jiah

[ '04 | she/her » +63 ! ♡ ] i repost fics

[withlovemark]

pairing: na jaemin x reader, slight! lee jeno x reader | genre: slice of life | words: 20k+

synopsis -> ruin the friendship - taylor swift

playlist -> orange.

warnings: angst!!! guaranteed to rip your heart out. use of nickname: tiger, will they, won’t they? jealousy, misunderstandings, terminal illness (not specified bcs i didn’t want inaccuracies and tbh i was too lazy to research — call it lazy writing but the fact that i even finished this at all is enough for me), character death!, grief, grab the tissues.

an: i cried my eyes out writing this. i know angst is not my general audience’s cup of tea but i hope you give this one a chance. as sad as it is, writing it was really fun. very very much inspired by love, rosie but…worse. orange - c.

jaemin is the warmth in my coffee cup

that’s how it starts. 

the story, the memory — whatever this is. 

if someone asked you to describe him, you’d probably say that. 

he is the warmth you reach for in the morning. the kind of warmth that doesn’t burn, just seeps in slowly, gently, until you don’t realize how cold you used to be. 

he is the comfort held in both palms, the chipped mug you never replace because it has learned the shape of you. a sweetness waiting at the bottom, surprising you just when you think the moment has ended. 

he is the calm in the noise, the weekends between weekdays. the reason the air feels lighter, the reason you exhale without thinking. 

he is laughter that finds you on the brink of tears, bubbling up like a secret spring. he is late night drives with windows cracked open to a sky that listens, the kind of company that doesn’t need words to fill the quiet. 

with him, life feels less like surviving and more like living. 

he is home in a heartbeat. that instant sense of belonging, of safety. the kind of home that isn’t built of walls but of glances, of small smiles, of hands brushing in passing.

and if you’re honest, you can’t remember a time before him. because once someone like jaemin crashes into your life, the world before him feels black and white. 

and he — 

he is orange. 

the tender blush of dawn across a kitchen floor, the first sip of sunlight through curtains,  the shade of hope you didn’t realize you were allowed to keep. 

yes. if someone asked you to describe him, that’s what you’d say. 

year i. freshman year - eight years ago.

you were running late.

the kind of late where every sound feels louder, every hallway longer and every second heavier than the one before. your arms were full of books, hair rebelling whatever attempt you’d made that morning to tame it, shoelaces barely knotted, flapping with each frantic step.

the universe, it seemed, had chosen you as its punchline that day. 

you rounded the corner too quickly — 

and crashed. 

a collision. sudden, sharp, inevitable. 

the impact should’ve sent you sprawling, your books should have flown, pages fluttering ike startled birds, your knees should have burned, your pride should have splintered on the polished floor. 

you braced for it. ready to hit the ground. ready for the blow, the embarrassment, the inevitable chorus of laughter. 

but the fall…never came. 

instead, a hand caught you.

a steady arm slipped around your back, halting the world in one smooth motion. and then — warmth. not from him. not at first. but from the coffee seeping between you, dark and staining across both uniforms like an unspoken truce. 

both of you stilled. a held breath suspended between two strangers.

you looked up, ready to apologize, to spill every flustered syllable that tripped over your tongue — and then you met his eyes. soft. brown. steady. like someone had melted sunlight into them.

your apology curled in your throat, unspoken. 

then…he laughed. not mocking. not sharp with annoyance or frustration. but something light, unbothered. the kind of laugh that makes the edges of a day soften. 

“you look like a tiger,” he said, eyes glinting with amusement. 

you blinked, cheeks blooming with embarrassment, “excuse me?”

“fierce,” he clarified, smile growing as if it had been waiting for this moment, “chaotic. cute. and ready to pounce.”

you stared, caught somewhere between offense and confusion, “you don’t even know me.”

his smile shifted, gentler, “yet.”

just one word. small. but somehow it opened a door neither of you had noticed until then.

and that was it. 

the beginning.

you didn’t recognize it at the time – how coffee-stained fabric and a laugh you weren’t prepared for would thread itself through the years that followed. 

how a silly nickname would echo in your memory long after the stain faded from the uniform. how a moment you wished you could redo would become the moment you’d never trade. 

the beginning of something you had no language for then — something tender, something inevitable. 

the beginning of you and him. 

the beginning of  na jaemin. 

and maybe the universe wasn’t conspiring against you. maybe, just this once, it was holding your shoulders, turning you around and nudging you toward exactly where you needed to be. 

year ii. sophomore year. seven years ago.

by the time sophomore year rolled around, jaemin had become the constant in your life — your chaos and your calm. 

he was the first person you looked for in a crowded hallway and the last voice you heard before you fell asleep. he’d grown into your rhythm, somehow —harmless at first, comforting later, and before you realized it…essential. 

inside jokes were traded in whispers between classes, half-stolen lunches shared on stairwells, the quiet of his presence settling beside you when words felt too heavy to cary. 

he was home, even when everything else felt temporary.

it happened during P.E. — the pacer test, of all things. 

the gym smelled like sweat and echoing sneakers, the sound of the beeping machine bouncing off the walls, followed by the most cursed piece of background music ever made sounding something between the gates of hell and a funeral song for teenagers’ dignity. everyone was groaning by the seventh round — except jaemin. grinning from ear to ear, determined to keep pace with mark, chenle and jeno like he was training for the olympics instead of surviving tenth-grade gym class. his hair stuck to his forehead, his cheeks flushed pink and still he kept going. 

“jaem, you’re gonna overdo it!” you called, half-laughing, half serious, because you’d learned to read him by then. you knew when the spark in his eyes meant something more fragile beneath. 

“relax, tiger,” he threw back between breaths, chin lifted like a challenge to the universe, “i’ve got this.”

spoiler alert: he did not. 

one second, he was sprinting. the next — he wasn’t.

you saw it happen in slow motion. his foot faltering, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the gym floor, then the sickening sound of his body collapsing across the glossy floor. for a moment everything went silent. the beeps stopped. the laughter stopped. everything stopped. 

and you — you were already running.

“jaemin!”

his name ripped out of your throat before you even knew you were moving. the world blurred around you — shouts, gasps, the teacher calling for help. but all you saw was him. you hit your knees on the floor beside him, hands shaking as you reached for his face. his skin was cold, clammy, pale. his lashes fluttered once, then stilled. 

“jaem, hey–come on, this isn’t funny–wake up,” you whispered, voice trembling. you could feel the shallow rise and fall of his chest beneath your palm but it wasn’t enough. it wasn’t steady. 

you followed as they carried him down the echoing hallway, past wide-eyed classmates and through the doors that led to the nurse’s office. your legs felt numb, your hands wouldn’t stop trembling but you kept close. you sat beside him while they checked his pulse, took his temperature, placed a cool cloth on his forehead. you didn’t move. you couldn’t move. 

the nurse asked you to return to class, twice, but you only shook your head, “i’m not leaving him.”

so you stayed. hands clenched around the sleeve of his jacket like it was th only thing keeping you grounded. the bright lights blurred your vision. the smell of antiseptic stung your nose. yet you counted each rise of his chest, matched your breathing to his as if you could keep him tethered just by being there. minutes stretched and the clock ticked too loudly, like it mocked your heartbeat.

when his lashes fluttered — brown eyes blinking open, hazy, confused — your relief came all at once, crushing your ribs from the inside. and then, you were scolding him. 

“idiot,” you whispered, tears burning your throat, “you scared the hell out of me.”

he gave a weak smile, finger brushing yours, a touch so gentle you could’ve mistaken it for a dream, “sorry, tiger,” he rasped.

you didn’t smile back. fear still clung to you, stubborn and shaking.

“don’t tiger me,” you muttered, arms  crossing in defense of the ache in your chest, “you collapsed, jaemin. you—god, what were you thinking?”

he chuckled softly, wincing as he tried to sit up and you immediately pressed a hand to his shoulder, pinning him gently to the pillow. 

“hey,” he murmured, his voice small now, “it’s fine. it’s just…my heart.”

your anger faltered, “your heart?”

he hesitated, exhaling slowly, eyes drifting toward the ceiling. then, quietly, he said, “it’s always been kind of…weak, i guess.”

you blinked, “what do you mean?”

“ever since i was a kid,” he starts, “i used to get tired really easily. mom used to keep me inside when the other kids played outside. said my heart couldn’t take too much,” he laughed faintly, like he’d practiced making it sound small, like he’d learned early how to minimize his pain so others wouldn’t carry it.

for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. because now you understood – the caution in his mother’s lingering glances, the way he pushed himself too hard, too often, as if trying to outrun the body that betrayed him, watching others live louder because he couldn’t. 

so you said the first thing that came to mind – soft but certain. a promise.

“guess i’ll just have to be stronger for the both of us.”

his head turned toward you, eyes wide, and then…he smiled. not the teasing grin he always wore, not the mischievous spark that came before a sarcastic remark, but something gentler. something real. 

that was the moment. 

the moment jaemin’s heart stuttered for a completely different reason. because you were sitting there with your messy hair and your trembling hands, still refusing to leave him, still looking at him like that. like you were holding all the warmth in the world and offering it to him without hesitation. 

and for the first time, he wasn’t afraid of how weak his heart was because he knew exactly what, or who, had stolen its rhythm. 

year iii. junior year. six years ago. 

prom night. 

the night was supposed to feel like magic — all glitter and promises and slow dances under neon lights. but instead, you were standing outside the gymnasium, dress wrinkled, plastering fake smiles while your heart was sitting somewhere heavy and quiet in your chest. 

your date, lee haechan, had stood you up. no call. no text. just silence and the faint humiliation of watching everyone else arrive hand-in-hand while you stood alone under the flickering hallway light, pretending it didn’t sting.

you were seconds away from leaving. from slipping out the side doors, ditching the glitter and noise and disappointment — when you heard his voice. 

“there you are, tiger.” 

you turned. jaemin was standing there in a black suit and a crooked tie, his hair a little messier than usual, a shy, hesitant smile tugging at his lips like he wasn’t sure he was supposed to find you here. his eyes scanned your face, then the empty space beside you, “you look like you could use a dance.”

you laughed weakly, a sound caught somewhere between relief and heartbreak, “go back to your date, jaemin.”

“eh,” he shrugged, “she’s having a lot of fun with jeno.” 

then he held out his hand — palm open, waiting. 

“come on,” he said softly, his tone threaded with warmth, “you’re not getting away that easily.”

you hesitated, your breath trembling as you looked at him – at the boy who was your safe space. then, slowly, you placed your hand in his. he pulled you up gently, the movement natural, careful. 

his eyes flickered briefly to your wrist, where a corsage should’ve been. you saw the way his expression changed. the way his smile faltered just a little before he wrapped his arms around you, tight and certain, holding you close enough for your head to rest against his shoulder. 

you didn’t need to tell him what happened. he didn’t ask. he just held you. and that was more than enough. 

the noise of the gym bled through the walls — muffled laughter, bass trembling through the floorboards but in that small space between you, everything was still. 

you pulled away first, blinking fast, trying to keep your tears at bay. and then he was reaching into his pocket, “wasn’t sure what color your dress was gonna be,” he said quietly, holding something out between you, “but i took a guess.”

an orange corsage. peonies. 

it wasn’t perfect — a little wilted, petals slightly bruised from being shoved into his jacket, but it was beautiful. because it was him. and it matched your cream colored dress perfectly.

you stared at it, throat tight, “jaem, you didn’t have to–”

but he was already slipping it gently around your wrist, his fingers brushing your skin just long enough to make your heart stutter. he smiled, that soft, boyish kind of smile that could undo you in a heartbeat, “can’t have you going to prom without one, tiger.”

you looked up at him then. the boy who always showed up when no one else did, who always knew when to be gentle and when to make you laugh. and for the first time that night, you smiled.

he smiled back. that quiet, unspoken kind that reached his eyes. then, with your corsage now circling your wrist and your fingers tangled with his, he led you inside. 

the gym was a blur of cheap lights and pastel balloons. the air smelled faintly of floor wax and vanilla body spray. the shiny wooden floor squeaked under your heels as the dj switched songs without rhythm or mercy. the disco ball hanging overhead spun lazily, scattering fractured light that somehow made everything look cheaper but somehow, softer too. 

it shouldn’t have felt special. but with jaemin beside you, it did. 

you danced like idiots at first, laughing through songs that didn’t deserve slow movements — songs that were too loud, too fast, too 2000s. he dipped you dramatically to baby, spun you off-beat to teenage dream, almost tripping over someone’s forgotten purse, both of you laughing so hard your sides hurt. and when the dj, in all his questionable wisdom, played candy shop by 50 cent, you both just froze. then, in perfect unison, both of your burst out laughing.

“no way,” you said, your hand pressed to your mouth.

“this is so romantic,” jaemin said with mock seriousness, straightening his tie like he wasn’t seconds from cracking up.

you shoved his shoulder, bubbles of laughter pouring out of you. 

“slow dance with me, tiger.”

and so you did. you slow danced beneath that ridiculous disco ball, to a song that made no sense for the moment, to a rhythm that wasn’t really there. his hand found your waist, yours found his shoulder, and despite everything — the cheap lighting, the sweaty gym, the noise — it felt perfect. 

it shouldn’t have worked. but it did. 

you looked up at him, the lights flickering gold in his eyes and for a moment, the world fell quiet. 

he smelled faintly of citrus and fabric softener – clean, familiar. safe. his thumb brushed against your hip, slow and absentminded, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. you could feel your pulse everywhere, loud and nervous. maybe it was the music, or the warmth, or the ache of wanting something you didn’t understand yet, but your heart stumbled as he leaned in. 

just a little closer.

your breath caught. 

the laughter, the lights, the chaos — all of it blurred until there was only him. 

for a heartbeat, you could see it — the maybe of it all. 

the what if. 

the almost. 

and then—

“I’LL TAKE YOU TO THE CANDY SHOP!”

chenle’s ridiculous voice shattered the air, breaking whatever fragile spell had been holding you both still. he jumped between you, completely oblivious, grabbing one of your hands and one of jaemin’s swinging them wildly. before you could react, mark and jeno joined in, laughing, shouting, turning the moment into a clumsy group dance that had no rhythm, no grace and entirely too much noise. 

you laughed too, a little too hard, a little too fast, like laughter could undo what almost happened. like if you laughed enough, maybe your heart would stop racing. 

jaemin laughed with you, but when your eyes met through the blur of spinning friends and terrible music, his expression softened.

just for a second.

it was that look, tender and fleeting, the kind that said maybe someday. 

but not tonight. 

the rest of the night was full of laughter and cheap music and friends who didn’t know they’d interrupted something fragile. and later, when you looked back, you’d remember that fleeting second before the noise returned — when the world had gone still and his eyes were all you could see. 

year iv. senior year. five years ago. 

the end was coming. 

you could feel it in the air, thick and heavy, like the quiet before a storm. it clung to the walls of the school, to the murmurs between classes, to the glances you shared with friends who all pretended not to be terrified. it was in the way teachers started speaking softer, in how every conversation seemed to circle back to the future, in how laughter in the hallways carried an edge of goodbye. 

everyone was talking about college, about plans, about leaving. and even when you smiled and nodded along, your chest felt tight, like there was a clock ticking somewhere inside you, one only you could hear. 

the pressure came in waves – the weight of choices, the blur of expectations, the whisper that everything you knew – the laughter, the classrooms, the crowded hallways, him — was all about to change. 

you woke up tired, no matter how much you slept. the ache behind your eyes pulsed quietly, steady as a heartbeat and your body felt heavier with each passing day. the exhaustion, the nerves, the endless current of what now and what if wrapped around you until it was hard to breathe.

you brushed it off, the way you brushed off most things. everyone’s tired. everyone’s anxious. everyone’s body complained sometimes. 

so you pushed through the tiredness, forced laughter into your voice and yourself to hold on until graduation. just a few more months, you thought. then everything would feel lighter. then the weight in your chest would fade. 

by then, you’d know what path to take. what college to go to. 

by then, you would accept that change was inevitable. 

by then, it would all be a little clearer. 

but right now….

right now….

you broke. 

the room was quiet except for the sound of rain against your window, a soft steady rhythm that filled the spaces between your shallow breaths. you were sitting cross-legged on your bed, textbooks and crumpled notes scattered like wreckage around you, the glow from your desk lamp flickering faintly against the walls. 

your hands were pressed against your temples, eyes burning, chest tight. you didn’t even realize you were crying until the tears began to blur the words on the page in front of you. 

you didn’t want to call anyone. didn’t want to explain. you just wanted the noise — in your head, in your heart – to stop. 

then came the soft knock. 

“tiger?”

his voice. gentle. familiar. you forgot he was coming over today to help you study for literature. you tried your best to wipe the tears away before he could see. but it didn’t matter. jaemin took one look at you — your red eyes, trembling hands, the exhaustion carved into your face and his expression softened instantly. he crossed the room in three steps and sat beside you on the bed. he didn’t ask what’s wrong, didn’t push. just waited. quietly. 

your voice came out small, shaking, “i can’t do it jaem,” you were barely whispering, “everyone’s talking about the future and i don’t even know what i want. i feel like—like i’m falling behind, like there’s this clock ticking inside me and i can’t keep up.”

the words came out in pieces, scattered, uneven, raw. all the things you’d been holding in. the pressure, the fear, the loneliness. and when you couldn’t speak anymore, you just cried. quiet, helpless tears that soaked through his shirt as your buried your face in his chest. 

jaemin didn’t try to fix it. he just wrapped his arms around you, one hand gently threading through your hair, the other tracing slow, steady circles across your back.

“i’m scared,” you whispered into him, “i don’t want everything to change.”

he sighed softly, his chin resting on your head, “hey,” he murmured, voice low and steady, “it’s okay to be scared.”

“it doesn’t feel okay.”

“i know,” his words were a hum against your skin. calm. unshakable, “but we’ll figure it out. like we always do.”

you lifted your head slightly, eyes glassy, “you promise?”

he smiled, small and sure, “i promise.”

for a long time, neither of you spoke. the rain kept tapping at your window, your breathing finally slowing, syncing with his. his heartbeat was steady against your ear, grounding and constant. and somewhere in that stillness — that fragile kind of peace that only existed when it was the two of you — you found a new kind of quiet.

“let’s have a word,” you murmured, voice thick from crying, “something that means…no matter how many things change, i’m here for you.”

he was quiet for a second, thinking. then, softly, he said, “orange.”

you sniffled, blinking, “orange?”

“yeah,” his voice was gentle, a faint smile curving his lips, “it’s warm. and bright. and kind of messy. like us.”

you let out a shaky laugh, the smallest hint of smile tugging at your mouth, “okay. orange.”

he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his thumb lingering just long enough to make your heart ache.

“orange.” he repeated. 

it became your word — the one that didn’t need explanation. whenever the world felt too loud, or life too heavy, or silence too long, orange meant i’ve got you.

it meant you’re not alone. 

it meant i love you, even if neither of you said it out loud. 

you fell asleep like that — your breath finally even, your body relaxing against him. jaemin stayed still, not daring to move. he watched the way your lashes brushed your cheeks, the faint furrow between your brows slowly fading as sleep found you. you looked so peaceful, so calm. like the storm that had been living inside you had finally gone quiet. his heart ached in that sweet, unbearable way — full of everything he wanted to say but couldn’t. 

he brushed his thumb lightly over your wrist, right where your pulse fluttered and whispered into the quiet, “orange, tiger.”

it almost slipped out then — the other thing. the heavier truth sitting on the edge of his tongue. 

but you were asleep. 

so he smiled softly, his hand resting over yours and thought —

it can wait a little longer. 

year v. the summer before college. four years ago. 

it was the perfect summer. one last breath before the real world began. before dorm rooms and degrees and distance. before everyone scattered. 

you told yourself it was just a trip to the beach. just five friends. one car. and too many playlists. but deep down, you knew it was a goodbye wearing a prettier name. 

the air was thick with salt and sunlight as the car tore down the coastal highway, windows down, wind catching your hair. jaemin sat in the passenger seat with his arm dangling out the window, sunglasses reflecting the blue horizon. chenle was on your left, a bag of chips in hand, enjoying the summer air. mark sat to your right, flipping through the playlist, insisting on finding the perfect song for the drive. and jeno — steady, calm, unshakable, jeno — had one hand on the wheel, humming softly to the song playing. 

it should have felt simple. it should have felt like any other road trip. the kind that would end with photos and laughter and sand still stuck in your shoes weeks later. but your chest was heavy. 

because just yesterday, everything had changed. 

the doctor’s office had smelled like disinfectant and rain — clean, sterile, unfeeling. you remembered nodding, smiling, thanking them for their time like it was some kind of meeting you were late for. 

the word terminal sat quietly in the corner of your mind, heavy and patient, waiting for you to stop pretending you didn’t hear it. but you didn’t stop pretending. not today. not in this car. not with them laughing beside you, singing badly to old songs and taking turns to stick their heads out the window like overgrown children. 

you weren’t going to ruin this. 

you weren’t going to let the end make its way into something that still felt like forever. 

the airbnb was small but warm. the kind of place that smalled like salt, sunscreen and cheap detergent. the walls were off-white and peeling in places, the furniture mismatched, but no one cared. 

jeno was the first to claim a room, quietly slipping inside. mark began strumming his guitar almost instantly. jaemin filmed snippets on his camera — the view from the balcony, your laugh in the background — his voice teasing you from behind the lens. chenle wandered through the small kitchen, quietly checking if there was enough food for everyone.

you smiled, half-present, half-somewhere else. 

by sunset, the five of you were gathered on the beach, the sky bleeding orange into pink. the bonfire crackled softly, shadows dancing across your faces as the tide whispered against the shore. 

it felt almost cinematic — five teenagers caught in a perfect snapshot of time. all pretending they weren’t growing up too fast. mark strummed his guitar lazily, the melody sure and warm. chenle sat beside him, humming along, his voice soft, carried away by the ocean breeze. the scent of salt and smoke wrapped around everything, clinging to your clothes, your hair, your memory.

“so,” jeno said, grinning, “what’s everyone’s plan after this summer?”

chenle perked up immediately, marshmallow stick in hand, “mark and i got into the same music program!,” he said beaming, “i’m gonna sing, he’s gonna write the songs. we’re gonna be famous, you’ll see.”

mark laughed in the middle of strumming his guitar, shaking his head, “yeah, right. we’ll be broke artists eating ramen in a shoebox apartment, but sure, famous.”

chenle gasped dramatically, tossing a marshmallow at him, “optimism, hyung!”

everyone laughed — even jaemin, who was poking at the fire with a stick, his face glowing orange in the light. the sound was soft and fleeting, carried away by the waves before you could hold onto it.

when the laughter died down jaemin’s voice slipped through the quiet, calm and sure, “i got into a program overseas, english literature.”

it wasn’t a surprise to you. you’d been there for every step of it — every late-night draft, every half-crumpled essay, every version of his personal statement that he swore he hated until you convinced him otherwise. you’d sat beside him in cafés, coaxing him through his panic when he said he wasn’t good enough, when he said there were a thousand better writers than him. you’d stayed up with him the night he hit submit, both of you wide-eyed and giddy, a little scared but full of hope.

you remembered the morning the acceptance email came — how he’d burst into your room, his hair a mess, phone in hand, shouting your name like he’d just been given the universe. how you’d cried harder than he did, throwing your arms around him, the two of you laughing through the tears.

you’d cried again later, but for a different reason — happy, because he was finally going to chase the thing that made him light up in a way few things did. sad, because he was going to do it without you. you’d spent days pretending you were fine, telling him how proud you were, how excited. you meant it, you did, but the truth sat quietly beneath all that joy, heavy and secret.

and now, sitting there on the sand, with the fire painting him in gold and shadow, it hit you all over again. this was real. he was really leaving. but the ache in your chest felt different this time.

you looked at him — the curve of his smile, the way the flames flickered in his eyes — and instead of sadness, you felt something close to relief.

relief that he figured it out. relief that he was going somewhere better, somewhere full of stories and chances and tomorrows. relief that he didn’t have to stay here long enough to see what was coming for you.

he didn’t have to watch you fade.

jeno turned toward him, surprised, “overseas?”

jaemin nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “yeah, i figured…i’ve always wanted to write. maybe it’s time i tried.”

chenle smile, soft and fond, “that’s really cool, hyung. what’s next, jeno starting a company and becoming a ceo?”

jeno chuckled from where he sat across from you, leaning back on his hands, “i actually am staying here. got accepted for a business course. my parents want me to help with the family stuff eventually.”

“classic,” mark said with a grin, nudging him lightly with his foot, “the responsible one never leaves.”

then, all eyes turned to you. 

you hesitated, fingers tugging at the end of your sleeve, the firelight flickering against your face, “i’m… not going anywhere,” you said, your voice smaller than you intended.

chenle tilted his head, “what do you mean?”

