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[dat-town]

war with heaven

You have lost enough to this Kaiju War. The last thing you need is getting attached to somebody who willingly risks his life on the regular. Han Dongmin doesn’t get the memo.

MAINS. ranger!Taesan & nurse!female reader

TROPES. pacific rim au, comedy supplied by taesan embarrassing himself, a bit of hurt/comfort

WARNINGS. birth names used, canon-typical mentions of violence, loss and death, minor injuries, probably inaccurate medical practices, taesan copes by thinking he’s some kind of hotshot, skinship

WORDS. 8.2k

NOTES. a bit late but happy 3rd anniversary to bonedo ♡ this is a spin-off to leehan’s war of hearts so this contains spoilers to that but can be read separately

Han Dongmin has always been a force of nature – headstrong, determined, relentless – and in a Jaeger he’s truly unstoppable. At least that’s what he likes to think.

In reality, whenever Siren Fury is dispatched, there’s a chance he won’t make it back. Or at least, not as the same person he used to be.

Jaegers are built to be as indestructible as possible since they are humanity’s only hope against the Kaijus that emerge from the Pacific oceans. They are practically humanoid metal robots as tall as buildings to be able to fight back the dinosaur-size extraterrestrial monsters. Nothing of this size and delicacy can move on its own effectively like a toy car. So after trial and error all working models of Jaegers are built like humans: with a neural network running through their limbs and a control panel acting as their brain. The Conn-Pod needs at least two pilots to work because only one person cannot possibly handle all that without lasting brain damage. When attached to the Jaeger with their Drivesuit’s spinal clamp digging into their back, the pilots’ minds basically become one. That’s the only way proper coordination can work. Like the right and left halves of the brain working together.

Or at least that’s what Dongmin was taught at his Academy classes by J-technicians who never actually drifted with another person or saw what the world looked like through the eyes of a Jaeger. Dongmin is a soldier though, he doesn’t actually care how it works as long as it gets the work done. As long as humanity is winning against these monsters.

So it’s not often that he’s sentimental enough to contemplate the fragility of human life, but now he’s in the middle of the ocean waiting for the pick up team in the damaged Conn-Pod of Siren Fury with his unconscious co-pilot in his arms. The Jaeger’s half arm is in pieces scattered in the water with the remains of a Category IV Kaiju after they blew it off. Later, the Marshal tells him that it will take weeks to fix it up and it makes him feel useless because that means weeks of forced standby.

A Ranger is nothing without their co-pilot or their Jaeger after all.

Dongmin used to hate this fact, this dependance. All his life, there was nothing he couldn’t do alone. He learned early on that in his family’s dictionary there was no such thing as ‘can’t’. Not having the ability to do something was a weakness he couldn’t afford. Not if he wanted to make his father proud.

Three generations of navy soldiers, that was the dream they cradled since he was young. Then the Kaijus came and turned the world as they knew it upside down. So he was one of the first ones to sign up for the newly established Jaeger program in Busan, one of the youngest ones too.  It’s been six years since, two since he finally found a drift compatible partner and now, the girl who was in his head half the time went quiet.

Nevermind. A few hours later she’s up like she merely took an afternoon nap.

Dongmin crosses his arms in front of his chest at the leg of her hospital bed.

“He bought you flowers?” He asks with a grimace as he’s having a staredown with the bowl of water and flora that certainly wasn’t there when they were both brought in for post-mission check ups.

“Aquatic ones! These won’t just die,” his co-pilot glances at the gift dreamily and Dongmin sighs. If he thought it was annoying when she and that Kaiju researcher guy were both pining he might have had to re-evaluate. This could be so much worse now that they finally confessed their undying love for each other or whatever.

“Such a nerd,” he mutters under his breath, unimpressed.

“It’s romantic!” Even bedridden his military partner has energy to argue with him.

Dongmin rolls his eyes and sneakily picks up the honey butter peanut box from her bedside table to pop some into his mouth.

“Whatever. Just try not to think about kissing him when we’re drifting,” he says dryly and dramatically shudders at the thought just for the effect.

“You’re just jealous,” his co-pilot jabs back at him and snatches the snack back from his hand.

“Of you kissing Kim?” Dongmin makes a face and that earns him the pillow thrown at his head.

He knows it wasn’t what she meant but between rigorous training and fighting alien monsters, annoying her is the closest thing he has to normalcy in his life.

It’s a soft sound, somebody clearing their throat, that’s saving her from getting the pillow thrown back at her, hospitalized or not, because when Dongmin sees the presence of a nurse their age, he haphazardly hides the soft material behind his back as if to hide evidence of the childish fight.

“Sorry, I need to check on her vitals,” you say, pulling a clipboard close to your chest and raising your gaze. Soon enough, soft eyes meet his.

Now, this is the part when you should look away shyly, like a blushing, giggling mess. He’s used to that. Girls reacting to his presence like that. And he gets it, Rangers are idolized by the media like stars, they are heroes after all. He has given out autographs and taken selfies with fans who came to congratulate on their victories, so with the way you can’t take your eyes off of him, he thinks that maybe you will ask for one, too.

“Can you–” Ah there it is, just another fan request. He should have brought a pen. “–move aside?”

Wait, what?

“You’re in the way, idiot,” his co-pilot chides and he makes sure to scowl at her before stepping aside, so you can check on the monitor and how much liquid is still in the IV bag.

Embarrassment burns in the pit of his stomach but he doesn’t let it show. He leans against an empty bed, hopefully looking as nonchalant as humanly possible, even as his gaze follows your figure until it disappears down the corridor.

“Is she new?” He blurts out against better judgement but lucky for him his partner is too preoccupied with a text she got most likely from loverboy to notice the weird tone of his voice.

“Who? The nurse? I think so, why?”

Dongmin shrugs like he doesn’t care. Because he doesn’t. It just irks him that you didn’t even spare him a second glance before leaving. He’s not used to being disregarded.

With nothing better to do Dongmin throws himself into Kwoon combat practice. It isn’t like fighting with his co-pilot (not just with words) but she has been advised to not strain herself for at least a while, so he has to suffice with cadets. Not to brag but he can easily take two at a time, three on a good day or if they are really bad. Kwoon is about balance, about connection, it’s more of a dialogue than an actual fight to win but there is no balance if Dongmin is freaking bored with these kids. So he pushes himself more: morning Kwoon sessions, afternoon drift simulations with his co-pilot (if she doesn’t stop thinking about Kim Donghyun’s smile, he will put bleach into her shampoo), strategy discussions with the Marshal and late night gym visits. He watches the numbers climb on the war clock and the J-Techs slowly re-build Siren Fury’s arm while restlessness brews in his stomach.

Then Park Sunghoon visits from the Gangneung Shatterdome and beats his ass on the mat without breaking a sweat. Dongmin grits his teeth as he gets up, leaning more of his weight on the fighting stick.

“What’s with your left side? You rely too much on your right,” the senior Ranger points out calmly while putting the wooden prop away. Dongmin considers lying, saying he just prefers this way, but in the end just sighs.

“Just a bit of a strain, nothing serious,” he shrugs, slowly rolling his left shoulder back, grimacing at the ache seeping into his bones.

“Have it looked at in the infirmary just to be sure,” Sunghoon suggests and grabs his stuff from the floor. Before he leaves, he turns back once with a hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth. “Then find me for a re-match.”

And Dongmin is nothing if not disciplined. It has been drilled into him through military training since childhood, so there he is, at the infirmary. He hasn’t been back since his co-pilot has been discharged but it’s surprisingly empty. Still, it surprises him that the only person at the nurses’ counter is you.

“Oh, are you alone?” He blurts out and it makes him sound stupid when you glance up from the book you’re reading and pointedly look around.

“Do you see anybody else here?”

“I’m just asking. I didn’t know they allow new nurses to be on duty on their own,” he explains his surprise quite poorly if your unimpressed look is anything to go buy. So professional. You really don’t want his signature, huh?

“We don’t really have the luxury to have proper rotations. I guess you know how that is,” you shrug and turn the book upside down, leaving it open on the desk before standing up. He tries to catch what it’s about but the angle is off to read the title properly. You round the counter and point at the examiner table. He takes a seat with a straight back but his eyes are following you. 

You tie your hair back and pull a folder out of a drawer. His check up data most likely. He wonders what they say about him. If that folder catalogues all the injuries he has suffered ever since he joined the Jaeger Academy, if it even contains the result of his psychological evaluation that cleared him stable enough to pilot, if it made him seem like a soldier through and through or just somebody who bled through their teenage years to be here.

You move around with a confidence that newbies don’t have. It makes him want to ask where you came from but you beat him to it.

“So what’s wrong?” You step in front of him after leaving his files on the desk and look up. A hint of jasmine hits him and it has him inhale sharply. With him sitting, you’re pretty much eye level and suddenly he can’t make himself look away. You missed a strand of hair when tying your hair up but you’re too focused to care about it. His fingers itch to brush it back, so he curls them into a fist.

“My left shoulder feels off for a few days now,” he ends up saying. It’s the oversimplified version of the truth but admitting that he overestimated his limits and overworked himself to the point to strain a muscle sounds pathetic. He should have known better.

You don’t say anything, just hum quietly and round the table. When you touch him, thumb pressing lightly into his upper trapezius while the rest of your fingers rest on his shoulder, he tenses up for no reason at all.

“Does this hurt?” You ask, voice coming from much closer.

“No,” Dongmin lies because this much is nothing. He has once showed up to his Academy evaluation with a broken rib and nobody noticed. You hum again, contemplating, then press into the skin near his shoulder blade harder and he nearly blacks out from the sharp pain. “Ah, fuck.”

“Yeah, thought so.” That’s your only comment to his outburst before your hands leave him to rummage through a cabinet. “Take off your top.”

You say it like it’s nothing with your back to him, so you miss how fast his ears redden.

“What?” Dongmin’s voice jumps half an octave, dumbfounded, nearly getting a whiplash from how fast he turns to you, not making any moves to follow instructions. An exasperated sigh escapes you and turning back to look at him,  you put a hand on your hip.

“Do you always ask so many questions? Be glad I didn’t ask you to pull down your pants,” you raise an eyebrow almost challengingly which has him gaping like a fish. He had no idea being a nurse at the Shatterdome includes such duty.

“You do that too?” 

You cross your arms in front of you and deadpan:

“Yes, if some idiot needs a rabies vaccine.”

“Which idiot?” Dongmin is quick to inquire but you just give him a look, so he shuts up. But he would bet that it was Myung Jaehyun. That J-technician is a self-hazard.

“Come on. Shirt off. I need to apply ointment on your back,” you explain and he clears his throat to collect himself.

Right. Get it together, Han Dongmin, don’t act like you haven’t been in the infirmary before.

Dongmin would like to think he’s unaffected. Like totally. Why wouldn’t he be? But the fact that you were unaffected the entire time you had him half-naked on that uncomfortable examination table, fingers gently rubbing something that smelled strongly of peppermint into his skin bothers him more than it should have. Half the girls in the Shatterdome would have liked to be in your place just to ogle, so why do you act like it was nothing?

And yes, he knows that it doesn’t make sense. He’s usually annoyed by the amount of unwanted attention he’s getting. He’s usually busy making sure to keep people at an arm’s length. But now he’s staring up at the grey ceiling from his bunk bed, turning the dog tag of Siren Fury that hangs in his neck between his fingers and can’t sleep. He thinks of your eyes, neutral and never lingering longer than they should, and he couldn’t help but wonder: are you like that, professional and distant, with everybody or do you have something against him personally?

Dongmin kicks the blanket off himself and hauls himself out of bed. He grabs a jacket and his shoes and slips out of the room without waking his roommate. PPDC’s favourite or not, he doesn’t get the luxury of having his own room. Instead he’s roomed with a politician’s son. The Marshal said it’s because they’re the same age and moved to the Shatterdome around the same time but Dongmin has a feeling that it has something to do with how they both have powerful fathers. Commander Han and National Assembly member Lee might not be friends but they are both avid campaigners for the Jaeger Program funding over those useless Anti-Kaiju walls. Chanyoung is a good enough roommate though, he’s quiet but friendly, he knows when not to bother Dongmin.

On nights when Chanyoung can’t sleep, he goes for a swim. On nights when Dongmin can’t, his feet take him to the Kwoon combat room. However, this time around it’s not empty despite the late hour. The boy on the mat is tall and lanky, hasn’t built much muscle yet. He’s practicing hits with the wooden stick but he puts more effort into channeling strength than precision. He doesn’t even notice Dongmin watching from the open door, not until he pushes himself away from the frame and approaches the mat. The younger boy clearly startles and bows with widened eyes, his swift apology cut off by the Ranger:

“Straighten up properly. You put too much of your upper body into the swings. Like this you will tire yourself out before getting any hits,” Dongmin says matter-of-factly as he kicks off his boots and grabs a stick for himself.

When he turns around, the cadet still stands in that awkward position of just having stood up straight after a polite bow like he can’t quite believe he’s seeing an actual Ranger from up close. Dongmin gets it, he used to be starstruck too when he first met senior Rangers but he sure as hell did a much better job at hiding his fascination. This kid is practically vibrating out of his skin and effectively ignoring his previous advice.

Dongmin sighs and lands a soft hit on the boy’s lower back that effectively has him fix his spine.

“I said, straighten up,” he repeats like he’s bored already and nods towards the stick hanging uselessly from the cadet’s hand. “Try to get a point.”

The boy does not manage to get any hits.

Dongmin didn’t actually expect him to. If he managed anyways that would have meant that Dongmin was in a much worse form than he would have liked to admit it despite his healing injury. So the real achievement he wanted to see wasn’t any points but the cadet improving his stance and attacks. And to his credit, the boy tried his best and he has potential. He’s determined and doesn’t give up, not even after the dozenth hit Dongmin gets in lazily without actually straining himself to attack.

“What’s your name, cadet?” He asks when the boy is sprayed out on the floor with sweat dripping down his forehead and neck soaking the collar of his uniform. Dongmin offers him a hand.

“Kim Woonhak, sir,” the cadet rushes to answer while still trying to catch his breath once upright. Dongmin’s mouth pulls into a grimace at the formality that makes him feel much older than he actually is. 

“Just hyung is enough,” he corrects and he swears he sees Woonhak’s eyes sparkle.

“Yes, sir– Hyung!”

Dongmin cracks a smile and adjusts his grip on the stick.

“Again.”

When the next Kaiju emerges from the ocean near Brisbane, two Australian Jaegers are dispatched since they are the closest but it doesn’t change the fact that Dongmin feels useless watching the fight through the monitors hung up in the Shatterdome’s halls. What ifs plague his mind about the defenseless Southern coastline of the country and even though he knows that Kim’s idea saved them from being dragged into the water and being torn apart, rebuilding Siren Fury takes more time than he expected. Jaehyun also told him they might not be able to build a plasma charger in the new arm because funding is low and the component parts are crazy expensive. Most of the money goes into the new Mark-6 Jaeger they are building, hopefully launching next year with brand new pilots. At times like this the PPDC’s priorities boil the Ranger’s blood. Is it really better to have two half-built Jaegers than one proper one?

Later that night, after Jake and Leo defeats the Category III Kaiju, he visits the hangar bay smelling of grease and metal to check on Siren Fury. She stands tall and proud, all sleek steel and battleworn scars. Her left arm is open, wires and rods peeking out showing its half-finished state. Dongmin walks over the elevated walkway to get a closer look but halts as soon as he notices a figure already there. At first he thinks it might be his co-pilot driven by the same restlessness he feels but when he gets closer he recognizes you.

For once you don’t wear your usual nurse uniform and don’t have your hair tightly tied back either. Instead you have sweats and an SNU Med t-shirt on, hair falling into your face. It’s the first time he has seen you look so… casual.

Dongmin has half a mind to slip away like he hasn’t even been there but then his shoes made a squealing sound against the grated metal flooring and you look up straight at him. Whatever excuse he was about to say then freezes on the tip of his tongue when he sees your red-rimmed eyes in the hangar’s dim night light. Oh.

You look away quickly, sniffling as you wipe your face clear of evidence and Dongmin just stands there awkwardly, not knowing what to do with the situation. Should he leave you alone and pretend he saw nothing or offer some kind of comfort even though he’s shit at it? One would think having a girl co-pilot helps navigating situations like this but the Ranger girl has always had Kim Donghyun by her side and Dongmin never had to be the shoulder to cry on. Not to mention, you and him aren’t even close, so it probably would be weird if he suddenly initiated anything… right?

“How is it?” You speak up quietly before he could make up his mind. You don’t look at him, just keep staring ahead but it feels like a permission to stay. Like maybe you would actually appreciate some company.

“What?” Dongmin asks as he lowers himself into a sitting position against the railing in a decent arm’s length distance from you.

“Going out there and fighting in this,” you point at his Jaeger and while your words are emotionless, there’s a strain in your voice that most likely has something to do with why today’s Kaiju attack triggered something in you.

So Dongmin takes your question seriously, gives it a moment to think it over properly, instead of just blurting out the first thing that comes to his mind. Everybody has seen Jaegers on TV, some has seen them in real life but only a handful have ever been in a dispatched one. Dongmin is one of the few but he isn’t sure how to describe the feeling to somebody who has never ever sat in a simulator.

“Like you’re on the top of the world,” he says as he stares at the helmet of the blue-washed Siren Fury, at the Korean flag proudly painted on its side. His voice is tethering on the edge of sounding awed. “Piloting a Jaeger isn’t like piloting a plane. It’s not a separate entity. Once you’re attached, it becomes the extension of your own body. Practically, you, your co-pilot and the Jaeger become one after the drift. It’s hard to explain but suddenly you are more.”

Dongmin’s gaze drops to the robot’s legs. Somewhere on its mechanical ankles there are marks of two scratchy names. Him and his co-pilot carved their names into the steel with a knife after their first successful mission. The J-Tech must have noticed but nobody has ever said a thing.

“Isn’t it scary?” You ask quietly and he isn’t sure what you mean. The drift, the control over something so big or the fight against Kaijus? His answer is the same nevertheless:

“Only if you let it,” he says because he has long gotten used to all that. He has come to terms with the fact that he will probably die young in a Jaeger. He just wants to take as many Kaijus with him as he can. He can’t afford to let fear dictate his life. Nobody should, so he tries to crack a joke: “Otherwise it’s just a hyper realistic video game.”

When a hint of a smile graces your features, he considers it a win even if you don’t say anything.

For the first time, silence settles comfortably between the two of you. You don’t cry anymore and he lets the railing dig into his back more as he relaxes his shoulders. Siren Fury glows under the moonlight shining through the glass dome.

“I think being stuck on land having nothing to do is scarier,” Dongmin admits, quieter than before, his fingers mindlessly following the engraving in the dog tag that hangs from his neck between his pulled up legs.

Who is he if he is not out there fighting? It’s a question he has been turning in his head all day but he would like to think there was nothing in his voice that warranted you to look at him with all doe eyes. He clears his throat as he looks away.

“Why leave Seoul? It’s relatively safe there,” he stumbles to fill the void. It’s only fair if it’s his turn to ask, he justifies, and it seems like a neutral enough question. The assumption is also mostly a guess based on your shirt, but you don’t correct him.

“My younger brother joined the Busan Academy as a cadet. He’s all I have,” you answer simply, like it explains everything and maybe it does. The you followed him here part goes unsaid but it’s clear enough. Dongmin wonders what else you left behind in Seoul other than university.

He also wants to ask what happened with the rest of your family but the intensity you’re staring at the Jaegers towering over you is an answer too, he supposes. Wrong time, wrong place and a Kaiju. Everybody seems to have a story like this these days.

“Are you not… proud of him?” He asks instead. Tentatively because it sounds like you don’t approve of your brother’s decision to join the military, to work for keeping the country safe while you’re also on the frontline even if in a different role. Shatterdomes are built right by the water which makes them the closest targets when a Kaiju attack comes. Everybody risks their life by being there, not just the cadets who might pilot a Jaeger one day.

“I am,” you’re quick to protest but your voice breaks when you continue. “But I don’t want to lose him. Why does it have to be him who plays the hero?”

Dongmin clenches his jaw at the clear concern in your voice and stares out at the sea through the giant windows.

He grew up in a household built on discipline, diligence and loyalty. It has never been a question to him if he will put his life on the line for his country, it was a given. He still remembers the warmth of his father’s palm squeezing his shoulder when he officially became a Ranger and the smile on his mother’s face as she told her friends that her son had defeated Kaijus. He cannot disappoint them.

“Somebody has to do it,” he says.

He has gotten used to it: people expecting him to be that somebody. He was the best of best, they said, if somebody could do it, it would be him. It has always filled him with pride, the trust they put into his abilities and the way they justified the hard work he has put into getting there. But listening to you talking about your brother with such unabashed care, he can’t help but want that. Somebody to care enough to worry about him too. It’s stupid because he’s better off without it and yet, now it keeps plaguing his thoughts.

Thoughts you break easily when you shift until you face him, you knee almost bumping into his side.

“You’re his role model, you know? That’s why he applied here,” you tell him and while it doesn’t sound like you’re blaming him, he feels a pang of guilt anyways. He doesn’t let it hurt though.

“Want an autograph?” He raises his eyebrows and flashes a charming smile at you. At the girl who has every reason to hate him because her brother might die one day because of his influence.

You snort at his silly question regardless and he finds that he doesn’t even mind it, at least you’re smiling. That’s good enough.

Dongmin hisses when the wound stings under running water. The bleeding has stopped already and now he just feels stupid trying to clean up broken glass with his hands. He brings his hurting hand up to his face to inspect the injury. Luckily it’s nothing serious, barely more than a paper cut. He normally ignores such things, because while sure, they’re mildly annoying for a few days when in contact with something, soon enough they’re gone without a trace. But now for some reason his feet take him to the infirmary’s floor, his brain already racking up explanations like how even such a small wound could get infected or affect his job if not taken care of professionally. You don’t ask for any of his excuses when you see him, just have him sit down and treat his cut with careful hands. It takes less than five minutes and he’s out of the infirmary with a plaster on his finger.

The thing is, normally Dongmin doesn’t get injured or sick often. At least not seriously enough to ask for help. No wonder even his co-pilot looks at him weird when after a Kwoon combat session, he’s off to the nurse station to have a freshly reddened bruise looked at. He leaves with a cooling cream in hand. You didn’t even ask him to take his shirt off!

One time he goes as far as pretending to have fever after his skin heats up from blow drying his hair but you just put a cool hand against his forehead and brush his fringe out of his face before dropping a sour candy wrapper into his hands. He’s not sure whether this is more humiliating or when only Mrs Hwang is in and he bolts after she tells him that it’s your day off.

So now he’s at the hangar bay, sitting on a stool too small for his long legs, while Jaehyun is working on his Jaeger’s hand. Dongmin is there to supposedly help, wearing a motion capture glove and bending his fingers every once in a while when the J-Tech guy tells him to, but he mostly just complains about the dissatisfactory health care service he has received lately as in not being able to talk with you properly because you always send him away once he’s treated.

“Dude, if you want her attention so badly, maybe talk to her instead of giving her more work,” Jaehyun advises while checking on the hand sensor settings on his tablet and making some modifications to the sensitivity levels.

“I don’t want–” Dongmin is quick to argue but he bites his tongue when his friend sends him a knowing look. He sighs begrudgingly. “I’m not that desperate.”

He has a reputation to uphold after all. He’s the Jaeger Academy’s best for a reason. The Pan Pacific Defence Corps’s favourite role model to parade for young cadets. Commander Han’s eldest son. He’s not some lovesick male lead from a tv drama.

And yet, somehow, half an hour later he’s back in the infirmary wing because he touched something on the workstation he shouldn’t have and now he has a fresh burn mark on his palm. For once, he feels more embarrassed than sneaky when he walks through the double doors and you look up from your desk. You don’t even seem surprised anymore to see him there.

“You know, for a Ranger, you’re kind of careless,” is the first thing you tell him after he shows you his newest injury.

“Excuse me?” The snarky reaction escapes Dongmin as defensiveness takes over. The callout feels unfair, because no matter what anybody says, he is one hell of a Ranger. He has medals the president awarded him for god’s sake.

You look him in the eye, unwavering, and press a pad of disinfectant against his wound as if to prove a point. Dongmin hisses and deflates like a balloon.

“Oh, that. Right,” he mumbles, casting his eyes down like a child that knows they were in the wrong.

You hold his hand gently while applying the disinfectant properly and spread a thin layer of cream over the burn. He already misses the subtle touch when you let go to get the gauze and wrap it around his palm. When your fingers linger a bit more than necessary after securing the bandage with a plaster, he might have just imagined that.

“You should be more careful,” you tell him belatedly, half scolding, half worried, while sitting down in front of the age-old computer to log his newest visit into his files. Dongmin has to turn his head away to hide his smile.

After that things slowly start to change.

You don’t ignore him anymore when he looks your way in the canteen. The first time he sits down at your table, the girls nearby stare and whisper and giggle not-so-subtly. But at least he gets to talk to you about how his burn is healing and that he managed to beat Park Sunghoon at Kwoon combat the last time they sparred. When you notice he doesn’t eat the eggplant on his plate, you steal it from his tray and give him a piece of chicken instead. He can’t stop smiling behind his can of soda.

During one of his now semi-regular practices with Woonhak, who is slowly growing on him despite his best efforts, you show up and he gets distracted enough for the cadet to easily land a hit straight on his chest. Only when Woonhak waves to you with wide smiles does he understand why you don’t seem surprised at all to see the two of them there. When you and Woonhak get ready to leave, he kind of expects you to tell him to go easy on your brother next time now that you’ve seen him get in several hits but instead, you mouth a thank you towards him. Dongmin watches you ruffle Woonhak’s hair dotingly which makes the younger boy whine with something squishingly soft forming in his chest.

One time he catches you in the gym on the treadmills and challenges you to a race. Unexpectedly you agree and get him the vending machine soda he asks for when he wins without complaining about his unfair advantage. Both of you are sweaty while you’re sitting there with your legs aching, slurping on your drinks, but when Dongmin is glancing your way, you’re smiling.

And then there are the late night meetings in the Jaeger hangar. Sometimes you’re just lying on your back on the catwalk and searching for stars on the pitch black sky through the glass dome. Sometimes you talk about everything and nothing. He gets to know you there slowly.

You like the hangar because your father was a mechanic and the district smell of oil, burning metal and fresh paint reminds you of his garage. Your voice breaks when you tell him that your father was working on the Anti-Kaiju wall that was destroyed by the Category III bringing catastrophe to the Southern shore years ago. He asks about your university days and tells you about the Jaeger Academy and how it wasn’t that different from growing up in a military family. You’re the first one to ask him about what he would do if one day the monsters stopped coming. He doesn’t have an answer, not then, but later, lying in his bed alone, staring at the starless ceiling, he hopes you’re there in a future like that.

"Category IV Kaiju alert! J-Tech, prepare Siren Fury for dispatch! Rangers report to Conn-Pod immediately! I repeat: Category IV Kaiju–”

The sirens are blaring throughout the Shatterdome, waking everybody up at 4AM. Dongmin laces up his boots haphazardly and swings the door open. Down the corridor he sees his co-pilot leave Kim Donghyun’s room.

“Are you ready?” She asks while she’s zipping up her jacket.

“So ready. Let’s kick some Kaiju ass,” Dongmin grins. Finally the restlessness he has felt in the last few weeks has a space to go as they are making their way to the Conn-Pod.

Chanyoung is already at LOCCENT, tracking the Kaiju’s movements on one monitor and checking the Jaeger’s energy levels on the other with other comm officers. When Dongmin puts on the Drivesuit, he hears him in his in-ear.

“I hope you slept well, it’s a really ugly beast.”

“Don’t worry, we will send it right back where it came from,” he says, ever so confident, wincing quietly when the spinal cord is attached. Some say it’s bad luck to celebrate early but Dongmin thinks it boosts morale. Not to mention no Kaiju could take them down before, isn’t that proof enough that it’s warranted? His roommate just wishes him luck, then starts the countdown.

“Initiating drift in 3, 2, 1…”

Dongmin closes his eyes and lets memories flood him. It’s a mix of old and new, his and his co-pilot’s. A Kaiju that has left him shaking, a beach town in ruins, late night practices until his body was sore and useless and still not good enough, Kim Donghyun smiling under the sunset, ice cream smeared on his lips, and your voice echoing in his ears, the sour candy he got from you tasting sweet on his tongue.

“Drift successful, connection stable. Rangers, confirm!” Somebody yells just and he opens his eyes, feeling the familiar presence of a companion in the back of his mind. He turns his head towards his partner who smiles and he already knows what she wants to say even before she opens her mouth.

“That was so cheesy.”

“You’re one to talk,” he rolls his eyes but with no malice and they move their hands at the same time, the Jaeger’s mechanic limb following their movements swiftly.

“Siren Fury is ready for deployment,” he confirms and when the Jumphawks hatch onto the mech’s shoulders to airlift them, he imagines you watching it happen through the big monitor in the hallways. It gives him one more reason to win.

It’s not an easy victory but it feels good. Every landed punch and every plasma hit right on target. After weeks of restlessness, Dongmin finally feels like he’s doing something useful. By the time the Kaiju’s lifeless body collapses into the Japan Sea, he’s sweating, his muscles ache and there’s a beginning of a throbbing headache in his temple. Yet, he feels delirious, the good kind, like he can take on the whole world.

It’s always a bit disorientating when they are back in the Shatterdome and the Conn-Pod is detached from the Jaeger. Suddenly it’s a lot quieter in his mind even though his co-pilot’s thoughts linger for a while like ghost touches.

“Let me guess, you will go for a check-up right away,” she wiggles her brows as she’s getting out of her Drivesuit.

“Shut up and go make out with your boyfriend or something,” Dongmin rolls his eyes instead of reminding her that medical check-ups after an actual drift were important. It would be hypothetical because he used to not care much despite the protocol. It would also be useless because he can already see Donghyun waiting like a puppy behind the Conn-Pod station’s glass doors.

He gives the Kaiju nerd a nod when he walks by him into the LOCCENT and accepts the pats on the back and congratulations from the officers with his usual nonchalance. He doesn’t intend to stay long but before he could escape, the Marshal finds him and tells him about an event they should attend to secure more funding for the Jaeger program. He agrees like a good soldier would because he doesn’t really have a choice anyways, then asks for permission to leave. When granted, he slips away through hidden corridors before anybody else could stop him.

Usually he loves the part when every resident of the Shatterdome gathers to celebrate the new win of humanity. These are the only few times when they get to relax before the next Kaiju appearance. They are allowed to have fun, to drink, to forget that the attacks are getting more and more frequent and the world might be doomed. Dongmin also likes the post-Kaiju fight high, the adrenaline pumping in his veins and the feeling of being invincible. He knows he will crash soon, either with the headache worsening or exhaustion taking over, but for now he feels like he could do anything.

When he opens the door to the infirmary, he catches you pacing from one end to another.

“–would be such a bad idea to–”

You stop when you notice him and another girl jumps off the counter. It’s Minju, Dongmin recognizes her from Donghyun’s lab.

“Uhm, I will go get coffee,” she exclaims abruptly even though there’s clearly a mug half-full of dark liquid on the counter where she just sat. When she passes by Dongmin’s side she shows him thumbs up and offers a “Good job today!” cheerily.

“Thanks,” Dongmin says and waits for you to agree, to comment on his performance, to say anything but when the door is closed behind your friend, you turn your back on him and shuffle back to the computer to pull up his charts. The examination table makes a creaking sound in the silence when Dongmin sits down without having been told. He knows the drill by now.

“How are you feeling?”

When you speak up, it’s in your usual work tone, all professional. He’s a bit disappointed but he refuses to wilt like a flower.

“Good. Just a little headache,” he says and watches you get up to grab a few things.

He knows what comes, he has been in the same situation multiple times just with different nurses. Mrs Hwang who works the alternate shifts is such a mother hen, treating all of them like children. The previous nurse who left before you came was so chatty, always had a new gossip whenever he sat there. He never really craved either of their acknowledgement, but with you he almost feels desperate for it.

“Did you watch us?” He asks when you fasten the blood pressure monitor’s cuff around his arm but you just shush him. He casts his eyes down, sulky, like a scolded child all the while the cuff tightens then loosens and the machine beeps. You jot down his results before stepping closer again. Your fingers are soft on his skin while you slip the medical device off his arm.

You don’t look him in the eye when you eventually answer. “No.”

It has Dongmin reeling. All this time he has thought that everybody was busy following the broadcasts of the Kaiju fights, he thought that you saw him defeat this newest alien monster, that somehow this could maybe appeal to you, but now he’s just confused.

“Why?”

You ignore his question and pick up the penlight instead.

“Follow the light with your eyes,” you tell him and he begrudgingly follows the instructions like a champ. However, when you drop your hand and turn away, he grabs onto your wrist to pull you back. You’re clearly startled as you stumble and have to catch yourself with a hand against his chest to not fall completely onto him.

“Why?” He asks again and there’s something defiant in your eyes when you finally make eye contact with him, your arm flexing under his hold, your fingers curling into his uniform shirt. He has half a mind to let go of you but he’s also relishing in the fact that you haven’t even tried to pull away, that you’re staying close on purpose. He’s basking in your subtle jasmine scent and the warmth of your shaky exhales.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” you whisper into the barely there space between the two of you and it ceases the ugly disappointment burning in the pit of Dongmin’s belly.

“I’m fine though,” he insists and swipes his thumb over the inner side of your wrist. It’s supposed to be soothing but when your breath hitches, he can’t help a grin at the reaction he finally got out of you.

“Ranger Han–” You raise your voice and it sounds like he’s in for a reprimand or a warning. He decidedly ignores it.

“Dongmin,” he corrects with a smirk as he tilts his head and continues the caresses on your skin.

For a long moment you just stare at each other as if to see who can take it longer. He can feel his cheeks heat up despite the confident act he puts up and when your gaze drops to his lips, his pulse jumps. There’s a tremble in his fingers when you lean closer and then…

“Noona! Have you seen–” Somebody barrels through the infirmary’s double doors and Dongmin has to hold himself back from dramatically sighing when you step back until your back hits the nurse desk. “Oh, hi, hyung! Oh my god, you were so cool out there!” 

Woonhak is all smiles and pure enthusiasm. He’s also totally oblivious to what he has interrupted. Still, he’s your brother, so Dongmin puts on a smile and answers all the questions Woonhak has about this new Kaiju and their strategy against it. He also promises to give him a tour around Siren Fury’s Conn-Pod one day. You drop a piece of sour candy into his hands before he has to leave.

The next time he ends up in the infirmary, it’s not on purpose and totally not his fault.

