synopsis — when seokmin’s on his “deathbed,” you don’t hesitate. you show up with soup, medicine, and his favorite vitamin jellies. he whines, clings, and insists he’s dying. you roll your eyes and stay anyway.
warnings — none, really... mentions of illnes and skinship
word count — ~2.1k
a/n — doing my first request on here from @seokminfilm !! i hope u enjoy <3 and i hope i did dk’s bright demeanor justice despite him being sick in this one TT enjoy <3
you don’t even knock when you arrive. seokmin gave you the spare key months ago, claiming it was “just in case,” but judging by the way he sounds over the phone—groggy, dramatic, and insistent that he’s “definitely on his deathbed”—this qualifies as an emergency.
“seokmin?” you call out, kicking off your shoes and juggling a tote bag full of supplies: water bottles, medicine, soup, and those vitamin jelly things he weirdly loves.
a faint groan echoes from the couch. “i’m here... barely.”
you find him bundled in a mountain of blankets, only the top of his messy hair and the tip of his nose visible. his cheeks are flushed, his eyes glassy, and there’s a tissue tragically hanging off his pinky finger like he got distracted mid-sneeze and gave up.
“you look like a burrito that’s seen better days,” you say gently, dropping your things on the coffee table.
“you’re lucky i’m too weak to fight back,” he mumbles, voice scratchy but still full of unnecessary sass. “is this... is this my final form?”
“you’re so dramatic,” you reply, already kneeling beside him to press the back of your hand to his forehead. he leans into your touch like a sunflower to sunlight. “yep. you’re burning up.”
he pouts, “told you. i’m dying.” groaning dramatically.
“you have a fever, not the plague.”
he tries to muster a whiny comeback but it’s lost in a cough that has him curling deeper into the blankets. you sigh and start unpacking your bag.
“we need to get you to bed.”
“but the couch is my kingdom now.”
“the couch smells like cough drops and sadness.”
he snorts. “you’re mean to a sick man.”
“and yet, here i am. come on.” you tug at the blanket. “up.”
it takes far too long, with plenty of exaggerated groans and muttered complaints (“you’re stronger than me. just carry me.” “i’m literally trying.”), but you finally manage to get him to his feet. sort of. he slumps against you dramatically, all long limbs and no coordination.
“wow,” you grunt. “you’re heavy.”
“muscle,” he whispers. “pure muscle.”
“you’re a noodle right now.”
he whines at this, flailing his arms as you steady yourself, “okay, now let’s get you to bed,” you say, guiding him slowly down the hallway. each step seems to drain him more, his grip on your arm growing slightly firmer with every passing second. when you finally manage to get him settled in bed, you start pulling the blankets over him.
he’s barely awake, eyes half-lidded, a slight pout on his lips. “i’m comfy... i’ll be fine, y/n.” he mumbles, not sounding very convincing at all.
“you’re feverish, seokmin. you need to cool down.” you brush his hair out of his face. “wait right here. i’ll get a towel with some ice water to help bring your temperature down.” just as you were standing up, he shifts in the bed, his hand weakly reaching out toward you as if he’s not quite ready to let you go. “don’t leave me…” his voice is barely audible, thick with sleep, but there's an almost desperate note to it.
you freeze, turning back to look at him, his big eyes peeking up at you from under his half-closed lashes. his hand is resting limply on the edge of the bed, as if reaching out to you, but it feels soft—fragile, even. you can’t help but pause, heart softening.
"i’m not going anywhere," you reply, moving back toward him. you brush a thumb across his hand, giving him a reassuring smile. “just need to grab a towel, okay?”
he closes his eyes for a second, letting out a little sigh. “stay close…” he murmurs, but there’s a trace of vulnerability in his voice now that he’s too tired to mask it.
you nod, your hand gently cupping his cheek. “i’m right here.”
when you finally leave to grab the towel, you can still hear his weak little hum of protest, but you know he’ll be okay. after all, you’re not going anywhere.
you quickly grab a basin, fill it with cold water and ice from the freezer, then rush back to seokmin’s side. when you re-enter the room, he’s curled up under the covers, his face flushed, cheeks burning with fever. his eyes are closed, but the slow, shallow rise and fall of his chest tells you he’s still awake—still fighting it.
you sit down beside him, carefully lifting his head just enough to slip a towel over his forehead. the second the cold hits his skin, he flinches.
“ah… cold!” he whines, scrunching his nose, his body curling in tighter as if he could escape the chill.
“sorry, i know,” you whisper, smoothing the towel over his forehead, trying to make it more bearable. he looks so fragile like this. not the usual sunshine you’re used to. and it does something to your heart—this version of him, all quiet and needy and not hiding how he feels.
“hold still for me, okay? just a little,” you murmur, fingers brushing his damp hair back gently. seokmin seems to melt back into the pillow, letting out a sigh, still shivering slightly from the cold.
“minnie…” the old nickname slips out before you even realize it, soft and natural, like it’s always been there. “you’re okay. you’re going to feel better soon.”
his eyes blink open, slow and glassy with fever. they search your face, and a tiny, tired smile tugs at his lips. his hand reaches up, rests gently over yours.