“i’m taking a year off,” you said quietly, watching the fire sway, “i don’t really know what i want yet. everyone else seems to have it figured out and i just…don’t.”

the words came out softer than you meant and for a moment, you regretted saying them at all. but then jaemin looked at you — that familiar, gentle look and said, “that’s okay, tiger,” he said softly, his voice steady, certain, “you don’t have to know right now. you have all the time in the world.”

you met his eyes. and you wanted to break. scream into the void. get on your knees and beg whoever was in charge out there to change your prophecy. but you didn’t. you just smiled. 

the others went back to talking — about dorm life, roommates, concerts they’d attend together. the freedom they couldn’t wait for. you watched them. their faces lit by firelight, laughter spilling into the salty air and your chest ached. you wished you could freeze this. this warmth. this noise. this feeling of belonging. 

you wished time would stop just long enough for you to catch your breath. 

you sat quietly, listening to their voices fade into the waves and for a second, you almost believed you could outrun what was coming. 

the sunset bled orange over the ocean that night. you sat there for a long while, watching the sky burn and fade. it looked endless — that kind of endless that hurt to look at. you pressed a hand against your chest, felt the faint, uneven rhythm there, and wondered if you’d ever see a sunset like this again. 

you were so, so tired. 

later that night, the house was alive with laughter. the boys were in the living room, arguing over cards and snacks, their voices echoing against the walls. jaemin’s laugh was the loudest — that familiar, unrestrained sound that could pull a smile out of anyone.

you laughed too, for a while. but it didn’t last.

the ache in your stomach had been growing for days, twisting deep and sharp. and when the dizziness came again, sudden and suffocating, you excused yourself quietly, smiling so no one would follow. the moment the bathroom door closed, your knees hit the tile. the dizziness worsened. then the nausea. then, without warning, the taste of iron filled your mouth. the sound of it, soft, wet, terrible, echoed in the small room, painting the porcelain red. 

blood. 

your vision swam. the room tilted. you clutched the edge of the toilet and tried to steady your breath, but panic clawed it’s way up your throat. you hadn’t wanted a reminder. you hadn’t wanted proof that maybe the reason why it was so hard to imagine a future was because you weren’t going to have one. not right now. not yet. not when you were still pretending everything was okay.

the door creaked open. 

“y/n?”

you froze. jeno’s voice. calm, steady — always steady. 

before you could warn him, he was already inside. his face went still — eyes wide, lips parting in shock as he took in the scene. the blood. your trembling hands. the fear you hadn’t had time to hide. 

“dont–” you rasped, your voice breaking, “don’t call anyone.”

he didn’t listen at first. he moved toward you, grabbed a towel, crouched down, “what the hell–you need to go to a hospital–”

“i’ve been,” you said, voice shaking, “yesterday.”

the world went very quiet then. the only sound was the sea outside, waves rolling somewhere beyond the walls. 

he looked at you, really looked, and the horror in his eyes nearly undid you. 

“what do you mean?” he whispered.

you swallowed, the words barely coming out, “i’m sick, jeno.”

you couldn’t say dying. you couldn’t make it real like that. but the way his breath hitched told you he understood anyway.

you looked down at your shaking hands, “they said it’s terminal. i don’t know how long…maybe years, maybe less. i didn’t want to tell anyone. i can’t. not yet.”

“y/n…” his voice cracked, breaking on your name, “you weren’t going to tell us?”

“please,” you said, meeting his eyes, desperate, “don’t tell them. not jaemin. not anyone. i just need this summer. i just need to feel normal for a little while longer.”

jeno exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. his jaw clenched — his eyes glassy. and then, finally, he nodded.

“okay.”

you blinked, unsure you heard right, “okay?”

“i won’t tell them,” he said quietly. “not if you don’t want me to. but you’re not going through this alone, you hear me?”

you nodded weakly, the tears coming before you could stop them. he didn’t say anything else. just helped you up, steadied you when your knees wobbled, wiped the blood from your chin with careful hands.

from that night on, jeno stayed closer. 

not in a way that drew attention — just soft, invisible gestures.

he carried your bag without being asked. found excuses to sit beside you — he noticed things. the moments you winced, the way you’d go quiet in between jokes, the way you’d clutch your side when you thought no one was looking. he didn’t say much. just made sure you ate. that you rested. that you smiled, even when it was hard. 

he didn’t tell anyone. 

jaemin noticed. 

he just didn’t see the truth. not the way jeno did. 

he saw the way jeno started lingering beside you. how jeno always seemed to know what you needed before you asked. how the two of you would sometimes slip away from the group, speaking in whispers, sharing quiet glances he wasn’t a part of. how you leaned into him sometimes, subtle, fleeting — the way you lean into him.

and jaemin, who’d always been so good at reading you — suddenly found that he couldn’t.

he didn’t ask about it. he couldn’t. because some part of him already knew the answer he didn’t want to hear. so he smiled. he teased you. and then he buried it. 

buried the ache. the questions. the almosts. 

he buried the memory of you asleep on his chest whispering orange. 

he buried the memory of the disco ball scattering silver across your face. 

he buried the way his heart skipped every time you laughed, every time you looked up at him like he was sunlight. 

he buried everything that came with that coffee stain. 

because maybe, he thought, maybe you were already someone else’s orange now. 

year v. the airport. four years ago.

the day came faster than you thought it would.

airports always smelled like beginnings but that morning it smelled like endings. like coffee and jet fuel and all the things you couldn’t say. 

the drive there was quiet — jaemin humming softly along the radio, his suitcase tucked neatly in the back, your hand resting limp in your lap. the city blurred past in streaks of gray and gold. every few minutes he’d glance at you, like he wanted to say something but didn’t. you’d do the same. but neither of you did. 

the silence was gentle, almost fragile. neither of you wanted to break it. 

when you finally pulled up to the airport, the clock on the dashboard read 9:51 AM. you stared at it for a moment, like you could freeze time if you looked long enough. 

you wanted to tell him then. you wanted to say that the world had given you an expiration date. that every heartbeat felt heavier now. that each breath was something you’d started counting. 

but you couldn’t. 

he was chasing something beautiful. and you couldn’t be the one to turn that into a burden. so instead, you forced a smile as you stepped out of the car.

“need help with your bag?”

he laughed softly, shaking his head, “you? you’d drop it in two seconds.”

you rolled your eyes, “rude. i’m stronger than i look.”

“i know,” he said quietly, that familiar gentleness threading through his one, “you’re the strongest person i know.”

inside the terminal, everything felt too bright, too cold. the kind of place where goodbyes were meant to be quick. but you couldn’t seem to make yours small. you walked beside him in silence. fingers brushing occasionally, both of you pretending not to notice. his flight number blinked in bold letters on the overhead screen. 

departure: 11:15

every minute felt like a countdown. 

at the gate, he turned to you, his eyes a little too shiny, “i can’t believe i’m really leaving.”

you tried to smile, but your throat was already closing up, “you’ll be amazing, jaem. you always are.”

he exhaled, his breath shaky, “i don’t know how to do this without you.”

and just like that, the dam broke.

you didn’t remember who reached first — only that your arms were around each other, clinging like the world would crumble if you let go. his face pressed into your shoulder, your tears hot against his neck. 

it wasn’t the kind of hug you gave a friend. it was the kind that said please don’t forget me. 

it was the first time in five years that you’d have to say goodbye. the first time you wouldn’t be able to call him up when the world got too loud. the first time he wouldn’t be a short drive away. you pulled back just slightly, enough to look at him — his eyes red, his cheeks damp, his lips trembling with the same words you were afraid to say. 

and then, without thinking — you kissed him. 

it wasn’t planned. it wasn’t perfect. it was soft and trembling and full of every unspoken thing between you — every late-night almost, every look that lingered too long, every heartbeat you’d both tried to ignore. 

he kissed you back. gently at first. then with that desperate, aching kind of tenderness that came from knowing this was goodbye. 

when you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless — your forehead resting against his, your tears mixing with his. you smiled through it, a quiet, trembling smile, and whispered, “orange.”

his lips curved faintly, breaking into something halfway between a laugh and a sob, “orange.”

you took a step back, wiped your eyes, and nudged him toward the gate. “go. before you miss your flight.”

he hesitated, eyes locked on yours, like walking away was the hardest thing he’d ever do. then, slowly, he turned. you stood there, heart pounding, a hand to your aching chest, watching as he handed over his ticket and started toward the jet bridge.

he looked back once. you waved, tears already streaking your cheeks. he smiled — that same soft, boyish smile that had ruined you from the start — and kept walking.

but with every step he took, you broke a little more.

and then, just before he disappeared through the gate, he stopped. 

turned.

and suddenly, he was running — back down the corridor, through the murmurs of strangers, his bag swinging wildly behind him.

you barely had time to breathe before you were in his arms again, holding you like he never meant to let go.

“i’ll be back soon, okay?” he whispered against your hair, his voice cracking on the last word.

you nodded into his chest, your hands fisting in his jacket. “okay.”

you didn’t tell him that soon wasn’t a promise you could keep. you didn’t tell him that by the time he came back, it might already be too late. you just held him tighter, memorizing the warmth of him, the sound of his heartbeat, the scent of his cologne — everything you’d ever loved about him condensed into one impossible moment.

and then he was gone.

the last thing you saw was the back of his head as he disappeared past the gate — the boy you loved walking into a future you wouldn’t be part of.

year vi. the first year of college. three years ago.

the clock on jaemin’s desk read 11:37 PM. the room was quiet except for the faint hum of the radiator and the sound of rain tapping against his dorm window. his phone sat in front of of him, screen glowing softly — your contact name lit up like a ghost he couldn’t reach.

call it again? it asked. 

he did. for the fifth time that week. 

it had become a habit. something he couldn’t unlearn. every sunday, no matter how hectic classes were, no matter how late it got, or he was out with his new friends — he’d call you. 

it was your promise before he left. same time, every week. 

you’d talk about everything and nothing. for months, your voice had filled the quiet corners of his dorm room — soft, teasing, familiar. the one constant in the blur of essays, time zones and homesickness. you’d tell him about the latest movie you’d watched, about jeno’s new obsession with mint ice cream, about chenle’s new song, about how quiet the world felt without him in it. 

and he’d tell you about the new city. the cobblestone streets, the little cafe that reminded him of home. his new friends, renjun and jisung, who he’d met in the library. sometimes he’d even read you things he’d written — soft, clumsy, words that he’ never dare to show anyone else. 

you’d listen. always.

he’d hear your quiet laugh through the speaker and everything would feel right again. 

but then you missed one sunday.

then another.

at first, he tried to be rational. he told himself you were probably busy, probably tired. maybe you were out with friends, maybe your phone had died, maybe time zones were just cruel. he replayed your last message over and over like a prayer. 

tiger 🧡🍊: talk to you soon, promise. 

but as the second week passed with nothing — no texts, no calls, not even a read receipt. something inside him started to twist. 

it wasn’t like you. 

you always answered. even if it was just a sleepy voice at 3AM saying five minutes, jaem i’m awake. 

you were the one who reminded him when he forgot, the one who said orange at the end of every call, soft and sure, like a promise that no ocean could drown. and he knew, better than anyone, that when you went quiet, it wasn’t because you didn’t have anything to say. it was because you were hiding something. 

he’d seen that version of you before — the one that smiled when you were breaking. the one that insisted everything was fine when it wasn’t.

and god, he hated being so far away.

so that night, with rain spilling down the window and his essay abandoned, half-finished on his desk, he called again. 

the ringtone buzzed once. twice. three times. then finally—

click.

“y/n?” he said quickly, sitting upright, relief spilling through him like oxygen.

but it wasn’t your voice that answered. 

there was a pause — the faint shuffle of someone adjusting the phone, and then, quietly, “hey, jaem…it’s jeno.”

his stomach dropped. for a second, he thought he’d misheard, “jeno?”

“yeah.”

the sound of waves came faintly through the line — that same low hum of the sea near your place. you’d always called him from there when you couldn’t sleep. he’ picture you sitting on the boardwalk, legs dangling over the edge, phone pressed to your ear. 

but you weren’t there on the other end of this call.

“where’s y/n?” jaemin asked, trying not to sound panicked, “is she okay?”

“she’s asleep,” jeno said after a pause, “didn’t mean to pick up — her phone kept buzzing. figured i’d answer before it woke her.”

“asleep?” jaemin tried to sound casual, but the unease in his voice betrayed him, “it’s morning there.”

“she’s been tired lately.”

tired.

the word lingered. jeno’s tone was gentle, cautious, too practiced for comfort. 

jaemin forced a laugh that came out brittle, “you’ve been hanging out with her a lot, huh?”

jeno didn’t answer right away. then, quietly, “yeah, just keeping her company. things have been…rough.”

that word — rough — made something twist deep in jaemin’s gut. he couldn’t tell if it was worry or something uglier. he hated not knowing things. especially when those things were about you.

he sank back into his chair, trying to keep his voice even, “rough, how?”

“she just…has a lot going on. you know how she is. always acting like she’s fine.”

he did know. that was what scared him most. 

silence hummed on the line for a beat too long. jaemin swallowed hard, “you sound close,” he said finally, the words slipping out before he could stop them. 

jeno gave a short, almost weary laugh, “we’ve always been close, jaem. you know that.”

jaemin nodded, even though jeno couldn’t see it, “yeah, yeah, i know.”

but something about the way jeno said it — that quiet steadiness, that easy warmth — made jaemin’s chest ache. 

for a moment, he didn’t trust himself to speak. he wanted to ask if you ever talk about him. if you mention your calls or the inside jokes or the stupid word orange.

if you ever thought about the airport. 

the kiss. 

the one thing neither of you had talked about since it happened. it wasn’t even that it was awkward — it was just…unspoken.

you both had cried, you both had clung too tightly, and in the blur of goodbyes and flight calls and tears, your lips had found each other. it was desperate and trembling and full of everything you’d never said out loud. and then, when you pulled away, both of you just smiled through it — breathless, eyes glassy, pretending. 

you whispered orange. he whispered it back. like a coward — always hiding behind that one word. 

and that was it. 

no explanations. no labels. just a quiet, mutual understanding that it happened because tensions were high and hearts were weak and goodbyes were hard. 

at least, that’s what he told himself. 

but some nights, when the world went still, he’d still feel the ghost of our lips and wonder if you were pretending as much as he was. 

“anyway,” jeno said, snapping him out of it, “i’ll tell her you called.”

jaemin forced a small smile that didn’t reach his voice, “yeah. please do.”

“she’ll call soon,” jeno added after a beat, “don’t worry so much.”. 

but jaemin could hear it — the faint sigh behind the reassurance. the softness in his tone. the kind of softness that belonged to someone who cared too much. he swallowed, his voice catching on the question that had been sitting in his throat since summer, “are you…and her…?”

jeno exhaled, a sound halfway between a sigh and a laugh, “you’re asking if there’s something between us?”

“i’m not—i mean,” jaemin stopped himself, realizing hoe ridiculous it sounded. this wasn’t his place. “forget it.”

“it’s okay,” jeno said, voice quiet, “you’re not the first person to wonder.”

that didn’t help. 

jaemin stared at the floor, his pulse loud in his ears, “and?”

another pause. and then, softly, carefully, “she’s important to me, jaem.”

something in the way he said it made jaemin’s grip on his phone tighten, his voice coming out smaller than he meant, “yeah, well…she’s important to a lot of people.”

jeno hummed, low, noncommittal, “you should get some sleep. it’s late over there.”

“tell her i—,” he stopped himself before the words miss her could leave his mouth. 

“tell her i’ll call again next sunday.”

“i will,” jeno said. 

and then the line went quiet. 

jaemin stared at his phone long after the call ended. the reflection of his own face stared back — eyes tired, mouth drawn tight. 

he should've felt relieved. you were okay. you were home. you had people looking out for you. but all he could feel was the hollow ache of distance. you were there, with jeno. and he was here, an ocean away, holding onto promises that suddenly felt like memories. 

he shut his phone off and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to shake the feeling off. but he couldn’t. because it wasn’t just worry anymore. it was jealousy — raw, unexpected, ugly. 

and he hated himself for it.  

he needed to get out. the walls of his dorm felt too small, too suffocating, too full of memories that didn’t belong here. so he grabbed his jacket, shoved his phone in his pocket, and left. 

the rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time he stepped outside. the campus glowed under streetlights, puddles reflecting fractured light like broken glass. the nearest pub was only a few blocks away — a student favorite. loud, warm and messy enough to drown out his thoughts. 

that’s all he wanted — noise. something to blur you out. he walked there half-numb. half-hoping the rain would wash the ache out of him. it didn’t.

the pub was crowded — laughter spilling over the music, glasses clinking, the air thick with cheap beer and perfume. he slid into a corner booth, ordered whatever the bartender recommended and stared at the condensation dripping down the glass. 

he wasn’t used to this — the emptiness that came after missing someone. it wasn’t dramatic, just…quiet. a slow, dull ache that settled behind his ribs and refused to leave.

he didn’t notice her at first. 

not until she was standing beside his table, holding her drink with one hand and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with the other. 

“is this seat taken?”

he looked up. she had dark hair, sharp eyes softened by the dim amber light and a smile that looked like it knew more than it let on.

“uh—no,” jaemin said, clearing his throat, motioning to the seat across from him, “go ahead.”

“thanks,” she slid in, her glass clinking soflty against the table, “you look like you’re trying to forget something.”

he blinked, “what?”

she tilted her head, smiling faintly, “you’ve been staring at your drink for ten minutes. that’s either heartbreak or a failed exam. maybe both?”

a reluctant laughe escaped him, small, startled, “something like that.”

“i’m giselle,” she said, leaning forward, extending her hand.

her smile was light, easy — and for a moment, the ache in his heart didn’t feel so unbearable. 

across the world, you sat in the back of jeno’s car. 

the trunk propped open to face the sea, a blanket draped around your shoulders, the night air blowing cool against your cheek. the sea breeze made it easier to breathe — or maybe it just made you feel like you still could. 

the phone buzzed again on the space between you.

jaemin 🍊🧡calling…

you looked at it for a long moment before whispering, “answer it.”

jeno turned to you, brow furrowed, “you sure?”

you nodded, tightening the blanket around yourself, “if you dont…he’ll keep calling.”

he hesitated, his eyes flickering from the screen to your face — pale and drawn, your lips slightly cracked, your breaths too shallow. you’d gotten worse these past few weeks, though you’d stopped saying it out loud. it was in the way you moved slower now. the way you winced when you thought he wasn’t looking. 

“just don’t tell him, okay?” you murmured, “please, jeno.”

jeno exhaled through his nosse, quiet, resigned, before picking up the call.

you closed your eyes as soon as you hear jaemin’s voice on the other end — rushed, anxious, full of something that twisted painfully in your chest. you could hear him asking for you, his voice frayed around the edges. 

jeno’s hand brushed lightly against your knee — a silent reminder to breathe. 

“she’s been tired lately,” jeno said carefully, eyes on you the whole time. 

that word. tired. you almost laughed. it was too small, too human a word for what you felt now. for the way your body betrayed you more each day. for the way your vision sometimes blurred into static when you stood too fast. 

jeno’s thumbed brushed against your knuckles as he continued, “you know how she is. always pretending she’s fine.”

you could picture jaemin on the other end — sitting somewhere in his dorm room, his brow furrowed, his voice softening in that way he always did when it came to you. and you missed him so much your chest ached. 

jeno tried to keep the call steady — a short, harmless conversation that wouldn’t raise alarms. but jaemin’s voice wavered with something else — jealousy, confusion, lonelines. 

“you’ve been spending a lot of time with her,” he said. 

jeno froze for half a second, “yeah,” he said quietly, “just making sure she’s okay. things have been…rough.”

that word too. rough. your eyes burned but you didn’t look away from the ocean. the waves were easier to face than the thought of jaemin sitting miles away, wondering why you weren’t picking up. 

when the call finally ended, the silence in the car felt heavier than before. you sat there, staring at the waves, trying to blink the tears out of your eyes before they fell. 

jeno set the phone down gently beside him, “he’s gonna worry more now.”

you pulled the blanket tighter, “he already does.”

he turned to you then, his gaze soft, full of soemthing heavy and unspoken, “you should tell him.”

you shook your head, “i can’t.”

“y/n—“

“i can’t jeno,” your voice cracked this time, “he’s happy. he’s doing what he loves. i can’t take that from him. if he knew, he’d come home. he’d give it all up.”

jeno didn’t argue. he just sighed, his breath fogging in the cool air. after a moment, he reached over and gently tugged the blanket higher around your shoulders, making sure it covered you completely. his fingers brushed your jaw when he pulled a strand of hair away from your face. 

“you’re freezing,” he muttered. 

you smiled faintly, your voice teasing, “you know he’s gonna kill you, right?”

jeno blinked, then let out a quiet laugh, “yeah, probably."

“thanks for covering for me.”

he looked at you, really looked at you — at the hollow beneath your eyes, the faint tremor in your hands. his voice was low when he spoke, “you don’t have to thank me, just…don’t make me lie to him forever, okay?”

you nodded, though both of you knew it was a promise you might not get the chance to keep. 

and then sunday rolled around once again. 

and for the first time in weeks, you were the one who called. the phone rang twice before he picked up, his voice sharp with surprise, almost breathless.

“tiger?”

you smiled into the call, pretending not to hear the relief in his tone, “hey, jaem.”

there was a pause — short, but full of meaning. you could almost see him, hand running through his hair, the corner of his mouth lifting like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. 

“you finally remembered me,” he teased lightly, but his voice cracked on the last word. 

“please, i could never forget you,” you said, keeping your tone light, steady. it took everything in you not to cough mid-sentence, “you’re my sunday night ritual, remember?”

he let out a small laugh, that familiar sound you hadn’t realied you’d been starving for, “yeah, well, you broke our streak. i was starting to think i’d have to file a missing person’s report.”

“sorry,” you murmured, “things have just been…a lot.”

he hummed sofltly, “jeno said.”

you froze, just for a second, “oh?”

“he said you’ve been tired lately,” his voice softened, careful now, “you okay?”

you forced a small chukcle, “i’m fine. just burnt out, maybe. you know how it is.”

you said it like it was nothing — like your body wasn’t turning against you, like your lungs weren’t tightening more each day. like you weren’t terrified of what tomorrow would bring. 

jaemin sighed, that soft, concerned sound you’d memorized, “you sure?”

“positive.”

another pause. you could hear him settle into his chair — the faint creak of it, the rustle of paper. “okay,” he said finally, deciding to believe you. or maybe just pretending to.

“anyway,” you said quickly, changing the subject, “tell me about you. how’s school? still romanticizing libraries and late-night coffee?”

he laughed, “you make me sound like i’m in a movie.”

“you basically are.”

“fine, then. let’s see… classes are good. the city’s colder now. oh, and—” his tone shifted slightly, lighter now, “i met someone.”

your heart stilled, “someone?”

“yeah.” you could hear the small smile in his voice. “her name’s giselle.”

you gripped the edge of your blanket, keeping your voice even. “giselle.”

“mhm. she’s in my literature seminar. we met at this pub a few blocks from campus,” he laughed softly, almost sheepish, “she called me out for staring at my drink too long, said i looked like someone who came to forget.”

you smiled faintly, your chest tightening in that quiet, painful way, “sounds like she’s bold.”

“she is. in a good way, though. she’s… easy to talk to. feels kind of like i’ve known her longer than i have.”

you nodded, though he couldn’t see you, “she makes you smile.”

he hesitated, then laughed again, softer this time, “yeah, i guess she does.”

you wanted to be happy for him. you were happy for him. but underneath that, something else lingered — a small, sharp ache. because for the first time since that airport goodbye, it felt like he was moving on.

and you couldn’t.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing your voice to stay steady, “she sounds lovely, jaem.”

“she is,” he said, then quickly added, “but she’s not you, tiger.”

the words hung between you — warm, aching, dangerous.

you smiled into the silence, blinking back the tears burning behind your eyes, “i’m glad you’re doing okay.”

he hummed softly, “i’m not, really. but I’m trying.”

“good,” you whispered, “keep trying.”

he was quiet for a moment, then said gently, “you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

you hesitated, your heart breaking at how sincere he sounded.

“of course,” you lied.

he sighed in relief, like he’d been holding his breath, “okay. i just… worry about you.”

“i know.”

“orange?” he said softly.

you smiled, the tears finally falling, “orange.”

the call ended a few minutes later, but you kept the phone pressed to your ear long after the line went silent — listening to the faint hum, pretending it was still his voice.

across the ocean, jaemin stared at his ceiling, your word still echoing in his chest. he didn’t know why it hurt this much to hear it this time.

and you sat on the boardwalk alone this time, the ocean stretching endlessly ahead of you, whispering to no one at all—

“orange.”

but this time, it didn’t mean i’m here.

it meant i’m trying to be.

year vii. the second year of college. two years ago.

one year.

and somehow, you were still here.

maybe the universe was still giving you time for honesty.

you’d gotten used to measuring time differently — not in semesters or seasons but in checkups, prescriptions and quiet victories. the new medication helped, at least for now. your body still ached, still betrayed you, but you could walk longer, breathe deeper, laugh without feeling like it might be the last time.

you told yourself it was enough — enough to keep pretending, enough to keep living. 

so after countless times of jaemin inviting you to visit, and a hesitant go signal from your doctor — you finally said yes.

the city was different from how he described it — louder, colder but beautiful in the way foreign places are when you’re seeing them through the eyes of someone you love. the air was sharp with autumn, the streets glittering faintly with rain. you’d never been this far from home, but the thought of seeing him again steadied you. 

you spotted him before he saw you — his hair a little longer, his shoulders broader, a camera slung around his neck. he looke exactly like you remembered and nothing like you remembered, all at once. 

“tiger!”

and there it was — that grin. that too-wide, boyish grin that never quite grew up. 

you smiled before you could help it, the sound of that word loosening something tight in your chest. he ran toward you through the crowd, all ungraceful excitement and hugged you before you could even drop your bag. 

it startled you at first — the warmth, the familiarity, the way he still smelled faintly like citrus and clean laundry. he hugged you so tightly you could barely breathe though you didn’t dare tell him that, not when you could feel his heartbeat against your cheek for the first time in years.

he pulled back, hands still on your shoulders, eyes scanning your face like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. 

