DISCLAIMERS — swearing, denial resonates so deeply with me its humiliating
SUMMARY — Jeno always seems willing to do anything for you, and it takes a lot of inner nagging for him to finally realize why.
WORD COUNT — 4k
RELEASE DATE — 02.05.23
A/N — feedback is appreciated
MY BOY IS BACK FROM WAR 🙏🏻 he could see from the trenches that kpop was in shambles and he knew he had to do something about it. he KNEW bruh im acc so happy i missed baekhyun so much
For what feels like the nth time this hour, a certain honey-skinned boy shamelessly rolls his eyes at one of his best friends. That title, however, is in serious danger of being revoked if he has to spend one more agonizing second in this store.
"Give me one good reason I shouldn't ditch your ass right now," Donghyuck jeers. His habit of poking his cheek with his tongue shines through as impatience radiates off of his body.
Jeno ignores his complaining, eyes diligently scanning the rows of colourful fragrance bottles.
He's quite overwhelmed. The labels, brands, scents, and undertones—they all mean nothing to him. The only thing he's somewhat familiar with is the brand of the cologne he takes a liking to, but the strong woods and smokes of the men's cologne selection is a distinct opposite of what he’s looking for.
It leaves him to stand cluelessly among the shelves of white flowers and citruses and berries, trying to pick out the combination he thinks you'd like the most.
"Where would you even go? I drove," Jeno deadpans.
He gently picks up a translucent, pale red bottle. Blood orange and peony.
Popping off the cap, he spritzes a tiny bit on his inner wrist and brings it up close to his nose. The scent is like a punch in the face, leaving him reclining back with a furrowed brow.
Too strong.
"We're going to be late to Jaemin's if you don't hurry the fuck up," Donghyuck says, burning holes through Jeno's skull before letting out a deep sigh.
"Can you just pick one so we can go? We look like fucking idiots here."
Jeno only hums, cracking a small smile.
He couldn't chide him for being wrong—the two of them look very out of place. Their sharp silver jewelry, inked skin, and dazed boyish smiles contrast against the dainty bottles standing atop the soft pink shelves of the women's fragrance section like black on white.
"Firstly," Jeno begins, voice riddled with amusement. "You don't give a fuck about punctuality-"
"Oh look at you, going off with your big words."
Jeno spins around. "Hyuck, you're drinking a matcha frappucino while looking like that."
He points at the green drink the boy was sipping on, the extra whipped cream he asked for contradicting his hard exterior.
Donghyuck scoffs. "Sorry I don't like to drink death in a cup," he drawls, sarcasm dripping off his tongue.
He breaks his glare on the black-haired boy as he sees two girls standing a distance away, his face doing a 180 as he notices them not-so-discreetly staring.
Smirking, Donghyuck confidently throws them a wink. He watches with pride as flattered giggles spill from their lips, before turning back to Jeno, who had picked up another bottle.
"Why are you even doing this?" Donghyuck asks out of genuine curiosity, though it's hidden underneath the guise of annoyance.
"Y/N asked me to."
Here’s some money. Get me something you think I'd like, yeah? you had said. Or something that you'd like. I'll still wear it, I don't care. I trust your judgment.
Donghyuck snorts. "I'm convinced you'd do anything for Y/N," he mutters.
It's an offhand comment, yet it makes the black-haired boy put his tongue between his teeth as a weird, sprawling feeling erupts in his chest.
The thought of why he seemed willing to do anything for you had never occurred to him. Not because the thought had never shown up to the gates of his consciousness—Jeno was uncomfortably familiar with the strange feeling in his stomach when you were around—but because he never let it in.
He doesn't dare to let it in, even going as far as telling it to leave and never return each time it knocks—because if he did, he would spend hours in this perfume section, legs going numb from standing as it invaded and overtook his brain, preventing him from getting anything done.
His eyes land on one last bottle. It's a clear one, with a clean, minimalistic label.
Lazy Sunday Morning. Maison Margiela.
Jeno repeats the action he's done with multiple bottles by now; spritzing the fragrance onto a new, untouched area of his inner arm and bringing it up to smell.
It's soft, it's floral, it's feminine. It infiltrates his senses in the way fresh, cotton bed sheets would. The soft sun after the rain.
It's how you look when he comes over to your apartment unannounced on a random weekend morning: wearing an oversized white shirt and a pair of high-waisted sports shorts.
It's the strawberry lip gloss that always stains your lips. It's your Hello Kitty pillowcase that you wash way more often than Jeno washes his, for which you constantly nag him for being unhygienic.
It's your flushed, red face at parties, your preference for tea over coffee—your smaller, softer hand grabbing his calloused one when he gets nervous.
Jeno thinks it's you, and he hopes you think it's you too.
He slowly turns around to Donghyuck, who's fidgeting with the tattered sleeve of his leather jacket.
"Smell this," he prompts, snapping the brown-haired boy out of his daze.
Donghyuck tugs at Jeno's arm, bringing it up to his face and taking a quick whiff before letting it fall. "Smells nice. I'm sure Y/N will like it. Now let's go," he presses, already taking off towards the exit.
Jeno only shakes his head, gaze falling on the bottle he held in his ring-clad fingers. He thinks it would look nice on your vanity, next to all your other bottles of products.
He doesn't know what they do, but they make you, you.
Donghyuck, whose brown strands are now dyed a refreshing purple, throws his head back howling with laughter as he sees you and Jeno approach the food court table.
He receives several displeased stares from nearby people, but he doesn't seem to care in the slightest, only being able to focus on what Jeno is wearing.
"Oh my fucking god, Jeno," he wails incoherently, pointing at his friend's pants while clutching his stomach. "What- what are those?"
Your choice to wear a pair of light-washed, ripped skinny jeans to come to the mall turned out to be a massive mistake. You're bitter towards the person who first said "beauty is pain" because of how miserably right they are; whose idea was it to make girls' pants so uncomfortable?
The walk across the parking lot to the entrance was enough for your legs to start screaming for relief, resulting in you pleading with Jeno to switch with you.
Jeno drops down into the empty seat next to Jaemin, letting out a deep sigh. He rubs at his temples as Donghyuck's high-pitched, maniacal laughter erratically rings throughout the air.
This is exactly why he was adamant about declining your request; Lee Donghyuck is an entity of pure evil, and Jeno felt the humiliation creeping up on him from behind like a tiger ready to pounce.
But as he always seems to do, he relented.
Now, his sweatpants sit comfortably on your hips, bunching up at your ankles while he wears your jeans, the pant ends stopping halfway up his calves.
"She was chafing," he mutters, referring to you.
Donghyuck laughs loudly and unapologetically, reaching down to poke at Jeno's bare knee through the large rips of the jeans. His actions result in him getting a hard slap on the arm, eliciting a pained "ow!" from him.
You give Jeno a sweet smile, slipping him another whispered apology before feeling a gentle tug at your wrist.
Renjun begins to drag you away from the table, mumbling something along the lines of "new premium watercolour set" and "20% off". Jumping up from his seat, Donghyuck follows suit with a devilish smile etched on his face, immediately asking the shorter boy to buy him a vinyl he had his eye on from earlier.
Jaemin watches as the three of you fade into the crowd of customers, leaving only him and Jeno at the table. As soon as you disappear from his sight, he whips around with anticipation. "So?"
A shaky blink. "So..?"
"So? Have you thought about what I said?"
Jeno doesn't respond as he stills, his lips pursed carefully.
Of course he had thought about what Jaemin said.
He tried his goddamn hardest not to, just like he has with every other possible reasoning behind his feelings that wandered into scary, uncharted territory—but how could he not? It wasn't something that he could just forget, like remembering to wash his socks or buying milk.
A week ago, Na Jaemin had brought upon him a revelation that was far too casually dropped at one of the group's regular get-togethers. It was like a silent bomb, and it had been doing no less than eating at him alive.
He wants to deny it so badly. In fact, that's exactly what he's been doing—denying its possibility of being true, denying its existence at all.
If it was going to slip through the cracks of the iron gates, Jeno was going to make sure it felt as unwelcome as possible.
And that's exactly what he does.
"I have," he begins meekly.
Upon hearing these words, Jaemin's lips stretch into a wide smile. "And?"
"...and I don't think you're right."
The lights in the younger's eyes flicker out just as quickly as they turned on. He doesn't even bother to hide his disappointment, giving his best friend a deadpan stare. "Are you serious?"
"Yes."
He was expecting this reaction from Jaemin, but he couldn't let it get to him. Not when he couldn't let the narrative Jaemin was pressing so adamantly a week ago be true.
A loud sigh rips through the air. "Jeno, why are you so in denial?"
"I'm not in denial. It's not true."
Jaemin leans forward, looking into his best friend's eyes. He could tell there was a deep, buried sense of longing behind those dark irises.
"Lee Jeno," he begins slowly.
"I have known you nearly my entire life. I have been by your side since we were puny, disgusting first graders, and I have never seen you be so caring towards someone."
Jaemin has always doted on you.
He reminds you of a worrying mother; a fairy who is always there to remind you to dress warmly and take your vitamins. When you had a fever, Jeno had knocked on the door of your apartment only to be let in by Jaemin, who had been in your kitchen making his mother's soup recipe for you.
Donghyuck is the playful, sarcastic brother you never had.
He's the one who always encourages you to down another shot, to get you to do crazy things like jumping off the roof into a pool. But he's warm when he needs to be; Jeno had walked in one night through the door of his and Donghyuck's shared apartment to find you dumping your emotions onto the honey-skinned boy's shirt as he whispered words of consolation.
Renjun indulges your passionate side.
You share so much in common with him and you value his opinion like a sacred script. He's your 3AM therapist for your woes, he's your debate opponent for any topic—he's the one who encouraged you to chase after your dreams when you had trouble deciding on whether to choose what your parents wanted for you, or what you wanted for yourself.
Jeno thinks he's just Lee Jeno to you.
The captain of the basketball team you met back in junior year of high school, who’s an architecture major at the same university you go to. Your best friend, but only if you thought so.
When it's about the others, Jeno seems to see everything—how they care for you, in what ways they’re integrated into your life—he doesn’t seem to notice how much he cares for you.
He doesn't think about how sometimes, he miraculously finds himself entering your apartment at the crack of dawn to remind you to bring an assignment that's due that day. And when you knock your hand against his, silenting asking for him to hold it, he’ll reluctantly put his cold, mysterious image aside to gently slip his hand into yours.
There was one time when you asked to go stargazing in the dead of the night. Despite the subzero weather outside, not an ounce of regret coursed through his body when he agreed to go with you.
He couldn’t feel his fingers when he was out there, but it didn’t feel like it mattered when he saw you pointing at constellations with a smile of pure euphoria painted on your features.
He doesn’t notice how you notice that he cares.
The way your eyes lit up when he quietly entered your room with medicine and a hot water bottle went unseen by him. You never told him that Renjun was only half of the reason why you chose to pursue art, and that seeing him choose architecture over the path his own parents wanted for him pushed you over the edge.
He seems to remember you curled up to Donghyuck's side, but not how as soon as you saw him walk through the doorway, you gently peeled yourself up from the couch, out of Donghyuck's hold to throw yourself onto him, because you had come to their apartment looking for him. For his hold, for his comfort.
No, he doesn't notice these things because he's selectively blind when it comes to the possibility of there ever being a 'you and him', and it drives Jaemin nuts.
Jaemin laughs, dumbfounded.
"For fucks sake, Jeno," he exclaims, dragging his hands down his face. "You're literally wearing women's jeans right now."
He removes his hands from his face, staring deeply into his best friend's eyes in a last-ditch effort to get through to the stubborn boy.
"You're in love with her."
"I'm sorry."
At this point, you’ve lost track of how many times those two words had left Jeno's lips.
The party downstairs blares in the background, though it’s muffled by the closed door. Jeno’s murmured apologies are the only sounds that fill the air, other than the squelches of water as you squeezed your shirt in the sink.
You turn your head around to look at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. He’s sitting on the edge of the acrylic bathtub, sliding his rings up and down his fingers with a distant look on his face.
"Stop apologizing. It's okay."
Despite graduating two years ago, Johnny Suh still parties like it’s his full-time job, and being in his second-floor bathroom makes the room feel like it’s a physical manifestation of his spirit.
There’s two lights above the bathroom mirror, though one of them had blown its fuse. It casts a dim, aquamarine light that reaches every corner of the small room, highlighting the slightly frayed shower curtains and dark crevices of the floor tiles. There’s a few shaving products and the remains of a half-smoked blunt strewn across the surface of the otherwise clean countertop.
The reason why you and Jeno are in the bathroom instead of downstairs isn’t one the boy’s proud of.
You didn’t run into Jeno until around halfway through the night. They say you haven’t had the real college experience if you haven’t gone to a Johnny Suh party, and the flocks of people that covered every part of the estate prove how much people value getting their tuition’s worth.
A light sheen of sweat is apparent on your forehead as you try your best to weave your way through the masses. You don’t even know where you’re going, and you could feel it growing stuffier as more people spilled into the halls.
It’s only until you suddenly feel a piercing cold sensation on your chest do you see something other than drunk college students pressed together.
You come face-to-face with Lee Jeno, who’s staring at you with big, round eyes and lips parted in sheer horror.
You glance down at your own body. The center of your chest is several shades darker, a large wet splotch prominently standing out against the beige fabric of your long-sleeved top.
Your eyes dart between your top and Jeno’s red solo cup that had several droplets of liquid dribbling down its side. Realizing what just happened, you can’t help but laugh.
“Why hello to you too, mister,” you say between giggles.
Jeno’s face is flushing redder by the second, and there’s a big bump on his head from the imaginary hammer that struck him for being so stupid.
A few seconds go by of just him staring at you before stutters spill from his lips.
“I- Oh my- oh my god,” he breathes out. “Oh my fucking god, Y/N, I’m so sorry-”
“It’s okay. I needed an excuse to get away from all the noise anyways,” you cut him off, reaching for his free hand.
“Come with me to the bathroom?”
The words flow out of your mouth like a smooth, running stream; casual, and far more relaxed than the jittery feeling in Jeno's stomach. He doesn’t resist in the slightest, the feeling of your touch sending a surge of electricity up his arm.
Finally looking up from the metal around his fingers, Jeno’s breath hitches.
His eyes trail down your figure with innocent intention. The thin straps of your ivory, silk camisole delicately sit on your collarbone, your black miniskirt hugging your waist.
He doesn’t realize he’s even staring, not when he’s mesmerized by the slope of your nose, or the outline of your cupid’s bow.
There’s something that the aquamarine glow is doing to you that makes his jaw go slack.
Usually, he’d be alert, keeping his thoughts in check—but the slight intoxication seeped through him, and he can feel himself growing careless.
Jeno's hand twitches. You're within arm's reach, he could reach for your waist and pull you right into him—but he doesn't, because that would ruin the scene.
This scene of you standing in front of the sink, twisting your shirt in your hands with a small crease in your brow. It's so domestic, so perfect—he can't help but wonder what it'd be like to see you like this every day—
—and then, he hears it.
There it is, the violent banging on the gates. It echoes through the halls from outside, persistent and maybe just a bit desperate. Or, was it actually his heart thumping against his chest?
Open up! it yelled. You would do anything for her. You're in love with her, idiot!
Had it been his heart all along?
"There we go," you give your top one final twist, grinning with satisfaction as the water drips down clear.
You turn the sink off and unravel the top from its scrunched-up form, flapping it a few times to prevent creases.
"That should do it. Okay, let's go back downstairs. Hyuck bet ten dollars I couldn't beat him in beer pong and I'm going to make him eat his wor-"
Your rambling is cut off as soon as you turn toward the boy on the edge of the tub. He's staring at you with misty eyes, and you can't stop yourself from taking a step closer.
"Jeno?" you call, leaning down to meet him at eye level.
Eyes twinkling with mirth, you lower yourself into a crouching position, and your hand finds its place on his knee. You let your fingers drum on the fabric of his black jeans, musing your wonder.
"You're drunk, aren't you? How much have you had to drink?"
The action is mindless, and Jeno knows it. The two of you often shared small, habitual touches—but this time, it's wholly different.
"I'm- I'm not drunk," he croaks out.
A light-hearted snicker. "Sure you aren't."
"I'm not."
"Then why is your face so red?"
"I'm just... thinking about something."'
An amused chuckle leaves your mouth before you muse your wonders, "You're drunk, Jen. But, would you care to share?"
Jeno feels himself unclicking the locks. "Okay," he huffs out nervously.
The iron gates swing slightly ajar.
"I'm thinking about how I would do anything for you."
A pause goes by. The sound of the music downstairs seems to have gotten even louder, to the point where Jeno can't hear his own breathing. He wonders if he's even still breathing as his gaze rests on you intensely, waiting for your reaction.
When your fingers stop drumming against his knee, Jeno's world stops.
"O-oh."
Your expression is indecipherable as his words sink in, eyes growing rounder and your lips part.
Your eyes dart around Jeno's face to see if you can locate a trace of playfulness, a hint that he wasn't thinking straight—and while his flushed, rosy cheeks are a telltale that he's a little intoxicated, his eyes are heavy with sincerity.
He's being serious, and it brings you to a loss for words.
"A-and? What did you conclude?" you manage to stutter out, peering up at him.
This is exactly what he was afraid of. Afraid of your disappointed expression, your lips ready to utter the inevitable words he wished he'd never have to hear.
He's not even sure what those words exactly are, because Lee Jeno feels like a fucking mess right now, but he'll know in a few seconds after you say them—
"I... I don't really know why..."
A lightbulb clicks in your head. You seem to realize Jeno's implications before he even does himself.
"Jeno?" you prompt, voice feather-soft.
The boy's eyes are screwed shut by now, unable to look you in the eyes. He's trying to lock the gates closed again, as they were for so long.
"Hmm?" he weakly hums.
"I love you."
Jeno's attempts are futile. The thought is victorious.
It pushes past his regret-driven efforts. It floods his head akin to a raging tsunami.
It's so loud. The music in the background is so loud.
You are so loud. Your eyes, your grip on his knee, your words—
—they're so loud.
She just said she loves me.
"I've loved you for so long. Do you love me too?" you whisper, hand subconsciously reaching for his.
It shocks Jeno how his voice doesn't fail him. "You love me?"
"I do."
"M-more than a friend?"
"Much more. I love you like I'll never have you, even if I always find myself in your arms," you say, letting out a dry chuckle as a small smile graces your face.
"Do you love me too?" you repeat.
The gates snap off their hinges from the sheer force, and the thought chants a victory song—
You're in love with her!
Jeno blinks.
I'm in love with her.
Jeno never seemed to mind, when it came to you. He never seemed to mind wearing your light blue skinny jeans for you, and he never seemed to mind looking out of place with his grungy demeanor inside of a delicate perfume section either. He never seemed to mind waking up at an ungodly hour for you, and he never seemed to mind holding you when the world was against you.
And as you look at him, your face glimmering underneath the dim, bathroom light—it clicks.
Jeno suddenly realizes why he'd be willing to do anything for you. He'd be willing to get you the moon and the stars if you asked, because he loves you.
And, because you deserve it. It's the least he could do for you for loving him.
Reaching out a wavering hand, Jeno gently pulls you up from your crouching position so the both of you could stand. Your gaze never leaves him, your previous question still hanging in the air.
The boy rests his hand delicately on your jaw. His eyes glaze over your face, taking in your beautiful features before landing on your lips with a shaky exhale.
"Do you love me too?" you ask for a third time, your irises shining with hope.
"Fuck," he breathes out. "I- I do. I love you, so much."
You don't even get the chance to beam at his confession before he closes the distance between the two of you, his soft lips against yours.
SUMMARY: despite his very obvious sexual attraction towards you, your boyfriend keeps holding himself back from sleeping with you. OR the three times you want to fuck mark lee and the one time you do.
WARNINGS: SMUT [unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), praise, big dick mark, a little dumbification] mark is down bad
happy birthday @mrkis i hope you like this small gift <3 i love you so much bestie
You and Mark Lee are in love with each other.
That much is obvious to everyone around you. Ever since you started dating a few months back, you’ve been all over one another — holding hands, hugging and, on some occasions, even making out behind the university building in broad daylight.
This suits you just fine. You love seeing Mark’s cheeks tint pink when your hand wanders under his shirt, or when you’re all alone in his apartment and he has to bite his lip to not let out a moan as you reposition yourself in his lap.
Just like you’re doing right now.
“Y/N…” Mark’s voice is slightly strained as he grips your waist tighter, head falling back onto the couch. You’ve been sitting in his lap, with your thighs on either side of him, for at least half an hour now — first just hugging him, then kissing his jaw as he played with your hair, and now moving onto something more fun. Namely wriggling around in his lap under the disguise of having to readjust yourself.
“Mmm?” you hum absentmindedly, letting your lips fan over his neck. He shivers and you smile to yourself at the goosebumps forming on his skin.
He opens his mouth to say something, but you kiss him instead, swallowing up the moan he lets out when you not-so-subtly roll your hips against his. You and him have gone this far multiple times – made out and rubbed against each other until your panties are ruined and his cock is painfully hard – but you’ve never done anything past that. But with the way he’s growing hard from underneath you, you think that maybe today is the day.
You pull away from the kiss to bury your face in his neck and palm him through his jeans. He groans at that, hips bucking up involuntarily. The sound causes more wetness to pool between your legs and you rub against him – at least until you hear him say your name again, this time more seriously. You look up at his face, his lip pulled between his teeth and the slight panic in his eyes.
“Donghyuck and Renjun…” he finally says, tapping his fingers against your thigh. “They’re coming home soon.”
You tilt your head to the side, brows furrowing. “I know.”
“No, like, seriously, they’ll be here soon.”
Mark’s shaky voice catches you off guard, because he seems genuinely stressed. His cheeks are flushed, and he’s gripping your thighs like his life depends on it. A big contrast to the way his hard cock is poking your thigh.
“You said they’re coming eight,” you pout down on him, fiddling with the drawstrings of his sweatpants. “It’s only seven.”
“Yeah, but like, sometimes they come earlier and I don’t want them to see us like this, ’cause, you know–”
“Alright,” You raise an eyebrow at the way he swallows hard, eyes looking everywhere but at you, but listen to him nevertheless. “Okay.”
He sighs in what sounds like relief as you climb off his lap and plop onto the couch by his side. It’s weird, how he’s acting, you think, but if he’s really just scared of being caught then you suppose it won’t kill you to wait a little longer to have him. You’ve already waited four months, after all.
“Wanna watch a movie?” He asks, a spark of guilt in his eyes. You nod, cuddling into his side with a soft smile.
“Sure.”
Still, his bobbing thigh makes you wonder whether there’s something more to this whole thing than he lets on.
—
The second time you try fucking Mark Lee is a week later.
