Can you pair your moots with any song that reminds you of them?
these are all songs i adore very much i love all my mootie booties (sorry if i couldn’t get you!)
@dido-of-the-endless; my dido! ofc i’m going to “ditto” by new jeans. because it rhymes with your name and it has the lyric “like you a little” and i like you😻
@cheolhub; light by wave to earth. that’s my fav wave to earth so it’s very dear to me. we’ve also got really close in little time, and you’re now like one of my besties.
@hyuk4ngel; nobody will know this song probably but def “you the one fish in the sea-Liv.e” fay gives that blues kind of vibe, very laid back.
@banggyu0308; ADA! japanese denim- daniel ceaser. MY BLUEEEE JEANNSSSSS, WILL LAST ME ALLLLLLLLLL MY LIFEEEEEE. sorry i love this song.
@rubyreduji; UMMM PINK MATTER BY FRANK OCEAAANNNN. close my eyes fall into you you youuuuu. look this is one of the most beautiful songs i’ll ever listen to in my life. it’s one of my favs so that means jj is one of my favs.
@playmetheclassics; indie dream boy- yungaggita. indi has that like….cheery fall vibe. i love this song so much it reminds me of the month november.
@st4rrykai; picture in my mind- pinkpantheress ❤️. if i didn’t give you a pinkpantheress song it would be a crime. my cutie bootie i love you so so much😻
@beefboyandbabygirl; the perfect pair- beabadoobee. i mean, the perfect pair WHATS MORE TO SAY.
@love-strike; my sarah. my dear sarah. some- steve lacy. sarah is drop dead gorgeous and i associate “some” with any drop dead gorgeous person. i’m also a big fan of steve lacy.
@homerunhansol; hold it down- mia gladstone. we don’t talk much but if i had to give a silly little cheerful song i recommend this one.
@ressonancee; hold on- the internet. i love this long ass song and it lowkey reminds me of your profile sooooo.
@hoeforhao; reason- pinkpantheress ❤️ my love my love
@toruro; wait a minute!- willow smith. idk your profile is really cool it lowkey reminds me of willow’s music. idk what genre to like classify her but her sound is soooooo pleasing. kisses to mika
@wqnwoos; HANNNNANANANANANA😍 pretty little birds - sza. you have the most beautiful writing known to man and you have such a pretty soul. sza is such a great artist, honored to give you one of her songs.
🩹 genre: pure fluff, comfort, boo being sassy as usual yet the most loving partner too!!
🩹 series: svt as boyfriends
🩹 wc: 1k+
🩹 author's note: me going through bad days mean one more part added to my svt as boyfriend drabble series hehe. also i fell down today so bad, which in turn resulted into this idea as Boo had always been my comfort boy!Tell me if y'all like it🧸
"Yah y/n watch your st- fuck not again" the sassy blonde walking behind shouts at the five footed shortie infront of him, who was now sitting on the road like a homeless, after tripping onto literal thin air.
You might be wondering who this butter footed person is right? It's no other than you yourself, aka the boo seungkwan's clumsy ass girlfriend.
Seungkwan quickly runs to the accident spot, extending his arms in an instant to pick you up in his embrace. "You need to be sent to the Louvre now you know?" Although he wanted to tease you some more for your mishaps but he could clearly see the pain and discomfort in your eyes, from the fall.
"Get up y/n. We need to get to the clinic right now" he still holds out his hands forwards for you to take support onto him while getting up. But to his surprise you refuse to even acknowledge the help offered and instead push up onto the concrete with your palms while slowly lifting your now aching butt from the road, wobbly standing up in the process.
"Tskk I don't bite girl!" Seungkwan throws a teasing tantrum at you while marching down towards his car, obviously hurt at the fact that you still don't consider him worthy enough to rely on.
"I don't really need to see a doctor Kwan. I'm now literally used to hurting my butt every few days!" you tug onto seungkwan's arms just before he reaches out to open the car's door for you, pulling the man to now face you,or rather tower you. Everyday you curse the universe for making you a woozi height! Like was it that hard to have your friend mingyu's height? Or at least his boyfriend wonwoo's?!?!?!
"Don't be silly you 'a slice of tangerine in place of a brain' person. You are clearly in pain and I won't take any excuses y/n. Get in the car right now" Seungkwan has always had this effect on you even after being so sassy and babygirly most of the times, the one that makes you follow his words like a kitten. So that meant you only had one option left and that was to get yourself decked in as a passenger princess, while your boyfriend drove you to the clinic.
The drive was literally like a mourning ground, spiced up by seungkwan's often sighs and worry in his eyes, alongside the fidgeting taps from your fingers.
The screeching of the tyres brought you out from the hole you've dug out onto your lap with your flaming beads, looking up to see that you're now in front of your most dreaded place - the doctor's chambers!!!
You were still seated clutching tight onto the leathers even though it was hurting your wound more, not wanting to go out and wishing that seungkwan would change his mind.
"Get down y/n. Don't make me drag you out like a five year old girl. Quick quick do you want a potato to replace your butt now?" he opens the door for you, unfastening the seatbelt and pulling you out of the passenger side, the clutch on his arms as gentle as an otter holding onto their child.
With no way out in front of you, you followed seungkwan like a duckling as he lead you into the reception, the xray room and finally to the doctor's!
"She has a minor fracture in her coccyx. It's better to give her complete rest for a week at least or we would need to operate her to get the fracture fixed!" the doctor now drops the bomb on the two of you! You were mentally cursing at him and wished that you could tell him to shut the fuck up. Why?
Cuz now Seungkwan would absolutely eat your brains out, treat you like a princess and not let you feel the ground for a whole goddamn week. And it was definitely not an unknown fact how stubborn this man was. If the doctor has told you to rest, he'll make sure to not let you get out of the bed at all, making you feel like a queen whose feet are too precious to touch the dirty floors.
"We definitely will doctor." he takes his own butt up from the chair, taking the prescriptions from the older's hands and helping you up from yours. "I'll make sure she heals completely within this time. Thank you!"
And with that your misery starts. Or should I say your royal days start.
"You know that you don't have to follow what he said right? I'll be able to deal with it myself only" you quietly blurt out to Kwan while walking down the white corridors, hoping that he would accept your shenanigans.
"Do I disgust you y/n? Do you not think me worthy enough to help you? To treat you in your tough times? Am I that unpleasant to you y/n?" seungkwan finally lets his pain out, standing amidst the parking lot, his voice breaking and eyes tinted with oncoming tears.
"N-no Kwan. Never!!! It's....it's just that" you take a halt before deciding whether you should let him see the true reason behind your actions. "It's just...just that I've always made myself that strong to...to take care of myself by my own, so I...I always feel....feel like a burden when others help me"
"I'm not others love, I'm your partner, your boyfriend. My duty is to look after my girl and treat her like cotton." Kwan takes his hands into yours, drawing small circles onto their top, trying to calm you down from the breakdown evitable in your eyes now.
"Besides I don't want to get engaged to a potato butt" he pats your head gently, flashing you with that same old sassy smile and side eyes of his, something you've always found the most attractive about him, the ones that made you fall for your childhood bestfriend out of all the people in the world.
summary: when you and your crush best friend watch a scary movie together and can't sleep, you have to let him stay over... right?
warnings: smut (kissing, dirty talk, oral, fingering, unprotected sex), pet names (baby, sweetie), same bed trope, seungkwan is a tiny bit mean, but he also loves kissing!
a/n: this is my first svt fic and i look forward to writing more ;w; thanks for reading!
“Whose idea was this again?”
You jumped at the voice coming from the other side of the couch. Seungkwan had somehow ended up sitting right next to you (hogging the blanket, mind you) so you could hear the slight tremble in his unusually quiet voice.
Your friend group was very aware of this as they had to deal with the aftermath of hearing half-assed movie reviews from the both of you. This week, Vernon had taken it upon himself to recommend watching Midsommar. “It’s not that scary,” he had said with a slight grin.
You and Seungkwan’s weekly movie nights were usually a great time. Both of you would take turns picking a film to watch. It was possible that you were both using these nights as an opportunity to get tipsy and inhale snacks.
Yeah, either that was a lie or you and Seungkwan were the biggest crybabies on Earth.
“Vernon’s idea,” you whispered back. You could hear the annoyed grumbling of your friend next to you and that made you giggle.
“Are you laughing at me now?!” Seungkwan gasped and flicked your knee from under the blanket you were sharing. “Like you weren’t almost crying earlier when the movie had barely started.” He went back to pouting and staring at the screen.
You smiled in amusement again and glanced at his side profile. Now, it was just common sense that Seungkwan was attractive. It was most obvious to you on nights like this when you were stuck next to him, his face lit up by the television screen. He had gone blonde recently as well so he looked even more ethereal than usual. You were quick to push back those thoughts and refocus on the movie.
---
It was about an hour later and Seungkwan was now clinging to your side in fear. He was so jittery and nervous throughout the whole movie that you almost felt bad - almost. It was hard to focus at the moment with him grabbing your arm and trying to hide behind you.
“Look, it’s over! No more torture!” You poked him in the cheek and he finally moved back a little when he realized how close he was to you.
“That was ridiculous. I don’t know how people willingly watch scary things…” Seungkwan said with a slight frown and you could tell that he was relieved it was over.
“I mean, it’s kind of funny that Vernon was able to prank us so easily,” you said with a shrug and were quickly met with a glare from your friend.
“We have different definitions of funny.” You laughed out loud at that and Seungkwan smiled along with you.
“By the way, you have to let me sleep here. I can’t leave in this condition,” he said while avoiding eye contact. He looked extremely bashful for someone who almost always ends up crashing at your place when you two hang out. It seemed as if he read your mind because he quickly straightened up.
“Since when do you ask? I usually just end up finding you here passed out on the couch,” you replied, hoping this situation wouldn’t escalate for the sake of your own heart.
“Geez, so much for trying to be nice,” Seungkwan playfully rolled his eyes. “I mean that you have to let me sleep in your bed. Otherwise I’m gonna have nightmares…” he pouted toward you.
You let a beat of silence pass as you felt a million thoughts run through your brain.
Why is he being shy? He’s just being annoying.
Wait, but when was the last time we slept in the same bed? Maybe a year ago when you got too drunk together at one of Mingyu’s parties?
Luckily you were able to get yourself together when you realized: I’m the one with the unrequited crush here. Not him.
“Ugh, fine. But you’re sleeping on the side against the wall.”
---
“I think I still have a pair of your shorts, you can look through my closet and change into those!” you yelled from your bathroom as you were washing your face. This was, of course, after Seungkwan had invaded your bathroom and insisted on doing his skincare routine first. You really didn’t like how domestic it felt. Once you finished up you made your way to your bed and got under the covers, ready to get this night over with.
“These were my favorite shorts, how did I not know you stole them from me?” Seungkwan exclaimed as he walked out of your closet in his shirt and (comfy) navy blue sweat shorts.
“Not my fault you left them here. And they’re comfortable as hell,” you say as you roll over to let him get on the bed. You feel him lift up the sheet and get under it, the mattress dipping slightly.
“Oh, you sleep without pants on?” Seungkwan said quietly, obviously flustered but trying to sound normal. You snorted out a laugh and rolled over to face him.
“Duh. Did you forget it’s the middle of the summer?” It was pitch black in your room but you can feel him roll over and look at you.
“Most of us don’t sweat as much as you do,” he replies and you punch him in the arm.
“Shut up and go to sleep already, you baby,” you roll back over with a sigh, hoping to finally rest after having such a long day. Being in bed with Seungkwan was the last thing you needed right now. Luckily your exhaustion was overtaking how nervous you were.
After a minute or two of silence Seungkwan spoke up in an uncharacteristically soft voice.
“Um, hey, are you awake?”
You grumbled out an mhm and waited for him to reply.
“Can we cuddle? I feel like I won’t be able to fall asleep…” When you didn’t immediately answer, he followed up with “I’m still a bit freaked out. I know you cuddle with stuffed animals, just saying.” Of course he had to add that.
“Whatever. You be the big spoon.”
You tried to calm your heartbeat down as you felt Seungkwan carefully move next to you. For some reason his gentle movement beside you made your insides flush with warmth. It was as if he was scared to accidentally graze you the wrong way even though you’d been best friends for years. The silence in the room was so heavy as Seungkwan wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling himself into your space. He went to rest his head on your shoulder and you thought you were about to spontaneously combust.
“You’re so warm,” Seungkwan whispered right next to your ear. Yeah, you were definitely going to die before this night was over.
“Sorry, I can turn the fan on if you want,” you whispered back and hoped he wouldn’t notice how shaky your voice was. He just exhaled a laugh (that you could feel right on your cheek).
“Mm, no. You’re warm and soft. It feels comfortable. You smell so good too,” Seungkwan replied as he squeezed you a bit tighter and cuddled closer to you. At this point, you figured he knew exactly what he was doing. You’d never experienced this much tension in your life, especially with your friend. You finally gave into your urges and moved your hand down to rest it on top of Seungkwan’s. In turn, he pushed his face even farther into your neck - so much that you could feel his warm breath on your skin and it was driving you crazy.
“Kwannie…” you accidentally said out loud and it was too late when you realized. This obviously had an effect on Seungkwan because you could hear and feel him take a deep breath. Nothing happened for a few seconds after and you slightly hoped that he would ignore it. The other part of you was becoming more desperate as time passed. Suddenly, you felt Seungkwan’s hand slowly move towards the edge of your shirt and pause.
“Is this okay?” he whispered directly into your ear in a voice you weren’t used to. You were used to outgoing and friendly Seungkwan with his sweet voice. This Seungkwan had a breathy and deep tone that caused a shiver to run through your body.
“Please,” you said louder than you meant to and you almost cringed at how embarrassed you were. How were you already begging when he just barely moved his hand down your body? And what exactly were you asking for?
Apparently Seungkwan didn’t feel the same way because his movements only seemed to grow more confident. He smoothly ran his hand under your shirt and across the warm skin of your stomach. You bit back a gasp and covered his hand with your own. Softly, Seungkwan rolled your body over so that you were laying on your back. He positioned himself above you and he was so close that you could slightly see him in the darkness. The tenderness of each action was making your heart ache even as you found yourself lying beneath him. Suddenly, his hand reached over to turn on your bedside lamp.
Once you were both slightly illuminated Seungkwan looked down at you and smiled.
“You look so beautiful, I wanna see you,” he said with a huge grin and it made you cover your face in embarrassment.
“You’re insane,” you said with a laugh and he grabbed your hands to move them away.
“Don’t laugh at me, I’m serious!” he added with a pout. After the laughter dispersed, you finally took some initiative and pulled Seungkwan down into a peck on the lips. He hesitated for a moment out of shock but quickly grabbed your face and kissed you deeply. You felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest. Seungkwan was a very careful and passionate kisser, unlike what you expected. You opened your mouth a bit wider to deepen the kiss and let him slip his tongue in, letting out a tiny moan at the feeling. You were getting more and more turned on by the second. After a few minutes of making out, Seungkwan’s hands began roaming your body before he paused.
“Um, I’m not sure how to word this but… how far do you wanna go? I mean, it’s just that we’re friends and I like you and I don’t want to pressure you into-”
You took both of his hands into yours to make him stop rambling.
“Seungkwan, I want you. I’ve wanted this for so long,” you said, hoping that you could get your message across to him. He grinned and nodded, slightly embarrassed that you had to stop him from his nervous ranting. Seungkwan’s obvious jumpiness made your own heart calm down a bit, and he leaned down and pulled you into an even deeper kiss as he interlocked your fingers together. You squeezed his hands and let yourself melt easily beneath his touch. His tongue began to explore your mouth again, which caused you to arch up against Seungkwan’s body. Now it was his turn to let out a moan and grind his hips down against yours.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he said with a heavy gasp as he pulled back from the kiss to breathe. You looked back up at him in a daze, and your body felt like it was on fire. You could feel how hard Seungkwan was from where he was positioned above you. Suddenly feeling a bit bolder, you wrapped your legs around his waist so you could feel him completely. This caused Seungkwan to groan and move his lips down to your neck. He began to push your oversized shirt up and you immediately took the hint to lift your arms so he could yank the shirt off of you and throw it off the bed. Seungkwan looked over your exposed body with a pleased look on his face, bending down to kiss your cheek and whisper in your ear.
“You’re so gorgeous, and all for me,” he said, his words laced with a tiny bit of possessiveness that you loved.
You swallowed heavily and replied quietly, “Now I want to see you.”
Seungkwan laughed and pulled his own shirt and shorts off, leaving him in his black underwear. You couldn’t help but stare at his body, totally sure that your expression looked like you wanted to eat him whole.
“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” he added with a wink that made you snort. You never understood how Seungkwan was so funny but still so sexy when he wanted to be. Your own friend was an enigma to you sometimes. He crawled back to his position over you and you ran your hands down his (very solid) chest.
“I know, but you’re still hot. And it seems like you’ve been working out,” you emphasized your words with a squeeze at his biceps. He exhaled another laugh and firmly slid his hands up and over your breasts, drawing a gasp out of you.
“Don’t tease me,” he mumbled before capturing your mouth in a deep kiss as he began to massage your tits and run his thumbs over your hard nipples. You moaned loudly into his mouth and quickly resumed your earlier position with your legs around his waist, grinding up into his erection. Seungkwan kissed his way down your neck and to your breasts, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and sucking harshly on it while squeezing the other. You moaned his name out and twisted both of your hands into his soft blonde hair. He pulled back a bit and looked at you with dark eyes.
“Your body is so sensitive, huh? Just like I imagined,” Your groan caught in your throat and your brain scrambled at his words. He went back to sucking on your breasts, leaving hickeys on your chest and taking his time kissing all over you. The feeling made you squirm even more. Seungkwan then moved down your stomach and made himself comfortable between your open legs. You lifted your head up a bit to look down at him and as you both made eye contact, he moved his thumb across your underwear in a rubbing motion. You moaned loudly in surprise.
“Do you realize how wet you are? Your cute little panties are all soaked…” Seungkwan said in a teasing voice and you threw your head back down to the pillow with a whine as he placed his tongue over the lacy material. He proceeded to then sloppily lick and suck over your panties, creating a wet mess that you could feel.
“Kwannie, I want more…” you whined against the pillow and tried to buck your hips up. This obviously didn’t fly with Seungkwan, as he quickly gripped your hips and held them down against the mattress.
“Baby, you need to be patient,” he said, his voice raspy. “Yeah?”
You could feel your pussy twitch at both the pet name and the tone of his voice. The perverted side of your brain had always secretly loved seeing Seungkwan be bossy or mean. You were quickly brought back to reality when you felt a light slap on your inner thigh.
“Y-yes, I’ll be patient, ‘m sorry,” you replied in the loudest voice you could muster.
Seungkwan quirked his eyebrow up at your reaction. He looped his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and pulled it down your legs, your body shivering as he exposed your cunt.
“So you like being told what to do?” he said, looking down at you again. He was quick to hold your thighs apart so that you couldn’t squeeze them together for relief. You were silent, your reply caught in your throat.
“Mmm, I should’ve known though. All those stories you’ve told me about your shitty hookups,” Seungkwan said with a chuckle. “I would always go home and think about how much better I could treat you than them,” he continued as he ran his index finger through your wetness. “How much better I could make you feel.” His finger slowly ran up and down your center, lightly ghosting over your clit. His confession made your heart clench in your chest. Had Seungkwan always felt like this?
“You’re already so much better…” you replied, moving your head to the side to finally make eye contact with the blonde above you. Seungkwan smiled warmly and moved down to peck you on the lips, adding another finger to rub your clit more strongly.
“What do you want me to do, baby? You gotta tell me so I can make you feel good,” he whispered in your ear, kissing and nibbling on it. You moved both of your hands to run across the broad area of his back.
“I, um-” you hesitated. “I want you to eat me out, please.” You could hear Seungkwan’s breath hitch in his throat. He quickly kissed you on the cheek in reply and settled between your legs again. Somehow, he still looked angelic like this. His honey blonde hair was fluffy and his bangs were in his face - his cheeks lightly dusted with pink as well. The only new thing was how dark and sharp his eyes looked as he left open mouthed kisses all over your thighs.
“Just don’t move your hips, okay? Let me take care of you,” he added. You nodded dumbly in response, unable to take your eyes off him. Seungkwan started by rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb, his other hand curled around your thigh to keep you in place. He gently licked up your folds, causing you to throw your head back with a gasp. You truly were sensitive, especially after not hooking up with someone for so long. Your hands quickly found themselves grasping for Seungkwan’s hair. He continued, his tongue getting sloppier and more eager.
“Taste so fucking good, still so wet for me,” he mumbled and the vulgarity of his words made you somehow blush even more. By now both of his hands were firmly holding your legs open for him to have full access to your pussy. You felt his fingers dig even harder into your skin as he licked, kissed and sucked all over your core. Seungkwan groaned as he moved to put his mouth around your clit and suckle on it.
“Oh fuck, Seungkwan,” you whined and gripped his hair even harder. He then inserted two of his fingers into you, making you gasp and clench around him. You were almost embarrassed at how close to the edge you already were. His fingers moved in and out of your wet cunt at a quick pace as Seungkwan continued to lick around your sensitive clit. Once you felt him starting to curl his fingers inside of you, you knew you were almost finished.
“I’m so close, please, Seungkwannie,” you weren’t sure what you were begging for exactly but he seemed to get the hint.
“Oh, my sweet baby,” Seungkwan said from between your wet thighs with a teasing lilt to his voice, his warm breath on your pussy. “You gonna cum already?”
“Mhm, please make me cum,” you gasped, forcing yourself to keep your hips down like he said - otherwise you would’ve been grinding on Seungkwan’s tongue. He gave you a smirk and harshly moved his fingers in and out of you, sucking on your clit even harder. You could feel your walls fluttering around him, the tension in your body about to break. After a few more curls of Seungkwan’s fingers inside you, you came so hard that you saw stars when you squeezed your eyes shut. All you could hear were your own whines of Seungkwan’s name along with his slurping sounds as he helped you ride out your orgasm. After a minute or so he slowly pulled his digits out of you, leaving your chest heaving in search of air.
Your eyes opened to see his gorgeous face right above yours. You also felt Seungkwan’s fingers pressed lightly against your lips. Wordlessly, you opened your mouth to take his fingers in and taste yourself, moaning softly as you licked him. Seungkwan watched your actions with lidded eyes, pulling his fingers out after a few seconds. He took your face in his hands, kissing you more aggressively than ever, slipping his tongue in and exploring your mouth. You felt his hardness against your leg - he still hadn’t taken his underwear off? As if he read your mind, he pulled back from the kiss, still cradling your head in his hands.
“Do you want more?” he asked, and you would think he was being shy if you hadn’t already experienced his dirty mouth. I guess it’s my time to tease, you thought to yourself.
“Yes, Seungkwan, I need you inside me so badly… don’t you want to be inside me, baby?” you replied with a pout, punctuating your words with a rut against his erection. You could almost feel the shiver that ran down his spine and he moaned in response to your words.
“You’re evil,” he said with a seriousness that made you giggle and pull his body down against your own.
“Please fuck me now, you know I’m on the pill,” you whispered in his ear. Seungkwan inhaled deeply, pulling back to discard his underwear. You could tell he was a little nervous about being fully naked in front of you, even with his goofy attitude from earlier. However, you quickly realized he had nothing to be shy about - of course a gorgeous man had a pretty cock to match. As he sat on his knees between your open legs, stroking himself, you could see how much precum he was leaking and it made your mouth water.
“My eyes are up here, jeez,” Seungkwan laughed and it snapped your attention back to him. He positioned himself between your legs, rubbing the tip of his dick against your clit to get a reaction out of you - his cockiness obviously hadn’t subsided. The way he stared you down as you whined and tried to squeeze your legs together made your insides burn with arousal.
“Do you want my cock, baby?” he teased as he continued to rub the outside of your pussy.
“Yes, I need you,” you whined and hoped that was enough. Seungkwan took the hint and entered you with one swift movement. Your gasp quickly turned into a moan, feeling your walls adjust and clench around him. He stilled for a moment, letting out a grunt of his own as he waited for your approval to keep moving. You moved your hips up against him, already wanting more.
“M-more, more,” you moaned out as you tried to grind against Seungkwan for any stimulation you could get. He immediately grabbed your hips with both hands and gave you a hard thrust.
“Is my girl already that needy?” he said with a smirk, looking down at you. You could feel your face burning as you nodded quickly. Any brattiness or stubbornness you had easily melted when Seungkwan talked to you like that. He bent down to capture your mouth as he started moving in and out of you at a moderate pace. Pulling back from the kiss, he moaned loudly as he rested his head on your shoulder.
“Fuck, you feel so good for me,” Seungkwan whispered roughly, causing you to clench even harder around his cock. He heard your quiet whimpers and pulled back to look at you. With a devious grin he took both of your hands in his and held them down, changing his angle to fuck you harder and deeper.
“Ah, S-Seungkwan-” you were cut off by your own moan when he sped up. You were so overwhelmed by pleasure that you could feel your eyes starting to tear up.
“My baby likes to be held down and fucked like this, hmm?” Seungkwan grunted out, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. He reached one hand down between your bodies to slowly rub circles on your clit and slowed down his thrusts. He was quite literally making you cry from pleasure but still looking at you with love and warmth.
“You’re amazing,” you gasped out after catching your breath. You thought you must look like a mess laying there with wet eyes, chest heaving up and down - but you didn’t really care. You were with Seungkwan. He paused for a quick second, looking into your eyes with an expression you couldn’t quite place. For a moment you were scared that you said too much. This feeling was quickly thwarted when Seungkwan pecked you on the lips and sighed.
“You know I’m yours, right?” he said with a smile, bringing his hand to your face to wipe your teary eyes. “I have been since we met.” This was the Seungkwan you knew so well. You mirrored his smile and nodded. He leaned down to peck you on the lips, pulling back to hook your legs over his shoulders.
“Now I’m gonna fuck you the way you deserve,” he said as he pushed deeper into you. “Gonna make you cum all over my cock.” This made you whimper loudly, pussy clenching around him for dear life. Seungkwan immediately started moving at an intense pace that had you grasping at his back to hold on. You tried to move your head to the side but felt his two hands grab your head.
“Look at me, sweetie,” he said with a grunt. You could tell he was close to the edge, and you were too.
“I’m so close, please touch me Seungkwan,” you whined out and felt his cock twitch inside you. His hand instantly moved back to stroke your clit, determined to make you finish for the second time. You wrapped your arms around Seungkwan’s neck and pulled him down into a deep kiss, swallowing each other's moans. After a few more quick movements of his hand, you came with a loud gasp against Seungkwan’s lips. You could feel his length throb even harder against your walls as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.
“Inside, c-cum inside me, Kwannie,” you began practically begging, trying to make yourself as coherent as possible. It was difficult when your vision was blurry with tears and your whole body was shaking. Seungkwan nodded against your neck, groaning out curses and praises as he finished inside of you. You let out a soft whine at the flood of warmth in your core. After a few minutes of heavy breathing and recuperating with Seungkwan laying on top of you, he rolled over to lay by your side.
“We should do that more often,” he said before pecking you on the cheek. You rolled your eyes and lightly smacked him on the arm as he giggled. Even though your teary eyes had mostly dried, Seungkwan wiped under your eyes and peppered your face with kisses.
“My cute little crybaby.”
“Hey, you were the one nearly pissing yourself over a scary movie earlier,” you retorted, trying to hold back your smile as he was kissing you.
“Not true!” he chuckled. “Mm, come on, let’s take a shower and then sleep.” It was surprising how quickly your heart swelled at the thought. You knew that you were done for - you were going to be clinging to Seungkwan until the end of time.
He found your hands and gently intertwined his fingers with yours, smiling down at you with warm eyes.
OH MY GOD seeing your tags in my notifs literally made my day i hope u know that. ty sososososo much for enjoying OMG your comments are so fucking great 😭😭😭😭!!!!!! ILY!!!!!!!!💗💗💗💗
✧ hoshi x f!reader
✧ summary: you go to bed feeling horny and decide to try and be quiet while you fuck yourself with your fingers while watching a video of soonyoung. too bad you're not as quiet as you think you are.