“you’re really here,” he said softly, pulling back to look at you. 

you’ve tried to look like the girl he used to know — brushed your hair the same, wore the kind of sweater he once said was very you. but there were some things you couldn’t hide. like how thin your wrists have gotten or how every shirt now hung off your frame like it didn’t belong. or how your smile didn’t reach quite as far as it used to. 

but as always, he didn’t ask questions. 

he only said, “god, i missed you.”

you laughed softly, a little relieved, “we called every week.”

“yeah,” he said, his grin faltering just a little, “but it’s not the same.”

you wanted to tell him you knew — that you’d missed him in a way that screens couldn’t fix, that your body had memorized the absence of him. but instead, you just smiled.

“lets go,” he said, taking your bags before you could protest, “you’ve got so much to see.”

you met her that afternoon.

giselle. 

she was cool, polite, effortlessly charming — the kind of girl who didn’t need to try to be liked, because the world already wanted to love her. she hugged you tightly like you’d known each for years. her perfume was soft, expensive, a little vanilla, a little smoke. 

“its so nice to finally meet you,” she said brightly, “jaemin talks about all the time.”

you smiled, unsure what to say, “he does?”

“are you kidding?” she laughed, “i practically know your entire life story. high school besties, him spilling coffee all over your shirt, junior prom — he told me about the orange corsage, by the way, that’s adorable."

you glanced at jaemin, who stood by the counter pretending to busy himself with mugs. he shot you a sheepish grin. giselle didn’t notice. she was already talking again, offering to show you around campus, pointing out cafe’s she thought you’d like. she laughed at your jokes, asked about the beach trips, about jeno.

and the worst part was, you liked her. 

she fit into jaemin’s world the way you never could. she knew the professors he talked about, the cafe’s he loved, the rhythm of the life he’d built without you. she laughed at all the right moments, touched his arm when she teased him, finished his sentences like she’d known him a lifetime.

you couldn’t even be mad about it.

because she wasn’t trying to take your place. 

she already had her own. 

you nodded and smiled in all the right places, but you could feel it, that quiet, invisible space growing between you. he was building a life. a beautiful one. and you — you were just visiting. 

so this — this is what it feels like to come back home and realize it’s not yours anymore. 

on the second night, his apartment was full — warm light spilling from the kitchen, laughter echoing down the narrow hallway, the faint scent of takeout and cheap wine hanging in the air. you sat cross-legged on the floor beside the coffee table, half-listening, half-floating. 

renjun was perched on the arm of the couch, gesturing wildly as he retold the story of his disastrous poetry reading. the one where he’d accidentally read the wrong piece and gotten halfway through before realizing it was a breakup letter. jisung couldn’t stop laughing, practically wheezing into a pillow, while jaemin kept refilling everyone’s glasses, eyes bright and crinkled with joy. 

he looked so, so happy. 

it should’ve made you happy too. 

but it didn’t.

you laughed when you were supposed to, smiled when eyes were on you. you even clinked glasses with jisung and pretended that this was exactly what you wanted — to see him thriving, surrounded by light, surrounded by people who understood the version of him you no longer knew how to reach. 

but underneath it all, your heart ached in that quiet, suffocating way that came when you realized how much had changed without you. 

you sat there, a ghost in the corner of the life he’d built and tried not to think about how far away you felt, even while sitting right next to him. 

and then came his teasing on the third night. 

you were all seated in the boy’s shared living room again — the same couch, the same lazy laughter, the same city hum pressing faintly through the windows. giselle was sitting comfortable on jaemin’s lap, her hand curled loosely around his wrist, the two of them so effortless together it hurt to look at. 

“so,” jaemin said, leaning back againsts the couch, smirking in that way that used to mean trouble, “how’s jeno?”

you raised an eyebrow, “he’s fine, i guess. why?”

“come on,” he said, leaning forward to nudge your knee playfully, “you two still do that thing where you act like you’re just friends but everyone knows you’re pining for each other?”

you blinked, caught off guard, how could he have possibly been so wrong?

“what?”

renjun snorted. jisung laughed. giselle giggled behind her glass. 

and you almost scoffed. they’d never even met jeno. 

but jaemin just kept smiling, completely oblivious to the weight behind his words, “you can tell me, tiger. when are you two finally going to confess? we all know it’s bound to happen eventually.”

you forced a laugh, your throat tightening, “you’re ridiculous.”

he shrugged,that teasing glint still in his eyes, “hey, i’m just calling it like i see it.”

you wanted to tell him he was wrong. that what he saw wasn’t love.

that it was jeno sitting on the floor beside your bed, steadying your breathing when the pain got too sharp. that it was jeno holding your hand during checkups you couldn’t face alone. that it was jeno promising he wouldn’t tell as he wiped the blood from your lips quietly, gently, like it didn’t scare him — like he’d already accepted the ending you refused to say out loud. 

but how could you tell jaemin any of that?

how could you ruin this version of you that existed in his head — whole, steady, alive?

so you smiled. you let him tease. you let everyone laugh, even as your chest burned. and you told yourself maybe it was better that he thought that. maybe it was kinder to let him believe you were loved in some other, simpler way. 

later that night, when giselle finally left, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, whispering something that made him smile and the boys had drifted off to their separate rooms — it was just the two of you. 

the apartment was quieter now. softer. the kind of silence that felt heavy, like it knew what was coming. you sat by the window, the city lights spilling through the glass. he was cleaning up bottles, humming softly under his breath, the shuffle of his slippers against the tile.

when he came back, he looked tired but content, “you okay?” he asked, leaning against the doorway. 

you nodded, “yeah. just…tired.”

he smiled faintly, that same worried crease between his brows, “you always say that.”

you looked at him then — really looked. the soft mess of his hair, the way the city light from the window halos his silhouette, the way his eyes found yours like they always did, even after all this time. 

and for a moment, you forgot how much it hurt to be here. you forgot how far gone you already were. because right then, sitting in the warmth of the life he built without you, you could almost believe you still belonged in it. 

the night felt like it was holding its breath. 

“hey,” you said quietly.

jaemin turned from where he was stacking dishes in the sink, eyes soft, “yeah?”

you hesitated, fingers playing with the hem of your sleeve, ”can we….hang out tomorrow?” you asked, “just us?”

he paused, straightening slowly, towel still in his hands, “just us?”

you nodded, fingers fidgeting with your sleeve, “yeah, like old times.”

something in his face shifted then — something small but sharp. 

“y/n,” he said after a moment, voice careful, “you’ve met my girlfriend, my friends…you know we’re all planning to take you out to that pub tomorrow?— and now you want it to be…just us?”

the air between you thinned. 

you opened your mouth, then shut it, “it’s not like that,” you said, voice trembling despite your best effort, “i just…miss you. that’s all.”

he let out a laugh — not cruel, but tired, heavy in a way that told you he’d been holding back a lot more than he let on, “you haven’t changed at all, huh?”

you froze, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling like it hurt, “you still hold on too tightly. to things. to people. to how life used to be.”

your chest tightened, “i just wanted one day, jaem.”

“one day won’t change the fact that things are different now,” he said, a quiet frustration slipping into his voice, “we’re not kids anymore. change isn’t bad.”

your throat burned, “you think i don’t know that?”

he shook his head, “then stop fighting it. this world is biger than us, y/n. it can’t just always be me and you.”

that did it. 

something inside you broke completely — quiet, invisible, but deep enough that you felt the pieces shift.

you blinked fast, your voice small, “you’re right. it can’t.”

before he could say anything else, you grabbed you coat and left. 

he called after you — your name, your nickname, something broken in between — but you didn’t stop. you ran down the stairwell, your chest aching, lungs burning, until the night air hit your face — cold and sharp. the kind of cold that bit at your skin, like it was trying to remind you that you were still here. still alive. 

you didn’t know where you were going. you just needed somewhere to breathe, somewhere to fall apart. somewhere he couldn’t see. 

the city was quiet in that strange, faraway way cities get after midnight — too big to sleep, too bright to rest. you didn’t know how long you’d been walking, only that the cold air stung your cheeks and your chest ached in that deep, familiar way that had nothing to do with the weather or the heartbreak. 

by the time you found yourself in the small park a few blocks from jaemin’s apartment, your legs were trembling, your lungs raw, your vision swimming. you sank down onto a wooden bench beneath the flickering lamppost, clutching your coat tighter around you, trying to stop the shaking. 

it wasn’t even anger anymore — you didn’t have time for that. 

it was simply just exhaustion. 

at yourself. at him. at the truth sitting heavy in your chest, beating weaker with every breath you took. 

you told yourself you’d just sit for a bit, that you’d go back soon. you’d apologize. you always did. but the world kept spinning quietly around you — the hum of the city, the whisper of passing cars, the faint sound of rain starting to fall again. 

and then, footsteps. 

“god, tiger,” a voice breathed out, half exasperated, half relieved, “i can’t believe you walked this far.” 

you turned.

jaemin stood a few feet away, hair damp from the drizzle, chest rising and falling as if he’d been running the whole way. his eyes — those soft, familiar eyes, searched your face, the corners crinkling with worry.

he laughed under his breath, shaking his head, “why did you run? we don’t do that. we talk about it”

you looked away, blinking fast, “things change.”

he sighed and stepped closer, his voice gentler now, “i didn’t mean it like that.”

you didn’t say anything, you just stared at the wet pavement, tracing circles on your knee with your thumb, trying to hold yourself together. the rain fell heavier now, tapping rhythmically against your coat. 

after a long silence, he spoke again, softer this time, “i’m sorry. for what i said. “

you looked up, surprised by the crack in his voice. 

“i shouldn’t have—,” he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling, “—said it like that. i just…they all cancelled schedules to hang out with us tomorrow and,” he shakes his head, “—it doesn’t matter.”

you swallowed, your throat tight. 

he took another step closer, hesitating like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed, “tomorrow,” he said, almost pleading, “it’ll be just us, okay? no giselle, no plans. just…me and you.”

you nodded faintly, eyes stinging. 

he smiled then — that same smile you’d know since you were fifteen, soft and steady and unfairly kind. the same one that used to fix everything. 

and suddenly, you couldn’t take it anymore. 

the way he was looking at you — like you were still his world, like he’d never meant the words this world is bigger than us. the way your still fluttered even when you knew better. the way everything hurt, all at once, and yet, he was the only thing that made you feel alive. 

you reached out, fingers trembling, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead. 

“tiger…” he murmured, his voice low, confused,

and for once — just once — you wanted to take instead of give. to be selfish instead of selfless. to hold on, even it it was only for a heartbeat. 

you leaned in. 

and he didn’t move. 

not at first. 

your lips found his — soft, hesitant, desperate — and for a single, suspended second, the world went quiet. like it always did with him.

it felt like every missed call, every unsent message, every almost between you collapsed into that one moment. his breath hitched, his hand brushed your jaw and for that fraction of a second, he kissed you back.

for a heartbeat, he was yours.

and then he froze. 

he pulled back suddenly, breath uneven, eyes wide. 

“tiger—” his voice cracked, “i—we can’t. i have a girlfriend.”

the words sliced through the night, through you.

you blinked, stunned at your own impulsiveness, your chest hollowing out as the rain started to fall harder. you nodded quickly, stepping back, pretending it didn’t matter. pretending your heart hadn’t splintered into a thousand irretrievable pieces. 

“i-i’m sorry” you whispered. 

jeamin reached for you, then stopped halfway. his hand dropped to his side. only only one word falling from his lips — small, fragile, heavy. the word that became his armor. 

“orange?”

i’m still here for you. nothing has changed. i love you but not in that way.

and god, it hurt.

but you said it back anyway. 

the morning came too quickly. you hadn’t slept. you’d spent the night sitting on the edge of the bed in the guest room — the one jaemin had so carefully prepared for you with extra blankets, a mug for tea, a vase of peonies by the window. the city was just beginning to wake, a pale light slipping through the curtains, quiet and unforgiving. 

every time you closed your eyes, you saw it again — the look on his face after the kiss. the shock. the confusion. the guilt. the pity. you’d known instantly what that look meant. and now, you couldn’t stand to see it again. 

you moved quietly, folding the blanket you’d slept under and placing it back on the bed. the air smelled faintly like rain and the detergent he used —  something clean. something familiar. it made your chest ache worse. 

your suitcase sat by the door. you zipped it up slowly, careful not to make a sound. every click of the metal teeth felt final, like you were stitching something closed.

you checked the time. 4:58 AM.

the sun wasn’t fully up yet. the streets outside were still gray and half-asleep. 

you slipped on your shoes and tiptoed down the hallway. the apartment was silent except for the steady hum of the refrigerator. you passed by his door — it was slightly ajar. you could see the faint outline of him inside, half-buried in his blanket, his arm hanging off the bed. 

you paused there for a long time. just looking. he looked peaceful in sleep. young again, almost. like the boy who spilled that warm coffee. the one who gave you a nickname just because he thought you looked cute when you were startled. 

for a moment, you wanted to wake him. to tell him you were sorry. to tell him that you loved him — but not to keep him, just so he would know. 

but then you remembered his words from the night before. 

this world is bigger than us. 

and you realized — he’d been right. 

you’d spent years trying to hold onto something that wasn’t meant to be yours anymore. and now, holding on just hurt both of you. 

so instead, you whispered the only thing you could. 

“orange.”

quiet. barely audible. meant for no one but yourself. 

this time, it didn’t mean i’m here. 

it meant i’m setting you free. 

you reached for the doorknob, heart trembling in your chest and slipped out. 

the hallway was cold. your steps echoed softly as you made your way down the stairwell, your hand brushing the railing for balance when the world tilted for a moment — the side effects, the exhaustion, all of it catching up to you. by the time you stepped outside, the city was just beginning to stir. a few cars passed, a street vendor setting up shop, the autumn leaves swaying in the breeze, the faint hum of life waking up around you. 

you stood there for a second, letting the morning air hit your face. it was cold, sharp, grounding. you wanted to cry but the tears didn’t come. you were too tired for that now. 

you hailed a cab, the sound of tires on wet asphalt echoing like a goodbye. 

no note. no message. no goodbye. 

because you’d already taken too much. because you didn’t want him to wake up and feel like he had to chase after you again. 

because leaving was the strongest thing you could do for him. 

year viii. present day. 

it was 2:13 A.M. when jaemin’s phone rang.

he almost didn’t pick up. he’d been staring blankly at the ceiling for over an hour, insomnia gnawing at the edges of his mind, that familiar restlessness pressing against his ribs. the city outside was silent, his apartment dim except for the faint blue glow of his laptop screen.

the sound of his ringtone cut through the quiet — sharp, jarring, wrong somehow.

jeno.

he frowned. jeno never called at this hour. not once in all the years they’d known each other.

something cold unfurled in his chest.

he answered immediately, voice low and rough, “jeno?”

there was no greeting. no easy laugh, no casual hey, man. just breathing — heavy, uneven, breaking.

“jaemin…” jeno’s voice sounded scraped raw, as if he’d swallowed gravel. it cracked on the second syllable.

jaemin’s body tensed. he pushed himself upright, blankets pooling around his waist, heart kicking painfully against his ribs, “what’s wrong?”

silence. not the comfortable kind – the suffocating kind, thick and trembling on the line. then a sharp inhale.

“jaemin, i— i’m not supposed to tell you.”

the sound of it — the way his voice trembled, the way it broke halfway through — it sent a chill through jaemin’s body. something in his chest pulled tight, tightening further with every beat, he pressed the phone closer to his ear, his voice tightening. 

“tell me what?” his voice came out sharper then he intended, strained at the edges. 

jeno didn’t answer right away. all jaemin could hear was the sound of him crying — quiet, muffled, the kind of crying you only did when you were trying too hard not to.

“jeno,” jaemin said again, firmer this time, though his throat had gone dry. “tell me.”

seconds stretched, long and merciless. then jeno exhaled, like the words hurt to hold in—

“it’s y/n.”

everything inside jaemin stilled. 

your name hadn’t been spoken to him in two years. not by friends. not by family. it hit him like an impact – sharp, wind-knocking, disorienting. 

his tiger.

the ache bloomed fast — old, remembered pain cracking open like it had only been yesterday.

you had disappeared on him. just— gone. no call. no message. no explanation.

he could still see that morning as if it were preserved in ice. the sun was shining brightly, soft light bleeding into the apartment when he walked toward the guest room. he’d expected to find you half-asleep, hair messy, drooling on his pillow the way you always did. instead, the room was empty. your suitcase gone. the blanket folded neatly at the foot of his bed. his front door slightly ajar, as if it had been closed gently behind you but not enough to catch. 

he remembered standing there, in the doorway, still half-dreaming, waiting for you to come back in, laughing, saying you just stepped out for coffee or fresh air or anything that made sense — until the minutes bled into hours, and hours into days.

he remembered calling. again. again. again. his voice growing smaller with every voicemail, his hands shaking as he typed message after message you never opened. he emailed. he reached out to your friends, to your mom, to anyone who might have known why you suddenly hated him enough to vanish. 

but no one gave him answers. everyone chose silence.

he checked your accounts every day like a habit, like a prayer. waiting for something. a sign. a clue. anything that said you missed him even half as much as he missed you. 

but all he found were photos.

photos of you and jeno —

you, laughing beside him at a cafe, sunlight catching in your hair.

you, on the beach, chin on your knees, the waves brushing at your feet.

you, grinning up at the camera, jeno’s arm slung loosely around your shoulders, matching your expression in a way that looked easy. familiar. like he belonged there.

you looked happy. free. like someone who’d finally accepted change. 

and maybe that should’ve been enough. maybe seeing you smile should have softened the bruise in his chest. 

but it didn’t. 

it just made his chest hurt in that deep, wordless way that no one talks about — the kind that feels like nostalgia and jealousy and loss all tangled in one unbearable knot. 

because the night he lost you, that night on the park bench, was the night he realized he’d never stopped loving you. 

he could still feel it with haunting clarity — rain dripping from his hair, your trembling fingers brushing his cheek, the soft press of you lips against his, his heart hammering wildly against the cage of his ribs, your voice cracking as you whispered, orange.

he’d tucked you in that night, wrapped you in a blanket, watched your eyelids flutter closed. and something inside him had snapped free. he couldn't do it anymore. couldn't lie to himself. couldn’t lie to anyone. 

he left his apartment at 2 AM, the sky still weeping, rain clinging to him like guilt and he went to giselle’s. he ended things. no fights. no apologies. just the truth, plain and quiet and cruel. 

“she’s the one,” he’d told her quietly, “she’s always been the one.”

and giselle, too kind, too understanding, had only nodded, eyes glistening, “i know,” she said softly, “i’ve always known.”

when he returned, it was close to four. the world felt different, lighter, terrifying, brand-new. he had stood at your doorway, watching you sleep, committing the sight of you to memory like a promise. 

he was ready. ready to choose you, finally. ready to tell you everything he had held back for years. 

but when morning came —

you were gone. 

and you never came back.

for weeks, months, years, he cycled through emotions like storms — confusions, heartbreak, then anger. angry at you for leaving like that. angry that you could. angry that you made him feel disposable. temporary. angry for being so selfish. 

and for the next two years, he filled that silence with stories he made up himself – stories where you’d moved on, where you’d fallen for someone else, where you'd decided he wasn’t worth the chaos. 

and maybe those stories were easier to live with than the truth. 

but now… hearing your name again, after all this time — those stories shattered.

because whatever came next — the way jeno’s breath hitched, the way his voice cracked, jaemin felt something colder than anger. 

fear. 

he swallowed hard, his voice barely steady. “what about her?”

a breath. not steady — shaken loose, like jeno was barely holding himself together.

then he said it — the words jaemin would replay in his head for years after.

“she’s dying, jaem…”

for a split second, jaemin didn’t react. not because he hadn’t heard but because his mind refused to process a sentence where you and dying existed together. the room around him seemed to mute itself – the hum of the fridge, the faint buzz of his laptop, the city beyond his window — all of it fading to a dull, suffocating quiet. 

he blinked once. twice. the air felt too thin. 

“no,” he whispered, the word barely formed, “no that—that doesn’t—what do you mean she’s dying?”

he heard shuffling on the other end, fabric brushing, like jeno was pacing or shaking or both. 

“she—it got bad,” jeno forced out, voice cracking on every syllable, “it’s been bad for a while. we tried—she tried—jaemin—,” his voice cracked again, choked, desperate, “please…please come home.”

and just like that, the silence shattered. and suddenly, everything inside jaemin surged at once — confusion, panic, denial, anger — colliding so fast he felt physically nauseous. 

it didn’t feel real.

it couldn’t be real.

he could still see you — laughing on the beach, rolling your eyes in the school hallways, hugging him tightly at the airport, whispering orange like it meant everything in the world.

he could still feel the ghost of that kiss — soft, unsure, the rain between you.

and now—

now you were dying.

what kind of cruel, twisted joke was this? 

he pressed the phone back to his ear, his voice breaking, “where is she?”

a broken inhale. then jeno gave him the name of the hospital, the city, the floor number — all in a rush as if speaking quickly would make it hurt less. 

jaemin didn’t say goodbye. didn’t think. didn’t breathe. he stood abruptly, feet hitting the floor, hands trembling as he searched for his keys, his passport, his bag, anything. everything was a blur in his periphery while his mind replayed the words with merciless clarity—

“she’s dying, jaem.”

each repetition sliced deeper, colder. like punishment. like consequence. like fate laughing at him for being too late. 

he didn’t remember locking his apartment. didn’t remember the elevator ride, the drive, the airport security lines, or the plane boarding. his memory stored nothing but fragments — flashes of movement, fluorescent lights, the sterile chill of transit spaces. 

all he could remember was his knee bouncing relentlessly through the flight. his fingers shaking as he gripped the armrest. his chest tight enough to hurt with every breath. 

outside the window, the sky was black — moon tucked behind clouds, stars swallowed whole. the world looked like it was holding its breath with him. he whispered your name once – so softly, the sound barely left his lips. as if saying it too loud might break whatever thread still tethered you to the world. 

the moment the plane touched down, jaemin was already unbuckling. the seatbelt sign was still lit, but he didn’t care. the click of the buckle releasing sounded too loud in the quiet cabin. he stood before the wheels finished rolling, earning a few startled looks, but he didn’t register any of them.

his heart was a drum—loud, hard, constant.

she’s dying.

she’s dying.

she’s dying.

the words marched with every beat of his pulse. he was the first off the plane. first through the jet bridge. first to the immigration line — shifting weight from foot to foot as if still mid-run. 

every minute felt like something was being stolen from him. 

the airport was too bright, too noisy, too slow. people walked with coffees and suitcases like the world wasn’t ending. a child laughed. a couple argued quietly. a man yawned into his palm. jaemin wanted to shake all of them and scream—

don’t you know she’s dying?

don’t you understand i’m too late?

but his mouth only stayed in a tight, thin line as he moved—fast, mechanical. he grabbed a cab, forced out the hospital name, and told the driver to go—please, faster, faster.

streetlights streaked past the window in long, yellow smears. the city looked half-asleep, unaware that the most important person he had ever loved was slipping away inside it.

he pressed the heel of his palm to his sternum, trying to breathe through the sharp, splitting ache spreading there. the drive felt endless. his leg bounced the entire time, fingers twitching like they needed something to hold, to break, to anchor him.

when the cab finally pulled up to the hospital, he shoved bills into the driver’s hand without looking and ran.

the glass doors parted with a soft whoosh that felt too gentle for what was happening. inside, the air was cold, sterile, laced with antiseptic. the floor gleamed. the lights were harsh. everything felt wrong. his voice barely came out, scraped raw from hours of silence and fear.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” he gasped to the nurse at the counter, his voice hoarse from hours of silence. “where— where is she?”

the nurse’s expression shifted—just slightly, but enough to tell him everything was already bad. before she could answer—

“jaemin!”

he spun around.

jeno stood there — eyes bloodshot, cheeks streaked with dried tears, shoulders slumped as if the night had drained the strength from him. mark hovered beside him, jaw clenched tight, eyes swollen. chenle sat rigid in one of the waiting chairs, hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles were white.

the sight of them—all wrecked—made something inside jaemin lurch.

but he didn’t slow.

didn’t greet.

didn’t breathe.

the world tilted. his knees nearly gave out.

but still, he moved forward — forcing his feet to take him closer, hoping, praying he was wrong.

jeno stepped toward him, wordless. his face crumpled as he reached for him, pulling him into a hug so tight it hurt. and through that broken, breathless quiet, jaemin managed to ask —

“where is she?”

no one answered.

mark’s gaze dropped to the floor. chenle squeezed his eyes shut. jeno stepped back, lips parted, but no words came out. 

“jeno,” he said again, barely holding himself upright, “where. is she.”

jeno’s face crumpled. he shook his head once, small, helpless, and the tears returned, spilling over.