“minnie…” he repeats, his voice nothing more than a breath. “that’s... you haven’t called me that since highschool...”
you laugh quietly, heart twisting at the way he says the childish nickname, yet it holds an affectionate ring to it. it makes you want to stay like this forever. to keep him safe. to be the warmth he always is to everyone else.
you trail your fingers along his jaw, soft and comforting. “you’re adorable, you know that?” you whisper. and it’s not just teasing. not this time. there’s something tender in it, something honest.
his eyes flutter, and he lets out a soft yawn. “minnie…” he murmurs and repests the nickname in his tongue again, a little dazed now, and you press the towel to his skin once more.
you chuckle, heart warming at the way he says it, even though he’s still weak and feverish. it makes you realize how much you want to take care of him, how much you want to be there for him—always. maybe he’s always been your sunshine, but today, it feels like he’s the one who needs the warmth.
you brush his cheek gently, your thumb tracing the soft line of his jaw. “you’re adorable, you know that?” you say, your tone light, but there's a softness to it now that wasn’t there before. He’s not just the energetic seokmin now. he’s someone you want to protect, someone who, even in his most vulnerable state, makes you want to take care of him even more.
you don’t leave. you can’t. not when he looks so small in this bed, not when his fingers curl weakly around yours like he doesn’t want you to go.
seokmin’s eyes flutter open suddenly, and for a moment, he’s disoriented. he blinks a few times, trying to adjust to the dim light in the room, and then he sees you—still by his side, sitting right next to him, with your hair messy from the long day. the soft glow from the bedside lamp outlines your face, and his heart does this soft little skip when he notices how you look, a little worn out, but still there.
he can’t help it. he reaches out and gently brushes the strands of hair from your face, his touch tender. you stir, groaning slightly as you shift, but don’t quite wake up.
his hand lifts slowly, brushing a few strands from your face. his touch is gentle, reverent.
“y/n?” his voice is hoarse.
you blink, rubbing your eyes, clearly still half-asleep. “mmm… you up?” you murmur, not fully aware yet. “how do you feel?”
seokmin doesn’t answer immediately. his eyes linger on you, on how you’re still so worried about him despite how exhausted you must be. how you’re always looking out for him, even when you’re drained yourself. he smiles softly, but it’s gentle, sincere.
“i should be asking you that,” he says, and it’s laced with that soft, familiar concern that always makes your heart ache. you sneeze, a tiny, tired sound, and his face shifts immediately into a pout.
“ah… y/n...” he whines, leaning forward to grab your shoulders gently, pulling you toward him. “c’mere…” he murmurs, voice soft but insistent, and before you can react, he’s pulling you into his arms, tucking you against his chest.
you don’t fight it. you let yourself be drawn in, let him wrap his arms around you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. like it’s where you belong.
he tucks the blanket over both of you, his palm resting between your shoulder blades as he rubs slow, soothing circles.
you melt into him, your ear pressed against his chest, listening to the soft, steady beat of his heart.
you’re quiet for a moment, content in his arms, but there’s something bubbling up inside of him. a feeling he’s been trying to ignore for a while now. his heart beats a little faster, and he can’t quite shake the urge to say what’s been on his mind for longer than he’d like to admit.
“y/n,” he whispers. you tilt your head up, eyes meeting his. his hand cradles your cheek, thumb brushing lightly along your skin.
“i’m not going anywhere, okay?” his voice is steady, quiet but full of something that makes your breath catch. “i know you always take care of me… but this time, i want to take care of you.”
he pauses, swallows.
“and i wouldn’t want it any other way,” he says with a shy grin, like he’s trying to play it off—but the look in his bright, big eyes is serious. “you’re my best friend, yeah. but… i don’t want to be just your friend anymore. i want to be by your side… for real. not only as your ‘sunshine,’ or your study buddy. just as me, lee seokmin. and you.”
your heart stutters. everything goes still.
he’s never looked at you like this before. or maybe he has, and you just never let yourself notice.
you open your mouth, but he’s already speaking again.
“i don’t know when it happened. i just… i’ve always wanted more. i think i’ve always wanted you.”
his confession lingers in the air, warm and honest.
you stare at him, and suddenly all the lingering touches and late-night calls and “accidental” cuddles on movie nights hit you like a wave. it’s always been there. it’s always been him.
you lift your hand, press it gently to his cheek, your thumb brushing over the curve of his jaw.
“i’m not going anywhere either, seokmin,” you whisper. “i think i’ve always known… i wanted you, too.”
his smile stretches wide, eyes crinkling at the corners as he pulls you in tighter, like he’s afraid you might disappear.
“good,” he breathes. “because i don’t think i could ever let you go.” seokmin whines, practically squeezing you in his arms.
you giggle at this, sighing happily, soft and breathless, as he presses a kiss to your forehead.
and in that quiet, under the soft hum of the heater and the fading ice in the basin, something shifts. something clicks into place—
he’s your sunshine. and you’re finally ready to be his, too.
a/n: ahh !! i learned how to make gradient colors on text~ thank u for requesting a fic, it means so much to me and pushes me to write even more. would appreciate a follow and more requests like this. thank u guys sm <3 the taglist for my upcoming mingyu fic is still open !!
pairing: ringleader!dk x acrobat!reader
genre: forbidden romance, smut [18+ mdni]
wc: 2,732
warnings: bondage (but whimsical!), oral, handjob, unprotected piv sex (that's a no-no), creampie, whimpering (yeah i wrote it what did u expect)
a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE ONE AND ONLY @miniseokminnies!!!!!! bennie, this is dedicated to you for being the biggest coolest cutie g in the world and also dk's literal wife and also my best friend. ILYSM!!!!!! shoutout to @haologram for letting me ramble about this fic and for beta-ing <3
SYNOPSIS: The circus has one rule: relationships between performers are strictly forbidden. You never expected this to be a problem, but the arrival of a new and handsome ringleader changes things.
The circus is a place where almost anything goes.
That's what you've always loved about it — the whimsy, the spectacle, the extravagance. A true form of art, in your opinion.
You never planned to join the circus. Gymnastics was your first true love, but your favorite part was always the moments when you were flying; whether launching yourself off the springboard mid-vault, or flinging yourself from the uneven bars — the sensation of being suspended in the air, weightless and in defiance of gravity, was the absolute peak of euphoria.
As you grew older you still enjoyed gymnastics, but the appeal of the aerial arts began to beckon to you. The first time you took an aerial dance class, you were hooked. The way the silks wrap around your body as you twist and tumble and soar through the air — it was exhilarating.
So you joined the circus. You started traveling the country with what can only be described as a troop of talented misfits. Your fellow circus performers were strange and wonderful, and it didn't take long before you felt — for the first time in your life — at home.