✧ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
✧ warnings: mean!dom!hoshi x sub!reader. messy sex, masturbation while he sleeps next to you, he films his own porn videos for you <3 true romance <3 pussy n tit slapping, spanking, rough handling. degradation (slut/whore), reprimanding. possibly free use, dumbification, cock-drunk reader, crying during sex n dacryphilia, spitting, missionary and doggy. cumming inside, unprotected sex. aftercare and cuddling!!
tagging @the-boy-meets-evil and @shuadotcom ; tag list: @coffeestay @tinkerbell460 @hyneyedfiz @wonuhour @sweet-like-caramel
with a groan you pushed the covers off of you, baring your skin to the cool air of your bedroom. soonyoung was quiet next to you, pillow in his arms. usually his soft snores helped guide you into sleep, helped your body ooze into slumber, but tonight seemed to be the exception. despite his snores, despite how the moon was high in the sky, you just couldn't sleep.
you were restless. despite how night blanketed the city, your body was wide awake and with no signs of sleeping.
soonyoung shifted next to you. you moved onto your side, watching as your boyfriend jostled the pillow in his arms. he moved to hold the pillow in one arm, his other reaching up towards the wall. he stretched, a low groan leaving his lips, and then he was still once more.
you let your eyes roam over him. soonyoung didn't wear clothes to bed -- tried to encourage you to do the same, saying that nothing made him more comfy than the feel of your skin against his. and because of his tendency towards sleeping in the nude and his stretching only moments prior, his lithe body was on full display for your eyes, the blanket having fallen to his waist.
though, you reflected, soonyoung wasn't exactly lithe anymore. his arms were thick with muscle and only growing by the day, veins on his forearms so delicious took look at. and his tits were growing more and more noticeable too, so much so that when he wore loose shirts they clung to his tits, to the shape of them, drawing your eyes and making it hard to look away.
and of course there were his abs. you weren't a shallow person, usually -- didn't drool over random men and their six packs, didn't get wet panties just from watching a man wash dishes.
but soonyoung? he was truly the exception.
just looking at his chest, watching his abs move up and down with each breath, eyes flickering over his tanned skin and taking in how the shadows of the room painted them even more prominently than they usually were, you couldn't help but feel wetness begin to stain your panties.
and just as visible as his abs and tits and face was his cock. it was flaccid, but even then soft his cock was thick and pretty. and his thighs, just as pretty as the rest of him with, thick muscle and your favorite seat to rest on.
god -- here your boyfriend was just sleeping and you were getting wet over his body. what did that say about you, you thought, hands drifting down to your sleeping shorts. what did that say about you, getting horny over your boyfriend while all he did was lay there and snore.
you cursed softly, and then you turned on the bed. you grabbed your phone and earbuds off of the nightstand. quickly you shoved your earbuds into your ears, unlocking your phone and going to that secret shared folder between you and soonyoung.
you went to a favorite one he had sent. his phone was propped up on a counter, pants shoved down underneath his dick and chest bare. his voice, deep and sly, filled your ears. "miss you, baby. gotta do what i do, okay? be a good girl for me and follow along."
if soonyoung asked for your obedience, even if it was past-him, you would give it. you adjusted yourself, fingers framing your clit. two of his own hands went to his dick, thick and dark; his thumb and forefinger focused on his head, softly rubbing, gently torturing himself.
you followed along. your forefinger and middle finger delicately dragged along the sides of your clit. as his fingers quickened, so did yours; as his cock leaked, your cunt followed suit, though your pussy leaked considerably more than his cock. soon enough, though you couldn't hear it due to your earbuds, your cunt was squelching with every move of your hand.
"fucking miss you," he growled, sucking his lower lip into his mouth for a moment. his dark bangs hung over his eyes as soonyoung bowed his head, thumb meanly pressing down on the slit of his cockhead. you followed suit, harshly thumbing at your clit in rapid movements.
"want your cunt so bad," he grumbled, one of his hands bracing against the counter. his veins in his arm bulged, thin hills running up his arms. "wanna fuck you so hard, fuck your sweet little puss -- fill you with my spunk, make sure you take every single fucking drop."
you swallowed, eyes zeroing in on his cock, knowing what would happen next, having seen it perhaps a hundred times before. he would keep his face low; his mouth would pucker. he would spit on his cock, saliva dropping and covering his tip. soonyoung would laugh, hand smearing over his dick. "wish it was your cunt covered in my spit and spunk instead of my dick."
but before any of that could happen -- before you were blessed with that image -- your phone was ripped from your hands.
you gasped, eyes shooting to soonyoung. he was moving against you before you could fully comprehend that he was awake.
"soonie --"
"what are you doing?" he demanded, voice deep from sleep. it did nothing to help the dampness in your underwear -- nothing could. your heart leapt and thudded with excitement as your boyfriend took your earbuds out and threw them onto the bedside table, his hands rough and quick.
originally you had just wanted to reach an orgasm so you could sleep, you thought; but this was a much better outcome.
his hands yanked down your shorts, and then they were being thrown across the room. next went your panties, discarded onto the bed. soonyoung's hands went to your top and then he was yanking that too, though he just shoved it up above your tits so he could palm at them.
"fucking yourself while your boyfriend sleeps," soonyoung answered his own question in a growl, thumbs pinching your nipples meanly. you whimpered softly. "oh -- don't try and be pathetic now," he snapped, "not after i've caught you."
soonyoung released your tits with another mean pinch, moving down your body. he shoved your thighs up, and then his hand was slapping on your cunt. you cried out, toes curling, followed by another heavy slap. soonyoung hooked his finger into your hole, pumping quickly.
"fuckin' greedy," he spat. soonyoung's dark eyes were narrowed, glinting with dangerous and delight. he was happy to have found you in such a situation, happy to have an excuse to be mean. and, despite having originally planned on letting him sleep, you couldn't help but be thrilled at the realization of the bullying he was about to put you through.
soonyoung slid his finger from your cunt and delivered another slap. the sharp sting shot sparks of pleasure and pain through your spine, toes curling and mouth dropping wide.
soonyoung shoved two of his fingers into your hole, rough and fucking up into you. every single pump was joined by the horridly wet squelching noise of your cunt, your cunt leaking so much that you could feel your juices slide down your rear and onto the bed.
he moved his free hand back to your tit. soonyoung pinched it again, your responding whine loud. he punished your whine with a sharp slap to the underside of your tit. "fucking desperate little whore. fucking yourself in our bed like a goddamn slut desperate for a cock. is that it, baby? you a fucking slut?"
you bit down on your lip, eyes watering at the edges from the roughness of his touch and the sharpness of his words. you loved it. "'m a slut, soonie, 'm sorry --"
soonyoung growled, and then he was slapping your cunt again. you cried out, thrashing in his hold, the pleasure-pain igniting every single one of your nerves on fire. he began to thrust three of his fat fingers into your pussy, the dull slapping sound of his hand as he fucked his fingers into you filled the air; coupled with the noises from your wet cunt your room was filled with obscene, sinful noises.
"you're not fucking sorry," he hissed. soonyoung's dark eyes were narrowed, their usual bright spark gone. instead he was a predator and you were the prey that wandered right into his trap; the tiger and the mouse that walked right into his paws.
"only sorry you got caught," soonyoung grumbled. he grabbed at your tit again, massaging it roughly, watching as your flesh molded around his fingers.
"i'm sorry --"
"no you're fucking not," soonyoung shot back, voice doused in poison. "fucking your little cunt when i'm sleeping right next to you. un-fucking-believable. can't fucking believe --"
soonyoung ripped his hand from your cunt. you let out a cry, trying to buck your hips back up to his hand. he laughed meanly, and then he was slapping your thigh. "eager little slut," he said. soonyoung was smiling, white teeth glinting in the moonlight. "just wanted something in your little cunt, yeah? just were so goddamn desperate --"
"wanted you," you sobbed, trying to reach for him. soonyoung pushed you back onto the bed, his hand pressing down on your shoulder and keeping you still. his arm flexed as you strained against him, and you couldn't help but watch as his muscles bounced, veins popping.
soonyoung moved to grab your hips. you immediately opened your thighs wide, letting him press against you. he lifted your lower half, fingers digging into your thighs. "opening your legs like a little whore in heat," he said, tilting his head, smirking. "that it, baby? you my little whore in heat, desperate for my dick?"
your eyes widened, all air leaving your lungs. soonyoung was still for a moment, just watching you, gauging your reaction to his words. but then you whined, high and needy, legs tightening around him, feeling nothing but arousal and thrill. "wanted you, soonie, wanted you so bad --"
"so you decided to fuck yourself in the bed next to me?" he asked, raising his brows. soonyoung released his grip on one of your thighs to run his hand along your cunt. the slide had you groaning, lashes fluttering and hips trying to seek out more friction. instead soonyoung moved his hand to your stomach; there he spread your slick over your skin.
"look at how fucking wet you are," he laughed. "fucking whore. so goddamn wet from just a fucking video."
then his sharp eyes snapped up at your face. your cunt clenched in response to his dark look. he used his free hand to grab his dick. soonyoung slapped the tip of his cock, a little spurt of precum shooting out in answer to his tease.
he moved forward, the tip of his dick rubbing against your pussy lips. you moaned, and then you were moving your hips, seeking more friction, trying to get his cock to slip in to where you needed it most.
"dunno if i should give it to you," he taunted, tongue poking out. his eyes were on your cunt, watching as he dragged the tip of his cock through your cunt, soaking it in your juices. "what was it, baby? decided a fucking video and your cute little fingers were enough? didn't need me? didn't need my dick?"
"need it," you sobbed. and you did. you needed his dick in you, needed him to shove his cock inside of you and fuck you. it was all you wanted needed. you needed him, needed kwon soonyoung.
"needed you," you cried, water stinging at the corners of your eyes. "needed you so bad, soonie. wanted your cock -- so so bad! didn't want to wake you, didn't want to -- soonie --"
and then you bursted into tears. you weren't sad, weren't crying from anything bad. you were just so desperate. you wanted soonyoung, you wanted him, you wanted, you wanted, you wanted.
soonyoung sighed, and then he was fucking his cock into you.
a loud cry escaped your mouth, and you arched your back up into him. soonyoung kept pressing, pushing his cock further and further. it stung, especially as his cock was so fat, fatter than even three of his fingers. but above that, above any pain that possibly could've come from it, you were wanton for it. you wanted it. you wanted his cock, wanted soonyoung's dick and any pain that might have come with it.
"take it," he urged, slapping your thigh. "take my cock, baby. gotta take it all. you were so desperate for it, yeah? wanted it so bad? wanted it so bad you were gonna cry like a little fucking slut. so now you gotta take it."
"want it," you gasped. you let your mouth hang wide open, brows knit in pleasure from the sting of his cock forcing your walls to accommodate him. wetness dribbled from your mouth, though you didn't quite realizing you were drooling. "soonie!"
"fuck," he hissed, and then he was bottoming out, his pelvis pressing against your ass. soonyoung's eyes were trained on your pussy, watching as your hole fluttered around his dick. "fuck, baby."
and then soonyoung was pulling out. the drag of his cock against your pussy walls had you keening, thighs tightening around his hips. it felt good, felt delicious. it was all you wanted and more, it was as if his cock inside of you was the missing piece to the universe, as if only now that his dick was in your gummy walls could the planets align and harmony be achieved.
(future you would cringe at the dramatics of cock-drunk you, but really; you were kwon soonyoung's girlfriend. it was a requirement for you to be somewhat dramatic.)
"fuck me," you begged, using your legs to try and force him to fuck back into you. "fuck me, soonie, fuck me."
he laughed, hands tight on your hips. as he spoke his grip continued to flex, as if the only thing keeping him somewhat composed was your body in his hands. "fucking desperate for me, aren't you? desperate for whatever i give you."
you blinked rapidly, lashes wet from your tears. "whatever you want," you echoed, excited at just the thought of him and his dick. "whatever you want, soonie."
soonyoung grinned. he grabbed your thighs and forced them to your chest. soonyoung used the new position to grab your jaw, and then he was spitting into your mouth.
"swallow," he commanded, smirking still. "want whatever i'll give? swallow my fucking spit."
you did as he said, mindless. soonyoung, delighted, wedged his thumb into your mouth and kept it open so he could spit again. you could feel his saliva hit your tongue, little droplets of spittle hitting your lips.
"swallow."
you did as he said, licking your lips after doing so.
soonyoung laughed, and then he was pressing his mouth to yours. you gasped, hands scrambling along his shoulders. soonyoung didn't kiss you as much as he fucked your mouth. his tongue slid in and out, shoving more of his saliva into your mouth, claiming even this part of you as his own.
then he snapped his hips into your cunt, sheathing his dick in one movement. you cried out, teeth nipping at his mouth on accident.
soonyoung pulled away, using one of his hands to wipe at his mouth. he then wiped the spit and drool from your kiss onto your shoulder. "gonna fuck your cute cunt so good," he said.
soonyoung went to his knees, keeping his pelvis pressed to your ass. he gripped your thighs and, using them as anchors, began to fuck you. soonyoung's hips slapped against you harshly, the sharp drive of his fucking making the skin where his hips met your ass sting, though this was drowned out by the pure ecstasy of his cock striking deep within you.
"take it," he growled, pushing your thighs to your chest, eyes dancing over your figure. "take my fat cock in your tight little cunt, fucking take it, take it all."
"please," you sobbed, wanting nothing more than to do as he says, "please --"
"begging so prettily," he continued, mouth just as fast as his hips. soonyoung fucked you urgently, desperately. it appeared, on the surface, as though he was just after his pleasure, uncaring if you found any. but he kept adjusting your thighs and ass, searching for that one gummy spot in your cunt that would bring you pleasure.
then, with a harsh fuck into your pussy, he found it.
you shouted out, hands shooting out and grabbing at him. one of your hands found his hair and gripped it tight.
soonyoung shot you a sharp look. and then he was grabbing your hand and forcing it to the bed, keeping you from touching him. "i said to fucking take it," he snapped. "fucking take my cock. you decided to fuck yourself in the bed, decided to go behind my back. now you gotta lay there and take it like a slut."
you sobbed, nodding. soonyoung moaned, hips stuttering for a moment. then he managed to control himself and resumed, cock slamming against your core in a rushed, harsh rhythm. "fucking pretty," soonyoung grunted. "so fucking pretty when you cry, fuck --"
soonyoung withdrew from your pussy, making a loud, horrible sob escape you. with quick, strong hands he was flipping your body over. your hair fell into your face as he shoved your shoulders down to the bed, his other arm looping around your middle and wrenching your ass up.
he swiftly entered your pussy once more, impaling you on his dick in one swift move. you cried out, hands fisting the sheets. your cries were somewhat muffled from the bed, lips pressed against the sheets.
"fuck," he hissed, his hands moving to your hips and gripping you. soonyoung fucked you with earnest, using his strength to bring your cunt back onto his dick again and again. "fuck --"
you cried, mouth wide open from pleasure. he was reaching so deep inside of you, dick reaching so fucking deep inside that you swore you could feel it in your throat. you felt like you truly could -- he was filling your senses, from his dick to his hands to his voice, and you felt like you were drowning in kwon soonyoung.
"good girl," he growled, shifting. "am i making you feel good? huh? your soonie's dick making your little pussy feel good?"
you sobbed out an answer. your face was just as wet as your cunt, though soaked with your tears and drool. you tried to speak but all that came out was a moan, muffled by the bed.
soonyoung's hand left your hip, and then he was grabbing your hair. he forced your face from the bed, a loud gasp tearing from your throat at his roughness. "fucking speak," he demanded, hand leaving your hair to slap at your hip. "told you to fucking talk, princess. think you're too good to talk while i'm fucking your pussy?"
"no," you said sobbed. "no -- just -- soonie --"
"what? fucking you so good you can't speak?" he laughed meanly, slapping your ass. "use your words like a good girl. be a good girl, baby."
it took a moment to gather yourself, trying to get your brain to flick back online. it wasn't like soonyoung helped, either. he continued to fuck you, balls slapping against your ass.
finally you managed something. your words came out in a slop. "good," you moaned, "fucking me sooo good!"
"fuck yes i am," he taunted, draping himself along your back. the change in angle had you squealing, driving your hips back and forcing his cock further. soonyoung let out a strangled groan, nails digging into your skin. "fuck -- baby --"
you fucked back again, eyes furrowing from how delicious it felt. soonyoung moved his hand to your cunt. he slapped over your clit once, and then he was hurriedly grinding his fingers around it, sending your body into overdrive from all the pleasure he was inflicting on you.
"such a good girl," soonyoung breathed, thrusts turning quick and short as he neared his peak. he refused to cum before you, however, and so he focused on your clit more than he did thrusting. "my good girl, yeah? my good girl, my baby."
"yours," you whined, and then he was slapping your cunt once more, sending you into orgasm.
it was loud, your orgasm. it rushed your body like a wave intent on drowning you, roaring in your ears and forcing your eyes shut. you couldn't even move, fingers and toes splaying out, limbs stretching. soonyoung didn't let you go far, forcing you still to fuck into you a handful of more times before he, too, reached his peak.
if your brain had gone offline from soonyoung fucking you, it was now floating in space from your orgasm. you weren't even on this plane of existence, your body reaching heaven.
when you returned, your brain deciding to reinhabit your body once more, you were on your side. soonyoung was pressed against your back, his arm thrown over your waist, keeping you close. both of you were covered in sweat and you could feel the mess between your thighs.
you let out a weak moan, and then soonyoung was rising from behind you. he smoothed your hair back from your face. he was just as sweaty as you, his bangs stuck to his forehead, face red from exertion. despite it all, despite how exhausted the fucking let him, despite how he had spewed such filth what seemed like only moments before, soonyoung gave you a bright smile, eyes crinkling.
"hey baby," he cooed, hand cradling your cheek. soonyoung ducked down and pressed a chaste kiss to your mouth. "how you doing?"
you groaned again, trying to work your sore throat. "good. tired."
soonyoung hummed, pouting down at you. "my baby's throat is sore, isn't it? let me get you a water."
you braced himself to retreat from you, to get up and leave the room to fetch you fresh water. instead your boyfriend stretched over your body, reaching onto the nightstand to grab your cup of water.
he guided you into a sitting position. "here you go, baby."
you blinked at him. "soonyoung," you croaked, "it's old water."
soonyoung pouted, sticking out his lip and making his eyes sad. "don't wanna leave you to get new water," he whined, pressing close. he moved his hand to cup your neck, raising the water cup to your mouth. "c'mon, baby. it's as good as any."
you took a sip but immediately pulled away, making a face. "soonie, i'll just go and get --"
"no!" he shrieked, hurriedly putting your water back on the nightstand. soonyoung pushed you back down onto the bed, and, despite how sweaty you were and your body was drenched in fluids from every end, soonyoung laid down on top of you. he pressed quick kisses to your face.
"no moving," he whined. "cuddles only."
you sighed, eyes sliding shut as his kisses neared your eyes. "we'll have to shower, soonyoung," you said, already feeling discomfort from where your cum and his cum was beginning to stick your thighs together. "we're all sticky and nasty --"
"can't we just cuddle and sleep?" he begged. you threw him a glare, not willing to sleep in a puddle of cum. soonyoung sighed, loud and exaggerated, and then he was lowering himself back onto your body, arms wrapping around your waist and pressing his face into your neck.
"just five more minutes," he whined, nose gently poking against your neck. "please?"
you were quiet for a moment. soonyoung hummed happily, thinking he won the spat. but then, projecting your voice, you called out: "siri! set a timer for five minutes!"
"After being assigned a fashion show for your big senior project, you set off to find volunteers to make it successful. However, when you meet Choi Seungcheol and his unfriendly clique through your volunteers, you realize they’re an unwanted package deal you can’t escape from. Can you handle Seungcheol's obnoxious friends, and can he handle your brash behavior?"
🍒 Pairing: businessMajor!Seungcheol x fashionMajor!Reader (afab)
🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Slice of life (!!!), slow burn, drama, fluff, angst, smut; Unrequited enemies to lovers (lol), strangers to lovers, college au
🍒 Warnings: [general tw (won't be repeated in the other chapters)] reader has she/her pronouns (referred to as girl, miss), reader dresses really feminine, reader is not nice, character outfit descriptors, parent/family issues (marital problems), bullying | [chapter tw] “joke” that implies prostitution in a negative way, near car accident (rear end), brief mention of death thru a joke
🍒 WC: 14.8k
🍒 Betas: Huge shout out to my bae, @love-strike, for being with me throughout this whole process, for listening to me whine, for helping me brainstorm majors for OT13, and for being so supportive! tysm 😭 And thank you to @playmetheclassics, @here4kpopfics, @angelwoozi for also beta'ing this series! ty for your time and for your sweet feedback! i really cherish everyone's efforts and brains hehe 🥰💖 i understand this was not an easy task to take on.
🍒 Author's Note: HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY TO THE LOML, CHOI SEUNGCHEOL!!!!!!!!! 🎂♥️ I started this fic in September 2022 and contemplated even publishing it multiple times. I think this will be the first fic I've worked on for so long and published. Also, this is the longest fic I've ever written, so that's exciting! It was supposed to be one long one-shot, but I ended up writing way too much for a one-shot LOL. I'm really proud of myself for powering through and not abandoning it, as I've done in the past. I also wrote this all in past tense and spontaneously decided to change it to present 😪 Anyway, please enjoy the start of this couple's journey 😁
also read here: AO3 | Wattpad
seventeen masterlist | main masterlist
previous chapter \\ pretty please masterpost // next chapter
When people say good students are those who arrive on time, you find it hard not to scoff. Professors should care more about how hard-working one is rather than if they show up on the dot.
Of course, you do try to make it on time, but can you really leave your house looking less than perfect? Absolutely not. Plus, the first fifteen minutes usually consist of professors getting set up for their classes, so you don’t feel like you are missing anything of importance.
Today is no different.
Ten minutes past the official class time, you stroll inside the room. Students are seated where they normally sit, some are on their phones, and others are trying to finish some last-minute homework assignments. It’s a fairly small class, and being in your senior year means everyone knows each other well. Although, most of the people in your class think ill of you and don’t talk to you.
At first, you thought it was a pity, but in the end, you realized you didn’t want to befriend those who would only talk shit behind your back. This is what you figured they did since they were never discreet when they exchanged whispers with their eyes glued to you.
Luckily, you have at least one friend in the class. Quality over quantity, right?
“Right on time,” your friend, Dae, says with a sly smile when she spots you.
You chuckle and slide into the seat next to her. “Class started fifteen minutes ago.”
“It did, but you’re right on time for you,” she explains with a knowing grin.
“Guess I need to be more late from now on,” you tease as you take out your iPad.
The device is a holy grail to you. Majoring in fashion design means all your ideas and creations over the past few years are stored there. When you don’t have it, it’s stored in secret in your house. Maybe that’s a little excessive, but losing it would feel like losing a part of yourself. After all, art creations always include a part of the creator. The device almost feels like it’s an extension of yourself—something too personal for others to peek at.
Dae rolls her eyes. “Or you could come on time. That would be different.”
“Why would I? The first fifteen minutes are worthless,” you huff and open your notes.
“I wouldn’t quite say that,” Dae answers, sliding a piece of paper over. You glance down at it.
Prepare for the annual Senior Fashion Show! Students are to create their own fashion show with a theme of their choice. The show will be toward the end of the semester in the Main Theatre (official times and dates TBD). The project will count for 80% of your grade as this will require you to use all the skills you’ve acquired as a student. When creating your show, be sure to be mindful of the following…
“This was handed out at the beginning of class. Seems like we’re going to have to work with students from outside our department,” Dae comments after she gives you a few minutes to read everything.
So, this is it.
Every senior majoring in fashion design is required to participate. You attended every fashion show hosted during your time as a student here. You were always left in awe, motivated to be a student that would leave behind a name for themselves at the college. You want to inspire the next seniors just as the ones inspired you before.
While this assignment has your body giddy with excitement, there is a part you are dreading.
People skills are not your forte.
Not because you feel awkward talking to new people, but because the conversations always end unpleasantly. Sometimes with back-handed compliments, insults, or them trying to scold you. You hope that won’t be the case while recruiting volunteers.
“So, do we have the class period to start getting things together?” you question once you finish skimming through the instructions again. You’re responsible for a lot more elements than you anticipated. You need lighting, music, a theme, backstage helpers, hair and makeup artists, an advertiser, and most importantly, models. This is when you wish you had a large network. Though, every friend you tried to make didn’t end up lasting. Dae is the only person who has stuck by your side.
“Yup,” she replies. “We’ll be doing mini assignments throughout the semester to help us prepare. I think it’s just a way for Dr. Lim to give us grades so he doesn’t get in trouble.”
“Probably,” you sigh. You are already feeling stressed. Quickly, you scribble down a list of to-do’s in your notes.
“Do you have a theme in mind already?” Dae asks after a moment.
“No, do you?” you wonder.
Dae sits back in her chair, pen resting between her fingers. “I was thinking about something with space? Maybe my main colors will be blue, purple, and black.”
“Oh? Isn’t that what you’ve been doing, though? Don’t you want to try something different?”
Although the question is harmless, the tone of your voice must have rubbed Dae the wrong way. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and then looks at you again.
“Think of it as branding, okay? Why does it bother you so much?” she wonders with a frown. Realizing your mistake, you inhale slowly.
“It doesn’t. I didn’t mean to sound rude. I’m sure your stage will do well,” you reply, forcing a small smile on your lips.
“No ‘sorry’?” Dae asks despite knowing it isn’t part of your favorite vocabulary.
You narrow your eyes at her. “Nope. Just don’t be so defensive next time.”
“You’re insufferable,” Dae answers. “One day, you will be sorry for your behavior.”
Shrugging, you say, “There’s always a chance, but maybe if the world wasn’t so insecure, saying sorry wouldn’t be so wanted.”
Dae exhales disapprovingly at your thought process, displeased with your reply. “Well, for now, maybe try to be more empathetic?”
“I have bigger things to worry about right now. For instance,” you start, a finger at the top of your to-do list, “I’ve got to find someone who can provide me with music.”
Fuck, it’s too loud in here.
The sounds of different instruments being played at once, all emitting different tunes, have a migraine bubbling in your head.
You make a beeline to the professor who is sitting in the corner. She is an older lady, evident by her wrinkles and gray hair. Yet, her features are soft, and the smile she gives you makes you feel at ease.
“Hello, miss, can I assist you?” she asks when you’re in hearing range.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I was hoping you could help me with an assignment?” you wonder and offer her a kind smile, hoping she won’t shoo you away immediately.
“Ah, it’s alright. They’re just practicing for an upcoming assignment today. What is it you need, dear?”
“Who would you consider your best student? Is there a way you can get me in contact with them?”
The professor’s eyes widen slightly at the question. She didn’t expect that. Nevertheless, her gaze rises to scan the classroom.
“There,” she points as discreetly as she can. You follow her finger, which lands on a blonde-haired guy tuning his guitar. “Lee Jihoon. He’s the most talented student I’ve ever had.”
“This semester?” you ask out of curiosity.
The professor shakes her head. “Ever.”
You can’t stop the small disbelieving huff that escapes you. The best student ever? You aren’t sure how long she’s been teaching, but you doubt out of all her time, he is the best. He looks too young.
“Now, now, don’t judge a book by its cover,” she scolds gently. You have to force yourself not to roll your eyes at the phrase. You’ve heard it too many times that its meaning lost its effect on you.
“What makes him your best student?” you question, sight going back to the man who is oblivious to your stare. He sits next to another student who also has a guitar. They seem to be friends from the way they are laughing together.
“His work is versatile and very good. I’m positive he will be the perfect person for your project.” The way she speaks about him makes you believe her. There was no waver to her voice, and her eyes hold a fondness in them you know one can’t replicate if not genuine.
“How long until they have their assignment due?” you wonder, realizing you may have to wait until the class ends before you could talk to him.
The professor smiles. “I’ll let them have five more minutes so you can introduce yourself.”
Internally, you sigh in relief. You’re grateful you don’t have to wait.
“Thank you,” you say before strolling to the man.
As you near, his friend glances up. He’s mid-sentence when he spots you, eyes growing slightly at the sight of you. You’re used to getting looks like that. Your fashion is always dressier than the average college student's. People just aren’t used to it.
“Hi,” the brunette friend says. He has prince-like features, and you almost consider asking him to be one of your models. You give him a small grin out of politeness before turning to the whole reason you came over.
“Lee Jihoon?” you ask.
Jihoon’s mouth parts slightly in surprise. “Uh, y-yeah. Do I know you?”
“No. My name’s Yn. I have a project in a class and need someone to provide music for me. You won’t get paid, but any extra experience is always good, right?” you greet, not wanting to dance around the subject. After all, this is only the first of many on your to-do list.
“What major are you in?” he wonders, brows knitted in confusion.
“Fashion design,” you answer.
Jihoon is silent for a moment. “And how did you find me?”
This guy is more difficult than you wished. You just need him to say yes.
“I asked for the best student, and you were recommended. So, what do you say? Will you help me?”
Jihoon gives you a small smile, but something about it rubs you wrong. “Sorry, my plate is a little full right now—”
“Do you need money? I can give you some afterward.”
You try not to sound desperate. Lee Jihoon is not the only music major—this is obvious by the amount of noise you hear in the background.
But you never settle for less than the best.
You have been looking forward to this project since your college tour here.
“It’s not that,” Jihoon chuckles awkwardly. “I have other assignments I have to practice for, but I’m sure there will be someone else to help you. There’s a lot of talented students her—”
“But they’re not the best,” you interrupt. What else can you offer him that will make him say yes?
“Well, being the best is subjective,” Jihoon counters, voice light so you know he doesn’t mean it rudely.
You open your mouth to bargain with him more, but his friend leans into his ear. The noise from the other instruments behind you makes it hard to hear what they are saying.
Patience is something you rarely have. The longer you stand there waiting, the more annoyed you get.
“Look, you have almost a full semester to get a song done by then. I’m sure you can find some tim—”
“Fine,” Jihoon grumbles as he shoves his friend away. “I’ll do it.”
“Oh,” you pause. You are fully prepared to go down the mental list of how helping you will help him in return. One that will be complete bullshit, but if it gets him to say yes, then so be it. Luckily, you don’t have to.