He was looking for his co-pilot so they could run a drift simulation but she was hanging out with her boyfriend in the labs. Apparently the K-scientists found something breakthrough regarding the anatomy of the Kaijus but Dongmin was busy checking on the different shades of blue vials labelled synthetic Kaiju blood to really pay attention. Nobody around him wore masks or gloves, so he assumed it was safe enough. That little piece of shiny rock on the petri dish wasn’t even blue, so the last thing he expected when he poked it was for his skin to stain a fluorescent color.

Apparently it was a sample from a beach that got exposed to Kaiju Blue, the deadly toxic agent in the aliens’ blood, and since the team was currently working on how to reverse its destructing effect on nature, they already had an antidote on hands for small exposures. Donghyun quickly had him drink something awfully bitter that stopped the pins and needles feeling slowly spreading in his arm.

Still, it caused quite a bit of fright for everybody present, so his co-pilot dragged him to the infirmary just to be sure he would be okay. You keep it professional while she’s in there explaining what happened but as soon as she leaves, you start scolding him.

“You know very well that Kaiju blood contains toxins. What were you thinking?” You tsk, flashing him a severely disappointed look before getting something from the cabinet. Then suddenly turn back to him and point an accusing finger at him. “You’re officially banned from the labs, got it?”

You don’t even wait for an answer, just keep mumbling something about him being so eager to put his life on the line under your breath while pulling out an IV bag. When you turn back to him, you have a cannula in your hands.

“There’s really no need–” He tries to protest but you cut him off with the authority of someone who has bossed men around all her life.

“Sit back down,” you tell him and Dongmin’s bottom hits the mattress even before his mind can process the words.

He has faced a dozen Kaijus. He has faced death. But apparently nothing scares him as much as you do when you’re mad at him. He has never seen you so agitated, frantic and frustrated. So he bears it without complaint as you put him on IV drip even though when you stab the needle into his arm, he’s pretty sure you do it with more force than necessary.

Even after you make sure the fluid is flowing into his bloodstream properly and that the last remnants of blue discoloring disappeared from his fingers, you’re still hovering over him. It makes him feel bad.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me,” he says, trying to coax you into a more relaxed state.

“Then stop getting hurt!” You shove at his chest but it’s weak because you clearly don’t want to cause him more pain.

Dongmin has the audacity to smile when he catches your hand and pulls you down to sit on the bed. You let him more easily than he expected. You also make no moves to pull your hand away.

“I will try, I promise,” he tries, gentler, rubbing gently your palm.

“You better,” you huff with downturned lips and avoiding his eyes like a sulky cat and Dongmin is awfully endeared. Who knew that he just needed to get exposed to almost deadly chemicals to see this side of you? It makes him want to push his luck.

“What about a get well soon kiss?” He asks playfully and you scowl at him, unimpressed.

“You don’t deserve it.”

He pouts, playing his disappointment up, and you roll your eyes at him. Your hand remains in his though and you don’t move from his infirmary bed, so he’s not complaining.

He can’t tell whether it’s from the IV bag’s contents or the antidote from earlier, but soon his eyelids start getting heavy. Just before he tips over the edge and slips into a dreamless sleep, he feels soft lips against his forehead. He falls asleep with a stupid smile on his face.

Before meeting you, Dongmin used to think that nothing can compare to the feeling of being invincible in a Jaeger. Now, he’s not so sure anymore. You make him feel on top of the world too.

END NOTES. title from the keshi song. header pic from the BEAT High magazine behind cut.

☆ BOYNEXTDOOR masterlist

💌 askbox

© 2026 dat-town

[bellaalinaa]

@strmieto tagged me!!

Rules: when you get this, make a new post, list 5 of your favorite songs, publish, and tag some of your favorite mutuals!

1. Vodka Cranberry - Conan Gray

2. Goddess - Laufey

3. All I Did Was Dream of You - beabadoobee, the Marias

4. Your Best American Girl - Mitski

5. Moths - Conan Gray

now for my moots!

@secretlifeofsombr @evendeathhasaheart @doraisawda @motel88 @creativityinmadness

[doraisawda]

Both Sides - NCT JNJM

As We Are - Seungmin

Chamak Chalom

Kala Chashma

Balam Pichkari

@christh3weirdo @ali3n-st4r-zz @maplekae @aleks-is-dead + open tags

[maplekae]

Sesame Syrup (Cigarettes after Sex)

Catch Catch (YENA)

REDRED (CORTIS)

Trust Fund Baby (Why Don’t We)

Deja Vu (TXT)

( @tempus-sunday @liminavita @mccnset @kcookiez @neilayay @c3lestial-angel @cinnamon-bliss-blog @x-kangelkawaiii-x @roachesandbugs @luverdolly )

[mccnset]

TYYY FOR THE TAG <33

midnight fiction - illit

twenty - kickflip

moonstruck - enhypen

tweak - girlset

unethical - faouzia

(THIS WAS SO HARD bcs i have too many favourites ok)

if any of u guys wanna joinn @clsondnd @hwastcr @catinabin @fxreverzora @gyuyurie @dazedjuhoon @mintyykk @chaengiibf @hyejusprunki @somethingsomethingsparkles @stxrsforrosie @etheralfawnette + anyone else i missedd!

[unicornivanianhhho]

OMG TYSM FOR THE TAG ( ˶˘ ³˘)♡

1. the chase - h2h

2. not cute anymore - illit

3. downpour - chaeyoung

4. delulu - kiiikiii

5. using you - mars argo

@sugarsunooo @jlssss088

(i don’t have any other moots (ᵕ—ᴗ—))

[sugarsunooo]

tysmmm for the tag mwah mwah

1.forfeit - 2hollis

2.my satisfaction - ive

3.backseat - lngshot

4.mamihlapinatapai - illit

5.iffy iffy - le sserafim

(they are not in order btwww)

@prettyangelgirlie143 @ddeonutt @emahypen

[ddeonutt]

THANK YOU FOR THE TAGGGG ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

1. your eyes only - enhypen

2. ketchup & lemonade - ningning (aespa)

3. blue - keshi

4. gone girl - yves

5. superstitious - no na

and some moots to join… (if you want!) @cookiesandsparklez @yanedoe @boy2kz @007chan + anyone else who wants to join (..◜ᴗ◝..)

[boy2kz]

TYY for the tag @ddeonutt !!

(i’m doing this based off songs i’ve hyperfixated on and still replay to this day otherwise i couldn’t choose just 5 😭)

1. no air — the boyz

2. replay — nct 127 (this is MYY SONG of all time, drop is so good 🗣️)

3. body talks — hotshot

4. all i need — idntt

5. automatic — chancellor

tags: @ikigaijo @lqccnt0 @kyunyu3

[ikigaijo]

thank u for the tagggg @boy2kz

1. how to pretend - lucy bedroque

2. say more - 82major (i’ve listened to this about 350 times this month)

3. start over - tiffany day

4. all about our love - sade

5. howlin’ 404 - dean

tags! - @kwnnies @preachersdaughterx @stxrrymarsz @sunmoonnie @nichozzystuffs @makizdoll (no pressure :p)

[makizdoll]

TYSM for the tag mimi and izzyyyy, hmm these are current faves in no particular order

1. wyn? — haechan ft.haon

2. believe — paul blanco ft.crush

3. velocidade — santos bravos

4. sticky — nct wish

5. mismatch — &team

tags :: @smidare @xionvlog @nicholaswangsnudes @d3adg1rlie

[xionvlog]

thx pookie wookie

1 - Loop - Yves ft. lil cherry

2 - GAL - OHAYO ft. Shake Pepper & Yvungboi P

3 - X - Close Your Eyes

4 - Graffiti - XIKERS (any Xikers song tbh)

5 - Tokyo Drift - One Or Eight / Over Breakfast - Ellise

HM : Tweak (Girlset), Work (no na), Right Back! (Karlee Girl), Her (megan thee stallion)

(I like a lot of songs so this was difficult for me I fear…)

tags : @ziziforsan @wonubug @wiihan @ at anyone else who wants to do this bc I can’t remember ppl rn

[ziziforsan]

YAYAYAYYY THANK YOU FOR THE TAG

1. Chemtrails - Lizzy McAlpine

2. The Subway - Chappel Roan

3. Gonna Be A Rock - Boynextdoor

4. Reckless Driving - Lizzy McAlpine

5. 10 Months - Enhypen

THIS WAS SO HARD TO CHOOSE💔💔💔💔💔💔

TAGGING - @tinybitofhope @enhypenlvrsstuff @enha-softhours @ivehan @idontknowhattoputformyname @i-am-not-dal

[ivehan]

thank u zizi for the tag!

1. harvey — her’s

2. lost island — enhypen

3. underdogs — kiiikiii

4. either way — ive

5. bathroom — boynextdoor

hm — facedown (chase atlantic), one of your girls (troye sivan), pretty promises (kali uchis ft. mariah the scientist), roxanne (arizona zervas), it almost worked (tv girl)

tagging: @gentiliana @whosleehan @chocosan44 @niiqv @beomtomie @taestulipss @moesthinking and others who wanna join!

[beomtomie]

TY FOR THE TAG FAE!!!

1. is that true? - boynextdoor

2. panic - beomgyu

3. dancing queen - p1harmony

4. welcome to the black parade - my chemical romance

5. i just threw out the love of my dreams - weezer

THIS WAS GENUINELY SO HARDDDJSHSHHD

tagging - @wnouzi @taestulipss @mykaneptune @ourannesia @niiqv @kwnnies @nichozzystuffs @gigisnextdoor + anyone else

[rosycanread]

tysm for the tag my dearest faeriwinkle @ivehan and tomie 🤍🤍🤍 i can never pick between favourites but here are some that came to mind

1. autumn morning - IU's ver.

2. knees - IU

3. hozier - from eden

4. come to me - the goo goo dolls

5. im like a lawyer with the way i'm always trying to get you off - fall out boy

oh bonedo it would be amnesia or lgsts ofcofc (also a step by step truther)

🏷️: @mwotgata @dat-town @lovemartinie @j-jellyous + anyone else!

[barthtanrak]

"Love isn’t a sin. God created humans with a heart, with feelings. But it's our actions that we must take responsibility for."

TICKET TO HEAVEN (2026) Official Trailer

[krushing]

In The Mood For Love 花樣年華 (2000) dir. Wong Kar-Wai

[dat-town]

how (not) to stop a wedding

Your best friend is getting married. It’s all good, no biggie. Except, you never told him that you’re kind of in love with him. So here’s the plan: fake date your other best friend and crash the wedding. What can possibly go wrong?

MAINS. Sungho & female reader (+ Jaehyun)

TROPES. my best friend’s wedding (1997)-inspired, romcom, friends to lovers, love square (but not really), fake dating, there was only one bed, kind of anti-romantic + hopeless romantic dynamic

WARNINGS. aged up characters, drunk antics, mc is quite dramatic/chaotic and pretty bad with love

WORDS. 20.1k

NOTES. for rosy (@taestulipss) ♡ sorry that i cut the yaoi potential out of the og plotline, no gay best friends in this one. but i hope it gives off the romcom vibes you craved!

3 WEEKS BEFORE THE WEDDING

The envelope sits on your kitchen counter between a spoon and a jar of peanut butter, mocking you. It’s baby blue and has a floral design, just like the letter inside printed on expensive paper. You pull it out, read it over, just one more time, just to make sure, as if the words would change, as if you could ever forget.

We’re delighted to invite you to the wedding of Woo Haerim and Myung Jaehyun…

It doesn’t sound real. It sounds exactly the kind of prank you would pull on your best friend and not the other way around. Jaehyun is a touchy, clingy, laughs-harder-than-anybody-else kind of guy who likes to exaggerate and tease, but he wouldn’t joke about marriage. He’s too much of a romantic for that.

But there was a time when he was younger, after one too many shots, freshly graduated with honors, when he promised that if both of you are still single by the time you turn twenty-eight, he would marry you.

It was a running joke just between the two of you, a simple ‘it’s okay I will marry you anyway’ thrown around whenever one of your relationships ended or were single for too long. It was something to laugh about because… how cliché it was really, two best friends getting married? But suddenly you didn’t find it funny because your supposedly best friend was about to marry a girl you haven’t even met yet.

Jaehyun used to ask you about your opinion and it had become a little tradition too, giving bestie approval stamps to each other’s significant others. You weren’t a big fan of any of his past girlfriends but Haerim? You only knew about her at all because Sanghyuk mentioned her in passing the last time he visited you in Busan. You thought it wasn’t that serious if Jaehyun couldn’t be bothered to tell you himself, so what now, marriage? Make it make sense, Myung Jaehyun.

You let the phone ring for longer than necessary.

You never hesitated before when he called but now you feel like you need to compose yourself before you say something you will regret. So you take a deep breath and count to five before pressing the green button.

“Hey,” Jaehyun sounds relieved and the sound of his voice is enough to make you smile. It’s been a while since you talked.

“Hi,” you greet him back on auto-pilot but your voice comes out less cheery as it usually would. A part of you is still waiting for the punchline of a joke that probably doesn’t exist.

“Did you get my letter? I sent you one a two weeks ago,” he asks, all worried and you can easily imagine the frown on his forehead based on his tone alone.

You could blame it on the Korean Postal Service, saying that maybe the mail got delayed a bit in the countryside but the delivery time between Seoul and Busan is a few days maximum, a day if the letter was sent with priority stamp. The truth is you could have probably picked it up sooner from your mailbox but you rarely check it because it’s mostly just ads piling up. Who still sends letters in the 21st century? You wonder if it was Jaehyun’s fiancée’s idea to handle the invitations in the old fashioned way. Or is it just you being too practical for sentimental things like this?

“Uhm, yeah, actually, just yesterday,” you mutter, all awkward, and you mentally wince at your own reaction.

“Oh, okay, I was getting worried. That… maybe it got lost. Or worse, that you ignored it. I know we drifted apart lately but–”

“I would never ignore you, Jae,” you cut him off because no matter the time or distance, Jaehyun is still your best friend. He will always be. Who else would you play bingo with in the retirement house?

In all honesty, meeting Jaehyun was the best thing that happened to you in college. You have no idea how you would have survived without him. He has always been your biggest supporter, the one who took care of you when you were sick in the dead of winter or drunk enough to almost fall asleep on a bench in a park. You were like two peas in a pond, fueling each other’s energy, partners in crime. You met during a house party playing drinking games and you somehow managed to reduce him to tears when you told him that you thought Twilight was awfully cringe and a mess of a plot. He spent the rest of the night trying to change your mind, which he couldn’t, but you ended up walking away with a best friend anyways.

Now, it’s been almost five years since you graduated. Two since you moved to Busan because of an offer you couldn’t refuse. Eight months since you last saw him during Chuseok. Funny, isn’t it? You have known him for eight years and apparently eight months was enough for him to meet the love of his life and decide to marry her the summer before the two of you would turn twenty-eight. The thought tastes bitter in your mouth.

“I know that but still. So… are you coming? I can’t wait for you to meet Haerim! You’re gonna love her!” Jaehyun suddenly sounds much more chipper. It reminds you of those college days when he would act like he was on his deathbed, only to perk up when you put a cup of coffee in front of him.

You swallow around the glob in your throat because unlike him you aren’t that sure that you’re gonna love his fiancée.

“Duh? I wouldn’t miss my best friend’s wedding!” You click your tongue as if even the thought of it was offensive and really, it kind of is. No matter how surprised you were when you received the invitation, your answer has never been a question. You would drop anything to be there on his big day – even if only to tease him for crying because he’s definitely the type who would cry when he sees the bride walking down the aisle. But still, there’s an elephant in the room to address. “It’s just… a bit unexpected, you know?”

You’re careful as you choose your words and the way you keep your tone even. It’s unlike you with your unfiltered mouth that has gotten you in trouble before. Luckily, Jaehyun doesn’t seem to notice. He sounds all too happy to talk about the love of his life.

“Yeah, I know. But the thing they say? That you just feel it when it’s real? It’s true.”

“Yeah well… I wouldn’t know,” you mutter under your breath.

That’s the main difference between you and Jaehyun when it comes to romance: you don’t really believe in the big capital word Love and its all-consuming power while he believes in cinematic, swoon-worthy love stories. Your relationships usually ended because you felt like your boyfriends moved too fast, wanted too much, while his heart often shattered at the first signs of not fitting together perfectly. Not now, apparently.

“I’m happy for you,” you tell him and it’s honest despite the thorn in your side. You have never wanted him to be anything but happy.

“Thanks. But Y/N… Actually the reason why I called…” You can tell Jaehyun fidgets on the other side of the line and you force yourself to sit down, tapping on the floor while you wait for him to finish. “Can you join us a few days earlier? With Haerim’s family there… I can’t do this without you. I need you there with me.”

You glance at your planner open on your desk, the date of the wedding now highlighted with a bunch of question marks. You should probably think about having to ask for more day-offs than necessary and the last minute flights to Jeju but Jaehyun’s desperate voice fills your mind like static. You’re not surprised that the wedding preparations got him like that, he gets easily overwhelmed when there are a lot of things to do, but it’s the way he says it, that he needs you… that’s an arrow straight to the heart, bullseye.

You don’t even think. Never, apparently, when it comes to him.

“Yeah. Yes, of course.”

“I need a favour,” you blurt out as soon as Sungho picks up the phone after nine agonizing seconds. No hellos, no niceties, just straight to the point but he lets it slide.

“I’m listening,” he hums, already half amused, half concerned.

Not that he has any reason to be the latter. It was only one time that you called him from a hospital ward because the nurses didn’t let you leave on your own after unplugging the IV drips from your own arm.  A bit of dizziness after pulling all nighters because of a project deadline rarely hurt anybody, right? Okay, maybe two times, if he counts that night when you called him drunk after a shitty day and he had to pick you up from Gwangalli beach because you were convinced that you were staring at the sea from Haeundae and didn’t understand why you couldn’t find your way home. You made him give you a piggyback ride that day and shamelessly groped his arm muscles while singing a mainstream girl group song you claimed to hate. It’s Sungho’s favourite anecdote to bring up whenever you forget that you have a low alcohol tolerance.

The two of you started working for the association behind the Busan International Film Festival as juniors in the same year. You are both cinephiles, hence you have an endless list of movies to discuss and watch ready at all times. He also has most of his family back in Gangwon province, so you usually take the KTX train together around Seollal and Chuseok. But other than these, you couldn’t be more different. You are an unlikely duo: you being your chaotic, unapologetic self and him being always so put together. He’s your voice of reason while you’re his voice when he’s too polite to call somebody out on their bullshit. But somehow it works, he’s the closest friend you made since you left Seoul for bigger adventures and dreams. You would probably call him your best friend as of late if you weren’t still keeping that title for Jaehyun.

“I need you to be my plus one for Jaehyun’s wedding,” you tell Sungho without beating around the bush.

He coughs like he choked on something.

“As in the Jaehyun you were supposed to marry after turning twenty-eight?”

“Yes, that Jaehyun.”

There is no other Jaehyun in your life unless you count Jaehyun from accounting but he goes by Hyunjae anyways. So yeah, there is no other Jaehyun whose wedding you would attend but you also know that’s not why Sungho is asking, so you let out a dramatic sigh as you flop back onto your bed and start explaining.

“He’s getting married in Jeju at the end of June to the freaking daughter of KOZ’s CEO. Can you believe it? Jaehyun marrying into a chaebol family?” You snort and it’s mostly a rhetorical question because Sungho only knows Jaehyun from your stories, so he wouldn’t know. But you do and with his free spirit, it’s hard to imagine him navigating the intrigues of crazy rich people. “He wouldn’t rush a marriage like this, I really don’t get that part, so I’m pretty sure the girl is just manipulating him, maybe using him to get out of an arranged marriage. Jaehyun has too big of a heart for his own good, it could happen to him.”

“That sounds too much like an SBS drama, honey,” Sungho says and you can tell from the sound of his voice that he’s smiling wistfully because he knows you’re prone to act dramatic just for the sake of it. “Maybe they just fell madly in love.”

“Unlikely,” you grimace while you try to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach. “Jaehyun always second guesses himself when it comes to love. He’s not reckless like me.”

“And yet, you haven’t told him that you’re in love with him.”

It doesn’t sound accusatory, the way Sungho says it, but you still wince, because it’s a reminder of a bruise you forgot it hurt.

“I don’t want to lose my best friend over something like that,” you say, a little softer, a little quieter. Something like love, something you’re admittedly, historically suck at. Even if Jaehyun likes you back, you would mess it up one way or another. So why risk it?

“It looks like you will lose him anyways, so what now?” Sungho asks because he always asks the right questions even when you don’t like them. You don’t know what to say, you didn’t really think it through, you just knew that you don’t want to be in Jeju, alone, and watch the guy who could have been The One for you marry another girl. So you called Sungho because he always knew what to say and what to do, but you know it’s not something he can decide for you. “Y/N?”

“He just called me. He told me he can’t do this without me,” you whisper while keeping your eyes on the water stain on the ceiling. “Sungho… I can’t let a cunning rich girl take him away from me.”

“And what do you need me for?” Sungho asks simply, not even trying to talk you out of it. Just one more reason why you work together so well. He knows there would be no use of trying to convince you once you made up your mind. And now, he’s part of your plans too.

“For emotional support? To keep me accountable? Come on, Sungho. One week in Jeju, all-inclusive, you deserve a vacation.”

When Sungho groans, you know you won.

The truth is… you have always thought of Jaehyun more like a twin brother you never had. Until you moved away to a new city all alone and realized how big part of your life included him. Until Sungho asked about him.

Kind, sweet Sungho holding an umbrella above your head, his jacket over your shoulders after a company dinner, waiting for a bus. Sungho who blushed prettily when you called him handsome and floundered over his words when you asked what he would do with the number you saw one of the waitresses sliding to him.

“Probably nothing. She’s not really my type,” he said eventually, gazing down at the rain-washed road.

“Really? She seemed nice,” you feigned nonchalance while checking the time on your phone as if you weren’t suddenly curious about what his type might be, as if you didn’t wonder whether he preferred girls who shook up his life over the nice ones. You weren’t sure what exactly you wanted to hear but it surely wasn’t what went down when Sungho turned back to you.

“Is that your boyfriend?”

It was so sudden, so unprompted that you couldn’t even hide your surprise with a joke.

“Who?”

“The guy on your phone lockscreen.”

You look down at the device in your hand, at the candid photo of you and Jaehyun laughing Sanghyuk took when you three climbed Namsan in your senior year. Among the many love lockets there, there is a bright yellow one with your names and #hanyang2022 as proud soon-to-be graduates you were. It’s a nice photo, a happy memory, nothing more.

“What? No. That’s just Jaehyun, my best friend,” you say and because you’re naturally prone to bring chaos, you add, all chatty and casual: “I mean we do have a silly pact that we will get married if both of us are single when we’re twenty-eight, but we aren’t like that.”

“Oh,” Sungho reacted a bit dumbfounded and blinked slowly when the bus pulled up in front of you. “Well, it sounds to me like you are a bit like that.”

So this was how it started. Sungho making an assumption and turning his back to you. You catching up to him on the bus, wondering whether he was right. After all, he usually was.

5 DAYS BEFORE THE WEDDING

And now, here you are, in Jeju with bright sunrises and the roaring sound of the sea, with Sungho by your side who came partly for the free hotel and free food… and partly for the drama (aka to judge you though he would never admit it).

Luckily, you managed to convince Jaehyun that he doesn’t need to come pick you up at the airport. This way you’re free to complain about the ridiculousness of destination weddings all the way from Jeju International to the fancy hotel Jaehyun’s rich fiancée readily booked you right away after you confirmed your flight details. Sungho mostly just hums along with your monologue but you blame it on his post-nap state. Still, somehow he’s still more present to navigate through the airport and get a taxi because you are too pre-occupied going through all the info Jaehyun sent you about the schedule.

“Dinner tonight, dress fitting tomorrow, then cocktail party, wedding venue check. Exclusive tea ceremony? Why the hell are rich people making such a big fuss about a wedding? Isn’t it supposed to be one day, signing documents and that’s it?”

“Maybe they want to make everybody feel included or just spend time together. Shouldn’t you be happy? It’s been a while since you last saw him,” Sungho says, squinting in the afternoon light as he takes your carry-on from the car after his and wheels both of them towards the hotel lobby.

“I would be more happy if this wasn’t for a wedding. I will have to act like I like his fiancée and you know I tend to panic when I lie and end up saying stupid things,” you mutter because your worst fear at this point is to unintentionally hurt Jaehyun over something stupid.

“Who knows maybe you will actually like her,” Sungho shrugs and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Whose side are you on again?” You put your hands onto your waist with a click of your tongue but force a smile on your face when the receptionist lady asks what she can help you with. You check in  without a problem and have your luggage handled by a bellboy. Breakfast is included in the price but only available until 9AM, so you’re already planning the latest feasible time to wake up tomorrow, making Sungho promise that he would wake you up while you’re riding the elevator to the top floor. Or at least it sure feels like it. The bellboy asks if you need help with anything else but leaves soon enough, so you’re ready to pass out on the bed’s expensive duvet when you realise exactly what’s off with the room.

When Jaehyun told you that Haerim got a suite for you and your plus one, you didn’t think to clarify that the room would need two beds because you naively thought suites would be like that, having multiple rooms or whatnot, and here you are now, staring at a singular albeit generously sized bed in a fancy room with a view of the sea. Funnily though, Sungho seems more scandalized by the idea if his widened eyes and cheeks dusted pink are anything to go by.

“I’m sleeping on the sofa,” he clears his throat, steering his suitcase towards the living room area already.

“Don’t be stupid,” you roll your eyes, gesturing wildly. “Look at this bed, it’s huge. We won’t even touch.”

Not to mention Sungho slept through the short flight on your shoulder which must not have been comfortable for his neck. You don’t want him to leave this trip with aching bones.

“But…”

“We used to crash at each other’s places with smaller beds with Jaehyun back in college. As long as you don’t steal all the blankets, I’m fine with it,” you shrug like it’s not a big deal because it shouldn’t be. Sure, it’s not college anymore and he’s not Jaehyun. But you are both mature adults, so what’s a little platonic bed sharing?

Sungho doesn’t say anything, just drops his bag at the leg of the bed and catches your wrist before you could faceplant yourself onto the soft-looking bed-covers.

“No outside clothes in bed,” he scolds, not mean, just firm, and there’s something hot in the authoritativeness of his voice and in the weight of his hand on your arm. You almost give in.

“Well, your half of the bed, your rules. My side of the bed, my rules,” you stick out your tongue and climb in just to prove a point.

You doze off quickly, only awakened by the alarm you set beforehand to get ready for the dinner reservation Jaehyun sent you. You open your suitcase only to notice that Sungho already put his neatly folded clothes into one half of the wardrobe while you were asleep. There’s also a bottle of your favourite passion fruit flavored ice tea on your bedside table which you doubt was the hotel’s doing.

“Ah, Sleeping Beauty is up,” Sungho teases with a gentle smile as he steps out of the bathroom.

In black tank top and sweatpants.

It takes everything in you not to stutter because is that really ironed shirts and cardigans Park Sungho in casual clothes? Are those defined biceps? Oh, so that’s why he could lift you up so easily when you were drunk.

“Where are you going?” You croak out, pushing yourself up to a sitting position.

“I’m checking out the gym while you catch up with Jaehyun,” Sungho says seemingly not catching on to your weirdly off tone.

“Of course you are.”

With how health-conscious he is, it just makes sense.

“You could always come with me,” he says and the worst thing is that he means it, so you just shoot him an unimpressed look and let out a grave sigh because it means he’s letting you face the wolves alone. As in your college best friend and his fiancée. How cruel.

Eventually you got out of bed albeit with more nerves and less enthusiasm than you should have. You showered and put on fresh clothes but Jaehyun really should have mentioned how fancy this booked restaurant was because you definitely felt underdressed in your crop top and linen maxi skirt combo approaching the gilded lettered, Greek pillared, bowtie waiter place. But before you could even whip out your phone and text Sungho about how pretentious this place was, you heard a shriek and heels clinking on the marble tiles.

“Oh my gosh, the infamous Y/N! I have heard so much about you!” The stranger exclaims and you’re pulled into an embrace before you could even process that you are the one being talked to.

The first thing you notice is that Haerim’s hair is ridiculously silky and she smells nice, like something flowery and sweet, something expensive for sure.

The second thing you notice is Jaehyun over her shoulder and how his hair is longer, curling around his nape. He is standing behind his fiancée with a wide smile on his face even though you’re frozen in place with your hands awkwardly hovering in the air like your body still can’t decide whether you were attacked or not.

“Well, I can’t say the same. Jae was quite secretive about you,” you say pointedly with a challengingly raised brow but Jaehyun just laughs giddily and Haerim isn’t offended at all.

“That’s okay, we will be like best friends by the end of the week! I have always wanted a big sister!” She shrieks as she pulls away and it’s even worse because she’s perfect. Doll-like eyes, feminine figure, an angelic smile. She looks at you with sparkling eyes like she actually means each of her words.

You hate her already.

Haerim links her arm with yours and pulls you towards the patio seating. She’s telling you about how she has always wanted to meet you and how happy she is that you’re here. She promises that you will love this place because her family used to come here every summer and everything is exquisite. Even her vocabulary is pretentious, you note with a barely concealed grimace you try to hide behind your wine glass. Thank god those were served as soon as you sat down.

“Uhm, so that’s why you chose Jeju?” You ask just to fill the void and not accidentally blurt out something about how you’re not buying the love story they’re trying so hard to sell right in front of you. Haerim is basically all over Jaehyun: their arms brushing, her hand on his thigh, glancing at him every few seconds. It’s so forced it makes you want to gag. Or maybe it’s just your allergy to public display of affection. Jaehyun used to call you skittish because you always pulled away when he tried to hug you, especially in public. Now you miss it more than anything.

“Haerim wanted the Maldives first but getting that many guests onto those islands would have been a nightmare, so we agreed on Jeju. It’s easier for everybody,” Jaehyun explains with big gestures and matching enthusiasm like he has always done. Its familiarity is the only thing that grounds you in this ridiculous situation.

“Maldives. Wow,” you mutter, fighting the urge to roll your eyes because rich people things once again. You and Jaehyun used to judge people who did things like it – spend money without a care in the world – together and you’re not sure how to feel about it. Did his infatuation blind him so much that he forgot?

“And he proposed on this beach too, so it’s extra romantic!” Haerim coos, reaching for Jaehyun’s hand resting on the table and you can’t help but let your gaze linger on their linked fingers and the diamond on Haerim’s ring finger. You’re pretty sure she did it on purpose to show off. She’s trying so hard to cling to your best friend that you wonder what she heard of you to act like it. What is she afraid of?

“Ooh did he?” You muse out loud, going along with Haerim’s little pre-orchestrated scheme. Of course, she would want to tell you about the proposal. Of how Jaehyun chose her.

“Yes! There was a heart made out of rose petals on the sand, a live band playing one of my favourite songs and everything.”

“Hah, I didn’t take you for such a romantic,” you lift your gaze to Jaehyun in defiance, watching the way his eyes widen in pseudo-offence and how he sits up just a bit straighter. It’s good to know you still know how to poke his buttons.

“He’s very romantic! He even handwrites letters for me every month!” Haerim speaks up faster than he could answer though and it’s not a surprise, you have gotten handwritten cards from Jaehyun for every occasion, Christmas, birthdays, graduation. You kept them all in a metal box in the very back of your drawer without telling him.

“But enough about us, tell us about your boyfriend!” Haerim leans closer lowering her voice as if it’s some hot gossip and you can see the corner of Jaehyun’s mouth twitch, that signature smile of his gone.

“My–” You blink, processing her words and it takes you an embarrassingly long moment to realise she must have meant Sungho. Double bed and all. Ah.

“Come on, don’t be shy now,” Haerim nudges your arm and before you could explain, Jaehyun shakes his head with a nostalgic smile playing on his lips.

“She isn’t shy, she just doesn’t really date seriously,” he says like it’s the universal truth and in that moment you make a decision just to prove him wrong.

A bad decision? Probably.

A reckless decision? Definitely.

A decision Sungho will judge you for? Most likely.

“Uhm, there’s just not much to tell, it’s all very new,” you lie through your teeth with a fake smile and hide your guilt behind the wine glass. But it works because under the layer of surprise, a hint of hurt flashes in Jaehyun’s eyes. Good, now he knows how you feel, you think bitterly and look down at the menu.

4 DAYS UNTIL THE WEDDING

“You told them what?” Sungho gapes at you with widened eyes and disbelief clear on his face.

After you got back yesterday, you told him everything about Haerim and the cheesy stories, the ridiculously well-done meat at the restaurant with its horrendous prices but not this. You waited until the last minute to tell him about this teeny tiny detail maybe he should have known before meeting the couple. That last minute just happened to be the hotel elevator going down to the lobby.

“I didn’t plan it but you should have heard them! It was either this or letting Jaehyun know that the reason why I don't date seriously is because I’m half in love with him!” You whisper-shout with desperation dripping from your voice.

“Oh no, no, don’t drag me into this. I’m here as emotional support, not as–”

Ping.

Murmurs of conversations fill your ears as soon as the elevator doors open at lobby level, followed by a now familiar shriek.

“Oh my gosh, you must be the boyfriend!”

“Yeah, uhm, this is Sungho, my boyfriend,” you force a smile, stepping a bit closer to him, trying to beg him with your best doe eyes to play the role. “Babe, this is my college best friend, Jaehyun and his fiancée, Haerim.”

Sungho’s mouth is pressed in a tight line but he manages a polite smile as he looks at the couple.

“Nice to meet you both. I have heard a lot about you from Y/N-ie,” he says smoothly, dragging out your name overly sweet. He has never called you that. Your stomach flips.

In disgust, of course.

“Only good things, I hope,” Jaehyun laughs but there’s something forced in it, you can tell and when you see his eyes flit downwards, you grab onto Sungho’s hand like it’s a lifeline. He flinches but covers it up nicely with a full-bodied laugh.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You wiggle your eyebrows at Jaehyun and follow the couple to the hotel’s restaurant for brunch as they suggested the evening before.

Once you are seated, Sungho immediately reaches for the water jug to pour some for everybody even though according to Korean table manners, it should be the youngest’s job, so Haerim’s who is too busy making suggestions about the menu, swearing by their pancakes with maple syrup and somehow ends up comparing them to the ones she had in freaking Paris. It almost makes you roll your eyes but instead you ask about her time there. It turns out she did a semester abroad there for her fashion management degree and she even speaks French because of course, she does. You bet she learned ballet and piano too and excelled in them all.

When your food arrives, you’re still listening to her, briefly beaming at Sungho when he passes over his fresh, cut strawberries to your plate because they are your favourite. It’s not an unusual thing between you, sharing food because you often spend lunch break together, so it’s nothing special but when you catch Jaehyun’s eyes, he stares at you as if he couldn’t believe what he’s seeing.

