a point, and though you barely know him, you have been given no reason to truly believe he is out to harm you in any way, shape or form.

and so, in your huff, you pull your headphones from your bag and place them on your head. you blast music, ignoring seokjin’s eye roll; you know you’re being petty, but so what? you’re tired, and hungry, and his stubbornness has somehow managed to wriggle under your skin moreso than you thought possible. you’re not usually a very angry person - you let people get away with lots of things - but there’s something in the way seokjin talks, something in the way he looks at you, something in the way he is that just. . . gets to you a little bit.

it’s probably mean. judgemental. it’s one of those things your dad used to scold you for, one of those things you grew out of after your first year in school. but here it is, making a comeback specially for this stranger sat beside you.

the train travels for another hour and a half before finally coming to a halt in Gwangju station. you stare out the window, watching the bright blue pillars come into view, the flocks of people swarming the platform. people in business suits, with briefcases and grimaces on their faces. seagulls are pecking at discarded food on the floor. a child is throwing a tantrum whilst his mother hastily pats her coat pockets for any sign of her train ticket.

seokjin nudges your arm, even though he can see you staring out the window. “we’re here.”

“is it always this hectic?” you ask, tugging your headphones off your head.

“at this time of day, yeah.” he glances at his watch. “we should probably get going pretty soon if we want to grab a taxi; they’ll be packed right now.”

and so, you follow seokjin off the train, through the station and out into the world.

it’s not too unfamiliar; you’ve been to places like this. your home town was pretty densely populated, so the crowds do not faze you. the only thing is, this isn’t your home town, and that’s the part that’s getting to you.

it’s so similar, but you’re too aware of the chance to take that into consideration.

there are tall buildings, and small buildings, and tiny shops with smoke billowing from chimneys. the air is crisp and cold, forcing you to wrap your coat a little tighter around yourself. you’re standing stock still at the top of the station stairs, and yet already you are overwhelmed with the abundance of opportunities already throwing themselves headfirst into your life.

you’re going to throw up.

seokjin’s gentle touch on your elbow draws you back to reality. you inhale sharply, tugging your hand into your chest.

“what?”

he raises a brow. “you’re still in a mood with me?”

you scowl, dropping your hand to your side. “sorry. no. i just - i’m a little jumpy, that’s all.” you offer him a grin, tired and probably not worth the bother, but it’s something you hope he’ll accept given the circumstances. “let’s find that taxi, shall we?”

it takes a while, but eventually you and seokjin manage to clamber into a taxi together. when you offer to pay half the fare, seokjin glares and shoves your hand away, which only frustrates you. you say nothing, though, because you don’t want to seem ungrateful.

especially when you pull up to the B&B.

because it’s glamorous.

more glamorous than it has any right to be.

honestly, what kind of B&B has a chandelier in the room? not only that, but there’s a grand double bed in the centre, two bedside tables each adorned with a pitcher of ice cold water, plus a massive television set on a chest of drawers at the front of the room. the window, covered by a set of black out curtains, looks out over the city. in darkness, Gwangju looks like something straight out of a film. there’s a christmas tree glistening in the distance, and a few people dressed as elves are walking around, taking pictures with kids.

“okay,” you say. “this isn’t really what i was expecting.”

seokjin is shedding his coat, barely even giving the tremendous room a once-over. he glances over his shoulder, frowning when he notices you just standing in the doorway, your coat still on, your bag still on, your jaw dropped open.

“what do you mean?” he asks. “take your coat off, bloody hell. i’ve turned the heating on. it’s gonna get boiling in here in about two minutes.”

hesitantly, you tug your coat from your shoulders, letting all your belongings clatter to your feet. seokjin straightens up, turning to you with his hands on his hips.

“are you okay?”

“seokjin, this room is so fucking expensive.”

he raises a brow. “how do you know that?”

you gesture to the room in question, as if that is answer enough.

and to any normal person, it certainly would be. nobody goes to a B&B expecting glamour, but that’s exactly what you’ve been given, and you’re shocked to find that seokjin isn’t even mildly surprised by it. he isn’t even taking the time to admire the thick material of the duvet.

the duvet of the only bed in this entire room, but that’s a problem you’ll sort out when it’s actually time to sleep.

seokjin glances around, that eyebrow of his still raised. “i stay here every time i come to Gwangju.”

“oh, good for you!” you push the door closed and dart towards the bed. flopping on your back, you wriggle your fingers, digging them into the duvet. “i could suffocate under this, you know.”

seokjin rolls his eyes, strolling over to where you have unceremoniously abandoned your things by the door. he picks them up and lobs them onto the sofa at the other end of the room, before turning back to witness your episode of complete fascination.

“so this is all it takes to get you out of your mood?”

your smile drops. “i wasn’t in a mood.”

“you seemed pretty moody to me. you didn’t say a word to me the entire train ride.”

heat rushes to your face; okay, maybe you let your nerves get the better of you. in all honesty, seokjin didn’t necessarily do anything wrong - yes, he was stubborn, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer, but he clearly has your best interests at heart. he’s giving you a room to stay in. he’s put up with you this entire time, and he hasn’t even known you a full day.

you sigh, hands dropping on your stomach. “okay, sorry. you’re right. i was a tiny bit moody, but i was just tired. and hungry.”

“you could have said that.” seokjin gestures towards the bed. “pick what side you want and i’ll go order us dinner.”

it takes you a minute to register what he’s just said.

when you do, you scramble upright, stopping him in his tracks. his hand is inches away from the phone, but he pauses to glance at you.

“what is it now?”

“we’re sharing a bed?” you bounce on the mattress, exaggerating your point. “like, this bed?”

“do you see any other bed in the room?”

you look around as if doing so will somehow manifest a single bed into your space. you’ll even take a camp bed at this point. a pull-out sofa. your standards aren’t high.

“i snore, you know,” you blurt out.

seokjin tilts his head. his smile reappears, those dimples showing beneath his mouth; they’re not cheek dimples by any means, but they border on cheek dimples, and they’re cute either way.

you don’t know why you’re focusing on them so much.

“i don’t mind,” he says. “i’ll be asleep anyway.”

“i also move around a lot,” you barrel on. “i might kick you, or hit you by accident. i once gave my best friend a nose bleed when she was staying over at my house.”

seokjin nods, reaching for the telephone. you can tell he’s turning your voice into background noise now, probably fed up with hearing your excuses.

“seokjin, sharing a bed with a stranger is weird,” you whine.

“feel free to sleep on the floor then,” he hisses over his shoulder. “now what do you want to eat?”

the mention of food is enough to bring you back to your senses. you bounce off the bed and grab the menu at the side of the phone, flicking through it as seokjin makes idle conversation with the girl on the other end; apparently, the two of them know each other. he’s calling her lily - a first name basis kind of thing. you can’t help your teasing grin, flicking your eyes to him every now and then.

finally, he nudges your elbow and says, “can i have...”

you point to each of the meals you want, and seokjin reels them off to dear old lily. he places his own order, says goodbye and sets the telephone down.

“happy days,” he says. “she says that should be about ten minutes; you ordered a lot of food.”

“i’m hungry,” you reply.

“no shame in that.” he glances at the clock hung upon the wall. “i’m gonna go grab a shower and get into my pyjamas before the food gets here. unless you want to go in first?”

you wave a dismissive hand. “i’m just gonna throw on a movie. anything you want to watch?”

“surprise me.” with that, he scoops up his pyjamas and heads into the en-suite bathroom, locking the door behind him.

---

the food arrives exactly twelve minutes after seokjin set the phone down.

you’ve been counting.

you had thrown on the movie Elf, basking in seokjin’s groan when he emerged from the bathroom - all wet hair and cute pyjamas - to see your film of choice. nonetheless, the two of you are sat in bed when the doorbell rings, laughing as will ferrel scoops a forkful of spaghetti mixed with sweets into his mouth and makes a comment about how tasty it is.

