based on this request!! it has been a long time coming. i apologize for the wait 😭
wc : 12.6k (sorry) , pairing : first love!jaehee x first love!yn (fem) , genre : fluff, angst, smut.. full circle wholesome ending <3 (MDNI!!!) , warnings : first relationship, INSECURITY, communication issues, name calling (daeng, baby), ANGST!, mutual virginity loss, fingering, raw sex (don't do that), lots of kissing, yn has some issues to work out but they're pretty cute in the end
synopsis! for years, yn believed she was the kind of person people forgot. but through every twist of fate that brings them back together, jaehee keeps choosing her. as their long-awaited love story finally begins, yn must learn that being seen can be just as frightening as being invisible.
author's note! hi guys. jaehee debut happening.. for a total of probably 10 people because it seems like no one else biases him :( i really enjoyed writing this so i hope you guys will read it even if you don't bias jaehee 😭 i've literally been working on this for MONTHS like i think i started in october 😭 but yeah probably one of my more wholesome couples :3 thank u for reading to the end if u do. leave comments / asks and lmk how it is :)
jaehee was everything you weren’t.
some people move through the world as if it opens for them naturally. doors unlock before they reach them. conversations bend easily in their direction. even silence seems to welcome them. jaehee had always been one of those people.
in middle school, teachers adored him in the quiet, unmistakable way adults sometimes adore children who remind them that goodness can exist without effort. he stayed after class to help stack textbooks into neat piles while everyone else rushed toward the freedom of the afternoon. he carried attendance sheets to the office with both hands like it was something important. teachers trusted him with keys, errands, responsibilities that made his face brighten with shy pride.
you used to watch him from your desk near the window.
sunlight always seemed to find him somehow.
it caught in his hair when he laughed. rested against the curve of his cheek while he listened to someone speak. even then, before you knew what love was supposed to feel like, you thought there was something unfair about the way the world looked around him. softer somehow. kinder.
he was good at talking to people. good at existing around them. people leaned toward him naturally, as if drawn by warmth.
high school only sharpened that quality.
by sophomore year, everyone knew his name. upperclassmen called out to him in hallways crowded with bodies and noise. girls lingered near his desk before class started, pretending to ask him questions they already knew the answers to. teachers smiled when he walked into classrooms. even people who barely knew him spoke about him with familiarity, like he belonged to them a little.
you wondered sometimes what it must feel like to be loved so easily, because you were the opposite.
by sixteen, you had already perfected the art of disappearing.
you sat near the backs of classrooms, near windows, near exits. places where no one’s eyes landed for very long. entire school days passed without your voice surfacing once. sometimes teachers paused when handing your assignments back, a flicker of uncertainty crossing their faces while they tried to remember your name.
you understood your place in people’s lives with painful clarity. you were temporary and forgettable, the sort of person who could leave a room without disturbing the air.
and then there was jaehee.
every morning, without fail, he greeted you.
sometimes it was nothing more than a soft “good morning” as he slid into the desk beside yours. sometimes he smiled at you like he hadn’t seen you in years instead of yesterday afternoon. sometimes he tapped twice against your desk with his knuckles just to get your attention before asking whether you slept enough the night before.
small things that another person might not have remembered them an hour later, but no one had ever made an effort to notice you before. those moments stayed inside you for days.
you began looking for him instinctively. in crowded hallways, across classrooms, through cafeteria windows blurred with afternoon sunlight. when he was absent, something strange settled over your day, a quiet disappointment you hated yourself for feeling so deeply.
jaehee smiled at everyone, but it always felt different when the smile was for you. it was warmer, shyer, somehow.
you noticed it before anything else.
jaehee was effortless around other people. funny, confident, endlessly easy to love. but around you, he faltered in ways so small no one else would have seen them. he held your gaze a second too long before suddenly looking away. his ears turned pink whenever your fingers brushed while exchanging pencils. sometimes he forgot what he was saying halfway through a sentence when you smiled at him unexpectedly.
you noticed everything about him. the way he laughed more softly around you. the way he always chose the seat beside yours even when better ones were open. the way he remembered things you mentioned once months ago, small details even you had forgotten you told him.
once, during math class, he folded a page of notebook paper into a tiny star and slid it onto your desk without looking at you. you kept it inside your pencil pouch for two years.
sometimes, late at night, lying awake beneath the blue glow of your ceiling light, you wondered if he understood what he was doing to you. if he knew that every act of kindness from him lodged itself somewhere deep inside your ribs and stayed there. no one else looked at you the way jaehee did.
the night beneath the stars belonged to the two of you long before either of you admitted it aloud.
no one knew about the field behind the school where the grass bent gently beneath the wind. about the way the sky looked endless above you both while the town slept quietly in the distance. about how jaehee grew quieter after midnight, his voice softer, more careful, like honesty had begun settling into him slowly.
you remember turning toward him once and realizing he was already looking at you. not at the stars, but at you.
his expression changed the second your eyes met. something vulnerable flickered across his face so quickly it almost hurt to witness. then he blushed.
jaehee, who could speak to anyone without hesitation. jaehee, who walked through crowded hallways like he belonged there completely. jaehee, who girls fell in love with without trying. he looked at you like you were the one capable of undoing him.
you thought about that look for months afterward.
you and jaehee graduated high school carrying your secret carefully between you like something fragile.
no one knew how much he adored you, or the paper stars hidden inside your belongings. about the notes he passed during class just to make you smile. about the silence that fell over him whenever you touched him unexpectedly. about the way he once walked you home without saying more than three sentences because you had grabbed his hand first and he was too nervous to think clearly afterward.
no one knew the boy everyone loved looked at you like you were something precious.
maybe the saddest thing was that neither of you said anything about it.
after the graduation ceremony ended, people flooded the field in waves of noise and laughter. parents carried flowers. cameras flashed endlessly beneath the summer heat. you stood there feeling strangely detached from all of it until you saw jaehee searching through the crowd.
the moment he found you, his entire face lit up. you felt it somewhere deep in your chest, like sunlight breaking through clouds after days of rain. you think part of you understood then that you would spend the rest of your life looking for him too.
neither of you expected to end up at the same university, but somehow, impossibly, you did.
college changed you in quiet ways. for the first time in your life, people learned your name quickly. girls on your dorm floor knocked on your door just to ask if you wanted to get food with them. you almost never ate alone anymore. you laughed more easily. you stopped shrinking yourself quite so much. you were happy.
still, every beautiful thing eventually led your thoughts back to jaehee.
sometimes you caught yourself smiling during conversations only to remember the first time he had seen you smile properly in high school. the way his expression froze for half a second. the blush spreading slowly across his cheeks afterward.
“you should smile more,” he had murmured back then, almost embarrassed by his own honesty. “i kind of want to keep it for myself.”
you wondered if he still remembered saying that. you wondered where he was now, if he still laughed too softly when he was nervous, if girls still fell in love with him everywhere he went. if he would recognize your smile now.
early autumn, the university showed a movie in the football stadium. students covered the football field in blankets and hoodies and paper cups filled with soda. the giant stadium screen cast flickering light over hundreds of faces while cold air drifted slowly through the night.
knowing the field was enormous, jaehee told himself there was no possibility the girl sitting beside him could be you. the girl beside him laughed easily and was confident. she sat surrounded by friends, warm beneath the stadium lights, looking like someone who belonged exactly where she was. you didn’t look lonely anymore.
you laughed, and he knew instantly.
after that, he barely watched the movie at all. he watched the light move across your face instead. he watched you tuck your knees closer to your chest when the wind picked up. watched you lean toward your friends while laughing. watched your smile appear and disappear in the glow of the screen like something painfully familiar.
by the time the movie ended, his heart was beating so hard it almost made him feel sick.
students began packing up blankets around you. conversations rose and scattered across the field. somewhere nearby, someone was singing drunkenly off key.
you gathered your things slowly, preparing to follow your friends out through the crowd when a pair of shoes appeared in front of you.
“yn?” he said your name carefully, like he had been carrying it around inside himself for years. he held out his hand toward you.
“jaehee?” your voice sounded smaller than you intended, almost fragile against the noise surrounding you.
for a moment, neither of you moved. you felt suspended somewhere between memory and reality, staring at the boy who had once occupied every quiet corner of your life.
he smiled the same smile that used to ruin you in classrooms and hallways and beneath midnight skies.
“this is crazy,” he said softly, laughing under his breath.
you couldn’t answer. you were too busy realizing that after all this time, he was still looking at you like finding you mattered.
jaehee clears his throat softly, fingers tightening for a second around the strap of his bag. “um,” he says, laughing under his breath in that nervous way you don’t remember him ever doing in high school. “do you maybe wanna get something to eat?”
he gestures vaguely over his shoulder toward the parking lot. “i drove.”
something inside you stumbles. your heart suddenly feels too large for your body, pressing hard against your ribs like it’s trying to escape. before you can overthink yourself into saying no, before the quieter, more frightened parts of you can interfere, you nod. “okay.”
behind you, your friends exchange looks immediately. one of them lifts her brows with obvious curiosity while another tries and fails to hide a smile. normally you would have noticed. normally embarrassment would have spread through you too quickly to ignore.
but all you can focus on is jaehee waiting for you.
the parking lot smells faintly like cold pavement and autumn leaves. the night air has sharpened while you were sitting on the field, and your hands feel chilled against the sleeves of your sweater. jaehee walks half a step beside you, close enough that your shoulder brushes his once accidentally.
his car is warmer than outside, carrying the faint scent of laundry detergent and something distinctly him beneath it. you sit carefully in the passenger seat while he starts the engine, fingers tapping once against the steering wheel like he’s trying to steady himself. for a while, neither of you says much.
streetlights slide across his face in intervals while he drives. gold, shadow, gold again. the city outside the windows feels strangely distant, blurred at the edges. you keep stealing glances at him when you think he isn’t looking.
the diner he takes you to sits near the edge of campus beneath a flickering neon sign that buzzes faintly against the dark. inside, the air smells like coffee, syrup, grease, warmth.
jaehee holds the door open for you automatically, and you thank him too quietly. he slides into the booth across from you, and the vinyl creaks beneath his weight. for a second neither of you reaches for the menus. you just look at each other.
his smile still hasn’t disappeared. it’s the same smile.
“so,” he says finally, leaning back slightly. “you ended up here too.”
you lower your eyes toward the menu to avoid looking at him too directly. his gaze still affects you too easily. warmth creeps slowly into your cheeks under the weight of it.
“how’s it been?” he asks. “settling in, i mean.”
you trace your thumb absentmindedly along the laminated edge of the menu.
“it’s good,” you say quietly. “i’m happy here.”
then, after a second: “i think i’m doing okay.”
jaehee’s expression softens immediately. “i’m glad,” he says, and there’s something painfully sincere about the way he says it. “really.”
you don’t think anyone has ever looked this relieved to hear you’re happy. it makes you nervous in a way that feels almost unbearable. sitting across from him like this feels strangely unreal, like stepping back into a dream you already abandoned. except now he feels a bit older, taller. his voice sits deeper in his chest when he speaks. and he’s still looking at you with that same careful attention that once kept you awake at night.
you realize suddenly that your hands are trembling slightly beneath the table.
“how about you?” you ask quickly, mostly to redirect your thoughts. “how was your summer?”
jaehee laughs softly. the sound settles somewhere deep inside you immediately, familiar enough to ache.
“it was alright,” he says. “pretty boring, honestly.”
he glances toward the window for a second before looking back at you again. “college has been fun though. weird too.”
he smiles faintly. “everyone talks about freedom before you get here, but i didn’t really get it until now. suddenly nobody tells you what to do anymore. you can stay awake until four in the morning if you want. skip class. eat cake for dinner.”
you laugh quietly. his face brightens a little at the sound.
“i probably sound stupid,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “sorry. i’m just…” he hesitates. “really nervous right now.”
you blink. “you’re nervous?” the smile tugging at your mouth grows before you can stop it. “the jaehee?”
he groans softly and drops his head for a second, laughing into his hand. “don’t say it like that.”
“like what?”
“like i’m some guy.”
you look at him for a moment longer than you mean to. to you, he always had been.
jaehee lifts his eyes again eventually, and this time there’s something quieter inside them. something honest.
“if i’m being really honest,” he says slowly, “i never thought i’d see you again.”
the noise of the diner seems to blur faintly around the edges after that.
plates clatter somewhere nearby. a waitress laughs at something near the counter. outside the windows, headlights sweep past in streaks of pale light. but all you can focus on is him.
“ever,” he adds quietly.
his fingers drum once against the table before stilling again.
“seeing you tonight kind of feels like…” he exhales through a soft laugh. “i don’t know. like i got handed a second chance or something.”
you stare at him. “me?”
the word leaves your mouth before you can stop it. somewhere inside yourself, despite everything changing, despite college and new friends and becoming someone easier to love, part of you still believes you are fundamentally forgettable. still believes you were simply the quiet girl from the back row.
jaehee looks at you like the question itself pains him.
“yeah,” he says gently. “you.” his expression shifts then, becoming thoughtful.
“i always wished i talked to you more in high school.”
you feel your pulse quicken. he looks down briefly before continuing.
“i think i was scared.” the confession lands softly between you, almost shy.
you think about the boy you used to watch laughing easily with everyone around him. the boy who seemed completely untouched by fear.
and somehow, impossibly, he had been afraid of you too. or maybe not afraid of you exactly. afraid of wanting you too much.
“i’d really like to see you again,” he says after a while.
his voice has gone quieter now. steadier.
“after tonight, i mean.” he smiles a little, almost embarrassed by his own sincerity. “if you want.”
you lower your eyes because looking at him directly feels dangerous suddenly. your throat tightens unexpectedly.
when you finally manage to nod, his entire face brightens in a way that makes your chest ache. like you’ve just given him something important.
after that night, you and jaehee stop going a single day without speaking.
it happens naturally.
first texts that stretch later into the night than either of you intend. then phone calls while walking back from class. then dinners together, study sessions, wandering through convenience stores at midnight because jaehee suddenly wanted ice cream.
he slips into your life so easily it frightens you sometimes. like he had always belonged there.
you begin noticing things about him constantly.
not dramatic things, but small things. the way he always slows his walking pace without mentioning it so you can keep beside him comfortably. the way he remembers your favorite drink order after hearing it once. the way he listens to you with his entire attention, like your thoughts deserve space in the world.
his kindness is effortless.
that’s what unsettles you most. it isn’t performative kindness, not the kind people wear so others will praise them for it. jaehee’s kindness exists quietly, naturally, in the background of everything he does.
like breathing.
sometimes he reaches for your hand absentmindedly while talking and doesn’t seem to realize he’s doing it. sometimes he looks at you with such open fondness that you have to glance away first. sometimes you catch him staring when he thinks you aren’t paying attention.
those moments affect you more than they should.
because the few scraps of affection you received from him in high school once felt powerful enough to survive on for months. this is different. this is constant, deeper. more terrifying.
one evening you lie beside him in his dorm room while rain taps softly against the windows. your head rests against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm beneath your ear while his fingers drift lazily through your hair.
the room smells faintly like detergent and coffee. his roommate isn’t home.
everything feels unbearably peaceful. you stare at the dim light pooling across the ceiling and think, suddenly, that happiness always feels temporary when you finally touch it. like something borrowed.
“what are you thinking about?” jaehee asks quietly.
you tilt your face slightly toward him. he brushes a strand of hair away from your forehead with such gentleness it almost hurts. you smile faintly. “how happy i am right now.”
he hums softly. “you always say that.”
“because i never thought this would happen to me.”
jaehee smiles in that fond, helpless way he does whenever you say something that breaks his heart a little. “you always say that too.”
his hand settles against the side of your face. after a moment, he speaks again, quieter this time. “i’ve liked you for a really long time, yn.”
your chest tightens.
“remember what i told you the night we met again?”
you nod slowly against him. “that it felt like you got a second chance.”
“yeah.”
he looks down at you then with an expression so soft it almost feels sacred. “i think maybe we were always supposed to find each other again.”
your throat aches unexpectedly.
“i like you too much for it not to be you.”
the words settle inside you slowly. you push yourself up slightly so you can look at him properly.
his eyes are sleepy and affectionate beneath the dim room light. his hair falls softly across his forehead. he looks at you like you are something worth protecting.
“i like you a lot too, daeng,” you whisper.
his smile appears instantly. then he kisses you slowly and gently the way he always does, like he’s afraid of rushing something precious.
his thumbs brush softly against your cheeks while he kisses you, and suddenly you can feel all of it at once. all the love sitting quietly inside him. all the care. all the tenderness he gives you so naturally.
it overwhelms you. your chest tightens painfully. before you realize it, you’re pulling away. the distance appears between you too quickly.
jaehee stills immediately.
you look down instead of at him, settling your head back against his chest like hiding there might save you from explaining yourself. because some part of you still cannot understand how someone like him could love you this gently without eventually regretting it.
his hand hesitates briefly before returning to your hair. careful, always so careful with you.
“can we play xbox now?” you ask softly after a while. you force yourself to smile a little when you look up at him. jaehee smiles back, but this one is smaller. fainter around the edges.
without saying anything, he sits up and reaches for the controller across the room before placing it carefully into your hands. you hate the guilt that arrives immediately afterward. hate the way disappointment flickers across his face even when he’s trying to hide it from you.
when he starts to move away from the bed, you catch his wrist gently. “you’re not playing with me?”
“you can start without me,” he says. his voice remains soft. it’s always soft with you.
“i’m making our reservation for saturday.”
“reservation?” you blink up at him. “for what?”
he glances back over his shoulder. “that steak place downtown.”
you stare at him for a second, then laugh quietly. “baby,” you murmur, “it’s only our three month anniversary.”
jaehee’s expression changes immediately. serious now. earnest in that way that always catches you off guard. “yeah,” he says simply. “and i waited two years to have you properly.”
your heart stumbles again.
he looks at you for another second before speaking more quietly. “i want to celebrate every month i get with you.”
something warm unfolds slowly inside your chest. you always knew jaehee was romantic in the quiet ways that mattered. but sometimes his sincerity still catches you unprepared, arriving so honestly that you don’t know what to do with it.
you look down at the controller in your lap so he won’t see how affected you are.
“you’re too lovely for me,” you mumble eventually.
he hears you anyway. of course he does.
the dinner happens a week later.
even before jaehee arrives, you know you look beautiful. not in an arrogant way, but quietly. your curls fall perfectly for once. your dress fits like it belongs to you. when you look at yourself in the mirror, you almost understand what jaehee sees.
almost.
when he picks you up, he stops walking for half a second after the door opens. then he smiles so brightly you feel shy immediately. he’s holding flowers. of course he is. somehow they match your dress perfectly.
“wow,” he says softly. the word leaves him like breath. he presses a kiss against your cheek before you can respond, lingering just long enough to make your pulse flutter.
“every time i see you,” he murmurs near your ear, “i feel like the luckiest guy alive.”
you spend the entire drive trying not to smile too hard.
inside the restaurant, warm golden light pools across polished tables and wine glasses. jaehee keeps his hand against your waist while walking beside you, fingers spread gently like he wants reassurance you’re really there.
you like how small you feel next to him. safe, somehow. like if the world became too loud, he would quietly move in front of you and soften it.
the waiter seats you near the corner by a dim lamp and asks casually whether you’re celebrating anything special tonight.
before you can answer, jaehee says:
“our one year anniversary.”
your eyes widen immediately.
the waiter congratulates you warmly while jaehee squeezes your hand beneath the table like he’s trying not to laugh. once the waiter leaves, you stare at him across the candlelight. “why would you say that?”
he shrugs easily. “it’s not technically impossible.”
you laugh despite yourself. he watches you the entire time like your happiness is something worth memorizing.
later, when the food arrives, jaehee cuts your steak for you without thinking much about it. you find yourself staring at his hands. then his wrists. then the shape of his forearms beneath the rolled sleeves of his sweater.
before you can stop yourself, the words slip out. “everything about you is attractive.”
jaehee looks up immediately, caught off guard. “oh?”
you nod, suddenly unable to become shy about it. “your hands. your arms. your face.” you pause. “everything.”
he stares at you for a second like he can’t fully process what he’s hearing. then he laughs softly. “it’s good to know you actually like me too.”
your chest twists strangely at the joke.
“what?”
the word leaves you more quietly than intended. because haven’t you been trying to show him? haven’t you been loving him with everything you have?
before you can ask what he means, another voice interrupts, bright and familiar.
“jaehee?”
your stomach drops instantly.
you recognize her before she even fully steps toward the table.
she was beautiful in high school in the effortless kind of way that made other people rearrange themselves around her. teachers adored her. classmates orbited her naturally. she always seemed lit from within somehow. the sort of girl who belonged beside someone like jaehee.
she smiles at you politely, but you know immediately she doesn’t remember you at all.
jaehee smiles back easily. “hey. wow, it’s been forever.”
while they speak, you sit quietly beside him, hands folded carefully in your lap.
you remember her laughing with him in classrooms years ago, and how naturally they occupied the same spaces. she tells him about the nearby college she attends now. tells him she noticed him from across the restaurant and almost couldn’t believe it.
then jaehee turns toward you without hesitation. “it was nice seeing a familiar face again,” he says, smiling softly at you.
your chest tightens.
the girl blinks. “wait,” she says. “you two knew each other before?”
she looks at you apologetically, blankly. “i don’t think i do,” she admits.
then, after a second:
“but i definitely would’ve remembered someone this pretty.”
you smile politely because it feels expected.
jaehee laughs under his breath. “we all had math together for like two years.”
“it’s okay,” you say quietly. “i was really shy back then.”
the girl’s expression softens.
“that’s such a shame,” she says. “we probably would’ve been friends.”
you nod politely again even though you know that isn’t true.
girls like her didn’t notice girls like you back then, not really. people like you now because you learned how to become easier to love. you learned how to speak more clearly. smile at the right moments. dress better. hide the lonelier parts of yourself beneath prettier ones.
after she leaves, something inside you shifts quietly.
your appetite disappears. you push food around your plate while jaehee talks, still smiling softly at you from across the table, completely unaware of the spiral beginning beneath your skin.
because suddenly all you can think is this:
someone like him should be with someone like her, bright and effortless who shines naturally in every room they enter. not someone who spent most of her life trying to disappear.
the next week, the thoughts return so quietly you almost mistake them for instinct.
they arrive while you’re brushing your teeth in the morning. while waiting for your coffee to cool. while staring at yourself in bathroom mirrors too long. small thoughts at first, harmless enough on their own.
someone like him should be with someone brighter, someone easier. someone who doesn’t have to think so hard about being loved.
you try to ignore them.
but thoughts like that rarely disappear once they find somewhere comfortable to live.
the library is louder than usual that afternoon.
someone nearby keeps laughing too hard at things that aren’t funny, and every few minutes a chair scrapes loudly against the floor. sunlight filters weakly through the tall windows, turning the dust in the air gold for a second before it disappears again.
you sit beside jaehee at the long wooden table while his friends spread notebooks and laptops around you in messy piles.
you only came because he asked. because when jaehee looks at you hopefully and says come with me, it becomes difficult to say no to anything.
still, by the time you arrive, you can already feel yourself rationing energy carefully inside your own body. measuring out pieces of your attention. saving enough warmth for him so he won’t notice how tired your mind feels lately.
jaehee, meanwhile, looks completely natural here.
he leans back in his chair laughing at something one of his friends says, eyes crinkling softly at the corners. people speak over each other constantly around him, conversations splitting and reconnecting like tangled strings, but somehow he keeps up with all of it effortlessly.
you watch him while pretending to read over your notes. you’ve always loved seeing him like this, comfortable and wanted. people gravitate toward him without realizing they’re doing it. his presence softens rooms. fills silence naturally. even now, surrounded by loud voices and overlapping conversations, everyone still seems faintly tuned toward him, waiting for his reaction, his laugh, his attention.
you realize suddenly that you still don’t know how to exist like that.
you thought maybe college had changed you more than it actually had.
but sitting here beside people who speak so easily, who interrupt each other confidently and take up space without apology, you feel that familiar shrinking sensation beginning again inside your chest. like everyone else learned something about living that you somehow missed.
the conversation shifts toward bad professors. someone across the table complains dramatically about a chemistry lecture, and another person immediately joins in. everyone begins talking at once.
you open your mouth carefully. “i had a professor like that too last semes—” your voice disappears beneath the noise almost instantly.
nobody notices. the conversation keeps moving forward without pausing long enough for you to catch up again.
heat crawls slowly up your neck. you lower your eyes toward your notebook and pretend not to mind.
then, gently, someone nudges your arm. “you did?”
you look up. jaehee is already watching you. his chin rests loosely against his hand, expression soft with attention, like your unfinished sentence was the most important thing he heard all afternoon.
your chest tightens unexpectedly.
