── .✦ away on tour with bf!hyunjin (birthday edition).
⟢ ┆ hwang hyunjin x reader. established relationship.
⟢ author’s note: i have gathered us all here today to celebrate @taikapavunvarsi’s birthday as she deserves. did i fuck up the time zones as always? yes. but here i am regardless 🥹 i am talking directly to YOU 🫵🏻 now—i actually had a written one shot with that one prompt you sent me in our chat, BUT i was too in my feels and it ended up being too angsty (with a happy ending, worry not) for a birthday present KDÑSKSÑ so i went with this instead. i’ll see if i can salvage the other story and post it some other time hehe. i did wish you a happy birthday on time but i’m wishing you a belated one as well now, i hope you enjoy this (kinda long ngl 💀) little story<3
i have a masterlist needing to be made aesthetic wise for what im working on and im not that cool of a person so if anyone would like to volunteer and help me out with my aesthetics thatd be awesome, youll get credit and a sneak peek of what's coming!! a bitch is not that creative and she is need of help. i've tried previously with my previous masterlists, but this one i want to be explosive with the vibes because i'm very excited for this new side of my writing
🚨 summary: your crackpot of a neighbor will not rest until you throw yourself at the gorgeous paramedic in town. she's nuts, y'all.
🚨 pairing: reader x paramedic!jimin
🚨 genre: meddling neighbors? horny little old ladies with bad-slash-good intentions? awkward OCs who can't find the words to speak in the presence of greatness?
🚨 warnings: one very mouthy senior citizen, sweet/shy jimin, an OC who can't find a clean shirt throughout the entire fic, one very spoiled pomeranian, smoking, sexual innuendo, literally one line of implied smut
🚨 word count: 3.4K (lmao)
🚨 notes: this is my drabble *snort* for the possum anniversary and i am celebrating the wonderful @starlostjimin who is such a cool, funny, amazing, talented person. did you know that 911 is 911 in america AND canada? anyhoo. i hope you like my very first jimin fic ever, and i hope it delivers on the things that you wanted 💕
thank you always to @hobi-gif for being the most amazing beta and person in general.
If you had to wager a guess, you’d say it was Mrs. Choi from the fourth floor who’d dialed 911. That miserable old bat has always struck you as kind of a snitch.
At any rate, that’s how you find yourself standing outside your condo at ten o’clock at night, wearing nothing but a faded bathrobe and a pair of worn-out house slippers. Lights mounted on top of the fire truck idling at your building’s entrance turn the courtyard into a tragic makeshift disco, everything and everyone splashed in flashes of red and white.
You mill around on the damp grass with the rest of your neighbors, each of you turned into temporary exiles in mismatched sleepwear.
Mr. Nam from the sixth floor is yelling into his phone as he paces, giving someone an earful about the disruption. Mrs. Song from the seventh floor was smart enough to grab a lawn chair and she watches the scene unfold like it’s one of her beloved dramas. Mr. Baek from the first floor doesn’t pay any mind to the fuss around him, engrossed in a book good enough to drown out the grumbling and sirens.
But you don’t spot the woman who lives in the unit next to yours – not right away – because it takes her an absurdly long time to heed this whole evacuation business.
When Mrs. Yun finally breezes through the condo’s glass doors, she does so with all the subtlety of a pageant queen. She makes a beeline for you, decked out in a Hawaiian-print muumuu loud enough to wake the dead – accessorized by a full face of makeup, a full set of curlers, and her trusty Pomeranian tucked under one arm.
“What is all this fuss about?” she pouts, giving Chichi an affectionate scratch. You lean over to give the dog your own scratch and she licks your fingers as thanks.
“Hell if I know,” you shrug. “I came outside when I heard the sirens. Which, by the way, was about ten minutes ago.”
“I was busy,” Mrs. Yun sniffs, affronted by your reprimand. She sets Chichi down to pat her curlers and make sure each is still in place. “I have a friend coming over tonight.”
“A friend.”
“Yes honey, a friend,” she echoes, tone haughty. “You should try it some time.”
God, you really should. The only man in your life these days is the Doordash driver and the last time he’d come by, he’d made a clumsy joke about your sodium intake. You’d been embarrassed, sure, but somehow that pales in comparison to this reminder that you’re being outsexed by the little old lady next door.
“You should ask someone when they plan to let us back in,” Mrs. Yun says, tapping her foot impatiently. “You should ask – ” she pauses to look out over the crowd, eyes lighting as she points one fresh gel nail in the direction of the fire truck, “ – him.”
You follow the trajectory of that thin finger with your gaze until your eyes land on Mrs. Yun’s intended target. And then you blink as you take in what is surely the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. Dark eyes and sandy blonde hair and a jawline so sharp, it could have been cut from granite.
Holy shit.
“I’ll say,” Mrs. Yun grins, and your face burns with embarrassment when you realize you’ve spoken out loud. It flames even hotter when she raises an arm to wave him over.
“Sir? Sir!”
“No. No, no, no, no, no.” You panic, whispering in the most threatening tone you can muster. “Put your hand down. Don’t – ”
But it’s too late. Mrs. Yun has already caught the attention of this Earth-bound Adonis. He makes his way towards you both without delay, wearing an easy smile so devastating it makes sweat bead at your temples.
“Hi there,” he greets kindly. “How can I help you?”
“Thank you, Mr. – ” Mrs. Yun pauses to squint at the name embroidered on the man’s dark navy uniform, “ – Park. What’s all this uproar about tonight, huh?”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” he chuckles, and you find yourself mesmerized by the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Someone called 911 because they smelled smoke, so we had to come check it out.” A radio secured to his shoulder crackles with an incoming transmission and he pauses to listen before he speaks again. “Pretty sure they’re almost done checking the building. Old places like this, we’ve always got to put in a bit more attention where the wiring is concerned. Wouldn’t want to leave you ladies in a dangerous situation.”
“Oh, of course not,” Mrs. Yun purrs, making no effort to hide the cheeky once-over she gives him. “We certainly appreciate you being thorough.”
The Adonis – Mr. Park – flushes, clearing his throat as the tips of his ears turn pink. You make a mental note to sit Mrs.Yun down later to explain that a few things have changed since her heyday.
The radio crackles again, a garbled voice coming over the line.
“Sounds like they’re almost done,” he explains, looking down at his feet to find Chichi sniffing at his boot. He crouches down to pet her and she curls into the curve of his hand, eager for his touch.
Somehow you’re willing to bet this man has that kind of effect on everything in his path – men, women, and houseplants alike.
He gives Chichi a few firm scratches before getting back to his feet. The rigid fabric of his uniform pants strains against the lean muscles of his thighs as he moves and Mrs. Yun’s eyes practically bug out of her face. You’d jam an elbow in her side if you thought there was a chance you could pull it off without being caught.
“I’d better get back,” he says, turning to you with one of those debilitating smiles. Your toes curl inside the shabby velvet of your slippers. “Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything.”
“Oh, we won’t!” Mrs. Yun calls out, appreciating his retreating form with a lifted brow. You wait until the man is well out of earshot before turning on her.
“What the hell was that?” you demand.
“That – ” she says with her nose in the air, “ – is why you never leave the house without your face on.”
“You were practically undressing that man with your eyes,” you accuse hotly. “You do know what sexual harrassment is, don’t you?”
Mrs. Yun huffs as she bends down to scoop up Chichi. “I wasn’t harassing the man, I was appreciating him. Fine art is meant to be admired.”
“Oh, please,” you grumble. “And don’t think I missed that little detail about the smoke.”
She narrows her eyes at you.
“Mind your business.”
🚨🚨🚨🚨
One week later, a knock at the door nearly startles you right off the couch. You frown into your half-eaten carton of ramen and set it down on the coffee table, taking a moment to seriously contemplate pretending not to be home.
But then there’s more knocking – more insistent this time.
You pad across the floor, crack the door open and the ramen in your stomach threatens to come right back up.
“Hi again.”
You blink.
“Sorry to bother you, it’s just that your neighbor suffered a fall and she said you would have a key to get into her place.”
The Adonis – Mr. Park – looks a little sheepish as he stands in the doorway, waiting for you to speak like a normal human being with a passable set of social skills. He shoves one hand through his sandy blonde hair and the locks seem to fall back in slow-motion.
“I – y-yes of course,” you stutter, so flustered that you nearly trip over your own feet in your haste to scramble for the kitchen. You dig Mrs. Yun’s spare key out of the silverware drawer and rush back to drop it into his waiting palm.
“I hope she’s okay,” you worry, biting at the inside of your cheek. “I’m right here if you guys need anything else.”
“We’ll take good care of her,” another voice promises, and you crane your neck to peer past the stunning Mr. Park to search for the source of it. A second man stands out in the hallway, a heavy duffel bag slung over one muscular arm covered in a myriad of tattoos. His face is boyish and beautiful and soft, a stark contrast to his powerful body.
Jesus. Who’s doing the recruiting in this city?
“We’ll have this back to you right away,” Mr. Park promises, and your neck heats when he rewards you with one of his sweet smiles.
The second they leave, you make a beeline for the bathroom – and cringe as you stand in the mirror and peel one half-dried ramen noodle off the front of your shirt.
🚨🚨🚨 🚨
15 minutes later, Mr. Park’s picture-perfect partner is knocking at your door.
“Hey there.”
You might have run a brush through your hair and dabbed on a bit of tinted chapstick in the last five minutes, but he notices that – or the absence of one half-dried ramen noodle, he makes no indication.
“Hi again,” you say. “Is she okay?”
“Oh, for sure. Maybe a little banged up, but otherwise she’s alright. She’s asking for you though, if you can walk over with me.”
“Yes, of course.” You shuffle into the hall and let him lead the way, through the open front door to Mrs. Yun’s unit and the narrow foyer that opens up into her living room. She’s upright on the couch, holding an ice pack to her head. The glorious Mr. Park is bent down on one knee at her side.
“I’ll tell you what,” she says, looking as pleased as a queen holding court, “I’m grateful every day for the very dedicated public servants in this city. That was terrifying.”
“But you’re okay, right?” you ask.
“Nothing broken, so far as we can tell,” the Adonis says. “She’s probably going to be good and sore tomorrow, but for now she’s doing just fine.”
“Thanks to Mr. Park and Mr. Jeon here,” Mrs.Yun says sweetly. A little too sweetly, in fact. The wheels in your brain start to turn and you eyeball her from across the room. She peeks at you from behind the ice pack and dons an angelic smile.
“Yes, they are certainly appreciated,” you say slowly, the skepticism in your voice vibrating at a frequency only Mrs. Yun can hear. She beams at Mr. Park as he gets to his feet and starts to pack up his things.
Mr. – Jeon, was it? – slings his heavy duffel bag over his shoulder. “Be sure and take those anti-inflammatories tonight, okay? You’ll be all locked up in the morning if you don’t.”
Mrs. Yun practically preens at the personal attention she’s gotten from these two insanely good-looking men. “I will.”
“You’re lucky to have a good neighbor,” the Adonis says to Mrs. Yun, turning to you with a genuine smile. Your heart thuds in response. “If it’s alright with you, keep an eye on her tonight? She might need your help.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her, alright,” you say with a tight smile, and Mrs. Yun clears her throat.
🚨🚨🚨🚨
“Promise me – right now – that you really fell.”
“What did I tell you about leaving the house with your face on?”
“Answer the question,” you fire back and Mrs. Yun sighs, tossing the ice pack down on the couch.
“Yes, honey, I did fall. I fell in love with that scrumptious Mr. Park the second I saw him. And if I were a woman thirty – ”
You raise an eyebrow.
“ – Okay, fifty years younger than I am, I would be taking him for a spin myself. But since I’m not, I’ve decided that you should have him. Did I bend the truth a little? Yes. But for a good cause. I’m a very thoughtful person, you know.”
“You are outrageous,” you hiss, pacing as Mrs.Yun pretends to look for dirt under her fingernails. “This is a waste of public resources! They’re supposed to be responding to emergencies. Real emergencies.”
“First of all – ” Mrs. Yun is defiant, chin in the air, “ – Nothing ever happens in this town. Nothing. And second, there’s dust in your panties, sweetheart. If that’s not an emergency, I don’t know what is.”
Your mouth falls open in a silent scream and Mrs. Yun ignores it, climbing off the couch with ease to cross the room and crack open a window. She pulls a box out of the tiny accent table perched beneath it and proceeds to light an absurdly long cigarette.
“You’re too damned young to be shut away in your house all the time,” she argues, pursing her lacquered lips to blow a stream of smoke out the window. “Work. Couch. Work. Couch. How can you stand it? Let me tell you what I’d be doing right now if I could turn back the clock and have your youth again: Mr. Park. I’d be doing Mr. Park. You should be doing Mr. Park.”
You stifle a disbelieving laugh. The novelty of your neighbor’s loose lips and bad habits wore off a long time ago, but sometimes she still manages to catch you off guard.
“Well, I’ve got an early morning so unless you have any more unsolicited sex advice to share, I’m going to have to call it a night.”
Mrs. Yun blows another long stream of smoke out the window.
“Nope. I’ve got it all off my chest.”
“Good then,” you say, turning on your heels. You make it all the way to the door before you pause and call out to her.
“And put that thing out!”
🚨🚨🚨🚨
Three days later, you find yourself struggling with an overloaded paper bag from the grocery store. Yes, you’ve purchased the reusable ones and yes, they’re a hell of a lot stronger – but you never miss an opportunity to leave them hanging in the closet on your way out the door.
Something in the bag is wet – well, moist at the very least. And it’s enough to have you gripping the bottom tight with both hands as you try to maneuver your way through the revolving door at the entrance to your condo. It’s an awkward fit inside the narrow sliver of space and as you’re shuffling forward, the door’s momentum dies. You push at it with one foot and lose an onion from the bag, nearly losing your balance in the process.
You blow out a heavy breath and go to push the door again, only this time it smoothly glides away before you even make contact. The misstep makes you jerk forward, but at least the door keeps moving long enough for you to step out of it.
“Think you lost something back there.”
Most of your hair has slipped out of your ponytail holder by now, the strands matted to your forehead with the sweat you worked up on the walk from the car. But when you turn, you can still make out the glorious Mr. Park quite clearly. He drops the onion back into your bag and smiles at you.
“Please, allow me.”
He lifts the bag out of your arms, carefully securing the bottom like you’d done just moments before. With your hands now free, you push your hair out of your face and silently pray that you don’t look as unfortunate as you suspect you do.
“You don’t have to do that,” you demur. “But I appreciate it anyway. Mr. Park, right?”
“Well, I’d much prefer you call me Jimin,” he laughs, the sound of it making heat bloom inside your chest. “But yeah, it’s me again.”
He’s not wearing his uniform, you realize. And though some small part of you mourns the loss of those fitted shirts and pants, his off-duty look – an oversized sweater, jeans and pair of sharp boots – sure as hell doesn’t disappoint.
“Do you… live here?” you ask stupidly, as though a man this handsome could live anywhere on this entire street without someone taking notice. “Or – ”
“No, no,” he says quickly. “I came by to check on your neighbor. You know, after the fall and all. I told her she could call me if she ever needed anything and she asked me to stop by.”
“You gave – ” you pause, shock forcing your voice at least an octave higher, “ – You gave Mrs. Yun your phone number?”
His cheeks pink at the observation. “She’s in her 70s, you know? Lives alone. I really don’t mind.”
You truly have no idea how your chain-smoking, jazzercising, oversexed hellion of a next-door neighbor has managed to convince this man she’s a frail old woman in need of a hero.
Will wonders never cease?
“Besides,” he says, “She’s kind of...quirky, you know?”
“That’s a very strange way to say unhinged,” you counter.
He laughs.
“You’re funny. Come on, I’ll walk you up.”
yun: DID YOU HAVE YOUR FACE ON [ 9:15 PM ]
yun: he told me he helped you with your groceries [ 9:15 PM ]
yun: now tell him to help you out of your clothes [ 9:16 PM ]
you: go to bed [ 9:16 PM ]
Two days later, legs like noodles from spin class, you limp through your front door and sag onto the couch. You might have napped for a second, you’re not entirely sure – but after a knock sounds at your door, you are most definitely alert. Your thighs protest as you force yourself off the couch to answer it.
You crack the door open and it’s him. Adonis. Mr. Park. Jimin.
And you’re wearing a gray workout shirt with what you are certain is one very sizeable sweat stain down the front. Good God, will there ever be a time when you see this man and don’t look like a complete wreck?
“Oh my gosh, did she call you again?” you ask, incredulous. “You are so sweet to do this for her, really but this is too – ”
“ – She didn’t call,” he interrupts, looking just the tiniest bit bashful.
“Oh.”
“Listen, this is kind of embarrassing and maybe not entirely appropriate given I know where you live, but it’s just that I don’t have your number.”
Your eyes widen and your already distressed legs start to feel a bit more weak. Jimin scrubs a hand down his jaw before he speaks again.
“I was actually wondering if you might let me take you to dinner sometime.”
You blink.
“Or I could cook you dinner. I make this really great prawn dish? But again, I’m not trying to be a creep or anything and it’s okay if you’re not comfortable with that – ” he’s backpedaling now, his words coming out in a rush.
“– You are not a creep,” you insist, when you’ve finally come to your senses and figure out how to access your words and use them to form sentences. “I just – I was just not expecting that. But yes, I’d love to go to dinner with you.”
Your knees threaten to buckle at the slow smile that comes over him.
“That’s great.”
🚨🚨🚨🚨
You fling the silverware drawer open and practically rip Mrs. Yun’s key out of it in your mad dash to her apartment. No, you do not feel guilty for letting yourself into her house, the woman has absolutely no boundaries and could use a taste of her own medicine.
You slam the door behind you when you walk in, and Mrs. Yun squints at you from her perch in the window. She blows out a perfect ring of smoke and then raises a brow.
“Got a bee in your bonnet?”
“Give me one of those,” you demand. “Right now.”
🚨🚨🚨🚨
There’s a knock at your door – again – only this time, you already know who’s on the other side. It’s your beloved Doordash driver, bringing an order of your beloved shio ramen. Two, actually.
You open the door to grab your food and Jimin calls out from the couch.
“Need some help with that?”
“Nah, I’m good,” you say over your shoulder.
When you turn back to thank the Doordash guy, he’s staring into your living room, eyes wide and trained on Jimin. You clear your throat and he snaps his focus back to you.
“Have a good night,” he says pleasantly.
And then he gives you a thumbs up.
yun: can the two of you keep it DOWN [ 11:22 PM ]
yun: some of us need our beauty sleep [ 11:22 PM ]
you were living a simple life filled with simple dreams; combining your two most loved things in life, children and teaching, you were starting out your career as a teacher at the local pre-school. but little did you know, how one child and her very special father, would change your simple life into something extraordinary
“Jieunnie, please.” Jimin sighed as he tried putting her arms through the sleeves of her baby pink coat, which she shrugged back off again for the nth time, making Jimin let out a soft groan of exasperation.
Squeezing his eyes shut, his brows furrowed together as he began to feel his patience run thing, “Baby…”
“I don’t want to go to school daddy,” Jieun murmured softly, pouting as she looked at her dad with round eyes, the corners watering slightly before Jimin felt his resolve weaken at the sight of his little girl before him.
Sighing, he grabbed her hands and plastered on a huge smile, “Jieun! It’ll be fun!” he tried cheering, “Daddy had loved going to school all his life (what a lie) and really wished he could go again.”
“Then why don’t you come with me?” Jieun asked with a tilt of her head, tugging at the ends of her little pale blue sundress, the color contrasting strongly against her raven blank hair that tumbled around her shoulders in soft curls.
Cradling her face in his hands, her cheeks squishing up together making Jimin chuckle slightly, he said, “Daddy’s too old now, but if anything happens I’ll be there for you, alright? Do you wanna go now? I promise it’ll be great.”
“Pinky promise?” Jieun asked, holding out her pinky to Jimin’s face as he laughed a little, hooking her tiny pinky within his and bringing them together before pressing a small kiss to her hands, “I promise baby.”
“Hi guys!! Welcome! Hello!” you smiled happily as the kids walked in one by one into your class. All of their faces varied in expression, some happy, some mad, some scared and some with tears and snot dripping from their little noses.
Oh, children.
“There you go Jieun. I’ll pick you up in a couple hours okay?”
a young man returns to a small town he hasn't seen in years, and a house he hasn't lived in since before the last president was born, only to find that a stray cat has given birth to kittens in his closet.
pairing: vampire!jeongguk x nerdy f veterinarian!reader (with a special interest in the science and biology aspect of the supernatural lol)
genre: sorta scifi-ish, fluff, minor angst, some smut later on
author's note: i'm editing this in the app on the train so formatting might be whacky until i'm home and can fix it (and also add the taglist).
With Jeongguk's explicit permission and a fear of otherwise forgetting, you pull up the patient and owner files and save his number into your phone as soon as he's left. Then, you turn your focus back to your little Labrador patient.
After concluding that he's still asleep—his gums nice and pink, the IV still dripping, and his bladder feeling small and soft as you palpate his abdomen—you decide on the night's first nap. On the way to the break room, you stop by the locker room to grab your personal pillow and blanket.
Despite sharing a wall with the exam room, you leave the door to the break room ajar to better catch any important sounds, and then you set the first of your twenty-minute alarms. The couch you stretch out on has to be one of your all-time favorites; fortunate when you and your colleagues often need quick rest. Therefore, it's not long after you've propped your head on your pillow and pulled your blue blanket over your body that you drift off. Unsurprisingly, you dream of those dark eyes.
"So, nothing else that I should know?"
"No," you say, muffling a yawn with the back of your hand as Yoongi watches. "Good vitals, should start waking up soon. I haven't taken him for a potty break yet, so he might need to go soon. That's it. I've updated the chart."
"Mhm. Okay," Yoongi says. He hasn't even bothered with scrubs, showing up in gray sweatpants and a black hoodie, pushing the most minimalist-looking glasses you've ever seen higher on his nose.
"Okay. See you."
With a parting smile, you turn. But before you can head to the locker room to get changed, a call of your name has you pausing, looking back to see what else Yoongi wants.
"Maybe I should walk you to your car?"
"It's twenty meters from the entrance," you point out.
"I know. Still."
Your slight smile grows warmer. "I appreciate it, but I'll be fine."
He gives you a short nod. "Be careful."
You return the gesture.
Only a few months ago, you'd often end your day shift with a thirty-minute walk home. Headphones at the bottom of your bag, it would be just you and your thoughts. Borderline insane in this day and age, sure, but you find that you need to process your work before you fall asleep or you won't fall asleep. Especially if the day blessed you with delightful moments such as putting someone's best friend to sleep.
These days, however, you always take the car. Especially to and from night shifts. The few minutes behind the wheel—even if spent in silence—aren't nearly enough to decompress from a whole workday, but you try.
The air is cold as you step outside the clinic, but the shiver that runs down your spine isn't a result of the temperature. Tonight, walking out of the clinic and locking the door behind you feels more like stepping out on stage, lights already on and harshly focused on you. You try to dismiss it, but you can't shake the eerie feeling of being watched. Inconspicuously, you scan the quiet area as you quickly head toward your car, but there's no one around. Either way, you hurry, locking the doors around you the moment you get behind the wheel and driving off as soon as you can.
The short drive through the sleepy town is fortunately uneventful, and you feel the exhaustion creep up on you too; it takes you three tries to unlock your apartment door. But then you remember something, sleepiness momentarily washed away.
Fishing the phone from your pocket, you begin a new text, but then you pause, thumb hovering over the digital keyboard. Was he really serious about wanting you to message him in the middle of the night like this?
Fuck it. You're too tired to overthink it: not the concept of sending a text nor the words themselves.
You: I'm home safe now :)
Pressing send, you place your phone on the bathroom sink as you reach for the face wash, beginning the process of cleansing your skin from makeup and whatever other fun things cling to it from an entire day of handling sick animals. You'll shower and change the sheets tomorrow.
Something between a minute and two passes before your phone vibrates, and you lean your dripping face over the screen to read the notification.
Jeon Jeongguk: 😀👍🏼
Staring at the odd reply until the screen goes dark again, you're not sure what you expected. A cryptic message of some kind? Maybe even something… flirty considering his last words and the way he held your hand and twirled you back inside the clinic?
You grab a towel, dabbing your face dry, and then your lips pull into a dumb smile. It's kinda cute, though.
"Hey, slept well?" Nayeon grins when you step inside the main exam room at ten p.m. the following night. You slept until three and then spent the next few hours cleaning your apartment and doing a well-needed load of laundry before you drove out to the clinic.
"Yeah, was super tired. Any plans for the night?"
Leaning back in the chair, Nayeon stretches her arms high over her head, her blue scrub shirt lifting slightly at the waist. "If I do. Carbs and TV, baby. I'm having the worst noodle cravings. Funny how I never eat noodles except when I'm like… day four into my period."
You laugh. "Yeah, I've never heard anyone period-crave noodles. I was just craving chocolate or something super salty."
"Hm. You know, I'm thinking about getting a new IUD but the last insertion was…" she trails of, grimacing. "Yours was alright?"
You shake your head, mirroring her pained expression. "Passed out."
"Fuck. Honestly, the people that claim it's not painful, I think they're just bullshitting."
"Definitely. I dread getting mine out, but it's reaching the end of its life," you answer, turning your focus to the patient before the painful memories have you hurling. "Anyway, anything I need to know?"
Nayeon rises from her seat and comes to stand beside you, her eyes following yours and landing on one of the largest dogs the clinic's probably ever seen, currently snoring in the lowest of the wall-built kennels. It's a male Broholmer; a danish mastiff type of dog with short brown fur.
"No, not really. We puked him, and I explained that the amount of chocolate isn't really dangerous for this type of dog. More specifically, this size of dog and the type of chocolate."
"Milk?"
"Yeah. Like 50 grams. Well, they weren't sure, but most likely."
You nod. "Not enough theobromine either way."
"Yeah, but they wanted us to keep him overnight regardless. He peed like… an hour ago."
"Alright. Well, I'm here to relieve you of your duty, so you're free to go."
"Thanks!" she claps her hands once before letting her quick feet take her in the direction of the locker room. "Tell Yoongi that I ate his chips."
Your eyes widen. "Wait! No, Nayeon! Oh my God."
Her laughter echoes down the hall, and you sigh. You love the woman, but she has a talent for putting you in mildly inconvenient situations. "Send a text when you're home, at least!" you call after her.
"Of course!"
Shaking your head, you sink down onto the black swivel chair she just occupied, pulling up your phone to scroll all of your social media apps. The uneventful shifts are the longest, and while you honestly wish a certain mythical creature would stop by, you haven't planned anything. You'd text him, but God, you need to preserve at least a little bit of what dignity remains, right?
However, twenty minutes into a Youtube video—an hour and a half after Nayeon left—a notification drops from the top of your screen.
Jeon Jeongguk: Knock knock
It's almost scary how your heart skips a beat and you feel your mood lift beyond what's probably good for you. Standing, you push your phone into your scrub pocket as you leave the exam room and head toward the dimly lit entrance.
Despite your previous dignity-related concern, not even embarrassment can stop your face from lighting up when you spot him outside the door. You hadn't noticed, but it looks like it's raining? Quite a bit at that.
Unlocking the door, you can't help but smile as you meet his dark eyes through the glass.
You push the heavy door open, greeting him through the first sliver. "Hi."
"Hey," he smiles confidently. "I'm here for my daily dose of attention."
You gasp, pulling the door shut before Jeongguk's even made the slightest of efforts at entering.
Though he could very well grab the door and pull it open by force, he doesn't. He just stands there, in the rain, looking down at you through the glass with a curious smile and a tilt of his head. As if patiently wondering when—or even if—you're gonna let him in.
It's such a dangerous mix; his very, very slight teasing, blended thoroughly with how gentle he is. Of course, you only take one deep breath, and then you're opening the door again.
"Don't be mean," you warn as you let him through. It doesn't help that he's wearing a black leather jacket and dark jeans, and there's a few drops of water rolling down the leather and others threatening to fall from his hair.
"Mean?"
"Yeah, teasing me for being interested in you."
He chuckles, running his hand through that dark, slightly wet hair. "Wasn't my intention. I was merely referring to myself as… what do you youngins call it these days? An attention… whore, is it?"
"Okay, grandpa."
"See, now that's mean."
You laugh, cheeks still a bit warm but the unintentional offense already forgotten.
Jeongguk's heavy boots thud against the linoleum floor as he follows you past the dark reception and back into the main exam room, reclaiming his spot on the exam table. But as he starts to remove his jacket—and you see how much rain he's actually collected—you back up toward the doorway.
"I'll be back in a second."
With a nod of his, you head toward the locker room, quickly grabbing one of two towels folded on the top shelf of your locker.
Jeongguk is waiting patiently when you return. But as you do, rounding the corner to enter the room, for a brief second, it looks like he's… scenting the air. Very subtly and reminding you of a dog; just a slightly lifted head, short inhales, and an analyzing but unfocused gaze.
It hits you that you haven't asked him about his sense of smell, and he might very well be smelling… Nayeon? God, you've never been so relieved not to have a period. It's not something you should be embarrassed about, but your cheeks heat a little either way; you wouldn't want anyone to know your cycle without your consent. You'll definitely ask about his sense of smell. …Another time.
"The clinic towels—although washed—always seem to have just a bit of fur stuck to them. This is mine," you say, throwing the towel at him and watching him catch it effortlessly. "Also clean, of course," you're quick to add.
He doesn't comment on it, just bows his head in casual gratitude, and begins to dab his hair dry. Already forgetting about him potentially smelling period blood, you watch him, particularly mesmerized by his thick, bulging bicep, generously exposed by the black t-shirt he wears. At least the rain didn't soak him to the bone.
"Who's that?" he asks, gesturing toward the massive, brown dog.
"Mo. He ate some chocolate and is staying the night for observation."
Having just woken up, Mo looks at you and Jeongguk before he drops his head back down and lets out a sigh so big his jowls bubble in the wind.
"Short for 'Thermostat.' Apparently, he's a splendid bed-warmer. He'll be fine."
"So… fluids?" you start—hand on the back of the swivel chair—before Jeongguk can comment on your patient's unusual name, unable to contain your curiosity any longer. "You can't possibly mean that you don't have to consume fluids at all? You mean besides the blood, right?" you ask, eyes so focused on him, you almost miss the chair when you go to sit down.