“i always wanted to try that,” you say to seokjin’s back when he stands to get the door. “i think it would be a real experience.”

“oh, definitely.” he pulls open the door. “hello. yes, that’s for us. thank you. thank you, alright. yeah. yeah. thank you. okay, bye! bye!” he closes the door and wheels the tray of food into the centre of the room. you bound away from your pillows, grabbing the first bowl you can get your hands on - just plain old rice, but you dig in nonetheless.

seokjin grabs the chopsticks and dips them into the bowl you are holding, taking a lump of rice for himself. you set the bowl down between you, giving him easier access.

“i can cook, you know.”

he says this so off-handedly, not even looking up from the phone in his lap. you, however, pause, chopsticks halfway to your mouth.

“you can cook?”

he nods. “been cooking with my mum and dad since i was a kid. it’s kind of a skill of mine.”

you drop your chopsticks into the bowl. “alright, fess up. is there anything you can’t do?”

he smirks, still not looking up. it’s a little bit cocky, and it sends a surprising thrill up your spine to see it.

you nudge his arm. “i’m serious.”

“i’ll cook something for you one day, how about that? then you can decide if cooking counts as something i can do.”

you nod; it’s a promising deal, though you can’t help but ponder over the hidden promises beneath those words. one day, a phrase often used to describe a time in the future.

which means he wants to see more of you.

it’s embarrassing that such a thought pushes to the forefront right now. again, you are reminded of just how little time you have spent with this man, a man who is essentially a stranger and nothing more, a man who has proven quite capable of getting on your nerves.

it strikes you then, with this little fact in mind, that you don’t know an awful lot about him. granted, you haven’t exactly had the time to dive deep into the kind of person he is, but you haven’t really made much of an effort, either. you spent half the train ride in a huff, and most of your time spent in the B&B has been spent fawning over the details of lavish living.

now, however, you stare at the side of his face. his jaw twitches as he eats, his eyes narrowing when he bites into a particularly strange piece of rice; he coughs into his fist, shakes his head and continues eating. he looks up once, meets your eyes and gives you the tiniest of smiles.

“what do you do for a living?”

it’s not exactly the first thing you want to know, but it feels like a good enough segway into his entire life story that you just roll with it.

his chewing slows. “me?”

“yes. you.” you take a bite of some beef in black bean sauce. “not just anyone can afford to stay in a place like this every other week. what’s your secret, seokjin?”

“i’m a chef,” he replies.

simple as that, you suppose. he’s a chef. he cooks for a living.

“do you travel to different restaurants?” you press.

“i’m pretty well-known around these parts; whenever certain restaurants are short on staff, i’ll go and help out.”

“so you must be pretty popular.”

he shrugs, the tiniest pink hue adorning his cheeks.

“you know, you look a little young to be a fully qualified chef.” you pause. “what age are you?”

“i’m twenty-six.”

“oh. good. i’m twenty-four.”

“and what does a twenty-four year old runaway do for a living?”

you scowl. “i’m not a runaway; my family and friends all know i’m here.”

he points his chopsticks at you. “from what i saw, you didn’t even know you would end up here before i showed up.”

he has a point.

you pop another bit of beef into your mouth, taking your time to chew. he asked you a question. you registered that question, and you have an answer, but it feels a little anticlimactic in comparison to the answer he was able to give.

seokjin narrows his eyes at your silence. he swallows the rice in his mouth and leans forward, fighting to meet your eyes in that same way he did back at the station. “so? what do you do?”

“i used to work at a chinese takeout restaurant.”

you wince, waiting for him to burst out laughing.

“what do you usually get from a chinese takeout?”

you look up. “what?”

already, he is back to chewing his food, rifling through a carton of vegetables with his chopsticks. “what is your go-to meal from a chinese restaurant? i’m a big fan of the sweet and sour, but you can’t go wrong with a curry, either.”

you nod. “yeah. yeah, i like chicken curry, too.”

seokjin smiles around his chopsticks, and for just a moment, all you can do is stare at him. you’ve found yourself doing that an awful lot recently, just sitting there with your eyes trained on his face, him none the wiser to your gaze. he looks around the room, chewing thoughtfully, before his eyes widen and he grabs the television remote from the bedside table. he says nothing to explain his actions, simply turns the television on and crawls back to his pillows, where he lays over the top of the comforter, his bowl of rice balanced on his chest.

he switches netflix on. “have you ever watched the haunting of hill house?”

“no.” you crawl to your own pillows, flopping down beside him. “is it scary?”

“it’s creepy,” he replies. “think you can handle it?”

glancing down, you catch sight of his playful smirk.

you roll your eyes and say, “put it on.”

and so, seokjin does just that. together, the two of you eat and binge watch this creepy, confusing tv show. by the end of it, you’ve both crawled beneath the covers and are trying desperately not to jump at the jump scares; seokjin laughed at you the first time you did it, before nearly spilling his black bean sauce over his pyjama shirt when he did the exact same thing a few minutes later.

“i hated that,” you say once the final episode drifts to a close. “i hated that so much.”

seokjin places the empty bowls on the floor before slumping further down in the comforter. “it’s good, isn’t it? gets me every time!”

“next time, i get to pick what we put on tv.”

he raises a brow. “and what would you pick?”

you hum thoughtfully. “i kind of want to rewatch the one direction movie.”

“good choice.”

“but that’s for tomorrow.” you tug the quilt up to your chin, snuggling within it’s warmth; you’re still quite freaked out, glancing round the now-dark room, half expecting some creepy, paranormal figure to jump out of the darkness. “for now, i’m going to sleep.”

“what are your plans for tomorrow?”

your stomach curls. “i gotta just. . . get my life together, i suppose. might go job hunting.”

“i have work in the morning, but you can call me if you need anything.”

you blink, glancing over at him; he’s doing it again, that thing where he says such kind, heartfelt things to a complete stranger and doesn’t even seem fazed by it. he just rolls onto his side, facing away from you, and drifts off to sleep.

----

seokjin is already gone when you wake up. he’s left a note. it’s simple: “off to work. here’s my number.”

followed, as promised, by his number.

you punch the digits into your own phone and try to ignore the spiralling question of how you’re going to pay your phone bill at the end of the month. you have high hopes that you’ll have found your footing by then, gotten a job, have enough money saved up to get a decent flat you can call your own.

it’s just a matter of taking the steps to get there.

you get dressed in a nice turtle neck jumper, coloured black for good measure. pairing it with a pair of fancy grey trousers and a pair of black boots, you head out onto the streets of Gwangju, and are abruptly reminded of the fact you have never walked through these streets in your life.

everything is so new. you have to walk with your head ducked down, glancing at Google Maps every few steps because you honestly have no idea where you’re going. after searching up job vacancies nearby, you start your journey to the nearest one.

it’s a clothing store. the boss isn’t in, so you leave.

the second one is a little more promising; they let you leave your cv at the front desk, and the boy working seems nice enough to actually pass your details on to his manager. however, you don’t get much further than that, and you move on to the next one.

it’s a bakery.

it’s a small bakery, most likely a family-run business. as soon as you walk in, you’re greeted by the smell of freshly baked bread and a smile peeking over the counter top; it’s a boy about your age, a flop of black hair covering one of his eyes. he’s wearing a plain white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing some muscular arms. he’s got an apron on, too, that says ‘Kiss the Cook’ on the front, but no name badge is in sight.

“morning,” he says, despite it literally being 12:30pm. “you doing alright?”

you run your hands through your hair; was he asking you that just out of kindness, or because you look dishevelled? you feel dishevelled, but you were hoping you had managed to pull yourself together a little bit before walking in here.

he tilts his head. “what can i get you?”

startled back to reality, you rush to the counter. placed in batches is piles upon piles of pleasant looking treats, all looking fresh from the oven.