Then one day the ringleader vanished. Gone without a trace, trailer empty and abandoned — the only evidence he was ever around was a single post-it note that read, in hastily scribbled pencil: don't try to find me.
But the show must go on. The circus owner, an odd and largely elusive man known only as Mr. Black, was quick to find a replacement. DK was like dynamite — from rehearsal to show he always gave his all, leading a dazzling performance that sent spectators into an uproar of delight every time. His presence drew in crowds like never before, bringing fresh vigor and life to the whole show. DK was revered by the masses, adored by the cast and crew. Everyone loved him — but not like you did.
The moment you laid eyes on him it was love at first sight. You never expected him to reciprocate — you were a humble acrobat, an integral part of the show certainly, but he was the main event. And yet, the passing glances, the casual but notably soft touches, the way he added a gentle darling to the end of his sentences when speaking to you — it all sent an utterly electric sensation through your skin, and before long you knew: he wanted you too.
There was only one problem. The circus is place where almost anything goes — but Mr. Black had one particular rule he was vehement about: relationships between cast members were strictly forbidden.
Now, this didn't prevent relations entirely. Hookups were not unheard of — circus performers were a notoriously horny bunch, after all. And Mr. Black knew he could not stop this. But he was insistent that cast members were not to date, not to court, not to pursue, and most certainly not to fall in love.
But that couldn't stop the fire that burned between you and the ringleader.
It began with a one-night stand, but quickly blossomed into a feverous, insatiable affair. Some nights became sleepless, filled instead with so many rounds of lovemaking that you lose count, but also with deep and meaningful conversation — talking about anything and everything until the sun begins to peek above the horizon. Neither of you let this interfere with your showmanship; rather, the blossoming passion felt between you two was invigorating, fueling the passion behind your performances into a more dynamic display than ever before.
You were quite good at covering your tracks. A few people were tangentially aware you were fucking the ringleader, but nobody else knew the full extent to which you were falling deeply and hopelessly in love with him.
Quietly, you slip through the opening in the thick red-and-white striped canvas walls of the main tent. The night sky outside is dark, but the interior of the tent is pitch black. It is past midnight, after all; even the night-owls amongst the cast members have ceased practicing by now and returned to their trailers for the evening. You blink a few times, attempting to get your eyes to adjust to your dim surroundings. You still can't see much, but then you notice the movement of a singular shadow. A hand suddenly clasps around your arm from behind; you gasp, whipping around to face the intruder, but the hand raises to your mouth before you can yelp, stifling the sound as it grasps your face firmly but tenderly. But this is not the first time this hand has been pressed against your face like this — even in the dark, you recognize whom it belongs to.
"Shhh," goes a velvety voice, the whisper emanating from right above you. Looking up, your eyes finally adapt to the darkness, and you find yourself peering into your favorite pair of brown eyes.
"It's just me, baby."
As the hand drops from your face, you gently thump your hand into the chest of the man standing before you.
"You scared me!" you scold him in a hushed tone.
"I'm sorry, my love," he smiles. Even in the lack of lighting, his smile shines radiantly. He pulls you into his embrace, cradling you lovingly; you sigh as you sink into the warmth of his body, his familiar scent flooding your senses.
"Hi Seokminnie," you murmur softly into his chest. Normally, even outside of work you and your fellow performers refer to each other by stage name; but you savor the intimacy of his given name rolling off your tongue.
"Hi baby," he replies, planting a kiss into the top of your head. "I missed you."
"I saw you just three hours ago," you tease playfully, grinning as you pull your head back to gaze up at him again.
"I know," he grins back. He then leans in, giving you a slow kiss on the lips. "But I couldn't kiss you during rehearsal," he mutters into your mouth.
"Why on earth did you want me to meet you in the tent at this hour?" he questions, rubbing your back softly with his large palms. A cheeky grin spreads across your face.
"I had an idea," you whisper. Before he can reply you dart off, grabbing his hand and tugging him along. Your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing tightly as you drag him toward the stage. You lead him toward the back, where the long ribbonous silks hang ominously from the ceiling down to the floor.
"Should I be afraid?" he asks jokingly. "You know I don't like heights, baby."
"Don't worry, love," you smile. "I'm not sending you into the skies."
With that you grasp at his shirt, yanking him into you as you begin to undo the buttons.
"Here?" he asks surprisedly as you slide his shirt off his body and discard it to the floor. "Darling, it's too risky—"
His mouth drops as you remove your own shirt, stunned into silence as your breasts fall free. He instinctively grabs at them, kneading the flesh tenderly in his palms as he admires you.
"God, you're beautiful," he whispers, his cock beginning to stiffen already at the mere sight of you standing half-bare before him. You smile sweetly, tugging at his waistband as you pull his pants down. The bulge in his underwear grows quickly; you daintily drag one finger up his length, sending a tantalizing shiver down his spine.
"You drive me crazy, you know that right?" he huffs, eyes locked onto you with fierce desire.
"Yes, I do know," you wink at him. You pull his underwear off, his cock springing free. His anxiety of being caught rapidly fizzles away, transforming instead into pure lust and excitement. He doesn't care of the consequences — he wants you more than anything else in the world, and he wants you now.
He watches you intensely as you finish disrobing, tugging your bottoms off with haste. Your core drips with arousal, giving away your also-excited state.
"Fuck," he groans, reaching to touch you, but you grasp his wrist to stop him. He looks up at you, his expression utterly pathetic with need.
"Let me tell you about my idea, darling," you coo at him. "Or, rather…"
You reach for the dangling silk, starting to wrap it around his arm.
"Let me show you."
His eyes widen as he realizes your plan.
"Oh," he exhales under his breath. You simply grin, grabbing his other arm and lifting it, gently but firmly binding his wrists together in the ribbon.
"Lift," you instruct, patting him on the thigh. His face drops, staring back at you with sudden concern.