“So uhm… how did this happen? You’re working at the same company, right?” He gestures between the two of you after taking a sip of his coffee. Black, no sugar, which is crazy because he has always hated bitter things. He always complained that he couldn’t understand how you could actually like the taste of Americano. Now, look at him forcing it down because Haerim ordered it for him.

“Yeah, we’ve been friends for a while though but then…” You trail off, unsure how to continue and you glance at Sungho for help who just raises his eyebrow while chewing on his food as if saying you dug yourself this hole, so climb out of it too. The way he tilts his head has his hair fall into his eyes and you almost yelp as the idea hits you.

“Then he dyed his hair blond! Doesn’t he look hot? It turned my whole world upside down,” you exclaim with a hand darting out to fix Sungho’s bangs for him, which hopefully looks domestic enough and not awkward. (It sure does, Haerim cooes loudly.)

Sungo blinks, that dumbfounded cute blink of his when he hears something he can’t quite believe. He doesn’t pull away from your hand though, just blinks a few more in repetition then clears his throat, collecting himself, but you see his ears turn red.

“So you’re saying I wasn’t hot before?” He challenges with a pout forming on his lips. Damn, he’s a good actor, you never gave him enough credit for that.

“No! I just didn’t notice it. You also always wear these preppy outfits to work hiding your muscles!” You point out poking his arm because let’s be honest, Sungho looks like a prince. Not your usual type, the easy-going dudes in leather jackets you would run into at clubs, but you aren’t blind, you know he looks good. Maybe you’ve even had a moment of insanity when you could ogle at his biceps for the first time.

“So you made the first move? It was the same for us!” Haerim cheers excitedly and you start to wonder whether that’s her default reaction for everything. Nobody can be that excited all the damn time.

“Your brother was my business partner, of course, I couldn’t hit on you,” Jaehyun reminds her.

“Excuses, excuses,” she waves it away.

Luckily, the rest of the brunch goes smoothly, no awkward questions you have to lie about and you swear you will get cavities from the way Jaehyun looks at Haerim when they feed each other. He looks bewitched and it stirs something bitter and mad in the pit of your stomach. Too bad you have always liked bitter things.

After brunch, Haerim steals you away for dress fitting which also leaves Sungho alone with Jaehyun. You look back at their duo with an awkward smile while the girl is dragging you away and how unlikely their pair is really, it’s almost funny. That’s your two best friends and they couldn't be more different. A cat and a dog, really.

“You could have been the maid of honor but Jaehyun wanted you as his best woman, so you don’t have to match with the bridesmaid but it would be nice to go with the same color palette,” Haerim says while linking your arms and mentions a bunch of fashion terms you don’t know nor care about. You let her guide you to the salon, take the offered tea and pretend not to be bored while you’re trying to see the difference between the shades of light hot pink and pink pearl in the handle book.

After what feels like a small eternity, the curtains are pulled back and you look up at a literal angel.

“So… what do you think?” Haerim asks with uncharacteristic uncertainty in her voice as she twirls.

With her fashion degree and money and feminine traits, you expected her to go all out and choose a wedding dress so flashy and princess-y that you would want to gag but no, she’s beautiful. It’s an elegant dress with fine details in the most gorgeous glossy white colour you have ever seen. The veil falls smoothly over her bare shoulders from her simple updo and you’re sure she will be even more breathtaking on the big day when she has her hair properly done and accessories on.

Wait, what happened to not letting a rich chick steal your best friend?

“Jaehyun might cry,” you mumble, snapping out of your stupor. You force a smile when Haerim lets out a relieved chuckle. Apparently, she doesn’t find the thought of her fiance crying embarrassing.

“He really might. He’s a real crybaby, isn’t he? Makes me wanna bubble wrap him on most days,” she says with so much endearment in her voice people usually use when talking about cute dogs and not adult men.

“Right? Don’t even get me on how much of a scaredy cat he is!” You carry on, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of Haerim that could prove she only likes Jaehyun when he’s cool and composed. But no amount of embarrassing college stories can fade the smile on the girl’s list while she’s busy getting you into a pretty pink dress that exposes your back. It’s not your usual style but you go along with it, hoping that it would be the end of your little dress fitting shopping tour but somehow you end up with three new dresses and matching shoes. By the time you make it back to the hotel room, you feel like you could strangle anybody who claims shopping is relaxing.

3 DAYS UNTIL THE WEDDING

You’re drawing your eyeliner with precise focus, leaning closer to the bathroom mirror while listening to Sungho’s recounting of yesterday’s events from the bedroom through the door left ajar. He has been at it for ten minutes or so because apparently he wasn’t tortured by shopping. Good for him.

“Sounds like you had fun,” you mention and it sounds more surprised than you actually are. Maybe if you weren’t so worried about Sungho accidentally spilling the beans while spending the day with Jaehyun, you would have seen it coming. No matter how different they essentially are in terms of their attitude, they are not only both close friends with you but also extroverts and well… guys.

“Yeah, it turned out he also likes football and karaoke, so we bonded over those. He’s a bit too touchy for me but he’s easy to be around and very likeable, so I get why you’re caught up with him,” Sungho says, like it’s an everyday thing for him to befriend your… crush or whatever. Jaehyun has been your best friend your entire adult life, you have never referred to him differently. It’s only because of Sungho’s sharp eyes and his master ability to spot when you’re lying that he even knows how seriously you took that little promise Jaehyun had made about marriage.

“I’m not caught up with him, I’m…”

You actually don’t know how to describe this feeling. You have been angry and disappointed when you got the wedding invitation a few weeks ago, then desperate when panic settled in, but now? You’re more than confused. Despite the distance between you, in a way you have always thought of Jaehyun as your person, somebody who would always be in your life through everything, somebody you could always count on. But him getting married? He would have a family of his own, they would automatically become the most important people in his life and you would be put on the backburner. Somehow that thought leaves you more unsettled than the possibility of him not liking you back.

But then you play back the way his eyes went to your hands linked with Sungho, how he stared when you whispered something into your fake boyfriend’s ear and it just doesn’t make sense. He invited you here, he said he needed you here and yet, he’s being lovey-dovey with his wife-to-be as if he didn’t need you at all. It makes you want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Why is he confusing you?

“I just can’t imagine my life without him,” you say and grimace at your own words because they sound pathetic no matter how true they are. Or maybe that’s exactly why. Sure, you’re not those kind of friends who text or call everyday but he’s the first person you tell if something happened. Okay, maybe second because Sungho is usually there.

You rub your lips together after applying the bold lipstick and give yourself one last look in the mirror. Your life might be a mess but at least you’re looking like a hot mess while managing it all.

“Anyways I need to find some time to talk to him, just the two of us. He sounded different over the phone when he asked me to come, so I want to know what that was about,” you say, mostly to yourself to keep yourself accountable, before leaving the bathroom you have occupied in the last half an hour to get ready for the cocktail party.

Sungho is doing his tie, his brows furrowed, face focused, when you step out the bathroom in one of the new dresses Haerim told you to get. When he lifts his head, his fingers freeze in the middle of a knot and he gapes like fish in a market.

“You look…”

“Ridiculous, I know. But Haerim said the party’s theme is hydrangea blue or whatever, so it is what it is. At least it’s super soft,” you sigh, smoothing down the lines of the baby blue material. It’s technically not uncomfortable, and if you really wanted to, you would have told Haerim you’re not wearing this (though she seems like somebody who would weaponize her doll eyes), but it’s rare for you to dress up like this, so it feels weird.

Not to mention, you feel strangely self-conscious about it in front of Sungho, who has mostly seen you sporting business casual or just everyday casual looks at work. The last time he commented on your outfit, it was because he recognized the 10 Things I Hate About You quote on your T-shirt and you ended up discussing the movie as expected of two nerds who work in the film industry.

“I was about to say that you look pretty,” Sungho mutters, looking down at his tie again. It takes him three attempts to find the front loop and secure it around his neck.

You feel your cheeks flush at the compliment, not knowing how to react to it. He isn’t supposed to just say things like that. Not when there’s nobody to perform to.

“Thanks. You don’t look half bad either,” you wave in his general direction, suit and tie and all, trying to get over this weird awkwardness in the air. You have never been like this before, why start now? “Uhm, can you…?”

You turn around, pulling your hair away from your back to reveal the halfway stuck zipper. Asking for help is not your forte but once again you’re not well-versed in the art of putting on intricate dresses either. Luckily, Sungho understands what you want without you having to spell it out.

“Oh, right,” he clears his throat and steps closer. You can feel his laboured breathing on your shoulder just before his fingers gently brush against your spine and air gets stuck in your throat. His warm touch leaves goosebumps behind as the zipper smoothly slides upwards and his fingers linger on your nape just a moment too long before he steps back. You exhale shakily.

Now, that further complicates things. Gosh.

The garden cocktail party is in full swing by the time you arrive. Haerim mentioned that some relatives and close friends arrive just in time for that but when she said some, you thought of maybe four or six, not a dozen. So introductions are in place and you try your best to remember every face. Gahyun, Haerim’s best friend, makes it especially easy after she looks at you like you're a hazardous risk. At least now you know for sure that you have a reputation.

Two colourful, sweet drinks later you’re determined to make sure you deserve whatever they made up in their minds about you. It’s quite petty but once you start, you just can’t stop, not when it’s so easy. You have years worth of stories with Jaehyun and it seems innocent enough to mention a few here and there, just to remind Haerim that you will always know him better. That she might be in Jaehyun’s bed now but you have been there first no matter how platonic that was. You mention family visits, vacations together, anything you can think of whenever random people ask about your friendship with the fiance. You make it sound casual, just an old friend reminiscing about the past, but you pay close attention to Haerim and how she’s listening even when she’s talking with others.

“Come on, dance with me. It’s our song,” Sungho smiles, very much charming and convincing, excusing you from the table in the middle of a college party retelling Haerim’s brother seems particularly interested in. You pout but let Sungho take your hand and pull you towards the flower-surrounded dancefloor in the middle of the garden. Only then you realize that the slow song that plays is indeed the one you ever danced to together, the first night you ever saw Sungho drunk during an overnight company outing because he kept losing the games. Back then it was you who pulled him to the dancefloor and giggled at his sleepy eyes. You wouldn’t have thought that he even remembered.

“What are you doing?” He hisses, lowering his voice as he leans closer, his breathing fanning over your ears.

He sounds incredulous, like he can’t believe what he’s witnessing. To your ears it sounds like a scolding, so you shrug like a reluctant child. Then you realize you’re just standing in the middle of the dancefloor, so you slide your arms around Sungho’s neck and start swaying from side to side.

“Did you see how Gahyun looked at me? She’s a much worse actress than Haerim is. They hate me. I want to see Haerim’s nice girl act break too.”

You knew it was all too good to be true: Haerim and how much of an open arms she welcomed you. None of Jaehyun’s ex-girlfriends were that excited to meet you and you can’t blame them. In a culture where female-male friendship is rare, your longwithstanding friendship with Jaehyun is enough to make a romantic interest feel threatened. Especially if they know how clingy Jaehyun could get with his friends.

“It honestly looked like you’re just desperate for attention,” Sungho whispers, finally letting his hands rest on your wrist after what feels like an internal battle. His touch feels grounding; both his presence and his closeness. So maybe that’s why the comment doesn’t hurt, because coming from him it’s not judging. You pull back just enough to look him in the eyes, to confirm there’s no disappointment there, and Sungho looks back at you with the same gentle eyes as always.

“Maybe I am,” you say, defiant. With a sigh, you lean your head against his shoulder, letting your eyes scan the people at the table you just left. “We have been here for two days and Jaehyun hasn’t even tried to talk to me.”

It’s silly because you have seen him each day. It’s also greedy. He’s busy, you know he is, but you miss your best friend and you want to know if he missed you too. If his determination to marry has been shaken by any measure with you here.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have told him that you have a boyfriend,” Sungho, ever the voice of reason, points out what changed since your phone call with Jaehyun and you give it a thought.

“Did he say anything about it? When it was just the two of you?”

“He told me that he will make my life hell if I break your heart,” he says, amused, but his pause is too sudden, so you wait for him to continue. Eventually he does. “I told him it’s more likely that you will break mine. He agreed. That’s about it.”

The concept of breaking Sungho’s heart is foreign. You have never seen him in love or heartbroken, he never really talked about that kind of stuff even though the company dinner was just one occasion of many when you saw him getting numbers.

“So you both think I’m a heartbreaker, huh. What a slander,” you click your tongue pseudo-offended.

“I mean I saw you reject that heart-eyed intern…”

“I’m not into younger guys and he confessed in public! I hate that kind of thing,” you huff with a little shove at Sungho’s shoulder. He lets out a laugh as he dramatically stumbles backwards and the sound of it echoes in your ears. You have always liked his unguarded laughter.

When the song ends with Sungho dipping you, his palm secure on your waist and his smile matching yours, somehow you forget about Jaehyun watching.

One more cocktail and a long-winded discussion with Haerim’s K-drama obsessed aunt about the film industry later, you’re back in the hotel room actively trying to become one with the soft blankets.

Sungho is in the shower when there’s a knock on the door, so you have to be the one to get it even if you want to do nothing less. A groan escapes you as you push yourself up since you’re just tipsy enough for your head to not appreciate the sudden movement. At least you get to the door without stumbling, that’s a win, and when you open it, the sight in front of you is sobering enough.

“Hey,” Jaehyun smiles sheepishly, his right hand stuck halfway between a knock and an awkward wave. He looks two seconds away from fleeting as he glances behind you. He must be expecting Sungho. “Are you free for a bit?”

“Yes, of course,” you nod without thinking and step out to the corridor, pulling the door closed behind you.

“I remember that concert,” Jaehyun points at your chest and you glance down automatically. You have an old merch tee on, one you had since college because its soft cotton material is perfect for sleeping. You bought it at an indie band gig you had gone to together with Jaehyun because he hadn’t wanted you to go alone.

“We had the time of our lives that day,” you look up with a smile as nostalgia washes over you. “I’m pretty sure you enjoyed the concert more than me even though you hadn’t even heard about the band before.”

“Yeah, well, I think I mostly had fun because you had fun,” Jaehyun says and there’s something there in the way he says it, something so subtle you can’t quite pinpoint what it is. There’s a playful grin playing on his lips but there’s a shade of melancholy in his eyes. You aren’t ready to address it though, not yet.

“I miss those times when we could just show up at each other’s dorm like this and hang out. Living so far from each other sucks,” you end up saying instead and slide down by the wall to sit on the cushioned corridor floor. It’s a weird thing to do in a fancy hotel but it’s more awkward to just stand there while you’re in your pajamas and Jaehyun is still in his suit-and-tie outfit, his blue necktie (that matched Haerim’s dress) crooked slightly. He doesn’t even question your actions, doesn’t tell you to get up. No, he has always been with you when you did silly stuff like this and it seems like it’s something that hasn’t changed.

“But you love living in Busan,” he points out after he sits down, his shoulder lightly brushing yours. Something coils in your stomach at the accidental touch.

“More than I expected actually. It has city vibes and chill beaches too,” you muse out loud, thinking of those exhausting days when after work you and Sungho go down to the sea with a can of beer in hand and suddenly everything feels better.

“And it has Sungho too,” Jaehyun adds to your list. It makes you pause for a moment, confused, wondering whether you said that last part out loud, but then you just shrug it off.

“Yeah, I guess it has.”

Sungho with his crisp Seoul dialect is even more of an outsider in the beach town than you are, so even though you met him there, you don’t associate him strongly with the city. But you’re glad he’s there with you, that’s true. He’s a good person, his level-headedness balances out your impulses and he’s supportive enough to come with you for this wedding just because you asked. He’s even willing to play your boyfriend just to save your dignity. He has seen your drama queen moments and he’s still here.

“But I still miss you, you know?” You turn your head towards your best friend, tasting ache on your tongue as the too-honest words leave your mouth.

“I miss you too,” Jaehyun replies automatically, the smile on his lips turning mellow. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you tell him and you mean that. Even if you never imagined him getting married – not really, not even with you despite that inner joke of yours – it’s still true. You would want to be there at every important event of his life.

Silence settles between you, or at least as much of a silence as it’s possible in a hotel full of guests. A baby cries a floor away and a couple is arguing in front of the elevator just down the corridor. But in the middle of it all, you realize with startling clarity that it’s the first time it has been just the two of you, just how you wanted. It’s nice, cozy, but it misses the butterflies one would expect from having a crush nearby. Is it because it’s been so long since you’ve seen each other?

Jaehyun is nibbling on his lower lip, a nervous tick of his, so you know there’s more he wants to say he just doesn’t know how. Of course, he has something to say, he has come to your room to specifically seek you out, but here you are getting lost in nostalgia on the floor. Anticipating builds in your guts seeing Jaehyun’s hesitancy and when he speaks up, you can only blink in surprise.

“Haerim and I… we don’t even have a song, you know. Is that a bad sign?”

You think back to Sungho stealing you away for your song, to Jaehyun’s eyes following you, to all the years when you thought that down the road you would be the right ones for each other without having to say anything.

“Are you having second thoughts?” You ask cautiously.

It’s exactly what you wanted to hear before you came to Jeju, you wanted him to have doubts, but it’s not as satisfying as you hoped it would be.

“I’m afraid she’s just settling with me and she will regret it,” Jaehyun mutters, staring at his polished shoes and the implications of his words boil your blood.

“Hey, come on! You’re such a catch! Anybody would be lucky to have you,” you don’t even care how loud your voice gets as you rush to protest because what? Somebody regretting being with Jaehyun? They would have to be mad. “Is it the money? Is that what makes you feel this way?”

You lower your voice because that’s the only reason you can think of. Does he feel pressured to provide Haerim the princess lifestyle she has grown up in? Did she or her family ever make him feel less because of his middle class background?

“No! That was never the issue with us. I don’t know… Sometimes I just feel like I’m not enough. Or that I’m actually too much,” he sighs, looking down at your hand over his, the first thing you could grab on in your vehement reactions. Your fingers tremble. “Before Haerim, you were the only person I was this comfortable with. But I held back even with you.”

“You did?” Your voice breaks as the arrow pierces deeper into your heart. Jaehyun looks into your eyes with a sad smile playing on his lips. In his eyes, you see a younger version of yourselves, naive and wild. Stupid.

“You never liked being held for long. You never liked hearing ‘cringe’ things like I love yous.”

Point well made. You were also always quick to argue with strangers who mistook you for a couple. When Jaehyun flirted, you flirted back twice as hard, going along with his mischief because he did that with all his friends, girls and boys alike, but you always treated it as a joke, even when it didn’t sound like one. It felt safer that way. Those I love yous though, they were as platonic as they could get and you rarely said it back. As if articulating them out loud would have changed everything.

“But… just because I’m not saying it out loud, it doesn’t mean I don’t–”

Surely he knows, he has to know. You have been friends for almost a decade. He’s one of the most important people in your life.

“I know, but Y/N… sometimes people need to hear it,” he whispers and there’s a moment there, suspended in time and space, as you look into his always warm chocolate brown eyes that you almost give in. Your heart feels like it’s on the verge of splitting open and spilling your guts. All the ugly parts, right here onto the pristine hotel corridor.

But then something buzzes and Jaehyun rips his gaze from you, his hand slipping from under yours to get his phone.

You clear your throat and look away, exhaling shakily.

“Uhm… I have to go. Haerim needs me,” your best friend excuses himself with worry evident in his voice and you wipe off the non-existent dirt from your clothes as you get up from the floor. 

“Yeah, of course, you should go,” you force a smile onto your lips.

“Anyways, I just wanted to tell you that I’m happy that things are working out for you and Sungho. I know you don’t like excessive PDA and he seems to be similar in that sense which is great,” Jaehyun adds in a hurry, as if it’s an afterthought from your previous conversation.

It leaves you feeling gutted but you can do nothing but watch him walk away, back to his fiancée.

Sungho doesn’t say anything when he opens the door to you. He doesn’t even scold you for forgetting to take a key card with you. He doesn’t ask what you were doing out there in your sleepwear, but you have a feeling that he knows. He just puts away the book he has been reading and switches off the bedside lamp when you slip under the covers next to him.

It’s dark and quiet but sleep doesn’t come easy. After a few long minutes you give up.

“Sungho?”

He hums half-asleep.

“Was I mean? At the party?” You whisper, thinking back on your attitude and that maybe it was too much, maybe you made Haerim cry and Jaehyun will hate you for it when she tells him.

The question is followed by silence for long enough for you to think that Sungho might have fallen asleep in the meantime.

“No. You were just hurt,” he answers eventually with some tired rowdiness in his voice but his words wash over you like a balm you didn’t know you needed. If asked, you would blame your next actions on the sentimentality of the moment, on feeling seen and understood, but you damn hope nobody will ask why you snuggle close to your fake boyfriend, why you mold yourself against his side when you have a huge bed.

You feel Sungho tense against you, his body going rigid for a moment before relaxing. You half-expect him to laugh, to call you a child, to pull away–

But when he moves, it’s only to slide an arm under your head and hold you close.

Neither of you says anything and you close your eyes, your thundering heart calming down.

Even in the dark, there’s something comforting about Sungho’s closeness. He smells like fresh laundry and the hominess of movie dates. Like something loved and familiar.

You drift to dreamland within what feels like seconds.

2 DAYS UNTIL THE WEDDING

On Wednesday, you’re checking out the wedding venue. It’s decorated with lisianthus and tea roses and even though you have no idea how to tell apart one white flower from another white flower or tea roses from normal roses, Haerim felt it was important to point that detail out.

Jaehyun and she walk in the front, following the event manager, while Sungho and you are a few steps behind them. You really don’t get why you’re here though, not until the couple doesn’t agree on a color or a seating arrangement and suddenly, your opinion matters. Temporarily at least because at the end, Jaehyun will go with whatever Haerim wants anyways and she kisses him on the mouth for that. Whenever that happens, something uncomfortable brews in your stomach. You can’t tell if it’s jealousy, envy or something else entirely.

Admittedly, the cake tasting is the best part of the day’s itinerary. You take a picture of all six options to send them to Sanghyuk later, so he knows what he’s missing out on just because he couldn’t cancel his dance classes ahead of a competition.

“Here, try this,” Sungho holds out a forkful of the white chocolate vanilla cake for you while you’re angling your phone over another dessert. Without thinking, you lean in to let him feed you. You don’t really realise how corny it is until you notice Jaehyun’s surprised face, but even then you focus on Sungho beaming at you.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” He asks with sparkling eyes and white-dusted mouth, his childlike enthusiasm endearing.

“Yeah, it’s really good,” you agree after swallowing. Then you reach out to wipe off the sugar powder from the corner of his lips. It’s a subtle action, you don’t really think much into it but color fills Sungho’s cheeks and you can’t help but think that it’s a good look on him.

On your way back you spontaneously end up at a noraebang. It’s Sungho’s idea because apparently he and Jaehyun promised to do a duet one day and it’s as good of a time as any. Haerim seems clearly uncomfortable with the idea of singing, so you tell her that it’s okay, she doesn’t have to come. The moment you tell her that though, something like determination flares in her eyes and she decides to join the fun anyways. Of course, she wouldn’t leave you alone with her fiance now, would she? You smile at her as if you didn’t see through her and tell her that she will be the first one to sing then.

It’s a mistake because Haerim comes over her discomfort halfway through the song but you have to listen to an IU song’s totally debauchered, off-key and zero rhythm version until the end. Nothing is sacred anymore. Not to mention how Jaehyun coos at her and tells her how well she did and you can just sit there and drink your soju like this performance didn’t traumatize your eardrums. Luckily, Sungho’s rendition of ballads and Jaehyun’s hip hop song covers raise the bar of the night.

The biggest surprise of the night comes later though, when after finishing your second bottle of peach flavoured soju, you go to the restroom and Haerim’s suddenly there by the time you open the door to the handwash area.

“Jeez,” you put a hand on your chest to ease the fright she caused while she just giggles, clearly more drunk than you are.

“Unnieee~ I’m so glad you’re here,” she mumbles as she half-hugs you from behind while you wash your hands, pressing her rosy cheeks against your shoulder. It’s almost unsettling because her clinginess is very Jaehyun-like. It’s cute. Not to mention, there’s nobody to fake niceties for there nor does she look like she’s in the state to do so, so she must actually mean it. You don’t know how to feel about that. “It’s so fun. I have always wondered how Jaehyun was at college, what it would have been like to be there together.”

“You didn’t miss out on a lot. Both of us were a mess at college,” you shake your head and close the tap. Haerim finds your answer quite funny because she’s chuckling right into the material of your shirt.

“Jaehyunnie is still a mess sometimes, but shh…” The girl’s head lulls to the side as she puts a finger against her lips. “I love  him a lot. He’s my mess.”

“Alright, he’s all yours,” you mutter, tasting the sharp bitterness of alcohol on your tongue as you peel her off your back, help her empty her stomach into the toilet bowl while holding her hair and walk her back to the karaoke room, so that your best friend can coddle her. You don’t miss the worried look on Sungho’s face as you sit down next to him. Somehow it makes you want to laugh… or cry. Or both.

Soju hits you harder than those cocktails from two days ago. You reach this conclusion on your own as you sit on the toilet lid in your hotel bathroom, feeling strangely emotional.

“They are perfect together, aren’t they?” You whisper, your bottom lip wobbling. It’s not a real question, you know the answer. “Whenever I watch them, I feel like a villain from a Disney original.”

Sungho moves smoothly around you, fluid like water. He doesn’t seem tipsy at all as he gets a makeup wipe from your bag and crouches down in front of you to assess the situation. You smile at him slowly, mellow before closing your eyes and only flinch a bit when the wet material touches your face. Sungho whispers sorry immediately as if it was his fault.

“I’m not jealous though. At least I don’t think so. Is it envy? That I think we could have had that?” you mumble, the words spilling out like something broke inside you. “Or maybe not. Is it weird that I only realised I have a crush to begin with when I moved away and couldn’t see him regularly? I didn’t even think about it until you asked.”

Sungho doesn’t answer, just continues to wipe away all the makeup products until your face is bare and glowy with your favourite night serum. He smoothes out the frown on your forehead with gentle fingers and when you blink your eyes open, you find his almond eyes bore into yours like he never wants to look away even if it hurts him.

“I think you need closure,” he says and from his mouth it sounds so simple, so logical. “Tell him how you feel and if he rejects you, at least you can move on.”

If he rejects you, he says as if you still had a chance, as if you didn’t spend the last four days watching the couple behaving disgustingly lovey-dovey. You shake your head vehemently.

“I can’t tell him. He will choose Haerim. Why wouldn’t he? She’s kind and pretty and rich. She’s perfect.”

Actually it’s not the rejection that scares you, you aren’t the type to take such things to heart. Losing your best friend is the scariest part of all.

“Y/N…” Sungho’s voice is soft like a lullaby as he calls your name and his thumb caressing your cheek is ever so gentle. “People don’t care about perfection when they fall in love. They just fall.”

You want to ask him if he’s familiar with the feeling. Of falling without knowing there’s a safety net. But exhaustion blankets your body like an invisible weight and your forehead drops onto his shoulder. Half-asleep, you hear him murmur something about you being a handful but it sounds terribly fond as he slides a hand underneath your knees and carries you to bed. You scrunch your nose at the tickling feelings of something in your face but soon your breathing evens out to the rhythm of fingers raking through your hair.

1 DAY UNTIL THE WEDDING

The day before the wedding starts with you dealing with the consequences of your drinking habits and making bad life decisions. Just the usual.

When Sungho gets back from the gym, you’re eating the hangover soup he has left behind with a sticky note on your bedside table. (You really don’t deserve his unwavering kindness; you owe him big time when you get back to Busan.) He greets you casually and heads to the bathroom only to make a double take and turn back around.

“Y/N… Why are we having a wedding dress in our room?” He asks suspiciously as he stares at the two garment bags hanging from the wardrobe’s doors, one of them unmistakably containing white silk material.

Well, about that…

“You stole Haerim’s wedding dress?” Sungho’s voice rises higher as realization dawns onto him.

“I can explain! I panicked,” you throw up your hands in defence and really, it wasn’t like you had planned it. It just happened.

You were still very much half-asleep and fighting demons (a headache) when the dress shop called saying that they could have your last dress delivered because they finished with the fitting. It was the shop assistant who brought up Haerim and how they couldn’t reach her earlier this morning. It just slipped out that they could deliver her dress to your hotel as well. You were just trying to be helpful until you realized this was the perfect opportunity to stir drama.

“So… let me get this straight: you want to test whether Haerim would throw a fit over the missing dress? Because if she doesn’t she might deserve your best friend?” Sungho tilts his head, confused. You don’t blame him. Your explanation was like 3 stars at best. Two and half for the effort probably.

“Exactly!”

Sungho stares at you in disbelief for five long seconds and just when you think he will let out a disappointed sigh or shoot you a judgemental look (you wouldn’t blame him for either), he bursts out laughing like it’s the funniest thing he has heard lately.

“You keep surprising me,” he shakes his head with an amused smile still playing on his lips before turning back towards the bathroom like he originally intended.

“That’s a good thing, right?” You call after him and even when the bathroom door is closed between you, you just raise your voice. “Right?”

You never get a verbal answer but Sungho doesn’t act differently while you get ready for the tea ceremony, so that’s good enough for you. When he gets your purse that you left behind and you fix his crooked tie, it’s actually awfully domestic. Maybe all those years studying film did both of you a favour because at this point you could win outstanding rookie actor awards.

By the time you make it to the gorgeous hanok house, the guests are already piling up. You recognize some from the cocktail party but see new faces too. Introductions are rushed though because the ceremony is starting with Jaehyun and Haerim in the front in traditional hanboks. Everybody has a tray of supplies in front of them and you all follow along with the instructor. Once it’s done and everybody enjoys their herbal tea, the event turns more flexible with most of the guests talking in the garden. With your awfully bitter tea in hand, at least you can’t get swayed by alcohol. You really should not drink because you keep getting yourself into ridiculous situations. But honestly, you’re good at making nonsense decisions even sober.

That’s why you play it safe after Sungho joins in on a conversation about FIFA with Haerim’s brother and rather look for familiar faces in the sea of people. You end up dissing the ex-boxfriend of one of the cousins you talked with a few days prior and the drama of it actually takes your mind off the craziness surrounding you for a bit. Then after putting down your empty cup in the kitchen area, you spot Jaehyun’s mother alone in the inner garden, admiring a small pond with koi fish. 

“Eomonim!” You greet her with a wide smile as you run up to her. The woman embraces you with all the motherly love she has to give. You never understood how Jaehyun could be so generous with his love and kindness even towards strangers, but after you met his family, it was easy to see. He had grown up surrounded by love and all of its forms. “How are you doing these days? Are your migraines getting better?”

“Yes, dear, thank you for asking. What about you? How is life in Busan treating you?” Jaehyun’s mother smiles, all warmth and familiarity. She’s genuinely interested when you tell her about the preparations for the upcoming BIFF festival. She has always been supportive and treated you like a daughter she never had. You remember Jaehyun coming back from winter break to the dorm with extra food for you as if your own mother didn’t send some.

“...so yeah, we will be pretty busy with Sungho,” you wrap up your yapping about the big annual project at your workplace. You’re excited because you genuinely love being involved in film-related events, so it’s something you like about your job even if it can be a pain in the ass a lot of times.

“Is Sungho the good looking man who came with you?” The woman nudges your arm playfully and you chuckle at that obviously teasing tone of hers.

“Yeah, that’s him,” you mutter hoping that she won’t ask details about your relationship because explicitly lying to Jaehyun’s mother would feel like a new low when she has been nothing but kind to you.

“I see. It’s funny now but for a while I thought that maybe you and Jaehyunie would… you know. Silly, I know, but I guess it wasn’t meant to be,” she says goodheartedly and the words lodge something in the back of your throat. You force a smile, hopefully a convincing one instead of one that says ‘you and I both, eomonim’.

The woman’s words stay with you even later, they follow you like a haunting ghost. You practically feel their effect whenever you catch a sight of Jaehyun smiling somewhere in the crowd. It’s half a cup of bitter nostalgia of could have beens and a splash of anger because were you really that delusional when you thought even just for a moment that he looked at you differently from how a best friend would? Was it that wrong of you to hope? You never liked being wrong.

You’re so deep in your thoughts that at first the cold drops on your shoulder don’t even register in your mind. Then suddenly like somebody opened a tap, it’s not just a few droplets anymore, it’s pouring against the bright summer sun’s backdrop. The guests yelp and scatter inside the hanok to save themselves from the rain. It’s a bit cramped like this, you only find a spot right under the roof where rainwater tickles down to a jar.

“Muffin, no! Come back here!” Somebody yells and you look around to see what’s the commotion about.

It turns out to be about a small Pomeranian running out to the rain probably chasing a butterfly or something. The elderly lady whose dog it must be however looks so distraught that she would definitely get up and go after the dog if Haerim’s aunt wasn’t stopping her. A little rain probably won’t hurt the puppy but if the gates are open and it goes out to the road…

You step out into the rain without thinking. You grab at your skirt to not step on its hem as your heels click on the cobblestone. It’s a warm early summer day, the raindrops feel almost refreshing against your skin, so you don’t mind it that much even though you can feel it soak the material of your dress and it starts uncomfortably sticking to your skin. You brush the wet strands of hair out of your face almost triumphant when rounding the hanok, you spot the cute dog waving its tail and staring at the wind chime by the gate. You let out a relieved chuckle as you approach it carefully to not spook it.

“Hey, Muffin, that’s not a toy, let’s go back,” you crouch down, smiling when the Pomeranian lets out adorable barks. Then the puppy starts sprinting straight towards you and a moment later you have an armful of fluffy cuteness. By the time you make it back to the hanok, your dress is drenched and stamped by muddy paws. It’s not a see-through material and laundry services exist for a reason, so you’re not worried too much but Haerim’s aunt and the dog owner lady are horrified, so they usher you towards the restroom in the back.

You’re halfway there, dripping all over the fine tiles despite the dry blanket somebody draped over your shoulders, when Jaehyun steps out to the corridor too. He has that concerned look on his face, the exact one he always had on when you did something stupid, something he would have also done if he were you, the one where you have always wondered: do friends look at each other like this? His mother’s words echo in your ears again but now they spur you on, to do something, to–

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Sungho steps right in front of you seemingly out of nowhere and startled, you halt in your steps to look up at him, at the clear worry in his eyes, his furrowed forehead and the jut of his lips.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just a bit of rain, I’m not made of sugar,” you tell him, aiming for lighthearted but there’s a strain in your voice you can’t help as you see Jaehyun stop short just a few steps behind him. Suddenly you don’t want him to come closer.

