blog for my silly goofy writing stuff - my main non kpop blog is @virdarr so i follow from there!
i write for skz and ateez! (i also like bts, txt, xdinary heroes, taemin, g-dragon, ive, mamamoo)
requests are open, but please check the requesting guidelines and keep in mind that i am an adult with a job so if i don't get around to your request quickly it's nothing personal (ˉ﹃ˉ)
my stuff is tagged under dawn writes!
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
currently writing: love languages with skz
read part 1 here! - hyung line - maknae line
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
I don't know if you're still doing them, but if you are, can you do Changbin for the drunk flirting series? I love your writing so much ♥
friend oh my god – this ask has been in my ask box for MONTHS and i am SO SORRY!!! but I had this idea for binnie in my head for SO LONG, I just never had the time to write it. UNTIL NOW
I got really angry at this halfway through because I wanted it to be a drabble, and it ended up so fucken long, but then I finished it anyways because I hate half done things hahaha
*photo unrelated to the plot, it's just so the vibe and so him </3
🔞 because everything on my blog is but this is 5.6k words of just ..... fluff?
who am I! getting together, friends to lovers, pining. ofc they're a lil horny for each other, but nothing graphic at all. barely a kiss!!!
When Changbin’s phone rings, it’s already well past midnight.
He just heated up some of his leftover jjajangmyeon from earlier, piping hot plastic bowl sitting on the side of his desk, ready to fuel him through another couple hours of work, hunched over his laptop, working on some beats he, Chan and Jisung have been trying to get ready for a new EP for weeks, when his phone buzzes to life.
When he looks over, it’s Chan’s name on the caller ID.
Chan and Jisung were at Hyunjin’s house for some drinks along with you and pretty much everyone else. Changbin himself had been invited, too, of course, but he’d declined in favour of sinking further into his work mode. He just … got into one of his moods. Flow states, or whatever they call it these days. Locked in, zoned out of the real world, the music just pouring out of him.
He doesn’t get nearly enough of those nights. Always something on his mind that distracts him, keeps him from really sinking his teeth into his music.
And Chan knows that – so there must be a reason why he’s calling. Changbin tries to swallow the instinct to panic, puts his chopsticks down and picks up the phone.
He’s greeted by the sound of yelling, laughing, and music.
“Hyung?”
“Binnie!” Chan yells through the phone, way too loudly. By the lack of his volume control alone, it’s clear to Changbin that Chan is, in fact, drunk.
“I thought it was only going to be a chill night, a couple of drinks,” he tries to tease, but he hears Chan laugh, say something to someone on his end, before he comes back to the call.
“Sorry, Binnie, what did you say?”
“Nothing, hyung,” Changbin snorts, “what’s up? Why are you calling? I have some jjajangmyeon, a diet coke and a beat calling my name.”
“Well,” Chan hums. He sounds like he’s grinning. At least it’s nothing to worry about then, even if irritation gnaws at Changbin’s guts. Can he just come out with it instead of wasting Changbin’s time, ripping him out of his flow, infusing him with that vague sense of FOMO he so narrowly avoided falling prey to earlier, when they left for Hyunjin’s?!
“I have someone here who’s been asking for you …”
Changbin freezes. His heart rabbits in his chest.
“Is it Y/N? Is everything alright?”
Chan laughs. Changbin tries and fails not to blush. Dammit. He’s so transparent.
“She’s fiiiiine,” he giggles, “she’s completely fine. Well, she’s a little drunk. Or a lot. And she’s asking for you.”
Changbin sighs. He briefly considers pretending like you don’t have him wrapped around your little finger, but what’s the point. Chan knows. Everyone knows. Changbin is head over heels in love with his best friend. Yes, yes, everybody laugh. How typical.
“Okay, but she’s fine? She’s not going to throw up?” he asks. He can’t help it. The thought of you somewhere, inebriated, without him to catch you if you trip – he doesn’t like it, okay.
“Nah, she’s alright. But Hyunjin offered her to crash in his bed and Jisung and Minho even offered to take her home, but she won’t budge. Begged me to call you, actually. But I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”
As if on cue, Changbin hears you squeal in the background, whining Minho’s name dramatically, with just that hint of flirtiness in your tone that makes Changbin a little bit desperate.