He's grinning happily, surely amused by your almost-accident. You scratch the back of your neck, feeling the heat rise once again.
"No, I do mean that I don't really need to consume them. Technically, sure, certain circumstances could force me to drink even water, but normally, no."
You feel the confusion grow, and you blink rapidly, trying desperately to understand. "Huh?"
What on earth does that mean? Normally…. no? But… other times?
What?
"Okay, so we need a certain amount of fluids in our bodies, right? For our own blood and venom and whatnot."
You nod, showing that you're following along, at least so far. It would definitely be easier if his thick arms weren't on display, big hands gripping the edge of the table.
"But normally, we don't lose fluids," he continues. "We're really, really efficient at extracting all the nutrients, so it doesn't really leave any waste that needs to be flushed out. We don't really sweat either, as overheating isn't usually a problem for us. So, we don't lose a lot of fluids. In general."
Subconsciously, you lean in. "What's the exception?"
"Just because we don't usually sweat doesn't mean we can't. My body is a lot less heat sensitive than yours. I'm fine until around 44-45 degrees Celsius, after which I start to slow down."
"As in your metabolism stalls? To prevent overheating?"
He nods, and when a strand of his black, almost entirely dry hair falls into his face, he runs one veiny hand through it. "Yeah. Basically all of me slows down. I get a little sluggish, you know, my body tells me to take it easy. And then I start to sweat; It's a bit like a last resort."
"So you can die from overheating?"
"Yeah, but it's very uncommon."
You pat your pockets, realizing that you should be taking notes. "But sweating means you lose fluid."
"Right. We can lose more than a human can without it being close to severe, but if we sweat profusely, or… get injured and lose a lot of blood, we do need to replenish it. The best way is through consuming blood."
"If you don't have access to any, though?"
"It depends on how much we need. A bit, we can pull from our venom, saliva, skin… all that. If it's bad, and there's no blood, even water will do. Or anything liquid, really."
The letters you rush to put down on paper are messy to say the least, and you hide your gaze in them as you formulate your next question. "Is there a… rage element to it? Getting fluids no matter what?"
He licks his lips, looking a little… unwilling to share when you finally look up again. "I mean… it can be. But it's rare. In this day and age especially. Water or something else is practically always available; having to feed from a human just to get fluids is uncommon."
You nod. "And when you feed, you replenish whatever you might need. The rest, you pee out?"
"Exactly. So normally, there's nothing to replenish, and just… all water is peed out."
"And that means you could also consume powdered blood," you conclude, consumed by just how amazing that is. "For a long time, just powder. No liquids at all. Everything is just circulated."
"Yeah."
"That is so interesting," you speak without really thinking, pen hot against the paper.
"Thank you."
You think even your ears heat up this time. "I gotta stop," you mumble, glancing at him.
Jeongguk chuckles, leaning back on his arms. "Don't stop, please. I never get to feel special like this."
God. For a quick moment, you let yourself drink in the vision of his thick forearms, inner sides exposed and veins out for you to admire, thinking to yourself that you never in a million years would've imagined a vampire both exist and somehow be this… masculine, intimidating, and endearing.
But also…. he never gets to feel special? As if this isn't the most head-turning man you've ever seen? The inhabitants of your boring little town all practically getting whiplash as they turn to get a second look at him? You have absolutely no doubt that the effect is the same regardless of city size.
You meet his eyes, hoping he doesn't notice just how much you like to simply… look at him. "You also said something about… super strength, was it?"
"Mhm."
"So… how strong are you?"
Humming, he looks around the room, clearly in search of something. And so do you, following his gaze curiously.
"Don't really know how to show you, doesn't seem to be anything heavy in here."
You guess he's right. While you'd struggle immensely to lift the table he's perched on, you'd imagine it's not actually that heavy. The heaviest thing inside the room that isn't bolted to the floor or wall is probably you or Mo, and you're not about to ask him to toss either of you around. While you're sure the huge ultrasound machine sits unused in the next room over, a crack in that would lead to your demise.
What your eyes instead land on is a recently opened bag of dog food, slumped against the wall. 10kg / 22lbs is printed toward the bottom. You consider it, but then you look away.
"You think that's too heavy for me?"
Your eyes shift back to his inquiring ones, and you smile. "No, even I can carry that. But it's too difficult for the… test I'd like to do."
"Huh? Why would it be too difficult?"
"'Cause—" you start, but instead of explaining it to him, you decide to just let him try. It might still provide a glimpse into his physical capabilities.
"Look," you say, approaching the bag. Using both hands, you grab it at the top, swinging it forward barely above the floor as you return to him. You could hoist it into your arms, but for such a short distance, you don't bother. "I'd like you to do an isometric hold, which is already extremely difficult with something this heavy. But this bag doesn't even have any handles or anything."
The kibble settles when you lower the bag down to the floor. Jeongguk stands from the table, listening to your explanation and watching you talk with your hands.
"So you can try grabbing it at the top here and then lift it, keeping your arm straight and parallel to the floor, but it's not really a failure if you can't. You'd have to have an extreme grip strength to do it, and that's not even what the test is supposed to—"
Like it's an apple in a plastic bag, Jeongguk grabs the top of the bag you just let go off and lifts, the kibble inside shifting audibly.
"—test… Uh… Humans… aren't built to do that," you mumble, watching with wide eyes. The fact that he can even lift it off the floor with one hand is a feat in your book, and you rush to gather your thoughts.
"…Especially not for a long time, and that is a very heavy weight to attempt it with. No matter how strong, a human man's arm will start to tremble pretty soon, like way before a minute—I think—and he'll have to drop it."
"A minute?" Jeongguk asks in mild disbelief, something you find almost unreasonably attractive.
"Yeah. For a lot lighter weights. Something like a few-kilo dumbbell. Or at least I think so; humans aren't my area of expertise. But still, believe it or not, we're better at it than say, apes and gorillas, who in general are a lot stronger."
"Why is that?" he asks, unbothered, like he's not currently accomplishing a feat deserving of an Olympic medal.
You're definitely blaming biology because the showcased strength—so much worse when you're up close and can see his body working—undoubtedly has you feeling things. Either his body heat is warming you, or it's that flexed strength and those dark eyes, watching you intently.
"Humans have longer—slower, I guess—muscle fibers that make us good at endurance strength. Apes and gorillas have shorter, faster muscle fibers. They're a lot more explosive, which generally generates more 'pure' strength. But those faster fibers also burn out quicker."
"Hmm. Interesting."
You nod, glancing back at the clock on the wall. 50 seconds. Wow.
"Can I?" you ask, meeting his eyes while reaching for his wrist.
Already watching your face, Jeongguk nods. But just as you take an additional step closer, you think you hear him inhale a breath slightly stronger than before. Not like he suddenly needed more oxygen but more like… as if he was smelling the air again.
Being so close, you don't feel embarrassed. If he has a good enough sense of smell to know that someone—who was in the room more than an hour earlier—was on their period, he should for sure be able to tell that it isn't you.
But if it had been you? For a brief second, you consider what bleeding around him could lead to. Period blood is much more than just pure blood, but still… blood is blood, right? What did he say last time? When you revealed that you were still a bit nervous around him and his urges?
“I feel it. I can always smell a human this close. But… I mean, do you want to eat everything you pass at the grocery store? Or just the fresh store-grilled chicken?”
“Depends?”
“On?”
“If I’m the bruised apple or the fresh store-grilled chicken?” you answer, smiling just a tad nervously.
“Well,” he says, and you don’t miss how he very briefly looks you up and down. “You smell very nice, but you wouldn’t be the grilled chicken unless I was hungry and you were actively bleeding in front of me.”
Surely, he must come across menstruating human women all the time? But what if being alone with one happens to be the one irresistible temptation? What would've happened if Nayeon was still around when he arrived? Or… well… if it had been you?
Pushing those thoughts away, you press your fingers softly to his wrist, feeling for the radial pulse. It's slow, and while you didn't expect it to go ham from exhaustion considering Jeongguk's unaffected face and the remarkable lack of tremors, it amazes you.
With your eyes on the clock, you count the beats of his pulse while putting your other hand gently on his forearm. Doing your best not to affect his performance—not that he needs it—you softly run that other hand up his warm, naked arm.
There's no extra heat generated from what you can tell, but you definitely feel how his muscles are working. All the way from his thick forearm to his honestly huge, rock-hard bicep and then the impressive deltoid in the shoulder; they're all taut and firm under your light touch.
You feel the prominent veins spanning his arm, curious to see if there's an added palpable pressure anywhere, but there's not. Nothing that snitches on his muscles' added oxygen requirements or his blood supply straining to provide it. His skin isn't flushed red with effort, either.
"42 beats per minute," you conclude, lowering your hands and taking a small step back.
"What does that tell you?" he asks, peering down at you curiously.
"That you're insane?" you chuckle. "Your resting heart rate last time was 36 beats per minute, so—disregarding fluctuations—your muscles are working. It's just not a lot of added effort, it seems. No extra heat, no tremors, no added pressure to your veins. At least nothing noticeable."
"So you can tell that I'm strong?" He grins.
You nod. "Yeah. And it's been well over a minute, so you can put it down."
"No."
"No? How long are you gonna hold it for?"
"I don't know?"
You laugh, honestly a little speechless. Should you check the ceiling for hidden wires? Or hidden cameras?
"Okay? Do you wanna hold it while I write some notes down then?"
Jeongguk nods, and you go to retrieve your notebook and pen, but right at that moment, there's the sound of plastic ripping and then kibble meeting the floor.
"Shit," you exclaim, seeing Jeongguk already lowering the bag to prevent more of its contents from spilling out.
"Sorry."
"Don't worry, it's not your fault," you say, kneeling to assess the damage to the bag. The hole is around ten centimeters long and toward the bottom on one side.
Fortunately, only a kilo or so has made it out onto the floor, and so you stand up, locating the trashcan and its spare bags, one of which you then kneel down to scoop the spillage into. Jeongguk tries to help, collecting and dropping a handful of kibble into the bag.
"Can you see if there's duct tape somewhere in there?" You gesture toward the white-painted cupboards that line the wall to your left.
He nods, rising to his feet, and you hear cupboard after cupboard open. Then, he's crouching in front of you again, a roll of gray duct tape offered from his large hand.
"You're really gonna throw that away? Surely it's not bad just because it was on the floor for a minute; dogs eat literal shit outside all the time, right?"
You laugh quietly. "Yeah, while our floors are kept as clean as possible, unfortunately, it's a liability. Things like these happen sometimes, but Namjoon usually brings it home with him; his sister has like… I think it's five dogs at this point. So it's not wasted."
"Okay, that's good. I was feeling guilty."
You look up at him, endeared by his admittance. The feelings your poor heart is made to feel around him are giving you a metaphorical whiplash. "Wouldn't have been your fault either way."
You tape up the tear best you can, cursing quietly when you realize that, to make it truly secure, you should wrap the tape also around the bag. It's going to be difficult since the bag is still mostly full and thus super heavy to move even without a large hole.
However…
You glance at Jeongguk, your… friend, who conveniently (or not: it was the very feat the bag was used to test) comes equipped with super strength.
"Could you… lift this for me?"
He nods, and the only hesitance he shows as he picks the bag up horizontally instead of vertically is whether the tape is sticking. It is, and Jeongguk holds the bag away from his body, giving you enough space to wrap the tape around it, your hands grazing his chest now and again as you work.
When you deem it secure enough, you lean in, biting the tape from the roll with your teeth. And then you stand, pointing to a table further into the room. "Would you mind placing it there?"
Without a word, he obeys, and you don't miss how he handles the bag with care. When it's delivered to its designated spot, he turns back to you, appearing almost like he's waiting for more assignments.
"Thank you. Clearly, you're very strong," you smile, your ears heating just a tiny bit. "Makes me wonder what your muscle fibers look like. You evidently do great at endurance type strength, but how good are you at explosiveness?"
You don't miss how his eyes light up. "Want to see?" he asks, scanning the room again.
"Definitely," you answer, trying to think of ways to test it. "You know what, why don't we start with your reflexes?"
"Sure, what do you have in mind?"
Spotting a pair of heavy bandage scissors lying on a counter, you grab them. With your other hand, you gesture toward the exam table. "Sit? Relax your legs; just let them hang," you instruct, turning the scissors around so that you're holding them by the blades.
Jeongguk takes a seat, watching as you step into his space and gently prod the space just below his kneecap until you find the right spot. As soon as you tap the heavy metal handle to his patellar tendon, his leg kicks out. Almost as if he kicked it out before you even made contact.
"That tickles."
You smile, trying to stay focused. "Close your eyes?"
Looking up at his face to make sure he obeys, you feel your heart stutter the way it so often does when you watch him.
God, he's handsome, even more so up close. You want to say that his nose—so masculine yet almost elegant—is your favorite of his facial features, but that would mean pitting it against his dark eyes or… his cheekbones—currently kissed by his black, rather straight lashes—or even his brow bone and eyebrows. And that's without even mentioning his pink lips or the sculpted area around them, including that dimple that only pops out with specific expressions.
To not raise suspicion, you force yourself to focus. Your gaze—lingering on that glabella of his, partly hidden by his black hair—drops to your hands, and you repeat the motion you did only a few seconds ago.
The effect is undoubtedly the same, and he's just as quick to kick his leg out, but he's definitely also intentionally lessening the impact of it. Maybe he's worried about kicking you?
"You have good reflexes. Very quick, even when you try to resist," you conclude, taking a step back. Being close to him is very… intense, after all. "You can look."
It's like you can feel the moment he opens his eyes, his gaze heavy and warm on your face. When you peer up at him again, he smiles. "And now?"
You dig out a paperclip from your breast pocket, stepping closer once more and holding the small item in the air between you, roughly at eye-height.
"I drop this. You try to catch it."
At the challenge, you notice how he gains a certain kind of focus you haven't really seen before. He's quick to place his fingers just below your hand, intently watching the paperclip pinched between your fingers.
"This is allowed?" he asks, referring to the small space between your hands. Is his voice suddenly… deeper?
"Yes."
As you wait for the golden moment, trying to catch him off guard, it doesn't even look like he's breathing. He's entirely still, eyes frozen on the paperclip. You don't even think he blinks.
When you drop it, he simply pinches his fingers together, catching the bottom of the clip between them, meaning… he was faster than required.
Seeing that he succeeded, he breaks out into a wide grin, holding the paperclip victoriously.
"Again?" he asks, practically beaming.
Nodding with a smile of your own—he's honestly adorable—you take the paperclip from him, returning to your previous position. This time, you wait longer.
Hyper focused, Jeongguk only opens his mouth when something like a whole minute has passed.
"Are you gonna—"
Mid-sentence, you drop it.
"You're gonna have to try harder than that," he chuckles, holding the paperclip up for you to see.
"Fine." You take it from him once more.
This time, you opt for another tactic.
After you've held it above his awaiting fingers for twenty or so seconds, you pinch your own fingers together, trying to see if you can trigger him to close his without you actually dropping the paperclip.
And you can because he does. You hurry, actually releasing the paperclip the moment you see him put his fingers together, hoping he won't be quick enough to reset and try again before it falls to the floor. But he's fast—a human would've already failed—and you laugh, seeing him fumble the paperclip. It bounces off his fingers as he tries to catch it.
"Got it," he declares a second later, finally having gotten a good grip on it.
"Barely," you comment, knowing full well you would not have achieved anything close to that.
You sit down on your chair, notebook in your lap.
"What are you writing?" he asks, approaching where you sit. "I still caught it, if you write that I didn't, you're lying."
You can't stop giggling as he tries to peek at the words you write down, still maintaining a respectable distance. More than you've given him, but you guess he's more worried about intimidating you than the other way around.
"Don't worry, I'm noting that you have above average reflexes."
"A—above average?" he repeats, blinking in playful offense. "Not 'incredible?'"
"Fine, 'possibly supernatural?'"
"'Possibly?'"
"Yeah, three times is not nearly enough to draw an indisputable conclusion. Besides, you almost didn't catch it that last time."
"I'm offended."
Smiling widely, you keep writing. "No, but honestly? Your reflexes are very impressive, especially your focus. But there's a surprising amount of… humanity? to you. And by that I mean that while you're very clearly superhuman, you're not a machine."
"Hmm," he says. "I guess I can accept that."
"Good," you agree, putting the pen and paper down on the table next to you. "It's not meant to be negative."
"Do you want to see what else I can do?"
"Sure?"
It's so effortless, the way he leans down, putting his hands flat to the floor while simultaneously kicking his legs into the air. He tucks one of his arms uselessly behind his back and then lowers himself.
Despite not being a gym girl, you're wholeheartedly impressed. Surprisingly often, your social media algorithms put gym content on your feeds, and so you watch women and (mostly) men perform absolutely insane stunts.
But you've never seen anyone do one arm handstand pushups.
At least not unassisted and this… effortlessly. The muscles of his arm are bulging, and while he doesn't look too strained, it's definitely a bit of a challenge, even for him. His entire body works, not only to carry all of his weight but to keep his form and balance. Because you're clearly not suffering enough, gravity causes his black t-shirt to slide down, exposing the lower half of his abdomen.
"Oh, wow," you mumble, eyes wide, before you even realize. To be fair, it's mostly a reaction to his performance and not his defined obliques and abs. You're more nerd than you're thirsty.
You hear him chuckle as he repeats the motion, doing at least five more pushups before he straightens up again, only a very, very slight flush to his face. Now, there's also an attractive fluff to his black hair.
"Can all vampires do that?"
He shakes his head. "No. Almost all vampires could do it if they only practiced a little, though. It's not only about strength but balance and body control as well."
"That's so cool. I noticed you used your right hand, is that your dominant hand and arm? Can you do them using your left?"
Happy to take on yet another challenge, he gets down again, repeating the motion using his left arm. You don't notice any kind of struggle, and he's practically beaming when he straightens up, even more so when he sees how truly amazed you are.
"Do you have a dominant arm and hand? Or are you ambidextrous?"
"Uh… " he looks at his hands. "I use mostly my right hand, but my left isn't necessarily worse? Maybe it's mostly out of habit?"
"Hmm. Interesting. Close your eyes for me?"
Without a word, he shuts his eyes. His willingness to follow instructions makes your skin heat and your heart skip yet another beat, and you're certainly not wasting the opportunity to admire his face again.
"Put your arms out to the sides. Good. Now, without opening your eyes, touch your nose. One hand at a time."
You watch, seeing him find the tip of his nose quickly and without the slightest bit of hesitation.
"Good."
He opens his eyes, looking down at you with amusement brimming in his black eyes. He's clearly in a good mood today. "Are you impressed?"
You laugh. "That last one isn't all that hard if you're sober and have at least normal coordination. Watch."
To demonstrate, you close your eyes and reach your arms out. Then, you touch your nose, one index finger at a time. "I can do it too."
As you open your eyes—just about to say something about hand-eye coordination—you hear something down the hall.
Rushed footsteps. A frantic call of your name.
You turn, focus shifting to the doorway and whatever situation will appear in a few seconds. "…Momo?!"
"Where are you?! Luci can't breathe; please help!"
"Main!" you call, hands already searching for the stethoscope when you suddenly remember the conundrum you've put yourself in. You have a vampire in the clinic.
"Jeongg—"
But as you turn back to where he was just a moment ago, he's gone. Your confused eyes search the room; there's nowhere for a being his size to hide.
---
Only an hour and a half later—as you lean back in the rolling chair with a deep exhale—do you remember your vampire. Exhausted and emotional, Momo sits on the exam room floor with her beloved cat in front of her on a blanket, holding an oxygen mask to his face. You pull out your phone.
You: Where did you go? And HOW?
You put the phone back in your pocket. "Yoongi should be here soon. Do you want me to stay as well?"
Momo looks at you, tired yet relieved that you managed to get Luci stable. "No, it's okay. Thank you, though."
"Of course."
In your pocket, you feel your phone buzz against your leg. Momo has returned her attention to Luci, gently petting his white fur. The phone vibrates once more as you pull it out.
Despite the heaviness in the room, the words on the screen bring a small smile your way.
Jeon Jeongguk: I ran out the room, you just didn't see me because I'm so fat
Jeon Jeongguk: *fast
The bubble pops up, indicating another incoming message.
Jeon Jeongguk: 🧛🏻
While the vampire emoji is a fun touch, you're mostly stuck on the implication that he also possesses super speed. Like, The Flash kind of speed.
You: Are you saying you're so fast you're invisible?? Can't be true??
Your logic-wired brain tries to find a scientific explanation as to how he could possibly move faster than you'd be able to see. You watched the doorway, the only doorway. He'd have to be able to move quicker than light? You might have accepted that he's a bloodsucking, fang-having vampire, but faster than light?
Jeon Jeongguk: Okay, you got me. I left through the window. I couldn't lock it from the outside though so remember to do that. I hope the cat is okay.
You roll your eyes. Still, your chest is just a little warmer, even if the warm-blooded vampire isn't physically close anymore, and a small part of you wonders whether that's a good thing. A larger part ignores it.
Also… possessing the speed and agility to leave through the window without you noticing still requires him to be something definitely superhuman.
---
"Okay. Well, besides the flu outbreak, it's great that your work is… great."
You take a bite of your Caesar salad; your favorite out of the town's five restaurants and their versions.
"Mhm," you agree. "I like my work."
"Yes, and that's lovely. Have you met a man yet?"
You cough. While it's not a surprising question from your mother; she always manages to catch you off guard. Hand reaching for the glass of water, you take a generous gulp.
"I'm not really dating right now."
"I know, but if it happens, it happens, right? I'm sure there are many animal owners coming through? Aren't there any nice men?"
You look at her with slightly tired eyes. And then you actually look at her. Golden heart pendant hanging from her neck and hair dyed dark even though it's been graying since her thirties, she looks like she always does. And you bet you look like you always do. And you talk like always. Not about the same things necessarily, but about the same things.
You don't like discussing your love life with her, finding her optimism often a little too much, and as she's looking off into the distance, at a new patron entering the restaurant, you can tell she doesn't expect you to actually share anything because you never do. But is it her fault that she married her high school sweetheart and it worked out?
"Actually," you say, pressing your fork into a square piece of grilled chicken. "There's this… man. He found a stray cat who had kittens."
Your mother's eyes widen, and your heart fills with a certain sense of relief but also guilt.
"I've helped him take care of them."
Does it matter if it's unreasonable and entirely out of the realm of possibilities? Your mom wanted to know if you're interested in anyone, and you definitely are.
"Oh? Is he nice? What's his name?"
"He's really nice. His name is Jeongguk, but you can't tell anyone, okay?"
Of course, your mother isn't going to spill your secret; at least not in any way that counts. She doesn't live in town anymore and is merely visiting her only child. What would it matter if she told her neighbor Patricia? It's not like Jeongguk would find out and tease you for it.
"And you like him?"
You nod, gaze falling casually to your plate. "I do, but it's kinda… complicated, so even if he likes me—which I'm not sure he does; he might just be a friendly guy—it's not… it wouldn't work out."
From the corner of your eye, you see how your mother tilts her head. "Why not? Your brain is so complex that sometimes you make things unnecessarily hard. Does it have to be so complicated?"
You roll your eyes subtly as you move some croutons around with the fork. Maybe you shouldn't have told her. "He's not staying in town."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"And you are not movable?"
You sigh. You know she's not suggesting you ask a guy who you just said might not even like you if you could please follow him across the world or wherever he's moving. She's… inquiring gently whether you'd compromise for love.
"Mom. What I have here… I have a great job that I love. I don't go too bed dreading Mondays. I have such good friends that I love, and I have an apartment that I feel at home in. It would be foolish to give that up for a guy. Maybe if it's someone I've dated for years and years or already married."
"I'm just saying. I know you love your job, but this is a very small town, and I don't want you to miss out on something. There are veterinary clinics in all cities."
"I know. I'm staying here though, at least for the time being."
Seeing that she's not entirely satisfied, still worried about you, you offer her a soft smile and something resembling an olive branch. "The perfect man might come find me first, though, right?"
The texts exchanged after Luci's emergency—that he luckily recovered from—remain the latest communication between you and Jeongguk, and you don't think much of it, even two days later. Of course, your thoughts still drift to him every other undisturbed moment; any other claim would be a lie. And while you're mostly busy cooking up purely scientific theories that fit both known biology and his peculiar anatomy, you have a hard time tuning out the butterflies that always accompany.
The flying critters are even present as you steer your car into the grocery store's parking lot, the conversation between you and your mother still occupying your thoughts.
You raise an eyebrow. There are surprisingly many cars already parked outside the store considering it's almost ten p.m. on a Thursday.
No, wait.
You reach for your phone, thrown onto the passenger seat. Shit, it's Friday; that's why it's packed. You guess not working a typical nine-to-five, Monday-to-Friday sometimes messes with your perception of time (and days).
There aren't that many spots out of the parking lot open to choose from, and so you don't think much of the one you glide into. Not until you realize that the car in front of you, parked with its nose toward you, is too far ahead, and you'll have to leave the butt of yours sticking out just a tad more than you'd like. Whatever, you'll be in and out.
Should you have moved to another spot? You definitely would have, if you knew that the car belonged to your former classmates, but you don't learn that until you're stepping out of yours. Coincidentally, it's also then that you realize just how much of a lousy parker whoever parked their car is because not only is the vehicle too far into the spot, its back left wheel is entirely inside an adjoining one.
Either way, it's too late to move.
"Oh, hey!"
You curse to yourself. They're approaching the back of their car, fittingly standing between you and the store. Whatever, you'll just be polite.
"Hi," you answer, briefly taking in the sight of the three men loaded with supplies.
"How's it going?" Mingyu asks, looking surprisingly genuine.
"It's fine. You're having a party?" you nod toward the stacked pastry boxes in DK's hands that you recognize as the store-baked ones. There must be six of them, almost more than he can carry.
The biggest party clue, however, is probably the alcohol; all men carry multiple plastic bags that sound suspiciously much like glass bottles clinking against each other.
Joshua even carries an additional case of beer, grinning smugly at you. "Just a small one to celebrate the anniversary and DK's published paper."
Considering the amount of supplies, it's not that small. It's probably just you they haven't invited.
"What about you? Gotten anything published? Any… exciting discoveries? Like a… werewolf or something?"
The snickers that follow has you feeling like you're in elementary school. Not even your own—because even the nine year old kids there were nicer than this—but the stereotypical elementary school in movies.
But what can you do? Telling them about Jeongguk, even if you had his permission, which you don't, is out of the question. It wouldn't help; If anything, it would make it worse. So all you do is roll your eyes, wishing they'd either get inside their car so you could squeeze past, or just shut up so you're socially allowed to round the cars next to you and leave that way.
But even before their teasing laughter dies down, you hear a sound. It's very distinct; something heavy being dragged against asphalt.
"Having a hard time parking within the lines?"
It's Jeongguk's voice, and as your eyes find him behind the guys, at the back of their car, you also see that he's the source of the sound.
Or rather, their car is, as he's picked up the back of it with one hand to adjust within the parking space, the locked front tires dragging against the ground as he pulls it back and slightly to the right.
Your classmates turn to look too, but just as they've quieted down to take in the scene in front of them, it's over; the car casually dropped to bounce on its tires.
You're about just as stunned, but before anyone can say anything—and like he didn't just do… that—Jeongguk calls your name.
"You're going inside?"
You nod, squeezing past the speechless men, their gazes warm on your face and then your back as you reach Jeongguk's side.
The mere thirty or so meters to the store's entrance, you spend most of in silence. Only when the guys are truly out of earshot do you voice your thoughts.
"Thank you," you begin by saying, a small, surprised smile playing on your lips. Do you think your lovely friends would've hurt you? No, but seeing them anywhere is the opposite of a fun situation. "Are you… supposed to do that, though?"
"Not really. But who are they supposed to tell?" he answers with a smile of his own, his voice low as you enter the store. "They've made damn sure no one's believing anything of the kind, right?"
"That's true," you agree. It then hits you just what actually happened, and you let out a snicker. "I can't even imagine what they're thinking right now."
You glance at the wall that separates you from the parking lot. Are they still standing there or have they gotten into the car? Are they quiet? Pretending like nothing happened? Or are they desperately trying to explain among themselves what the hell they just saw? They're scientists just like you; they know what Jeongguk did isn't humanly possible. It surprised you too—you had no idea he was that strong—but you at least knew something superhuman existed in town.
Jeongguk chuckles too. "I'd imagine they at least think twice before harassing you again."
"I wouldn't call it harassing…" you argue quietly, following him mindlessly inside the store. "So many people go through worse things."
"I would. Three grown men taunting a lone woman in a parking lot? You don't do that."
You don't say anything to that because, yeah, he's right. At the least, they're assholes.
Despite cat food being like… the main thing Jeongguk would need from a grocery store, you're almost surprised when that's where he leads you. You're entirely in your thoughts, your eyes taking him in, top to bottom, as he stops at a specific shelf, grabbing container after container of wet food.
He's wearing that leather jacket again, paired with blue jeans on the looser side, and when he reaches for the last container, somehow stuck at the back of the shelf, his jacket and shirt ride up.
Although you've never considered vampires' underwear habits, it's still a bit of surprise to see the Calvin Klein letters on the gray waistband that peeks out.
He's just a man. The most attractive man you've ever seen, who undeniably draws you in like you've never felt before. But… he's not actually a man, at least a human man. Your eyes glide over his arms, carrying what must be ten containers of wet food for cats.
"I wish they'd make these containers bigger, so I don't have to buy them so often," he mumbles, balancing them in his arms. "Or at least so many."
"Would you… let me run some more tests on you?" you ask quietly. "Cause… I mean I knew you were strong, but… lifting a car?" Your voice turns to a whisper. "With one hand? I didn't know you were that strong?"
He looks at you, a slight smile on his face. "What kind of tests? It's hard to demonstrate unless you have something heavy. Car-heavy."
"Oh, no, I meant tests as in ultrasounds and maybe… taking your blood? If you're okay with that?"
He licks his lips, considering. "Are you going to show anyone?"
You shake your head earnestly.
"Okay. At the clinic then, I assume?"
"Yeah. You don't happen to be free tomorrow night?"
"Sure. Ten p.m.?"