“hi,” you begin. “uh - hi, yeah. i was looking on the internet earlier and saw you had a job going? i was just wondering if that’s - uh - still a thing?”

the boys face lights up. “you saw the advertisement? that’s a first!”

“yeah?”

“dad! dad, we’ve got someone here asking about the advertisement!”

startled, you step back. an older, black haired man rushes from a room in the back, wiping his fingers on a towel. he’s frowning, but the expression quickly morphs into one of glee when he sees you standing there.

“really?” he says. “well, isn’t that a damn miracle. i was starting to think i’d be in here for twelve hour days; my name’s robert, and this is my son, malachi.”

“y/n,” you reply. “so - uh - i’m guessing the job is still up for grabs?”

“it is indeed,” robert replies. “give me two minutes whilst i freshen up, and we can sit down and chat. sound good?”

your eyes widen. “really? do you not want to read my cv or anything?”

robert waves a dismissive hand. “i’ll learn more about you through actual conversation than i ever will through a piece of scrap paper.” he turns on his heel. “i’ll be out in two minutes!”

you are stunned. this really isn’t how you expected things to go, especially considering your bad luck these past few months.

the bakery goes silent. you stare into dead space, waiting for the moment it all comes crashing down; the building is going to suddenly set on fire, or robert is gonna pop his head round the door and say “sike!” and you’ll have to trudge back to the B&B and inform seokjin of your failures.

seokjin.

his name startles you back to reality. quickly, you grab your phone from your back pocket, pull up his number and send him a quick text.

hi. it’s y/n. might have a job. it’s at the bakery down the street. will keep you updated.

you debate signing your message off with a kiss, decide against it and stuff your phone back into your pocket. it’s only then do you notice malachi’s eyes trained on you; he leans over the counter, arms folded, the tiniest of smirk playing on his face.

he’s handsome in a weird way. he’s tall. he’s got messy black hair, and you’ve heard that’s what a lot of people are fawning over nowadays. it kind of reminds you of seokjin a little bit, though seokjin’s figure is a lot. . . kinder than this boys. seokjin’s lean and tall, muscles in just the right places. this boys hands look like they could choke you out in a matter of seconds.

his smile is pleasant, though. it brings a glint to his dark eyes. he hasn’t got any dimples on his chin.

one point for seokjin, you suppose.

you return his smile, suddenly a bit awkward beneath the scrutiny of his gaze. “so, robert’s your dad?”

“yep. known him my whole life.”

you laugh, because you’re pretty sure that’s a joke he’s just told. “it’s a nice place you’ve managed to run with him. very cosy. we don’t have places like this in Busan.”

malachi’s eyebrows raise. slowly, he straightens up. “you’re not from here?”

“afraid not. i moved here just yesterday, actually - kind of a spontaneous thing, but it’s been working for me so far.”

“all on your own?”

you pause. “well, not necessarily. my - uh - friend and i are here together.” yes. friend. you can call seokjin a friend. “he’s a chef.”

malachi hums like this is some kind of grand revelation. “a chef, eh? i heard they earn quite a bit of money.”

“oh, well, i don’t know. i don’t really ask him about his finances, if i’m honest.”

“and whereabouts are you two staying?”

“the B&B down the street.”

again, his eyebrows shoot up. “the lodge? that’s a pretty expensive place to stay.”

“we split the bill,” you say quickly, suddenly getting protective over seokjin; you’ve heard that tone in people’s voices before. malachi has probably made an entire sour opinion on seokjin purely because he’s been led to believe he’s rich.

“he works hard for his money,” you add, because you feel like you have to. “it exhausts him, poor guy, but he loves what he does.”

malachi stares at you. the pleasant grin from earlier has been wiped free from his face, replaced by a twist of his mouth. you look away, thankful to see robert bustling back, now wearing a clean white shirt free of apron and flour.

“sorry for keeping you,” he says. “let’s go out the back where it’s a little warmer. that weather today could kill!”

and so, shooting malachi one last smile, you follow his dad into the back. it is indeed very warm, the heat from the ovens immediately clinging to your skin. you shed your coat, throwing it over the back of your chair as robert takes a seat across from you and begins the interview.

it doesn’t last very long. robert doesn’t seem like the picky type, asking you about your family and where you’re from. he focuses very little on your level of experience, though you try your hardest to fit in all those stories of you growing up around bakers, just to give your reputation that little push.

he talks to you like you’re an old friend, laughing at your jokes, telling his own childhood stories. he’s a really easy guy to be around, making the interview feel more like a casual chat than an actual job interview.

finally, however, he claps his hands and says, “i think we have a winner!”

you blink. “wait, really?”

he reaches forward, grabs your hands and shakes them, both at the same time. “you’re a lovely person, y/n. i’d love nothing more than for you to be on our team.”

your heart thunders; that was so easy, too easy, but you’re not even going to ruin the moment by questioning it right now. instead, you grin and say, “i’d love that, thank you so much!”

----

when seokjin arrives back at the B&B, it is already dark out.

eleven pm, if the clock is to be trusted in this place. already, you’re sprawled across the double bed, television blasting, your phone held over your face. you’ve had a shower and tucked yourself into some pyjamas.

“you look comfortable.”

your head shoots up. “seokjin! did you get my text?”

he throws his coat from his shoulders, shaking the rain out of his dark hair. he looks exhausted, which makes you feel bad for having already taken up most of the bed, but you’re too excited to care too much.

“i got your first text,” he replies, tossing his gym bag on the bed. “did you end up getting that interview, then?”

“you bet i did!” you jump up, grinning from ear to ear. seokjin raises a brow, but chuckles when you throw your arms over his shoulders and say, “i got the job! i got the job! i got the job!”

he pulls away, holding you at arms length. his eyes are wide, that smile big across his face. “they gave you it then and there?”

“i make a wildly good first impression, seokjin, don’t you ever forget.”

he scoffs. “sorry. sometimes i forget considering the first time i saw you, you were bawling your eyes out in the middle of a train station.”

“literally no one asked you to remember that.” you pull him back in for a hug, squealing your excitement in his ear.

he laughs. his arms tighten around your waist, head nuzzled in the crook of your neck, and you might be imagining it, but you swear you can feel his joy, can hear it in his melodic laugh. he’s just as excited about this opportunity as you are, even though he has no reason to be.

you pull away, tipping back onto the mattress. “i start in two days time.”

“what are they gonna get you to do?”

“baking, i assume. working the tills. just. . . baker stuff.”

seokjin raises a brow, sitting down on the end of the bed. he smells like a kitchen. “do you actually know how to bake?”

“of course i know how to bake. i wouldn’t have gone for an interview at a bakery if i didn’t.”

“you never told me that.”

you pause. “sorry. i didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

seokjin shrugs, standing up again. he walks over to his luggage and tugs out another pair of pyjamas, this one adorned with little ducklings upon a blue background. “i just would have liked to know that, that’s all.”

you watch as he walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. seconds later, you hear water screeching out of the shower head, and you know then the conversation is over.

you aren’t really sure what to make of it.

he did seem a tad bit upset, but it’s difficult to tell with seokjin. you haven’t known him for very long at all, but within that short space of time, you’ve certainly been able to conclude that seokjin is more an optimist than a pessimist. he looks on the bright side of life, and even when he’s upset, he doesn’t really like to show it, like he’s afraid of spreading negativity.

it can’t be very healthy.

nonetheless, you were able to spot a few inconsistencies in his optimism during that conversation, and it makes you feel bad. you nuzzle beneath the covers and turn the television back on, wondering what on earth you did wrong.