Chan doesn’t seem to like his silence.
“Come oon, Binnie,” he singsongs, “you live 15 minutes away. And I know full well that you’re just dying to come see your–“
“Okay, okay, fine!” Changbin interrupts him before Chan says anything he’ll regret in a room full of people. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
“Attaboy,” Chan responds, and Changbin can hear the smirk in his voice. “I’ll let her know. See ya soon!”
And he hangs up before Changbin can even say goodbye, which just makes Changbin even more annoyed.
But he can’t stay annoyed.
He plops the lid back on his food, shoves it into the fridge, changes into a warmer sweater and some clean sweats, and he’s out the door. Less than 3 minutes after he hung up the phone. He’s a lost cause.
The drive is quick and quiet, the streets pretty empty at this time of night. It’s only a Thursday. How Hyunjin’s little get together turned into a full-blown party, Changbin doesn’t know. But it doesn’t surprise him. Hyunjin likes hanging out with his friends, and he likes partying – and Felix likes those things even more. So when the two of them are together, this is usually the outcome. Changbin should know. They have set the scene for most of the most formative scenes of his young adulthood. Like that time when drunk monopoly turned into body shots, which turned into a whole bottle of raspberry vodka tipped over Changbin’s chest, just when you were leaning in to whisper something potentially life-alteringly dirty in his ear – so instead of maybe, just maybe, making out with you, he ended up half-naked in the shower with Chan, who was the victim of the other bottle that got tipped of the table. Though the tequila that hit him smelled much worse than the flavoured vodka and Changbin’s clothes. A small win.
When Changbin gets out of his car in front of Hyunjin’s apartment complex, he can hear everyone’s voices already. They’re floating through a half open window, three stories up. He takes a deep breath of the fresh night air, and rings the bell.
More commotion through the intercom, aside from Hyunjin’s voice, an elevator ride and a trudge down the hallway to his front door later, Changbin steps foot into Hyunjin’s small apartment and closes the door quietly behind him. No reason to give the neighbours any more reasons to complain than they already have.
There aren’t many people; only their usual gang, Hyunjin and Felix, predictably. Jisung and Minho, half in each other’s laps in the corner of the sofa, also, predictably, looking about two seconds away from making out. Chan, Seungmin, Jeongin. And you, between the latter two, your upper body leaning against Jeongin, your feet in
Seungmin’s lap. Petty jealousy makes him scowl at where Jeongin’s arm is thrown over your shoulder, his hand is rubbing up and down your arm.
Chan gives him a grin when he sees him and loudly announces his arrival. It makes you sit up, leaving a smirking Jeongin behind you as you whirl around, and the smile that lights up your face makes Changbin a little weak in the knees.
“Binnie,” you gasp, and Jeongin behind you gives Changbin a look before he unceremoniously gets up, walks around the sofa table and plops down on the sofa next to Jisung and Minho.
You stretch your arms towards him and make grabby hands and Changbin melts.
He’s next to you embarrassingly quickly, not even a glance at anyone else, and comes to crouch in front of you. Seungmin next to you gently takes your legs from his lap and places them on the floor. You reward him with a sweet smile before you turn all your attention to Changbin. Something about the way you’re too focused on him to notice Seungmin getting up to leave you and Changbin on the little sofa, makes Changbin’s heart swell with pride.
“I can’t believe you actually came,” you breathe out. There’s vodka cranberry on your breath, a flush on your face, but your words aren’t slurred. Only a little louder than usual – more sincere. A dangerous sheen in your eyes. One of your earrings is askew, the clasp of your necklace hanging at the front instead of the back. You’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, and he wishes he could have the privilege to tuck those little bits back into place, to touch you like that, casually, yet with all the purpose in the world.
“Yeah? You asked Chan to tell me to come, and you didn’t expect it to work?”
He watches your pretty lips part, before you grimace cutely and hide your face in your hands.
“Chaaaan,” you whine, “I told you not to tell himmm.”