“yeah,” you mumble. suddenly your throat feels too dry to continue. you hadn’t even realized he was listening to you at all.
his eyes linger on your face for another second. “you okay?” he asks quietly.
he leans closer when he says it, voice dropping instinctively softer for you than it is for anyone else.
your pulse stutters painfully.
he’s always like this, paying attention and noticing the smallest shifts in you before anyone else can.
immediately the questions begin again, cruel and familiar.
do you deserve someone who looks at you this carefully?
is this really love, or is jaehee simply kind enough to make anyone feel special?
how could someone like him possibly want someone like you this much?
what exactly did he see in you all those years ago?
“jesus,” one of his friends groans suddenly from across the table. “you two are disgusting.”
everyone laughs.
“seriously,” another says. “i can’t even focus with all the staring.”
you feel your face burn instantly. jaehee only smiles. not embarrassed or defensive—just quietly pleased. he glances toward you again afterward, eyes warm in that unbearable way they always are.
“how’d you guys even meet?” someone asks a second later.
you instinctively part your lips to answer, but jaehee speaks first.
“i liked her forever in high school,” he says simply. the words land so casually that for a second nobody reacts.
then someone whistles dramatically across the table.
jaehee laughs under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “we just didn’t start dating until last semester.”
he looks at you when he says it. directly at you. like even now, after finally having you, the fact still feels unreal to him.
“crazy, right?”
the conversation shifts again almost immediately after that. someone starts talking about dorm parties. someone else complains about midterms. laughter rises and falls around you in waves, but you barely hear any of it. because your chest still aches strangely from hearing him say it aloud so easily.
i liked her forever.
as if loving you had always been obvious to him.
jaehee keeps checking on you throughout the afternoon.
small glances, small touches. his knee brushing yours beneath the table. his hand sliding absentmindedly across the back of your chair.
every time he laughs, his eyes find you automatically afterward, like some part of him needs to make sure you’re still there too. and somehow, that only makes the ache inside you worse. because the more openly he loves you, the less you understand why.
the change begins quietly after that.
it happens so quietly neither of you fully notice it at first.
it starts with your kisses. not the kisses themselves, exactly, but the endings of them.
where you once melted easily into him, now something in you hesitates. your lips still meet his softly, your hands still curl against his sweater, but the moment his affection becomes too visible, too sincere, panic flickers somewhere deep inside your chest.
you pull away earlier now. sometimes right when his hands settle at your waist. sometimes when his thumbs brush too tenderly against your cheeks. or when he kisses you with too much feeling and you suddenly cannot bear being looked at so lovingly.
every time, jaehee pauses, but he never complains. he only presses his forehead gently against yours afterward, breathing quietly while he waits for you to settle again.
like he’s afraid of startling you. like he thinks patience alone might protect whatever fragile thing has started forming between you.
then your texts begin changing too.
once, your conversations stretched endlessly into the night. rambling thoughts. blurry photos. voice messages filled with half-finished sentences and laughter.
now your replies grow shorter without meaning to.
i’m okay.
just tired.
miss you too.
the words still say the right things, but something inside them has thinned. even you can feel it.
jaehee notices too.
late at night, lying alone in bed, he rereads your messages searching for signs he missed earlier. some hidden shift in tone, or some mistake he made accidentally, but he can’t find one.
when you’re together, you seem present and distant at the same time. you still smile at him, but your smiles disappear faster now.
sometimes you sit curled beside him with your hands folded tightly in your lap, shoulders slightly hunched inward, unconsciously trying to make yourself smaller again. jaehee notices that too. he notices everything about you.
the way you say you’re tired more often lately. the way your eyes drift somewhere unreachable in the middle of conversations. the way you rest against his chest without fully relaxing into him anymore. like part of you remains tense even in his arms.
“you okay?” he asks one evening while brushing his fingers through your hair. always gently. always softly.
you nod too quickly.
“yeah,” you whisper. “i’m fine.”
jaehee wants to believe you, so he does. or at least he tries to.
but afterward he starts holding you longer when you hug him goodbye. starts kissing your forehead more carefully. starts watching your face when he says something affectionate, like he’s trying to memorize where your reactions changed.
when you pull away from kisses now, he lets you. even though disappointment flashes briefly across his face before he hides it again, because hurting you is the last thing he ever wants to do.
at night, when you fall asleep curled beside him, jaehee stays awake longer than usual.
the room remains dark except for the faint glow of streetlights slipping through the blinds.
he listens quietly to your breathing against his chest. he counts the slow rise and fall of it and wonders when exactly you started feeling so far away from him.
he doesn’t know the reason yet. he only knows something inside you is hurting and whatever it is, you’ve decided to carry it alone.
being home again feels wrong in a way you can’t properly explain.
nothing here has changed.
the same framed photos still line the hallway walls. the same clock in the kitchen ticks too loudly at night. even the air feels identical to the one you left behind months ago, heavy and still and impossible to escape once it settles inside your lungs.
your childhood bedroom looks smaller now, or maybe you’re the one who changed.
when your parents mention driving an hour away to visit relatives for the weekend, you shake your head before they even finish asking.
“i’m just not really feeling up to it,” you murmur.
they accept the answer easily.
you’re grateful for that because the truth is you can already feel yourself unraveling here. being back home resurrects parts of yourself you thought you left behind when you moved away for college.
the loneliness returns first, then the silence. you’d forgotten how loud silence could become in this house.
during high school, entire afternoons used to pass without anyone saying your name once. you remember sitting alone in your room while daylight slowly disappeared outside your window, feeling time stretch endlessly around you like something living.
you remember walking through school hallways convinced nobody would notice if you vanished midway through the day.
you remember sitting beside classroom windows watching seasons change outside while your own life remained painfully still.
except for him.
jaehee existed in those memories like warmth exists inside winter. small at first, then suddenly everywhere. you remember the sound of his voice saying good morning to you each day like it was the most natural thing in the world.
you remember how shocking it felt the first time someone looked genuinely happy to see you.
how his smile reached you before his words ever did. soft, bright, real. there were mornings when that smile alone carried you through entire days.
sometimes you think jaehee saved your life without realizing it.
you squeeze your eyes shut against the thought. because lately, you barely see him smile at all. and the worst part is knowing exactly why.
you.
the realization settles slowly inside you, cold and permanent. you think about the way he watches you now—carefully. like he’s trying not to startle something wounded.
you think about how often concern flickers across his face these days. how he hesitates before touching you sometimes, like he’s become afraid of pushing too hard and losing you completely.
you think about the exhaustion hidden underneath his gentleness lately. the dimness slowly replacing his light. he shouldn’t have to love someone this carefully.
jaehee was never meant to become cautious.
he was born to exist brightly, to laugh loudly in crowded rooms. to love freely without fear. and now every soft thing he does feels restrained by the possibility of hurting you. especially not for someone like you.
outside, rain has been falling since morning. the kind that seems furious with the earth itself. it slams against the windows relentlessly, turning the sky dark enough that afternoon resembles evening. the entire house feels submerged beneath gray light.
you sit on the edge of your bed holding your phone in both hands. jaehee’s name glows softly against the screen. your thumb hovers above it.
i need to let him go.
the thought arrives quietly. because if you love someone properly, shouldn’t you want what’s best for them?
even if what’s best means losing them?
your chest aches so badly it feels difficult to breathe.
you stare at his name one second longer before there’s a knock at your door. your entire body freezes.
another knock.
your heartbeat lurches painfully against your ribs as you stand. somehow, before opening the door, you already know it’s him. jaehee stands on the other side completely soaked through.
for a second, you can only stare.
rainwater drips steadily from his hair onto the porch beneath him. his shirt clings damply against his skin, his jacket heavy and dark with water. he’s breathing hard enough that his chest rises unevenly beneath the fabric.
he ran here.
your first instinct is immediate and overwhelming—hold him, pull him inside. wrap your arms around him and apologize for every terrible thing your mind has convinced you of these past few weeks. instead, guilt crashes into you just as quickly. the look on his face already tells you you’ve hurt him more than you realized.
“jaehee?” your voice comes out smaller than intended. “did you run here?”
without thinking, you lift your hand toward his face. toward the rainwater sliding down his skin. toward him.
but halfway there, you stop yourself. your fingers curl inward, your arm falls back to your side.
something inside jaehee visibly crumples at the sight. he closes his eyes briefly, lips pressing together hard enough to tremble, like even that small hesitation wounded him.
when he opens his eyes again, they look unbearably tired.
“i can’t do this anymore, yn.”
your stomach drops instantly. there it is. the ending you’ve been preparing yourself for. still, hearing it aloud feels like stepping off something tall unexpectedly.
“you…” your voice catches painfully. “you can’t do this anymore?”
tears sting immediately behind your eyes. jaehee drags both hands down his soaked face. “i can’t,” he says again, but this time his voice breaks apart halfway through the sentence. “i can’t.”
rain hammers against the roof around you. somewhere in the distance, thunder rolls low across the sky.
“come inside,” you whisper desperately. “please. let’s just talk inside.”
“no.” he shakes his head instantly. water flicks from his hair with the motion. “i’m not going inside until you tell me what i did wrong.”
you stop breathing. for a second, you genuinely think you misheard him. “…what?”
his expression twists. “i did something wrong,” he says, voice cracking open completely now. “right? that’s why you’ve been pulling away from me?”
he swallows hard. “that’s why you don’t like me anymore?”
your heart breaks so suddenly it almost feels physical. out of every possible explanation, that’s the one he chose. that you stopped loving him.
“do you still like me, yn?” he asks quietly. the hope in his eyes almost destroys you. small, fragile, still there anyway.
you open your mouth. nothing comes out. the silence stretches too long. you watch the exact moment something inside him dims.
he laughs weakly then, but the sound barely resembles one. “okay,” he says softly, nodding to himself more than to you. “okay. i’m sorry for coming here. i shouldn’t have.”
rainwater mixes with tears on his face so completely you can’t separate them anymore.
“just pretend this never happened.” he turns and starts walking back into the storm.
“jaehee.” your voice disappears beneath the rain.
he keeps walking. panic tears through you instantly.
“jaehee!” louder this time.
your body moves before your thoughts can catch up. you run after him into the rain without shoes, without a jacket, without caring how cold it feels. water soaks through your clothes immediately. “jaehee!”
finally he stops and turns around slowly. the expression on his face steals the air from your lungs. he looks devastated.
“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you cry. the words barely leave your mouth before sobs begin shaking through you.
jaehee’s face twists. “then talk to me,” he pleads. “please. just tell me where all of this went wrong.”
you want to move closer to him. you want to let him hold you. shame keeps your feet rooted painfully in place.
“i never meant to hurt you,” you whisper through tears. “i’m just not good for you, daeng.”
his brows pull together immediately, like the sentence itself makes no sense to him. “…what?”
rain pours down both of you mercilessly now.
“since we started dating,” you sob, “you’re the only one who’s been happy because of this. all i do is make you worry. you’ve become this…” your voice cracks violently. “this shell of yourself around me.” you can barely breathe anymore. the words spill out too quickly to stop now.
“the smile that made me fall in love with you is gone because of me.”
jaehee’s face crumples completely.
“being back here made me realize something,” you continue shakily. “back then, seeing you every day was the only reason i wanted to go to school at all.” your shoulders shake violently.
“just thinking maybe you’d say hi to me that morning meant everything.” a broken laugh escapes you.
“your smile represented a life worth living to me, jaehee.”
his eyes shine instantly.
“and now i’m the reason you barely smile.” you wrap your arms around yourself instinctively, trying to contain the shaking inside your body.
“someone like you shouldn’t be with someone like me.” the sentence tastes old and familiar, like something you’ve believed your entire life.
“you deserve someone brighter. someone unforgettable. someone who shines the way you do.”
your voice drops into something smaller. “not someone this easy to lose.”
“yn,” jaehee says desperately, closing the distance between you in two quick steps. “you’re not making any sense.”
his hands cup your face despite the rain. warm even now. gentle even now.
“you were the reason i smiled back then, too,” he says.
his voice breaks halfway through.
“you know that, right?”
you shake your head immediately because no—how could that possibly be true?
“no,” he says quickly, reading your expression instantly. “no, you couldn’t have known. but i need you to hear me now.” his hands tremble slightly against your cheeks.
“i need you to believe me.”
“i do,” you whisper automatically.
“no, you don’t.” his voice rises for the first time, raw with hurt.
“you don’t believe anything i say about you.”
rainwater clings to his lashes as he looks at you like he’s trying to reach inside your chest and pull the truth out himself.
“you have no idea what you mean to me, yn.”
“because why would someone like me mean anything to someone like you?” you cry back suddenly. the words rip out of you before you can stop them.
something inside jaehee breaks visibly at hearing them. “what does that even mean?” he asks. his voice sounds wrecked now, completely wrecked.
every terrible thought you’ve carried quietly for years begins to spill out.
“i’ve always felt small,” you sob. “like i barely exist half the time. like if i disappeared nobody would really notice.”
jaehee’s hands tighten around your face instinctively, but you keep going.
“i spent my whole life believing i was replaceable,” you cry. “that there’s always someone prettier or louder or easier to love waiting right behind me.”
your breath catches painfully in your chest. “being with you felt impossible.” your voice weakens. “like i stole happiness that belonged to somebody else.”
you look at him through blurred vision. “every morning i woke up expecting you to realize i wasn’t enough.” the confession leaves you shaking.
“you made me feel seen,” you whisper brokenly. “do you understand that? being with you is the happiest i’ve ever been in my entire life.” your body folds inward with the force of your sobbing.
“and i want to stay,” you cry. “i want to stay with you so badly. but my head keeps telling me i ruin everything i touch.”
rain streams endlessly down both your faces.
“i’m scared i’ll keep hurting you,” you whisper. “i’m scared i’ll keep pulling away until eventually you stop loving me.” your chest aches so badly it feels unbearable now. “i don’t want to be this way anymore.”
before you can say anything else, jaehee pulls you into him.
like he physically cannot stand another second with distance between you. his arms lock around you tightly beneath the rain. you feel his heartbeat slamming wildly against your cheek.
“i love you,” he says into your wet hair, certain and fierce.
“and you need to start believing that because it’s true.” his voice trembles.
“i’m not leaving you.”
you cry harder against him.
“none of those things matter to me,” he continues desperately. “the things you hate about yourself. nobody sees you the way you see yourself, yn.”
he pulls back just enough to look at you again. his eyes are red now. “everyone loves you.” the conviction in his voice hurts almost as much as the tenderness. “you’re incredible because you’re you.”
his thumb brushes shakily beneath your eye. “and i’m in love with you.”
you stare at him helplessly.
rain runs down the bridge of his nose, through his lashes, across his trembling mouth.
“i only stopped smiling because i thought i was losing you,” he whispers. “i thought i ruined us somehow.”
his forehead presses against yours. “but if you let me keep loving you…” his voice softens into something unbearably gentle. “i’ll smile again. i promise.”
something inside your chest finally gives way then, like unclenching a fist you didn’t realize you’d held for years. you nod through tears.
“you don’t have to carry everything alone anymore,” jaehee whispers.
his hands cradle your face like something precious.
“lean on me.”
rain pours around both of you endlessly.
“trust me.”
you close your eyes. for the first time in weeks, the storm inside your head quiets slightly. not gone, but quieter.
“you said you’re the only one who’s happy because of this,” jaehee murmurs. “but just being near you makes me happier than anything else in my life.” his mouth trembles into the faintest smile. “even thinking about you makes me smile.”
then he kisses you.
this time, when his love reaches for you, you don’t run from it. you let yourself stay.
you cry into the kiss and feel him doing the same, rainwater and tears blending together until neither of you can tell them apart anymore.
the storm continues raging around you, wild and alive. but held in his arms like this, you begin wondering if maybe love was never something you had to earn through becoming smaller.
maybe it was always supposed to feel like being found.
by the time you and jaehee make it back to your house, neither of you are crying anymore.
the storm still follows behind you in soft echoes. rain taps steadily against the roof while you unlock the front door with trembling fingers, the sleeves of your sweatshirt still damp at the cuffs.
you suddenly become hyperaware of everything. the sound of your breathing. the wet footprints trailing behind the two of you across the hardwood floor. the fact that jaehee is standing inside the place where you once spent years feeling painfully alone.
for a second, neither of you speak. you disappear briefly into the hallway closet and return with a towel.
“here,” you murmur softly.
jaehee takes it from you carefully, like even now he’s afraid sudden movements might scare you away again.
his fingers brush yours. warm. you can’t remember the last time touch felt this fragile. without really thinking about it, your hand slips into his. your fingers interlock naturally, automatically, and relief moves quietly through your chest when he squeezes back immediately.
you lead him upstairs.
your bedroom door creaks softly when you push it open. jaehee steps inside slowly. his eyes move across the room with quiet curiosity, taking in pieces of you that existed long before he did.
the old bookshelf beside your desk. the fading photographs tucked into the corner of your mirror. the small lamp near your bed casting everything in warm gold light. for some reason, having him here makes your chest ache.
you move toward your overnight bag quickly before you can think too hard about it.
rummaging through it, you pull out a folded sweatshirt and sweatpants. his sweatshirt. his sweatpants.
you freeze for half a second after realizing what you’ve just revealed accidentally. because of course they’re his. you brought them home selfishly, for nights when you missed him too much.
when you finally turn around and hand them to him, your cheeks already feel warm.
jaehee looks down at the clothes, then back at you. he laughs softly. not mockingly. something gentler than that. fond enough to make your stomach twist.
you look away immediately.
“i just…” you mumble, embarrassed now in a way that feels strangely domestic after everything that happened outside. “i liked wearing them.”
his expression softens so visibly it almost hurts to look at. you clear your throat quickly before the warmth in your chest becomes unbearable.
“i, um…” your voice catches awkwardly. “i don’t think i have underwear for you to change into.”
silence. then jaehee laughs again, brighter this time. his wet hair falls into his eyes slightly when he does. you think it might be the first real laugh you’ve heard from him in weeks. the sound makes something unclench inside you instantly.
“i think i’ll survive,” he says.
your face burns harder. he watches you for another second with obvious affection before finally disappearing into the bathroom to change.
the moment the door clicks shut, you exhale shakily. your room suddenly feels smaller with him inside it. more intimate. like every object surrounding you now carries the possibility of being noticed by him.
you change quickly into one of his oversized t shirts and a pair of soft shorts, pulling the fabric over your skin carefully. the shirt smells faintly like his detergent still, like him.
you don’t bother putting on a bra.
for once, the thought of being perceived by him doesn’t immediately make you panic. it only makes your heartbeat soften strangely.
jaehee steps out of the bathroom after changing. his damp hair curls slightly near his forehead. the sleeves of his sweatshirt swallow his hands halfway. you realize suddenly that you’ve never seen him look this soft before.
quietly, the two of you gather the soaked clothes from earlier. your fingers brush occasionally while stuffing fabric into the washer downstairs. neither of you let the other drift too far away for even a second.
when you return upstairs, jaehee sits back carefully against your bed frame with a tired exhale. the mattress dips beneath his weight.
his eyes drift slowly around the room again. “so this is your room,” he says softly.
you lean against your desk for a moment before smiling faintly. “the one and only.” the words leave you lighter than expected. maybe because he’s here now. maybe because this room no longer feels entirely lonely.
jaehee’s gaze lingers on you. there’s still something almost disbelieving in the way he looks at you tonight. like he keeps remembering he almost lost this. almost lost you.
“it’s nice,” he murmurs.
you shrug awkwardly. then, after a small pause, you admit quietly:
“you’re actually the only person who’s ever been in here.” you hesitate. “other than my parents.”
the room falls silent afterward.
you watch the realization settle slowly across jaehee’s face. suddenly you can tell he doesn’t know whether to smile or feel heartbroken. because to him, it means trust. but it also means loneliness. years of it.
before either of you say anything else, jaehee reaches for you. his hands slide around your waist gently, pulling you closer until you’re standing between his knees.
the movement feels instinctive. his forehead presses briefly against your stomach through the thin fabric of his shirt. for a second, neither of you move at all.
you look down at him quietly.
his hair is still slightly damp beneath your fingers when you begin brushing them through it absentmindedly. soft strokes. careful ones.
jaehee closes his eyes almost immediately at the touch.
his arms tighten around your waist.
you continue running your fingers through his hair while rain murmurs softly against the windows behind you.
and standing there in the middle of your childhood bedroom, with jaehee holding you like you’re something worth protecting, you realize this is the first time the room has ever felt warm.
the feeling makes you want to share your warmth in the only way you can think of.
you play with his hair for another minute, running the damp strands between your fingers. then you move your hands to cradle his face. the sudden gesture makes jaehee loosen his hold on your waist.
you lean down until your lips find his.
when you kiss him first, jaehee’s eyes widen in surprise. he can’t remember the last time you initiated any form of physical affection. but now your thumbs are brushing over his cheeks, and you’re kissing him with everything you have. he melts into you immediately, kissing you back with the same quiet desperation.
jaehee rises to his feet without breaking the kiss. his hands move from your face to your shoulders, then back to your waist. he gathers the fabric of your shirt in his fists as he kisses you clumsily, and your hands wander over his broad frame. when your cold fingers slip beneath the hem of his shirt and brush against his skin, his entire body shivers.
a soft groan escapes him when you flatten your palms against his bare back, pulling him impossibly close. he can feel your chest against his through both of your shirts before his grip tightens around your waist and he gently guides you backward onto the bed.
you crawl toward the pillows, your eyes never leaving his. your chest rises and falls with every breath.
jaehee pulls his shirt over his head, and you notice that he’s breathing just as hard.
the moment he climbs over you again, you’re reaching for him.
your hands move along his back for the first time in what feels like forever, tracing familiar lines as the muscles beneath your palms shift and flex. jaehee catches your bottom lip briefly between his, and your hands drift to his arms.
you’d forgotten how sturdy he is. how safe he feels.
why couldn’t you lean on him?
jaehee’s hands tremble slightly as they find the hem of your shirt. you feel the hesitation in his touch when his palms settle gently against the bare skin above your shorts. your breath catches when his thumbs begin tracing small, absent circles there.
you finally pull back just enough to rest your forehead against his.
a small smile tugs at your lips.
jaehee watches you patiently.
he’ll do whatever you want him to.
you can see it in his eyes.
slowly, you shift until you’re straddling his waist and he’s lying beneath you.
for a moment, you simply stay there.
your fingers leave light trails along his collarbone, down the center of his chest, and across the firm planes of his stomach. when you lean down, pressing soft kisses against his jaw and along the curve of his neck, quiet sounds leave him before he can stop them.
jaehee decides then that he’s entirely at your mercy.
eventually, you sit up again.
the oversized shirt pools around your hips where you’re sitting on top of him. your fingers find the hem and curl around the fabric.
before you can lift it, jaehee places his hand gently over yours.
you pause.