You nod, already excited.
Jeongguk smiles at you again, dark eyes so warm against your face. "This is all I'm gonna get, but I'll wait in my car if they haven't left yet."
The heat spreads to your chest. "Thank you."
"No worries, I'll see you tomorrow."
You watch his back until he's out of view, and then you're just a woman in a grocery store, no cart and no memory of what you were even supposed to be buying. Just in case they haven't left, and Jeongguk is just waiting in his car for you to finish, you grab a seemingly abandoned cart, hoping it wasn't occupied, and try to remember what it was that you needed.
Ten minutes later, you're finished, carrying some groceries and the laundry detergent you were out of out into the parking lot. The spot in front of your car is empty, and as you look around, you don't see the black SUV you assume Jeongguk drove there either.
<previous | next>
author's note: i hope you liked it (and please tell me if you did, i LIVE for validation and it motivates me to write more 🥹)
So many hot things happened in there like damn the hand stand push up ?? LIFTING A CAR ??? And him being sweet and endearing as always damnnnnnnn i love it so much no one can understand i think
Cute guys really get me going you know but if they look that attracrive on top of it ?? Im absolutely sold
inspiration: Gorgeous by Taylor Swift
pairing: non-idol!Kai x fem!reader
wc: 11k
summary: your new neighbour helps you see that your boyfriend is cheating on you
in this fic: non-idol!txt, non-idol!chaewon and non-idol!yunjin from le sserafim
tw: cheating (not by txt), alcohol comsumption
a/n: I love a next door neighbour fic so I HAD to write one plus Kai is totally gorgeous
You have lived in your tiny studio apartment for 5 years now. Living in the city was your dream and you still love it to this day. The only problem you have encountered was the moody middle aged corporate woman living next door to you on the right. If it wasn’t for her cat Pumpkin, who is your cat Peanut’s best friend, you would struggle to tolerate her. She complained about everyone in the building including you. The walls were quite thin so you could empathise with her a little bit, being victim to some loud and sometimes strange noises from the surrounding apartments too.
Initially you didn’t notice the absence of your neighbour, after living next to her for so many years you had perfected how to avoid her. It was the absence of her cat Pumpkin that had you starting to wonder. He would tightrope walk across the mental railings of your close balconies and enter your space through the sliding door to meet with Peanut. For over a week, Peanut had been sitting by the window every evening waiting for his best friend who never came.
The elderly woman, Mrs Kim, who lived on the other side of you, was a gossip. Whether it came from other tenants or her grandkids she loved a good drama and would share it with anyone she could. Catching you coming home from work one day, she talked your ear off about all sorts yet the only one that got your full attention was that your middle-aged neighbour and her ginger cat had moved out. You couldn’t believe it, Peanut’s friend was gone. You felt a pang of sadness only for it to be taken over by joy realising you didn’t have to deal with your moody neighbour anymore. Mrs. Kim continued talking telling you of the very attractive young gentleman that is now moving in. Like all elderly people, she would exaggerate how gorgeous the younger people of today were, for all you knew she could be telling people you were a beautiful young woman. You wouldn’t hate that actually.
Finally, making it back to your apartment you gave Peanut a big hug and explained to him his friend had moved away. You knew he didn’t understand but it made you feel better to tell him anyway. You decided to buy him a ginger cat plushie as a reminder of his friend.
Entering the corridor from the stairwell you huffed and dragged your feet along, your heavy bag hanging on your shoulder. You loved your job at the office but like all jobs some days were just too much and today had been one of those days. Pulling your keys out of your bag, you notice several cardboard boxes stacked up around your neighbour’s door, one box holding it open. Before you can unlock your door and escape inside, a man appears. He is about to pick up another box when he spots you. A friendly side smile blooming on his face, he steps around the boxes.
“Hey, you must be the pretty young woman with a cat I was told lives next door. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Kai.”
Oh no, Mrs Kim was right. He is gorgeous. There was no exaggeration this time. You can’t tell if it’s from his gaze or the compliment but your face is already tinted pink.
“Hi, I’m Y/N. I can tell you have already met my other neighbour,” you motion to the door next to yours, “She gets very excited to talk to anyone who will listen and my goodness can she talk.” He chuckles, “yeah, I was stuck listening to her for almost an hour. Poor moving men were left to haul all my stuff up here without me but hey, I know a lot about the building already.” You smile at the image of the tiny woman talking up to him. “I’ve only got these left to take in,” he glances round at the remaining boxes giving you the opportunity to quickly look him over. Cute nose, black hair framing his dark eyes, loose fitting black top that is now quite dusty, grey sweatpants and sneakers. Kai turns back around. A killer smile too.
“Well, I’ll let you get on. If you need anything just knock,” you smile at him to show you really did mean it. You would always try to help your neighbours out where you could.
“Thanks so much, I appreciate it. I’ll let you know when I’m all unpacked and maybe you could come over for a house warming drink,” he tilts his head at you still adoring the smirk. It is unclear to you whether he meant that in a friendly way or not, best not think too much into it. Your cheeks flash pink again so you quickly look down to your keys, fumbling with them to move the keyrings out the way.
“I’ll listen out for the knock, good luck with the rest of your unpacking,” and with that you unlock your door and step in without looking at him too closely again. He watches as you walk into your apartment catching a glimpse of the tabby cat meowing at your feet.
“Hey Peanut,” he hears you say before closing the door.
Knowing that your miserable neighbour is gone is a relief but having such a hot man only on the other side of your thin walls is making you sweat a little bit. You hope you never have to interact with Kai when your boyfriend is around.
Kai’s first week in his new apartment has been great. He is getting along really well with everyone in the building, especially the old lady at the end of the corridor that somehow manages to catch him almost every time he is returning home. He hasn’t seen the pretty girl next door as much as he would like. The only time he has seen her, since their initial interaction, was outside the main building doors as he was coming home from work one evening. She met with a man, gave him a kiss then held his hand as they walked away. He must be her boyfriend.
It took him longer to unpack than he expected, not anticipating how difficult it is to reorganise all his belongings in a new space. He has been going to work all week too, not taking too much time off to move. By Friday though he was finally finished. Kai decided he would knock on your door in the evening, noticing that you went to work during the day. He hoped you were alone.
Kai knocks on your door at 7pm, he has just been to the shop and bought a variety of drinks to stock up his apartment so he would definitely have something you liked. He hears you shuffling to the door and unlocking it. The image he is greeted with is not what he was expecting. You are standing in a beautiful dress, neutral shade, flowy short sleeves, length down to your shins. Your hair is curled, matching silver jewelry on and glittery makeup over your eyelids. Kai would be expecting you to be stepping out to go to a fancy restaurant if it wasn’t for the fluffy slippers on your feet. He’s stunned, unable to greet you first.
“Oh… Hi Kai. How are you?” you weekly greet him, quickly trying to fix your eye makeup with the pads of your fingers. The action causes Kai to notice that your eyes are red, small black smudges under them. You had been crying. His smile falls.
“Hey… is everything alright?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.
“Yeah” you reply hastily, not wanting him to worry. Peanut rubs up against your leg, jealous of being left out. You look down at him. Feeling his loving affection causes more tears to well up in your eyes, you were too sensitive right now. Kai sweeps his gaze over your apartment while you are temporarily distracted. On the table are several lit candles and two wine glasses, only one filled.
“Actually… no, I’m not okay,” you confess, looking back up. Kai doesn’t want to pry as you two just met but seeing you so upset wrenches on his heart.
“Are you expecting company?” he treads lightly.
“Not anymore,” you think about your boyfriend and the evening you had planned, the food you made currently keeping warm in the oven. After returning home from work, you had spent hours getting the evening ready to make it special. When Kai knocked you were just composing yourself to spend the evening alone with Peanut. Seeing him standing in your doorway, an idea crosses your mind.
“I made a meal for two but now it's just me, would you like to join me so it doesn’t go to waste?”
Kai had been upgraded from drinks in his bare flat to a meal with you in yours, he thanked his past self for pushing on with the unpacking.
Without hesitating he replies,“I would love to join you,” a softness lacing his voice this time paired with a warm smile. The sight causes your lips to tug into a small smile for the first time this evening.
Kai took off his shoes by the door and crouched to greet Peanut with a gentle stroke on his head. Peanut is a friendly cat so did not waste any time rubbing his fur all over Kai’s dark jeans, purring as he went. Kai chuckled at how affectionate Peanut already is with him. It soothes your heart to see Peanut so happy with another human as your most frequent visitor, your boyfriend, didn’t care for cats so tried to avoid Peanut at all costs. Kai stands up following you into the kitchen, little feet trotting along behind him.
You slide on a pair of oven mitts then lift the baking tray out of the oven. As Kai watches you in your lovely silk dress and brightly coloured oven mitts, his brain spins with questions. You close the oven door and place the tray down. Kai tries his best to ask delicately.
“How come you have ended up alone this evening, if you don’t mind me asking?” Holding a plate in one hand, spatula in the other, you scoop up lasagna and slide it onto the plate.
“My boyfriend was supposed to come round for an early birthday meal with me but he cancelled on me at the last minute,” you let out a breathy laugh to imply it was no big deal yet your red rimmed eyes told the opposite. You repeat the process with the other plate, gaze focused on the task.
“For your birthday?” he clarifies. You nod your head and turn around placing the spatula in the sink. Kai feels a sudden heat rushing throughout his chest. Your boyfriend better have had a good excuse, in fact is there a good excuse to cancel last minute on your girlfriend when she has organised an evening for HER birthday?
Keeping his voice calm, he asks “why did he cancel?” You pick up one of the plates and before you can grab the other Kai has it in his hands, you walk over to your small dining table together. You feel embarrassed to tell him what your boyfriend said he was up to tonight so you try to dodge the question.
“Would you like a drink? I opened a bottle of wine earlier,” you raise the bottle to show him.
“That would be really nice, thank you,” you fill up your glass again and carry both over to the table.
Sitting across from each other now, neither of you touching the cutlery, you know you will have to tell him. His deep brown eyes stare at you, patiently waiting. You sigh realising he should know, after all he has taken your boyfriend's place tonight.
“My boyfriend, Jay…” you pause thinking of the best way to put it, “he texted me an hour ago saying that he was going to spend the night with his mates instead, they will be out clubbing,” you knew this from the countless other times he has been out with his friends. Kai is astounded. Jay ditched you to go to the club?
“And he was aware that this evening was to celebrate your birthday?” he asked, trying to understand this man’s logic.
“He did,” you mumble, feeling the sadness wash over you once again. Staring down at the pasta you had made your appetite vanishes. The sight reminding you of who it was for and how he chose to spend his night elsewhere. Kai studied your expression, understanding that this was hurting you more than your words suggested. He wondered how a man could be so stupid when it came to a woman so beautiful as you.
He has to turn this evening around, even if it isn’t your birthday today he wants to celebrate. He raises his wine glass, “To Y/N, happy early birthday and congrats on your amazing new neighbour!” You are grateful for the energy shift. Kai’s face is filled with hope, you raise your glass too clinking it against his before taking a well needed large sip.
“Thank you Kai. My new neighbour definitely beats my old moody neighbour,” you giggle, “shame he doesn’t have a ginger cat called Pumpkin.” Kai tilts his head at you, brows furrowed slightly.
“Oh yeah…” you realise he didn’t know about Pumpkin, “she had a cat called Pumpkin, he was best friends with Peanut. He would visit my apartment everyday via the balcony to see him,” your eyes search the floor for your cat, finding him sitting right by Kai’s feet, sweeping his tail across the floor like a dog. Kai followed your gaze down to Peanut. He leaned down to rub his head evoking a happy meow.
“I was thinking about getting him a little ginger cat plushie as a reminder,” Kai practically bounces out of his seat at your words.
“Oh oh, I know a great place that sells plushies. They have a huge selection of cats, we should go some time,” he turns back to Peanut, “sorry about your friend buddy, bet you miss him.” Watching Kai pet your cat, a comfortable calm feeling settles across your chest. You had been so busy all day, at work then preparing the evening, getting yourself ready all for it to come to a screeching halt with a single one line text. Now in front of you is a person who enjoys your cat's company, asks the right amount of questions, and makes plans for both of you without giving it a second thought. Things your boyfriend definitely didn’t do.
The evening goes well, just as Kai wanted. The lasagna slowly disappeared between conversation and laughing. Kai steered the chatting away from relationships feeling that would be the best course of action for tonight. You both learned so much about each other. Kai told you about his four best friends, insisting that you would have to meet them at their next monthly game night that will be held at Kai’s new apartment. He spoke passionately about his job as a music producer, diving into some stories about recent projects he is working on. You find out he is a middle child between two sisters which explains his patience and calm tone. When it is your turn to share he listens to you intently, finding out you work in an office, which sounds boring but you actually really love it. Besides Peanut, you have two human best friends. The three of you usually meet up every few weeks to catch up and discuss the books you were reading. You tell him about your family and how they live in the suburbs so you only get to see them during the holidays.
After the meal, Kai generously helps you to wash up and put things away. While observing him wipe down the table, you are struck by an intrusive comparison. Other people in your life, like your friends and family, would do the same as Kai now, help out and share the workload between you. You know this yet your brain compares him to Jay. Based on your first proper interaction with Kai tonight you can already tell that they are complete opposites. Jay doesn’t care for your cat, Jay doesn’t choose to spend the night with you, Jay wouldn’t help you tidy up, Jay wouldn’t sit there and actually listen to you, eyes on you, asking follow up questions that make sense. Kai has done all of those things tonight.
Returning the cloth back where he found it he says “All done! Thank you so much for inviting me in, I’ve had a really nice time getting to know my new neighbour and her cute cat. The lasagna was delicious by the way, I’d definitely eat that again,” he chuckles at himself.
“No problem, I’m glad you enjoyed it. I don’t think it would have been very nice if I ate it for my lunch tomorrow,” you scrunch your nose in disgust. He laughs again.
“Glad I could help out.” Peanut jumps up onto the counter begging for attention. Kai’s eyes widen remembering his suggestion earlier.
“Thanks for the reminder buddy,” he strokes Peanut’s head then takes his phone out of his pocket, “lets exchange numbers then you can let me know when you are free to visit the plushie shop I told you about.” He holds his phone out to you and you gladly take it.
“You’re only next door Kai,” you jest whilst typing your number in.
“I know, but you might not always be able to come to the door.” You hand his phone back to him. He smiles at you then walks to the door getting his shoes. Peanut meows in protest, he has really gotten attached to Kai already and he has only been here a few hours. Giggling, you pick Peanut up and hold him in your arms before he can follow Kai back to his apartment.
“Goodnight Peanut,” he says, patting his little head one last time, “and goodnight Y/N,” he whispers. Taking your gaze off Peanut, your breath hitches realising just how close he is. His signature smile you have become accustomed to these past few hours stretches across his face. He moves backwards reaching for the door handle. You should be saying goodnight but he just looks so gorgeous that your brain is stuck not being able to send the signals to your mouth . Opening the door, he turns and steps through into the corridor. You hold the door open with your foot, cat still draped in your arms. Hearing his door unlock brings you out of your daze.
“Goodnight Kai, see you soon.” Looking at each other one last time you both head into your apartments separated only by a thin wall.
Kai didn’t want to seem too eager to hang out with you so he waited a few days before texting. A plan was made to go to the plushie store at the weekend and to ask your friends if they wanted to join Kai’s game night. He had already asked his friends and they declared the more the merrier. He had never been more excited for a game night.
During the week his excitement changed to concern as he heard odd noises coming from your flat. He had been told the walls were thin between apartments in this building but sometimes he swore he could hear you crying. He hoped it was just your TV.
One night he gets home earlier than he had been other days this week. This particular project had been running into the late hours everyday but today they decided to pack up early. He decided to spend the extra free time trying to finish a video game he started months ago. At first he hears little bangs here and there, he thinks nothing of it, maybe you were cleaning but then he hears a man's voice. Kai assumes it must be Jay, your boyfriend, so he relaxes and continues his video game. Not long later, he hears the male voice again but this time it is louder, angry sounding followed by a series of thumps. Kai pauses the game and stands up, ear tilted towards the wall. All the apartments are built the same so he knows that your bedroom is on the other side of this wall.
Silence stretches on for a few minutes, he tries to convince himself it was nothing. Maybe Jay is watching his favourite sports team and they aren’t doing so well. Kai goes to sit back down when his body freezes in place upon hearing Jay shouting. This time though, it is loud enough for Kai to hear every word.
“I’LL GO OUT WHEN I LIKE AND WITH WHO I LIKE, YOU DON’T GET TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO, IT WASN’T EVEN YOUR ACTUAL BIRTHDAY SO WHY DOES IT MATTER?” Kai is shocked at his words. There’s a brief pause where you must have responded to him quietly, then he continues, “ARE YOU ACCUSING ME OF CHEATING? DON’T BE SO DUMB Y/N.” A soft thump hits the wall next to Kai’s head causing him to step back. After his outburst the conversation volume returns to normal level, Kai strains his ears to hear anything else but all he manages to catch is, “you’re the only girl I want.”
Feeling confused by the rollercoaster of emotions he wonders how you must be feeling. The man shouted at you, called you dumb and said your birthday dinner didn’t matter but then is saying you are the only one for him. Kai knows not to believe it. Finally sitting down, he resumes his game, lowering the volume to keep an ear out for you. He won’t text you tonight to ask if you are alright, even though he wants to check on you, as that would be admitting he heard your argument. Eventually the low game music is disturbed by a rhythmic tapping against the wall, he connects his headphones to blast the music through so he doesn’t have to hear what is happening now.
The weekend arrives without any more disturbances from your apartment. Kai knocks on your door at the agreed time. Grabbing your bag you call out to Peanut, “I’ll be back soon Pea.” You open the door to find a grinning Kai, looking handsome as usual.
“Are you excited?” He clearly is based on how he is practically bouncing now waiting for you to lock up.
“Yes, let’s go. Lead the way,” you reply between giggles.
The day is sunny and bright, it warms your skin. Walking side by side, Kai is rambling on about previous game nights he and his friends have had. It sounds like they are truly great friends, you’re eager to meet them in a week's time. Coming to the end of a particularly ridiculous story that has both of you fighting for breath, he realises he has been doing all the talking. He’s reluctant to bring up your boyfriend yet the need to know how you are after the other night gnaws away at him inside.
Diverting the conversation to you he casually asks “How has it been going with your boyfriend recently?”
“Huh?” you are taken off guard by the sudden switch up. Truthfully, it hadn’t been going too well this past week but you aren’t going to worry Kai with that. “It’s been going okay.”
By the way you won’t meet his gaze he knows that there’s more to it than that but he won’t push you.
“Did he say anything about your birthday dinner?” You search your brain for the words Jay used.
“He was at the club like I predicted, he apologised telling me it slipped his mind that the dinner was for my birthday, he reassured me that I’m the only one he wants,” you lightly smile remembering the moment. Kai looks away from you now, knowing what happened after he told you that. Wanting to move on quickly he realises he doesn’t actually know when your birthday is.
“When is your birthday? Are you doing anything to celebrate?” Turning the corner, the plushie store comes into view.
“It’s on Saturday. I haven’t got any solid plans yet, I was just going to do something with my friends.” No boyfriend again.
“Jay not taking you out?” Kai doesn’t want to keep talking about him yet a curious pull keeps dragging him to understand.
“No… he was going to but now he has to go on a last minute work trip.” The warm rush he felt last week learning that your boyfriend stood you up returns. He decides to give the man the benefit of the doubt, work can be unkind.
Finally reaching the store Kai announces “We’re here!” Smile returning to your face, you follow him in. While watching you “aww” over every cat plushie, Kai thinks about how perfect it is that your birthday is on Saturday. The game night is Friday. You can meet each other's friends, get acquainted and then go on a celebratory night out. He’s just deciding if it should all be on the same night or over the two when you hold a fluffy ginger cat plushie in his face.
“This is the one!” you beam at him. Seeing your ecstatic face at finding the perfect gift for Peanut, he focuses back on you. He feels the soft faux fur agreeing that it is perfect.
On the walk back, Kai shares his idea with you. He notices your eyes start to sparkle as he talks it through. You're agreeing with him before he can finish explaining. It was decided, game night on Friday then the club on Saturday. Forget your boyfriend, you would spend the night with your friends instead.
Arriving on your floor, you immediately spot Mrs Kim’s open door. This is how she captures passerbys in her web.
“Ohhh Y/N, how lovely to see you and oh… Kai too, how wonderful! You both look so radiant today, have you been in the sunshine,” you can’t help nervously laughing knowing exactly what assumption she is about to make. Kai answers innocently before you can think of an answer.
“Good morning, Mrs Kim. Thank you, we just made a trip to the store,” Mrs Kim’s eyes widen in delight. Red creeps across your cheeks.
“Ahhhhh how wonderful! Awww Y/N, I’m so proud of you. You two make such a lovely couple,” she gushes. It takes Kai’s brain a few seconds for the confusion to float away then his cheeks match yours. Waving your hands rapidly you try to correct her gently, “oh no Mrs Kim, Kai and I aren’t dating, we are just friends. I’m still with my boyfriend Jay.” The smile instantly falls off her face and you cringe.
“Mmm… well that’s a shame,” she shakes her head in disappointment, “maybe one day ehh?”
You hum in agreement just to make her feel better. Before she can jump into some gossip she heard recently you wish her a good day. Kai shuffles along behind you.
Finally reaching your apartment, Kai steps in with you. Trying to ignore the awkwardness you call for Peanut and pull out the new ginger cat plushie.
“Hey Pea, look what I got. It’s Pumpkin!” Your cat rubs his little head over the plushie again and again meowing up at you. Setting it down on the couch, he instantly curls up with it, finding a comfy spot.
“Awww, do you think he recognises it as Pumpkin?” The cuteness is too much, your lips form a pout.
“He must do,” normally this would have been super cute to Kai too but his brain can’t let go of Mrs Kim’s reaction to your boyfriend. Why did she seem to dislike him so much?
You notice his distance so you turn around to face him, deciding you need to quickly address the situation in the corridor and move on.
“Hey, about Mrs Kim… don’t mind her, she loves to match make and get in everyone's business. It keeps her going.” He doesn’t know what to say so he just nods. His demeanour has changed since the interaction with Mrs Kim, you hope he doesn’t feel odd around you after being called a cute couple.
“So… I’ll see you on Friday then,” your voice elevated, doing your best to break the tension.
“I’ll see you on Friday,” he responds with a slight smile. Kai leaves your apartment wondering if it would be seen as invading your privacy to ask Mrs Kim about your boyfriend.
Friday finally arrives. After work, Kai spends a couple of hours setting up his apartment to host the game night. He takes a trip to the local shop to grab some snacks and drinks, he tidies up and gathers all the games he knows his friends enjoy the most. Around 6pm he hears loud laughter bleeding through the walls from your apartment, your friends must have arrived early.
Your best friends from school, Chaewon and Yunjin, have always been your biggest supporters except when it comes to Jay. They had tried in the nicest way possible to help you see that he just isn’t the right partner for you.You had brushed them off thinking their previous relationship experiences were clouding their judgement. Jay loves you, he doesn’t say it often or show it often either if you are honest but he is still with you. The girls are happy you are trying to expand your social circle and are excited to join you tonight. They hope the exposure to more men your age will help you see why Jay is not boyfriend material.
You knock on Kai’s door at 7pm. You feel nerves bubble up in your stomach, before you can debate why the door is swinging open revealing Kai wearing a black hoodie and a gorgeous smile as always. A flood of unfamiliar voices rushes out of his apartment. He steps aside and ushers the three of you in. You hang back to let the girls enter first, hearing them introduce themselves to Kai’s friends. Your stomach is bubbling even worse now.
“Hey, thanks for inviting us over,” you step in, replacing your uneasy expression with a soft smile. He closes the door behind you.
“Of course, it’s the first game night here so I had to invite my cool new neighbour,” he says while lightly bumping his elbow against yours as he walks past, “plus, Mrs Kim told me you needed more friends,” he jokes. You roll your eyes playfully, knowing that it probably isn’t far from the truth. Mrs Kim is way too invested in who you spend your time with, she is an honorary family member at this point.
You follow Kai to the sitting area to join the group. The conversation flows easily between you all as you get acquainted. Everyone sits on the carpet in a big circle as there is not enough space for the eight of you on Kai’s small couch. Kai is on your left with Chaewon and Yunjin on your right. Looking over the boys you commit their names to memory so you don’t get them mixed up, from left to right is Taehyun, Beomgyu, Soobin and Yeonjun. Listening to his friends you learn so much about Kai, they gush over him to try and embarrass him and you notice it works as the tips of his ears turn red.
“Did you know that Kai has been single for several years now, the man spends too much time working,” Beomgyu spills, watching the girls closely for a reaction.
“Hey Gyu, they aren’t bothered about that, we should pick out a game to play,” Kai softly pleads, turning his face away from the circle to look through the board game boxes behind him. Your eyebrows raise at the new information. Kai is single? For some reason you just assumed with how attractive and charming he is he would be taken. You are happy with Jay yet you remember feeling jealous of the girlfriend you had pictured Kai with. Learning that he is single stirs a strange feeling within you that you can’t describe. It mixes with the nervous bubbles making you feel slightly queasy. Believing he was taken eased your mind as he was unavailable, now you know he is single and that is honestly worse. You could hear your Mum tutting at you for always wanting what you can’t have.
“I swear if you wore your glasses more often people would be lining up around the block to date you,” Soobin chimes in.
“Glasses?” you asked out loud before your brain could catch up to your mouth. Kai pulls a game out of the stack like a jenga piece placing it in his lap to remove the lid. Without looking up he replies, “yeah, I’ve actually got pretty bad eyesight but I choose to wear contacts during the day, it's easier with all the headphones I wear at work.”
While he is focusing on setting the game up, you study his face trying to imagine him with glasses on. He would look cute you decide. They would frame his dark eyes that always seem to sparkle at you with his black locks tickling the lenses. Kai leans forward to place the game board down in the middle of you all. His movement disturbs your gaze allowing you to realise you may have been staring at him a little too long. Scanning around the circle no one seems to have noticed, they are listening intently to Taehyun who is reading out the game rules. You best limit your glances and chatting with Kai tonight, a few seconds of red cheeks or a giggle too long and your friends will pounce on the idea that you like him. You did not need any more conversations on why you should break up with Jay.
This game Kai chose is new to you. Having only caught the end of the rules you have to closely watch the others play. Turns are taken clockwise so you are the last to go. Throughout the game you manage to keep your focus on the board, there are many players and various strategies so you can’t afford for your mind to wander. You pick up the rules as you go along however, it isn’t enough for you to win.
Beomgyu jumps up in celebration of his victory, laughing and dancing around the room. The boys roll their eyes, used to his overdramatic reactions. While Kai and Taehyun return the game to its box, you notice Yunjin is sitting closer to Yeonjun than she was before. You watch as she chats to him in a whisper, a giggly smile on her face. You make a mental note to ask her about it later.
Not wanting to witness the escalating heated debate between Soobin and Beomgyu over which game to play next, you and Chaewon volunteer to grab snacks from the kitchen. Kai had left everything out so you didn’t have to go searching through the cupboards. Taking the 2 litre bottle of Pepsi you unscrew the lid and pour out eight glasses, watching the fizzy bubbles rise and pop reminding you of your stomach earlier.
“What club are we going to tomorrow again? Did we decide?” Chaewon asks while ripping open a bag of sweet and salty popcorn.
“I don’t think so… what is the name of that popular one downtown?” Screwing the cap back on, you place all the full glasses on a tray. You're too focused on your task to see Chaewon’s face scrunch up in horror. She knew the popular club in town is your boyfriend's favourite. She has never caught him doing anything suspicious but she still didn’t want to take you there just in case.
“Ahhh I’m not sure that one is any good, maybe we should ask the boys if they have any suggestions.” You nod in oblivious approval before carefully walking back to the sitting room balancing the tray with both your hands. Kai passes you in the hall, you don’t look up.
Chaewon stands for a moment, thoughts racing. Seeing Jay in a club would ruin your entire night. She wants to voice her concerns to you but doesn’t want to irritate you again by bringing up the boyfriend topic.
“Hey is everything alright?” Suddenly hearing Kai’s voice causes Chaewon to jump, not noticing his presence until now.
“Oh yeah I’m fine,” she laughs it off emptying the rest of the popcorn into the bowl, “just debating which club to go to tomorrow…” She pauses. Kai waits, feeling the weight of unspoken words in the air. Her voice comes out quieter this time, “I just don’t want her to run into Jay… we should be having fun celebrating her.” Kai is unsure what to say, he knew Jay liked clubbing but why would seeing him be a bad thing, it’s her boyfriend.
“Why would running into him ruin the fun?” he asks, she looks up at him with a sad expression. Before she is able to answer, Beomgyu and Soobin burst in talking over each other at a hundred miles a minute. From what Kai can make out the game has finally been selected and set up so now they are just waiting for them. Chaewon grabs the bowl of popcorn and bolts away leaving Kai to internally curse his friends for once again being too loud.
When Kai returns to the sitting room with a plate of chocolate chip cookies, Mario Kart is pulled up on the TV. It's a tradition every game night to have a racing competition. Only four can play at once so the spectators sit on the couch. For the first round, you are sandwiched between Kai and Taehyun on the floor, Chaewon is sat on the far right. You hadn’t played this game in such a long time that your first lap is embarrassing, you are almost in last place. The controller clicking sounds next to you is the only indication that Kai is sitting there unlike the others who are commentating and laughing throughout. He is concentrating on keeping his lead position. Finishing in seventh place you turn around to Yunjin to hand her the controller with a slight huff. That was more difficult than you expected, these boys really like racing games.
Swapping over with the others you find yourself sitting next to Kai again, you really couldn’t get away from him this evening. As soon as the race starts the shouting begins between Beomgyu and Soobin as they fight for first place. You can’t help laughing at them, were they always like this or is this all for entertainment? It all faded into the background as Kai leant over to you whispering in your ear “is it just me or is there a little something happening over there?” He gestures with his head over to the other side of the room at Yeonjun and Yunjin. They were sitting close together, their chatting being drowned out by the feral screeching of the boys. Kai noticed them too. You turn to look at him to discuss it, forgetting how close he is. The sight knocks the wind out of you. Your brain goes blank. His eyes meet yours expecting you to say something but you can’t, the thoughts have evaporated. You can’t say anything to his face. His rich espresso eyes stare into yours, you feel like you might sink and drown in them.