You curl into yourself, and it makes the sleeve of your top slip off your shoulder. Changbin reaches out and tugs it back into place before he can think better of it. When he realises what he’s done, he flushes. He hopes he can blame it on the fact that he just came in from the cold.
Gently, Changbin catches you around the wrists, tugs your hands away from your face.
“Hey, none of that,” he murmurs, trying to sound soothing, “of course, I would’ve come. When have I ever not come when you called, hm?”
You lift your head and stare at him. Your eyes are huge. Changbin fidgets under your gaze, laughs awkwardly, trying to fill the silence that threatens to smother his poor, yearning heart.
“So, what’s up? What did you need me for?” he asks, tries to will the desperate edge out of his voice.
“Oh,” you blink, tip your head to the side a little. Let your languid gaze drag over his face. Molten heat surges through his stomach.
“Nothing. I mean … just missed you, I guess.”
Changbin’s brain goes offline for a solid second. He thinks he might’ve misheard. You couldn’t have possibly just said that. Although … well, It’s a relatively normal thing to say, he guesses, but something about the way you said it…
When he doesn’t respond, your eyes widen.
‘E-Everyone did, I mean, r-right?” you stammer, throw a look over Changbin’s shoulder at where the rest of your friends are scattered across the room. Changbin nearly jumps out of his skin before he flushes red-hot. He’d somehow completely forgotten they were there.
Minho giggles, scoffs out a sarcastic “sure” that’s followed by someone, presumably Jisung, slapping his arm, and Hyunjin coming to your rescue.
“Yeah!” Hyunjin exclaims, “of course we all missed you, hyung!’
You smile at Hyunjin, gratefully. Your cheeks are so flushed he can basically feel the heat radiating off them. Changbin is so endeared, he thinks he might cry. He doesn’t think before he speaks.
“Oh, and here I thought I was special to you.”
It’s teasing. Just a little jab that could be interpreted as friendly, but it nonetheless makes his neck burn hot. It’s not that you never flirt, like you don’t bat your eyelashes at him, like he doesn’t call you darling and takes your hand when he helps out of the car – but it’s not usually like this. And it’s not in front of other people.
“But you are,” you mumble. Then smile. Widely, yet softly. “You’re the most … the most special to me.”
Your nonsensical words slur a little at the end, and Changbin remembers that you’re drunk. He tries to let that rein in the wild flutter of butterflies in his stomach, but he fails spectacularly.
The fly rampant as he smiles, reaches out to pat your arm awkwardly – but you catch his hand. Lace your fingers with his. Changbin stares. The butterflies go crazy.
But you’re already dragging him closer until you pull him to sit next to you on the sofa, immediately folding your legs underneath you and pressing your entire body weight into his side as the conversation slowly picks up around you again.
He didn’t plan on staying, but how could he say no when you’re still holding his hand. He sinks into the couch and makes space for you readily, of course he does. Lifts his arm so you can scoot closer, so he can hold you to him. Your head falls to his shoulder, and he sends a prayer of gratitude to whoever’s listening that he sat down on your left side so maybe you won’t hear the way his heart is threatening to thunk its way out of his ribcage.
When Changbin finally rips his eyes away from you for the first time since he stepped foot into the room, everyone is staring at him with varying levels of amusement. Minho is smirking like an evil maniac, Jisung like a lovelorn one, like he’s watching his favourite drama and the two love interests are about to get together. Felix is staring at him with big, shiny eyes, but Seungmin has one eyebrow raised where he sits, looking from Changbin to you. Chan’s expression is the worst – he’s smiling, so wide his eyes have become crescents. He looks so excited. Then he waggles his eyebrows. Gives Changbin a look.
Changbin flushes. He can feel his face burn. You snuggle in closer, nudge your cheek into his shoulder and his arm tightens around you.
He settles in like this for a while. Has a coke. Watches one of the random videos pulled up on the TV, half listens to everyone drunkenly make bad jokes about it. Really, the only thing he can focus on is your chest rising and falling against his. Your warmth plastered against his side, seeping through his sweater where your hand is now resting on his belly. How your voice shivers through his bones when you speak.