“yn—”
“i want to,” you blurt out.
his eyes widen slightly.
for a second, neither of you speak.
“do you want to?” you ask quietly, searching his face.
jaehee looks at you for a long moment before nodding.
“yeah,” he says softly.
you can feel jaehee growing underneath you with every inch of skin you reveal. when your shirt is fully pulled off, the brown in jaehee’s eyes are almost completely lost to his blown out pupils. you lean down just slightly, guiding your hand to your chest.
“please touch me,” you say gently. “i want to feel warm again.”
jaehee’s eyes move from your chest to your eyes.
he understands now, nodding his head again. his hands cup both of your breasts, spilling out between his fingers.
“you’re beautiful, yn,” he tells you as he cups you in his hands. you let out a soft sigh at the feeling of his hands. his groping only gets rougher as your noises encourage him.
he leans up to take a nipple in his mouth, his tongue laving the mound as his other hand pinches your other nipple.
“i love you,” he switches his attention to your other breast, and you can feel the air cooling his spit.
your hips shift forward at his words and he groans with your chest in his mouth. your hands find his hair again and keep his face buried there.
he pulls away to look at you, his pupils blown. you smile at him and lean down to find his lips again and you can feel him smile into the kiss, too.
jaehee’s hands move to your ass, pressing you against him. both of you groan at the feeling.
you’ve dry humped before, but never with both of you topless. “fuck,” you say, feeling the size his length through his sweatpants. it makes sense, for someone with jaehee’s height and build to also have a big dick. he twitches at the sound of you cursing.
jaehee maneuvers you until you’re laying down again and he’s leaning over you. he peppers kisses all over your face before his lips find your jaw and move down your throat. he sucks particularly hard where your neck meets your shoulder, then soothes the area with his tongue.
you’re whimpering his name as you feel the area dry and jaehee’s hands return to your chest. jaehee brings his forehead to rest against yours as you take one of his hands in yours and slowly drag it down your body.
when you guide his fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts, jaehee thinks he might explode. he cups your heat over your panties, feeling how damp the fabric is. “yn,” he chokes out in a strained voice, chest heaving as his fingers rubs your folds over the fabric.
“feels good,” you nod at him with a sigh.
your small sounds encourage jaehee to keep rubbing your folds. he wants to draw out more from you, speeding his fingers up. when your breathing starts to increase, jaehee’s hands move to the waistband of your shorts and panties.
“can i?” he asks you, looking deep into your eyes.
“please, jaehee,” you breathe out. jaehee rids you of your clothing and moans at the sight of you fully bare for him. he twitches in his pants when he realizes he can see your wetness coating your core. under his attention, you suddenly feel shy, turning your head away from him.
“baby, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, turning your head back towards him with a finger under your chin. too easily, your eyes find the bulge in his pants, and a small wet spot forming. the sight makes your mouth water.
jaehee leans over you again, his mouth finding yours momentarily while his fingers explore you for the first time. your whole body jerks when he touches your clit, and you feel a new wave of wetness.
“i can’t believe this is all for me,” jaehee says in awe, pulling back to look at you again. his words are in genuine amazement, completely infatuated by you.
“your body is so hot,” he continues, using his middle finger and thumb to spread you out. you moan at both his words and his touch.
his fingers spread your slick from your entrance to your folds and clit. when jaehee puts his middle finger inside of you, a moan escapes your lips. “oh my god.”
jaehee pulls his finger out just to thrust it back in. next, he adds his index finger and curls them inside of you. you’ve never felt anything like this before, and neither has jaehee.
“you’re so soft inside,” he says. his bulge is almost getting to be painful at this point, but he’s completely focused on how he’s making you feel. your walls clamp down on jaehee’s fingers, so he decided to say more. “you’re so warm, yn.”
jaehee speeds up the pace of his fingers almost immediately, and you can’t even find any words to say. the only sounds in the room are the squelching of his fingers inside of you and your broken cries and whimpers. his other hand finds it way to your chest again, and you’re completely overwhelmed by everything jaehee.
just as the winding in your stomach is almost at its peak, jaehee pulls his fingers out of you. he brings them to his mouth and you watch him suck them clean. your eyes stay on him as he moves to take off his sweatpants.
“come here,” you coo sweetly when his final garment is removed. the size of jaehee slightly intimidates you, but you’re so eager to feel him inside.
you can feel the weight of him on your stomach as he kisses you sweet and slow. you’re humming into the kiss and bring a hand down to his tip. he jerks at the feeling and bites your lip on accident. “i’m sorry,” he laughs softly, his thumb caressing your cheek as your hand spreads his precum down his shaft.
“are you ready?” he asks you with a small nod.
“yes.”
jaehee kisses your forehead and then props himself up on his elbows.
when he runs his tip along your folds, both of you twitch at the sensation. jaehee swears you feel so warm already, he isn’t sure he’ll be able to get much more than the tip in.
he heard you gasp and he paused once the tip of his cock was inside of you. he had to dig his fingers into your hips just to ground himself for a few moments.
when jaehee pushed himself deeper into you he felt as if he was going to explode, so he stilled his hips and moaned without meaning to. he had to bite back more sounds before he could speak to you.
“how does that feel?” his voice was shaking, and he swore your walls fluttered around him when he spoke to you. your eyes were screwed shut at the intrusion, waiting for the pain to give way to pleasure.
after a moment, you found the strength to speak. “it feels good, keep going.”
jaehee nodded at your wishes, pushing into you little by little. both of you moaned as he moved, new to such a foreign feeling. jaehee thinks he could die like this. he swore your body was squeezing him in so tight, he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to pull out.
“let me know when it’s ok to move,” he said when he was fully sheathed. jaehee was so big and deep inside of you, you could barely process his words. you could feel him everywhere, and you’ve never felt closer to him than now.
when you let out a soft “ok,” jaehee pulls out completely. you know that he’s completely covered in you, and the realization makes your head spin.
when jaehee pushes in again, and you moan at the feeling. “so deep,” you gasp before he pulls out again.
“fuck, baby, don’t say that,” he thrusts forward and sets a slow pace, because he doesn't think he could handle much more.
your hands find jaehee’s back and pull him down to you, wanting to feel his skin on yours. both of you are moaning into each other’s mouths as his hips speed up.
“i’m close, daeng,” you breathe out, gripping his bicep.
“me, too,” his thrusts become sloppy. “where should i—”
your cries of his name cut him off as you release around him. the feeling of your walls clamping down on him spur jaehee’s own release, and you feel him spurting inside of you. jaehee stays inside of you until you’ve both calmed down.
he kisses you lazily before jerking back.
“wait, yn, i… inside—”
you giggle at his panicked eyes, pulling him back into you. “i’m on the pill, so it’s ok.”
jaehee blinks a few times before letting himself relax in your arms. “i’ll still buy you a plan b.”
“that’s very sweet.” you coo.
“i love you, yn.”
“i know, daeng. i love you, too.”
“do you really know, though?” he asked you with a playful peck on the lips.
“yeah, i can feel all of your love dripping out of me right now.”
jaehee hides his face at your words, and you laugh at his cuteness.
“i’ll clean everything up later,” he tells you. “just want to hold you right now.”
you hum. “me too. i missed you.”
jaehee’s heart skips a beat as he pulls you into him, and the two of you drift off.
a month later, you and jaehee have officially finished your first year of college.
after you submitted your final assignment, jaehee pulled you into his lap and showered you with kisses and puppy-like affection.
“jaehee!”
“what?”
“what do you mean, what?” you giggle, “what’s happening?” jaehee lands a wet kiss on your cheek. “i’m celebrating.”
his grip on your waist tightens, pulling you even closer to him.
“we can celebrate normally, you know.”
“this is normal.”
“this is an incredible amount of kisses i’m receiving.”
you brush a few bangs out of jaehee’s eyes before leaning forward to kiss his forehead. he softens under your touch.
“you know me so well,” he pouts softly. you narrow your eyes
“go ahead and tell me what you’re buttering me up for.”
“what? i would never.”
jaehee smiles at you, eyes full of adoration. it makes your heart feel warm and full.
“jaehee.”
“ok. my friend is having a little get-together to celebrate the end of the semester and i was hoping you’d come with me.”
“i see,” you push his hair back and pretend to think hard about your answer. when you tap your chin for the third time, jaehee sighs in distress.
“i guess i’ll go,” you fake sigh before grinning.
jaehee lights up. “really?”
“yeah. wouldn’t want my boyfriend to have no one to talk to, after all.”
“yeah, we couldn’t have that,” jaehee groans, playing along. “it’d be devastating.”
“tragic, even.”
“thank you for saving me,” jaehee says before buring his face into your shoulder.
the two of you arrive at jaehee’s friend's apartment, hand in hand.
“my favorite couple!” someone exclaims, and the others join in with cheers.
you find yourself smiling as jaehee gets pulled into conversations almost instantly. he looks brighter than he has in months. your chest feels warm as you watch him.
you make your way toward a group of girls gathered near the window.
halfway there, someone calls your name. you turn. it’s the girl from the restaurant, the one from high school.
she waves excitedly. “hi!”
“hi,” you answer with a surprised laugh.
“come sit with us.”
for a second, you glance across the room. jaehee catches your eye instantly, and his head tilts slightly.
you smile and nod: i'm okay.
he smiles back before somebody starts talking to him again.
the girl beside you hesitates. “i’ve actually wanted to talk to you.”
“to me?”
“yeah.”
she looks nervous now, which feels strange. once upon a time, you would've thought someone like her could never be nervous around someone like you.
“i’m sorry for not recognizing you back then.”
“really, it’s okay.”
“no, but—” she pauses. “you took care of the garden.”
you blink. “the garden?”
“behind the school.”
you stare. she laughs softly.
“i remember seeing you there all the time,” she continues. “one day after school i saw you and jaehee out there.”
you immediately laugh. “jaehee absolutely did not take care of that garden.”
“okay, maybe he mostly stood there.”
“that sounds more accurate.”
she laughs too. “i remember thinking you looked really peaceful there.”
you don't know what to say.
she fiddles with her sleeve. “i should’ve talked to you back then. i love flowers.”
“you do?”
you imagine your high school self hearing that. you don't think she would've known what to do with it. all those years, you had been so convinced nobody noticed you. and yet somebody remembered the garden, and the flowers. somebody remembered you.
“yeah.”
“why didn’t you?”
she smiles sheepishly. “i was scared.”
you blink. “scared?”
“i thought maybe it was a you-and-jaehee thing.”
you immediately start laughing. “it definitely wasn't.”
“i know that now.”
for a moment, neither of you speak. then she shrugs. “i just wanted to tell you.”
something warm settles quietly in your chest. all those years ago, you would've given anything to hear that someone noticed you. that you had occupied space in another person's memory.
“well,” you say softly, “hearing it now still makes me happy.”
her face brightens. “really?”
“really.”
you smile. “maybe we can be friends now.”
“yes,” she says immediately. “absolutely.”
by the time you've exchanged phone numbers, the knot in your chest feels strangely lighter.
across the room, jaehee watches you weaving through the crowd toward him.
“you made a friend?”
you hold up your phone. “i made a friend.”
his eyes widen dramatically. “wow.”
“don't start.”
“i'm just saying.” he reaches for your hand. “this is huge.”
you roll your eyes, but you let him intertwine your fingers anyway. “maybe you're rubbing off on me.”
“maybe.” he looks entirely too pleased with himself.
“don't get too popular.”
“why?”
“because then i'll have to start booking appointments.”
you groan. “you're really annoying.”
“that's not a no.”
“jaehee.”
he laughs when you bump your shoulder against his.
“besides,” you add quietly, “that’s impossible.”
his expression immediately turns serious. “yn, you can make as many friends as you want.”
“that’s not what i meant.”
“then what did you mean?”
for a moment, you simply look at him—at the boy who greeted you every morning, the boy who stood in the rain because losing you was never an option, the boy who taught you that being seen and being loved were not the same thing, but somehow gave you both anyway.
your fingers squeeze his hand.
“i meant,” you say softly, “how could i ever go a day without you?”
everything around you seems to fade for a second, until there's only jaehee and you. that familiar blush creeps slowly into his ears, even now.
“you still do that,” you say.
“do what?”
“blush.”
he groans immediately. “yn.”
“it’s cute.”
“please stop.”
“never.”
he laughs despite himself, and suddenly you're seventeen again. sitting beneath a sky full of stars, watching a boy who everyone loved turn pink because you looked at him for a second too long. except now, neither of you have to wonder.
you don't have to imagine what he feels. you don't have to hope he'll find you in a crowd. you don't have to spend your days wishing for one more good morning.
because he's here, with his hand in yours and his smile brighter than ever.
when jaehee looks at you now, he doesn't look like he's searching. he looks like he's already found what he was looking for.
do you guys miss me 💔 i miss you guys 😞 im grinding trying to find a job lol but ive been finishing up some stuff to give to you guys and also have a question!!
current wips are:
jaehee comfort fluff (almost done !) ; it's a first love first relationship young insecurity story
soobin smau ; almost half way written, yn and soobin are college seniors interning at the same company!
sungchan summer love fic (just started)
wonbin fic coming soon (idea is being plotted fully rn)
my question for u guys ... i worked rly hard to write 7k words for pt. 2 of my 'everything i want' eunseok series before everything happened 😭 i haven't touched it since then but i'm thinking about finishing it since it's so close to the ending. if i finish it, should i post it for him since it's meant to be part of the series, or should i convert it into an anton fic that's just missing some context 😭😭😭 lmk............
have u seen the clips where sungchan is all over anton during their most recent live? that’s so angel sungchan to me 😭 anton is y/n!
YESSSS I SAW 😭😭😭 clingy channie hugging anton heh. i'm so happy people remember angel 😭🩷 i really did love that smau and that sungchan 😸 glad to hear i wrote him lore accurate!! maybe ill reread :0
wc : 6.6k , pairing : nerdy inexperienced bf!sohee x manipulative gf!reader , genre : slight angst, smut (MDNI!!) warnings : yn is manipulative, sohee is easy, make up sex, virginity loss, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (don't be like them), confession during sex
a/n ! a thought i've had for a while but was extra inspired by these pics of sohee ^^ i got a little carried away and made it more wholesome than what it originally was going to be bc i love sohi
two months in isn’t long. not really. not in the grand scheme of things, not in the way people measure real, lasting relationships—but it feels long when it’s him. when it’s sohee, who took five whole months just to get here with you. five months of lingering glances across tables, of him second-guessing every text, of you standing your ground and refusing to move things forward unless he did it first.
you remember how that felt—watching him think, watching him hesitate, watching him try. it was frustrating, sometimes. painfully slow. but there was something about it that made you stay. something about him.
he was just sohee.
soft in a way that didn’t feel weak, just unfamiliar. careful with you, like you were something worth handling gently. it made you want to ruin him a little. push him. see how far he could go if someone just nudged him enough.
and now, two months into actually being his, you’ve learned exactly how easy it is to get a reaction out of him. how his ears turn red when you get too close. how his hands don’t quite know where to go when you touch him first. how he looks at you like you hung the moon and he’s still trying to figure out how you ended up in his orbit.
it’s addictive.
so yes—things have been good. more than good, actually. stupidly good. the kind of good where arguments don’t last longer than a few minutes because you just end up poking at his sides until he breaks into quiet laughter, or pressing a kiss to his cheek until he forgets what he was even upset about in the first place.
two whole weeks without a single fight.
which is why last night felt different.
you had gone out with your friends, nothing unusual. loud music, cheap drinks, bodies packed too close together in a way that made everything feel a little warmer, a little looser. you didn’t think much of it. you never really do.
you definitely didn’t think about sohee—at least, not in the way you probably should have.
not when one of your guy friends threw his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side while he laughed at something you barely remember. not when you stayed there for just a second too long, your head tilted toward him, your body swaying slightly from the alcohol in your system.
you didn’t think about how it might look.
not until you saw sohee.
he had just gotten there to pick you up, standing a few feet away, frozen in place like he didn’t quite know what he was looking at. like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to feel anything about it.
and for a second—just a second—you hesitated.
before you slipped out from under your friend’s arm.
before you went to him.
before you fixed it.
it was quick, though. quick enough that you could pretend it didn’t matter. quick enough that you could brush it off.
you had stumbled into him with a soft laugh, arms wrapping around his waist, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek like nothing was wrong at all. like he hadn’t just watched another guy touch you in a way that maybe felt too familiar.
he didn’t say anything.
he never really does.
and this morning, you didn’t respond to his last text either.
not on purpose. not really. you got busy and forgot.
but now, standing in your apartment kitchen, you can feel it sitting between the two of you.
thick. quiet. wrong.
sohee has been off since he got here. not cold, not distant in an obvious way—just… sulky. quieter than usual. moving around your space like he’s thinking too much, like every little thing is taking more effort than it should.
you noticed it the second he walked in.
and you ignored it.
on purpose.
because part of you—an annoying, stubborn part of you—keeps thinking that if he was more confident, this wouldn’t even be a problem. if he trusted you more, if he trusted himself more, he wouldn’t be walking around like this over something so small.
if sohee were more confident, he wouldn’t be so bothered that someone had their arm around you.
if sohee were more confident in your relationship, he would have said something already.
so you let it drag on through dinner. through the quiet clinking of utensils, the soft hum of nothing conversation, the way he avoided looking at you for just a little too long.
and now you’re both in the kitchen, the air heavy with everything he’s not saying.
he’s at the sink, finishing up the dishes, sleeves pushed up just enough to expose his wrists. the sound of running water fills the space, steady and grounding in a way that almost makes this feel normal, almost.
you step up behind him without thinking too much about it, slipping your arms around his waist, pressing yourself against his back like you always do. your chin finds its place on his shoulder easily, like it belongs there.
“what’s wrong, sohee?” you say, voice soft—sweet, even. the cutest version of yourself, carefully crafted because you know exactly what it does to him. your bottom lip juts out just a little for extra effect, even though he can’t fully see it from this angle.
you know he can’t resist you like this.
not for long.
he finishes rinsing the last dish, setting it aside before shaking the water off his hands instead of reaching for the towel like he normally would. the droplets scatter slightly, careless in a way that feels unlike him.
then he turns his head just enough to look at you.
and it’s not the look you’re expecting.
it’s not soft. not immediately.
it’s a little… dirty. a little annoyed. something sharper than you’ve ever seen from him before.
your breath hitches without permission.
you’ve never seen him like this, not at you.
“sohee…” you whine, quieter now, the sound slipping out of you before you can stop it. instinctively, you loosen your hold on him, backing off just a little like you’ve suddenly stepped too far.
you know it’s your fault. you just wish he wasn’t like this about it.
because in your head, it’s simple. it should be simple. if he were more sure of himself, more sure of you, then none of this would feel so heavy. he wouldn’t be standing here like this, holding onto something you already decided wasn’t a big deal.
he turns around fully then, facing you.
“i just don’t understand…” he mumbles.
and for a second—just one—you see it. the way his eyes flicker over your face, catching on your expression, your lips, the way you’re looking at him. they soften, just barely, like he’s about to fold the way he always does.
but then it’s gone.
just like that.
he looks away, breaking the moment before it can settle, before it can turn into something easier.
he walks past you to the fridge, opening it without another word. the cool light spills out, casting a faint glow against his face as he reaches in and grabs a water bottle.
you watch him the whole time.
the way he twists the cap open. the way he tips his head back, taking a long swig like he needs it—like he needs something to fill the space he’s refusing to.
he still won’t look at you.
“don’t understand what, hee?” your voice comes out softer this time, barely above a whisper.
not because you feel bad, but because you want him to say it.
you want him to finally tell you what’s been sitting in his chest all day, what’s been pulling his shoulders tight, what’s been making him act like this instead of just giving in to you like he always does.
and maybe—just a little—you want him to feel bad too.
for making you sound like this.
“i’m going to sound stupid,” he says with a sigh. he rubs his hands down his face in distress, fingers pressing harder than they need to like he’s trying to push the feeling out of himself.
you bite back a sigh of your own.
it’s frustrating, in a way you don’t want to admit out loud. you wish he could just say it without all of this buildup, without making it feel heavier than it needs to be.
“you won’t. just tell me,” you say, softer now, coaxing. you tilt your head just slightly, trying to catch his eyes again, trying to pull him back into something familiar.
he does look at you, but it’s wrong.
"i want to know," you press a little harder.
his gaze feels… empty. not soft, not warm, not melting into you the way it usually does. it lands on you, but it doesn’t hold you.
“why didn’t you respond to me at all today? my texts.”
your lips part slightly, and for a second, you almost laugh. is this really about that?
“i just forgot, baby,” you whine, dragging the word out like it should smooth everything over, like it always does. you shift your weight, watching him move to stand across from you, leaning against the counter like he needs the support.
“that’s not true, yn,” he says, voice quiet—too quiet. “don’t lie to me. please?” his eyes look sad.
you exhale out of slight frustration at the sight.
“then why didn’t you text me again, sohee?” you shoot back, your tone still sweet, still careful, but there’s something sharper tucked underneath it now. “why didn’t you call me if it bothered you that much?”
you widen your eyes just slightly, like you’re confused. like you’re trying to understand him.
like you’re the one being reasonable.
“why is it my fault?” sohee says, his voice tired in a way you’ve never heard before.
you frown immediately, the expression coming easily.
his words land heavier than you expect. they sting—just enough to make you want to push back.
“and who was that guy?” he adds, his voice stronger now. not loud, not yet—but firmer. steadier. like he’s finally holding onto something.
“don’t you trust me, sohee?” you plead, your voice softening again instantly, like a reflex. you step a little closer, your brows pulling together, your lips pressing into that pout you know he hates resisting.
you’ve never seen him this upset before.
it makes something in your chest twist.
he scoffs, and it makes your stomach drop.
“who was he, yn?” he presses, his voice cutting through yours. “you aren’t answering my question.”
“he’s just a friend! a friend from high school,” you explain quickly, like that should be enough. like that should end it.
“does that make it better?” he shoots back immediately. “do you think that makes me feel better?”
you blink at him.
he doesn’t usually talk like this.
“sohee, i like you,” you insist, the words coming out a little more desperate than you intend. you don’t know what to do with him like this—standing there, not folding, not softening, not reaching for you.
just pushing.
“you go out and have fun with your friends, okay, you should,” he says, his voice uneven now, like it’s starting to crack under the weight of everything he’s been holding in. “i don’t have a problem with that. at least let me know when there’s going to be guys present, is that okay for me to ask?”
you nod quickly, your pout deepening, your expression softening like you’re trying to meet him halfway. like you’re trying.
“and then you didn’t text me back today,” he continues, his voice rising just a little, frustration slipping through now. “how… how am i supposed to be okay, yn? i… i felt so stupid when i went to pick you up last night. i felt so small watching another guy with his arm around you!”
the words hang in the air.
and for a second—just a second—you see it.
how much it actually got to him.
how much it hurt.
your chest tightens.
but instead of sitting in it, instead of letting it settle, you push back.