“jaem…” his voice was broken whisper, “she’s gone. she died thirteen minutes ago.”

the sentence didn’t land all at once—it struck in pieces, sharp edges catching in jaemin’s chest. 

no. 

not you. 

not the girl who always had a smile on her face. not the girl who promised to stay strong for him.

gone.

died.

thirteen minutes.

minutes.

not days.

not weeks.

he was thirteen minutes too late.

something inside him broke open so suddenly he thought he might collapse. but his body moved before the grief could swallow him whole. he ran. through the hall. past nurses calling after him. past rooms and signs and the sound of his own heartbeat roaring in his head.

he needed to see you. needed to prove them wrong. needed to undo something—anything—

until suddenly—he stopped.

your room.

he stood frozen in the doorway. the lights in your room were dim, softened to a low glow that painted everything in muted, gentle shades. curtains were drawn halfway, letting in a sliver of dawn—the sky outside still a washed-out grey-blue, caught somewhere between night and morning.

it felt too quiet. too calm. too peaceful for what he was about to see. his breath stuttered as he stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft finality.

and there you were.

the world fell silent.

you were lying there, so still, so small against the hospital bed. the machines beside you were quiet now, their steady beeping replaced by the low hum of the air conditioner.

your body lay still against the white hospital sheets, the blanket tucked neatly around you. your hair framed your face softly, as if someone had brushed it with care. your skin looked pale under the muted light—almost translucent, unreal.

you looked like you were sleeping.

like if he whispered your name, you’d stir. if he nudged your shoulder gently, you’d groan and tell him to let you rest. if he sat beside you with that worried crease on his brow, you’d tease him for looking like a mess after a red-eye flight.

for a second — just one — he let himself believe that.

his throat tightened painfully. he stumbled forward, his hands shaking violently as he reached for you. his voice broke as it left him, so quiet the room nearly swallowed it.

“tiger,” he whispered, his voice breaking on the word. “hey.”

you didn’t move.

he sat on the edge of your bed, his hands trembling as they found yours — cold. too cold.

he let out a choked laugh — raw and helpless, tinged with disbelief and horror. “okay,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as if he could coax life back into them, “this—this isn’t funny. you can stop now.”

he rubbed your hand between his palms, trying to warm it, trying to pretend the world hadn’t already stolen you.

“come on, tiger,” he breathed, voice cracking, “you always loved dramatic entrances, but this—this is cruel.”

still nothing.

no stir.

no soft exhale.

no hand squeezing his back in reassurance.

his vision blurred. tears slipped down his cheeks, but he didn’t bother wiping them. he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to your hand, shoulders shaking.

“wake up,” he begged, the plea breaking as it spilled out of him. “please… wake up.”

but you didn’t.

you never would.

he stayed like that for a long time. he didn’t know how long — time losing meaning in the dim room. all he knew was the feel of your hand in his, cooling, unresponsive, slipping away from what he remembered.

he lifted his head, eyes tracing your face — committing you to memory the way you had looked when he loved you, when you loved him, when life still had more time to give.

the gym. the airport. the park. your whispered orange.

his chest caved in. 

“orange,” he choked out, the word breaking in his mouth. it felt like saying goodbye with the wrong language.

it used to mean i’m here for you.

but here, in this room, holding your hand that would never warm again, it only meant one thing—

i love you.

he leaned in and pressed his lips to your forehead—soft, lingering—as if trying to seal something back into you. his tears fell onto your skin, sliding down your temple, and he whispered against your unmoving warmth—

“orange, tiger. i’m here.”

even though, this time…you weren’t. 

the silence in the room was unbearable.

jaemin couldn’t look at you anymore — not like this. not when every memory of you was alive, and this was anything but.

your hand had gone slack in his, your fingers still cold despite how long he’d been holding them. his thumb brushed against your knuckles one last time before he let go, but the moment he did, the air around him felt wrong. too empty. too final.

he stood up, dizzy, his vision blurring with tears he couldn’t blink away. he turned sharply and stumbled out of the room, his breath coming in uneven, broken gasps.

and as he walked down that hallway — sterile, white, endless — the world started replaying itself.

every memory. every moment.

your laugh echoing through the gym.

your fingers clutching his sleeve the day you first met.

your voice saying orange through tears, through laughter, through years of growing up together.

he saw the prom lights again.

he saw your orange corsage dangling loose on your wrist.

he saw you crying in your bedroom senior year, whispering you were scared of the future — and he’d said we’ll figure it out, like we always do.

except he hadn’t.

he saw the wind blowing your hair at the beach.

he saw your eyes when you kissed him at the airport.

he saw the night in the park — your trembling hands brushing his hair back, your lips touching his, the rain between you, and how he’d pulled away.

he heard himself saying this world is bigger than us like a fool.

and now, standing here in this hospital hallway, he realized — the world hadn’t been bigger than you.

it had been you.

and you were gone.

he couldn’t breathe. he shoved open the door, stumbling into the hallway, as if the floor had tilted beneath him. his vision tunneled, breath ragged, chest tight enough to burst. the hallway outside felt too bright, too awake, too wrong. voices blurred. a nurse said something, but he couldn’t hear. couldn’t think. couldn’t feel anything. 

then he saw them — chenle. mark. jeno.

standing. waiting. crying. 

and something inside him snapped. 

he didn’t stop. he didn’t think. 

it all made sense now. he finally sees the full picture. 

“you knew.”

the words came out low at first, dangerous, cracked open from somwhere feral.

jeno stepped forward carefully, “jaemin–”

but jaemin was already moving. in two strides, he was in front of jeno, hands fisting into his shirt as he slammed him into the wall so hard the frame rattled. mark jerked forward—shocked—but froze when he saw jaemin’s face.

“you fucking knew!” jaemin’s voice ripped out of him, raw and hoarse, shaking with something between grief and rage–

“you knew she was dying and you didn’t tell me?!”

jeno gasped at the impact but didn’t didn’t fight back. he didn’t even raise his hands. his eyes were wet, his voice breaking as he said, “she—she made me promise—”

jaemin slammed him against, harder, voice shattering, “I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR PROMISES!”

his fist drew back — mark grabbed his arm just in time, “jaemin—stop—”

“LET GO!” jaemin snarled, yanking free with a violent jerk. his fist hit the wall right beside jeno’s head, knuckles splitting on impact. pain shot up his arm, sharp and bright, but he barely felt it. 

“you let me show up thirteen minutes too late,” he spat, chest heaving, “THIRTEEN MINUTES.”

jeno’s eyes filled, his voice shaking, “i–i didn’t want to hurt you—”

“hurt me? you think THIS–” jaemin’s voice cracked, wild and broken all at once, “this is better? not knowing? missing her last breath? do you have ANY idea what you just took from me?!”

jeno’s own anger flared through his grief, sudden and pained, “you think i had a choice?! she begged me, jaem! SHE BEGGED–”

jaemin shoved him again, voices rising, grief colliding with grief like fire to gasoline.

“when someone’s life is on the line, you DON’T GET TO KEEP SECRETS LIKE THAT!”

“SHE WAS DYING!” jeno choked, voice breaking on the word, his own tears spilled faster now, “you think knowing would’ve made it easier?! you think i didn’t want help?!” he shouted back, his voice cracking, shaking under the weight of his own guilt.

“you think watching the girl you love die slowly would’ve hurt less just because you knew?!”

jaemin froze — chest heaving, breath tore from him like he’d been punched.

jeno’s voice broke completely then, trembling as he whispered, “you think i don’t know what that’s like, jaem? watching someone i love fade right in front of me and pretending i don’t? holding her when she couldn’t stand? lying every day because she just wanted to feel normal? you think that’s easy?”

jaemin’s hands loosened. his eyes widened.

“she was dying,” jeno repeated, his voice barely a whisper now, “and all she ever worried about was you.”

the fury in jaemin’s chest twisted—splintering, collapsing under its own weight.

his hands dropped.

his knees gave out.

he hit the floor hard, palms scraping against the tile, breath ripping unevenly out of him. he bent forward, shoulders shaking, and a sound tore from his chest—half-scream, half-sob, all devastation.

jeno sank down with him, reaching—but not touching—not unless jaemin let him.

chenle covered his mouth, eyes red, body shaking. mark stood frozen, tears sliding silently down his cheeks.

jeemin pressed his forehead to the cold floor, fists clenched, voice breaking open in a whisper that sounded like it hurt to exist—

“i didn’t get to say goodbye.”

jeno squeezed his eyes shut, tears falling onto the floor between them.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, “i’m so, so sorry.”

and in that hallway—bright, sterile, too alive for what had just died—jaemin cried with the kind of grief that didn’t soften over time. the kind that stayed. brutal. permanent.

he should’ve asked the questions

he should’ve demanded the answers 

maybe then…

maybe then he wouldn’t be here…on his knees…surrounded by grief and love and all the words he’d never get to say.

two weeks later

the  sky was gray that morning—not the soft, rainy kind, but the heavy kind that just sat over the city like a weight. unmoving. colorless. the sort of gray that pressed on your lungs when you breathed, like the world itself had gone quiet for you.

the church was full but quiet. rows of black coats filled the pews, heads bowed, tissues crumpled in shaking hands. people spoke only in whispers, like their voices might disturb something sacred. the air smelled of lilies and incense—sweet, cloying, suffocating—and beneath it all, something colder, sharper.

something like finality. 

jaemin stood at the back for a long time before he could make himself walk in. his fingers clenched around the orange peony he brought. the same kind he tied around your wrist at prom, the night he thought you’d remember forever. the petals were vivid against the black of his coat, almost wrong in their brightness. too alive for a room that held your absence. his shoes scuffed softly against the marble aisle as he made his way forward.

and there you were.

surrounded by flowers—white, ivory, pale pink, gentle colors people choose when they want to pretend death is soft. a framed photograph sat beside your coffin of you, frozen mid-laugh, hair tousled by the wind, sunlight warming your cheek, that familiar glint in your eyes, like you were seconds from teasing him about something.

for a moment, jaemin couldn’t move.

his breath caught halfway up his throat. that picture wasn’t fair. it made you look too alive—like you were just late to your own funeral. like any second, you’d walk in, breathless, apologizing because you overslept.

god, it hurt.

he took one step closer. then another. your photo stared back at him with a smile he could still hear. his chest burned with the kind of ache that didn’t fade—it sharpened.

you were right there. and impossibly far away.

“jaemin.”

he turned.

jeno stood a few feet away—eyes swollen, dark crescents beneath them, his black tie crooked like he hadn’t bothered to fix it after crying in the car. his hands trembled slightly as he held something out.

a small, worn notebook.

bound in fading orange leather.

edges frayed. corners bent. a ribbon poking out from between the pages.

“she wanted you to have this,” jeno said quietly.

jaemin stared at it, at the frayed binding touched so many times your fingerprints were practically a part of it. his voice barely came out, “what…what is it?”

“her journal,” jeno said. his voice cracked. “she’s been writing in it since that day after the beach — you remember? the summer before college.”

the words hit like a blow. jaemin’s heart stuttered. he remembers that day so clearly. the bonfire. your laughter. the salt wind. 

so all this time — you knew this day was coming. and he had been in the dark. 

jeno continued quietly, eyes glassy, as if each memory hurt to touch, “she said she didn’t want to lose the memories. that she wanted to keep all of us with her, even when things got bad.”

jaeemin reached out slowly, hands shaking, and took the journal. the leather was worn soft from use. a few pages looked slightly warped, like they’d been touched by tears. there were indentations across the front — deep grooves from your handwriting, pressed too hard into the page, the way you always did when the emotions didn’t fit inside the lines.

his breath hitched. he held it tighter. then tighter still. like if he loosened his grip, someone would take it from him too.

his vision blurred, tears gathering despite how many he’d already shed. he pressed the journal to his chest, right over his heart, as if it could hold him together, anchor him to the floor, keep him from collapsing all over again.

because right now, everything else felt like it was slipping out of his hands.

he couldn’t open it. not yet.

the words inside would be too heavy. too real. too you.

if he read it, it would make your death feel irreversible.

so he tucked the journal carefully into the inner pocket of his coat, close to his heart, the same way he had once tucked your hand into his jacket on cold nights. and he stood there, beside your coffin, surrounded by flowers and silence and everything he never got to say, holding onto that journal like a lifeline.

because it was all he had left.

of you.

of the future he thought he’d have with you.

of the version of himself that only existed when you were still here.

his heart hurt — god, it hurt— his stupid heart that had always beaten too hard for you, too fast, too reckless. that same heart that failed him when it needed to be brave, when it needed to choose you sooner.

maybe that’s why you got sick, he thought. bitter. broken. because you were always the strong one. always holding everything together until your body couldn’t anymore.

a sound escaped him—half-laugh, half-sob, sharp enough to cut. he covered his mouth, shoulders shaking.

“god, tiger,” he whispered, voice trembling, cracking. “you really left me nothing but your words, huh?”

he closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the journal against his chest—light, but unbearable.

“orange,” he murmured, so soft it barely reached the air.

the word trembled like a confession. like a promise he didn’t know how to keep without you.

one and a half year later.

the graveyard was quiet. the kind of quiet that didn’t feel lonely anymore — but a still, settled kind. a quiet that felt…lived-in. familiar. like grief had pulled up a chair beside him and finally stopped trying to drown him.

early spring softened the air. the sky was pale gray, clouds stretched thin, like the world was just waking up. the trees were dusted with new leaves, shy and young. a breeze moved lazily through the grass, cool enough to raise goosebumps, gentle enough not to sting.

jaemin knelt down in front of your gravestone, jeans brushing damp grass, his breath forming the faintest fog as he exhaled. a few leaves had gathered at the base, carried here by wind and time. he brushed them away with careful fingers, as if clearing dust off a photograph. he traced his thumb over your name, slow, deliberate, letting the letters settle beneath his skin. he touched it the way you used to touch his hand when he was anxious, thumb brushing over his knuckles in quiet reassurance.

“hey, tiger,” he murmured.

his voice didn’t break this time.

there had been days, so many days, when standing here felt like being skinned alive. days where he couldn’t form words because the air itself hurt to breathe. days where he clung to your gravestone like it was the last piece of you he could hold, chest heaving, begging the universe, god, fate, anyone, to rewind time and give you back.

he had screamed here. sobbed here. collapsed here. he had cursed at the sky until his throat felt scraped raw. cursed at you for leaving him, at himself for being too late, at life for being so relentlessly cruel.

but grief changes shape when you start learning how to carry it.

now, the visits were softer. not painless — but quieter. quieter in the way healed wounds still ache when it rains.

today, though, wasn’t like the others. today, he brought something he had been too afraid to open for a year and a half.

your journal. the once-orange leather had deepened to a muted, weather-touched brown. the corners were worn soft, edges curling like petals drying at the end of their bloom. a thin elastic band held it closed, stretched loose from how often he held it—but never opened it. he didn’t go anywhere without it. he kept it tucked into his coat, on his bedside table, beside his coffee cup in the mornings. sometimes, he fell asleep with his hand resting on it, like holding onto your words might keep them from fading.

but he hadn’t read a single page.

not until now.

because a year and a half later, his heart finally felt steady enough to break again.

he exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing the indentation on the front—the faint ridges left from your handwriting pressed too hard against the cover, like your words wanted to bleed through.

“okay,” he whispered to himself, as if preparing for impact.

he opened the journal.

the first line didn’t just hit him—

it pulled him back in time.

jaemin is the warmth in my coffee cup.

the laugh that slipped from him was small, shaky, but real. his eyes stung.

“you really started with that, huh?” he said, huffing a breath that was almost a smile. he flipped slowly, carefully—like the pages were fragile bones that might snap under too much pressure. his hands trembled at first, then steadied, as if your voice in the ink was guiding him.

every page was you — your voice scrawled in messy handwriting. your heart tucked between sentences. your world captured in run-on thoughts and half-scribbles. there were doodles in the margins—tiny suns, coffee mugs, waves, little tiger paws. some pages were tear-stained. some wrinkled like they’d been clutched too tightly. some had music lyrics half-written, half-erased.

you wrote about school, the boys, prom night, fears about the future, the sunset on the beach that one night, the airport, the flickering lamp post at the park and—

him.

he saw himself everywhere.

not the version he thought he was. not the flawed, terrified, overly-careful boy who couldn’t choose love until it was too late.

but the way you saw him.

warmth.

comfort.

home.

his vision blurred. he blinked hard, but the tears kept forming. still—he kept reading. he read until his heart felt full and hollow all at once.

and then he reached the last entry.

the handwriting was different—shakier, thinner. letters leaning into each other like they needed support. like your hands had trembled while writing.

at the top, you had written:

for jaemin,

he swallowed hard, his chest tightening as he began to read.

i don’t really know where to start. there’s no version of this that feels right, and i’ve rewritten it so many times that the ink started bleeding through the page. maybe that’s fitting. maybe love is supposed to spill a little.

i think the simplest way to begin is with the truth….i’m sorry. i’m sorry for keeping this from you. i’m sorry for not telling you when i should have. i’m sorry for leaving the way i did. you didn’t deserve that. you never did. not then. not now. not ever.

i need you to know this. none of it was because i loved you any less. if anything, it was because i loved you too much. in that big, terrifying, once-in-a-lifetime way — the kind that makes you want to shield the other person from every ugly thing in the world, even if that ugly thing was me.

you’ve always been the best kind of person, jaem. the kind who makes the world softer just by being in it. you don’t even notice when you do it…you just breathe, and suddenly everything hurts a little less. i didn’t want to dim that light. not with hospitals and iv drips and the kind of exhaustion you can’t sleep off. i wanted you to keep your warmth. the same warmth that carried me through every laugh, every sleepless night, every heartbeat that hurt too much to hold alone.

i left because i was running out of time. and i was terrified that if you saw me breaking, you would break with me. i couldn’t bear the thought of your last memory of me being in a hospital room and a goodbye i wasn’t strong enough to say out loud.

if there is one thing i regret more than anything, it’s not giving you the chance to choose for yourself. i thought i was protecting you. maybe that was selfish. maybe it was cowardly. maybe it was both.

but please…go easy on jeno. he only kept my secret because i asked him to. begged, really. i didn’t want your eyes — the ones i loved more than anything — to look at me with pity, or fear, or that kind of sadness that never leaves a person. i wanted our last memory to stay warm, untouched, still blooming with all the possibilities we never got to live through. i wanted our last goodnight to feel like love, not like an ending.

you once told me that the world was bigger than us. and you were right. the world is bigger than us. and it should be. we weren’t meant to fit in just one place, or one moment, or one version of a future. but still…i hope, somewhere in that big world, i still take up a little space in your heart. not as a wound. not as the thing that broke you. just as someone you once loved.

and i hope when you think of me, you think of laughter. the kind that made your shoulders shake. sunlight on the beach. a sparkling disco ball. autumn leaves. and the smell of coffee in the early mornings.

i hope you remember the warmth.

i hope you remember the beginning more than the ending.

jaemin paused, jaw clenched, breath shaking. he swallowed, but it didn’t go down smoothly. he turned the page. the last lines were smaller. slower. like you had traced each word with care. like you were afraid to write your last one.

i often wonder…

if i’d kissed you that nigh at prom…would things be different?

i used to replay that moment over and over again in my head. the music, the lights, the way your hand kept brushing mine like you were waiting for a sign. i remember thinking, if i just take one step closer, everything in my life will change.

but here’s the truth i finally made peace with–

no.

i don’t think it would have changed anything.

i think no matter what happened that night, in every version of my life, i would have loved you exactly the same. the timeline didn’t matter. the kiss didn’t matter. the universe had already picked you for me.

so let’s throw that silly word away, huh, na jaemin?

no more hiding behind colors.

no more metaphors because i was too scared to say how i really felt.

no more oranges.

just the truth. the truth i should’ve said sooner, louder, clearer — while i still had time.

just….

i love you.

i love you in every lifetime i won’t get to live. i love you in every version of the future we never reached. i love you in the mornings we lost, the nights we missed, the years we won’t get. and if love has any echo after this life…if it lingers in places or people or memories…then i hope mine finds you every time the sky turns that soft, familiar shade of orange.

if that happens…

you’ll know it’s me.

the page blurred beyond recognition. his chest didn’t cave in this time. it expanded—painfully, beautifully, as if the words had finally given his grief a place to rest. he closed the journal slowly, letting his palm settle against the cover. the he pressed it to his heart.

for the first time in months, he smiled. a small, tired, honest smile. the kind that comes after surviving something you weren't sure you would.

“i love you too, tiger,” he whispered, voice steady. “always.”

a breeze passed through the cemetery then — gentle, warm, carrying the faint scent of lilies and rain. the clouds shifted, just enough for a break in the gray, and a soft spill of sunlight touched the grass, your gravestone, his hand.

it wasn’t bright.

but it was orange.

he exhaled, a soft, breathless laugh slipping out, tears sliding down his cheeks—not like collapse this time, but release.

he stayed there a while longer. one hand resting against your name. the other holding your journal—your words, your love, your forever.

and for the first time since you left, jaemin didn’t feel like you were gone.

he just felt you.

everywhere.

[juhooony]

#SECONDCHANCE ── ex!james x reader

SYN: messages with ex!james + a second chance?

#NoTEs ── CHAT WE BACKK 🙈🗣️ daniel caesars new album lowkey inspired this, #run it back season… anyways hope you enjoyy :3

[jirsungs]

mark lee has a HUGE crush on you!

friend!mark x fem!reader

congrats! mark lee, the ultimate loud and proud lover boy, has a huge crush on you! and while that's a good thing (and it is) he's heavily obvious and you're... well... heavily oblivious.

a/n: HELLO! this was just something random i decided to whip up since it's been awhile ): i had a big dose of motivation and went at it. there's big time skips between each conversation so apologies if it confused anyone! mwa mwa. thank you reading :]

also peek the small twinkling watermelon mention... i'm rewatching it for the 2nd time and i forgot how much i love it 😭😭😭😭

[lqfiles]

PAY THE PRICE — smau

after getting evicted out of your old place, you're left with no other choice but to look for a cheaper alternative. which is how you end up becoming neighbours with lee haechan, who has a passion for music and disturbing whatever peace and quiet there is.

or in which you found yourself a very nice apartment, the only issue? your neighbour is your friend's somewhat ex-situationship who won't stop playing his guitar at 2 am in the night.

neighbour!haechan x fem!reader

genre ; enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, probably slow burn, humour, neighbours au.

extras ; haechan is kinda an asshole | boy next door + likes everyone but you trope-ish | profanity and death jokes because they’re silly! | probably romantic tension | some mark x reader here and there | renjun and jaemin having their own e2bffs moment | probably inaccurate depiction of how someone would get evicted pls don’t shoot me 😅

notes ; i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan <333 idk i got nothing better to do now so i’ll just start this because i know i won’t be posting any of the other long fic wips any time soon 😭

PLAYLIST ; She , Tyler The Creator — For The Night , Chloe Bailey — IDK WHAT TO TELL YOU , Bktherula — Surprise , Chloe Bailey — I Wanna Be down , Brandy — Suite Life , FLO — Is It A Crime? , No Guidnce — Round&Round , NCT U .

STATUS ; completed! (18.02.25)

profiles (1) profiles (2)

intro

1 ) jaehyun’s trophy wife

2 ) free cookies (not really)

3 ) midnight disturbance

4 ) attempted murder?

5 ) THIS IS FAMILY

6 ) haechan’s second identity

7 ) kiss buddies and useless complaints

8 ) critically acclaimed idgaf veteran

9 ) founders keepers..?

10 ) yangyang’s new interest (y/n)

11 ) a late welcome party

12 ) invest in a cage jaemin

13 ) cat fight (REAL)

14 ) the cure to a lack of sleep = cup pong

15 ) who said quiet guys can’t be freaky?

16 ) you got a girlfriend?

17 ) i DO have a girlfriend

18 ) this is life, i love life..

19 ) nah. they fucking.

20 ) let’s play apex?

21 ) whole house mad

22 ) drunken regrets

23 ) he’s got to be fucking with me..

24 ) a sincere apology letter (kinda)

25 ) are we cool or not?

26 ) we’re good (for real)

27 ) a personal guitar lesson

28 ) LIVE TWEETING YNHAE MOMENTS

29 ) a moment of vulnerability

30 ) friendly q&a between friends

31 ) that’s strange.. that’s weird..

32 ) solution to job loss = family guy (???)

33 ) what has jaehyun done for society?

34 ) ynhae bonding activity hours

35 ) an unwanted double date with yangyang

36 ) an overwhelming realisation

37 ) the universe can kill itself

38 ) a “what are we” conversation

39 ) i got that hair too, kinda

40 ) reviewing haechan’s tweet and new issues

41 ) diagnosed with the crush disease

42 ) putting your satisfaction first

43 ) some girl talk with mark.. this diva..

44 ) girls day gone WRONG

45 ) homies before hoemies

46 ) #BringBackGenderNorms2024

47 ) no one but us

48 ) the words of the DEVIL

49 ) remove the fake from life

50 ) y/n and jaemin would’ve loved this

51 ) you’re a queen and he’s just.. there

52 ) we are sooooo fixing this

53 ) spiritual connection attempts

54 ) satanic mind manipulation

55 ) cucklord

56 ) when you kinda gaf

57 ) when you been thuggin it out for so long

58 ) a second try

59 ) be careful who you call OOMF

60 ) the paid price

BONUS:

TBA . . .

TAGLIST is closed

[miabebe]

Too Many Beds (Choi Seungcheol)

Reverse Trope Series Installement 1

Pairing - Choi Seungcheol x afab! Reader

Word Count- 13k (don't ask me how I thought I could do this in 2k)

Genre - Enemies to lovers? Frenemies to lovers? Lovers to lovers? Idk man, these two are idiots, that's all. Oh and smut.

Warnings - one mention of blood cause of intense make out wew, other smut warnings under the cut!

A/n - I'm trying to do a Reverse Trope one shot series for all seventeen members, first up Choi Seungcheol :) Next up is 'Accidentally Kidnapping A Mafia Boss' Ft. Yoon Jeonghan hehe send me an ask/message to be tagged in that! Or you can also drop a comment when I drop the teaser in a few days!