----

work is hectic.

even though the bakery itself is never overly busy, there’s a lot to be done when it comes to hospitality. almost immediately you are put in charge of the tills, plus cleaning up when the mess gets too much. that means you spend your days darting back and forth between the front of the shop and the kitchen, trying to keep a healthy balance, but failing miserably.

malachi tells you it’s alright, that even he and robert struggle to stay on top of things, but it still puts you in a sour mood. you want to be good at this. it’s been a brilliant opportunity, and you’re not willing to spoil it just yet.

you’re on your second week of work when seokjin finally decides to pay a visit.

you know he got the day off, because you woke up this morning and nearly had a heart attack at the sight of him still fast asleep beside you; it left your stomach in knots, your heart stumbling in your chest. it’s not like he shouldn’t have been there - he’s fallen asleep beside you every night for the past two weeks. however, you’ve never actually seen him there. he’s always gone when you wake up.

but this morning, you rolled over and was greeted, startlingly, by the sight of his sleeping face.

his peaceful, adorable sleeping face.

now, however, he’s spritely and awake. with two cups of coffee in his hand, he waltzes up to the counter and says, “cosy place.”

you grin, taking one of the cups from him. “isn’t it?

he inspects the tiny bakery with a smile on his face, those dimples popping just shy of the corners of his mouth. “you never told me how cute it was in here; i would have visited much sooner.”

“with your busy schedule? absolutely not.”

seokjin rolls his eyes. “i would have made the time.”

you ignore how this comment makes you feel. you’ve gotten increasingly good at doing that these past few days.

you lean over the counter, taking tiny sips of your coffee. “so, what have you been doing with all your spare time?”

“nothing,” he replies, a little too quick. “absolutely nothing. i had a few emails from the people back in Busan to deal with, but besides that, i’ve been sat in the B&B, watching netflix.”

“sounds like a dream.”

he shakes his head, the tiniest pout forming. “it’s awful. i’m bored. i’ve never been bored in the B&B before; i think you’re having a negative effect on me.”

you shoot upright, jaw dropping open. “excuse me? you can’t blame me for the fact you have no hobbies!”

“who said i have no hobbies?”

“the fact that all you’ve done is watch netflix today kind of eludes to the fact that you have no hobbies.”

seokjin scowls. the expression is adorable on him, with those stray dimples making an appearance. you really have to stop staring at those, because it’s going to get obvious pretty soon.

“i have plenty of hobbies,” he grumbles. “in fact, i’ve been invited out for a few drinks tonight with my friends.”

you pause. of course seokjin has friends. you were never under any illusion that he didn’t, but he doesn’t really talk about them. being locked up in a B&B with him for two weeks straight has given you plenty of time to pick his brain, analyse the life he used to life, and not once has he made any attempt to bring up these so-called friends.

“oh,” you manage. “that sounds like it’ll be fun.”

he hums cockily, like he’s just proved you wrong.

“getting drunk isn’t a hobby unless you’re an alcoholic, by the way.”

his smile drops. “i can never win with you, can i?”

you shrug. “i’m just saying. why don’t you take up painting, or playing the guitar?”

“okay, okay, i didn’t come in here for a therapy session; how much are those eclairs?”

you giggle, but nonetheless, you duck down and pluck an eclair from the display cabinet. you place it in a bag and hand it over to him before saying, “don’t worry about it. i’ll slip some cash in the register at the end of the night.”

seokjin pauses. his hand is inches away from the bag you’re holding out to him, those perfect fingers twitching like he has to physically restrain himself from snatching it out of your hand.

you shake the bag to get his attention, but his eyes never leave your face. it’s kind of intimate if you let yourself think too much into it. “do you want the eclair or not? i made it.”

he snatches his hand back dramatically. “never mind then. you can keep it.”

you roll your eyes, grab his hand and place the bag in his palm. “don’t play the gentleman, seokjin; we’re all friends here. it doesn’t make you any less of a man to have someone buy you a fucking eclair.”

you know how selfless seokjin is. of all the little quirks he has put on display for you since you met him, his selflessness has been the one that stands out the most. you see him battle with it now, the way he hesitates, the way his free hand twitches towards the wallet tucked into his back pocket. you give him one final look before he sighs and nods.

“thank you.”

“now, tell me a bit about these plans you have for later.” you sip your coffee. “are these friends good people? do i need to be worried?”

seokjin scoffs. “they are great people - i’ve known them for years. we’re just going out for a few drinks, a bit of a catch-up. nothing to be worried about.”

“so i’ll have the B&B all to myself, will i?”

he raises a brow. “don’t say it like that. you’re worrying me.”

you roll your eyes, unable to fight the smile rising on your face. seokjin notices your amusement and shakes his head, because he knows you’re just winding him up. in all honesty, it makes you kind of glad seeing him go off and do his own thing. these past two weeks have really opened your eyes to just how much he works, and just how little time he has for himself. he deserves a bit of time with his friends.

he leaves shortly after, claiming he has errands to run. he tells you to call him when you get home, and you agree to do so before waving him goodbye, watching through the window as he turns the corner and disappears amongst the crowd of people.

a hand lands on your shoulder.

you jump back, startled. malachi laughs, holding his hands up in faux surrender; he’s a got a grin on his face, dimpleless, unlike seokjin, who has dimples just beneath the corners of his mouth, tiny little indents in his chin that you can never take your eyes off, because they’re so cute, and he gets so flustered when you point them out, and-

“was that the husband?”

you blink, certain you’ve heard him wrong. “what?”

malachi nods towards the window. he’s got flour on his face, and you absentmindedly reach out and brush it off. “was that seokjin, or whatever his name is?”

“did you just call him husband?”

now it’s malachi’s turn to blink. he raises a brow, flicking his gaze between you and the door seokjin has just fled from. “is he not. . . do you two not live together?”

“in a way,” you reply. “but we’re not married. he’s my friend, that’s all.”

malachi scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. “you had me fooled. ‘oh, call me when you get home!’ ‘have fun with your friends!’ ‘i’ll have the house all to myself!’ you certainly sound like an old married couple.”

you really can’t believe you’re hearing this.

it’s bizarre. utterly absurd. you and seokjin are definitely comfortable with each other at this point, but that doesn’t mean anything. he’s your friend - a good friend, your only friend in this new place.

plus, you don’t speak like an old married couple. that’s a stupid way to think. you two communicate like nothing more than two people who have been forced to sleep in the same bed for two weeks.

you shake your head. “i don’t even want to listen to this.”

“so you’re telling me i’m wrong?” malachi demands as you shove past him into the kitchen.

“yes, you are. that’s mental that you would even think that. i haven’t even known him that long-”

“again, you could have fooled me! the way you two look at each other, it’s like you share memories from years ago.”

you scowl, heat rising to your cheeks. “when the fuck did you become a poet?”

malachi only laughs. you want him to shut up, because this is out of order. this is making you more flustered than it has any right to, and you don’t want to get flustered when you’re working with hot ovens.

it’s not like he has any idea what he’s talking about. he’s seen the briefest glimpse of seokjin, certainly not enough to know how you two genuinely interact with each other. he hasn’t seen the bickering, the fights for the covers, seokjin huffing with you when you make him get up to turn the television off at the end of the night.

so why are you getting so worked up?

you push the question away as you get back to work, trying desperately to ignore malachi’s snickers every time he passes you; he knows what he’s done, of course, getting you all worked up like this, but you can’t help it. what if other people see you and seokjin like that? what if seokjin picks up on this assumption and decides to cut all ties with you, too afraid to be seen that close with someone like you?

maybe you’re panicking over nothing. seokjin is a nice guy - the best guy. he won’t just up and leave you because of what other people think.

but then again, you’ve only known him for two weeks, so who’s to say he won’t?