“Great!” you say.
You aren’t going to give him time to back out, so you quickly retrieve a business card you had made from your purse. It’s easier to exchange contact information, and you never know when you may run into someone important. Being in an artistic field means competition. You always need to have an eye out for something, or someone, that will help you get your name out there.
“Here’s my number. Please contact me before the day ends.”
Jihoon takes the card and examines it. “Got it. What kind of music will you need?”
“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll let you know,” you reply. He nods in response.
“I look forward to hearing your music. I’ll talk to you later then,” you say.
You have half a heart to wish them both luck on their assignment, but part of you is a little petty that Jihoon put you through some trouble. Instead, you give them a wave before turning on your heel.
As you’re leaving, you hear a loud sigh followed by a laugh from behind you.
“Shut up, Shua,” Jihoon groans before the professor calls everyone’s attention.
Music, check. Now, what’s next?
As you make your way down the hallway, you stumble across Dae. She is surrounded by two other male students, none of whom you know. You don’t plan to greet her since she seems busy, but the sound of your heels clicking against the tile catches her attention.
“Yn!” she calls out cheerfully.
You halt in your tracks, turning to see her smiling at you. She gestures for you to come over, so you do.
“Hey,” you say to her.
“How’s your project going?” she asks.
“I got someone to help me with music,” you reply, then glance behind her to see the two guys staring at you. Dae follows your gaze and makes a small “oh!”
“Is that all? Do you have anyone for advertising or graphics?” Dae wonders, her voice seemingly excited.
“I don’t,” you answer hesitantly. Her eagerness has you worried.
“Perfect!” she exclaims, then turns to the others. “This is Yejun and Jeonghan. They’re both advertising majors. Yejun agreed to help me with my project, but Jeonghan,” she pauses to address the man. He has blonde hair that goes past his eyes. His soft features are handsome and almost angelic.
“Jeonghan, would you mind helping my friend with hers? She’s super talented.”
Jeonghan glances at you, but before he can say anything, you ask him, “What are your skills? Do you have some work I could see first?”
Jeonghan looks taken aback. “O-oh, I don’t have a portfolio yet, sorry.”
“Ah, that’s fine,” you say before looking at Dae. “Thanks for trying to help me, but I’ll find someone else.”
Dae’s eyes narrow at you. “Come on, Yn. Jeonghan is really good!”
“Didn’t you just meet him?” you question and try to stop the scoff that threatens to escape.
“Well, yes, but Yejun has been my friend for a while, and I’ve seen his work. Yejun and Jeonghan have worked together as well, and their creations are unique!”
You inhale deeply, eyes roaming from your friend to Jeonghan. He offers you a smile.
“What your friend said,” Jeonghan replies with a small chuckle.
“Trust me on this,” Dae says. “Jeonghan won’t disappoint you.”
You don’t feel at ease agreeing to someone blindly. Dae’s definition of “really good” could be different from yours. Although her work is good, you feel your standards are way above hers. You had planned to ask for the best student for each assigned task, so having been offered a random helper with no proof of their credentials is unnerving.
Granted, you haven’t heard Jihoon’s work, but you were sold on the way the professor spoke about him. Dae, on the other hand, is not a professor and could be biased as Yejun is her friend. Though, you still have a lot more positions to fill, and you need to do so soon.
Sighing, “Fine. You can work with me.”
From the way you word your sentence, it’s almost as if Jeonghan is supposed to jump up and down with glee. He doesn’t.
You grab another business card from your purse and hand it to Jeonghan. He takes it slowly.
“Just so you know, I have the right to replace you with someone else if I see your work isn’t fit,” you warn as Jeonghan slips the card into his pocket.
His eyes lock on yours. “That won’t be necessary,” he answers, not bothered by your comment.
“Oh?” you wonder and quirk an eyebrow up.
“Hm. You also need graphics, right? I have a person for that as well,” Jeonghan says.
“I haven’t seen their work yet—”
“You’re not very trusting, huh?” Jeonghan observes with a laugh. You shift your weight on one hip, not liking the way he is trying to tell you about your personality when he doesn't know you.
“I just know what I want, and I won’t settle,” you answer sharply.
Dae huffs next to you and gives you a gentle shove, indicating you to ease up. That isn’t going to happen.
Jeonghan doesn’t reply and instead takes out his phone. His fingers dance around the screen for a minute before he turns the device for you to see. On the screen is an Instagram account with various posts of different art and graphic pieces. Your eyes drift to the username. by_xuminghao_o. His art is impressive and definitely not an amateur like you half expected.
“So, about not settling,” Jeonghan trails off, a hint of a cocky smirk on his lips.
“I expect you both to contact me before the day ends,” is all you respond with.
Jeonghan pockets his phone and nods. He seems content with your answer even though you don’t confess the art meets your standards.
“All good then?” Dae asks, glancing between you two.
“We’re good,” Jeonghan replies and gives you another smile of his—one you are starting to hate seeing. There is just something about it that seems like he knows more things than you in a cocky, condescending way.
Yejun glances at his watch and then nudges Jeonghan.
“Thanks, ladies, but we have a class to attend. Nice to meet you, Yn,” Yejun says.
You hum in response while turning away from them. Dae says her goodbyes, watching as they leave before putting her focus on you.
“Do you have to be so picky?” she sighs.
“As I said, I know what I want. I’ve waited to do this project for years. It has to be perfect,” you explain and pull out your iPad. You check off music and advertising from your to-do list. Graphics aren’t listed, but you figure it will be a nice addition.
“I understand, but—”
“Just focus on your project, and I’ll focus on mine, okay?” you interrupt. You don’t feel like hearing her lecture you for a second time today.
“Alright,” Dae answers. “I’ll see you around,” she says, walking away before you can say anything else.
With her back turned, you roll your eyes at her attitude. It has your mood lowering, and you conclude you’re done with human interaction for now. You carefully place your iPad back in your bag, then make a beeline to the parking lot, ready to go home to figure out a theme for your show.
Home is somewhere you don’t enjoy being.
It always has this melancholy cloud looming over you. You can never seem to get rid of it completely. Even on the good days, it lingers in the corner of the room, always threatening to float above you. You doubt it will ever dissipate.
Your back is against the headboard of your bed, your iPad resting against your legs that are pulled to your chest. The music playing is too low for your liking, but you know if it’s any louder, your father will scold you for the high volume. Sometimes you will raise it just to get him to talk to you. Though today is not one of those days. You want to be left alone for once, which isn't usually too hard to do unless your sister needs attention. Like now.
“Today is the last day. Pleaseeee, Yn!” your sister whines at the foot of your bed. Her small body is bouncing with desperation and eagerness.
Reluctantly, you flicker your gaze up at her. The slight scowl on your face doesn’t seem to faze her… Probably because she’s seen it so much.
“Can’t you see I’m busy?” you exasperate, gesturing to your iPad.
Seoah frowns. “When are you not? Come on! It’ll take, like, ten minutes. I’ve been looking forward to getting a Fallin’ Flower frap for months! You know it’s a seasonal drink.”
“Didn’t Dad say you couldn’t have any more sweets?” you say and peer down at your iPad again. You’re in the middle of brainstorming themes for your show. There are various words within bubbles, each connected with a line.
“I’ll just get a small,” she explains. When you don’t move, she walks around the bed to stand next to you. Her voice becomes softer, sadder. “You said you would take me. Dad can’t.”
“That was before I got assigned this project. It’s my—”
“Senior project that you’ve been looking forward to since your freshman year, yeah, I got it,” she responds, reciting what you’ve told her before.
You finally look at her once more. “I’ll take you for the next seasonal drinks, okay? They’re probably better anyway.”
“But I really want a Fallin’ Flower,” Seoah pouts.
“Next year,” you offer and return your attention to your homework.
“Yn—”
“Next year,” you repeat firmly without looking up.
Seoah pauses in her begging. You think she’s going to continue, but you hear the soft padding of her feet as she moves.
“Oh, Seoah?” you call out, glancing up.
She pauses by your door and looks up with some hope in her eyes.
“Don’t forget to shut the door all the way.”
“Right,” she mutters slowly, then leaves the room. You wait until you hear the door click close prior to getting back to work.
You sit on your bed the remainder of the day, only getting up to cook dinner for your father and sister. Your eyes feel strained and your body weak, but the sooner you pick a theme, the sooner you can get started.
It’s days like these when your body is mentally and physically exhausted, that you miss your mom. You try not to think too much about her as it only makes the gloomy cloud above your head darker.
Is she happier? Surely, she is. She is living her dream as a traveling journalist. Sometimes you will see her adventures if you peep at her social media. It’s self-torture to do so, but curiosity gets the best of you. You hope one day you’ll have the willpower to block all her accounts.
At this point, you’re having the same conversation you have with yourself once a month. It never ends the way you want.
Inhaling deeply, you finish plating all the food before calling your family for dinner. While your father eats in his office, needing to continue his work, you and your sister eat in silence in the dining room.
Maybe one day things will change, but for now, you’ll have to settle with this.
You are about to knock on the door a second time when no one answers it. You have allotted only an hour for this meeting, so the longer you wait outside, the more you grow impatient. You have set mini-deadlines throughout the semester to ensure you will complete this assignment in a timely manner. You just hope your recruitees aren't going to slow you down.
Suddenly, the door is yanked open. Jeonghan stands on the other side, hair a little damp and a few wet spots on his shirt.
“Sorry about that,” he says hastily. “I thought I could shower quicker.”
“I told you eleven o’clock,” you scold. Jeonghan simply smiles.
“Never hurts to give people some wiggle room. Plus, aren’t you the early one?” Jeonghan leans back to view something. He looks at you after a few seconds. “It’s only three minutes past.”
“Early is on time,” you say as if that is an obvious life choice. Although you’re never really on time for classes, you reason that to be because the first fifteen minutes are a waste of time. This, on the other hand, is not. “Invite me in?”
Jeonghan moves aside and lets you enter. His apartment is tidy for the most part. It seems as if he had started to clean up but gave up toward the end.
“Where’s Minghao?” you wonder when you saw you were the only one here. He’s supposed to be here with Jeonghan, so you can all go over the advertising designs.
“He called and said he hit some traffic. Have a seat anywhere; I’m going to grab my laptop,” he instructs before jogging to another room. Shaking your head in disappointment, you glance around again.
Spotting his couch, you walk over and make yourself comfortable. You take out your iPad and open what you have so far—color ideas, font ideas, and a few mock-up fashion designs. It has been two weeks since you last saw Jeonghan. The majority of your tasks have already been assigned to people, but you still have to find a few more models.
“Alright, so, what’s the theme?” Jeonghan asks when he comes back. He sits down next to you, causing you to bounce slightly from his weight.
You angle your screen, so he can see it easier. “I decided on the four elements—water, ice, air, and earth. The title right now is Pinwheel.”
“This gives us multiple color options,” Jeonghan examines. “Maybe we could have five designs. One for each element and then one with all of them? That would give you a variety of exposure and make the audience feel they’re not looking at the same promo material every time.”
You sit still as you ponder his suggestion. “You don’t think people will get confused seeing different designs?”
“We can make it all tie in some way. You have your own logo, as I saw on your card. We can use that and the same fonts.”
“Okay,” you say slowly. “That sounds—”
A knock on the door stops you.
“Ah, that must be Minghao. Do you mind getting that? I’m going to get my notepad, so I can try to sketch some layouts.”
You nod, setting your iPad down next to his laptop, then walking to the entrance.
“You’re late,” you groan while you pull open the door.
“Oh? Am I?” the person says with a little playful smile on his lips.
Although you’ve never met Minghao, you have seen pictures of him on his Instagram. You expected to see a head of blue hair, but you are greeted with black. Instead of a narrow face, his is slightly wider. He wears an oversized white shirt, jeans, and a colorful necklace. He looks like every other college student. Sure, he’s more handsome than the average, but not by much. Behind him are two women and one man.
“Can I help you?” you exhale a disheartened sigh when you conclude it isn’t Minghao. Meaning, he’s even later than you wished for.
The guy chuckles. “I doubt it, but Jeonghan can. Is he here?”
His voice is slightly deep. You may have found him soothing to listen to if it wasn't for his irksome words.
“He’s busy right now. You can come back in an hour, though,” you instruct and start to close the door. You don’t need any distractions.
The man sticks his foot out to stop you, causing you to exhale annoyed when you can’t get rid of him. You open the door slightly again.
“Just tell him I’m here,” he says, his teasing tone not so visible anymore but still light enough to not sound too rude.
“And who are you?” you question apathetically.
“Jesus,” someone hisses behind him before shouting, “Jeonghan, come here!”
Your eyes gaze past the man to see a woman with short-length dark hair. She eyes you haughtily, hand on the man’s forearm as if she were to push him away. Though she never does. She takes in your attire, and you once again get a look of judgment at your choice of dress. Your white dress paired with a same-colored, opened button down and beaded chain around your hips is apparently not her style.
“What’s going on?” Jeonghan asks behind you. Reluctantly, you move aside so he can see. “Oh, Seungcheol! Right. One second. Come on in. I’ll get those papers for you.”
“Actually, do they need to come in? They’re not staying long,” you say quickly before any of them can move.
“Relax, princess, he’s just being friendly. You know, like when someone is kind, thoughtful, and considerate?” the girl questions as if you’re dumb and makes her way inside despite you standing close to the door. It forces you to move over.
Her friends follow along. Three of them stand in the living room, while the second guy sits at the kitchen bar before pulling out his phone. You watch them with a fire inside your chest. Not only are Jeonghan and Minghao late, you now have to deal with this obstacle.
Just as you’re shutting the door, you see a glimpse of blue down the hall. Finally.
“You’re late,” you repeat, but to the correct person this time.
“I know, I’m sorry! Oh, are they helping too?” Minghao says, pausing at the entry when he sees the group of people inside.
“No. Get in,” you huff and point a finger in the apartment. Minghao enters without a fight.
“Hao!” the second girl exclaims with a smile.
Great. Do they all know each other?
“Hi, Hana,” Minghao greets with a gentle grin.
“What are you doing here?” Hana wonders.
“I’m helping Yn with her project,” he answers and gestures to you while you shut the door.
Hana looks your way, and you can see the distaste in her expression; however, she doesn’t say anything.
Jeonghan walks out of his room with a folder in his hand. “I hope this is what you need,” he tells the first man—Seungcheol, you presume.
Seungcheol smiles and takes it from him. He flips open the folder, doing a quick glance through the papers inside.
“Looks great,” he says. “Thanks for getting these for me.”
“Of course,” Jeonghan replies.
“Hannie, do you want to come to Shining Diamond with us this weekend?” the first girl asks, tilting her head in a way that appears as if she’s begging for a yes.
“Ah, this weekend?” he hesitates. “I have a test on Monday I was going to study for.”
“A few hours won’t hurt you,” she replies.
“Alright, Hajun, but only for an hour or so,” Jeonghan says with a not-so-stern voice.
“Great! Minghao, do you want to come, too?” Hajun asks.
Minghao shrugs. “I’ve got nothing else, so sure.”
Hajun grins widely. Her eyes go past Minghao to see you standing in the corner, your arms crossed and eyes staring daggers at everyone.
She doesn’t say anything, but her look tells you you aren’t invited. As if you are silently begging to join. The thought makes you scoff quietly.
“Cool. You all scheduled your weekends,” you start and walk back to the couch. You turn briefly to Seungcheol, who is eyeing you already. “And you got your things. Can we please continue?”
Your gaze shifts to Jeonghan at your question. He offers you an apologetic look before nodding.
“I’ll see you all this weekend. You can text me the time,” he says while walking to the door.
“We can decide that now,” Hana suggests.
“Or over text like Jeonghan said,” you interject. She narrows her eyes at you.
“Be patient. It’ll only take a few minutes,” she replies.
A few minutes, my ass.
“I’d rather you use those minutes to walk out the door.” You give her a faux smile.
“Have some respect,” Hajun scolds.
You laugh though you don’t find any of this humorous. “What a hypocrite. How about you respect people’s times?”
“I did tell Yn I’d help her,” Jeonghan cuts in sheepishly and opens the door to hint at them to leave. “I’ll text you all later, or you guys can come back in a bit.”
Seungcheol’s gaze lingers on yours as he walks toward the door. Your eyes catch on his as he makes his way into your line of sight. His stare has an unsettling feeling form in your stomach, and you contemplate asking what his problem is. Before you can, he turns to Jeonghan.
“Thanks again,” he says as he lifts the folder.
“No problem. Talk to you later,” Jeonghan replies.
All his friends have filed out except for the one male who hasn’t said a word. He glances at you. You expect to receive another jab about who knows what. Instead, he gestures at your body.
“Nice chains,” he compliments with a smile.
Your eyes widen slightly as you glance down briefly at your outfit. That was certainly unexpected. “Uh, thanks.”
“Come on, Vernon!” Hana yells from the doorway. Vernon gives you a thumbs up, which is uncanny given the situation, then follows his friends out the door.
Once they leave, you narrow your gaze at Jeonghan and Minghao. They’re quick to apologize again and start asking questions about your project before you can lecture them. Lucky for them, your hour is almost up, so there isn't enough time to do that anyway.
Weeks go by with you working nonstop on your project. Annoyingly, you also realize that the majority of the people you recruited to help all know each other. It usually isn’t something to be irritated by, but each time they run into each other, they usually end up making small talk that you have to break up. They can do that on their time, not yours. Even more frustrating is that this so-called Seungcheol and his groupies know them all as well. Their reactions to seeing you are always the same—ones of displeasure. Though the feeling is mutual.
You learn they are all business majors, except for Vernon. Well, he was a business major, but he plans to switch to something else. You can’t blame him. If all the business majors act revolting, you would leave that department as well.
Seungcheol… He isn’t as bad.
You have only ever hung out with him by himself for less than five minutes. Those conversations spur when you’re both left alone after one of your “mutual friends,” because none of these people are your actual friends, abandon you both. The conversations are awkward and never hold any weight. He doesn’t throw snide remarks at you, but his presence still makes you uneasy with the possibility. You’re normally the first to leave because of that. Maybe if he didn’t have those obnoxious friends, you could tolerate him more. You can’t help but associate him with them though. You simply want to get away from them, even if that includes him. Not that you are craving his presence anyway. You barely know him and aren’t interested in changing that.
“Those are looking awesome so far!” Dae exclaims when she peers over your shoulder to see your sketches.
You smile at her and set your iPad down on the table. The weather outside is perfect, given the cool breezes in the heat. It eases your mind, and you feel more creative being in a new environment.
“Thanks, how are yours coming along?” you question and wait for her to angle her own iPad to you. On the screen are various designs, each with a hint of purple or blue.
“Those are neat,” you compliment.
“Yeah?” she says and beams at you. “What about this one? I think the shoulder looks a little weird.”
You reach over, using two fingers to zoom in on the screen to examine it.
“Maybe just lower this,” you gesture on the screen, careful as to not move the screen on accident. “You could take this part out too and make it asymmetrical.”
Dae hums, lips pursed in thought. “I’ll try it. I guess I won’t really know until it’s on someone.”
You nod in agreement before focusing on your designs again. After a while, Dae excuses herself from your homework session. She had planned to meet with one of her helpers. You bid her a quick goodbye.
Ten minutes pass when you see someone standing in front of your table, blocking your sunlight. Your eyes rise to see who it is.
“Hi,” Seungcheol greets.
You straighten your posture upon seeing him. He wears a basic navy suit that fits him well. To your surprise, it actually looks decent on him. Your eyes dart around him to see if any of his friends came.
“Just me this time,” he answers the question in your head.
“What is it you need?” you ask blankly.
“Must I need something?” he retorts.
You suppress the eye roll you want to give him. “Well, I’m sure you didn’t come here to tell me about your day.”
“I can if you want,” he responds, then to your utter dread, he sits down across from you. From the position he is sitting at, the breeze is blowing his hair forward and into his face. He raises a hand to push it back, but it’s no use.
“You can spare me. Tell me what you want and go,” you instruct. This is the first time he has approached you—and alone, for that matter. You don’t want to make it a regular thing.
“Always straight to the point,” he chuckles.
“I just don’t like my time being wasted,” you explain.
“So, I’m wasting your time now?” His eyebrow quirks up.
“Should I spell it out for you?” you scoff. It should be obvious that you don’t feel like talking to him.
“You can try, but do you know how to spell it?” he stares at you through the hair on his face. Even though you can’t see him clearly, you can tell he has a challenging gleam in his eyes.
“At this point, I think you just came to bother me,” you sulk.
He smirks at you. “I didn’t, but it is a little fun to see your feathers ruffled.”
“They’re perfectly content being unruffled.”
Seungcheol chuckles at your response. He pushes his hair back, but this time he rests his hand against his head, keeping his hair in place. His elbow is propped on the table while his other arm lays flat on the surface.
All the times you have seen him, his hair has covered part of his forehead. Now, it’s all exposed, and you feel you can see him. Maybe it’s because he’s donning a suit for once, but he looks almost… handsome like this—dressed formally with a small glint in his eyes and his lips spread in a gentle smile.
“Where’s the fun in that?” he replies. “I think you need to have more fun.”
Well, he was handsome until he opened his mouth.
“I don’t need a stranger telling me how to live my life,” you say.
“A stranger? I would think we’re at least acquaintances,” he frowns.
“You only see me because your friends are helping me. Speaking of, is that why you’re here? Does it have anything to do with one of them?”
Seungcheol bites his bottom lip, and you can’t stop your eyes from lowering to his mouth.
“Maybe,” he answers slowly. Your eyes snap back to his when he speaks. He gives you a knowing smile that has you shifting in your seat. You had only looked at his lips because he brought attention to them. Nothing more.
“Are we playing twenty questions?” you groan, finally unleashing the eye roll you have been trying not to do.
“We can,” Seungcheol says with a shrug. “You asked three already—more if you start from the time I sat down.”
Exhaling a deep breath, you put your forehead on the hand that’s propped on the table. The conversation is slowly draining your energy. The need to be alone becomes stronger with each second.
“Seungcheol,” you warn. You are not about to play a guessing game with this man. “Please.”
“Oh, so that word is in your vocabulary.”
“Yes. Would you like me to use it in a sentence?” you question, pitch raised as if you’re talking to a toddler. You lift your head to glare at him.
“Sure,” he smirks and leans forward. He still holds his hair back and this time, you can really see the way he is goading you.
“Please fuck off,” you grin widely. Your head tilts to the side as you push your arms together to act overly cute.
“Please make me,” he counters. The smirk he wears is still plastered on his lips.
“If we weren’t in public, I would,” you say, voice returning to normal as you relax your body—the cute act over.
“Oh? How?” he chuckles. From the way he looks at you, you know his mind has gone elsewhere.
You push at the arm that is stretched across the table. “Because I would rather not get caught for murder, you pervert.”
Seungcheol laughs and sits back, letting his hair fall back into his eyes. It’s the first time you notice he has dimples. Your first impression is that they are cute, but you quickly recall who they belonged to and shove that thought from your mind.
“Seokmin wanted to let you know he lost your card,” he finally discloses. “Asked if you could give him another.”
“If he lost a simple card, is he really reliable?” you sigh as you grab another from your purse.
“The good news is those stage lights are so big, he won’t be able to lose those,” he says, taking the card from your hand.
“Thankfully,” you mutter. “I hope you’re better than Seokmin at not losing things.”
“I’ll get this to him, don’t worry,” he replies and puts the card in his suit jacket. You want to ask why he is wearing that, but that will mean you will prolong this conversation. Fortunately for you, he starts to stand up before you succumb to the temptation.
“Thanks for the talk,” he says as if you had a choice. “I’ll see you around.”
You would have doubted that, but you know that won’t be true.
The second time Seungcheol approaches you by himself is a few days later when he catches you exiting a building he is approaching.
“Don’t tell me someone else lost my card as well,” you say after he calls your name. You readjust your bag on your shoulder as you wait for his response.
“About that,” he starts sheepishly.
You put your weight on one hip and cross your arms, and set your mouth in a straight line. You wait for him to tell you who is the perpetrator.
“I may have left your card in my suit jacket when I washed it.”
Well, that explains why you haven’t received a message from Seokmin yet.
“Seriously, Seungcheol?” you exasperate.
“I didn’t do it on purpose!” he says, lips pouting and eyebrows angled.
Shaking your head, you retrieve another card. You make a mental note to restock later as you are running out.
Seungcheol reaches out to grab it from you, but you quickly pull back.
“Put this in your bag,” you instruct.
You slowly give him the card and watch as he slings his bag around to his front. He makes a show of unzipping one of the front pockets and sliding it inside.
“Done,” he says, acting like he should be rewarded for doing as he was told.
“Good. Is that all?” you wonder. You’ve just finished your last class of the day, and all you want to do is climb into bed.
“Yes.”
Seeing no need to continue the conversation, you start walking in the direction of the parking lot.
“Great. Bye, Seungcheol,” you say over your shoulder.
“Hey, wait,” he says quickly, walking briskly to be by your side. “We’re going in the same direction.”
You peer up at him momentarily. “That doesn’t mean we have to walk together.”
“You said before we’re strangers. This would help us not be that anymore,” he shrugs casually.
“I never said I wanted that,” you reply flatly.
“It might benefit us since we’ll have to see each other a lot.”
“Is that so?” you sigh sadly.
Seungcheol smiles at you before shoving his hands in his pockets. “You did ask my friends to help you.”
“Well, if I knew you were a package deal, I wouldn’t have.”
“Come on. I’m not that bad.”
Sighing, you slow your steps to look at him better. He stops next to you, awaiting your response. His gaze is hopeful, but you’re not sure why.
“I’ll agree if you leave me alone,” you finally say.
Seungcheol’s lips dip in a frown. “I’ll get you to admit it one day.”
He starts to walk again before you can reply. Now is your chance to let him get a few feet from you. You have the opportunity to finally end this conversation you’ve been dreading. Though, for some strange reason, your feet quickly move on their own accord.
Seungcheol’s steps are small, and you catch up with him easily. Neither of you says a word, but you can see a hint of a smile on his lips.
Instead of parting ways once you reach the parking lot, he follows you to your car. Something about it being dangerous for you to walk to it alone, even though it’s light out.
“Yn?” he says to catch your attention when you open your door. You turn and give a small “hm?” in response.
“My friends and I plan to go to this poetry lounge in two weeks. Would you want to come?” he asks. You aren’t sure why he appears to be anxious.
The shock you feel must be evident on your face because Seungcheol’s apprehensive expression relaxes into a gentle smile.
“Business friends or our ‘mutual ones’?” The idea doesn't sound so bad if you are hanging out with the people who are helping you. Although you have your issues with them, they aren’t that bad to be around if you’re being honest.
“Business.”
That’s not what you want to hear.
“Do your friends know you’re asking me this?”
Seungcheol shakes his head. “No, but I don’t need their permission. What do you say?”
You can’t recall being invited to a night out with someone other than Dae. If you were to go out without Dae, it would be with your family or for a class assignment. To be invited to a place by Seungcheol, out of all people, catches you off guard.
Despite having an opportunity for a different change of pace, you answer, “No.”
“No?” he asks, perplexed.
“Your friends don’t like me, Seungcheol,” you explain matter-of-factly through a sigh, leaning against your open door.
“They just like to tease you. I’ll talk to them before,” he explains.
Tease is a funny way to describe it, you think.
“I don’t need you fighting my battles,” you answer, referring to the latter part of his reply.
“Still. I want you to enjoy yourself. You’ve probably been glued to that project of yours. Step away for a bit,” he reasons.
He isn’t wrong. Your focus has solely been on the project. Of course, you have other classes, but you aren’t putting as much effort into them as you are this one.
“I’ll pick you up and pay for any expenses,” he offers. The more he talks, the more taken aback you are. You figured he’d drop the offer once you rejected him. From every interaction you’ve had with these “friends,” it never ends well. You doubt this will be any different. Regardless, something in you feels a little… honored he is so adamant about getting you to come.
Thus, hesitantly, “Fine.”
Seungcheol’s face breaks out in a grin. “Okay. I can give you my number, so you can text me your address.”
He starts to pull out his phone, but you stop him.
“No need,” you say. At Seungcheol’s confused expression, you continued with a faint smile, “You have my card.”
His mouth opens briefly in realization before the corners are pulled up.
“One step ahead, I see,” he teases, pulling it out to inspect it as if confirming your number is there. You suppose he may think you’re lying to get out of going.
“I’ll text you then,” he concludes and places the card back.
“Alright,” you say, shifting your weight. You aren’t sure if he wants to say anything else. Why are you giving him the time to? You have already given him enough of it.
Sensing your readiness to leave, he waves as he slowly takes steps backward. “Drive safely, Yn.”
“You too, Seungcheol.”
You climb into your car’s seat, turn on the engine, and watch as he makes his way through the maze of cars until he is out of sight.
That Friday comes sooner than you would’ve liked.
Throughout the times you had met with your “friends,” you had bumped into Seungcheol one-third of the time. Sometimes, you were left alone with him again. Each interaction you had with him became easier the more you talked to him.