It’s not like you’re obsessed or anything, but the makeout sessions that keep getting longer and longer are driving you absolutely insane, and so it’s only natural that when you come home to find him sprawled out on the couch, looking so irresistible, you really want him to fuck you. Even if he’s all sweaty from the dance practice he attended earlier. Or maybe especially if he’s sweaty from that practice.
“Hey,” you greet him upon entering the living room. “Did you just get back?”
He looks up at you, corners of his eyes creasing as he grins. His eyes seem a little tired, but they light up in excitement nevertheless. “Yeah, they let me off earlier today.”
“That’s nice,” you say. “You always come home so tired. You should rest more.”
“And you should come cuddle me, I’m cold.”
You smile at his grabby hands, taking off your coat to go join him on the couch. His hair is littered with sweat, so there’s no way he’s actually cold, but you enjoy the feeling of his arms wrapping around your middle as he pulls you close, so you let it slide. Especially since you’ve been dying to see him all day, too.
He nuzzles into your neck when you thread your fingers through his hair, a soft sigh meeting the skin of your throat as he leans into your touch. You like being this close to him — one of his thighs between your legs and his hands resting on your waist, playing with the hem of your shirt. Unsure of whether or not to slip under the fabric and touch your bare skin. You wish he’d do that, but he’s shy — always has been — and so you wait patiently, gently massaging his scalp with your fingers.
“I missed you today,” he sighs as you tug at his hair softly. “I always miss you.”
“I missed you, too, Markie.”
He smiles and presses his lips against your neck in a featherlight kiss that forms goosebumps on your skin. You don’t pull away, and so he kisses you again — this time fully resting his mouth on your skin, tongue swiping over it and teeth scraping against it. It makes your eyes flutter shut, head instinctively leaning back to grant him better access.
He takes his time and you let him, feeling pressure build up in your lower stomach as you wonder whether this will result in him dragging you to the bedroom. You hope it will, and so does the throb forming between your legs.
Mark leaves a trail of kisses down your neck, hands slowly making their way under your shirt, causing you to smile. Subconsciously, you lift your hips off the couch so your clothed pussy can rub against the slowly growing bulge in his pants, and a small whine escapes past your lips. Mark groans at that, the sound turning into a soft moan when you tug at his hair. Breathing heavily, he ruts against you, fingers digging into the flesh on your hips.
“Mark…” you moan into his ear.
The way he bites down on your shoulder to muffle the noises coming out of his mouth makes you smile hazily. This is it, you think, there’s no way he’ll walk away without getting his dick wet now. You know him well enough to understand just from the way he’s breathing onto your neck that he’s about to completely lose control.
And you want him to. So badly that you rub your soaked panties over his thigh to get some friction and urge him back into action.
And it works for a while — his moans mixed with yours as he grabs at your thighs and rubs against you frantically. You meet him halfway, strengthening the groans leaving his mouth. It feels good, so good you swear you could’ve cum from just this, but you want him – all of him – and so you halt your needy movements so you can bring your hands to the waistband of his pants.
But before you can even do anything, Mark’s hand grabs your wrist, making you look up in surprise.
“You know what, I actually have an assignment I need to finish.”
You blink once, then twice, and a couple more times until you register his words. “What?
“I just remembered, sorry.” He looks to the left, nibbling on his bottom lip. You can tell he’s lying, but why? You furrow your brows, but Mark still looks somewhere else than your face, like he’s afraid to meet your gaze. “It’s due tomorrow, so I really should finish it.”
He finally looks at you, hesitation in his eyes as he untangles himself from you and rises up from his seat. The bulge in his pants is still more than obvious, hair a mess, and eyes wide. Still, he runs a hand through the locks to fix them a little and clears his throat, as if to signalize he’s about to leave.
“But what about…” you trail off, eyes moving down to look at his dick poking through his sweats and then trailing back up again. “Don’t you want me to help you out?”
“It’s fine, I’ll just… Take care of it myself.”
“Are you sure?”
He gulps, nodding, and you let him leave with a small smile sent his way, even though you’re confused and aroused to no end.
Once he’s gone to his room, you fall back onto the couch, sighing. None of this makes any sense. He’s obviously horny, and the two of you have been dating for months already, showing intimacy in so many ways. So why is he so hesitant when it comes to fucking you?
Is he insecure? No way. You’ve showered with him and there’s absolutely nothing about him he should be ashamed of. If anything, he should be dying to show off ever since you told him you think his cock is big.
It’s obvious he wants this just as much as you do, so what the fuck is going on?
—
Twenty three hours and seventeen minutes later, you decide it’s time to finally get to the bottom of this.
It’s Saturday, and only a few hours ago Renjun and Hyuck went on some sort of trip together, announcing they’ll be away the whole weekend. Which grants you an amazing opportunity to talk to Mark. (And preferably fuck him, too, but that comes second. That’s what you repeat in your head as you walk into his room, finding him sprawled out on the bed. Looking really fuckable, you think, but that’s just a simple observation).
“Renjun and Hyuck just left,” you tell him, closing the door behind you as you walk over to the bed.
He grins, putting his arm around you and pulling you close. “Finally.”
You have to say you agree — though you’re not so sure whether the reasons for your contentments are the same. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter when you lie your head on Mark’s shoulder and he puts on one of those romance movies you once told him you wanted to watch. He smells like he’s fresh out the shower and his arms are warm around your waist, fingers circling the skin on your hip slowly.
The movie is good, and soon, you forget all about your plans of talking to Mark. To your defense, he is really distracting. With his soft laugh that resonates through the room whenever something funny comes up on the screen, and his intoxicating scent, it’s easy to lose all sense of reality. You cuddle into his side and your fingers tap against his thigh — first to the tune of the movie, later just because you like feeling his skin under your fingertips.
It’s not before your fingers mindlessly squeeze his thigh when you jump at some point during the movie that Mark gives a sign of discomfort, groaning quietly.
“You okay?” you ask immediately, worried.
He nods. “Yeah, just a little stale from practice.”
You frown. When is this boy not overworked? Biting your lip, you rise from your spot on the bed, earning a confused look from Mark. You don’t say anything, just climb to sit on your knees behind him and place your hands on his shoulders. He turns his head to look at you, lips adorably pressed out in a pout.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving you a massage. Just relax.”
He is, in fact, very tense, so it takes you some time to figure out where to press to relieve him of the tension, but once you do, he leans into your touch, groaning in satisfaction. You smile a little to yourself when he turns his head back to the TV, letting you do yours. It’s not like you’re a professional or anything, but the soft groans and whines he lets out when you dig your fingers into his muscles make you believe you might actually be pretty good at this.
“Does it feel good?”
Mark hums in agreement, and in return, you press a little harder on his shoulders. He groans and throws his head back to rest on your chest, something turning in your stomach when you feel his weight on your tits. Suddenly you’re very aware of him and his presence, and maybe it translates to your movements, because it has Mark turning around to face you.
“What are you thinking about?”
“You,” you tell him truthfully. “You look really handsome today.”
“Only today?”
You roll your eyes as he pulls you into his lap, pouting.
“Always,” you admit finally, giving him a short kiss.
Or, at least it’s supposed to be a short kiss, but Mark decides to grab your cheeks and pull you flush against him. His lips are soft against your own, his warm tongue slipping inside your mouth when you open it to let out a small moan. He smiles into the kiss, hands caressing your waist, and so do you.
You try your best to ignore the slowly growing bulge in his pants when you reposition yourself in his lap, you really do, but when you move your leg just a little and he moans into your mouth, you can’t. And so you pull away from the kiss, heart thumping in your chest at the sight of his lips swollen and cheeks warm.
“You know, I was thinking,” you draw small circles on his shoulder. “Since Hyuck and Renjun are away and we have the apartment to ourselves…”
You trail off, a little embarrassed, and watch his face intently. His gaze drops down to your body resting on his — first your legs, bare where your shorts have slid up, then up to your cleavage where it rests for a little longer than usual.
He clears his throat. “Uh, actually, I have this paper–”
It doesn’t sound convincing at all, and so you cut him off.
“Mark.” you say and he responds with a small yeah? that has you sighing. “We need to talk about this.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but decides against it, instead resting his head against the headboard on his bed, looking up at you in defeat.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
You wonder whether you should get off his lap, but his hands don’t move from their spot on your waist, so you stay. Your fingers rest on his shoulders, just barely grazing his neck as you look at him.
“Why are you acting like this?” you ask, a little hesitantly. Maybe you shouldn’t be bringing this up? But from the way Mark’s urging you to continue talking with his gaze, you decide it’s better to just spit it out. “Do you not… Do you not wanna sleep with me?”
His expression changes momentarily — brows furrowing and mouth falling open.
“What? No! I mean, yes,” he groans at the way he’s stumbling over his words, one of his hands leaving your skin so he can rub the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, I want to fuck you.”
Your breath catches in your throat at his words. It’s not like Mark’s a saint or anything, but you’ve never heard him saying something like that so directly. Something stirs up in your stomach and stays there no matter how much you wish it’d disappear. And you do wish it would dissappear because right now you’re supposed to be having a serious conversation with Mark, not getting turned on by him saying he wants to fuck you.
“Jesus christ, that sounded so bad,” Mark groans and you giggle.
“I don’t think it did,” you tell him, purposefully leaving out the part about his words having an embarrassingly strong effect on you. “But if that’s not the problem, then what is?”
“It’s just like,” he sighs, looking for the right words, and his hands squeeze your waist a little tighter.
You wish he wouldn’t be so focused on what he’s about to say, because in that concentration, he pays no attention to his own fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt, lifting it up an inch or two so he can touch your bare skin. Which again is making you lose focus.
Thankfully, he brings you back to reality five seconds later as he clears his throat, looking to the side.
“I just… You’re so perfect and hot and I’m scared that if I do fuck you, I’m gonna like, fucking lose it. And just screw everything up.”
You stay silent for a moment, gazing down on him as his fingers move higher up your shirt. You’re not sure whether he’s doing it on purpose or not, but it’s distracting nevertheless.
“So what you’re saying is…” you furrow your brows. “You’re scared that you’ll shoot your load too quickly?”
“When you put it like that, it sounds embarrassing,” Mark groans, burying his head in the crook of your neck. His breath tickles your skin and you giggle softly, leaning into his touch. “But yes.”
You breathe out in something resembling relief. Thank god this is it. You were so worried something serious was going on, all the while he was stressing about cumming too fast. Why he’d even think you care about that, you don’t know. It’s so ridiculous you start laughing, earning yourself a slap on the thigh by Mark.
“What are you laughing at?”
“You,” you poke his reddening cheeks. “You seriously think I care about how long you last?”
He thinks for a while, then tries, “Yeah?”
You shake your head with a smile.
“Well, I don’t. It’s kind of mean to deprive me of seeing your dick just because of that, don’t you think?”
You watch as heat flows to Mark’s cheeks, his hands grabbing your thighs tightly. “I-it is?”
“Mhm,” you lean forward to press your lips against his neck ever so slightly. “Very mean.”
Mark feels himself twitch in his pants and he hopes to god you don’t feel it from where you’re seated in his lap. Maybe it’s a stupid wish, because he doubts anything can go unnoticed when two people are at such a close proximity, but he decides to ignore it, instead pulling you even closer, hands pushing your shorts up to reveal your upper thighs. He bites his lip, squeezing your legs so you rub against him when he rolls his hips into yours.
“I guess I’ll have to make it up to you, then,” his voice is hoarse in your ear and you clench around nothing, walls fluttering in excitement.
You nod eagerly and he smiles, hands finding their way to your waist again so he can pull your shirt over your head. The rest of your clothes quickly follow, leaving you completely naked in his lap, goosebumps forming on your skin as his eyes rake over your body.
He tongues his cheek subconsciously, hands sliding up your body painfully slowly — first running over your thighs, then hips and stomach, until they reach your tits. You hold back a moan when he runs his thumb over your nipple before pinching it softly, watching as your legs rub together at the sensation. Desperately, you push your chest out against his hand, letting out a satisfied sigh when he wraps his hand around your breast, squeezing it.
“Fuck, Mark,” you say as one of his hands push down on your hips, pressing your leaking pussy down on his clothed cock. “Please do something.”
“So needy,” he muses, and you whimper when he grabs your waist and lies you down on the bed so your back is pressed against the mattress.
He’s still fully clothed, you realize, but you don’t really get to do anything about it before he ruts his hips against you, his sweats rubbing against your cunt and spreading your arousal across it. You hear him groan softly, and then you feel his finger graze your clit ever so slightly, making your whole body jolt in surprise. He chuckles, spreading your legs and watching as your breath turns uneven when he rubs your clit and runs his fingers through your folds leisurely.
“So fucking wet,” he clicks his tongue. “Is it all for me, baby?”
“Yes, just for you,” you breathe out, bucking your hips up into his hand. “Please touch me, Markie, please.”
He groans, and has to close his eyes not to cum right then and there, from the sight of you sprawled out on the bed, begging him for more. This is going to be a lot harder than he thought. But he’s got something to prove, and to do that, he can’t exactly cum in his pants. So he takes a deep breath and opens his eyes again.
You buck your hips again, and this time, he listens to you, starting to rub his finger against your clit. He smiles, using his other hands to play with your tits, squeezing them as he pleases. You feel so vulnerable, so on display, but the way he’s playing with you only serves to intensify the throb between your legs. A small whimper leaves your mouth when he moves his fingers from your clit to slip inside of you with ease, your walls stretching around them.
“Feel nice?” he asks, and you only nod, spreading your legs wider.
He pushes his fingers in and out of you like it’s something he’s done a million times before, lewd sounds of his movements filling the room. You can only try to muffle your moans and fail miserably, letting whimpers of his name leave your mouth.
Mark must like that, because not even a moment later, he’s leaning down between your legs and using the hands that were fondling with your tits to hold you down against the mattress. You almost feel like crying when his tongue touches your clit, his digits rubbing all the right places inside of you. He sucks and licks your pussy, fingers curling to hit that one spot that makes you grab at his hair and tug.
Your reaction only makes him groan into your pussy, the vibrations making your legs try to close around his head. But he keeps them wide open, sucking on your clit, repeatedly hitting the right spots.
“Yeah? You like this?” he pulls away to ask you after a particularly loud moan of his name.
“Y-yes,” you whimper out, tears pricking your eyes at how he’s no longer touching you. “Don’t stop, Markie, please.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he mumbles into your cunt before diving back in, finding the spot that makes your toes curl immediately.
The tension in your lower stomach is building up, the whimpers that leave your lips sounding more and more broken. Mark senses you’re close from the way your hips stutter in their way to buck up into his face, and adds a third finger to fill you up. You clench around him as the knot inside you comes untied, your legs shaking as he licks and sucks on your sensitive clit, fucking you through the orgasm with his fingers deep in your pussy.
You can only whimper as you come down from your high, tears streaming down your cheeks when Mark licks off all your arousal. Smile on his face and cock poking through his sweats, he sits up and takes you into his arms, letting you climb onto his lap again.
“Was it good, baby?” he asks you when you’re seated, like he doesn’t see the way your thighs are shaking.
“Yes,” you tell him and press your lips against his.
He kisses you back right away, pulling you flush against his chest. You can taste yourself on his tongue, but you don’t really mind, instead focusing on keeping him as close as possible. Your hips roll into his on their own, your cunt throbbing in need for him again the moment you feel his hard cock pressed against you. He sighs into your mouth at the slight relief, and you slide your hand down to palm him through his sweats.
You’re both content with that for a while — making out with your hand pressing against his cock. But after a while, when the throb between your legs is starting to become unbearable, you pull away from the kiss to untie his sweatpants and slide them down along with his boxers to pool down by his ankles. He exhales at that, cock standing proudly against his stomach when you wrap your hand around it.
“Can I…” you look at him, squeezing your fingers around him so hips buck upwards and he lets out a soft moan. “Can I ride you?”
His mouth falls slightly open, but he closes it again as fast as he can gather his thoughts. It’s admittedly a little hard with your hand wrapped around his cock, but he manages to look a little less flustered and gather the courage to press the palm of his hand to your clit.
“Baby wants to ride my cock?”
You can only manage a mewl and a nod of your head, but thankfully Mark doesn’t ask for a verbal response. He lifts your hips a little, positioning the tip of his cock at your entrance and you whine at him when he spends too much time coating his dick with your slick. He only smiles apologetically at you, squeezing your hip as he pushes you down on his cock.
He’s only halfway in when you grip his shoulders, whimpering.
“You okay?” he asks worriedly, stopping to check on you.
“S-so big…”
You feel him twitch from where he’s halfway buried in your cunt, and it makes your walls flutter around him. It’s good, but you need more, and so you wiggle your hips, try to readjust yourself to fit all of him inside. Mark’s patient with you, hands busy fiddling with your tits, fingertips ghosting over your nipples and eyelids heavy.
You have to bite your lip to muffle the cry threatening to escape your mouth when you finally sink down on his cock fully. He’s big — so big it makes your head spin, pussy clenching around him and your nails digging into his arms.
“Fuck,” Mark groans, leaning his head against the headboard. “I’m so in love with you, you know that?”
“I’m in love with you, too,” you giggle, but your laughter turns into a moan when Mark thrusts up into your cunt without warning.
He looks at you expectantly and so you tighten your grip on his shoulders, lifting your hips before sinking down on him again. It feels so good, and so you do it again and again, until you’re bouncing on his cock with your tits in his face. He starts pressing kisses against your nipples, and it only spurs you on further, your thighs lifting you off of him then letting you slam your hips against his.
You feel so full, fucking yourself on his cock like this, and soon all you can do is push your chest out against his lips and moan his name. God, you’re glad Renjun and Donghyuck aren’t here, because you wouldn’t have been able to keep quiet even if you wanted with the way Mark’s dick is hitting all the right spots with every bounce of your hips.
But even if you love how it feels, your legs were already shaking after your first orgasm, and now that you feel your second one approaching, the burn in your thighs is much more apparent. You try your best, you really do, but no matter how hungry you are for his cock, you’re forced to slow down when your thighs threaten to give out from underneath you.
“Come on, you wanted to ride me, right?” Mark coos at your whines, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Where did your eagerness go, baby?”
“But I’m tired, Markie,” you whimper, feeling so upset you almost want to cry. “Please. Need your cock.”
And who is he to deny you what you want when you’re asking so nicely?
You outright scream his name when he grabs your hips and rolls them into his own. He starts off slow, but even when he’s careful, his cock reaches places deep inside you and makes your eyes roll to the back of your head from the fullness. Mark doesn’t seem to mind, though, his dick twitching inside of you when he makes the mistake of looking at your fucked out expression. Proving to you that he can last long is being pushed further and further to the back of his mind, though, because with how well you’re taking him, he doesn’t think he can hold up much longer.
“Markie,” your head falls to the crook of his neck when he starts thrusting into you from below, your cries muffled by his skin. “Feels so good, Markie.”
“I know, baby, I know.”
His thrusts are deep and calculated, and you swear you can feel him in your stomach at some point. It’s so good you wish he’d never stop, but the coil in your stomach is tightening, a sense of rapture approaching, and so all you can do is cling onto him for dear life as he fucks you on his cock. He’s close too, twitching inside of you while he brings his fingers to rub sloppy circles on your puffy clit.
Desperate to reach your high, you start bouncing up and down again, your slick forming a ring of white around the base of his cock as your cunt clenches around him repeatedly.
You cum first, with his fingers on your clit and his lips sucking marks into your neck, your whole body shaking as he fucks you through it only reach his high a few seconds later. He groans against your throat, a soft whine of your name, and then he’s shooting his cum deep inside of you as his hands tremble around your waist.
It takes a moment for both of you to regain your steady breathing, and when you do, Mark pulls out of you and helps you lie down on the mattress. You pull him in for a hug, which he reciprocates, wrapping his arms around you, allowing you to bathe in his scent.
For a while, you just lie there quietly, wrapped up in each other’s limbs. It’s comfortable, just like it always is with Mark.
“You were wrong,” you say finally, breaking the silence.
He furrows his brows, looking down on you. “Wrong about what?”
“About not lasting long enough,” you poke his chest. “I’m pretty sure it was long enough if my whole body is sore.”
You see Mark’s cheeks tint pink for a moment before he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, hiding.
“Aw, are you shy?” you laugh and he pulls away to send you a stern look.
“Shut up, Y/N.”
And then he pulls you in for a kiss.
THANK YOU TO @wuahae FOR THE IDEA FOR THIS FIC ILY
hiii can i request prompts 92 and 111?? :D tysm i love ur series
love foolish
pairings. haechan x (f) reader
genre. fluff if u squint, smut
warnings. gamer!haechan needs it's own warning, cum eating, face riding?, cunningulus, fingering, biting??? tit play kinda, a mortal kombat reference
prompts: #92 “you’re so dumb” and #111 “just let me beat this level and i swear i’ll give you the best orgasm ever”
prompt list | series masterlist | taglist
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“hyuckie,” you call out to him. waiting for him to push one side of his headphones away from his ear. but he doesn’t hear you.
“hyuckie,” you repeat his name louder, dragging out the last vowel.
he whips his head to face you, pushing off the left ear, you giggle at his befuddled expression.
“i’m horny.” you whine out loud.
he smirks, turning back to face his screen but keeping his left ear open for you. it’s normal for you to occasionally want him while he’s sitting on his gaming chair, too occupied in whatever game he’s playing. but he never denies you, not when he sees you clenching your thighs together to barely relieve yourself. you’re not sure why you’re craving him right now, but you are.
“just let me beat this level, and i swear i’ll give you the best orgasm.” he promises you.
“uh… the fuck?” renjun speaks up, his voice only audible through haechan’s headphones.
which is why you were confused when haechan chuckled too himself, before saying ‘don’t worry about it.’ and you assumed he was online with one of his members. a look of determination on his face as he effortlessly continues with his game.
a triumphant smile stretched your lips, succeeding in grabbing your boyfriend’s attention. while he was busy fighting a character in his game, you were undressing yourself, tossing the discarded clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed.
you sprawled yourself on your bed, preparing yourself as if you were haechan's last meal on earth.
"alright renjun, i'm logging off. duty calls," he speaks into the mic, already closing out of some tabs and apps.
renjun lets out a huff. "don't care, bye."
with that, haechan chuckles before sliding off his headphones and putting them on the stand that you had bought him from the store. the amount of times he just leaves them on his keyboard bugged you.
when he turned around to face you, he did not expect for you to be full on naked. you lied on your back, the curves of your breast looked so perky and he so badly wanted to run his tongue all over you. your collarbones holding nothing as they made a dip into your skin. yet, the silver necklace with his initial on a small heart shaped pendant shimmers from the ambient lamp in the room. the way your legs looked so soft and smooth, and the way your thigh was hiding your center from his view made him feel stiff. he thinks if you heard the way he imagined you, as if he's describing a renaissance painting, you'd hide your face behind your hands and tell him he's lying. but you are truly so beautiful to him.
haechan is momentarily speechless. he eyes you up and down, open-mouthed.
the way he was staring at you had your cheeks warm up.