Smut warnings - oral (m and f receiving), fingering, brief face fucking, thick dick cheol lol, slight choking, allusions to a breeding kink, unprotected sex (these two are digustingly in love, extremely horny and highly irresponsible, please don't be like them), creampie, mention of the word slut like once, and I'm hoping that's all?

“Absolutely not.”

“No way in hell.”

Seungcheol glared at you as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I’m not sharing a room with him.”

“I refuse to even breathe in her vicinity.”

“Then maybe I should do mankind a service by being around you more.”

“The only way you can help mankind is by shutting your mouth.” Seungcheol leaned closer, his voice dropping. “You’re not pretty enough for all the stupidity that comes out of it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Rich coming from you. If I had a face like yours, I’d sue my parents.”

“Aw, fifth graders can insult better than you, sweetheart.”

“That was a fact, darling.”

“Ah” The two of you turned to the receptionist, finally remembering her presence as her eyes flickered between you and Seungcheol. “So, the two of you are dating?”

Looking at her incredulously and with unadulterated disgust, the two of you immediately took a step back.

“No!”

“No!”

“I’d rather stub my pinky toe on furniture everyday than date her-”

“And I’d rather choke on my own spit everyday than date him-”

“Oh baby, I knew you were a desperate one. I can give you something better to choke on-”

“Honey, are you sure? I heard you can stack fruit loops on that skinny thing-”

“Enough!” The old woman behind the counter got to her feet, putting her hands on her hips, the never-ending squabbling finally getting to her. “If either of you say another word, I will personally put you both in the tiniest broom closet I can find and trust me, the ones in this lodge are devastatingly small.”

You immediately shut up, dreading that idea more than anything. Seungcheol too became uncharacteristically and thankfully, quiet.

“Now, as far as your room is concerned, your company booked only one room, number-” She glanced at the paper in her hand and pulled out a pair of keys from the drawer. “- 68. If you can bear each other for 4 nights, well and good, get moving. If not, then take your things and get out of here. Good luck finding another lodge in this miserable weather.”

And as though on cue, a bright light, followed by a loud thunder flooded the room, taking all three of its inhabitants aback.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Seungcheol visibly gulp, well aware of his fear of thunder. Seungcheol too heard the way you sniffled, knowing that your rhinitis would only get worse with the humidity rising outside.

Sighing with the realization that there was no way out of this, both of you reached for the keys at the same time, making the old woman snatch it faster than the damn lightning to avoid yet another fight from breaking out. Ringing for the bellboy, she handed him the keys before he took your suitcase and Seungcheol’s bag in each hand, leading the way to your despair of the night.

Seungcheol followed quietly behind you, hands tucked in his pocket, his large headphones perched on his head as he swayed to the music, blatantly ignoring you. You were thankful for that. Since you were little children, you had always craved moments where you could pretend like this man didn’t exist. Why wouldn’t you? Everything about him was a pain in your ass.

You first met Seungcheol when you were five. Your fathers were college mates turned business partners and coincidentally, your mothers were best friends since high school. Naturally, everyone expected the children of both families to be just as close as their parents but alas, even at the age of five, you could not bear him for more than five minutes. He was so aggressive and unruly, always messing up your dolls, always pulling your hair, never giving you a second of peace when he was around. Albeit that behaviour got milder over the years but there were other things now.

Like the fact that your father always preferred to have a boy, a son who could be his heir, someone like Seungcheol. It wasn’t like he didn’t love you but a different side of him came out every time Seungcheol was around, a side not even you could bring out. He would laugh louder, his eyes would shine more, he would seem so carefree. Seungcheol too never missed the chance to rub that on your face, constantly sneering and claiming that your father would be happier if he was a part of the family.

Over the years, your displeasure and annoyance at Seungcheol only grew into a deep dislike. As though it wasn’t enough that the two of you did your entire schooling together (yes, all twelve years of it), he was always present anywhere and everywhere you went - the debate club, the swim team, the dance academy, the cafes, the libraries, the movies - there was no place you were free of him. Ever since you were young, you had longed to escape to a place far away from home just to be carefree and explore and reinvent yourself without the constant looming of a figment of your past. You had hoped that at least after school you’d have the chance to go away from him but as your luck would have it, the two of you were accepted into the same business school, were interning in the same company, were working on the same project, and had come out of town for the same three-day conference together. It was one thing to have to bear this man’s presence all day, now you had to do it all night as well, thanks to your cheapskate company.

As you got in the lift Seungcheol held the doors open for you before settling in the corner opposite yours, keeping as much distance in between as possible. The bell boy looked at both of you confused.

“I thought the two of you are dating?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes, and fished out your phone, scrolling through it instead.

Seungcheol glanced at you before scoffing at the absurd idea of dating you. He wasn’t foreign to that doubt though – people often wondered if they were together and Seungcheol wondered what on earth they saw between them that even resembled a speck of liking or even tolerance for one another.

Seungcheol had honestly not met anyone as stuck up as you. He never understood why his parents constantly considered you as the ideal role model for their son - ‘Look Cheol, she joined debate, you should too’, ‘She got selected in the swim team, you should try Cheol.’, ‘What do you think about dancing Cheol? She’s really good at it.’. Seungcheol was sick of being dragged into everything you were in, only to always be second. He hated debates, he would rather play football than swim, and though he liked to dance, ever since he joined the academy with you, even dancing was not giving him any solace.

Yet he gave his best all the time. He tried and tried and tried but he was always second to you who was evidently a natural at everything. For example, back in the school days, Seungcheol would almost get the same grades as you but at the cost of sacrificing nights of sleep and putting hours and hours into teaching himself. Meanwhile, you would breeze through the notes a day before the test, get a full 8-hour sleep and still score higher than him. As if that wasn’t enough, you’d invite him home, offering to “tutor” him only to constantly berate him about his ignorance, drop snide comments about how you were better, subtly challenge him in a battle that the both of you were well aware he could not win.

No wonder you had no friends while Seungcheol was as popular as could be - who would even want to be friends with you when you were always so cold and condescending towards anything that moved or breathed. If your parents weren’t joined at the hip, forcing Seungcheol to be a constant presence in your life, he wondered who would ever even talk to you? You should have been thankful for him, that he was the one human presence in your life who was always there despite it all, yet you treated him like he was beneath you. He had hoped that at least after graduating the two of you could part ways but the universe apparently loved playing cosmic jokes, putting the two of you together yet again, at the same workplace. And completely up in each other’s space for the next few days as well.

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t ever shared a room before - whenever your parents would meet up at each other’s house to drink and talk all night, the two of you had no choice but to crash in the same room, sharing the same bed even but thank God it was usually queen size, allowing the both of you to take two opposite ends, not even your breaths mingling. It had been years since that though…..Seungcheol felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back. He had no idea how he was to spend tonight in this room. Or the next few ones.

Neither did you.

As all three of you stood before the door and the bellboy fumbled with the keys, you glanced at Seungcheol. He looked unbothered as one could be. Perhaps you were overthinking this whole thing. It was a matter of four nights, surely the two of you could at least try to be courteous right?

“What in the...?”

Seungcheol’s voice rang in the empty corridor and you leaned to see what had him so shocked. Your own jaw dropped in a strange mixture of surprise, confusion, and relief.

Room 68 was no average hotel room. It was as big as the entire lobby, 7 heavily pillowed and blanketed single beds aligned from one end to the other almost military barrack style, only small bedside tables putting space between them.

“Room 68 is uh our bachelorette party suite.” The bellboy clarified. “For, you know, those big groups of girls who are hell bent on partying all night together?” He looked away like he was recalling a horrifying memory. “Since it’s holiday season, the lodge is booked out, this was the only room we had left. Is... is it not good?”

Seungcheol looked at you and for the first time in nearly 25 years, the two of you could finally agree on something.

“No.” You stepped in. “It’s perfect.”

It had been years since you had seen Seungcheol half-naked.

Well, you frequently saw him during swim practice in those tight speedo shorts of his, ass all plump and taut but you were not talking about that. You were referring to the sight before you right now, him with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his wet hair falling into his eyes as he searched for something in his bag frantically – most likely his aftershave. You knew he must have cleaned up given the conference was starting tomorrow and also that his cheeks were burning because you couldn’t smell the subtle cinnamon spice aftershave that usually followed in his routine.

Seungcheol strangely felt a pair of eyes on him as he rummaged through his things and suddenly remembered he was not alone in the room. He quickly turned, looking for you, finding you curled up in your bed, writing in what he guessed was your journal, unbothered by his presence. You were wearing that cute nightgown with little tomatoes drawn all over it which Seungcheol found funny given how much you hated tomatoes with all your heart and soul. Realising he had been looking for too long, Seungcheol gulped, quickly grabbing the aftershave he finally found and rushed back into the bathroom.

You flinched as you heard the door of the bathroom slam shut, looking up from your journal. Shaking your head exasperated, you returned to your writing. Seungcheol always handled things around him roughly like he was just not built to be gentle - slamming doors hard, breaking at least one coffee mug a month, causing rips in most of his clothes when he would gym because he was so big…. And muscular…. And built…..You bit the back of your pen thinking about how good he looked in his gym wear but if you were being honest, he looked best in a suit.

He’s going to be wearing one tomorrow.

You snapped out of your thoughts realizing you were entering dangerous waters and turned your attention back to your writing. Seungcheol made that process slightly harder as he walked out, furiously rubbing his towel against the back of his head, dressed in a black t-shirt and grey sweats.

As he sat down on his bed, he looked at you sitting six beds across, all the way in the other end of the room, right by the window. The moment the two of you entered the room, he took bed 1, the one against the wall and you took bed 7, the one against the opposite wall, putting the maximum possible distance between the two of you. He let you use the bathroom first, not because he knew you preferred using it when it is dry but because he thought this was the best time for him to call his parents and wish them goodnight….. even though it was still 7:30.

He showered after you did but even now, despite being so far from you, he could still smell your bodywash, the fragrance of lilies, the mildest kind because strong fragrances irritated your sensitive nose. Throwing his towel on the chair he kicked his legs off the floor and lied on the bed, turning to the wall, hearing the faint annoyed click of a tongue. Seungcheol knew exactly what triggered it - you hated it when he tossed damp towels like that. But honestly, he couldn't care less right now, not when there were more important things to deal with tomorrow, not when he was so tired already.

You shut your journal, irritated by his behaviour remembering exactly why being in the same vicinity as this man infuriated you. Flipping the lights off and pulling the covers over your shivering body, you realigned your thoughts towards your goal - Tomorrow’s conference was crucial. You had to look your best and do your best so clocking in 8 hours of sleep was the priority, Choi Seungcheol's character development be damned.

But as you lied down turning towards the window, lightning flashed across the sky, a loud thunder following. You turned to see Seungcheol and his back was facing you, the outline of his figure moving up and down rhythmically like he was already in a deep sleep. Slightly relieved yet still unconvinced, you turned towards him before the sleep and tiredness took you away.

Seungcheol simply stared at the wall all night.

Seungcheol most definitely did not sleep all night.

You could tell by the fact that one, he was up without you waking him and two, he was not there in the room right now. That meant he was out for a run which in turn meant his face must have been all swollen which definitely meant he didn’t get enough sleep. You did notice though that his bedding had shifted from bed 1 to bed 2 and guessed it was because of the coldness of the wall - Seungcheol had the habit of tossing and turning at night and there was nothing he hated more than his bare skin accidentally brushing the cold walls. Considering you were still five beds away from him, you ignored it as you went to wash up and prepare for the day.

When he saw the time on his watch as he finished his last lap, Seungcheol realised he was way behind schedule and that you probably were already at breakfast, sitting with a dozen snide remarks, waiting for him. True enough, as he quickly showered, dressed, and headed down to the buffet, you were there already, going through the proposal, the plate beside you nearly empty. Quickly grabbing a piece of toast and stuffing it in his mouth he walked over, putting on his suit jacket in a hurry. As you saw him approach, you shut your laptop, looking at him top to down in an ensemble that fit him all too well. Seungcheol’s eyes wandered over the pretty way you did your hair, and the plunging neckline of your blouse, a sliver of your pink bra peeking from underneath the fabric-

Both of you cleared your throats and looked away.

“We should leave, the cab should be here in-” He glanced at his watch. “-should have been here ten minutes ago, fuck.”

“It’ll be here in ten.” You pushed a cup of coffee towards him, looking at him pointedly to take a seat. Seungcheol glanced at it then back at you.

“You changed the time on my watch.” He huffed annoyed. “Again.”

“Glad to know you are still capable of basic comprehension.”

“You vile woman.” Seungcheol gritted between his teeth, sitting down. “I showered so fast I thought I was going to pass out.”

“But you didn’t.” You shrugged. “And learn to be grateful Seungcheol, you’re only ever on time when I meddle, so say thanks to me.”

“I’d rather die before I thank you.” He took a sip of the coffee before the extreme bitterness hit his tongue, making him spit it out right back into the cup. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“You did say you’d rather die.”

“Fuck you.”

“I know ten minutes is more than enough for you but personally, I prefer longer.”

Every single time. Every single time you flashed him that sweet, mocking smile and every single time it pushed his buttons like no other. One day he swore to put you in your place but right now he was too low on energy for that.

Well aware that you loved strawberries more than anything, he grabbed the last one on your plate and walked off to the taxi stand, ignoring the way you whined behind him.

“Oh, real mature of you Choi Seungcheol!”

You knew in your stress about perfecting the proposal early in the morning you had forgotten something important and the moment you stepped into the room that night, you knew exactly what that was.

To close the windows.

Thanks to the pouring rain, the water had drenched your entire bed, not to forget, your bag full of your clothes which was conveniently placed right on the mattress, soaking nearly every piece of clothing you owned. Thank God the laundry in the lodge said they would handle it for you so you still had an outfit for tomorrow’s conference but there were still two major concerns - one, what to wear tonight and two, where to sleep tonight.

You solved the first problem (almost) by grabbing your umbrella and heading to the nearest clothing store as instructed by the receptionist only to find out it sold barely any ‘cloth’ at all. It was an adult shop, filled majorly with lingerie of all kinds which were aiming to cover as little as possible. Groaning inwardly, knowing you didn’t have a phone on you to go any further in this weather, you grabbed the most decent nightgown you could find and rushed back.

A hot shower, a change of clothes and a quick meal later you decided to deal with your second problem, moving your things from bed 7 to 6, not too displeased considering there were still three beds between the two of you. You glanced at Seungcheol’s empty bed and then at the time - it was well past 10. Sighing, you settled under the covers pulling out your journal to write but got lost in your thoughts instead.

You were pretty proud of what you presented today - people praised you, congratulated you for a well drafted proposal and even went so far as to offer you jobs in their company. Yet you were not satisfied. Somehow, the one thing constantly running in your mind was the swarm of women who had flocked around Seungcheol the moment the conference was done, ‘mindlessly’ touching his arms, ‘casually’ brushing their chests against his, ‘genuinely’ laughing too hard at whatever bullshit came out of his mouth.

This was not new to you, Choi Seungcheol being the centre of attention wherever he went. He enjoyed it, basked in it, and chose to make a show of it whenever he got a chance. It was all so fake and superficial; you could not bear to stand it. That’s why even though everyone decided to go out for dinner and drinks tonight, yes, all twenty-seven of them, you politely said goodbye citing a headache and took a cab back. You were not interested in casual conversation and definitely not interested in seeing Seungcheol’s pathetic flirting.

Just as you begin to relish his absence and the beautiful silence that came with it, a loud knocking on the door and his voice screaming your name ended your perfect night. Grumbling, you opened the door to a fully drenched Seungcheol looking absolutely frazzled.

“What the hell-”

He stopped when his eyes fell on you dressed in a white floor length satin gown, the material seductively clinging to the curves of your body, your leg slightly visible between the slit. You crossed your arms to cover yourself up, feeling conscious under his gaze as he gulped audibly.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He met your eyes, a slight worry flashing behind the anger. “You just disappeared without letting me know-”

“I told you I was leaving.” You walked into the room rolling your eyes. “Maybe if you could see something beyond all that pathetic fangirling you’d have heard.”

“Fangirling?” He looked genuinely confused, following you in as he stripped off his jacket. You tried your best to not stare at the way his pecs were so perfectly outlined under the wet shirt sticking to his body but Seungcheol caught you peering, his features lighting up with amusement.

“Would you look at that?” He smirked. “Someone is jealous.”

“Please.” You scoffed. “I wouldn’t be jealous even if we were the last people on Earth.”

“Obviously, if we were the last people, who would you even be jealous of?”

You sighed. “You know what I mean.”

“I actually don't, sweetheart. If a little action is all you want, you can just ask for it you know?”

“Funny coming from a guy who kissed me just because another man was talking to me.”

The first tea break of the conference had led to an introduction that was surprising to you considering people did not really tend to approach you on their own. It was even more shocking that this man chose to speak to you in the lunch break as well, completely unprompted. He was sweet, not egging you too much with conversation, simply limiting it to work and the conference and then Choi Seungcheol appeared out of nowhere, snaking an arm around your waist, uninvited. Before you could glare at him and send him away, he planted a soft kiss on your cheek, excused himself and led you away from there, only to abandon you the very next second without an explanation.

“You call that a kiss?” Seungcheol scoffed. “You were so swept off your feet, you were this close to spilling details on our quotation for the project. That was actually me shutting you up.”

“Oh yeah?” You raised an eyebrow. “If you really wanted to shut me up, then you should have kissed me on the mouth.”

Seungcheol stared at you wordlessly.

As you began to walk away, he pulled you by the elbow, putting you against the wall, trapping you between his hands on either side.

“Is that how?” He leaned closer, the scent of his cologne taking over your senses. “Because there is nothing I’d love to do more than shut you up.” He cocked his head with a small smile. “And maybe also show you what a kiss really is.”

You tried not to gulp the phantom lump in your throat, cheeks suddenly hot under his gaze. Somehow, as though it had a mind of its own, your hand traced his exposed collar bone, trailing down his chest slowly, eyes following. Seungcheol held his breath under your touch. You stopped your tracks at his hard pecs, right above his heart beating just as fast as yours and looked up at him.

And then twisted his nipple.

Shrieking in pain, Seungcheol stumbled back, clutching his chest.

“What the hell mate?”

You walked towards your bed, grabbing your matching satin night robe and slipping it on. “It's ridiculous that you even think you of all people could show me a real kiss.”

“You forget sweetheart, I was your first one.”

You turned to Seungcheol as he brought up a memory you had actually done a great job forgetting. It was during your senior year - your parents had forced you to accompany Seungcheol to a house party so you could “get more involved in the social scene” instead of holing yourself up in your room all the time. It was a classic game of truth or dare and the worst dare of your life - to kiss Seungcheol for a minute.

Now the last thing you wanted to hear was him teasing you every day about how you were too scared to kiss him so you held him by the collar and pulled yourself into his lap straddling him, your mouth meeting his in a frenzy. If you were being honest, something about that kiss served as your sexual awakening - maybe it was the way he moaned into your mouth, or his hands gripped your ass, or hands entangled in his soft hair or your chest pressed up against his. Whatever it was, there was a video of it that your classmates took circulating somewhere out there, timed around five and a half minutes as opposed to the one minute it was supposed to be.

“Don’t take too much pride in yourself Cheol.” You sat on the bed, leaning back on your hands planted in the mattress. “Only I know how many other guys I had to kiss after that to know what kissing truly is.”

Seungcheol felt his jaw tighten.

Something in you had changed in junior year. Yes, you were still the same antisocial, inhospitable, unapproachable person you always were but somehow every other day, he found you in a new location with a new guy's tongue shoved down your throat. They were not boyfriends, Seungcheol knew that much, and it was the fact that they weren't that made his blood boil with anger.

“You shouldn’t take pride in yourself either sweetheart.” He looked at you with a strange mixture of anger and pity. “There's nothing to feel accomplished about not forming a single real bond in your life.”

The moment the words left his mouth Seungcheol regretted it, knowing he had hit a soft spot. It was too late now; the damage was done - pain was flashing in your eyes.

You looked at the insensitive man before you and laughed at him sadly, mirroring his hurtful words.

“No real bond? I’m afraid you filled that void Seungcheol. Hate forms really strong bonds too.”

And with that you turned away from him, tucking yourself under the sheets, turning off the lights on your side of the room. Grabbing his towel and a change of clothes, Seungcheol locked himself up in the bathroom, your words piercing his heart like no other. Over the years yes, the two of you argued and fought and annoyed each other and couldn’t stand one another but hate? He didn’t ever think that’s what you felt for him. Perhaps he deserved it - he had after all crossed a line with that comment.

He knew you had always struggled around people. He knew that even though you detested taking his help for anything, in every social setting, you would always choose to hide behind him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to interact, you just couldn’t. You were a sick child since birth, constantly brought down by various illnesses that often confined you to your room - you didn’t go out to play with the other children, you didn’t join the kids on their trips to the ice cream shop, you didn’t go late night camping with your classmates, you didn’t do a lot of what kids your age did.

And when you were old enough, when you were healthy enough to step out into the world, you didn’t know how to anymore. Hence you continued to stay in your own shell, closing yourself off from everyone, wary of any and all interactions. Seungcheol knew all this, that’s why when he couldn't lay his eyes on you in the crowd of the conference, the panic he felt was like no other. He never thought he would ever feel his heart stop but Seungcheol felt it twice today - once when he lost you and the other when you said that. I’m afraid you filled that void Seungcheol. Hate forms really strong bonds too.

You stared out of the window, mildly annoyed by all the light falling in your face, Seungcheol’s words ringing in your ears. It might have sounded harsh but he was right. You never formed real bonds with anyone, you could never bring yourself to. Having spent years all by yourself, you didn’t know what it was like to let another person into a space that was entirely yours. That’s why, though you engaged in all sorts of flings and hookups, you never let it go beyond that - you never let yourself lose your heart to someone, walking away from them before they could walk away from you.

In that sense, Seungcheol was indeed the realest bond you had - just a constantly present, mildly irritating, oddly comforting white noise in your life. It was easy with him - you never had to think in his presence, you never had to wonder whether anything would drive him away, never had to worry about keeping him by your side unconditionally - he was always there. Somehow what you felt for Seungcheol was liberating in a way you hadn’t even realized. Hate could hardly define that; you were unnecessarily harsh earlier.

Seungcheol stepped out of the bathroom, eyes falling on your unmoving figure which he just realized was on bed 6 instead of 7. Noticing the damp sheets and piecing it together, he didn’t think too much of it as he switched off the lights and crawled into his bed.

Hearing the sounds of him shuffling, you turned towards him.

“Are you not going for the dinner?”

“It’s too late now. I would have eaten there if I didn’t have to run back here to check up on you.”

“You could have just called me.”

“I did.” He turned to you, looking at just your silhouette in the darkness. “A few hundred times.”

You checked your phone immediately and it wasn’t a hundred times but there were some fifty odd calls from him and two dozen messages.

“I put my phone on silent during the conference and forgot to take it off.” You mumbled, just a little guilty that he was missing out on a gathering because of you. “Did you at least eat?”

“I’m not hungry, thanks to all the Americanos you kept feeding me all day.”

“If not for that, you would have been snoring in the conference barely an hour after it began.” You turned to lie on your back, facing the ceiling. “And I wouldn’t have had to do that if you’d just obediently drank that double shot espresso in the morning.”

Seungcheol remembered you sliding the coffee cup to him and smiled to himself in the dark.

“Then maybe you should also listen to me and stop munching on those strawberries every chance you get, especially when you know they flare your allergies.”

You remembered Seungcheol gobbling up the last berry and smiled to yourself in the dark.

“Goodnight, you obnoxious prick.”

“Goodnight, you insufferable fiend."

When you woke up in the morning, two things had changed - one, Seungcheol had moved from bed 2 to bed 3 in the middle of the night and two, his shirt was gone, discarded somewhere in the mess on the floor. He was lying sprawled on his bare stomach, his back covered in a thin sheet of sweat, his tattoo shining as the light hit it. Ignoring the sight before you with much difficulty, you shook him awake.

“Get up Cheol, we’re going to be late.”

He groaned, rolling over, eyes slowly blinking open, falling on you first thing in the morning. Even though you were dressed in the sultriest thing he had ever seen on you, Seungcheol controlled himself and tore his eyes away.

“The radiator is right across the other bed; I was literally burning all night.” He mumbled, stretching awake, justifying his move.

You turned towards it noticing how it was in fact between bed two and three, closer to three than two to be honest. Considering Seungcheol was still drenched in sweat, his move in the middle of the night was actually quite pointless, but you chose not to say anything about it. Quickly washing up, the two of you rushed for breakfast, skimming over the presentation notes one last time. Today, neither of you noticed but Seungcheol drank the coffee and you didn’t eat the strawberries.

Day two went by in a flash much like day one. Only this time, you didn’t talk to the gentleman from yesterday, choosing to sit quietly by Seungcheol in the break and he didn’t leave your side either, regardless of all the ladies calling him to join them. In the evening, as the team headed to the city’s best karaoke bar, inviting you and Seungcheol again, Seungcheol brushed them off claiming the two of you had a little more work to do on the proposal. To his surprise, you shot him down, agreeing to join everyone, looking at him with a small smile.

“Don’t be such a killjoy darling.”

Seungcheol knew you were compensating for last night so he followed, well aware that you would most likely want to leave the moment the singing started. Well, he was almost right - you actually wanted to leave the moment you stepped foot into the room, turning to him with pleading eyes. Seungcheol turned you by your shoulder, laughing as he led you in.

“Don’t be such a killjoy sweetheart.”