Dare you to admit; his presence wasn’t actually teeth-gritting anymore? At least when he was alone, you didn’t have to deal with his business friends. Despite him not usually laughing at their jokes, he never really stepped in to stop them teasing you at first. Maybe only a few times when he felt things got too heated. He wasn’t your best friend, but part of you did hope he would’ve said something.
Each time he didn’t, you felt your disappointment rise. He apologized on their behalf constantly, but his apology meant nothing when they kept insulting you. However, lately, he has been stepping in sooner. Although you didn’t want him fighting your battles initially, some things you couldn’t do alone. One thing you and his business friends had in common was that no one really knew where the sudden change of attitude came from. For once, you didn’t complain, though.
You’re tempted to cancel this outing, but talking to Seungcheol a few days ago made you realize he was a little more excited than he was letting on. The reason is unknown to you—maybe he really likes poetry lounges—but you’d feel slightly guilty if you ditch last minute.
It’s not like you haven’t been out on a Friday night with people, yet your heart is beating rapidly in your chest. You have changed about six times, exchanging your accessories with each outfit. Normally, you would dress up more, but these aren’t your friends you’re about to hang out with. They are Seungcheol’s—business majors who think skirts more than two inches above the knees mean you’re a slut. Though, you can’t figure out why that matters. You never dress with the thoughts of others. If you want to wear something that day, even if it’s “over-the-top” for some, you wear it. So, why are you in such a fashion dilemma now?
In the end, you settle for a simple, spaghetti-strapped red dress that is slightly bunched on the sides with strings that are tied in bows. You pair it with a small, heart-shaped purse and white heels. There isn’t any bling in your outfit, which is unusual for you. The accessories you wear are minimal and small. They are a matching cherry set you were gifted by your mother on your 12th birthday. Although it’s been years since you received them, they’re still wearable and delicate enough not to call much attention—unlike some of your other accessories.
You reach for a white fur jacket only to stop when your fingers graze it. Your eyes travel to yourself in the mirror as you debate on wearing it. The jacket will be too much, you conclude.
The buzzing of your phone catches your attention. It’s Seungcheol telling you he’s five minutes away. After stuffing your phone in your purse, you quickly apply red lipstick and toss it in your purse for later touch-ups.
When your phone buzzes again, you hurry to your front door. Your family is home, and you don’t want Seungcheol to meet them. Life at home isn’t ideal, and the only person who has a hint of what is going on is Dae. You doubt Seungcheol will find that out from one quick meeting, but you don’t want to risk it.
You throw your door open, ready to meet him at his car. Instead, he stands in front of you with a hand raised. He takes a step back in surprise. His eyes glide down your body quickly, but you’re too concerned about your family coming to notice.
“Oh, hey,” he greets. “I was just about to knock.”
Before any of your family can intervene, you close the door and start your way down the porch steps. Seungcheol follows you.
“You didn’t have to. I can make my way to your car by myself,” you answer. Although you’ve never been in his car before, you’ve seen it around. Plus, it’s the only unknown vehicle near your home.
You stand next to the passenger door and wait for him to unlock it, arms wrapped around your body when the chilly weather hits you.
“You sure you don’t want a jacket?” he asks when he notices you didn’t bring one.
“It didn’t go with my outfit,” you explain. It’s a lie. The coat did go with your fit, but you didn’t feel like disclosing the fashion crisis you had gone through.
Seungcheol chuckles. “So, you’re going to freeze instead?”
“It’s not that cold,” you lie again.
“It’ll get colder later, though,” he explains and comes closer to you. You step aside when he is a few inches from you. You press your arms tighter around you, eyes averting from his because of his close proximity. The small distance has you wanting to squirm away, but your feet can’t move. He peers at you with a small smile while he reaches behind you.
“My lady,” he murmurs when he pulls the door open and gestures for you to get inside.
“How chivalrous,” you reply after you force your nervousness away. You carefully slide inside his car, situating yourself comfortably in the seat.
Seungcheol waits to ensure you have all your limbs inside before shutting the door. As he walks around to the other side, your eyes scan his car. The seats are leather, and the interior has higher tech than you thought it would. It is a nice car—not overly luxurious, but enough to show it isn’t cheap. It makes you wonder how much it costs.
“You warm enough?” Seungcheol questions after he gets in and buckles.
“Yeah,” you reply quietly, hands resting awkwardly in your lap. The heat from the vents aids in your goosebumps disappearing.
Your mind is already wondering what to expect tonight. You know his friends aren’t fond of you. At least most of them. That guy, Vernon, seems nice enough. He is the quiet one in the group; however, you did notice he has his own quirks that make him unique. You foresee yourself hanging out with him most tonight. But even then, you don’t feel too great about going.
The longer you sit in Seungcheol’s car, the more you regret agreeing to this.
He stares at you for a moment; brows knitted together slightly. You feel uncanny acting so meek, and Seungcheol can't help but notice.
Silence consumes the small area for a few seconds until Seungcheol says, “Seatbelt.”
You look at him confused, then realize he is talking to you. Of course he is, who else?
“Right,” you mumble, quickly pulling the belt over your body.
“You don’t have to come, you know?” he says with one hand on the steering wheel while the other is on the gear stick.
You sigh and gesture to the road ahead. “Let’s just get going. I’ve got stuff to do after.”
It isn’t completely a lie. You still have to work on bringing your designs to life for the show, but it isn’t like you are behind schedule that you need to do that tonight. You just know you might actually back out if you ponder on leaving more.
Seungcheol bites his bottom lip, averting his focus to the road. He doesn’t reply and obliges to your request by shifting the car into drive.
During the ride, your gaze drifts to Seungcheol. He is relaxed in his seat. One arm stretches to hold the wheel while his other rests on his thigh. One which is clad in a pair of light-washed jeans with a black belt between the jean loops. He wears a white shirt tucked in and a black jacket.
You peer forward slightly to read what his shirt says. Propriety of Balenciaga? The Balenciaga? You don’t think he’s wealthy enough to afford one of those shirts. Perhaps it was a gift or a knock-off brand? Maybe he thrifted it… Though, Seungcheol doesn’t seem like the thrifting type.
“Do you need this?” he asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. He’s holding his jacket open to show you what he means. You must’ve been staring too much.
“No, I’m okay,” you say and turn your attention away quickly. “I just didn’t realize you wore glasses.”
Although the comment is true, you need something to say before he questions why you truly are staring at him. You had noticed the spectacles earlier but didn’t feel like mentioning them.
Seungcheol laughs lightly, “Actually, I don’t. I just thought I’d try to improve my fashion. What do you say, did it work?”
He glances at you after stopping at a traffic light; his mouth quirks up in a teasing smile. You turn toward him and scan his face quickly. They do look good on him, but you aren’t going to tell him that.
“They certainly did something, but whether that effect is good or bad is a secret,” you reply, looking away again.
“I’ll take that as you not wanting to admit they look nice on me,” Seungcheol says and continues driving at the green light.
“I think they’d look better on someone else,” you answer. Though, you don’t believe what you said. Something about the glasses on him has you wanting to stare at him more. They fit his face well and make him appear more attractive. You don’t want to sit on that thought for much longer.
“Is that so? Here,” he says, pulling them off his face. The glasses come into your view, and you stare at him, puzzled.
When you don’t take them, he adds, “They won’t bite.”
You roll your eyes at his comment and finally grab them from his grasp. You pull down his sun visor to look at yourself. After sliding on the spectacles, you turn your head from side to side to see the different angles.
“I think I was right. They do look better on someone else,” you tease and face him as you shut the visor. Seungcheol turns to you at your reply.
His eyes wander across your face, a hint of a smile appearing on his lips.
“Maybe I’ll have to agree with you this one time,” he says. His stare lingers on yours so much that it has you shifting in your seat. When you avert your gaze, your eyes widen.
“Cheol!” you shout as he was about to rear-end another car. Instinctively, he shoots an arm out across your chest that has your back pressing firmly against the seat. The sudden act causes you to reach up and grab onto his arm tightly.
The car screeches as it comes to a sudden halt. Luckily in time to not hit the other car.
You both sit still, breathing intensified at the near accident. After a few seconds, Seungcheol retracts his arm. It’s then you realize you’re still holding onto him. Your eyes dart to his forearm and frown when you see small crescent shapes indented in his skin.
“Sorry,” you say sheepishly.
Seungcheol’s focus is ahead of him but glances at you in confusion at your apology. “What?”
You quickly gesture to his forearm. When he sees the marks, he rubs a hand over them absentmindedly. “It’s fine. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” you reply, heart rate slowing down to normal.
“I’m alright. Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t make you play dress up in the car.”
“No, it was my fault.”
Seungcheol eases on the gas pedal when the light turns green, keeping a safe distance from the car in front. He remains quiet for a while to ensure you are both safe.
“Are you sure you’re okay? First, you apologize, and now something is your fault?” he jokes.
You don’t remember what you said a few minutes ago, so it takes a while for you to comprehend what he is saying. “Shut up,” is all you can respond with in the end.
Seungcheol laughs but doesn’t pester you about it any longer.
“Oh, you can take these back,” you say and tug off the reason for almost hitting another car.
“Thanks,” he mumbles as he slides the glasses back on his face.
You nestle yourself back in the seat again and glance out the window. As the buildings pass, it dawns on you that you’ve never called him Cheol. The thought of using a nickname for him has your body tingle with an unknown feeling. It’s strange. You aren’t the first to call him that, but you aren’t that close to him to start using nicknames. Annoyingly, you spend the remainder of the car ride fretting about how he felt toward you shortening his name.
Did he even notice? If he did, did he like it? Had you crossed a line?
When he parks, you become acutely aware of everyone’s attire. Many wear jeans or tights with a plain shirt and jacket. A few have on skirts or dresses, but they are more t-shirt dresses or plain skater skirts, if anything. Plus, they are accompanied by tights because of the weather. No one has as much skin showing as you do.
The sinking feeling of not belonging consumes you. You can’t remember the last time you felt this way, and that alone has you questioning yourself even more.
“I’m too dressed for this, aren’t I?” you think out loud.
Seungcheol turns off the car, eyes raking your body again. Though this time, you’re aware of it. You tug down the bottom of your dress at his stare. It’s not like it’s predatory, but it still has your nerves skyrocketing.
“Since when did you care about what others thought of your outfit?” he wonders. The question has you sighing, momentarily closing your eyes as you remind yourself you dress for you, not for others’ approval.
“Right,” you swallow harshly and sling your purse over your shoulder—mentally throwing away the negative thoughts too. “Let’s just go.”
With that, you open his car door and step out.
“Yn wait—” you hear Seungcheol call out right as you shut the door.
Your hair is immediately pushed from your face as the wind blows past. It makes your body shiver, and for a split second, you wish you took up Seungcheol’s offer to grab a jacket when you were at your house.
Seungcheol’s car beeps as it locks before he stands in front of you. His broad body blocks the wind, and you feel your own ease from feeling a tad warmer.
“I’m sorry if that came off rude,” he apologizes softly. “I think you look great.”
You look at him, face void of emotion. You don’t believe him, but you don’t want to argue. At least not standing in this weather.
“Okay,” you reply. “We need to go meet your friends.”
You take a step forward, thinking it will get him to start walking toward the building, but he doesn’t budge. You only decrease the distance between you two.
“I mean it,” he whispers.
Goosebumps are forming on your exposed skin the longer you stay out. You blame the cold weather for them, but something in your chest tightens at the way Seungcheol is speaking to you.
“I think red is your color,” he pauses. “You should wear it more, Cherry.”
Your head tilts at his last word. “Cherry?”
The corner of his mouth raises at hearing it from your lips. Slowly, he brings a hand to your face. You stand still as you stare at him with wide eyes. His hand brushes past your cheek before he grazes his fingertips along your ear.
“It suits you,” he murmurs, eyes moving away from yours.
You follow his gaze and realize he has been looking at your cherry-charmed earrings. His eyes then flicker to the matching cherry-charmed necklace resting below your bare collarbones. You’re not sure if he means the color suits you or if the nickname he just made suits you. Either way, you’re surprised at his words.
Suddenly, the weather doesn't feel as chilly anymore. Your body heats quickly at his comment, or maybe it’s from how close he is to you. Nevertheless, you need to distract yourself from this warm, odd feeling bubbling in your chest.
You clear your throat and step back. His hand lowers steadily.
“I’ll think about it,” you reply more confidently and clearly.
Seungcheol takes the hint and moves aside, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets. He nods his head in the direction of the building, and you start walking toward it. Your pace is slightly faster than his, but you don’t mind not walking next to him. If anything, you need distance from him anyway.
The moment you open the door to the lounge, the heat from inside greets you in full force. You step inside and are welcomed by a worker. He is young, maybe a few years younger than you. He gives you a friendly smile.
“Hi, are you wanting to be seated, or are you with a group already?”
“With a group,” you reply. The worker nods.
“Do you need help locating them?”
You shake your head as the jingle of the door opening sounds behind you. Seungcheol stops behind you. His hand comes to hover over your lower back, not really touching you, but close enough to feel the heat radiate from his hand onto your skin. It has you shuffling away.
“They’re over there,” he says. You peer up to see where he is gesturing. Fair enough, you see his friends at a table toward the back of the building. There are five of them, all smiling at each other. You can spot a few familiar faces—one of them being Vernon. You feel a little at ease knowing he made it here.
“Thanks,” you murmur to the worker before making your way to the table. The closer you get to the table, the slower your steps become. You’re used to keeping your chin high in situations you aren’t completely comfortable in. The whole “fake it until you make it” is on repeat in your head.
Yet the saying is not encouraging you much right now.
“You’re not mad at me, are you?” Seungcheol asks when he catches up to you. You don’t realize you had stopped a few feet from the table.
“No,” you say. You aren’t mad at him; you just need some space from him for now. You don’t like how you aren’t in control of your emotions when you’re around him. “I’m going to freshen up in the bathroom.”
Seungcheol eyes you for a second before nodding. You make your way to the bathroom, but right before you enter, you can hear the welcoming echoes coming from his table of friends. All of them sound cheerful and excited to see him. You don’t expect any of them to look forward to your presence, yet you feel a little disappointed when no one brings up your name—in a positive way.
After using the restroom and washing your hands, you stand in front of the mirror with your hands lingering under the warm water. Your eyes roam your face and body, taking in your appearance. Compared to your normal fashion, you really did dress down. You sigh when you realize you’re circling back to the same issue.
You retract your hands from the faucet and grab a few towels to dry them.
It doesn’t matter if you’re overly dressed. You usually are and don’t care. You look great. You should feel confident in your fit.
You gently tug the dress down before turning in front of the mirror.
You look fine. You look nice.
As you reapply your lipstick, you keep repeating compliments and reassuring phrases in your head.
They’re going to look at you funny. You are going to ignore them.
“That’s right,” you sigh to yourself as you toss the lipstick back into your purse.
Suddenly, your phone starts to vibrate. You pull it out to see Dae’s name appear across the top. You eagerly answer her call.
“Hey babe,” Dae’s voice comes from the other line. “How’s it going?”
“I’m ready to go home,” you say with a small huff.
“Damn, that horrible? Is he treating you badly?” Dae questions. You had told her about Seungcheol’s invitation when you got home that day. She was shocked, but ultimately supportive of you going.
You shake your head despite her not being able to see you. “No, he’s been fine. I just,” you pause. Although you have your ups and downs with Dae, she has stayed with you when no one else has. You don’t disclose your troubles often, wanting people to not see that side of you, but you’re feeling too low that you can’t stop the confession from coming out.
“I’m way overdressed for this place. Everyone’s in jeans or tights. I don’t belong here,” you say.
Dae sighs sadly. “Jeans are boring. I think I only own a pair,” she answers, trying to make you smile. “Just remember, if you were to die right now, would you want your last outfit to be something boring?”
“No,” you answer slowly.
“Exactly. These are people who are used to looking plain. They’re probably jealous you’re outdressing them. Don’t let them get to you, Yn. I’m sure you look beautiful.”
Your shoulders ease at her words. “Thanks, Dae.”
“No need. If they had the talent to dress themselves better, they would.”
You let her words sink in, but the reassurance doesn’t last long.
“I shouldn’t have come,” you say, beginning to pace the small area in the bathroom.
“It’s good for you to be around people from outside our department. It’ll make you more open-minded,” she encourages. “Plus, Seungcheol isn’t as bad as he seemed, huh?”
There is a teasing tone to her voice that you don’t like.
“One outing with him doesn’t mean he’s my friend,” you argue.
Dae giggles. “No, but it’s a start. Do you like him?”
“No!” you answer quickly.
“I was just asking in general. Not ‘like’ as in crushing on him,” she explains nonchalantly, but you can hear her smile.
“He’s,” you pause as you try to think of a word to describe him, “he’s been alright.”
“Well, I better let you get back to him then. I just wanted to check in,” Dae answers.
“Thanks. I appreciate it,” you say.
“Remember, you don’t need their approval. You never have, and you never will. People want the confidence you have.”
“I’m not feeling too confident right now,” you mumble.
“That’s because you’re overthinking. Chin up, okay?”
Sighing, you reply. “Okay.”
“Good. Talk to you later!”
“Yeah,” you say before hanging up.
Taking one last look at yourself, you roll your shoulders back and exit the bathroom.
Seungcheol is sitting in the middle of Hajun and someone you don’t know. His eyes lift to meet yours when he hears the sound of your heels.
“Hey, you okay?” he asks.
Nodding, your eyes roam for a spot to sit.
“You knew you were just going to a poetry lounge, right? Not the runway,” Hajun comments with a small scoff.
Your eyes move to look at her, and you quirk an eyebrow. She wears leggings with a graphic tee. Her discarded jacket is slung over the back of her chair. “Are you sure you know that, as well? Or did you think you were just going back to your bed?”
“This is how normal people dress,” she replies.
“Relax, Hajun,” a voice you don’t know sounds. You direct your attention to them.
The guy has black hair that is parted on the side to expose his forehead. His eyes are narrow, and even though he has a soft appearance now, you’re sure his gaze can be fierce when needed.
“People don’t need to dress up for special occasions,” he says.
You’re taken aback by his comment. Seungcheol’s friends have always questioned your wardrobe, so for this new “friend” to not agree with Hajun is surprising.
“No, they don’t, but you gotta’ admit she’s a little overdone huh, Soonyoung?” Hajun replies.
“Hajun,” Seungcheol interjects, giving her a pointed look.
“I understand not everyone knows how to dress. It’s okay, though. I can offer my services if you need some help,” you comment, half tempted to reach in your bag to get a business card. Although you aren’t on campus, you never know when you’ll run into someone who will make a good connection, so you keep them with you wherever you go.
“Services?” Hajun laughs and rests her crossed arms on the table. “And what ‘services’ are you offering? Because from the looks of it, I can tell exactly what you offer. Sorry, I’m not interested.”
Her eyes roam your body once more, indicating that the way you are dressed, means your services consist of paying to be with people in bed.
“I don’t think those services would help you anyway. Your rotting attitude is enough to repel anyone. Though I guess some people are willing to lower their standards when they’re desperate,” you counter.
“You’re such a—” she starts.
“Can we talk?” Seungcheol asks Hajun quickly, but he doesn’t give her the option to answer because he takes her hand and pulls her away from the group.
The table is silent for a few seconds before Soonyoung speaks up again.
“Don’t pay any mind to her. It’s nice to meet you. You must be Yn?” He smiles at you, slightly bowing at you.
“Correct,” you say, trying to not show how irritated you feel.
“Come sit,” he offers, pulling up a chair so you’re sat between him and Vernon. You thank him before sitting in the chair. You sit your purse in your lap as conversations begin to spark again.
Their voices become background noise as your gaze drifts to Seungcheol and Hajun in the corner. They stand close to each other and are in a deep conversation—clearly about you. Seungcheol has his back to you, so you can’t see his expression, but you can see Hajun’s. Her lips are in a frown, her expression not as sassy as before.
Though her pouting seems forced, her bottom lip a little too far stuck out. Soon enough, she rolls her eyes, an expression similar to how it was earlier. Her eyes then move from him to you over his shoulder. When she catches your gaze, she smiles and raises a challenging eyebrow. However, her gaze doesn’t last long because Seungcheol’s hand comes up and guides her eyes back to him. Even though his hand isn’t touching her completely, she leans into his touch. The act has you stilling.
“Yn?” Vernon questions, tearing you from your thoughts. You don’t realize you’re clutching your purse until your focus goes to Vernon. You ease your grip and raise an eyebrow.
“Soonyoung was asking what your major was,” Vernon explains.
“Oh,” you say, glancing around the table. It appears the others are in their own conversation.
You look at the man to your left. He gives you a reassuring smile that tells you he is patient. “I’m studying fashion design. Are you in business, too?”
Soonyoung shakes his head with a laugh. “I could never. I’m a dance major.”
“Wow, that sounds nice,” you say. “Aren’t your career choices limited with that, though?”
“A little,” Soonyoung replies honestly. He doesn’t seem offended by the question. Maybe he gets it a lot. “But it makes me happy. I can always teach or maybe even become a dancer in a well-known group.”
You hum, understanding his words.
“Isn’t fashion design limited, too?” Vernon asks.
“Clothes are everywhere. I can do a lot with it.”
“But not everyone will wear your clothes,” Hana says, having finally heard your discussion.
“There will always be someone,” you argue, confident in your work. It may be a slow start, but you believe in your designs.
She laughs.“Who? Your mother?”
Your eyes narrow at the mention of your mom, and Hana is quick to notice the change in attitude. Instead of letting go of the topic, she continues.
“Ooh, trouble at home? See? I knew the ‘Great Yn’ isn’t as perfect as she seems,” Hana says. What makes her think you are so “great” is unknown to you, but you aren’t surprised to guess people have made up a persona for you.
“Stop, Hana,” Vernon says, but it has no effect.
“Oh, so we were right?” Hajun’s voice comes from above. You glance up to see she and Seungcheol have returned. It appears their little chat did nothing to keep Hajun from being a bitch.
“Seems so,” Hana says with a smile. “Care to share with the class what kind of mommy issues you have?”
“No wonder she dresses like that,” Doyun, another one of Seungcheol’s alleged friends, adds. “She’s not getting attention at home. I guess Daddy isn’t there either?”
“That’s enough,” Seungcheol scolds them all.
Your eyes are darting from everyone at the table. Their stares are akin to shrink rays, making you feel tiny and minuscule. You know when you aren’t welcomed, and there’s no reason to stay listening to this. You want to snap back, end the conversation with your own last words, but nothing comes to mind.
In lieu, you push your chair back and stand up. Your hands twitch with the temptation to dump their food all over them, but you just want to get out as soon as possible.
You waste no time careening for the exit.
Seungcheol calls your name; you ignore it. The worker from before sees you, telling you goodbye, but you couldn't care less and push past the door before he can finish his sentence.
Your breath gets caught in your throat at the sudden breeze that slams into you. Instantly, your arms wrap around you once more. You glance around and see a bus stop down the street. You don’t care that it’s the other way from Seungcheol’s car. You hurry to the station, not sure when the next bus will come.
The bus stop isn’t deserted despite the cold weather. The area must be busy all the time since the sidewalks are littered with more people than you expect. All the seats at the stop are taken, yet you still shuffle under the shelter in hopes to get away from some of the breeze.
You are shaking, and your teeth are chattering. It’s impossible to force your body to stop since you need to generate heat somehow. You probably look like a pathetic naked chihuahua in winter.
You take out your phone, open up a browser, and search for bus times. Thankfully, there’s one coming in three minutes in the direction you need. The thought of taking the bus is not pleasurable. You hate the idea of your skin touching something so many others have touched. It feels unsanitary.
Accidentally leaning back against the wall while you silently groan has you jumping at the cold material touching your bare skin. Your jolt catches the attention of an older woman who is sitting near you.
“Aren’t you freezing, child?” she asks as she stares at your attire—or lack of.
“I’ll be fine soon,” you say, not really in the mood for talking.
“Where is your coat? Did you not know the weather was going to be cold?” she continues.
Utterly done with all the people-talk tonight, you hiss, “Focus on yourself. I’ll focus on me.”
She seems startled at your outburst. Her already crossed arms tighten as she turns away from you. Her muttered “bitch” doesn’t go unnoticed, but you don’t say anything about it. There’s no point in arguing with a stranger.
The sound of the bus calls your attention, and you mentally thank the universe for the great timing. After people leave and all the new patrons enter, you finally take a step up the bus’ steps. Before you can climb all the way, you hear your name being called. You look past the bus doors to see Seungcheol running toward you.
Just what you need.
You disregard him and step farther up the steps of the bus.
The bus driver looks expectantly at you, and it dawns on you that you need to provide payment before you can board fully.
“Card?” you wonder. The bus driver nods and gestures to a device to the right.
As you unzip your purse, you feel a hand grip your arm.
“Where are you going?” Seungcheol asks, slightly breathless. His hair is disheveled from running, but he doesn’t seem to care.
“Home, idiot,” you huff and pull your arm out of his grasp so you can retrieve your card.
“Just come with me. We can talk somewhere else,” he pleads, a hand stopping your movements again.
“I’m not going anywhere with you, Seungcheol,” you hiss. “Now, let go of me.”
He hesitates but slowly releases your arm. He doesn’t leave, though. “I’ll take you home. You don’t need to take the bus. Come on.”
“Go with him or get on! We have places to be,” a passenger exclaims, clearly annoyed with your drama.
You raise your head to the person, narrowing your eyes in a glare that tells them to pipe down. It has no effect on them. They shoot a fierce look back.
“I know you don’t want to take the bus,” Seungcheol comments quietly.
He’s right. Not only do you not want to sit next to a lady whose arms are filled with shopping bags—the only available seat—you really don’t want to add time to your trip home.
Seungcheol reaches out again and carefully takes your hand in his. This time, you don’t fight him as he guides you off the bus. Once you’re both off, the bus doors shut and begin its trip down the road.
You watch it silently, not knowing Seungcheol is discarding his jacket until you feel the warm material cover your shoulders. Your eyes snap back to him as if remembering who you’re with.
“I’m sorry they said all that stuff. I told them not to do that tonight,” he says remorsefully.
“Oh, so you’ll let them talk shit about me another day?” you chide and start walking away from him. Thankfully for Seungcheol, it’s in the direction of his car.
“No, that’s not what I meant,” he replies as he hurries to catch up, which doesn’t take much effort as you aren’t walking too fast due to your cold, stiff legs.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll do that whenever they want to. They wouldn’t be the first,” you scoff.
“It doesn’t make it right regardless,” he says. You halt in your steps, causing Seungcheol to stop and turn to look at you.
“I talk shit about people behind their backs, too. Does that make me a bad person?” you question. Perhaps if he sees you as one he’ll leave you alone.
He exhales a deep breath. “Let’s just get in the car, okay?”
“You can admit it,” you challenge and walk closer to him. “Does talking shit about someone make me a bad person, Seungcheol?”
He stares down at you, soft gaze turning dark with annoyance.
“To the car, Yn,” he demands slowly just in case you won’t understand; his tone is sharp in a way you haven’t heard before. You don’t let that scare you away. Maybe if you weren’t so fired up, you would have been a little intimidated.
You laugh darkly and roll your eyes at his command. “You want me to sit next? Bark, too?”
“Now, you’re just being dramatic.”
Dramatic, he says.
“Woof?” you reply, dramatically giving him the best puppy-dog eyes you can muster.
Seungcheol’s jaw clenches at your response—not pleased with your sarcasm. However, instead of replying in an annoyed tone, he takes a step forward. His head draws closer to your face to ensure your eyes are glued to his.
“Wanna be a good girl and go to the car, Cherry?” he murmurs lowly, an eyebrow quirking up for a second.
His sudden change in tone has you stiffening. You want to bite back—figuratively or literately… you aren’t sure yet—but you can’t even remember what you are mad about in the first place.
“Hm?” he croons when you don't reply quickly.
Instead of a sarcastic reply, you simply grumble, “whatever,” before pushing past him to get to his car.
You stand next to the passenger side like before, waiting for him to unlock it. Seungcheol comes beside you and swiftly unlocks the vehicle. Although you aren’t arguing at the moment, you can sense some irritation lingering from him.
Though no matter how annoyed he is with you, he always holds the door open for you.
You feel suffocated.
The air in the car is too hot. The weight of his jacket has you overheating. The tension is unbearable.
Seungcheol keeps his eyes on the road, not throwing you a single glance as he drives. Every once in a while he will tighten his hold on the steering wheel. One time you even catch the way his muscles flex at the motion—now exposed from not wearing his jacket. You never realized how fit he is. This isn’t the first time you have seen him sleeveless, but you just never stared long enough to notice. Or if you did, you simply didn’t care. Regardless, you notice now, and you have to force your eyes away before he catches you staring.
You want to ask for music so you don’t have to sit in this insufferable silence, but your mouth feels dry. You decide to just deal with the quietness, shifting in the seat so you’re facing the window more. Your eyes drift close as you let the hum of the car distract you.
Seungcheol’s jacket is snuggled around you, and his woodsy cologne fills your senses. It’s pleasant, and you don’t mind if you smell more of it in the future.
By the time you arrive home, you are on the verge of sleep. You stumble out of the car and shut the door without saying a word to Seungcheol. You expect him to drive off, but the sound of his tires moving never comes. Instead, you hear his car door opening and closing.