"can you stop staring and just come here?"
and he does just that, filling in the empty space between you two, remaining in his clothes.
"if you saw how i saw you in my eyes you'd stare too." he smirks, his eyes travel from your chest to your eyes, briefly stopping at the necklace before to your eyes. "so pretty." he whispers.
you tug at his hoodie, knowing he's wearing nothing under it. it was just something he threw on when he crawled out of your bed this morning. "take it off." you mumble.
you swallow involuntarily at the sight of haechan's toned chest.
"oh, fuck me."
haechan giggles shyly at your hushed comment, not paying his reaction any mind, you lean onto your elbows to place soft feather-like kisses along his stomach up to his chest.
he carefully leans back to give you room to sit up, haechan practically sitting on your lap, your hands brush up and down his abs before roaming towards his back, feeling the taut muscles.
he sighs above you, your kisses adventuring up to his face.
small, lingering smooches pressed gently on his jawline, then to the corner of his lips and to his mouth.
his tongue immediately darts out to dance with yours, you begin to push yourself onto him making his back hit the sheets. his palm smooths over the expanse of your ass.
with a moan you pull away as haechan pushes you onto your back, switching places, inserting himself between your thighs.
"fuck," haechan curses at the view of you below him. "i want to eat you out but i love your tits."
you giggle at his confession, his hands kneading your boobs roughly before he presses his face into the soft mounds of your breasts. his tongue swirling around on the perked buds. you run your hands through his fluffy hair, gasping when you feel his other free hand sneak in between your thighs. his finger tips barely grazing your glistening pussy.
"shit, you're wet." he sucks on your skin, continuing to play with your pussy, each touch making you whimper.
the pad of his middle finger runs over your clit and your hips buck into his hand. "mmm, gonna make you feel so good." he pokes his tongue out to run over the freshly made mark above your nipple.
you groan, "hyuck." not being able to withstand his teasing, needing more.
haechan's face leans up to your ear. "sit on my face." he pulls his hand away from your heat, plopping himself next to you and tapping your thigh.
"huh,"
"c'mere baby."
"hyuck, what if-"
his hand wraps itself around your arm as he pulls you towards him. "i'll be fine, promise. i just want you to sit that pretty pussy of yours on my face."
it's not his assuring words that pulls you to throw your leg over him, but haechan's dirty words that he easily spewed out his mouth.
with your leg threw over his body and pussy just above his face like he wanted, he doesn't let much time pass before his tongue dives in between your folds and your clutching onto your headboard. one of his hands are on your ass to spread you open for his delight and the other is exploring inside your aching pussy, coating his fingers with your juices.
"oh fuck!" you cursed, head tilt back.
"so fucking delicious," he murmured, voice low. "always so sweet."
his tongue circles your clit, waves of pleasure hit you throughout your entire body. your head hangs low, as you scream out praises, telling him how good he's making you feel.
your bottom lip is tugged between your teeth, the sloppy, wet noises of him eating you out is filthy, but watching his mouth do so makes you clench around his fingers.
haechan moaning against your pussy sends you closer to the edge.
"shit, i'm gonna cum." you whimper, your hips grinding desperately against his mouth, haechan lifts his hand and smacks your ass.
"god, you're so sexy." he groans against you.
"fuck, fuck, fuck!" you screamed.
you can feel him smirk underneath you.
"finish her!" haechan mocked, trying to imitate the godlike voice from mortal kombat.
"you're so dumb." you gritted through your teeth. of course, he uses a gaming reference while eating you out.
chuckling at how desperate you are to release yourself on his tongue. when his teeth run over your throbbing nub, you come undone, your eyebrows scrunch together as tears pool around your waterline. legs are shaking as you slowly rise yourself off of him, not missing how his fingers slid between your folds up and down.
"no," you whine, you turn around to find comfort in your boyfriend who's cheeks are a warm red, nose, lips, and chin glistening from your wetness.
"i love you." haechan kisses you, letting his lips linger on yours, tasting a bit of yourself.
"i love you- oh my god, it's all over your face." you point out, your hand coming up to hide your face. but he just grins, his tongue messily pokes out to get the rest of your juices, freezing as his eyes widened.
"wait, what time is it?" he asks eagerly.
you turn your body to grab your phone off the nightstand, tapping the screen to wake it up.
"almost five, why?"
"baby! we have dinner with doyoung and johnny in like thirty minutes." haechan lightly slaps your ass before he's running to the bathroom.
you just sit on your bed, your chest still heaving up and down from your orgasm, trying to recall if you had any planned events today.
oh crap, you did.
-
taglist @n0hyuck @matchahyuck @neosdaisy @m_1kaellUh @haesqt @waitcries send an ask or message to be removed! or fill out the google form to be added :D
[a/n]: im still swamped with work but i like misdial too much to leave it alone LOL please forgive me for disappearing on you,,, here is a lil sneak peek for your patience
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THE CONDOS AND APARTMENTS HOSUED INSIDE OF THE PALISADES TOWER ARE MYTHICAL FOR GOOD REASON, because the penthouse in which Jeon Somi lives is easily something out of a melodrama.
Cleancut modern black and gray, subtle wealth in the dark marble and polished gold metals, endlessly high ceilings and windows so large and clear that it was easy to forget there was glass there at all (which, when you’re so high up, is a pretty freaky feeling). If this wasn’t your hundredth time being here you’d probably be just as awed as the guys behind you are— eyes wide as they shuffled out of their shoes in the entranceway, faces slack at the absolutely bonkers state of her home— but as it stands, you don’t even bat an eye. You just fling your sneakers in the front closet and slap the living room light switch on, the weight of this disastrous day settling on your shoulders all at once.
Forcing a smile, you turn and attempt something close to a pleasant expression to the guys standing in the foyer. Well. Time to put your acting shoes on and pretend the last two hours never happened.
“I’m going to go and wash my face, so don’t wait up! Feel free to make yourself comfortable; there are two bathrooms down that hall and if you need anything else… Well, you know how houses work, I assume.”
You feel Jeno’s eyes on you immediately, but you can’t meet them.
What he must think of you after all this, huh? Christ.
You were so sure that the night of the Nabi Bar incident was going to be a one time thing, a once in a lifetime event that you’d think of in a few months and laugh about— reminiscing over that time the guy you’d once been stupidly in love with came running out of the dark to save you, scooping you away from danger and patching your bruises up like some kind of romance novel prince— but now? Now it was starting to look like nothing about this, nothing about him was shaping up to be temporary.
Things you hadn’t felt in years were starting to pick at your insides. You’d felt it that night when he’d dropped you off and you couldn’t sleep because your mind was racing so much. The cloying scent of his cologne was stuck in your nose and every brush against your bruised knuckles reminded you of how close you’d been in his bathroom, the sickeningly familiar feeling in your gut— Fluttering, fluttering, fluttering— And you’d felt it twice in the car just now, one blow right after the other. First, when Donghyuck had told you about their sneaky night in Gangnam, you’d watched how Jeno ruffled under the attention and for some reason you had the itch to know more, more, more, what else he’d done, what other little stories you could pry out of him that would make him fluster like that, what other things he’d been up to in the time you weren’t around… And you’d felt it stronger the second time, an actual swoosh in your gut when you saw how he looked at you after Somi mentioned the Aegon competition.
His gaze was softer than you’d seen it in a really long time.
Knowing, almost, if you wanted to get completely delusional about it. As if he’s always understood something about you that everyone else didn’t.
(…Knowing, like the look he’s giving you right now as you take a step into the living room and towards the back of the penthouse, and make the mistake of catching his eye. Yikes. There’s no way he doesn’t know you’re trying to get the hell out of here— It feels like he’s seeing right through you.)
“Right,” you say to no one in particular. “Then I’m off.”
Somi (who’d wound up in the kitchen somehow during all this) whines your name along with something about the jajangmyeon when she sees you leaving, but you don’t even stop in your stride out of the foyer. “Jaemin will help you, he knows how to cook. You’ll help her won’t you, Na? You wouldn’t leave a tipsy, defenseless maiden alone in a space full of danger and sharp things and fire, right?”
You hear the distant click of the stovetop turning on as you’re walking away, quickly followed by a bunch of clattering, like someone throwing around a few metal pots. You hear no response or movement, and flick a warning look over your shoulder.
“…I’m not kidding by the way. If you don’t want this place to catch on fire, you’d better help her quickly.”
"Wait,” Jaemin finally splutters, “You’re serious? You’re really going to just leave us alone out here with—" Another clatter. "Hey, hey wait! Somi, you don’t need a knife that big to cut up scallions!”
He darts out of your sight. Okay. One out of three, occupied.
On your way across the living room you snatch up the television remote from the couch and turn it on, the giant flatscreen instantly lighting up the two remaining guys in the foyer as they stare after you. “You guys are into basketball, right? Knock yourselves out.”
“…You’re Cocomelon-ing us?” asks Donghyuck indignantly. “You think you can just put on ESPN and you’ll be absolved from helping cook? Do you think we’re five years old?!”
“Not five. Maybe like… ten, or eleven? You strike me as more of a preteen.”
He must not have expected you to respond so honestly, because all that follows this is stunned silence. Great. That’s good enough of a reply for you. You toss the remote back onto the couch and continue farther into the rest of the house, face falling into a quiet grimace as you try to figure out just how you’re going to survive this night alone.
[★]; [MISDIAL MASTERLIST] [PREVIOUS PART]
the rest is coming soon :-) thanks for sticking with me so far <3
i’m good with the random scenarios for the mark fic if that works out better for you! if it were to be blurbs like that tho, will we still see some progression with their relationship over time?
right that was what i was thinking! cos if i did the blurbs i'd have to go back and post the first few parts.... or just have the first blurb be the start of the story? hmm...
do you ever sabotage your own free time? like wtf is that about? i want to play this game or read or do something specific but instead i will just stare out the window or scroll mindlessly???
part of the same storyline as my previous post !!!! where mark and oc are best friends in the same friend group in high school and oc starts falling for mark even though he likes to play into the running joke that they're some perfect couple.
i think i might make this another series of oneshots bc i... am not ready to write a whole full blown fic yet AHAHAHAH we'll see lol but i just wanted to put this up in case i never touch it again
here's the previous post!
---
It’s almost as if Mark wants to continue proving you wrong. Because as much as you think there’s already so much about him that’s attractive, endearing, hot, whatever; he seems to pile on even more labels and traits that make you want to melt into a puddle of nothingness. It's like he's aiming to become one of those... multi-hyphenates that the teachers in school like to talk about.
He got his stupid Driver’s License.
And to be honest, you never really thought it was hot that people could drive- it’s literally just operating an automobile, a routine of turning the steering wheel and hitting pedals- so what about it could possibly ever evoke any sense of attractive quality to it?
Maybe you’re just biased because it’s Mark who’s driving right now, after so long of boasting about how he got his license and how he’s already “reeeaaalllyyy good”. You sit in the passenger’s seat as he drives you back home from another day at the Library, and you buckle your seatbelt just a little tighter, holding onto it in fear as he starts the car to pull out of the parking lot.
He punches at your shoulder lightly, “Hey! I promise I’m fine! Look, I can do the one handed thingy!”
“Literally, don’t. Isn’t it dangerous, or something?”
“I mean, kinda, but I swear I’ve got it down. See?”
And got it down, he does- and you can’t lie and say it wasn’t cool. Maybe even hot. His hand on the steering wheel, he turns around to look behind the car, leaning in a little closer to you, and you have to will yourself to look away from the concentration on his face, and how good he looks with his hair out and not hidden by a cap, his circle-rimmed glasses resting on his nose. Your eyes land on the knife of a jawline he has, and then they naturally travel up to his lips that are so incredibly pink and plump-
“Cool, right?” He manoeuvres successfully, and makes a straight to send you home, and you gulp, staring straight at the street in front of you. It’s almost as if his stare has a weight of its own, crushing you, pressing you to squeeze into the car door. It’s so embarrassing that you’re secretly harbouring all of these feelings, they’re so…. strange, and maybe even inappropriate since you’re just friends.
“Okay, fine, it is pretty cool. Now you just have to get me home in one piece.” You laugh, and just pray, that for the love of God, you can just get through another day without getting flustered over something stupid like this.
“Oh yeah, I wanted you to listen to this! Unlock my phone and go into my Spotify, it’s the top playlist.”
He hands you his phone, and continues, “You remember Phony Ppl, right? They had that song you liked with Megan Thee Stallion? Well, I found one of their new songs and someone in a YouTube comment said it was sampled on the first song in that playlist, but I swore it sounded like this old 5SOS song.”
Huh. Funny. The very first song in the playlist is titled ‘I Didn’t Mean To Turn You On,’ and you literally want to punch yourself in the face. You press play.
It’s a funky disco-beat- Mark’s recommendation playlist for you has been full of these songs lately.
“Hmm, it’s fun! I love the synths, they’re going crazy. Also, love your car’s stereo? Wow!”
You’re starting to really like it, it’s groovy, it’s fun, and then she starts singing, so you look at the lyrics on his phone- they’re not synced to the song, so you just scroll, skimming through in curiosity. And in huge, bold, white letters, almost to mock you,
You read me wrong. I wasn’t trying to lead you on. I want a friend. I didn’t mean to turn you on.
Haha. Oh my God. Hahahaha. You nod your head in awkwardness, but then try to play it off by looking like you’re just doing it to the music.
“Right?! It’s such a bop, man! And yeah, sometimes I have to stop myself from playing the music too loud. If not I can literally feel the vibrations in my fingers. Okay, anyways, the song itself is like, seven whole minutes, and gets kinda repetitive at the end, so you can just skip to the next one. Just listen to the intro!”
‘Nowhere But Up’ sounds pretty similar to the previous song, it’s pretty clear they did sample it, yet they’ve definitely made it their own since the vibe is completely different, and the lyrics are still on the screen, and Wow! They do not get any better.
So, like hold on, you, you wait, so you want me to chase you through this song? Huh, you sound crazy, you sound crazy. The last thing I remember is you said that you want me.
You chuckle sardonically before you can even stop yourself, and you should’ve seen this coming, but he asks you what’s so funny and you have to come up with a lie on the spot.
“Oh, no, the bass is ridiculously good! That part in the intro? It’s so good. This part.” You replay the part, and he agrees, “Yeah! Their bass lines are always so sick.” There is a moment of silence shared just to listen to the music, and the suffocating feeling of his eyes on you is back for a brief moment before he continues to tap the rhythm on the steering wheel, head bopping to the beat.
Then his phone buzzes, the ping interrupting your moment of solace, and you see the text message notification from Karina before he can even ask who it is.
[karina ☺️, 2002] heeeey wru
Your heart drops to your stomach- it’s almost as if this is the perfect storm of events and it’s not even just your confirmation bias, almost as if he did play those songs to unknowingly reject you, no- almost as if he knew you how you felt, almost as if he was deliberately trying to shut you down.
“Ooooooo! Karina just texted you.” You wiggle your eyebrows and try to force as much excitement and curiosity as possible for someone that just got their life and soul sucked out of their body.
“Oh, um,” Mark, too, looks pretty shocked. “Can IIIIIIIII open it?” You stare intently at him, waiting for his answer, stare right at his face like he has something to explain to you. Which, he doesn’t, not necessarily. But you still feel this way anyway. He licks his lips, as if in contemplation.
“Yeah, sure. What’d she say?”
“She just asked where you are. Are you supposed to be anywhere right now?” Hands clammy, you click on the notification. At first glance, it does look like they’ve been talking quite a bit- they even texted each other ‘gn’ three days ago. Everything is sending you into a frenzy, and you’re trying to convince yourself it’s just a normal thing people do. Friends do. You’ve texted Yeonjun ‘goodnight’ before, and it doesn’t mean anything. Where does he have to be? Are they supposed to go on a date? Where could they be possibly going on a Saturday Night?
His voice cuts off your train of thought- “Oh, shit!” His voice cracks, and there’s just so much panic packed into the tiny space of his car, “I’m supposed to be in some Zoom Call right now, it’s for the project we’re doing. Uhhh, tell her I’m on the way home right now, I’ll be there in 5 minutes.”
You type away, and all the fear that struck terror in your soul seems to have deflated, yet it’s left your heart palpitating. You feel so stupid for feeling so worked up about this, it’s crazy. Never in your life had you thought you’d be overcome with jealousy, even if it was for a tiny moment, but you suppose that it’s really just the uncertainty that spurs it all.
You know, since you don’t know how he feels about you. No clue at all about whether or not he reciprocates whatever stupid crush you have. He literally just recommended two songs that were about turning someone down. But then again, when has he ever sent cryptic messages through his song choices? It’s totally unlike him, and your leaping-to-conclusions- brain is just incredible at making complete nonsense of anything that’s happening.
God, you need to convene with Minji and Ryujin again. Your hand is itching to whip your phone out to send a text, why in front of Mark you’re not too sure, maybe the desperation really has gotten to you.
“Can I take the call at your place? It’s only going to be, like, thirty minutes max, I think.” He’s come over multiple times, it really isn’t that big of a deal. It’s fine. Your mom likes him. Haha.
“Yeah, sure, I think my mom’s home and she probably wouldn’t mind.”
The next song has started.
“Great, thanks! Oh, this was the last song I wanted to show you, the 5SOS one? Do you hear the similarity? Like the chord progressions, and the rhythm? It’s not the same synth sound, I mean, duh, it’s a guitar, but yeah.”
When you’re talking to your girls, do you talk about me? Do you tell’ em that you love me the way that I’ve been loving you?
You are seriously going to punch yourself in the face later.
---
LOL yeah um let me know what i should do with this fic should i try to flesh it out and write a whole story that really flows or just post the random scenarios agashgahee
also the songs are:
i didn't mean to turn you on - cherelle
nowhere but up - phony ppl
girls talk boys - 5sos
go have a listen!!! they are such boppy songs lol.
the whole premise is a best friends to lovers for mark in highschool and for some strange reason your friend group has a running joke that you guys would look cute together or that mark likes you. but then you never rly know ... BUT LET ME KNOW IF U WOULD LIKE THIS IDK idk
--
It’s movie night at Jaemin’s house, and everyone’s gathered together to watch Midsommar- Everyone’s on the couch save for you, Mark and Minji, who had no choice but to sit on the floor.
“It’s so cold,” you complain, and Mark, without missing a beat, dramatically stretches his arm upwards, before beginning to place it around you.
But before he actually pulls you in closer to him, he stops, retracting his hand back into himself to scratch his head in pretense. The laughter that erupts from all your friends watching just bursts the little bubble of thoughts you were in, and you gather yourself quickly enough to laugh along, and hide the disappointment that almost rises to your face. You shove him away playfully, and he’s laughing so hard that it kind of hurts how much he’s playing into this.
“No, but really, can we turn up the AC, or something?”
“Hold on, I’ll get you a sweater.” Jaemin stands and disappears into a room to get one, Minji running to steal his seat, and there are a million thoughts running through your mind, yet this one seems to be the only one you can focus on: if Mark shows any signs of irritation from this- just a huff of annoyance, or a purse of lips, or anything that remotely resembles an eye roll- maybe it’s a sign that you have hope that he actually likes you that way. Just maybe. You don’t know where you’ve gotten this idea, but maybe all the Rom-Coms and Romance Novels have just indoctrinated you to believe that jealousy means he cares.
If he’s indifferent to it…. then maybe you should be re-evaluating everything that you have ever thought about Mark and the interactions you have with him. Because, damnit, he’s one of your closest friends, and maybe you’re just crazy for thinking he would ever like you like this.
“Boooooo. You should’ve offered your sweater, Mark!” Donghyuck on the couch behind Mark, and tsks when he flicks at his head.
“What? No way! I’m cold too. Y/N doesn't deserve to get her clumsy hands on any of my clothes, she’d probably find some way to get it dirty.” He huffs, and you guess that’s all you have to know about what he feels about you.
“One, that was so unprovoked, and two, totally untrue! It literally has only happened once.”
--
Mark’s been asking you to come study at the library a few times every weekend ever since the new term started. Alone. With only him. Him only.
The first time, you had asked him if anyone else was coming along, and he said all the other guys weren’t free- something about Jaemin and Haechan and Student Council, and Jeno with his girlfriend- then you asked Ryujin and Minji, and they were (very unfortunately) busy too.
So you had no choice but to go and accept an offer to sit, for a good five hours, with your best friend and your bubbling feelings for him. Of course, you probably could’ve said no, but he probably would have pestered you into coming because he knows you’re free.
To be honest, it wasn’t all that bad: it really was just studying, and it was good since you were genuinely being productive, and it’s better than being cooped up at home completely alone.
Then he asked you a few days later, and then the next week, and then it just compounded into multiple study sessions (that he kept jokingly calling study dates, which, just, ugh) that were too helpful for you to say no to. Sometimes, the others tagged along too, but not without teasingly voicing their skepticism about third-wheeling the both of you.
And you continue to go, since hanging out with Mark is fun anyways, and your study breaks are filled with watching stupid YouTube videos and competing on Minesweeper, which he hasn’t actually won yet, and complains that your average time is too high to actually beat. He kicks at your leg from underneath the table when you use your phone for too long, and you stare at him in annoyance whenever he starts shaking his leg so violently that the entire table vibrates with him.
Your relationship, in the sense of being associated with one another and not actually being in a relationship together, with him is conflicting, confusing, and complex, especially because everytime you think it’ll be awkward around him, the nervousness just melts away because of how comfortable you actually are with him.
Also because you pep-talk and psyche yourself in the mirror whenever you go for bathroom breaks. Especially on the days where you sit across from him instead of beside him, and stare at his pretty hands twirling his Apple Pen, or accidentally lock eyes and he scrunches his face at you. Or when he comes all the way across the table to your side to peek at whatever you’re doing, or to whisper into your ear his help for the Math question you posed him, his face so incredibly near yours, that you almost get a shock when you turn to look at him.
(Okay, maybe you weren’t as cool as you were with him as you thought you were.) On these days you have to go just to smile all the giddiness out of your system before you meet him just to get ready and steel yourself for the rest of the day.
Nothing could ever prepare you to expect whatever just happened, though.
It started off as a normal day, and you saw his string of texts when you woke up.
[mark 😐, 0810] good morning madam
[mark 😐, 0810] we gg 2 the library 2day? i have sooo much i need to do
[mark 😐, 0811] we can get lunch then go after lol ur defo still sleeping i saw ur last seen at 2am wtf were u even up to
[you, 1027] HI yeah sure lets meet at 1230
[you, 1027] LOL i was talking to yeonjun we were shitting on our lit teacher bc the notes for this chapter are just so bad
[you, 1027] but tbh i dont get y hes so upset bc he probably doesnt even need the notes cos hes already so smart
[you, 1027] the other day i went to discuss some essay questions with him and his points r so BIG BRAIN its kinda sexy
[mark 😐, 1028] omg lol
Then you met and got lunch as usual, and then headed to the library, and then started work, and it almost felt as if it was like clockwork. He’s sitting next to you today, and Mark keeps swearing whenever he loses on Minesweeper. You ask him how to twirl your pen the way he does, and he holds your hand through it, literally, gripping your fingers to turn the pen after multiple failed attempts that made your pen drop with a clang onto the table. This lady from across the table keeps staring daggers at the two of you and you can’t exactly blame her because of how much of a ruckus you’re causing, laughing whenever you can’t get it right.