---

seokjin has already left when you arrive home later that evening.

it’s dark already, the winter showing it’s ugly head. little droplets of snow cling to your coat, your hair, your cheeks as you stumble through the door of your shared B&B, teeth gritted against the cold that has deemed your fingers and toes numb.

left upon the bedside table is a note, the unmistakeable scribble of seokjin’s handwriting informing you that he doesn’t know when he will be home, but he still expects you to give him a ring whenever you finish work. you read the note over and over, unexplainable joy flaring within your system with the knowledge that he was thinking of you before he left, that he still wants to make sure you got home safe.

you don’t call him.

the thing is, malachi’s words have grated against your skull worse than you thought they should. he spent the entire day teasing you about your ‘little crush’ on seokjin, clearly relishing in how it made you squirm. it made you think, too, which is the worst part. you’ve spent these past two weeks on complete autopilot, just trying to make a life for yourself now that you’ve got a clean slate. you never once stopped to think about something as simple as relationships, or feelings, but now that malachi has sprung such a topic to the forefront, you can’t deny that the only person you can associate with such topics is seokjin.

you can’t bring yourself to speak to him just yet. you’re too tired, and your body is sore, and you want nothing more than to crawl into bed and pretend today never happened.

so that’s exactly what you do. turning your phone on silent, you get in your pyjamas and snuggle beneath the covers, trying to ignore the empty space at the side of you.

----

you wake up to the sound of the door slamming.

your eyes snap open, heart jolting from your chest. for the briefest moment, you are entirely convinced you’re being robbed. any minute now, the barrel of a gun is going to be pointed at your face and you’ll have no choice but to give up all of your belongings, all of seokjin’s belongings, will probably be forced back to Busan because of your trauma, and-

“oh shit. are you sleeping?”

you bolt upright, tugging the quilt to your chin. standing in the doorway, seokjin looks tall, illuminated only by the hallway light outside. he’s wearing a fancy dress shirt and trousers, the top button undone to reveal sweat slicked collarbones, the sleeves rolled up to reveal perfectly muscled arms. his hair stands on end, and he’s got a pout on his face that reveals his drunkenness in all it’s glory.

your heartbeat slows.

“seokjin?”

he shakes his head, waving a dismissive hand. “no. no, sh. go back to sleep. i didn’t mean to wake you up.”

his words are slurred. he’s definitely drunk.

he stumbles towards the bed, using the bedside table to stay upright. he blinks drearily when his eyes meet yours; despite having just spoken to you, he’s looking at you now like he’s only just realised you’re actually in the room.

he clicks his fingers. “i had something i wanted to say to you.”

you blink. “o-okay. do you want water first? you look a little-”

“it was really important,” he continues. “i’m pretty sure i was mad at you.”

you swing your legs out of bed. “okay, you definitely need water.”

you scramble to the sink, grabbing a glass from the counter and filling it with ice cold water. seokjin slumps on the bed, running his nimble fingers through his hair, mumbling incoherent words to himself.

looking at the clock, you see it is two in the morning; he has work in five hours, and is clearly in no state to do a full day of work. you make a mental note to ring the restaurant and tell them he’s taken ill.

you turn, placing the glass on the bedside table. “did you have a good time?”

“no,” he replies. “worried. i was worried the entire night.”

you raise a brow, trying your hardest not to look at the skin showing through his shirt. “worried? about what?”

he gestures, encompassing the entire room.

“seokjin, i can look after the room on my own, you know,” you say.

“i wasn’t worried about the room.” he scowls, glaring at the carpet like it’s upset his ancestors. “i couldn’t care less about the room. it’s whats in the room that worried me.”

you blink. “you’re losing me, mate.”

he groans, tossing his head back. the sudden jolt tips his entire body. you jump forward and grab his arm, stabilising him before he cracks his skull on the floor.

“seokjin, jesus christ, take a sip of your water.”

he pushes your hand away. “not thirsty. just worried.”

“about what?”

“you didn’t call me when you got home from work!”

you falter. you remember his note, of course, but you had promptly fell asleep before you could do as he’d asked; you didn’t think it was that big of a deal. however, he’s sat in front of you now with a pout on his face, eyes glaring like you’ve done something massively wrong.

you swallow, trying to ignore the butterflies rushing through your stomach. “y-you were worried about me?”

“i asked you to call me when you got home from work, and i didn’t get a single call the entire night. i thought you’d been kidnapped or something. the only reason i didn’t come storming back here was because my friends wouldn’t let me leave.”

he’s lying. of course he is. he’s lying, and he’s drunk, and he’s going to regret ever pouring his heart out like this tomorrow morning.

you hollow out your cheeks, overcome with a sudden wave of exhaustion. you gently pat his cheek, making his eyes widen.

“what are you doing?” he asks.

“i’m putting you to bed,” you reply, and even to yourself, your voice sounds tired, fed up, a mere drawl in the darkness. “you’re not going to work tomorrow, but you need to sleep this alcohol off. come on.”

he scowls, glancing down at his attire; he’s still in his day clothes. “i can’t sleep in jeans.”

you stare at him. he stares back at you, making no move to remove the clothes he has such a grudge against right now.

you close your eyes, inhaling deeply. “fine then.” with that, you grab his belt and unbuckle it. a sharp gasp slips past his lips that you do a fine job of ignoring, even as it makes your cheeks heat up, forcing you to bite down on your tongue. you tell yourself on a loop that you’re just doing a favour for a friend, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them from his legs. the entire time, he stares at you with his mouth slightly open, tanned cheeks glowing red more from the alcohol than anything else. even in his drunken state, his gaze makes you weak. you’re not even making eye contact with him, instead choosing to keep your eyes firm on your trembling hands.

when at last his jeans have been tossed across the room and he is left in a pair of boxers, you shove him back onto the bed and say, “now go to sleep. i’m gonna go for a shower.”

seokjin rolls his head back. he sinks into the pillows, one side of his face completely engulfed by the fabric. “but it’s so late! what if you drown?”

you head for the bathroom, trying to calm your stampeding heart. “i won’t drown. stop worrying about me.”

“i always worry about you,” he grumbles. “you’re special to me.”

you pretend you haven’t heard him. it’s so much easier than dealing with those words, than letting them wriggle into your brain, because they will do nothing but torment you the rest of the night.

you slip into the shower, and it is there that you let yourself dissolve. you’re so tired, limbs heavy, heart still racing. not even the spray of hot water is enough to wake you up - the only thing keeping you on your feet right now is the memory of his drunken words, spoken slurred and rushed. he probably didn’t even mean them, but that doesn’t take from the fact he said them, and you heard them, and they’re going to complete destroy you if you keep thinking about them.

---

seokjin nudges your shoulder.

your eyes fly open, head jolting up. your neck cracks, making you yelp and fall back against the pillows - unfamiliar pillows, considering you fell asleep on the sofa the night before.

you groan, rubbing the back of your neck as you slowly rise into a sitting position. seokjin stands over you, eyebrows furrowed, mouth parted. he doesn’t say anything as you bring yourself back to reality, glancing around the room like you’ve never seen it before.

he takes a step back; he’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, and he’s got a mug of fresh coffee in his hands.

you reach up and take the mug. “thanks.”

“it wasn’t yours, but okay.” he sits down beside you, placing your legs in his lap. “is there a reason you fell asleep on the sofa last night? it doesn’t look very comfortable.”

you blink, because for just a moment, you don’t think there is a reason. you’re ready to tell him nope, it was an accident, you just drifted off, haha, silly you!

but last night doesn’t take long crawling back to the forefront of your mind. his words, his silly grin, your fingers on his belt buckle-

you swallow the scalding drink and say, “i thought you might have liked the bed to yourself after your wild night out.” you nudge his arm. “how are you feeling today anyway? hungover?”

he rubs his temple, though he doesn’t seem to be in too much pain; by the looks of things, he’s had a shower, which means he probably went for one of his morning runs beforehand. “i’ve got a bit of a headache, but nothing major. i don’t even remember how i got home.”

oh, thank god.