Kai wishes he knew what you were thinking right now. Are you at a loss for words because you are so shocked at your friend or could he be delusional enough to think it was him. The race finishes with Yeonjun in first place, his male opponents are straight on their feet complaining about something, you weren’t sure what exactly. Kai breaks away from your gaze to stand up, pulling his friends apart telling them to keep it down. The walls are too thin, he didn’t want complaints from the other tenants in the building.
Yunjin flops down in Kai’s spot on the couch, a beaming smile plastered on her face.
“Yeonjun knows of a cool club we can go to tomorrow night,” she says, making eye contact with Chaewon to let her know that it could be a Jay free club. Chaewon sighs in relief. With Kai gone, words finally return to your brain, “Ahh that’s great, we were talking about that earlier.”
Checking your phone for the first time tonight you gasp, it is 11pm, you should go soon. Then you notice a text message, it’s from Jay. It took your brain a second to register, you completely forgot about him. Unlocking your phone, you swipe at the notification to preview his message.
“I gotta go,” you exhale, abruptly standing up and walking out the room. The girls look at you in shock scrambling after you, questioning why you had to leave in such a rush. Silence falls over the boys, eyes trailing after you three. They follow too.
“It’s Jay,” you tell them, pulling your shoes on. Kai’s stomach turns at the mention of his name.
“Is he alright?” Yunjin asks worry in her voice even though she did not care for him.
“I’m not sure, his text was quite vague but he needs me,” you look back up at the seven of them, all their attention on you. Kai felt nauseous at your phrasing.
“I’ll catch you all tomorrow,” you throw them a smile, “thanks so much again Kai for inviting us.” Before he can respond you have flown out the door.
Not too long later, Chaewon and Yunjin decide to leave too. They solidify plans for tomorrow night and exchange numbers with the boys before getting in a taxi. This is not usually how their game nights finished. They either ended in an argument over something silly or in fits of laughter at something dumb, never in silence because they didn’t know what to say. Taehyun put a random movie on the TV and the remaining snacks were dragged to the sitting room.
All the snacks were gone and the movie was almost over when one of them finally spoke up.
“Soooo… What is the deal with this Jay guy?” Yeonjun asked, turning towards Kai. He lets out a long exhale knowing this question was inevitable.
“He’s Y/N’s boyfriend,” his tone flat and eyes lowered. Kai didn’t need to say anything else, the boys could tell he didn’t like Jay.
After last night Kai needed some fresh air. He walked to his favourite café and treated himself to a coffee and a pastry then strolled around enjoying the sweet cream filling and warm breeze. Returning to the apartment building, he typed in the main door code and opened it, coming face to face with the little old lady, Mrs Kim.
“Good morning, Mrs Kim. How are you today?” Kai greeted her, holding the door open so she could pass through. Taking small steps she exited the building, standing on the pavement beside him. The dramatic height difference between them causes the lady to strain her neck to see his face.
“Good morning, Kai. I am very well thank you. How about yourself? Have you been up too much these past few days?” Her eyes are fixed upon him waiting for any scrap of news she can get out of him.
“I’m a little tired. I hosted a game night last night,” she noticed the coffee cup in his hands and the slight darkness around his eyes.
“Oh how wonderful! Sounds like a lovely time. Did you invite Y/N round? She will benefit from some time away from that boyfriend of hers.” This is it. This is the moment Kai was thinking about the other day. Mrs Kim brought the boyfriend up first, Kai is just following the conversation.
“I did invite her, she brought two of her friends around too. She seemed to enjoy it,” he pauses, pondering how to ask about Jay. “Why would she need time away from her boyfriend Mrs Kim?”
Upon hearing his question, her smile dropped and her eyes rolled. A long sigh left her lips.
“Urgh Kai, I could talk your ear off about why I think he is not right for her but I know you're tired so I’ll do my best to keep it short,” she shot him a sweet smile then continued, “I’ve never liked him, ever since I first met him a few years ago I knew something was off with him but she is blinded by love, or what she thinks is love anyway.”
It is easier for people outside of a relationship to see the faults, Mrs Kim could see many with yours, yet it is a difficult task trying to enlighten the ones in it to see those faults.
“I suspect he is not trustworthy. It's the little things you know, like holding the door open for people,” she says gesturing to Kai as he had just done that for her, “buying flowers on special occasions, finding time to spend together even when you are both busy, plus…” she pauses taking in a large breath, “and this is a big one… not being seen with your arm around other women in the broad light of day.” Kai involuntarily gasps. He wouldn’t? Right? Jay told you only last week that you were the only girl for him. Is he lying to you? Is he cheating on you?
Mrs Kim watches Kai’s eyes go wide, seeing that he’d had his own suspicions about Jay and now there was evidence.
She adds fuel to the fire. “I see him quite regularly with various women, when I’m on my way to Bingo every Friday, when I’m doing my weekly shop on a Monday… and that’s during the day. Imagine what he’s up to on a night,” Kai’s mind is taken back to the evening in your apartment, you told him Jay goes out often to the club with his friends. His eyes have wandered away from Mrs Kim now, deep in thought.
“Y/N did tell me that he goes out clubbing alot,” a sudden single clap from the old lady’s hands startles Kai to look at her once again.
“There you go, he is not to be trusted,” she thrusts her bony index finger at him, “you need to help her see that she deserves so much better Kai.” This is her favourite thing about gossip, watching a person's face as it contorts with emotions, mind swirling with new information. Kai seems to be conflicted, unsure of what to think and how he could possibly help you in this situation.
“Anyway, I will let you go. Go and get some well needed rest sweetheart.” Mrs Kim smiles devilishly and pats him lightly on the arm before shuffling away. Kai can barely utter a goodbye, mind racing with questions. She chuckles to herself, proud that she may have set her most hoped gossip into motion.
Sunlight streaming into the room wakes you up, you roll over to check the time on the bedside clock. It's 10am. Stretching your arms you realise this isn’t your bedroom. Turning your head you see Jay. Flashbacks of last night rush back to you, leaving Kai’s apartment, calling Jay, going to his place and the long chat about his work. You are relieved to remember that you are only in his bed because it was too late for you to make it back to your apartment. Slowly starting to question why you feel relief at that fact your mind is distracted by Jay waking up. He yawns obnoxiously loud then gets up without saying a word, walks to the bathroom and locks the door.
You make the bed, get yourself ready and gather your things. Unlocking your phone you wait for him on the couch. There are several messages from Chaewon and Yunjin in your group chat asking you various questions but the singular message from Kai grabs your attention first.
Kai
Thanks for coming over last night, it was really fun. I hope everything went okay after you left. See you tonight, birthday girl!
You had almost forgotten, it’s your birthday today. New messages from your friends flood in wishing you a happy birthday and hoping you are alright this morning. While typing out a response, Jay enters the room with a full duffel bag dropping it on the wood flooring creating a loud bang. Your head snaps up at him.
“Well, I’m off,” he said without looking at you, grabbing his keys from the kitchen. You stand up and pocket your phone, you’ll reply to them soon.
“Oh okay but before you go, is there anything you need to say to me?” you prompt playfully hoping it will jog his memory. You place your hands on his chest as you search his eyes for any recognition. His hands lay by his sides, clutching his keys.
“No…” his voice emotionless and expression blank. He really didn’t remember? “I really have to go,” he removes your hands from him picking up his bag. Your brows furrow. Jay pushes you out the door so he can lock up.
“I’ll be back on Monday,” he calls out over his shoulder marching down the hallway. You stand frozen, processing the moment. You didn’t get a goodbye or a happy birthday from your boyfriend.
Finally making it back to your apartment, you cuddle Peanut who is more than happy to have you back. You reply to your friends and ask if you could all get ready together this evening.
Being with your best friends for hours dancing, singing and getting ready has done wonders to lift your spirits. You never told them about this morning with Jay, he must have just been upset about leaving you for the weekend.
Entering the cool club Yeonjun recommended, Yunjin scans the room furiously checking her phone every 5 seconds for texts from him. The boys are already here. On your journey to the club, you asked Yunjin about her developing crush which causes her to blush the deepest shade of red you have ever seen from her. She spilled her feelings to you reminding you of Mrs Kim and how she would revel in this gossip.
Spotting the boys, she makes a beeline for them. All five of them are huddled round a table, clutching half empty drinks. Upon seeing you then all cheer and burst into the happy birthday song. Soobin places a silly bright red cone party hat on your head which clashes with your cool-toned outfit.
“This round is on me as a birthday gift, what would you girls like to drink?” Yeonjun asks, taking your orders then fighting his way through the crowd with Taehyun to the bar.
After a few rounds, you all migrate to the dance floor. The songs transition into each other seamlessly causing the hours to blur. You have had some good birthdays in the past but this is definitely the best. Singing along to Love Story by Taylor Swift you are shocked to see that Kai knows every word and is singing along just as enthusiastically. It warms your heart and makes you giggle. As the chorus begins you are fixated on him, watching as he begs Romeo to run away, refers to himself as a princess and declares his love. All his actions and the way he sings it is ridiculously cute to you. Before your brain could catch up you playfully mimic his higher pitched voice to sing “I’ll be the princess” just as he did. You gasp realising what you’ve just done without thinking. An expression of shock flashes across his face for only a second before his infectious cackly laughter takes over. The whole group laughs along with him. You're glad he found it funny and hoped he would see your copying as a compliment. The attention only increases his dramatic performance for the rest of the song.
The dancefloor is quite dark considering there are loads of strobing multi-coloured flashing lights beaming down from above. After a few drinks and a couple hours of dancing your skills have dropped off, you can just manage to sway clumsily and shout the lyrics now. A warm hand intertwines with yours pulling you round, expecting to see one of the girls you almost choke as you look up and find Kai instead. Your heart skips a beat. It may be the alcohol coursing through your system but you felt drawn to him like he emits a strong magnetic field. You step closer.
Kai gave you his best carefree smile hoping you didn’t catch his panic. Just moments ago he thought he spotted Jay across the club, he was unsure if it was him at first thinking the stranger just looked like him in the dim light. But as a group of clubbers vacated the dancefloor, Jay came into perfect view with a lady sitting on his lap. Kai acted on instinct to grab your hand and spin you round so you were facing the other side of the club. He has never sobered up so quickly in his life. Now with all your attention on him he has to decide what to do next. As if on queue, Chaewon dramatically gasps and turns around at break neck speed, a sigh of relief leaving her when she sees Kai has already noticed.
“Hey, Y/N will you come to the ladies room with me please?” She calls out, and takes your hand from Kai’s. You agree absentmindedly. Chaewon motions to the others with a nod of her head telling Kai to talk to them while you are gone. He accepts the mission gathering up the group to talk. They need to come up with a plan, do they tell you or keep you in the dark?
Chaewon did her best to keep you away for as long as possible but eventually you two had to rejoin the group. They had left the dancefloor to sit in a booth. You notice the energy shift immediately, something has happened. Sitting down next to Yunjin, you ask her if everything is alright. Her glassy eyes look up at you, a worried look on her face.
“Y/N… I don’t know how to tell you this but you deserve to know,” her voice trembling. Confusion replaces all your thoughts and feelings. What is she talking about?
“What we are about to show you is really upsetting, we only do it because we love you,” she pauses to take a breath and grabs your hands. You glance around at the others who have the same sad look on their faces. Kai’s eyes stare down, he doesn’t want to see your reaction in fear for what it might make him do.
“We have suspected it for a while but we haven’t had any solid evidence until tonight. I’m so sorry Y/N,” she removes one of her hands from yours to gesture across the club.
You look out across the club in the direction Yunjin had pointed, eye brows furrowed in confusion and eyes squinting to see through the darkness. Scanning and scanning you start to wonder what she is going on about then you see him. Jay. Sat in a booth surrounded by his friends with a drink in his hand. A slim girl, who looked younger than you, sitting on his lap. For a few seconds you felt no emotion, just numbness then the bewilderment set in. Why is he here? He told you he was away for the weekend with work. Did it get cancelled? Why didn’t he tell you? What if there was no work trip and he lied to you? Is this the first time he has lied to you?
Your mind was spiraling, falling deeper and deeper. Disorientation fading giving way to anger. It doesn’t matter if this is the first time or not, he has lied to you and is cheating on you. You watch as he kisses the girl hungrily. Yunjin is right, you deserve better. Making up your mind you stand up. A series of gasps sound around the booth.
“You're not about to go over there are you?” Beomgyu asks quickly, “cause I don’t think that's a good idea, right guys?” He searches for agreement.
“I’m going,” you leave no room for debate as you stomp away. The whole group stands up simultaneously. Kai pushes past the boys to get to you.
“Hey Y/N,” he grabs your hand, you keep walking, “let’s think this through first please, I don’t want anything to happen to you.” You stop dead in your tracks to look at him. He has never seen you like this before, you are so upset that you have tipped into fury. His sparkly pleading eyes almost stop you but anger overpowers the feeling.
“There’s nothing to think about, Kai, it ends now!” You leave him behind, making your way towards Jay.
Reaching his table, you see his expression drop as he exhales a long breath. He pushes the girl off him to lean forward.
“Baby, I can explain,” his voice smooth and hopeful. You feign a calm composure.
“There’s nothing to explain Jay,” you say, forcing a smile, “I can see it for myself that you are a liar and a cheater so… we’re done.” He gulps then runs his hands over his face.
“Wait wait… what?”
It all makes sense now, the constant club trips, the way he would shout at you for the smallest questions about those club trips and the way he would make it up to you after he had convinced you. You feel stupid for not seeing it sooner and embarrassed for not listening to your friends.
“You can continue on as you are, doing whatever it is you do at the club but… we’re over.”
“Over? OVER?” his voice rises, the anger transferring into him, “YOU DON’T GET TO TELL ME WHEN WE’RE OVER!” he stands, walking around the table to you. His eyes wild with rage like a predator stalking prey. Your friends panic, stuck like deer in headlights. Kai’s body moves without him telling it to.
Confidence plumating, you open your mouth to respond when your vision is blocked by a tall form. You sigh in relief recognising Kai’s back in front of you.
“Hey man, let’s take it easy okay,” Kai insists, his voice completely different to how he spoke to you only minutes ago.
“Move! This is none of your business,” Jay shoves Kai’s chest. He tries his best to maintain his balance, only wobbling slightly, so he doesn’t fall back into you. Kai decides not to respond, there is no winning in an argument with people like Jay. You shout over Kai’s shoulder, “I meant it Jay, we are done.” Grabbing Kai’s hand you slowly reverse away, guiding him with your free hand on his back so he doesn’t trip. Thankfully, Jay doesn’t follow. He just stands there seething.
When a comfortable distance has been reached you both turn and head for the club doors. The group follows closely behind. The last thing you hear before leaving is Jay shouting that he didn’t need you anyway and that he never did.
The journey back to your apartment building was silent, everyone was still processing the interaction. Chaewon kindly asked the boys for some space so they waited in Kai’s apartment. They sit just like they did the night before, unsure of what to do or what to say. The thin walls let the girls mumbled voices bleed through.
Sinking further into his couch, Kai can’t stop thinking about how thankful he is that nothing happened to you tonight. He had a feeling Jay would react like that which is why he begged you not to face him. He dreads to think what may have happened if he hadn’t stood between you. A distant violent sob causes Kai’s ears to tune back in. You're crying over that ungrateful man, his heart sinks at the sound. Taehyun has never seen Kai look so helpless, his features weren’t meant to accommodate such a glum expression. Kai is his best friend so he knew the answer to his question before he even asked it.
“You like her don’t you?” Kai’s gaze rises to meet Taehyun’s across the room. The sudden sound causes the other boys’ heads to turn and look at him. It felt inappropriate to discuss such fluttery feelings right now when your sobs could still be heard so he doesn’t respond with words. He lightly nods his head then breaks eye contact feeling overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. His friend’s eyes soften at the confession. They all now understood his chivalrous act earlier a little better. Kai lets his head drop back to rest on the couch, his mind wanders to your tabby cat Peanut, hoping he is giving you unlimited cuddles.
Violent sobbing is tearing from you now as you curl into a ball in the girls’ arms. Peanut rubs his fluffy head against your ankles.
“I’m… so… sorry… I’m so stupid… I should have… listened to you,” they shush you and hold you until you run out of tears. Turns out this may not be the best birthday you have ever had. When you can finally breathe again they listen to you intently as you tell them all the red flags you missed including this morning's lying and lack of birthday wishes. It is so obvious to you now. Wait until Mrs Kim gets her little hands on this gossip, she will be sad for you of course but also happy to see the end of Jay.
The girls decide to stay over for the night, cheering for a birthday sleepover. You order late night pizzas and watch a heart warming Disney movie. The girls giggle and sing along like usual while you sit quietly, they don’t ask you to join in this time. You wouldn’t be able to sing along anyway. You were thinking about Kai. How he looked at you so sweetly and spoke to you so desperately then bravely jumped in to help you. Kai was there for your birthday meal, he was there when you needed a gift for Peanut, he was there when you needed friends to spend time with and he was there on your birthday... He is also next door right now.
It’s like your brain deleted a file. Since you woke up on that Sunday morning you forgot that Jay existed. During your relationship you saw him so infrequently that removing him all together had little effect on your routine. Even though your life is better without Jay and you don’t miss him the hurt from being cheated on lingers. Your friends and the five boys have been so kind the past few days to give you space, upon your request, to let you focus on yourself and your job. They are only a call away when you need them.
A new file has replaced it. Kai consumes your thoughts, you're reminded of him by the smallest things plus you occasionally hear him through the walls… like tonight.
Slumping into your couch, Peanut butts his head into your arm. You lazily pet him relaxing at the feel of his warm soft fur. Today was an exhausting day at work after your eventful weekend, you could fall asleep right now in your work clothes. As your eyes close you hear a distant melody playing. You open them to check the TV but realise you never turned it on. You listen closer, recognising it as a guitar. One of your neighbours must be playing music. Closing your eyes once more, you settle back down. Like lightning, a thought strikes. You jump up and cross the apartment into your bedroom squishing your ear against the wall. It’s clearer now, a gentle melody plays then the singing starts. It’s Kai. You strain to hear him, not being able to make out the words. He sounds angelic. This is way more relaxing than your couch. You slide down to sit on the floor, ear still pressed to the wall with your eyes closed. He plays through a full song, you assume, then stops. Your legs move on their own being dragged by a magnetic force and before your brain can catch up you are standing in front of his apartment knocking on the door.
He answers in his comfy black hoodie with a pair of circle glasses sitting on his nose. A small smile forms on your lips at the sight. So that’s what he looks like in glasses.
“Oh hey Y/N, come on in,” he scoots to the side to let you pass. His apartment is darker than the last time you were here. A blue glow shines out from his desk in the corner that touches the opposite side of the wall you had just been leaning on. A beautiful shiny black acoustic guitar sits waiting propped up against the desk leg.
“What brings you over tonight?” he asks, walking into the kitchen and pulling out two glasses.
“Actually… I heard you playing,” you study him noticing the way he stills for only a moment then continues searching through his fridge.
“You did? Are you here to give me a review?” he says playfully, finally selecting a bottle of Pepsi and pouring it out into the two glasses.
“You are gorgeous… at playing I mean and singing, I couldn’t quite hear the words but it was comforting,” your face flushes at your slip up. You fiddle with your fingers so you don’t have to look at him. An amused smirk appears on his face at your words and tinted cheeks.
“Thank you, I’m glad you found it comforting. I can play for you whenever you like,” he hands you the glass then takes a sip of his own.
“I might just have to come round every day then,” you giggle, a strange confidence filling you now. He lets out a breathy laugh.
“I would like that actually,” he says more seriously this time. Meeting his gaze you see the sincerity in his eyes. You knew the first time you saw him that you were in trouble. Looking at him now, you feel warmth spreading throughout your chest confirming your suspicions.
“I could play one now for you if you’d like, any requests?” he offers, sending you a radiant smile before strolling over to his guitar. Scrunching your nose, you think you’re really in trouble now. Kai is just too gorgeous.
He accidentally heard her whining to her friend and now he’s searching up ‘how to learn French fast?’ In the middle of the night. Who would’ve thought it would end in a kiss?
Fluff, Jeongin wants that cookie baaad, misunderstanding
Inspired by “10 thing I hate about you” even tho I’ve never actually watched the movie…
— masterlist
He didn’t mean to hear it.
He was halfway out the door, already thinking about anything other than school, maybe he’ll hop on a game with Felix or go out with Seungmin again?then someone said “I think I’m going to fail French.”
He wouldn’t have paid attention.
Except…the voice was hers.
He slowed. Just slightly. Enough to catch the rest.
“I don’t get it,” she said, frustrated in a quiet way, like she’d been holding it in all day. “I’ve tried studying, I’ve tried listening in class, and it just…None of it sticks.”
“You could get a tutor?” her friend, Ningning suggested.
“I tried! Everyone who’s good at it is already helping someone else, or they charge way too much...” A pause then a sigh “It’s fine. I’ll figure it out.”
She didn’t sound like she believed that.
He left before he could hear anything else.
He told himself it didn’t matter.
—
The next day, he paid attention in French class for the first time all semester.
It was… the opposite of helpful.
“Repeat” the teacher said, pointing at a sentence on the board.
He didn’t.
Not because he didn’t want to. Just because he had absolutely no idea how.
The words blurred together, too many vowels, too many silent letters, too many rules that didn’t seem to follow any logic whatsoever.
He lasted about ten minutes before giving up.
By the end of the class, he had learned exactly one thing.
He was in way over his head.
—
It should have ended there.
It didn’t.
Because later that afternoon, he saw her again.
Sitting on the steps outside, notebook open, staring at a page like she was hoping it would rewrite itself if she looked at it long enough.
He hesitated
This was a bad idea.
A really bad idea.
“Hey” he said anyway.
She looked up. “Hey.”
He nodded toward the notebook. “French?”
She sighed. “Is it that obvious?”
“A little” he chuckled, his dimples coming out
“Great.” She closed it halfway, like that might make it less embarrassing. “I’m failing.”
He leaned against the railing, pretending this was casual “It’s not that bad.”
“It is when you don’t understand anything.”
He almost said ‘same’.
Instead, he said “What are you stuck on?”
She blinked at him “Everything?”
“Okay, but like..” he made a few gestures with his hands “Specify everything.”
That got a small smile out of her.
“Verbs” she said, flipping the notebook back open “and sentence structure. And…all of it, honestly.”
He looked down at the page.
He understood exactly none of it.
“Right” he said, like he did. “Yeah. That.”
She watched him for a second, like she was trying to figure something out.
“Do you…get this stuff?” she asked.
This was the moment where a smarter person would’ve said no.
He nodded.
“Yeah. It’s not that bad once you uh…break it down.”
There was a brief pause.
“Could you maybe…help me?” she asked hesitantly “Just until I catch up?”
And there it was.
The bad idea getting worse.
He should’ve said no.
He knew he should’ve said no.
“Sure” he heard himself say with the stupidest smile.
—
That night, he opened his laptop and typed: ‘how to learn French fast.’
By midnight, he had learned how to say hello, goodbye, and exactly one insult he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to use in class.
By one in the morning, he was questioning every decision that had led him here.
By two, he was still going.
Because the thing was
He could still hear the way she said it.
‘I think I’m going to fail.’
And now, somehow, that felt like his problem.
—
Their first ‘lesson’ was a disaster.
“Okay” he said, pointing at her notebook like he had any authority to do so. “Verbs. That’s…uh. That’s where we start.”
“Good” she said “because I don’t understand them at all.”
“Right. Yeah. That’s normal.”
He flipped a page, buying time.
He had studied for three hours.
Three.
Which was not nearly enough to be teaching someone else.
“Okay,” he said again, stalling. “So. In French…verbs change depending on… things.”
She frowned slightly. “Things?”
“People” he corrected quickly. “I,you,she,we…and other stuff.”
This was going terribly.
But she didn’t laugh.
Didn’t call him out.
She just nodded, like she trusted him to figure it out.
Which, somehow, made it worse.
So he kept learning.
Faster this time.
Harder.
Every day before their ‘lessons’ every night after.
Always just a little bit ahead of her.
Always one step away from being found out.
And every time she smiled and said “Oh! that actually makes sense” something in his chest tightened in a way that had nothing to do with stress.
He still didn’t understand French.
Not really.
But he was starting to understand why he hadn’t quit.
—
By the time it happened, he was exhausted.
Not the normal kind.
Not the “I didn’t sleep enough” kind.
This was the kind that came from constantly being almost caught.
“Okay see this is what I don’t get” she said, tapping her pen against his notebook. “Why is it ont here and not sont?”
He knew this one.
For once, he actually knew it.
“Because it’s the auxiliary verb,” he said, a little too quickly. “It’s part of the tense, not the main verb.”
She blinked “Wait really?”
“Yeah” he said, trying to sound like he hadn’t just learned that an hour ago.
Her face lit up in that quiet way it always did when something finally clicked. “Oh. That actually makes sense.”
Something in his chest twisted.
“Good” he said, looking away. “It should.”
They packed up a few minutes later, the usual routine.
Books closing, chairs scraping, that small pause where neither of them quite left immediately.
“Same time tomorrow?” she asked.
“Yeah” he said with his signature dimples “Same time.”
She smiled, and then she was gone.
—
He didn’t mean to stay behind.
He just…didn’t have the energy to move yet.
“Man, you look dead” his friend, Hyunjin said dropping into the chair across from him.
“I feel dead” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face.
“French still killing you?”
He let out a short, humorless laugh. “I hate it.”
“Then why are you even taking it?”
“I don’t know, okay?” he snapped, then exhaled, softer, “It’s just…”
He gestured vaguely at his notebook, like that explained anything.
“It’s exhausting. None of it makes sense half the time, the teacher hates me, and I spend hours trying to stay ahead just so I don’t completely screw it up.” He shook his head. “I swear, I hate every second of learning this stupid language.”
There was a pause.
Not from him.
Not from Hyunjin.
From somewhere behind him.
He didn’t notice.
“I don’t get why you don’t just quit” The Hwang said.
“Because I can’t” he said, quieter now. “I just…can’t.”
“…Why not?”
He hesitated.
And for a second, he almost said it.
Instead, he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
It did.
Because she had come back.
She’d forgotten her pen.
She’d only been there for a few seconds.
But it was enough.
‘I hate every second of learning this stupid language.’
She didn’t stay long enough to hear anything else.
—
The next day, she didn’t show up.
—
He found her two days later.
Not in class. She’s been avoiding him there too, but outside, sitting in the same spot she always used to study.
Only this time, her notebook was closed.
“Hey” he said with an awkward smile.
She didn’t look up “Hey.”
That was already wrong.
“Did I-” he started, then stopped. “Did something happen?”
“No” she said quickly. Too quickly. “I’ve just been busy.”
“With avoiding me?” he asked.
That got her attention.
She looked up then, expression tight. “I’m not avoiding you.”
“Really? Because you haven’t shown up to a single session, and you won’t even look at me in class.”
“I don’t need the sessions anymore.”
He frowned “Since when?”
“Since I realized I was wasting your time.”
He blinked “What?”
She stood up then, like sitting still was making it worse. “I heard you” she said still not looking at him.
And there it was.
His stomach dropped “Heard what?”
“Your complaining” she said, her voice sharper now. “About how much you hate French. About how exhausting it is. About how you hate every second of it.”
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Because he had said that.
“I didn’t realize I was part of ‘every second’” she added, quieter, but it hit harder. Packing her things as her back was towards him. He could barely see her side profile.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” she asked putting her books down with a slam before turning to face him.
He ran a hand through his hair, already frustrated with himself. “I meant the class. The teacher. The fact that I had to learn all of it from scratch in, like, a few weeks-”
She stilled “From scratch?”
He froze.
Right.
That part.
“You said you understood it” she said slowly.
“I do. Now. I just-”
“You lied.”
It wasn’t loud.
But it landed like it was.
“I didn’t-” he started, then stopped.
Because yeah.
He had.
“I was trying to help you” he said instead.
“By pretending you knew more than me?”
“I do know more than you now,” he said, then immediately regretted how that sounded. “That’s not- I didn’t mean it like that. I just-”
He exhaled, sharper this time. “I didn’t know anything at the beginning, okay? I heard you say you were going to fail, and I just…said yes before I thought about it.”
She stared at him.
“Why?” she asked.
And there it was.
The question he’d been avoiding since the start.
“Because it was you” he said, like that should be obvious.
It wasn’t.
Her expression didn’t change.
So he kept going.
“I hated it” he admitted. “I still do, most of the time. It’s confusing and frustrating and way harder than I thought it would be.”
He let out a quiet breath, then added, softer
“But I didn’t hate that part.”
She frowned slightly “What part?”
He looked at her then. Properly this time. Taking in her groomed furrowed brows. The crease on her forehead. The way her eyes shined even more from the sunlight. The curve of her nose. Her flushed cheeks. Her soft, pinkish, ajar lips.
“The part where it was you” he said.
“Sitting there, explaining things, or pretending I was explaining things. The part where you’d smile when something finally made sense.” A small, self conscious laugh. “The part where you said ‘same time tomorrow’ like you actually meant it.”
She didn’t say anything.
Didn’t move.
“I hated every second of learning it” he said, quieter now. “Except the parts that reminded me of you.”
The silence stretched.
“You’re an idiot” she said.
He huffed a short laugh “Yeah. I know.”
“You should’ve just told me...”
“I know.”
Another pause. Both of them stared at each other.
She licked her lips and stole a quick glance down at his. She knew she should’ve kept her eyes up but he seems to have noticed. She kept praying that he just zoned out. In reality he was doing the exact same thing. The second he saw her gaze fall further down his face, he felt his heart drop.
Should he?
No he shouldn’t…
But god did her licking her lips did something to him.
He could feel his mouth getting dry. This time he was the one to lick his lips. And she was the one who felt her heart drop.
They both looked into each others eyes at the same time.
Silence.
“Can I-“ “please” she said before he could even finish her sentence.
Before her answer fully processed in his head he closed the distance between them. Bridging the gap between them.