“you’re overreacting,” you say, the words slipping out more bluntly than before. “it wasn’t even like that, sohee.”
his expression changes immediately.
something in his face drops.
“overreacting?” he repeats, almost incredulous.
“yes,” you press, stepping forward now, like closing the distance will give you control again. “he had his arm around me, so what? i went to you right after, as soon as i saw you.”
you gesture vaguely, like it’s obvious. like he should’ve understood that without needing it spelled out.
“after,” he echoes, and there’s a sharpness in his voice now that makes your stomach twist again. “after you stayed there.”
you hesitate, just for a second, but it’s enough.
“you did,” he says, nodding to himself like he’s confirming it. “you stayed there. you didn’t even—” he cuts himself off, exhaling sharply, running a hand through his hair.
he looks frustrated. overwhelmed.
“i didn’t think it was a big deal,” you say quickly, your tone softening again, trying to reel it back in. “i didn’t think you’d get this upset over something so small.”
“small?” he laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “you think that was small?”
you feel something defensive rise up in your chest.
“i think if you were more confident, it wouldn’t matter this much,” you say before you can stop yourself.
the second the words leave your mouth, you see it.
the way they land.
it’s subtle, but it’s there, like something inside him cracks.
“wow,” he breathes out, shaking his head slightly. “so now it’s because i’m not confident enough?”
you open your mouth, scrambling.
“that’s not what i meant—”
“then what did you mean, yn?” he cuts you off, his voice louder now, finally breaking past that careful restraint he always keeps. “because that’s exactly what it sounds like.”
you take a step back without realizing it.
he’s never raised his voice at you before.
“i just—i don’t understand why you’re making this such a big deal,” you say, your voice quieter now, but still pushing. “you’re acting like i did something wrong.”
his laugh this time is sharper.
“you did!” he says. and that makes your chest tighten.
“i didn’t cheat on you,” you snap, your tone defensive now, your arms crossing over your chest. “you’re acting like i did something terrible.”
“i didn’t say you cheated,” he fires back immediately. “but you don’t get to decide what hurts me and what doesn’t.”
the words hit harder than you expect.
and for a second, you don’t know what to say.
he exhales again, shaking his head like he’s done. like he’s tired.
“i just… i don’t like how you handled it,” he mutters. “and then you ignored me all day like it didn’t even matter.”
“i didn’t ignore you on purpose,” you argue. you know it won't sound true now.
he doesn’t respond. he just looks at you, and it’s worse than him yelling.
it’s quiet and final.
he pushes himself off the counter suddenly, the movement abrupt enough to make you flinch. without another word, he turns, walking out of the kitchen.
your stomach drops.
“sohee?” you call after him, your voice following as you trail behind him into the living room.
he doesn’t stop.
he walks past the couch, past the coffee table, straight toward the front door.
your chest tightens, panic starting to creep in now, sharp and unfamiliar.
this isn’t how this goes. he’s supposed to soften by now. he’s supposed to let you pull him back, let you wrap around him, let you fix it the way you always do.
he’s not supposed to leave.
“sohee, wait—” you say, your voice higher now, more urgent as you stop in the middle of the living room, watching his back.
he reaches the door. his hand wraps around the doorknob, and that’s when it really hits you.
you might not be able to stop him this time. sohee hears your footsteps retreat to the couch.
his grip tightens on the handle.
once you sit on the couch, your eyes are glued on his back. for a second, you think he’s going to open it. the panic in your chest spikes. you slip the collar of your off shoulder sweater as far as it'll go in an attempt to appeal to him physically.
“sohee…” you say again, softer this time, not as calculated, not as sure.
just enough to try and pull him back—before he decides to let go of you instead.
"you're not really going to leave me, are you?"
the fragility in your voice does it.
he turns and for a second, sohee thinks he forgets how to breathe.
you're curled into yourself just enough, sweater slipping off your shoulder, eyes glassy—tears clinging to your lashes like they might fall at any second. your lips are parted, trembling just slightly, like you’re trying to hold yourself together.
it doesn’t even cross his mind that you never look like this.
that you’re letting him see something you don’t show anyone.
he’s already moving.
crossing the room before he can think twice about it, before he can hold onto the frustration sitting in his chest. it melts too quickly, too easily, the second he’s in front of you again.
his hands come up to your face without hesitation, cupping your cheeks so gently it almost hurts.
“no, baby,” he breathes, voice breaking as he leans down closer to you. “i’m sorry. i was wrong, i’m so sorry, my pretty.”
the words tumble out of him, messy, rushed, like he’s scared you’ll pull away if he doesn’t say them fast enough.
“i'm really sorry, yn,” he repeats, softer now, his thumbs brushing just under your eyes, careful of the tears that did fall. “thank you for giving me a chance.”
his lips press together into a small pout, mirroring yours without him even realizing it, his eyes searching your face like he’s waiting for permission to breathe again.
you let the silence stretch just long enough, just long enough for him to feel it.
“i forgive you,” you mumble, voice quiet, fragile. your hand lifts slowly, resting over one of his where it holds your face. your fingers curl slightly, holding him there.
you tilt your head just a little, your gaze flickering down to his lips before coming back up.
“kiss?” you whisper. “i’ve missed you so much.”
he nods immediately—too fast, almost frantic, sitting down beside you.
and then he’s leaning in.
your lips meet softly at first, barely there, like he’s testing it. like he’s still unsure if he’s allowed.
you don’t give him time to overthink.
your fingers tighten around his wrist, pulling him closer, deepening it just enough to make him falter for a second against you. his breath catches, lips parting instinctively as he follows your lead.
he kisses you like he always does—careful, a little unsure—but there’s something else underneath it now. something more desperate. like he’s trying to make up for something he thinks he almost lost.
his hands slide from your face, hesitating only for a second before settling at your waist, fingers pressing lightly into the fabric of your sweater like he needs to make sure you’re still there.
you can feel the way he’s holding back, the way he always does.
so you push, just a little.
your hand slides up his arm, slow, deliberate, until it reaches his shoulder, pulling him closer into you. your lips move against his more confidently, guiding him, letting him follow the rhythm you set.
he makes a soft sound—barely there—but it’s enough.
his grip on you tightens just slightly, his body leaning into yours more fully now, like he’s giving in.
like he always does.
you can feel how careful he’s trying to be, how much he’s thinking even now, even like this.
it almost makes you feel bad but instead, you kiss him a little deeper to see how far he’ll go.
your hand trails lightly along the inner seam of his sweatpants, dragging higher as you kiss him harder. when he sighs softly under your touch, you slip your tongue into his mouth. you press a little firmer against his growing bulge and he groans into the kiss, your tongues twisting together messily.
“is this ok?” he asks, which you find silly considering you’re the one touching him.
you nod against his face, continuing your ministrations.
sohee finally slips his hands beneath your sweater, timidly settling them on your waist. his thumbs rub against the skin of your ribs just beneath your chest, hesitant at first, like he’s still asking for permission without saying it out loud.
you take the hand that isn’t palming him and guide it higher until it cups your bare chest.
you groan softly when his thumb flicks over your nipple, and the sound seems to go straight through him. his hips press instinctively into your hand, slow and needy.
“you’re so soft,” sohee whimpers against your mouth.
you let out a breathy little laugh at that.
“you’re so hard.”
when you pull away, sohee follows immediately, chasing your lips before he can stop himself. his eyes are blown out now, dark and glassy, his cheeks already flushed pink. his lips are wet from your shared spit, swollen from kissing you, and the look in his eyes makes something warm curl low in your stomach.
you want to ruin him a little more.
it’s cute, honestly, how easy it is to get him like this.
“how far do you want to go today, hee?”
sohee blinks at you, like the question dragged him back into his body.
“i’ll take however much you give me,” he says finally.
the answer catches you off guard.
you don’t want to admit it, but after earlier, you need him closer than ever. maybe sohee feels the same way. maybe that’s why his hands keep tightening on you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he loosens them.
the thought of him at the door still lingers unpleasantly in your chest.
you stand from the couch first, reaching for him.
the air between you has changed. quieter now. heavier. unspoken.
but you suddenly feel the need to be intentional with him.
sohee takes your hand carefully, almost delicately, and follows you toward your room without a word. his eyes linger on the soft sway of your hair as you walk in front of him, on the sliver of bare shoulder peeking out from your sweater.
he wants to kiss it.
he wants to bury his face in the crook of your neck where your perfume always settles.
the second you step into your room, you hook your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and tug him closer. you give him one quick kiss before your hands wander beneath his shirt, palms gliding slowly over warm skin.
sohee just stands there, watching you carefully, waiting for direction.
he doesn’t want to mess this up.
you pull his shirt over his head, tossing it aside carelessly before pressing your palm against his chest.
with a small push, you guide him down until he’s sitting on the edge of your bed.
you keep eye contact with him as you slip your shorts down your legs, followed by your panties.
sohee watches every movement like he’s scared to blink and miss something.
when you settle yourself over his lap, straddling him slowly, a shaky breath leaves his mouth the second he feels your bare heat against the bulge in his pants.
“kiss me,” you say quietly, your hands resting on his shoulders.
his skin feels warm beneath your palms. you want more of it against yours.
sohee obeys immediately, bringing his lips to yours almost too quickly. his kisses are messy now, rushed in a way they weren’t before, like he can’t think straight anymore. your hands roam over his shoulders and down his back while he kisses you harder than usual, trying to keep up with you.
“yn,” he whimpers suddenly, hips bucking up into you.
the movement pulls a soft sound from your own throat. you slide your fingers into his thick hair, scratching lightly against his scalp as he shudders beneath you.
sohee’s hands find your bare hips and stay there, gripping carefully but firmly enough to keep you pressed against him.
he lets you take control again.
he follows your lead in the kiss so obediently that when you suck softly on his tongue, he makes a broken little sound into your mouth like he might actually fall apart from it.
“i need you,” he pleads quietly once you finally pull back, his forehead falling against yours. his voice sounds wrecked already. “please?”
instead of answering him, you reach down between your bodies and pull his cock free from his sweatpants.
sohee whines immediately at the touch, his body twitching beneath you. he looks overwhelmed already, flushed and throbbing in your hand, his lips parted as he tries to steady his breathing.
he looks like he might cry.
and something about that makes your stomach twist pleasantly.
“are you sure, sohee?”
you lift yourself slightly onto your knees, giving him room to kick his sweatpants down and off completely. the fabric falls forgotten onto the floor while his chest rises and falls unevenly, still breathless from kissing you.
meanwhile, you look almost perfectly composed above him.
the contrast makes him dizzy.
you both understand the weight of continuing this. you both want it. but underneath everything else, somewhere buried beneath the lingering tension from earlier, a quieter feeling settles in your chest. some small part of you still feels guilty for the way this happened—for the way he apologized first, for the way you pulled him back to you so easily. you want him to be sure.
you want this to come from love, not panic.
sohee nods quickly, eyes glossy as he looks up at you.
“yes, please, yn,” he says softly. then, quieter: “can i make you feel good first?”
you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips.
he’s sweet for asking.
“i would love that, hee,” you coo softly, leaning down to place a quick kiss against the tip of his nose before pulling your sweater over your head.
the second the fabric leaves your body, sohee twitches beneath you again.
his eyes drag over you helplessly, like he doesn’t know where to look first. you can see the way his throat moves when he swallows, his hands flexing at your waist before he carefully guides you backward onto the bed until your head sinks into the pillows.
he follows immediately.
one of his hands comes up to cup your chest again, warm and careful against your skin. the touch pulls a quiet moan from your lips, your back arching slightly into his palm.
sohee looks almost dazed hearing the sound.
he leans down to kiss you again, slower this time. then your jaw. then just beneath your ear.
his lips trail lower and lower until he reaches your chest.
sohee likes taking his time with you. he’s made that very clear in the past.
he treats your body like something precious, something he wants to memorize properly. when he decides he’s given enough attention to one side of your chest, he makes sure to give the other the exact same amount.
it’s incredible how much self restraint he has for someone sitting between your thighs with such a painfully obvious erection.
“so soft,” sohee murmurs against your skin, echoing what he said earlier like he still can’t get over it.
you slide your hand over his where it rests on your breast, lacing your fingers with his loosely.
“all for you, baby,” you breathe out.
the words hit him instantly.
sohee moans softly against your chest, the sound muffled against your skin as he sucks especially hard at your nipple before soothing over it with his tongue. the reaction he gets from you only encourages him more.
his kisses continue downward afterward, slower now, lingering against the softness of your stomach and along your abdomen like he’s trying to worship every inch of you on the way down.
when sohee’s breath fans against your heat, it’s enough to make your head spin.
he presses a few wet kisses to your center first, slow and lingering, before pushing his tongue inside as far as he can. your hand immediately flies to his hair with a broken whine, fingers tightening instinctively in the soft strands.
sohee loves doing this for you.
he loves being able to pull reactions out of you like this, watching your body respond to something only he can give you. he loves the feeling of your hands in his hair, the sounds that fall out of your mouth without you meaning to make them. he loves watching your body slowly loosen beneath him, your chest rising harder and harder all because of him.
so he keeps going.
he laps at your core eagerly, still a little messy with it, still learning, but so determined to make you feel good that it almost drives you crazier than someone experienced ever could.
your chest jolts suddenly before your thighs tighten around his head.
sohee’s still somewhat new to this, and because of that, he always tries everything he can think of until you come apart for him.
his chin is already wet with you, but he couldn’t care less.
if anything, he likes it.
when your whimpers start turning into desperate little repetitions of his name, sohee brings one of his hands up between your thighs, rubbing careful circles over your clit while he keeps his mouth on you.
“sohee,” you gasp, tugging harder at his hair.
he glances up at you at the sound, eyes dark and blown wide already, and for a second he genuinely can’t believe how pretty you are like this.
completely undone for him.
“i know, baby,” he murmurs against you.
the vibration of his voice sends you over the edge.
your body tenses immediately before melting all at once, your back arching as a soft cry leaves your throat. sohee keeps going through it, taking everything you give him eagerly until you’re squirming and whining for him to come back up to you.
when he finally kisses you again, you can still taste yourself on his tongue, and it makes your head spin.
you feel sohee hot and hard against your stomach. he lets out a shaky whine when you wrap your hand around him, his head tipping back before he shakes it almost violently, like the feeling is already too much.
“i need you right now, yn,” sohee pleads. it almost sounds like he’s going to cry.
you feel the same desperate pull toward him. he’s panting against your face, breath warm and uneven while you try to gather your thoughts long enough to be reasonable. you’re still sorry for earlier, even if you hate admitting it to yourself, and you don’t want this to just be the two of you getting swept up in the moment.
“sohee.”
the seriousness in your voice makes him stop grinding helplessly against your leg.
his eyes lock onto yours immediately, and you can almost see the haze lift from them a little.
the look on his face makes something ache inside your chest.
“i’m really sorry about earlier,” you whisper. “and last night.”
you pause, your throat tightening as tears begin pooling in your eyes.
“i know i was wrong.”
“yn—”
you shake your head before he can stop you.
“i want you to be sure,” you continue softly. “that you really want this, and really want me. you deserve so much and you’re such a sweet boy and sometimes i think—”
“yn, i want you. i really do.”
his voice is immediate this time.
certain.
he brushes the hair away from your face carefully before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a second.
he means it.
sohee isn’t stupid.
he knows how much you’ve slowed your usual pace down for him. he knows how lucky he is that you gave him a chance in the first place. he knows you could’ve gotten bored of him months ago and found someone easier, someone smoother, someone who already knew what they were doing.
but you stayed.
and he knows you well enough by now to understand something else too—that part of the reason he always gives in to you so easily is because of how happy it makes you. he likes seeing you get your way. he likes indulging you.
because to him, you’re precious.
adorable. sweet. beautiful.
and kind, even when you don’t think you are.
otherwise, you wouldn’t be crying right now over wanting to make sure he was really ready for this.
“you don’t need to apologize for anything, baby,” he murmurs softly. “i’m ready and i want this. i want you.”
the words finally force the tears from your eyes, and sohee smiles immediately when he sees them, kissing them away one by one before they can fall any further down your cheeks.
you let out a shaky breath and nod at him slowly.
“do you want me to be on top?” you ask quietly, looking him directly in the eye.
sohee shakes his head almost immediately. “no, you don’t have to.”
“ok,” you murmur back, bringing your thumb up to trace along his bottom lip.
his mouth parts slightly beneath the touch.
then sohee shifts between your legs, sitting back on his knees.
you stare at him for a second.
his cheeks are pink, hair messy from your hands, lips swollen from kissing you. he looks nervous and overwhelmed and impossibly pretty all at once.
“you’re so pretty,” you coo softly.
“i was gonna say the same thing,” he laughs shyly before clearing his throat, suddenly looking embarrassed again.
“do you have any, um…”
“condoms? no,” you finish for him.
sohee’s eyes widen immediately at your answer.
“i’m on the pill, hee. it’s okay,” you reassure him softly. “and besides… i want to feel you for our first time.”
his breathing deepens noticeably at your words.
you can practically see the thought go through his head.
our first time.
sohee nods slowly, trying to hold himself together.
you reach up and pull him down gently by his shoulders until he’s hovering over you again. with one hand, you wrap around him carefully and guide him between your thighs, tapping the tip of him against your folds.
sohee’s entire body tenses.
he fights the urge to hide his face in the crook of your neck out of pure embarrassment, but he wants to see you. he wants to watch your face when he enters you.
his breath catches just from the feeling of you against him. he’s not even sure he’ll survive long enough to make it all the way inside without losing his mind.
his chest presses against yours as you guide him toward your entrance. one of his hands braces carefully beside your shoulder while he slowly eases more of himself into you.
the pressure of him finally pushing inside makes your body clench around him immediately.
“sohee,” you cry softly, your back arching despite how close your bodies already are. the sound nearly destroys him.
sohee lets out a broken moan, head falling forward as he pants against your skin.
“you’re so soft inside too, baby,” he whispers shakily. “just let me stay here for a second.”
“ok, hee. take your time,” you whisper back, wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders.
he tries to gather some kind of composure, but it feels almost impossible with his hips fully pressed against yours like this.
you whine softly when he finally pulls back just enough to push into you again.
“so warm and so tight,” he pants against your skin, eyes squeezing shut for a second from how good you feel.
you guide one of his hands up to your chest and another moan leaves him immediately.
“you feel so good,” you say weakly.
every time sohee draws his hips back, little sounds keep slipping out of your mouth that only push him closer and closer to the edge. the pace he settles into has sweat beginning to gather at his temples, but he refuses to slow down. he doesn’t want to stop.
sohee thinks he could stay like this forever. watching your eyes glaze over because of him does something dangerous to his ego, makes a new kind of confidence bloom in his chest that he didn’t know he had before. and being this close to you—connected to you like this—makes something warm ache inside him.
“i needed this,” you breathe against his ear.
sohee whimpers softly at your words.
“i needed to feel you. i needed you close to me,” you continue, your voice breaking apart between breaths. “you feel so deep, hee…”
the praise makes his head spin.
sohee pushes himself up slightly so he can look at you properly. you look beautiful beneath him right now, flushed and emotional and completely wrapped around him, and he hopes desperately he’s making you feel even half as good as you’re making him feel.
“i love you, yn,” sohee confesses suddenly.
the words slip out before he can stop them.
his thrusts turn sloppy immediately afterward, his body betraying how close he is, but he stills for a second once the confession leaves his mouth like he’s waiting for your reaction. you let out a shaky cry at his words, fresh tears gathering in your eyes almost instantly.
“i love you, sohee.”
his expression softens so much it nearly hurts to look at.
he leans down to kiss you again, and when his hips start moving once more, you can feel how little control he has left. he’s trying so hard to drag the moment out anyway, trying to stay close to you for as long as he can.
when he finally mumbles against your lips that he’s close, you wrap your legs tighter around his waist to keep him there.
with one last broken moan, sohee comes apart completely. you release at the same time, your walls clenching around him and milking him completely dry.
afterward, he stays above you for a few quiet seconds, both of you trying to catch your breath.
then he slowly pulls away and settles beside you against the pillows.
“i love you, yn,” he repeats softly, turning onto his side to look at you.
there’s nothing in his gaze except pure endearment.
it almost makes you want to hide beneath the covers.
“i love you too, sohee,” you smile back weakly. after a second, your expression softens further. “thank you for staying,” you whisper.
sohee’s face immediately twists into something guilty and tender all at once.
“thank you for everything,” he says quietly. then, after a pause: “i know i’m still learning, and that it’s annoying sometimes. i just want to do this right.”
his earnestness is one of your favorite things about him.
it makes loving him feel easy.
“i’d do anything for you, hee.”
sohee pulls you into his arms immediately, tucking you against his chest carefully.
after a moment, he presses a kiss into your hair.
“i’ll change your sheets later,” he whispers.
“clean freak,” you mumble sleepily against him, already feeling yourself start to drift.
i’m actually so embarrassed, like his rep last month was vape god and now he’s a racist vape god, how do u use such an outdated racist slur then immediately deleted with no follow up? i’m so embarrassed
i want to make it clear that i do not support or excuse eunseok’s actions or the language he used. as someone who loves and supports him, i’m honestly really disappointed and embarrassed. supporting an artist should also mean holding them accountable when they hurt others. i truly hope he takes the time to educate himself, reflect sincerely, and grow from this situation so that it never happens again. my support does not come before the feelings of the people affected by his words.
that being said ... i've only been working on eunseok fics and his smau because he's lowkey been my bias these days :/ so i will try to get out a sohee fic soon and i'll probably take a short break following that. 😭
objectively, from a PR stance (graduating with a PR degree in 3 days!) SM seriously needs a new communications process when in a crisis... if i were on their comms team, i would have had him issue a letter of apology within an hour of the incident. and he'd also be taking like corrective action classes idk.. they fail to understand how things work with the international fans and how much damage things like this cause.. 2 years of rebuilding the fandom for this comeback in june just for all briize's efforts to go to waste 😭
a girl could only YEARN for eunseok and beomgyu crumbs
IM CONSTANTLY YEARNING FOR EUNSEOK BEOMGYU CRUMBS PLEASEEE PLAY LOL TOGETHER AND STREAM IT FOR ME PLEASE I LOVE GAMER NERDS I WOULD LOVE TO SIT IN ON A DISCORD CALL I NEED IT!!!
oh my gawd. i want to first and foremost APOLOGIZE for all the lies about posting this. i thought it would be done, but i just kept adding more and more LMFAO. i really wanted it this to be a very thoughtful conclusion to the see you around universe because i love them and wanted to do it right. i still kind of like the ambiguity of it all, if you squint. please let me know your thoughts and thank you for reading this series with me heh.
contains: making out, jealousy, anton is a tease, no protection is used (don't be like them), love confessions
see you around: one | two | three | four
Knowing that you wouldn’t have been in this position if you had acted differently a few months ago makes scrolling through her Instagram feed hurt even more.
You shouldn’t be so obsessed. The obsession started the next day when you posted the photos Giselle took of you on the fire escape. She came out with the smokers after everyone sang Anton happy birthday and took a picture of you on her digital camera. The tears were gone by then, only leaving you embarrassed and trying to hide from Giselle before she asked what was wrong. You cried some more, the smokers offered you a Lucky Strike to help you feel better.