"I don't think I can—"
You press your finger into his lips, cutting him off.
"This is a very basic pose, I promise," you assure him. "You won't even feel a thing."
With that, you pull the silk under his left thigh, wrapping it around once before doing the same for the right. Soon he is sitting in simple swing position, dangling slightly above the ground.
"See? You're fully supported," you tell him. "You can relax."
He hesitates, but slowly releases the tension in his body. Sure enough, the ribbon is sturdy, and holds him just fine with minimal effort.
"Whoa," he laughs. "I see why you enjoy this—ohhh…"
He groans as you wrap your hand around his cock, squeezing him tight in your fist as you drag your hand slowly up and down his length.
"Oh my god," he grumbles, his head falling back as you begin to jerk him off. He lets out a hiss as you rub your thumb over his tip, finding it wet with leaking precum.
"Look at you," you tease. "You're so hard already, and I've barely touched you."
"I can't help it," he grins. "I'm obsessed with you, darling."
You bite your lip, a smile spreading across your cheeks as you blush. You may be able to quickly send him into a flustered state, but he can reciprocate with ease. You drop to the floor, taking to your knees, making his pupils dilate with anticipation. Holding his cock, you wrap your lips around the head, suckling it lightly before taking him in your mouth. You begin to suck him off, gripping his base firmly as your head slowly bobs up and down.
"Fuck, baby," he whines. He instinctively wants to place his hand on your head, holding your hair lovingly as you pleasure him, but with the ribbon around his wrists his hands are forced to remain tied helplessly above his head. He doesn't mind, though. It's hot, you're hot; and right now, with you staring up at him so doe-eyed and beautiful — he doesn't care about anything else in the world but you.
"So good to me," he moans blissfully, gazing down at you with an intensity that makes your pussy ache. "So perfect, my pretty girl…"
With a gasp of air you pull your mouth off him, drool hanging from your lips as you stroke his spit-coated cock in your hand.
"Please," he begs, squirming slightly against his restraints. "Need you to fuck me."
"Well," you reply with a sweet smile. "Since you asked so nicely…"
You rise to your feet, taking a nearby silk and effortlessly climbing it with a series of stunning flips and twirls.
"There's my favorite performer," he praises, watching you enamored as you show off with a few more impressive twists and turns.
"The ringleader isn't supposed to have favorites," you remind him playfully as you swing yourself over to him. You grab onto his ribbon, spinning yourself around him a couple times until your silks are fully entangled.
"Well that's too bad," he replies as you lower yourself, wrapping your legs around his hips as you pull his body into yours. He mutters into your lips as you draw your face into his, noses pressed together, staring lustfully into each other's eyes. "Because you're my favorite."
He kisses you — slow and passionate. You press your heat against his cock, causing him to groan into your mouth. You may have been the one twirling around just moments ago, but you've got his head spinning wildly.
"Please," he repeats, his voice even more desperate than before. "I wanna feel you, baby."
You lift your hips, resting your entrance against the head of his cock. As much as you love to tease him, to watch him whimper and whine and beg for your pussy, you are equally as desperate for him to be inside you. You lower yourself slightly, letting his cock slip into you — an easy feat given how soaked you are right now. You let out a soft cry as you take the rest of his length, sitting atop him as you bottom out.
"Oh my god," he groans as you start to ride him. You've never fucked mid-air before, and it's certainly a bit of a challenge — but with the way his hips eagerly buck up into you, and the way you sink onto his deliciously thick cock, it's not long before you both are at the pinnacle of ecstasy.
"Fuck baby, you feel so amazing," he moans. He aches to touch every inch of your body, yearning to feel your soft skin in his grasp, but with his hands still tied above him he settles for kissing you. He kisses your breasts, your collarbones, your neck — anything his lips can reach. His only concern right now is bringing you as much pleasure as you are bringing him.
"I'm so close," you whine.
"Cum on my cock baby," he croons. "Let me see you."
"Want you to cum in me," you beg as the heat rises in your gut. "Please."
"Yes my love," he moans as he nips at the skin of your neck. He was already blissfully approaching his climax, and your pleading sends him over the edge. You cum, crying out into the empty tent, the shameless sounds leaving him unable to control himself any longer. His cock sinks deep inside you as he releases, filling you up deliciously with hot bursts of cum. Your walls flutter around his size as you ride out your high, indulging in every moment of it — every nerve ending in your body exploding like fireworks with delight.
As you both start to come down, you collapse into him, resting your head against his shoulder as your chest heaves with deep, satisfied breaths. His body relaxes as well, nearly melding into yours, skin hot and steamy against yours. You feel as if you could stay here forever — except for the fact that you are both tied up and dangling in the air right now.
"I love you so much," he says, kissing the top of your head. "But please let me down now."
You laugh, the sound music to his ears. You lift your head and kiss him on the cheek.
"Of course, my love."
You unwind your ribbon from his, falling gracefully out of your pose and landing upright, your feet hitting the floor silently. You untangle him, helping him back to his feet as well — albeit a bit less gracefully than you did it. As soon as he is free from the silk his arms are around you, squeezing you tightly in a warm embrace.
"I love you," you tell him with a satisfied sigh.
"I love you too, baby. More than I could ever put into words."
You look up at him, meeting his sparkling eyes. He smiles, beaming back at you bright as the sun.
"Come sleep with me tonight," he requests softly. "I want you next to me."
"Okay," you whisper back, a huge smile spreading across your cheeks.
"What should we do about… You know," you ask as you walk back to Seokmin's trailer, hand in hand. Somebody might see the two of you, but right now, you don't even care.
"The whole 'no relationships' thing?" he finishes your question for you. You look over to him; the beaming smile has not left his face.
"Yeah."
"Well… I don't know," he answers honestly.
"We could get expelled from the whole circus," you say glumly. "Our entire livelihoods — gone."
You reach Seokmin's trailer. He goes to open the door, but he pauses. He takes your hands in his.