“You will catch a cold,” Sungho mumbles and he sounds exasperated as if you being sick was the worst thing that could happen on Earth. It’s sweet, the way he cares, and your breath hitches when he tucks your wet hair behind your ear and wipes the rain droplets from your face with a tissue. He’s a bit clumsy with it because he’s being overly careful. It’s as endearing as annoying because he’s getting nowhere like this. You reach up to take the tissue from him but instead, your fingers just curl around his hand and in that moment you both freeze.

Looking into his widened eyes forces you to re-evaluate the situation: the intimate closeness and the heat radiating off his body against your slightly shivering one. His fingertips tremble against your cheeks and deja vu hits you square in the chest, flashes of memories of him worrying and taking care of you. Not just here in Jeju but back in Busan too. You like to think that you’re independent, that you can handle anything on your own and you probably could but it’s nice to have somebody who is always there when you need it. You realise only now just how long he has been that person for you.

“Sungho,” you mumble, his name tasting sweet on your tongue as you take a shaky breath.

You’re distantly aware that it’s like those highlight moments of the romantic movies he likes, a scene you usually grimace at for being too cliché and cringe. Now, it feels like neither. Now, the pit-a-pat of rain in the background sounds like the echo of your heartbeat and everything around you seems dull except him: that unruly strand of hair falling into his eyes, the way his lips part and how the concern in his eyes turns into something softer. Something like a wish upon a star.

It almost happens in slow motion: you let your hand fall and it settles on his shoulder instead. You use it for balance when you push yourself up to the toes of your heels and give in to the urge to do something stupid like kiss him.

“Y/N?” Sungho’s breathless voice breaks the bewitchment when you’re barely a hair’s breadth away. You can even feel his hot breath on your mouth. “What are you doing?”

He sounds bewildered and it feels like a slap. The rejection stings more than you would have expected if you ever entertained the thought. Because it is a rejection, isn’t it? He could have just closed the distance instead of asking stupid questions. You feel yourself flush in embarrassment as you take a much needed step back to put some distance between you. For a moment you feel nauseous like you woke up with a hangover. You want to bite out a sarcastic answer like what does it look like? but end up swallowing it back and looking for a believable reason. An excuse that doesn’t make you feel cracked open, vulnerable, that doesn’t showcase just how much it hurt that he stopped you.

“Jaehyun watches, so I thought we could make him jealous,” you blurt out because it’s the easiest excuse, the stupidly obvious one because really, why else would you have tried to kiss your best friend who is also your temporary fake boyfriend if not so your supposed other best friend could see it and get jealous? It’s exactly the kind of plan you would have come up with. It’s a movie cliché, so Sungho should have seen it coming but instead you watch his face fall in real-time. You watch him gulp and his face morph into unrecognizable seriousness.

“Y/N… I’m a man too, you know?”

“Of course I know that,” you snort because how could you not? He might have a face prettier than the entire guest list of this wedding but at the end of the day he’s a guy. A guy who barely a minute ago looked like he wanted to kiss you. What were you supposed to think? And why does he suddenly think that you don’t view him as a man? It just doesn’t make sense.

“No. You don’t get it,” he says, firm and devastating. It sounds almost sad and you are so confused. The corner of Sungho’s mouth twitches like he wants to say something more but eventually talks himself out of it. He doesn’t say anything, just turns on his heels to walk out to the rain, leaving you shivering in the corridor.

“Did you two just have a fight?”

You jump a little in surprise when Jaehyun appears by your side. You kind of forgot about him with the whole almost kiss ordeal.

“I’m not sure,” you mumble because you never fought with Sungho before. Sure, you bickered a lot (mostly about movies and romance, or how you should take better care of yourself, or him not knowing how to loosen up, normal stuff like that, friends stuff) but this time there was no playful undertone to it. Normal friends don’t get into situations like this, do they?

“This really isn’t our day,” Jaehyun says wistfully and hands you a towel. You take it automatically and realize that it must have been why he approached you to begin with. It makes you want to laugh hysterically. Did you really almost think more into a towel?

“What’s wrong with yours?” You raise an eyebrow as you turn to him.

The tea ceremony was gorgeous and fancy and even the rain didn’t kill the mood. Everything looked perfect as an outsider. They will probably have the most beautiful wedding imaginable tomorrow and you will sit in the front row watching it happen because no amount of embarrassing stories of your best friend could apparently change Haerim’s mind nor does it seem like Jaehyun is having second thoughts. It’s exactly the kind of romance he has always wanted and you’re not selfish enough to take that away from him.

“I thought I lost the ring this morning and Haerim got mad about it. Luckily I found it but now she doesn’t have her dress because the assistant who handled the delivery is on vacation and they somehow don’t know where it was sent, so she’s panicking,” Jaehyun sighs and you try not to choke on thin air.

Shit. You kind of forgot about that too, that you have an entire wedding dress lying around in your hotel room. What sounded like the perfect kind of plan this morning, now doesn’t make you feel good at all. Especially because it just added to the pile of worries they already have about the wedding.

“Is she mad at you about that too?” You ask tentatively. Because him losing the ring is one thing but the dress… he has nothing to do with that.

“No. She thinks it’s her fault,” Jaehyun clarifies and you make a mental note about asking somebody at the hotel to take the dress to Haerim, saying it was mistakenly delivered to your room. You can at least solve one problem that easily.

“I’m sure it will be sorted out,” you pat Jaehyun’s slumped shoulder a bit awkwardly but he shoots you a grateful smile nevertheless.

“You should make up with Sungho. Or just tell me if you want me to give him The Talk again,” he grins, clearly joking because you never needed his intervention with your boyfriends but you appreciate his attempt to cheer you up. Well, aren’t you two a pair?

There’s cold medicine on your bedside table when you make it back to the hotel but Sungho’s nowhere to be found. His bag and clothes are still in the room, so he didn’t elope like a romance movie heroine. You knew he wouldn’t, he’s too much of a good person to turn his back on you even if you messed up, even if you could make up an excuse why he needed to go back to Busan.

You text him asking him where he is, trying to not sound like a worried – or worse, a possessive – girlfriend. In the meantime, you handle the wedding dress mishap as discreetly as you can, so there’s no evidence of your crime by the time Sungho eventually gets back.

You sit up straight in bed when the keypad chimes and the door opens, an unmistakable wave of awkwardness pulling you tight on strings like a marionette. It’s weird, being nervous around Sungho. He gives you a tight-lipped smile but goes straight to the bathroom without saying anything and in bed, he lies with his back to you for the first time since this whole sharing arrangement. The back of your throat itches with all the unsaid things burning inside. You can’t take this silence, especially because you know you’re the one to blame.

“Sungho…”

You try to make things right but he beats you to it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that,” he says and it just feels wrong. Aren’t you supposed to be the one who apologies? And ‘snap at you’? Was it really that? He needs to work on his snapping skills if he wants to get that message across.

“Are you mad at me?” You ask quietly in the darkness of the room because you need to know, and you need to know how to make it up to him. You can't lose him over something like this. A silly misunderstanding, isn’t it? 

“No,” he says without a hesitation. It doesn’t sound like a lie but he still doesn’t turn around, so it doesn’t really ease the pressure on your chest.

“I’m sorry that I tried to kiss you,” you utter and just like that it’s out there. Bolded. Underlined. Acknowledged out loud. At the end of the day it doesn’t matter that you thought that it was mutual, that he was okay with it, you still feel bad for making him uncomfortable.

The sound Sungho lets out is an unfunny laugh, a little choked up.

“Y/N, it’s not…” He pauses then takes a deep breath like he’s preparing himself for something inevitable. “I’m not mad about that.”

You hold your breath but for three long seconds there’s nothing but silence. Even the hum of the AC quiets down and then–

“I’m mad because I wish it wasn’t just for the show.”

“What?” You mutter dumbly and your eyes widen in the dark even though you see nothing more than the silhouette of Sungho’s broad shoulders in an arm’s length.

“Good night, Y/N,” Sungho’s voice turns carefully neutral and firm. His dismissal sounds final and you respect him enough to give him the space he clearly asks for.

The hotel bed has never felt so huge, so cold. You lie awake, mulling over his words, until exhaustion drags you down just before the sun rises.

WEDDING DAY

As one of the universe’s unchangeable laws probably states: Sungho was right.

You hate to admit it but you do need closure. You need to close this chapter of your life because you can’t be hung up on Jaehyun. You want him to be happy more than anything and if Haerim makes him feel that way, that’s good enough for you, you will wish them nothing but happiness. But before that, you need him to know the truth. You are best friends after all, you can’t have a secret like this fester between you like a wound.

So yeah, first you deal with Jaehyun. Then, Sungho.

You knock on the slightly open bathroom door and wait for Sungho’s hum before you push it further. He stands in front of the mirror in the well-fitted white t-shirt he wears to sleep, shaving foam on his face and razor in hand.

“Uhm, I have a salon appointment with Haerim and the bridesmaids. And I… I also need to talk with Jaehyun,” you say, somehow nervous, which is ridiculous, but Sungho barely acknowledges the statement as he glides the razor blades across his jawline and your throat goes dry. Holy moly, since when have you found shaving hot? You quickly clear your throat. “Let’s meet at the reception before the wedding?”

“Yeah, okay, see you there,” Sungho agrees easily and you slip away before you could catch his eyes in the mirror following you.

The moment you step out of the hotel room, you text Jaehyun asking if he has time to meet you for a bit. You almost make up an excuse of going over your to-dos as his best woman as if you didn’t have a whole rehearsal two days ago but then decide against it because the Jaehyun you know isn’t the type who would only spare some of his time if it’s about the wedding, not even on his wedding day. When he texts back that he’s dropping Haerim off at the salon, suggesting to meet there, you agree in relief. It’s as good of a place as any.

By the time you get there, Jaehyun is already waiting for you. He has an extra cup of coffee in his hands and a smile on his face. The morning sunlight is hitting him just right and it reminds you of your college days when he would sunbathe while leaning against the brick walls on campus waiting for your class to end. You have always thought that he looked like a main character of a college romance drama but still rolled your eyes when girls walking by giggled at his sight. Now, he looks more mature – he’s wearing a tucked in dress shirt for god’s sake and not an oversized tee with baggy jeans – but his smile is the same, all teeth and wide enough to make his eyes narrow.

“Thanks,” you mutter and take the coffee he got for you. Iced Americano just how you like it.

Your nails dig into the plastic cup and the condensation dripping all over your fingers almost makes you forget that your palms are sweating for a reason that has nothing with the June weather. You need to get this over with.

“Let’s sit down. I have something to tell you,” you point towards the little park across the street. There’s no reason to prolong this anymore. It has already been too long.

“What’s going on? You’re scaring me,” Jaehyun says jokingly but he still follows your lead and sits down on the first bench you come across.

You take a deep breath and turn towards him, dozens of scenarios running through your head, dozens of what ifs that might drive you crazy. Funny how you’re the rational, T-type friend between the two of you but when it comes to Jaehyun, you’ve never been able to rationalize.

“Remember that silly promise we had? About marrying each other if things don’t work out?” You start off with an itchy feeling in the back of your throat. It’s like scraping at the edge of a plaster, getting ready to rip it off, mentally preparing for the pain.

“Yeah…”

“Well, it turns out I took it more seriously than I expected. I didn’t even realize how much until your invitation,” you let out a little laugh and it should be embarrassing but Jaehyun has lived through too many embarrassing things with you for the shame to really settle. “I know it’s too late to tell you now and it’s not like I expect anything but I need to get this off my chest.”

This is the moment. The summer sun paints a halo around Jaehyun. You squint to look at him and he stares back wide-eyed, not joking anymore. You wonder whether you ever stood a chance even before saying anything. Maybe you have already wasted it.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ve been in love with you for a while.”

It’s out. Clear as the sky, no room for misunderstanding and it feels–

Underwhelming.

You’re not even nervous about Jaehyun’s answer because you know what he will say and somehow you’re okay with it. Not disappointed or angry, just… relieved.

But the first thing he asks is: “What about Sungho?”

“We don’t date for real. We just faked it to make you jealous,” you wince as you say that last part out loud, the ice clinking loudly against the plastic cup in your hand, so you put it down. Suddenly, fake dating sounds like a worse thing to do than confessing to somebody soon-to-be married.

“Well, it kind of worked. I envied him for knowing you better now than I do,” Jaehyun says with no judgement in his eyes but his voice turns to that softer version of itself when he tries to comfort somebody. “But Y/N..,”

“You love Haerim. I know,” you cut him off with a half-smile because somehow the knowledge doesn’t hurt.

“There was a time when I could have loved you like that. But… it wouldn’t have worked with us,” Jaehyun says, pensive, melancholy seeping through his vowels, and the worst part is that you know he’s right. You’re too different. You would have said something harsh that only ended up with him being hurt or he wouldn’t have given you space when you needed it and the frustration of it would have driven you apart. It would have had a bitter end. You would have lost him eventually.

“I know,” you mutter but Jaehyun doesn’t seem quite finished.

“We have known each other for so long, Y/N, so let me be honest with you. I think you’re afraid to be vulnerable with somebody new and possibly get hurt. I don’t think you are really in love with me. I’m honoured if you are but… I think you just believe it’s safe. Loving me. Especially now,” he says and if it wasn’t him, you would probably feel annoyed having your feelings invalidated. But Jaehyun is one of the few people out there who really gets you. Maybe he’s right. Maybe that’s why it was surprisingly easy to accept the truth after you confirmed that Haerim loves him too. Maybe that’s why the whole thing with Sungho got so messy.

“That’s the most creative way anybody rejected me,” you sniffle with a chuckle stuck in your throat because for once you can’t help it. This feels like the end of something. Oh gosh, when did you become so emotional? It’s really unlike you.

“Come here,” Jaehyun opens his arms with a smile and even now he respects your boundaries, letting you come to him on your own terms. Can anybody really blame you for being a little bit in love with him?

“I’m sorry. For everything I did. The embarrassing stories, the– uhm, the wedding dress… I just… I was scared of losing you,” you murmur into his shoulder, feeling much lighter now that everything is out and you don’t have to pretend anymore or keep secrets.

“You won’t lose me. I will always be here. As your best friend. Or at least one of them,” Jaehyun promises, his hand’s pat-pat on your back a bit coddling. It makes you smile but the gesture freezes onto your face the next moment when you see Haerim next to their car and how she takes in the sight before turning on her heels.

You swear under your breath and stumble to your feet, peeling yourself out of Jaehyun’s arms.

“Haerim,” you explain simply when hurt starts showing in your best friend’s eyes and then he’s on his feet too, whipping his head towards the salon and his fiancée’s disappearing figure.

“Let me talk with her,” you stop Jaehyun with a hand on his chest before he could sprint after her and instead you’re the one running. It’s funny because you didn’t think you would actually chase somebody down like this. Ever. Normally you can’t even be bothered to run after the bus. Lucky for you (and your joke of a stamina), Haerim doesn’t actually run far. She has an appointment to have her hair and makeup done for the wedding after all.

“Haerim, wait!” You call after her after the salon’s automatic doors open for you and you see her round the corner. You don’t care about the receptionist who’s clearly annoyed that your loud ass interrupted her doomscrolling on Tiktok. At least, Haerim falters enough for you to catch up with her.

You aren’t sure how you expected her to react. She knows how touchy Jaehyun is with his friends, so the hug couldn’t have surprised her that much, but after everything you have done? Maybe she had the reason to be wary or angry or hurt. But when she turns around there’s only quiet confidence and determination in her eyes.

“What?” She crosses her arms in front of her chest and raises her chin. Gone is the bubbly, excited girl and it feels shitty to know that you kind of deserve why she’s acting like this.

“I have something to tell you,” you say, getting ready for another rehearsed monologue you had time to put together during your restless night but Haerim doesn’t seem impressed.

“About why you took my wedding dress or is there something else I should know about?”

Oh.

“You knew?” You blurt out dumbly while the audience around you gasps at the information. Great, now your issues are broadcasted to an entire salon of girls getting their hair done.

“The staff told me they sent it to you, I just didn’t want Jaehyun to know,” Haerim explains and now it makes sense why the reason Jaehyun recited about the lost dress was so weird. But at the same time, the fact that she made it up just so your best friend wouldn’t know about your schemes is something you never expected.

“Why didn’t you come to me?”

“I hoped you would return it,” she admits and her expression softens. “Look, I know you’re not a bad person. You went after my grandma’s dog, you comforted my cousin who got broken up with, you held my hair when I was sick and you are a big part of Jaehyun’s life whether I like it or not. But you have to understand that I don’t know where this puts us.”

Haerim casts her eyes down as she lets out a frustrated sigh.

Yeah, you get that. Jaehyun has always been ‘your person’ and you can’t imagine life without him. But now suddenly, there is another person in his life who is just as important as you if not more. It must have been weird on her end too, to accept a girl best friend who has been so deeply intertwined with Jaehyun’s past as you are.

“When he told me that he invited you I was scared because every time he talked about you he smiled. Sometimes randomly he mentioned you when something reminded him of you and I was afraid that maybe he was more attached than he realized. Of course, I was jealous and then you came and started telling me all these stupid things as if I cared that he didn’t shower for 3 days once in college or that he used to cuddle with you during horror movie nights.”

“I’m sorry. It was a stupid idea,” you mumble, ashamed because your attempts to draw them apart suddenly sound ridiculous. The strangers around you murmur amongst themselves though as if this was the best hot gossip they could have imagined. “Actually, I’m sorry for all the hurtful, embarrassing things I have done in the last few days. I have no better excuse than I was afraid that it would change everything between Jaehyun and me. He’s my best friend and I didn’t want to lose him. But I also want him to be happy. And it looks like he is. With you.”

You thought it would hurt to admit it but it feels a lot like relief. Like closure. Haerim seems to consider it. You and your change of heart, then she smiles a bit shyly and you can’t help but think that she’s cute.

“I really do love him, you know? I would have married him in a potato sack too if I had to. I don’t really care about the dress or this whole thing,” she waves around in the salon but she probably means everything else. Not just the professionally done hair, makeup, nails but also the fancy destination wedding, the detailed itinerary, the expensive cake, the flower arrangements and hundreds of guests. All that flitter and gold and carats on her ring finger. “Because I love him and if he wanted, I would run away with him.”

Somebody coos loudly at the romantic declaration from the background and for once, you don’t find it cringe because this is exactly the kind of love your best friend deserves. 

“I know we started off on the wrong foot. Mostly because of me. But if you would still like me as a sister, I would be happy to be one for you in the future. I mean it,” you promise and suddenly you have an armful of Woo Haerim with her doe eyes teary and lower lip trembling. It takes you a full five seconds to reciprocate the hug and not just stand there awkwardly.

Surprisingly it’s Gahyun, Haerim’s I’m-not-even-trying-to-pretend-to-like-you best friend, who saves you from dying from hug overload.

“Are you two coming or not?” She asks, shooting you a wary look which you kind of deserve. Haerim wipes her tears and links her arms with both of you and pulls you towards the hair dresser stations. Somewhere between getting your hair curled and sharing intel about the cute hotel receptionist guy with Gahyun you remember to send Jaehyun a text that it’s all good and for the first time you set foot on Jeju island you really think so.

At the wedding venue, a porter opens the orange taxi’s door from outside and offers you a hand. You have to lift the pink tulle skirt to avoid stepping on it as you get out and walk down the path framed by flowers. The material of your dress floats around you in the wind as you take the stairs up to the reception area. You spot Sungho in an elegant suit right as you pass through the floral arch and you see the moment he notices you too. His jaw goes slack for a moment, eyes widening in something akin to half-surprise, half-awe before he collects himself and walks up to you.

“You look… wow,” he whispers and his not quite eloquent compliment makes you smile. He must really be impressed because otherwise he’s usually more put together.

“Thanks but don’t get used to it. I can’t wait to put my normal shoes back on, these stiletto heels are killing my ankles,” you tell him with a lowered voice as if you were sharing a secret. It’s not really a secret though, not really, since he knows how you usually dress. Now, you feel a bit like Cinderella, all dolled up and everything. Sure, it feels nice to be pampered like this once in a while but it’s still a bit weird. The amount of hair and setting spray you have on has sent you to a coughing fit already.

“Anyways you look great too. I like what you did with your hair,” you reach up mindlessly to touch the blond strands now brushed out of his forehead. Then suddenly you remember that you aren’t quite okay now, so you retrieve your hand quickly.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. The gel feels weird,” Sungho cracks a smile and you let out a relieved chuckle. Maybe you will be okay after all.

“Touché.”

When he offers his hand, you don’t even hesitate to take it. You tell yourself that even though Jaehyun knows now that you aren’t dating for real, the rest of the guests don’t, so why not keep up the act? But deep down you know it’s for a much more selfish reason because having Sungho close is a privilege you used to take for granted.

The wedding is beautiful beyond words.

Haerim is even more gorgeous than when you last saw her in the dress. Now, she has this glow around her, a contagious happiness that spreads like a virus, so the ugly feeling of jealousy doesn’t come when you see Jaehyun beam at her. He actually tears up the moment he sees her walk down the aisle and Sungho has to hand out tissues to the ladies sitting on his other side during the vows. You and Sanghyuk are too busy documenting Jaehyun’s reaction for future blackmail purposes, of course.

Sanghyuk’s best man speech contains a few dad jokes only half the guest list appreciates – Sungho is one of them, so they get along well quickly. When it’s your turn as the best woman (because why not have one of each, right?), you wish Jaehyun and Haerim only happiness from the bottom of your heart and threaten your best friend that you will take his wife’s side if he messes this up. He promises he won’t and you believe him.

It’s ironic how a few days ago you were dead set on breaking them up, convincing yourself that what they had was fake but now you look at them and you get it, what Jaehyun meant when he said he just knew.

Too bad for you, you’re not that in tune with your feelings.

Too bad because it means your nosy best friend will take the matters into his own hands.

He catches you just when you managed to escape the ahjussis on the dancefloor.

“You know, Sungho is a great guy.”

You snort. Not because Sungho is not a great guy, admittedly he is, but because Jaehyun says it in that tone. The matchmaker one. Now that he’s married suddenly he’s giving you relationship advice, how ridiculous is that? 

“He’s just a friend,” you shoot him a side-glance and take a sip from the champagne glass you lifted from a passing waiter's tray.

“Like we were just friends, too?” Jaehyun wiggles his brows playfully and you want to call him out on the callout, to tell him it’s too soon for joking about that, that it’s a sensitive topic but somehow it’s not. You have always been easygoing friends. “You deserve happiness and I’m not saying you need a guy for that because hell no, but… maybe give him a chance. He looks at you like he has been waiting for one.”

“You’re hallucinating,” you roll your eyes but against your better judgement you let your gaze linger over Sungho awkwardly dancing with Jaehyun’s twelve-year-old cousin to a song from the 2000s.

It’s warm out here in the garden despite the shade the tent provides, so you can’t even blame Sungho for leaving his jacket at your table. But like this, with his rolled up sleeves his forearms are out in the open and you realize once again that you’re just a woman. Your throat feels suddenly dry.

“Am I?” Jaehyun raises a brow at you challengingly like he knows something you don’t. “Where do you think he was yesterday evening?

You freeze in the middle of a sip.

“Was he with you? What did he tell you?”

Your best friend has the audacity to shrug and ignore your burning questions. “Maybe you should ask him.”

“Argh, you’re the worst best friend ever,” you groan because it’s unfair how your two closest friends suddenly seem to have teamed up against you.

“You love me,” Jaehyun singsongs and not so subtly pushes you back towards the dancefloor after successfully stealing the champagne glass out of your hand. You barely manage a hissed yah before you stumble (stupid long skirt!) and suddenly there’s a warm hand on the small of your back to help you with balance.

“You good?” Sungho asks gently, soft concern lacing his vowels, and your heart flutters. It's almost like it cannot stop now that you have seen him in another light. Now that you allowed yourself to. Gosh, you won’t survive this last night in the hotel room with him. You will overthink sleeping next to him and make it weird. And of course, he will notice and it will be awkward again.

“Yeah, thanks,” you mutter, letting him pull you upright. His hand lingers on your waist a bit more, then he clears his throat and steps back. You miss his warmth already.

You need to be alone with him for a bit. You can’t do this (talk about feelings and such) in a room full of people. You could wait until the end of the party, until you’re both back at the hotel room but you don’t trust yourself to keep your courage and not use alcohol as a substitute if you have to wait for that long. Then tomorrow morning you fly back to Busan and go back to work on Monday, so everything will go back to normal. It’s now or never.

“Uhm, should we take a photo? To commemorate this crazy week? I think I saw a photobooth somewhere,” you blurt out the first idea that comes to your mind thinking about secluded places and point towards the quieter reception area. Sungho seems to consider it for a second, his eyes flitting towards that general direction before focusing back to you. At first, you think he will say no, that he will stop entertaining your whims, but then he chuckles like he can’t believe himself.

“Yeah, sure,” he says and follows you to the vintage style booth Haerim had rented for the event.

It’s cute, beige curtains and wooden walls, and most of all, narrow. You realize exactly how small it is after paying for two classic strips of photos and stepping back, your shoulder bumps into Sungho’s chest. When he immediately pulls away to give you more space like a gentleman, practically plastering himself against the wall, it stings a bit. For once, you don’t want space.

The first shutter catches you both off guard and you scramble to turn towards the camera and pay attention to the countdown of the second. The poses you come up with are awkward, generic V-signs and forced smiles. That simply won’t do, you decide, so in those ten seconds until the next shutter you do exactly three things:

Turn towards Sungho.

Take a step towards him.

And when he backs up against the wall, looking at you with wide eyes, you put a hand against the booth’s side next to his head like those ridiculous drama male leads do in the scenes where they tower over the female lead. Your heels might give you some boost but not that much, so you have to hope that Sungho’s heart rate is going up for all the right reasons even without that.

“Y/N?” He utters your name shakily, a bit breathless, and you think the way he says your name might be your favourite version to hear.

“We should talk about that almost kiss,” you say with forced nonchalance because it’s clearly the elephant in the room. You could probably leave and never bring it up again, acting as if it was just a fever dream, and then nothing would change between you but… haven’t things already changed?

“Now?” Sungho sounds bewildered, the third camera shot catching his surprise in real-time. Neither of you really pay attention anymore. 

“Isn’t it as good of a time as any?”

“I guess it is,” he agrees with a gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing, which shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. He doesn’t argue with you. You two argue a lot about small things but rarely do when it matters.

“I lied,” you blurt out, ripping off the bandaid, and at the confused look on Sungho’s face, you clarify. “I lied when I said it was because of Jaehyun. It wasn’t.”

You watch it closely, how the realization slowly dawns on Sungho about what it means. There are a lot of different emotions in his eyes only illuminated by the small booth’s even smaller screen but you would like to think one of them is hope or at least relief.

“Oh. That’s… good,” he mutters, a bit dumbly but he can even pull that off. He looks cute while doing so.

“I talked with him too. I told him everything and then he said something that made me realize that maybe I just treated him as an excuse to avoid real feelings. Maybe he was right and it was never really that kind of love. Otherwise I couldn’t be this genuinely happy for him, could I? So I was thinking–”

“Are you two done?” Somebody yells outside of the booth, effectively cutting off your ramble but they must reinforce their point by knocking on the booth’s wall beside the curtain. Sungho looks like he’s about to go out and apologize, which is absolutely not happening.

“No!” You yell back and quickly pay for another set of photos.

You turn back to Sungho now all fired up. You can’t believe you’re here. In Jeju, at this wedding, in this photo booth. That he came as your plus one, even went along with your fake dating scheme and comforted you when you were at your lowest. He’s either a pushover or you’re the luckiest girl out there.

“I keep thinking about what you said about wishing it wasn’t just for the show,” you admit, take a deep breath and bite the bullet. “Park Sungho… do you like me?”

It sounds unreal to your ears but you swear you can see his cheeks redden even in this shitty lighting. He casts his eyes down with a little giggle he always does when he’s embarrassed and it’s so fricking endearing you can’t believe you didn’t notice earlier.

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

“You should know by now that I’m not good with feelings,” you grimace because that’s putting it lightly. But after this you will take Jaehyun’s advice and make sure the people who are important to you know it too.

“So… is this the part where you tell me you’re not ready for a relationship?” Sungho asks tentatively, looking a tad bit confused about the purpose of this discussion and well, okay, maybe you went off track from your original plan. Right, the kiss, taking a leap of faith and all that.

“No. This should be the part where I tell you that you deserve better. Look what I dragged you into. I’m a terrible person,” you sigh because you still feel bad about the entire Haerim incident and how you initially reacted to Jaehyun’s marriage news. Shouldn’t you first work on being a better friend before you could be anything else?

But Sungho is not having it, you being unkind to yourself.

“No, you’re not. A bit crazy? Yes. But you have a big heart. And frankly, I don’t want anybody else,” he gently tilts your head up with a tap on your chin, so he could look into your eyes and with sudden clarity you remember him telling you that people don’t fall for perfection. Even through your tipsy state, you remember how he looked at you then. Or when he wiped away the raindrops from your face. It didn’t make sense then but now you understand.

He’s holding back.

He’s just one push from the edge.

“Come on, you hate martyrs in movies. Don’t reject me because you think I’m better off with someone else. Reject me properly. Tell me you want to focus on yourself or that you need time to move on from Jaehyun. Tell me that you don’t see me as a man and that you can’t ever like me like tha–”

Sungho stops talking when you lips meet his. His eyes are comically wide for a long moment before he melts against you. You smile into the kiss as you let your heels touch the ground, knowing that Sungho will follow you down.

You pull away, mouth still grazing his, just to ask: “Did it seem like a rejection?”

Your hopefully-not-fake-anymore boyfriend smiles and kisses you again. You wrap your arms around his neck and gasp when your back hits the side of the tiny booth. Right, it’s probably not the most ideal place to do something like this.

“Can you two stop hogging up the photo booth to make out?” The same voice from before complains again and now Sungho looks mortified. He apologizes with cast down eyes the moment you pull the curtain to the side. You’re about to make a comment about envy to the impatient girl but Sungho knows you too well and he drags you away before you could make an even bigger scene. He also remembers to grab the four cut photos you snatch from him on the way back to the tables.

“This one’s definitely my favourite,” you point at the last little square which managed to capture perfectly the moment of your first kiss. “Maybe we should ditch the rest of the party and actually make out since we were rudely interrupted?”

You mean it as a joke because you should probably talk properly and because Sungho seems like the type who takes things slow. But he literally trips on his own foot and lets out a scandalized noise at your suggestion.

“Y/N!” He hisses and looks around to see if anybody heard. “You can’t just say that!”

“Why not? We still have a fancy hotel room for tonight,” you wink and watch him go beetroot red. Oh, you’re gonna love making him blush. “But first, come on, let’s dance more. We need more songs for our playlist.”

It’s safe to say that your plan to stop this wedding epicly failed. But at least it got you a boyfriend who is also your best friend. Maybe one day you will marry him too. Not before you turn twenty-eight, but when you’re ready.

For now, it’s enough to just be happy.

END NOTES. originally i leaned more into the movie storyline, sungho would have been the fiance and it would have had a bittersweet ending (or i had a version with haerim actually planning to avoid an arranged marriage by marrying him) but 2k in when i started writing the scene in which originally the mc asked jaehyun to be her plus one for the wedding, i was like… wait, the fake dating potential! so i ended up re-writing the first two scenes and here we are. it was still fun to use the movie plot beats in this version. also i'm not sure i managed to get that across but mc liked sungho back in that flashback scene! she just thought it would be better to not ruin their co-worker friendship thing because of his reaction to the jaehyun picture. and because she's avoidant when it comes to feelings.

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a study in spite [3/3] ࿐ FINAL

slytherin taesan x gryffindor prefect f!reader

syn: The fundamental law of the animal kingdom is simple: snakes and lions do not mix. Sadly, the same can be said for you and the very bane of your existence—prankster, Slytherin, and all-around menace, Han Taesan. Too bad he refuses to take the hint… 𓆙࿐ w.c: 18.8k genre: fluff, hogwarts! au, e2l, slowburn, pining, christmas fic t/w: phobias, pranks, bugs, suggestive language, mildly aggressive kissing ft. bnd, cortis, zb1, lsf, njz, txt, p1h, enha members a/n: here it is, my 40k gift for you guys! im happy to tie this story up with a ribbon, and hope that you have a lot to say about it after reading (extra points if u catch those easter eggs ;) once more, i owe my sanity to @mwotgata and @lovehakie for beta-reading this, pls go shower them with all the love they deserve!

book [4] of the signed, sealed, spellbound series!

── .✦ read PART 1 and PART 2 before proceeding!

Apples.

Why is that so familiar…

It's like—

SWISHHH—!!

You hear a thick branch swipe against the wind and thump onto the ground, feeling the tremor of it under your feet. At once, you and Taesan spring apart, feeling more scorched than interrupted.

A deep flush creeps up your neck, ears hot as fire.

"I—"

"Um," he gulps, eyes darting away in awkwardness. "Just the wind."

"Yeah… Just the wind." You nod—slow at first, then more feverishly to emphasise the point. It does more to convince yourself than him.

"Oh, we're at the tree," Taesan changes course, nudging his chin towards the map in your limp hand, afraid to touch. "He should be somewhere close by. Check."

Your eyes begin to trace for Mr. Ribbit's name, but your mind is all smoke and heat, the imprinted memory of Taesan's half-lidded eyes and parted lips at the forefront.

You'd almost kissed.

Kissed!

Not even an hour ago, you'd been convinced he had kidnapped your beloved toad and here you were now, about to make the grave mistake of pressing your lips to his admidst the haze of fear and dread.

"He's underneath it," Taesan says suddenly, clearly less distracted than you are. His fingers point at a spot on the map. "Under the Whomping Willow… Oh…"

The wind whistles louder as if to punctuate the point. Your hand feels colder without Taesan's holding it, and the very thought of that makes you almost fumble over a crook in the dirt.

"Roots," he points out, steadying you by the robes and tapping down with his shoes. "We're close by, so we need to be careful not to fa—"

Whoooshhhh—!!!

"Fuck… Fall."

One of the aggravated branches had aimed for your heads, forcing Taesan to think on his feet and push you down with him, ending up with the both of you now crouching low. He heaves, catching his breath as you realise what's just happened.

"T-thanks," you murmur in reply, aware that your heart thundering has less to do with the the thought that you had almost perished by the hands of a violent tree and more to do with the fact that Taeaan is so so close. The heat of his palm is still fresh on your scalp.

Before another wave of shame can make you jump away from him, you feel a quiver against your eardrum, a low growl that grows into noisy barks. Something is here, and its about to attack—that's the only thing you know before you move.

"Wait, Y/N, no—"

Taesan doesn't finish his sentence before you've thrown yourself over his body in an attempt to cover him, shield him from the angry, bloodthirsty werewolf that was about to eat—

"Y/N?"