And now he has his head on your shoulder. Yeah. What the fuck.
You’re both trying to get the Statistics homework done today, but neither of you can get past a question about Agatha and her unnecessary calculations for how many different ways she can arrange her employees in a meeting room.
It’s six-forty and you’ve both finished the rest of the questions and have returned to this one for a good thirty minutes but to no avail, and after another failed attempt to get to the answer, Mark lets out a whispered cry, shifts his rolling chair closer to yours, and plops his head onto your shoulder.
“Oh my God, man, Agatha should just let them sit wherever they freaking want! What is wrong with her?!”
You’re too stunned to even reply or laugh- the library is freezing cold but you’re sure you’re about to combust, there’s heat rising to your face yet also a shiver running down your spine. Your heart is really going to beat out of your chest if he doesn’t pull away soon, and you’re praying he can’t hear or feel the palpitations.
He rolls his head around your shoulder even more, and he shifts even closer to almost snuggle into your neck. Oh my God, how dare he. “Dude, your shoulder bone is so sharp. That hurt.”
“Then stop leaning on it, jeez.” You take this opportunity to shrug him off just before you really explode at the contact.
He pouts at you with the cutest fucking face ever, and you sneer, and he complains about how he’s hungry and that you should just call it a day, and you agree, because you don’t know if you can stand anymore of his unintentional flirting in one day.
The signals Mark gives are so incredibly mixed and convoluted and sometimes you wonder if you should really just ask him. It’s hard enough swimming lost in a sea of your feelings for him, and it’s even harder when he catches you off guard with waves that almost make you drown and fall further in like, but then also drains almost all your hope of him ever reciprocating.
[you, 1931] omg i need help
[you, 1931] oAJKASHKJHSADJKHASDKJHSADKhsdjak
[you, 1931] im gonna go crazy
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1932] WHY whts wrong are u okay????
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1932] WTF how r u already offline
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1932] COME BACK WHAT???? 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1933] WHAT WHY WERE YOU TOGETHER ITS SATURDAY
[you, 1933] NO WE GO TO THE LIBRARY LIKE EVERY WEESNK REMEMEMBER I TOLD YOU GUYS
[you, 1933] ????? YOU LITERALY CAME WITH US ONCE
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1933] UHHHHH OOPS OKAY BUT WHAT
[you, 1933] IDK WE WERE DOING THE STATS HOMEWORK AND THERES A REALLY HARD QN WE SPENT SUPER LONG ON AND WHEN HE GAVE UP HE JUST LIKE WHINED AND THEN LEAEND ON ME
[you, 1933] then he was like omg ur shoulder is so sharp AND THEN LIKE PUT HIS HEAD CLOSER TO MY NECK
[you, 1933] are u guys getting the mental image idk I WILL SHOW U ON MONDAY
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1933] omg does he even do that with haechan
[ryuddaaaeng, 1933] NO i don’t think so
[ryuddaaaeng, 1933] omg one time i saw haechan try to hug him and he pushed him away 😭😭😭😭😭
[ryuddaaaeng, 1933] atp i think he defo likes u
[you, 1933] YEAH THIS IS THE SUSSIEST EVEVR
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1933] LOL THE other day when we were leaving school he called me and i was shocked
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1934] but it was just to ask where u were and why u werent picking up
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1934] LIKE not even to ask where WE were it was just for u
[you, 1934] okay but its like
[you, 1934] i cant tell how legit it is cos sometimes he just… seems like hes joking about it
[you, 1934] like idk if hes just playing along with the joke sometimes
[you, 1934] tbh i can’t even remember why the whole thing started lol it’s been more than a year since it started
[ryuddaaaeng, 1934] ok yeah idk how this has lasted this long lol
[ryuddaaaeng, 1934] but i don’t think he would keep bringing it up if he wanted us to just forget about it
[ryuddaaaeng, 1934] if he really didn’t like it he’d just let it die out??? u know
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1934] YEAH
[you, 1934] idk maybe its just bc he finds it funny 😭😭😭😭
[you, 1934] i would tooootally find the running joke hilarious if i didnt actually like him lol
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1934] OK but he like does something or says something that hints at it every week
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1935] LIIIIKE it’s a LOT for someone that hypothetically doesn’t actually like u
[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] ^^^^^
[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] remember how they kept shipping him and minji bc she called him cute when we met last year
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1935] CAN YOU NOT//????? I ALREADY SUPPRESSED THIS MEMORT OMFG
[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] IM TRYING TO PROVE A POINT
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1935] ISO EMBAARRARASSSING
[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] he barely paid any mind to it REMEMBER
[you, 1935] omg i completely forgot about that
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1935] GOOD
[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] EXACTLY
[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] it died off so quickly!!!! but he’s dragged this out for FOREVER
BYE I JS SAW MY REBLOG OF @dojunie 's fic and REALISED MISDIAL KINDA MADE ME WANAN WRITE THIS
also bc this is kinda what's happening to one of my friends lol uhhhhhh..... BUT OMG i need to not touch this until my exams finally end (which!!!! end in exactly 13 days mwahahhahsa)
the whole premise is a best friends to lovers for mark in highschool and for some strange reason your friend group has a running joke that you guys would look cute together or that mark likes you. but then you never rly know ... BUT LET ME KNOW IF U WOULD LIKE THIS IDK idk
--
It’s movie night at Jaemin’s house, and everyone’s gathered together to watch Midsommar- Everyone’s on the couch save for you, Mark and Minji, who had no choice but to sit on the floor.
“It’s so cold,” you complain, and Mark, without missing a beat, dramatically stretches his arm upwards, before beginning to place it around you.
But before he actually pulls you in closer to him, he stops, retracting his hand back into himself to scratch his head in pretense. The laughter that erupts from all your friends watching just bursts the little bubble of thoughts you were in, and you gather yourself quickly enough to laugh along, and hide the disappointment that almost rises to your face. You shove him away playfully, and he’s laughing so hard that it kind of hurts how much he’s playing into this.
“No, but really, can we turn up the AC, or something?”
“Hold on, I’ll get you a sweater.” Jaemin stands and disappears into a room to get one, Minji running to steal his seat, and there are a million thoughts running through your mind, yet this one seems to be the only one you can focus on: if Mark shows any signs of irritation from this- just a huff of annoyance, or a purse of lips, or anything that remotely resembles an eye roll- maybe it’s a sign that you have hope that he actually likes you that way. Just maybe. You don’t know where you’ve gotten this idea, but maybe all the Rom-Coms and Romance Novels have just indoctrinated you to believe that jealousy means he cares.
If he’s indifferent to it…. then maybe you should be re-evaluating everything that you have ever thought about Mark and the interactions you have with him. Because, damnit, he’s one of your closest friends, and maybe you’re just crazy for thinking he would ever like you like this.
“Boooooo. You should’ve offered your sweater, Mark!” Donghyuck on the couch behind Mark, and tsks when he flicks at his head.
“What? No way! I’m cold too, and Y/N doesn't deserve to get her clumsy hands on any of my clothes, she’d probably find some way to get it dirty.” He huffs, and you guess that’s all you have to know about what he feels about you.
“One, that was so unprovoked, and two, totally untrue! It literally has only happened once.”
--
Mark’s been asking you to come study at the library a few times every weekend ever since the new term started. Alone. With only him. Him only.
The first time, you had asked him if anyone else was coming along, and he said all the other guys weren’t free- something about Jaemin and Haechan and Student Council, and Jeno with his girlfriend- then you asked Ryujin and Minji, and they were (very unfortunately) busy too.
So you had no choice but to go and accept an offer to sit, for a good five hours, with your best friend and your bubbling feelings for him. Of course, you probably could’ve said no, but he probably would have pestered you into coming because he knows you’re free.
To be honest, it wasn’t all that bad: it really was just studying, and it was good since you were genuinely being productive, and it’s better than being cooped up at home completely alone.
Then he asked you the next week, and then the next week, and then it just compounded into multiple study sessions (that he kept jokingly calling study dates, which, just, ugh) that were too helpful for you to say no to. Sometimes, the others tagged along too, but not without teasingly voicing their skepticism about third-wheeling the both of you.
And you continue to go, since hanging out with Mark is fun anyways, and your study breaks are filled with watching stupid YouTube videos and competing on Minesweeper, which he hasn’t actually won yet, and complains that your average time is too high to actually beat. He kicks at your leg from underneath the table when you use your phone for too long, and you stare at him in annoyance whenever he starts shaking his leg so violently that the entire table vibrates with him.
Your relationship, in the sense of being associated with one another and not actually being in a relationship together, with him is conflicting, confusing, and complex, especially because everytime you think it’ll be awkward around him, the nervousness just melts away because of how comfortable you actually are with him.
Also because you pep-talk and psyche yourself in the mirror whenever you go for bathroom breaks. Especially on the days where you sit across from him instead of beside him, and stare at his pretty hands twirling his Apple Pen, or accidentally lock eyes and he scrunches his face at you. Or when he comes all the way across the table to your side to peek at whatever you’re doing, or to whisper into your ear his help for the Math question you posed him, his face so incredibly near yours, that you almost get a shock when you turn to look at him.
(Okay, maybe you weren’t as cool as you were with him as you thought you were.) On these days you have to go just to smile all the giddiness out of your system before you meet him just to get ready and steel yourself for the rest of the day.
Nothing could ever prepare you to expect whatever just happened, though.
It started off as a normal day, and you saw his string of texts when you woke up.
[mark 😐, 0810] good morning madam
[mark 😐, 0810] we gg 2 the library 2day? i have sooo much i need to do
[mark 😐, 0811] we can get lunch then go after lol ur defo still sleeping i saw ur last seen at 2am wtf were u even up to
[you, 1027] HI yeah sure lets meet at 1230
[you, 1027] LOL i was talking to yeonjun we were shitting on our lit teacher bc the notes for this chapter are just so bad
[you, 1027] but tbh i dont get y hes so upset bc he probably doesnt even need the notes cos hes already so smart
[you, 1027] the other day i went to discuss some essay questions with him and his points r so BIG BRAIN its kinda sexy
[mark 😐, 1028] omg lol
Then you met and got lunch as usual, and then headed to the library, and then started work, and it almost felt as if it was like clockwork. He’s sitting next to you today, and Mark keeps swearing whenever he loses on Minesweeper. You ask him how to twirl your pen the way he does, and he holds your hand through it, literally, gripping your fingers to turn the pen after multiple failed attempts that made your pen drop with a clang onto the table. This lady from across the table keeps staring daggers at the two of you and you can’t exactly blame her because of how much of a ruckus you’re causing, laughing whenever you can’t get it right.
And now he has his head on your shoulder. Yeah. What the fuck.
You’re both trying to get the Statistics homework done today, but neither of you can get past a question about Agatha and her unnecessary calculations for how many different ways she can arrange her employees in a meeting room.
It’s six-forty and you’ve both finished the rest of the questions and have returned to this one for a good thirty minutes but to no avail, and after another failed attempt to get to the answer, Mark lets out a whispered cry, shifts his rolling chair closer to yours, and plops his head onto your shoulder.
“Oh my God, man, Agatha should just let them sit wherever they freaking want! What is wrong with her?!”
You’re too stunned to even reply or laugh- the library is freezing cold but you’re sure you’re about to combust, there’s heat rising to your face yet also a shiver running down your spine. Your heart is really going to beat out of your chest if he doesn’t pull away soon, and you’re praying he can’t hear or feel the palpitations.
He rolls his head around your shoulder even more, and he shifts even closer to almost snuggle into your neck. Oh my God, how dare he. “Dude, your shoulder bone is so sharp. That hurt.”
“Then stop leaning on it, jeez.” You take this opportunity to shrug him off just before you really explode at the contact.
He pouts at you with the cutest fucking face ever, and you sneer, and he complains about how he’s hungry and that you should just call it a day, and you agree, because you don’t know if you can stand anymore of his unintentional flirting in one day.
The signals Mark gives are so incredibly mixed and convoluted and sometimes you wonder if you should really just ask him. It’s hard enough swimming lost in a sea of your feelings for him, and it’s even harder when he catches you off guard with waves that almost make you drown and fall further in like, but then also drains almost all your hope of him ever reciprocating.
[you, 1931] omg i need help
[you, 1931] oAJKASHKJHSADJKHASDKJHSADKhsdjak
[you, 1931] im gonna go crazy
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1932] WHY whts wrong are u okay????
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1932] WTF how r u already offline
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1932] COME BACK WHAT???? 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1933] WHAT WHY WERE YOU TOGETHER ITS SATURDAY
[you, 1933] NO WE GO TO THE LIBRARY LIKE EVERY WEESNK REMEMEMBER I TOLD YOU GUYS
[you, 1933] ????? YOU LITERALY CAME WITH US ONCE
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1933] UHHHHH OOPS OKAY BUT WHAT
[you, 1933] IDK WE WERE DOING THE STATS HOMEWORK AND THERES A REALLY HARD QN WE SPENT SUPER LONG ON AND WHEN HE GAVE UP HE JUST LIKE WHINED AND THEN LEAEND ON ME
[you, 1933] then he was like omg ur shoulder is so sharp AND THEN LIKE PUT HIS HEAD CLOSER TO MY NECK
[you, 1933] are u guys getting the mental image idk I WILL SHOW U ON MONDAY
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1933] omg does he even do that with haechan
[ryuddaaaeng, 1933] NO i don’t think so
[ryuddaaaeng, 1933] omg one time i saw haechan try to hug him and he pushed him away 😭😭😭😭😭
[ryuddaaaeng, 1933] atp i think he defo likes u
[you, 1933] YEAH THIS IS THE SUSSIEST EVEVR
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1933] LOL THE other day when we were leaving school he called me and i was shocked
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1934] but it was just to ask where u were and why u werent picking up
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1934] LIKE not even to ask where WE were it was just for u
[you, 1934] okay but its like
[you, 1934] i cant tell how legit it is cos sometimes he just… seems like hes joking about it
[you, 1934] like idk if hes just playing along with the joke sometimes
[you, 1934] tbh i can’t even remember why the whole thing started lol it’s been more than a year since it started
[ryuddaaaeng, 1934] ok yeah idk how this has lasted this long lol
[ryuddaaaeng, 1934] but i don’t think he would keep bringing it up if he wanted us to just forget about it
[ryuddaaaeng, 1934] if he really didn’t like it he’d just let it die out??? u know
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1934] YEAH
[you, 1934] idk maybe its just bc he finds it funny 😭😭😭😭
[you, 1934] i would tooootally find the running joke hilarious if i didnt actually like him lol
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1934] OK but he like does something or says something that hints at it every week
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1935] LIIIIKE it’s a LOT for someone that hypothetically doesn’t actually like u
[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] ^^^^^
[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] remember how they kept shipping him and minji bc she called him cute when we met last year
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1935] CAN YOU NOT//????? I ALREADY SUPPRESSED THIS MEMORT OMFG
[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] IM TRYING TO PROVE A POINT
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1935] ISO EMBAARRARASSSING
[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] he barely paid any mind to it REMEMBER
[you, 1935] omg i completely forgot about that
[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1935] GOOD
[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] EXACTLY
[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] it died off so quickly!!!! but he’s dragged this out for FOREVER
[a/n]: im sorry this took so long *cowboy hat emoji*
.
.
.
YOU ATTEMPT TO RETURN TO THE BLISSFUL, JENO-LESS EXISTENCE YOU LED BEFORE THE NIGHT OF OF YOUR LITTLE ADVENTURE. IT DOESN'T WORK.
Because your life apparently wasn’t hard enough, three and half weeks into the semester— around the time when everyone on campus should be settling into routine, not finding new surprises— you now see Lee Jeno around every corner of SNU.
(Figuratively and quite literally, if you’re counting a few days ago when he almost ran you over in Starbucks. His face had been buried in some schematic workbook as he wandered around one of the booths and, thankfully, he’d been too engrossed in the pages to do anything but stare when you yelped in surprise; and the moment of confusion had been just long enough for you to turn on your heel and dash out of that place. Why’d you run? You have no idea. Overkill? Probably. But when you think about what would have happened if you didn’t dip— some horrifying manner of small talk, no doubt— you’d choose to look like a crazy person a million more times if you had to.)
Places he hadn’t been before, Jeno now appears. He’s ahead of you in line in the cafeteria, playing games on his phone.
He’s in the campus quad, basketball under his arm, face alight with sweat as he laughs at something one of his teammates says.
Lee Jeno is in the library, trying and failing to catch the sour jellies Donghyuck is launching into the air via pencil-rubber band catapult. (And Lee Jeno is in your head for hours after they get kicked out, dumb croaky laugh floating around in your thoughts no matter how loudly you crank the volume of your headphones.)
He’s everywhere. Everywhere. A cruel joke played unto you by the heavens. And until today, it was your only mercy that the one place he suddenly didn’t seem to frequent, was the apartment in which you unfortunately lived.
When you got home, you’d been distracted. Too distracted to properly vet for any Lee Jeno-shaped figures the moment you opened the door. Outfit planning when Jeon Somi is involved is always a harrowing, full body experience, so your eyes (and unfortunately, attention) are elsewhere when you lock the door behind you and toss your keys on the kitchen island. You stop dead in the middle of the foyer to respond to the group chat, fingers flying across the screen in an attempt to veto all of her insane suggestions before they can truly take shape— Matching pink tube-tops?— so you don’t look up to see who’s in the living room.
“Rockstar!” a voice calls out.
Jaemin. Expected, because you’re pretty sure he’s here more often than his own home. His sing-songy voice is intermingled with video game sounds and Donghyuck’s curses.
Only two of them being around is rare, on oddity with the amount of them that have free time at this hour, but you're too busy frowning at your phone to think too hard about that.
[Somi Brat, 5:47PM]: IF NOT PINK TUBE TOPS THEN WHAT, BITCH????? DID YOU NOT HEAR ME WHEN I SAID SEONGWHA WAS GOING TO BE THERE
[You, 5:47PM]: wtf do you mean then what
[You, 5:47PM]: literally anything else you psycho it’s a frat party not the met
“How many times have I told you to stop calling me that, Na?”
“Oh, maybe a thousand,” he says innocently. “But I told you that I’ll drop it when you come up with something better. Rockstar has so much history. How old were you when I started calling you that, huh? Five? Six?”
You grunt in disapproval. “Try fourteen.”
[LIALOMLPERFECTANGEL, 5:47PM]: They would not let you into the Met in a tube top <3
[Somi Brat, 5:47PM]: I NEED TO STAND OUT THIS IS THE FIRST REAL EVENT OF THE YEAR
[Somi Brat, 5:49PM]: AND ITS NOT A FRAT PARTY, ITS A BIRTHDAY THING, ITS WAY DIFFERENT
[Somi Brat, 5:48PM]: ALL YOU DO IS WEAR YOUR DUMB LEATHER JACKET AND CALL IT AN OUTFIT
[Somi Brat, 5:48PM]: BE SEXY WITH ME FOR ONE NIGHT! IT WILL NOT KILL YOU!!!!
[You, 5:48PM]: No
[LIALOMLPERFECTANGEL, 5:48PM]: But she looks hot in that leather jacket ;3c
[Somi Brat, 5:49PM]:YKW? IM COMNG TO GET YOU
[Somi Brat, 5:49PM]: IM GOING TO MAKE YOU AN OUTFIT. YOU OWE ME. GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER YOU'RE COMING TO MY HOUSE
[chaeyoung beloved, 5:50PM]: wait hold on. why do WE have to match for YOU to get laid?
[Ryubear, 5:50PM]: Are you trying to tell us that Seongwha wants to fuck a quadruplet?
[chaeyoung beloved, 5:50PM]: 💀
“I’ll think about it,” Jaemin simpers, which he always says when you scold him for that stupid nickname, so that really means that he’ll be doing no such thing. “Anyway! We’re going to eat out a little later, do you want to come? Hyuck was thinking hotpot but if Renjun finds out we had hotpot without him he’ll throw a fit, so you could be our tie-breaker. Other option is burgers.”
“Renjun getting angry is half the fun,” Donghyuck cuts in absentmindedly. “It’s cute when his face gets all pink and pouty— Damn it, piece of shit Mcree! Stupid fucking—”
Hotpot…? Hotpot. You’re only half listening to them.
You just hum in response, too preoccupied with trying to read the onslaught of texts the group chat is receiving; and to add to the distraction, Somi doesn’t seem to be bluffing about coming to get you earlier than previously planned. Which means she’s actually on her way here— and you’re not ready at all.
“I’m not going to be home tonight, Jaem. Actually, I’m probably gonna be out of here in the next ten minutes. Sorry.” With Somi behind the wheel, it actually might be closer to five. “But my vote would’ve been burgers.”
“Traitor,” Donghyuck whines.
Your phone finally stops vibrating with notifications and you begin to drift towards your bedroom. You guess you should be counting your lucky stars that Mark’s not here, honestly, because with the grilling he’d be subjecting you to right now there’s no way you’d be able to pack in time.
‘Leaving?’ he’d ask. ‘What do you mean you’re leaving? Where are you going?’
No answer would suffice. You could say you were headed to Rome to get blessed by the Vatican himself, and he’d still ask how well you knew the guy.
Did you at least check the traffic report?
How are you getting there?
Want me to drop you off? What about pick you up?
Don’t take Yeoksam, I heard that road was slow earlier.
Take a jacket. Did you check the forecast? What if it rains?
“Thunderstorms tonight.”
…Wait. That last one didn’t come from you. Mark’s nagging voice is almost comically high in your head, and that tone you’d just heard was so gruff that it was closer to bass than anything else— which meant it didn’t come from Jaemin or Donghyuck either. You spin around so fast that you almost slip on the hardwood.
Five pairs of eyes are staring back at you when you whip your gaze towards the living room.
“It’s supposed to storm tonight,” Jeno repeats.
He must take your stunned silence as disbelief, because he even reaches into his pocket to find his phone and dutifully check the weather. You stare at him as though he’s just materialized into your home, deer in headlights. “Pretty late, near midnight.”
“Oh, yeah,” Jaemin adds. “I heard it was going to be pretty nasty, actually. Where are you headed? You’re not going to be out in that, right?”
Jeno tilts his head back to look at you when you don't respond, and you look away after what feels like a second too long.
Suddenly you feel like you’ve been plugged into an electrical outlet; thoughts stumbling, overly aware of what you’re wearing, what your hair must look like after walking home through the blazing wind. “No… Uh, no. No, a friend is picking me up. I’m not driving.”