"Then we'll make a new livelihood," he says softly, gazing at you with the entire universe in his eyes. "Together."
There's a name he could never forget, in his years of collar, dark, chains.
Chuck. Charles 'Chuck' Shurley.
He should have killed him. He could not. He wants to. He doesn't know if he's alive, anymore. He... Feels, the press of his fangs, the ache of the teeth that lie beyond his normal set; it's in the way his limbs grow, harden; the way his eyes feel like they expand, change into something that allows to see the fractures of the rock and the little paws of the rats that he hunts, skittering around without realizing the danger that is trapped to a wall.
Graphic Design Is My Passion.
(I know. My poster is horrendous. I've put it together with 2 straws and 1 glue and some Halloween template from Canva + free pngs. Threw it on Snow and put a retro filter and voilà! This piece of crap. I kinda love it though. #mytrash)
Hey y'all. This was supposed to be part of the #restrainstielweek #day1. As you see, I did not manage to publish it in time, but it was gathering dust on my drafts and I needed something to get my brain back online, as I have much to work on. I've edited some, but as you can see it's Not Beta Read, so any mistakes are my fault.
I've put it up as a Complete Work, but I've got one or two other chapters on the trigger. Idk if anyone will wanna read, but. Hey! Here you go. Have fun?
genre - fluff, angst, fantasy, historical au (1800s),
warnings - mentions of death, major character death, idk tbh
summary - you're living a content life in a quiet neighborhood until you step foot in an empty, ancient shop situated in the outskirts of your town and you're met with photos that take you back in another life.
word count - 2.5K
author's note - finally finally finallyyy i'm writing seokmin, my beloved. this didn't turn out like i wanted at all but i'm still gonna post :)) i came up with this while listening to timeless by taylor swift so you can say it's loosely inspired by that song 😙🤍 have a good read!!
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••Morning walks have been your favourite thing in the entire world. It's something you picked up as a habit ever since you were a kid. Your dad used to take you out for a walk every morning with your pet dog.
At that point in time, you used to complain about it. You didn't like the idea of getting up early, walking around the neighborhood, greeting old ladies and hurting your feet for it all. But then your dad passed away, and you realized that this was the only common thing you shared with him.
That's when early morning walks became your favourite. They reminded you of your dad, and your dog who only lived for seven years before leaving you all alone in this world.
It was one such comforting walk — basking in the memories of your loved ones — when you came across the vintage shop. It was still a little dark for you to figure out what exactly the banner of the shop read, but something about it gravitated you towards the unknown place.
It didn't look scary in the slightest. In fact, it felt rather welcoming in a sense that it seemed to be calling out to you, inviting you to step inside and explore its secrets.
As you pushed open the creaky door, a soft bell above it rang out, and you were immediately enveloped in a warm, comforting aroma that reminded you of old books and leather. The shop was dimly lit, with only a few flickering lamps to illuminate the space, but as your eyes adjusted, you began to make out the shapes of vintage furniture, antique trinkets, and rows upon rows of dusty old books.
The shop was silent, except for the faint ticking of a clock you couldn't locate. On the front counter, there was a stack of black and white photos, probably for sale because it said, "25 cents each."
The pictures were so beautiful. Still and frozen, yet feeling like they were alive with all that happened in the past.
One of the photographs displayed a young couple perhaps, laughing in a porch. To you, it felt like they were a newly married couple, perhaps happy in their first house together. In another one was a teenage couple kissing each other with a blooming young love. Many were photos of old ladies during their tea time, or random photos of a busy marketplace where people sell and bought. All of it evoked a strange nostalgia in you, making you feel like you've been a part of these people.
What caught your eye, however, was an old book covered in cobwebs. A picture peeked out of it's worn out pages, and when you slowly opened it, your heart squeezed slightly in your chest.
It was a photograph of a young, handsome man, laughing beside a dog. You felt strange chills erupt in your body as you flipped through the pages, witnessing remnants of this story of romance.
Time stood still, and you were suddenly transported back to many hundreds of years ago.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••You stepped out of the quaint, ivy-covered cottage that served as your sanctuary, breathing in the autumnal air of the town square. It was late evening if the fading glow of the sun was anything to go by, and the marketplace wasn't as busy as usual. Your dog trotted by your side, her tail wagging excitedly as she sniffed the sights and sounds of the square.
It was surprising to see Ember excited like that in a long time. Since your father's death, she was never nearly as happy as today which made you wonder what was causing it. Maybe it was just a beautiful day.
A beautiful day that wasn't helping your creative block at all. Your papers and ink still sat upon your desk in silence, igniting frustration in your otherwise calm demeanor.
It happened quickly. One second you were lost in thought, fingers wrapped around Ember's leash, and the second, the dog was darting towards a figure standing by the ancient stone fountain.
You followed, hearing the man's infectious laughter that quickened your heartbeat slightly even when you couldn't see his face. He was dressed in a long, dark coat, and a soft beret adorned his head. He had crouched down near Ember, playing with her, who was now lavishing him with affectionate licks and nuzzles.
You watched in a daze, something indecipherable tugging at the strings of your emotions. There was something about him that seemed almost otherworldly. A gentle something that made you feel like you were gazing at a renaissance painting come to life.
And if you weren't already so distraught, he glanced up, his eyes meeting yours, and you felt a jolt of electricity run through your veins. Now you had to hold eye contact with him without crashing down on your knees and swerving into a panic attack.
His smile faltered for a moment, and you sensed a flicker of shyness behind his eyes. But then, his face relaxed, and he spoke in a voice so sweet that you forgot your own name.
"Excuse my impertinence miss, but your dog is quite charming."
His smile had softened by the end as he stood up, and you had to raise your chin to keep up the eye contact. You felt your heart rate slow, and your knees, which had threatened to buckle, steadied themselves. You managed a smile, hoping it didn't look as wobbly as you felt.
"Thank you," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "She's a dear companion."