Giselle took the cigarette on your behalf and clicked through her recent pictures on her camera. She said you were giving indie sleaze and Spring Breakers, all of that. You wouldn’t have preferred to post pictures of yourself after a cry. But your eyes didn’t look too bloodshot and you wanted to post proof that you were there, waiting for Anton on the fire escape even after he went inside. So you posted it and Anton liked it. But he didn’t comment and he didn’t ask if you privately if you had taken that photo on his fire escape. You were still clinging to the railing from when he had a hand around your waist but he didn’t comment.
He commented on his own post, though. The girl who told him it was time to cut the cake and who planned the after party commented and Anton responded almost immediately.
A simple reply from Anton started the obsession. You spent every night alternating between her Instagram feed, Anton’s Instagram feed, and your message history with Anton. You were stuck in a loop, late into every single night thinking about what you should’ve done.
You were stuck on your chat history with Anton a little longer than usual. After his birthday there was there was radio silence from you both. You scrolled up through the history of you telling Anton that you were outside, him asking when and where to meet you.
You didn’t know you had it so good then, that it was so easy. Anton was always there for you, early in the morning and late into the night. After classes and before, during parties, and after exams. You didn’t think that the conversation on the fire escape would’ve been the last.
You kept scrolling. The implication of seeing the other around wasn’t a farewell. It didn’t feel like a farewell then, you don’t know if you could handle it being one now.
Your thumb pressed on the chat absentmindedly. You were pulled all the way down to the recent message, a month ago when you told Anton in the middle of his party that you were coming. The bright light of your screen was burning your eyes as you typed something out before deleting it. You did that a million times, turning to your side trying to figure out what to do. Your blanket rested gently over your body as you pressed your face into the pillow, typing each word carefully.
you: are you mad at me?
you: i’m sorry if i did something wrong
Regret instantly bubbles in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut like you’re trying to will away the message. But you see the speech bubble at the bottom of your chat history.
anton: i’m not mad at you
anton: is everything okay?
Anton told you himself that he’s not mad. He’s told you before that he’s never been mad at you. He’s told you he’s been confused by you, and now it seemed like he was worried for you. He texted back immediately just like he used to. It wasn’t too late into the night. You could be at his place in ten minutes.
You think Anton might’ve texted again while you were getting ready. You were just thinking that he’s never been mad at you, just confused or upset. He wasn’t mad on the fire escape when you told him that you probably wouldn’t go to the afters, he wasn’t upset that you said nothing in response to him to suddenly ask if he was mad at you. He didn’t tell you he was mad so he wasn’t, just worried. You didn’t need to read his text because you were already convinced, fully dressed and ready to go to his side of campus.
You got dressed in the dark, spritzing a perfume you bought with Anton in mind while you wore a shirt of his. You zipped up a hoodie of his that he gave to you and put sweats over your sleeping shorts. You got dressed quick, filling in the gaps of Anton asking you to come over.
You had figured he had given up to some extent to get you to be his. You were devising a plan in the midsts of getting dressed to let him know that you wanted more from him. Once you made it inside of his room you’d tell him that you missed him. During sex he’d ask you—like he always has—if it was all for him and you think you’d actually nod your head this time. Instead of teasing him you’d be brutally honest, or you’d say yes so sincerely he’d hear all the regret in your voice. You know that you’re the most vulnerable with him in the middle of the act. Maybe you’d let a declaration slip out in the middle of it, telling him that you could never handle a month of silence from him ever again. Maybe you’d say you were sorry while he laid you down and you would beg for another chance. He was more receptive to your emotionally stunted ways in that state, too. You know he’d coo at you and accept your apology. You know he’d tease you but there’d be sincerity, some gratitude for you being upfront. He might tell you he’d take you on a date and hold your hand in public. You’d react and tell him yes, because you’re positive that’s what you want now.
The possibilities of the night made you move in a haste. You cleared campus to his dorm in eight minutes, phone tucked in the pocket of your hoodie. You were going through the outcomes when you entered his building, asking the resident assistant proudly if you could be scanned in to go to Anton’s floor. You bounced in front of the doors of the elevator, watching the number climb until you got to Anton’s floor.
You got out of the elevator quickly, turning the corner and going to his room so fast your feet dragged across the carpet. You went over your plan in your mind: tell him that you missed him, have sex, start an actual relationship. You were so preoccupied telling yourself this plan you didn’t notice your phone vibrating in your pocket. Only when you were in front of Anton’s door were you still enough to hear the sound of a phone vibrating and feel the slight sensation.
You fished your phone out before you knocked on his door. His contact picture took up your entire screen, and your heart seized in your chest at your routine being fulfilled. He was probably calling to ask if you could bring a condom. You had a few in your bag, but if this night went how you wanted maybe you wouldn’t need them at all. A teary love confession right before you both finished together sounded like something straight from a movie. You declined the call but instead reached forward to knock on his door.
Your phone started vibrating again as you stood in front of the door. Almost immediately the call dropped, and your phone revealed a series of texts you didn’t know you were ignoring on your journey here.
anton: hey is everything alright?
anton: i’m not mad, just confused.
anton: even more confused now.
anton: call me
anton: are you outside my door?
You could hear him on the other side of his door. Shuffling, moving things around, turning the lock. Your eyes were trained on the door where you thought he was on the other side. The more shuffling you heard the more nervous you became, thinking about the tone of his texts.
Regret seizes in your chest and you think that Anton would’ve told you to go home if you were on your way. The longer it takes for him to open the door the more your mind wanders. The urge to leave takes up everything. You grip your phone tight and take a step away from the door.
Before you could turn and head back towards the emergency staircase, the door opens.
You have been here a million times before with Anton. Usually you’d be clad in black with a hat on like you concealing your identity. Regardless, he’d always pull the door open then pull you through it, kissing the top of your head to welcome you in.
This time he only opened it enough for half his body to fit through. He doesn’t come into the hallway to greet you. He stayed in his entryway, caught between the door and the frame. He doesn’t greet you. He just stands there in his sweats. His hair had just finished drying, the length fluffy and curling around the frame of his face. There’s not the shy smile or smirk on his face either. His features are pulled together in worry and confusion, looking at you like you’re not real. He can look you right in the face without having you take off a hat or sunglasses.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
He leans closer, just enough for his head to peer into the hallway. He looks left and right and you do the same, looking at an empty hallway on both sides. You teeter from side to side, hearing your sneakers drag across the low pile carpet. The slight scraping is grating, more than the fact that Anton hasn’t invited you in yet. He has also never scoped out the scene before. You usually did that because you were afraid of being caught.
He’s not mad at you; he could never be mad at you. You tell yourself he asks the question out of worry. You always gave a warning that you’d be coming over. But you also remember the sentiment that you were always welcome. Anton told you that you could come by any time when you asked if you could crash at his one night. He said that he wished he could give you a key so you could drop in whenever you liked.
But you also remember that he said those things post sex. His lovey-dovey pillow walk could’ve been all for show, or it could’ve been recanted when you said nothing to him for a month. When you had sex in your dorm it was pretty devoid of feelings then. You don’t think you looked at Anton’s face too much when you offered that he could spend the night. You try to find the same look on his face now.
“Sorry,” you say.
Anton shakes his head.
“Don’t apologize,” he says.
He shuffles on his feet. You can barely see into his room but you’re thinking about why you haven’t been invited in yet. You can barely see into his room, only the part over his shoulder that shows the ceiling and the light embedded in the middle.
He doesn’t smile at you in the moment of silence. He just keeps looking, one hand holding the door open and the other behind him. You can’t even reach out to him.
“What are you doing here?” he asks again.
You thought you were always welcome. It feels like you knocked on the wrong door, a stranger opened up instead of your Anton.
“I’m sorry, I just thought…” you say, words trail off at the end.
“Is everything alright?” he asked.
The question was sincere. He leaned a little closer when he asked it. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to keep his voice down or if he was trying to come closer to you so you’d take a step forward.
“Are you okay?” he repeated.
His concern is palpable. You take a step forward and he doesn’t flinch away. You nod, trying to string together enough of an apology to find your way in.
The arm he extended and the step you took forward made more of the room visible. In the smallest space that was open, you saw a shadow dancing on the ceiling. Your eyes darted from the space above Anton to the small gap that opened between his body and the door.
You saw her sitting on the couch and she was looking towards you. You recognized her face from endless scrolling on Instagram. You recognized the shock because it was the same look she gave you and Anton when she came on the terrace. You couldn’t mistake her because you had seen her a million times. She was pretty in person too, even when she was shocked.
You pulled back almost immediately. Anton’s eyes got wide and yours did too. He couldn’t block your view in time. He blocked the small gap between his arm and the door, but it was too late. Suddenly the tone of his texts made sense. His urgency to get you to respond. You’re sure he would’ve told you stay home and that he had someone else over. But you ended up here, not trying to hide yourself. The girl knows who you are, she has seen you before.
Your face heats up as the second of eye-contact plays in your mind again and again. Everything comes down at once and so quickly you feel lightheaded. There’s an intent to get out. Your feet are planted, frozen in the doorway. Like you’ve been caught you hold your breath. You grip your phone so tight and finally take a step back. Anton comes forward, leaving his doorway and closing his door behind him so quick you jump.
He’s against his door and he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for something. He’s wearing the sweater with the swim team on it and a pair of jeans. He probably walked from practice with her. You thought you saw textbooks on the coffee table. Maybe he went and picked her up from class. Or maybe that Instagram story you couldn’t click on was a date. She was sitting in the same space you always used to occupy with a bewildered look on her face. You were supposed to be on that couch, or at the very least inside. Now you were trapped outside, Anton and the door and the girl in the way.
“I should go,” you said finally.
You think Anton said something. You didn’t hear because you had turned on your heel and made your way for the staircase that led you down to the courtyard.
You were a flight down when you heard the door open on Anton’s floor. You heard him making his way down the steps too, hurried like yours were. You kept going, the steps blurring together as you felt the sting at your waterline. You were closer and closer to the courtyard, then you could make the speed walk towards your dorm. You think you could hold your tears by then. Anton would see you disappearing down the path and give up to go back to his girlfriend that he was waiting for him in his room.
You pushed the door open and a gust of air hit you. The fresh air provided no relief, instead just stinging your already sensitive eyes. You immediately cut through the courtyard, speed-walking across the bricked path to your dorm. You heard the staircase door closing again, and the sound of footsteps following after you. A moment later you heard heavy footsteps coming closer. You kept moving forward. Anton called after you, but you didn’t stop moving.
He caught up to you eventually. With a hand on your forearm he stopped you from walking any further. Tears break past your waterline, forcing you to look down at the ground instead of looking at him.
You can feel Anton looming over you. You stare at his feet, his slides quickly thrown on in a haste to catch you. His hand is still around your arm, holding it gently. You can feel each finger pressed into your skin, burning from his body heat and your embarrassment.
“Why’d you run?” Anton asked.
You shake your head. You bring your other hand to your eyes to wipe away forming tears.
“Didn’t you want to talk?” he asks.
“I didn’t know you had someone over,” you say, still looking at his feet.
Anton lets go of your arm and you immediately try stepping backwards. He covers the distance you try to make. The wind settles, you see Anton’s other hand go to push his hair back.
“I didn’t even know you were coming over,” he says.
When you still say nothing, Anton brings a hesitant hand to your shoulder. You feel the weariness when he massages you gently.
“I’m not mad.” He continues to massage your shoulder. You nod pathetically, wiping away more tears. “I just wish you would tell me what you were thinking,” he says.
“I just wanted to see you,” you say.
You’re surprised that the sentiment came out so quickly. You were supposed to hold it in until you got him alone in his room. You weren’t supposed to be completely vulnerable until you could blame it on the heat of a moment.
When you finally look Anton in the eyes you immediately see his expression drop. The confusion melts. Almost immediately the entirety of him softens, his hand is sure as it rubs your shoulder gently.
“Why are you crying?” he asks. When you try to look away his other hand goes to your other shoulder, angling your body towards him. “What’s wrong?”
Anton’s reflex to worry about you makes you even more teary. You hadn’t spoken in so long but he still cares. You think about that night on the terrace and how Anton was giving you the opportunity to stay. But then you think about the same girl that was at the party telling him to blow out the candles was the same girl that was in his dorm. You were in her place at one point, and knowing that you’ve been replaced but he’s still considerate of your feelings makes your vision watery.
“I just thought for some reason that if I came here like this it’d fix the problem between us.”
There’s a silence between the two of you. You hear shoes tapping on the paved walkway and there’s a gentle breeze. It pushes Anton’s hair back slightly.
“What’s the problem?” he asks.
You know he knows. Anton always seems to know everything, he only tries to coax answers out of you for sake of conversation. There’s something holding you back still. You know he knows that too.
The breeze wisping through the courtyard provides little relief to your stinging eyes.
“Your birthday party,” you start.
“What about it?” he asks.
You turn your head to look at the side of his building. You think his room is facing the courtyard. You wonder if that girl is up there in the window looking down at the two of you.
“I know I said I’d see you around, but it sucks leaving it to chance,” you say.
“You don’t have to leave it up to chance,” Anton clarifies.
“That’s why I came here.”
Your words trail off at the end as you vaguely look up to the floor Anton lives on. You don’t know which window is his exactly. Still, you scan the face of the building looking for someone standing in the window.
You only look back to him when you hear him move. When his eyes catch a circular metal table he walks towards it, pulling at your shoulder slightly. You drag your feet to follow him. He sits down first and motions to the spot next to him.
There’s no distance when you sit down. You look at the spot where your knees touch his. Anton is looking down too, before he looks up and catches your eye.
He’s silent for a long time. The light breeze pushes his hair before he flicks his head back.
“We don’t have to leave it to chance, but knowing would be nice.” You watch Anton bring his hands together, messing with each individual finger. You can tell he’s thinking carefully about what to say next. He’s acting like you’re liable to burst into tears without telling him why. The thought of how gentle he is makes a bigger lump materialize in your throat. “I think what we had before—“
“Was better?” you finished.
Anton shakes his head. His hands go to the top of the table. His thumbs tap slightly on the grated top on the table. The small metallic sound is barely audible over the sound of people talking around the courtyard.
“What we had before was more consistent,” he says carefully, head turning towards you. “I knew what you wanted when you texted me late asking if I was up. I don’t know what you want when you pop up on me at a reasonable hour wearing my clothes.”
You look down at his hoodie. You’ve been sweating nonstop since he opened his door. You want to take it off, but underneath this you’re wearing one of his shirts.
“I just really wanted to see you,” you say.
“My friend also really wanted to see me.”
Anton emphasizing friend has your heart dropping to your stomach. You don’t think during your previous involvement you’ve ever referred to him as your friend. You think maybe he makes the girls he hooks up with call him that. Or you two were never anything to begin with. What he could’ve meant only hurts, and you’re forced to take it in stride.
“I’m your friend too,” you say after a moment of silence.
Your tone makes it sound like a question. The way Anton raises his eyebrows makes you even more confused.
“My friend?” he asks.
You nod. His knee is so warm it bleeds through your clothes. It feels like there’s direct skin contact, or bone clashing into bone.
“I’m glad we are friends,” you emphasize.
You nod again. Anton’s eyes are burning holes into the side of your face, but you focus on where your knees touch. The parts of his body that are in view flex, and with a quick peak upwards you see that he’s leaning against the table. His elbow is pressed into the grated metal and the side of his face is resting on the bottom of his palm. He taps his fingers on his face in a wave, looking at you with an expression you have trouble reading. The lamps in the courtyard turned on automatically, lighting the parts of his face that the setting Sun missed. You think you see a smile before you focus somewhere else.
“Well,” he says, hands clapping together. “I’m glad we are friends, too.”
You hear the playful lift to his voice. Anton leans forward, until his elbow moves to rest on the edge of the table. He leans in, the same time he puts a hand on your knee that touches his.
“How was your day, friend?” he asks.
You can’t look down at your knee because you can feel the warmth of him through the fabric. The hand on your knee makes you believe you’re more than friends. The taunting tone in his voice makes you think he already knows what you’ve been doing all day. Cyberstalking him and the girl that was in his room. Ruminating on the past. Wallowing in self pity while trying to do coursework. Letting all your emotions boil over until they forced you come over to his dorm unprompted.
“I went to class,” you look towards a lamp post, squinting your eyes trying to think of what else you could say that wouldn’t be so pathetic. “did some homework.”
Anton hummed and nodded. Your hands were balled into fists, joints stiff as you motioned vaguely towards him.
“How was your day?” you asked.
Anton tilted his head towards the dark sky like he was thinking. His hand was pulsing a grip on your thigh.
“I also went to class. Then I went to practice and tore a hole in my swim cap by accident,” he answers.
You see the first break in Anton’s demeanor as he remembers his torn swim cap. He frowns slightly, fingers rubbing at his forehead.
“Gotta buy a new one, but I have to go to the other side of town to get the caps I like.”
“You’re in classes all day tomorrow too, right?” you ask.
Anton’s face changes again. He tilts his head and smiles at you, instead of a taunt you can tell he’s pleasantly surprised. You’ve had to pick up a thing or two about his schedule in the midst of your previous entanglement. He knew about yours, and he told you everything so it was only natural to remember it.
“Yeah, I’m in class all day.” Anton says, running his hand through his hair. “I gotta get the cap before my hair gets all messed up from the pool.”
You nod your head like you understand. You understand chlorine enough, the concept of chemicals and how they’d react to hair. You imagine being submerged in water in any capacity for hours on end would be Hell on hair. On Anton Instagram and the girls Instagram everyone is always wearing their headgear. Anton always ends up having a few strands of his hair peaking out from the bottom.
Anton runs his hands through that part of his hair, staying at the ends and carding it through his fingers. You want to do the same, you get lost in the motion of Anton’s large hand grooming himself. His hand on your thigh just remained in a gentle squeeze.
“You know,” he begins. You instantly perk up and stop looking at his hand. “I think friends also go to their friend’s swim practices.”
You nod. Anton smiles and nods back. It’s silent between the two of you. People pass by the both of you in the courtyard, coming home from night classes or a last minute cram at the library. You don’t withdraw from him at all. You let people walk by and look, you watch Anton watch them walk by. His gaze would flicker to you, like he was gauging for a reaction. To not pull away and to not react you had to freeze completely. But you felt Anton apply a little more force behind the hold on your thigh.
Anton’s gaze flickers as one more person walks by. You hear a small sound of them saying hi and Anton is waving back and responding to them. You peer over your shoulder. You’ve seen that person before, you’re sure of it. Maybe it was at his party, or one of the functions at the abandoned warehouse. But you’re sure they know Anton because they make small talk, and he looks like he’s about to take a seat before he sees the hand on your thigh. Without missing a beat he bids Anton a farewell, and he continues making his way through the courtyard.
The two of you wait in the heavy silence. Someone saw you and Anton having a moment, where you were like a deer in the headlights and he was calm and collected. This must mean the hand on your thigh means more than just friends.
But before you can read any more into it, Anton retracts his hand. He gets up from his seat fast, making you tilt your head up to look at him. This angle is awful. Too reminiscent. For a moment the reason you came by flashes through your mind. You were supposed to be spilling your guts in the middle of sex with Anton, not partially spilling your guts and groveling just to be in his life again. You didn’t think this is how the night would go. Now you’re his friend and he’s touching your chin playfully, making it tilt up even further to look at him.
“You gotta get home though, right?” he asks.
You swallow and nod your head to recenter yourself. You get up too, slowly but almost shaky on your legs.
Anton’s hands clap your shoulders. This is something he’s never done with you. He shakes you slightly, and you think he’s going to pull you in for a hug before he pulls away completely.
“Text me when you get home,” he says.
You want to ask him to walk you home. But you know that if you ask, he will say he has company over, and you will get that pang in your chest and the tense feeling in your jaw.
“I will,” you said.
You turned the other direction and started walking back towards your building. You felt Anton still watching, and when you took a quick look over your shoulder he was there. Like a shadow he stayed by the table, lit up partially by a lamp post. You took a glance over him, where you think the light in his room was still on.
You texted Anton that you made it home and he responded. You went to sleep thinking about his indirect invitation slash order to come to his swim practice, and the girl that was waiting for him in his room. You woke up that morning thinking about how you were his friend now. You asked yourself what do friends do for eachother. Anton would be going to practice today with a torn swim cap, exposing his hair to the harsh chemicals of the pool. Friends wouldn’t let friends go through that.
All of your stalking came in handy. You found the brand of swim cap by zooming in on a picture Anton posted two weeks ago. The sports goods store wasn’t too far, and you had no classes to get in the way. You got his cap and you went back to campus.
You circled the entrance of the practice hall for twenty minutes. The nerves continued to prevail, each time you reached towards the door you thought about all of the possibilities. He had found enjoyment in labeling you as a friend last night. Maybe this was a trick to get you here, so he could laugh and joke with his friends about the desperate girl who wanted a second chance. You knew that girl would be here too, you’re sure you would be seen by his entire team.
But you lost the right to choose. You were just his friend now, a friend who was on thin ice. If you wanted to get back to a semblance of anything you had before, this was the only way. If you turned around and left, you’d fill every room you entered with regret. Anton was waiting for you the same way he waiting for you to come to his game. You weren’t sure you’d be able to look at Anton ever again if you didn’t do this. So you took a deep breath, gripped the swim cap tight and pulled the door open.
Instantly when you passed the door you smelled the pool. The hallway had fluorescent lights embed into the ceiling and had warm lights in the display case. You saw trophies and banners and pictures of different athletic teams. You saw the accolades for the swimming team as you continued following the sound of water splashing.
The other parts of the gymnasium were relatively unoccupied. Some people were in the weight room, others were lying on cots getting massages or being inspected. You kept walking down the hallway, trying to seem like you belonged while gripping the swim cap like it was proof.
The pool was behind another set of double doors. You stay near the entrance, making the door close gently to avoid the sound echoing. The white walls are a stark difference to the vibrant green of spring outside. The tiled floor is different from the dirt, or the concrete that you nervously paced over for ten minutes. The weather in here is different too, the almost exact opposite of the clear spring outside. In here you’re drowning in the humidity, instantly feeling hot and damp in your clothes. Your heart is beating fast too, because you’ve never been here and you can already hear Anton’s voice echoing off the walls of the pool. You hear splashing and the sound of people jumping off the boards. Timers, clocks, instructors yelling about strokes. You squeeze the swim cap in your hand, feeling like you should turn around. You’re behind the coverage of the stands, you could turn around and no one would know.
The air is so thick in here you could chew on it, and you can already feel sweat beading at your forehead. You walk forward, matching breaths with your steps trying to figure out why your heart is hammering in your chest.
Although you could hear Anton you had no idea where he was. His voice bounced off the water and the white walls, the sounds of people swimming threw you off. You thought that he would be on the other end of the pool, giving you a chance to see him before he saw you. Anton didn’t miss a beat instructing his team but he must’ve heard the door open, because the moment you passed the coverage of the bleachers and you saw him in your peripheral, he was already looking in your direction.
You froze under his stare, staying still in the spot by the bleachers. You saw Anton freeze too, his hands that clapped for his teammates stayed fused together.
You wanted to turn on your heel and leave. The humid air was choking you and the warmth was making you sweat. You felt like every unpleasant smell from the day was attached to you, amplified by the muggy atmosphere. You felt sticky, your dirty hands were rubbing off on Anton’s brand new swim cap.
You saw Anton turn to his coach. Against it all you forced yourself to face him, even if you felt like your clothes were rubbing against your clammy skin. You felt soggy here, and it felt like Anton knew it. He walked towards you casually, looking like he belonged here. The blue reflecting off the pool complimented his tan skin, the water droplets on his shoulders from his hair looked perfect.