Chenle snickers. “Way to dodge the question,” he says snootily.
“And way to not mind your business,” you mutter back, expression instantly souring. “What, you don’t have any school children to dunk on right now, Lele?”
You stick your tongue out at him reflexively when he turns all the way around in his seat to glare at you. “Will you shut up about that? It was one kid. And my business? Your whereabouts are my business, fool, because if you die in some freak rain accident Mark will skin all of us alive for not at least asking you where you were going. So sue me for trying to self-preserve—”
Jisung smacks him.
He almost takes Chenle’s shoulder off with how hard he swings, tweety-bird pout taking up half his face as the other boy yelps. The attack surprises you as much as it does him. “Hey! Don’t say things like that! Haven’t you heard of manifestation!?”
“Manifestation?” Chenle repeats, eyes wide. “Since when do you know words that big?”
“Mark told me about it! He was telling me during dance practice today—”
“And so because he said it, it must be true? Do you believe in fortune cookies too, Jisung? Or do you only pretend to be stupid when Mark is around?”
Jisung’s ears go pink and he leaps onto Chenle, but the older boy is ready for him. The living room descends into the squabbling you’ve become so accustomed to in these last few weeks, and the moment Jaemin’s attention is no longer on you— “Don’t fight, children, don’t fight!”— you take the chance to escape. There are eyes on your back when you snatch your bag up from the ground (whose, you’re not quite sure, although you know who you hope it’s not) and you shut your bedroom door just in time to see a text from Somi’s come to life on your still-cracked screen.
God. You can’t catch a break.
[Somi Brat, 5:57PM]:TWO MINUTES AWAY, LOVERGIRL
[Somi Brat, 5:57PM]:I HOPE YOU’RE READY, BECAUSE TONIGHT IS GOING TO BE ONE FOR THE RECORDS 😈
You stare at this text for much longer than is probably sane, lungs tingling in your chest when you realize you're holding your breath— and for some ominous reason... you have a feeling that she's not going to be wrong.
“I feel like I’m wearing toddler clothes.”
You’d been wrong to preemptively call the Sigma Kappa event ‘just’ a frat party. There’s still keg stands and thumping bass, drunk college students hollering and cheering in every corner, but all of these debaucherous acts are taking place inside of an expensive airBnB in downtown Seoul. The vibe is much glitzier than all the cramped dorm rooms of SNU’s Greek Row you’d gotten used to in the last month. (So you stand corrected. It’s a fancy frat party. Save for the Pitbull EDM mix blasting over the speakers.)
Somi is pulling you through the crowded living room by your wrist but turns to give you another once-over when you complain.
“A hot toddler,” she says.
You gag and she pretends she doesn’t hear it. “Like, annoyingly hot. So hot that I’m kind-of regretting unleashing my full Anna Wintour on you because like I said Seonghwa is going to be here later, and here you are looking like this, so I’d stop crying about your sexiness if I were you. Before I accidentally spill fireball on those Alexander Wang jeans in an attempt to knock you from ten to a nine and three-quarters.”
“Well, they’re your pants, so be my guest.”
She temporarily stops to glare at you. “Do you have to be so bitter all the time?”
“Yep. Trying to break Ryujin’s record for consecutive days salty.”
Somi rolls her eyes so hard you're afraid they might not come back. Eventually you reach your destination of the 'bar'— a marbled kitchen counter manned by some poor, probably-rushing freshman, judging by the exhausted look on his face as he tries to take the orders of the drunken mob surrounding the island— and turn to take in the crowd as your friend departs to try and flag him down.
There are way more people here than you’d been expecting. Easily a few hundred in the living area alone, dancing and partying the night away; and there’s a pool here, also, which you think is a very important detail to add. You’d passed it on the way across the rental but only briefly, just enough to hear the splashing, to see the blobs of people in the water. To notice that none of them were in swimsuits, only shirts and skirts and jeans like they’d all decided to jump in on a whim… and for their sake you hope this AirBnB has towels stocked, because freezing wet jeans are probably one of the worst feelings known to man.
(You unfortunately say this from experience. Because the last time you’d been to a party with a pool on the premises, you’d had to walk eight blocks home because no one wanted to let you into their car soaking wet. You’d gotten a nasty cold afterwards (and the lambasting of a lifetime from Mark) but you didn’t care, because who else could say they’ve done a cannonball off the roof of a mansion?)
You peek further over the thrumming party, wondering how angry Somi would get if you got her prized Wang jeans soaked in chlorine—
—and in the middle of trying to spy a towel or a wet head of hair, you see it.
Through the mass, past the DJ.
Right next the beer-pong table, half hidden behind a batch of swaying sorority girls… your eyes focus on a head of inky black tousled hair, and the tiny hoop glinting on the earlobe hidden amongst the strands. Why this catches your attention, you're not sure, but the percentage of jewelry wearing, black haired guys at SNU is almost triple digits and nothing to sneeze at... but then you see what's attached to the rest of the body, and your hackles raise like a cat spotting a giant dog. A silver bracelet around a pale wrist, a half empty bottle held between oddly-familiar fingers, a black t-shirt under a checkered gray flannel.
The same gray flannel you could have sworn you just saw back at Mark’s place, sitting snug on the shoulders of one Lee Jeno. What? Your eyes almost shoot out of your head.
“And you say that like three dudes haven’t already tried to snake your number in the fifteen minutes we’ve been here, you ungrateful wench.”
Somi pops into your vision. She thrusts a drink into your hand and all but yanks you in the opposite direction of the flannel guy. By the time you twist around to look back, the crowd has converged and he’s nowhere to be seen.
“Why are you tugging? That desperate to get dancing?”
“No, I just…” you trail off, alarmed. No way, right? No.
No way. It’s... It's a flannel. It’s a shirt. Seeing him in the apartment earlier must have done a worse number on your psyche than you thought. You take a fat swig from the cup and shoo the delusions away.
“Sorry, it's nothing, I thought I saw somebody I knew. What were you saying? Who's a wench?”
A beat passes. “Someone you knew?” Somi slowly repeats, completely sidestepping your attempt to get the conversation back on track, and you nearly curse. “What’s with that tone?”
“What tone.”
“That one. That longing, thoughtful, ‘maybe’. Is this someone a boy?”
Damn it. You don’t like the way she says it, or the waggly eyebrow she turns to give. You hesitate to answer and this is the wrong thing to do— she smells the blood in the water and halts in her tracks, eyebrows raising in surprise.
“Wait. Is it seriously a dude? Here? A guy you were with?”
“How do you know it wasn’t a girl?”
“I don’t. But when I said boy, your face got all weird, and you looked away from me. Y’know, like someone hiding something would? Like a truth hider?”
Damn it. You do not want to get into this with her right now. She simply waits the long, long moment you take to inhale another heavy swig and swallow.
“It’s not someone I was with. One of Mark’s friends.”
“Right, but Mark Lee is friends with everyone on this side of Seoul,” Somi scoffs, obviously unhappy with your answer. “Try again?”
Try again?
You don’t think so. There’s a lot of reasons why telling her anything about Lee Jeno right now is a bad idea (one of them being that Somi being a gigantic blabbermouth sober, much less with a few shots in her system) but the biggest is that while you’d met Somi in highschool, you’d only become close with her after your Jeno Obsession fizzled out. Which meant she had no idea the scale of your crush, or who it was even on.
The most she’d managed to sleuth out over the years was that you had a thing for one of Mark’s friends once upon a time… but even with that tiny bit of information, she’d become nearly insufferable trying to figure out who.
So. You couldn’t imagine what hell she’d enact on you now if you told her, ‘Hey, yeah, I think I just saw the guy I was in love with when I was fifteen lurking around here somewhere. Wanna go say hi, and ruin the rest of my waking life at this university? Cool!’
Urgh. The thought alone is shudder inducing.
You’re trying to figure out how to escape this conversation when coincidence gives you an out; Somi’s phone starts to ring.
“Try not to look so relieved,” she says pointedly, squinting at you as she answers, and you hide your sigh behind finishing your drink.
“Just you wait till… Hey, Doyeon, what is it? No, we got here like ten minutes ago, Y/N-ie and I were getting drinks. No, the others aren’t gonna get here ‘till later. Yes, Mark’s sister Y/N. No, there were, like, a billion other people trying to get to the… What? Where?”
She turns to look towards the staircase, then up towards the mezzanine overlook-thing above both of your heads.
“I thought you said upstairs was going to be boring,” Somi replies, seemingly unconvinced. “...Yeah, exactly, boring. Card games? Are you a youth pastor now? …Who else is there? Because if—”
All at once, her face changes. There’s no time to try and figure out why before she’s hanging up and grabbing your wrist, yanking you towards the stairs, fixing her skirt, fluffing her hair and checking her reflection in the window you pass all at the same time.
You’re halfway up the steps before you think to ask what’s happening.
“Seonghwa,” she says.
Ah. Yes. That would do it.
The two of you crest the staircase, and it’s a proper little loft up here. It’s a quarter of the size of the rest of the rental but still dark and fancy, a big couch here and a few loveseats there, a TV set to some random basketball game to fill out the sound, party goers milling about talking and laughing with each other. There's a healthy amount of people mingling about; enough so that you can’t immediately tell who’s who in the dim lighting.
“Almost there!” someone says. Doyeon, a pretty girl you vaguely recognize from around campus, is smiling at you with a raised eyebrow when you turn to the voice.
“Hey, you two. You’re gonna play Never Have I Ever with us, right?”
A lot of faces turn to look you both over. Including Seonghwa, you realize, when Somi’s hand tightens on your wrist. “Y… Yeah,” Somi says. “Yeah! You have room for a few more?”
“Of course! First party of the year, we’ve got to get a few icebreakers in, don’t we? Everyone has a drink, right? Let’s start!”
Never Have I Ever? You suppose that sounds tame enough. A good time filler until the rest of your friends get here and you can hit the dance floor, anyway— and there's never been a Never Have I Ever game you haven't won.
There’s enough activity going on that you don’t feel like an intruder for just taking the nearest open seat. (And the reason you sit down so quickly totally isn’t because you come to realize that the only other open seat is next to Seonghwa. Somi notices this a second too late and sends you a look that almost lights you on fire, but whatever. She came up here for him, no? You’re just helping out. She’d better remember your hard work at their wedding.)
“You go first, birthday boy! Draw a card!”
The dark haired guy sitting right next to you smiles widely, a boy who you've never seen before. Oops. Here you were at his party and you don’t even know his name.
“Alrighty, party people! Hold on to your hats! Never Have I Ever…” He laughs, blinking down at the card. “Oh, man. Starting strong. Never have I ever been a rebound.”
Oh. Double oops. A few faces grimace and silently knock back a shot, maybe a third of the twelve or thirteen people playing, so you don’t feel quite as sheepish as if you’d done it alone. You take one back and hide your smile as a few people whistle. One finger down.
“Naughty, all of you! But you didn't think that was it, right?" Birthday boy hums mischievously. "This card has a part two! If you knew you were a rebound, take another shot.”
Son of a bitch. Triple oops. The whistles get louder— growing into laughter as only one other person proudly takes their drink, “She was hot, it was worth it, no regrets,” the guy rasps— and as the group all search around for any more drinkers, you sigh and take another swallow.
“Okay, new girl!” someone hollers. You take your jeering and winks like a seasoned pro. It’s the nature of the game to get needled a little, and you don’t actually feel like these people are laughing at you as much as with you, so you absorb the attention easily.
“...And?” Birthday Boy says expectantly. You look at him and he’s looking right back at you like he’s waiting for an explanation, and it takes a second to realize what he’s referring to. “So? Spill. Your old school, or what?”
“What?” you blurt. “No way. I took my shot, when did storytime become a rule?”
“It’s ice-breaker Never Have I Ever,” he says with an eye roll, but his smile is playful and you know there’s no real teasing behind it. “And since now, because it’s my birthday, so tonight I make the rules. You just transferred here, right? We need to get to know you the best.”
“...Should I be worried as to how you know I just transferred here, Birthday Boy?”
“I’m omniscient,” he says quickly, at the same time Doyeon to his left cuts in, “He’s our student council VP. Wooyoung handles a lot of transfer stuff for freshmen and sophomores. He just also likes to be a creep about it; he does it to every transfer. Don’t mind him.”
‘Wooyoung’ ignores this in favor of giving you another expectant wiggly eyebrow. A few of the others seem curious too, like they’re interested to see what type of person you’ll be— and, well… you’ve never been the type to step down from a challenge, that much is certain.
“You should’ve chosen a more fun question to grill me on then, VP, because this is about one of the most mundane responses I have,” you sigh, feigning disappointment. “It was a guy I knew in highschool, and we were at a lake house for a friend's birthday. I was in the process of getting over someone, he was in the process of getting over someone, you know how the story goes— But it’s a little hard to be the most memorable experience when you’re being eaten alive by mosquitoes at the same time, right?”
A few laughs, a few nods in solidarity, you even get one loud ‘Mood’ from a particularly plastered looking girl with the loopiest smile on her face.
“Okay!” Wooyoung concludes enthusiastically. “See? Now we all know you don’t like mosquitos! We’re getting closer already.”
Everybody laughs, and the game goes on.
You only have one finger left when the universe decides you’ve had enough fun for one night.
It’s Somi who pulls the card this time. She’s certifiably wasted now, having both lost the game and finished her drink a few cards ago, and she squints for many seconds too long at the words on the paper— Seongwha quietly turns it over in her hands when she complains that the card she got was printed in Simlish.
“Oh,” she says quietly. “Nevermind. False alarm. Uh…. Never Have I Ever… well it doesn’t count for me, obviously, so it’s more like Never Have You Ever…”
You laugh at how cute she is. Seonghwa beside her lets his mask slip for a moment as he stares, and his little smile is so fond that it almost makes you ill.
“Never Have I Ever hooked up with one of my sibling's friends,” she finishes. "And if you're an only child, take two shots!"
Oh. What? You’re so busy smiling at Seonghwa that you almost don’t catch what she’s just said but once you do, the words hit you like a truck.
Hooked up with one of…? Hooked up with one of your siblings' friends?
Amongst the influx of ‘ooooh’s and giddy laughter, you go still in your seat.
Shit. That's not... At first it’s all you can do to pray Somi is too drunk to fully comprehend the question, or hope that maybe she’s too busy molding into Seongwha’s side to remember you’re here, but then she squints over at you, directly at you, and your heart actually almost falls out of your chest.
“I see you, Y/N-ie, don’t pretend you didn’t hear me,” she slurs giddily, accusatory, after a few seconds pass and you fail to put your last finger down. “Especially not when you already confessed to it earlier, with—”
“Somi—”
“—You and the mosquitos! Put that finger down, missy!”
Wooyoung gasps scandalously. You fly to your feet in an instant. You’re nowhere near sober but the bolt of embarrassment down your spine keeps you steely; you laugh loudly (unconvincingly) and grab Somi in one fell swoop, holding her up with a firm grip as she laughs and wobbles and clings to your side.
“I guess that means we're both out, haha...! Maybe it’s time we get a little air!”
“Air?” she echoes. “Yeah, that sounds pretty—Air! Take me away, lovely! To the world!”
She swings her arm around to point downstairs like a pirate declaring land on the horizon. A few laughs follow as you haul her towards the stairs, a handful of smiled ‘bye’s and ‘later’s to your sudden mortified departure— But you don’t get very far. Because of course you don’t.
Because who else would be coming up the staircase at this exact moment besides Na Jaemin?
And who else would Somi see, gasp loudly at the sight of, point her pretty blue fingernail at, and then proceed squeal at the top of her inebriated lungs:
“Mosquito boy!?”
You hear the Never Have I Ever group go quiet amongst Somi’s outburst. There’s a full beat of silence before the realization sinks in, and you stare up disbelievingly at the absolute worst person you could have possibly run into at this moment.
(“Oh shit,” Wooyoung says.)
Jaemin, none-the-wiser, just blinks. He’s polite enough to only be slightly confused instead of offended. “...Mosquito boy?”
There isn’t even time to be appalled by his appearance here, or think about why he doesn’t look surprised to see you, or explain what’s happening and tell him to run. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Me? Oh, I lost rock paper scissors,” he says, shrugging easily. He gestures to the two sodas he’s got in one hand, and the one Smirnoff lemonade in the other. “So I got put on drink duty, but it took ages because some freshman is—”
“No, Na, what are you doing here? I thought you said you were going out? What happened to hotpot?”
“Hotpot… still happened?” Jaemin says with a laugh. “We ate and then headed here. Wooyoung’s on my swim team so the invite was kind of mandatory— And, hey, you know if you just told us you were coming we could have carpooled or something, right? But you just wanted to be a big girl, huh? Sneak out on your own?”
He’s teasing, pretty grin on full kilowatt blast, but you can’t focus.
“We?” you almost bark. “Who is we?”
He raises an eyebrow, jutting his chin back to where you just came from. You turn around.
“Who else?” Jaemin says.
This is exactly what you don’t want to hear. And now that you know what to look for, they’re practically the most obvious faces in the room.
Lee Donghyuck. Lee Jeno. Sitting in the chairs right behind yours, practically only a whispered breath separating the back of the sofa you’d just been lounging in and the back of their loveseat, half obscured in the light from the game on TV— you suppose that’s why you didn’t see them at first— not even a few feet from where Somi’d just accidentally tossed one of your longest standing secrets to the wind.
And worse yet?
They’re already staring right at you.
Donghyuk’s eyes are so wide that they look like they’re about to fall out of his face. You can almost see the gears whirring in his head as his gaze darts frantically between you and Jaemin, computing, computing, computing, no doubt trying to piece together everything he’d just overheard about you and this alleged Mosquito Boy— and when you look at Jeno you find that you can’t get a read on his expression at all.
“To the woooorld,” Somi complains.
You turn on your heel and barge past Jaemin.
“Hey— Hey, wait, are you okay?”
You have other things to worry about right now. Like the singing, warbling, baby blonde paperweight wrapped around your shoulders. Jaemin seems to realize something is amiss now as he watches you amble down the stairs two at a time.
“Yep,” you mutter. "I don't know if you will be, though."
And you’re not lying. Because with the final glance you get at the loft, you notice that Jeno and Donghyuck are no longer looking at you. Now they’re boring four, burning holes into the side of Na Jaemin’s head.
The pool is even cooler up close. Too bad you’re too depressed to think about jumping in.
After wordlessly schlepping Somi onto your other friends, who’d arrived at the party sometime ago and just decided to hang out downstairs and play drink catch-up until you were done with the card game, you’d come to the conclusion that you needed a moment alone. Thankfully, the balcony was much more deserted than it had been when you’d last seen it. Most of the pool hoppers have disappeared to who-knows-where, which means it’s just moony-eyed couples out here now, music from inside muffled just enough to let you think without Waka Flocka trying to invade your brain.
You peer over the edge at the city traffic below, arms folded lifelessly over the glass railing.
You feel dumb for being embarrassed. You don’t want to admit it, but you do. So what if you hooked up? It was two summers ago. Both you and Jaemin were adults who could make their own damn decisions and you didn’t regret it at all, so it shouldn’t matter, right? It doesn’t.
(...But if it doesn’t matter, why’s your face still feel so fucking hot?)
You suppress a groan and flop your head onto your forearms, screwing your eyes shut and willing the burn under your cheeks to go away. Because if you’re being truthful… you know the reason you still feel so agitated, though the rest of the party has probably already forgotten about your little spill. It’s two reasons actually.
The first one is Mark. Just him. Mark. How he’ll react if he finds out. If he finds out.
You could really get into the true horrors of this idea if need be, the irreparable fallout it may cause between your brother and Jaemin, the truly world ending scolding you’d be sure to receive after breaking one of the most important laws of Sibling World— but whenever you think about any of that your stomach starts to churn with anxiety, and you’re not really interested in throwing up over the side of this balcony right now. So like with most problems, you push it to the backburner.
Something you can’t push away, however, is reason number two.
You’re worried about Jeno.
Which is stupid, because you have no reason to give a shit what he thinks about what just happened. He’s not your friend. But… But the look he’d had on his face is still bothering you more than you can really rationalize.
Because Donghyuck had looked a lot of things. Confused, surprised, and confused some more. Disbelieving. Confused. A quick flash of terror, and then dawning realization. All of which was understandable— Horrifyingly embarrassing, yes, but understandable.
But Jeno hadn’t had any of those expressions. He’d just looked...
Urgh. You don’t know. You can’t pinpoint it, and the longer you try to, the more irritated you get. You chalk it up to being too buzzed to think rationally; that must be the reason you’re having such a hard time shaking this off.
Time goes by. You focus on counting the cars driving by on the street below in an attempt to quell your racing thoughts and sober up a little bit— you get to twenty-three before your phone rings.
Someone is yelling before you can even get out a greeting when you answer.
“How the hell is Somi so wasted already? Did she dive into the bar?! You were only here for an hour before us!”
“And hello to you too, Ryu.”
“Sorry I don’t have time for pleasantries, I’m trying to fight off your goddamn pet! Where are you? Did you go back upstairs?”
Like hell you’d do that right now. “I’m outside. And Seonghwa is here, remember? She was sitting next to him during the game and I’m guessing she got a little carried away with the drinks.” You sigh. “She’s not coming to her senses?”
“No! She keeps trying to kiss me!”
“I’m… I’m on my way back. Where are you guys?”
“There’s a den off the living room, near the front door, we’ve kind of holed up in there. Be quick about it! Damn it, Somi, stop fondling—”
She hangs up. That sure is your Ryujin.
And that sure is your Somi too, you suppose, even though if she were a baby right now you’d be fighting the urge to leave her at the front step of an orphanage. (But she’s pretty much your best ride-or-die friend. Not to mention she’s taken care of you on some pretty rough nights, nights much worse than some spilled secrets and embarrassing situations… So even though you’re stiff with dread and you still kind of want to strangle her, you don’t really have it in you to really get mad.)
(And, at the very least you can make her grovel tomorrow when she’s sober.)
Speaking of tomorrow. Calling it an early night is starting to sound more and more like a good idea. Lia was supposed to drive you all home, hence the virgin pink lemonade she’d had in her hand when you dropped Somi on her, but fuck it. She just got here and you don’t want to ruin her night by making her play chauffeur so early in the party, and plus, it’s Friday night in Seoul, barely past 11PM. The Ubers and Lyfts should be out in droves. It’s fine.
You turn around to head back inside, rubbing your eyelids in an attempt to look a little less haggard, but once again you don’t make it very far— because you immediately crash forehead first into what feels like a brick wall.
What the hell? You don’t even have time to yelp before a hand quickly grabs onto your arm as you bounce off of the obstacle, eyes flying open when you stumble backwards—
—But when you see who’s face is a foot from yours, you seriously wish you’d just kept your eyes closed.
(You’re really starting to hate gray flannel.)