Their lips met. Intense and passionate but gentle at the same time. His lips crashed with her velvet-like ones. Her arms almost immediately clutched the front of his shirt as his gripped her hips. Both of them pulling each other closer than possible. The taste of her strawberry chapstick mixed with the scent of her vanilla perfume clouded his mind, while his tobacco smell, which she wasn’t really sure if it was coming from an expensive Tom Ford perfume or a cheap drug store one. Either way the smell made her feel undone and naked in front of him. The sheer power that his smell held was just enough to make her forget who she was. They pulled away, both breathless. The sudden silence of the room which was interrupted with a shared breathless laugh.
“You’re still a terrible teacher” she added, slightly out of breath, wrapping her arms around his neck
“That’s not fair” he said, his hands not moving from her hips “I worked hard to be slightly less terrible.”
That got a small, reluctant smile.
It faded quickly but not completely.
“So…what now?” he asked.
She looked at him for a long moment.
“Now you have to actually learn it properly.”
He blinked. “With you?”
She picked up her notebook, holding it out to him. “You’re the one who started this.”
A Gryffindor who radiated light and laughter, yet craved the solace of quiet moments. A Slytherin who wore a mask of unshakable composure, concealing a heart warmer than anyone could guess.
Your friendship had always teetered on the edge of something more—a connection that felt too fragile to name.
But when a trip pulled you closer than ever, the boundaries began to blur. When Beomgyu stumbled into your orbit one night, bruised and battered, the distance you've maintained dangerously faltered.
As you tended to his wounds in the hushed intimacy of your hotel room, in that quiet, fleeting moment, the months of yearning and longing began to unravel, threatening to upend everything you’ve had carefully built.
⊹₊⟡⋆ 24.4k
pairing: gryffindor! Choi Beomgyu x slytherin! afab! reader
warnings: hogwarts college/uni au, characters are 20+, og character, slight slowburn, sort of modern setting? they use phones, not your typical gryffindor-slytherin toxic relation, mention of other idols, amortentia, yearning and lots of yearning, tensions, drinking games, drinking, depictions of injury, physical fighting, wound care, probably missed some eh
[MDNI] smut warning: explicit sexual content, dry humping, fingering, kinda switch!reader, beomgyu is mostly dom!, multiple orgasms, slight pain kink, making out with a split lip, slow sex, a lot of feelings, protected sex (huzzah!)
I'm aware it's not the 13th anymore, but that's alright. Happy birthday to my aubade Choi Beomgyu.
Reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!
You were afraid of many things, but nothing frightened you more than how little you knew about him, yet the gentle smile he’d give you always managed to shake you off your orbit.
It wasn’t the bright, boisterous grin he wore like the stars when surrounded by others, no—it was rather a quiet, small downward curve of his lips—a smile that only ever seemed to find its way to you. As if it carried a secret, a silent gravity pulling you closer despite the careful distance you maintained. It was something muted, something that felt like both a promise and a question, drifting between you like a thread waiting to be pulled.
The more you tried to look away, the more you found yourself drawn in. It was a dangerous feeling—the kind that settled beneath your ribs and grew roots before you even noticed. You should have known better. But when he looked at you like that, like he saw something in you worth knowing, worth staying for, your resolve wavered.
Your path with Beomgyu would have never intertwined if not for the entanglement of mutual friends. It was through them that you learned his name wasn’t just a name, that his reputation wasn’t just a reputation. It was through them that you found yourself in a space where his presence became an inevitability, where the quiet corners you once occupied alone were now shared.
Ever since Kai had stumbled upon the Room of Requirement, it had become your group’s refuge—a place that bent itself to your needs, where walls shaped themselves around whispered conversations and laughter softened by candlelight. You liked the quiet comfort of it, the way it allowed you to exist among others without being swept away. And yet, no matter how much you tried to stay on the fringes, Beomgyu was always there, impossible to ignore.
He was the kind of person who filled a room without trying. The kind whose presence was a gravitational force, pulling people in, setting them alight. His laughter rang out like the chime of a bell, his energy infectious. Charming. And yet, despite all of it, he never overwhelmed you. He never demanded your attention. He never reached for you. But somehow, he already had you in his orbit.
You weren’t sure when you started watching him the way you did. When admiration turned to curiosity, when curiosity turned to something far more treacherous. But once you noticed the cracks in his brilliance, the moments where exhaustion tugged at the edges of his expression, where laughter faltered just a second too soon—you couldn’t stop noticing.
The way his shoulders drooped ever so slightly after a long day, as if the weight of his own shine was something he carried alone. The way his fingers found the hem of his sleeve when praise was given too freely, pressing into the fabric like a tether. The way his gaze sometimes drifted, unfocused, as if he were somewhere else entirely, somewhere only he knew how to reach.
These were the things no one else seemed to see. But you did. And that, more than anything, terrified you.
Across the room, Beomgyu laughed, leaning back in his chair in that uncurbed way he always did, balancing it on its hind legs like gravity meant nothing to him. The others hung onto his every word, drawn into whatever story he was weaving, their delight feeding off his light. And you—you sat with an open book in your lap, the words forgotten, your gaze betraying you each time it sought him out.
Then, as if sensing it, Beomgyu looked up. The world didn’t stop, not really. But for a breath, it felt like it did. His grin softened, just enough that it wasn’t for them, but for you.
And then it was gone. He turned back to his audience, spinning another tale, the moment slipping away like sand through your fingers.
Despite everything, to you, Beomgyu remained just out of reach. He was there, always there, and yet—not quite. Like something ephemeral, like light breaking through water—close enough to touch, but never enough to hold.
Later that night, long after the room had emptied, you found him before the fireplace, his usual exuberance dimmed to something quieter, softer. He sat cross-legged on the rug, a pencil in hand, sketching into a worn notebook balanced against his knee. The firelight painted golden warmth onto his face, casting shadows beneath his lashes, softening his features.
You had seen him in a hundred different ways, but this—this was new. This was a Beomgyu stripped of performance, lost in a world of his own making. You wondered—if you reached for him, if you spoke his name now, would he finally let you in?
You hesitated by the doorway, caught between the pull of curiosity and the instinct to retreat. He hadn’t noticed you yet, absorbed in whatever he was sketching—it made you feel like you were intruding on something intimate, something not meant to be seen.
“Are you coming?” Yeonjun’s voice broke the stillness. He stood a few steps down the hall, arms crossed, watching you with mild curiosity.
You turned to him, and plainly said, "Go ahead. I forgot something inside."
Yeonjun’s gaze flickered toward the room, then back to you. He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press either. “Alright. Don’t take too long,” he said before turning away, his footsteps fading into the corridor’s hush.
The silence settled again, broken only by the faint scratch of pencil against paper. You dallied a moment longer, watching the way his hand moved fluidly over the page. You found yourself losing into the abyss of mesmerization.
“I thought you were going to stand there all night.”
His voice cut through the quiet, as if gently holding your hands and pulling you back on your feet from falling off. Heat rushed to your ears, but you kept your composure, stepping inside as if his words hadn’t fazed you. "Shouldn’t you rest?" you asked softly, shutting the door behind you. "We have Potions in the morning."
He huffed a quiet laugh, far from the bright, unrestrained laughter he shared with others. “Needed some space,” he admitted. “Gets tiring being everyone’s entertainment.”
That was the first time you had ever heard him say something like that—openly acknowledging the burden behind the persona he carried so well for everyone. He glanced up at you then, and for the second time that night, his expression softened in a way that wasn’t meant for anyone else.
You hesitated before settling into the armchair nearest to him. “So this is what you’re like when you’re not stealing the spotlight.”
“Disappointed?” he teased, but there was no sharpness in it.
“No,” you said, more earnestly than you meant to. “It’s... different.”
He considered that, his fingers absently tracing the edge of the page. The moment stretched, and something about his silence made you self-conscious, so you added, a little softer, “A good different.”
His lips curved slightly. "You think so?"
You nodded, fingers curling over the armrest. “It suits you. This side of you.”
Beomgyu’s smile turned faintly self-conscious. His gaze dropped, as if he wasn’t used to hearing that. “Most people wouldn’t agree,” he murmured. “They’d probably think something was wrong if I wasn’t bouncing off the walls.”
You tilted your head slightly, watching the way his hand fidgeted with the edge of the notebook. “Then they don’t really know you, do they?”
The words had left you before you could think twice, and for a moment, you regretted it—because how well did you know him, really? Yet, across from you, Beomgyu stilled. His fingers no longer toyed with the page. He seemed caught off guard, as if you had touched on something he hadn’t meant to share.
“I suppose you could say that,” he murmured, almost to himself.
The fire crackled softly between you. You felt an unexpected warmth—not from the hearth, but from the softness of his gaze. Your throat felt dry.
“What are you working on?” you asked, breaking the silence before it could stretch too long.
He blinked, like you had pulled him from some far-off thought, and then he held up the notebook. The sketch was rough but intricate—a cluster of flowers, their petals curling at the edges, almost lifelike in their detail.
“You’re an artist?” you asked, surprised.
“Not really,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just draw sometimes. It’s nothing special.”
You leaned in slightly, studying the page. The flowers looked as if they could be plucked straight from the parchment. “It’s good,” you said. “More than good. Why do you downplay it?”
He let out a breath, closing the notebook with a quiet thud. “Habit, I guess. It’s easier to pretend it doesn’t matter than to let someone see that it does.” His voice was levelled, like he was testing the words.
You studied him, again realizing how little you actually knew about him—how much of Beomgyu was wrapped in layers you’d only seen hints of. The loud, playful version of him you’d become so used to was just that—a version. Here, in the firelight, he felt like something else entirely. The Beomgyu who carried more than he let on. The one who, despite his light, had shadows of his own.
He reminded you of an aubade. The thought came unexpectedly, lingering in your mind like the echo of a half-remembered song. Beomgyu thrived in the daylight, filling every space with his presence. But now, in this quiet, he was something softer. A melody that didn’t demand to be heard but stayed with you all the same.
You didn’t realize you’d been staring until he tilted his head slightly. "What?"
You hesitated, the words caught on the tip of your tongue. But something about the way he looked at you—unguarded, open in a way you rarely saw—made you brave enough to speak. "You remind me of an aubade."
His brows knitted together. "An aubade?"
“It’s a poem or song for the morning," you explained. "Not just loud or bright—it can be quiet too. Steady. Beautiful in a different way."
Beomgyu’s expression shifted, the confusion giving way to something else. You braced for teasing, for a dismissive remark, but it never came. Instead, he looked at you like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with your words.
"You think I’m like that?" he asked, voice softer than before.
You nodded, your fingers tracing the seam of your sleeve in idle thought. "When you’re like this, yeah."
A quiet breath of laughter escaped him, small and surprised. He glanced away, thumb idly running along the edge of his notebook. "No one’s ever said anything like that to me before."
“It’s how I see you,” you said simply, surprised at how easily the words came. You turned toward the fire, suddenly aware of its crackling embers—but when you looked back, your breath caught. His gaze was on you, intense and intrigued, and for a moment, you wondered if he was studying you to understand what was beneath your facade, just the way you’ve been trying to understand him.
“You aren’t like what they say about you,” he said quietly, leaning back slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “You have a warm heart.”
You exhaled a soft laugh, shaking your head. You knew what he meant. Your reputation had long preceded you, tangled in the legacy of your house. A Slytherin, one of the best in centuries, they said. Ruthless in duels, a prodigy in Defense Against the Dark Arts. People admired you, envied you, feared you. They spoke of you with awe or with caution, rarely anything in between. You had grown used to it—the wary glances, the hushed whispers, the way admiration and fear blurred so easily in their eyes. You became someone to either idolize or keep their distance from.
Even among those who considered themselves allies, there was always a distance. A line no one dared to cross. And though you had long learned to live with it, a part of you had always wondered—hoped, even—that someone might see past it. That someone might look at you and not just see the expectations, the legacy, the carefully maintained facade.
Maybe that was why Beomgyu’s words settled so deeply. Why, in that moment, you realized something you hadn’t before.
Perhaps you and Beomgyu were not so different after all.
The fire crackled softly. Beomgyu rested his chin on his hand, watching you with newfound curiosity. "An aubade," he repeated, testing the word. "I kind of like that."
His gaze lingered for another moment, and you swore the space between you shrank. But then he leaned back, breaking the moment with a quiet chuckle, his smile still carrying that touch of sincerity.
"I’ll have to remember that one."
When you returned to the Slytherin common room, Yeonjun’s waiting figure greeted you from the leather sofa. He pinned you with a blank stare as you passed, but you felt no need to share what had happened with Beomgyu. Some moments weren’t meant to be spoken aloud—they were meant to be kept. They were meant to be held close in your heart.
That night, you dreamt of gentle smiles and the hush of dawn’s song.
The library was unusually peaceful today—no hushed giggles from gossiping students, no rustling of hurriedly flipped pages. You took the opportunity of such a phenomenon's mercy and indulge yourself in reviewing your upcoming final’s notes. Though Transfiguration was a subject you didn’t quite dislike, it was still one of the hardest ones for you, hard enough to make you lose sleep over it trying to get everything perfect.
Then, as if summoned by some cosmic force designed to disrupt your calm, a figure slid into the chair across from you, the deafening screeching of chair legs against the floor entirely unapologetic.
“Guess where they’re taking us for the vacation trip?” Yeonjun’s voice cut through the silence like a blade wrapped in silk, brimming with barely restrained excitement. His smirk was all mischief, eyes glowing under the dim light. “To Paris!”
You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. You hadn’t even heard the professors announce anything yet. Which meant only one thing.
“How do you know that?” You narrowed your eyes at him, though you knew the answer.
Yeonjun tapped a finger to his temple, his grin widening. “I have my ways.”
Of course, he did. Slytherins always did.
With a sigh, you shut your book, methodically packing your things. “That’s nice,” you murmured, slinging your bag over your shoulder as the two of you slipped into the corridor. “I’ve always wanted to go to Paris.”
Yeonjun let out a dreamy sigh, stretching his arms behind his head as you walked. “Ah, the city of love. Romance in the air, the Seine shimmering under moonlight… you, me, a rendezvous at a charming little café.” Then, after a beat, the corners of his lips tugged up revealing his canines into a sly smile, he drawled, “And maybe you’ll finally find love there.”
You didn’t even glance at him. “I’m actually looking forward to finding some good chocolate croissants.”
Yeonjun snorted. He had a way of reading people, of slipping between their defenses with the ease of a snake in creeping waves. He never pried—he teased, but only when he knew you could handle it. And when he sensed something deeper, he didn’t push. He just gave you space to reveal what you wanted, when you wanted.
The corridor stretched ahead, bathed in golden afternoon light that streamed through the high-arched windows. Outside, past the courtyard, the Great Lake glimmered. Amidst the scattering of students, Beomgyu stood by the Great Lake with a few Gryffindors, chortling at something one of them said. They gathered around him, drawn to him, the way leaves surrendered to the wind.
“Sup, buddy!” Yeonjun called, raising a hand in greeting.
Beomgyu glanced up. His hand lifted in greeting, but the moment his gaze found yours a new, slow smile graced his lips. You had expected it by now—watching the way the mirth in his expression dimming into something more private.
You returned the wave, your own lips curving faintly, the warmth in your chest unfurling before you could push it away.
Yeonjun made a low noise beside you, a hum that bordered on amusement. “That guy will be with us on the trip,” he mused, his tone light, but his gaze sharp. “It’s going to be a lot livelier.”
You turned back to Beomgyu, watching the way he had already slipped back into conversation, laughing so brightly that drew his eyes in crescents. You took note of the contrast between that and when he wears the rare quietness around him like a comforting veil, when his eyes quietly shine like the full moon; and everyone knew that crescents could never rival the marvellous beauty of the full moon.
It wasn’t hard to imagine how Paris would be for him—always surrounded, always with someone calling his name. You wondered if he’d have a moment to himself at all.
As you stepped into your next class, that thought lingered. You found yourself hoping that, somehow, in the midst of all the noise, he’d get the chance to enjoy the trip in his own way.
A week before the trip.
Most of your exams were done, with only two remaining—Transfiguration among them. The mere thought of the library now, packed wall to wall with frantic students, made you cringe. The idea of fighting for a quiet corner, the hushed but ceaseless whispers fraying your patience, was enough to send you elsewhere. So instead, you chose the Room of Requirement, as you often did when solitude was a necessity.
Tonight, the room had shaped itself to your liking—a warm fireplace crackling softly, its amber glow licking at the dark wooden walls. Two comfortable couches sat near the hearth, but you preferred the floor, parchment and ink scattered around you in careful disarray. The lighting was warm and unobtrusive. Just the way you like it.
You had just settled into a focused rhythm, quill scratching against parchment, when the door creaked open. Your eyes flickered toward the entrance—a little too quickly—and you froze in place.
Beomgyu stepped inside, dark hair still damp, strands clinging to his forehead in careless disarray. He took in the room before his gaze landed on you, and that damn gentle smile surfaced. You blinked, raising a brow at his sudden unannounced appearance. You didn’t hate it, though.
“Yeonjun told me I’d find you here,” he said, voice laced with something almost sheepish. “I need help with Transfiguration.”
Ah. That explained it.
You made a mental note to have a word with Yeonjun. His tendency to play messenger was starting to feel suspiciously intentional.
Still, before you could voice a response, your gaze betrayed you, drawn to the damp mess of Beomgyu’s hair—dark, soft, tousled in a way that shouldn’t be worth noticing. And yet, you couldn’t look away, caught in the way the dim firelight accentuated every stray lock, made them seem almost soft, and an overwhelming urge to run your fingers through them engulfed your mind.
Did he just come back from Quidditch?
"I did." His voice broke through your reverie, as he answered your unspoken question without a second thought.
Your stomach twisted in brief confusion. How did he—
Then you realized. You had said it aloud.
Mortification crept in, a slow, creeping heat crawling up your neck. You busied yourself with your parchment, adjusting the edges as if they needed perfecting. Anything to regain the upper hand. Anything to make it seem as though your thoughts hadn’t strayed.
Beomgyu dropped to the floor beside you with a quiet groan, stretching his arms overhead before flipping open his textbook. You wondered where he got such energy from to study right after his grueling quidditch practices. You yourself would have to take at least half a day break after slytherin’s quidditch practices before you gained back the motivation and will to even get up from your bed.
"What can I help you with?" you asked, finding your voice again as you focused on your notes. The thought of helping him with Transfiguration wasn't so bad, you told yourself. There was no reason to turn him away—he was a friend, and if he needed your help, then so be it.
"Professor says my conjuration spells are correct, but my wand movements are off. It’s frustrating. I know the theory—I just can’t seem to execute it properly." He admitted, rubbing his temple.
You glanced at him. "Show me."
He raised a brow but obeyed, adjusting his grip on his wand. With a precise flick, he muttered the incantation under his breath. A flicker of magic pulsed in the air, but the form wavered, incomplete.
You caught the flaw immediately.
Shifting onto your knees, you moved toward him, your hand brushing over his wrist to adjust his stance. He stilled under your touch.
"Your wrist is too stiff," you murmured, guiding his hand into a looser hold. "You need to let the magic flow, not force it. Try again."
His gaze flickered to you—close enough that you could see the way his lashes fanned over his cheeks, the way his lips parted slightly, as if about to say something. But he only nodded.
He cast again, this time smoother, the flick of his wrist was more fluid. A bright shimmer sparked at the tip of his wand, and within seconds, a parrot materialized—vibrant green feathers ruffling as it stretched its wings before promptly flapping up and perching itself atop your head.
Beomgyu choked on a laugh, biting down on his bottom lip.
Unamused, you sent him a flat look.
"Real mature," you deadpanned, though the corners of your lips threatened to twitch.
"Sorry, sorry," he wheezed, not looking sorry at all. "Guess he likes you."
With a resigned sigh, you raised your wand, smoothly transfiguring the parrot into a sleek black hat, which dropped into your waiting hands. Then, with another flick, it morphed into a mirror, its polished surface reflecting Beomgyu’s grinning face. Finally, you uttered ‘Evanesco’, Latin for ‘disappear’, countering the conjuration spell perfectly with vanishment.
He let out a low whistle. "That was impressive."
You gave a small smile, gathering the scattered parchments. "You’re getting there. Your movements are still a little stiff, but if you keep practicing, you’ll be fine."
You were beginning to relish in the moments you shared with him, and the thought both startled and thrilled you. If you told yourself this a year ago, you'd have refused to believe it. You’d never have guessed that you’d find yourself drawn to him like this, looking forward to every small, fleeting moment spent in his presence. But now… now, you couldn’t quite explain it. The idea almost seemed unfathomable. You wanted this. It had become a guilty pleasure to feel the warmth spreading in your chest whenever you were alone with him.
Sorting through your parchments, you quickly gathered the notes Beomgyu would need. It only took a few minutes to explain the key points he needed to focus on, pointing to the sections in your notes. As you spoke, his eyes remained focused on you, nodding occasionally, though his attention seemed distant, as if his mind was elsewhere.
Once you finished, you returned to your place on the floor, skimming through your notes one last time. You stretched, arms lifting above your head, trying to shake off the tiredness creeping in from hours of studying prior to his appearance.
It had been a little over half an hour, but as your gaze shifted toward Beomgyu, you couldn’t help but notice something was off.
He was slouched against the couch, legs crossed beneath him, eyes half-lidded and glazed over. He blinked slowly, as if trying to fight the heaviness pulling at his eyelids, a soft sigh escaping his lips. His posture was slumped, shoulders weighed down with exhaustion. He’d just come back from practice, after all. His body was likely sore, muscles still humming from the strain of the game. No wonder he hadn’t made much headway on his notes.
His head lolled back against the couch, gaze fixed on the ceiling before his eyes slipped shut. You observed him for a moment—the subtle tremble of his lips as he exhaled, the exhaustion etched into his features. It was rare, seeing him like this.
With a quiet sigh of your own, you realized the inevitable: Beomgyu wasn’t going to get any studying done in this state.
Without a word, you stood and moved toward him, crouching beside his scattered papers. He didn’t notice you at first, lost in the pull of his own fatigue.
It was only when you began to gather his notes that his eyes fluttered open, his expression softening in surprise. You said nothing, just continued tidying up his things because—well, you simply could.
“I didn’t mean to doze off,” he muttered, his voice rough from exhaustion.
Your fingers paused over the parchment, but your expression remained steady. “Let’s take a break.” Your voice was quieter than usual. “Do you read books?”
Beomgyu blinked at you, caught off guard. He opened his mouth, hesitated, then shut it again, as if uncertain how to respond to something so simple.
You didn’t wait for an answer. Reaching for the storybook you always carried, you settled beside him, mirroring his crisscrossed position. The proximity sent a subtle flutter through your chest, but you pushed it aside as you opened the book and held it between you both.
Beomgyu leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing to read the page. The boldness of your actions surprised you—how naturally you had done this, without hesitation. But when his gaze flickered with interest, a spark of curiosity lighting his tired features, you realized it didn’t really matter.
Moments later, the story had you both engrossed, the silence settling around you like a comforting blanket. You hadn’t noticed the change at first, but the now-dried strands of his hair brushed lightly against the side of your left cheek. He had his legs stretched out in front of him, while you remained crisscrossed, and that difference in position somehow brought you even closer together.
He was close enough now that you could catch a faint trace of his scent. Even though the sweat from practice had long since dried, his cologne mixed with the residual warmth of his skin, and the combination was... distracting. Not unpleasant, just overwhelmingly intimate.
For a moment, you became acutely aware of how close he was—too close. You hesitated to even breathe, afraid that the smallest movement might draw attention to the space—now barely there—between you. You turned your head slightly, curiosity winning over restraint, and—gosh, he was beautiful.
Lashes fluttering with every slow blink, casting delicate shadows over his cheekbones. The curve of his nose, the soft part of his lips, the quiet, almost dreamlike expression he wore as he read beside you. Heat rose to your cheeks before you could stop it, the urge to look away overwhelming, but you couldn’t.
Trying to steady your hands, you set the book on your thigh. Before you could focus, you felt the faintest brush of warmth—his fingers grazing the other side of the book. He stifled a yawn with his free hand.
“You can rest your head on my shoulder.”
The words left you before you could stop them. Careless in their honesty. You hadn’t planned to say it, but now that you had, there was no taking it back.
Beomgyu stilled. It was as if your words had broken through the fog of his exhaustion. He sat up slightly, and in that small shift, his warmth—his presence—seemed to pull away from you. A strange absence, one that left the air colder than before.
For a fleeting second, you regretted saying anything at all.
He fumbled with his words, the usual Gryffindor confidence slipping, replaced with hesitation. But before he could say anything, you patted your shoulder lightly, a small, reassuring gesture.
“I insist.”
There was a brief pause. Then, with a quiet sigh, Beomgyu gave in. Carefully, almost as if unsure of himself, he leaned in. His head came to rest on your shoulder, and just like that, his warmth seeped back into you.
Beomgyu stretched his legs out fully, another yawn slipping past his lips. “Thanks for helping me,” he mumbled, feeling sleep taking over him. “And for everything you did.”
You didn’t understand what he meant. You didn’t try to decipher his words either, because you couldn’t trust yourself with your words—not when Beomgyu was so close, not when he was being so vulnerable.
You simply settled with a hum. “Anytime.”
That night, you let him nap on your shoulder as long as he needed. By the time he woke up, you had finished reading the storybook twice. The goodbye was hasty, drawn out with apologies, thank yous, and reassurances—but beneath it all, neither of you really wanted to leave, hesitating, unwilling to go back to your respective common rooms. Unwilling to leave each other so soon.
“What’s going on with you and Beomgyu?”
The Slytherin tent was silent. The pre-practice hustle and bustle had yet to begin, leaving only you and Yeonjun in the dimly lit space. You had just finished fastening the last buckle when his voice cut through the quiet.
Your hands stilled momentarily before turning, lifting a brow. “You need to be a bit more specific than that.”
Yeonjun didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. The slow, knowing smirk stretching across his face was enough to make your brow twitch in mild irritation. You had known Yeonjun for almost your entire life. You were well-versed in his tactics, and had learned how to counter his cunning approaches with equal cunning. But despite your best efforts, there were still moments when he managed to slip under your skin.
You exhaled, pulling on your gloves. “If you’re going to make a point, make it.”
Yeonjun hummed, following your movements as you moved through the tent. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with him,” he said, not unkindly. “Alone.”
You shot him a dry look. “He needed help with Transfiguration. Wasn’t it you who told him to come to me?”
“I was curious.” He leaned against one of the support beams, arms loosely crossed. “Wanted to see if I was right.”
You adjusted the strap on your glove, feigning disinterest. “About what?”
“That you’d let him in.”
Something in your chest tightened. Yeonjun took the pause as permission to continue, his voice quieter now, edged with something that almost sounded like understanding. “You keep people at arm’s length. Always have, haven't you? But him?” His gaze softened. “You’re different with him.”
You forced a scoff, shaking your head. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Yeonjun didn’t sound convinced. “You watch him when you think no one’s looking. You listen—to every little thing he says, even when it has nothing to do with you. And when you talk to him, you’re not just speaking. You’re—” He made a vague gesture. “Letting him see you.”
You had to turn away. “Yeonjun, you’re overanalyzing.”
“I don’t think I am.”
The air felt suddenly too still. You liked Beomgyu’s presence in your life. That much had never been a question. And the meaning of your feelings wasn’t lost on you. What you hadn’t realized, however, was just how long Yeonjun had been watching. Observing. You weren’t sure if him knowing that made your unease kick up more, or lift the anchor of burden that had sunk deep in your heart. Either way, a gnawing hollowness formed in the depth of your chest.
“I like his company more than I thought I would,” you admitted quietly.
It wasn’t much. Just a handful of words, barely even spoken aloud. You don’t explain anything either. But in the stillness of the tent, that transparency—the muted confession—must have caught Yeonjun off guard. His smile flickered, something akin to excitement sparking behind his eyes before melting into a fond softness.
Then, voice uncharacteristically gentle, he said, “You know I never mix friend circles,” he began, “Before you got into this big social network with Beomgyu, I practically raised that guy.” His lips quirked, something warm and distant crossing his features. “If it eases your ailing, just know that he’s a good person.”
You knew that already. But hearing it from Yeonjun—who knew him in ways you didn’t—made it feel different. It was quite childish, but you felt a pang of jealousy at that moment. You wish you knew Beomgyu better, too.
“And don’t worry,” he added, the gleam of mischief returning. “Paris, the city of love, has a way of pulling people closer—”
The solid thud of your broomstick whizzing through the air smacking him in the back cut him off. Yeonjun stumbled forward, yelping as the broom settled neatly into your grip.
You sighed, dryly lamenting, “So sad. And here I was, giving you the benefit of the doubt that you’d act like an adult.” You shook your head in mock disappointment. “Truly, truly tragic.”
The corners of your lips barely twitched upwards before you turned on your heel and strode out of the tent. Behind you, Yeonjun let out a disgruntled noise, jogging after you. “Paris is going to be a lot more interesting now,” he mused to himself, as he caught up easily, matching your stride as you neared the practice field.
It was the day of departure, and Beomgyu had been awake since four in the morning.
He wasn’t particularly tired—on the contrary, he felt well-rested for the first time in what felt like forever. It was strange, the absence of stress gnawing at his mind, the deadweight of exams and Quidditch matches momentarily lifted from his shoulders. He had been looking forward to this trip for days. The idea of finally escaping Hogwarts, of wandering through unfamiliar streets of Paris, of watching the world stretch beyond the castle walls—it had been a comforting thought, something to hold onto when things felt suffocating.
But that wasn’t the only reason he had been looking forward to it.
He sighed, shaking his head as he swung his legs over the bed, his feet meeting the cool floor. No use sitting around. He might as well make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything.
By the time the rest of Gryffindor began to stir, Beomgyu was already dressed, double-checking his trunk with the kind of precision that felt almost excessive. The common room grew livelier as everyone prepared for departure, the excitement palpable in the air. And by five, they were all at the station, the cold biting at their skin as steam from the train billowed into the sky.
Beomgyu adjusted his muffler, his breath visible in the crisp morning air as he glanced around the platform. The Slytherins hadn’t arrived yet, but he knew they would soon. His fingers tightened around the fabric of his coat, yet it wasn’t the cold that had set a restless energy thrumming beneath his skin.