“i took care of you, don’t worry.”

seokjin scoffs. “i can see that. did i at least take my own trousers off?”

you take another hasty sip of coffee. “yes, of course. i wouldn’t go near that area with a six foot pole.”

seokjin rolls his eyes before standing up. he stretches his arms over his head, revealing a tiny lick of skin just above the waistband of his sweats. you look away sharply, causing another painful snap to course down your neck.

you wince. “fucking hell.”

he looks over his shoulder. “what?”

“just my neck.”

he drops his hands to his sides, turning to face you. his eyes narrow as he watches you rub the back of your neck, twisting your head from side to side in any attempt to get rid of the burning sensation dancing along the top of your spine. finally, he sits back down, puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you away from him.

you falter. “uh, seokjin?”

“i learned this when i was in Daegu a few years back.” he digs his fingers into the base of your neck, and immediately a pressure is released. it’s a pressure you didn’t even realise was there.

it disintegrates beneath his fingers, only to be replaced by another pressure, completely unrelated to mere muscle pain. it settles in your stomach, makes you stiffen beneath his grip, and he must notice, because he chuckles, and it takes the form of a breeze blowing against the back of your neck.

you swallow. this really isn’t how you should be feeling right now. this entire situation should not be happening. seokjin is your friend. he’s that guy who saved you from a potential, second mental breakdown. he’s that guy you share a bed with completely out of inconvenience. he’s the guy you tease and eat dinner with.

he’s seokjin.

despite being fully aware of how out of place this entire experience is, you make no effort to shift away from him. in fact, almost against your will, you sink closer to him, your back hitting against his knees, and again, that gentle breeze tickles the back of your neck.

“good?” his voice is gruff, quiet.

“good.” your voice is high pitched, embarrassing.

seokjin chuckles again, a third time, before you feel his lips against your shoulder blade.

the sensation is wild. it’s such a simple touch, nothing more than a peck against your flesh, but it sends your brain into a spiral. you hate yourself for it, how such a simple action can destroy you in seconds.

and it’s destroying you, sending your brain into overdrive, but you want more of it. you desperately, desperately want more of it, and maybe that’s why you lean into his touch. maybe that’s why you let his hands slide around your waist. maybe that’s why you close your eyes, tilt your head back into the crook of his neck, let his plump lips explore your neck. you are in complete bliss, unable to even form words, fairly certain you’re losing yourself in-

the phone rings.

you jolt away from him, gasping as reality floods back into you. fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck, you can’t believe you just did that. you can’t believe you let yourself get lost like that.

you jump up from the sofa and rush for the phone, too scared to spare seokjin a glance. he isn’t saying anything, which can only be a bad sign, and quite frankly, you haven’t even got your head screwed on well enough to deal with that.

you grab the phone and pull it to your ear, all without looking at the caller id.

“hello?”

“y/n?”

you inhale sharply. “robert. fuck. i’m late, aren’t i?”

“are you well? it’s not like you to be late.”

you run a hand through your hair, glancing at the clock on your nightstand - you’re only late by fifteen minutes, but that doesn’t change anything. you got distracted. you should have been paying closer attention.

“i’m fine. sorry. so sorry. just - uh - slept in. i slept in. i’ll be there as soon as possible.”

robert replies. you’re certain of it, but you don’t pick up on what he’s said. you slam the phone back down and spin, finally looking at seokjin. he’s dazed, staring back at you with eyes blown wide and mouth slightly open, slightly swollen, damp from where his tongue has surely traced patterns over them since you stood up.

you swallow thickly. “i have to go to work.”

“y/n-”

“you don’t have to say anything.” you snatch your keys off the bedside table, along with your phone and a pen that you don’t even need, but you just want to grab more stuff, just want to feel the heavy weight of objects in your hands. “i get it, okay? that was weird. we were both lost in the moment. you don’t have to explain yourself.”

he opens his mouth to reply, but you’re on a roll with cutting people off before you can hear what they have to say. you dart out the door, yelling “see you later!” over your shoulder before the door slams closed behind you.

you waste no time. if you stop, you’re going to think, and the kinds of thoughts that will surely rush to the surface are not the kind you want to be dealing with right now.

you arrive at the bakery in ten minutes, feet aching from how harshly they were slamming against the pavement in the cold, wet rain. nonetheless, you don’t care. you genuinely don’t care, not when you pull your coat off and slip your apron over your head, immediately snatching the oven gloves out of malachi’s hands.

his head snaps up. that award winning grin flashes across his face when he says, “y/n! you made it!”

“what are we making?” you ask.

malachi’s smile slips. “uh. . . i mean, it’s not that busy. there’s no rush. if you wanna grab a coffee or something before you start-”

“i’ll make muffins.”

malachi blinks. you don’t humour him with a response, instead getting to work immediately. you can feel him watching you from across the kitchen, dark eyes burning holes into the back of your head. you just keep working, even though your hands are beginning to tremble, and you can still feel seokjin’s mouth on your bare skin. your heart is yet to recover, still beating erratically in your chest.

“y/n?” malachi mumbles. “are you sure everything’s alright?”

you remember his words from the previous day, how bizarre they sounded when you first heard them; it just didn’t make any sense at the time that anyone would think seokjin had feelings for you, that he looked at you as anything more than a friend. you had gone home entirely convinced that you and seokjin would remain friends, and that was all, whether you liked it or not.

but then he just has to go and do that, messing up every logical thought you once held.

you don’t even know if he likes you like that, or if it really was just a spur of the moment thing. he might have still had alcohol in his system. maybe he didn’t even know what he was doing.

malachi’s hand on your shoulder startles you. you yelp, hands twitching, warm pan crashing to the floor.

“woah!” malachi grabs you, dragging you back before you can burn yourself. “careful there, mate.”

you close your eyes. “fuck, i’m sorry. i didn’t-”

“are you gonna tell me what’s wrong with you today or are we just gonna keep having incidents like this?”

you meet his gaze; there is no malice in his words, no threat or disappointment. he’s worried about you.

you sigh, falling back against the counter. “just. . . seokjin things.”

malachi pauses. “seokjin? the husband?”

“he’s not my-”

“the guy you live with? the guy who was here yesterday?”

“that’s the one.”

malachi picks up the warm pan with a towel. “what has he done? he seemed like a nice bloke.”

“he’s an amazing bloke,” your quick to say, though the words make your cheeks heat up. “he really is amazing. he’s just also . . . very confusing.”

malachi raises a brow. “confusing how?”

“confusing. . .” you gesture vaguely, as if that in itself is a good enough adjective to describe just how confusing seokjin is.

malachi nods like he understands. he leans against the counter, shoulder brushing yours. for just a moment, it truly feels like there is nothing left to say; how do you comfort someone in a situation like this? how do you comfort anyone, let alone a person you’ve known for only a handful of days, someone you only know the bare bones about.

nonetheless, malachi’s silence is reassuring. it calms you down to a point where you can gently take the pan from his hand and set it on the counter, your breathing straying back to a normal rhythm.

“so,” he begins once you start gathering random ingredients. “correct me if i’m wrong, but i’m guessing seokjin did something that messed with your feelings a little bit?”

you bite your lip, and that is response enough.

“ah.” he pauses for another brief moment. “you weren’t uncomfortable with any of it, were you? ‘cause i’ll hang him up by his balls if he-”

“no!” the word is ripped from your throat, urgent. “no, malachi, it was nothing like that. seokjin would never do anything like that.”

“then what did he do?”

“he kissed me.” you pause. “kind of.”

malachi’s eyebrows rise. you watch the cogs turning his brain, probably trying to understand the riddle you have just presented him.

you hasten to clarify. “him and i have been purely friends from the moment we met. we live together just for convenience. he never showed signs of wanting to date anyone, let alone date me, and then this morning he just. . . got a little touchy, and it confused me, because i always just thought he didn’t want that kind of relationship with me.”