You’re smiling a lot. Just to yourself, mostly, as you sit there, cuddled into him. But you also giggle. Laugh at everything and anything the others say. Beam at Felix when he beams at you. It’s the happiest Changbin has maybe ever seen you.
You must feel his eyes on you because suddenly, you look up at him, and he thinks his world stutters to a halt. You’re right there, cheek smushed against the soft sweater on his shoulder. Grinning, eyes twinkling and sparkling with bliss, looking at him like he’s the reason for it.
He forces himself to smile back, squeezes your side where his hand is resting against you, and you just smile wider, before you tuck yourself back into his side. Wiggle a little until you’re comfortable.
Changbin’s body feels a few sizes too small and his chest is tight. He holds out for a few minutes, just long enough so you don’t think he’s running away from you (because if you got upset with him now, after looking so happy, he would not know how to forgive himself), before he excuses himself, nearly kisses the sweet pout off your face when he dislodges you from his side, and stumbles to the bathroom.
When the door clicks shut behind him, Changbin takes a moment to just stand there and try and catch his breath. He stares at himself in the mirror.
His cheeks are still flushed. They haven’t stopped burning. He feels drunk. High. Half out of his mind, his mind swirling and swirling with the feeling of you in his arms, with the way you smiled up at him, snuggled into him, as if you couldn’t get close enough. His whole side still feels warm with the heat of your body. When he smells his sleeve, it smells like your perfume.
Usually, he has a pretty tight hold on this. His crush. No, it’s not a crush. Never was. He’s madly in love with you, and there was never a point in denying it. But usually, he disguises it behind the fact that he’s affectionate with all of his friends. He’s the soft one, the nice guy who calls his mom twice a week. When he tucks your hair into place and holds your hand as you pass through a busy street, when he pulls out your chair for you at dinner and always drives you places, even when it’s really out of his way – he just brushes it off as being a gentleman. But this is beyond even that.
This night is so bad for him. He wants so badly, and it’s getting really hard to pretend he doesn’t when you act like that. Make him get his hopes up.
He messes with his hair, flushes the toilet when he remembers his excuse, steels himself and opens the door.
He gets shocked out of his sulkiness when he steps back into the living room and watches you, crosslegged on the couch, leaning forward, downing a shot of something dangerously clear alongside Felix and Hyunjin. And before the first one is even down, your face still scrunched up adorably, you pick up the second one – but before you can drink it, Changbin slides back onto the sofa next to you, winds one arm around your wrist and uses the other to pluck the shot glass from your fingers.
You whine, try to lean in to take your shot back from him, but Changbin tightens his grip and stretches his arm as far as he can behind him, holding the glass out of your reach. Your face pulls into the most dramatic, most adorable little pout he’s ever seen on you.
“Yeah, I don’t think two more is a good idea,” he grumbles out softly, but sternly, as he gives you a look. You strain against his hold on your wrist, and he tries not to think too hard about the little grunt you make, the way you struggle but can’t get out of his grip. Felix boos and Hyunjin giggles stupidly.
“Binnieeeeee,” you whine, drag out the end of his name, jostle against his hold as you lean forward, trying to reach for the shot again, but he just holds it further back behind himself. He doesn’t fight you when you lean closer, when you start leaning over his lap, your hand dropping to his thigh, dangerously high up for his already frayed emotional state. He can smell your shampoo, the peach soju on your breath from the shot he wasn’t there to take from you in time.
“Y/Niiieee,” he imitates you, and he loves how he can watch as your eyes widen, when you realise what he’s doing, before they crinkle with an almost smile, that you swallow at the last second. God, your eyes are shimmering in this light. He swears they hold entire galaxies.
Your head cocks to the side and you pout. He cocks his head, too, pouts right back – watches, giddy, drunk on you, as your grin widens, your eyes sparkle even more with amusement. It’s better than a shot of adrenaline straight to the jugular.
He gives you one more look and leans forward to put the shot back onto the little table, while still holding you back and you whine.
“Why do you have to be so strooong, it’s not faaaair!”
God, he wishes it didn’t, but his cock twitches a little in his sweats.
Which is … even worse because when he leans back, with one last stern look at you that tells you not to pick up the shot again, and relaxes back against the sofa, you wrench your hand free from his grasp, dig your fingers into his thigh and suddenly, you’re straddling him.
