Last Summer
Pairing: Haechan + Reader, best friends to lovers!Au
Genre: Angst, smut, slight fluff, coming of age
Song recs: Summer by Brockhampton, Goodbye Summer by f(x)
Warnings: hints at cheating
Word Count: 1.2 k
Summary: It’s a harsh feeling, to realize that the right people who come at the wrong time are still the wrong people.
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When you see him for the last time, the words you’ve been meaning to say never leave your mouth. His eyes travel down your face when your upper lip moves to speak, and as if to silence you, he pulls you close and crashes his lips against yours.
The taste of Haechan on your tongue is bittersweet, ignoring the lump building in your throat, you try your best to savor it. Haechan on the other hand, kisses you with a sense of urgency, holding you only tighter when you try and place your arms on his chest to push him away.
You both knew this day was coming, it was the everyday you two never quite spoke of.
It’s edging the end of summer again: the air that was filled with a sticky humidity has been replaced with something more brisk, and less forgiving.
For most people, their teenage years are the years that they remember the most. They’re formative; you take the life around you that you’ve been given, and for the first time, you turn it into your own.
The tragedy of this period is that there are only a handful of these moments, and some people spend the rest of their life trying to relive something that is long gone.
But right now, you’re not just a memory. You’re right in front of him, you’re here together, and he’s been in love with you since he was seventeen—he’s sure of it.
How he was blind of this newfound conviction before, he was not so sure. He’s tried the word on a couple of times, not knowing if it was a right fit or not.
He’s been thinking, watching the sunlight pouring through the old white curtains of Mark’s beach house those two summers ago, how pretty you looked in it—glowing—like you were lit from within.
He thought about it again, last summer, the sun setting, with your arms around his waist on that rickety bike of his, racing to beat the sunset.
And he thought about it again, and again later, around the campfire, when Mark slides his arms around your shoulders.
What you call jealousy.
An apt metaphor is the Wile E. Coyote cartoon, where he chases the roadrunner off a cliff that the roadrunner jumps. Wile E. Coyote looks down at a point, realizing he’s standing on nothing, and that’s when he falls.
Right now, as he presses his lips to your jaw to stop them from trembling, it's not just intimacy, it’s love, and he’s terrified—that the term love seems more than a good fit, and he’s realized it when it's too late.
It’s still summer, but it’s different from the rest.
It’s a harsh feeling, you think, to realize that the right people who come at the wrong time are still the wrong people. But there’s something undeniable with the way Haechan’s body presses against you, with the fraught beating of his heart thrumming against yours. It’s a sin for something that is supposed to be wrong to feel so right.
You’ve tiptoed with your lightest steps around this love for so long, and with the hesitant way Haechan unbuttons your shirt, it feels like another one of the roundabout confessions that have been batted between you two all these years. With both of you never being the one to say anything, wanting affirmation from the other first
Right now, you’ve both given up. You want summer to stay, to never pass. You want a silver lining in the midst of this love that you’ve yearned for so long, the one that was synonymous with heartbreak. The one you’ll be chasing, turning over in your head, for the rest of your life.
It’s only when you run your fingers through his hair soothingly that he stops his actions. He’s silent and doesn’t open his eyes to look at you, instead lifting his head to gently press his forehead against yours, noses barely touching.
“I know,” his voice falters. “You don’t need to say anything.”
If you had anything to say when you arrived, you don’t now. Your heart only grows heavier as the moments pass, and your eyes are beginning to sting. You don’t want to make it harder than it already is, and although Haechan seems steadfast on his stance to hinder any display of emotion, his upper lip still trembles, and you know the reason he won’t open his eyes is because he can’t bear seeing you like this, or else he might break.
When he slides in you, he immediately swallows your moans in his mouth. He fucks you like he has something to prove, like he’s making up for lost time. When he buries his head in your shoulder, you can feel the flutter of his damp eyelashes against your neck.
“Slower, please,” you whimper. “I want to feel you.”
“Okay baby.” he mutters against your neck. “Anything for you.”
With the change of pace, you can feel every inch of him inside you, As he nips at your neck and presses harder into you, he gives you everything, making an effort to make his lasting marks on your body, your memory.
When your grip on him begins to grow tighter he knows you’re close. Raising his head, he gently traces the skin from your neck to your face, stopping at your ear. With the touch of his lips ghosting your ear, he whispers everything he’s been meaning to say, everything his actions have told you without telling you—how pretty you are for him just like this,how good you are, how much he wants you, how much he loves you. When you come undone, he finally looks at you, with a cherishing so deep, it grips your heart almost painfully. When he spills into you, he moans your name like his mouth will always linger with the flavor of you.
Haechan collapses against you, and you stay like that for a while, in each others arms. It feels right. It feels like home.
When Haechan lifts himself up, he quickly grabs his white shirt off the floor and tugs it over his head.
“I think it would be best if I just leave now.” he says quietly, looking at the floor. “If you look at me like that one more time I might not ever want to leave.”
“You know, we could run off together.” you attempt to joke with watery eyes.
“It wouldn’t be fair to Mark” he whispers.
You scoff. “Whereas...this is?”
When you grab his hand, he doesn’t say anything, but he intertwines your fingers together, and gently shakes the joint fist as if to make a point
“Do you think this is fair to any one of us?” he says softly.
“I don’t know.” your voice trembles. “I thought I knew. I don’t think I could ever stop thinking about you.”
His answer is the same as yours, and there's no use lamenting at the fact when you see the pain flash through his eyes when you say it.
When he kisses you for the last time you’re at Mark’s beach house, on the beach, on the rickety old bike. You’re seventeen, and Haechan has always been there. It’s all you’ve ever wanted, for him to stay there. For you to reach out, and to feel the warmth of his skin against yours. But this isn’t your world, you’re just living in it.
The door gently clicks shut, and just like that, the warmth that was once in your arms, along with your first real love, fades away like the summer sun.
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Notes: Took some time for me to write this one, I think I might have shed some tears. Please let me know what you think!! <3333