“For god’s sake, can you please start making noise when you walk?!”
“Why?” Jeno says. “ You could just look up once in a while, you know, use those big eyes of yours? Second time today I’ve surprised you.”
‘Kiss my ass,’ you want to hiss. And it almost slips out, too, because you’re tipsy and tired and embarrassed and all your brain power is going into trying to figure out why he’s out here right now, but at the last second you remember you’re not close. No matter how many times you've seemed to run across him these last few days.
You purse your lips and subdue a sigh.
“Can I help you with something, Lee?”
He hears the lack of enthusiasm. He lets you go; you hadn’t even realized he was still touching you.
“Jaemin’s looking for you.”
Urgh. “Of course he is,” you mutter. “I’ll… I’ll find him later. It’s not like you don’t all basically live at the apartment anyway, ‘couldn’t run if I wanted to.”
Your phone vibrates two, three, four times in your hand in quick succession. Ryujin, no doubt.
“Tell him I’m leaving.”
“Leaving?” Jeno repeats, eyebrows raising. His eyes follow you as you slip past him. “Wait what? Why?”
“...Is that a real question, Jeno?”
“Well—” And there it is. The first acknowledgement of everything he’d overheard in the loft. Jeno hesitates, bringing one hand up to absentmindedly rub at the back of his neck as he mulls your words over, the less than subtle ‘you know why’ in your voice. It’s quite obvious the reason you might want to get the hell out of here, and now it’s flashing all over his face— he knows it too.
Your mood sours further. Going home is really sounding good right now.
“Right,” you mutter. “Bye.”
“Hold on,” he blurts. You don’t stop walking but you do slow down. “How are you getting home?”
“Uber.”
He takes a step towards you. “An Uber? Right now? While you’re like this?”
“Like what? I’m not going to be alone, Jeno, and Somi’s house is like twenty minutes from here.”
“That’s not the point. You drank, didn’t you? And your friend is pretty much wasted. You’re going to maneuver her all the way across Gangnam this late?”
Mark must’ve rubbed off on the others in the last few years more than you’d realized. You can’t remember the last time anyone besides your brother has questioned you like this.
“I’ve done it before, and I don’t suddenly become stupid after a few drinks. I’ll be fine. And it’s not like I’ve got any other options that make sense right—”
“I’ll take you.”
This gets you to halt.
He takes this as an invitation to continue talking, but you’re so surprised that you don’t even think to wonder why he’s explaining himself. “I’m— We only really came to make sure Wooyoung couldn’t sulk at us for not showing up. We were planning to leave soon anyway, so I’ll take you.”
You stare at him. He stares right back.
...Dealing with Somi alone would pose the risk of many things, you guess. Injuring yourself trying to carry her around, waiting a half an hour to get picked up, the possibility of her throwing up in the car, paying the ridiculous price that taxi’s charge during peak clubbing hours, having to haul her into the lobby, and the elevator, and across her massive apartment by yourself...
But if you take Jeno’s offer you’ll be in the car with them for nearly half an hour.
Half an hour with Donghyuck, Jeno, and Jaemin. Arguably the last three people in the world you want to be trapped in a tight space with right now.
"Are you practicing for a taxi certification or something? What's with you and all the rides lately?"
Okay. Suspicious deflection. Not your most proud diversion tactic, but you were caught off guard by his offer, and need more time to think. Jeno only folds his arms over his chest. A gust of wind blows his hair around, and you absentmindedly wonder if there's a reason he decided to let his hair get shaggy, when it was always so short and neat in highschool. You're not complaining— you think it certainly suits him like this, too.
"I could ask you the same thing, you know. What's with all your sudden need for rides?"
"I never said I needed anything from you," you mutter. Then, under your breath, "And you say that you don't answer questions with more questions."
He doesn't respond to this. Just raises an eyebrow, like he's picked up on the fact that you're stalling. Damn.
“...How fast will you drive?”
He smiles like this is what he was hoping to hear. “The speed limit, hotshot. I’m going to have three drunk college students in my car, driving any faster is just asking to be pulled over.”
You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Typical Jeno answer. Rule follower until the end.
“Lame.”
“Lame, yet alive. I’ll meet you outside in… five?”
You don’t really have it in you to say anything, so you just screw your eyes shut and nod.
This is going to suck, you think.
It’s definitely going to suck. It’s going to be embarrassing and awkward and it’s going to suck a lot, and it’s probably going to suck a little more every time you look at any of your brother's friends for the next few days. But you square your shoulders and turn to follow him back inside of the party anyway, because you’ve never really been one to get shy and you have a reputation to uphold— so you guess you shouldn’t start now.
Jaemin doesn’t make a big deal of it. Neither do you. That’s how you survive the reunion in the hallway outside of the rental without melting into a puddle of regret and mortification.
In the millisecond your eyes met his smile faltered, seemingly a million things flashing over his face at once— which made you nervous that taking Jeno’s offer had been, in fact, a terrible fucking move— but then in the very next moment, it’s gone. He’s normal again. Jaemin smiles at you, and then asks if you’re ready to go.
So you nod. And he nods. And everything is okay.
(Or as okay as things can be with Donghyuck quite obviously staring at the both of you out of the corner of his eye, pretending to admire a fake potted plant next to the floor elevator, whistling weakly to himself… and everything continues to be ‘okay’ until you all get into Jeno’s car.)
Jeno, reading the room, had initially turned the aux on blast before you could even shovel Somi into the middle seat and sit down yourself, probably because he thought no one would want to talk— but Somi was nothing if not a social butterfly and the pink smirnoff running through her blood only exacerbated that. She pretty much immediately ignored your attempts to keep her quiet and instead, laser focused her last few functioning brain cells on trying to make three new friends.
So the ride starts with an interview.
Somi warbly asks what subjects they’re majoring in. (Photography for Jaemin, Engineering for Jeno, and Music Composition for Donghyuck.)
And if they had girlfriends. (No, No, and No.)
And if they remembered her from highschool. (Yes, Yes, and a ‘Duh, who wouldn’t know you’ from Donghyuck.)
You had a feeling they didn’t mind indulging her because the more she talked, the less airtime there was for anyone to think about what happened in the loft, and although you’d felt a little bad about the interrogation at first you eventually couldn’t help but be a little glad that Somi was filling the silence.
Not to mention you’d learned a few things you didn’t already know, too. Like when Somi asks question number thirty-six thousand on her list.
“You guys always seemed like, like… Booky types, back in highschool. Like kids who played Starcraft all night, you know? Did you ever do anything crazy?”
You only snickered, knowing full well just how true that assumption was from nights you’d walk past the basement door after getting a snack from the kitchen, only to hear all of them down there screaming jargon about ‘Dodge! Dodge the dogs, dumbass!’ and ‘Whesker’s got one eye left, reload the rocket launcher!’, amongst the faint video game music mumbling through the floorboards.
So you’d expected them to say no, obviously. But Donghyuck just laughs.
“You want to take this one, Jeno?”
The man in question only shrugs. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, doesn’t laugh or jeer or smile mischievously like Hyuck is doing, only glances back to check the traffic behind him as he merges lanes. “We went to a club in Itaewon, once. In highschool.”
You stop laughing.
“Modesty, modesty, modesty,” Hyuck sighs, “What No-Jam means, is that we snuck into a nightclub in Itaewon for his eighteenth birthday— four dumbass, over-dressed kids with the most fake-looking IDs in the entire world, like I honestly don’t know how we didn’t get caught at the door because they seriously looked like garbage. It was like, SuperBad Mc’Lovin levels of hilariously terrible—”
It's started drizzling outside, muted pattering against the roof, but it seems no one's noticed.
“— But that’s not even the worst part. You want to know what this dumbass does once we’re inside? We’re inside for five minutes and he gets in a fight with the biggest fucking guy in there. Spills an entire glass of fireball down his girlfriend's dress, and goes ‘Oops. My bad. That’s not expensive, right?”
“I didn’t get into a fight,” Jeno corrects quickly, whining. Your jaw has hit the floor. It’s rolling around somewhere under the passenger seat, alongside Jeno’s Advanced Statistics textbook. “Saying it like that makes it sound like I was going around acting like a thug. That guy was wasted and swung at me first, I just— I did what I had to do to keep from getting my ass kicked. Why do you always tell this story like this!”
“He was built like a house,” Jaemin murmurs fondly from the front seat, reminiscing. “I thought he was going to rip you in half. I remember Renjun and I were trying to figure out which one of us should jump on his back and who should try to trip him, like in the cartoons. It’s a miracle any of us made it to adulthood.”
Donghyuck cackles. “But of course we didn’t need to help at all, ‘cause Jeno knocked him the fuck out."
This breaks your silence. You gasp. Somi squeals with glee.
At this revelation Jeno does react, grimacing, taking one hand off the wheel to wave his hand like something is being lost in translation. “I didn’t— He was fine, I think he was just a little clumsy—”
“Jeno cracked him once and it was like he pushed over the Eiffel Tower, dude fell for ages. But we didn’t see him hit the ground because his girlfriend started screaming that we, like, killed him or whatever, so we left.”
“You left?” you echo incredulously. “They let you leave?”
“We ran,” Jaemin corrects, laughing to himself, “We ran all the way back to the metro and went straight home like the scared little kids we were, because we thought we’d be arrested and jailed forever if they caught us. Or worse— that they’d call our parents.”
Somi is practically choking with laughter, and you’re not doing too much better yourself— you accidentally make eye contact with Jeno through the rear-view mirror, hand over your mouth to hide just how hard you’re laughing at his luck, and when he sees your expression his embarrassed look shifts into what you can only label a pout.
“Glad you all find my lowest moment so funny,” he says.
“Funny?” Somi giggles, “That’s hilarious! Man, I had no idea you guys were even interested in clubs, the way you all acted back then. You were worse than us!”
Donghyuck doesn’t take this easily. “Worse than you? Not a chance! Your Instagram stories back then used to be insane, no way we did anything more crazy than you— Didn’t you party with BlackPink once?”
“Well… yeah, but she’s not kidding,” you tell him. Why you’re divulging this information, you’re not sure— you must still be a bit tipsier than you thought. “We knew better than to go anywhere near Itaewon clubs in highschool, that’s practically asking to get caught. Especially with a fake ID.”
“You say this like you have experience, Rockstar,” Hyuck says scandalously, wiggling his eyebrows at you from next to Somi, and you raise your own at him.
“And you say that like you didn’t just tell me Jeno killed somebody in a club when you were eighteen.”
“Hey!” Jeno barks. “Can we not? This is exactly how rumors are made!”
The rest of the car bursts into laughter. At some point during the drive, unknown to the rest of you, the rain picked up in intensity. Nothing ridiculous, just a slowly building whitenoise that blurred the nightlife outside into bright, colorful streaks through the window— and if anything, only served to further keep you talking, keep you unaware of what was going on beyond the glass. The five of you were having too fun a time reminiscing to really notice anything outside, talking about anything and anything, happenings on campus and what not; you even end up telling them about your showcase at the end of the month when Somi casually mentions that your dance group got chosen a few days ago to perform at the Aegon Center.
(“Which is a big fucking deal,” Somi chagrinned, elbowing you, “Cause only one group from each university get’s the chance! Why do you always try to play it down?! Be proud!”
And you tried not to focus too hard on the way Jeno’s eyes softened when they caught yours again in the mirror, the congratulatory nod he gave you while Donghyuck was whooping and hollering and asking when it was and if they could come.)
It’s only when all five of your phones vibrate at the exact same time do you really start to notice what’s happening outside.
“...Extreme thunderstorm warning?” Jaemin reads aloud, echoing the words on all of your screens. What?
It would be comical, the way you pretty much all swivel your heads to look outside, if the rain pounding the street outside wasn’t suddenly coming down with enough force to rip the leaves from trees.
“Seoul Weather Safety Association recommends taking shelter until sunrise, when the storm is set to lighten, roads…” Donghyuck hesitates, bringing the phone closer to his face as if he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.
“Roads closing for non-essential vehicles, in effect at midnight? Wait, what the hell? They can do that?”
You look at your phone again, the mood suddenly dashed in half. 11:28PM. “Midnight?” you echo. “But midnight is in half an hour. How…”
The unsaid question is understood by everyone pretty much instantly. How are all of you supposed to get home in half an hour? Jeno’s apartment is forty-five minutes away from Gangnam, and that’s with absolutely no traffic, much less the sea of red lights you’re trapped behind right now— which means there’s no way even he can get home before the weather gets worse.
For a very long moment no one says anything, as this fact permeates into the atmosphere with record speed as the rain continues to thunder against the roof of the car…
But Somi doesn’t seem to be on the same wavelength.
“Aw, why do you all look so sad all of a sudden? You’re acting like we’re not a block from my house! Don’t you know what this means?!”
She’s poking her head into the front seat to grin loopily out of the windshield at the waterfall cascading against the windows.
A block from her house? Is she suggesting what you think she’s—
“We can have a sleepover!”
You half expected her words, and yet the exclamation rings out like a gunshot in the silence anyway. You can only stare at her, disbelieving. Not at her terminally optimistic attitude— because you’ve had enough time at her side to come to terms with that— but at the fact that her crazy fucking outlandish suggestion... might not just be a crazy outlandish suggestion. If the Seoul Weather Association is serious about how severe this storm is going to get, it... it might be one of your only options.
Holy shit. What did the universe have against you?
“It’s not like you’ve really got any other options, right?” Somi voices your thoughts after a moment, grinning when Hyuck only laughs a little awkwardly. Finally coming to your senses, you jab her with your elbow. She makes a sound like a kicked Minecraft villager.
“What! What? Am I wrong?”
“Try to sound a little less happy about it,” you hiss. She rubs her side, pouting, but seems more or less nonplussed. Jeno pulls into the turning lane, the road that leads into the ridiculously fancy parking structure underneath Somi’s building.
A crack of thunder lights the sky up white for a second, loud enough everyone flinches, even Na Slow-Reflexes Jaemin jolting a little in his seat.
“You're not wrong,” Jaemin murmurs. “But isn't this kind of sudden? You don’t really... know us all that well. Is staying here until the storm subsides really okay?”
“Why wouldn't it be?! I mean we may not be best friends yet, but it’s not like you’re strangers! I mean, I remember when you had braces.”
Jaemin laughs under his breath. “Right.”
You catch Jeno’s eyes once again in the mirror. He tries a pleasant smile, but the crease between his eyebrow tells you that he’s just as unsure about this as you are. Your phone vibrates in your hand. When you see who's name it is on the lockscreen, your stomach twists with the blatant reminder of why this sudden 'sleepover' has the worst timing in the entire world.
[Na Jaemin, 11:35PM] This is okay, right?
[You, 11:35] ??? of course it is, if the storm gets worse then it’s going to be dumb for you guys to drive in it just to be courteous or whatever
[You, 11:35] and som seems to really want company lol
[Na Jaemin, 11:36PM] Yeah, I mean I get that, that’s not really what I meant though
[Na Jaemin, 11:36PM] I mean are we okay
[You, 11:36] of course we’re okay
[You, 11:36] i mean obviously i was intending to take that day to the grave, but i suppose my friend screaming it to an entire party of people could have been a close second outcome
[Na Jaemin, 11:37PM] Only close second? Are you ashamed of me, Rockstar? Am I ugly? :(
[You, 11:37] you’re the prettiest bad decision i ever made, Na Jaemin, if that makes you feel better
“The garage code is 012709,” Somi tells Jeno. You stare down at your phone, at the suddenly appearing and disappearing typing bubble on Jaemin’s end.
[Na Jaemin, 11:37PM] It does.
[Na Jaemin, 11:37PM] But… honestly
[Na Jaemin, 11:37PM] I’m curious. Am I the prettiest person in this car right now?
[Na Jaemin, 11:38PM] To you, I mean. Between me and… I don’t know
[Na Jaemin, 11:38PM] Let’s say
[Na Jaemin, 11:38PM] Lee Jeno
You whip your eyes up. You’re sitting right behind Jaemin so you can’t quite see his expression, but he’s bobbing his head along with the music and drumming his free fingers on the center console like he didn’t just say what he said.
Why the hell would he ask you that?
[You, 11:39PM] weird segway, Na Bunny
[You, 11:39PM] get your ego stroked somewhere else, I already called you pretty
The car comes to a stop and you exit the messaging app altogether, pretending you don’t see the typing bubble, shoving your phone into the purse Somi’d brought along since you didn’t want to carry a bag. While you’d been distracted Somi must have directed Jeno to the visitor parking, black car blending in pretty well with the dozens of other dark colored Audi’s and Benz’s holed up nearby, and without waiting for anyone to speak you crack the door open and step out. (Perfect timing— If he asks, you’ll blame your avoidance on sudden onset claustrophobia.)
You feel Jaemin’s gaze on the side of your face when everyone else gets out, but you quite pointedly keep your narrowed eyes ahead. Somi shuttles you all into the elevator, chattering excitedly.
Menial small talk is achieved, nothing you’re really paying attention to as you stare at the white LED counting down the floors until you get to—
“You live on the top floor?” Donghyuck blurts.
Somi laughs. She’s got an arm looped around his to keep herself upright. She still looks quite drunk, but at least she’s starting to regain proper motor function.
“I’m a leech,” Somi slurs sweetly. All three of them whirl to look at her in varying levels of concern and she laughs again, even louder. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding, gosh, look at your faces. No, I live with my older brother,” she explains, “Cause’ this place is way closer to campus than my parents place, but he's never home ‘cause he’s always busy with work. So I guess I kind of live by myself?”
“On the top floor of the Palisades Tower, you live by yourself?” Donghyuck says again, even more incredulous.
“Doesn’t IU live here?” Jaemin asks absentmindedly.
“Yeah,” Somi nods.
“And Rain?”
“Yeah! He’s so nice,” she says dreamily. “And so fit. Every time I go to the gym he’s there. The cameras do not do him justice.”
The elevator doors ding open. Since there’s only two apartments up here, the hallway leading to each one is pretty fancy by itself, a corridor on the side of the building with floor to ceiling windows. You’re 25 floors up so the view is amazing— you hear Donghyuck and Jaemin ooh-ing and waah-ing as you wander sullenly across the black marble— and through the glass, you witness the dark state of Seoul. Navy black clouds, distant rolling thunder, flashes of light, and an absolutely torrential looking downpour.
Great.
The roads will be closing any minute now. And with every passing second, it’s starting to seem more and more like Jeno, Jaemin, and Donghyuck will not be leaving until the sun rises. (An entire night together after what just happened at the party, where you’d pretty much never wanted to look any of them in the eye again. Your life's comedic timing has never been so consice.)
Somi punches in the code to her front door and all but kicks it open once it chimes, whipping around to face you and her three new captives friends with a smile.
“So!” she says happily. A rolling crack of thunder lights up the apartment behind her ominously, as you and your brother's friends hover in her corridor. She doesn’t even seem to hear it. “Who wants Jajangmyeon?!”
[♥︎]: and there it is, folks! please leave a like if you enjoyed! it REALLY gives me the motivation to work on this faster <3
[a/n]: im sorry this took so long *cowboy hat emoji*
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YOU ATTEMPT TO RETURN TO THE BLISSFUL, JENO-LESS EXISTENCE YOU LED BEFORE THE NIGHT OF OF YOUR LITTLE ADVENTURE. IT DOESN'T WORK.
Because your life apparently wasn’t hard enough, three and half weeks into the semester— around the time when everyone on campus should be settling into routine, not finding new surprises— you now see Lee Jeno around every corner of SNU.
(Figuratively and quite literally, if you’re counting a few days ago when he almost ran you over in Starbucks. His face had been buried in some schematic workbook as he wandered around one of the booths and, thankfully, he’d been too engrossed in the pages to do anything but stare when you yelped in surprise; and the moment of confusion had been just long enough for you to turn on your heel and dash out of that place. Why’d you run? You have no idea. Overkill? Probably. But when you think about what would have happened if you didn’t dip— some horrifying manner of small talk, no doubt— you’d choose to look like a crazy person a million more times if you had to.)
Places he hadn’t been before, Jeno now appears. He’s ahead of you in line in the cafeteria, playing games on his phone.
He’s in the campus quad, basketball under his arm, face alight with sweat as he laughs at something one of his teammates says.
Lee Jeno is in the library, trying and failing to catch the sour jellies Donghyuck is launching into the air via pencil-rubber band catapult. (And Lee Jeno is in your head for hours after they get kicked out, dumb croaky laugh floating around in your thoughts no matter how loudly you crank the volume of your headphones.)
He’s everywhere. Everywhere. A cruel joke played unto you by the heavens. And until today, it was your only mercy that the one place he suddenly didn’t seem to frequent, was the apartment in which you unfortunately lived.
When you got home, you’d been distracted. Too distracted to properly vet for any Lee Jeno-shaped figures the moment you opened the door. Outfit planning when Jeon Somi is involved is always a harrowing, full body experience, so your eyes (and unfortunately, attention) are elsewhere when you lock the door behind you and toss your keys on the kitchen island. You stop dead in the middle of the foyer to respond to the group chat, fingers flying across the screen in an attempt to veto all of her insane suggestions before they can truly take shape— Matching pink tube-tops?— so you don’t look up to see who’s in the living room.
“Rockstar!” a voice calls out.
Jaemin. Expected, because you’re pretty sure he’s here more often than his own home. His sing-songy voice is intermingled with video game sounds and Donghyuck’s curses.
Only two of them being around is rare, on oddity with the amount of them that have free time at this hour, but you're too busy frowning at your phone to think too hard about that.
[Somi Brat, 5:47PM]: IF NOT PINK TUBE TOPS THEN WHAT, BITCH????? DID YOU NOT HEAR ME WHEN I SAID SEONGWHA WAS GOING TO BE THERE
[You, 5:47PM]: wtf do you mean then what
[You, 5:47PM]: literally anything else you psycho it’s a frat party not the met
“How many times have I told you to stop calling me that, Na?”
“Oh, maybe a thousand,” he says innocently. “But I told you that I’ll drop it when you come up with something better. Rockstar has so much history. How old were you when I started calling you that, huh? Five? Six?”
You grunt in disapproval. “Try fourteen.”
[LIALOMLPERFECTANGEL, 5:47PM]: They would not let you into the Met in a tube top <3
[Somi Brat, 5:47PM]: I NEED TO STAND OUT THIS IS THE FIRST REAL EVENT OF THE YEAR
[Somi Brat, 5:49PM]: AND ITS NOT A FRAT PARTY, ITS A BIRTHDAY THING, ITS WAY DIFFERENT
[Somi Brat, 5:48PM]: ALL YOU DO IS WEAR YOUR DUMB LEATHER JACKET AND CALL IT AN OUTFIT
[Somi Brat, 5:48PM]: BE SEXY WITH ME FOR ONE NIGHT! IT WILL NOT KILL YOU!!!!