You blink your eyes open, fingers shaking where they've clutched his back, your entire frame attempting to cover him. When you come to it, Taesan's eyes are startled open, and the invisibility cloak has slipped off your heads.

And then the bark resounds again—too excited to be scary.

"Huh?" You twist your head to look, perplexed.

A dog stands there, greeting joyfully, tail wagging a mile a minute as it spots the two of you. Before you can turn to question Taesan, he's already speaking.

"You shouldn't be out without telling me." Except it isn't directed to you—it's for the dog.

The dog obediently hangs his head, whining as thought in apology. You remain clueless as to why Han Taesan seems to be talking to a dog…and why the dog seems to understand.

To make things even more bizarre, you hear low howls from within the willow, and a couple croaks follow.

What is going on??

"Taesan?"

"I can explain…"

Whether he actually means to or not is never made clear, because at that very moment, thick strands of curly roots of the tree begin to unravel, creating a slim opening—wide enough for Mr. Ribbit to leap out.

And out follows reddish mane accompanied by faded black paws.

"A… A fox!" The scream escapes your body as you crowd back into Taesan, instinctively trying to protect him from impending harm. "My wand—I need my wand, where is it!?"

"Wait don't—"

Too late because you've already managed to loosen it out of your robes, forehead creased in nervous terror, wand pointed straight at the fox. The hound takes several steps back too, coming to stand in front of the other animal. They look… confused, but not scared enough to back off entirely.

They could bite. They could hurt Mr. Ribbit—Or Taesan! You're about to throw the first thing you think of—a body binding spell—when you feel Taesan attempt to squirm out of your hold.

That idiot; if he moved, he could get seriously hurt!

You push back against him harder to hold him down, the words Petrificus Totalus almost out your tongue when the strangest, most absurd thing happens next.

Something pounces from behind you to shield the two animals in front, throwing itself in front of the wand instead. Two green orbs stare, prickles of black camouflaged by the night.

It's…

Mr. Meow..?

"Mr. Meow, what are you doing—"

Then it occurs to you that there's a missing weight underneath you; you're no longer touching Taesan. In fact… Taesan isn't there anymore.

"W-what? What's going on—Taesan?" You scramble backwards, feeling dirt under your fingernails, eyes blown wide in fear. "Who are you?"

Before you, the scene shifts, a slow morphing of limbs and hair—slower than it is in reality.

Instead of the familiar cat, Taesan stands there—breaths rugged, hair falling haphazardly into his face, sweaty palms on his knees as he slowly raises his head to meet your eyes.

"I can," he begins, voice gruff under wear, "explain."

It comes like a roll of film unravelling, memories and words coming back to you. The cat that had slunk into your dorm, that you had befriended and spilled your heart to. Taesan's sudden change. Him bringing you things, trying to be better, to be not himself…

An animagus is a witch or a wizard who can willingly transform into an animal. It's a learnt skill—not genetically passed on like metamorphmagi. You hear it in Taesan's own voice from the Defence class. The puzzle pieces itself together—it's unwelcoming and nauseating.

"You're an animagus," you say, a statement, not a question.

"I am," Taesan nods, a painful gulp travelling down his throat. He looks like he could choke on the truth. "I can explain."

When you open your mouth to speak, nothing comes out. Just hot, slithering shame.

And the pricking feeling of betrayal.

"It's—they're—" Taesan helplessly motions to the animals; the fox quirks his head, and the dog continues to look like its owner had kicked it to the curb. Mr. Ribbit watches the scene, chowing down on something crunchy. "I didn't tell you earlier but they're both animagi. It was supposed to be a silly experiment, okay? They kept asking me how I'd done it in third year and I couldn't say no and… No, that's not the point. Uh…

They were…" He turns to the animals, wordlessly begging for some help.

Dutifully enough, they too transform back to their wizard forms.

Two boys stand in their place instead, both sporting Slytherin uniforms, one with innocent doe eyes and a pout, and the other with sharper features, bumping shoulders as they obediently murmur a sorry to Taesan.

Keonho and Seonghyeon.

"Taesan hyung didn't know," Seonghyeon says to you, not as abashed as the other boy. "He didn't hurt your frog. We didn't either, obviously."

"We're sorry," Keonho speaks through a sniffle. "Your toad, he's been hungry every time we see him and he came to us, not the other way around. Told us he feels sick from eating just Produce all day, and…"

"And we had to help. So we told him to sneak out and we'd find him some fresh bugs."

"We didn't mean to scare you."

Your mind reels from the sheer bulk of new information—from the surprise of their identities which should have been obvious to you, if you were just a little more observant, and from the terrible feeling of being made a fool of for so long.

Mr. Ribbit leaps into your arms, perhaps having sensed your inner turmoil, in his own way of comforting you. A pretty apathetic moral support—but you can't even feel thankful at the moment from everything else you have to process.

"I'm sor—" Taesan barely finishes before you've turned around, face hot and red, legs beginning to move at record speed and all you feel is the whip of air around your ears as you sprint.

Away from shame; away from Taesan.

It's all horrible: tears pool underneath your eyes when you recollect the past couple months, the cold of the night making every step harsher. Your jaw hurts from biting your teeth together too hard, your heart a breaking mess.

You remember reading out the pages of your diary to Mr. Meow—to Han Taesan—spilling your guts out to him. About your mom, about your worries, about your fears. All the while it had all been just a ploy for him to ruin your life again.

Had he laughed about it afterwards with his friends? Had he felt happy every time you vented about your qualms to him?

And after everything, you had almost kissed him.

How stupid you were for thinking he could change…. For cementing yourself as the biggest, most naive coward in all of the wizarding world. In all of Gryffindor.

How stupid you were for believing, just for a split second, that you could ever like Han Taesan.

And now, everything is ruined.

Hogwarts grounds - past midnight

Everything is ruined.

Taesan might be the biggest idiot in all of the wizarding world—in all of history, actually. He's had you for barely a night, maybe a couple days if he counts your slowly bridging trust in him, but here he goes—making a blunder and losing you the same night.

Fucking moron, he berates himself, forehead creased in stress, feet faster than it has ever been. Taesan is used to running away from things—from you; towards is new for him.

But he's gone and fucked up marvellously now. True that he could sit this one out and come back after the break, slowly try to worm his way back into your life again. But it doesn't feel like a temporary thing this time. It feels like you're thoroughly and eternally done with him.

Taesan doesn't think he can do it again—the period you had ignored him after he'd wrecked your Gobstones match… Worst fucking week of his life. Taesan refuses to suffer through that again.

It's all racing heart and burning soles when he skids through the grass, and then over the pavement of the open corridor, faster, faster, faster until he spots a silhouette in the middle of it and pushes harder until he's right in front of you.

Taesan almost collapses from the run.

"Wait, don't —" He panics. "Don't leave, please. Anything but that. Please, just—yell at me, or set my hair on fire, or..oh, you can punch me in the face if you like!"

…

You blink at him, lips a passive line. Then begin to curve around him without a single word or reaction.

Taesan's adrenaline courses again—pure, unadulterated fear.

He springs to clasp the hem of your robe's arm. You turn, eyes flicking slowly from his hands to his pathetic expression. Taesan gets the message and removes his hands at once, resorting to a more pitiful measure; he's at his wit's end, okay?

"I'm…so sorry." He falls to his knees, head bowed deeply, hands together as though in prayer, pleading. "It was my fault, all of it. I messed up—kept messing up, even when you gave me so many chances. I'm such an idiot. The biggest ever idiot to exist… Have been for six years. I'm sorry for the pranks, and for pissing you off and for ruining your days… For… For making you cry." His voice cracks around the edge of the word.

You just look at the sight, not saying anything.

Taesan attempts again, all his pride and resolve breaking into dust. "If you want to cuss me out, just do it. I won't mind."

"I—" you begin, squeezing your eyes shut, making Taesan look up with a dreg of hope. "I can't."

"Y/N," he sounds strained. "I just wanted to make things right… I just…"

"…"

"I just wanted to be closer to you, okay?" It comes out like it pains him to admit the truth, a deep red climbing up his cheeks and ears. "I didn't like how you were right. And you were—about everything. I am vile and despicable and I ruin good things. And you were right about me wanting your…." His jaw is tight, shame blatant. "Attention."

"So you lied to me."

Taesan's pulse raises again. He feels like he's sinking.

"None of it was a lie, okay? Please just believe me."

"How can I—" You stutter on the word, previous apathy now replaced by a gulp, everything you try to hide making its way past the surface. You look like you're about to break down crying; Taesan is scared stiff that you might. "How can I trust you."

"Let me make it up to you, okay?" He attempts again. "Anything you want—I'll feed your toad for you every day, I'll bring you candy before every patrol; I'll even quit pranking forever."

You just stare at him, lips quivering.

"Okay, maybe not forever."

"I'm going to bed." You make for the common room again, desperate to get out of his face. Taesan hates how it makes him feel, how there's an ugly, frothing monster clawing its way up his sternum. Fear.

"Wait," he makes one last attempt, betting his all into four not-so-simple words. "Come home with me."

It's shocking enough of a request to make you slowly turn around and meet his eyes, your brows furrowed. "What?"

"You said you were staying at school over the break because of your—" Mom. He's too scared to say it, knowing how it goes back to his time as Mr. Meow and you talking about her with him. "Leave with me tomorrow morning. My folks will be more than happy to have you and, and I can just convince Professor Jeon… Yeah…"

Taesan thinks you might agree. That you'd hate to be alone at Hogwarts enough for you to choose a warm house and some company—even if it is with him. He dearly hopes you have space for one more act of forgiveness left in you.

"I…" You wipe your runny nose, hugging the toad closer for comfort. Then you take a deep, ragged breath before saying, "Good night Taesan."

It's the last he gets from you before you're walking off, turning into nothing but a shadow under the high arch of the hallway, leaving Taesan on the freezing floor.

Nothing more happens. Taesan hears Keonho and Seonghyeon shuffling over on their paws from behind, evidently to check up on him. He ignores the concerned whimper and a bark that's an attempt to cheer him up in favour of curling up into a shameful ball and accepting the cold hard truth.

Everything is ruined.

── ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

Hogwarts - first day of winter break

It's a bright and sunny dawn—antithetical to Taesan's insides. He's all bleak in there.

He wishes he could blame the upset stomach he has when he wakes up on just nerves, on the prospect of going home and having to deal with his family's antics. Or the lack of appetite on how early it is. But Taesan knows he's not usually the scared type, and he knows he can eat through a breakfast no matter what the time is.

His world is off balance just because you exist.

It had started way before all of this. Six years ago to be precise. This magnetic hold you have on him—one that makes it impossible for him to resist teasing you. All those tiny reactions of his effect on you: the pout, the way you threaten to take points from Slytherin instead of just retaliating with brute force, the way your face skews into frustration and your eyes get glassy when you're on the verge on weeping… Taesan could never look away.

And yeah, it's kind of twisted, and messy, but it's not entirely his fault that you look so cute when you cry. He'd never lied about that. And it was you that had fastened your hook on him on that fateful day in September—the first ever time he had stepped foot into Hogwarts.

Ugh… He does not want to think about that. Thinking means remembering, which means feeling, and he's not the best in that department. So he shoves it aside and locks it up in his mental box to be reopened later when he has the time—probably when he's in the quiet of his childhood room, late into the night when regrets start making their presence known.

Not now, later.

He skips breakfast, throws in the basic necessities into his duffel bag, decides that if he needs anything more he'll just borrow (steal) from his younger siblings later. Trudging to the station isn't much of a task when his brain is floaty enough to forget the walk—but it's the letter in his pocket that weighs him down more than the luggage in his hand.

"Taesan hyung, please give this to Y/N," Keonho had stood their with his sparkly eyes, having ran to interject Taesan a minute ago. Seonghyeon was there too, slightly less impressed. "It's an apology for last night—for feeding her frog without asking first. There's a packet of dried crickets in there too… for Mr. Ribbit."

"He's a toad," Taesan corrects. "And she'll have a heart attack if she sees a bug." He pockets in any way, and the two third-years part for their ride with another sorry (and Seonghyeon's discreet "Good luck with Y/N, hyung. You need it.")

Taesan had just grumbled in response and let them leave.

The letter will stay and rot in there, he's sure of it. You did not look like you wanted to see any part of him last night; you're probably holed up in your room, pouring your heart out into your diary, making sure that Mr. Ribbit knew how much of a shitty person Taesan had really been. Or maybe you're burning your diary to crisp now that you know he's read its contents…

Either way, he's fucked up big time—

"Why are you spacing out in front of the train?"

Taesan thinks he's hallucinating when he hears your voice. Had he been that sleep deprived?

But one tilt is all it takes for his assumption to be disproven—because you're standing there, drowning in a giant padded jacket, judging the heck out of his state of reverie, Mr. Ribbit snoring away happily in his travel bag in one of your hands, and wheeling a suitcase in the other.

Huh..?

"You said I could stay with you," you say, looking him right in the eye. "Or was that an empty offer?"

Taesan wants to say something—anything—but he's two steps behind the conversation at hand. You're standing here, next to him, in the flesh. He only believes it's not a dream because you smell like your dorm room, and a whiff of the sachet he'd sewn together for you.

"Okay," is the dumb response his dumb brain comes up with. Nothing witty like his usual self.

You take it at face value, stepping into the Hogwarts Express as it gets ready for departure. Before you vanish behind a compartment door, you turn back with a flat voice.

"Don't think I've forgiven you by the way," you say, sparing him a single glance and walking off towards an empty cabin.

Taesan follows dumbly, only partly understanding this progression of events. He ends up shuffling into the seat opposite yours, afraid to offend you by sitting next to you. You don't look at him, just place your luggage under your seat and lean your head against the wall, staring out the frosty window as the wheels begin to move.

The journey itself isn't long—a little cold, a little shaky, but the trolley comes by an hour later carrying sweet-smelling delicacies and Taesan makes it a point to purchase two sugar quills, placing one by your side when you'd fallen asleep. Soon after, he too slips into slumber, and by the time he's woken up, the quill has disappeared from your vicinity. He assumes that's a good sign, that you haven't sworn off touching anything and everything that he offers.

Fields and mountains flurry by out the window, blanketed by heavy mist. When you finally arrive at the station, Taesan has entirely knocked out cold, only twitching slightly when he feels something soft prob at his shoulder.

"Wake up."

"Hmnn."

"We've arrived. Wake up."

"Ugh," he groans, rubbing at his eyes. "Oh—Y/N?"

"You're drooling."

Your face materialises like smoke, but its gone just as fast with you turning around to gather your luggage. Taesan shamefully wipes his mouth, ignoring the heat creeping up his neck in favour of getting his own stuff.

Not ten minutes later, the two of you are standing side by side at a quaint little bus stop. You've got your snow cap pulled low, hair falling around your face, and Taesan is trying very hard not to stare. He sends a thankful prayer up to the heavens when the bus eventually arrives and he is spared of that excruciating task.

"Letter," he manages to slip in between a blow of the horn, half hoping you don't hear it, for the sake of his dwindling shame. "From the boys."

It seems that you do hear after all because you take it from his hand without protest.

Taesan only remembers the unfortunate packet of crickets after.

"Wait—I—" he scrambles to retrieve it, but you've already pocketed the thing, shooting him with a questioning look.

"What?"

"Uh…" He's scared to ask for it back. What if you consider it impolite? Or that he's playing a trick on you again. He doubts he'd even be through the word 'cricket' before you panic and pull out your wand, or worse yet, start bawling. Taesan only knows what to predict because he's done his fair share of tormenting you with bugs already.

Looking back, he isn't sure why he was so proud of himself for doing all that. Dumb, dumb brain, he chastises younger him.

"Nothing," he mumbles, saving the consequences for a day where he's better equipped.

Taesan has enough embarrassment to carry after the way he went on his knees last night, crying and pleading like a fucking idiot. He'd said sorry, for god's sake—he does not say sorry. You probably think he's a pathetic coward too, not someone worth an ounce of respect.

There's a big hole in his chest where his pride should be.

The bus screeches to a halt as he's deep in his overthinking, making him almost smash his face into the railing in front. Thankfully, you manage to brace your elbow and jolt him back into place before he can. Taesan doesn't even get to thank you before you're standing up, ushering him out.

Right…the stop.

His stop.

The roads are familiar as his own face: long trails of tire-tracks on snow, the morning sun making her mark on it, streets aligned with little cafes and stores that were just opening up for business, their wooden beams framed with Christmas decoration. The town had always been early and eager in getting into the festive season.

Taesan doesn't even realise his feet has taken the two of you to his place until the house comes into view, his body having moved on autopilot from years of practice.

"Oh, we're here," he announces awkwardly, motioning you to follow.

He hesitatingly walks up to the front door, takes a deep breath, and brings his fist to knock—

"San-ah! You're here!" The door is barely open before his mom takes both his cheeks in her hand, cooing at him and rambling about how sallow his face have gotten from school.

Taesan grumbles out a, "Mommmm." but lets himself be pet into oblivion anyway. She doesn't let him get many more words in as she goes on and on about needing to feed him and how he's gotten too tall for her to reach without hurting her back now. It isn't until a second or two later when her eyes flicker to the figure behind him.

"Oh…" Her initial surprise soon turns into bright excitement, eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree. "You brought a friend!"

Taesan looks at you, trying to figure out how he was going to lay down this whole situation, but you make the first move by bowing respectfully and greeting his mom. "Hi Mrs. Han… I'm Y/N."

"Y/N…" She blinks as the name registers. "Oh My God! You're L/N Y/N! Our Sannie has told us all about you—what a pretty girl you are! Come in, come in; you must be freezing!"

Taesan wants to combust right then and there; he's thankful for the commotion that erupts as soon as you're both ushered past the door and into the house.

"Sannieeee!!" comes a squeal from the staircase, and a pair of ecstatic feet barrel down and right into Taesan's unready arms; he still somehow manages to catch her somehow.

"Taeri! How has my munchkin been!? Wow, you've gotten so tall, I can't even carry you anymore." Taesan pretends to drop the giggling girl, catching her right before she can fall and making her laugh even louder.

"She hasn't slept all night waiting up for you," his mother says, addressing you more than she does him.

"Is that your sister?" you ask in a polite voice, but your eyes betray the curiosity beneath them.

Taesan nods, offering a small smile. "This one—" He pokes his baby sister's cheek to make her give you a mostly toothless smile. "—is Han Taeri. She's the youngest."

"There's…more?" You sound almost like you'd never imagined a house with more than a single sibling. It makes Taesan chuckle fondly despite himself.

"Loads more. You'll see," he promises. And on cue, comes Taesan's father and brother and several other intermixed voices through the living room doorway.

"My boy," his father approaches with a hearty laughter. "Uncle Kang and I were just talking about you. We'll need a third hand to help with moving the dining table—oh," he stops when he notices you in the corner, nervously biting the inside of your cheek. "Who is the girl?"

"This is Y/N," Taesan's mom says brightly, placing an encouraging hand at your shoulder. "You know…that Y/N."

She raises her brow like she's attempting to send a secret message and it takes many pointed blinks for his father to receive it.

"Oh!" he says when he finally gets it. "The Y/N. Taesan doesn't shut up about you."

"He's right," says Taesan's brother. And another few teeny heads gather around his knees, attentping to sneak a peak at you.

Taesan wants to die. Right there. In front of his entire family and you, because it has to be better than the absolute mortification of his business being aired out for you to hear.

"Mom!" he whines, his shame amplified by Taeri's amused giggles.

"Oh now, shush." His mom remains unfazed, simply helping you take off your cap and jacket, dusting the snow off of it, to hang it on the coat rack. "Now go help this poor girl up to the guest bedroom—I'm so sorry that we didn't have enough of a notice to clean it before you came." She sends Taesan a scolding glare, making him gulp. "This guy didn't even carry your suitcase?"

"I'm…I could manage it myself," you answer sheepishly, but she's quick with handing it into Taesan's free arm.

"That is not how we raised you. Her room better be spotless by the time we're up." His mother chides him and Taesan is forced to drag the bag up the stairs, all the while making sure Taeri doesn't slip out of his hold when she's trying very hard to clamber onto his head instead.

When he's back down after have a wrestling match with the bedsheet and his sister's rendition of 'Three little monkeys jumping on the bed', Taesan regrets ever having left you alone with his nosy family.

"You're a Gryffindor? Wow! Our Taeri wants to be one—the rest of us have always been Hufflepuffs. Taeho wants to follow his hyung into Slytherin next year when he goes to school though—"

"Always been so fascinated with muggle customs… You call through a pheletone, was it?"

"Taesan isn't too shy is he? That boy used to hang by my sleeves when he was as small as a pea—

You're practically being interrogated on the couch, squeezed between his mother and aunt, a cup of cocoa in your hand and your eyes wide as saucers as you struggle to answer one person at a time. Taesan needs to intervene before his mom says something that could ruin his finely constructed reputation.

"Mom, the bed is done," Taesan announces, clearing his throat, promptly avoiding your eyes. "Can I borrow Y/N for a bit?"

He doesn't miss the coy look exchanged between the older women, nor the way Taesan's dad passes by with an encouraging pat on his back, nor the way his uncle mouths a "Keep the door unlocked." His sister is having a one-sided staring contest with Mr. Ribbit on the windowsill, and his little cousins keep running around, chasing each other with paper swords.

Taesan lets out the loudest sigh of relief once their teasing giggles die down and he's alone inside the guest bedroom.

Well…not alone, he realises eventually.

"Umm…" You stand at the curb, awkwardly looking around.

"Bed." He points at the corner of the room, where the ajar window lets in a cold breeze. "It's yours."

"Thanks."

"You should—" Taesan clears his throat, moving aside to let you in, fiddling with his fingers behind his back the whole time he speaks. "You should rest up for now. I'll call you down for lunch… Is that… Is that okay?"

You give a small nod and he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Once Taesan is outside, he uses the newfound privacy to take in a deep inhale, leaning his head back against the wooden door, almost sliding down to the carpet in agony.

He wonders if he'd made a mistake by asking you to come along, after all.

Han household - Mid-December

You wonder if you've made a mistake by coming along.

It took you almost an hour to slip into slumber, washing up and changing out of your clothes, making sure Mr. Ribbit was comfortably snoring away in his favourite bundle of blankets, and then spending the next ten minutes staring out your window.

Taesan's house has an apple tree planted right outside it—bulbs of red against snow-dusted branches, sparse specks of green in-between them. It makes sense that he smells like it, that Mr. Meow used to too. You almost regret making yourself remember.

It was an impulsive decision, made out of a night of unforgiving sleeplessness and lingering resentment. Well… not resentment. Something closer to hurt. Taesan had known your innermost thoughts all along, without you ever having meant for it to be for him. He knew about your friends, your family, you fears. And you… You had barely known him.

It's unfair and it's humiliating.

You thought of just rotting in bed until spring would break in and drag you out for classes, eventually. But even that didn't sound like a promising plan.

Then it happened—an idea. Something that made more sense than all the other possible paths you could take.

Take Taesan's offer, figure out why the heck he is the way he is, get on equal terms by peeling back his family dynamics, make him feel sorry for ever thinking you'd be so easily manipulated.

Because why should you be the only one who's scared of being known? He should fear the same.

He should.

Except, his house has nothing to hide at all. His mom and dad are warm, his aunt smells like roses and kindness, and his little sister makes your heart melt with her innocent grin. You should feel miserable and jealous that Han Taesan comes from a loving family, but… But you don't. You just feel out of place here—like you're the only feeble thing in this house full of life.

Thoughts pile up on top of one another, your brain collapses from the exhaustion of it all, and the sunlight is spilling over your face when you finally feel the world slowly blear back into vision.

"She talks in her sleep," comes a girl's voice.

The a boy chimes in after, "Better than hyung's drooling. Or dad's snoring—"

The another. "Sannie said not to disturb her. What if he gets mad at us…"

"He can't get mad at you. You're his favourite."

"Sannie," babbles a smaller child's voice when he catches the familiar name in the conversation.

You blink several times to adjust your sight, and the first clear look almost makes you faint onto the pillow.

Instead of the ceiling that you swear seeing right before knocking out an hour back, there are instead six pairs of curious eyes staring down at you. And you're surrounded—trapped—on both sides too.

You have nowhere to escape to.

"Where—What the heck are you guys doing in here!? You're going to freak her out," Taesan's voice comes like a saviour.

He's balancing a tray of food in one hand, the other on his hip like a scolding mother. The kids scatter at once, giving you space to sit up.

"We were just making sure she hadn't died," Taeho says easily; Taesan remains unimpressed by the jest.

"I wanted to show Jiwoo unnie your girlfriend," says Taeri, and this makes Taesan's face turn as red as an apple.

"She's not my girlfriend." he protests, almost dropping the metal tray on the floor.

"But she's a girl, and mom said she was your friend," the younger girl bats her innocent eyes.

Taesan just sighs in defeat and places the tray on the bedside table.

"They're." He waves to the crowd of six around him, a small bunch that on average barely reaches past his knees. "These are my siblings and cousins," he tells you, hoping you're not offended by their behaviour.

"Hi," you greet them with a small wave, still awkward, maybe shy.

"I'm Han Taeho!" Taesan brother extends a hand and you shake it amicably. His sister attempts to do the same, giggling as you entertain her whims.

"This one," Taesan ruffles the hair of a slightly taller girl. She has short black hair like Chaewon's and a polite smile, "is Jiwoo. She's ten like Taeho. They'll both be heading to Hogwarts next year—if they behave and the Grinch doesn't steal them away this Christmas, that is."

Taeho shoots him a grumpy frown and Taesan matches it by sticking out his tongue to tease him.

"Well, I've been perfectly good," Jiwoo announces to you. "I helped Dad and Uncle Han clean the chimney."

"Is that why you have soot on your cheek?" you ask, and she nods with a bright grin. The sight is so adorable; it kind of reminds you of Eunchae when you met her for the first time.

"These—" Taesan motions towards the three almost identical toddlers blinking like curious kittens up at you, hanging off the mattress. "—Are the Kang triplets. Jiwoo's younger brothers—Jaemin, Jaeha, and Jongin. Don't worry about getting the names right, even I mess it up at times, but they'll also answer to duckling one, two, and three." He counts by softly mussing up each of their bowlcuts.

"They're…" Adorable. You want to squish them, but you're too scared to hurt them; you've never even held a baby. "Cute."

"Only when you're new to meeting them. Once you get to know them—they're little rascals, trust me."

Taesan is met with a barrage of oppositions and, "He's lying!" at that, and he responds to every one of them by doubling down on the teasing. You find it ironic that he has the galls to call them rascals when he was never far off from the title himself.

"Oh wait, you've got me all distracted," he pauses in the middle of tackling one of the triplets—Jaeha, you think—onto the fluffy duvet, "I was supposed to tell you to eat your lunch. You slept through it so Mom send up a tray."

"Ah, thanks."

"And you guys," He turns to the kids. "Dad needs you to help him pick out a tree. Better run and get changed before he leaves without you."

Apparently that's all it takes for them to sprint out the door and leave you with some quiet.

Taesan turns to you once they've all vacated. "Sorry for that. They're nosy like the rest of my family."

"It's okay." You realise you mean it. "I—I don't mind. It was nice to see everyone."

He smiles, watching your expression for a second, a sense of relief evident on his face. Then he places the tray on your lap. "Stir fry and rice. Mom makes it a lot when I'm home—but there's no eggplant if you like those—"

"It's okay. This is…more than enough."

The bowl is warm between your hands, the right amount of spice and salt. You can already tell Mrs. Han is a wonderful cook—almost as good as your own mom.

"You've told her about me?" you ask before you take the first bite.

Taesan is too focused on making sure you're eating, waiting at the side of your bed. "Hm?"

"Your Mom. She knew about me."

His face turns beet red once more, lips forming a small 'o'. "Oh… Uh… That's…"

"Don't lie to me." Again, is implied.

Taesan sighs, perhaps knowing that this is entirely his fault. He takes a seat down at the edge of the bed, a significant distance between the two of you.

"I…Yeah, I talked about you," he admits. "Have for a long time, I think. Since first year."

"Oh."

"Are we going to talk about everything? …Now?"

It's a good day outside, he should be spending it talking about happy thinks—amongst family, eating together, going tree-shopping together. But there will never be another time as comfortable as now. Bite the bullet, as they say.

"If you want to." You stop playing around with the spoon, setting it down to look at the back of Taesan's head. "But I do. There's still things I don't understand."

"Right," he nods, but his face remains turned away from yours as he continues. You don't miss the red on his nape, however. "So the things I said that night—you remember right?"

You nod. Then remembering he can't see, you say, "Yeah. I remember."

"The gist is, yeah, I'm an animagus. Managed to transform back in third year on a whim. I just… I guess I wasn't fond of company all that much and it was a surefire way to get out of small-talks and stuff. No one else knows by the way—except for Keonho and Seonghyeon, and—you." He dips his head lower, rubbing rough circles into his palm. "Backfired on me when I started using it to get out of detention and Jeon signed me up for the Quidditch team for 'discipline building'."

"It didn't work," you say out loud without thinking of it—not that you regret it.

Taesan still for a second, then chuckles lightly. "Guess not."

"And then you changed… After Gobstones."

You remember the day as clear as glass: the fireworks, the dungbomb, your hands around his shoulders, the way you had finally snapped when you realised how far he'd gone. And you remember everything after as well: the patrols, the staring, the gifts. His attempts at fixing the mess he'd caused.

"Because I realised you might truly hate me for once."

Taesan whispers the admission so softly, like a secret he hates to believe. You've never seen him look so small. He was supposed to be all teasing cackles and mischief—now he's just…scared.

You don't hate him. Of course there's the annoyance of having been the victim of his pranks for an eternity, and the sting you feel when you think about how easy it is for him to get under your skin, because he knows you, in and out like something he's studied for so long.

Instead of voicing those thoughts out, you settle for, "You said you'd do anything to make up for it, no?"

"Huh?"

"No?"

Taesan braves a look at you, curious more than confused. "I…Yeah, I did. Do you want something?"

"Help me get over my fears. Can you do that?"

He takes a second, which then melts into a silent minute, and then he's asking, "Pardon?"

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, or change the entire topic and crawl into a hole now that your initial courage starts to wear off. Instead, you cough lightly, ignoring the heat of embarrassment to say, "Help me with my phobias… Like… Exposure therapy, y'know?"

"Did Professor Jeon finally get to you? You do know that guy has the worst methods, right?"

"It's not him!" you huff. "I wanted it. I've thought about for a long time, okay? When I get back to school after winter break, I want to be a better Gryffindor. It's stupid if I'm still crying about spiders once I'm a seventh year."

"It's not stupid," he replies, but you don't trust the guy's word one bit.

"Will you help me or not? I'm yet to forgive you for your…mistakes, by the way."

He grows sheepish at that, lowering his head obediently. You take that as a yes.

Before he heads out, Taesan offers to take you to the town if you needed to buy any necessities or send a post to your mom. There's a hesitant edge to his tread, when he stops at the door-frame, waiting like he wants to say something but his throat just won't let him get it out—like a hairball stuck in a cat's mouth, you think in morbid amusement.

"Lock the door if you don't want the kids to snoop through your things, by the way. My door is the one opposite yours… in case you need m—something." He coughs at the accidental slip of tongue. "And—"

"…"

It's plain as day that he has more to say. Maybe a missing piece in his revelations from earlier; you don't pry, and Taesan dismisses it with a grunt.

"Just—just come down when you're ready."

Then he's gone, his footsteps disappearing down the carpeted stairs, leaving you to mull over how exactly you were supposed to dissect into everything unsaid.

//

THE TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS OF OVERCOMING YOUR FEARS

"Jiwoo, get me the batter—Jaemin, do not dip your fist into that bowl—!"

The house is at its noisiest on mornings, the welcome mat powdered with snow from the men having carried it in after a 5 AM fishing trip, an enchanted broom dusting away at the the wooden floorboards, the cuckoo taking a round around the room as the clock strikes the hour, tweeting away.

Everything seems to run on magic—including the lone whisk twirling around in the cookie batter. It's so different from your home.

"I can get it," you offer, gently removing the toddler off the high stool that has begun to wobble dangerously.

"Nonsense! We can't have a guest do work, that's Taesan's job. Sannie!" she calls him over as he's hanging his scarf by the door.

Taesan bounds over without complaint, the most obedient you've ever seen him. "What should I do?" he asks her.

"Lay the batter out on the tray and make sure the children don't get their hands on it before I've baked it." Suddenly she seems to get a bright idea—a lightbulb moment. "You know what, maybe Y/N should join in after all! You can help Sannie with the oven. His aunt and I wanted to pop by town to get some groceries for dinner; we'll take Jiwoo with us since she's been needing to get a new toothbrush."

You nod politely, missing the pointed look she shoots at her son, and the way Taesan mouths an indignant 'Mom!'. But she's already off with a smirk and a wave.

Taesan turns to you with a shameful smile. "Sorry for her. She's…uh…"

"She's sweet," you reply with genuine affection for the woman. She had been kind enough to give you her best quilt for the night, take your letter to the local Owlery since your phone kept dying every time you tried to call your mom (must be the buzzing magic in the air blocking the signal), and even got you a basketful of fresh apples the last day when you mentioned you'd never had one straight off the tree.

The rest of his family were of similar temperament: Mr. Han had taken to bringing you jam drops ever since he'd noticed you take an extra over tea, and one entire cabinet had now been dedicated to just that. And both his uncle and aunt got excited every time you mentioned anything remotely muggle-made. There's also Grandma Han who'd mostly just stayed in her room unless it was for calling over Taesan to come read to her, or chide him for not offering to take you around the town until told to.

The children though… You didn't know how to talk to them without the fear of them asking too many questions about you and Taesan, and your not-quite-friendship. And it's not like you had siblings to know what other scenarios may arise from just taking a chance.

"What are you thinking so hard about? About to pop a vein over there." Taesan points at your temple whole you're pouting at the empty oven.

"What we talked about before…remember?"

Taesan assesses your expression, making sense of it. "The deal?"

You nod.

"You've thought of something already?"

"I'm kinda scared of kids," you just bite the bullet—not like you haven't tarnished your reputation in front of him already. He might as well as know a little more; it can't hurt.

"Oh… Yeah, that was obvious."

"Wait, what do you mean obvious—"

"Jaemin-ie, up!" Taesan interrupts to gather one of the ball-sized triplet into his arm, balancing him on the hip. "You carry him now," he says to you.

You flail almost immediately.

"Carry!? I can't—Taesan, I haven't even seen a child since I was one myself. I'll drop him!"

"No you won't."

"I will! Can't we start with something simpler…like uh…"

"You had no issue putting him down from the stool, just do the opposite—see, down," he says as he places the giggling toddler back on the floor, then takes him back."—Aaaand up. Easy as pie."