You sat patiently as the beers poured in and people around you fought for the photobooth props. Seungcheol was sitting right beside you, his thigh a comforting weight against yours, laughing with everyone. As the night progressed, you had downed a beer or two, a slight buzz taking over, not noticing the way Seungcheol had his arm around you now or that you were warmly cuddled against his torso. Soon, one by one, everyone settled on the couches, tired from all the screaming, resorting to chatter instead and deciding on an old-fashioned game of truth or dare. Seungcheol smirked at you and you turned his face away with a soft push.

“So Seungcheol,” The man beside him spoke. “Truth or dare?”

“Neither actually. We should leave now.” He stood, pulling you up, stumbling slightly. “I’ve had too much to drink and it's late, Y/n needs to sleep.”

“Didn’t realize wacky wallflower here also had the bedtime of a toddler.” One of Seungcheol’s many fangirls piqued, jealousy stark on her face. “We can book her a cab, why don’t you stay a little longer, Cheolie?”

You raised an eyebrow, amused at the nickname, and at her jealousy but Seungcheol did not find anything about her words even remotely funny.

“No thanks, I go where she goes.”

“I thought you guys weren’t dating? Then why-”

“That doesn’t change what I said.” His voice dropped an octave. “I go where she goes.”

“Cheol.” You placed a hand on his chest, sensing his anger rising. “It’s fine, let’s stay for a few rounds, yeah?”

Seungcheol looked at you frowning as you sat down, pulling him with you. The girl you already disliked but quite vehemently hate now, spun the bottle with a giggle.

“We don’t have to stay.” Seungcheol whispered as the guy beside you excitedly asked the one across him a question. “You stayed long enough, you need sleep-”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m not.” He spoke between gritted teeth. “Just looking at that foul woman makes me mad. I already said I wasn’t interested in her, she had no reason to be a bitch.”

“Well then don’t you want to put the bitch in her place Cheol?”

You looked at him with big doe eyes which terrified Seungcheol even more. What on Earth were you up to?

“Y/n, you get to ask Yuri!”

You looked at the bottle to see it pointing between you and your little conquest of the night. Hook.

“Truth or dare?” Line.

“Dare.” And Sinker.

“Okay Yuri, then I dare you to not take your eyes off.”

You pulled Seungcheol by the collar, smashing your lips on his, swallowing his audible moan. His hands immediately found your waist, pulling you closer, up against his body, teeth roughly tugging your lower lip. Hand sliding up his neck and across his jaw, you entangled your fingers in his hair, drawing him even closer denying even air the right to come between the two of you. Yes, it was all a show for Yuri or whatever her name was, but at a point, she stomped her foot and got up, running out of the room. Perhaps the two of you should have stopped then or at least when you were running out of breath. But you only broke apart when someone dropped a beer bottle, smashing the glass loudly on the floor. Seungcheol and you looked at it, faces flushed, lips swollen. A low whistle echoed in the room.

“We-” Seungcheol cleared his throat, trying to get his voice back. “We should get going.”

“Y-yeah.” You agreed, getting up and grabbing your things as Seungcheol smoothened his hair with his hand, muttering a small goodbye to everyone. As the two of you stepped out of the room, you found Yuri crying at the entrance, her friend trying her best to console her. Not sparing her another glance, you walked away, Seungcheol following you close behind. As the cold air hit you when you reached the taxi stand, you felt a painful sting on your lower lip, making you hiss. Hand cupping your face, Seungcheol wiped the trickle of blood with his thumb.

“Guess you desperately did need a real kiss huh?”

“Shut up.” You smacked his hand away. “I had to help the poor girl get over her pathetic taste in men.”

“By getting a taste of me?” Seungcheol smirked as you rolled your eyes. Before you could say anything, his stomach let out a loud growl making you laugh and look around, spotting a burger joint.

“Let’s get you a taste of that big boy.”

“Sometimes I wonder-” You stared out of the window at the large clouds rolling in. “-considering our parents are best friends and we are not, do you think our children would be good friends or enemies?”

“Wow, children.” Seungcheol munched on his burger furiously. “I never thought that far.”

“Then think about it now.”

“I don’t know.” He hummed. He hated thinking when he was tipsy. “Siblings tend to have a love-hate relationship.”

“I was talking about our children Seungcheol.”

“So was I.”

“No, I mean, my own children and your own children.”

“Yeah, same thing.”

You looked at him exasperatedly.

“Let’s be honest here Y/n. Who else out there can put up with us for long enough to start a family?”

“We can barely put up with each other-”

“But we have, for almost 25 years.” He slurped on his drink. “There’s a reason why you have never been in a relationship and I have never been in one that lasts. Because whatever it is we share, it’s you and I, till the end.”

“Till the end.” You muttered, reaching for his burger, taking a bite from it. Judging by your expression, Seungcheol could tell you liked his better, like you always do. That’s why he made sure to get it without the tomatoes he usually loved and settled to eat your meal instead. He was just about to ask why exactly you were so lost in thought when a loud thunder boomed across the sky sending a shiver running down Seungcheol’s spine.

Shoving the last of the burger down your throat quickly washing it down with some soda, you began gathering your things.

“We should go before the rain starts.”

Seungcheol nodded, finishing up his meal as you threw the trash in the nearby can. As the two of you left, muttering your thank yous to the waitresses, you laced your fingers with Seungcheol’s, gripping him tight as another lightning flashed across the sky. Thank God it wasn’t too hard to flag down a cab because the moment the two of you sat inside, rain began pouring like there was no tomorrow. As you glanced at the obscurity outside the window, Seungcheol stared at his hand, the one that you hadn’t left in all this time.

There were times when he used to stay over in your room, unable to sleep due to all the thundering while you dozed away oblivious to his presence. Those days, you’d turn around, reaching for his hand, holding it in your sleep. Seungcheol now wondered if that might have been a conscious effort to comfort him.

Perhaps not he thought as you began to nonchalantly hum his favourite song. He wondered if you knew he loved that piece because of how beautiful you looked when you danced to it. He wondered if you knew that the reason he was always around you was to make sure you were alright. He wondered if you knew he always carried an extra inhaler for you, that he had written a long list of your allergies in order from ‘can handle’ to ‘keep away from at all times’, that he was constantly alert about everything you ate, smelt and touched. He wondered if you knew, deep down how much he cared about you…..but sleep dragged him away before he could wonder anymore.

Sensing Seungcheol had fallen asleep, you stopped humming, turning to him, smiling at his half open mouth. Scooting closer, you slowly pulled his head to rest against your shoulder, and he groaned softly, nuzzling into it. The driver looked at the two of you through the rear-view mirror, making your cheeks go red as you looked away.

“Is your boyfriend afraid of thunderstorms?”

You nodded, ignoring the title. “Since he was a child. I don’t think he’s been sleeping too well the last few days.”

“The forecast shows it’s going to be worse today.” The driver sighed. “Look out for him.”

You nodded again. You did look out for him. In your own ways you always did - you always challenged him knowing that was what pushed him to do better. You always made sure to wake him up or at least meddle with his clocks so he was always on time. You always made sure he ate and slept enough, knowing how it threw him off whenever he was deprived of either. Even now you were humming his favourite song knowing it calmed him down. You wondered if Seungcheol knew, that deep down you really cared about him…..perhaps more than anything.

When the taxi reached the lodge, you softly shook him awake after paying, dragging his sleepy self through the lobby. The receptionist's eyes followed the two of you, stumbling away hand in hand, mouth curling into a small smile as you disappeared. You only let his hand go when you reached the room and that’s what jolted him awake.

The silence that descended the room today was different. It wasn’t because the two of you were too tired to say anything to each other, rather neither of you knew what exactly to say given there was so much to. So instead, you resorted to washing up and filling in your journal for the day while Seungcheol worked on a few changes in the proposal for the final pitch tomorrow. Just as he shut the laptop and you shut your diary, the two of you looked at each other before quickly looking away, settling in your own beds, for the night.

You were almost ready to drift off to sleep, before the driver’s words rang in your mind - the forecast shows it’s going to be worse today. Without thinking much, you moved your things from bed 6 to bed 5, muttering that the light from the streetlamps was falling in your face there. Seungcheol did not point out that you could just close the curtains instead and curled up in his own bed, glad you were closer to him now.

He looked at you across the one bed that was in between and suddenly you felt too far, like the distance was too much.

You looked at him as his eyes fluttered shut, thunder rumbling across the sky, wondering if he could hear you across all this space, humming louder than usual, lulling the two of you to sleep.

When you woke up, Seungcheol was surprisingly awake and fully dressed, trying to knot his tie unsuccessfully in front of the mirror, expression focused with a small pout. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you stared at his reflection, eyes skimming over the beautiful features of his face which you never really consciously admired - his thick hair, thicker eyebrows, plump, pillowy lips, his jawline sharp and chiselled. He was indeed handsome, in a way you really liked….a lot.

You wondered why you always looked at him like he was the bane of your existence. Was it because it was easier to bury the unresolved tension under pointless banter? Or did you wantonly show him your worst side, hoping it wouldn’t scare him away, hoping he would stay despite every flaw, every shortcoming. What did it mean if in 25 years, he didn’t leave even once?

Seungcheol groaned, annoyed at his futile attempts, eyes finally meeting yours in the mirror. You slid off your bed, walking up to him as he turned to you. Yawning, you took his tie in your hands, tying it for him. Seungcheol’s eyes drifted over the features of your face as he held his breath.

He could get used to this, the sight of waking up to a sleepy you, your hair all over the place, your eyes slightly droopy, nose red. God you were so beautiful - he knew that, but why didn’t he ever think about it? Why did he choose to fight every remote thought about you with irritating banter? Was he scared that the tension would remain unresolved? And what did it mean if you were still here, right by his side, helping him out in everything big and small, always making sure he was going the right way and doing the right thing, every single day for the last 25 years?

You pushed the knot up to his neck, smoothening the material, patting his chest with a proud smile. Seungcheol gulped as you walked away to wash up, trying to get his breath under control.

When the two of you came down for breakfast, you pointedly avoided the receptionist's gaze. There was no time to deal with more thoughts.

The rest of the day went like that, thoughtlessly. It was a little awkward at the conference considering the little show you two put up last night, so the moment it ended for good in the evening, you bid everyone goodbye, citing you had an early flight and had to leave soon. It was true though, you did have to travel in the wee hours of the morning, but leaving from the conference so soon also meant having to spend longer with Seungcheol, all alone. He agreed with you though, stating his social battery was at an all-time low and that he just wanted to go back.

Today the two of you were somehow sitting on two ends of the car backseat, bodies pressing against the door, in complete contrast to last night. It was a silent ride, a silent walk to the room and a silent session of packing up. Suddenly there were very conscious efforts to not brush hands, or accidentally walk into each other or catch the other person randomly staring, lost in thought. It was only when you were finally done that you asked Seungcheol if he wanted to order dinner. He agreed, leading to a very small and very efficient discussion about what dishes to eat and then silence descended upon the room again. While waiting for the food to arrive, Seungcheol muttered that he was going for a quick run, leaving you alone with the thoughts you could no longer stop from plaguing your mind.

Something had changed over the last 3 days. It wasn’t you or Seungcheol - he was still throwing his damp towels on dry clothes and you were still meddling with his clocks. No, the two of you hadn’t changed. Neither did the arguing, neither did the banter, neither did the subtle flirting, neither did the silent support. No…. nothing had changed. It was all the same. It was all the exact same except now, you were finally willing to acknowledge something you hadn’t even admitted to yourself since the age of five, that-

“I’m in love with him.” You whispered, smiling to yourself.

Seungcheol on the other hand thought running around the lodge would mean those thoughts wouldn’t run in his mind anymore. He was wrong - even though you were not there, like always you were on his mind, in his every thought, in his every breath. Seungcheol didn’t know of a life without you. He also knew that you would be there with him for the rest of his life but for the first time in 25 years, he finally found himself owning up to it - that he truly wanted you be a part of his future, that he could not bear to think of one without you in it, that-

“I’m in love with her.” He whispered, smiling to himself.

By the time Seungcheol had returned, dinner had arrived. Between each bite you searched for the right words to say, noticing that Seungcheol was trying the same. Somehow, neither of you could bring yourself to say anything.

You couldn’t peacefully finish up your journal and Seungcheol couldn’t take a relaxing shower, both muttering under your breaths, practicing long speeches, determined to confess everything before sleeping tonight.

But when all was done for the night, both of you laid down on your respective beds, staring at the ceiling, unable to talk, unable to sleep.

Seungcheol turned his head as you did towards him, making his heart clench a little.

Sighing, he grabbed his pillow and put it on bed 4, lying down, facing you.

You looked at him blinking slowly.

Seungcheol held his breath.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your duvet and joined him on the fourth bed, throwing it over the two of you, lying down, facing him.

Seungcheol slid his hand over your waist, pulling you closer.

You gripped the material of his shirt, snuggling into the warmth of his neck.

Nothing was said that night.

Nothing had to be said as the two of you drifted off to sleep.

It was the harsh morning sun and the annoying chirping of the birds that woke you up.

You stared out of the window surprised at the bright light given the last few days were as gloomy as it could be. Seungcheol’s soft breaths tickled your shoulder as his arms held you tight, your back against his chest. Smiling you wiggled in his grip turning towards him, taking in how much more stunning he looked in the morning light-

Morning?

“Cheol.”

He hummed softly.

“Cheol!”

“What?”

“It’s bright outside.”

“That’s how mornings are Y/n.”

“Oh thank you for enlightening me.” You rolled your eyes. “Might I return the favour by reminding you that we had a flight at 5am?”

Seungcheol’s eyes flew open.

He quickly grabbed his phone from the nightstand, 11am flashing on the screen.

“Fuck.” He muttered, running his hand through his hair. “Fuck fuck fuck, I can’t believe we missed the flight!”

You took the phone from him and scrolled through the app. “The next flight out is tomorrow morning, same time, 5am.”

“But the company hasn’t paid for the room tonight, where will we stay?” Seungcheol groaned. “How could you not wake me up?”

You frowned at him. “And why is it my job to?”

“Because, you don’t like it when I put alarms on my phone.”

“Uh no, I don’t like it when you continue to sleep through the dozen alarms you put on your phone.”

“Whatever your reasons are, I think its been established that you are the one who's supposed to wake us both up.”

“Yeah well thanks to you I forgot to set an alarm.”

“Thanks to me?” He looked at you bewildered. “What did I do?”

“Who asked you to..” You pointed at everything around with the wave of a hand, the two of you only just registering the situation you were in.

“You were the one who came to my bed.” Seungcheol shrugged. “This is on you because you were desperate.”

“Says the one who’s boner poking into my back woke me up.”

Seungcheol gawked at you, stuttering. “M-morning wood is a scientific phenomenon, okay? I can’t help it-”

“I could have.” You muttered, slipping out of the bed.

Seungcheol pulled you back under him, half hovering over you.

“Oh yeah?” He bit his lower lip with a small smile. “How exactly?”

You hummed, “I happen to know some good meditation techniques-”, running a finger down his abdomen, tracing a random design.

Seungcheol grabbed your hand and pinned it to the mattress by your face, leaning close.

“Think of a better way, baby.”

The nickname sent a delightful chill down your spine as you slightly squirmed under him, smiling.

“How about I get you some ice-”

“That’s not what I want right now.”

“Then what do you want right now?”

His eyes ran along the features of your face.

“I want to kiss you.” He whispered. “So bad.”

“And what are you waiting for?”

Seungcheol groaned, immediately pressing his lips onto yours, needy and ravenous, like he had been waiting eons for this. Well, so had you.

Pushing him off you and onto his back, you straddled his hips, kissing him again, rolling your tongue over his. Seungcheol moaned into your mouth, one hand wrapping around your waist, the other holding you by the nape of your neck, taking back control. When you ran your hand over his thick pecs, he pulled away with a dreamy sigh, planting a trail of kisses along your jaw, down your throat.

“Strip for me.”

Sitting up immediately, you lifted your hips a little letting Seungcheol push the material of your nightdress up your thighs and you pulled it over your head, tossing it somewhere. In the ten seconds it took you to do that, Seungcheol was a changed man. The old him wanted to take his time unravelling you slowly, pushing you to the edge but the new Seungcheol felt the animal in him come alive with a throbbing, insatiable desire. It became exponentially worse when you pulled your hair up, tying it with the hair tie on your wrist, baring your neck, perfect breasts, soft stomach….unable to reign it in anymore, Seungcheol lunged forward, hungrily sucking a tit into his mouth, making you lose your balance over him a little, grabbing his bicep half laughing.

“Huh, I really thought you were more of an ass guy.”

Seungcheol let go with a wet pop, looking up at you from between his thick lashes. Oh wasn’t that a sight.

“For you, I’m an everything guy.” His hands gripped your ass hard. “Your derriere does take the cake though.”

You laughed, “Who even uses that word?”

“I don’t know, I have no idea what is coming out of my mouth right now.” He confessed, his tongue running up the gap between your boobs, the sweet and salty taste of your skin driving him insane. “I just know what I want in it.”

“Yeah?” You sighed, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him back with a harsh grip, before he latched onto your other tit. “I have better things to put in it.”

Seungcheol grinned like he couldn’t wait, flashing his canines, biting his lower lip.

God he was going to be the end of you.

But you’ll beat him to it.

Palms planted behind you, you slid yourself back off his thighs and sat between his legs, lifting your own up for him. Seungcheol’s eyes darkened in an instant and the moment he saw the wet spot in the middle of your pink panties, he could not hold himself back anymore. With a swift movement he was up on his knees before you, hooking his fingers in the elastic by your waist and slowly dragging your underwear along your legs. Like a man starving he crumpled it in his hand, breathing it deeply, eyes fluttering shut like he was intoxicated by your scent.

“I’m going to be borrowing this, for whenever you’re not there.”

“Pervert.” You whispered as he tucked it in the back pocket of his tracks. “But I’m never not going to be there. I’m afraid you’re stuck for life now.”

Seungcheol fisted the material at the back of his neck and pulled it over his head, flinging it somewhere before he put his hands between your knees and spread your legs apart, groaning at the sight before him. You were quite literally hiding his paradise between your legs.

“Trust me,” He reached for a pillow behind him, throwing it to you. “I want to be stuck here.”

The moment you tucked it under your head lying back, Seungcheol wasted no time in crawling between your legs, tossing them over his shoulder, descending on your sex. You felt your back arch off the mattress as he devoured, his tongue, mouth, lips all showing you stars in daytime.

“Fuck Cheol.” You whimpered as his tongue slipped into your hole, his moan sending a wild vibration against it. Bringing your hands to his head, your fingers gripped his hair, pushing your hips up against him “Give me more.”

Seungcheol smirked, pressing your hips down, continuing his ministrations in a way that made your toes curl. Damn he knew what he was doing. For a split second you wondered how he knew so much and an ugly jealousy began coursing through you but it was lost almost immediately, when he began to suck on your clit.

“Cheol….” You moaned, the sudden stimulation too intense for you, a tightness growing deep inside. “F-fuck that’s good.”

Seungcheol knew he was good. Not because he was experienced, not exactly - more because he was desperate to taste every inch of you. If he thought the taste of your arousal was heavenly, the moment your legs trembled and your breaths got harsher and you came against his mouth, Seungcheol knew he’d cast aside the heavens for it. This wasn’t enough.

This was probably the fastest orgasm you ever had, waves of the buzz washing over as your jaw fell slack. You rode it out against his mouth, tense shivers running down your body as his nose grazed your clit before falling limp into the softness of the bed, chest heaving.

Seungcheol was so noisily devoted to making you fall apart on his tongue, he wasn't sure if you didn't moan his name or if he was too entranced to hear it. Either way, he had to go again, keeping in mind to put his eyes on you this time. When he looked up at you, your face was flushed, lips curled into a blissful smile and Seungcheol thought he fell more in love with you, if that was even possible.

“We're gonna have to talk about why you're so good at that.” You half laughed, trying to sit up. Seungcheol pushed you back down, throwing another pillow at you, humming.

“How good was I exactly?”

“Nice try big boy,” You stacked the pillow over the previous one, leaning back against it. “I'm not going to feed your ego.”

“I'll feed myself then.” He smirked before licking a long strip between your folds making you tremble with over stimulation.

“Cheol not yet-”

“If I don't hear you I'm not going to stop.”

And he descended upon you like a mad man again, making you gasp in surprise. You did not think he'd go through with it.

“Cheol I really can't-”

but Seungcheol did not stop.

When he didn’t listen, you reached to pull him off you but Seungcheol was quicker as he grabbed both your wrists in a flash and held them against your heaving chest, continuing to eat the life out of you.

“Seungcheol please.” You couldn’t even squirm if you tried to, held down hard by his brute strength. “I really can’t-”

He looked up, his mouth wet with his spit and your arousal as he licked his lips. Fuck you really loved this man.

“Do you actually want me to stop?”

He was taunting you but there's a slight concern laced in his voice.

You shook your head slowly.

“I thought so.” He chuckled before continuing his act of wolfing down on you.

Your second orgasm began to rush in with an unreal speed and you don't know how Seungcheol could read your body so well already but the little bitch backed out before you could cum again.

“Cheol…”

You whined, frustrated at the feeling ebbing away, desperately clenching to hold on to it.

“I said I wanted to hear you.”

You glared at him, not used to him having the upper hand. He knew he's got you under control when he finally loosened his bruising grip on your thigh to sit up and you opened your mouth on your own accord to let him slip his fingers into them.

“What a pretty little girl.” He sighed as you sucked on his digits. “My pretty girl.”

“Yes yours.” You moaned, as he pulled them out of your mouth and pushed them into his, wetting them more as you practically panted below him.

“I'll do what you want, just put them in me Cheol.”

“You're quite demanding baby.” He leaned over you looking amused. “I hope you deliver as well as you talk.”

“I'll suck the life out of your dick after this I swear, just let me cum again.”

Enticed by the idea, Seungcheol captured your mouth in another one of his messy kisses, his fingers slowly slipping into your heat. You gasped into his mouth, surprised by how thick his fingers were. Oh his dick would probably make you pass out and god were you ready for it.

“Say my name baby.” Seungcheol pressed his forehead against yours, still holding your wrists between both your bodies with his other hand. “Tell me who's making you feel so good.”

“You.” You moaned as he pumped his fingers, slowly stretching you open, your arousal dripping down between your thighs. “Fuck Cheol, faster.”

He obeyed, picking up the pace as you babbled a string of curses, legs squeezing his hand desperate to feel more. Seungcheol sucked on your neck, enjoying the way you were crumbling apart for him. How was he ever going to be away from you after this?

“Oh god yes.” You sighed, as his fingers curled hitting the spot, eyes rolling back. Seungcheol looked at you in awe.

“I apologise if I ever told you that it was annoying when you rolled your eyes.” He continued to push you over. “That was the hottest thing I've ever seen.”

“Yes yes yes.” You chanted not hearing him, too lost in your own pleasure building. Pleased with himself, Seungcheol finally put his thumb over your clit and that was all it took for you to cum all over his fingers with yet another silent scream.

Seungcheol let your hands go and sat back on his heels, admiring his artwork. Your chest heaved erratically like you had forgotten how to breathe, squeezing your tits, hands desperate to claw something. Hair sticking to your forehead, sweat running down your neck next to the bruises he marked, you were a vision to behold.

Seungcheol sucked his fingers clean, relishing the taste of you yet again. You stared at him wide eyed, curious.

“Have you never tasted yourself?”

You shook your head.

“Oh sweetheart.”

Seungcheol pushed his tracks down just a bit, enough to pull his dick out. It's not the longest you've seen but God was it thick, a stark vein running down the length which looked painfully hard. The thought of having him fill your mouth and choking around it literally made you drool.

He pumped it a few times before hooking his hands under your thighs and pulling you towards him with unsurprising ease. You scrambled to raise yourself up on your elbows, watching as he ran it up and down your slit, gathering your release on it.

“Come taste.”

You blinked at the man holding out his dick to you like it was a treat, like he expected you to crawl to him, stunned at just how cocky he had gotten in 20 minutes. Hell no.

You shook your head, tilting it in challenge.

“Come fuck my mouth.”

If Choi Seungcheol had a fatal flaw it was how much he desired control but right now, there was nothing he desired and craved more than you.

Moving over not so gracefully he aligned himself by your mouth, knees planted on either sides of your waist, looming over you.

You immediately wrapped your lips around his tip, humming at the weight on your tongue as he pushed your hair off your face softly.

“I know baby, you taste fucking divine.”

Giving him a half nod, running your tongue over his slit before hollowing your cheeks around him. The mix of your and his arousal indeed tasted….right, like they belonged together.

You tried to take in more of him but you might have underestimated his girth and overestimated your ability. Pulling back with a pop, you licked your lips.

“You're too thick.” Mumbling you tried to push him off you, onto his back. “Let me move over-”

“Oh no no.” Seungcheol clicked his tongue, grabbing the back of you neck, forcing you to look up at him. “It can't be that bad, someone claimed they could stack fruit loops on it.”

You rolled your eyes realising he was a bit too proud of himself. “I still can. I just don't have the cereal to prove it.”

“I'll buy some on the way back and when we go home that's the first thing you're going to do.” He wiped the spit leaking around the corner of your mouth with his free hand. “And if you don't manage to prove your point, that's grounds for punishment.”

You grinned at him.

“Oh you like that.” He hummed, guiding your head back to his cock. “We'll see how much of it you can take baby.”

A lot apparently.