[You, 5:48PM]: No
[LIALOMLPERFECTANGEL, 5:48PM]: But she looks hot in that leather jacket ;3c
[Somi Brat, 5:49PM]:YKW? IM COMNG TO GET YOU
[Somi Brat, 5:49PM]: IM GOING TO MAKE YOU AN OUTFIT. YOU OWE ME. GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER YOU'RE COMING TO MY HOUSE
[chaeyoung beloved, 5:50PM]: wait hold on. why do WE have to match for YOU to get laid?
[Ryubear, 5:50PM]: Are you trying to tell us that Seongwha wants to fuck a quadruplet?
[chaeyoung beloved, 5:50PM]: 💀
“I’ll think about it,” Jaemin simpers, which he always says when you scold him for that stupid nickname, so that really means that he’ll be doing no such thing. “Anyway! We’re going to eat out a little later, do you want to come? Hyuck was thinking hotpot but if Renjun finds out we had hotpot without him he’ll throw a fit, so you could be our tie-breaker. Other option is burgers.”
“Renjun getting angry is half the fun,” Donghyuck cuts in absentmindedly. “It’s cute when his face gets all pink and pouty— Damn it, piece of shit Mcree! Stupid fucking—”
Hotpot…? Hotpot. You’re only half listening to them.
You just hum in response, too preoccupied with trying to read the onslaught of texts the group chat is receiving; and to add to the distraction, Somi doesn’t seem to be bluffing about coming to get you earlier than previously planned. Which means she’s actually on her way here— and you’re not ready at all.
“I’m not going to be home tonight, Jaem. Actually, I’m probably gonna be out of here in the next ten minutes. Sorry.” With Somi behind the wheel, it actually might be closer to five. “But my vote would’ve been burgers.”
“Traitor,” Donghyuck whines.
Your phone finally stops vibrating with notifications and you begin to drift towards your bedroom. You guess you should be counting your lucky stars that Mark’s not here, honestly, because with the grilling he’d be subjecting you to right now there’s no way you’d be able to pack in time.
‘Leaving?’ he’d ask. ‘What do you mean you’re leaving? Where are you going?’
No answer would suffice. You could say you were headed to Rome to get blessed by the Vatican himself, and he’d still ask how well you knew the guy.
Did you at least check the traffic report?
How are you getting there?
Want me to drop you off? What about pick you up?
Don’t take Yeoksam, I heard that road was slow earlier.
Take a jacket. Did you check the forecast? What if it rains?
“Thunderstorms tonight.”
…Wait. That last one didn’t come from you. Mark’s nagging voice is almost comically high in your head, and that tone you’d just heard was so gruff that it was closer to bass than anything else— which meant it didn’t come from Jaemin or Donghyuck either. You spin around so fast that you almost slip on the hardwood.
Five pairs of eyes are staring back at you when you whip your gaze towards the living room.
“It’s supposed to storm tonight,” Jeno repeats.
He must take your stunned silence as disbelief, because he even reaches into his pocket to find his phone and dutifully check the weather. You stare at him as though he’s just materialized into your home, deer in headlights. “Pretty late, near midnight.”
“Oh, yeah,” Jaemin adds. “I heard it was going to be pretty nasty, actually. Where are you headed? You’re not going to be out in that, right?”
Jeno tilts his head back to look at you when you don't respond, and you look away after what feels like a second too long.
Suddenly you feel like you’ve been plugged into an electrical outlet; thoughts stumbling, overly aware of what you’re wearing, what your hair must look like after walking home through the blazing wind. “No… Uh, no. No, a friend is picking me up. I’m not driving.”
Chenle snickers. “Way to dodge the question,” he says snootily.
“And way to not mind your business,” you mutter back, expression instantly souring. “What, you don’t have any school children to dunk on right now, Lele?”
You stick your tongue out at him reflexively when he turns all the way around in his seat to glare at you. “Will you shut up about that? It was one kid. And my business? Your whereabouts are my business, fool, because if you die in some freak rain accident Mark will skin all of us alive for not at least asking you where you were going. So sue me for trying to self-preserve—”
Jisung smacks him.
He almost takes Chenle’s shoulder off with how hard he swings, tweety-bird pout taking up half his face as the other boy yelps. The attack surprises you as much as it does him. “Hey! Don’t say things like that! Haven’t you heard of manifestation!?”
“Manifestation?” Chenle repeats, eyes wide. “Since when do you know words that big?”
“Mark told me about it! He was telling me during dance practice today—”
“And so because he said it, it must be true? Do you believe in fortune cookies too, Jisung? Or do you only pretend to be stupid when Mark is around?”
Jisung’s ears go pink and he leaps onto Chenle, but the older boy is ready for him. The living room descends into the squabbling you’ve become so accustomed to in these last few weeks, and the moment Jaemin’s attention is no longer on you— “Don’t fight, children, don’t fight!”— you take the chance to escape. There are eyes on your back when you snatch your bag up from the ground (whose, you’re not quite sure, although you know who you hope it’s not) and you shut your bedroom door just in time to see a text from Somi’s come to life on your still-cracked screen.
God. You can’t catch a break.
[Somi Brat, 5:57PM]:TWO MINUTES AWAY, LOVERGIRL
[Somi Brat, 5:57PM]:I HOPE YOU’RE READY, BECAUSE TONIGHT IS GOING TO BE ONE FOR THE RECORDS 😈
You stare at this text for much longer than is probably sane, lungs tingling in your chest when you realize you're holding your breath— and for some ominous reason... you have a feeling that she's not going to be wrong.
“I feel like I’m wearing toddler clothes.”
You’d been wrong to preemptively call the Sigma Kappa event ‘just’ a frat party. There’s still keg stands and thumping bass, drunk college students hollering and cheering in every corner, but all of these debaucherous acts are taking place inside of an expensive airBnB in downtown Seoul. The vibe is much glitzier than all the cramped dorm rooms of SNU’s Greek Row you’d gotten used to in the last month. (So you stand corrected. It’s a fancy frat party. Save for the Pitbull EDM mix blasting over the speakers.)
Somi is pulling you through the crowded living room by your wrist but turns to give you another once-over when you complain.
“A hot toddler,” she says.
You gag and she pretends she doesn’t hear it. “Like, annoyingly hot. So hot that I’m kind-of regretting unleashing my full Anna Wintour on you because like I said Seonghwa is going to be here later, and here you are looking like this, so I’d stop crying about your sexiness if I were you. Before I accidentally spill fireball on those Alexander Wang jeans in an attempt to knock you from ten to a nine and three-quarters.”
“Well, they’re your pants, so be my guest.”
She temporarily stops to glare at you. “Do you have to be so bitter all the time?”
“Yep. Trying to break Ryujin’s record for consecutive days salty.”
Somi rolls her eyes so hard you're afraid they might not come back. Eventually you reach your destination of the 'bar'— a marbled kitchen counter manned by some poor, probably-rushing freshman, judging by the exhausted look on his face as he tries to take the orders of the drunken mob surrounding the island— and turn to take in the crowd as your friend departs to try and flag him down.
There are way more people here than you’d been expecting. Easily a few hundred in the living area alone, dancing and partying the night away; and there’s a pool here, also, which you think is a very important detail to add. You’d passed it on the way across the rental but only briefly, just enough to hear the splashing, to see the blobs of people in the water. To notice that none of them were in swimsuits, only shirts and skirts and jeans like they’d all decided to jump in on a whim… and for their sake you hope this AirBnB has towels stocked, because freezing wet jeans are probably one of the worst feelings known to man.
(You unfortunately say this from experience. Because the last time you’d been to a party with a pool on the premises, you’d had to walk eight blocks home because no one wanted to let you into their car soaking wet. You’d gotten a nasty cold afterwards (and the lambasting of a lifetime from Mark) but you didn’t care, because who else could say they’ve done a cannonball off the roof of a mansion?)
You peek further over the thrumming party, wondering how angry Somi would get if you got her prized Wang jeans soaked in chlorine—
—and in the middle of trying to spy a towel or a wet head of hair, you see it.
Through the mass, past the DJ.
Right next the beer-pong table, half hidden behind a batch of swaying sorority girls… your eyes focus on a head of inky black tousled hair, and the tiny hoop glinting on the earlobe hidden amongst the strands. Why this catches your attention, you're not sure, but the percentage of jewelry wearing, black haired guys at SNU is almost triple digits and nothing to sneeze at... but then you see what's attached to the rest of the body, and your hackles raise like a cat spotting a giant dog. A silver bracelet around a pale wrist, a half empty bottle held between oddly-familiar fingers, a black t-shirt under a checkered gray flannel.
The same gray flannel you could have sworn you just saw back at Mark’s place, sitting snug on the shoulders of one Lee Jeno. What? Your eyes almost shoot out of your head.
“And you say that like three dudes haven’t already tried to snake your number in the fifteen minutes we’ve been here, you ungrateful wench.”
Somi pops into your vision. She thrusts a drink into your hand and all but yanks you in the opposite direction of the flannel guy. By the time you twist around to look back, the crowd has converged and he’s nowhere to be seen.
“Why are you tugging? That desperate to get dancing?”
“No, I just…” you trail off, alarmed. No way, right? No.
No way. It’s... It's a flannel. It’s a shirt. Seeing him in the apartment earlier must have done a worse number on your psyche than you thought. You take a fat swig from the cup and shoo the delusions away.
“Sorry, it's nothing, I thought I saw somebody I knew. What were you saying? Who's a wench?”
A beat passes. “Someone you knew?” Somi slowly repeats, completely sidestepping your attempt to get the conversation back on track, and you nearly curse. “What’s with that tone?”
“What tone.”
“That one. That longing, thoughtful, ‘maybe’. Is this someone a boy?”
Damn it. You don’t like the way she says it, or the waggly eyebrow she turns to give. You hesitate to answer and this is the wrong thing to do— she smells the blood in the water and halts in her tracks, eyebrows raising in surprise.
“Wait. Is it seriously a dude? Here? A guy you were with?”
“How do you know it wasn’t a girl?”
“I don’t. But when I said boy, your face got all weird, and you looked away from me. Y’know, like someone hiding something would? Like a truth hider?”
Damn it. You do not want to get into this with her right now. She simply waits the long, long moment you take to inhale another heavy swig and swallow.
“It’s not someone I was with. One of Mark’s friends.”
“Right, but Mark Lee is friends with everyone on this side of Seoul,” Somi scoffs, obviously unhappy with your answer. “Try again?”
Try again?
You don’t think so. There’s a lot of reasons why telling her anything about Lee Jeno right now is a bad idea (one of them being that Somi being a gigantic blabbermouth sober, much less with a few shots in her system) but the biggest is that while you’d met Somi in highschool, you’d only become close with her after your Jeno Obsession fizzled out. Which meant she had no idea the scale of your crush, or who it was even on.
The most she’d managed to sleuth out over the years was that you had a thing for one of Mark’s friends once upon a time… but even with that tiny bit of information, she’d become nearly insufferable trying to figure out who.
So. You couldn’t imagine what hell she’d enact on you now if you told her, ‘Hey, yeah, I think I just saw the guy I was in love with when I was fifteen lurking around here somewhere. Wanna go say hi, and ruin the rest of my waking life at this university? Cool!’
Urgh. The thought alone is shudder inducing.
You’re trying to figure out how to escape this conversation when coincidence gives you an out; Somi’s phone starts to ring.
“Try not to look so relieved,” she says pointedly, squinting at you as she answers, and you hide your sigh behind finishing your drink.
“Just you wait till… Hey, Doyeon, what is it? No, we got here like ten minutes ago, Y/N-ie and I were getting drinks. No, the others aren’t gonna get here ‘till later. Yes, Mark’s sister Y/N. No, there were, like, a billion other people trying to get to the… What? Where?”
She turns to look towards the staircase, then up towards the mezzanine overlook-thing above both of your heads.
“I thought you said upstairs was going to be boring,” Somi replies, seemingly unconvinced. “...Yeah, exactly, boring. Card games? Are you a youth pastor now? …Who else is there? Because if—”
All at once, her face changes. There’s no time to try and figure out why before she’s hanging up and grabbing your wrist, yanking you towards the stairs, fixing her skirt, fluffing her hair and checking her reflection in the window you pass all at the same time.
You’re halfway up the steps before you think to ask what’s happening.
“Seonghwa,” she says.
Ah. Yes. That would do it.
The two of you crest the staircase, and it’s a proper little loft up here. It’s a quarter of the size of the rest of the rental but still dark and fancy, a big couch here and a few loveseats there, a TV set to some random basketball game to fill out the sound, party goers milling about talking and laughing with each other. There's a healthy amount of people mingling about; enough so that you can’t immediately tell who’s who in the dim lighting.
“Almost there!” someone says. Doyeon, a pretty girl you vaguely recognize from around campus, is smiling at you with a raised eyebrow when you turn to the voice.
“Hey, you two. You’re gonna play Never Have I Ever with us, right?”
A lot of faces turn to look you both over. Including Seonghwa, you realize, when Somi’s hand tightens on your wrist. “Y… Yeah,” Somi says. “Yeah! You have room for a few more?”
“Of course! First party of the year, we’ve got to get a few icebreakers in, don’t we? Everyone has a drink, right? Let’s start!”
Never Have I Ever? You suppose that sounds tame enough. A good time filler until the rest of your friends get here and you can hit the dance floor, anyway— and there's never been a Never Have I Ever game you haven't won.
There’s enough activity going on that you don’t feel like an intruder for just taking the nearest open seat. (And the reason you sit down so quickly totally isn’t because you come to realize that the only other open seat is next to Seonghwa. Somi notices this a second too late and sends you a look that almost lights you on fire, but whatever. She came up here for him, no? You’re just helping out. She’d better remember your hard work at their wedding.)
“You go first, birthday boy! Draw a card!”
The dark haired guy sitting right next to you smiles widely, a boy who you've never seen before. Oops. Here you were at his party and you don’t even know his name.
“Alrighty, party people! Hold on to your hats! Never Have I Ever…” He laughs, blinking down at the card. “Oh, man. Starting strong. Never have I ever been a rebound.”
Oh. Double oops. A few faces grimace and silently knock back a shot, maybe a third of the twelve or thirteen people playing, so you don’t feel quite as sheepish as if you’d done it alone. You take one back and hide your smile as a few people whistle. One finger down.
“Naughty, all of you! But you didn't think that was it, right?" Birthday boy hums mischievously. "This card has a part two! If you knew you were a rebound, take another shot.”
Son of a bitch. Triple oops. The whistles get louder— growing into laughter as only one other person proudly takes their drink, “She was hot, it was worth it, no regrets,” the guy rasps— and as the group all search around for any more drinkers, you sigh and take another swallow.
“Okay, new girl!” someone hollers. You take your jeering and winks like a seasoned pro. It’s the nature of the game to get needled a little, and you don’t actually feel like these people are laughing at you as much as with you, so you absorb the attention easily.
“...And?” Birthday Boy says expectantly. You look at him and he’s looking right back at you like he’s waiting for an explanation, and it takes a second to realize what he’s referring to. “So? Spill. Your old school, or what?”
“What?” you blurt. “No way. I took my shot, when did storytime become a rule?”
“It’s ice-breaker Never Have I Ever,” he says with an eye roll, but his smile is playful and you know there’s no real teasing behind it. “And since now, because it’s my birthday, so tonight I make the rules. You just transferred here, right? We need to get to know you the best.”
“...Should I be worried as to how you know I just transferred here, Birthday Boy?”
“I’m omniscient,” he says quickly, at the same time Doyeon to his left cuts in, “He’s our student council VP. Wooyoung handles a lot of transfer stuff for freshmen and sophomores. He just also likes to be a creep about it; he does it to every transfer. Don’t mind him.”
‘Wooyoung’ ignores this in favor of giving you another expectant wiggly eyebrow. A few of the others seem curious too, like they’re interested to see what type of person you’ll be— and, well… you’ve never been the type to step down from a challenge, that much is certain.
“You should’ve chosen a more fun question to grill me on then, VP, because this is about one of the most mundane responses I have,” you sigh, feigning disappointment. “It was a guy I knew in highschool, and we were at a lake house for a friend's birthday. I was in the process of getting over someone, he was in the process of getting over someone, you know how the story goes— But it’s a little hard to be the most memorable experience when you’re being eaten alive by mosquitoes at the same time, right?”
A few laughs, a few nods in solidarity, you even get one loud ‘Mood’ from a particularly plastered looking girl with the loopiest smile on her face.
“Okay!” Wooyoung concludes enthusiastically. “See? Now we all know you don’t like mosquitos! We’re getting closer already.”
Everybody laughs, and the game goes on.
You only have one finger left when the universe decides you’ve had enough fun for one night.
It’s Somi who pulls the card this time. She’s certifiably wasted now, having both lost the game and finished her drink a few cards ago, and she squints for many seconds too long at the words on the paper— Seongwha quietly turns it over in her hands when she complains that the card she got was printed in Simlish.
“Oh,” she says quietly. “Nevermind. False alarm. Uh…. Never Have I Ever… well it doesn’t count for me, obviously, so it’s more like Never Have You Ever…”
You laugh at how cute she is. Seonghwa beside her lets his mask slip for a moment as he stares, and his little smile is so fond that it almost makes you ill.
“Never Have I Ever hooked up with one of my sibling's friends,” she finishes. "And if you're an only child, take two shots!"
Oh. What? You’re so busy smiling at Seonghwa that you almost don’t catch what she’s just said but once you do, the words hit you like a truck.
Hooked up with one of…? Hooked up with one of your siblings' friends?
Amongst the influx of ‘ooooh’s and giddy laughter, you go still in your seat.
Shit. That's not... At first it’s all you can do to pray Somi is too drunk to fully comprehend the question, or hope that maybe she’s too busy molding into Seongwha’s side to remember you’re here, but then she squints over at you, directly at you, and your heart actually almost falls out of your chest.
“I see you, Y/N-ie, don’t pretend you didn’t hear me,” she slurs giddily, accusatory, after a few seconds pass and you fail to put your last finger down. “Especially not when you already confessed to it earlier, with—”
“Somi—”
“—You and the mosquitos! Put that finger down, missy!”
Wooyoung gasps scandalously. You fly to your feet in an instant. You’re nowhere near sober but the bolt of embarrassment down your spine keeps you steely; you laugh loudly (unconvincingly) and grab Somi in one fell swoop, holding her up with a firm grip as she laughs and wobbles and clings to your side.
“I guess that means we're both out, haha...! Maybe it’s time we get a little air!”
“Air?” she echoes. “Yeah, that sounds pretty—Air! Take me away, lovely! To the world!”
She swings her arm around to point downstairs like a pirate declaring land on the horizon. A few laughs follow as you haul her towards the stairs, a handful of smiled ‘bye’s and ‘later’s to your sudden mortified departure— But you don’t get very far. Because of course you don’t.
Because who else would be coming up the staircase at this exact moment besides Na Jaemin?
And who else would Somi see, gasp loudly at the sight of, point her pretty blue fingernail at, and then proceed squeal at the top of her inebriated lungs:
“Mosquito boy!?”
You hear the Never Have I Ever group go quiet amongst Somi’s outburst. There’s a full beat of silence before the realization sinks in, and you stare up disbelievingly at the absolute worst person you could have possibly run into at this moment.
(“Oh shit,” Wooyoung says.)
Jaemin, none-the-wiser, just blinks. He’s polite enough to only be slightly confused instead of offended. “...Mosquito boy?”
There isn’t even time to be appalled by his appearance here, or think about why he doesn’t look surprised to see you, or explain what’s happening and tell him to run. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Me? Oh, I lost rock paper scissors,” he says, shrugging easily. He gestures to the two sodas he’s got in one hand, and the one Smirnoff lemonade in the other. “So I got put on drink duty, but it took ages because some freshman is—”
“No, Na, what are you doing here? I thought you said you were going out? What happened to hotpot?”
“Hotpot… still happened?” Jaemin says with a laugh. “We ate and then headed here. Wooyoung’s on my swim team so the invite was kind of mandatory— And, hey, you know if you just told us you were coming we could have carpooled or something, right? But you just wanted to be a big girl, huh? Sneak out on your own?”
He’s teasing, pretty grin on full kilowatt blast, but you can’t focus.
“We?” you almost bark. “Who is we?”
He raises an eyebrow, jutting his chin back to where you just came from. You turn around.
“Who else?” Jaemin says.
This is exactly what you don’t want to hear. And now that you know what to look for, they’re practically the most obvious faces in the room.
Lee Donghyuck. Lee Jeno. Sitting in the chairs right behind yours, practically only a whispered breath separating the back of the sofa you’d just been lounging in and the back of their loveseat, half obscured in the light from the game on TV— you suppose that’s why you didn’t see them at first— not even a few feet from where Somi’d just accidentally tossed one of your longest standing secrets to the wind.
And worse yet?
They’re already staring right at you.
Donghyuk’s eyes are so wide that they look like they’re about to fall out of his face. You can almost see the gears whirring in his head as his gaze darts frantically between you and Jaemin, computing, computing, computing, no doubt trying to piece together everything he’d just overheard about you and this alleged Mosquito Boy— and when you look at Jeno you find that you can’t get a read on his expression at all.
“To the woooorld,” Somi complains.
You turn on your heel and barge past Jaemin.
“Hey— Hey, wait, are you okay?”
You have other things to worry about right now. Like the singing, warbling, baby blonde paperweight wrapped around your shoulders. Jaemin seems to realize something is amiss now as he watches you amble down the stairs two at a time.
“Yep,” you mutter. "I don't know if you will be, though."
And you’re not lying. Because with the final glance you get at the loft, you notice that Jeno and Donghyuck are no longer looking at you. Now they’re boring four, burning holes into the side of Na Jaemin’s head.
The pool is even cooler up close. Too bad you’re too depressed to think about jumping in.
After wordlessly schlepping Somi onto your other friends, who’d arrived at the party sometime ago and just decided to hang out downstairs and play drink catch-up until you were done with the card game, you’d come to the conclusion that you needed a moment alone. Thankfully, the balcony was much more deserted than it had been when you’d last seen it. Most of the pool hoppers have disappeared to who-knows-where, which means it’s just moony-eyed couples out here now, music from inside muffled just enough to let you think without Waka Flocka trying to invade your brain.
You peer over the edge at the city traffic below, arms folded lifelessly over the glass railing.
You feel dumb for being embarrassed. You don’t want to admit it, but you do. So what if you hooked up? It was two summers ago. Both you and Jaemin were adults who could make their own damn decisions and you didn’t regret it at all, so it shouldn’t matter, right? It doesn’t.
(...But if it doesn’t matter, why’s your face still feel so fucking hot?)
You suppress a groan and flop your head onto your forearms, screwing your eyes shut and willing the burn under your cheeks to go away. Because if you’re being truthful… you know the reason you still feel so agitated, though the rest of the party has probably already forgotten about your little spill. It’s two reasons actually.