He’s pretty sure he makes the dumbest noise known to man when your ass hits his thighs, but maybe you didn’t hear him over the screeching and ooh-ing of literally all your other friends behind you.
You don’t seem perturbed, bore your pretty eyes into his, eyebrows drawn into a determined little scowl. Your cheeks are burning.
You catch one of his wrists with one of your hands, then the other and Changbin yelps when you pin them against the back of the sofa next to his head. Changbin’s throat runs dry and he’s pretty sure this is how he dies. You’re staring down at him, eyes a little unfocused and … and … like you want to devour him.
“Not fair,” you mumble, and Changbin knows he has to make a choice right this second. Because if he stays here any longer 1. he’ll get hard, and that’ll be really bad and 2. you’re maybe about to drunkenly kiss him, with an audience of 6 of your closest friends – something you’d most definitely regret tomorrow.
As gently as he can, he slips his wrists out of your grip, winds one arm around your waist, and gets up in one, quick motion. You’re not light, but you’re not heavy either, almost a comforting weight in his arms. You make a little noise of surprise, but wrap your legs around him almost instinctively, your arms slipping around his neck. He can feel the heat of your cheek where it’s pressed against the side of his neck.
“Okay,” he announces, “that’s enough. I’m taking this one home.”
More heckling. Cooing and wolf whistling. Jisung yells “just as it was about to get good” just as Seungmin scoffs out a dry “please, have your foreplay in private”.
Somehow, he manages to make one of them actually collect your phone from the coffee table and your bag from somewhere behind the sofa, plucks your coat off the hook by the door and with one last goodbye and a ‘text you later, fuckers’ makes it out onto the hallway.
He sighs when he pulls the door shut behind himself and only feels your arms tighten around him, making no effort to remove yourself from his hold. Only then does he realise you were quiet the whole time, while he was getting you two out of there.
“You alright, baby?” he asks, as you wait for elevator, cringing when the endearment slips out. But you don’t seem to care. Only nod into his neck. He knows something’s not right, but he doesn’t want to push it. The situation feels fragile all of a sudden. So he holds you quietly, rubs his thumb soothingly over your back, until the elevator arrives and all the way down and to his car, pulls you closer when you shiver against the cool night air.
After he opens his car door, he taps your leg.
“You gotta get off now, sweetheart, or I can’t take you home,” he mumbles, as sweetly as he can, and you finally, reluctantly unfold your legs from his waist and jump onto the floor.
Only when you can no longer avoid it, do you finally meet his eyes, and to Changbin’s surprise you look … embarrassed. He blinks, before he catches himself and smiles.
“Come on, get in, I’ll drive you home, okay?”
You nod and do as he says, and he opens the back door to place your stuff on the back seat before he rounds the car and slips into the driver’s seat.
Before doing anything else, he starts the car and cranks the heat, though what’s blowing at first is nothing but lukewarm air.
“Can we …” you start, but suddenly stop and shake yourself, sliding further down in your seat and redirecting your gaze out the window. You’re shivering slightly. Changbin wills his car to warm up faster.
“Hm? ‘Can we’ what?”
You just shake your head, mumble out a quick little ‘nothing’ and Changbin’s heart squeezes in his chest. He reaches out, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear softly. Your eyelids flutter at the touch.
“Come on, spit it out.”
You sigh, turn to face him.
“Can … can I maybe sleep at yours?”
It’s a bad idea, he thinks, and it’s like you can read it on his face.
“No, not like that, I swear! I just … I get anxious when I sleep alone when I’m drunk. With everything spinning and all that … it’s just … uncomfortable.”
Changbin lets out a long breath.
“Of course you can,” he says, before he has to turn away to start the car, before he does something stupid, like lean over to try and soothe the worry out of your beautiful mind with a kiss.
The ‘thank you’ you whisper into the air gets drowned out by the engine humming to life.
The drive is silent for a long time. Neither of you ever turned the radio on, so the only sound is the engine, the gears shifting into place, the tires on the road. He stops at a red light, still 10 minutes away from his house. There’s not a single other car on the street, like you’re the only people in the world. It makes the silence hanging between you thicker.