“You don’t have to walk me to the door,” you say while you glance behind you. Seungcheol is following you languidly.
“No, I don’t,” he says and pauses at the bottom of your porch steps. He places a foot on the first step while a hand holds onto the rail. You have your keys out, ready to slide them into the keyhole when you speak.
“Then don’t,” you reply sternly.
He chuckles lowly but doesn’t say anything about it.
“You can go now,” you say when he doesn't move.
“You have something of mine.”
Puzzled, you stare at him for a second. Seungcheol gestures to your body, and you quickly remember you’re wearing his jacket. You tug it off and toss it to him. He grabs it from the air with ease. The loss of heat makes you wish he didn’t say anything.
“Goodnight, Cherry,” he murmurs as soon as you click open your door. You step inside before turning to face him.
The nickname you used earlier forms on your tongue, yet you can’t find the courage to say it consciously.
“Night,” you answer, then shut the door before either of you can say anything else.
With your head bowed, you turn the lock slowly while you exhale deeply. His nickname falls from your lips under your breath—unable to keep the desire at bay.
previous chapter \\ pretty please masterpost // next chapter
A/N: Can't believe the first chapter is actually published 😭 I sat and stared at this for a few before hitting "post" because I'm so anxious! dfl;kbjdvs. Please feel free to share your thoughts on it so far!
For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^
"After being assigned a fashion show for your big senior project, you set off to find volunteers to make it successful. However, when you meet Choi Seungcheol and his unfriendly clique through your volunteers, you realize they’re an unwanted package deal you can’t escape from. Can you handle Seungcheol's obnoxious friends, and can he handle your brash behavior?"
🍒 Pairing: businessMajor!Seungcheol x fashionMajor!Reader (afab)
🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Slice of life (!!!), slow burn, drama, fluff, angst, smut; Unrequited enemies to lovers (lol), strangers to lovers, college au
🍒 General Major Warnings for Series: reader has she/her pronouns (referred to as girl, miss), reader dresses really feminine, mc is not nice, character outfit descriptors, reader wears seungcheol’s clothes, parent/family issues (marital problems), bullying, cursing [refer to specific chapters for more]
🍒 Total Word Count: ~14,811
🍒 Betas: Sarah (@love-strike), Indi (@playmetheclassics), Kelly (@here4kpopfics), Freya (@angelwoozi) 🥰
summary: With the help of a little bit of bleach, Soonyoung is certified legally blonde–complete to last minute-dedication to scoring as high as Elle Woods on the LSAT. While he has no interest in law school, he’s notorious for never turning down a dare. So how does a frat bro in serious danger of failing his senior year get a 179? He asks the smartest person he knows.
Or, studying for a law test has never seen this much chemistry.
genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, uni au, friends to lovers, opposites attract
warnings: swearing, drinking, food, arguing, a couple sex jokes, one spicy scene at the end but no actual smut, refusal to acknowledge feelings, what's the word for beyond oblivious????
full wc: 24.3k
playlist! - i'm not very good at this but i tried to add songs alternating between yn and soonyoung :)
a/n: hello!! first of all, sorry this so long! it's been a very very busy summer. thank you to everyone who has continued to show interest in the story, it's really kept me going. i honestly have no idea what this is anymore but i hope it does not disappoint :) as always i appreciate feedback of any form <3 thank you again for reading and have a lovely day! finally, happy scoups day :)
a/n2: a special shout out to @chocolatemilk139 for being my beta and for helping me fact check... why do i keep writing about lawyers when i know absolutely nothing about the field.......
“Nope.” You grab your backpack, shoving your laptop inside, but he gets to your water bottle before you can reach it.
“Come on.” Soonyoung pouts his lips.
“I won’t do it,” you say.
Soonyoung hugs your water bottle hostage against his chest, dark blue hiding in the crook of his elbow, bright against the pale pink sweater he wears. It’s an unusual choice for him, normally clad in baggy jeans and loose t-shirts. Still, the color highlights his new hair, blonde bordering on white. Hardly the first time he’s done something insane for a bet.
“Please! I’m desperate!” He cries again, stepping closer, though he keeps a firm grip on your water bottle. You never should have told him how emotionally attached you are to it; you should have known it would be held against you.
“No,” you say. You sling your backpack on, just in case he gets any other ideas. The other students shoot dirty looks at you, actually in the library to study (like you were, until Soonyoung arrived). So you grab him by the arm, rolling your eyes at how he jerks the water bottle out of reach.
“Walk and talk, we’re not doing this here,” you say, folding your arms over your chest.
“Come on, how hard can it be?” Soonyoung asks. “It’s just a test.”
“Just a test?” You snort. “Soonyoung, you are aware that most people don’t apply to law school on a dare?”
“I don’t have to get into law school!” He says, “just get a 179 on the LSAT.”
As if that makes it any better. You eye Soonyoung and his tight grip on the plastic. Maybe it’s a lost cause and you should just swing by the bookstore to get a new one instead. But that water bottle has butterfly stickers that have survived since freshman year and a dent from the time Jun tried to use it as a weapon in a fight against Jihoon (that was declared a draw when the bottle busted open and doused both of them equally); it holds memories better than water and you’ll be damned if you let Soonyoung hold it hostage.
“That’s actually harder,” you mumble. From the corner of your eye, you can see him tucking the blue bottle under his right arm, farthest from you. This won’t be easy, especially since you saw the poorly disguised thirst trap of him and one of his frat bros at the gym: those arms are not to be underestimated.
“I’ll pay you!”
“With what money?”
Soonyoung pauses. You’ve reached the exit by now, sunlight warming you through the glass doors. He turns to the sunlight, and you know he’s pretending to be a main character from an artsy film (not that he’s ever seen on). He takes a deep breath, as if he already regrets what he has to say next.
“Okay, I’ll offer you the only services I have.” He turns to face you, eyes on the floor.
“Oh my god, Soonyoung!” You shove his shoulder. “You are not selling your body for a test!”
“But it’s all I know!” He says. He pokes your arms. “You could have so much muscle if you lifted just twice a week.”
“Oh.” You blink at him. “You meant working out?”
“What did you think I meant?”
You feel heat rush into your cheeks. You push the door open, praying Soonyoung doesn’t notice. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, not daring to check if he’s following. “I don’t have time to workout.”
“Then what do you want?” Soonyoung asks. He stays just out of reach, adjusting his grip so that the water bottle hangs from his hand. “Please, I’ll do anything!”
“Why do you need me?”
“Because you’re the smartest person I know,” he says without hesitation. In the three years of your friendship, you’ve learned that the only time Soonyoung isn’t serious is when he flirts.
“You are,” he insists. “Plus you’ve already taken it, so you’re my best chance. My only chance, it’s not like I have a good track record with tests.” He gives you a lopsided smile as he tries to pretend like he’s joking. But Soonyoung has always been easy to read. You see the sparkle in his eyes dim, and you remember freshman Soonyoung–when he failed the midterm and holed up in his room in the frat house for two full days, not even venturing out to drink. It’s that damn sparkle that gets to you. He isn’t paying attention anymore, water bottle hanging loosely from his hand, but you can’t bring yourself to snatch it.
“You can pass it,” you say with a sigh. “It’s about studying correctly.”
“I don’t know,” Soonyoung says. “I’ve never really studied.”
“Well, that’s what I’ll teach you.”
Soonyoung freezes, grabbing your arm. “Seriously?” When you turn to face him, his smile is so bright it warms you from the inside out, hotter than the actual sun on your skin. He throws his arms around you, wrapping you in a hug so tight he lifts you off the ground. Your heart does this strange thing where it hops into your throat. Your arms come up as a reflex but his embrace is too tight for you to even hug him back.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He shouts. He doesn’t let go, even when he sets you back down. He loosens his arms just enough to look at you, the full force of his smile directed at you. “I swear you’re welcome at the frat house any time, I’ll buy you anything you want when I have money, I’ll drive you wherever you want if I can get Seungcheol’s car, I’ll do whatever, just thank you, thank you, thank you.”
You know you should answer, or say something, but thinking is too much when he’s so close you can smell the strangely sweet combination of laundry detergent, cologne, and sweat. You push out of his arms, snagging your water bottle on the way out.
“It’s whatever,” you mumble. Though his arms aren’t around you anymore, you feel strangely hot, like your blood is boiling, and your heart still pounds.
“It is not whatever,” Soonyoung declares. “I swear, whatever you want, I’ll do it.” He holds a hand over his heart and if it was anyone else you’d think they were joking but it’s Soonyoung: he’s deadly serious.
You can’t handle his gaze anymore, turning to study your beat up sneakers. “Really? You’ll get my first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice from Jun?”
“I’ll get that book back.” He glances at you. “It is a book, right?”
“Yeah,” you say. “Though there’s been some good adaptations.”
“That’s the one with the zombies?”
“Zombies?” You frown. “Oh my god, do you mean Pride and Prejudice and Zombies?”
“That’s not the original book?”
“No,” you say, laughing. “The original is Jane Austen, in the 1800s.”
“Oh,” Soonyoung says.
“I’ve actually never seen that one,” you say. “It’s the only adaptation I haven’t seen.”
“How many movies are there?”
“Well, there’s the 1940 adaptation, the BBC series that’s widely regarded as the most faithful adaptation, the 2005 Kiera Knightley movie that’s iconic, plus the Lizzie Bennet Diaries, which is a vlog-style Youtube adaptation. Then of course there’s Jane Austen’s other works, like Persuasion, which, the new one, for the record, was a terrible adaptation.” You stop when you realize you’re dangerously close to going on what Jihoon calls ‘an Austen tirade.’
“I liked the movie,” he says after a pause. “I don’t know if it was that good, or close to the books. But it was fun.”
“I’ll have to watch it, then,” you say. “I know it’s the obvious choice, but Pride and Prejudice really is my favorite Jane Austen novel. Good luck getting it back from Jun though. He’s studying abroad this semester.”
“He’s the friend from your history class?”
“No, that’s Jihoon, my roommate,” you say. “Jun was in my language class.”
“I thought you hated everyone in that class.”
“Oh, I did,” you say. “But Jun is friends with Jihoon, so he sort of just became my friend too.”
Soonyoung hums, saying nothing else. You don’t recognize the song, though you tend to mostly listen to classical music when you study or whatever Jihoon blasts from his room, so it’s not that surprising. The melody is nice, though. Well, Soonyoung’s voice is.
“I really am grateful,” Soonyoung says. “I know I was begging, because I don’t think I can do this without you–well, I don’t know if I can do it with you, but you’re my only hope and–I’m rambling again.” He flashes a smile. “The point is, thank you.”
You shrug, feeling shy under his gaze. “It’ll help me study anyways,” you say. “You learn a lot when you teach.”
“I thought you already took it?”
“I only got a 150,” you say, sighing. “I need at least a 165.”
Soonyoung nods, forehead creasing like it always does when he’s lost in thought. “Thank you anyway.”
“Well, you swore to do whatever I tell you,” you say, desperate to change the subject. “Don’t think I won’t abuse that.”
“Oh, YN,” he says, “I’m counting on it.” He even winks.
You cough, choking at the outright flirting. Soonyoung hasn’t tried a line on you in so long you thought he’d used them all. He isn’t serious–it was engraved in his DNA the second he became a fully fledged member of Sigma Beta Tau but it’s not like many people flirt with you, so it’s hard to stop your heart from jumping.
You check your phone, unable to look him in the eyes. It’s 2:18 now, prime naptime if you can get back to your apartment before Jihoon gets back. But if it’s past two, unless he lied to you at the start of the semester, that means Soonyoung should be in his data ethics class. “Hey, don’t you have class right now?”
Soonyoung glances at the time on his phone. “Shit.” He takes off, sprinting across the grass, dodging three picnics and narrowly avoiding getting rocked in the back of the head by a frisbee. He pauses at the edge, turning back around to wave wildly at you.
“Thank you!” He shouts. The picnickers glance between you and him and you can feel the blush returning. Soonyoung doesn’t notice all the eyes on him, waving like a goofball one final time before sprinting off again. Like a whirlwind, he’s gone again, leaving you to stroll across campus and wonder what you just signed up for.
.
.
Soonyoung’s brow furrows into a frown, lips pulling together in a pout. He rests his chin on his hands, looking up at you from the table like a puppy that knows he’s in trouble. “That bad?”
“Your analytical reasoning was good!” You say, not wanting to destroy him just yet. “The logical analysis wasn’t that bad either, you just need practice.”
“Wasn’t there a third section?”
“The score for reading comprehension was pretty bad.” Horrendous, actually, but you can’t tell him that, not when he’s deflating faster than a balloon at a knife throwing contest. He sits back, head knocking lightly against the back of the stiff library chairs.
“We can work with this! It’s really not that bad,” you say. You reach out instinctively, wrapping your hands over his hands. Your thumb rests against the soft smooth skin of the back of his hand, the rest of your fingers brushing lightly against his calloused fingers. You jerk back when you realize what you’re doing, patting his hands once and grabbing the workbook in front of him as if it’s what you meant to do all along. You study the upside down words, not daring to look at the disgust that’s probably painted on Soonyoung’s face.
“You can start with practicing the logic problems,” you say, flipping through the work book. “I’ll figure out a strategy for the reading portion.”
Soonyoung heaves a sigh, sitting up and hunching over the workbook. You flip open one of your old workbooks and try to pretend like you’re not trying to melt away from embarrassment.
“This isn’t very much teaching,” Soonyoung says without looking up. “Lots of problem solving.”
“I don’t really know what I’m doing either,” you say. “I just watched a lot of youtube videos when I was studying last year. I should have known better than to take it over the summer, though.”
Soonyoung glances up. “How come?”
You chew on your lip. You’ve known Soonyoung for a while now, but you’ve never talked to him like this, mentioning any real things other than complaining about roommates. Soonyoung would listen, probably say the ‘right’ things, but it’s a study session, so you just say, “Just not good timing.”
He nods, returning to his humming. You turn to your own workbook, trying to figure out how to get Soonyoung to actually read the passages for the reading comprehension. Twenty minutes pass in an instant and Soonyoung drops his pencil, sliding his journal with the answers back in front of you. You flip to the answer key, scanning between the two.
“When are you taking it again?” Soonyoung asks while he waits.
“Just before Halloween,” you say. Exactly 38 days from now, according to the IMPENDING DOOM countdown clock on your phone.
“That soon?”
You shrug. “I wanted to give myself time to take it again in case I bomb it and it had to be before midterms, so, yeah.”
“Is it really that bad to take all your tests at once?” Soonyoung asks.
“I mean, finals week pretty much kills me every semester. I actually thought I was cutting it close with only two weeks between it and midterms.”
“Is November cutting it too close?”
“Depends on when in November you plan on taking it,” you say, “though you probably won’t be able to take it again if you don’t like your score.”
“Not a problem for me,” Soonyoung says. He doesn’t waver against your raised eyebrow. “I’m getting that 179, first try.”
“You’re that confident?”
“In you.” He winks. “Also the bet is off if I don’t get it on the first try.”
You nod. “Yeah, that makes more sense.” You glance at your calendar. “
“November 18th.”
“That’s not too bad, you dodged between midterms and finals, there should be plenty of cram time.”
Soonyoung shrugs. “I just scheduled it so that I would get the results before the Christmas party.”
“I didn’t think you would be the religious type.”
“Oh, I’m not,” he says. “The frat has this annual post-finals party before people go back home for holiday break, usually on the last day of finals. There’s no way I’m letting Seungkwan get away with my hard earned Playstation, and there’s no way he’d miss the party.”
“You can’t just buy your own game?”
“It’s a console actually,” he says, “and that’s not the point.” You prepare for some lecture about honor or frat code or something overly dramatic and inspired by any of the countless war propaganda movies he loves, but he closes his mouth.
“I guess it doesn’t really matter,” you say. You turn back his sheet, half the answers marked with a dark blue X because red feels too cruel. “You’re clearly committed.”
He sighs at the answers, flipping back to the first question and frowning. You think the conversation is over, but without looking up from glaring at the right answers, he says, “You should come.”
“To?”
“The Christmas party.”
You stare at the top of his head but he doesn’t seem to notice. You wonder how he manages to keep his hair so blonde without ruining his scalp but you don’t see any dandruff. “Me?” You finally say.
“You said you’d come, like, freshman year,” he says. “You never did.”
You did promise, back when you saw him for class every day. But frat parties weren’t your scene back then. They aren’t your scene now. Nothing about blasting music and binge drinking appeals to you, and yet Soonyoung peeking at you from his notebook makes you feel guilty anyways. He looks at you like he really doesn’t understand why you wouldn’t want to go.
And that’s the worst part: for Soonyoung, you would go. When he looks at you with the damn Soonyoung Sparkle, you’d do anything.
“I’ll… think about it,” you finally say.
He looks at you for a moment longer, then nods, like he didn’t really expect you to say yes. You try not to feel like you’re letting him down.
“Can you explain this one to me,” he asks, turning the book so you can see it from across the table.
You skim the question, which turns out to be a series of questions about stained glass windows. You take a moment to glance between Soonyoung’s answers and the correct ones.
“Walk me through your process,” you say.
“Okay, I start with…”
.
.
“Soonyoung, are you even listening?”
He blinks at you, lifting his head from his arms. “Something about strategies? For reading?”
You snap the book shut, shaking your head. You open your mouth, speech on responsibility and studying on the tip of your tongue but one look into Soonyoung’s Sparkle Eyes (patent pending) and all the words are gone. You really need to figure out how to get around that super power.
“Come on, it’s so nice out,” he says. “We should be outside.” He grabs your hand. “This is not studying weather, this is dating weather.”
“Soonyoung your test is in two months, you seriously want to skip?” You don’t dignify the second part of his complaint with a response. The idea of Soonyoung on a date makes your stomach flip.
He sighs. “No, but it’s October, we won’t get many more nice days, so can we at least go outside?”
You hesitate a heartbeat too long and Soonyoung jumps up. He closes the workbook, knocking loose papers off the table and sending highlighters of every color flying in every direction. The chaos earns a couple side eyes from the people around you and a full on glare from the person directly next to him, but Soonyoung, as Soonyoung as ever, doesn’t seem to notice. He picks up the papers and highlighters, shoving them into his backpack without a folder and slinging it over his shoulder. You can only follow him, grabbing the drinks before he tries to carry them along his laptop. When it comes to Soonyoung, mixing liquids and technology is more dangerous than mixing alcohols. You haven’t forgotten The Coffee Incident, flooding his backpack at 8 in the morning.
He drags you out of the library, though you don’t put up much of a fight. Soonyoung makes you want to relax, just a little, and when he smiles back at you as soon as he steps out of the sunlight, you find you don’t regret a thing.
Soonyoung pulls his emergency blanket out of his blanket, passing it to you. He’s more prepared for naps than any class he’s ever taken but the thin fabric is soft so who are you to judge? He heads straight for the quad, which is already filled with people, some groups of friends, too many obvious couples with heads in each other's laps or arms wrapped around each other. Soonyoung settles down in a relatively unpopulated corner, taking the blanket back to shake it out the blanket a few times before laying it flat on the ground.
Soonyoung groans when you pull out the workbooks as soon as you sit down. “There isn’t anything more fun to study?”
“Soonyoung, it’s the LSAT,” you say. “It’s not really meant to be fun.”
“But–”
“You’re the one that wanted to go outside,” you remind him, tapping his arm with a pen. “If you’re too distracted we’ll have to go back into the library.”
He gazes at the other people laughing for a long moment before turning to face you again. You raise your eyebrows and he takes the workbook from your hands, flipping it open to the sticky-note bookmark.
The next twenty minutes are relatively quiet, the only noise coming from the chatter of the people around you, too far away to clearly hear, and Soonyoung humming while working through practice problems. You’re not sure if he even realizes he’s doing it, though he bobs his head slightly. You wonder what Soonyoung is like when he isn’t trying to get out of studying–even outside of the party invites you’ve avoided, you rarely see him on campus (because you aren’t on campus when you don’t have to be). You almost went to dinner with him to celebrate passing the business class freshman year where you met him, but you got food poisoning and he never rescheduled.
It’s for the best, though. Even like this, tutoring him minus payment of any kind, you can tell that spending too much time with him will be dangerous. He flirts so easily it feels genuine, and even though he can be ridiculous, he’s never been anything but lovely to you. And it doesn’t help that he’s hot. He glances up, as if he can feel you staring, but he just flashes a smile at you and ducks his head again. Damn frat bros with endearing charms that melt you like the perfect grilled cheese.
Perfectly blue without a cloud in sight, the sky is an empty canvas above you. The air is just the right temperature, just between hot and cold, the sun ensuring that it never dips into the latter. Just the slightest breeze kisses your skin, lifting the edges of the papers but never flipping them. Soonyoung was right: the perfect date weather.
“Soonyoung?” You turn your head to see a dark haired man standing over you. Wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and sides ripped open, you figure there’s a 80% chance he’s one of Soonyoung’s frat brothers.
“Seokmin?” Soonyoung frowns.
“You were actually serious?” Seokmin asks, gesturing to the books. “You know Seungkwan said it as a joke, right?”
“Yeah, but a bet is a bet,” Soonyoung says. “And I really want his Playstation.”
Seokmin snorts. “You know he only said it because he knows you can’t do it.”
“I’m not like I’m losing anything by trying.” Soonyoung sets his lips in a sharp line of determination (which you recognize from the dining hall when he sweet talks his way into free cookies). Seokmin raises his eyebrows at his aggression but eventually decides it’s not worth the fight. Instead, he plops down on the blanket, making a little triangle between the three of you.
“You must be YN,” he says, extending his hand. His easy smile and the way he sat down without waiting for an invitation reminds you of Soonyoung. Unlike the faux blonde, it feels foreign and you shift a little closer to Soonyoung instinctively.
“It’s nice to meet you,” you lie. Seokmin’s eyes curl into little half moons when he smiles, apparently not noticing your awkwardness. You can’t help but feel like he’s intruding as he turns to Soonyoung and asks him to explain what he’s doing. Soonyoung explains it well, though it helps that he was working on the analytical reasoning section.
It’s because he’s interrupting Soonyoung’s studying. That’s why it bothers you that he’s here, even though Soonyoung doesn’t seem to mind and Seokmin seems genuinely interested. Unfortunately, the revelation doesn’t stop you from wishing Seokmin would just leave.
“I don’t know how you do any of this,” Seokmin says after Soonyoung explains the next problem.
“It’s easy!” Soonyoung says. “Half the time the answer is in the question, you just have to know where to look!”
“Quoting me?” You raise your eyebrows.
“Well I did learn from the best!”
“So cliche,” you mutter but the compliment gets you smiling anyway. You look up to find Seokmin looking at you. He has a strange look on his face, frowning, but not angrily. He looks a little bit like when Soonyoung can’t decide between the right answer and the second best option. He doesn’t look away when you catch him staring.
“What?”
He pauses a long moment before answering, as if pondering how to answer. Finally, he says, “I like you.”
You stare at him. Soonyoung had been diligently working on practice problems but his head jerks up at the words.
“I mean, you’re a cool person,” Seokmin quickly says. “Good tutor for Soonyoung.” After hearing his name, Soonyoung grins and turns back to underlining in the workbook.
“Tutor?” You say. “I really don’t think I’m doing all that much.”
Seokmin shrugs. ”I don’t know many people that would spend this much time with someone if they aren't helping. Besides, either way, I’ve never seen Soonyoung this dedicated before.”
“That’s because you don’t dare to bet against me,” Soonyoung says without looking up.
“He might have a point there,” you say. Soonyoung takes a moment to smile at your support.
“What I’m trying to say is that you’re cool,” Seokmin says.
“Thank you?” You wait for him to say something else but he sits back and rests his hands behind him, stretching out in the sun a little more. Sighing, he tilts his head toward the sun.
“Seems like the weather will turn cold soon,” he says. “This might be the last warm day of the year.” He glances at Soonyoung. “And you’re spending it here instead of pre-gaming the Tau party.”
Soonyoung’s pencil freezes. He peeks up at Seokmin, then at you, then shrugs. “I take my bets seriously.”
“Whatever,” Seokmin says. He lays back fully, half of his body sticking off the blanket into the grass. “What are the Ke$ha lyrics? ‘The party don’t start ‘til Soonyoung walks in?’” He doesn’t wait for a correction. “I think I’ll wait until you're finished and we’ll tear it up together.”
Soonyoung glances at you, then unsuccessfully tries to hide his laughter at your expression. You don’t mean to be rude, but Seokmin really just invited himself all on his own and crashed your picnic. Study date. Outdoor study session. The name doesn’t matter, what does matter is it’s only supposed to be you and Soonyoung.
“He’ll fall asleep in about five seconds,” Soonyoung whispers. “He doesn’t actually care about the party, he just likes my nap blankets.” On that point you can’t really blame Seokmin.
“As long as it doesn’t disrupt your studying,” you say.
“Right,” Soonyoung says, more to himself than you. “That’s what’s important.”
You aren’t so oblivious that you miss his bitterness, but you are enough of a coward to decide not to ask about it. How do you even ask about something like that? You can barely answer his questions about the LSAT, so feelings? No chance.
You flip open your own workbook and set a pencil case down to keep the book open and ignore the soft snores from Seokmin. Soonyoung hums, the soft breeze carrying the gentle tune to you and easing you into a false sense of comfort, planting the idea that it’s always been like this and it always will be. But Soonyoung will take the LSAT in November and you will graduate in the spring and there won’t be any more excuses for seeing him, let alone laying out in the sun with him. Letting yourself enjoy this moment has dangerous consequences for your heart.
And yet you enjoy the warm sun on your skin and hum along with Soonyoung anyway. Seokmin is right: this kind of day won’t last long.
.
.
You jump awake at the sound. It takes you a moment to register where you are, to blink the sleep out of your eyes and recognize the stiff library chairs, the yellow tinted lighting of the study rooms on the third floor. Built like a prison cell with no windows and stained linoleum floors, you aren’t entirely sure how you fell asleep. The last thing you remember is working on your essay on Sense and Sensibility, which was rather difficult since you haven’t had the time to finish rereading it. Your book rests on the table next to your open laptop, screen dark.
A second knock reminds you why you woke up in the first place and you turn to the door. Through the glass door you see a student with a backpack hanging off their shoulder, half smiling. They turn the knob, opening the door just enough to stick their head in.
“Hey, sorry, I think I have the room scheduled,” they say.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I lost track of time,” you say, slamming your laptop shut and shoving everything into your backpack. To their credit, the other student doesn’t rush you, even apologizing and telling you to take your time. But if you’ve lost the room, that means the two hours you had booked the study room for–the two hours you designated for writing the essay and doing problem sets–were spent asleep, which means the LSAT cram schedule has been completely thrown off with only three days before the test.
You groan as you step into the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor. The farther up, the more intense the quiet levels get. Hopefully it won’t be so quiet that you fall asleep, but since you got a nap, you should be able to power through an all-nighter. It wouldn’t be the first time. You brace yourself to check your phone for the time, though being kicked out of the room means you already know your fate. 9:08 means that you have a little less than three hours until the library closes. You’ve done more with less time.
The first couple desks are occupied by students but you don’t stray, heading for a familiar corner, ignoring the empty desks that line the stacks. Your corner, that you found freshman year during finals season when you couldn’t find an empty desk, is perfect: hidden behind the encyclopedia shelves with a light directly above it, only three dicks carved into it–all on the underside (discovered on a particularly bad day where you found it most comfortable to lay underneath and rethink your entire life). You smile at the small comfort, striding through the stacks with Sense and Sensibility still in your arms.
You nearly drop the book when you see the backpack, abruptly turning despite the fact that it must have been obvious to whoever stole your corner that you were headed there. You feel rage boiling up and threatening to spill. You close your eyes, reminding yourself that the corner isn’t actually yours. Still, as you settle into a desk facing a giant window that reveals the dark campus, you can’t help but feel bitter. Your thoughts stray to the desk that should be yours, even as you pull out your computer.
BATTERY LOW
The words light up your screen, mocking you before the screen falls dark again. You dig in your backpack for your charger that you always slip into the main pocket. You feel your underused pencil pouch, the single journal since you keep most of your notes on your laptop, LSAT prep book, your three folders, and no charger. Even when you look inside and lay the entire contents of your backpack on the desk in front of you, the only charger you find is for your phone. Which means the longer laptop cord is probably sitting on your desk, all the way back at your apartment.
A twenty minute walk back, twenty minutes less for writing your essay. You can start it on your phone, maybe, though the thought of switching between reading the Sparknotes and typing already exhausts you. It’s moot anyways, since all you can do is sit and stare at the desk, covered in the contents of your soul. This is what your life has become: a stack of paper that weighs less than the digital universe on your laptop that’s all contingent on a $15 charger that abandons you when you need it most.
In the end it isn’t the rage that gets to you. It’s the hilarity of it all, how silly it is that your life is dictated by something so stupid.
The fifth floor decrees silence, so you make sure that your sobs don’t make a noise. You can’t control the tears but you can hold your breath. When your head starts to feel light and your lungs are desperate for air, you can breathe through your mouth and inhale as slow as you can to keep the shakiness to a minimum. You can do everything you can to hold it together, even when you’re falling apart.