Ember nuzzled your hand, and you looked down at her, grateful that you had an excuse to break the eye contact. The stranger's eyes followed the movement, and his smile deepened.
"I can see that," he said, his voice filled with warmth as he looked at the dog again. "She's very affectionate. What's her name?"
"Ember," you replied, surprised that your voice came out as steady as it did. It wasn't like you to ever feel this way in front of anyone. You were always told that you were a confident lady, but something about this man made you want to put your defenses down.
"Pretty name. I'm Seokmin," he said. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss...?"
Good heavens, that was a pretty name. You felt only slightly guilty for comparing it to Ember's because he complimented her name, but his own sounded so soft, and so uniquely him. You wished there was only one man named Seokmin in this world.
You looked at him and realized he was still waiting for an answer. His cheeks were warm, and a little colored if you could correctly see. Had you embarrassed him by not answering?
Your voice came out a little strained instantly. "Y/N." You wanted to say more, and you would have if you weren't so turbulent. You didn't want him to think that you were not interested in speaking to him, because God only knows you could spend all your evening standing here.
But the man was perhaps too nice. His smile widened as he repeated your name, making your heart twitch. "Sounds like a poet's name. I've always been fond of poetry."
You felt a surge of surprise. "How did you know?"
He furrowed his brows, staring at you for a moment longer before realization dawned on him. "You're a poet?"
You nodded, unable to help the smile that he naturally pulled out of you. You had also been told that you weren't an easy presence — that it was hard to make you smile — but Seokmin mangaed it all so swiftly.
He chuckled, a sound that you liked. "I was merely making an educated guess. But I must say that you have a dreaminess to yourself. You truly look like someone who'd be fond of words."
You couldn't help the slight giggle that left your mouth, feeling a sense of wonder at how perceptive he was. "I suppose you're right," you said. "I do love words."
Seokmin glanced up at the sky, his smile intact as if it was a part of him. "In any case," he said, his voice tinged with regret. "I shall take my leave now. I apologize for taking your precious time, miss."
Not at all, sir. I could give you all of my time if you asked, you wanted to say, but didn't. You only let your heart twist and bruise in disappointment as you nodded. "Have a good day ahead, sir."
He smiled a little wider, patting Ember softly once before standing upright. Then he took a step closer, extending his hand out to you. Your heart skipped a beat and you found your hand in his before you even knew it.
He slowly took your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your fingers with his eyes closed. If you could paint, you'd paint this picture and hang it beside your bed to stare at everday. But you were a poet though, so the papers left at your desk would definitely bleed of the emotions his touch evoked in you.
Then he softly patted your hand with his other one, "I hope to see you again, Y/N."
You smiled, feeling your heart fill with fondness. "Likewise."
He smiled, tipped his beret, and walked away, leaving you feeling dazed and wondering if you'd imagined the whole encounter.
And in that moment, you knew that your life was about to change in ways you could hardly imagine. •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••You felt it before you saw it, a tear falling down your cheek and landing on the yellowed page of the memory book. You weren't sure how or what made you witness the memory you just lived. But you didn't care. Because you felt your heart clench in your chest at the page that was now open in front of you.
It was a grave among many, with Seokmin's name written on it. His lifetime was merely of 27 years. You stood above his grave with a bunch of flowers in your hand, wiping under your eye.
At this point, you felt insane. All you wanted was to pull at your hair and cry your lungs out. You had witnessed such a beautiful memory of a life you lived in some other timeline, and yet your story had been torn apart by fate.
Your last straw was seeing the last page of the book. It was a majorly blank page, with only one sentence scribbled with blank ink at the right corner.
I will find you in another lifetime, my love.
- Yours, Y/N
You felt sick to your stomach, and your knees buckled, making you slide down the counter. Hot tears fell past your eyes, making your heart clench tighter. You couldn't believe your story had ended that way, especially after you freshly felt all the emotions for this man whose grave was photographed right in front of you.
A soft chime of a bell rang in the shop, and a warm breeze hit your face. Your sob halted, head lifting up to look at the intruder whose face was glowing in the sunlight.
Your breath caught in your throat when you met eyes with the man who just walked in. You were hit with the same emotions all over again, looking at him clad in a long beige coat but without a beret this time.
"Hey— are you alright?"
You heard his voice before he crouched down near you, and you swore you could die right there. His brows were knitted in concern, and his hand was raised in the air — clenching and unclenching — afraid to touch you.
He was so beautiful, just like he was in another life. Just like he probably was in every life. You felt your aching heart swell with insurmountable emotions that you couldn't process — not at the moment.
"Seokmin." You whispered out his name, making his eyes widen in surprise. He blinked, unable to word out his confusion.
"Excuse my impertinence," you whispered, holding onto his large hand and letting out a shaky breath. "But you're quite charming."
Before he could even blush, your lips found his. Perhaps, he would report you for harassment, or push you away and run, but you couldn't sit back and watch the man who died on you in another life walk into this one. You will make sure he doesn't die on you again.
TROPES: older brother figure to lover, childhood friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, jealousy, skinship, dk being a blushy idiot and you being a plain idiot.
lines are funny when it comes to your life. lines drawn from one point to another, lines forced to keep your work life and your personal life, but most important the big daunting line between you and your crush of nearly two years now, dokyeom.
it's funny, it really is, given how much time you've spent riling yourself up over him, telling yourself that he should retain the role he always had in your life: the older brother figure. because dokyeom's heart-warmingly kind, no even more so– blood-curdingly kind, painfully nice to everyone he meets, patient beyond imagination. he's worse than any nice guys you've met, simply because he fits the archetype too well to be real.
"don't you get tired?" you ask him, when he shows up at your door, clutching bags of take-out food, no doubt after hearing from your mom how you haven't had a chance to eat. yet, you'd emphasized to her after you'd made the mistake of letting her know you were too busy to cook.