You break it suddenly.
“I’m sorry.”
The words are so quiet that, for a second, Changbin isn’t even sure you were speaking at all. But when he turns to you, you’re already looking at him. You look even more embarrassed than earlier.
“F-for what?” he asks, shakily.
“For what I d- … for how I acted earlier. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable,” you mumble, and once the apology is out, you shift in your seat, turn forwards until you’re no longer forced to look at him. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and start worrying it there, your arms coming to wrap around yourself protectively.
“I- I wasn’t thinking. It’s stupid. I’m stupid. But I need to say it now because otherwise I’ll never say it. God knows I won’t say it sober,” you laugh dryly. You look so sad it makes Changbin’s heart bleed.
“It’s stupid because I’m in love with you. And sometimes I let myself believe you might like me, too. And my drunk brain tonight decided to do something stupid like get– like flirt with you, and it made you uncomfortable. So I’m sorry.”
Changbin is too stunned to speak. The light has long since turned green, but the car is still idling. He’s staring at you – staring at the centre of his fucking universe, the woman he’s been silently dreaming of one day marrying for the better part of the last two years, who just told him she’s in love with him, too. He feels dizzy, overwhelmed with how his heart is filling with so much love.
He tries to take a deep breath, but it comes out stuttery. There are so many things he wants to say, so many things he wants to do, but he has to be strong. Has to resist the temptation because you deserve better than in the car in the middle of the night on a Thursday, he in sweats and you half drunk.
He just hopes you remember this tomorrow.
You huff, your chest trembling with something that isn’t the cold. You sniffle quietly, before you rub the back of your hand over your nose angrily.
“I’m sorry. I’ll get over it.”
Changbin shakes his head before he realises you can’t see him.
“Hey,” he whispers. His voice is shaky, barely there.
You turn to him. He reaches out, cups your face with his palm. Wipes the tear running down your cheek away with his thumb.
“Don’t,” he somehow manages to say, “we’ll talk tomorrow. But just … don’t. Don’t get over it. … Please.”
You stare at him, eyes wide, your mouth hanging slightly open.
He waits until you nod, before he retracts his hand, shifts into first gear and finally pulls away from the stoplight.
When he pulls into his parking spot in front of his house and looks over, you’re fast asleep. Slumped against the car door, your arms still wrapped around yourself tightly, you look small. Vulnerable. It makes something so protective flare up in Changbin’s chest that for a second, he doesn’t know what to do with himself, so overcome is he with the sheer magnitude of what he feels for you.
But before long, he has to shut off the car. As quietly as he can, he gets out, collects your things from the back seat, before he wakes you just enough to coax you back into his arms so he can carry you inside.
By now it seems like your tipsiness has given way to a bone deep tiredness because you barely manage to keep your eyes open. So he carries you all the way into his bedroom, sits you down on the bed. He goes to the kitchen to get you some water, and by the time he comes back he finds you curled up on top of the sheets, fully dressed, back asleep. He wakes you softly, helps you sit up to drink, but you sway and nearly topple over, so he holds the bottle to your lips, forces you to drink at least half, before he closes it back up and places it on the bedside table. Coaxing you along with quiet words, he asks you to take off your jeans, helps you out of them, his eyes glued to your face until he has folded the bedsheets over your bare legs, and hands you one of his t-shirts, asking you to change into it. You rip your shirt over your head, and Changbin just about manages to turn around before you slip out of your bra and shrug his shirt on.
Only once he hears you settle into the sheets does he turn around. As gently as he can, he tucks the duvet in behind your back and brushes your hair away from your face gently. You shiver under his touch, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut for a second, before he gets overwhelmed. As you doze off, he presses a soft kiss to your temple, stores in it all the care, all the love he has for you – and a silent wish, a prayer that you wake up tomorrow, and you still remember what you said to him. That you meant it.
Then you’re asleep. Breathing quietly, face pressed into his pillows.
He gets up. Collects your clothes from the floor, before he slips into the bathroom, changes into a fresh shirt and gets out of his sweats, and slides into bed with you. He lies there, awake, next to you, without touching you, for a long time, just listening to you breathing, wondering what will happen tomorrow morning.