Seungcheol should have known. You were like him - you didn't like to be challenged. That's why the moment he thrusted himself into your mouth, you held onto the back of his thighs with both hands, pushing it in a lot more than Seungcheol had thought you were capable of. Throwing his head back with a satisfied moan, he began moving his hips ever so little, slowly fucking your face, but you had other ideas, taking him as far back as you could, your throat constricting around his dick.

“Alright that's it.” Seungcheol pulled you off him, staring at your confused face. Somehow you had no gag reflex and Seungcheol suddenly had the endurance of a teenager. “Want to actually fuck you.”

He muttered drawing back, kicking off the remaining of his clothes and sitting up, trying to hide his breathlessness.

“Aw Cheol, was I right again?” You laughed, getting up and clambering onto his lap. “Is ten minutes really enough for you?”

“You'll see.” He pulled you into a deep kiss before abruptly breaking away, leaving you confused yet again. “Or not.”

“What?”

“I just realised… I don't have a condom.”

You waited for him to tell you he was kidding but he looked serious.

“Cheol….” He looked at you apologetically. “Ugh Choi Seungcheol, why not?!”

“One, don't call me that and two, I don't know, maybe because this was a work trip and the conference dress code didn't mention dick envelopes.”

You sighed annoyed. “I just always thought you'd carry one on you, xl sized.” You shot his overconfidence down before it even grew on him. “you know, for your head.”

“Oh because I'm a dick?” He rolled his eyes at the comment you had used on him too many times already. “Well, wouldn't that make you a little slut? Since you’ve been in love with me for so many years.”

“Who said I was in love with you?”

Seungcheol looked at you with the biggest, fucking cutest eyes. “Are you not?”

You smiled, surprisingly shy despite all that transpired so far. Honestly, you didn't have to answer that question. What you felt for each other was clear as day.

Putting a finger on his mouth, you whispered. “Less talking, more fucking please.”

Seungcheol groaned. “What do you want me to do? Go buy them now?”

“No…” You hated the thought of him leaving.

“Or…. I could pull out?”

“The last thing I trust in this world is your timing.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Besides, don't you want to be inside me when you cum? Squeezing you tight? Milking you dry?”

“Kinky.” Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, secretly delighted. “And shoot me if I ever say no to that, but you're not on birth control are you?”

“No…” You drawled. “But I can get plan b?”

“Baby, you realize how reckless this is-”

“I know.”

“-we've barely just-”

“I'm aware.”

“-plus your health-”

“Choi Seungcheol.” You pushed him back into the bed, annoyed. “Are you gonna fuck me or not? Because if you don't then I'm gonna do it myself and all you get is to watch-”

Seungcheol, tucked his arm under his head, looking like he liked that idea a little too much.

“-while I cum taking someone else's name.”

His eyes darkened as his hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you down to his eye level, “Try me sweetheart.”

“You know how I feel about challenges.”

“And you know how I feel about sharing what’s mine.”

“Then fuck me like I’m yours.”

Seungcheol smiled, dropping a soft kiss on your mouth, much in contrast to what followed. “Remember, you asked for this.”

One arm wrapped around your waist, he flipped you over, putting you below him once again, the hunger in his eyes burning a lot more now. As he shifted to push your legs apart, hand leaving your neck, a soft whine left you and Seungcheol caught it immediately.

“You’re into that too?” Seungcheol smirked as you frowned at him, annoyed.

“Apparently. I just found out as well.”

“I wonder what else you’re into.”

“You can wonder all you want, after you put that dick into me.”

Seungcheol clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I don’t like how you think I’d listen.”

Yet before you could talk back, he slid his cock along your folds, the tip slightly dipping into your hole, pulling out the most exquisite moan from you.

“Now that’s something I’d listen to.” He pushed himself a little further, your hands immediately coming to grip his biceps, gasping again at just how big he was. Seungcheol had been dying to listen to you sound like this and god was it so worth it.

You attempted to relax, adjusting around his girth as he eased himself in, but gave up even trying to maintain the facade of composure when he bottomed out, pressing all the way in.

“Fuck yes Cheol.”

He hissed softly, feeling your soft walls flutter around him. He had never fucked anyone raw and after this, how was he expected to just not spend his whole life buried in you?

“Please, move.” You begged, and he folded immediately, his hips slowly picking up pace as he kissed you along your neck.

“We should have done this years ago.” He groaned, wrapping your legs around his hips, pounding faster, harder. “We should have been doing this for years now.”

You nodded half listening, half submerged in your pleasure, nails running down his back. “Let’s just never get out of this bed.”

Seungcheol chuckled, absolutely agreeing with that idea, snapping his hips faster, delighted by the way you were reacting under him.

He wanted to flip you around and take you from the back, mark your ass with the red prints of his hand. He wanted you sitting on him, fucking yourself on his dick while he watched, your head thrown back in pleasure. He wanted to eat you out till you cried, fuck your throat and make you swallow, pull every moan and every whine and ever chant of his name out of you. God he wanted so much but Seungcheol wasn't capable of any of those right now - he had been hard for almost an hour now and your grip around him was like a vice.

“Seungcheol more.” You whined, despite him already railing into you like there was no tomorrow. He still listened though, sliding his hand down between your bodies and finding you clit, well aware that you would probably go unbelievably tight the moment he touched it, rendering him absolutely helpless. Sure enough, you keened, clamping down on him hard the moment he began rubbing circles, a string of curses leaving your mouth.

“Cum for me.” He whispered, hips rutting against yours harshly, holding his own release back desperately. “Cum all over me.”

And you did, the pleasure washing over you in waves, legs tightening around him before they finally went slack, exhausted. Seungcheol pulled them off him, gripping your thighs instead, shifting from an erratic rhythm to quick, deep strokes as he finally came inside you, collapsing on top.

He was careful enough not to crush you under his weight, holding himself up a little so you could regain your breath, watching your eyes flutter tiredly.

“We need to get you cleaned up.” He tucked your hair behind your ear, glancing at your mixed arousals dripping out of you. “I don’t know how long the statute of limitations for ejaculate is….”

For the first time in your life, Choi Seungcheol had managed to turn you dumb, as you nodded mindlessly, not having registered the stupidity that just came out of him.

He chuckled, rolling off you, but you dragged him back by the wrist, wrapping your arms around him.

“Hold me.”

And as though the universe hated you, a sharp knock on the door made you two jump apart. Seungcheol still proceeded to hold you but the knocking only repeated, louder this time. He huffed annoyed, sliding off the bed, grabbing his shirt from the floor and threw it on. Opening the door just a little, half hiding behind it, lower half specifically, he peaked out but his plan was foiled when the receptionist pushed the door fully open and came barging in, throwing her hands around.

“Check out time was 12! You’re late-”

She froze as Seuncheol quickly covered himself with a towel from nearby and you scrambled in a hurry, hiding under the sheets, squirming in embarrassment.

The old woman slowly, still shocked to the core, muttered an apology and walked out of the room as Seungcheol smacked his head against the wall, regretting not wearing his pants.

“You…” She cleared her throat from the other side of the door. “You have till 2. Get it together and get out of my lodge.” She then walked away, the sound of her footsteps fading, before they suddenly got louder again. “I would also like to add that I knew this was going to happen from the moment you two stepped foot in here!”

You covered your face trying not to pass out from the embarrassment as Seungcheol locked the door laughing.

"Why does she sound so happy?"

“I cannot believe she saw us." You groaned. "Who walks in like that-”

“Who cares?” Seungcheol walked over to you. “I cannot believe we still have two more hours.”

“You’re not even ready to go again.” You looked pointedly at the softened dick in his hand that he was pumping lazily. “Besides, we're going to have to book the room again, for tonight.”

“2 hours isn’t enough for you? Oh baby-”

“Our flight is at 5am tomorrow you idiot, we still need a place for the night.”

“Right.” Seungcheol recalled, “I forgot we had to go… that this had to come to an end.”

“Nothing’s ending.” You clarified, putting a rest to his worries. “Didn’t you say, you and I, till the end?”

Seungcheol nodded as you held your hand out to him. He walked over taking it, dropping a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“Say.” And you knew an unholy thought was brewing in that head of his. “We have all this time and there are seven beds here.”

“I don’t care how many there are.” You laughed, pulling him into the softness of the sheets. “I only want one to share with you.”

A/n - this was supposed to be out a few hours ago but tumblr was being a bitch to me. Im adding the tags in the comments! Reblogs with tags, comments and asks are much appreciated, thank you for reading :)

[babyleostuff]

heater | kim mingyu

„m’cold,” mingyu nuzzled his head further into your chest, his short hair tickling your neck. you smiled down at your boyfriend, running your sweater paws over his broad back, trying to warm him up a little.

“baby, you’re a human heater, you cannot possibly be cold,” you giggled at his furrowed brows, and a clearly offended expression. he lifted his head, a pout on his lips, and just like that - you knew he’d get sulky.

“you’re literally taking all of my body heat, that’s why i’m cold,” he whined, squeezing your waist teasingly.

“maybe if you didn’t insist on using my boobs as a pillow-,” “oh shut up,” mingyu murmured, placing his head back on your chest, one of his hands staying at your waist, and curling the other under his chin, looking as adorable as ever.

“you know you can wear a hoodie, right? or cover yourself with a blanket,” you said, running your fingers through his short strands. “you stole my hoodies, i can’t wear them.”

even after being together for so long, you’d never stop getting butterflies in your tummy because of your precious puppy of a man. and as much as you loved seeing him on stage, and sharing intimate nights, you loved domestic moments such as this the most.

“i’m wearing one of your hoodies, gyu. you have tons of others,” he huffed at your words, clearly not agreeing with you. “but i want the one you’re wearing.”

you laughed at his silliness, trying to reach for the bottom of the hoodie. “what are you doing?”

“trying to get this off so you can wear it.” “no no no, keep it on baby. i can’t let you get cold.”

you rested your head back on the pillow, your hands finding their way back to his back, and shoulders. “gyu?” “mhm,” he murmured, his voice getting drowsy. “were you really cold?”

after a moment of silence, you felt a gentle peck on your jaw. “no, i just wanted you to hug me tighter.”

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife @marisblogg @whatsgyud @aaniag

[97-liners]

mingyu x reader

in which mingyu is an idealistic pastry chef, and you’re a cynical wedding planner who doesn’t believe in love.

words: 4.5k

genres: fluff, just really sweet (hah) fluff, one-sided enemies to lovers (?)

content warnings: none

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Zero

The first time you meet Mingyu, he empties a plate of caramel banana sponge cake into your lap.

Keep reading

[chocosvt]

⚬ pairing: prince!seokmin x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 12,690 ⚬ warnings: none. ⚬ genre: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, angst, teasing, some slowburn romance, superfluff toward the end.

✧✎ synopsis: the time has come for prince seokmin to meet his arranged marriage, which forces you to confront a strange predicament: if you truly hate the prince, then why does the thought of him being with someone else hurt this badly?

✧✎ a/n: yeah… i’ve wanted to write some prince!lsm since his excalibur pictures. evidently, i am very late! i hope u enjoy nonetheless :-)

Hiking up the long, heavy layers of your dress, pale and coloured like lilacs, you retrieved a small carving knife that had been clandestinely strapped against your outer thigh. Buried a few feet away from you in the grass was a smooth, palm-sized piece of beech wood, which you quickly picked up before walking back to the bench. You sat down horizontally, stretching out your legs and taking up as much space as possible whilst you started carving down the edges of the beech wood, flicking away the occasional shavings.

Keep reading

[amourcheol]

the great war

❝Because the greatest war Seungcheol had ever waged was against your heart.❞

historical! au | enemies to lovers! au | smut, fluff | 41k words

s u m m a r y : there was only one thing you hated more than your restricted life, and that was choi seungcheol—the greatest venetian general who has ever lived. when a marriage is arranged between the two of you, you were sure it would end in bloodshed. however, as you and seungcheol are forced to attend balls and share a few hard truths, you realise you have more in common with the mysterious general than you thought.

c o n t e n t : military commander! seungcheol, noblewoman! artist! mc, artist! minghao, artist! soonyoung who are both annoying (affectionate), cheol and mc absolutely hate each other because i need to see proper e2l, cheol has a scar on his lip (yes this needs a separate warning), this is set in renaissance venice so there will be many artist references, the doge = basically ruler of venice, themes of sexism, constant arguing between mc and cheol, there is fluff, also angst mature warnings -> tons of sexual tension, making out fuelled by hatred, cheol calls you carrissima (which personally i find very hot) fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex (only because medieval contraception is horrendous), petnames cheol says some vile things during the deed, slight corruption kink

p l a y l i s t : dangerous woman by ariana grande || war of the hearts by sade || love is stronger than pride by sade || i don’t understand but i luv u by seventeen

t a g l i s t : at the bottom of the fic!

a u t h o r ’ s  n o t e : hi hello thank you everyone for waiting for this monster fic!! thank you alice and addy for being the reason i finished this fic, thank you chia for creating a beautiful picture of general! cheol, and greatest thanks to choi seungcheol the man you are </3 i hope you all enjoy this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it <33

WHEN THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC DEFEATED THE OTTOMANS ONCE AND FOR ALL, EVERY CITIZEN—BE IT PEASANT OR THE RICHEST ARISTOCRAT—KNEW WHO WAS BEHIND THAT VICTORY.

His name sparked life into the deathly, cramped streets. Whispers and cheers carried along the murky lakes, the rushed streams underneath the city, lapping up to the cobblestoned shore—entering the ears of marketeers, patricians, nuns, prostitutes, everyone. Wherever one went, the commander’s name rang like the dozen church bells, scattered throughout the lake-locked lands.

The buzz in the air was more frantic this afternoon, though, because the victors’ party was finally returning to the state.

Finally returning home.

You, despite your family’s excitement, despite your connections to the man behind the success of it all, could not have cared less.

Keep reading

[kkotjia]

WORDS. THIS IS A LITERAL MASTERPIECE.

[daydreamingyuta]

Self-Care Day with Mark

“Waittt why am I actually so excited for today?” Mark says smiling at you. 

“It’s so cute that you’re excited, but I feel kinda bad.” You say. 

“Why?” Mark replies confused.

“It’s the first day off you’ve had in a while and I feel like you could be spending your time off in a more fun way.” 

“First off, spending time with the most beautiful girl in the world is always what I would rather be doing, no matter what we do. And I didn’t want to disturb your self care day because I know how much days like this mean to you, I mean you literally have it written down in your planner.”

“Okay if you’re sure.” You say while laughing because Mark grabbed you and kissed you on your temple. 

“What do we do first?” 

“We have to get into comfy clothes and then we will do face masks! These are my favorite they’re so good!” You say, showing them to Mark.

Mark was already in his sweats so while you changed into your favorite pajamas he looked for something to hold his hair back. Mark grabbed one of your headbands that have animal ears on them, making him look like a panda. When you came back into the bathroom he hands you the bunny headband but then changed his mind because he thinks you look cuter with the bear ears headband. 

“Cutee!” Mark says watching you put the headband on.

You two put on the face masks and then go into your room after setting the timer. 

“What do you usually do while you wait for the timer to go off?” 

“I usually write in my gratitude journal.” You say grabbing it off your desk. 

“Ohh what’s that?”

“So basically you write down a few things that you are grateful for, just to remind you that there are always good things in life even when things get hard.” You explain.

“Ohh I really like that. What are you writing down?” Mark asks.

“Umm I’m definitely grateful that I am able to have the time to have a self care day, because I’ve been really busy lately. I’m also grateful for the amazing people in my life.” You say writing everything down.

“Can I write some stuff down too?”

“Yeah!” You say handing Mark your notebook.

“I’m grateful for having a day off, I love working but having time to relax is really important. I’m grateful that I get to spend the day with my amazinggg girlfriend. And I’m grateful that this timer is about to go off because I can’t move my face anymore, is that supposed to happen?”

“Don’t make me laugh! It hurts. And yes that’s normal.” You say while trying to keep a straight face. 

You two go to wash the face mask off and then do the rest of your skin care together. 

“Okay! I always try to bake something on my self care days. I have the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies, brownies, and banana bread. Which one sounds the best to you?” You ask as you two walk to the kitchen.

“The brownies for sure” Mark says nodding his head.

 “I’ll get our aprons!” He says walking towards them. 

“Oh its really not that mess-” You say, stopping mid sentence because Mark was already putting the apron on you. 

“Thank you Mark.”

You grab all the ingredients that you need and the two of you start making the brownies. It was actually a good thing that Mark made you two put the aprons on because the second you turned away to grab the eggs, he managed to spill flour all over him self.

Once the brownies were in the oven it was time to watch a movie.

“You know what I have been really wanting to rewatch?” You say to Mark.

“Hm?”

“One of the spider man movies or are you sick of watching them?”

“Never!” He say, faking being offended that you would even ask such a question. 

You two take the aprons off and settle down on the couch grabbing your favorite blanket. You get almost an hour into the movie when the oven beeps telling you that the brownies were done. You two both get up to go into the kitchen and Marks grabs a knife to test if the brownies are actually done. When the knife comes out clean he grabs the oven mitts and takes the brownies out. 

“These smell amazing y/n” Mark says wanting to take a piece right away. 

“Mark! let it cool, remember when you burned yourself when we made cookies?”

“But it smells so good y/n!” 

You grab Marks hand to lead him back onto the couch to continue watching the movie. When a good amount of time passes, you get up to cut two pieces. Mark takes the plate while you sit down and then you both try the brownies. 

“Y/n pause the movie.” Mark says very seriously.

“Okay.” You say as you hit pause.

“These are the best brownies I have ever had in my entire life.” 

“Mark! I thought you were going to say that you hated them or something. But yeah they’re pretty good.”

“No y/n. These aren’t pretty good. These are award winning.”

“I’m glad you like them.” You say laughing. 

Mark always praises you for the smallest things. It seems like he’s being a little over dramatic, but he is completely sincere. He just loves everything you do. You two finish the brownies and by the end of the movie you are falling asleep. Mark notices and pulls the blanket over you while he cuddles in closer to you. 

[suhnshinehaos]

THE WAY BACK | c. seungcheol

synopsis : yours and seungcheol's friends try to pick up the pieces and glue them back together pairing : rapper!seungcheol x gn!, actor!reader genre/s : mini smau, angst, fluff, some humor mixed in featuring ! jeonghan, joshua, jun, minghao

part one : memory lane | part two : hopelessly devoted | part three : beginning, middle, the end

from reese, with love <3

hello ! it's so heartwarming to see the reception to the first part of this very mini series, despite the angst angsting quite a bit. thank you so much for reading, i'd love to know what you think ! hope you're all doing well and taking care :> hehe

[ooshu]

“what if we’re not meant for each other?”, you asked mark.

“well,” mark swept away the tiny strands of hair falling on your face. “it’s okay. at least i get to know you. you’re wonderful, baby.”

you reached for his hand and rested his palm on your cheek. mark smiled at the gesture. he was sitting in front of you at this table at your favorite local coffee shop. he ordered matcha. you, on the other hand, ordered americano.

closing your eyes, you leaned more into the touch. mark chuckled. he thought you felt like a cat looking desperately for warmth and affection—and he is more than willing to give you anything, even the world.

“what if—oh, wait.” you opened your eyes and saw him, with his head tilting to the side, curious about what you are about to say. “then why waste time… all of this… if i’m not the one for you?”

“time is never wasted when i’m with you, baby.”

“so…” you see mark. his face, amused. you can see the crinkle of his eyes lit up. these are just one of those moments where you theorize the present and future. and sure, mark loved that about you—always so curious, always so full of wonders—and he is more than willing to get the answers to you, even if he has to go to the ends of the world.

“no regrets?”

“not even a single bit, love.”

“how are you so sure?”

“because i’m already sure that it’s going to be you.” he reached for your hand this time and kissed it.

“out of all the what ifs you asked, this was… ah, really!” he shook his head while laughing. “this was challenging.”

mark squeezed your hand. it almost felt reassuring that it will never happen. “i already told the stars about you, baby. you’re the one for me.”

“yeah.” you bit your lip and let out a faint smile. “i know you did."

mark smiled, and got up from his seat, and said, “enough of this already, hmm?”

you nodded.

“words, baby.”

“okay, mark.”

“want some strawberry donuts? heard they're great!”

“would love to.”

“be right back.”

mark walked toward the counter to order but halted in his tracks. he turned around and returned to your table.

you looked up at him and waited for what he was about to do.

“forgot something…?”

“you’re more than wonderful.” mark said, his hands fidgeting until he inserted them in his jacket’s both pockets. “in fact, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, baby. nobody, no one, could ever compare. just… i just want you to know that.”

a few seconds later, he walked back to the counter to order. you watched him talking to the cashier. after getting the order done, he turned around, facing your direction to see if you are doing okay. and you smiled reassuring that you are. almost teary-eyed—so overwhelmed with the feeling of being loved and being in love. and with all the timelines and universes you will pass through, you will always look for him, even if it has to be away from him, just to see him from afar would be alright.

but it never slipped your mind there would be one universe that will no longer trace you back to mark.

you stared at your half-zipped shoulder bag sitting beside you—a plane ticket staring right at you, waiting for you to make a choice.

and fuck, you’d hate to be the one breaking mark's heart.

and you just wish he knew early, that you wish his the one was the name he told his stars about instead.

[scented-morker]

Nct Dream when you call them by their first name

ik this is an old trend but I saw something about it recently and felt ✨inspired✨

[fullsunberry]

NCT Dream Text Reaction:

Member exposing their crush on you

୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧

*Warning: Swearing

I love writing text reactions (≧∀≦)

୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧

Mark:

୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧

Renjun:

୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧

Jeno:

୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧

Haechan:

୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧

Jaemin:

୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧

Chenle:

୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧

Jisung:

୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧

[neophele]

[19:02 PM] Intangible - boyfriend!Jeno, fluff, domestic, 0.4k

It wasn’t that you’d tried to sneak a glance at Jeno as he got out of the shower, hair still dripping as the towel hung low on his waist, toned physique out in the open; he was just everything but unnoticeable. 

With a raised eyebrow, he stands in the doorway of the ensuite, directly across from where you sat on the bed, still in a vain attempt at acting engrossed in your book. 

“Something caught your eye?” He asks, using another towel to dry his hair with rough hands. 

“Mh–” Your voice cracks, startled as you flip the page you weren’t even sure you’d read. 

“You were staring at that page for way too long,” Jeno laughs, enjoying how your gaze darts across the room, trying to find respite anywhere and everywhere other than him. 

“Oh, uh, no?” You fumble, hands scrambling to flip the book pages in an attempt to distract yourself. 

“I’m your boyfriend –– you’re allowed to look at me naked.” He laughs with a smile that beautifully encapsulates home, allowing dreamy love to paint shades of pink across your face. 

“I know…” you shyly look down at his exposed torso, sighing slightly as his arms flex as he throws the towel he’d been using to dry his hair. “I just don’t want you to feel… objectified, you know?” 

Jeno laughs, expressing himself with his whole body, leaning forward and shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Objectified?” He finally controls himself enough to meet your stern gaze, and he has to bite back a smile at how serious you look. “I want you to want me, y/n. I’m literally your boyfriend,” he grins at you, beaming like the sun laying it’s warm, comforting rays throughout the room. 

“Shut up and come here,” you whine, book long since forgotten, arms held outstretched for your boyfriend’s warm body to come and rest on you. He obliges, coming over to rest half on you, half off, still 

He’s heavy, but the way he’s pressed so close to your chest, arms on either side of your body while yours are circling his back, you don’t care. You feel his heartbeat through his chest, a steady rhythm keeping time for the moment as precious as a love song. In time with the beating, you slowly sketch onto his back with your nails, one half of a cartoon heart for each pulse of his actual heart. 

It’s an intangible moment, peaceful and lazy, like the gently swaying tree tops rarely seen. 

Jeno lets out a contented huff akin to a purr and pushes his head further into the crook of your neck. 

“Nice?” You ask, continuing to scratch up and down his slightly damp back. 

“Everything with you is nice.” 

[all-about-kyu]

Pairing: literature major!Mark x science major fem!reader Genre: fluff, friends to lovers, college au Rating: PG Warnings: mentions of academics, language, a little crying, two kisses Word Count: 2,119 Note: for @moonctzeny​ Merry Christmas, my dear!! I hope you’re having an absolutely phenomenal day <3 thanks to @kthpurplesyou and @daeeun-toikiii for proof/beta reading (I’ll cite all the poems used in this story at the very end) 

I know we‘re only friends, but as we grew closer and I got to see all the small things there is to love about you, I could feel myself falling for you. I love the way you smile when you see me, and I love the way you crinkle your nose when you laugh. I love the way your eyes sparkle, and I love the little thoughts you let me in on, as the night turns to dawn. - BGT

Keep reading

[scarletwinterxx]

Confess my truth in swooping, sloping, cursive letters - mark lee imagine

hello! happy holidays to all of you, sending lots of warm hugs. thank you all so much for being a part of my year💛I appreciate each and every one of you who showed love and support for my blog.

Haven't written a story this long in such a long time, i should give myself a pat on the back🥺😅also i really really like how this turned out, i hope you do too!

Song inspo : paris - taylor swift

if you have a request or scenario you want me to do, just send me a message I'll see what I can do😊💌

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2022 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to owner)

“I’m going to cuff her, just you wait” you hear Mark say from beside you. While you're too busy trying to understand the notes you took down yourself and still not understand a thing, your bestfriend has his own distractions.

“Who?” you ask without looking up

“Aeri, the new transfer” Mark answers swiftly

“Like you would have a chance with her, it’s too early for your delusions Min” you call his nickname. Min, from his name Minhyung. Most people call him that, or Mark. But when it's just the two of you talking you mostly refer to him as Min.