“sounds like an awful lot of information on what he wants rather than what you want.”

you frown. “what i want doesn’t matter.”

malachi stares at you. you stare back, because you don’t want to think about what you want. you don’t want to dig into that dark crevice of your mind until everything else is sorted; you have to get your own life together before you can start thinking about sharing that life with someone else.

especially someone like seokjin.

someone who is perfect. someone who seems to have everything under control. he’s only young, not even thirty, and yet he’s travelling korea, cooking in top class restaurants, going out with friends who love him. he’s essentially living the dream.

you’re just the person who intruded on that dream-like life, stumbling through your own life tragically.

you look away as the thought strikes you; again, you can’t focus on that kind of thing. it’s scary. it’s uncharted territory, and you won’t let yourself be engulfed by it.

---

when you arrive home, seokjin is cooking dinner.

“ooh, something smells good!” you exclaim, trying to ignore the frantic thump of your heart.

seokjin glances over his shoulder; his cheeks are burning red, an apron placed over his pyjamas. his hair is ruffled, and you know for a fact he’s only just now getting out of bed. he probably spent the entire day watching tv, and honestly, you envy him for it. your feet are aching for the long hours you put in at the bakery, and you want nothing more than to curl up and turn on some eastenders.

“you’re home!” he replies.

“i’m home.” you shake your coat off and approach. “what are you making?”

“spaghetti bolognese. something simple.”

“i never took you as the type to do anything simple.”

he grins, shooting you a wink. you hide your smile with an eye roll and grab some bowls from the cupboards, setting them down beside his work station before getting to work on grating the cheese; you know seokjin loves to smother his spaghetti in cheese. you’ve teased him about it on countless occasions.

“so, how was work?” he asks, scooping the pasta into two bowls.

“quiet,” you reply. “malachi and i did some inventory for the ingredients, and robert was gone half the day for a business meeting.”

“must have been pretty stressful.”

you shrug, nodding a thanks as seokjin passes you your dinner. “it was nice. there weren’t too many customers in, so it was pretty chill.”

seokjin sits down beside you, shoulder brushing yours.

you frown, glancing at his bowl. “how come you got more pasta than me?”

“i cooked it.” he twirls some pasta onto his fork and shoves it in his mouth. “therefore, i get the majority of it.”

“i was at work all day, starved to near insanity-”

“bit dramatic.”

“let me have some!”

before seokjin can move, you dig your fork into his bowl, scoop some pasta up and slap it back into your own. seokjin’s eyes widen, splutters slipping past his lips. you simply grin, popping a forkful into your mouth.

“you know,” he begins, voice low, “i would have given you some if you’d given me the chance.”

“that’s alright. i’ve got it now.”

seokjin scowls, slumping back against the sofa. he stares at the side of your head for what feels like forever, and you feel every goosebump his gaze induces.

he hasn’t brought up what happened that morning, which doesn’t make you feel too good. you spent the entire day reliving the scene in your head, feeling the echo of his lips against your shoulder blade, and he’s sat beside you now, pretending nothing even happened. does he do that with lots of people? is he just a natural flirt and you never even picked up on it?

because, at the end of the day, you really don’t know seokjin all that well. you’ve grown fond of his personality and him as a person, but how much does that tell you about a person? not an awful lot, that’s for sure.

you squirm a little, unable to hide your mild discomfort; there’s a tension pressing between you both, but you don’t know if he feels it, too. when you glance over your shoulder, he’s just lounging, that stupid smile on his face, staring at you like he knows how flustered you are and siphons nothing but joy from it.

you’re going to explode. any minute now, your body is going to go up in flames. you need to say something. you need to do something.

so you turn, open your mouth and-

his lips are on yours in seconds.

how he moved so fast, you are unsure, but the question doesn’t even matter as you melt into his grip entirely against your will. his lips mould against yours, so perfect, made for each other, but there is a voice in the back of your head screaming that this is wrong, that this is an entire friendship on the line, and are you really ready to destroy that for the sake of a passing fancy?

you let yourself kiss him back for a few more seconds. you just want to savour it. you just want to run your fingers through his hair a few more times before finally pulling yourself together.

you jerk back a little too hastily. he gasps at the sudden loss of contact, eyes wide, one hand still hovering in the air where he once cradled your face.

you swallow, standing up. you run your hands down the front of your jeans, shaking your head, trying not to make a scene, but all the emotions you felt this morning are coming back, and you’re just confused again. confused, and agitated, and you want nothing more than to ravish him, but at what cost?

he looks up at you. “y/n?”

it’s just your name, but it shatters you. it’s always sounded so good coming from his lips. it’s always sounded so natural.

“i’m sorry,” you choke out. “uh - i just - i don’t think-”

seokjin stands up. “don’t apologise. i’m sorry - i shouldn’t have just assumed-”

“i really like you, seokjin, but-”

“but not like that. don’t worry, i get it. i completely understand.” he rubs the back of your neck, cheeks glowing bright red. “we can just forget anything ever happened.”

your stomach curls; you don’t want to do that. you won’t be able to do that, but you humour him with a curt little nod. he smiles warily, hesitates just a bit before slumping down on the sofa and grabbing his spaghetti again. he doesn’t ask you to sit with him. he doesn’t ask you if you’re alright. he just turns the tv on and carries on eating, not giving you a second glance when you awkwardly walk right past the sofa and get into bed.

----

the days are awkward.

awkward, and borderline unbearable, to put it simply.

you go to work. so does seokjin. you both come home, eat dinner, and then go to bed, but neither of you know what to say or do in between those crucial moments.

seokjin doesn’t even joke around with you like he used to. he just laughs at your own pitiful attempts to lighten the mood before asking you what you want for dinner. once you respond, he uses it as an excuse to ignore you for the rest of the night as he goes off and makes it.

it really is ripping you apart. he was your friend, but he was also your crush.

yes, your crush. like some stupid high school drama. every time you saw him, your heart fluttered and you would go to sleep to thoughts of his arms around you, even if such a scenario once seemed so out of the equation.

and he likes you back. you know that. he kissed you, for crying out loud! nonetheless, there’s that voice in the back of your head reminding you that he is so much better than you, that he has his life together entirely whilst you don’t even have an outline of where you want yours to go.

two people so different in nature would never last long together, and that would leave you with not a trace of seokjin in your life. you didn’t want that.

but it’s kind of what you’ve been given anyway.

nowadays, you don’t even say goodbye to him when you leave for work, even if he’s awake. you just tug on your uniform and start walking, locking the door behind you because he has his own set of keys and he can unlock it whenever he wants.

you’re miserable at work, too, which doesn’t make you a blast to be around, a fact that malachi points out on a daily basis. every time he sees you, he rolls his eyes and tells you to cheer up, but you’ve gotten to the point where you just don’t care any more - you’re gonna bring the mood down, and that’s all there is to it. you’re not going to try and fix it until you’ve fixed yourself.

which is taking an awfully long time when you’re constantly surrounded by the problem.

it’s been a week and a half now. you walk home, sluggish and anxious, but stupidly excited to see seokjin nonetheless. that’s how this always goes. that’s why it’s so fucking confusing.

you unlock the door, step inside, and immediately your heart drops into your stomach.

seokjin looks up from his suitcase and gives you the weariest smile you have ever seen him wear. it’s crooked, the dimples not even appearing. it’s fake.

you pause in the doorway, fingers tightening on the door knob. “what are you doing?”

he looks back down at the pile of clothes - his clothes - he has stacked upon the bed. he bites his lower lip, takes a moment to respond, and your heart is going to burst.