Someone taps you on the shoulder. You lift your head, ready to face a tired librarian kicking you out but instead you see bleach blonde hair and a forced smile over a furrowed brow.
“What are you doing here?” You whisper, glad for the quiet because you don’t trust your voice to support you.
He holds up a thick, leatherbound book. LSAT for Dummies. “Extra reading couldn’t hurt, right?”
You blink at him. The only times you’ve seen Soonyoung in the library on his own has been with a thick blanket and closed eyes (it’s how you know he sleeps with his mouth open, just a little). You can’t quite believe he’s in front of you and yet he takes a step closer and doesn’t vanish.
“What are you doing here?” He asks.
“Shhh,” you say, holding your finger to your lips to get him to quiet down, even though there’s no one in sight. “Quiet floor.”
He nods, looking around as if he’s waiting for someone to kick him out. He turns to look at your desk, the contents of your backpack still strewn about. He tilts his head but doesn’t dare raise his voice to ask. You know he hasn’t missed the tears, still wet on your cheeks.
You done? He mouths.
Not even close, you think, but you nod anyways because it’s the easier answer. Soonyoung doesn’t hesitate, gently closing your laptop and sweeping everything into your backpack. You watch as he dumps it all into the biggest pocket, zipping it up and slinging it onto his back. He tucks the law book under his arm and holds out his other hand for you to take.
“Come on,” he whispers. And you take it, let him pull you out of your chair. The walk to the elevator; out of the library; toward the edge of campus; nothing feels far when Soonyoung doesn’t let go of your hand. You follow him in a daze, clinging to his hand in the off-chance that all your luck rides on him–like if you let go, you’ll lose your tether to this planet.
Soonyoung rarely walks in silence and today is not an exception. He rambles about the only member of the frat capable of cooking that apparently can’t do anything without creating a giant mess. Even as he complains about the guy, Soonyoung can’t help defending him, explaining in mouth-watering detail how good his food is.
“One time he crowd sourced some steaks and did a grill for the new pledges and they all thought it was a prank or something and nearly cried when he actually let them eat them. I think they burnt their mouths from eating it too fast, afraid someone was going to take it away from them.” Soonyoung stops at the edge of campus. He glances at you, a question in his eyes. Where are we going?
“Soonyoung,” you say. Squeezing his hand feels natural. “I don’t really want to go back right now.”
He nods, squeezing your hand back. “You want to go for a ride?”
“You have a car?”
“Nope.” Soonyoung fishes his phone out of his pocket and makes a call. You can only hear Soonyoung, who says, “I need a ride,” and “Pick me up by the duck statue,” and then he hangs up.
The edge of campus that Soonyoung drags you to is right next to the athletic fields, which explains why there is a giant statue of the mascot that towers over you. It has three of its own personal spotlights and shiny claws from fans rubbing them for good luck, despite there being no official tradition. You only went to one game, mostly to confirm you would rather be anywhere else (except maybe the bathroom of the stadium). Either way, the only thing you do know about the statue and mascot for your school is that it is not a duck.
“That’s a raven.” You point at the statue.
Soonyoung frowns between you and the hunk of metal. “Oh, Larry?”
“It has a name?”
“Well, there’s the official name, which is like, Midnight Rain or something, and the frat name.”
“And the frat name is Larry?”
Soonyoung shrugs. “I didn’t choose it.”
“And you call it a duck, too?”
“It looks like a duck.”
You study the statue. You aren’t an ornithologist, but you’re pretty sure ducks have webbed feet instead of talons, and different beaks. Plus you’ve never seen a pure black duck. But you’ve spent enough time with Soonyoung to know it doesn’t have to make sense when the frat is involved (in fact, you’ve found sense is rarely involved in their decisions).
“We just call it the duck. Or Larry, when we want to be formal.” Soonyoung jumps at the honk of a horn. You turn around with him to find an obnoxiously red convertible parked against the curb. The driver’s smooth black hair is styled to look effortless, hair falling just above his eyes, and he wears sunglasses despite the fact that the sun went down three hours ago. He might be attractive, if he wasn’t trying so hard. You never thought you had a type, but someone like Soonyoung, who wears clothes that he likes and sticks his hair straight up because he thinks it looks funny–that’s more your style.
“Here’s our ride,” Soonyoung says. He starts walking, pulling you with him, still holding your hand. You aren’t sure if he even realizes, but you’re in no hurry to remind him.
“Hey Josh,” he says.
Driver (Josh, apparently), finally pulls off his sunglasses. “Soonyoung, you have a friend.”
“I’m YN,” you say, wishing your voice didn’t sound so scratchy from crying.
“Oh, I know,” he says, a twinkle in his eye that flirts between danger and fun. “I’m Joshua.” You try not to feel unsettled by it. He raises an eyebrow as Soonyoung slides into the backseat and you sit beside him. “Am I just an Uber to you?”
“Seungcheol is out and I knew there was no way you would let me drive your car,” Soonyoung says.
“So, yes?”
Soonyoung shrugs and laughs at Joshua’s expression.
“Where are we headed?” He asks with a resigned sigh as if he’s used to Soonyoung’s antics. Has he done this before? You frown. Why does it matter to you if he’s done this with someone else? You’re so busy with the internal war, you miss Soonyoung’s answer.
“Seriously?” Joshua asks. “It’s a weeknight.”
“Like that’s ever been a problem for you.”
Joshua glances at you. “You’re okay with this?”
You pause. You don’t actually know where Soonyoung said to go. But it’s Soonyoung, your heart says. You're inclined to agree with it tonight. “Yeah.”
He shakes his head and mutters something you don’t catch and kicks the car into gear. Before long, you are flying down a two lane road you didn’t even know existed. The wind starts to pick up with the top of the car down, blasting your face. Though your nose is still stuffed from crying, the air fills your lungs, tasting like dead leaves and unnatural warmth courtesy of climate change. For the first time tonight, you can breathe.
.
.
The clock reads just shy of 1 am by the time the car stops. As soon as the rumbling engine cuts out, another noise takes over, drowning everything else out. Crashes too rhythmic to be thunder, the blows softened by tall dunes illuminated by the car’s headlights that Joshua didn’t turn off.
Soonyoung turns to you with a grin. “Ready to have some fun?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, jumping out of the car instead of opening the door, ignoring Joshua’s shout. He sprints toward the crashing waves.
Joshua shakes his head, opening his door and ushering you out from the back. He even closes the door behind you, folding his arms over his chest and walking slowly to the beach with you. The headlights cut out but the moon and stars shine enough to see where the boardwalk ends and the sand begins. Soonyoung’s movement gives him away more than any light, running alongside the water and dancing with the tide.
You clear your throat. The ride cleared your head enough for you to feel properly embarrassed about meeting someone right after sobbing. You shudder to imagine how terrible you looked when he first picked you up, clinging to Soonyoung like he was the only thing keeping you alive. A blush forms just at the thought of it.
“So, you do this often?” You ask.
“Do something truly insane because of Soonyoung? All the time.” Joshua laughs. “We don’t usually end up this far away though, and usually someone’s life is in imminent danger.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” you say, watching Soonyoung strip his socks and shoes off and toss them behind him. One sock gets caught in the wind and blows back toward you and Joshua.
Joshua stops before the two of you can catch up to him. You turn to look at him. It’s difficult to read his expression in the moonlight but he frowns like he’s not sure he should say something. Eventually he says, “I’m going for a walk down the boardwalk.” He glances at Soonyoung, then back at you and smiles. “Have fun with him.”
You watch him turn around and trudge back up the sand, wondering if all of Soonyoung’s friends are this strange. Maybe it’s just being in a frat. You grab Soonyoung’s sock and set it with his shoes, smiling when he turns around and waves like a maniac.
“It’s the ocean!” He shouts over the crashes.
“You’re soaked!” You shout back. He glances down and apparently finally realizes his shirt is wet, clinging to his shoulders already. He strides back toward you, grabbing your arm and pulling you closer.
“My shoes are not coming off!” You warn him.
“Just come closer!” He says. “It’s amazing!” You stand with him at the edge of the water, watching it rise in the darkness and draw closer and closer. It crashes on the sand first, a violent move, kicking up wet sand and mixing it with white water. The frothy white water creeps forward, until you have to dance backward. Soonyoung stays in the water, letting it wash around his feet.
“It feels better like this,” he says.
“My feet are covered in enough sand,” you say, though he does look like he’s having fun. The water must be freezing this time of the year–it would feel so nice running over your skin. But you’d end up with wet socks and even more sand in your shoes to clean out.
Soonyoung holds out his hand. “You’d like this.”
You chew on your lip. Normally you’d laugh in his face and say ‘not a chance.’ But normalcy has never been running three hours away to the beach in the middle of the night when you have class at 9 in the morning. You pull off the sneakers without untying them and pull your socks off, setting them next to Soonyoung’s and joining him at the edge of the water. His hand isn’t out by the time you return but he slips it into yours when you join his side.
Another wave crashes and you watch the water creep forward, faster than you expect it to be–and you’re right, it’s freezing, but Soonyoung’s right too, it sends an icy shock throughout your body that sends a tingly rush up from your toes to every nerve in your body, setting them on fire. You squeeze his hand and laugh.
“Good?” He asks.
“I love it.”
You don’t know how long you stand there, holding onto Soonyoung’s hand and letting the water wash over you. After a few waves, it doesn’t feel cold anymore. You stand until your feet are buried in wet sand, each wave sending you lower and lower.
“My feet are freezing,” Soonyoung eventually says.
“Mine, too.” You lift your feet reluctantly, already missing the coarse sand and cold water. You have to let go of Soonyoung’s hand to put on your socks and shoes, shuddering at all the sand in your socks. The cotton became damp from sitting too close to the water, your shoes faring the same. Yet you don’t regret a second of it.
You stand up and stretch, feeling your spine pop. When you turn back around, you almost scream. You manage to contain it to a gasp, a wheezing Soonyoung’s name. He blinks at you innocently, like he isn’t standing in front of you with his shirt in his hand.
“What are you doing?” You choke out.
“We’re at the beach,” he says. “I have to take pictures.”
“And you need to take off your shirt for that?”
“Why? Does it bother you?” He smirks.
Muscles have never been a selling point for you. The “people” you’ve crushed on have all been smart or kind, crushes of intellect rather than bodies. His toned abs, sculpted shoulders, the way his body curves gently as he allows you to stare at him–normally it wouldn’t get to you at all (other than the embarrassment of being this close to a shirtless man for the first time in a long time). But it’s not just the muscles. It’s Soonyoung, your Soonyoung who calls you at four in the morning to tell you about the movie he just finished and is too endearing for you to truly be annoyed at. It’s the Soonyoung that gets lost in the Engineering building even as a senior. It’s the Soonyoung that drags you to the beach in the middle of the night just to make you smile. Yes, it bothers you. No one should be this incredible and hot.
“No,” you mumble, failing to convince yourself of the lie.
Soonyoung seems to be done teasing you, dropping his shirt into your hands. He walks a little closer to the waves, apparently not bothered by the chilly ocean breeze. He starts to pose, then raises his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to take pictures?”
“Where’s your phone?”
“The camera’s broken,” he says. “Just use yours and you can send them to me.” He continues to pose, flexing his arms as subtly as he can which isn’t particularly subtle (though the muscles are even more impressive in person). You are tempted to reach out and feel the tension, before you realize you are staring again.
You numb to Soonyoung in this half-dressed state as you take the pictures. The frat must have a professional photographer or something, because Soonyoung knows how to pose. Despite some of the angles and positions seeming awkward, each picture comes out as if from a photoshoot. He only gives you a few instructions on taking pictures, and compliments you way beyond your talents.
“Just like that!” Soonyoung says, breaking his model face to grin at you. “You’re really good at this.”
“You can’t even see the pictures,” you say. You bite your lips so you don’t smile. Apparently that doesn’t matter, because he keeps posing. It’s a good thing you just upgraded your phone storage because you estimate at least a thousand pictures are taken for each pose.
“Are you guys done?” You jump at the voice next to you. Apparently Joshua returned from his walk, sneaking up using the crashing waves as cover. “We should head back soon if you want to make your morning classes.”
“Definitely want to,” you say. You haven’t gotten any work done, but that’s no excuse to skip class. Soonyoung pouts but doesn’t argue.
“Perfect!” Joshua claps his hands together. He shoves you toward Soonyoung and grabs your phone. “One more picture together and we’ll go.”
Being at a distance worked perfectly fine but those muscles have you frozen in place again. Soonyoung throws an arm over your shoulders and grins like you do this all the time. His biceps press through your jacket, the flex of the muscle exactly as you imagined it, not that it stops your heart from thundering.
You can’t help but steal a glance at Soonyoung. Despite feeling like you’ll malfunction at any second, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. Soonyoung’s features look soft this close, even the sharp cut of his jawline. You want to study every line of his face, each curve, memorize it until the way his lips slowly curl into a smile is carved into your heart. Spending the rest of your life here doesn’t seem too bad.
“Let’s go,” Joshua says, breaking whatever magic froze time for you. You are left with cold toes and sand in your sneakers as you march up the dune and back to Joshua’s car.
“I just cleaned it,” he groans, looking at all the sand you and Soonyoung tracked in.
You mumble an apology but when you try to offer to clean it for him, he shakes his head. “Nobody touches my baby.”
You glance at Soonyoung, who followed you into the backseat again. He rolls his eyes at Joshua, smiling in a way that you know means he isn’t serious. You smile back at him and click your seatbelt into place.
“Address?” Joshua asks, handing you his phone. You punch it in and hand the phone back. 3 hours and sixteen minutes.
Joshua whistles, seeing the arrival time of 4:53. “Remind me never to do this again.”
“The beach was your idea,” Soonyoung says. His words slur a little.
“Just go to sleep already,” Joshua says. The engine rumbles on and he pulls away from the empty boardwalk.
“‘m not even tired,” Soonyoung says, fighting a yawn. He slouches and leans against the headrest, rolling his head to look at you. “You have class in the morning?”
“Not until nine.”
“That’s good.” He doesn’t succeed in fighting the yawn this time. His blinks become longer and longer, eyes closing more than opening. It’s like watching the energizer bunny shut down.
“Soonyoung?”
He opens his eyes and you think maybe he’d wait for the rest of his life for you to say something.
“Thank you.”
“Always.” He smiles lazily. “I swore I’d do anything.”
His sworn loyalty. It should be fun, having a boy like him dedicated to fulfilling your wishes. But what would it be like if he wasn’t sworn to you? If he did these kinds of things just because he wants to?
You didn’t think you were tired but the next thing you know, Soonyoung gently shakes you awake.
“We’re here,” he says in a quiet, very un-Soonyoung voice.
You blink at him, trying to figure out why your neck hurts so much, frowning at the unfamiliar surroundings. From the rear view mirror, Joshua watches you. Right, instead of writing your essay, doing the problem sets, or any of the readings, you went to the beach. You wait for the guilt to set in but it doesn’t come. None of the anxieties from earlier in the evening (the technical part of your brain reminds you it was the night before) overwhelm you.
“Right,” you say, clearing your throat. Your mouth tastes nasty but before you can say anything, Soonyoung hands you a water bottle. You take a sip before saying thank you.
Soonyoung unbuckles his seatbelt. “I’ll walk you up.”
You nod, grateful you don’t have to ask him. The night has been a full adventure on its own yet you aren’t quite ready for it to be over. At least you aren’t ready to say goodbye to Soonyoung.
There’s still something you want to tell him. You want to tell him that you like his blonde hair, even though everyone else thinks it’s ridiculous. You want to tell him that you lied earlier, you nearly lost your mind seeing him shirtless. You want to tell him that you feel proud when he gets the right answer on the first try, that you think his concentration frown is cute, that you’ve never enjoyed studying like you do when he’s by your side. You want to tell him that on your worst days, days like today, just being Soonyoung makes it better.
But you learned a long time ago tired ramblings and drunk confessions are siblings. They both end in heartbreak and twelve packs of ramen.
So you ride the elevator with him and watch the lights flicker. You never cared when Jihoon brought his friends (well, Jun) over, but the carpets that look dirty no matter how many times they’re cleaned and beige walls are even worse tonight. You can stand to live in a boring apartment, but not a dirty one.
“This is me,” you say, gesturing to 808. You turn your back on the door, facing Soonyoung instead. He looks radiant under the fluorescent hallway lights, which really isn’t fair. They make his bleach blonde hair look natural, highlight the blemishes on his skin, easy to see when he’s this close.
You should go inside and he should go back down but neither of you move. For the second time tonight, you are frozen in time with Soonyoung.
The floor creaks and you jump, turning around at the same time, accidentally knocking into Soonyoung’s chest as you turn to face the noise behind you. Jihoon, gym bag over his shoulder, frowns at you across the hallway.
“Are you seriously just getting back now?”
Shit. You never texted him. “Um, Jihoon, this is Soonyoung,” you say. He waves behind you. “Soonyoung, Jihoon.”
Jihoon folds his arms. “I’ve heard about you.” You glare at him, which he ignores. “You’re taking the LSAT on a dare?”
“You’re the one that wants to be a music producer?”
Jihoon raises his eyebrows and looks at you. “You’ve mentioned me?”
“Only the worst,” you say, smiling at him.
“I thought you were at the library all night?” Jihoon says.
“We went on an adventure,” you say. You show him your sandy shoes. He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. It’s clear he knows he interrupted something, but the stubborn asshole doesn’t move.
You turn back to Soonyoung. “Goodnight,” you say, resisting the urge to hug him.
“It’s morning,” Jihoon says.
“Goodnight,” Soonyoung says, glancing at Jihoon. He pauses and fidgets with the hem of his shirt but finally gives you a half hug that feels more like a bro hug than anything else. He disappears into the elevator then pops his head out a final time “Send me the photos!”
You turn to Jihoon. “I forgot to text you.”
“I figured I’d wait until the morning to call,” he said. “Even if you were kidnapped there’s still a 90% chance you’d figure out a way to show up for class on time.” He turns the key in the lock and strides into the apartment. You’re too tired to argue back, especially when he’s right, so you just follow him into the apartment.
“I like him,” Jihoon says before you vanish into your room.
“Should I find you a wedding dress?” You say. “Soonyoung is single.”
Jihoon rolls his eyes and grabs a protein shake from the fridge. “Why do I even bother?”
You don’t wait for him to leave first, peeling your shoes off in the entryway where you can sweep up the sand and practically fall into your room. It’s race to change into an old t-shirt before you collapse onto your bed.
You set an alarm for 8:30 and check fifty times to make sure it’s actually set. Then you open your camera roll, shaking your head at the countless pictures. You choose twenty non-blurry ones before your eyes start to droop. You scroll to the bottom and click on the pictures Joshua took. Soonyoung grins for the camera, his easy smile as captivating on your phone as it is in person. You are staring at him, a soft smile on your lips and hearts practically bugging out of your eyes. It’s so ridiculously obvious how you feel. You send him his thirst traps and keep that picture for yourself.
It takes a week for you to realize Soonyoung never posted the pictures.
.
.
The weight of the world has the decency to wait until you’re home to fall on your shoulders. You hold your keys up and can’t push it into the lock. If you didn’t do well today, it means the past two months have been a complete waste–all the studying, the assignments you got low grades on because you were studying, the nights you spent at your desk–wasted and doomed to repeat.
All but the time you spent with Soonyoung. Even if you fail (again), he should at least score decently, and you can’t consider that a complete waste.
You raise your key to insert it into the lock but the door flies open. Jihoon glares at you, arms folded over his chest. “What the hell is taking you so long, your boyfriend is here.”
You peer past him and find Soonyoung lounging on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table. He sits up when he sees you, grinning and waving. You wonder if he’s been there since you told him you were finished. You make a mental note to get Jihoon his favorite protein shakes.
“How did you know I was here?”
“Me and your boyfriend heard you shaking your keys in front of the door for like twenty minutes,” Jihoon says.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” you mutter, praying Soonyoung didn’t hear either of you. You push past Jihoon, letting him lock the door behind you. Soonyoung jumps off the couch as soon as you drop your bag, almost tackling you in a hug. You pretend not to hear Jihoon’s scoff as he locks himself in his room again.
“How’d it go?” He asks, squeezing you one more time before letting go. You try not to feel disappointed about it. “I mean, I know you did amazing, but how do you feel? Was the room super hot or super cold? Did the proctor give you the evil eye when you turned in your paper because they were secretly trying to sabotage you?”
“No?” You frown. “And the room was fine, I felt pretty good about it, but I felt good last time, so I don’t really know, I just really don’t want to take it again.” You sigh. “I know you want to know as many details as possible for your test, but I really, really don’t want to think about it right now.”
Soonyoung grins and pulls out a package of White Claws and a bottle of vodka from a plastic bag that you just noticed sitting on your coffee table. “That’s perfect because I brought a gift from the whole frat.”
“That seems pretty on brand,” you say.
“And a gift from me.” He digs again and pulls out a DVD. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.
“You’re kidding.” You say. “I think I have to be drunk to watch that.”
“You don’t have faith in my taste in movies?” Soonyoung asks but he pops open the first drink and slips something shaped concerningly like a knife out of his pocket and stabs the can, chugging it before it can really spill on your carpet. Before you can register what he did, he tosses the empty can on the coffee table, immediately scrambling to straighten it. “Sorry, force of habit.”
“Soonyoung, I don’t think I can keep up with you,” you say, sitting slowly onto the couch.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m a lightweight,” he says. “I definitely should not have chugged that.”
“I guess I better catch up,” you say, unscrewing the vodka and pouring a shot in the little paper cups that Soonyoung brought. The acrid scent curls your lip but you knock it back as fast as you can, forcing it down when you miss the back of your throat and it burns your tongue. Soonyoung hands you a can, the lime flavored seltzer pushing the nasty flavor out of your mouth.
“Yeah, I’m terrible at that,” you say.
Soonyoung shrugs. “I’m not one to judge. You should have seen me as a pledge.”
You grin at the mental image of Soonyoung wearing a fake toga made of bedsheets. “I bet you were adorable.” You take another sip of the drink (which tastes significantly worse when you aren’t comparing it to straight vodka) and miss Soonyoung scrambling for words.
“I can’t drink this,” you declare, setting the can down. You cross the room to the fridge, opening it and studying the contents. Soonyoung follows you, resting his chin on the door and glancing inside.
“Jihoon does most of the cooking,” you say, feeling self-conscious. Not much populates your fridge, a package of chicken breast and a carton of eggs. A couple containers of take out that are either two days or two weeks old sit in front, and the drawer of fruit that is filled with apples from Jihoon’s mother definitely smells funny.
“I live in a frat house, this is heaven.”
You flash him a smile and grab the orange juice, shaking it as you grab a glass from the cabinet (thank god Jihoon did the dishes last night). Soonyoung follows you back to the couch and waits for you to pour a glass and add two shots of vodka. You raise the glass and he takes your rejected White Claw and clinks it.
“Cheers,” he says, sipping this one instead of chugging it. He sets it down and leans against the armrest so that he can face you. “How did you meet Jihoon, by the way? He seems like a pretty reserved dude.”
“Yeah, sorry if he was short with you, he isn’t half as mean as he pretends to be,” you say.
“We actually talked a lot.” He pauses, tilting his head as he thinks about it. “Well, a lot about working out. I think I could turn him into my gym buddy with enough pressure.”
“I would pay to see that,” you say. Jihoon tried to bring you to the gym exactly once, and you have regretted it ever since. The soreness haunts you, but you think Soonyoung might be one of the few people on the planet that could keep up with him with those arms.
“I didn’t know you were into that,” Soonyoung says with a giggle. You roll your eyes.
“You know for a fact that’s not what I meant,” you say, “and to answer your question, we lived in the same dorm freshman year. He was next door, and both our roommates were psychotic, so we ended up trading. We’ve been living together ever since because I’m the only one that can put up with his annoying ass. Also he cooks and keeps me alive during finals.”
“I can’t believe I was a dorm assignment away from living with you.” Soonyoung shakes his head and pretends to sigh. “Fate isn’t on my side.”
“Don’t you live in a frat house?”
“Semantics,” Soonyoung says. He pauses. “Semen-tics.” He starts to laugh and though the joke is far from funny, you find yourself giggling too.
“You’re drunk,” you say.
Soonyoung points at you. “I’m pretty sure you’re drunk too.”
You tilt your head from side to side, trying to think at first but the motion feels nice, toeing the line between dizzying and comfortable. Right, you were checking if you were drunk. You have your answer, but you don’t want to stop spinning just yet.
“Do you really want to be a lawyer?” Soonyoung asks. You freeze with your head on your right shoulder, frowning at him. “I mean, like, how do you know?”
“It makes good money,” you say. “Well, corporate law does. Everything going according to plan, I’ll be out of debt before I’m thirty, retiring at 65.”
“But how do you know that’s what you want?” Soonyoung asks. You wonder if he’s asking you or himself. You think about the first day you met him.
It was the first day of your sophomore year, 8 in the morning in the worst classroom in the Armhayer Building at the end of a dead end hallway with no windows. The business program had a required career building course and some cruel administrator decided to make the other available class clash with the other required business class for the year, so half the class was people you were stuck with for the full year. Despite its reputation, the business school at the university seemed to only accept idiots.
You settled for a long semester of biting back your eye rolls and yawning through class, choosing a seat in the front so that at least you won’t have to look at anyone else. And for fifteen minutes, you struggled to keep your eyes open.
Then Soonyoung walked in.
He was out of breath, telling the professor that he got lost several times and someone gave him the wrong directions. You didn’t really pay attention to him until he dropped into the seat next to you. Fully prepared to give him a side eye and judge him for the rest of the semester, Soonyoung flashed a smile at you and apologized for disrupting you. He was so obviously not your type, yet when his head dropped on your shoulder, you didn’t wake him up. Two classes later when the professor told the class that you would be in a semester-long partner project, you didn’t hesitate to say yes when Soonyoung asked you.
Soonyoung hadn’t ever taken the class seriously, going through the motions and doing the bare minimum for most of the assignments. You never paid any attention to it, but you realize that he never actually told you what he planned to do with his life, always asking you what you planned to do with your copious amounts of money. Now you wonder if it was because he really doesn’t know.
“I want stability,” you finally say. “This plan is stable. Safe, as long as everything goes according to plan. I guess it’s not as cool as dreaming about being an astronaut or whatever, but it’s what I want.”
“I think it’s cool. Knowing what you want to do.” Soonyoung says with little enthusiasm.
“You don’t have any idea?”
He shrugs. “I have to be smart to do the things I want to do.”
“You are smart.”
“You don’t have to pander to me, I’m not looking for your pity.”
“Soonyoung.” You wait for him to look you in the eyes. “You are smart. This isn’t pity. Sure it takes you a little longer to read things, and you have to work a little harder to answer some questions, but that doesn’t mean you’re not smart. You’re just as capable as me, more capable when it comes to emotional intelligence. Have you ever noticed that wherever you go, someone is always waving to you? I don’t think there’s a single person in this world that doesn’t like you. Don’t downplay how important that is.”
He chews on his lip and you know he doesn’t believe you. How many people have told him he’s dumb? You want to drag every single one of them here and make them apologize, make them realize how special the boy in front of you is. Eventually he shrugs. “I’ll just end up being an intern, and then I’ll be so charming they’ll promote me without realizing I don’t know what I’m doing and I’ll become a CEO that pays people to do the job for me.”
You smile and shake your head. “We can vacation together in the Bahamas.”
“Please, that’s where the semi-rich people go,” Soonyoung says, lifting his head from the back of the couch. “We’ll have our own islands and sail past each other.” This time when he smiles, the sparkle glints, just a little. His bleach blonde hair sticks in strange angles from rubbing against the couch, looking a little like a fuzzball. You reach a hand out and pat it down, except the hair is fried from being bleached so many times and almost breaks under your hand.
When you pull your hand down, Soonyoung is staring at you. Except staring isn’t the right word. He looks at you like no one else ever has, a thousand unsaid words behind his eyes, a language like no other that maybe only you can understand. Those dark eyes, so soft and warm, begging you to drown in them. He’s a siren, luring you in with a song of desire that only you can hear.
You don’t realize you’ve leaning closer until you fall forward, catching yourself on his chest. Soonyoung’s hand flies to your waist, moving so fast it must have been reflex.
“Sorry,” you mutter but you don’t get off him. Resisting his eyes from this close is impossible. Soonyoung blinks at you, frozen. It occurs to you that you’re almost kissing him. All you have to do is lean forward, press your lips against his. Would his lips be chapped? Would he kiss you back? Would he make fun of you for being a terrible kisser? You hold your breath, wondering if you are about to find out.
You jump at the bang of a door slamming shut. You push off Soonyoung’s chest, back to your side of the couch until your back slams against the armrest. The pain is almost enough to sober you up and you realize exactly what you were about to do. You can’t bear to look at Soonyoung staring at you so you look at Jihoon instead, who doesn’t seem to realize that he interrupted anything by walking into the kitchen, headphones blasting music so loud that you can hear it. He grabs one of the takeout containers from the fridge and finally notices you and Soonyoung staring at him.
“What?” He shouts over his headphones. You shake your head and he stares at you all the way back to his room, slamming the door shut behind him with enough force to make you jump again.