“What? It’s not a delusion. We have like a lot in common” he reasons out, letting your eyes roll at his reasoning. You finally look up at him, and ask

“Oh yea like what?”

“We’re both exchange students” you shoot him a deadpanned look, waiting for him to say something else

“You moved here 11 years ago”

"So?"

"You know what if that's what you believe, go. I'm not going to crush your feelings this time. If you want to be dumb, go and be my guest"

Mark snickers at your words, not sure if it was you showing support or teasing him.

"What are you reading anyways? Just accept your fate and focus on something else" he says, looking at your notes. The handwriting is not neat at all, only you can understand it at this point but Mark has known you long enough to read it like his own.

"Dude, are you studying for the exam tomorrow?" he asks

"Yea why?"

"This is the wrong chapter"

"Motherfucker"

Turns out Mark was right, you were reading the wrong chapter all along. After having a mini freak out upon realizing that and realizing you didn't have enough time to cram a semester worth of lesson in one night, Mark had to calm you down and make sure you don't cry the rest of the night instead.

He made sure to buy dinner for the both of you before he walked you back to your dorm, leaving a pack of gummy bears in your bag for you to find later because he knows you'll probably pull an all nighter.

The next time you see each other is after the exam, your eyes were swollen either from the lack of sleep or from crying that Mark is not sure of.

"You look like shit"

"Thank you, like I didn't already know that"

He passes the coffee he got you before taking your bag and slinging it on his shoulder, "How did the exam go?"

"Good, better than I expected" you mumbled, taking a sip of your much deserved coffee "Thank you" you tell him, referring to the coffee.

"So now that you're a free woman, there's a party later"

"I know where this is going, I haven't slept since Monday. A party is the least of my priority right now, Min"

You do feel very drained right now and you haven't slept a wink, exam seasons got you staying up all night and crying in between the 15 minute breaks. The only reason you haven't lost the last of your sanity is because of the human walking beside you.

You and Mark may argue a lot but you have each other's back no matter what. He's your bestfriend, he's your mediator, you're his voice of reason.

"You can nap before the party. You deserve to relax after this stressful week" he says, stepping behind you to massage your shoulders to convince you further.

"You stress me every week, what's the real reason you want to go"

"I may have heard Aeri is going"

"We're still on that?"

"It hasn't been a week since I told you that and yes, I'm still into her. So what you do say?" he looks over your shoulder, meeting your eyes to look at you directly because he knows you can never say no this way to him.

"Why invite your bestfriend at a party you want to meet the girl you like?"

"Because"

"Because what??"

"Who would hype me up? I can already see myself chickening out, but if you're there then you can convince me"

You can only think of all the times you convinced him to do something stupid because when it comes to you, Mark can be pretty gullible. That makes you feel proud knowing he trust you but also that makes him an easy target for your pranks.

"Convince you to make a total fool of yourself? Hell yes I'm in"

A couple of hours later, Mark and you enter the party side by side. Already seeing a couple of familiar faces in the crowd.

You made your way through the crowd until you saw your other friends, "Finally, they show up" Haechan shouts, immediately passing a shot glass to you and then Mark

"To catch you up, we already started so you better get going" he tells the two of you, pushing the shot glasses towards your faces

"I'll have only one, and his also because he's driving tonight" you say taking the glass from Mark before he can say anything. Then you shoot your head back, drinking the shots simultaneously and earning cheers from the two boys. Mark already too distracted looking around hoping to spot the reason why he came here tonight.

"Damn woman, how are you not cuffed down yet?" Haechan jokes

"You're asking that when he's standing right here?" Jeno butts in, throwing an arm around Mark.

Of course they would bring that up whenever they can. Those two don't believe a boy and a girl can stay in a platonic relationship. Swearing you and Mark are meant for each other but too scared to admit it. The old but beloved bestfriends to lovers trope, Haechan calls it.

"He's only standing here at this party to cuff someone and that woman is not me, luckily. Have you seen Aeri?" you ask Haechan,

"I think I saw her talking to Dery outside" you then turn to Mark, dusting off his jacket for no reason. Just to boost his confidence, you think.

"Go do what we went out here for, and make it quick. If you don't get her number by the end of this night, I'm shaving your seagull eyebrows in your sleep. Got it?"

Mark chuckles at your empty threat, he knows you only said that to not make him nervous and it works everytime.

"Yes ma'am. For you, I'll be a taken man by the end of this month"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, you're hot but not that hot. Okay now go before they hand me another shot" then you're pushing him towards the direction of the backyard door.

Meanwhile, Haechan and Jeno watch the two of you like it's a live action drama happening infront of them where the two lead characters are bestfriends who swore they don't feel anything for eacth other only to end up together in the end.

"What the fuck was that?" Haechan ask after Mark walks off, turning to face the two boys

"What?"

"The sexual tension was killing me, you swear you two haven't kissed?" he asks back, you shake your head as an answer "No, we haven't and will never"

"I get that you guys are just bestfriends and swear it's nothing more than that, but did you just call him hot?" Jeno ask you

"Yes, I have eyes. I call them as I see them"

"And you say you're not into him?"

"Do I look like I'm into him?"

"Yes" they answer at the same time, shaking your head at them

"It's not like that, I already told you that. I've known Mark since we were kids. That's the same kid who looked like a chipmunk with glasses" you tell them

"More reason why you like him! You've him at his worst, not sure about his best but you're the one who's been there for him. It's the perfect plot for the most cliché love story" Haechan says dramatically

"I'm afraid this book is not how it ends, can you just pass me another shot"

That night ended in different ways, for starters you got so drunk you forgot how you got home. All you can remember was Haechan daring you to jump on the trampoline and do a back flip, you can't remember if you did it or not.

Mark's night however wasn't as exciting, yes he did get to talk to Aeri but nothing more than a few words. Not enough for her to peak interest in him, there was a bunch of other people with them so he couldn't exactly just talk to her and he didn't want to ruin the fun. So instead he found himself walking back ready to admit his defeat to you and accept his fate of having his eyebrows shaved only to find you on the grass laughing your ass off.

Turns out Haechan dared you to do a backflip but Jeno still had some of his common sense and tried to stop you, and by that he meant tackling you off the trampoline and down on the ground.

Mark helps you up from the ground, dusting your clothes to rid of the grass. Holding you by the arm while you sway on your feet clearly intoxicated.

"You're done for the night, no more leaving you alone with them" he tells you as if he was scolding a child

"Boo, you're no fun. Just say you're jealous" Haechan tells him, poking Mark's back

"Shush, don't tease him. Angry Mark is scary" you whisper shout, oh yess you're definitely drunk

"Let's get the three of you home, Jeno drag Haechan please"

And that's how it ended. Mark dropped the two boys first before he drove you back at your dorm.

"So how did it go?" you spoke all of a sudden, fighting the sleepiness off to do your duty as the nosy bestfriend

"Good"

"You didn't get her number did you?"

"Nope"

It wasn't the last time Mark dragged you somewhere in hopes of finally talking to Aeri. And all the other attempts always end up a fail like the universe just doesn't want him to succeed.

He also has become a regular at the library where you spend most of your time when you're not with him. He may have heard that Aeri comes here sometimes so why not give it a shot. He prefers studying in his own room where he can blast music, while you prefer the quiet atmosphere here.

"It helps me focus" you tell him when he asked you why you liked studying here when you can just do it at the comfort of your own dorm or his.

"I'm going home for the weekend, by the way. Want to come?" Mark ask you, remembering his mom asking him to ask you.

"And you tell me only now when it's Saturday tomorrow?" you ask back

"I'll pick you up at 3am?"

"Minhyung, I'm going to kill you" that's a yes. He just smiles and give your cheek a pinch then turning his attention back to his laptop, since he's already might as well get some work done.

Like he said, he did show up at your doorstep at 3am. Handing him your bag for the weekend, eyes half closed face bare.

"Make this weekend worth my while, Min or I will seriously shave your brows this time" you threaten him

"Yea yea, I'll get you your favorite cookies back home"

While most people will stay up with the driver on a long trip, you where back to dreamland a few minutes after Mark drove off. He passed a hoodie and a blanket over to you and the next second you were out.

Instead of waking you up, Mark just turns on the music loud enough to keep him awake but low enough not to disturb your sleep. But really it doesn't matter, he can be playing Bohemian Rhapsody on full volume you'll still sleep through it.

When the of you arrived at Mark's childhood home, his mom was already waiting by the door. Her smile doubling as she sees you exiting the passenger side, "Y/N! I'm so glad you made it!" she says with open arms. You walk over to give her a hug.

She's like a mom to you, whenever your parent's went on holidays or work trips they would always leave you with Mark's parents. The two of you weren't kidding when you say you spent a lot of your childhood together.

"You two must be tired from the drive, why don't you eat breakfast then rest for a bit?" she tells you, when Mark walks towards the door his mom hugs him too.

"Sounds good, thank you"

"I made your favorite cookies by the way, Mark made sure I didn't forget" she tells you with a smile, "Really?" you asked excitedly, and Mark thinks it was worth bugging his mom over the phone last night.

It was a great way to detox from all the stress from university, the rest of the weekend you relaxed as much as you can. Slept in without a worry about anything, you only wish this weekend lasted longer.

"Mom, you need to let us go. We won't make it in time" Mark tells his mom who is too busy smothering him, you jsut smile at the mother-son interaction happening infront of you.

"You two have a safe drive back" his dad says, giving Mark a quick hug too.

"Don't be a stranger, I'll tell your parents you rested well this weekend" Mark's mom tells you, you thank her again before giving her one last hug and saying bye to his dad too.

"Can we just not go back to school?"

"We can, but then what would we do? and I can't leave the plants to Haechan, they will die" Mark says, that made you laugh

"Why though? something bothering you?" he adds

"Nothing, I just had fun this weekend. I haven't slept that good since I moved in my dorm" you tell him

"You're still having trouble with sleeping? I told you just call me, I can bore you to sleep"

"I'm sure but I'm not going to call you every night when I can't sleep"

"Nonsense, I already sleep late anyways"

You didn't mean to let your mind wander but for the first time ever in your history of friendship with Mark, you let your mind think would it be different if he wasn't just your friend. Haechan and Jeno's words echoing inside your head.

Mark's words just then made you think about it but then you shook those thoughts away quickly as they came.

“Wait hold up, you two talk about that?”

“You haven’t?”

Haechan looks at you with disbelief, silently asking if you were being serious

"Yo Jeno! If i get bitten by a snake on my dong will you suck the venom out?" Haechan asks Jeno who just arrived. You're currently over at Haechan and Mark's place since you had to finish a project you were doing with Haechan, Jeno is just a regular visitor here.

"What the fuck? No" Jeno answered, confused with the context of his friend's question

"But like, it's an emergency" you say

"Still no, I'm sorry but you're dying my friend" Jeno tells Haechan

"Who's dying?" Mark asks, finally getting home from his last class. He knew you were here hence why he choose to order food on his way home.

"Jeno" you and Haechan answered at the same time

"Would you do it for him?" you weren't looking at Jeno so you didn't check if he was asking you or Haechan

"No..."

"I mean"

Jeno looks back and forth between you and Haechan, Mark is in the kitchen unboxing the food he got for the group.

"Y/N!? Is this what you two were talking about?" Jeno ask the two of you

"Talk about what?" Mark curiously asks, walking back to the living where the three of you were. Putting the chicken and pizza on the coffee table before taking a seat on the floor beside your legs.

"If you get bitten by a snake on your-"

"I'd rather not talk about it infront of your dinner, thank you very much" Haechan cuts you off

"I'd rather not have that image in my head" Jeno adds

"What?" Mark asks, you just shake your head and take the slice of pizza he just took a bit of

"Nothing, let's just say you're the only one not dying here" you answer him.

You and Haechan finished late. Before you go back to your dorm, you checked on Mark to see him also busy with something. Sitting hunched back on his desk,

"Your back will hurt, stop slouching" you tell him, walking towards where he was sitting

"You sound like me when I scold Haechan. You two done?" he ask, looking up at you

"Mhm, I should go it's late" it's past midnight already. Jeno went home after dinner while you and Haechan worked on your project. Mark was waiting for you finish so he can drive you back, when he thinks of something

"Why don't you just stay here for the night?" he asks you

"Huh?"

"Stay for the night, it's late and you probably will have hard time sleeping once you get home. You can borrow my clothes" he says, already walking towards his closet to grab you a pair of shirt and sweats for the night

"Do I have any say in this?" you ask

"Just say yes, Y/N. It's late, you're tired but you'll probably stay up all night if you go home now. If you stay here I can make sure you're going to get some sleep" Mark tell you, then hands you his shirt and sweats.

"Go change, I'll sleep on the couch"

When you got back from the bathroom now changed in Mark's clothes, he's still slumped over his desk. "You should call it a night, too. I can take the couch"

He turns his chair around to face you, shaking his head "Nonsense, go sleep I'll be done in like 5 minutes"

"Then just sleep here, there's enough room for the two of us. This is not the ending of titanic"

He chuckles at your statement, watching you get cozy under his covers. This made him want to call it a night and cuddle in with you, that very thought confused him in different ways.

One, it confused him how thinking about cuddling you seemed so natural. And two, it confused him how it wasn't weird at all. To him atleast.

He shoots you quick smile before turning back to his table to finish his work. More than five minutes passed when he finally finished, turning of his laptop and desk lamp before turning to check on you only to see you quietly scrolling on your phone.

"What did I say? Go to sleep, dummy"

"Was waiting for you, c'mere" you say while opening the blanket for him. He didn't even say no, he didn't say anything. It's like his body was on auto-pilot. Like you're the one in control. He didn't mind it one bit.

Mark turns off the lights first before settling beside you, he lays his head on the pillow beside yours. You send him a sleepy smile, mirroring your actions.

"You need to go to sleep, missy"

"I'm trying, believe me"

"What usually helps you sleep at night?" he ask, both of you were whispering even though no one would hear you in his room. It was past midnight, the only light coming from the lamppost outside his window.

"I cuddle something, usually my favorite pillow" you mumble, you'd be embarrassed to admit you still need to hug something when you go to sleep but you're talking to Mark. You didn't mind showing and telling him everything about you because you know he'd stay after everything.

"Cuddle me" he say without missing a beat. And for a couple of seconds the two of you just stare at each other, waiting for something. Maybe for the other person to say something.

"Uh I mean I don't want you to be uncomfortable, my head's a bit heavy" you tell but he just chuckles back at you, opening his arms as if inviting you to come to him if you wanted.

"My head's bigger than yours, come on. Your eyes are about to close, why are you fighting it"

"I'm not, it's my mind that won't shut up"

"Then don't think, just listen to me. I'll keep on talking or humming or something until you fall asleep" this time he pulls on your arm, making you move from one side of his bed over to him. Leaving you no choice but rest your head on his chest. His heart drumming under your ears, like your personal white noise machine.

"You're warm" you mumble, cuddling against his chest more because he feels warm. You've never cuddled like this before, why haven't you cuddled like this before?

Oh right, because friends don't do things like this. Once again, Haecha and Jeno's word bounce around your head. Making you question your feelings for your bestfriend.

"Can you relax? I can tell you're still thinking about something, just... listen to my breathing or something" he tells you, this time you feel his hand run through your hair making you more sleepy.

And you listen, listen to him. Listen to his heart. The loud thoughts in your head now just mere background noise. All forgotten.

"I'm going to tell you something, but you're not allowed to tell me I told you so"

Jeno looks back at you confused. You popped out of nowhere, now taking the vacant seat in front of him.

"Uh okay"

"And you can't tell Haechan or Mark. Swear it" you tell him

"Okay, I swear. Are we scheming them or what?"

You opened your mouth to speak, repeating the action one two three times but the words can't seem to come out.

"I can't say it"

"Why? Did you run overe someone? Did you forget to water Mark's plants?" he ask again

"No, I didn't. It's not like that. I can't say it because I can't believe it myself and maybe it's not even real. Maybe I'm just confused or something. Maybe I'm sick, yeah I think I'm sick. Am I sick?" you ask him, pulling his hand to lay it on your forehead

"No, but you are starting to scare me."

"I'm starting to scare myself too!"

"Why???"

"Because I think I'm in love with my bestfriend"

That got the two of you quiet. You can't believe you just said that out loud, and now that it's out in the world you can't believe you might be inlove with your bestfriend, Mark. The guy you've known your whole life. The same guy you swore you will never see as someone who's more than a friend.

Jeno was also caught by surprise, he did expect it to happen at some point but he thought it would be Mark realizing it first before you. And he didn't think he'd be the first one to know. Now he has to hide this from Mark and worse, Haechan.

"There you two are, I was looking for you! I have some great news" Mark says, surprising you and Jeno. Sending him a look which he understood.

"What?" you ask, turning to look at Mark who's now sitting beside you.

"I finally got Aeri's number, and get this we're going out this Friday night" he says with the biggest smile on his face.

You didn't even hesitate, immediately shooting his a smile back. "No way, you finally grew the balls to do it. Who would've thought" you joke

"What did I say, I'll be cuffed down before this month ends. Now I just need your help to think about where I should take her, dude are you okay?" he asks Jeno, notiching the guy has not said a word since he arrived.

Mark wonders if he interrupted something, you did look like you were in the middle of a serious talk. You tried to cover it but he did notice the look on your face when he arrived. He didn't want to push it right now, leaving a mental note to ask you about it later instead.

"Me? Yeah totally. I just remember about this thing I forgot back at the library. I should go there and get it before someone else takes it"

"I'll go too, I need this book for my next exam" you say, already slinging your bag on your shoulder. Standing up from your seat.

"I'll see you later, bye" you tell Mark quickly before stalking away, leaving a confused Mark behind. He turns to the other guy also watching your retreating figure.

"Did something happen?" he ask Jeno, "Huh? No, I don't know. I'm gonna go. Bye hyung" Jeno smiles at him before waving goodbye, walking the same direction you went to.

That was the last time Mark saw you, after that you kind of went into hiding. Always coming up with an excuse to not see him: whether you're busy with another project, you're sick at home, you're on your period and too tired to leave your dorm. At this point you're running out of minor injuries to use as an excuse.

Friday came and went, you didn't have the strength to call him and ask him about the date. You really can't invest in his love life when you're having trouble with yours. Well technically yours is one sided.

You just got back from the cafe you found jus tthis week in your attempt to spend less time on campus since you know you're most likely to bump into Mark there. So instead you found a quaint cafe outside campus and made it your new study place. What you didn't expect though was to find your bestfriend standing outside your dorm room.

Mark heard footsteps coming down the hallway, looking up from his phone to see you standing on the other end. It's been almost 2 weeks since he last talked to you, apart from the few texts he received from you this has been the longest time he's been away from you.

"Hey, were you out?" he ask when you got to him

"Yeah, I was studying"

"I was at the library. but I couldn't find you" he tells you, right off the bat he could tell something was wrong. You won't even look him in the eye right now.

"I was studying some place else"

"Oh okay, is something wrong? Are you okay?" he ask again, now he's worried.

"Me? Yea no I'm fine. Just busy and tired" now that you mention it, he notices the dark circles under your eyes. You're still beautiful despite that, but he could tell you haven't had proper sleep probably a couple of days now.

"Have you been sleeping okay?"

"I'm good, why'd you ask?"

"Nothing, I'm just worried. You just said the other day you had a massive headache, you should get some rest. Did you eat dinner already? I can go grab some for us before you call it a night" he suggest, ready to run down the nearest restaurant but you shake your head at him

"I already ate, I think I'll just call it a night. I'm tired. I'll call you later" you tell him, opening the door to your dorm. Waving goodbye to him before closing it, leaving a very worried Mark on the other side.

Something is definitely up with you and he's not going to rest tonight until he figures it out. The last person he saw you with was Jeno, so he texts the younger guy asking his whereabouts. It turns out Jeno is over at his and Haechan's place.

He made his way back home, seeking for answers. When he got there, he calls for Jeno.

"What's up?" Jeno asks

"What happened between you and Y/N?"

"Huh?" Jeno asks back, confused. Meanwhile Haechan pauses the game him and Jeno were playing to join the conversation

"Did something happened?" Haechan asks

"Yea well the last time I saw her she was talking to Jeno, you two looked like you were having a serious conversation then she walks off. Then after that she's been avoiding me" Mark explains, arms flailing around. Clearly frustrated with the situation.

"Why did you say she's avoiding you? Maybe she's just busy?" Haechan asks again, "We took the CSAT's at the same time, believe me even if she's that busy she's not going to avoid me like this"

"And you're assuming that based off of that?"

"I just know something's wrong okay?! I just don't know what it is" Mark frustratedly says, voice rising a bit. Meanwhile Jeno stays quiet. He promised to keep quiet so that's what he's doing.

Haechan looks over at him, immediately he could tell Jeno knows something

"Speak, I can tell you're hiding something" Haechan tells him, Jeno just shakes his head

"Dude, what?? So you know something?" Mark says

"I promised not to tell, especially the two of you" Jeno finally speaks, "So she did say something??" Mark prods even further

"I can't say it, I swore to Y/N I won't"

"What can't you say to me and Mark hyung? Haechan's the one to ask this time, making the pieces fit together in his head. And when it did, it's like a light bulb turned on in his head.

"OH MY GOD!" Haechan says catching both boys' attention

"Haechan no!" Jeno says

"What what??" Maark says

Haechan looks back and forth between the two guys, then stopping at Mark. "I don't know either but I think I do"

"Then tell me!!!!"

"No! Because if what I think is right then you would want to hear this from Y/N" Haechan says, Jeno lets out the breath he was holding.

Mark couldn't wait another day to talk to you, even though he promised he'd let you rest first he can't just sleep tonight without knowing.

That's how he found himself standing outside your door again, ringing the doorbell thrice like he always would. When you opened the door, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

"Mark? Is everything okay?" you ask, confused why he'd be out here this time of the night

"Sorry for waking you up but I just can't sleep tonight knowing something's not right with us. Are we okay?" he ask you.

This was enough to fully wake you, opening the door for him fully to let him in. You wait until you're inside before you face him again,

"I just needed some time off, I guess" you tell him

"Why?"

"Well, you said you had a date with Aeri. I didn't want to get in between that, you can't be spending that much time with me once you get a girlfriend. I'm not going to be that kind of bestfriend, Mark"

Your explanation although very valid, did not make any sense to him. Because now when you say things like him getting a girlfriend, he don't see Aeri beside him or any other girl.

The only person he can picture beside him is you. The only person he wants to spend all his time with is you. The one he wants to take out on dates is you. When he went out on that date with Aeri, he did have a great time but the two of them thought they're better off as friends. He just never had the chance to tell you because you've been avoiding him.

"Well you don't have to worry about that, I'm not going out with Aeri"

"What?? why?? But you like her"

Now you feel guilty, wondering what could've went wrong and if you had something to do with it.

"I thought I did. I mean I like her, but only as a friend. Turns out we're better as buddies" he lets out a chuckle, watching your confused reaction

"You're still my bestfriend though, so will you tell me what's wrong?" he asks, taking careful steps towards you until he's an arm length away

"Like I said I didn't want to intrude"

"I don't think that's just it. Jeno said-"

"Jeno said what??? Oh my god I'm going to kill him"

He just smiles at you, this is the first time you said more that a few words to thim and the first time you sounded like the usual you.

"Actually he didn't say anything, then Haechan somehow figured it out and say I should hear it from you instead" he looks at you, observing your face. Committing every detail he's been looking at for years. This time with more adoration and love in his eyes.

"What's wrong with you?" you ask, noticing the way he's looking at you.

"Nothing, just thinking about something completely stupid" it's not stupid. He was thinking about all this time he didn't any other girl, he always have liked you but too scared to say something about it. So instead he searched for something similar.

But of course no one could even come close. There's after all, only one of you for him.

"What?"

"You tell me first what Haechan and Jeno know then I'll tell you"

Now that he's the one asking, you're not sure how to get out of this one. He got you cornered with no place to go.

"I'll tell you but you have to promise me if it ever gets awkward after this you'll still be my bestfriend" you tell him,

"Of course"

Instead of telling him in words, it's like a higher power possessed you. Standing on your tiptoe, resting both hands on his shoulder. Pressing your lips flat against his.

You can tell just how shocked he was, frozen in his place. Your blood runs cold thinking you just ruined your friendship forever but then you feel his arms snake around your waist pulling you closer towards him. Mark tilts his head a bit to the side, deepening the kiss. Smiling against your lips, he can taste the strawberry flavored chapstick you always use.

This should feel weird and foreign to the both of you, but no. This moment feels so right. Being in each other's arms makes so much sense, like this was how it should've been all along.

Mark takes a few steps forward making you walk back until your back is against the door, still lips attached together. Eventually the two of you had to break apart to take a breath, your eyes still closed you feel him kiss your lids then your nose then he kisses you on your jaw down the side of your neck. Leaning your head on the side to give him more space because right now his lips feel so good against your skin you just wanted more.

He gives you a few more kisses before leaning away to look at you with that lovestruck look on his face.

"I know this might seem a bit too fast but a decade worth of memory with you seems enough, can I be your boyfriend?"

This time you kiss him again, shorter this time though so you can give him your answer "Of course, who else would I make more memories with. Plus I love your mom too much"

Mark smiles at your words, finally finally all the pieces fall into place. Finally he got the girl.

"What did I say, told you I'd be a cuffed man"

"Shut up and just kiss me"

"Yes ma'am