“Morning, Beomgyu.”
He turned to find Chaeryeong beside him, her hands shoved into her coat pockets. She grinned, tilting her head slightly.
“Morning,” he greeted, his voice still thick with lingering drowsiness.
She exhaled, glancing around. “Feels weird, doesn’t it? Knowing we won’t be seeing Hogwarts for a little while?”
“It’s been this way every winter vacation,” Beomgyu murmured. “Guess it hasn’t really hit me yet.”
“Well, you better start getting excited,” she teased. “It’s not every day we get to go to Paris.”
He hummed in response. Her voice morphed into white noise in Beomgyu’s ear as he zoned out, unable to find himself focusing. Instead, his gaze kept flickering around on every new face toward the station entrance, only looking for you.
Just then, he saw the Slytherins arrive. He filtered out all the faces that aren't yours, and when he finally found you, his heart lurched. There was a feeling of anticipation recoiling in his stomach as he contemplated whether to walk up to you and say hello.
“Oh, she made it.” There was a note of relief in Chaeryeng’s voice. “I was worried she wouldn’t join us.”
“What?” Beomgyu’s brows furrowed.
She turned to him, blinking. “You didn’t know?”
He didn’t like the way those words sat in his stomach. His head snapped to your direction once more before prompting her to explain. “Know what?”
Chaeryeong hesitated for half a second, then said, “She got hit by a Bludger the other day. Some Ravenclaw beater sent it her way by accident. It got her right in the side. Heard she was in pretty bad shape.” She winced as if she recalled seeing you. “Yeonjun looked pissed the whole day.”
The cold suddenly felt sharper, needling into his skin. His eyes darted back to you, and now, it was impossible to ignore. The slight hesitancy in your gait, the stiffness in your posture, and Yeonjun carrying your bag while his hand held your arm, supporting your steps.
You, however, immediately scowled and swatted his hand away. It prompted Yeonjun to let out a long-suffering sigh, but his gaze flickered to you every now and then.
Beomgyu was already moving towards you, mind occupied by sheer urgency and each of his steps pulled him closer to you like a magnetic force. Yeonjun was the first to notice him. The older Slytherin softly snorted a laugh, shaking his head before giving you a small smile.
“I’ll go find our compartment,” Yeonjun muttered to you, slipping away from your side the moment Beomgyu stopped in front of you.
You noticed him a second later, eyes flickering toward him, surprised by his sudden presence. The Gryffindor’s wide, doe eyes searched you—for any sign of pain or discomfort, his nose and cheeks a shade of peach from the cold. The muffler wrapped around his neck looked warm, but on the inside, he was feeling anything but warm—his blood ran cold.
“Are you alright?” It took everything in him to not stumble over his words. He was sure the worry in his voice overflew but he couldn’t bring himself to hide it. “I just heard what happened,” he added, already taking a small step forward closer to you, but he faltered and stepped back at the last moment.
You stared at him, eyes slightly wide—like you weren’t expecting that level of urgency from him. For you.
Your gaze softened when the realization seeped into you. Beomgyu was worried about you? It rattled your heart against your ribcage more strongly than the bludger that hit you. The latter brought you immense pain, however, the former brought pain that hurt good.
“I’m fine.” Your voice carried a gentle touch to it. “You don’t have to look like that.”
Beomgyu exhaled sharply through his nose, glancing away for half a second before shaking his head. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve known sooner.”
“You couldn’t have.” Your reply came quickly, almost urgent. “I didn’t tell anyone.”
You were sure you caught his eyes glow for the faintest moment, but it was gone as quickly as it showed up, fooling you into thinking you must've misjudged it. Eitherway, you felt your lungs constrict from the way his gaze was locked onto yours. It was compelling you to look away, yet at the same time, it was pulling you in. You had to hear it from him.
“Were you… worried?” Your voice was cautious, trying not to show the expectations laced within before offering them to him.
“I was.” He did not hesitate the slightest.
The raw sincerity of it all, the honest admission caused the fire in your chest to only burn brighter. He swallowed before continuing, quieter this time. “I was looking forward to this trip because…” He hesitated, but only for a second. “Because you’d be here. It’d be a shame if you couldn’t go on the trip with us.”
He didn’t know what kind of reaction he was expecting, but the gentle smile that graced your lips wasn’t one he was prepared for. It was small, barely there, but enough to make his breath hitch. Enough to make his fingers twitch with the overwhelming urge to brush them against your cheek. The thought startled him, and he buried his clammy hands deep inside the pockets of his coat.
And then, without a word, you reached out.
Beomgyu stiffened as your hand met his head, the warmth of your palm seeping through the strands of his hair. The touch was brief, barely more than a ruffle, but it left him completely, utterly frozen. He blinked at you, wide-eyed, feeling the exact moment his brain short-circuited.
You didn’t say anything about it—just let your fingers slip away. “Thank you,” you mumbled softly, as earnestly as you could muster it.
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Of course.”
You grinned, placing a hand over the right side of your torso where you got hit. “I’m really fine. The Bruisewort Balm did its magic. I only feel a little worn out but I plan to sleep through the journey anyway, so I know I should be fine.”
Hearing your assurance, Beomgyu could only nod. Because at that moment, he didn't trust himself with words.
Before either of you could say anything else, Yeonjun’s voice rang out from across the platform. “You two done? We need to start getting in the cabins.”
You let out a small breath, closing your eyes briefly before turning back to Beomgyu. You let your voice fall a little lower. “I hope you enjoy this trip, Beomgyu. You need it.” And then, just like that, you were gone, disappearing into the crowd with Yeonjun at your side.
Beomgyu remained where he stood, the lower half of his face burying into his muffler—an attempt to hide his red cheeks, the phantom of your touch lingering in his hair.
He wasn’t cold anymore.
You had dozed off almost the moment you settled down in your cabin, exhaustion weighing heavy on your limbs. The chatter from outside had faded into the background, a distant murmur of excitement. Someone had passed by the door earlier, exclaiming in utter confusion, "How is the train gonna take us straight to Paris?" only for another to scoff in reply, "Bro, this is the Hogwarts Express. Be so for real now."
Sleep had come easily after that.
When you woke, the daylight had shifted. Afternoon light slanted through the windows, golden and soft, casting warm hues over the compartment. A lingering grogginess clung to you, your head muddled with sleep, body heavy from hours of stillness. Blinking, you sat up, only to freeze.
Yeonjun and the other Slytherin were gone. Instead, across from you, Beomgyu sat with a book in his hands—the same storybook you had read with him the night before your Transfiguration exam. He got himself a copy of that?
He glanced up at the movement, his dark eyes skimming over your face before he asked, "How are you feeling? You were out for a while."
You sighed, running a hand over your face. "Shit," you admitted, voice rough with sleep, "but not in pain."
His gaze pinned on you, as if assessing the truth of your words. Then he shut the book with a quiet thud. "Yeonjun went to hang out with your friends," he explained. "I figured I’d watch over you in his place."
You eyed him, searching his expression for any hint of reluctance, but there was none. Only a calm acceptance laced with assurance that he was here now. You murmured a quiet thanks, and he only nodded. The silence between you settled naturally, undisturbed, until your mind wandered back to what had happened before boarding the train.
Your gaze drifted, drawn to his hair again. The memory of ruffling his hair carved into the skin of your hands, still far too easy to recall. You looked away before the feeling could consume you whole.
"You should eat something," Beomgyu said after a while. "You missed lunch."
You waved a hand. "I have emergency snacks. Don’t worry."
You stood, reaching for the bag in the overhead compartment, but the moment you tilted up on your feet, the train jolted. The motion threw you off balance, a sudden wave of dizziness washing over you from your long rest.
"Careful," Beomgyu’s voice was low, close—too close.
Before you could stumble, your back found solid warmth. His chest pressed against you, his grip firm but cautious as his fingers curled around your arm, careful to avoid the bruised side of your torso. His other hand braced against the overhead compartment, effectively caging you in.
Your breath hitched. The heat of him seeped through the layers of your clothing, the closeness dizzying in a way that had nothing to do with sleep imbalance.
"Sit down," he murmured. "I’ll get it."
His hold loosened just enough to guide you back to your seat, and only when you were settled did he step in front of you again, reaching up with ease.
You found yourself at eye level with his waist, his sweater lifting slightly as he rummaged through the bag. A sliver of skin peeked out, warm against the dim afternoon light. You swallowed, forcing your gaze elsewhere.
Beomgyu pulled out the box of treacle tart Yeonjun had packed for you, setting it down before offering you one. With a quiet sigh, you took it, splitting the portion between the two of you as you leaned forward, the box balanced between you.
The sweetness wasn’t something you typically enjoyed, but after so many hours without food, the pastry felt awfully good. Your body slowly regained energy, the light conversation between you keeping the moment steady.
"Do you have any plans for Paris?" he asked eventually.
You chewed thoughtfully. "No idea yet. Yeonjun’s probably going to drag me around. If it gets too much, I might shut myself in my room or sneak off for a solo adventure."
Beomgyu huffed a small laugh. "Yeah. I’m not sure what I’ll do either. I might get swept up by people and won’t even be able to look around freely."
You watched him for a moment, taking the last bite of your tart. "If it gets too much," you said, voice quieter, "you can come find me. Or Yeonjun. Or both of us." There was a pause before you added, softer, "If you can’t, then I’ll come find you."
Beomgyu stilled. His lips parted slightly, something unreadable flashing behind his dark eyes before he quickly stuffed the last of his pastry into his mouth, chewing hastily. The action might have been smooth—if not for the streak of cream now smudged at the corner of his lips.
You noticed instantly. "Oh—" you started, reaching up with your thumb. "You have something—"
The compartment door suddenly slammed open. Yeonjun stood in the doorway, a pair of oversized, obnoxiously flashy sunglasses perched on his nose.
You and Beomgyu both froze.
Yeonjun, his eyes hard to read behind the dark lenses, tilted his head. Then, in an eerily delighted tone, he drawled, "Oh, look at that, Beomgyu. You’ve got my treacle tart’s cream on your lips!"
Before either of you could react, he whipped out a tissue from absolutely nowhere, lunged forward, and grabbed Beomgyu’s head with one hand. Beomgyu screeched, his voice resonating against the walls of the small place.
Yeonjun ignored it, cheerfully wiping his mouth with the other hand like a mother cleaning up her child. "There we go, nice and clean," he chirped, voice laced with exaggerated fondness.
Beomgyu struggled, half-laughing, half-indignant. "Get off me!" he yelped, swatting Yeonjun’s hands away, but the damage had already been done.
Yeonjun stepped back, inspecting his work with great satisfaction, hands on his hips like a proud parent. "Perfect. Now you won’t embarrass yourself in front of anyone."
Beomgyu groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I hate you," he muttered, but the pink at the tips of his ears betrayed him.
You sat back, watching the spectacle unfold with great amusement, while the train rumbled on, Paris drawing closer by the minute.
The rest of the journey was a blur of raucous laughter and camaraderie, your group huddling together in the cramped chair car of the express, swapping secrets and gossip like your lives depended on it. Someone had smuggled in a portable speaker, leading to impromptu karaoke battles and dramatic sing-alongs. At first, you joined in, allowing yourself to be swept up in the energy. But as the hours stretched on, your stamina waned.
With a quiet excuse, you slipped away, accompanied by a few others who were also tired of the noise. Before you left, your gaze flickered toward Beomgyu. He was still immersed in the chaos, laughing brightly at something Kai had said. But beneath the mirth, you caught an exhaustion you had come to recognize. Still, he kept the atmosphere alive, playing his role seamlessly. The image lingered with you long after you shut the compartment door behind you.
The Hogwarts Express pulled into Paris at the crack of dawn, the city stirring to life under the first blush of morning. From the window, you caught your first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower, its iron lattice tinged with gold as the sun crested the horizon. The Seine, dark and languid, snaked through the city, bridges arching elegantly over its waters. Rows of Haussmann-style buildings stretched along the boulevards, their cream-colored facades bathed in the soft glow of street lamps not yet dimmed.
Before disembarking, the professors gathered the students for a final briefing. "No magic in front of Muggles," they reminded sternly. "You are free to explore, but remain in groups and report any trouble immediately. Most importantly—enjoy yourselves. You deserve it."
The hotel was an opulent blend of old-world charm and modern luxury, its grand foyer boasting marble floors polished to a mirror sheen. Chandeliers dripped from the ceiling like frozen waterfalls, casting prisms of light across the gilded moldings. The professors had booked two separate hotels side by side—one for Slytherins and Gryffindors, another for Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Their reasoning? "You should have learned how to get along by now." Naturally, friends among the houses protested, claiming they were getting along just fine.
Your stomach turned slightly at the arrangement, the thought of running into Beomgyu in the lobby or hallways setting your nerves alight. When room assignments were handed out, relief flooded you upon seeing Yeji’s name beside yours. She was a Slytherin senior. The alternative—rooming with a stranger, or worse, a Gryffindor who resented you—was unthinkable.
Your room sat high above the city, its floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking panorama of Paris. The Eiffel Tower stood proudly in the distance, framed perfectly against the morning sky. Sheer curtains billowed softly with the breeze as you stepped inside, the scent of fresh linen and polished wood filling the air. The room was a study in elegance—high ceilings adorned with intricate moldings, deep emerald velvet armchairs positioned near a sleek black coffee table, and two queen-sized beds with crisp white sheets that looked nearly too pristine to disturb.
Yeji whistled lowly, dropping her bags by the door. "Well, this isn’t half bad."
You huffed a quiet laugh, tossing your coat onto the bed before making your way to the en-suite. The bathroom was just as extravagant, the walls lined with marble, a rainfall shower glistening behind glass panels. You let the hot water wash away the fatigue of the journey, steam curling around you like a cocoon. By the time you stepped out, refreshed and awake, Yeji had already sprawled across her bed, flipping through a fashion magazine.
"I’ll meet you downstairs," you told her, slipping into your shoes.
Yeonjun was already waiting outside the breakfast lounge when you arrived, one hand in pocket as he scrolled through his phone. He barely looked up as he greeted you. "Took you long enough. I was about to starve."
The two of you found a quiet table, the scent of freshly baked pastries filling the air as waiters flitted about, balancing trays laden with croissants and steaming cups of coffee. You glanced around at the Muggles, feeling oddly at ease in the absence of magic. The clinking of silverware, the hushed murmurs of morning conversations—it was comforting in a way you hadn’t expected.
As you ate, Yeonjun rattled off a list of places to visit, swiping through his phone. "There’s the Louvre, obviously. We have to go at night—it’s insane then. Oh, and this bookstore, Shakespeare and Company. You’d love it. We could—"
His voice faded into the background as voices rang out from the Gryffindor table. You turned instinctively, gaze landing on Beomgyu.
Ah. He had already been swept away by the crowd.
Yeonjun followed your gaze, then turned back to you with a smirk. "You should help him escape, you know. Whisk him away somewhere quiet, just the two of you—"
You shoved a piece of bread into his mouth before he could finish, ignoring his muffled protest. He choked out a laugh.
But as your gaze found Beomgyu again, lingering just a second too long, a thought flickered through your mind. You had considered that scenario before, hadn’t you? The thought of stealing him away, just for a moment, just for yourself. Of finding a quiet corner in this city meant for lovers, where no one could pull him away from you.
And the sight of him in your mind—hovering above you, close enough to count each delicate lash framing his deep brown eyes, close enough to feel the softness of his lips—
—Well. That was a pleasant thought, indeed.
Yeonjun observed your face for a while, then shook his head with a groan. Yeah, no, he absolutely did not want to know what was going on in your head.
After breakfast, your group meandered through the city, between narrow alleyways lined with quaint cafés and antique bookshops. Your circle had morphed together naturally, though you were close to only a handful. The others were good acquaintances, but they didn’t carry the same comforting company as the ones by your side.
The morning air in Paris carried the remnants of dawn, crisp yet mellowed by the sun climbing its way over the horizon. The city was awake by now—cobblestone streets damp from the morning drizzle, the scent of freshly baked bread curling through the air as bakeries opened their doors, and wrought-iron balconies adorned with trailing ivy swaying ever so slightly in the breeze.
The Louvre loomed ahead, a masterpiece in itself, its glass pyramid gleaming against the grandeur of the historic façade. The vast courtyard was teeming with tourists, some attempting to take forced perspective photos, others craning their necks to admire the sheer scale of it. The air carried the song of different languages, a medley of awe and excitement.
At some point, the group naturally dispersed in smaller clusters, everyone absorbed in their own conversations. You found yourself walking beside Beomgyu, the world around you fading into a pleasant hum.
A soft bark caught your attention. You turned, eyes lighting up at the sight of a fluffy white puppy trotting alongside its owner. “Oh,” you cooed, crouching slightly as the tiny creature wagged its tail in excitement. “Look at you. Aren’t you the cutest?”
Beomgyu watched you with a fond tilt to his lips. “I didn’t take you for a puppy person.”
You glanced up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. You just seem like you’d have one of those dramatic-looking cats that sit by the window and judge people.”
You let out a soft laugh, straightening. “I’ve always wanted a puppy as a kid, actually.”
He hummed, eyes flickering with something thoughtful. “I had one. Sort of.”
You turned to him in surprise. “You did?”
He exhaled, a breath of nostalgia woven into his tone. “My brother and I begged my parents for a dog for ages. We finally got one—on my mother’s birthday. So we named him June, after the date," he said, smiling fondly as if reminiscing a happy memory. "But two days later, my parents decided we couldn’t keep him. Said we didn’t have the time to take care of him properly.” He let out a quiet chuckle, though there was something wistful in his eyes. “I held him and cried for nearly eight hours straight.”
Your chest ached at the image. “That’s—” You paused, unsure how to phrase it. “That must’ve been really hard.”
He gave a small nod, then brightened just a fraction. “We ended up finding Toto instead. A Turquoise Fronted Amazon parrot. My mom could take care of him even when she was alone at home.”
You smiled at that. “Toto,” you echoed. “That’s a cute name.”
“He’s kind of a menace,” Beomgyu admitted, shaking his head with a fond grin. “But he’s family.”
The revelation settled somewhere deep within you—a new piece of Beomgyu you hadn’t known before. And it made you irrationally happy.
The wind picked up, teasing at the hem of your coat, threading cool fingers through your hair. A few strands whipped across your face, catching on your lips, your lashes. You lifted a hand to push them away, but before you could, Beomgyu reached out first.
His fingers brushed against your cheek—something he’d been wishing to do for a while—as he tucked a loose strand behind your ear. You felt it in the way your pulse stuttered, your eyelashes fluttered as you looked up at him. He looked as if he wanted to say something.
Beomgyu hesitated, his gaze soft yet you couldn’t quite read his eyes as he looked at you. His lips parted, a thought poised on the edge, trembling like the wind itself.
You look beautiful.
The words never left his mouth. He swallowed them down, an ache blooming in his throat. Perhaps he feared what saying them aloud might mean. Perhaps he feared you wouldn’t know what to do with them.
And so, in the end, neither of you spoke. The spell broke when the Louvre loomed ahead, its glass pyramid gleaming against the gray-blue sky, and the moment dissolved into the crisp air.
Inside the Louvre, the grandeur of history stretched in every direction—endless halls adorned with masterpieces, the hush of reverence echoing in the vast spaces. Your group wandered between exhibits, pausing at paintings and sculptures, some making exaggerated interpretations just to get a laugh, others attempting to recreate poses of the statues with varying degrees of success.
At one point, Yeonjun challenged Beomgyu to a ridiculous game of “who can stare at the Mona Lisa without blinking the longest,” which resulted in the both of them getting scolded by a museum staff member. You and Yeji exchanged amused glances, shaking your heads as the boys feigned innocence.
Hours melted away in seamless enjoyment, the museum becoming a maze of stolen moments and shared laughter. And through it all, you found yourself drawn to Beomgyu, the wordless exchanges between you growing heavier, stealing glances at each other while laughing, and even when the other wasn't looking.
By the time you returned to the hotel, exhaustion settled into your bones, but the day had left something lingering—something you weren’t quite ready to shake off just yet.
As you reached your hotel room, Beomgyu passed by, his own keycard in hand. He paused, glancing toward you. You met his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you moved.
“Goodnight,” you murmured, voice softer than you intended.
His lips tugged at the corner, but there was something else in his eyes now, the glint that you once caught. “Goodnight.”
Neither of you looked away immediately. The hallway felt too silent, the space between you far too charged for such a simple exchange. And then, with a slight nod, he disappeared down the lobby, leaving behind an inexplicable warmth curling in your chest.
The next day, the group scattered across Paris, some weaving through boutiques, others lingering in quaint cafés, savoring the city’s flavors. Beomgyu had brought a camera, the strap looped around his wrist as he snapped photos of everything that caught his eye. Often, students from other houses approached him, asking him to take their pictures, and he obliged with a small smile, adjusting angles, stepping back to frame them against the golden morning light.
You had drifted toward the glass display of a pastry shop, your breath lightly fogging the surface as your eyes traced the delicate layers of a chocolate croissant. Beomgyu watched you from afar. You’d mentioned wanting to try one back on station, and you were so focused on it now that you didn’t notice him approaching until he was beside you.
“Come,” he said, tilting his head toward the entrance. “It’s on me.”
You turned to him, brows drawing together in surprise. “That’s not necessary.”
Beomgyu huffed a quiet laugh. “Please, I insist. It’s a token of my appreciation.”
You blinked. “Why?”
“For helping me with Transfiguration,” he clarified, though something about the way he said it felt like an excuse. “And because I feel like it.”
You exhaled, a soft sigh slipping past your lips. “You really don’t have to—”
“I know.” He nudged the door open with his shoulder and shot you a look, something playful but insistent. “Come on.”
A sigh of resignation, but you stepped in anyway, the scent of butter and sugar wrapping around you. True to his word, he paid for the croissant before you could even consider arguing further. The two of you lingered at the glass counter, surveying the intricate rows of bite-sized pastries lined neatly on silver trays. One of them particularly caught your eye—a tiny bear-shaped pastry, its icing ears round and slightly lopsided, giving it a look of perpetual confusion.
“That one,” you murmured, pointing.
Beomgyu followed your gaze. “The bear?”
“It’s so stupid,” you said flatly, head tilting ever so slightly as you examined it. And then, without thinking, you tapped the glass with a single finger, voice barely above a whisper. “…Cute.”
You didn’t seem to notice the way his gaze traced over your face, too busy scrutinizing the bear as though you were sizing up an opponent. Wordlessly, he bought two bear pastries; your protests falling deaf to his ears.
As he handed you one, you turned it over in your hands, brushing a thumb against its soft edges. It was adorable in a ridiculous way. Then, you reached up and tapped one of its icing ears.
“Boop,” you said.
Beomgyu felt his world stop. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until the moment passed. Something unfamiliar curled in his chest, something that made his fingers tighten around the little pastry in his own hands. It wasn’t just the act itself—it was the way you’d said it, and the unguarded smile that graced your lips afterwards, like you’d forgotten to keep your walls up, just for a second. But there it was—an utterly unfiltered moment, so fleeting yet so wholly you that it nearly knocked him off balance.
He took a bite, if only to distract himself. But even as the sweetness melted on his tongue, his thoughts remained tangled in the sound of your voice.
You took a decisive bite as well, nodding to yourself as you chewed. “You okay?” you asked suddenly, glancing up at him, licking off the remnants of crust on your thumb. “Is it too sweet?”
“No,” he said, too quickly. His gaze fell on your thumb in between your lips, the sight making him wet his chapped lips. He swallowed, clearing his throat. “It tastes alright.”
Your eyes narrowed just the slightest at his sudden avoidance of eye contact.
“Let’s catch up with the group,” he muttered at last, stuffing his hands into his pockets. And with that, he turned, already striding toward the door.
By evening, the Seine stretched before you, silver ribbons of water reflecting the glow of streetlights and distant bridges. Boats drifted lazily along the water, their lights flickering like floating stars.
A few of the students gathered along the stone walkway. Someone groaned about nearly using wizarding terms in front of a Muggle, looking horrified at the memory. A Muggleborn student cackled, shaking their head. “I wonder how the purebloods are doing.”
“The purebloods are living their best lives, thank you very much.” Yeonjun chortled and scoffed, crossing his arms.
Laughter rang through the night air. Someone suggested taking pictures, and naturally, Beomgyu lifted his camera, angling it as the others huddled together.
You watched him, the way he stepped back, adjusting the focus, snapping a few quick shots before lowering the camera. His fingers lingered over the buttons, and you realized he’d stopped taking pictures after only a few frames. His gaze flickered briefly to the group before shifting away again.
“Beomgyu,” you said, and he glanced at you. “You should be in one, too.”
He shook his head with a small smile. “I’m usually the one taking the pictures.”
You didn’t bother arguing with him. Instead, you turned toward a passing stranger, gesturing toward the camera. “Excuse me, would you mind taking a group photo for us?”
Beomgyu looked at you, taken aback, as the stranger agreed. You pushed him lightly toward the group. “Come on.”
He hesitated but relented, slotting in beside you as everyone squeezed together. The camera clicked, and just as the shutter went off, your hands brushed—brief, a touch so light it might have been an accident.
But when you turned your head slightly, he was already looking at you. And in that moment, with the Seine behind you and Paris stretching endlessly beyond, you thought to yourself—maybe you’d been wrong about how much a single touch could mean.
“How’s it going with Beomgyu?”
The hotel lobby was quiet at this hour. You sat into one of the sofas, an empty cup of coffee resting before you, long since forgotten. The book in your hands had begun to blur at the edges, your focus slipping every few pages.
You glanced up when Yeonjun settled onto the single sofa beside you. A sigh escaped your lips as you closed the book, resting it on your lap. “I don’t know, honestly.”
It was the truth. You had noticed something off about him lately—but you weren’t one to jump to conclusions. Maybe it was the comfort you offered him that he mentioned to you once. Maybe that was all it was. And yet, deep down, you hoped it wasn’t.
You glanced at him, considering. “You think so too?”
“I have eyes, don’t I?” He scoffed.
Before you could retort, the hotel doors swung open, and a trio of Gryffindors stepped inside. You recognized them immediately—Beomgyu’s Quidditch teammates. The one in the center, Yoo Jaekyung, was their Seeker. And he was also someone who never missed an opportunity to make his distaste for you known.
Your brows twitched. Whether his hostility stemmed from the house rivalry or your direct competition as Slytherin’s Seeker, you still weren’t sure. But the disdain in his gaze whenever he looked at you was clear enough. Prejudice ran deep in people like him.
He caught sight of you and Yeonjun, his steps slowing for the briefest second before something smug flickered across his face. With a smirk, he changed course, making his way toward you.
Yeonjun muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. You braced yourself.
Jaekyung stopped just short of your seat, tilting his head in mock concern. “I heard about your little accident.” His voice was honeyed, far too sweet to be sincere. “Nasty hit from that Bludger, wasn’t it? Are you feeling better?”
You met his gaze, unfazed. “I’m fine.”
He clicked his tongue, shaking his head as if in sympathy. “Accidents like that—well, they’re bound to happen when you’re not skilled enough to avoid them. You should be more careful. Can’t have Slytherin losing their star player, after all.”
Yeonjun made a sound of irritation, he rose to his full height, towering over Jaekyung with ease. “Right. Are you done acting like a child, or should we wait for you to throw a tantrum too?”
Jaekyung’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before snapping back into place. You, however, placed a hand on Yeonjun’s arm, stopping him before things escalated. Your voice was even. “Let’s hear him out. It’s rare that he has something to say.”
Jaekyung’s smirk deepened, mistaking your patience for something else.
You tapped a finger lightly against your knee, feigning contemplation. “Though, that does raise a problem.” You let your voice drop just a fraction, letting the next words land sharper. “Because in every match against me, you’ve never managed to catch the Snitch.”
The satisfaction of watching the vein in his temple twitch was almost enough. His jaw clenched, the forced smile doing little to mask his irritation. “Get well soon,” he bit out, before pivoting on his heel and striding away, his teammates trailing behind him.
Yeonjun dropped back onto the sofa with a groan. “Merlin, people get so bloody ass-hurt over everything.”
You only shrugged, offering him a small smile. You were used to it.
“I have some dirt on Jaekyung.”
A new voice cut through the air, causing both of you two to startle. Yeonjun flinched, nearly spilling his drink. “Bloody hell—Jeongin—” Yeonjun swore, hand over his heart. “What is wrong with you?”
The Hufflepuff only blinked, expression blank as ever. He crouched down beside you, voice dropping into a conspiratorial murmur. “He’s used charms to win a few matches. There is proof latched within his broomstick.”
Beside you Yeonjun went on a spiteful rant about Jaekyung being an absolute bloody asshole and a sore loser. But all you could think of is, where did Jeongin get such information? Your brows lifted slightly in curiosity. “How do you know that?”
Jeongin shrugged. “I just do.” Then, casually, “I thought I’d tell you. Might be useful one day.”
You studied him, taking in his innocent demeanor, the unbothered way he delivered the information. A Hufflepuff, the Sorting Hat had declared. And yet, in this moment, you couldn’t help but wonder if it had made a mistake. Still, you chose not to voice it. Instead, you simply nodded, filing the information away for later.
“Duly noted.”
The next two days slipped by in a blur, the hours spent trailing behind Yeonjun through cobblestone streets and warm-lit bookstores, occasionally merging into the chaos of group hangouts. Someone’s room always seemed to be the designated meeting spot for the evening, where everyone sprawled across beds and armchairs, playing muggle games with the kind of reckless abandon that came with being far from home. Cards flicked across the floor, dice rolled under furniture, and soft music hummed in the background as someone recounted a ridiculous story from earlier in the day. These nights were filled with a quiet kind of joy, but you couldn’t ignore the gnawing awareness that something was missing.
You had been seeing Beomgyu less. Not because of chance, but because Jaekyung made certain of it. You weren’t stupid. By now, it was obvious to you that others had taken notice of your closeness to him, none more so than Jaekyung himself. The Gryffindor Seeker carried himself with the pathetic confidence of someone who always got what he wanted, and lately, what he wanted was to keep Beomgyu occupied. He made a game of it—boasting that the Gryffindor Quidditch team deserved their own exclusive outing, and whisking him away before you could say otherwise. Beomgyu never resisted, never even seemed to notice the way your eyes lingered when he left, and that, more than anything, made your stomach curl in something uncomfortably close to irritation.