"I might accidentally kill your cousin," you almost sob.

He seems amused by your overreaction, but any fondness he may have, he hides it beneath a roll of an eye. "It's fine—we've got two more of the same," he quips, and Jaemin, although too small to understand fully, giggles at how Taesan makes a funny face at him. "See, he says he's cool with it too."

"Taesan—"

"Just hold the damn baby, jeez." Before you can continue to protest, he shoves the kid into your unprepared arms. You immediately go rigid on contact.

There are a pair of big brown eyes blinking up at you. You feel as though put at gunpoint by a baby rabbit. He looks like he's waiting for you to do something, and you feel like you should be on the other end instead.

"Loosen up; he's confused because you're so stiff," Taesan supplies, adjusting your arms. "There. Now do a funny face."

"What!?"

"Like this." He demonstrates by pulling at the corner of his lips, teeth tight, and going cross-eyed on purpose. It makes Jaemin burst out into a fit of laughter, excitedly bouncing as he repeats, 'Again, again!'.

Taesan urges you to copy him, and braving a try, you squeeze your face together and stick out your tongue, hoping your dwindling shame is enough to coax a giggle out of the kid.

Thankfully, he gives you a bright reaction, even clapping his little hands together to ask for a replay. It makes your heart ease up. "You like that?" you ask hopefully and he nods.

Seems that your rendition reaches as far as the first floor bedrooms, because out comes barrelling Jaemin's brothers, along with a still yawning Taeri who goes straight into Taesan's arms.

By the time Mrs. Han arrives back, you've miserably failed your task of making sure to keep the batter out of the sneaky little hands. However, one good thing comes out of the whole ordeal—you find that you're no longer afraid of kids.

Who knew that all it would take were some silly expressions and Taesan's simple advice.

//

"Are you sure about this…what if they bite?"

"They're dead." Taesan's deadpans. "Even if not, I doubt crickets bite people."

You're crouched on your bedroom floor, gingerly pinching a spindly green bug between your fingers. Taeri is too busy having a staring contest with Mr. Ribbit again, and Jiwoo's off to the side reading her storybook.

Taesan had convinced you to finally let the poor thing let go of his diet of just greens and feed him some real food ("My toad is vegetarian", you had grumbled in excuse, but he had somehow found information on how toads needed the protein to thrive and how you'd be doing a huge disservice by ignoring his advice). In the end, you conceded wearily.

You squeeze your eyes shut and bring it to Mr. Ribbit's mouth, not looking when the insect disappears off your hand and right onto his tongue.

The crunching noise is disgusting, but the way Taesan and the girls clap for you is beyond satisfying. He even looks proud of you.

Another fear conquered, hooray!

Your winning streak doesn't end there—starting with the small stuff.

Jiwoo handles the task of spooking everyone out one night, with the entire family gathered around the fireplace, animatedly narrating a ghost story. It even makes Taeri cower behind Taesan's shoulder, and one of the triplets burst into tears. You find that its not as scary when you're too busy wiping his cheek and telling him that ghosts were just silly old people who liked to float between the Hogwarts walls and make small-talk with unwilling students. Turns out the more you calm him down, the more calm you become as well.

Spiders and snakes seem to be a bigger hurdle, but you somehow manage.

Taesan takes you out into the frosty garden and transforms a rock into a non-poisonous species (he swears on his dungbombs that it is). You almost squeal when it wraps around your wrist—almost—but Taesan says, "See, he likes you," and you look down at the creature tilting its head in curiosity.

"He's not hurting me," you whisper in awe.

"Duh," Taesan chuckles. "He's made of my magic, why would he hurt you?"

The casual statement does more than enough to ease your thundering heart.

The experiments keep coming: lighting a match, sleeping with the nightlight off (you almost pull out a Lumos until you remember Taesan's disapproving stare), even testing out the dusty old Boggart his mom had found in the shoe cabinet.

Things are still scary, but you have the courage to at least take a leap of faith and face them.

It gets colder outside, and warmer within the house. Christmas ticks closer and in tandem, the excitement buzzing through the place grows threefold.

"Brooms up!" commands Taesan from the middle of the snow-filled yard. "Cheaters have to shovel the entire driveway before sundown."

"But I'm too small for that!" whines Taeri, pouting behind her kid-sized broomstick. Taeho makes a face at her from the other side and she starts to complain louder.

You're watching the scene unfold from the front-steps of the house, cheeks in your hands as you bask under the orange sky. The kids are either on either teams of the impromptu Quidditch match, or rolling around in the snow, making teeny angels.

"Winner gets a life-time supply of dungbombs, how's that?"

Both of Taesan's siblings seem eager to acquire that prize, and you wonder if this affinity for joke-items was a family trait. As soon as he releases the flittering golden Snitch, they're both off zooming after it. The brooms don't lift them beyond just a few feet overhead, so it's still safe in case they fall and you have to shoot a slowing charm at them.

In the end, Taeri wins by cleverly pretending to have been injured, then using the distraction to snatch the ball (there is no way that girl isn't going to be in Slytherin, you think).

"Y/N," Taesan calls after, dangling his giggling little sister upside down by the legs for her entertainment. "Come fly with us!"

Your heart drops to your stomach.

No way you could fly.

"I'm good over here, thanks," you feign nonchalance, but Taesan has never been a stranger to your fear-induced ticks.

"You're scared of heights," he says knowingly, setting Taeri down. She runs off at once to go make her snowman.

"It's just comfortable over here. Plus, I can't keep a watch on everyone if I—Ack!"

Before you know it, he's hauled you upward by the elbow, having quickly made his way to you.

Curse his long limbs and abnormally large steps!

There's no protest left on your tongue before he's helped you over his broom, and you're somehow floating tens of feet up in the air with Taesan grinning in front of you.

"Isn't the sunset gorgeous?" he whoops, feeling the cold wind card through his hair. "Dontcha feel invincible? Accomplished??"

"I feel nauseous!"

Taesan just giggles, yes giggles, in response at your pain, and does a loop in the air before letting go off his grip from the broom.

"Look at me! I can do a feint with no hands!"

You lurch forward to grab his sweater, voice rising in pitch. "Taesan, please, fuck—please!! Oh god, we're so high up… Don't crash, oh my god—!!!"

Miraculously, you land just fine. Taesan is grinning ear to ear as he watches you stumble away, hair in windswept tangles, looking like you'd just lost a battle.

"Next time, we'll get you your own broomstick," he quips with a teasing smile, jogging to catch up to you. "One with training wheels," he says—whatever that means.

It turns out he hasn't changed all that much after all. There's still a lot of teasing left in him reserved just for you.

There are other things about Taesan that you make note of too—insignificant details that start to fill up a page in your diary:

1. He sleeps like a cat.

The first time you notice is when you're both too full on apples while trying to paint Christmas ornaments, and you wake up to Taesan curled up on the floor right under where the sunlight spills onto his cheeks. Like a flower bending towards the sun, he's nuzzling into the warmth instead of away from it.

Textbook feline behaviour. It's not that crazy given he was your—ahem—since he was Mr. Meow after all. You wonder if the trait came after he turned into an animagus or if it had been the other way round…

2. He seems to have the permanent itch to tease someone or something at all times.

It's in the way his fingers twitch at an opportunity, the way his grin grows more devious when his mom asks to pass her a tea towel and Taesan's entire hand comes off in the process, fake blood spurting from the sleeves.

Mrs. Han explodes at him in an instant, chasing him out the kitchen as he giggles and runs away like a three year old. You don't miss the fond smile she gives him once he's out of view though.

He'll come tickle Taeho when he least expects it, followed by another round of run and chase that grows into a whole game involving all the kids and you. The house is never quiet—always carrying the sound of laughs and petulant shrieks and sometimes toddler tantrums.

You find that you don't mind any of it.

3. He's easy as pie to piss off.

This one comes as a gift wrapped in a surprise.

"Y/N, pssss."

You've just woken up, getting yourself a cereal bowl when you hear someone beckon you over from behind the wall. You think its probably Taesan with one of his new exposure therapy item, so you trudge over, blinking leftover sleep from your eyes.

"What—Mrs. Han!?"

"Come here, and tiptoe," she whispers, holding a bucket in her hand for whatever reason. Taesan's younger brother is there too, wearing an evil smirk that gives you terrible deja vu.

Somehow, for some reason, the three of you end up cooped inside the upstairs bathroom.

"Mrs. Han, why do you have a rope and a bucket?" Your danger alarms begin to go off, wondering if she was secretly a serial killer or something. The grin she sends you in response does nothing but heighten your suspicions.

"You see, my son—" she says as she ties one end of the rope to the bucket and Taeho starts to get it filled with water. "—thinks he can get away with using fake blood to scare his poor mother."

"And his poor brother; don't forget me," Taeho pipes up.

"I blame his uncle for buying him that muggle magic book when he was younger—haven't had a day of peace since then, ugh." She doesn't sound as exasperated, more so just doting.

"Oh," you reply uselessly. It happens often these days when someone drops an anecdote or detail about about a version of Taesan you aren't familiar with yet. "Why am I here?"

"Surely you have something to get back at that boy for?" his mom chuckles as if that was obvious. "There isn't a single person he likes that he won't bother."

Oh…

OH!

"No! Uh, he doesn't like—" you begin to trip over your words, face burning at the word 'like'. "He isn't…"

His mom just smiles without prodding. "This will be the perfect opportunity for you to deflate his head a little, dontcha think so?"

In the end, you're helping them levitate the bucket over the door, setting up an elaborate mechanism at the crack of dawn. Then Mrs. Han brings over Taeri and asks her to go wake her big brother up, which she's more than happy to do—jumping on top of his groaning blanket-covered form until he begrudgingly opens his eyes.

Taesan is barely over the bathroom threshold before a bucket of freezing cold water plops right over his head.

"I—" He gapes, water drip drip dripping from his chin, and ears, and lips, and maybe out through his ears too. "Who the heck!?"

"Language," Taeri scolds, probably something she's heard her mom say once.

Taesan turns to see a bright flash go off, almost blinding him.

"Aw, Sannie, you look adorable," His mom coos, showing you Taesan's pathetic face on the magic camera. "We're definitely getting this framed for the living room."

"Mom!!" he groans in response. Then he seems to spot your amused chuckle from behind her, and at once, he suddenly grows bashful under the attention.

His neck is blooming pink, and his voice is shaky when he turns to Taeho instead to huff at. Taesan scowls, nose crinkling when he starts to complain.

He's obviously pissed off—it's kind of…cute.

Fuck.

No way did you just think that.

You're berating yourself for that insane lapse in judgement when the kids giggle and scatter away from Taesan's threat to tickle them all into oblivion; his mom also jogs away, eager to show her husband the picture of their son.

Which leaves the two of you alone in the bathroom.

"Uh—she made me," you supply without thinking.

"…Right," he gulps, too aware of the space between the two of you.

You think this is it, that you may have invited another wave of revenge from him. But soon, the edge in his voice turns…shy?

"Impressive… I didn't know you had it in you."

"Oh."

"I mean," he attempts to clear his throat, softer than he'd been a second ago with Taeho. "I'm proud of you for taking an interest in pranks. It's…unexpected. Good unexpected."

It's a little stupid how your heart swoops at that. And Taesan is right—it had been fun to be mischievous and let loose, not to mention how rewarding the look on his face had been when he'd fallen into the trap.

Cute, you think.

This time it doesn't feel as hard to accept.

── ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

In two days, it'll be Christmas. In the days leading up to it, Taesan's family doubles their cookie baking endeavours and triples this little prank war they've got going on.

First, its Taesan putting Hiccough Sweet into his mom's morning coffee, which then his dad drinks on accident and causes him to burst into a fit of hiccups. It takes several mugs of water, and finally a curing spell to get him to stop. In retaliation, Mr. Han wages war against his son, and recruits the younger kids with him—spiralling into a two-sided prank war between Taesan and the rest of them. His uncle and aunt stay out of the mess unless its to make bets or aid with water-gun supply. Even his grandma chuckles at the sight of a drenched Taesan (fair; he looked like a wet cat, in your opinion).

Between everything, you also learn that Taesan is quite serious about his hobby.

"Why are we in your shed…?"

Taesan is rummaging around under a bunch of boxes, sunlight filtering through the crack in the wooden ceiling, spilling gold on his raven hair. He's wearing a white cable-knit, looking far too innocent for the no-good antics he seems to be up to.

"This is my work station," he says like it should be obvious. "I can't believe you teamed up with my mom over me, hmff"

His pout looks too cute to ignore.

You kneel down next to him. "Your mom tempted me with a very nice incentive."

"What was it?"

"She said it would deflate your head a little."

Taesan puffs out his cheeks indignantly and you wonder why you'd never tried teasing him before—the results are just so fun. Like how his ears flush hot when he found out you'd been the one to set a dungbomb under his bed as a wake-up alarm, albeit on request from Mr. Han. Its funny. And nice to have an effect of him for a change.

On the list of Han Taesan trivia in your diary, you end up adding a, 4. He's really fun to tease.

But he's also downright menacing when it comes to plotting warfare.

Taesan has an elaborate set-up of novelty items tucked away in the shed, often accompanied by pages and pages of notes of his experiments. You learn that the hole in the ceiling was product of a spell gone wrong some years back—instead of using an amplifying charm on his extendable ears, he'd ended up using a blasting one by accident.

Currently, he's crouched down on a stack of cushions, jinxing each of the snowballs he's asked you to mould and hand to him.

"Why are we doing this again?" you ask.

"Stupid question, next."

"You're not imbuing them with dungbombs or anything are you?"

Taesan stops his activity to look at you in mild awe. "Wait…why didn't I think of that? Y/N, you genius."

"Woah, you're actually going to?? Won't that scare the kids?"

He scoffs at your concern. "Kinda the point, no? They decided to betray me for my dad and mom. I'm their big brother—I practically raised those little rascals. Look at how they're repaying me," he shakes his head dramatically, then sighs. "What have I ever done to deserve such an ill fate?"

It's your turn to scoff now, staring at his audacity. "Really? You think you're such a saint huh?"

Taesan has the decency to look ashamed when he clears his throat "Lets leave the past behind for a second… We're friends after all."

"Friends?" You raise your brow.

"Well…" He contemplates how to put it. "We're…partners? All that patrolling together must have counted for something, I hope. And look at us now, building evil snowballs together—if this isn't friendship, then what is?"

You can't argue with that foolproof logic.

Turns out that you no longer fear touching a dungbomb, and they aren't all that scary unless you count the foul smell they released once set off. Otherwise, its just a silly stink bomb that could harm you no less than an ant count. Things are scarier when they remain unknown, you realise.

Taesan pokes his tongue out as he works with a devious level of concentration, only looking up whenever you're done with shaping out another snowball from the giant bucket of snow next to you. His hair falls perfectly to frame his face, eyes sparkling with the kind of quiet passion you have never seen from him.

And for a crazy moment, your first thought is, why is he so hot when he's scheming?

"Fuck no!" you snap out of it with a not-so-quiet yelp, accidentally crushing the snow in your hand.

Taesan jolts up in concern. "Y/N? You okay?"

You blink several times, hoping someone will barge in through the door and save you from this moment. Alas! No one arrives.

"Peachy. I just saw a mouse is all." you grumble out.

It seems to satisfy Taesan. "We should work on that next then. Good think the house has loads of them."

"What–!??"

"I'm kidding," he chuckles at how you jump out of your skin for real this time. "I'll just transform some rocks in the garden and you can try with those, yeah?"

"…Fine."

Not an hour later, you're hiding behind a stump of log, hurling merciless snowballs at the kids. They run around half giggling, half howling for their lives, pink-cheeked and foggy-breathed. Taesan is so in his element as he runs after them, making snow explode into smithereens in the air—it kind of looks like a crystal firework show. You aid him by covering for his blind spots, melting Jiwoo and Taeho's snowballs before it reaches Taesan's body.

Despite yourself, you find yourself enjoying every part of it. And when Taesan finds you in the middle of the game, he squats down next to you. "See, told you we make a good team. Don't you regret picking them over me before?"

You grin into your scarf. It feels right to entertain his quip. "Guess you're right," you say. "I should have picked you a long time ago."

At once, he turns into a blushing mess, sputtering for words. His eyes are wide as saucers, cheeks redder than the apples hanging on the trees nearby. A gulp makes its way down his throat. Before you can giggle at his reaction and ease the tension, Jiwoo decides to do you both a favour and sends a hard sphere of snow right into the back of his neck.

"FUCK!" he yelps, turning to the perpetrator. It ensues into him chasing after her, threatening to drop snow down her collar. They stomp around through yard, bright laughter filling the evening as you watch with a pleasant buzz in your chest.

Teasing Taesan is really, really fun. Flustering him is pure joy.

//

THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS

It's possibly the busiest day of the year. You had taken a family trip to Hogsmeade in preparation for the following day—Mrs. Han counting heads until every one was accounted for. (Taeri was almost left behind because she'd been too busy finding a hat for Mr. Ribbit—until Taesan informed her you'd have to leave the toad behind for his own safety.)

The women split up to the fabric shop, and the men bounded off Honeydukes to placate the children. That left Taesan and you to wander about the cobblestone streets, conifers lining the storefronts, kids pressing their sticky hands to the windowpanes at delicacies. Carols drift out from the pubs, and Taesan hums along to it, drumming his wand on his thigh as you walk.

"Where to now?"

"Hmm… Ever been to Zonko's?"

You shake your head. The Joke shop had never been somewhere you braved to visit—too loud and crowded for your liking. You were also scared of said jokes; that was the main reason.

But once you're inside, the sight is a thing of dreams.

"It's…" Your voice comes out as a hush of awe. "Beautiful."

Taesan chuckles, nodding. "Have your pick; I specially recommend the Sneakoscopes—super helpful if you want to keep nosy losers out of your business."

"Would have been helpful a couple months back when you were terrorising me," you quip back. He has enough respect to agree with a shameful nod.

In the end, you take his suggestion, swinging a bag of trinkets that caught your eye. There had been a lot—rows and rows of silly potions and mystery cans, fake wands that were set up to burst feathers out of them, so many goofy tricks that made you giggle and Taesan to watch in fondness. After Zonko's, you head to the post office to pick up a package from your mom, sending a letter back to her. (you'd already sent a nice satin scarf a few days back, along with pastries for the nursing home inhabitants; it should have arrived in time for Christmas.)

The rest of the day is eventful with baking, cooking, and carol singing. Everyone starts to retire early for bed once Grandma Han starts to yawn, the kids ushered to their bedrooms despite their whines of protest.

"Santa doesn't like kids who don't sleep," Taesan spooks them, and they run off at once.

The house lulls into a soft silence. The fireplace crackles, the couch warm beneath your thick woollen clothes, and your tongue is sweet under the creamy hot chocolate. Taesan looks just as cosy next to you.

"Did you open the package yet?" he asks, stretching as he finally feels the rush of the day die down. He's been busy wrangling everyone together, making sure his mother didn't stress herself into fainting, and that his uncle didn't accidentally set the driveway on fire with a melting spell.

"Not yet; was waiting for you to get free." It's a slip of a tongue when you say it, but his softening features makes you not regret it one bit.

Honesty feels good. Not holding back feels good.

You take the rectangular package off the table and bring it back, untying the little string. Taesan peeks over in curiosity.

"It's—" you smile at the stack in your lap. "Movies."

"Huh?"

"DVDs… Mom and I used to watch a lot on Christmas eve. Oh… there's a letter too," you say, picking up the card from inside. "… She's bought a lot of new ones too! Apparently the Grandmas and Grandpas in her nursing home had a lot to recommend."

Taesan's eyes light up. "Woah! I've never watched a movie… Uncle bought a TV because he was nuts about muggle tech, but then the signal's so wonky, it won't show anything but static."

"Lets try this out… Maybe it'll work? Since you don't need reception to work a DVD, I'm pretty sure."

In no time are you and Taesan planted on the couch with a bowl of popcorn between you, and your shoulders slinking into the material from sheer fear.

"Why did we pick this one again?" You peek from behind the gap between your fingers, jolting at the jump-scare on the screen. "Oh fuck! What the fuck!"

"Exposure therapy, duh," Taesan supplies easily, throwing a popcorn into his mouth, amusedly watching you more than the movie. "This is fun."

By the end of the movie, you're sobbing from having been scared one too many times, clinging onto a chuckling Taesan.

"That was. The worst hour of my life," you gasp, wiping your eyes on his sweater. He pokes your head in retaliation.

"Overdramatic as always. And here I thought you'd put all the crying behind you."

"It's a biological reaction and it's out of my control!"

"Excuses." Taesan grins around a cheekful of popcorn. He easily dodges when you try to wrangle the bowl from him, using his long arms as an advantage. "Wait—listen, what if we just fix it with a happy movie?"

"Huh?"

"So it cancels out," he says like it's a bright idea. "You can pick this time."

You narrow your gaze, thinking of how exactly you could get him back for torturing you with every trigger warning known to mankind playing out before you. Then a lightbulb sparks above your head, making you smile.

45 minutes in, and Taesan is the one sobbing now.

"Why would you—" he chokes, biting into his fist. "Why would you show me this, you wretched woman…"

You would respond with something clever—if you weren't also trying your hardest to bite down a whimper. "Because…cancels out the horror movie, right?"

"Right.."

His eyes are puffy and red, nose the same shade. The two of you have instinctively travelled closer, shoulders pressing into each other's warmth, your head resting against his chest, his hand around you. You can feel every tremor of his chest when he inhales a sharp breath.

It's nowhere as torturous as the movie playing out.

"Why would they separate them!?" Taesan is hysterical, cheeks all wet with tears. "They were best friends. Best friends, Y/N!"

"They'll always be friends," you sniffle, hiccuping. "Always."

The plan was to make fun of Taesan by putting on the most bittersweet movie you knew in the collection. It was your lapse in judgement for thinking that The Fox and the Hound was a good choice for you to not cry to.

Taesan wipes his nose, catches his breath, and then stutters. "They—they remind me of the boys."

You turn to him with glassy eyes. "Hm?"

"T-they look like Keonho and S-Seonghyeon… T-their animagus forms."

Your eyes soften through tears, and Taesan's begin to stream. He's more sensitive than you thought he would be—and you're far too empathetic than you hoped for. Seeing him cry just makes you wail harder.

"Do you miss them?"

"Nope," he lies, then cries again.

Its comical how you somehow manage to calm each other down and make it upstairs to your respective bedrooms. Taesan looks like he doesn't want to be alone at all, and you're still shivering from the horror movie from before.

But its too risky to sneak into rooms… What if someone came by and found out?

Found out what exactly? Another coy voice asks in your mind.

"Goodbye!" you squeak out before shutting your door in his face before he can respond.

Oh my god, Y/N, get a grip! you scold yourself.

Sneak into rooms!? Stop imagining weird things! You are going to sleep and wake up early and forget all about thinking of wanting company for a split second of fear.

You crawl into bed, banishing unsanitary thoughts out of your mind.

Now that you're comfortably under the blankets, you should be less flustered, less scared. But the room is far too dark for your liking. And you feel so exposed in here, alone.

The shadow on the wall looks like claws, the ticking of the clock sounds like a death march. A sharp wind causes the apple tree outside to shake, dragging its branches across the glass window and sounding all too like a shriek.

You are terrified.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you begin to try and expel your nightmares of monsters and ghouls. The door creaks, you shudder when it does, and bury yourself lower in your blanket, too scared to check. But then you feel it—something crawling over your legs, inching closer, and closer, and closer—

"AAAHHHHHHH—!!!" You let out a bloodcurdling scream, about to hyperventilate before you hear it—

"Meow."

….

Two green eyes stare up at you, glassy, and soft black paws pad at your arms for attention.

"Mr. Meow??" You rub your eyes. "Wh—Taesan!?"

He prods you to shove aside before transforming back to himself. Soon, its watery brown eyes gazing at you, one side of his face squished against half of your pillow.

"What are you doing here?" you question, letting him get comfortable until he's laying under the blanket as well.

"Making sure you aren't peeing yourself from nightmares, duh." His attempt at sounding mean is softened by the fact that he's rubbing at his eyes, still sniffling.

"I liked you better when you were a cat." You frown.

It's obvious that he needed company just as much as you did. You don't protest when having him at your side makes the otherwise eerie room so much easier to be in—more easy to breath in.

"Talk to me," he says after what feels like a long time of just gazing at each other.

"About what?"

"Anything."

"Hmmmm…." You think; what could you say that would preserve the sanctity of this moment forever. "You're scared of feelings, aren't you?"

Taesan is immediately flustered at tactless declaration. "I am not scared of anything." He rolls his eyes, grumpy. "Just…bad at it."

"You gotta be scared of something. It's only human."

"Well…" He considers it, how much he wants to say, perhaps. "I don't love feelings I can't place, or act on without embarrassing myself. Or…"

"Control," you provide.

He pauses, then nods. "Yeah…control. It feels too complicated to make sense of, and too big to deal with…"

Maybe its the night-time that makes him so honest, or the drained ache of a busy day. Or maybe it's that it feels almost too familiar, like deja vu from when you would vent to Mr. Meow in the comfort of your dorm. When he'd listen attentively, chiming in with a purr or a mewl at appropriate intervals…and maybe it's time for you to do the same for him.

So you do.

"I wasn't exactly the easiest to handle as a kid. Mom always talks about it too," Taesan is saying. "Like, if I got too uncomfortable, I'd start to act out. She got the worst end of it…my tantrums, refusing to eat for days, crying until I was sick with a fever."

The thought of Taesan crying should warrant a tease, but his voice is so genuine, you feel a pinch of fondness there instead.

"And," he continues. "Every time she'd leave me alone, I'd just start to freak out."

"Freak out?"

"Ugh, I guess I was a little bit of a mama's boy," he chuckles, and his voice is raspy from crying. "I'd never left her side until school, and when I did find out I'd be living away from home for most part of the year, it just scared the living daylight out of me. I'm surprised you don't remember."

You knit your brows, slightly confused. "Remember what?"

Taesan assesses your expression, perhaps checking if you were feigning oblivion. "First year… The day we met."

That just makes you even more perplexed. First year? What had happened of significance in first year? The flying class incident when he set your robe on fire?

"I don't understand," you pout, burrowing out of the blanket to get closer to him.

"You taped your diary together—of course you don't remember," he sighs lightly. Taesan doesn't sound exasperated, there's only a vague sense of tired acceptance there. "Before the sorting ceremony. You found me in a broom cupboard."

Oh…

There is a blurry image where there used to be a hole in your memory, something far away and old. A small boy crouching against the tall shelf, curled up into a ball, bawling his eyes out.

"You were crying," you remember. Taesan nods.

"It was right after we'd arrived. Hogwarts was just so…big, and everyone seemed to know each other. Even if they didn't, they looked so excited and I felt like I was the only one scared to bits. Homesickness didn't help either.

"Then you came, out of nowhere, like some superhero," he confesses quietly, eyes crinkling as they meet yours. The moment is tender. "You came, and you told me that there was nothing to be scared of, then you offered to be my friend."

"I…did."

"Yeah. You wiped my tears with your tie and everything." Taesan smiles at the memory. "And then…then you kissed me."

Oh.

You remember now—how you'd reached over with your small hands and planted a soft peck to his tear-stained cheek, promising him that it would expel all his fears away like magic—something your mom had done for you to help you go to sleep without nightmares. You remember how he'd stopped crying at once, how pink his ears had gotten, how you'd told him that he was brave and cool and would totally get into the coolest house even when you yourself had been internally worrying about your own.

It might have been just you parroting things you heard at home, but somehow, you wonder if it had left that big of an impression on Taesan.

"You didn't forget," you say to him. Moonlight breaks through your window, and there is the urge to reach out and trace his cheeks.

Taesan's own finger twitches where it lay on his side.

"How could I? You were the bravest person I knew then. You were my first…friend." He hesitates on the word like he wishes he could replace it with another, if he were just slightly more brave.

You wish he would.

"Hey, Taesan?"

"Hmm?"

"Remember what you said to me after patrol," you say. "You said that a love potion was the last thing you'd try on me. What did you mean by that?"

It had been weighing down on your mind since back then. Initially you thought he had said that you'd be the last person he'd want to feel anything remotely romantic for.

But now… Somehow, you doubt that's it.

'I—" Taesan gulps, chest caught in a breath. "It was…"

Please say it, you hope, please say it meant something else. That there's something sweeter there, something kinder.

Before Taesan can spill the truth, he's rudely interrupted by the chime of the clock.

Midnight.

"Oh." He notices the time, how the snow has started to spiral even more faster now. "It's Christmas," he whispers.

It's a shame that the tender moment is broken, but the second you hear excited squeals from downstairs (evidently, the kids had not fallen asleep like they should have), your disappointment is replaced by gratitude.

You're happy that it's Taesan with you here—that he has a family that loves so loudly, that you get to be part of it.

"Thank you," you say instead of a Merry Christmas. "For asking me to come with."

Your hands lay a hair's breadth apart—you could reach out now, and he could too, but you don't need to touch to feel his warmth. It's in the way he holds your gaze.

"Thank you for staying," Taesan says back.

Christmas begins quietly, with the contentment of having braved ghosts of the past, and the longing to hold onto this feeling for a little longer.

//

Christmas day is eventful.

Taesan sneaks out before the sun's up, and you wake up to the younger kids jumping on your bed, eager to drag you down to open up presents. There's an entire feast laid out on the dining table when you arrive: roasted meat and vegetables, toffee pudding, gingerbread cookies, eggnog, and things you've never seen before that had been taken from Grandma Han's secret recipe book.

Gift exchange is a ruckus as expected. They sit around the tree and unwrap presents, squealing and hugging each other. Taesan gets you a little snow-globe with a frog inside it, and mini earmuffs for Mr. Ribbit (he croaks happily when you put it on him).

When the family retires to the living room to watch a two-woman play put on by the girls, you take the chance to get Taesan alone in the kitchen.

"Here," you say, thrusting a box into his hand. "Merry Christmas."

Taesan looks down curiously, deft fingers cracking the package open. His face lights up like a bulb when he sees its contents. "Pocket Dragon!?"

"For old times sake." You giggle at his reaction. Since when did Taesan get so cute? "And because I saw you looking at it when we were at Zonko's."

If he had been happy before, he's downright overjoyed now. "You noticed… I've been wanting to stock up, but… I thought maybe you'd be mad about it."

"As long as you don't keep using it on me," you warn.

He grins. "Promise I won't. Can I at least throw one into the first year dorm?"

"That's a ten point violation, so no."

Taesan pouts, then smiles again at his next bright idea. "How about Jeon's office?"

"…" You consider it for a second, then, "Sure. He doesn't count as student body, I guess."

"Yay! And since we're on that topic, can I keep selling my stuff at school or are you banning me from doing that again?"

The conversation should be silly, but you know for a fact that Taesan is dead serious when it comes to his buisness endeavours.

"Umm… What if we meet in the middle and you stop selling to anyone below fourth year?"

"Third," he attempts to negotiate.

"Fifth."

"Fourth it is!" He graces you with a salute, quick to concede as not to test your patience. "Thanks to you, I won't be left without a career."

"There are prospects for this career?"

"Hey, don't sound so doubtful," he pouts in feigned offense. "I'll have you know that the boys and I run a tight network. We get orders too now! The newspaper club is the biggest buyer of our extendable ears, by the way. They say it helps with eliciting information."

"Isn't that some sort of violation of privacy?" You lean over as the marble-sized dragon hops out of the box, blowing fake fire on the counter. It isn't even scary any more; it's just adorable.

"Yeah," he waves it away without a care. "But business is business, and our policy states that we do not pry."

"Right…"

"Also their head reporter is kind of scary… She won't stop talking once she starts, and I'm always worried she's about to somehow figure out all my secrets and put me on blast in a column or something."

"Wow, I didn't think there would be more things that scared the Han Taesan," you giggle. "Now there's more than one."

"Don't you dare tell anyone," he hushes you, leaning in across the counter. "I've got a rock-solid reputation going on, alright? It's a carefully built house of cards—one topple, and my entire position as the school jokester crumbles, and then my business."

"You've put a lot of thought about this. Can't believe your career rides on whether I keep my mouth shut now." You're far too smug for someone who used to be at the receiving end of his whims, but you just can't help teasing when he looks so nice when he pouts. "Who knew you'd be so easy to affect."

Taesan is so close now, your faces inches away, lips bare millimetres from each other. You've got an uncharacteristic glint of glee in your eye, and Taesan is the timid one for a change.

"Y/N," he whispers, eyes flickering down to lips on accident. But it stays there, lingering.

He's considering it, closing the distance and sealing this tension with a kiss. Closer, closer, closer, until—

"Sannie, Y/N-ie, we're can't start the play without you!" Taeri has barrelled over to stomp her feet, urging the two of you to hurry up.

Thankfully, she doesn't question why you've sprung apart so far that Taesan is now planted against the kitchen wall, and you're leaning against the fridge on the opposite side.

"Be there soon," he grumbles, coughing awkwardly.

"Nowwww," she whines, and you're forced to placate her by following after.

You send Taesan a apologetic look behind your shoulder, but the last you see is of him murmuring expletives into the wall for some reason.

THE TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS OF CONFESSING YOUR FEELINGS

Spring Term

Taesan has been plagued with the strange feeling that he is a grade-A, textbook coward, as of late.

It may have something to do with how everything has somehow changed over December. You looked so at home with his family, the version of you he had never thought he'd get to see without stealing glances—when you're giggling away with your friends, or talking your toad's ears off.

But there you were, louder than he has ever seen you. Happy and bright.

When you eventually had to leave back to school, Taesan thinks his family misses you more than they'd miss him.

"Will you come back?" Jiwoo had been frowning, fat globes of tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks. A sad Taeri stands holding her hand and nodding along.

"Promise I will," you say, linking your pinky with theirs.

It's Taesan that pockets the promise though, silently making one of his own that he would bring you back again.

But now that he's back at Hogwarts, the fear of it all comes rushing back. When you pass by him in the hallways between classes, his heart thunders out of his chest—so loud that he thinks he may pass out on the spot. When you giggle at his Pocket Dragon burning a hole through his necktie, he almost actually does faint. Watching you take points off rule-breakers makes him infatuated. Patrols are excruciating.

You're just so omnipresent in his life; before, he used to look for you in crowds, now it seems like he can't escape you if you tried.

"Knock it out with the staring," Yeonjun comes to wack him on the arm with his broomstick. The captain had come back with double the ferocity after the last defeat. "I will personally see to it that you never graduate if we lose against Hufflepuff."

Taesan huffs, physically shaking off the thoughts of your smile.

For now, he'll just chalk up the squirming feeling in his chest to match nerves.