When you wake up, you don’t know where you are for all of 2 seconds before you blink open your eyes, and you’re met with Changbin’s adorable, sleeping face.
He’s on his back, thick chest rising and falling with deep breaths, his head lolled towards you. His sweet, heart-shaped lips are slightly open, little snores tumbling from them. The back of his hand is resting against your knee. It twitches slightly as he dreams.
You’ve slept over at his place countless times over the years, though usually, he sets you up on the pull-out couch. You’ve never woken up in his bed before.
You smile. Can’t help it. He’s adorable. Gorgeous. Pink and sleep-soft, warm and kind and safe. You trust him unconditionally, know that you can because he’s him. You’ve been in love with him ever since you met him.
The memory of last night doesn’t crash over you. Rather, it settles into your bones quietly, calmly. You’d said it. You’d finally said it. The relief was enough, no matter how much it hurt, but then he’d spoken. He’d looked at you like you only ever dreamed of, and he’d told you not to get over it.
He loves you, too.
You want to snuggle close to him, maybe wake him with a hesitant, first little kiss to his cheek, but you’re thirsty. You need to pee. You need to take at least one painkiller, though your headache isn’t bad. You hadn’t actually been that drunk last night. Only sentimental. Spurred on by a heart-to-heart with Hyunjin and a kind of frustrated determination to finally stop pining over your best friend.
You slip out of bed without waking him, grabbing the half empty water bottle and quietly lock yourself in the bathroom. You know where he keeps it all – get the painkillers out of the top cabinet, swallow one with some water. You pee, then get your toothbrush out of the bottom cabinet, where he always keeps it. Brush your teeth quietly.
When you slip back into the bedroom, Changbin is sitting up against his headboard. He’s a picture –squinting into the morning sunlight, rubbing at his eye with the ball of his hand. His curly hair is sticking up in all directions. The muscles in his arms bulge distractingly against the fabric of his shirt.
“Are you okay?” he asks, voice still deep and thick with sleep, “you didn’t throw up, did you?”
You huff out a soft little laugh, shake your head. “Just went to pee. Brushed my teeth.”
He nods blearily, but relieved.
Your patience runs out. You skip back over to the bed, just about resisting the urge to run, giggling, your heart beating erratically, giddily in your ears as you get back under the covers, slide over until your bare legs find his. Before he can stop you, you crawl over him –and collapse onto his chest with a happy hum.
Changbin freezes underneath you. You’re pretty sure he isn’t even breathing, but his heartbeat is loud. It thunders under your ear as you sink into his sleep warm, no, sleep hot body with a barely contained shudder. When he finally wraps his arms around you, you think you could cry. You’re so happy.
“Baby?” he asks, softly, and you sigh, lift your head enough to look at him. He’s staring at you with so much astonishment, you can’t help but smile. “So, you remember last night.”
You huff out a laugh, feel your cheeks warming. But you nod.
“You really … you … me?”
You watch as he struggles around the words, watch his cheeks tint pink, and his composure wane the longer you’re silent. You decide to take pity on him.
“I’m really in love with you, yeah,” you whisper. You feel yourself blush harder as you say the words. And despite how clear he was last night, there’s an agonising second where you wonder if you read it all wrong.
But then he smiles. Throws his head back and laughs, disbelieving, winded.
“I can’t … is this real life?!”
You giggle right back, sit back, straddling his hips, bring your hands to cup his face.
“Say it back,” you mumble, only half serious. You can feel his love seeping into through every inch of his skin pressed against yours, already. It’s dizzying.
He inhales shakily, places his own hands over yours on his face and finally looks at you.
“I love you, too, baby. Have for a long time.”
You can’t resist it. You squeal, dip in to press your forehead against his, leaning in slowly, but he chokes, turns his head.
“I haven’t brushed my teeth yet!”
He looks genuinely worried, but you shrug. You rub your thumb over the soft skin of his cheeks, lean in again until your lips brush against his and whisper three words before you lean in and finally kiss him.
“I don’t care.”
skzms masterlist // ko-fi
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