So you spent your time elsewhere. Yeonjun, ever attuned to your moods, filled the space Beomgyu left behind without needing to be asked. He took you to the bookshop he’d promised, where the scent of papers and new books curled into the air like something sacred. You wandered between the shelves, tracing the spines of books with absent fingers, letting your mind get lost in stories that weren’t yours.
The afternoons were spent shopping with Yeji and the girls, their laughter drifting through the streets like birdsong, but in the quieter moments, you found solace in your room. With its sprawling balcony overlooking the Eiffel Tower, it felt like something out of a dream. You would curl up with a warm cup of coffee, watching the city shift from golden daylight to dusk.
On the fourth day of the trip, a campfire was arranged by the banks of Seine.
The fire crackled in the cool evening, its soft amber glow spilling over the group of friends gathered around. You sat at the edge of the circle, your gloved hands wrapped around a steaming mug of cocoa. You aren't cold exactly, but the crisp air nipped at your cheeks and the tip of your nose.
Your gaze drifted toward Beomgyu, unbidden, as it often did. He was seated across the fire, leaning back on his hands, the sight tugged at something deep in your chest. His hoodie—a deep gray that seemed impossibly soft—hung loosely around his frame, the hood falling slightly over his hair. It looked so comfortable, so warm, that you couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be wrapped in it.
Or more accurately, to be wrapped in him.
The thought came suddenly, without warning, and it made your breath catch. You took a small sip from your mug, trying to focus on the heat spreading through your fingers instead of the ache settling in your chest.
It was a silly thought, really. The idea of stepping closer, of tucking yourself into the space between his arms and resting your head on his chest—it felt so vivid, so painfully out of reach. Your heart ached as the question echoed in your mind like a prayer.
Why was Beomgyu so unreachable?
You perhaps made the error of thinking he let you in. Because at the end, he wasn’t yours to lean on like that, to hold onto when the air felt too cold and the world too distant. And he never would be. You stilled as the last thought settled in the crevices of your brain, eyes widening slightly.
Oh, God.
You were in love with Beomgyu.
Love was the swelling, hopeful feeling in your chest every time you saw him. Love was the way you could forget about everything when you were with him. Love was the catch in your breath when he looked at you in his intense way. Love was the way you could be yourself around him.
You thought you were the one saving him from the world’s relentless grasp by offering him a piece of solace in your company, but it was Beomgyu who had been your saviour all this time.
You risked a glance at his way, which you immediately regretted. Seeing his smiling face lit up with the golden glow of the campfire, you realized how much you've missed being near him these two days.
And then you knew that you could become homesick for people too.
The room buzzed with anticipation as Heeseung's impromptu gathering took shape. Students lounged on beds, sprawled across the floor, and perched on chairs. You had attempted a discreet exit upon hearing the mention of "truth or dare," only to have Yeonjun snatch your wrist and haul you back with an exasperated, “Oh, come on, don’t be boring. Loosen up a little.”
Resigned, you had settled into a corner chair, trying to blend into the background. You counted down the minutes until you could leave.
Your stomach twisted when your gaze involuntarily drifted to the doorway as Beomgyu entered, his presence immediately lighting up the room. However, your mood soured when Jaekyung and his entourage flanked him, steering him to the opposite side before he could acknowledge you.
The game commenced with the dreadful spin of a bottle, its neck pointing to various participants amidst cheers and playful jeers. First, it landed on Yeonjun. He chose dare, of course, and was promptly ordered to step onto the balcony and scream at the top of his lungs.
He did so with theatrical flair, gripping the railing and shouting into the Parisian night, “I AM SEXY AND MYSTERIOUS, COME FIND ME IF YOU DARE—” before a professor’s sharp voice echoed from somewhere below, “Whoever that is, get back inside before I hex you!”
Yeonjun scrambled back into the room to the sound of uproarious laughter, dramatically clutching his chest. The next victim was Kai. He picked truth, and someone immediately asked, “Who was your first crush?”
Kai groaned, rubbing his face before mumbling a name. A chorus of “No way!” and “I knew it!” rang through the room, followed by a good-natured shove from his friends.
The bottle spun again.
And this time, it stopped on Beomgyu.
The room erupted in cheers and anticipated exclamations. He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, and after a brief moment of deliberation, chose truth.
Whistles and mischievous laughter followed, then someone finally asked, “When was the last time you cried the hardest?”
The question sounded innocent, yet you couldn't help but sit a little upright as you closely inspected Beomgyu. He seemed to consider his answer for a few seconds, tapping a finger thoughtfully against his chain. But before he could even speak, Jaekyung took the lead.
“Oh, that’s easy,” Jaekyung cooed. “Our golden Gryffindor boy cried like a baby when he heard his mother was sick.”
Your body went rigid, blood boiling dangerously underneath. Something akin to anger and speechlessness glinted in your eyes as you glared daggers at Jaekyung. But he did not stop there. Instead he continued, making matters worse.
Jaekyung made a face, mock-pouting, and cooed, “A real mama’s boy, aren’t you?” He even had the audacity afterwards to wrap his arms around Beomgyu’s neck.
People around laughed, others with coos of mock sympathy. Beomgyu laughed along with them, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Too forced.
You saw it immediately—how could you not? The way his shoulders tensed under Jaekyung’s arm, the way his fingers curled subtly into the fabric of his pants. His gaze dropped to his lap, then for the briefest moment when he looked up, you saw him searching around the room—and found yours.
Your vision shook, breath choking in your throat when you saw the look in his eyes. It was quick, barely perceptible, but in that single glance, you made out the absolute desperate look of pleading. The dim lighting caught the faint sheen in his eyes before he blinked it away, tearing his gaze from yours and smiling even wider, like it would drown out everything else.
You had to get him out of here.
And so, you tilted your head, feigning idle curiosity. “You know, Jaekyung,” you mused, just loud enough for everyone to hear, “I heard an interesting rumor about you the other day.”
The sound of your voice quietened the entire room in an instance. These were the times when you relished in the power of your reputation; whether it was because of your deliberate participation in such a crowd, or the fact that it was a showdown between the two rival Seekers, either way you had the attention of the entire room on you.
Jaekyung turned, brow raising. “Yeah?”
People perked up, eager for another potential story.
You hummed. "Mhm. It’s funny—I wasn’t even going to mention it. But now that I think about it, it really was hilarious.”
Someone leaned in. "Oh, do tell."
You shrugged, taking your time. “Something about a certain game of Exploding Snap gone terribly wrong. Something about you running down the corridors with a sack covering your head and screaming for your life.”
"That was you?” One of Jaekyung’s lackeys burst out, turning to him in disbelief.
People erupted into conversation, overlapping voices piecing together the memory, adding their own exaggerated details. Jaekyung stiffened as someone reenacted his supposed sprint through the corridors. Amidst the overexcited bunch, Jeongin let a small smirk tug on his lips that went unnoticed by everyone.
Chaos ensued as another fit of laughter erupted, now mocking Jaekyung who remained awkwardly laughing, trying to prove his innocence. And just like that, the attention was diverted, Beomgyu completely forgotten.
From your place in the corner of the room, you caught a sight of a figure slipping through the doors. You exhaled softly, relief barely settling in before you felt the eyes of Yeonjun. When you turned to him, he smiled at you, an encouraging nod followed.
That was all you needed to follow Beomgyu out the door.
Out in the dimly lit hotel lobby, you scanned the space with quick, searching eyes, your pulse hammering against your ribs. The adrenaline of what happened back in the room still pressed against your skin, but you pushed it aside, thinking only of where he could have gone. Then, a memory surfaced—Hogwarts, late at night, when curfew had long since passed. More often than not, you would find him alone in the Astronomy Tower, sitting in the hush of the night sky. Back then, neither of you spoke, only acknowledging each other's presence in the quiet. And so, trusting your instinct, you turned on your heel and made your way to the rooftop.
The night air met you with a crisp bite as you stepped onto the rooftop terrace. The city stretched beneath you in a glittering sprawl, the Eiffel Tower casting its golden glow against the dark. There, sitting on the steps with his back to you, was Beomgyu. He was still, unmoving, save for the faint rise and fall of his shoulders.
He didn’t notice you at first. You stepped forward carefully, pausing when you heard it—barely audible, but unmistakable. A sniffle. Your heart twisted at the sound. You made your arrival known when the ground beneath echoed your approaching steps.
"That was very brave," Beomgyu's voice broke the silence, rough with an attempt at humor. "And also very stupid. He’ll make sure to get back at you now."
You watched his hunched figure before finally speaking, voice quiet. "We Slytherins are brave, yes. But not stupid,” you murmured, looking skyward. “Given the choice, we'll always save our own necks."
He turned then, looking at you in the low light, something unreadable shifting in his gaze. "Is that why you're here?" His voice was quieter now. "Did you follow me to save yourself?"
It was only when he faced you that you realized how much you had missed seeing him up close. How much distance had settled between you these past few days. And perhaps that was why, without thinking twice, you descended the last few steps until you were right in front of him. Then, slowly, you lowered yourself onto your knees, meeting his eyes. The tension in your chest unfurled as you shook your head.
"No," you admitted softly. "I told you, didn't I? That I'd find you when you couldn't."
His bottom lip trembled, throat clogging up as he let his head fall, eyes squeezing shut. He fought against it—fought against the weight pressing against his ribs, the storm brewing behind his eyes. But his entire world seemed to stop when he felt it—the warmth of your arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him close. His breath stuttered. And then, before he could stop himself, his body caved into yours.
"I'm sorry for not asking first," you whispered, your breath fanning against his ear. "But I figured you might need this hug."
That was all it took for his resolve to shatter. A choked breath left him as he curled into you, his hands gripping the back of your shirt. His shoulders shook, the quiet sobs muffled against your skin. You felt the tremor of his body against yours, the sadness seeping into your own bones. Your throat burned, but you stayed still, holding him tighter, refusing to let go, refusing to let him drown in that pain alone.
Distance meant nothing when the person meant everything.
You didn’t speak for a while. This wasn’t the scenario you imagined when you so desperately wanted to hug him. However, you didn’t complain. You’d hold him whenever he wanted it, whenever he needed it, and you would continue to do so as long as it required. His sobs quieted eventually, though the quiet ache remained.
When his breathing evened out, you murmured, "How’s she now?"
His arms remained around you, but his voice was steadier when he answered, "It was a long time ago. She’s fine and healthy now, but..." He swallowed thickly. "I guess it was the memory that made it feel like it just happened all over again."
Your gaze softened. Fondly, you reached up, brushing away the single tear trailing on his cheek with your thumb. His eyes fluttered shut at the touch. "I don’t want to sound rude, but... you need a change in friends."
Beomgyu let out a breath, something like a half-laugh. "I despise Jaekyung, actually."
You blinked. "Oh."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "My acquaintance with him is... necessary. Because of Quidditch. But most of the time, I wish I could rip his head off."
You hummed in amusement, lips twitching. Then, after a beat, "I saw a fair in the city earlier today,” you said, eyes brightening a little as the thought came to you. “Do you want to go? If you'd rather head back to your room, that's fine, too."
Beomgyu was quiet for a moment, as if contemplating your offer. Then—"No. I don’t want to go back yet."
You nodded with a smile. "Alright then, let's visit the fair."
But just as you started to stand, Beomgyu’s hand found yours, and the sudden contact froze you in place. His fingers tightened around yours—a little reluctant, but firm. Then, in a voice so small you almost missed it, he said, "Thank you."
You barely had the chance to respond before he exhaled a quiet laugh, gaze dropping to where your hands remained clasped. "You know," he said, his tone light but distant, "I always thought you were a bit too unreachable for me."
Your breath stilled. The world tilted, the ground beneath you shifting. A quiet, electric tremor shot down your spine. Beomgyu thought you were unreachable?
It was absurd. It was ridiculous. Because all this time, you had thought it was him who had been just out of reach. That no matter how close you got, no matter how many nights you spent at his side in quiet companionship, there had always been something unattainable about him—something you dared not long for because it had never been yours to have. And yet, here he was, speaking as if you were the one perched on some distant pedestal, as if he had been the one looking up all along.
A breath rattled in your chest, the weight of the realization crashing down with a force that left you reeling. Every glance, every lingering moment, every ache in your ribs that you had swallowed down without question—had he felt it too? Had you spent all this time yearning for something that had been yearning right back at you?
And then, even softer, as if he was only speaking to himself—
"Where have you been all my life?"
Something inside you curled tight, heat coiling in your chest, in your throat, in the very marrow of your bones. You felt lightheaded, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob. You forced yourself to your feet, swallowing hard.
"The fair," you said, voice even despite the hurricane within you. "Let’s hurry before everything closes."
You made a quick stop at your room to grab your jacket and wallet before heading back out. When you reached the elevator, Beomgyu was already there, leaning against the wall with his hands tucked into his pockets. His eyes were a little puffy, a trace of exhaustion lingering in them, but the warmth in his smile softened the edges of his weariness.
Paris at night had always been breathtaking, but there was something different about seeing it like this—with him. The glow of string lights stretched above, casting golden halos over the cobbled pathways. The scent of caramelized sugar and roasted chestnuts drifted through the cool air, mixing with laughter and the distant strumming of a guitar from a street performer tucked into the corner of a square.
Beomgyu nudged your arm, tilting his head toward the rows of stalls ahead. “Where to first?”
You scanned the fair, the swirl of activity pulling at your attention. “Food,” you said. “You barely ate today.”
His brows lifted, feigning offense. “Are you keeping tabs on me now?”
You shot him a look, but his grin only widened, dimples pressing into his cheeks. With a scoff, you turned toward the nearest stand, and he fell into step beside you, his shoulder brushing yours in the moving crowd.
You both settled on crepes, their warmth seeping into your fingers as you took the first bite. Beomgyu, instead of eating his, watched you, waiting for your verdict. When you nodded in approval, he finally took his own bite, eyes flickering shut as a low hum of satisfaction escaped him.
“Good?” you asked, a trace of amusement lacing your voice.
“Mmh,” he murmured around another mouthful before swallowing. “I think I just fell in love.”
Your lips twitched despite yourself. As you wandered further, the fair unfolded around you—a blur of color, the rise and fall of laughter, the clinking of game tokens. Beomgyu tested his luck at a stall, missing the target on his first try. His brows furrowed, lips pressing into a thin line as he rolled his shoulders, preparing for another attempt.
But before he could, you nudged him aside and took your own shot. The ball hit dead center, toppling the target with ease.
His jaw slackened. “No way,” he breathed. “That was pure luck.”
“Skill,” you corrected, reaching for the small stuffed bear the vendor handed you. You turned, pressing it into his hands. “Here. Since you tried so hard.”
He stared at the plush toy, then back at you, his fingers curling around the soft fabric. Slowly, the corners of his mouth lifted. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”
“Of course not,” you said, entirely unconvincing.
He shook his head, tucking the bear under his arm as you strolled onward. The night stretched around you, a haze of laughter and playful ribbing, of moments that lingered just a second longer than they needed to. Eventually, you both slowed near a stall adorned with ribbons, clips, and various hair accessories, their silk and satin edges fluttering under the glow of the lanterns above.
The vibrant flowers and intricate designs caught your eye, drawing you in. Your fingers traced over a delicate floral piece—soft ivory petals tinged with a faint blush. It was simple but striking.
Beomgyu followed your gaze, then reached forward, plucking the ornament from its place. His fingers brushed yours in the process, a brief touch that sent a ripple through your senses.
"This would look great on you," he mused, voice light yet sincere.
You hesitated, glancing at him before shifting your focus back to the clip. "I don’t know if I’m really the flower type."
He tilted his head, considering you. "I think it would suit you."
Before you could protest, he stepped closer, lifting a loose strand of your hair between his fingers. His touch was featherlight, his fingertips warm against the cool night air. The motion almost absentminded as he tucked the flower into place, adjusted the clip with an almost delicate sort of care.
"There," he murmured. "Perfect."
He was close enough that you could see the faint exhaustion beneath his eyes, the way the streetlights cast a glow in his hair. When he pulled back, his gaze lingered, as if admiring his work.
Under his intense gaze that pinned you to the ground, you glanced away, feeling your airways constricting. You looked at yourself in the small mirror the vendor offered, grazing the ornament.
"You’re beautiful," he said, soft but certain.
Your eyes widened. Turning your gaze back at him was a bad idea because the blood from your cheeks earlier which had subsided, rushed back immediately. He was watching you with such a dreamlike, dazed smile. The words settled somewhere deep, unshaken by embellishments, and yet they held a weight that left you grasping for balance.
"You know," the stall owner chimed in, smiling knowingly, "if you're looking for a couple's discount, I can give it to you for the matching set."
A startled breath caught in your throat. Your hands shot up waving as you opened your mouth, your voice coming out far less composed than usual. "Oh, no, it’s not like that—"
"We’ll take it," Beomgyu cut in smoothly, reaching for his wallet before you could finish.
You turned to him, eyes widening. "Wait, what are you—"
He waved you off, handing the cash to the vendor without missing a beat. "Consider it my gift," he added, his voice laced with satisfaction.
The stall owner chuckled, handing you the packaged clip. "A good choice," she remarked with a wink. "It suits her perfectly."
You exhaled, the warmth creeping up your neck, but Beomgyu only looked pleased, a victorious gleam in his eyes.
"Tonight was supposed to be about you," you sighed, holding the small package in your hands. "Why are you the one giving me gifts?"
Beomgyu held up the stuffed bear you had won for him earlier, his lips curling into a smirk. "You already got me this," he pointed out. Then, more quietly, "Besides, you brought me here. You made sure I was alright. A small gift is the least I can do."
You had no response to that.
"Accept it," he added, nudging your shoulder lightly. "For my sake."
A single snowflake drifted between you, catching the golden fair lights as it fell. Then another. And another.
Beomgyu tilted his head up, watching the first snowfall of the season settle over Paris. The world around you seemed to hush, the fair’s glow casting a warm halo over the descending frost. A slow smile spread across his face, something wistful in the way his gaze traced the sky.
"I want to see the Seine."
You glanced at him, the request unexpected. He turned back to you, eyes shining. "That day we visited, I couldn’t really take it in—not properly, not with everything else going on."
The quiet honesty in his voice softened something in you. "Then let’s go."
The walk to the bridge was slower, the fair’s noise fading behind you as the Seine stretched before you in its midnight stillness. The river carried the reflection of the city’s lights, a gentle shimmer under the falling snow. Beomgyu leaned against the railing, his hands curled over the frost-kissed iron, the glow of the streetlamps painting his profile in gold and shadow. Snowflakes clung to his hair, caught in the sweep of his lashes, but he didn’t seem to notice.
You watched him take it all in, his shoulders rising and falling with a quiet breath. He turned to you then, his exhaustion evident in the way his body carried itself—but there was warmth in his gaze, something that made the air between you shift.
"How are you feeling now?" you asked, voice softer than you intended.
His lips parted, hesitation flickering over his features before he finally answered. "I feel much better." His eyes didn’t leave yours. "Thank you."
And you tried—God, you tried—not to say that you loved him. Tried to swallow it down, push it away, because tonight wasn’t about you. Tonight was about him, about making sure he was okay.
But then he reached up, fingertips ghosting against your cheek, light as snowfall. The warmth of his touch burned through the cold. Your breath hitched, caught somewhere between restraint and surrender. He was close, close enough that the city blurred around you, close enough that his gaze flickered down—to your lips, then back up, eyes locking with a silent plea—
“Shit.”
—Beomgyu’s foot slid against the fresh snow, his arms flailing as he yelped. The moment snapped, the sharp bite of reality returning all at once. Instinct took over—you reached out, grabbing his arms before he could stumble further, fingers tightening around the fabric of his sleeves.
Your pulse was a riot against your ribs. "Beomgyu—"
And then, as if the universe itself was conspiring against you, your phone buzzed loudly in your pocket, Yeonjun’s name flashing on the screen.
You hesitated, the moment still hanging between you like an unfinished sentence. Beomgyu exhaled, something obscure passing over his expression before he turned back toward the river.
When you hung up the call, your voice felt foreign in your throat. "They’re making rounds. It’s time to go back."
The walk back to the hotel was silent. You didn’t meet his eyes when you reached the entrance, didn’t look back when you passed a very curious Yeonjun, locking the door behind you as soon as you stepped inside your room.
That night, sleep did not come easily to you.
Beomgyu was losing his mind.
Sleep had evaded him, slipping through his fingers like sand, and now, as the pale morning light filtered through his curtains, his thoughts remained tangled around you. He dragged a hand over his face, exhaling sharply, but it did nothing to ease the restless ache in his chest. Last night’s scenes replayed behind his eyes in an unrelenting loop, haunting him, taunting him. What was he thinking?
His mind reeled back, drifting to the first time he had truly seen you—not as the girl everyone whispered about, the cold and cunning Slytherin, but as someone real. The flickering glow of the fireplace in the Room of Requirement had softened your sharp edges, revealing a warmth beneath the frigid surface. That night had unraveled everything he thought he knew about you. Without even realizing it, he had begun craving your presence, finding solace in it, drawn to the peace that rested between you.
Since when had you become his safe haven?
Beomgyu closed his eyes and draped an arm over them, lying motionless against the mattress. But the memory of you persisted. The way your arms had wound around him on the rooftop, the way your scent had lingered against his skin—soft florals, a trace of vanilla, and something that was just you. Maybe it was exhaustion clouding his mind, or maybe he had simply stopped pretending, but he wanted to feel your lips against his. The thought struck him like a force of nature, leaving him breathless in its wake.
His spiraling thoughts were abruptly shattered by the creak of the door. Heeseung sauntered in first, voice already animated as he recounted how he had caught two professors making out last night. Jeongin followed behind him, slipping onto the bed beside Beomgyu without a word.
Heeseung, noticing Beomgyu’s silence, slowed his chatter, his tone shifting. "What Jaekyung did during Truth or Dare—I'm sorry, it was very low of him."
Beomgyu sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "It’s fine."
"No, it’s not. Did you see me laughing?" Heeseung pressed. "Yeah, exactly. None of us found it funny. Jaekyung knew he messed up. He barely said a word the rest of the night. Well, specifically after that revelation."
Beomgyu let out a small breath, forcing a half-smile. "Really, it doesn’t bother me."
Heeseung wasn’t convinced. He studied Beomgyu, his sharp gaze flickering over the dark circles beneath his eyes. "You look awful, man. You sure you’re good? You had a long night, huh?"
Beomgyu hesitated. It wasn’t about Jaekyung. It wasn’t about what had been said. The truth sat heavy in his chest, but he couldn't tell them that. Because the real reason for his unrest was you.
Heeseung, ever oblivious, started rummaging through the room, muttering about finding anything to help. But Jeongin, who had been silent all this time, finally spoke.
"Wanna see something?"
Both boys turned to the Hufflepuff as he casually reached into his sling bag and pulled out a small vial. He held it up, letting the light catch on the iridescent liquid inside.
Heeseung nearly choked. "Dude, is that—?"
"Amortentia."
Beomgyu sat up abruptly. "How the hell did you manage to sneak that into Paris?"
Jeongin only grinned, his fox-like eyes gleaming with mischief. "I just did."
"You’re a Slytherin in disguise, aren’t you?" Beomgyu gave him a pointed look.
Jeongin merely shrugged, shaking the vial slightly. "So, do you want to take a whiff or not?"
Beomgyu hesitated—he had smelled Amortentia before, but that was a long time ago. The things he had loved back then surely couldn't compare to now. Slowly, he took the vial, uncorking it with careful fingers. The moment the scent reached, a laugh threatened to break out from him.
Because of course, it was you.
It had always been you.
Your scent filled his lungs, weaving into his very essence, curling into the spaces between his ribs, settling in the marrow of his bones. The delicate trace of your floral shampoo, the warmth of vanilla that clung to your skin, the bittersweet coffee that lingered on your lips. And beneath it all, something intangible—something that wasn't just a scent, but a feeling. A muted gravity pulling him home. It filled him like the hush of the tide against the shore, constant and inevitable.
Beomgyu had spent his life bending, shifting, molding himself into what others needed him to be. Always laughing, always the light, always the reflection of what others wanted. He had blurred the lines of himself so many times that he feared there was nothing real left underneath.
But here, now, he knew.
Because for once, he wasn’t afraid of what he wanted. For once, he wasn’t running away. He was running toward it—toward you.
Beomgyu loved you.
And it was the truest thing he had ever known; the truest he had been to himself.
You weren’t doing any better.
When Yeji left for breakfast, you refused to leave your bed, burying yourself deeper into the sheets. Time passed in a haze until Yeonjun dropped by, setting down a tray of food with an expectant look that left no room for argument. He made sure you ate, his gaze watchful as if he could see right through you. And in the end, he did.
With little effort, Yeonjun coaxed the truth out of you—the tangled mess of last night, the words unsaid, the emotions left raw and aching.
"Wait," he blinked. "You’re saying—I cockblocked you?"
You groaned, shoving a pillow over your face. His choice of words made you cringe, but in a way, he wasn’t wrong. Instead of confirming it, you merely grumbled in protest.
Yeonjun only laughed, ruffling your hair in a rare display of fondness. "It’ll work out," he said, voice softer now. "You two just need to stop being idiots about it."
“Easier for you to say,” you muttered bitterly, throwing another pillow.
He caught it easily, his laughter carried by the wind that visited through your open balcony. Moments like these reminded you why you were grateful to have him in your life—not just as a friend, but as family.
Today, though, you weren’t in the mood to go out. You hadn’t slept a wink last night, and exhaustion pulled at your limbs. So, as the world carried on beyond your window, you curled back under the blankets, surrendering to sleep.
But before you drifted off, a decision settled firmly in your mind.
Tomorrow before leaving, you will talk to Beomgyu.
Beomgyu didn't know who he was expecting when he opened the door, but it certainly wasn't Jaekyung.
His face remained blank, devoid of any welcoming expression, though irritation simmered just beneath the surface. Jaekyung, with his usual cocky nonchalance, stood there holding up two beer bottles as though they were old friends sharing a casual drink. "Let’s have a chat over drinks?"
A bitter taste coated Beomgyu’s tongue. He didn’t want this conversation, didn’t want to spend another second in Jaekyung’s presence, but with the inevitability of Quidditch matches and shared spaces, dragging this out seemed more of a hassle. Exhaling sharply through his nose, he stepped aside, wordlessly agreeing.
That’s how he found himself on the rooftop of the hotel, the night air crisp against his skin, the city lights sprawling endlessly beneath them. Jaekyung popped open his can, tilting his head back for a long chug before sighing, relishing the bitter taste. He started talking—about last night, about how he hoped Beomgyu didn’t take it to heart, how it was all just a joke, how he hadn’t meant to hurt Beomgyu’s feelings or disrespect his mother. The words tumbled out in a half-hearted apology, as though he expected Beomgyu to nod along and laugh it off.
Beomgyu remained silent, his grip loose around his own can, having only taken a single sip. He wasn’t really here to make peace, just to tolerate the moment until it passed.
Jaekyung scoffed, took another sip, and muttered, "That Slytherin bitch really had to ruin shit for me."
Beomgyu’s fingers tensed against the can. His brows furrowed as he turned his head, eyes sharp. "What?"
Jaekyung exhaled in exasperation. "You heard me. That girl—she really has some nerve. If she hadn’t butted in, everything would’ve gone fine for me. But no, she just had to stick her nose where it didn’t belong." He clicked his tongue, shaking his head as if disappointed. "You should be careful around her, Beomgyu. I mean, come on. You know how those Slytherins are. Always scheming, always looking out for themselves. Who knows how dirty her hands are? Wouldn't be surprised if she's dabbled in the Dark Arts."
Beomgyu’s grip on the can tightened, metal bending under the pressure of his fingers.
Jaekyung let out a dry chuckle, swirling the beer in his hand. "Hell, I wouldn’t even be shocked if she ended up killing someo—"
The words couldn't fully leave Jaekyung’s mouth, Beomgyu’s fist curled into the front of his shirt, shoving him back with enough force to slam him against the wall. The dull thud of impact echoed in the night air. Jaekyung’s beer can clattered to the ground, spilling its contents across the concrete.
The moment stretched, heavy with unfiltered rage. Beomgyu’s chest rose and fell in deep, controlled breaths, his knuckles white against the fabric of Jaekyung’s shirt. His heart pounded, his vision blurred in a haze of fury.
Jaekyung, momentarily stunned, let out a breathless laugh, his lips twitching into a smirk despite the pressure against his collar. "Don’t tell me you like her?" he taunted, his voice dipping into something almost mocking. "Do you even know what you’re doing?"
Beomgyu’s jaw clenched, his grip tightening. "Say another word about her, and I swear to God, I won’t hold back next time," he warned, his voice low, deadly.
Jaekyung only grinned wider, eyes glinting with amusement. "You’re ruining Gryffindor’s image by hanging around with that filthy Slytherin."
That was all it took.
His fist snapped forward, knuckles colliding with Jaekyung’s jaw in a brutal, sickening crack that rang through the night. Jaekyung’s head jerked to the side, his smirk wiped clean as he staggered, nearly losing his footing.
Beomgyu didn’t care about the consequences. Not the whispers, not the wary glances, not the tarnish on his image this could bring. If it meant protecting you—from slander, from the storm of false assumptions, from people who spat on your name without knowing the first thing about you—then his reputation could burn.
By the time you woke up, the sun had already begun its slow descent beyond the horizon, painting the sky in muted shades of amber and violet. A dull throbbing pulsed behind your eyes as you pushed yourself upright, the remnants of sleep still clinging to your limbs. Blinking away the haze, you scanned the room, your gaze landing on the empty space where Yeji had been. Her absence was quickly explained by the neatly folded note left on the bedside table.
Spending the night with the girls. Don’t wait up!
You sighed, rubbing at your temples before swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. The headache lingered—a dull, persistent ache that made deciding between coffee and painkillers a heavier task than it should have been. Eventually, you settled on coffee, craving the warmth more than anything, but you shot Yeonjun a quick text anyway, asking him to grab some medicine on his way back.
At that moment, Yeonjun was at a bar with his friends. His phone buzzed just as Heeseung announced he was heading back to the hotel. Yeonjun barely glanced at the screen before catching Heeseung by the wrist.