“We should probably start the movie,” you say, turning to face forward, anywhere but Soonyoung. “I’ll get my laptop.” He doesn’t say anything but you can feel Soonyoung’s eyes on you as you jump up. Ignoring the spinning in your head, you walk to your room. You lean against the door as soon as it shuts behind you, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.
You wish you could blame the idiocy on the alcohol, but you aren’t drunk enough for that. Besides, regardless of the reason, it was a mistake, it would be a mistake, to kiss Soonyoung. No matter how badly you want to do it.
Your computer sits on your desk. The longer it takes for you to get back, the stranger it will be, so you grab it and return to the couch. Dizziness gives you an excuse to peer at the floor, perfectly valid reason to avoid Soonyoung’s eyes.
“Are you ready to have your mind blown?” He asks when you insert the DVD into your laptop.
You raise your eyebrows but still don’t have the courage to face him. “It’s that good?”
Soonyoung laughs easily, as if nothing happened. “You have no idea what you’re in for.”
You peek at him from the corner of your eye. He faces the computer, sitting back against the couch. Other than his red tinted cheeks, you can’t tell he’s drunk at all. You have no idea what you’re in for, he said. He has no idea how right he is.
.
.
You hold Soonyoung by the shoulders, staring him down. Your eyes begin to water but you hold them open, determined not to lose. Soonyoung squints, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. You just have to hold out a little longer, but your eyes begin to ache and the air pierces into them.
“Damn!” Soonyoung cries, throwing himself back onto the couch and squeezing his eyes shut. You let go of his shoulders and resist the urge to rub your eyes, settling for blinking as fast as humanly possible. Your eyes burn but you smile anyways, wiping tears away with the back of your hand.
“How are you so good at that?” Soonyoung asks. He gives into the impulse, hands pressed against his eyes.
“I’m really not, I think you’re just bad at staring contests,” you say. “Now hurry up, you lost so you have to answer.”
He sighs as if he didn’t beg you to help him study. With only a day before his test, you’re not sure how much this is really helping, but at least he isn’t partying with the rest of his frat (who do a pre-finals bar crawl, apparently). Instead, Soonyoung is on your couch, again. You try not to think about the last time he was here. Not productive thoughts, especially not when Soonyoung is one day away from taking the most important test of his life.
“Is it B?”
“Are you asking or telling?”
“I hate when you say that.” He peers at the paper, eyes moving slowly as he rereads the line. “No, it’s C! Wait, no, B. No, A!”
“Pick an answer.”
He chews on his lip. You have to force yourself to keep your focus on his eyes. “B,” he finally says.
You’re tempted to drag it out and make him wait but he puts on the Soonyoung Sparkle so you go ahead and nod.
“I knew it! Trust your gut!”
“You’re quoting me now.” You pretend to wipe tears from the corner of your eyes. “You’ve grown up so quickly.”
If it were Jihoon, he’d roll his eyes but Soonyoung perks up, as if you’ve given him a real compliment. He pauses before asking his next question, eyes flickering to the papers separating you from him.
“You really think I’ll do well?” He asks softly.
You study him, the way his unnaturally blonde hair has been strategically gelled to stick up in all the right places, the way his plain white t-shirt hangs loose on his shoulders. You wonder what he sees when he looks in the mirror because the way he sits now, waiting for an answer as if you’d actually say no, breaks your heart a little. He really has no idea how brilliant he is, in every sense of the word. You don’t know how to make him see it so you just take his hand and wait for him to look you in the eyes.
The second the glittering dark irises meet yours, you see the desperation. He tries to smile, to hide the fear but Soonyoung has always been easy to read. You fight the urge to brush your fingers against his cheek.
“Soonyoung.” You squeeze his hand. What you feel isn’t a passing crush, you’ve known that for a while now. Admitting it doesn’t give you the bravery to do anything except pull the shield of cowardice around your heart a little tighter. “I’d be an idiot if I said I didn’t.”
He holds your gaze a little longer, until it almost looks like he believes you. Then his eyes light up. “I have a surprise for you!”
He digs into his backpack, pulling out a blanket (not the one he used when it was still warm enough to sit outside in the grass), a plastic water bottle half-full of bright green liquid, three crumpled flyers for events on campus, and finally, a small rectangular item, carefully wrapped in paper towels.
“I was a little worried it would get damaged in my backpack,” he says. “I really, really tried to walk gently and didn’t bring it near any coffee.”
You choose not to point out the unnatural liquid in the plastic water bottle, instead appreciating his efforts to protect whatever your surprise is. Besides, it’s not like he didn’t try. He carefully pulls the paper towels off, revealing a navy blue leather bound book with gilded lettering. Not just any book.
“You got it back?” You cry. Soonyoung pulls the rest of the paper towels off to reveal the intricate design on the cover, the golden pages, with Pride and Prejudice inscribed on the spine. “My baby!”
You hover over the book, not wanting to ruin it with the dirt and oils from your hands but so desperately wanting to caress the beautiful book. It’s just as you remember it, down to the tiny dent on the front cover where you accidentally knocked it against a railing. You can’t wait to put it back on your bookshelf where there has been an empty space ever since Jun managed to snag it. You remember Soonyoung is there when you hear his laughter.
“You like it that much?”
“Of course,” you say. “It’s my baby.”
“It’s a book.” But he smiles and you know he’s just teasing. So you figure, why not?
You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. His frat-bro instincts must take charge because he doesn’t hesitate to hug you back, pulling you against his chest and squeezing you like he’s the one getting a gift.
“Thank you,” you say. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“This is my thank you,” he says. You can feel his voice rumbling in his chest, a strange sensation that sends butterflies tumbling around between your stomach and your heart. “It’s the least I could do for you.
The awkward position isn’t exactly comfortable, twisting your body to face him with your shoulder overtop of his forcing your face into his neck but you don’t want to let go. You give yourself five more thundering heartbeats before you let go, turning to study your book again so you have an excuse to avoid his eyes.
“How did you get it back?”
“Same way you lost it,” Soonyoung says. “I made a bet.”
“On what?”
Soonyoung shrugs, turning to look at the book that still sits in his lip. He gently places it into yours, using the paper towels to prevent smudging with his fingers.
You frown. “How? Jun is in another hemisphere.”
“Don’t underestimate the power of video calls and express shipping,” Soonyoung says. “By the way, I’m wearing your friends down. Pretty soon they’ll like me more than they like you.
“Oh really?” You raise your eyebrow. You ignore the vole gnawing at your gut whispering that he might just be right.
“I got Jihoon to go to the gym with me and I got him to admit I was friends with you before he was,” he says, holding a finger out. “Jun says that he wants to meet me the second he returns to the country.” A second finger goes up. “Who else can I add to the list?”
He’s only joking. He doesn’t mean it the way it sounds, but your skin wants to crawl inside out. The truth is, they are pretty much your only friends. Jihoon, Jun, and Soonyoung, the latter two having wormed their way into your life. My only friends.
“You’ve got to start going on the offensive,” Soonyoung says. He avoids your eyes and you know he didn’t miss your discomfort. Great, now he pities you. “I’m serious, Seokmin and Joshua have been asking about you, and Seungcheol keeps complaining that he hasn’t met you yet.”
You snort. “They’re frat bros, they just want more people to party with.”
“I’m a frat bro,” he says.
“Yeah, but…” But what? He’s Soonyoung? Once again, you wonder why he is so different to you–why the epitome of frat boy chaos doesn’t repulse you like he should. But he isn’t some one-dimensional steroid-infused party boy, not the type to bully the freshman trying to join just because he can. He gets drunk after two shots and makes his pledges follow him for 24 hours a day as “hazing,” only to take them for a dinner he can’t afford and skips his own classes so they don’t miss theirs.
He’s not a typical frat boy. But Soonyoung loves his frat, and you can’t find a way to tell him this without making it sound like you are looking down on the rest of the members.
So you just say, “Isn’t this supposed to be a study session?”
Soonyoung sighs, pulling the book in front of him and staring at the words. Even though you can see that he isn’t reading, he doesn’t say anything else.
“Your test is tomorrow,” you say.
“Yeah, I know.” He doesn’t pick up the pencil.
You’ve never struggled to read Soonyoung. He can’t hide when he’s upset, shoulders slumping, a little pout forming over his lips. He doesn’t fully frown but his eyebrows comes together, just a bit. And it’s usually easy to figure out what’s wrong–he’s tired, or wants to be at a party instead of studying. But now? He was fine just a moment ago, even while he was cramming earlier.
“Is something wrong?” You don’t know why you’re so scared of the answer.
“I just thought that… nNever mind.” He sighs again. “You’re right, this is a study session. I should be studying.” He doesn’t look at you and you can’t help but feel like you messed up. But Soonyoung eventually picks up his pencil and asks you to check his answers and the feeling slowly fades.
Will the rest of your feelings fade when you aren’t with him like this anymore? When he takes his test and has no reason to see you every day? Will your heart still beat at the mention of his name? Will you spend the rest of your life thinking about all the almosts with him? Or will it fade until Soonyoung is just a boy that you helped because of a silly bet?
Even as you consider it, you know the answer. He isn’t just a boy, and he never will be. Maybe that’s what really scares you.
.
.
You glare at Soonyoung. “Do you know what time it is?”
Jihoon glances at his watch. “7:43.”
Soonyoung grins beside him, arm over his shoulder. Both boys stand in your bedroom doorway looking far too composed for this ungodly hour.
“It’s a Saturday.” Just two minutes ago you were in blissful sleep. Okay, maybe not blissful, since you stayed up until three in the morning because you couldn’t fall asleep, and you were having a weird dream where you were looking for something and ended up by the stadium staring at a giant duck statue instead of the raven. But the point is you were asleep until two fists banged on your door so loud you thought it was going to fall apart.
You can’t even be that mad at Soonyoung, not when he smiles like that. So you glare at Jihoon.
“Honestly, I figured you would be up,” he says. “You were the one that said you didn’t think you were going to get any sleep.”
“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung says. “I really just wanted to help distract you for the last hour.” Right. The last hour until your entire future would be determined by a triple digit number. No biggie.
“Let me get dressed,” you say. They step back before you have the chance to slam the door in their face. You’d like to be able to dress up nicely, but you’re already shivering, so you grab your comfiest sweatpants and the sweatshirt Soonyoung lent you (that still smells like his cologne). You dart into the bathroom and meet the two boys in the doorway of the apartment, pulling on your sneakers.
You pull the hood over your messy hair and tighten the strings. Soonyoung grins at you and taps your nose.
“Ready to go?”
“How did you get out of bed this early?”
“Oh, I never got in,” he says. “Long story, but we gotta go, they won’t wait much longer.”
“They?” You ask but Soonyoung doesn’t hear you. He turns to Jihoon, waving.
“See you tomorrow!” He says, throwing an arm over your shoulders to pull you out the door. “I’ll let you know how it goes!”
Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” But he looks at you and smiles. “It’ll be fine.” Before you can thank him, he shuts the door.
Soonyoung doesn’t let go of your side, pulling you to the elevators and squeezing you against him. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I should be asleep.”
Soonyoung smiles, as if your grumpiness is funny. You decide it’s moot since there’s no way you could fall asleep now that you are an hour and seven minutes away from finding out the results of your future.
“I figured I’d save you from wallowing in worry,” Soonyoung says. “We can do fun things while we wait. I planned out the whole morning, we have options! There’s going to the gym, or for a job around campus, breaking into the science lab and petting the rabbits, going to Barb’s for breakfast–”
“Breakfast,” you say. You aren’t a huge fan of getting in trouble with the college when you have just over a semester before graduation and though you aren’t sure if your stomach will accept food, working out is a guarantee for throwing up. Besides, a hot cup of coffee could clear a little of the fog in your brain.
“Barb’s it is,” Soonyoung says, practically bouncing on his toes. He really seems to only have two settings, and today he’s at 120%.
He lets go of your side when the elevator opens and you step to the ground floor of your apartment. You rub your arms and pretend like the chill is from the weather even though the lobby is still warm. He holds the door for you pretending to be a doorman, bowing and gesturing with his arm for you to pass. You turn so that he doesn’t see that the silly gesture made you smile.
Parked outside is a white jeep that looks larger than normal, and is apparently the asshole that’s been blasting their music for the past ten minutes. You aren’t surprised in the slightest when Soonyoung strides up to the car.
“I don’t have a car,” he says, belatedly apologetic. The two men in the front seat don’t seem to mind, though you suspect they have been up all night along with Soonyoung as soon as the door opens and you hear their voices singing off-tune over the blasting music.
“Boy, you got my heartbeat runnin' away,” The driver cries, using a water bottle as a mic. You recognize Seungcheol from Soonyoung’s descriptions, half from his voice and half from the back of his head. The person riding shotgun is also familiar, a mess of dark hair that must be Joshua. He doesn’t look much different in daylight, sunglasses resting on his forehead. Thankfully they turn the music down a little and stop singing when you get it.
Seungcheol grins at you through the mirror. “So I finally get to meet the infamous YN. You know, you still haven’t shown up to any parties.”
“I’ve been busy,” you say, glancing at Soonyoung who focuses a little too much on his seatbelt.
“Hi, YN,” the passenger up front says, waving at you through the rearview mirror.
“Joshua,” you say. “Get into life and death scenarios with Soonyoung recently?”
“Well, Soonyoung jumped out of a car window.” He pauses. “It wasn’t moving,” he adds when Seungcheol jerks his head towards him. “Though I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“I have done it before,” Soonyoung says solemnly. It takes him a moment to realize everyone is staring at him. “It was a dare.”
“Why am I not surprised,” Seungcheol grumbles, turning back around and putting the car into drive. Though you were thinking something along the same lines, the way Soonyoung deflates a little makes you wish Seungcheol hadn’t said anything.
The rest of the drive is quiet–at least in terms of conversation. Seungcheol cranks his stereo up to the loudest setting and blasts the Spice Girls until Joshua starts singing along. Apparently car karaoke for “Wannabe” is sacrilegious to the frat leader.
You can hear yourself think again when the car pulls into the parking lot and he finally cuts the engine. A few cars line the parking lot of the 24 hour diner that sits on the outskirts of campus. The giant neon red Barb’s that hangs over the entrance flickers in the cloudy morning light teeters the line between quaint and electrical fire waiting to happen.
The workers, a host and three waitresses, wave at the boys, and do a double take at you. You swear you hear the host whisper “Is that really them?” to Joshua as he leads the group to a table in the corner but Soonyoung distracts you with the menu.
“I had this thing memorized since freshman year, I can’t believe you’ve never been here. The pancakes are my favorite for hangover cures, not that I’m hungover by the way, I’m actually running on my third energy drink.” He taps the picture, a golden stack of perfectly fluffy pancakes that can only be photoshop.
“Aren’t energy drinks bad for your heart?”
Soonyoung shrugs. “Joshua invented this to get through finals, you mix Red Bull, Bang, and Coke and it keeps you up for three days straight. Great for when you’re nervous because you physically have to do something about it.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you say. “Wait, why are you nervous?”
“Your test results come out today,” he says too quickly.
You consider debating with him but a waitress approaches, wearing a fifties frock and a high ponytail with a ribbon that probably looked like a bow at the start of her shift but has drooped down and now just looks sad. Her face is a mask of emotions, not a smile, not a frown, just emptiness, a contrast to the button clipped to her collar making her “Happy.”
“The usual?” She asks, pausing at you. She tilts her head and you can see the mask twisting at the edges, a frown almost forming on her brow. She glances at Soonyoung. “Is this who I think it is?”
“Who do you think it is?” Soonyoung asks at the same time that Joshua and Seungcheol say, “Yes.”
The corner of Happy’s lips turn into a tiny smile that seems to be her equivalent of a grin. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Okay, haha, very funny,” Soonyoung says. “Stop harassing my friend. We’ll order when we have a chance to look at the menu.”
Happy raises her eyebrow just slightly at the word “friend,” but closes her notepad. She returns to a pastel pink bar where you can clearly see her whispering and gesturing to you.
“Why do so many people know me?” You mutter, shrinking into the corner of the booth.
“The thing about Drunk Soonyoung is that he doesn’t really shut up,” Seungcheol says.
“That’s being gentle,” Joshua says. “One time he spent four hours describing Finding Nemo. That’s longer than the actual movie.”
“It’s a good movie,” Soonyoung says.
“The point is,” Seungcheol says, glaring at Joshua, “he tends to talk when he’s drunk. Usually about good things, things that he… Well, things that he likes.”
You turn your head to look at Soonyoung, who is once again pretending to study the menu. “You like studying for the LSAT that much?”
Joshua unsuccessfully tries to hide his laugh with a snort while Seungcheol gains slightly more success with a fake cough. Soonyoung doesn’t react at all, staring at the painted flowers on the menu. Eventually, he shrugs. “I’m dedicated to the bet.” He points at a stack of pancakes covered in bananas and chocolate. “That’s what I usually get.”
“Isn’t against all rules of gym core and muscle building to eat decadent things?”
“Did you just call working out ‘gym core?’” Seungcheol asks.
“Am I wrong?”
“Nope!” Soonyoung says brightly. “And cheat days are a thing, so do you want to split it or not?”
“You know I can’t say no to bananas and chocolate.”
“And pancakes!” He waves down the waitress and points to the stack.
“Ah, the new Soonyoung,” she says. “You guys getting your actual usual?”
Joshua and Seungcheol nod and she doesn’t bother to write any of it down. Then again she already knows their orders. Except she called Soonyoung’s “new.” Before you can ask what she meant, a shout makes you jump. You turn around to see a stream of boys entering, enough of whom you recognize that you realize at least half the frat has rolled into the diner. The waitresses roll their eyes and groan but somehow they don’t look all that upset.
“Mr. President!” The tallest boy, Johnny according to Soonyoung’s Instagram tags, holds a fist over his heart and pounds it a couple times. Seungcheol nods and greets each of the boys, most of whom seem to still be in various stages of inebriation. Almost all of them glance at you and whisper to each other, and you get the feeling they know exactly who you are.
Just what has Soonyoung said about you?
“How are we doing on time?” One of them calls out.
“46 minutes,” Joshua says. You frown. 46 minutes… until 9? Do they all know about today?
You tap Soonyoung on the arm. “What’s going on?”
“You see, the thing is,” he says, “apparently I was nervous?” He tries to fake a laugh but it sounds strained. “I don’t really know but the guys made me tell them about today and then I didn’t really know what was happening but I guess they followed us here? Thought you might like moral support, or something.”
You peek out at the booths crowded with frat bros and cringe back into your seat when they grin at you. “They’re all looking at me.”
“Well, I guess I do talk about you a lot,” he says, only loud enough for you to hear. He won’t meet your eyes.
Ask him why. You want to be brave. You want to be right about the answer you think he’ll give you. You chew the inside of your cheek.
“Because of the bet?”
Soonyoung doesn’t answer for a moment. “I guess.”
Coward.
“Why are we whispering?” Joshua asks, leaning across Soonyoung towards you. “Are we gossiping?”
Soonyoung pushes him off. “Butt out.”
“Just telling Soonyoung that I’ve never had an army of drunk guys rooting for me before,” you say.
“Could have had it sooner if you came to a party,” Seungcheol says.
“You really want me at a party that bad? We just met.”
Seungcheol glances at Soonyoung, who shakes his head. He sighs. “If only I could tell you why you need to come.”
You frown between the three men. “I don’t like when people talk in circles over me.”
“Just promise you’ll come to the Christmas party. It’ll all make sense then,” Seungcheol says. You’ve heard a lot about Seungcheol from Soonyoung, and the more you listen to him, the more you believe it. He’s a strange man.
“I’ll think about making an appearance.”
“Really?” Soonyoung whips around to face you and you know that you have to come now. You haven’t seen him this excited since you let him skip studying to party. No, he’s even more excited now. “You’ll come?”
You can’t stand his gaze so you study the placemats. “Maybe.”
He grabs your hand until you meet his eyes. “Please?”
The Soonyoung Sparkle. You never win against it. “Fine.”
“Get a room,” Joshua says behind a very fake cough. You pull your hand back into your lap and pretend like you aren’t embarrassed.
“How long now?” You shout out.
“40 minutes,” someone answers. You groan and lean back into the sofa. Studying was hard enough but waiting makes you want to pull out each individual hair on your head. You stare at the ceiling, trying to decide if the stain looks more like a horse or a flower.
“Look at this.” Soonyoung passes his phone in front of you, forcing you to look down. His Instagram is open to a picture of a kitten looking drunk, face covered in milk. Such and obvious attempt to distract you but you smile anyway.
“Sweet,” you say and even you aren’t sure if you mean the cat or Soonyoung. He shows you cat pictures until the food finally arrives (33 minutes to go). You have to wait another five minutes because Soonyoung insists on having a photoshoot, despite your protests that you look like you just woke up (he raises his eyebrows at that). You stop fighting when Joshua makes him cut a piece of the pancake and feed it to you. Chocolate nearly drops in your lap but Soonyoung shoots his hand out at the last second and catches it.
“Okay, can we please just eat,” you say. Joshua and Seungcheol shrug and pretend like they weren’t instigating the pictures and telling you and Soonyoung how to pose.
Soonyoung was right about the bananas and chocolate. Rich and decadent, they’re delicious. When he cuts you a slice and pushes it toward you, you can even forget the countdown to the end of the world. Or, more accurately, the end of the world doesn’t mean anything to you when Soonyoung smiles at you like that.
You eat slowly enough to bring you to the ten minute mark. Fear mixes with the dessert for breakfast in your stomach, twisting it until it threatens to jump out of your throat. Soonyoung takes your hand under the table and holds it. You don’t run away this time.
He holds you to the planet again, keeps you from floating away and disappearing before you can reach the stars. It’s Soonyoung that keeps your heart beating. Always Soonyoung.
Seungcheol and Joshua chat, Soonyoung piping in a few times, but their words don’t reach you. Stuck somewhere between crushed beneath the weight of the world and floating away, you focus on the clock, watching the seconds tick closer and closer.
“Last minute!” Someone behind you finally shouts. Soonyoung squeezes your hand. You pull up the website on your phone and put in your login information and hover over the SUBMIT. At thirty seconds, they start shouting it out.
“Ten!”
“Nine!”
“Eight!”
“Seven!”
“Six!”
“Five!”
“Four!”
“Three!”
“Two!”
“One!”
Half the guys start cheering already, probably forgetting the count down doesn’t mean as much as the results themselves. You hit SUBMIT and watch the little wheel spin around and around and around until it finally refreshes. The number stares back at you, impossible to read right in front of you.
169.
“Congratulations!” Soonyoung shouts, throwing his arms around you and squeezing while you try to comprehend what that means. 169. The number should be all you can think about but Soonyoung holds you, shouting how proud he is, how he always believed in you.
“169!” Seungcheol shouts, miles away from your bubble. You can hear the guys break out into cheers, hear them chanting the number (which turns into 69) but it’s just you and Soonyoung. The world didn’t end and Soonyoung is still by your side.
The rest of the morning is a blur. Every member of the frat insists on congratulating you, which mostly means a lot of hugs, though one of the more drunk guys tried to spin you around on his shoulder. You laugh when you’d usually frown and find your way back to Soonyoung’s side like a magnet.
Maybe it’s the euphoria that gives you courage.
“Hey Soonyoung?”
“Hm?”
You say it before you can think too much. “Maybe just the two of us next time?”
He grins before you can finish speaking. “I’d love that.”
.
.
You have the courtesy to let Soonyoung sleep in as much as he wants. You wait for him at Barb’s, trying to figure out how to call this a date.
You’ve seen him a couple times since you got your score back, but you needed to study for finals and he had to make up for missing a lot of frat activities. You’ve only seen him in passing, nothing to fill the Soonyoung shaped hole in your heart. But today that will change. You will celebrate together and you will tell him how you feel. And then… you have no idea.
It’s just Soonyoung there’s nothing to be nervous about. Too bad your body doesn’t agree with you. Every nerve stands at attention, jumping at the bell that rings when the door opens. You don’t worry when Soonyoung doesn’t get to Barb’s by 8:30 like he said he would. Even at 8:45, you aren’t worried.
It’s only at 8:55 that you really start to wonder where he is. Maybe you should have picked him up. Knowing him, there’s a 50% chance he’s lying in a ditch after a failed attempt to recreate an impossible stunt from Fast and Furious. At 9, you call him. Between each silence in the ring, you wait for his voice but it never comes. He uses the automated voicemail, so you don’t even get his voice telling you to leave a message.
The anxiety turns to fear while you wait. The door rings and you see a fluff of bleach blonde hair and jump up. But though you recognize the face, it isn’t Soonyoung.
Chan, one of the younger members of the frat, with Mingyu and a guy whose name you forgot. They all have the same look in their eyes when they see you, far too much like pity.
“You’re YN, right?” Mingyu asks. “You’re supposed to meet Soonyoung?” The two guys with him, easily identifiable as frat members between their unkempt hair and sweatshirts plastered with Greek letters, stop mid conversation and glance at each other.
“Is he okay?” You ask, still standing in the awkward position in the booth.
“He’s got his score back,” Mingyu says.
“We were supposed to–”
“Yeah, I know,” Mingyu says. “It was a 167. You should really talk to him yourself.” He pauses, glancing at his frat brothers but they shrug. “He’s at the house. See if you can talk some sense into him.”
You’re too afraid to ask any other questions so you just watch Mingyu and the other two walk past, and pretend that they aren’t whispering and stealing glances at you.
Going to a frat house was never on your bucket list but your feet travel without guidance. You find yourself in front of a rather nondescript house. No bodies hang out from windows, no one is passed out in the yard. Then again it’s a weekday.
You pause at the door, wondering if you should knock. You tap your hand on the door and it slides open, the latch bolt pushed completely in. You step inside tentatively, peeking around but it’s quiet. You turn the corner to find an open room and Soonyoung sitting on a couch, glass with a bright liquid in his hand. He doesn’t even look at you.
“Are you seriously drunk right now?”
Soonyoung just shrugs, taking another sip from the glass. Even from here you can smell that it’s more tequila than fruit punch.
You shake your head, crossing the room sitting beside him even though he didn’t invite you to sit down. He was considerably cuter the last time you saw him drunk. You’ve gotten used to the power of Soonyoung’s facial expressions, his smiles, his frowns, the way his eyes glaze over when he’s bored, the way they gleam when he daydreams; they’re as precious to you as Soonyoung himself. But his face is a clean slate now, not a smile, not a frown, just a blank stare.
“You know a 167 is still insanely good, right?”
He shakes his head.
“Soonyoung.” He doesn’t look at you, so you grab his drink. Any other day and you would have failed miserably but his alcohol-impaired senses make him slow enough for you to get a hand on the half-empty glass. He glares at you but you don’t yield, tightening your grip and pulling the bottle even harder.
“Let go,” you growl. “Talk to me like a normal human.”
He shakes his head, pulling on the glass so you yank back, except you overestimate how weak he is like this, and the glass flies out of his hand, the contents spilling all over you. The red liquid sinks into your blue sweater, soaking you through all three layers.
“What the hell?” Soonyoung says.
“That gets your fucking attention? Spilling your drink?” You say. “You know, I really thought you were different.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re acting like a child. So you didn’t win the bet. Who fucking cares? Do you know how hard it is to get higher than a 160? Soonyoung, you are smart, and you worked so hard for this. You could go to law school with that score. You could graduate above a 2.3 if you stopped acting like a stereotypical fuck bro and actually studied.
“You know, you could actually be something if you wanted. You don’t have to get a degree and work at a corporate job that sucks your soul away until the Soonyoung that actually matters is gone. I know it’s easier this way, but if you actually tried to dream, you could do something. I don’t get it, honestly. Because everyone thinks you’re an idiot you act like one? Is that what it is?”
“You don’t have to pretend like you don’t think the same thing.”
You snort. “I don’t, but clearly you won’t believe me. You think that if you have to work for something then it’s not worth it when you could be so much more.”
“Why do you even care?” Soonyoung asks, looking you in the eyes for the first time. For a moment, you think you might actually be wrong, because all you see in his eyes is pain. A physical force that constricts your heart and makes you weak in the knees, Soonyoung looks at you like he’s been fighting a war you never knew about, like he’s been suffering in silence for a lifetime. He looks at you like you’ve broken his heart.
Why do I care? You could scoff. Because I’ve been in love with you ever since you fell asleep on my shoulder. I’ve been fighting this stupid crush for so long that I don’t know who I am without it. I don’t know who I am without you. I care because every day the world proves that we aren’t worthy of this planet, that love can’t solve all problems yet you make me question it all. You don’t just bring light into my life, you make it glitter. And I can’t tell you any of this.
“I don’t know.” The lie tastes bitter but it’s still sweeter than rejection.
“Then why are you here?” Soonyoung looks away. Without his eyes pinning you down, you can breathe again, but every inhale still drags against your heart. You stand up. Afterall, you don’t have an answer for him.
“I take it back. You are an idiot,” you mutter over his head as you walk past him. You make it to the corner of the street before the tears finally spill over your cheeks, and all the way back to your room before you can’t breathe.
.
.
Without the distraction of finals, you are left with your own thoughts, your words and Soonyoung’s floating around your head. You have always been something of a hermit but you’ve become J.D. Salinger himself, only leaving your room to sneak into the kitchen and scrounge for scraps of junk food that Jihoon hasn’t thrown away yet. You watch so much reality TV that you start to dream about it.