January passes like that—easy and slow, with stolen glances and late night strolls and the feeling of something big blooming in his chest. It has been for years now, ever since the first kiss on the cheek on that fateful day in first year. But its obvious to Taesan now.

He's terrible at pining.

"And Mom said that I should send Mrs. Han some of her cheesecake as a thanks for having me over. I still don't know what Mr. Han would like…Maybe some muggle trinkets for your uncle though, that would be—are you listening?"

"Hm?" Taesan is too lost in your eyes to process the words.

You wave a hand in front of until he snaps out of it with a jolt.

"Oh–Ah," he stutters, suddenly abashed, scrambling for an excuse. "Sorry, I just…I was…dreaming about dungbombs."

Fuck you dumb brain, he curses inwardly.

"Dungbombs…" You aren't hesitant to judge him, but it soon settles into understanding. "Is it for Professor Jeon's office again?"

"Hm… Maybe Yeonjun hyung's dorm too. He's been overworking me."

"Maybe you shouldn't zone out between matches then."

"Ugh," he groans. "That was one time. And I was distracted."

"By what?" You blink curiously. For a second, Taesan thinks you're testing him, being coy about getting him to spill his heart. But he can never tell with you anymore… People think you're naive, but he knows there's more to you.

"By…"

He could say it now, get it over with. The hallway is practically empty, just trills of birds to keep company. Taesan sees the hope in your eyes. He takes a deep inhale, ready to be brave and just say it regardless of the outcome, opening his mouth to—

"Hyung–! Taesan hyung!" comes the ridiculous interruption in the form of two frantic figures.

Keonho and Seonghyeon run up to him from the back, looking like they'd been chased to hell and back, hair dishevelled, face smeared with soot.

"What the heck happened to the to of you?" Taesan questions.

"Professor—" Keonho coughs. "Professor Park got us. You need to help."

"What he means is," Seonghyeon clarifies, rubbing ash out of his eye sockets. "We were testing out firecrackers in the Potions classroom and sort of, kind of, accidentally, uh…. set it on fire." He grins right after to soothe the blow.

"Please cover for us," Keonho pleads.

It's pure impulse when Taesan responds with a, "Ten points from Slytherin. You guys should know better."

The world stops spinning then.

Keonho gasps; Seonghyeon gapes.

You look at Taesan in concern, a hand coming up to his temple. "You don't have a fever… Are you… Okay?"

It's as thought Taesan's soul has been switched with someone else's—someone who cared for rules and doled out punishments. Usually he'd be high-fiving them for their antics, so it's earth shattering when Han Taesan of all people starts to act like a model prefect.

Fuck, is he turning into a narc!?

He stays up all night suffering in the dilemma, tossing and turning and groaning into his pillow until he's sick of it. Then he just transforms into his cat form and chooses to sneak into your dorm to cuddle with you instead—and you're more than happy to accommodate for him, letting him take the space between your elbow and the pillow.

Taesan might be the weirdest wizard alive; he can nuzzle into your warmth without shame, embarrass himself by putting on magic shows to impress you during boring patrols, bring you sugar quills until you tell to stop lest you get a cavity—he can do everything but tell you the simple fact of what you make him feel.

The victory against Hufflepuff doesn't even feel good until you rush to him to congratulate him. (He had only stared at the stands for five seconds this time—a record breaking number.)

And he starts falling harder, faster than ever when you've figured out the singular surefire way to his heart.

Pranks.

"Say cheese!" You click the camera in your hand, grinning at a shell-shocked Taesan who had walked into your trap—a doorway webbed with Spellotape. "You look like a grumpy cat right now," you chuckle at the sight.

Except you're wrong.

Taesan isn't grumpy; he's beyond enamoured.

And it's starting to become a problem.

He melts every time you tease him unprompted, when you're no longer afraid of all the things that could render you immobile with fear in the past (Taesan won't lie that he kind of misses those days too), when you get enthusiastic about new Zonko's products that you will inevitably use against him later.

It's the greatest honour anyone could give a joke-lover. But Merlin's beard does is he terrified of this monster he's created on accident—because one misstep and he's done for—completely, absolutely, irrevocably in love.

Which he realises, may have already happened without him knowing.

"Hyung, are you sure you're not coming down with something? Madam Kang may have a cure for it, y'know," Keonho asks at the end of such a day.

Taesan lay flopped over the leather couch, rippling blue light spilling across his visage, courtesy of the Slytherin common's direct view into the bottom of the Great Lake. Any passerby would take him for a dead man, he is sure of that.

"Hyung is down with lovesickness. He's just dramatic about it," Seonghyeon supplies from where he's trying to forge Professor Park's signature, not even bothering to look up.

"Hyung likes someone!?" Keonho screeches, and Taesan has to shoot up from his comfortable position to press a palm to his loud mouth.

"Shush! People will hear!" Taesan hisses. "And you—" he turns to the other boy. "Stay out of my love life; I don't need to suffer any more than I already do."

"Then just confess to her, duh," Seonghyeon states the obvious.

Taesan frowns.

Seonghyeon sighs like he's being forced to explain Arithmancy to a five-year-old. "Clearly your attempts at wooing her with tricks aren't working, you just look like a bird trying to court during mating season. Or a clown. No offence."

"Wait, what—"

"I think Y/N's the type to prefer honesty anyways," he says seriously, gracing Taesan with a look this time. "She's probably going crazy with confusion the more roundabout you try to go about it. Just tell her straight up."

"Hyeon is right… She does seem like the type," Keonho adds innocently.

Their advice rings in Taesan's head for the days to come.

Just confess to her—easier said than done, he thinks.

Winter begins to wear off, only a few showers here and there. Patrols thin the closer he gets to semi-finals, thanks to Yeonjun's strict regimen he'd curated specially to guarantee a winning spot this year. But that also means Taesan gets to see less and less of you these days—barely an hour before he has to slink back to his dorm and retire for the night before Yeonjun comes to check on his players (he is insane, has Taesan mentioned?).

But it also gives him ample time to ponder. He thinks about it during lectures, he mulls it over during showers, he even contemplates as he's tens of feet high in the air and chasing after Quaffles.

Just confess to her. Right… He should do that.

Soon, he tells himself. Soon, he'll lay it all down, and dearly hope you feel an ounce of what he feels for you.

It's a promise he means for himself.

//

Morning of Finals: Slytherin vs Gryffindor

Deep breaths. Count from one to ten, and be mindful.

One.

Two.

Thr—

Fuck it, he can't do this. The nerves are eating him alive, and it has nothing to do with the fact that he should be on a broomstick in less than an hour, and his performance in the game determines whether or not Choi Yeonjun will go to Azkaban for murdering him afterwards.

That's a minor inconvenience. But the more pressing matter at hand is that Taesan had woken up with the determination to split his heart right open and offer it to you. He grabbed onto it like a lifeline, hoping that the courage didn't die out before he could act on it.

But now, he realises that he's still scared shit of the possibilities.

What if you don't feel the same?

Maybe he just hallucinated the past few months, maybe he's being reckless thinking that's there is something between the two of you.

What if…

What if you still hate him, even just a little…

He knows he deserves it, for being immature and channelling his need for your attention in the worst ways possible. For staying eleven and stupid in his head without seeing how terrible of a person he was turning into.

He can only hope you see past it all, into his heart.

//

Taesan doesn't remember getting down the stairs—his feet moves on autopilot, the map in his hand tracing its way to you, his green Quidditch robes flying behind him. When he arrives, you're humming merrily, chattering on and on with your friends on either side of you.

He bites the bullet before he can regret it. "Hey, can I—can I borrow Y/N for a second."

Chaewon's eyes narrow, and Eunchae's dart between him and you. They look like they're about to throw themselves in front of you like your personal bodyguards. (Taesan would not blame them for that reaction.)

But you step in before they can. "It's fine guys. I can handle it myself." You give them a self assured smile.

It takes a bit of convincing from your part, but the two of them leave eventually, disappearing past the large wooden doors into the dining hall, Chaewon making sure to leave him with neck-slice motion just in case. (He does not blame that either.)

"You wanted to talk?" you ask now that you're finally alone.

Taesan gulps. The voice in his brain yells at him to just go for it.

"I have a match today," he says instead.

You chuckle, and it sounds like windchimes to his broken brain. "I know you do. I'll come down to watch. Don't tell anyone I'm rooting for you over my own house though."

He blushes at your easy confession. It might not mean much to you, but he feels like he's just won the lottery.

Yeah, he's capital D doomed.

"There's something else too, that I wanted to say."

"Oh," when you say it, the hope in your tone is unmistakable. Your eyes widen ever so slightly, your brows earnest. "Yeah. Anything you want."

"I—"

Out with it—Taesan's head screams at him. Just tell her how you feel; it's simple. Say three easy words and deal with the rest later. A leap of faith—that's all it takes to lay this torturous affliction to rest.

Except, he starts to feel it—the acidic, putrid feeling of fear bubbling in his gut.

And it mixes with the regret of treating you like shit for so long, with the anger he feels at himself for being childish, for ever wanting to see you cry.

If he was better at regulating his emotions, this wouldn't have happened. You could have been friends for a long time now.

And maybe, maybe you're just better off without him after all. Taesan doesn't even know for sure if he's truly changed or not, if whether deep down he's still the insecure, cowardly eleven year old he'd always been.

"It's nothing," Taesan finally says, heart sinking at the admission.

"Taesan…"

"Just forget it alright? it's nothing serious." Taesan makes light of the situation, diffusing the tension with a weary smile. "I'm gonna get some food now."

He begins to move out of your way, ignoring how you call after him when he speedily walks into the Great Hall in the direction of his house table.

But he's barely two steps in when the door slams open behind him, rattling against the walls on either side. He doesn't dare to look.

"Taesan."

"Later, Y/N."

"HAN TAESAN, DON'T YOU DARE WALK AWAY FROM ME RIGHT NOW!"

Taesan's eyes widen in surprise. When he turns back, he's beyond shocked to find you standing on top of some poor kid's seat, with your wand to your throat to amplify the volume.

"What are you—"

"I'm sorry but I've waited too long," you huff, taking a big swallow of air, psyching yourself up. "It's time for me to get over my stage fright anyways."

Students stop eating to look over. Someone definitely pulls out a camera to record the whole thing—it's the most interesting thing that has happened at breakfast in a long time. Chaewon and Eunchae, who was mid-meal, gapes at the sight of their supposedly cowardly friend willingly make a fool of herself in front of the entire breakfast hall.

But you continue, undeterred, "Han Taesan, you're insufferable."

Oh.

"You play games instead of saying words. You trick and you tease and you taunt and you make me cry until all I think about is you."

Your voice stutters. But you stare right ahead at him, ignoring the stares and gapes.

"I never understood it to be honest, why you would do any of that to get my attention. But then… But then you apologised. And you listened. And you keep trying to fix things, and the trying mattered to me more than the fixing did. A lot, actually," you're rambling now, earnest. Taesan's heart clenches. "I kissed you when I was eleven and I thought maybe that's the biggest mistake I made because you wouldn't have chased after me for this long if not, but guess what? I don't regret it one bit," you half laugh, half cry, like this is something you'd thought about for a long time.

"And I was a coward through it all. I-I was too scared to believe that you could be better, that you could ever feel anything more than spite for me."

Taesan can see your hand shiver where it holds the wand. This isn't easy for you—not by any means. You look like you could faint any second now actually, but you're pushing through on sheer adrenaline alone.

And for him, it's the fear that it might be the last chance her ever gets to tell you.

"L/N Y/N," he follows suit, scrambling up onto the nearest empty spot on the Slytherin desk as well. The two of your are practically screaming at each other from across the Great Hall now.

"You're wrong," he begins. "You're wrong about being a coward. Because that's me, not you—in fact, I think you're the bravest person I know."

Your eyes are glazed over, but they're warm on him.

"You may have been scared of snakes and spiders, but none of that stopped you from standing up for people. You do things despite it all. You even held my hand even when you were scared yourself, even when you were eleven yourself.

"And the kiss…" Taesan remembers the day like the back of his own hand. How it felt, how one act of kindness had entrapped him forever. "I'm glad it was you that found me in the broom cupboard. It can't be anyone but you."

He feels his heart thundering as the truth breaks past his lips. His palms are sweaty, his throat dry, but it's now or never.

"I hate it when you don't pay attention to me, and I hate it when you look away. It's childish but that's the truth," he admits. "I hate how I can't go a day without knowing I affect you some way or another. And I poked and proded instead of just being a decent person, because there wasn't a world where you'd be friends with me for real. Or that's…what I believed. Until now.

"When you threaten to take points from me, it's the best fucking part of my day." Taesan sounds absurd to himself. But his heart feels relieved. "When you called me out, I fell headfirst—and it terrified me. When you smile at me, I just want to explode a little," he says earnestly. "And your pranks…god, when you started to join in? I knew I was a goner since then. Maybe even before that. Maybe I knew when I was eleven but I was just too cowardly to admit it to myself."

Deep breath. Count one, two, three…

"I like you." A loud whisper. Someone's spoon falls to clang onto a plate. "No, that isn't it. I…I'm in love with you; I'm sure I am."

"Taesan," you begin but he's quick to swoop back in.

"You asked me what I meant back then. When I said a love potion was the last thing I'd try on you," he says. "I never thought you'd feel the same but I still… I wanted it to be real if it did ever happen. Not one of my tricks. Not a potion or a prank; I wanted you to like me for me."

"I do," you say, finally stepping down from the desk to inch closer. "I like every version of you—even the parts I used to be scared of."

Taesan feels your hand in his, coaxing him to step down and meet your eyes. You're standing at the dead centre of the hall now, all eyes on the pair of you, but nothing is scary when you've got his hand in yours, Taesan realises—not even public humiliation, apparently.

"You're brash and you're mean and a menace to boot," you smile sweetly, a little longingly. "But you're also soft, and fun to tease, and attentive and sweet. And you're so, so loved."

Taesan could almost cry from how earnest your words are; he wonders what he'd ever been so scared of. "I'm sorry for—" he begins but it seems that you're done with listening to apologies, because the words get stolen out of his mouth and right into yours.

You're kissing him.

It's messy and it's desperate and Taesan melts into it. There could be claps resounding around, but he isn't too sure—nor does he really care at the moment.

All that matters is that your palms are on his cheeks, and your lips taste like apples. They taste like him.

You whimper into his mouth and Taesan decides that's enough public service for the day; he parts, ignoring the desperation to attach himself back to you, and grabs your hand to lead you out of the hall and into the first empty alcove he finds.

"Taesan," your words cut off with a fierce kiss, years of pent up longing poured into it. Taesan can only hope it reaches you.

Now it's his turn to hold you between his palms, to litter kisses at the corner of your lips, and one on the side of your cheek—which elicits the sweetest giggle he's ever heard in his lifetime—and back on your lips until he's rudely interrupted by someone yelling at him from the back.

"Oi! Match in ten minutes, if you don't get your ass over here—" Yeonjun's loud mouth reaches his ears.

But Taesan does not give two shits right now. He continues to kiss, offering the captain a middle finger behind his shoulder. Yeonjun almost throws his broomstick at Taesan in annoyance, but Sakura drags him back by the scruff of his neck.

"Be there in five or I'm letting this guy lose," she deadpans, leaving once Taesan graces them with an agreeing wave of his hand.

He's too busy memorising you to care about silly things like Quidditch or his potential death. Too busy kissing you like this is the end of the world.

"You—" you gasp between one of those kisses. "You'll be late for the match."

"Hmmm… Don't care."

It pulls out a giggle from your mouth. "I care. I'm not about to lose my boyfriend before I've even gotten to go on a date with him."

"Oh?" He smirks, coy. "Look at you being all brave. Boyfriend, huh?"

You blush deep, but maintain your dignity without backing down. "Keep pushing and I'll go find another boyfriend."

"You would never. You like me too much."

Taesan is confident now, no longer afraid of possibilities and futures—you're it for him, and him for you.

"Guess I do," you whisper before landing a peck to his lips. You pull back before he can deepen it, and Taesan huffs grumpily. "After the match. Promise."

"What if I lose?" he asks.

"Even then. I promise."

It's only then he finally steps back, and he tries to hold onto your hand until the very last moment, pinkies interlinked. Taesan looks at you—your bright grin, the way you hold yourself higher now, more self assured, yet still unapologetically yourself. Still the same person he'd been taken with all those years back. The sun spills across just the two of you, and he can't help but drink in the sight.

"Don't stare too hard," you say before letting him go, a placeholder for good luck, Taesan knows.

"No promises," he replies, grinning.

ᗢ₊˚✧ . fin.

── .✦ for more hogwarts! aus, check out the signed, sealed, spellbound series!

perm tl: @/pupillary @ilysungho @lovehakie @leehanaholic @ivehan @ramizluv @moesthinking @gentiliana @athenaisonlinee @wnouzi @amarecerasus @defnotsanni @cl4ir0l0v3r @knrejj @fayepz @nemoihan @ruuroom @woonbabie @i-am-not-dal @tenshi-sama @mwotgata @kazukazukiiii @qeeun-didi @izhypen @bee-the-loser @beomtomie @snoopymyung @dj-ami @itsmooniebaby @sycamoretree222 @yesongi @w3willris3 @nineooooo @nichozzystuffs @f-a-t-e-l-e-s-s @renvrr @mirouie @aer1z @velvetmae ── ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. thank you for the support, ily ♡⸝⸝

div cred: @strangergraphics

[movielosophy]

Pursuit of Jade | Family of three

[mwotgata]

WELCOME TO 🎉 MWOTGATA'S BEST COUPLE TOURNAMENT 🎉

the tournament to figure out once and for all which one of thee couples are the reigning champions that gets a special prize at the end.

featuring your favourites such as: kitty taesan x yn! donghyun x yn (maybe if he wins he'll come home)! but also dark horses such as: kkeomchiz from p&cc (the e2l goes crazy) and heeseung x yn (maybe in this timeline they'll be canon…)

CAST YOUR VOTES FOR ROUND 1 HERE! winners move on to round 2 (obvs)

please reblog for a bigger sample size THANK YOU <3 feel free to comment or leave your notes in the form, and if its funny 🫵 you 🫵 get to be on tv (my blog)!

taglist 🏷️ @taestulipss @tsanho @pupillary @leehanaholic @amnellsia @lovehakie @mirouie @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @jellywichu @hraethy (thank you!)

[original pinned]

[mwotgata]

i'm not going to drop you. ꨄ..  ⠀⠀woonhak x f! reader. as part of the xs and os x-men au series!

synopsis: woonhak and you can't seem to have a normal date. (wc 2.8k) a/n: the year is 2050, user mwotgata is still writing for her xmen series. not just anyone. is required reading! if you're curious where this falls in the timeline, its after sungho & taesan's, before leehans! this is kinda like a spin-off? sequel? short story? yes.

"you have the same look as when you’re working through a very complicated worksheet problem.”

"this is a very complicated problem,” you grumble, contemplating between the caramel or butter popcorn, tapping your chin.

you can feel the urgency radiating off woonhak as he watches you pick. you know him well enough to understand he’s trying his best to hold his tongue and not rush you, even if he is very worried about missing the trailers.

"we’re watching an action film,” woonhak fiddles with his fingers, "is the popcorn really gonna make or break it?”

his giddiness and nervousness sweeps you up like a coffee with too much sugar in the morning. your hands nearly start trembling as woonhak’s emotions create an empathetic whirlwind and you think you should decide before he starts vibrating through the floor.

"butter,” you eventually announce, "we’re going with butter.”

"thank god,” woonhak breathes out, far too dramatic for the situation, "i thought we’ll miss the beginning of the movie!”

"don’t be so dramatic,” you grumble as you take the enormous plastic bag of butter popcorn.

woonhak literally manifests super speed to pay for the popcorn before you can protest, grabbing your hand and more or less dragging you through the movie theatre - still in super speed and in complete disregard for any gawking onlookers.

it’s been three months since the incident- three months since you technically died for a minute, and three months since woonhak took you to your favourite coffee shop as a date.

you’ve both been at least five times to that coffee shop by now. three times it ended in a save-the-day scenario that required woonhak’s heroic alter ego and twice something exploded. you’ve also been on two candlelit dinners: the first time a villain ran through the kitchen and you ended up with marinara sauce across your chest - which woonhak thought was blood when he emerged from the toilet ten minutes later, completely unaware of the storm that just tore through the restaurant. second date was great - if you ignored the fact that woonhak was so nervous he accidentally set the tablecloth on fire and the entire place had to be evacuated. there’s also been one study date at the mansion’s expansive library that ended up being a ‘watch movies on woonhak’s hand-me-down laptop (from sungho) for the entire day because someone came and blew up library the day before and woonhak barely made it out alive (or so he says)’ date.

woonhak’s super speed has slowed to a brisk walk by the time he ushers you into the already dim theatre, sneaking to his row and sitting down in his seat with a finality that screamed ‘this date is going to go great’.

you settle in beside him, reaching over his lap for a few pieces of buttered popcorn he has already made a sizable dent in.

"sorry,” he whispers, shoving the bag into the cupholder of the middle armrest, "here - you can have the rest.”

you raise an eyebrow, "i can’t finish all that. you eat it.”

you can see the glow of woonhak’s white teeth as he grins at you, "well, if you insist!”

"shhh!” someone two rows in front of you turns around and gives you a stare.

you glare back in his general direction in the dark as embarrassment rolls off woonhak in waves. but he gets settled enough for his excitement to spike in tandem with the action scenes and to literally shift to the edge of his seat during the car chase sequence.

then you feel it, the prickly feeling of hostility and a pair of eyes burning into your back. you shift slightly, but the theatre is dark and bathed in shadows, and you can’t see anything but woonhak’s large head and the back of his seat.

you tug urgently on woonhak’s sleeve and he breaks out of his trance, shaking his head as if to actually shake off the excitement from the movie as he bends down to hear you.

you cup your hands around his ear as you whisper, “someone’s watching us.”

woonhak’s entire body turns rigid.

“where?” he whisper yells, looking wildly around in the theatre and loud enough for you to pinch him in the arm and shush him.

“behind us, two rows back, to your left.”

“what should we do?” woonhak looks helplessly back at the screen.

“we need to move -”

“but the movie -”

“it’s either being kidnapped or not finishing the movie, hakie, you pick,” you huff.

woonhak is silent for a moment like he’s actually contemplating the idea before he nods, “okay, staircase’s to your left.”

you basically crawl across the carpet of the movie theatre, woonhak hot on your heels as he tries to whisper sorry to everyone expressing discontentment at your exit.

once you’re outside, woonhak takes a big gulp of air exaggeratedly.

“are you sure there were people?” he fiddles with his fingers as he watches you peer around the corner, “nobody came out after -”

“there! i’ve got visual!”

someone yells, and a chill runs up your spine as you snap to attention. heavy boots pound against the floor and you manage to see an entire black ops team decked out in bullet proof armour and holding what you hope isn’t a rifle in their hands round the opposite.

“oh shit -” woonhak curses under his breath as you grab his hand and make a run for it down the hallway.

“what did i say about second guessing me?” you yell over the noise as theatre doors fly past you.

“that i shouldn’t do it,” woonhak answers dutifully, as if on instinct, “okay, i’m sorry!”

you slam on the emergency exit door.

“stuck,” you hiss as woonhak presses his back into your’s, the sound of boots growing closer.

“try again,” woonhak frantically yells.

“i’m trying, genius!”

woonhak yelps as red lasers appear at the end of the hallway.

“there! get the stronger one!”

“babe!” woonhak’s panic rolls off him like rapid breaths, increasing with each inhale, “they’re trying to kidnap you!”

“no, you idiot! they’re trying to get you!”

you kick the door in just the right position and it gives way under your weight, woonhak and you tumbling out into the streets and concrete. a bullet lands near woonhak’s foot and he screams, jumping up higher than you’ve ever seen and pulling you along as the two of you run down the street, pursued by mysterious masked assailants.

“they look like the guys from the library!” woonhak yells over the wind.

“right!”

“you knew?”

“i meant turn right!”

woonhak makes a sound of confirmation and shock as he goes into a wide curve, swerving into a discreet alleyway.

“don’t stop,” you warn, and woonhak’s grip around your hands tighten. you cast a look over your shoulder and see no one.

“dead end,” woonhak gasps, stopping just before a brick wall.

you put a finger up to your lips and woonhak nods, the two of you unconsciously scrunching into the corner of a brick wall like a pair of frightened mice as the sounds of boots thump closer and closer and -

turns into your alleyway.

just our luck.

“found them!”

woonhak somehow reacts faster than the bullets, throwing himself over you as his powers activate faster than he can think. the bullets shoot through the two of you like you’re made of jelly - slowing down as it passes through your body and then lodging itself in the space behind your head. you shudder at the thought of where that bullet would’ve been before woonhak pushes the two of you into the wall - then through the wall - then tumbling out onto the street that would’ve been behind the wall.

woonhak’s body buzzes with emotion, his mind running a mile a minute as the two of you roll out on the pavement

“are you okay?” he gasps, his arm braced around you to absorb the impact of your tumble.

“i’m fine,” you sit up and smush his face in between your two hands to stare into his eyes, “listen to me. we need to get out of here - fast.”

you can hear the soldiers yelling to each other - about losing visual and they can’t be far.

“focus,” you mumble, “hone in on one emotion - you can do it.”

“okay - okay,” woonhak bites his lip and closes his eyes as your hands come up to cover his ears, “i’m thinking.”

you feel woonhak surging through his metaphorical emotional sea, trying to find an anchor point. waves of anxiety, then fear, and then frustration wash over you until he grasps onto a lifeline - an idea of getting out of here, a thought of get somewhere safe.

teleportation? you suck in a breath. still on the concrete, so nope.

“flight,” you breathe, your stomach suddenly doing loop-de-loops.

“i’m flying?” woonhak eyes fly open, “for real?”

the two of you stand up and woonhak immediately starts hovering, feet slightly off the ground as he test his newfound ability.

“you’ll have to carry me,” you say mournfully.

woonhak grins and opens his arms, “just say you want me to hu - woah!”

a bullet flies past his head and he ducks, basically barrelling into you as he wraps his arms around your waist and shooting into the sky.

the pavement drops away from your feet and you make a noise that you definitely didn’t mean to make.

“fuck, shit, fuck,” a string of expletives fall from your mouth as you tighten your hold around woonhak’s neck and squeeze your eyes shut.

“you okay?” woonhak asks over the wind, dodging the whizzing bullets as he weavers up and down in the air.

“ask me again when we’re not being shot at!” you yell, fingers twisting into his jacket collar like your life depends on it - scratch that, it does, because you’re currently several stories above the ground and the only thing between you and death by splat against pavement is your boyfriend who discovered flying approximately forty-five seconds ago.

woonhak has the gall to let off an emotion of joy, he’s probably grinning as he zips through the air, buzzing with a giddiness that settles in your stomach like soda.

“you’re having fun!” you say it like it’s an accusation.

“i’m flying!” woonhak replies, like it’s self-explanatory.

“i’m so gonna die,” you bury your face into his jacket, “focus!”

“i’m focusing! mostly!”

mostly is doing a lot of heavy lifting.

you peer over his shoulder at the scene below warily. the soldiers have spilled out across the area around the cinema, all of their guns pointed at woonhak. you count them under your breath - at least five visible, probably more - one of them holds up something that catches the light in a way that glints like trouble.

“higher,” you tap woonhak’s shoulder.

woonhak, thankfully, follows your instructions immediately this time, kicking his feet behind him like he’s a swimmer - just wading through air particles instead of water. the cinema grows smaller in your vision, then the street, then the entire section of the city until everything turns into gridlines and blocks.

“okay,” you say shakily, once you’re reasonably certain no one can shoot at you, “can you find the way back to the mansion?”

“um,” woonhak wavers up and down, “i think so?”

“is that a yes or a no?”

“um, i’m landing on maybe,” woonhak juts his chin out in a vague direction, “i think it’s that way.”

you click your tongue, “we should call sungho.”

“my phone’s in my pocket.”

“so get it,” you speak into his collar.

“um,” woonhak drums his fingers against your knee and arms, “i kinda only have two hands right now…”

you stare at him. he stares back, mouth quirked into a frown like he’s genuinely sorry that he doesn’t have a third arm right now.

“where is it?” you finally sigh.

“left pocket in the front.”

you try not to think about how the floor is very far away, and how woonhak is probably closer to the clouds than the ground.

“if you drop me -”

“i’m not going to drop you,” he says immediately, the words thrumming into you like his heartbeat, “i promise. i won’t drop you.”

you pause for a moment. then, slowly, you release your grip on his jacket, pulling back each finger reluctantly until you have a hand free.

the wind tries to kill you immediately, and you make a noise that sounds somewhere in between a hiccup and a whine and woonhak’s arms tighten around you like it’s a reflex.

“got it?”

“almost,” you hiss through gritted teeth, “okay - yes.”

you fish his phone out of his front pocket and immediately curl back into him, unlocking his phone and registering, somewhere in the corner of your brain that isn’t panicking about being mid-air right now, that he has changed his wallpaper to a picture of you - a picture from your first date where you were too engrossed in reading the menu. despite everything, you scoff as you navigate to sungho’s contact - spared for now, kim woonhak.

sungho picks up on the second ring.

“hello -”

“send sakura,” you demand.

you can hear sungho being taken back through the phone, “sakura?”

“we’re airborne.”

“in a plane?”

“woonhak manifested flight and now we’re lost.”

sungho pauses again, then with an air of resignation, “understood.”

you hear him tapping his ipad over the microphone, “i’m sending coordinates to woonhak’s tracker to the mansion. the mansions at your north-east. sakura will intercept you at the perimeter.”

“thank you -”

“and [y/n]?”

“what is it?”

“i need a flight report on my desk tomorrow.”

you hang up as a response.

“so?” woonhak looks at you with eyes full of desperation, “are we gonna be saved?”

“mansion to the north-east,” you clutch woonhak’s phone close to your chest, “follow your tracker signal.”

“b - but i don’t know what my tracker -”

“it’s that way,” you point, because you’re tuning out an entire city of emotions to pinpoint sakura’s and it feels like a splitting headache, “go.”

“i can see the mansion,” woonhak offers, and you grunt in response, “sorry. i didn’t know you were scared of heights. are you doing okay?”

“land first, talk later,” you grumble, still hiding your face in his jacket. you try to think of other things - like how woonhak’s arms feel around you (because he’s flying), the feeling of the breeze in your air (which is more violent than you prefer), and -

woonhak wobbles and you bite back a scream.

woonhak chuckles nervously, “sorry, got tense in the shoulder -”

your stomach drops, quite literally, as woonhak’s powers suddenly shift, and now the both of you are screaming as you hurtle towards the tree line.

woonhak is having a very bad day.

date ruined. didn’t even finish his movie. got shot at. and is now on his way to becoming the world’s most unfortunate stick in the ground.

please, please, please. he thinks to himself, i need something - anything, i can’t let her - i can’t -

he suddenly jerks to a halt, the whiplash punching him in the stomach that makes him audibly groan.

“so, when will you two finally get a normal date and spare us?” sakura descends from the sky, hands waving as she commands the wind to cradle you and woonhak to the ground, her voice tinged in amusement at your misfortune.

“we tried,” your voice is raspy from the screaming, “blame the people chasing us.”

sakura's eyes turn inquisitive, “chasing?”

“yeah,” woonhak tries not to throw up from the after shock, “these guys with guns - the ones from the attack on the library.”

sakura’s face turns sour, “i see. we’ll have to speak to sungho about this.”

woonhak stumbles to his feet behind you, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he leans on a nearby tree for support, nearly missing the trunk entirely and going face-down into the dirt again.

“for now,” sakura regards your dishevelled state, “let’s head back to the mansion. we will debrief tomorrow. i gather you’ll need time to… calm down. recuperate.”

“understatement of the century,” you mumble as woonhak gains enough stability to stand up properly, trotting over and grasping your hand to pull you up from the forest floor.

“maybe we should try the aquarium next time?” he offers in a whisper as the two of you trail after sakura in the direction of the mansion, “donghyun said it was pretty cool.”

“as long as the fish don’t somehow turn into flesh eating monsters,” you grumble, “and by our luck…”

woonhak laughs, “okay - but for what it was worth, i thought the date today was pretty nice until we got attacked.”

you let out a huff and say nothing, but you don’t let go of his hand, which he correctly interprets as i think so too.

any particular moments from the series you want to see... any scenarios...

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[haksgirl]

JUST ONE HIT OF YOU

🎤︎︎ Taesan shows up at Leehan's door with a speech prepared— he's done with their friends-with-benefits arrangement, done with the cycle of wanting and waiting and never being enough. But Leehan takes one look at him and sees right through the act. Because Taesan didn't come here to leave. He came here to be convinced to stay. And Leehan has never been the kind of person who lets go of something he wants.

leehan x taesan ──── super suggestive, explicitly obvious that they're gonna fuck, friends-with-benefits, emotional manipulation, kinda toxic rs, power play, coercion, dom!leehan i'm gonna freak you so hard (wc 5.4k)

♬.ᐟ never be the same by camila cabello.

The word stop had been sitting on the tip of Taesan's tongue for weeks now, a bitter and necessary pill that he knew he needed to swallow even though every fiber of his being seemed to rebel against the very thought of it. He had rehearsed the conversation in every possible setting— in the reflection of his bathroom mirror while the water ran cold from the sink, in the driver's seat of his car with his forehead resting against the steering wheel, in the quiet moments before dawn when Leehan would inevitably text him a simple 'you up?' and all of his carefully constructed resolve would crumble to ash before he could even type out a reply. 

This cycle had become exhausting in a way that ran deeper than physical exhaustion, eating away at something inside him that he hadn't even realized he'd been protecting until it was already too late to build the walls back up, and the worst part was that Leehan knew it. He could see Taesan's desperation written in every shaky breath and every late-night text, and he wielded that knowledge with a casual cruelty that Taesan pretended not to notice because noticing would mean admitting that he was allowing himself to be used in ways that had nothing to do with the arrangement they had agreed upon and his ego was too inflated to allow such a conclusion to come to light.

But tonight, he had made it all the way to Leehan's front door without turning back, and he was trying desperately to convince himself that the hardest part was already over, that he could say what he needed to say and walk away and finally reclaim whatever piece of himself he had lost somewhere between Leehan's bedroom and his own empty apartment.

Leehan opened the door with a soft, sleepy smile that Taesan knew all too well, his hair mussed from what might have been a nap or might have been the casual way he always ran his fingers through it when he was alone, and he was wearing a thin white t-shirt that hung loosely off one shoulder in a way that felt almost deliberately distracting. The warm amber light from the living room spilled out into the dark hallway behind him, wrapping around his silhouette and pulling Taesan forward like a tide that he had never once been able to resist, no matter how hard he tried to plant his feet and stand his ground. 