In moments like this you remember that this could’ve been yours the whole time. Anton is careful navigating from the bleachers but doesn’t take his eyes off of you. You’re standing still and watching him, just waiting for him to come to you.
You’re messing with the swim cap so much you think you’re wearing it down, already rubbing a portion of it thin from nerves. The repeated motion provides no relief, only making the palms of your hands sweaty.
By the time Anton is in front of you, you’re sure you’ve rubbed a hole in the latex. Regardless, you present it to him, holding it out between the two of you so he couldn’t come any closer.
“I got you a new swim cap,” you said.
You felt your voice get overtaken by the echo of water splashing.
Anton looked down at the swim cap and you heard the coach blow the whistle. More splashing and water moving in the pool bounced off the walls.
He took the cap from your hands, fingers brushing against yours.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said.
The genuine surprise in his voice cut through everything. The way he made eye contact made you look at his bare shoulder instead. Without even looking down you knew that his shorts were hanging low, only meant to cover the jammers he was swimming in. You could see his chiseled stomach, and you were thinking about the last time you had seen him like this. You also felt a flash of jealousy at the thought of everyone who has seen him like this since his birthday in March.
This could’ve been your life all this time. Bringing him things, crashing his practices, having him look at you with a grateful smile on his face. You like seeing him surprised, you like seeing him look at you and having other people see it too.
“It’s the brand I like too,” he says.
You can’t stop yourself from smiling. You know that you did good, and that Anton likes it. He looks to the people swimming in the pool, then his coach behind him. The whistle blows again and you think that it’s time for you to leave.
“I just wanted to stop by—”
“Practice is almost over,” he says. “you don’t have any classes today, right?”
“You still remember my schedule?” you ask.
“Of course,” he says simply.
The coach blows the whistle and you hear the sounds of relief. The sound of water splashing decreases almost immediately, you hear wet footsteps splash in puddles surrounding the pool before Anton turns around. He’s holding the cap the same way you had it clutched before.
“Practice is almost over,” he repeats. He points past the double doors. “there are some chairs right past the doors. Wait for me?”
You nod, and Anton immediately smiles. Before he turns around to join his team he comes close. You’re too slow to react, and he moves quick. He pecks your forehead when the creases from nerves finally smoothed out. You were in a state to react slow, because his reaction to the swim cap was already disarming. You can only let out a quick chirp, a delayed tensing of your entire body before Anton was already turning around to walk towards the rest of his team. You were there in the same spot for a solid six seconds, frozen until you heard Anton’s coach speak. Only then did you turn around and head back towards the double doors.
You waited patiently on the seats. You could hear the muffled sounds of everyone cheering and clapping, what you assumed to be the official end of practice. You heard the quiet chatter and the sound of people gathering their things. You were waiting to hear for something, then suddenly the doors swung open and everyone was leaving in a large crowd. You instinctually kept your head down as everyone walked by. You just stayed focused on their feet or pretended to look at your phone as they passed by. You didn’t look up, afraid you’d catch the eye of someone who would somehow know you.
Only when the final pair of feet stopped in front of you did you look up. Everyone else kept moving past Anton but he stayed there, one hand holding the strap of his duffle bag that was slung over his shoulder. He looked down at you with a smile on his face. You looked towards his teammates, who weren’t concerned with anything else besides making their way to the dining hall or finally going homw. He looked down at you like he didn’t kiss your forehead like he’s your boyfriend. He only motioned towards the exit.
“This way,” he said gently.
You can’t say much after you leave the gym. Your mouth is dry from Anton following your lead to get out of the building. You almost lead him to the locker room on accident, too afraid to ask him where the exit was. You couldn’t even manage looking behind you helplessly for Anton to point in the right direction. You just stumbled through, hearing his footsteps close behind you.
When you were finally out you breathed the fresh air. April was always crisp, the cold weather from winter making the transition to spring. The setting Sun made the warmer weather become even more cool. The sweats Anton threw on after practice was perfect for this weather. His gray set looked comfortable, even in the sparse sections where the gray was dark from getting slightly wet. The neck, the bottom hem. Part of his sleeve and the hood.
You’re still looking at the damp part on his chest when he’s suddenly coming too close again. You brace yourself for another kiss on the forehead, but he goes even further. He caves into you, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other cupped your face. You could feel the prune in his hands from being in the pool. He smelled like chlorine and a warm room, filling your nose as he kissed you.
You instantly put your hands on the base of his neck to keep him there. The fabric of his hoodie was damp underneath your fingers from where the bottom of his hair was still shedding water droplets. You felt a few droplets fall on your hand, cold and slipping between the cracks of your fingers. You held him a little tighter because you thought he was pulling back, but he was only tilting his head to get a better angle. You mirrored him, leaning further into his body just to feel his arm wrap around your waist tighter.
He breathed hot air into your mouth and you did it back. Each time you pulled your lips back Anton chased after you, and when he pulled back you did the same thing. You were panting into him, too afraid to break him out of whatever mood he found himself in. Your chest was heaving from lack of air and excitement but you were focused on giving Anton back everything he gave you.
You couldn’t stop yourself from whimpering when you felt his tongue push into your mouth. You touched your tongue to his, remembering the last time you were both like this. You fisted his hoodie to keep him in place and you felt his hand shift to palm the back of your head. You found yourself desperate to reach through the fabric and touch him. You were greedy, hand trailing up from his neck to grab a handful of his damp hair. You were careful to not grip, to not add too much pressure. Despite being lost in him you felt like you were only one misstep away from Anton remembering how awful you were and that he was supposed to be indifferent to you. You felt water droplets fall from his strands to transfer to your hands, traveling down your tilted arms before wetting the fabric of your shirt.
Anton’s arm wrapped around your waist to pull you even closer. You felt yourself shift to your tiptoes to accommodate, and then his hand that palmed your head moved to your chin. He tilted your head up until it broke the kiss.
Before you could react to the loss of contact you felt his soft lips close around your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth.
He’s never done this with you. The idea that he’s tried this on someone else almost makes you want to pull away, but you feel the lightest pressure from his teeth and his arm around your waist refuses to loosen. It felt like he was trying to take a piece of you with him, you felt the pressure and the suction from his closed lips around yours.
Both of his hands shifted to holding your face. You felt him press your cheeks together with gentle pressure, causing your lips to push into a pout. You narrowed your eyebrows from the inability to kiss him like you wanted. He was just eating you alive just a few moments ago but now he was hindering you. You let out a defiant sound, something that was pitiful because you wanted to keep kissing him and whiny because you wanted to show him that you were good at it.
Anton stopped kissing you deeply, pulling his tongue and face away to start kissing your squeezed lips. They were chaste and obnoxiously loud, replacing the sultry quiet with obvious smacking.
You felt a breeze and opened your eyes to the orange sky and remembered that you were in public, and the loud sounds your lips were making could draw attention. You still didn’t pull at Anton’s hair, even if your cheeks were flamed from embarrassment. The side of his face caught the Sun, making his skin turn to a beautiful gold. The Sun came through the black hair you still refused to grip, blocking some of it from blinding you. You knew that behind you on the building for the indoor pool you and Anton formed one shadow. You could see Anton instead of just feeling him, the gentle swiping motion on your cheek with his thumb and the way his lips started curling into a smile with each loud kiss. You gripped his sweatshirt tighter, puckering your lips even further trying to do something on your own volition.
The moment you started adding to the loud sounds of kissing, he pulled away. Anton ended it with a big final kiss, pressing your wet lips together before he pulled away with a mwah! Even if this was some form of torture you still whined from loss of contact, because Anton’s hands went back to being at his side. He smiled like his lips weren’t covered in your spit and like your bottom lip wasn’t thrumming from the pressure.
Your chest was rising and falling quickly. When Anton pulled away. the Sun was fully on you now, the light slightly blinding you. Your pupils weren’t prepared for the light, you were disoriented from lack of oxygen but Anton was smiling at you like you weren’t about to burst into flames. You were so consumed that when he came close you leaned in again, preemptively parting your lips.
He passes your lips completely, mouth going to your ear instead.
“Thanks for the swim cap by the way,” he whispers.
His voice is surprisingly even. Your fingers were cramped from holding his sweatshirt so tight. He bent over to grab his duffle bag. You were trying to figure out when he dropped it as you cleared your throat.
“No problem,” you replied.
Your voice was scratchy and raspy. You straightened your clothes and didn’t know what to do with yourself.
“You gonna come see me at practice tomorrow, too?” he asked.
You nodded, licking your lips to taste him.
“At the end of the week there’s a few teams coming from surrounding colleges and we are going to have a little mock swim meet.”
You were still nodding your head. Your chest was heaving, you breathed through your nose like you just climbed a flight of stairs. You were still clutching desperately at his hoodie when he smiled and touched your chin.
“Tomorrow you can just go up to the press box and watch from up there,” he said.
Each order was received with a nod. You were still trying to ground yourself when Anton started walking away from the gymnasium.
“You gotta get back to your dorm right?” he asked, tilting his head in the general direction of your place.
You trailed behind him, fixing the part of your jacket that slipped off your shoulder. You were rushing behind him, trying to figure out if whatever had happened to you actually happened. Your chest was still hammering looking at Anton push his hands into his pockets. Those same hands were pushing your jacket off your shoulder and pulling you closer. He was everywhere just a few moments ago, you couldn’t fake nonchalance like he was. He slowed down and you closed the distance. The moment you were next to him he pointed his thumb in a different direction.
“I have to go somewhere though,” he said.
“That’s fine,” you said.
“I’m meeting somebody,” he added.
There was a falter in your steps. A break in the steady breeze. You shook your head slightly before looking down to your feet.
“I understand,” you said.
“See you tomorrow,” Anton bumped playfully into your side. “friend.”
This was the fourth day you were trapped in the press box during Anton’s swimming practices. The broadcasting microphones for announcers and the rigid seats were your only company. You were scared at first being here, afraid to even settle in the seats worried that you’d mess something up. Anton had to assure you over text that he was using his captain privilege so you had endless access to the empty space. The room was unused in the off-season and wasn’t stuffy like the pool, a perfect place just for you.
You had the best view of the swimming pool below. You stopped telling yourself that you were here to do homework on the first day. You made sure to get everything done before coming, because the books you brought would always end up closed, your head balanced on top as you looked down at him. Now, you shamelessly watched Anton from above. You felt like a creep, keeping a close eye on him and never bothering to look anywhere else. You had to cover your face with your hand whenever he would take his shirt off and bashfully look away when he’d occasionally lift his head towards you.
Anton was talented. Even by knowing only the bare minimum about swim you knew that he was gifted. There was always kept a gap between him and whoever he was next to in the water. He watched his teammates alongside the coach and helped whoever needed it. He even had his own whistle, leading reps whenever the coach was out doing something else.
You were subjected to seeing him shirtless while leading a team everyday. You have been forced to think about your relationship up here in the solitude of the press box. Atleast you weren’t in the muggy atmosphere of the pool. Here the air was clearer and didn’t smell like chlorine.
Still, it would get a little harder to breathe seeing Anton from up here all day. You had grown accustomed to hearing your own labored breathing at the sight of him pulling himself up out of the pool. He always wore the swim cap you got him, water shedding from his body as his muscles tensed. Seeing him hold his breath and get serious as he sliced his hands through the water.
You found an inexplicable joy in watching him from up here. You knew what he was doing, who he was talking to. Because you had limited access to Anton now, there was plenty left to your imagination. When you were up in the press box looking down at him, there was no room for confusion.
But today was different. Anton told you that colleges surrounding the area were coming for a mock swim meet. When you came into the press box today and sat in your chair you saw that the usual number of people had tripled. You were lost in the sheer amount of swimmers, your elevated view of the gym didn’t help. You couldn’t find Anton by his swim cap because everyone was wearing the cap of their designated school.
Your elbows are propped on the small desk as you search for him. He’s not poolside, he’s not chatting with his coach who is chatting with the other coaches. He wasn’t in the pool getting practice laps in. You kept searching, you looked for people wearing your school colors one by one. You even scooted to the edge of your seat, trying to get the best vantage point possible.
You found Anton sitting on the bleachers. On the outskirts of what you could see, he was at the edge, leaning against the safety curtains. A towel was slung over his shoulders. He wasn’t wearing the swim cap you got him either. What was the most jarring was seeing the amount of people surrounding him. He was not talking to anyone from his team, you saw they were mingling with people from other campuses or helping organize the space as stand-in managers.
Anton was fully entertaining a group of girls. He was in the middle of it, too. Two girls sat on the row behind him, leaning forward to hear every word he was saying. One of the girls feet was propped on the row Anton sat on. Her foot was so close the side of his leg, each time she moved she grazed his body. A girl on the row in front of him had her back fully resting against the safety curtains, looking at him and anyone who was talking. When she spoke she only looked towards him. She was sitting next to a girl whose head was on a swivel, the closest to Anton and the only one you couldn’t get a good look at. Anton had one foot propped right next to her. Sometimes the conversation only seemed to revolve around them, with everyone else listening in. Two girls sat at the row below them, side by side. They fully had their backs facing you, but you could see them occasionally bump shoulders whenever Anton wasn’t looking at them. There were three more girls on his side that wasn’t against the safety curtain, one on each row their group occupied. They all leaned in, facing towards Anton. The girl on his row was only separated from him by his duffel bag.
They all had the same body language, caught up in Anton and every move he was making. You watched each of them take turns looking at his shoulders and what his towel was covering. Occasionally they’d catch eachother taking peaks, to which they’d make small expressions they thought Anton didn’t catch. Or maybe they wanted him to see.
You never thought a view of him from up here could end up like this. You liked seeing him from up here because you liked thinking about him having an audience up here. You wondered if he behaved differently with you watching as opposed to you not. You told him you would come a little bit before the mock swim meet because you had class. You took your phone out of your pocket, placing it flat on the table. You continued watching him as you pressed your passcode from muscle memory. You went to your messages, only taking a peak at your phone to make sure you were in the chat you had with him.
There was anger in choosing what to look at. You couldn’t bring yourself to miss Anton getting closer to a girl to repeat something but watching all of them lean in. You watched one fold her arms closer to her chest and make the smallest movement to get closer to him. When he stopped holding his towel over his shoulders they all peeked, looking at his hands go down to rub down his legs quickly. They smiled when he smiled, they laughed when it seemed like he said nothing. You rolled your eyes and fully went to your phone. You picked it up from the surface of the table, hearing each defining click as your fingers jabbed your keyboard.
you: i’m here.
Heat fanned your face as you watched his phone light up on the bleachers. You saw three of the girls lean in at the same time, trying to see what was happening before Anton grabbed his phone. He was calm. You gripped your phone tight in your hands, fingers pressing into the keys so hard alternative options for the letters popped up.
You didn’t even get the satisfaction of seeing the read receipt. No text bubbles to show he was typing, no glance upwards to the press box. You just watched Anton turn off his phone and set it face down on the bleachers, continuing the conversation like nothing happened.
You didn’t know what he was saying, just watching his lips move before he sat up a little straighter. You watched his towel slide off his shoulders, falling down completely to the aisle behind him. Part of the towel ended up on the foot of the girl sitting behind him. She moved and you watched her hand push into his bare shoulder. All the other girls followed suit, pushing at some part of his body. One pushed his bare knee, the other pushed his thigh. Someone pushed at his other shoulder, and another pushed his chest. Each of their hands touched his body in a terrible sequence, to which he held up his arms like he was sorry. You saw his arms flex, to which all the girls pinched the muscle and made shrill sounds you swore you could hear.
Anton was bashfully putting his head down too. You saw that he had the same knowing smirk when he’d wind you up. He shook his head while all the girls chatted amongst themselves. The second they weren’t looking at him he was looking at you up in the press box. Your tongue was poking the inside of your cheek, you pulled your hands across your chest so tightly it almost hurt. His smile is so innocent. You think your phone is going to crack in your hand.
You go to your phone and start typing again.
nice to see you with your other frien|
this is why i never|
you need to stop talking to the|
Nothing seems right. You know that you can’t stop him, but it’s egregious. The way he lets the girls touch all over him, how he doesn’t try to stop it. He knows you’re up here. He knows you’ve been watching him and usually around this time of day he would be kissing you like he was yours again.
When you heard the voice of the coach saying it was time to start the meet all of them turned around. The girls whose face you couldn’t see turned around, and you let out a quick sigh of defeat. The girl that was caged in by Anton’s foot and looking at him intently the entire time was the same girl in his dorm that night. She made sure to wait for him to gather his things so she could follow him down the bleachers too, holding out a cautionary hand towards his back like she was going to fall.
you: it’s nice to see you with your other friends.
You sent the text in a blind rage. You saw his hand holding his phone, and felt the quick satisfaction of seeing him receive the notification. You saw him look at his phone and felt sick pride bubble in your chest as his steps faltered on his way down the steps. You saw him type, and in real time you saw the text bubble appear at the bottom of your message history.
anton: you haven’t even seen all of them yet :)
The mock swim meet continued with the same energy. You didn’t know that Anton was such a celebrity. People from colleges who weren’t outwardly cheering him on watched from the bleachers. Even those who were next up weren’t concerned with getting their head in the game; they were concerned with watching Anton get into position on the starting block. The low chatter ceased and there was bated breath. Anton went into each different pose with the countdown, then when the whistle blew he dived in.
There was a different intensity compared to his practices. Where he was more focused in helping his teammates or talking to his coach, this was different. He launched himself into the pool, he was bringing his arms so quickly into the pool you almost missed it. He pushed off the other side of the pool with ease. That playful attitude was gone, replaced with a need to win at a competition that meant nothing.
He beat a record, you were sure because everyone was amazed when the final time appeared on the board. The easygoing way he approached practice was replaced with speed and technique. You understood why he was beside the coach during practice and the captain of the team.
Seeing him win only fueled that anger rolling in your stomach. The sensation became even worse because he was a good swimmer, and he knew that he was playing you. You were also mad because you should’ve been uninterested, but the way he went through the water had you on the edge of your seat watching intently.
The meet went by fast. You were up in your tower, watching as Anton and everyone else made their way out of the pool and put their clothes back on.
Everyone gathered around the edge with their towels draped over their shoulders, listening to whatever the coaches was saying. You watched Anton meander off to the edge of the group, and then you saw him look up to you. Almost immediately you sat up a little straighter, and when he waved slightly you just clutched your hand at your side.
You don’t think anyone noticed you up there. But a moment after Anton looked up to wave at you, the girl standing beside him looked up next.
You and Anton haven’t talked about her since you came to his dorm that night. You figured that you don’t really have the right to ask because you two weren’t together. The conversation in the courtyard was about being friends. You think the making out was meant as a form of torture, and the fact that you two only kissed in public instead of in private was punishment as well. The girl that was in Anton’s room must’ve known about you, you’re sure of it. She was looking at you like you were familiar, and you saw her take the smallest side-step away from him.
But you’re taken out of your rumination. Anton watched everyone else clear out of the gymnasium and stayed behind like the good captain he was. You were sure he was also fishing for more attention, because almost everyone on their way out congratulated him on his performance. They patted his back and you were rolling your eyes. You noticed that the girl stayed behind too. While Anton was saying goodbye to his teammates, the girl talked to the coach. When everyone had finally left it was the two of them talking to the coach for a while. You were fidgeting in your seat, wondering what their coach was saying to them that had them listening closely and nodding their heads.
You felt your chin dig into the top of your hand. You knew that it was past the time for thing to be over, and that this meeting was cutting into your after-practice time with him. You two were supposed to be spending a good five minutes kissing like you’d never get the chance to again.
The first day it was outside the building. The second day it was on the bleachers, when Anton beckoned up to you in the press box and you rushed down. Yesterday, he sent you a text to go come into the locker rooms and you had to pretend to have better judgement just for him to tell you it was clear and you wouldn’t get caught.
Without fail, each time was intense. Anton using one hand to cradle your neck and the other pulling you closer. You were always holding onto him so roughly your fingers would cramp and you’d work through depleted lungs and a tense jaw. You knew you were taking it more serious than him, when his kisses would turn playful you were just as desperate, pulling him closer and tilting your head in an effort to push into him. You were so enveloped you never even commented on how he’d smile into your lips, obviously finding humor in the way you were so clearly obsessed.
You couldn’t tell him to not make fun of you because you were too entranced. You were completely engulfed, completely submerged in everything about him. The way he smelled like chlorine and a warm room, the way he held you even if he found it amusing. He kissed you like he meant it, even if you were sure this was another way of him torturing you for previously torturing him.
Regardless of how he treated you, the post-practice makeout was the only time that it felt like you two weren’t at odds. Even if he laughed into your kisses and he was always the one to break away from you, that was the tiny sliver of life with Anton where his intent of remaining friends faltered.
You took your kissing time very seriously. So you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a sigh while watching Anton and the girl and their coach talk. You’re sure it was important. But they were talking for two minutes already and that was two minutes less you’d have of Anton kissing you and pulling you closer. He already spent so much of the meet with her. You wondered what else they could be talking about while you clutched your phone tighter to your chest.
When the coach walks off you let out another breath. This one is relief, you turn the chair next to you to start putting all your things together in your backpack. You waste no time slinging the bag over your shoulder to get ready to meet him poolside. You look down one more time just to get the signal from Anton on where to meet. Instead of him looking up at you with a knowing smile on his face he is looking down at the girl and talking to her.
You can’t stop yourself from plopping yourself down in the chair and letting out an annoyed breath. You tilt back in the chair as much as it will allow, until it creaks and you have to dig your feet into the ground to keep going. The chair rocks back and forth, letting you see Anton and the girl before you go back too far and they disappear from your view. You repeat the motion over and over, tilting back and forth to watch their conversation continue to go on. One minute of Anton kissing is replaced with him talking to the girl. You can’t stop yourself from rocking back and forth, each time they disappear from your view you pray that they won’t still be talking.
When you rock forward, convincing yourself that you’ll get up and leave this time, you see both of them looking up at you.
Instantly you straighten. The chair creaks behind you again but you remain upright, not giving to the momentum. You look down at them, hands gripping the armrest as you push yourself further upright. Anton motions to you and the girl reaches a hand up to wave at you. You wave back after a moment, and then Anton is looking at her again. You see her nod, then he puts a hand on her shoulder and she starts walking towards the exit.
You continued to watch her walk away, leaning forward as far as you could go. You leaned so far you almost slid out of the seat. Only when you saw the exit open do your shoulders relax. You quickly look back where Anton was walking, just to see that he’s standing on the outskirts of your line of sight. He’s smiling up at you, just to exaggerate turning his body towards the exit that the girl walked to. You try to change the subject by getting up from your seat, but Anton puts both of his hands up and mouths stay there. So you stay. You sit back down in the creaky chair and wait for Anton to make his way through the gymnasium to get to you.
Anton knocks and peaks through the door like you wouldn’t be there. You can tell he’s being playful before opening the door fully to come in.
He changed back into the clothes he was wearing before the swim meet. Light wash jeans hugged his thighs and he was wearing something that looked like a band tee. He had a zip-up hoodie slung over his duffle bag.
“You were watching me like a hawk,” he says playfully.
You go to take your backpack out of the chair so Anton can sit but he just comes closer to you instead. He throws his duffel over your bag. Instantly you reach forward and pull his bag off of yours, putting it on the floor.
“I don’t want my bag smelling like chlorine,” you say.
There’s an edge to your voice. Anton picks up on it immediately, raising an eyebrow. He’s slow draping the strap of his back on the back of the chair so it’s not touching the ground.
“Fair enough,” he says casually.