Every episode the people, a family living on a homestead that just happens to dress in brand name clothes and drive a Benz, fight and cry and make up. You yell at the mother when she forces her daughter to change because she didn’t think polka dots are appropriate and cry along with the daughter when she starts to sniffle in her confessional, wondering if her mother would ever approve of her choices, whether it was clothes or the people she wants to date.
You bet your confessional would be a hit if it was ever filmed. Tears run down your cheeks as you practice it in the mirror, choking out an apology for calling him an idiot and telling the whole world what you aren’t brave enough to tell him.
Jun calls but you can’t answer. He leaves three voicemails: an apology, a goofy one telling you he’ll be back soon, and a final one, yelling at you to pick up or at least let him know you’re alive. You text him an apology you don’t know if you mean. He says thank you anyway and doesn’t call again.
You have no plans to change your schedule (wake up, steal food, cry, sleep) but on the third day you run out of goldfish and can’t find anything in the kitchen that doesn’t make you nauseous. To make matters worse, despite the fact that it’s seven in the morning (the earliest you’ve woken up since the Fight), Jihoon catches you.
You’ve successfully avoided him and his inevitable lecture, slamming your door shut and ignoring his knocks but he catches you off guard today. He sneaks in from his morning workout wearing a black t-shirt and slides that he somehow manages to walk stealthily in, scaring you when you close the fridge and find him standing where the door was.
“Are you done hiding?”
“I’m not hiding,” you mutter.
He folds his arms.
“Fine,” you say. “I’m not done hiding.”
“Well too fucking bad,” Jihoon says. You try to step past him but he holds his arm out. You’ll never beat him in a physical fight so you step back, shaking your head.
“Have it your way. Go ahead.” You wave your hand. “Get it all out. Yell at me or lecture me or whatever, I don’t care. You’re going to tell me that I’m an idiot? That I shouldn’t be so afraid of rejection, that I’m blind to how he feels?
“Or are you going to tell me that I shouldn’t trust someone like him? That I shouldn’t be crying over a goddamn frat boy, I’m better than this, I’m better than him.” You choke back a sob, not sure what words are coming out anymore. You wipe at the tears in your eyes and are so focused on trying not to cry that you don’t notice Jihoon walking away. You do see him come back, blurry shape coming into focus as you blink away the tears. He holds something in his hand, a navy blue square. A throw pillow from the couch?
He shifts it in his hand until he holds the corner with the zipper, swinging it a couple times back and forth. Then he yanks his arm back and arcs the pillow in a wide loop, landing directly on your head.
“Ow!” You cry but Jihoon just swings again, hitting your arm this time. He hits you so hard it knocks you off balance, sending you to the floor. Jihoon doesn’t hesitate, swinging the pillow into you again and again, every inch of you.
“You. Are. An. Idiot.” He grunts out each word with a blow. “You really think you’re better than him?”
He finally pauses, not even breathing heavily. You shake your head to answer him. “Of course not.”
“Good,” he says. Then he hits you again and again and again.
“Ow, Jihoon, what the hell?” You bury your head in your knees and hold your arms over you, trying in vain to protect yourself.
“I’m not your babysitter,” he says. “I’m not your father, or your brother, or any of that shit. I’m your best friend and you’re being an idiot and I’m not going to stop hitting you until you get some sense knocked into you.” He freezes, as if realizing exactly what he said. “Wait, no–that’s not what I mean, shit, sorry, but–”
You peek out from your arms and find Jihoon opening and closing his mouth, trying to figure out what to say. He looks like a fish out of water, and it occurs to you he is a fish out of water. He’s never had to comfort you before, probably never had to comfort anyone. No wonder he’s so bad at it.
You wouldn’t laugh at him and borderline abuse, but your emotions are beyond fried, and he just looks so funny standing over you with a pillow raised, still sputtering half apologies. You try to stop the laugh before it comes out but it turns into a snort and then you can’t stop laughing, tears that you tried to push back falling freely. You lay back on the floor and laugh until your sides hurt, only vaguely aware of Jihoon laughing above you. Eventually he joins you on the floor.
“You know what I meant,” he says. The pillow rests on the floor between his legs, all the fluff on the far end from the one-sided pillow fight.
“I knew what you meant without the pillow.”
“Too bad,” Jihoon says. “I’m tired of listening to the theme song of that god awful show. You could at least watch something like–”
“I swear if you bring up an anime, you’ll feel exactly how hard that pillow can hit.”
Jihoon laughs, patting it a couple times. “I saw him the other day. He looked tired.” He pauses but you don’t dare speak. “We didn’t speak. I don’t even think he saw me. But it doesn’t matter because I’m not the one he needs to talk to.”
“I know,” you say.
“Then why are you still on the floor?”
Because you’re scared. Because it would be easier to just give up now, for once to ignore putting in the hard work and just let it pass. But just because it’s the easy option doesn’t mean it’s the right option. At the very least you need to apologize to him.
“What if he hates me?”
Jihoon snorts. “Then he’ll get some pillow violence too.” He pauses. “He doesn’t, though.”
“It doesn’t mean that it will turn out okay.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Jihoon says. “But no matter what happens, you’ll deal with it. And even if it absolutely sucks in the moment, eventually it will be over, and it sure as hell will be better than that stupid fucking show.”
You nod, setting your chin on your knees. Your stomach turns in anticipation for what you will have to do, but he’s right. It’s time to stop running. Tonight is the Christmas party, and you were never formally uninvited. Somehow you doubt Seungcheol will throw you out. It’s time to get off the floor and get ready.
“Have you ever thought of being a life coach?”
“Hell no.”
.
.
What am I doing here? You fake a smile at Seungcheol and swallow the shot as fast as you can, grimacing as the vodka burns everything from the inside of your mouth to the depths of your stomach. You should have just stuck to your mixed drink only policy but Soonyoung always has you breaking your rules. Even when he isn’t with you.
Seungcheol disappears as soon as you take the drink, and you don't see anyone else you are comfortable enough to chat with, though that list is quite short. You do a turn of the house, which looks marginally better than the last time you saw it ,the benefit of bad lighting. It’s already crowded with more people than you’ve ever seen on campus. You make your way through each room on the lower floor, finding more than a couple bleach blondes. None are who you’re looking for. You stop in the living room, where you saw him last.
“He isn’t here.” You turn at the voice. An unfamiliar boy stands next to you, holding a half-empty Smirnoff Ice. “He went to visit family or something.” He pauses, looking you up and down. “At least that’s what he said.”
You nod. You find it doesn’t surprise you that he seems to know who you are. You suppose you’ve grown used to it, just one of the side-effects of being close with Soonyoung. Though it’s still strange, it doesn’t make you uncomfortable anymore. Or it wouldn’t, if you didn’t think this stranger is implying that it’s your fault Soonyoung isn’t at the ‘Party of the Year.’
You can’t stand his gaze so you make your way back towards the drinks, grabbing the first bottle you could find and chugging half of the lukewarm drink. It tastes like a fruit you can’t recognize and carbonation and the more you drink the harder it is to swallow but you force it down.
You came to apologize. He isn’t here, so why do you stay? Because you promised him? Do you really miss him that much? That you would come here and suffer through all this chaos, just for the memory of him? It doesn’t make any sense but you think that might be a side effect of the alcohol. You get another drink just in case you’re still sober.
.
.
Your head pounds, the aching feeling of the stage between drunk and sober. Normally you’d like to be sound asleep by now, or at least in the comfort of your home, but you can’t bring yourself to leave. It’s hot and sweaty, the music is way too loud, and you can’t find water anywhere, but you stay anyway, because you’re an idiot that fell in love.
You curl up on the couch, opposite of a couple making out as if the room isn’t full of people, waiting for just a glimpse of him that will never appear. Even drunk, you think it’s pitiful, but you can’t stop.
You didn’t think you could fall asleep in all the noise but you open your eyes when you feel the world tilt sideways. You’re vaguely aware of the arms underneath your legs and back, cradling you against someone’s chest. No, not just someone.
Because you aren’t enough of an idiot, you can tell it’s him, his sweet scent, maybe even just his arms. Soonyoung carries you out of the living room and up the stairs, the blaring music fading only slightly.
“I thought you weren’t here,” you mumble.
Soonyoung frowns down at you. “You okay?”
You shake your head, suddenly realizing there are tears in your eyes. No, I’m not okay, I love you, you want to say. He squeezes you a little tighter, trying to hug you while still carrying you.
With your head resting against his chest, you can fully appreciate his beauty. His hair is black, which suits him even though he looks nothing like your Soonyoung anymore. You reach up and trace the lines of his face that are unchanging, the sharp straight line of his jaw, the gentle curve of his nose, his soft eyebrows. You drop your hand when you realize he’s staring at you, belatedly realizing you never got to his lips. You can only imagine how soft they’d be, soft like Soonyoung himself.
“You’re crying,” Soonyoung says softly. You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or not. He pauses in front of a door, struggling to open it without dropping you. Finally the door swings open and he sets you down on a bed, taking a deep breath and sitting beside you.
He brushes the tears from your eyes, as Soonyoung as ever. Sweet as ever. Sweet and Soonyoung. They should be the same word. You make a mental note to email Merriam-Webster’s dictionary and make the suggestion.
Soonyoung doesn’t say anything, just watching you with those perfect eyes. His hand rests on your face even though the tears are long gone, thumb tracing shapes on your cheek.
“You swore you’d do anything for me,” you say.
“Anything,” Soonyoung repeats.
You turn to the walls, knocking his hand off your cheek, not daring to look him in the eyes. Even drunk, you are a coward. He’s put up pictures on his wall, a couple Polaroids but mostly printed pictures, with the frat, some childhood pictures, and one that you recognize. The picture of the two of you at the beach that you thought you didn’t send, where you are looking at him with all the love in your heart. You trace his smile, blinding even in paper form.
“Could you maybe try loving me back then?” You mumble. Your eyes feel heavy between the alcohol and the tears and you’ve said what you needed to say, so you let them take over, closing your eyes and letting the blasting music from downstairs drown out any thoughts. And because it’s so loud and you’ve already drifted off to sleep, there’s no way you could hear his answer.
“I already do.”
.
.
The first thing you do when you wake up is throw up. You make it out of the bed but not to the bathroom, mostly because you don’t actually know where it is. You grab the nearest bucket-shaped item, which happens to be a mostly empty trash can. You lean away as soon as you’re done, breathing through your mouth and looking away from the mess. Belatedly, you realize someone is patting your back, brushing hair out of your face.
“Better?” Soonyoung asks. His knees rests against your lower back, one hand resting on your back, the other caressing your face. Thank god you already threw up because looking at him makes your stomach twist again and if there was anything in you, it would come up again. If you could throw up your heart, you would. As it is, the organ is trying to climb its way up your throat, whether it’s guilt or heartbreak you don’t know.
You nod in answer to his question, letting him help you up. Your head pounds and though you know you won’t throw up again, your stomach flips. Right, your policy of mixed drinks is definitely reinstated after this.
“Sorry I threw up in your trash can,” you say.
“Believe me, that is not the worst that trash can has seen,” Soonyoung says. “Wait, that sounds bad, I didn’t mean it in a weird way, I just mean–” He stops himself, shaking his head. “It’s a frat house.”
“It’s your room,” you say softly. With sober (albeit heavily hungover) eyes, you take in the room again. It’s tiny, one bed pushed against a wall with a desk set right next to it. Unsurprisingly, it’s stacked with protein powder and a pile of frat flyers, laptop balancing off the edge, not a paper in sight. Except for the one next to his bed, the walls are bare, an ugly shade of beige except for a circle filled with white plaster that looks suspiciously like the reformed crime scene of a fist going through drywall. It must be from whoever owned the room before Soonyoung.
The wall next to his bed is covered in pictures. You remember being amazed by them last night. Your eyes zero in on the picture of the two of you, right next to the pillow that’s still dented from your head.
“Did I steal your bed?” You frown except the movement hurts your head.
“I slept in Johnny’s room since he’s decided to disappear off the face of the planet instead of accepting the fact that he graduates next semester,” Soonyoung says. “I actually just came in here for some clothes, which reminds me.” He rummages through a drawer, pulling out a wrinkled t-shirt and handing it to you. “If you want a change.”
You glance down and feel like throwing up all over again. Your favorite shirt is covered in stains, alcohol, vomit, and something you definitely don’t want to name. If you weren’t feeling so terrible already, you’d cry that Soonyoung is seeing you like this.
“I’ll get you a toothbrush, too,” he mutters, disappearing and leaving you to scramble to switch shirts. The white dri-fit is meant to be a workout shirt, though it’s clear that it would be oversize on Soonyoung. Either way, the soft fabric is gentle on your skin, much better than the jeans you slept in. Too bad you’re stuck in them until you get back to your apartment.
You could run away right now. Soonyoung probably wouldn’t be surprised. But he’s being nice to you, so much nicer than you deserve. Sweet and Soonyoung. But you came here to apologize, and though last night got derailed, you can’t keep running from it. Besides, it’s not like the morning can get much worse.
So when Soonyoung comes back proudly brandishing an unopened toothbrush that he may or may not have stolen from Seungcheol’s bathroom, you accept it gratefully. You stare yourself down in the bathroom, fighting nausea and an impending migraine because you have a mission to achieve, a real mission unlike last night. It’s still a haze, but you don’t think you’ll ever forget how gently Soonyoung cradled you against his chest, the brush of his fingers on your cheek. If he didn’t show up this morning, you’d think it was a dream.
Soonyoung’s door is open when you finish but he isn’t in his room. You grab your bag from the floor and venture down the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. There’s a couple people passed out in the living room, and one person snoring softly in the kitchen, head folded in his arms in a position that must be incredibly painful for his neck. But it’s where you find Soonyoung, digging through the fridge and finally pulling out a water bottle. He hands it to you, along with a bottle of pills.
“Thank you,” you sigh, not even bothering to check the label for the brand. You take a couple and chug half the bottle, gaslighting yourself into believing that it will instantly revive you (it doesn’t work and your head still pounds).
“Are you hungry?” Soonyoung asks. He opens the fridge again, this time wide enough to show the shelves that are filled with beer, vodka, and White Claws. There’s a pizza box and some eggs, but not much else.
“How are any of you alive?” You ask softly, glancing at the snoring person on the counter.
“Yuta can sleep through an apocalypse, don’t worry about him,” Soonyoung says, waving his hand. He closes the fridge, leaning against it. “And most of us keep our actual food in mini-fridges. I just cleared mine out for break, so I don’t have anything in it.” He doesn’t say anything else about vanishing.
“I’m pretty sure that pizza has been in there since the start of the semester and I’ve never seen eggs in here before though, so I don’t think you should risk any of this,” Soonyoung says. “McDonald’s fries are a far superior hangover cure, they’ve never failed me.”
“There’s a McDonald’s nearby?”
Soonyoung grins, pulling keys out of his pocket and spinning them around his fingers a couple times, except they fly off and clatter on the floor. The man asleep on the counter, Yuta apparently, stirs but doesn’t move. You can’t help but smile as Soonyoung scrambles to retrieve them from the floor. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flustered.
“There isn’t one,” Soonyoung explains, leading the way to the door. “But I have the keys to Seungcheol’s car.”
“I’m not really comfortable with grand theft auto,” you say, though you don’t stop following him to Seungcheol’s giant white Jeep.
“He gave me the keys last night when I walked in,” Soonyoung says. “Something about owing me. He was pretty drunk.” He darts around to the passenger side before you can, opening the door for you. He waves his hand when you frown at him, as if you’re the one acting strange. Thinking with this headache is too hard so you just get into the car and strap the seatbelt on.
“I can’t believe you thought I’d steal a car,” Soonyoung says. He turns the engine on and scans the front of the car before finally settling his right hand on the gear shift.
“You have driven this car before, right?”
“Of course,” Soonyoung says a little too fast. You grab onto the door handle and hope that your stomach really is empty.
Soonyoung’s driving isn’t the worst you’ve ever experienced; that title goes to Jihoon, who was banned from touching car keys after his Mario Kart driving. That said, you think he’s a good second place. He slams on the gas and the brakes too hard and drives altogether too fast. He blasts the radio and sings along purposefully off key. You should be terrified but it’s the most fun you’ve ever had riding in the passenger seat.
“I’m never riding with you again,” you say, breathless from laughing. He pulls to a stop at the red light, the Golden arches of your destination still one light away. “You know yellow lights mean slow down right?”
“I stopped at this one!” Soonyoung says. “I’ll have you know I haven’t been in an accident.” He pauses. “Since I was nineteen.”
You nod, pursing your lips to stop yourself from smiling fully. “That’s what I figured.” You peek at Soonyoung and he’s smiling too.
So different from the last time you saw him. You don’t deserve this. You shouldn’t be able to laugh and joke around with him so easily, not when you still haven’t apologized. And Soonyoung shouldn’t be looking at you like that, genuine fondness in his eyes.
“The light’s green,” you say. His smile fades a little when he turns his head and drives ahead, stepping lightly for once. You’re so close now, but a car going straight in the right lane prevents him from turning.
The pain medicine must have kicked in because your headache is slowly fading, replaced by heartache that no medication can cure.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” You blurt out.
The blinker beeps a steady rhythm in the empty silence. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Nothing’s ever obvious with you, Soonyoung,” you say softly.
“Oh.” The light turns green and he guides the car slowly into the parking lot, stopping in a spot instead of pulling up to the drive through. As soon as the car is in park, he turns to face you. There’s a crease in his forehead that you recognize from the rare occasions that he would actually talk to you seriously. “YN, I genuinely thought I was being clear about this from the beginning, but if you still really don’t get it, then I’ll say it straight up: I like you. I’ve liked you since the day we met and then I fell in love with you.
“Did you know you’re the first person that’s ever genuinely believed in me? I mean, I know I have friends, and my family means well, but they always get this look in their eye whenever I talk about trying for things, like it was cute that I was trying, but they never actually believed in me. And I started to believe them too. I started to believe that I couldn’t believe in myself.” He frowns. “That makes no sense. The point is, you are the reason I started to believe in myself again.
“No one’s ever looked at me like you do. No one’s ever told me to get my shit together–well, they have, but you’re the only one that told me it was because I could be better.
“You say it wasn’t obvious, but I’ve tried to tell you a thousand times. I flirted, I tried to ask you on a date so many times, and I finally accepted that you’d never see me like that, so I was a dick. I told you off, even though you were right. I’m so sorry for that, and I’m sorry I ran away, and I’m sorry it took me so long to apologize.”
“Stop,” you say. Soonyoung’s eyes widen, tears welling up, and you realize he thinks you’re rejecting him. “Stop apologizing!” His brow creases in confusion, an adorable frown. Summoning all your courage, you reach out, resting your hand on his. “I’m the one that’s sorry. I didn’t have any right to judge you and the choices you were making, and I shouldn’t have yelled at you when I knew how much the bet meant to you.”
You squeeze his hand, closing your eyes. “And I think I was a little oblivious on purpose. I’m not the kind of person that has crushes, let alone crushes that like me back, so I freaked a little and missed all the signs.” You open your eyes and grin at him. It’s easy to feel brave when he smiles back at you. “But I like you, Soonyoung. I like you so much, I don’t have enough words to express it. My whole life has been about my future, my career, and it’s exhausting, but being with you makes it all exciting again. Like, no matter what happens, if you’re with me, it won’t just be okay, it’ll be fun.”
Soonyoung beams. “Really?”
You squeeze his hand. “I like you.” Like the first time you took the LSAT, you can’t think of a single word, except instead of damning your future this feels like the start of it. Soonyoung sits across from you and you don’t need words.
You don’t know how long you sit there, but reality sets in when your stomach growls. You glance outside the window and remember where you are. “Did you just confess to me in a McDonald’s parking lot?”
“Better than drunk in my own bed.”
“I didn’t!” You let go of his hand to hide your face.
Soonyoung grins. “You were cute!”
“I don’t remember it, it doesn't count!”
“Whatever you say,” Soonyoung says, leaning over the center console. He gently pulls your hands away from your face, hand circling your wrist gently. You instinctively hold your breath, though you don’t lean away. Soonyoung leans a little closer, forehead resting against yours.
“This okay?” He whispers, breath kissing your lips, and you remember that less than an hour ago, you were throwing up. Your head still aches and your stomach is still queasy and your whole body feels disgusting.
“We are not having our first kiss in a McDonald’s parking lot,” you say, leaning back. Soonyoung sighs, but he sits back in his chair, settling for grabbing your hand and interlacing his fingers with yours.
“Fine,” Soonyoung says. He rubs his thumb back and forth, and when you meet his eyes, you see a familiar glint of trouble. “You know I’m still sworn to you. Whatever you want.”
The words go straight to your heart. You could live a thousand lives and never meet someone as genuine as Soonyoung. You know that he means it, heart and soul, that he’d do anything for you. And it should be terrifying that he’s willing to bear his heart for you, that you are willing to do the same. But it’s Soonyoung. It’s easy to trust him with it, because even though he breaks half the computers he touches and can’t hold onto a pencil for his life, he won’t ever drop your heart.
I love you. One day you’ll be able to say it, one day you’ll scream it like you so desperately want to. But until then, you settle for his certified brilliant smile and the gentle brush of his lips on the back of your hand, only letting go to turn the engine back on.
“Let’s get you some fries,” he says. “Then kisses?”
You shake your head and laugh, slipping your hand back into his.
Before he can put the car into gear, his phone rings. He stares at the screen for a moment, frowning like he can’t decide whether he should answer it or not. Finally he slides the green across, turning on speaker.
“Hey Seungcheol, I’m with—”
“Where the hell are you? And where is my car?” Seungcheol’s voice is somewhere between angry and concerned. “You think it’s okay to vanish and then show up only to steal my car?”
“First of all, you gave me the keys,” Soonyoung says. He glances at you. “And I’m at McDonald’s because YN desperately needed a hangover cure.”
“Hey,” you say so Seungcheol knows you’re there.
The line is quiet for so long you think Soonyoung’s phone has finally given up on him but eventually he says, “You’re with YN?”
“We talked,” he says. “And we’re good.”
You snort. “That’s how you’re going to describe it?”
“Are we not good?”
You glance at your hand still intertwined with his, the Soonyoung Sparkle glittering back at you when you look him in the eyes. Good? There’s not a word to describe how you feel right now.
“We are beyond good.”
.
.
“Are you crying?” You whisper. Soonyoung shakes his head, chin brushing against your head but when he inhales again, he sniffles. You reach up to pat his cheek and are entirely unsurprised when it’s wet. On screen Elle Woods continues her speech, for once not wearing pink.
“She’s just so cool,” Soonyoung says. You lift your head off his chest so you can look him in the eyes. The temptation to tease him is hard to resist but he pouts his lips and you see another tear slip out. You kiss his cheek, out of habit more than anything. Strange how much can change in two weeks, how something you’ve never imagined doing has become natural. But being with Soonyoung is just like that. New and old at the same time, the kind of comfort that has you planning how to make this last a lifetime.
Soonyoung wraps his arms around you tighter, so you nestle back into his chest, turning away from the end of the movie to close your eyes and breathe in his cologne.
“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this,” you whisper, lips brushing against his neck. “The whole bet was based on a movie you haven’t seen.”
“You’re missing the end,” he says. His voice rumbles in your ear, drowning out his heartbeat.
“I’ve seen it before.” Your bed really isn’t built for two people to lay down together. You are laying more on Soonyoung than the mattress but it’s not the first time. From the way he holds you, you doubt it’ll be the last.
The credits roll too quickly, but Soonyoung still doesn’t let go. He pulls you up so that your head is next to his, nose centimeters away from yours.
“So am I officially qualified to go to law school?” He asks.
“You are Elle Woods certified,” you say. “But you’re sure that’s what you want?”
“I mean I have to get in. But I figure if I’m going to waste away at a desk, I might as well do it for something I believe in.” He pauses. “With someone that believes in me.” He presses a kiss to the side of your neck, breath tickling the sensitive skin. You can’t help but sigh.
“That doesn’t mean it’s what you want,” you say, after several heartbeats of struggling to think.
“I want…” His words “To be with you. However you’ll have me.” His arms loosen, hands sliding down to your waist.
“Still not answering the question,” you breathe out but you can’t even remember what the question is, not when he’s shifting to lay on top of you, lips inching their way up your neck. He kisses your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your lips, then stops, pulling away and meeting your eyes again.
The Soonyoung Sparkle. The grinch has nothing on you–your heart swells so large it feels like it’s going to explode out of your chest–Alien style. Does he know what he does to you? How he’s made everything in your life shine? How happy you are when he’s with you?
“I love you,” you whisper.
Soonyoung blinks at you. “You…”
“I love you,” you say again, this time with more confidence. “I really, really love you.”
Soonyoung grins, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, moving like the world outside has stopped. He makes a bubble around you again, or maybe it’s your own heart; either way the only thing that exists is the way his hands inch up your shirt, the way his lips begin to press harder against yours. You give up on coherent thoughts, settling for wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer.
“I love you, too,” Soonyoung whispers between kisses. “If that wasn’t obvious.”
Soonyoung who always treated you like you were enough already. Soonyoung who does everything with 100% of his heart. Soonyoung who has always been sincere with you, from the first day you met him. Soonyoung, who you are so lucky to be loved by.
You don’t know how to say any of this in a way that makes sense so you let his fire melt you until you are putty in his arms. He pulls away, and the Soonyoung Sparkle burns, your personal stars flickering back at you.
“You want to–” Soonyoung starts to say, but the door slams open. Then Soonyoung falls on you, pillow rolling off his head.
“I’m taking this back!” Someone shouts while you hear Jihoon cursing.
“Read the room, idiot!” Soonyoung pushes off of you, sitting up and pulling your shirt down as smoothly as he can. You sit up, trying to decide if you should be embarrassed or angry. Facing Jun, frozen midstep with his jaw hanging open a little and Jihoon in the doorway with his arms folded, shaking his head slightly, you opt for the latter.
“Does no one knock in Colombia?” You frown at him. “And when did you get back? Why didn’t you call?”
“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he mumbles, staring at his feet. “And you were supposed to be alone, according to my sources.” He glares at Jihoon.
“YN didn’t say he was coming over,” he says with a shrug.
You turn your frown to him. “You walked in halfway through the movie, I literally shouted ‘Soonyoung’s over.’”
“I had my headphones on,” he says, though he’s avoiding your eyes too. Typical of your friends, never claiming responsibility for their actions.
“So this is Soonyoung,” Jun says, turning to face him. Soonyoung moved to the edge of the bed, too far away for your taste but probably an appropriate distance for your friends, especially compared to what they walked in on. Jun tilts his head. “You dyed your hair.”
“Yeah,” Soonyoung scratches the back of his head. “Spur of the moment thing.” You miss the blonde, surprisingly fitting considering it isn’t his natural color. But the black suits him too, and probably will help him with law school interviews. Then again, knowing Soonyoung, this color won’t last long either. Good thing there isn’t a color you don’t think suits him.
“We should do this properly,” Soonyoung says. “Go out for dinner or something.”
“Hey, I didn’t get dinner,” Jihoon says.
“You want to get dinner with me?” Soonyoung perks up.
“No, I’m protesting unfair treatment.”
“It’s not unfair, I’m just clearly his favorite,” Jun says.
“Can you guys stop fighting over my boyfriend?” You say.
Jihoon and Jun stare at you. When Soonyoung turns to face you, he grins, eyes sparkling.
“What?”
“You just called him your boyfriend,” Jun says.
“Well… he is.” You feel your cheeks flush. “Why are you guys making it weird?”
“It’s not weird,” Soonyoung says. He scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “It’s cute,” he whispers in your ear. “Adorable.” This only makes you flush even more.
“Well, I don’t want to interrupt, so I’ll just grab this and you two can get back to… whatever.” Jun takes a step towards your bookcase. You grab the pillow that he threw at Soonyoung and nail him in the chest, earning a laugh from Jihoon.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“The book is mine, Soonyoung never fulfilled the bet!” Jun says. You stand up, blocking him from your Pride and Prejudice.
“Hey, I followed through!” Soonyoung says. “We’re dating!”
“I remember the bet stating that you had to ask YN out after you took the LSAT.” Jun turns to him.
“And I did,” Soonyoung says. “You never said it had to be right after.”
Jun eyes him. “That’s cheating.”
“That’s being a lawyer,” you say. “And I think he’s going to be really good at it.”
Jun glances between you and Soonyoung and shakes his head. “Whatever, I’ll get my book back another day.”
You step closer to Soonyoung and he links his pinky with yours. You glance at your friends. “Are you going to stand there forever or are we getting dinner?”
“You two don’t want to get back to what you were doing?” Jihoon asks.
You slip your hand into Soonyoung’s. He meets your eyes and he’s only been your boyfriend for two weeks but looking at him is like looking home. There’s no need to rush.
“Sounds like someone doesn’t want to pick where we go.”
“We should make them pay, too,” Soonyoung says.
You grin at him. “You are the smartest person I know.”
dededos
areudirty
jbbartram-illu
turnnoffyourmind
tangentwithtanner
izzy806
ellievsbear