"shouldn't i be asking you that?" dokyeom grunts as he lets himself into your house, familiar with the place like the back of his hand. "i know mr. ko called you in and gave you an earful for missing the last deadline, but that's no excuse to skip meals."
okay, worth mentioning is the fact that while you knew dokyeom since childhood thanks to the fact that you grew up in the same household, you'd also ended up moving to the city to sign a contract with the publishing company where he worked at, as an editor. it was half a coincidence, because you can't say you sought out the company simply on its merits.
you sigh as you stretch out a crick in your neck, "i'm not doing this because mr. ko told me to. i'm fine, i'm just trying to clear up my schedule before the end of the year. god knows i don't want to be working on new year's eve."
"and you won't," dokyeom takes off his coat, revealing a light blue sweater underneath, one that you've grown fond of. it's a sweet sweater, for a sweet man.
"well, thanks, anyway. for the food. sorry if my mom pestered you into doing this."
"i don't want to hear a word out of you till you've eaten."
you obey him silently, taking out the lukewarm bánh mì from its bag and starting to eat. dokyeom watches with a slight smile, noting how your hair was in a ponytail, a rare occurrence. just another indication that you were forcing yourself to work too hard.
"what am i going to with you…" he muses to himself, slowly tidying up the mess on your writing corner. the little wooden table you'd spent hours studying and testing before buying, is crowded with stationery and a few notebooks. your laptop sits blank, screen indicating that it was close to dying. dokyeom brushes off the stray balls of napkins off and into the small trashcan next to the chair, followed by all the tiny eraser dust particles. he's just plugged in your laptop when he hears you call out his name softly.
"hmm?" he calls back. "you want some coffee?" you ask and when dokyeom arches a brow at you, you wave your empty hands, "i'm done eating! can a girl not want a warm liquid post-meal?"
"fine, fine. i'll have some, thanks." he laughs as you glare at him, mumbling incoherencies about him.
"oh, right, i almost forgot to tell you," dokyeom pulls out his phone, ten minutes later when the two of you are settled on the couch, waiting for your steaming mugs to settle down a little. "there's a department-wide party this sunday, an end of year gathering or something. you should come, i hear the budget this year's crazy. it's at a fancy hotel and everything."
you narrow your eyes at dokyeom, "i don't know about that. work parties are a slog, dude. i can't stand to get drunk with the people who literally torture the creativity out of me."
"that's harsh, y/n. and an exaggeration."
"whatever…" you fiddle with the sleeves of your sweatshirt, "i… i don't even have a date. it's kind of a short notice to find someone anyway–"
"i'll be your date," dokyeom offers, faster than either of you could comprehend his response. his ears flush, "um, i mean, i'll go with you, if you don't… mind."
"why would i mind? i just thought you'd have someone to go with already," you say and when you catch the shy look on your friend's face, "unless of course, nobody's asked you. which i totally understand."
"hey! i don't want to take names but i've had to tell some people no already. so don't–"
"oh? so you rejected the people who did ask you? i thought you were too nice to do that. "
"yeah, i did. i didn't want to go with them. i don't know them well enough to guarantee they'll be fun for the entire night. plus, it's messy going with someone from work. you agree once, who's to say they'll keep asking you for life?"
"i'm someone from work, too," you point out, averting your gaze to the coffee, watching the evaporation swirl around.
"you're different, silly," dokyeom chuckles out, arm hitting yours, "we're already messy. i knew you before work, and i'll know you long after. we're more than that, you know?"
that? whatever he meant, you find your heart soaring ever so much, "hm, i suppose you're not wrong. fine, i'll come to the party." if it's with you.
that night you find yourself obsessing over this conversation. what did dk mean we're already messy? you were messy? you knew he didn't mean that like a bad thing but the word unsettled you anyway. your feelings for him only made it harder to listen to him objectively, especially when he says stuff like we're more than that. more than what, exactly?
–
dokyeom's having a hell of a day, carrying around a headache he's had since this morning and a heavy to-do list that doesn't seem to be going anywhere despite the fact that he's been at his desk for about five hours now. he sits back with a grunt, taking his eyes off his screen for a moment to take a break.
as soon as he tunes back into the physical world around him, he overhears his coworkers chatting near his desk, instant coffeee in hand.
"yo, you're kidding! how'd you get her number finally?" ren, a newbie, elbows the man next to him. vernon, the man in question, is grinning too wide for his own good.
"i just asked her for it. i told her i had some important doubts about her new manuscript."
"that didn't annoy her?"
"nah, y/n's chill like that. she was super nice about it, too, telling me she would love to hear from me."
ren gasps dramatically, "no way, do you think she–"
dokyeom clears his throat with a start, having had enough as an eavesdropper for the day. he stands up, making eye-contact with vernon who shoots him a nonchalant smile. it pisses dokyeom off, how wasn't he bothered?
his headache's only getting worse so he decides to get himself something to eat while he's at it. some fresh air might help him. he shoots the pair a stiff smile as he leaves the office, hand clutching his phone a little too hard. as he gets into the elevator, he's alerted of a message.
speak of the devil, he thinks when your name pops up on his screen. am i expected to dress formal for this party? you ask.
only if u want to :) he shoots back.
… what kind of an answer is that.
an honest one. expectations are only as high as you want them to be.
you know i hate you right
enough to ask me to be ur date? <3 <3
you're befuddled on the other side of the chat, "who asked who?" you mumble, choosing to not respond to dokyeom's frustrating reply to your very genuine question.
dokyeom, on the other hand, is feeling much better now that he's had a chance to talk to you. where you're reserved about your feelings for him, dokyeom really couldn't be more transparent about them. or so he thinks. but really, he's convinced he couldn't be clearer about how he feels about you– instantaneous responses to your texts, making sure you eat on time, corresponding with your mom to reassure her of your good health, careful attention to what you're into at the time so he can buy you the things you refuse to splurge on.
to dokyeom, this was the clearest confession of his love for you. the only reason he hasn't vocalized it in person is because he doubts any good would come out of it. he's more than happy with the relationship he has with you, a safe enough distance but a warm closeness anyway. besides, he's pretty certain you think of him as more of a brother than anything. an older brother figure you've known since you were children. better to keep things the way they were. right?