The first one is Mark. Just him. Mark. How he’ll react if he finds out. If he finds out.
You could really get into the true horrors of this idea if need be, the irreparable fallout it may cause between your brother and Jaemin, the truly world ending scolding you’d be sure to receive after breaking one of the most important laws of Sibling World— but whenever you think about any of that your stomach starts to churn with anxiety, and you’re not really interested in throwing up over the side of this balcony right now. So like with most problems, you push it to the backburner.
Something you can’t push away, however, is reason number two.
You’re worried about Jeno.
Which is stupid, because you have no reason to give a shit what he thinks about what just happened. He’s not your friend. But… But the look he’d had on his face is still bothering you more than you can really rationalize.
Because Donghyuck had looked a lot of things. Confused, surprised, and confused some more. Disbelieving. Confused. A quick flash of terror, and then dawning realization. All of which was understandable— Horrifyingly embarrassing, yes, but understandable.
But Jeno hadn’t had any of those expressions. He’d just looked...
Urgh. You don’t know. You can’t pinpoint it, and the longer you try to, the more irritated you get. You chalk it up to being too buzzed to think rationally; that must be the reason you’re having such a hard time shaking this off.
Time goes by. You focus on counting the cars driving by on the street below in an attempt to quell your racing thoughts and sober up a little bit— you get to twenty-three before your phone rings.
Someone is yelling before you can even get out a greeting when you answer.
“How the hell is Somi so wasted already? Did she dive into the bar?! You were only here for an hour before us!”
“And hello to you too, Ryu.”
“Sorry I don’t have time for pleasantries, I’m trying to fight off your goddamn pet! Where are you? Did you go back upstairs?”
Like hell you’d do that right now. “I’m outside. And Seonghwa is here, remember? She was sitting next to him during the game and I’m guessing she got a little carried away with the drinks.” You sigh. “She’s not coming to her senses?”
“No! She keeps trying to kiss me!”
“I’m… I’m on my way back. Where are you guys?”
“There’s a den off the living room, near the front door, we’ve kind of holed up in there. Be quick about it! Damn it, Somi, stop fondling—”
She hangs up. That sure is your Ryujin.
And that sure is your Somi too, you suppose, even though if she were a baby right now you’d be fighting the urge to leave her at the front step of an orphanage. (But she’s pretty much your best ride-or-die friend. Not to mention she’s taken care of you on some pretty rough nights, nights much worse than some spilled secrets and embarrassing situations… So even though you’re stiff with dread and you still kind of want to strangle her, you don’t really have it in you to really get mad.)
(And, at the very least you can make her grovel tomorrow when she’s sober.)
Speaking of tomorrow. Calling it an early night is starting to sound more and more like a good idea. Lia was supposed to drive you all home, hence the virgin pink lemonade she’d had in her hand when you dropped Somi on her, but fuck it. She just got here and you don’t want to ruin her night by making her play chauffeur so early in the party, and plus, it’s Friday night in Seoul, barely past 11PM. The Ubers and Lyfts should be out in droves. It’s fine.
You turn around to head back inside, rubbing your eyelids in an attempt to look a little less haggard, but once again you don’t make it very far— because you immediately crash forehead first into what feels like a brick wall.
What the hell? You don’t even have time to yelp before a hand quickly grabs onto your arm as you bounce off of the obstacle, eyes flying open when you stumble backwards—
—But when you see who’s face is a foot from yours, you seriously wish you’d just kept your eyes closed.
(You’re really starting to hate gray flannel.)
“For god’s sake, can you please start making noise when you walk?!”
“Why?” Jeno says. “ You could just look up once in a while, you know, use those big eyes of yours? Second time today I’ve surprised you.”
‘Kiss my ass,’ you want to hiss. And it almost slips out, too, because you’re tipsy and tired and embarrassed and all your brain power is going into trying to figure out why he’s out here right now, but at the last second you remember you’re not close. No matter how many times you've seemed to run across him these last few days.
You purse your lips and subdue a sigh.
“Can I help you with something, Lee?”
He hears the lack of enthusiasm. He lets you go; you hadn’t even realized he was still touching you.
“Jaemin’s looking for you.”
Urgh. “Of course he is,” you mutter. “I’ll… I’ll find him later. It’s not like you don’t all basically live at the apartment anyway, ‘couldn’t run if I wanted to.”
Your phone vibrates two, three, four times in your hand in quick succession. Ryujin, no doubt.
“Tell him I’m leaving.”
“Leaving?” Jeno repeats, eyebrows raising. His eyes follow you as you slip past him. “Wait what? Why?”
“...Is that a real question, Jeno?”
“Well—” And there it is. The first acknowledgement of everything he’d overheard in the loft. Jeno hesitates, bringing one hand up to absentmindedly rub at the back of his neck as he mulls your words over, the less than subtle ‘you know why’ in your voice. It’s quite obvious the reason you might want to get the hell out of here, and now it’s flashing all over his face— he knows it too.
Your mood sours further. Going home is really sounding good right now.
“Right,” you mutter. “Bye.”
“Hold on,” he blurts. You don’t stop walking but you do slow down. “How are you getting home?”
“Uber.”
He takes a step towards you. “An Uber? Right now? While you’re like this?”
“Like what? I’m not going to be alone, Jeno, and Somi’s house is like twenty minutes from here.”
“That’s not the point. You drank, didn’t you? And your friend is pretty much wasted. You’re going to maneuver her all the way across Gangnam this late?”
Mark must’ve rubbed off on the others in the last few years more than you’d realized. You can’t remember the last time anyone besides your brother has questioned you like this.
“I’ve done it before, and I don’t suddenly become stupid after a few drinks. I’ll be fine. And it’s not like I’ve got any other options that make sense right—”
“I’ll take you.”
This gets you to halt.
He takes this as an invitation to continue talking, but you’re so surprised that you don’t even think to wonder why he’s explaining himself. “I’m— We only really came to make sure Wooyoung couldn’t sulk at us for not showing up. We were planning to leave soon anyway, so I’ll take you.”
You stare at him. He stares right back.
...Dealing with Somi alone would pose the risk of many things, you guess. Injuring yourself trying to carry her around, waiting a half an hour to get picked up, the possibility of her throwing up in the car, paying the ridiculous price that taxi’s charge during peak clubbing hours, having to haul her into the lobby, and the elevator, and across her massive apartment by yourself...
But if you take Jeno’s offer you’ll be in the car with them for nearly half an hour.
Half an hour with Donghyuck, Jeno, and Jaemin. Arguably the last three people in the world you want to be trapped in a tight space with right now.
"Are you practicing for a taxi certification or something? What's with you and all the rides lately?"
Okay. Suspicious deflection. Not your most proud diversion tactic, but you were caught off guard by his offer, and need more time to think. Jeno only folds his arms over his chest. A gust of wind blows his hair around, and you absentmindedly wonder if there's a reason he decided to let his hair get shaggy, when it was always so short and neat in highschool. You're not complaining— you think it certainly suits him like this, too.
"I could ask you the same thing, you know. What's with all your sudden need for rides?"
"I never said I needed anything from you," you mutter. Then, under your breath, "And you say that you don't answer questions with more questions."
He doesn't respond to this. Just raises an eyebrow, like he's picked up on the fact that you're stalling. Damn.
“...How fast will you drive?”
He smiles like this is what he was hoping to hear. “The speed limit, hotshot. I’m going to have three drunk college students in my car, driving any faster is just asking to be pulled over.”
You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Typical Jeno answer. Rule follower until the end.
“Lame.”
“Lame, yet alive. I’ll meet you outside in… five?”
You don’t really have it in you to say anything, so you just screw your eyes shut and nod.
This is going to suck, you think.
It’s definitely going to suck. It’s going to be embarrassing and awkward and it’s going to suck a lot, and it’s probably going to suck a little more every time you look at any of your brother's friends for the next few days. But you square your shoulders and turn to follow him back inside of the party anyway, because you’ve never really been one to get shy and you have a reputation to uphold— so you guess you shouldn’t start now.
Jaemin doesn’t make a big deal of it. Neither do you. That’s how you survive the reunion in the hallway outside of the rental without melting into a puddle of regret and mortification.
In the millisecond your eyes met his smile faltered, seemingly a million things flashing over his face at once— which made you nervous that taking Jeno’s offer had been, in fact, a terrible fucking move— but then in the very next moment, it’s gone. He’s normal again. Jaemin smiles at you, and then asks if you’re ready to go.
So you nod. And he nods. And everything is okay.
(Or as okay as things can be with Donghyuck quite obviously staring at the both of you out of the corner of his eye, pretending to admire a fake potted plant next to the floor elevator, whistling weakly to himself… and everything continues to be ‘okay’ until you all get into Jeno’s car.)
Jeno, reading the room, had initially turned the aux on blast before you could even shovel Somi into the middle seat and sit down yourself, probably because he thought no one would want to talk— but Somi was nothing if not a social butterfly and the pink smirnoff running through her blood only exacerbated that. She pretty much immediately ignored your attempts to keep her quiet and instead, laser focused her last few functioning brain cells on trying to make three new friends.
So the ride starts with an interview.
Somi warbly asks what subjects they’re majoring in. (Photography for Jaemin, Engineering for Jeno, and Music Composition for Donghyuck.)
And if they had girlfriends. (No, No, and No.)
And if they remembered her from highschool. (Yes, Yes, and a ‘Duh, who wouldn’t know you’ from Donghyuck.)
You had a feeling they didn’t mind indulging her because the more she talked, the less airtime there was for anyone to think about what happened in the loft, and although you’d felt a little bad about the interrogation at first you eventually couldn’t help but be a little glad that Somi was filling the silence.
Not to mention you’d learned a few things you didn’t already know, too. Like when Somi asks question number thirty-six thousand on her list.
“You guys always seemed like, like… Booky types, back in highschool. Like kids who played Starcraft all night, you know? Did you ever do anything crazy?”
You only snickered, knowing full well just how true that assumption was from nights you’d walk past the basement door after getting a snack from the kitchen, only to hear all of them down there screaming jargon about ‘Dodge! Dodge the dogs, dumbass!’ and ‘Whesker’s got one eye left, reload the rocket launcher!’, amongst the faint video game music mumbling through the floorboards.
So you’d expected them to say no, obviously. But Donghyuck just laughs.
“You want to take this one, Jeno?”
The man in question only shrugs. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, doesn’t laugh or jeer or smile mischievously like Hyuck is doing, only glances back to check the traffic behind him as he merges lanes. “We went to a club in Itaewon, once. In highschool.”
You stop laughing.
“Modesty, modesty, modesty,” Hyuck sighs, “What No-Jam means, is that we snuck into a nightclub in Itaewon for his eighteenth birthday— four dumbass, over-dressed kids with the most fake-looking IDs in the entire world, like I honestly don’t know how we didn’t get caught at the door because they seriously looked like garbage. It was like, SuperBad Mc’Lovin levels of hilariously terrible—”
It's started drizzling outside, muted pattering against the roof, but it seems no one's noticed.
“— But that’s not even the worst part. You want to know what this dumbass does once we’re inside? We’re inside for five minutes and he gets in a fight with the biggest fucking guy in there. Spills an entire glass of fireball down his girlfriend's dress, and goes ‘Oops. My bad. That’s not expensive, right?”
“I didn’t get into a fight,” Jeno corrects quickly, whining. Your jaw has hit the floor. It’s rolling around somewhere under the passenger seat, alongside Jeno’s Advanced Statistics textbook. “Saying it like that makes it sound like I was going around acting like a thug. That guy was wasted and swung at me first, I just— I did what I had to do to keep from getting my ass kicked. Why do you always tell this story like this!”
“He was built like a house,” Jaemin murmurs fondly from the front seat, reminiscing. “I thought he was going to rip you in half. I remember Renjun and I were trying to figure out which one of us should jump on his back and who should try to trip him, like in the cartoons. It’s a miracle any of us made it to adulthood.”
Donghyuck cackles. “But of course we didn’t need to help at all, ‘cause Jeno knocked him the fuck out."
This breaks your silence. You gasp. Somi squeals with glee.
At this revelation Jeno does react, grimacing, taking one hand off the wheel to wave his hand like something is being lost in translation. “I didn’t— He was fine, I think he was just a little clumsy—”
“Jeno cracked him once and it was like he pushed over the Eiffel Tower, dude fell for ages. But we didn’t see him hit the ground because his girlfriend started screaming that we, like, killed him or whatever, so we left.”
“You left?” you echo incredulously. “They let you leave?”
“We ran,” Jaemin corrects, laughing to himself, “We ran all the way back to the metro and went straight home like the scared little kids we were, because we thought we’d be arrested and jailed forever if they caught us. Or worse— that they’d call our parents.”
Somi is practically choking with laughter, and you’re not doing too much better yourself— you accidentally make eye contact with Jeno through the rear-view mirror, hand over your mouth to hide just how hard you’re laughing at his luck, and when he sees your expression his embarrassed look shifts into what you can only label a pout.
“Glad you all find my lowest moment so funny,” he says.
“Funny?” Somi giggles, “That’s hilarious! Man, I had no idea you guys were even interested in clubs, the way you all acted back then. You were worse than us!”
Donghyuck doesn’t take this easily. “Worse than you? Not a chance! Your Instagram stories back then used to be insane, no way we did anything more crazy than you— Didn’t you party with BlackPink once?”
“Well… yeah, but she’s not kidding,” you tell him. Why you’re divulging this information, you’re not sure— you must still be a bit tipsier than you thought. “We knew better than to go anywhere near Itaewon clubs in highschool, that’s practically asking to get caught. Especially with a fake ID.”
“You say this like you have experience, Rockstar,” Hyuck says scandalously, wiggling his eyebrows at you from next to Somi, and you raise your own at him.
“And you say that like you didn’t just tell me Jeno killed somebody in a club when you were eighteen.”
“Hey!” Jeno barks. “Can we not? This is exactly how rumors are made!”
The rest of the car bursts into laughter. At some point during the drive, unknown to the rest of you, the rain picked up in intensity. Nothing ridiculous, just a slowly building whitenoise that blurred the nightlife outside into bright, colorful streaks through the window— and if anything, only served to further keep you talking, keep you unaware of what was going on beyond the glass. The five of you were having too fun a time reminiscing to really notice anything outside, talking about anything and anything, happenings on campus and what not; you even end up telling them about your showcase at the end of the month when Somi casually mentions that your dance group got chosen a few days ago to perform at the Aegon Center.
(“Which is a big fucking deal,” Somi chagrinned, elbowing you, “Cause only one group from each university get’s the chance! Why do you always try to play it down?! Be proud!”
And you tried not to focus too hard on the way Jeno’s eyes softened when they caught yours again in the mirror, the congratulatory nod he gave you while Donghyuck was whooping and hollering and asking when it was and if they could come.)
It’s only when all five of your phones vibrate at the exact same time do you really start to notice what’s happening outside.
“...Extreme thunderstorm warning?” Jaemin reads aloud, echoing the words on all of your screens. What?
It would be comical, the way you pretty much all swivel your heads to look outside, if the rain pounding the street outside wasn’t suddenly coming down with enough force to rip the leaves from trees.
“Seoul Weather Safety Association recommends taking shelter until sunrise, when the storm is set to lighten, roads…” Donghyuck hesitates, bringing the phone closer to his face as if he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.
“Roads closing for non-essential vehicles, in effect at midnight? Wait, what the hell? They can do that?”
You look at your phone again, the mood suddenly dashed in half. 11:28PM. “Midnight?” you echo. “But midnight is in half an hour. How…”
The unsaid question is understood by everyone pretty much instantly. How are all of you supposed to get home in half an hour? Jeno’s apartment is forty-five minutes away from Gangnam, and that’s with absolutely no traffic, much less the sea of red lights you’re trapped behind right now— which means there’s no way even he can get home before the weather gets worse.
For a very long moment no one says anything, as this fact permeates into the atmosphere with record speed as the rain continues to thunder against the roof of the car…
But Somi doesn’t seem to be on the same wavelength.
“Aw, why do you all look so sad all of a sudden? You’re acting like we’re not a block from my house! Don’t you know what this means?!”
She’s poking her head into the front seat to grin loopily out of the windshield at the waterfall cascading against the windows.
A block from her house? Is she suggesting what you think she’s—
“We can have a sleepover!”
You half expected her words, and yet the exclamation rings out like a gunshot in the silence anyway. You can only stare at her, disbelieving. Not at her terminally optimistic attitude— because you’ve had enough time at her side to come to terms with that— but at the fact that her crazy fucking outlandish suggestion... might not just be a crazy outlandish suggestion. If the Seoul Weather Association is serious about how severe this storm is going to get, it... it might be one of your only options.
Holy shit. What did the universe have against you?
“It’s not like you’ve really got any other options, right?” Somi voices your thoughts after a moment, grinning when Hyuck only laughs a little awkwardly. Finally coming to your senses, you jab her with your elbow. She makes a sound like a kicked Minecraft villager.
“What! What? Am I wrong?”
“Try to sound a little less happy about it,” you hiss. She rubs her side, pouting, but seems more or less nonplussed. Jeno pulls into the turning lane, the road that leads into the ridiculously fancy parking structure underneath Somi’s building.
A crack of thunder lights the sky up white for a second, loud enough everyone flinches, even Na Slow-Reflexes Jaemin jolting a little in his seat.
“You're not wrong,” Jaemin murmurs. “But isn't this kind of sudden? You don’t really... know us all that well. Is staying here until the storm subsides really okay?”
“Why wouldn't it be?! I mean we may not be best friends yet, but it’s not like you’re strangers! I mean, I remember when you had braces.”
Jaemin laughs under his breath. “Right.”
You catch Jeno’s eyes once again in the mirror. He tries a pleasant smile, but the crease between his eyebrow tells you that he’s just as unsure about this as you are. Your phone vibrates in your hand. When you see who's name it is on the lockscreen, your stomach twists with the blatant reminder of why this sudden 'sleepover' has the worst timing in the entire world.
[Na Jaemin, 11:35PM] This is okay, right?
[You, 11:35] ??? of course it is, if the storm gets worse then it’s going to be dumb for you guys to drive in it just to be courteous or whatever
[You, 11:35] and som seems to really want company lol
[Na Jaemin, 11:36PM] Yeah, I mean I get that, that’s not really what I meant though
[Na Jaemin, 11:36PM] I mean are we okay
[You, 11:36] of course we’re okay
[You, 11:36] i mean obviously i was intending to take that day to the grave, but i suppose my friend screaming it to an entire party of people could have been a close second outcome
[Na Jaemin, 11:37PM] Only close second? Are you ashamed of me, Rockstar? Am I ugly? :(
[You, 11:37] you’re the prettiest bad decision i ever made, Na Jaemin, if that makes you feel better
“The garage code is 012709,” Somi tells Jeno. You stare down at your phone, at the suddenly appearing and disappearing typing bubble on Jaemin’s end.
[Na Jaemin, 11:37PM] It does.
[Na Jaemin, 11:37PM] But… honestly
[Na Jaemin, 11:37PM] I’m curious. Am I the prettiest person in this car right now?
[Na Jaemin, 11:38PM] To you, I mean. Between me and… I don’t know
[Na Jaemin, 11:38PM] Let’s say
[Na Jaemin, 11:38PM] Lee Jeno
You whip your eyes up. You’re sitting right behind Jaemin so you can’t quite see his expression, but he’s bobbing his head along with the music and drumming his free fingers on the center console like he didn’t just say what he said.
Why the hell would he ask you that?
[You, 11:39PM] weird segway, Na Bunny
[You, 11:39PM] get your ego stroked somewhere else, I already called you pretty
The car comes to a stop and you exit the messaging app altogether, pretending you don’t see the typing bubble, shoving your phone into the purse Somi’d brought along since you didn’t want to carry a bag. While you’d been distracted Somi must have directed Jeno to the visitor parking, black car blending in pretty well with the dozens of other dark colored Audi’s and Benz’s holed up nearby, and without waiting for anyone to speak you crack the door open and step out. (Perfect timing— If he asks, you’ll blame your avoidance on sudden onset claustrophobia.)
You feel Jaemin’s gaze on the side of your face when everyone else gets out, but you quite pointedly keep your narrowed eyes ahead. Somi shuttles you all into the elevator, chattering excitedly.
Menial small talk is achieved, nothing you’re really paying attention to as you stare at the white LED counting down the floors until you get to—
“You live on the top floor?” Donghyuck blurts.
Somi laughs. She’s got an arm looped around his to keep herself upright. She still looks quite drunk, but at least she’s starting to regain proper motor function.
“I’m a leech,” Somi slurs sweetly. All three of them whirl to look at her in varying levels of concern and she laughs again, even louder. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding, gosh, look at your faces. No, I live with my older brother,” she explains, “Cause’ this place is way closer to campus than my parents place, but he's never home ‘cause he’s always busy with work. So I guess I kind of live by myself?”
“On the top floor of the Palisades Tower, you live by yourself?” Donghyuck says again, even more incredulous.
“Doesn’t IU live here?” Jaemin asks absentmindedly.
“Yeah,” Somi nods.
“And Rain?”
“Yeah! He’s so nice,” she says dreamily. “And so fit. Every time I go to the gym he’s there. The cameras do not do him justice.”
The elevator doors ding open. Since there’s only two apartments up here, the hallway leading to each one is pretty fancy by itself, a corridor on the side of the building with floor to ceiling windows. You’re 25 floors up so the view is amazing— you hear Donghyuck and Jaemin ooh-ing and waah-ing as you wander sullenly across the black marble— and through the glass, you witness the dark state of Seoul. Navy black clouds, distant rolling thunder, flashes of light, and an absolutely torrential looking downpour.
Great.
The roads will be closing any minute now. And with every passing second, it’s starting to seem more and more like Jeno, Jaemin, and Donghyuck will not be leaving until the sun rises. (An entire night together after what just happened at the party, where you’d pretty much never wanted to look any of them in the eye again. Your life's comedic timing has never been so consice.)
Somi punches in the code to her front door and all but kicks it open once it chimes, whipping around to face you and her three new captives friends with a smile.
“So!” she says happily. A rolling crack of thunder lights up the apartment behind her ominously, as you and your brother's friends hover in her corridor. She doesn’t even seem to hear it. “Who wants Jajangmyeon?!”
[♥︎]: and there it is, folks! please leave a like if you enjoyed! it REALLY gives me the motivation to work on this faster <3
OHHHH MY GODDDD THE TENSION IS SO PALPABLE. and so many lines that made me lol irl😭😭😭😭 again i seriously love the dialogue bc it just feels so realistic and they're all so snarky and witty. i got a shock myself when i found out about the jaemin thing (the way you revealed what was so suspenseful!!!!) and am so excited to see the next parts....
also i LOOOVE THIS LINE!! (And Lee Jeno is in your head for hours after they get kicked out, dumb croaky laugh floating around in your thoughts no matter how loudly you crank the volume of your headphones.)