“seokjin...” you step into the room, wincing at the door closing behind you. “what are you doing? why have you got all your stuff out?”

“i’ll keep paying the room. it’s the least i can do.”

you drop your bag to the floor. “fuck off. no way. you’re joking.”

“y/n-”

you stumble back as he stumbles forward. your back hits against the door, and he pauses like he’s just realised he’s scaring a timid animal.

“fuck off.” you shake your head, swiping your hand beneath your eyes; there are tears. already. great. “are you serious? you couldn’t have told me?”

seokjin rubs the back of his neck. “things haven’t been right since-”

“i know that! i know they haven’t, but god, what fucking age are you?” you’re yelling now, unsure where all this anger has come from. “we’re grown adults, seokjin! so what you kissed me? that doesn’t mean we can’t sit down and talk about you literally moving out!”

“this was never a permanent place for me anyway, and you knew that!” he exclaims. veins protrude from his neck. he looks so attractive, it’s almost dizzying. “it’s a fucking B&B, y/n!”

“that’s so far from the point,” you growl. “the point is, you’re moving out, leaving me on my own, and you didn’t even bother to tell me!”

“what would it have done?”

“it would have stopped us from having this argument!”

seokjin scoffs. “you having a bit of sense would have stopped us from having this fucking argument!”

you shake your head, raising a trembling hand. “nah, you know what, fuck you. all you are is a selfish little twat who only thinks about himself. so leave. go off somewhere, cook your fancy fucking meals, and don’t bother paying another penny towards this room because i’ve got it handled. i’m not that little bitch sobbing on the subway any more.”

“no. instead you’re that little bitch yelling at me for no reason-”

“are you serious?”

“you know what, i didn’t want to leave here angry. i’ve had some fantastic times in this room, but you just make it so difficult. you drive me insane sometimes!”

you laugh bitterly, head thrown back and eyes wild. “do i? do i really, seokjin? so why the hell did you kiss me?”

and something inside him snaps. you can see it in the flames that rise in his expression, in the way his knuckles immediately glow white with the grip he now has on forearm.

“because i’ve never met anyone who can do that to me, ever, and it was the hottest fucking thing in the world.”

not exactly romantic, but you freeze nonetheless.

seokjin tilts his head. “is that what you wanted to hear? do you want me to go into detail about how sleeping beside you without touching you was the hardest fucking thing for me? do you want me to go into detail about how i wanted to rip malachi’s head off when he made you laugh that one time at the bakery? do you want me to go into detail about how leaving is the only thing that is going to keep me sane, because if i’m around you for another minute with you hating me, i’m going to die.”

you blink. you blink, and blink, and you stare at him, waiting for the punchline. all he does is pant, shoulders rising and falling, cheeks flushed red. he can’t even look at you. instead, he turns on his heel and marches back to his suitcase, grabbing another pile of clothes and stuffing it haphazardly on top of the others.

“there,” he grumbles. “just rip the fucking confession out of me, will you? god, calling me selfish. if you want me to stay here when i’m being driven mental, that makes you selfish. i offered to keep paying for the house-”

“seokjin.”

“i wouldn’t just leave you with nothing. i’m not a dick. but if you really think that, then-”

shit.

you rush forward before he can sink further into that theory.

you grab his arms, pulling him round to face you, and with one hand clipped to the back of his head, you drag him down and kiss him.

it’s not practised. you certainly didn’t come home tonight thinking you would be kissing seokjin by the end of it, but you make the most of your spontaneity.

he stumbles a little bit, clearly taken off guard, but he catches himself soon enough and grabs your waist, pulling you closer. your hips clash against his. your hands ruffle his hair. his tongue bashes against yours because this kiss is more than just a declaration of. . . of whatever it is you’re feeling. this kiss is sloppy, and ravenous, and frustration all pulled into one, and it shows. it really, really shows as seokjin spins and pushes you back onto the bed, just managing to dodge his neat piles of clothes.

you shove one off the bed and drag him on top of you.

he groans, kissing your neck. “it took me an hour to fold those.”

“they’re gonna get messy anyway.”

his eyes sparkle. “oh?”

you pull him back down, determined to lose yourself in the feel of him against you, the feel of his surprisingly strong arms circling your waist. you forget everything. you let yourself forget everything, instead savouring this moment in all it’s entirety. it’s easily done when seokjin sprinkles fire across your neck, your stomach, your thighs. it’s easily done when he lets you do the same thing, touching him in places you once thought you would never touch.

you wonder, as his lips find your own, how you ever thought this would be anything less than perfect.

----

you wake up the next morning, knowing you don’t have to go to work, feeling more refreshed than you have in weeks.

you stretch, fingers snatching at the covers in search of seokjin. when they reach no conclusion, you peek open one eye and glance across the room, not surprised to see him standing in front of the mirror, fingers trailing through the hair your own fingers had attacked the previous night.

you slump back against the pillows. “can you not call in sick?”

his eyes snap up. he grins, those dimples popping just beneath the corners of his mouth. “afraid not. i didn’t know you were awake.”

“i wasn’t until approximately two seconds ago.”

he turns and walks towards the bed. kneeling on his side - and it has unconsciously become his side - he bends down and presses a kiss to your forehead; you wrinkle your nose, very aware of the sweat you didn’t wash off yourself last night, very aware of the fact you haven’t brushed your teeth or your hair, or made any effort at all.

nonetheless, seokjin grins at you. “who would have thought you would look so beautiful after we fucked.”

you gasp, shoving him away.

he chuckles, going back to fixing his hair in the mirror.

but now that he brings it up, memories of the previous night rise to the surface; you remember most of it very well, because it was the best you’ve felt in a very, very long time. it was pleasure and relief and happiness all rolled into one, and you never wanted it to end.

but then there was the moments before that, when you had both spoken words neither of you meant.

at least, you didn’t mean what you said.

seokjin must notice your sudden demeanour shift, as he glances over and says, “it’s water under the bridge.”

you sit up, tugging the quilt around your bare chest. “we should talk about it.”

“and say what?”

“and apologise.”

he turns. “i’m sorry. you know i am. i didn’t mean a single thing i said.”

“either did i.”

“good.” he turns back to the mirror. “that’s that sorted then. we can go back to being madly infatuated with each other.”

you purse your lips; maybe he is a little bit upset. in all honesty, you wouldn’t be surprised; you said some pretty hurtful things in the moment, things you will regret for the rest of your life. even though seokjin knows - he must know - that you didn’t mean any of it, that doesn’t mean it won’t plague his mind for the next little while.

you rise from the bed, forgetting the quilt - it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, of course. he watches your movements through the mirror, his lower lip slowly - sexily - disappearing behind his teeth.

you wrap your arms around his middle, pressing your bare chest into his back. you listen to his breaths, slow and trained, like he’s trying to keep himself calm. part of you wants him to just lose control, to just spin around and take you into his arms, to forget about work and everything else.

but he’s seokjin. he’s got his life together. he won’t do that.

you press a kiss to the back of his neck and whisper, “i really am sorry. you’re the most amazing man i’ve ever met. the most selfless, amazing man in the world.”

he closes his eyes, tilting his head back. “t-thank you.”

“and i can’t wait for you to finish work so i can show you just how much i appreciate you.”

he groans, low in his throat. “i have to go to work.”

you nuzzle your head between his shoulder blades. “i never said you didn’t.”

he pulls away, spins around and kisses you. deeply, feverishly, like he’s never going to return and this is the last time he will ever get to hold you like this. you melt against him, giggling against his mouth as his hands cup your face and he pants against you.

finally, he pulls away and shakes his head. his eyes are wide, blown out when he points at you and says, “we’re not finished yet, understand? i’ll be back in, like, eight hours.”

you lay back on the bed, all naked flesh on show. “and i’ll be right here waiting for you.”

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Aticus