The refusal to give a reaction makes you even more upset. The fact that he gets on his knees in front of you and parts your legs with his own hands to accommodate his body makes you even more upset. Like he wasn’t whoring himself out for everyone, he puts his head against your knee and cages himself between your legs.
“I wasn’t watching you like a hawk either,” you add.
Anton guides your hand to his head but scoffs. You refuse to touch him, a motionless hand just resting on top of his soft hair.
“I could feel your eyes on me the whole time,” he says
You grip his hair slightly. He only leans into your hand, rubbing gently on your thigh.
Anton moves to fully rest his body against your leg. His other arm wraps around your calf to bring it closer.
“I’m so drained,” he says.
“I’m sure you are,” you scoff.
Your hands in his scalp become a little tighter. You purposefully pull at his hair rough, gripping rather than massaging. He only moves to balance his chin on your knee to look up at you.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.
“You just looked busy is all,” you answered.
“Well I was swimming a ton,” he says.
The faux innocence is palpable. His eyes are wide like he’s genuinely confused, but there’s that same haughty smirk he wears after kissing you. You didn’t know he was such a player. You pull at his hair again, he doesn’t wince like you wish he would. He just sighs, leaning into your grip.
“Feels good,” he sighs.
Just for that, you pull a little harder. Finally he winces, eye closing on the side you pulled.
“You like the swim cap I got you?” you ask.
Anton hums a yes. You feel more of his weight lean into your leg, to the point that you have to flex so you can support him.
“Why didn’t you wear it?” you ask.
You know why. He had to wear the school-issued hat because it was a swim meet. He has to follow your hand to alleviate the pressure. You move a piece of hair from the side of his face to see his reaction.
“Had to wear the schools,” his arm wraps tighter around your leg. “gotta represent.”
You watch him part his lips to say something else.
“Did you know everyone here?” you ask.
He moves his head so his chin is balanced on your thigh. He looks you right in the eyes and his hands drum a pensive beat on your thigh.
“I went to highschool with some of them. Met some of them through competitions over the years. Friends with a few of the girls—“
At that you pull Anton’s hair too hard. He reaches up to grab your wrist quickly, rounding around it with ease.
“Too rough,” he breathes out.
“Sorry,” you apologize.
Anton’s hand around your wrist makes you have terrible flashbacks. There are thoughts of him being in this same position with him, playing with his hair after everything. The sound he made when you pulled at his hair made you remember how easily he folded to pain and liked being marked. Despite your apprehension Anton would reveal his neck and chest to you. You’ve compromised with him by leaving a few marks on his waist before his meets, something that would be covered up by his compression shorts. As you look down at his face now you wished you would’ve left an angry mark on his neck. If there was a purplish bruise forming on his chest those girls wouldn’t have been all over him.
Anton fully lifts his head from your leg to smile. Your cheeks are burning that you were caught being jealous. He just clasps over both of your hands easily, moving them back and forth before he kisses the side of your fist.
“Come with me to the bar tonight,” he says.
Anton was completely indifferent to your confession. He kisses your hand again when you take too long to answer, and you remember that you haven’t kissed his lips in more than twenty-four hours.
“Who’s going?” you asked.
Anton’s lips are still pressed into your hand before he pulls away slightly. His bottom lip catches on your thumb before he pulls away fully.
“My teammates,” he answers. “the girls from the other colleges are going, too.”
You clench your fists in his hold, your tongue runs over your top row of teeth.
“Why are you inviting me?” you ask.
“I like inviting my friends to functions.” Anton says.
Your jaw tenses at his answer. The quick answer causes almost a knee-jerk reaction. Your eyes that were always darting around him threatened to roll to the back of your skull. Anton keeps his eyes on you, and you pull your hands from his grasp to reach for your backpack in the seat beside you.
“Yeah. I’ll go,” you say.
Anton perks up immediately, standing to his feet in an instant to clap his hands together.
“That’s great to hear,” he says.
He already is turning around and adjusting his duffel on his shoulder to head for the door.
“As friends,” you add.
“As friends,” Anton repeats.
He opens the door for you, using his foot as a stopper and stretching his arm towards the dark hallway. You’re trying to keep your face neutral, it’s harder to hide when you don’t know how to feel. You just know you’re tired of seeing the smirk on Anton’s face everytime he gets a good look at you. You force yourself to smile as you clutch your strap closer to your body.
“As friends,” you say one last time.
Anton doesn’t repeat it, he just nods as you pass by him, reaching his body forward to nudge you as you tried to make your way through the doorway.
The gymnasium has been completely cleared out by the time you leave. Anton leads the way because most of the buildings lights have been turned off. You have to go a different way than usual, going through the weight room instead of past it like you had before. As he led the way you were thinking about all the possibilities of going to the bar. There’d be girls drinking. The thought of drunk girls surrounding Anton made you upset, and being upset made you cringe inwardly and even more angry. You couldn’t stop thinking about girls becoming more bold and properly touching him, or feeling him up in some dark corner of the bar. Anton was single, he only had friends. You couldn’t stop him but you didn’t want him to go.
He pulls out his phone while he’s walking in front of you. It’s the only source of light in the emptied building. You can see Anton hunched over to look at his screen. You watch his duffle sway back and forth on his shoulder, bumping into his leg while he’s engrossed in whatever is on his screen.
Your journey is mostly quiet, just the sounds of your feet moving against the linoleum floors. You hear the occasional squeak. The blues from the pool reflect through the hallways. You follow the light of Anton, who is so engrossed in it he doesn’t look up even when opening the door. You’re sure he only holds it open for you from muscle memory, still looking at his phone while he his foot acts as a doorstopper. He only leaves the door when you walk past him.
You take the quickest peak to the side. You don’t know who you were expecting Anton to text. You hoped it was one of the men on his team, maybe even the coach. But when you took the quickest peak while Anton was enveloped in the conversation it was with the girl. Something about where she parked her car. She was asking about his estimated time of arrival because you saw Anton take a look at the time on the top of his phone before his eyes darted to you.
You were already looking forward by that time. You were sure he saw you inspecting the chat history between him and the girl. Maybe if he slipped up enough you could see him sending the same teasing texts he was sending you. You eye his phone again, trying to focus between looking and taking steps towards your doom. You can’t imagine what a car ride would be like with her. You couldn’t imagine sitting through the journey of Anton sitting in the passenger seat, just to go to a bar where a million girls would hit on him.
You make it to the parking lot. To the left is Anton’s dorm and to the right is yours. Straight ahead there’s the car. You watch Anton wave and the headlights blink twice.
“I call shotgun,” he says casually.
You stop in your tracks. You see the same smirk he’d have whenever he’d pull away after kissing you like his life depended on it. You know he’s not joking, and you imagine how happy he’d be to have you and the girl in the same small confined space together.
Anton turns around after you didn’t follow behind him. His smile doesn’t falter. He only tilts his head casually towards the car and holds out a hand.
You go past the offer to his wrist. You grab it fast, hand wrapping around the bone and you press your fingers into his skin. His arm falters from the sudden force, his body gives when you pull him towards you. The shock on his face is palpable, his eyes are wide and looking at you. The car lights blink again and you go left, pulling Anton after you.
When you feel the hesitation in his steps you only pull harder. When he staggers because he’s off-balance and confused you only keep going. You deviate from the path to walk on the grass. The car lights fade away and you hear the notifications coming through on Anton’s phone. You only look behind you to make sure Anton is following every single step. He does take a peak at his phone, walking confidently before falling in place behind you.
“Her car is this way,” Anton says, pointing in the opposite direction.
You barely grunt in response.
“She texted me saying she saw you pull me away,” he continues.
“I don’t care,” you reply.
Despite the unnecessary words, Anton doesn’t stop you from pulling at him. You know the grip you have on his wrist must be painful, but he says nothing. You dig your nails into his wrist just to prove it, you even change where you grip his forearm to get a better hold on him.
“She asked me if everything is okay,” he says.
You can hear his feet dragging across the grassy field.
“Stop talking about her,” you say quietly.
His dorm is in viewing distance. For the first time since you started moving you feel the slightest resistance in his steps.
“Where are we going?” he asks.
He talks too much. He has to know where you’re taking him. He knows what his dorm building looks like, he’s walked this path hundreds of times.
He has been on a mission to push your buttons, prying and asking questions he already has the answers to. Insisting you two are friends but kissing you, showing off his body to anyone who will look, making you come to his practices like you’re a fan. He has had you watching him from a distance entertaining everything that would’ve gotten a rise out of you. You came to him and even apologized. You watched the girl in his dorm room staring at you while you were wallowing in regret and gettin ready to apologize and beg for another chance. You have been working off the regret and shame that came with turning him down you’ve accepted the shit he’s thrown at you. You’ve taken all of that but he won’t even shut up and follow you back to his place.
After you don’t respond to him you get your moments of silence. You continue to cut across the large grassy quad, breathing through the bursts of liquid anger that bubble in your stomach. The dragging steps calm you, and you think you might be able to vocalize calmly to Anton about where you’re taking him to.
“My friend is waiting up so we gotta go to her car—”
Instantly you turn around. Anton almost bumps into you from the sudden stop.
“We aren’t fucking going to her car, we aren’t going anywhere with her,” you say.
You are still holding onto Anton’s forearm tightly. You can see the dimples in his skin around your fingers from the force.
Despite this, despite everything, he still has that coy look on his face.
“Why not?” he asks tilting his head.
You smile, letting out a sigh and closing your eyes. For the first time you let go of Anton’s forearm and your fingers cramp for a second from the rough hold you had on him.
You take a step forward. Your hand presses to his solid chest and like a lightning strike everything comes down at once. You laugh dryly and take another step forward.
“You think I’m going to go to the fucking bar,” you tilt your own head slightly. “so I can watch a bunch of drunk girls throw themselves at you?”
Anton keeps the same coy look. There’s a twitch upwards at the corner of his lips. You drag your hand from his chest to his forearm, where your fingers fit right where they were before. You don’t even have to tug on him again. He follows behind you silently. You can feel his arm tensing in your hold.
The first few steps are silent. You make it to the crosswalk.
“Then where are we going?” he asks.
Anton’s question floats in the air right as you two end up in front of his building.
You’re calmer now though. Instead of having an outburst like you did on the grassy quad. People walk by you two, going in and out of the building. Your hand moves down from Anton’s forearm, interlacing your fingers. He reciprocates the hold, and you guide him to walk at your side.
“We are going to your room,” you say sweetly. “is that not fucking obvious?”
The sudden change of light going into the lobby of the building makes you blink. The harsh fluorescent lights are different from the warm glow of the street lamps. You can see Anton clearly now, and he looks at you like he knows something that you do not.
But he’s obedient. You both make a straight path for the elevators. He presses the button and by a stroke of luck there’s an elevator already waiting for you both. You step in forth, and you pull at his hand to bring him in.
There’s barely any commotion in the lobby. Many people opt to take the stairs, others sit in chairs scattered throughout the space. Some boring movie plays in common area. A residence assistant sits at a brown reception desk, scrolling away on his phone. No one notices you impatiently spamming the button to get the doors to close.
You two both watch the doors come to a close at the same time. In the gray metal reflection you see Anton standing behind you, leaning against the brown speckled wall. There’s a moment before you feel the upwards lurch of ascension. You turn to face him.
Anton is fully smiling now, and you press both hand to his chest to fully back him into the corner. In the stumble you bring your lips to his.
The clash of teeth causes you both to stumble. You have both of your hands fisted in his shirt, wrapping them in your hold as you bring him closer. He wraps his arms around your waist quick. Like you’re going to lose him you pull even harder, working down to try and find the right place. You kiss him deeper and Anton reciprocates. You push against him harder, until you hear the dull thud of his head hitting the walls of the elevator. You finally find satisfaction in tucking your fingers under the waistband of his jeans where you can feel the bare skin of his waist.
“So warm,” you murmured against his lips.
Anton was breathing heavy against your face. His lips were already pink and plump, there was a flush across his cheeks. His chest pressed against yours.
Anton mumbled something back and you felt his hands collect around your wrists. With the smallest amount of force you used all of your strength to keep your fingers tucked in his waistband. Anton didn’t pull your hands away but he moved his head backwards. You carelessly chased after him.
“All mine,” you breathed out.
You don’t know if you said that on purpose. You were feeling heady, because Anton followed after you and showed no intent on disobeying. The more you press your fingers against his waist the more you think about Anton looking to you while talking to the girl. He was trying to make you jealous. The conversation in the press box, the intense makeout sessions. All of it was a ploy to get you here, pressing desperately against him and trying to swap more spit with him.
“All yours?” Anton asked.
“You’re mine,” you answer. “tired of pretending you’re not.”
He leaned fully in the corner of the elevator, standing straight to look down at you. You nodded without missing a beat and Anton shivered against your body.
His hands were still wrapped around your wrists. The elevator continued to dinged as it climbed up the floors. You thought that you had been in here for a century because something grand was waiting for you at the end of the journey. You didn’t even bother looking towards the door, busy trying to push past the threshold of Anton’s strength to go deeper into his jeans. The denim was already causing enough resistance. After you maintain eye contact there’s not only a lack of force from Anton’s hands, but guidance. He pushes your hands further into his pants, and you go even deeper. You can feel his dick hardening in his boxers, you can feel his taut skin against your fingertips.
You hear the ding of the elevator and it opens up to Anton’s floor. The hallway to his room seems so far but you have to take the trek. You pull your hands out of Anton’s pants to tug at his belt loop. He gets the hint and walks out of the elevator past you. Under the bright light of the elevator you can see him trying to catch his breath.
Anton makes his way down the hallway leisurely. You’re walking behind him, dragging your feet because he’s doing the same. You take this time to be all over him: running your hand up and down his back, shifting your hands into his pockets, touching his hair. Every part of Anton you can touch you do.
You’re still pawing at him when you get to his door. You feel the hard planes while you hear the sound of a key bumping into metal, a door handle failing to turn fully and the small sounds of Anton’s exasperated sounds. You’re pushing a little harder into him, wrapping your arms around his body. You feel up his arms and his hands, failing to put the key in and failing to properly open the door.
“Anton,” you whine. “hurry up.”
“I’m sorry baby,” he says gently.
You keep leaning against his body, until your ear is pressed to his back. When you’re flush against him you feel the light vibration of laughter, and you pull away instantly.
“Are you messing up on purpose?” you ask.
This is the loudest you’ve ever been in this hallway. The words bounce off the wall and has Anton looking over his shoulder to properly laugh at you.
You snatch the keys from his hand and bump into his body to push him out of the way. He purposefully puts his hand on your shoulder, trying to cage you in. You don’t falter, shrugging your shoulder to get his hand off of you. When you actually miss the keyhole Anton laughs even louder.
Then, a second later the door opens. It’s a sound that comes with relief from you, and you step through the threshold first. You pull him in after you because he’s standing not moving an inch. By both hands on his arms you pull him and Anton lets himself be pulled, all the way until your back is against the door and he’s caging you against it. You bring him down by a hand on his neck until he bends into you.
You’re purposefully sloppy with your kisses. You figure it’s giving him a taste of his own medicine, sticking your tongue inside until it touches his. Your hands are spanning down his chest, unzipping his hoodie and pushing it off his shoulders and revealing his undershirt. You run your hands over the ribbed fabric, going over his chest and even kneading his solid body. When he tries to touch your waist you reach down and smack his wrist away.
You’ve wanted his touches. You gave him the chance to reciprocate. You need time to reclaim everything before he tries to do the same.
On the third smack of his wrist he finally understands. He presses his forearms to the door on either side of your body when your tongue runs over his lips.
“I don’t know why I let you convince yourself that you’re hard to read,” Anton says.
His chest pushes into yours each time he breathes. You think it’s your spit peaking past his lips. Your hand tucks underneath his waistband again and you reach your hands deep, until you’re hand is pressed between denim and muscular thighs. You like the perverted gropes you’re taking of his body and how he lets you. You keep feeling him, working your way to his soft inner-thigh. You can feel his dick twitching against your hand, but you refuse to touch him just yet. Reclaiming what’s yours, that’s all you’re doing.
“Touch me already,” you order against his lips.
“Yes ma’am,” he says.
You know that he’s taunting you but he slides his hand to the base of your neck to grip it. He bends his head to the crook of your neck and you press your head against the door, elongating it to give him more space.
“You think I don’t know when you’re jealous?” he asks.
His lips are on the column of your neck, each word is ghosted over your clammy skin and you can feel the warmth of his breath.
You nod your head. Then you shake it. Then you start pulling at Anton’s leg while the other presses against his back to bring him closer.
He gets so close that he’s almost pressing into the door too. You hear it move in the frame, and you can feel Anton’s thigh come between your legs.
Anton’s hand briefly leaves your neck to go to your shoulder. He presses his hand down, pushing you down. He keeps pushing you, until you finally feel his solid leg pressed between yours. You immediately grind against him, and a pathetic sound slips through your lips when his hand goes back to your neck.
Anton pulls away. He looks you in the face and your eyes are already watery, and you grind your hips in the smallest motion against him again. He kisses the tip of your nose, then your hot cheeks. He ends with placing a kiss on your forehead, smiling when he looks down at you.
“You’re so pent up you think you’d cum like this?” he asks.
Before you can answer Anton pushes his own leg up. The random pressure makes you jolt, causing the door to move in its frame again.
“Not jealous,” you push the words from the back of your throat as you apply more weight against his leg. “I don’t get jealous.”
He presses a kiss to the sensitive part of your neck. You tilt it to the side and try to bring him closer while your hips move slowly again.
“Not even when those girls were touching on me?” he asks.
You grind even harder against his thigh. You can’t tell if there’s something going on outside of your immediate senses. You think you feel yourself sliding down the door, you can feel your feet firmly planted into the ground. Anton is lower too, when he had to bend to kiss you it’s now you having to bend down to him. He kisses your neck hungrily, and a hand goes to your hips to keep guiding you back and forth. He forces your movements to be bigger. Tiny grinds that were just winding you up turns into something more languid. It feels too much like the real thing, especially after not having it for so long.
“I was getting so jealous, you know.” Anton’s fingers slip underneath your shirt, fingertips pressing into your soft stomach. He makes you grind harder into his thigh. The feeling almost makes you forget what he was saying to you. You have to nod dumbly before moving your hands to his shoulders to focus. “I had to let you know how I was feeling,” he says.
“Jealous of what?” you ask.
“Everything,” he says casually.
Anton shrugs his shoulders like it’s nothing. You have to fight moving against the feeling of his leg between yours to refocus.
“Like what?” you ask.
Anton sighs and looks off to the side. He still guides your hips with his hand like it’s a mindless task he’s tending to. He looks back up at you with a smile on his face.
“The people you talked to in public,” his hand dips underneath your jeans to press fingers into your ass. He guides your hips by pushing on your soft skin. You can feel the force a little more while he thinks about it. “The people you were dancing with before you’d come see me.”
Anton laughs for a moment. You grip his shoulders and drop your head to his neck. You twist his undershirt in your hold when you feel that churn building in the pit of your stomach.
“When it was really bad I was jealous of the food you’d eat and the music you’d listen to,” Anton’s voice is heavy and labored as he talks. “I was getting jealous thinking about what you were watching instead of watching me swim.”
You can’t bring yourself to say anything. You’e just letting out desperate whines into his neck and clawing lightly on his back.
“I just hide it better than you,” he says.
Only that brings you from your concupiscent stupor. You pull your head up from his neck, hands trailing up his body to grip at his hair harshly.
“Well I’m not throwing myself at a group of guys like a fucking whore,” you seethe.
“I had to do a little extra to make you feel the way I was feeling,” he says.
Suddenly you find yourself pushing at Anton’s broad shoulders. You engage your legs, working through the sore feeling to stand up fully. Anton looks up at you from the ground. On one knee it looks like he’s about to propose to you. Despite your lack of response he shows no remorse in his honesty, he almost seems happy as he looks up at you.
“Go,” you point weakly to the couch behind him, swallowing the spit that gathered in your mouth and the shaky tone in your voice from grinding against his leg. “go to the couch,” you order.
Anton obeys immediately. He gets up from one knee but still faces you, watching you breathing heavy by his door. You follow him by mirroring each step. You’re slow, stalking him like prey while he’s walking like he’s baiting you in.
His legs hit the back of the couch but you don’t stop. You get close until you’re chest to chest. One hand goes to your waist and the other goes to your chin, tilting your head up until you look at him.
“I got you jealous, didn’t I?” he asks.
Anton leaves the place on your hips to point at your face. That word sticks out in the most annoying way, nagging and constantly mentioned. When his finger stays in your face you smack it away.
He only laughs. You push him until he’s sitting down on the couch.
“I knew it,” he says.
“Don’t make fun of me,” you chide.
“You deserve it,” he says.
Anton widens his legs. He’s splayed out for you, dick jumping in his pants. He’s inviting, despite what he may think he’s all yours.
“I’ve suffered enough,” you say honestly.
You motion towards his undershirt. His hands that were resting on his thighs went to the bottom, grabbing the fabric. He only flicked the fabric up, making a part of his lower stomach bare. You can see his navel, you know where that vein on his stomach leads to. It disappears underneath the start of his pants.
“Take it off,” you say.
Anton leans slides from the back of the couch until he’s partially lying down on the cushions. He scoots a little closer to the end, until he can partially rest his head on the armrest. More of his shirt rides up from the movement. You can see the outline of his abs, flexing each time he moves.
“Make me,” he says.
You’re rough when you close the distance. Anton is lifting his hands preemptively, shirt riding up even higher. You pull the shirt up and over his head, tossing it somewhere. You have a knee on the couch beside his leg but you refuse to come closer. You create the distance so Anton has to look up at you. His hair is jostled from you taking off his shirt, brown strands layering across his forehead. Through his bangs he looks up at you, a playful glint in his brown eyes. You reach for his waistband next. You purposefully leave his boxers on but pull his pants off angrily. Anton is little to no help, only lifting his hips off the couch so you can pull at him again. The muscles underneath his skin tense and flex from all the movement.
He’s too beautiful. He’s Adonis on the couch, his legs are over the edge of the couch so you can sit next to him. You’re able to sit next to him and admire all of it. His hand goes behind his head on the couch and he settles in. Your hands run up and down his body, light as a feather. You go over his chest like a cross, going over the thin chain that hangs from his neck. You go across his nipples, pebbled from the attention and the cold air in his room. You go over the side of his body, strong and chiseled from swim before going right back to the vein on his lower stomach. You repeat it over and over again. Anton is still relaxed but he lets out a shaky breath.
You don’t look up at him. Just seeing his body and remembering that other people were able to see it today makes heat flare in your chest. If you saw the face attached you’d vocalize it. You’d probably tell him he’s never allowed to go to a swim meet again or force him to delete and block that girls number. You’re determined to find a medium between what you’ve given Anton thus far and how you plan on carrying the relationship in the future.
“How’d you feel when you saw me talking to her?” Anton whispers.
You can’t stop the tick. It’s a twitch in your jaw and the slight pause of your hand. The moment only lasts a second but Anton sees it, a smile on his face as he runs light fingers up and down your arms. You lean back on your haunches, feeling his hands go up to your shoulders before going back down.
You refuse to answer. You just run your fingers over the thin red lines you left on his chest.
“You know she’s not interested in me, right?” Anton’s hands are gentle going up and down your arms. He tilts his head to the side before his hands go to your head, patting your hair affectionately. “I’m not sure about the other girls but I can say for a fact she’s not into me.”
“She was in your apartment,” you say.