There was something in Leehan's expression that suggested he already knew exactly why Taesan was standing there, had probably known before Taesan had even made the decision to come, because Leehan always seemed to be several steps ahead when it came to the delicate mechanics of taking Han Taesan apart.

"Hey," Leehan murmured, his voice still carrying that slight rasp that suggested he might have actually been asleep before Taesan texted him, and he stepped aside with a lazy sweep of his arm that was less an invitation and more a command dressed up in polite clothing.

Taesan didn't move from the threshold. Instead, he stood there with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his leather jacket, his shoulders set in a straight line he hoped conveyed more conviction than he actually felt, and yet he could already feel the familiar pull of Leehan's presence working against him, softening the edges of his determination before he had even opened his mouth to speak. There was something about the way Leehan leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed and his head tilted that made Taesan's steady-not-so-steady resolve crack like a glass window when hit by a rock named Kim Leehan.

"We need to talk," Taesan said, and the words came out flatter and heavier than he had intended, landing between them with a weight that immediately changed the atmosphere of the entire hallway, and he watched Leehan's expression shift from lazy amusement to something sharper, more focused, like a cat that had just heard something interesting rustling in the grass.

The shift in Leehan's expression was subtle but unmistakable— his easy smile flickered for just a moment, replaced by a flicker of curiosity that gradually sharpened into something more alert, more predatory, as he let his gaze travel slowly down Taesan's body and back up again in a way that made Taesan's skin prickle with awareness. He didn't look hurt or surprised, exactly, and that was part of the problem— Leehan never looked hurt, never looked like any of this cost him anything at all, which meant that Taesan was always the one left carrying the weight of this fragile thing that had grown between them, always the one who cared too much and showed it too clearly and made himself too available for Leehan to pick up and put down as he pleased.

"That's a 'come in and break my heart' kind of tone, not a 'come in and hook up' kind of tone," Leehan observed, and there was something almost bored in his voice, like Taesan's emotional turmoil was just a mildly interesting diversion from an otherwise uneventful evening. "But you're still standing there with your hands in your pockets and that look on your face, so I'm guessing whatever speech you've prepared isn't going the way you wanted it to."

Taesan's jaw tightened at the accuracy of the assessment, because of course Leehan would see right through him— he always did, and that was part of the problem, the way Leehan could read him so easily while Taesan himself was left fumbling in the dark, never quite sure what any of this meant to the other man or if it meant anything at all beyond the convenience of proximity and the comfort of familiar hands in familiar places. There was something cruel in the way Leehan said it, something that acknowledged Taesan's weakness without pretending to care about the reasons behind it, and Taesan felt the familiar burn of shame settle into his chest alongside the want that never seemed to leave him alone.

"That's the point," he said quietly, and he finally stepped inside, brushing past Leehan into the living room without waiting to be led toward the bedroom like he usually would have done, because if he went toward the bedroom he would never say what he needed to say, and they both knew it.

He stopped in the center of the room, where the city lights from the floor-to-ceiling windows painted long silver and gold shadows across the hardwood floor, and he could hear Leehan close the front door behind him with a soft click and lock that felt more final than any door closing had ever felt before. The silence that settled between them was heavy and expectant, filled with all the things Taesan had been trying to say for months and all the things he still didn't know how to put into words even now that the moment had finally arrived, and when he turned around to face Leehan, he found the other man already watching him with an expression that was impossible to read, dark eyes half-lidded and lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.

Leehan didn't rush him, didn't offer any of the usual teasing remarks that might have broken the tension or given Taesan an easier way into the conversation— he just leaned back against the door he had just closed, his arms still crossed and his head tilted slightly to one side, and waited with the kind of patience that felt more like a trap than a kindness. There was something almost clinical in the way he observed Taesan, like he was waiting to see how this would play out, waiting to see how long it would take for Taesan to break and say what he actually meant instead of what he had rehearsed.

"This thing between us," Taesan started, his voice rougher than he wanted it to be, and he gestured vaguely between them like he could somehow encompass the entirety of their arrangement in one sweeping motion of his hand. "The friends with benefits thing, or whatever we've been calling it to make ourselves feel better about the fact that neither of us has wanted to admit what it actually is."

Leehan's eyebrows rose just slightly, a flicker of genuine interest breaking through his otherwise composed expression, but he didn't interrupt— he just waited, and the weight of his attention was almost unbearable, pressing down on Taesan's chest and making it hard to breathe.

"It's too much for me," Taesan continued, and the admission came out shakier than he had planned, his voice catching on the words in a way that made him sound far more vulnerable than he wanted to sound right now. "It's not what I signed up for, or maybe it is and I just didn't realize what I was getting myself into until it was too late to back out without losing something I didn't even know I had to lose. Either way, I can't do this anymore, Leehan. I need us to stop."

The words landed in the space between them like stones dropped into still water, and Taesan watched Leehan's face carefully for any sign of what he might be thinking, any crack in the composed facade that would tell him whether this conversation was hurting the other man even half as much as it was hurting him to have to say it. But Leehan's expression remained frustratingly unreadable, that same half-smile playing at his lips, and when he finally pushed off from the door and started walking toward Taesan, there was something in the deliberate slowness of his approach that made Taesan's stomach clench with a mixture of apprehension and the familiar, sickening pull of wanting that he could never quite suppress.

Leehan didn't stop until he was close enough that Taesan could smell the familiar combination of his laundry detergent and the faint clean scent of his skin, close enough that Taesan had to tilt his chin up slightly to maintain eye contact, close enough that all the carefully rehearsed arguments he had prepared started to blur and fragment in his mind. He didn't touch Taesan— not yet— but he was close enough that Taesan could feel the warmth radiating off his body, close enough that the tension between them had nowhere to go, close enough that Taesan had to consciously stop himself from leaning forward into his space and giving up on this entire conversation before it had really begun.

"So you're quitting," Leehan said, and it wasn't a question— it was an observation delivered in that low, even voice that always made Taesan feel like he was being seen more clearly than he wanted to be seen, all his defenses stripped away by the simple weight of Leehan's attention. He tilted his head, studying Taesan the way he might study something mildly interesting under a microscope, and there was something in his expression that might have been amusement or might have been contempt or might have been some combination of both that Taesan didn't have the clarity to untangle.

"I have to," Taesan replied, and he hated how small his voice sounded, how much it sounded like he was asking for permission rather than making a declaration, like he was presenting his case to a judge who had already made up his mind.

"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself more than you're trying to convince me," Leehan observed, reaching out to let his fingers brush against the edge of Taesan's jacket sleeve in a touch so light it was barely there at all, a tease of contact that made Taesan's skin prickle with the desperate need for more. "And you came all the way here to tell me no—you could have sent a text, you could have just not shown up tonight and let me figure it out on my own, which would have been the easier way to do it if you actually wanted to end things. But you're standing in my living room at one in the morning instead, wearing that jacket I like, with that look on your face that you only get when you've been thinking about me too much, which makes me wonder whether you actually wanted to end things or whether you wanted to give me one last chance to remind you why you keep coming back."

The logic was a trap, and Taesan could see it as clearly as he could see the faint smile playing at the corner of Leehan's lips, but knowing it was a trap and being able to resist it were two very different things, and he had never once been able to resist Leehan when he was looking at him like this—like he already knew the outcome of the conversation, like Taesan's attempts at resistance were nothing more than a formality to be observed before the inevitable surrender.

"I wanted to say it to your face," Taesan said, and even to his own ears the words sounded hollow, a flimsy excuse that couldn't possibly hold up under the weight of Leehan's scrutiny, and he could see from the way Leehan's smile widened that the other man could hear the lie in his voice as clearly as he could hear the truth underneath it.

"Did you really?" Leehan murmured, and there was something almost indulgent in his tone, like he was humoring a child who was pretending not to want a toy that was sitting right in front of them. His fingers found the zipper of Taesan's jacket and pulled it down with a slow, deliberate motion that made the metallic sound seem unnervingly loud in the quiet room, and he didn't look at what he was doing, kept his eyes locked on Taesan's face the entire time, watching for the reaction that he already knew he was going to get.

Leehan pushed the jacket off Taesan's shoulders with a kind of casual authority that made Taesan's breath catch in his throat, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud that neither of them looked down to acknowledge, and then his hands came up to thread into the hair at the nape of Taesan's neck with a touch that was light and patient and absolutely maddening in its restraint. His fingers curled slightly, just enough to tilt Taesan's head back, just enough to expose the line of his throat, just enough to remind Taesan exactly who was in control of this interaction and always had been.

"Or did you come here hoping that I would give you a reason to stay?" Leehan continued, his voice dropping to something softer, something that might have been mistaken for tenderness if Taesan didn't know better, didn't know that Leehan's softness was just another tool in the arsenal he used to keep Taesan exactly where he wanted him. "Hoping that I would do exactly what I'm doing right now, so that you wouldn't have to be the one to make the choice? So that you could tell yourself that you tried to leave, that you were strong enough to say the words, and it was me who didn't let you go, which means it's not your fault that you're still here?"

Taesan's heart was pounding so hard against his ribs that he was certain Leehan could feel it, could probably see it in the way his chest was rising and falling with each shaky breath he took, and he knew that this was the moment— this was where he had to be strong, where he had to push Leehan away and repeat the word stop and mean it this time, because if he didn't do it now then he never would, and he would be right back where he started, trapped in a cycle that was slowly consuming everything he thought he knew about himself. But there was something in Leehan's eyes that told him it was already too late, that the moment he had walked through the door he had already lost, and everything that had happened since then was just the slow, inevitable march toward the conclusion they both already knew was coming.

"Tell me to stop," Leehan whispered, his face now inches away from Taesan's, and his eyes were half-lidded and dark, holding that dangerous, knowing glint that had undone Taesan more times than he could count. His fingers tightened in Taesan's hair, not enough to hurt but enough to make his scalp prickle, enough to remind him that Leehan could pull harder if he wanted to, that Leehan had pulled harder before and Taesan had let him, had asked for it even, had begged for it when the mood was right and the boundaries between them had blurred into something that didn't have names anymore. "Look me in the eye and say it one more time. Tell me you don't want this, tell me you don't want me, and I'll let you walk out that door and I won't text you again. But you have to mean it, Taesan. You have to actually mean it, and we both know you don't."

There was a cruelty in the way he said it, a casual dismissal of everything Taesan had just tried to tell him about needing to stop, about this being too much, about the way it was slowly destroying something inside him— it was all reduced to nothing, invalidated by the simple fact that Taesan's body was betraying him, that his breathing had gone shallow and his eyes were fixed on Leehan's lips and his hands were already twitching with the need to reach out and touch. Leehan saw all of it, catalogued it with the same detached interest he might have applied to any other data set, and found it wanting in the only way that mattered to him.

Taesan opened his mouth, and the word was right there on his tongue, shaped and ready to be spoken, the single syllable that would free him from all of this if he could just manage to push it past his lips. But Leehan's fingers were in his hair and Leehan's body was pressed against his and Leehan's mouth was right there, close enough to kiss, close enough that Taesan could feel the warmth of his breath against his lips, and the word died in his throat before it could become anything more than a whisper of air.

Leehan smiled, slow and satisfied, like he had just watched Taesan make a choice that had never really been a choice at all, and then he closed the remaining distance between them with a kiss that was nothing like the frantic, desperate kisses they usually shared when they were already halfway to the bedroom with clothes coming off before the door was even fully closed. This kiss was slow and deep and devastatingly patient, Leehan's lips parting against his with a soft, searching pressure that sent a jolt of pure electricity down Taesan's spine and settled somewhere deep in his chest, and when Leehan let out a quiet, satisfied hum against his mouth, it was like being offered a drug after weeks of trying to go cold turkey, like every cell in his body was crying out in relief at being given what it had been craving, and the worst part was that Leehan knew it, could probably feel it in the way Taesan's entire body sagged against him, all the fight draining out of his limbs in the space between one breath and the next.

All the resistance that Taesan had been clinging to dissolved in an instant, all the carefully constructed walls he had spent weeks building up and reinforcing crumbling to dust as his hands came up to grip Leehan's hips, fingers digging into the sharp jut of bone there as he pulled him flush against his body, needing him closer, needing more of the warmth that was flooding through his veins and erasing every coherent thought from his mind. A sound escaped him— something low and helpless and humiliating in its honesty— and he felt Leehan smile against his lips, a victorious curve that made his head spin even more than the kiss itself, because Leehan was smiling like he had won something, like Taesan's surrender was exactly what he had been waiting for all along.

"There we go," Leehan murmured against his lips, the words barely more than a breath, and there was something in his voice that might have been satisfaction or might have been affection or might have been some combination of both that Taesan was too far gone to parse. "There's the truth."

Leehan's fingers tightened in his hair, tilting his head to deepen the angle, and he walked them backward slowly, deliberately, guiding them around the coffee table and over the discarded jacket with the kind of unhurried confidence that spoke to someone who had never doubted how this was going to end. Taesan went where he was pushed, his body moving on instinct, his hands still gripping Leehan's hips like they were the only thing keeping him upright, and when the back of his knees hit the arm of the couch, he didn't resist when Leehan pushed him down onto the cushions, didn't resist when Leehan climbed into his lap without breaking the kiss, his thighs bracketing Taesan's hips and his arms winding around Taesan's shoulders in a way that made him feel simultaneously trapped and entirely, utterly claimed.

The kiss finally broke, but only barely— their foreheads rested together, breath mingling in the small space between their lips, and Taesan's hands had somehow found their way underneath Leehan's shirt, his palms pressed flat against the warm, bare skin of his lower back, feeling the slight tremor that ran through him when Taesan's fingers moved experimentally against the base of his spine. His mind was nothing but static now, every rational thought he had brought with him replaced by the singular overwhelming sensation of Leehan's weight in his lap, Leehan's hands in his hair, Leehan's breath warm against his lips, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that he had lost something in this moment, that he had given up more than just this argument, that Leehan had taken something from him that he wasn't going to get back. 

"You were saying something," Leehan murmured, his voice thick and satisfied, and he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the corner of Taesan's jaw before trailing down the side of his neck, lips dragging against the sensitive skin there with a patience that felt almost cruel given how desperately Taesan's pulse was racing under his mouth. His teeth grazed lightly against the curve of Taesan's throat, not hard enough to leave a mark but hard enough to send a shiver down his spine, and Taesan could feel him smiling against his skin, could feel the satisfaction radiating off him like heat.

Taesan let his head fall back against the couch, his eyes fluttering shut as Leehan's lips found the spot just below his ear that he had always been too good at exploiting, and he knew he should be angry— at Leehan for knowing exactly which buttons to push, for being so confident in his ability to undo Taesan with nothing more than a kiss and a whisper and the weight of his body, for treating Taesan's attempts to leave like they were nothing more than a game to be won. But mostly he was angry at himself for being so pathetically, inexcusably weak when it came to this particular person in this particular context, for walking into this apartment with every intention of ending things and leaving as himself, only to be reduced to this within minutes of Leehan touching him.

The word stop had been incinerated somewhere between the first press of Leehan's lips and the moment his thighs had settled around Taesan's hips, and there was no getting it back now— there had never been any getting it back, not really, not when Leehan knew exactly how to take it from him every single time.

"Leehan," he breathed, and his voice came out as a wrecked whisper that didn't sound like his own, a sound of pure surrender that made Leehan pull back just enough to look at him with something that might have been triumph or might have been tenderness, or might have been some combination of both that Taesan didn't have the clarity to parse right now.

Leehan's face was flushed, his lips reddened and slightly parted, and he reached up to cup Taesan's face in both hands, his thumbs stroking slow, gentle arcs across Taesan's cheekbones with a tenderness that felt more devastating than any of the rougher, more desperate touches they had ever shared. The contrast between the gentleness of his hands and the weight of his thighs, between the softness in his expression and the lingering satisfaction in his eyes, was doing something to Taesan's chest that he didn't want to examine too closely, something that felt dangerously close to the emotions he had been trying to protect himself from by ending this arrangement in the first place.

"There's no need for speeches," Leehan said quietly, his voice low and certain, and there was something almost kind in the way he said it, which made it worse somehow, made Taesan feel like he was being managed rather than comforted. "You don't have to pretend with me, Taesan. I know what you need, and I know you're not going to find it anywhere else. So why don't you stop trying to convince yourself that you want something different and just let yourself have this?"

He said it like he was doing Taesan a favor, like he was offering him a gift rather than drawing him back into something that Taesan had just spent weeks trying to escape, and the worst part was that Taesan couldn't tell if Leehan believed it or if he just knew that saying it was the fastest way to get Taesan to stop fighting. Maybe there was no difference between the two, maybe Leehan's confidence in his own rightness was so absolute that the distinction didn't exist anymore, and Taesan had been tangled up in it for so long that he had stopped being able to see where Leehan ended and his own desperate wanting began.

Leehan leaned in again, but this time he didn't kiss Taesan immediately— he stopped with his lips barely brushing against Taesan's, close enough that Taesan could feel the warmth of his breath, close enough that the anticipation was almost unbearable, and he stayed there for a long, agonizing moment, waiting, letting Taesan feel the weight of his own need pressing against his chest.

"Tell me what you want," Leehan whispered against his lips, and there was a challenge in his voice, a dare that he knew Taesan wasn't going to refuse, not now, not when he was already trembling with the effort of holding himself back from closing the distance. "I want to hear you say it."

Taesan's hands tightened on Leehan's hips, his fingers pressing into the warm skin there with a desperation that he couldn't hide even if he wanted to, and he could feel the last remnants of his resistance crumbling away, could feel himself giving in to the inevitable with the same kind of hollow resignation that had become familiar to him over the past several months. He had come here to end things, had stood in this very room and said the words out loud, and now he was going to ask for what Leehan wanted him to ask for, was going to say the words that would keep him trapped in this cycle for another week, another month, another however-long Leehan decided he wanted to keep him around.

"Please," he said, and his voice was barely audible, a broken whisper that he would have been ashamed of if he had any shame left where Leehan was concerned. "Please, Leehan."

Leehan's smile was slow and satisfied, a predator watching his prey finally stop struggling, and he closed the remaining distance between them with a kiss that was deeper and more demanding than the first one, his tongue sliding against Taesan's lower lip before Taesan even had time to catch his breath. His fingers tightened in Taesan's hair, pulling just hard enough to make Taesan gasp against his mouth, and he swallowed the sound like he was claiming it, like he was claiming all of it, like Taesan's surrender was exactly what he had been waiting for from the moment he opened the door.

"Good boy," Leehan murmured against his lips, and the words sent a shiver down Taesan's spine that he couldn't suppress, a reaction that Leehan felt and smiled into the kiss, and Taesan hated how much he wanted to hear it again, hated how much those two words made his head go blank and his hands shake and his body press closer to Leehan's like he was trying to disappear into him.

Leehan pulled back just enough to look at him, and there was something in his expression that Taesan couldn't quite name— satisfaction, certainly, but something else too, something that might have been possession or might have been fondness or might have been the particular brand of cruelty that only came from knowing someone well enough to take them apart completely. He ran his thumb along Taesan's lower lip, pressing down just slightly, watching the way Taesan's breath caught and his eyes fluttered half-shut, and he looked like he was savoring something, like he was committing this moment to memory so he could come back to it later when he wanted to remind himself of exactly how much power he held over the person in front of him.

"Come on," Leehan said, and his voice was low and certain, leaving no room for argument, no space for Taesan to pretend that he had any choice in what was about to happen next. He slid off Taesan's lap with a fluid grace that Taesan had always envied, but he didn't let go of his hand, his fingers wrapped around Taesan's wrist with a grip that was firm enough to be a command and light enough to be a promise. "I think we've talked enough for one night."

He pulled Taesan up from the couch, and Taesan went without resistance, his body moving on autopilot, his mind still caught somewhere between the remnants of his earlier resolve and the overwhelming reality of Leehan's hand around his wrist and the direction they were heading. He knew where they were going— he had walked this path enough times to recognize the turn toward the hallway, the soft glow of the bedroom light spilling out from the half-open door, the way Leehan's grip tightened just slightly as they got closer, like he was making sure Taesan didn't change his mind at the last moment, like there was any chance of that happening now.

Leehan paused at the threshold, turning back to look at Taesan with an expression that was impossible to read— dark eyes half-lidded, lips still reddened from the kiss, hair falling across his forehead in a way that made him look softer than Taesan knew he was capable of being. He didn't say anything, didn't need to say anything, because the question was written in the tilt of his head and the curve of his smile and the way his hand was still wrapped around Taesan's wrist, steady and certain and completely inescapable.

Taesan looked at him— at the sharp line of his jaw, the knowing glint in his eyes, the way he stood in the doorway like he was waiting for something, like he already knew what Taesan was going to do before Taesan knew it himself— and he understood with a clarity that settled deep into his bones that he had never really had a choice, not tonight, not any of the other nights he had told himself he was going to end this, not ever. Leehan had seen through him from the very beginning, had known exactly how this would go before Taesan had even knocked on his door, and the worst part was that Taesan couldn't even bring himself to care anymore, couldn't find the part of himself that was supposed to be fighting against this, because Leehan's hand was around his wrist and Leehan's eyes were on his face and Leehan was looking at him like he was something worth keeping, even if only for the night.

Leehan pulled him forward, across the threshold and into the bedroom, and Taesan followed.

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credits: tiara by @anitalenia

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꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ filmed on 26th mar.

[luna-azzurra]

Fantasy Vessel Areas for Writers!<3

[dat-town]

war of hearts

There is nothing like the fear of losing somebody you love.

MAINS. kaiju scientist!Leehan & ranger!female reader

TROPES. pacific rim au, best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort (the angst to fluff pipeline)

WARNINGS. birth names used, canon-typical mentions of loss and death, brief alien monster fight descriptions, minor injury, skinship, mutual pining (taesan just wants to kill some kaijus but he somehow gets caught up with these two)

WORDS. 2.8k

NOTES. rewatched the movie recently and this happened. you cannot tell me Leehan wouldn't join a kaiju lab

Seven years ago, when the first Kaiju showed up on the shore of San Francisco and the news was plastered onto every billboard across the world, sixteen year old Donghyun turned to his best friend in triumph: “See? I told you aliens are real!”

At first, it seemed like a grotesque miracle. A never seen before huge monster showing up out of nowhere and leaving massive destruction behind. After a while people forgot about it. It happened once and far away, on American soil. Then six months later it happened again in the Philippines. Then it kept happening and so the countdown began.

Now, with you in a Jaeger’s cockpit, Donghyun wishes he had been wrong.

He wishes for a lot of things these days, he’s greedy like that. If not for world peace, for you.

He wishes he hadn’t been so fascinated by these creatures that he had applied to join the Kaiju scientist program right after graduation to become a cryptozoologist with his advanced fish biology knowledge. He wishes you hadn’t followed him to the Busan Shatterdome only to excel at the ranger training. He wishes you had never tested drift compatible with Han Dongmin. He wishes he didn’t have to watch you risk your life out there again and again while he’s safely tucked in the military facility’s laboratory analyzing Kaiju behaviour. He wishes you knew how much you meant to him. 

There it is again, that wrong feeling. The sirens are blaring but he can barely hear them. He just stares out of the glass panel of the lab, watching J-tech engineers running around to get Siren Fury ready for battle. The Jaeger stands 72 meters tall, made of sleek steel, Korea’s only Mark-5 model. It’s as much of a weapon as it is an armour, humanity’s only effective shield against these monsters, but you and your co-pilot always call it her, call it beautiful and Donghyun has to bite his tongue because chances are this metal giant will be your graveyard one day. There’s nothing beautiful about that. But you don’t fear death, not like him. You come face-to-face with it every time a new Kaiju emerges from the breach in the Pacific Ocean and you’re dispatched to fight.

He begged you before your first field mission.

“Please don’t do this,” he grabbed onto your wrist before you could have left the sleeping quarters. You were in his room, laughing at something stupid and meaningless when the speakers blared and you were summoned. Everything stopped being funny then.

“Donghyun–”

He could see something break in your eyes as you glanced behind your shoulder and then back at him. Your pulse thundered under his fingertips. The sound of sirens and footsteps dulled in the background.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded, cold fear grasping him with bony fingers. It was pathetic but he didn’t care. Now that it was happening, he didn’t think he could watch you fight a Kaiju. Simulations were different, you might have aced them all but this was the real thing.

“I haven’t trained for the last three years to give up now. I… we can die on the street during any attack. We don’t know when this will end, if this will end at all. I don’t want to sit around and just wait while people are dying. I want to do something,” you told him back then all determined, your eyes fiery, and he knew it was useless to argue.

He wanted to though, he wanted to ask why did it have to be this? He knows you though, after ten years of friendship, of course he does. He should have seen it coming since the first time you threatened to beat up kids who bullied him for his fish obsession. He knew you would make it since the first time he saw you on the mat, sparring with guys much bigger than you in the Kwoon combat room. You even kept up with Han Dongmin of all people and he came from a military family as expected from PPDC’s new favourite. He knew you were made for this.

“You know what’s the first thing they ask you in ranger training? Whether we would rather die here or in a Jaeger. You know what my answer is,” you added, quieter and put a hand on his to slide it off your wrist.

He let go, his fingers twitching and curling around nothing.

“ I know but… I can’t lose you too,” he whispered, swallowing around the glob in his throat. You had both lost too much when the Southern coastal line was attacked in Year 3 of the resistance. But the fear of losing you was so much more than that.

Still, you looked at him like you understood and you reached for his hand to squeeze it.

“You won’t,” you promised before catching up with your co-pilot yelling at you.

He still feels like he’s losing you, every single time. Even when you come back, he knows you will slip away soon enough. That’s why it hurts to let go even though he has no right to keep you back.

Today, it feels especially like torture. To watch it on the big screen in the Shatterdome as the Category IV Kaiju with its hardened scales, crocodile-like jaw and human-sized teeth tries to bite off Siren Fury’s arm.

The metal monstrum stumbles as the Kaiju drags it further into the water. The close combat seems unfair as the Jaeger’s left arm becomes useless and its right hand cannot seem to get a grip on the Kaiju that has a hard enough shell to not seem affected by the cannonball-sized bullets hitting it. Unfortunately firing a proper missile that might do some damage could also destroy the Jaeger from so close, so Donghyun knows why the fight is dragging out for so long.

“Did they mutate to be bulletproof?” He hears a girl from the K-watch team mutter under their breath and he presses his lips into a firm line. As somebody on the research team he knows exactly how these creatures evolved over time, how they got bigger, faster, smarter. It’s both fascinating and scary to see this fast paced evolution in real time and how Jaeger technology has had to match every new capability. It took six days, three destroyed cities and nuclear missiles to kill the first Kaiju, these days a Category IV takes two or three Jaegers and half an hour. But with the Japanese Midnight Ghost having its Conn-Pod detached from its body, Siren Fury is alone and they are losing.

“Did it rip out the electro blaster?” A girl gasps and Donghyun stands up so abruptly it knocks the chair he sat on over. He can’t just watch this.

He looks up at the communication center’s glass walls and the panicked faces before running out and taking the stairs by two. He’s heaving by the time he falls into the LOCCENT Mission Control room. He sees the Marshal’s eyes snap at him for his rude, unauthorized presence but he will deal with that later.

“Tell them to attack the underside of the neck or in the mouth,” he tells the officer behind the microphone. He doesn’t explain it because there’s no time. He sees the red warnings all over the computer screens, the health levels of the pilots dropping low, the Jaeger’s now disabled functions. It’s life or death at this point.

“What?” The officer blinks, looking up at the Marshal for instructions.

“Donghyun?” Your voice comes from the speaker broken and strained. Donghyun’s heart shatters a bit at the way his name sounds from your lips so differently from the usual teasing tone.

“With a body like that, it should be soft and weak in the neck,” he says firmly, now right into the microphone he has grabbed from the useless LOCCENT officer.

Kaijus might be aliens, they might have an anatomy the human race has never seen on Earth nor can comprehend. But they have flesh and blood – albeit toxic blood – like other mammals. They aren’t bulletproof and most have their gills on their necks to breathe underwater, so it’s as good of a guess as any.

“I sure hope you’re right, Kim, ‘cause we’re going to have to blow off our own arm for that since it’s still munching on us like we’re a chew toy,” Dongmin’s voice comes through the speakers too with its usual arrogance despite the heavy breathing.

“Well, do you have a better idea before it finds our generator too and Siren shuts down in the middle of the Japanese Sea?” You huff and Donghyun feels proud as he watches you and Dongmin work together to direct the right robotic arm’s open weaponized palm right to the base of the Kaiju’s neck.

The sound of the blast echoes in the tensely quiet control room until the monitor showing the Kaiju parameters declares it dead and the lifeless body of the Kaiju falls to the bed of the sea next to the victorious Jaeger.

“We did it,” Donghyun hears you say and he can practically see your smile just because of your voice. Relief washes over him as even the Marshal pats him on the shoulder. It seems like his reprimand has been postponed.

“Reset the clock,” the man says and the Kaiju attack counter restarts just as a beeping sound interrupts the cheers.

Your co-pilot calls your name the same moment Donghyun notices that your chart has a blinding red warning on the top of the screen.

By the time Siren Fury is brought back to the base, Donghyun is positively going crazy. Everybody is telling him that you will be alright but it doesn’t help. He can’t calm down until he sees you safe and sound.

But he sees Dongmin first. He looks haggard but okay, unlike you who has to be whisked away to the hospital wing.

“You!” Donghyun points at him accusingly and Dongmin has the nerve to look around as if he could be talking to anybody else. “You should have paid more attention to her. You shouldn’t have let her–”

“You and I both know there’s no such thing as letting her,” the ranger cuts him off and it only adds oil to the fire burning inside Donghyun because he’s talking big about you, acting like he knows you oh so well, which might be true but it still pisses Donghyun off. He’s supposed to be your best friend.

“Still. She shouldn’t have overexerted herself like that,” he says but it only makes the pilot guy cross his arms, unimpressed.

“Tell that to her yourself, maybe she will listen to you.”

Donghyun pouts because he has no good comeback for that and Dongmin gives him a pointed look.

“Dude…”

“What?” He snaps.

The truth is, Donghyun has never really liked Dongmin. At least not since you were paired with him. Personally, he doesn’t have anything against the guy, he is even kind of relieved that your partner is a capable soldier. But the link co-pilots share is almost more intimate than what lovers have. They see each other’s memories and they are in each other’s minds. From the moment you drifted together, the one who knew you the best was no longer Donghyun. So yeah, maybe it’s the bitter feeling of jealousy eating him up every time he looks at Dongmin, so sue him if he glares.

But Dongmin just shakes his head with a sigh as if the interaction already bored him.

“You were her last thought before she fainted. Just saying in case you want to do something about that,” he says with a tilt of his head and walks away, leaving Donghyun in a state of confusion.

Of course, he has to be by your side when you wake up. He feels your fingers twitch in his hand first, then he notices your eyelashes fluttering. Caught red-handed, he moves to pull away but your fingers curl, hooking into his, holding him back. Those damned words from Dongmin echo in his mind as his gaze meets yours.

“Hey,” your voice sounds a bit scratchy and you look a little sick under the unflattering white light of the infirmary but you’re alive. You will be okay. Now, he can finally believe it.

“Hey,” he breathes out, relieved, and even to his ears it sounds sickeningly fond.

Still, he lets himself stare a bit, at the way your cheeks get a healthier color and your hair falls into your eyes when you turn your head. When you push yourself up to sit – because of course you can’t stay still –, he rushes to help you by arranging the pillows and hands you a glass of water for your parched mouth. He briefly wonders whether he should call for a nurse but you don’t give him a chance.

“You saved us,” you speak up with a smile, a little awed and a lot proud. It makes him ridiculously shy, so he just shrugs it off.

“For once. It’s usually you who does the saving,” he says but there’s a small smile in the corner of his mouth.

“My knight in a white lab coat,” you tease and tug at the overcoat he forgot to take off since he left the lab in a hurry before.

“At your service,” he salutes playfully but your laughs fade into silence soon enough. It’s not heavy or uncomfortable, nothing ever is with you but there’s something building there, in the quiet space between you as his nails dig into his pockets. He wants to ask about what Dongmin’s big mouth said, but he has no idea how to bring it up. Not to mention, he’s afraid of what you would say. What if Dongmin was just pranking him?

“Kim Donghyun… I can see you thinking hard. Your forehead is all getting wrinkly,” you point out as you reach up to smooth out the lines with your thumb. Your fingertips are a little rough against his skin from years of training with the combat staff but he doesn’t mind. He mourns the loss of your touch as soon as your hand falls away. “What are you thinking about?”

“Just something stupid your co-pilot said,” he shrugs, playing it off but you tense nevertheless. So there is something to tell, he notes.

“Oh. What did he say?” You ask and he can tell that you’re aiming for casual while planning Dongmin’s demise in your head. So instead of answering directly, he prods further.

“What were you thinking about before you fainted?”

“Oh… I just realised I don’t want to die with regrets,” you shrug, averting your eyes and if his heart wasn’t doing aerobatics against his ribs, he would laugh at the glare you shoot at the heart monitoring machine by your bedside as it shows gradual increase in your pulse.

“And does that include me? Your regrets?”

Donghyun thinks that if aliens can be real, there must be a universe out there in which you love him back the way he wants. He just hopes it’s this one. He’s greedy like that when it comes to you.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this here,” you huff and this time, he laughs. He’s not making you do anything, he just asked a question like a coward because you have always been the braver out of the two of them. So when you grab him by the collar and yank him closer, his laughter dies on your lips like a Jaeger shutdown. He needs a system reboot to catch on and kiss you back. He slides a hand behind your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek like he has always wanted to do. It makes you smile against his lips.

“No regrets anymore,” you whisper against the seam of his mouth and pull him in more.

That is, until you’re rudely interrupted.

“Yah, let the patient rest! Youngsters these days…” The nurse clicks her tongue but the roll of her eyes is quite doting as she comes to check on the IV dip by your bed. Donghyun’s ears burn as he listens to you negotiate your early discharge and the nurse advises against kissing, but he can’t help smiling when you shoot him secret looks.

A famous ranger once said that there are things you can’t fight unless you’re in a Jaeger. He called them acts of god. Donghyun isn’t so sure if any god has anything to do with it but he knows for sure that he could never fight his feelings for you, Jaegers or not. He tried and failed and he wouldn’t have it any other way, because if he were to die during the next Kaiju attack he would rather have it happen with no regrets too.

END NOTES. i'm currently writing a longer romcom but apparently my brain was like wait, what about something angstier in the meantime? and here we are.

title is from the ruelle song (although work title was acts of god because of the quote but that sounded too religious)

header pic is from the dangerous mv behind sketch

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© 2026 dat-town

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