"Hey, do me a favor? Grab some painkillers from the pharmacy on your way back and drop them off for her?"
Heeseung, already halfway out the door, gave a lazy salute before disappearing into the night. The city lights flickered against the polished streets as he made his way to the nearest pharmacy, the mild buzz of alcohol in his veins making everything feel a little lighter. The store was nearly empty save for one other customer browsing the aisles, and in his attempt to maneuver past them, Heeseung’s shoulder clipped theirs, sending both their purchases tumbling to the ground.
"Shit, my bad," he muttered, hastily gathering his things. The stranger offered a muttered reassurance, but embarrassment burned at the tips of his ears. Before he could make a bigger fool of himself, he all but bolted out the door.
By the time he reached the hotel, the sky had deepened to a velvety blue, the streets humming with the distant sounds of nightlife. He knocked on your door, shifting on his feet as he waited. When you finally opened it, brows furrowed in confusion, Heeseung only grinned.
"Yeonjun’s gonna be late, so he asked me to drop this off for you."
You blinked at the offered packet before reaching out to take it. "Oh. Thanks, Heeseung. You should get some rest."
"Yeah, yeah," he waved a hand dismissively, then let out a sheepish chuckle. "Almost didn’t make it in one piece. I crashed into some poor stranger at the pharmacy and sent both our stuff flying. Thought they were gonna curse me on the spot."
You shook your head with a small laugh, watching as he sauntered off down the hall before shutting the door. Tossing the packet onto the bed, you turned your attention to the half-packed suitcase waiting for you. With your departure set for tomorrow night, you figured it was best to finish now, leaving only the essentials untouched.
By the time you were done, you were exhausted. You turned off the lights to ease the dull headache, leaving the room bathed in the faint glow of the city beyond the balcony doors. Drawn by the cool night air, you stepped outside, letting the gentle breeze carry away the last remnants of your lingering headache. The trip had been a blur of moments, each one folding into the next, but despite everything, your thoughts inevitably drifted back to Beomgyu.
You hadn’t seen him all day. Not since last night on the bridge.
Heat rushed to your cheeks at the memory, and you groaned, dropping your face into your palms. Shaking your head, you turned away, desperate for a distraction. That’s when your gaze landed on the packet resting on your bed. Right. You should put it away.
Grabbing it, you tore it open with little thought—only to freeze. There were no painkillers inside. Instead, a mix of unfamiliar medicine stared back at you, along with—
Your stomach dropped.
—several packets of condoms.
For a second, you just stared, unable to process what you were looking at. Then, realization struck like a slap to the face.
Heeseung must've picked up the wrong packet. Oh god.
A strangled sound crawled up your throat as you dragged a hand down your face. There was no way you were keeping this. You had to return it. Now.
Exhaling sharply, you marched toward the door, and yanked it open—only to stumble back in surprise.
Beomgyu stood just outside, equally startled, his eyes widening as yours did the same. Your breath caught, pulse stumbling over itself as you took another step back.
He looked as if he’d been caught red-handed, lips parting slightly before snapping shut, his fingers twitching at his sides. For a moment, neither of you spoke, both frozen in place, the tension crackling between you like a frayed wire. Your heart pounded, his gaze settling heavy in your chest, leaving you breathless in a way that had nothing to do with surprise.
Your eyes widened, and then widened even more when you took in his face—a deep bruise darkening his right cheekbone, his lower lip split and raw. The sharp inhale you took was nearly drowned by the surge of panic crashing through you. Without thinking, you stepped forward, reaching for him, but the movement seemed to shake him from his daze.
“S-Sorry, I should go back—” Beomgyu stammered, already taking a step back.
Your fingers caught his wrist before he could slip away, your grip firm despite the hammering of your pulse. "Get inside."
Beomgyu hesitated, but the authority in your voice left no room for argument. You tugged him in, shutting the door with more force than necessary before turning on the lamp atop the dresser. The warm glow cast soft shadows across the room, illuminating the damage on his face. You exhaled sharply through your nose, frustration simmering beneath your skin as you pushed him onto the bed.
He let you, watching in silence as you crouched before him, scanning his injuries with an expression that left no space for anything but raw, unfiltered concern. He should have been saying something—assuring you, maybe—but he found himself caught instead, watching the way your brows knit together, the way your fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to touch him.
Beomgyu didn’t know what came over him after the fight with Jaekyung, but he was sure of one and one thing only—he needed to see you. That was why he let his feet take him to your room, but as he was about to knock, he woke up from his daze. Caught in between the dilemma of letting his desire to see you win or turn away and go back to his room, he spent more time standing in front of your door than necessary
“Who did this to you?” The question left you in a voice steadier than you felt. But you didn’t wait for an answer. You already knew. “Jaekyung?”
Beomgyu's hand shot out, grasping yours before you could rise. “Listen to me. Please.” His voice was hoarse, his grip warm. “I started the fight.”
You froze, stunned. He sighed, lips pressing together before he spoke again. “He said some things about you he shouldn’t have. I couldn’t just let him run his mouth when he assumed the worst about you.”
Something in your chest twisted—something sharp, something ugly. Your pulse thrummed as a thousand thoughts warred within you. Was this your fault? Did he feel like he had to defend you? Anger flared, not at him, but at the situation, at Jaekyung, at the bruises marking Beomgyu’s skin.
Without a word, you pulled away, heading for the bathroom. You needed something—anything—to fix this mess. But you found nothing, except opting for a bowl of water from the basin. Frustration burned as you muttered a curse under your breath. You yanked open your bag, grabbing your wand and a handkerchief instead. You threw a Mufffliato charm at your door before getting hold of the dresser stool.
Returning, you dragged the stool in front of him, sitting so close your knees brushed. His fingers curled against his lap, his gaze heavy as it followed your movements.
“Are you upset with me?”
“No.” The clipped response did little to ease him. His fingers found yours again, tentative this time. “Don’t be upset,” he murmured, and the quiet weight in his voice sent something quivering through you.
You inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “I’m not upset,” you whispered. “But I need you to let me take care of you.”
You may have appeared frigid outwardly as you pulled your hand away from his and worked to wet the cloth with water, but inside, you were trembling. Your emotions threatened to spill over, pressing against the tight control you struggled to maintain. You chose silence, but the longer Beomgyu stared at you with those dark, blazing eyes, the harder it became to hold everything in.
Beomgyu, as if sensing it, tried to assure you that he was fine.
“Stop.” Your voice wavered despite your best efforts to keep it steady. You refused to meet his gaze, focusing instead on the bruise marring his cheekbone as you brought the cloth to his skin.
The moment it touched his wound, he went rigid, eyes squeezing shut, a strangled groan escaping his lips. The sound shouldn't have sent a shiver down your spine, but it did, settling uncomfortably in the back of your mind. His hand found your thigh, fingers curling into the flesh. Your breath became uneven, hands trembling, but you carried on, ignoring it.
You wrung the cloth in your hands, the fabric twisting between your fingers. "Do you think this changes anything?" The words came measured, steady despite the storm within. "Do you think I care what Jaekyung says about me?"
You dabbed at his wound again, perhaps a little too firmly. Beomgyu hissed softly, but he didn’t pull away. His grip on your thigh tightened instead.
"If he spreads shit about me to the entire Hogwarts, it wouldn’t matter." You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as you dipped the cloth back into the water. "I’m used to it." The tremor in your fingers betrayed you as you wrung it out again, your knuckles paling from the force. "Nothing would have made a difference."
You pressed the cloth to his skin once more, frustration bleeding into every action.
Beomgyu’s breath hitched, his fingers twitching against your leg.
You swallowed, hands tense as you tossed the cloth aside. "You didn’t have to act so rashly," you muttered, softer now, though no less strained. Your grip on your wand tightened. "You didn’t have to taint your hands for me." Your lips parted, but the words felt heavy on your tongue. You inhaled sharply, forcing them out anyway. "I’m already in ashes."
The weight of it all pressed down on you, suffocating. Still, you forced your hand steady as you lifted your wand. With a muttered, "Episkey," the bruise on his cheek faded, healing instantly under the glow of magic.
You finally looked at him then, your eyes searching his face. Beomgyu held your gaze, the fire in his own unwavering.
Your hands curled into fists in your lap. "Why?" The question slipped out, quieter than before, like it had been torn from somewhere deep inside you. "Why would you go this far for me? When doing so now will destroy your reputation?"
A shaky breath left you as you ran a hand through your hair, then buried your face in your palms. Silence stretched between you, but it suffocated you and dragged you down as if drowning in the deep sea with no hopes of swimming back up.
Beomgyu watched you, his jaw tightening. Even now, you were worrying about him rather than feeling any anger over being disrespected. How could you be so selfless? How many years of cruel judgment had it taken for you to be this nonchalant about people dragging your name through the dirt?
Regret wasn’t something Beomgyu felt tonight.
He exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re cute when you’re worked up.”
Your head snapped up, eyes narrowing in disbelief.
Beomgyu only offered a lopsided smile, tilting his head. “Did you really think I’d just stand there and let that son of a bitch talk about you like that?” His voice was quiet but firm. “You don’t deserve that.”
You felt waves of gratitude wash over the shore of frustration and guilt, mixing into a cacophony of intangible emotions in your chest. To know the person you loved so dearly saw you for who you were and stood up for you even at the risk of being ruined—it was getting harder to fight back the clog in your throat, the sting behind your eyes.
“But will you ever let me do the same for you?” The words tumbled out before you could even think, slipping past the restraint you had been holding onto.
He stared at you for a moment, his face softening in the dim light. “I didn’t think you needed to,” he said at last, voice quieter now.
“I do,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the vulnerability in your words. “I want to.”
You held your wand up to heal the split in his lip, but he caught your wrist again, stopping you before the spell could form. You froze when he leaned forward, resting his forehead against the curve of your neck.
“You already do,” he murmured, his voice no louder than the snow drifting outside. “I don't think you realize how much you change everything just by being here.”
His scent was dizzying, warm and intoxicating, pressing into your senses until it became difficult to think of anything else. But nothing could have prepared you for the wildfire coursing through your veins when his lips grazed the skin just above your collarbone. A quiet gasp slipped from you before you could swallow it down. Your free hand moved on instinct, gripping his bicep, feeling the firm muscle beneath the fabric of his hoodie.
“Beomgyu,” you managed to breathe out, mind unraveling at the fact that such a simple touch from him had set your entire body ablaze. You weren’t sure if you were trying to stop him or yourself.
You felt it then—the shudder that passed through him, as though he was holding back something just as consuming as what had taken root inside you. He didn’t move away. Instead, his grip on your hand tightened slightly as he lifted his head, eyes finding yours. His gaze was heavy, dark with restraint, his breath uneven against your lips.
“And I don’t think you understand how hard I’m trying to resist.”
Your chest ached. Because he had been holding back, all this time. And you had, too.
The realization unraveled you. It wasn’t just tonight. It had been every moment before this one—every touch avoided, every glance turned away too soon, every night spent swallowing words that threatened to spill. You had forced yourself into stillness, even when everything inside you begged to reach for him.
But now, with his words settling deep, breaking apart the last of your restraint, there was nothing left to stop you.
Your hand trailed from his bicep, slipping into his hair, fingertips threading through the strands. His lashes fluttered, and then, like he couldn’t help himself, he leaned into your touch, his eyes slipping closed as though savoring the warmth of your palm. A breath escaped him, quiet, shivering.
Your heart pounded. Your emotions curled tight in your chest, coiling, pressing, threatening to consume you whole.
And so you kissed him.
His lips felt soft against yours. The touch was careful, lasting for just a few fleeting seconds before you pulled back, shamelessly breathless, searching his face for his reaction. Beomgyu remained still, gaze lowered, lips parted as he lifted a trembling hand to touch where your lips had been. His fingertips brushed over his busted lip, smearing the faint trace of blood left behind.
“More.”
The word was barely a whisper, but the desperation in his voice sent a spark skittering down your stomach. He let go of your hand, his palms cupping your face instead and pulled you in, crashing his lips onto yours with more intention this time. The sheer intensity of it clawed out a tattered whimper from the back of your throat as you tumbled forward into him.
The taste of blood mixed into the kiss, coppery and intoxicating, the sting of his split lip making him hiss against your mouth. It should have made you pull away, should have given you pause, but instead, it only fueled the heat roaring between you. Your tongue swiped over the wound, drawing a sharp, shuddering moan from him. You noted how he liked the pleasure that came with pain before sliding your tongue deeper into his mouth, claiming him.
He met you with equal fervor, his tongue tangling with yours in a battle for dominance. But you refused to lose. Your body moved on its own, pulling him even closer as you straddled his waist. Your fingers tugged at his hair, drawing a broken moan from him, and just as you felt him start to crumble beneath you, you pushed him back against the mattress.
Beomgyu let out a quiet yelp, eyes wide as he stared up at you, dazed and breathless. Your heart stuttered, not expecting it to be so utterly, devastatingly adorable.
Your gaze flickered over him, your breath shaky, heart thundering in your chest. You had wanted this for so long—to feel him like this, to have his scent clinging to your skin, to taste his lips, even if they were bruised and tinged with blood. It felt surreal, intoxicating, overwhelming in every sense.
A fond smile ghosted your lips as you reached out, fingers brushing through his tousled hair. His skin was already covered in a sheen of sweat, the winter air failing to cool the fire blazing between you. His chest heaved with each breath, his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly.
“Are you still upset with me?” he asked, voice hoarse, breathless.
You shook your head, reaching for his bruised knuckles. Bringing them to your lips, you pressed a soft kiss against them.
“Just promise me you’ll never let yourself get hurt for me.”
His fingers curled against yours, before he lifted his other hand, tangling it in your hair, pulling you down to him. He sealed the promise with another searing kiss, one that stole the breath from your lungs and ignited every nerve in your body. He flipped you over in one swift movement, deepening the kiss.
This time, it was fervent, consuming—his lips moving against yours like he’d been starving for this. His body slotted between your parted legs, pressing against you entirely. Your eyes flew open when you felt him grinding his hips against yours, his hardness rubbing against your torrid core—and despite both of you being clothed, the scorching pleasure it was bringing was mind numbing. A broken gasp spilled from your lips as your back arched against him.
Beomgyu pulled away just enough to look at you, watching the string of saliva connecting your lips before it disappeared. His gaze darkened at the sight of you beneath him—lips swollen and red-stained, face flushed, hair framing you so perfectly that it made his breath hitch. His entire body burned with the need for you, an ache so deep he could barely think.
God, he needed you.
So badly it was nearly unbearable.
“I need you,” he almost pleaded, his hips kept grinding against yours, making your sanity crumble away further. Your mind had nothing left but his name chanted over and over again like a prayer. “Can I have you? Please let me have you?”
You nodded through your haze, because how could you refuse?
He pulled his hoodie and shirt off over his head in a quick motion, and your eyes, heavy with lust, trailed down his body, his flexing muscles as he threw the clothes across the room. Beomgyu dipped down to press his lips to yours once more, his arm wrapping around your head, the other hand tugging at the waistline of your pants. "You're so beautiful," he mumbled against your skin, trailing kisses down your jaw, your neck, your collarbones before biting down on the supple flesh, eliciting a strained moan from you. "So perfect."
Beomgyu groaned against your pulse point when his fingers slid in between your folds, collecting your arousal before lathering all of it in an up and down motion over your slit, each time bumping against your clit and applying just the right amount of pressure on the bundle of nerve. It sent jolts of pleasure through your body as your nails dug around his shoulders, your back arching into his body. When his name came in the form of a broken melody past your lips, he pushed two fingers in your waiting core, curling them deliriously against your sweet spot that had you seeing stars.
Your hips stuttered, grinding up to meet his thrusting fingers as you writhed underneath him while Beomgyu’s torrid lips drew wonders on your neck, leaving behind a trail of fire. It felt so good, your lips caught between your teeth, your head buzzed with unfathomable ecstasy at the feeling of his long, thick fingers massaging your walls. You only could wonder how his cock would feel inside you. The thought alone had your thighs trembling.
The familiar sensation of heat coiling in your lower stomach began to embrace you, and you knew Beomgyu knew, because your walls clenched around his digits. He lifted his head to lock eyes with you, as his fingers picked up their pace, encouraging you to come undone. “You’re doing so good for me,” he coaxed. “You’re doing amazing, love.”
“Beomgyu,” you whined, voice trembling and gasping. “I’m—I’m almost—”
The relentless pace along with his sweet praises sent your senses into a euphoric haze as you cried out, your walls fluttering around his fingers. Beomgyu ran his fingers through your hair, soothing your scalp as you came down from your high, chest heaving with every breath you took. The sinful sight of him wrapping his lips around his fingers, licking and sucking off your arousal from them made you glance away.
“Sweet. How do you taste so sweet?” His thumb pressed against your bottom lip before pulling it down. His tongue pushed past your lips, the feeling of your arousal melting into your mouth was so overwhelming that it drawled out a groan from you.
Your mind was already so fucked out that you had to snap yourself into reality when Beomgyu repeated his question. He cooed, gently caressing your cheek when you blinked up at him through half-lidded eyes.
“Do you want to keep this on?” he tugged on the hem of your shirt, eyes trailing the skin of your arms where goosebumps have risen. The goosebumps didnt come from the cold, no—it was the mere effect he had on you, so you shook your head, propping yourself up just enough to tug your shirt over your head, leaving only your bra on.
Beomgyu swallowed thickly, sitting back on his heels as his eyes roamed around your body—over the soft swell of your breast, the dips of your collarbone, the curves of your sides—and he kept wondering how he managed to get so lucky. His hand glided up the small of your back and with nimble fingers he unclasped your bra before letting it join the discarded clothes on the floor. Pulling you flushed against his chest, Beomgyu peppered soft kisses on your shoulder and he inhaled your scent. Gosh, he was going crazy—absolutely, maddeningly insane for you.
Your bleary gaze fell on the outline of his hardened shaft, waiting and beginning to be pulled out from its restraints. With shaky hands you reached out to tug on his sweatpants, expectantly looking up at him. Beomgyu wasted no time working on his pants, strong hands pulling you closer to him before his leaking cockhead grazed your clit. The choked moan that escaped from the back of your throat made you wonder if it truly was your voice.
“Protection?” he asked, his voice momentarily cutting through your heady haze.
You nodded, looking at the packet that, now thanks to Heeseung’s clumsiness, came in handy. Beomgyu followed your gaze, reaching for the packet before emptying its contents on the bed. Even if he had any questions, he chose not to voice it as he silently tore one packet with his teeth and rolled the thin rubber over his shaft, giving it a few pumps.
The anticipation that coiled within your stomach crawled up to your throat and through your chest, gathering all your oxygens from your lungs on its way. Beomgyu shuddered over you, hands roaming, fingers mapping out your skin like he was committing every inch of you to memory. He lined the tip of his cock against your entrance—then suddenly stilled all his movements.
Your heart stopped as your eyes searched his face, looking for any semblance of discomfort—or worse, if he was thinking it was all a mistake, if he was thinking of backing out at the last moment. Beomgyu closed his eyes, brows knitting together as he exhaled sharply. The silence felt too thick for you to disturb it. You could only wet your chapped lips—a futile attempt to ease your nerves.
Finally, in a low whisper, he said, “I think I might be a terrible person.”
For a split second, you believed him—you thought he was about to confess something unforgivable. Then you realized that we all think we might be terrible people. But we only reveal this before asking someone to love us. It is a kind of undressing.
You let out a shaky breath. Was it relief? Perhaps. Perhaps it was also the love that you felt for this man. He was already so deeply tangled in your soul, you weren’t ready to let go of him so easily. Not in this lifetime, not in the next, not in any lifetime to come.
You cupped his face, tilting it to make him look at you. You tried to pour all your love, your admiration, your desire into the way you gazed at him. With a fond smile, you murmured, “I’m a terrible person too. And I want you. I just want you—all your flaws, your mistakes, your smiles, your jokes, everything.”
He kissed you, so deeply, so fiercely, that the gasp you let out when you felt him stretching you was entirely devoured by his mouth. Fingers clawing his back, you couldn't decide where to focus—the sheer euphoric wave of pleasure engulfing your body, or the way Beomgyu muttered apologies in your ear.
“Does it hurt? I’m sorry—ah, I'm so sorry, love,” he whispered softly, giving you time to adjust as he slowly sank into your aching core. He gritted his teeth, jaw clenching as he had to fight the urge to cum from just feeling your tight walls clench around him. “I promise, it will feel good. I’ve got you.”
The bed creaked beneath you as he pulled out slowly before pushing back in, setting the pace into deep languid thrusts that had you gasping and moaning with every movement. Beomgyu tried to hold onto the last bit of his sanity when he felt your hand trail up to the hair on his nape, curling and tugging on a fistful. He buried his face into your neck, strained moans filling your ear deliciously as his hips snapped against yours. You didn't notice his arms buckling, one of his hands having to brace the mattress beside your head, fist twisting into the sheets.
Your legs wrapped around his waist, trying to bring him even closer to you—as if such an act of desperation could alone imprint every pattern of his body on yours. The depraved sound of skin against skin along with your mingling groans and gasps resonated off the walls of the room. Your already sensitive cunt throbbed with pleasure with every shallow drag of his cock, reaching unfathomable places inside you.
It wasn't the cold air that sent a shiver down your spine but rather his featherlight touch over your hardened nipple. You squirmed at the sensation and he immediately moved his hand away. “Too much?” concern laced his voice as he let his hand find purchase on your hips instead, massaging the soft flesh. His consideration and care towards you knocked the air out of your lungs, chest constricting painfully.
“Kiss me,” you pleaded breathlessly, “Beomgyu, please kiss me.”
He didn't need to be told twice, stealing your breath in a slow, languid kiss that matched his pace. His lips moved against yours with aching slowness, savoring every second, every press, every stolen breath. His hand from your hip trailed up your sides, leaving a searing path in their wake, fingertips pressing into your skin as if he needed to reassure himself that you were real, that this was real.
All the whimpers and moans that spilled from you—he swallowed them down greedily, a low hum of approval vibrating against your lips. He broke away only to pepper kisses along your jaw, down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “You drive me insane,” he murmured between kisses, voice thick with desire, each word punctuated by his shallow thrusts. “I don’t think I could ever get enough of you.”
His words sent a tremor down your spine, and when he found the pulse point beneath your jaw, sucking lightly, you let out a soft gasp, fingers tightening in his hair. You felt your high approaching you again, your whimpers getting louder by the seconds as your eyes rolled back to your head. He groaned at the sensation of your walls spasming, the sound reverberating against your skin like a plea, a promise, a confession.
You were his undoing—and he was yours.
“Let go, love,” he muttered in a strained voice as you clenched around him like a vice, your body quivering when you finished, his name spilling from you so sinfully that it drove him over the edge. He helped you ride out your orgasm, seeds spilling inside the condom but the warmth seeped into your walls, making you bite down on your lips harshly.
There was a beat of silence as you both chased for air. Beomgyu moved first, helping you sit up with the same gentleness and care as before. When he returned with a damp towel, he pressed it softly against your skin, wiping away the sheen of sweat. His eyes, dark yet brimming with unmistakable adoration—something tender, something irrevocable—never wavered from yours.
You took in the quiet love in his gaze, the way it mirrored your own, and let yourself smile. Your fingers brushed against his bruised lips, tracing them with featherlight touches. "Remind me to fix this," you murmured.
Beomgyu chuckled, a boyish grin breaking across his face before he tugged you down with him onto the bed. He pulled the covers over both of you, cocooning you in warmth, in safety, in him.
For a fleeting moment, you still thought it was a dream. If it was, then it would be the happiest one you've ever had. But the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the rhythmic beat of his heart against your skin, and the way his body heat shielded you from the bitter Parisian winter told you otherwise. This was real. Every second of it was real.
"I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.
You tilted your face up, capturing his lips in a tender kiss, sealing the words against his mouth before murmuring them back to him.
And then, like an echo in your mind, Yeonjun’s words from before resurfaced—that Paris, the city of love, truly had a way of bringing people together.
The morning air was tinged with the scent of freshly baked bread and coffee as you walked through the narrow streets lined with breakfast cafés. The quiet hum of Paris waking up surrounded you, but your mind was far from the charming scenery. Your hands remained tucked in the pockets of your coat as you thought back to the last message exchanged with Beomgyu—your simple note telling him not to wait for you, that he should go ahead and get breakfast without you.
You slowed your steps as you neared a particular café, your gaze settling on the man seated near the window. He hadn’t noticed you yet, too lost in his own world—perhaps nursing the remnants of last night’s misjudgment.
The bell above the door jingled softly as you stepped inside, your presence unnoticed at first. You made your way toward him with unhurried steps, pulling out the empty chair across from him with an ease that belied the tension hanging between you.
“Good morning, Jaekyung.”
Your voice was pleasant, smooth—almost sweet—but your eyes held none of the warmth your tone suggested. The cruel amusement dancing in them, however, was impossible to miss.
Jaekyung stiffened, his expression shifting the moment he looked up and met your gaze. He stared as though he had seen a ghost. A reaction you found deeply satisfying.
You leaned back against the chair, taking in the damage Beomgyu had left on his face. A slow smile curled your lips. A shame, really, that Beomgyu’s fist had gotten to him first. You had so much more to say.
Jaekyung recovered quickly, forcing an unimpressed scoff as he crossed his arms. “Are you looking for more trouble?”
Your brow lifted at his audacity. For all his bravado, he didn’t seem as comfortable now. When you didn’t immediately respond, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, wincing slightly at the movement. “Look, if this is about your boyfriend, then I have nothing to say. He hit me first, so obviously, I had to act.”
You hummed in acknowledgment, tilting your head slightly as if considering his words. Then, with the same polite smile, you spoke. “Jaekyung,” you said lightly, “if I were you, I’d choose my next course of action very carefully.” You let the words settle, your gaze never breaking from his. “Specifically with the amount of dirt in your hands.”
His fingers twitched against the ceramic cup, his brows knitting together as his body stiffened. His voice dropped slightly. “What do you mean?”
You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned forward just enough for your presence to fully command his attention. “Between you and me,” you murmured, voice carrying the air of something far more dangerous than idle threats, “I think we both know who truly has tainted hands here, don’t we?”
Silence. A thick, suffocating pause where the realization dawned in his eyes.
You watched him struggle to formulate a response, but you had already grown bored. You pushed back your chair and rose to your feet. You adjusted the cuffs of your coat, smoothing out an imaginary crease as if this entire encounter had been nothing more than a passing chore.
Before turning away, you allowed one last look at him—one that stripped away the pleasantness in your smile and replaced it with something far colder.
“Take it as a word of advice.” You paused. Then, with a sharpened edge that left no room for misinterpretation, you added, “Or better yet—a warning.”
You turned on your heel and walked away, the quiet sound of your departure swallowed by the morning bustle outside. Behind you, Jaekyung remained frozen in his seat, the reality of your words settling deep into his bones.
When you returned to the hotel, you found Beomgyu seated in the lobby by the fireplace, a book in his hands—the same one he had been reading on the train. The sight of him made your heart swell, a warmth unfurling deep within you.
Sensing your presence, Beomgyu lifted his head, his lips curving into a gentle smile—the one he reserved only for you. His face was free of bruises now; you had tended to them carefully that morning before he left your room, making sure every mark was soothed away by your touch.
“You’re back,” he murmured, rising to his feet. His hands found your face, cradling it with the kind of tenderness that made the world around you disappear. Then, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering just long enough for you to feel the muted words between you.
A loud gasp shattered the moment.
Oh. Right. You had completely forgotten that your friends were still around.
You turned to find Heeseung standing a few feet away, his mouth comically wide open. Beside him, Jeongin looked positively delighted before promptly dragging Heeseung away, muttering something about giving people privacy. You didn’t miss the way Yeonjun smiled at you from where he sat across the room—there was something genuine, something deeply affectionate in his gaze, as if he was truly, wholeheartedly happy for you.
Beomgyu’s thumbs traced soft circles against your cheeks. “Do you want to go somewhere else?” he asked, his voice barely above a murmur, as if this moment belonged only to the two of you.
You shook your head. “No. Let’s stay here. It’s warm here.”
You tugged him back to the sofa, the flickering fire enveloping its warmth around you. As you settled in beside him, a playful smile ghosted your lips. Lifting the book in your hands, you turned to him and asked, “Do you read books?”
The same question you had asked him weeks ago, back in the Room of Requirement. Back when you had lent him your shoulder, when he had dozed off beside you as you read together.
Beomgyu huffed out a soft chuckle, recognizing the memory you were drawing upon. Tenderness and something softer flickered in his gaze as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.
“Yes, love,” he murmured, smiling against your skin. “Yes, I do.”
And as you sat there together, wrapped in the soft glow of the fire, you couldn’t help but think that Beomgyu was exactly like an aubade—a gentle reminder of all the warmth and beauty that could be found in unexpected moments, lingering long after the night had passed.
Summary: For your entire lives, you and Jungkook have been best friends who told each other everything, promising no secrets between you two. But when you announce your engagement to a Kim Taehyung, he curses himself for never telling you that he's been in love with you for years. Now he's got one week to break up a wedding and make you choose him instead of your fiancé.
Pairing: bestfriend!Jungkook x reader, fiance!Taehyung x reader
Genre: yearning, love triangle, jealousy, fluff, angst, light smut, unrequited love
Word count: tba
Warnings: swearing, angst, light smut
a/n: Jungkook as Julia Roberts
"Let me get this straight, Y/n's chasing Taehyung, and you're chasing Y/n?"
"Yes! God, do I need to spell it out for you!?" He was yelling now, the intensity of the high-speed chase finally hitting him.
There was an annoyed sigh over the phone before Jimin matched his friend's tone, not caring who would hear. "Jungkook, wake up! The answer to everything is right in front of you."
"What!?"
"Look around!" There was a beat before he stated what Jungkook hoped he wouldn't, "Don't you realise that no one's chasing you?"
He shook his head, left and right, with his hand still on the wheel, swerving out of the way to not lose sight of you.
"No, no, you don't understand the situation--"
"Jungkook, for fucks sake, she doesn't love you!"
a/n: lol i post teasers like this bc i feel god will send my ideas to others. Exams are over so i can hop back on my grind