Anton’s eyes get wide. You were a little too harsh when you spoke. Instead of being breathy your words were firm. This was also your first time bringing up seeing the girl in his dorm. She had been so close to him during the meet and she saw you come to his dorm to confess.
Anton’s hands go down your arms to rest over your hands. He clasps your hands with his, and leans forward so he’s in your line of sight.
“She was coming over to talk about a leadership role on the team,” he says gently.
Anton sits up on the couch, fully propped up on his elbows to look at you. When he sees the pout you can’t stop he smiles.
“She thinks you’re nice by the way,” he says while leaning back. He settles against the armrest of the couch. “if only she knew.”
“That doesn’t matter,” you say.
You see Anton tilt his head to the side. He narrows his eyes. His hands go from your hands up to your forearms. He pulls you a little closer.
“What doesn’t matter?” he asks.
You come a little closer to him and run your hands over his stomach. The light red marks are still there, you touch him lighter. You tilt your head to match his, leaning into him a little more.
“Doesn’t matter how bad someone else wants you if it belongs to me.”
Your confession was purposefully saccharine. You laid it on thick and worked through the cringe you felt prickling across your body. You felt sexy enough. You saw Anton twitch in his pants and he held your forearms a little tighter.
“What’s it?” he asks.
“You know,” you answer.
Anton shakes his head.
“No,” he says, tapping on your forearms. “you gotta be a little more specific than that.”
“You know,” you said.
“I really don’t,” he says, laughing.
You said nothing, only focusing on unbuttoning the top of Anton’s jeans. You didn’t bother pushing the jeans further down than his mid-thigh. When you saw the bulge you stopped pushing the denim down, instead reaching your hand underneath his waistband to grab his dick. Anton wastes no time to buck into your hand, and you watch his muscles contract as he sits up on the couch.
He props himself up on his elbow, with his other arm pressed between your body and the back of the couch just to keep a hand on the small of your back. When he moved his chain caught the light perfectly, reflecting slightly on his skin and yours. He was able to go underneath the bottom of your shirt to press into your back. When you pulsed your grip around his dick he pressed into your skin deeper.
“If I had known having girls as my friends would make you act like this,” he started.
The thought of Anton with other girls makes you squeeze your fist around him a little tighter. He tilts his head back, revealing his neck and underside of his chin. You can see the patch of light stubble he missed and his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. You repeat the motion just to see it again. His lips part and his head leans to the side, balanced against his elbow before he turns to look at you.
His euphoria is undeniable. His lip between his bottom teeth, his eyelids dropping low as he looks at you.
“I would’ve done all that sooner,” he finishes.
You have a firm grip on his dick, moving against the restriction of his underwear. You see his hands flex from the sensation, arms tensing where they’re propped to keep his body up.
“I would’ve danced with a girl at that warehouse,” he says.
You tease him where he’s most sensitive, rubbing precum with your thumb on the underside of his tip. You watch his hands tense as he tries to center himself. You increase the speed. His hips jerk the tiniest way into your hand. You like watching the pathetic movement and seeing his face mix with the pain of being teased and the euphoria of being touched.
You continue moving your hand, causing a protrusion in his boxers. You lean in close to Anton when you hear the wet sound of your rough handjob. Now it’s you tracing your nose along his sharp jawline. You go to his neck, tracing upwards and he thrusts into your fist.
“I wouldn’t let that happen,” you say.
You suck on his earlobe and you follow after his head before he tilts it back to look at you.
“You wouldn’t let that happen?” he asks.
You shake your head, going back to the teasing your thumb on his tip. He reacts instantly, a weak thrust as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.
Your hand that wasn’t fisting his dick scratched down his abs. You reveled in his reaction, feeling him adjust his hand on your back to push into you deeper.
“We wasted so much time,” you said quietly.
“You wasted so much time,” Anton clarified.
He hissed when you pressed your nails deeper on the drag down, leaving red streaks in their tracks. You sped up your hand too. Anton scooted down the mattress to get closer to you.
“So much time was wasted,” you rephrased.
The marks you left faded to a blush pink as your fingers moved further down. You kept going, focusing on your hands on his body instead of his face.
You made it to Anton’s boxers. You tucked your fingers underneath the cotton feeling them lock into place against his skin. His skin was hot from all the layers of clothes and the touching. You couldn’t stop yourself from taking one hand away to feel the rest of his body. He was so sculpted, every part of him showed discipline. You didn’t stop, tracing over the same pattern again and again. He was so soft too, you changed your touch from your fingernails to the pads of your fingers just to really feel him.
You purposefully went lighter, the prodding turning to featherlight brushes. Anton was big but he was sensitive, skin jumping as he suppressed the urge to flinch away from the tickling.
You were driven by his reactions. Anton was dedicated to the nonchalant demeanor as of late. He made out with you everyday until you were breathless but kept the same even tone, he let girls flirt with him while you were watching. He’s been so cool that seeing his body twitch away from you made you keep going. Your touches went even lighter, until you started to feel the tickle on the pads of your finger. The tiniest whimper had you looking to his face, and the same time your eyes widened he collected your hand with his wrist.
You were held in place before you could trace your way back up his side. He was settled further into the couch, shoulders leaned against the armrest.
“You were just talking about wasting time right?” he asked.
You nodded. You watched Anton’s hands go to his jeans that were still caught on his mid-thigh.
“Right,” you agreed.
You took your hand out of his boxers and began pulling them down. Anton was pulling his jeans down and you followed with his underwear. He also moved away from the couch, and you moved your legs to straddle his waist. You leaned your body forward to rest your head on his chest as you started taking your own pants off. The angle was awkward, both you and Anton were in the pursuit of wasting no more time that you both became clumsy. Your pants were caught on your ankles, you had to fully rest your body on his to get it off. Anton struggled against his jeans too, you heard the quick thrashing of him getting them fully off as you went back to straddling him.
You were desperate to waste no more time. You didn’t ask Anton to finger you, you even shook your head and smacked his hand away when he tried it. You were very serious about your foreplay. You saw the shocked look on Anton’s face when he moved his hand away from your pussy to instead hold your hips. You watched him get comfortable only for a second. You were sure his long legs were over the edge of the couch to accommodate his height.
“You sure?” he asked.
He looked so pretty underneath you. His dark was splayed against the dark cushion of his couch. He looked up to you with his eyes already blown out, but still so concerned with your pleasure. You were very serious about your foreplay. Anton was serious about yours too.
“I’m sure,” you said, nodding your head.
One hand balanced on his chest, right above his heart. Your other hand went between your two body’s. When you grabbed his dick in your hand you both gasped. There was something prickling in the air. Something felt new. Like it was the first time. You held his dick up straight and pulled in a breath, feeling the excitement tingle over your entire body. When you felt the tip prod you, your entire body tensed.
Anton’s thumbs started rubbing your waist gently. You felt each individual finger dimple your skin.
“Just relax,” he says carefully.
You nod again, bending your head so it’s facing away from him completely. You bite your lip and focus on the inside of your elbow.
You let your hips sink. Anton’s body underneath your hand also stills. You can feel the intrusion, then the pressure when you get him inside.
It’s like the first time again. You’re taken back to that first time you met him at the warehouse party and took him home. You two were in the same position then, after an hour of making out and messy foreplay. You didn’t know you’d be in this same position with him, with so much history behind it. Your walls close around him and it’s impossible to move further down. You pitifully pulse around just his tip and a little bit of his shaft, feeling like you’re already getting fucked.
“You got it baby,” he encourages. You hear the falter in his voice, when he has to pull in a sharp breath before the words crack. “you said it’s yours, right?”
“Yeah,” you answer.
You feel another inch inside of you. He presses against every part of you, and you can feel it deep. Anton’s fingers massage your hips, but you can feel quick moments of him holding you extremely tight.
“It’s all yours,” he repeats. “just gotta take it.”
You nod, still focusing on that part in your elbow. You press your teeth into your bottom lip, trying to take it.
“Look at me baby,” Anton says.
You put both hands on Anton’s chest and listen to what he said. You pull away from yourself to look down at him.
He became wrecked in the small amount of time, cheeks fully flushed. You can tell his face is warm to the touch, and his own lip is red and swollen from being bit. You feel yourself loosen around him, all the want you’ve felt since Anton’s birthday helps your hips go further down.
Your hips can finally grind against his and Anton’s breathy words turn into a whimper. His fingers hold onto your hips rough. He guides your hips in the smallest motion back and forth. You grind against his waist, getting used to feeling him inside of you again. His lips are parted in ecstasy, you bring a hand to touch his cheek.
“I missed you,” you said quickly.
“I missed you too,” he says back immediately.
He feels so good inside of you. He fits inside like a puzzle piece. You already feel tears prickling your vision. You know Anton sees it, because his grip switches back to soothing circles. You can’t bring yourself to stop. He feels so good, even if you’re only moving your hips in the smallest motion. You need to feel him deep, you don’t think you find any pleasure in the speed or the roughness or the size. You just need to feel him pulse and press against your walls. The small moves you take is only supposed to prove that he’s inside.
“You know I’m not usually like this, right?” you ask.
You’re pleading with him to see your side of things. You should’ve been riding him for doing so good at his swim meet, or fucking him with a vengeance to get back at him for flirting with those girls. Whatever you were feeling fizzled into this, pathetic little whimpers and holding him for stability.
You may have been immature before and you didn’t tell him how you felt but it’s not fair what he’s been doing to you. He’s been inconsiderate of your feelings, not understanding how it would make you feel to see him with all those girls. The attention he receives from people who aren’t you is unfair.
You keep moving despite the burn in your legs. You were alternating between grinding and small little bounces, trying to get more. You don’t know what it is, but it’s not enough. Your hands go to Anton’s chest, your nails digging into his flesh.
“I’m not usually like this,” you repeat.
You’ve been desperate for Anton before, you’re sure of it. Times you’ve held him tight, times you’ve whimpered and said you needed more. There were times you begged Anton just for a touch, you’ve texted him before that you’ve needed to come over immediately.
But this was unlike you to be grinding against him and refusing to even lift your hips because you just needed him to be inside. Your voice is so close to breaking you think if you lifted your hips you wouldn’t be able to stop the tears. You don’t know what you were close to crying about, you didn’t know why you were feeling everything so intensely. His body sways with yours from how much strength you put behind your hips.
“I know, I know,” Anton says honestly.
Before he brings a hand down on your ass you’re already pouting from him making fun of you.
“I’m serious,” you lament.
Your hips move against Anton’s, you can feel his dick hitting deep. Each time you rotate your hips it’s like he touches something else. You can’t stop yourself from doing the motions, even if you need more to orgasm.
You bite your lip and press a hand to Anton’s lower stomach to stabilize yourself. One of his hands leaves your ass to go over your hand, carding his fingers through the gaps.
“What’s on your mind?” he asks.
His voice is even, making you feel even more desperate. You rotate your hips the other way and a moan falls from your lips.
“I need it,” you moan.
“You’ve got it,” he says lowly. “you’re taking it.”
You shake your head and bend forward, until you’re chest to chest and your grinds against him barely do anything.
“Need it in that way we did it one time,” you whimper.
Anton stills underneath you. His hand that was holding yours freezes. Everything about him is still and you get ready to explain in detail what you need.
“That time you said it was too much?” he asks.
You nod into the crook of Anton’s neck. Your moans are quiet just by knowing Anton remembers what you’re talking about.
“You sure?” he asks.
“Please,” you beg.
In the middle of another pathetic grind Anton stops your hips. You didn’t realize how weak you had become because he exerts almost nothing to stop you.
He pushes his body up from the couch and your chests are touching. Then he moves you quick, where his feet are touching the ground and you’re still straddling him.
“Not enough room,” he says simply.
There’s no teasing in his voice, only analytic. His arm wraps around your body and cages you closer to him. You’re almost satisfied with the closeness, you flick your hips again.
But you try to grind your hips again and he lifts you off the couch entirely. He’s still inside of you but the lack of stability forces an impatient whine. He presses a kiss to the side of your head over your hair, letting out a labored breath. You go to his neck and suck on the skin underneath his ear, you even press your teeth into him.
When he takes a step towards his room you shake your head. You know his soft springy mattress is too forgiving and would mitigate the strength you need to feel. You pull away from his neck, looking at the spit bead around the angry red mark. You look Anton right in the eyes, the brown almost lost to his blown out pupils. There’s no trace of playfulness. You feel like he is finally understanding the weight of your situation.
“Do it here, on the floor,” you say.
Anton readjusts you in his hold. You feel his dick pulse inside of you.
When you first started seeing Anton, he fucked like he had something to prove. Maybe it was your nonchalant attitude towards him or that you two only got together after a party. You thought he was determined to make you a part of his revolving list of hookups so he pulled out all of the stops. His energy was endless, endurance and strength lapped yours a hundred times over. He was pulling out positions you had never done before, prefacing everything with a shy this will feel good.
You had seen him after a swim competition and you could tell he was trying to get something out of his system. He asked you to try something new in that innocent voice and you complied. Before you knew it your knees were bent to your chest while Anton pressed his weight into you. His arm was possessively wrapped around your ankle and your calves were pressed to his shoulder. The stretch, the strength, the way you couldn’t look away from him was too much. Everything about it was too intimate, and when Anton told you it was the best he’s ever felt you had to tap on his mattress to get him to stop.
You need that right now. You need to be forced to look him in the eyes and have him unbelievably close, burning your legs from the stretch and hitting deep. Your body won’t settle for anything less.
Anton finally understands. He lays you down on the ground and gets on top of you immediately. You relax your legs just to see Anton put you the way he wants. Just like the first time he grabs your ankles and settles between your legs. You feel his muscular legs cage you in, and the beginning of the stretch starts when he guides your legs to rest on his shoulders. Anton scoots closer and you know that this was what you needed. This wasn’t a want anymore but a necessity, you started clawing at Anton’s legs when he was taking too long.
“I need you, Anton.”
“You got me.” His hand reaches where you can’t see it, but you can feel the brush of his knuckles on your inner thigh. You can hear the wet sound of precum, you can feel some of it smearing across your skin. “I’m right here,” he whispers.
With each movement his chain dangles above you. The silver is almost mocking you, dangling above you like a taunt. You want to reach up and take it into your mouth.
You feel him lining up again. You try to move further down but the position makes it pointless. Anton comes even closer, you feel your ass lift off the ground as he tilts your body up.
“Can’t you see how responsible I am?” he asks.
You’re lost in the throes of anticipation that your mind is hazy. Anton asked you a question. You blink and nod your head, thinking about responsibility.
Anton teases you, his dick pushing between your folds. You both twitch at the same time from the sensation, you let out a groan and Anton lets out a tiny whimper.
“We are so in tune with eachother,” he says. His tip nudges your clit again, then catches slightly on your hole. He’s so close to where you need him the most. “I know you can read me like a book too.”
“I try my best,” you say.
Tears are threatening to spill past your water line from being teased. You’re in this position, your body being curved unnaturally from Anton’s weight. He brings his body closer to you, making the stretch in your legs feel even more severe. You whine underneath the stretch, you know your walls are fluttering around nothing.
Anton doesn’t push into you any further. There’s a lack of air from the amount of want and the position you’re in. He looks down between the two of you, just watching how his dick nudges and catches on you.
“Give me another chance after all of this,” you whimper. “I just need you to help me get this out of my system.”
“All that jealousy?” he asks.
“Yeah,” you say, nodding. “all of it.”
“What about after this?” he asks.
“I’ll tell you how I’m feeling all the time,” you answer.
As if that was what Anton needed to hear, he slid inside instantly. The position and your wetness made it easy. He was sheathed, hips kissing your ass and your face instantly contorted from the pleasure. Anton closed his eyes tight, letting his head hand low before he looked at down at you again.
He pulls out all the way. You know he’s covered in you, and he leans even more into you. You see his hair fall slightly to look down at you. You mirror his expression, eyebrows knitting together in anticipation.
“Don’t hold back from me anymore.” Before you can reply he pushes all the way into you again. It’s the deepest you’ve ever felt him, like your body is trying to expel him but suck him in even deeper. He pulls out a little to push right back in and a gasp is punched out of your gut. “Hurts my feelings,” he says.
“I won’t,” you whimper. Your hands are pulling at his muscular arms in an attempt to get him closer. “please don’t stop.”
Anton nods and keeps going. The wet sound fills the room, bouncing off the couch right next to you both. The hard ground doesn’t yield, giving Anton the proper stability to plant his body to go deeper. His hand holds your shoulder to keep you from sliding.
The ground doesn’t even hurt. Your body is thrumming with every movement, feeling him consume you and give you what you need. Anton is consistent. He’s fucking you like he wants you to be here forever. You don’t want it to end, impatiently pulling at him and whimpering each time his pace falters.
You see the seat accumulating at his brow line. Your body’s are starting to stick together from all the sweat, you can feel your body leaving a sweaty imprint on his rug. Anton doesn’t stop, despite the burn he may feel and it makes your body reach that high again. Your hand goes to his cheek, pinching his soft skin.
“I love you,” you say.
The declaration hangs in the air. Anton stops, partially sheathed inside of you. His eyes focus blinking rapidly down at you. You don’t regret it. You nod when he says nothing in response, still rubbing his cheek gently.
“I really do,” you lament.
The moment of silence ends abruptly. Your legs fall from his shoulders to his waist, Anton comes all the way down until your pressed chest to chest. Your ass goes from being partially suspended in the air to pressed fully into the carpet. Anton wraps his arms around your body, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You feel the cold sweat on his chest and his hammering heartbeat.
Anton looks you right in the face. The tip of his nose touches yours, deep exhales fan across your face.
“I love you too,” he says.
Anton immediately resumes the brutal pace. You’re sliding across the covers now, held in Anton’s arms and feeling it all. Not only dos he pulse inside of you but his entire body ripples against you, muscles contracting as he gives you everything. You hear his legs moving against the carpet. He changes between fucking you forward, pulling you back, and pulling you up into him.
You’re just as lost. The sounds you make are pathetic and feral. Whimpers that are cut off from a fast thrust, a moan that’s loud and prolonged when it’s deep. You can’t control anything, only digging your nails into your back to keep him there.
“Feels so good,” Anton whimpers.
His voice has changed. It’s weak but firm, like everything in him has to get the words out no matter what. You nod against his head, finally feeling the warm tears slide down your face. You feel something wet against your cheek too, and when Anton sniffles between another moan you know what it is.
You pull Anton away from your neck by a gentle handful of his hair. Although it’s awful to not have every part of him pressed into you, you need to see his face. He’s reluctant only for a second, but then he presses his forehead into yours. You look into his teary eyes and he does it back. You both sniffle at the same time before Anton presses his lips to yours.
The chaste kisses become carnal quick. Your tongues touch after you both push them past your lips. It’s messy, the wet muscle going over teeth and overlining lips before they find their way back. You’re tilting your head and Anton does the same. You are already running out of breath, feeding off of the euphoria of being so close.
Anton’s devolve to rutting. Your moans are cut off abruptly, and you can feel your walls spasming around him.
“I’m so close,” you whimper between kisses.
Anton nods and breaks apart.
“Me too,” he wedges a hand between your two body’s and instantly goes to your clit. Your body twitches against his. immediately, and you know you’re leaving terrible marks on his back. “cum with me baby, please,” he begs.
There’s nothing you can do after he asks. His fingers were moving perfect circles between his thrusts, and he was pressing against your walls more intensely. Everything was magnified, his body against yours, the sweat, the movement, the kissing, his cold chain against your skin. You couldn’t have resisted even if you wanted to. You brought him closer just to feel the weight of his body against yours, and your entire body was releasing at once. You felt the climax, mouth opening to let out loud moans. Anton did the same, pulling apart slightly to drive into you the last few times before stilling. His breathy moans were louder than yours, and he was holding tight to any part of your body he could touch. You let it happen, the coil that snapped seemed to twist even tighter before snapping again.
Your sounds eventually subsided. Anton was still letting out breathy whimpers, almost sounding pained from how good it felt.
Even after he finishes he stays in. Each twitch of his dick is twinned by your walls pulsing around him. You feel another spurt and can feel yourself gush around him again. Even with him inside it leaks. You can feel the mess web between your thighs and his balls. The stickiness doesn’t deter either of you. Anton lets your legs fall in a more comfortable way, sliding from the hold of his weight. There’s a shudder through your body, and you can feel more of you and Anton seep from you.
He kisses you with the same fervor as before. The orgasm was spent with you too moaning in eachothers mouths, whining loudly and swapping spit. Anton’s whiny moans got quieter, but were still prominent each time you pulsed around him.
“That’s what you needed, right?” he asked.
Anton looks at you sincerely. You can see the skepticism. He has the same somber look that you used to ignore before shutting him out. You know it was the heat of the moment, you know that Anton knows you have the habit of getting sentimental when you’re close.
The flighty feeling is gone. You’re grounded, despite Anton partially lifting his weight off of you and instead using a forearm beside your head to hold himself up.
“You know after this if you pretend like I don’t exist after, I’ll actually move on this time,” he says.
You hold his face with both of your hands.
“I meant everything I said,” you say, not breaking eye contact. “I really won’t hold back anymore. I’ll tell you how I’m feeling all the time.”
“You really want me around?” he asks. He holds your cheek gently, rubbing a thumb over your skin. “Not just for this?”
“I want it all,” you say. “I’m sorry I wasn’t upfront about that before.”
“I want it too,” he says. “I always have.”
There’s a moment of silence. Anton plays with your hand before putting it to his chest. His heart is beating like a drum.
“So I guess I’ll be seeing you around then?” you ask.
You chuckle against his chest. You don’t know why hearing him say it like that is so funny.
guys im still working on the jaehee fic sorry 💀 it's not even that long i'm just trying to figure out the appropriate ending. since it's hurt comfort, i want to make the comfort match the level of angst that came before it
still working on eunseok smau .. probably almost done with it and it might be a shorter one compared to running which had 40 chapters bc they're already dating (i've written around 20 chapters so far) and i'm losing brain cells trying to write about them being happy and newly dating hah
sohee smutty fic where he's nerdy inexperienced boyfriend and yn is manipulative. ugh it's so good i think you guys will love it
eunseok - everything i want pt 2!! writing the build up to the smut currently 🤣
i only have 1 final left!! which means more free time to work on stuff for u guys. i also have a job interview for a marketing coordinator position at a jazz bar in my hometown on friday so wish me luck!! 🍀🤍
beomgyu and sungchan did a tiktok together and i was like “imsosoheee could’ve used this if it was eunseok” idk why that’s my FIRST thought 😭
EEEEEE STOP I SAW I WAS SO EXCITED THEY DID IT FOR ME!!!! I AM THE BIGGEST MOABRIIZE ALIVEE!!!
i'm incredibly touched that you thought of me.. i've branded myself correctly i see. thank u muahahh
i still indulge in the eunseok beomgyu impossible tiktok and also the i'll see you there tomorrow tiktok daily i fear.. but still. sungchan beomgyu is a win for me. because this means by association beomgyu and eunseok are also friends. and that means by association eunseok is also friends with soobin. so soobin and sohee must know of each other. pure cinema where all my biases are besties and love each other
also idk how well versed you guys are in moabriizeville but im 98% sure soobin beomgyu and sungchan all went skiing together last year i think ? or maybe the year before. but it was when channie went skiing in a riize holiday vlog and soobin also uploaded a post and stuff skiing around the same time and it appeared to be the same mountain ok now i sound like a FREAK but i just get excited thinking about my favs being besties
yousharknotpass
titsay
origamiaround
baratheonpilled
jacobvanloon
kianamaiart
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