–
dokyeom's increasily unsure about his convictions to keep things the same. maybe it had something to do with the fact that you look breathtaking tonight. you're adorned in the prettiest pink dress, eyes sparkling more than usual thanks to the glitter you'd dabbed on and hair cascading down to your shoulders in curls that has him a little weak in the knees.
he does visibly gape at you when you greet him at the door with a small smile. he's flustered enough to be out of words so you're left speaking to a shell of him. "hey, you're a little earlier than i imagined. i'm almost ready. come in though."
when he stands still despite your invitation, you frown. "dokyeom?" he bites his lip as he comes to and nods, walking in after you. "you good?"
"yeah, just a little nervous."
"nervous?"
"you look really pretty," he musters, reddening when your eyes widen at his honest confession, "i'm a little dizzy." the two statements are correlated but you don't pick up on that, instead becomes concerned. you take his arm and your cold touch on his arm only sends him further down his dazed condition.
"dizzy? that's no good. come sit," you pull him to the couch, making him take a seat. god, dokyeom thinks he's dreaming when you touch his cheek, "do you need medicine? warm tea? water?"
he clears his throat, "n-no, i'm fine," he lets himself fall against the cushions, closing his eyes against the rush in his veins. "just– you should go get ready. i'll be back to normal soon."
you look at him in confusion for a prolonged few seconds before giving up and doing as he said. when you come back, you have a lip gloss and heels on. "okay," you announce to the back of dokyeom's head, "i'm ready, dk."
he sits up quickly, head clearing up now. he turns around to you and smiles a cheerful smile that is much more like him. "alright! let's go!"
you watch him warily anyway, all the way to his car. "ah, your hair–" you reach out to the back of his head where some hair stuck out from his earlier meltdown. gently, you brush the disturbances away, fingers swift in their adminstrations. dokyeom thinks he might break down again, the gesture making him feel giddy all over again. it doesn't help when he feels your warm breath on his neck when you sigh, returning to your seat. "ok, no more hair casualities, we are set to go."
dokyeom can't afford to look up at you so he simply starts the car, keeping his head straight so he can drive the both of you to the venue safely.
being in a room bustling with people he knows really helps dokyeom, for as soon as you reach the hall, he takes off in a rush, something about having to greet everyone that's important. you don't know to feel about his flight but you manage to shrug it off, trusting him enough to know he'll be back before long.
you station yourself near the refreshments, finding yourself a flute of champagne and some hors d'oeuvres to keep you company while dokyeom does what he does. you find yourself mildly enjoying yourself, people-watching all sorts of groups and downing your second serving of champagne, when you're joined by someone.
it's kitty, a coworker you're less than fond of, thanks to her loud mouth and overwhelming beauty. she's dressed in an immaculate white dress, face glowing even in the harsh light as she smiles at you. "y/n!"
"kitty," you acknowledge her with a cordial nod of your own, hoping this wouldn't take too long.
"how've you been? you look much better than the last time i saw, so not too bad i hope!"
your smile sours, "i'm fine, kitty. nice to see you're feeling as chatty as usual."
"i am! what better ocassion than a party to be social," she remarks pointedly and you contain a sigh. kitty was an important coworker, unfortunately for you, with her in charge for your public image and general likeability. it really should be criminal how little she likes you for someone who has to make sure you appeal to the masses.
"i didn't even think i'd see you around. you have a date?"
"i'm here with dokyeom, yeah."
this seems to startle kitty, because she's speechless for a moment. "dokyeom? he said yes to you?"
ignoring whatever undertones of disbelief kitty's giving off, you roll your eyes, "it was more that he forced me to come with him, but yeah, sure, however you wanna say it."
"wow, dokyeom's really kind to do that. he even turned me down. he must really treasure your friendship."
now you've had enough of her insinuations, so you cut the chat short. "sorry, kitty, i need to use the bathroom. excuse me."
you break away from her, feeling the weight of her glare at your aloofness. you really don't care for her snarky remarks usual, long-accustomed to the kind of gossip she likes to generate. but tonight, your tolerance was low. you didn't want to think about why dokyeom asked you to come to the party, and you certainly didn't want kitty's suggestions marinate in your mind. but it's too late, you feel your chest tighten at the thought of dokyeom feeling pity for you, asking you to come because that's just how kind he was, and you, his best charity case.
dokyeom spots you from across the room where he's eventually recovered from his weak condition. he feels guilt spike through his veins when he sees you storm away from kitty, who's no doubt spewed some obnoxious nonsense to make you leave the room with that tense expression of yours.
he excuses himself from his conversation to run off after you, managing to catch you as you leave the hall.
"y/n!" he calls out, catching ahold of your shoulder. "where are you going?"
you stop, startled by dokyeom's interception. you slowly turn around, trying your best to neutralize your expression. "um, just using the bathroom. i drank that champagne a little too fast."
"oh, you sure you're okay? i saw you talking to kitty earlier and i know how frustrating she can be."
you laugh mirthlessly, "i'll be okay as long as i don't run into her in the next five months or so." you turn away, presumably toward the washroom. you'd hoped your explanation would be enough to soothe dokyeom's curiosity but then you hear him follow after you.
"dk?"
"i'll go with you."
"to the washroom?"
"uh, yeah. i'll walk you in case you can't find your way back."
"they have signs everywhere and the party's in the biggest hall here– i– whatever, i need to pee too bad to argue with you right now."
from thereon, dokyeom doesn't leave your side for a second. you don't know what to think of it but you don't complain because your mood's much better when you spend your time by his side, shitting on the ocassional passerby and laughing at each other's jokes.
dokyeom regrets leaving you by yourself in the first place, especially because he's almost too certain that kitty had told you he'd turned her invitation down. it was awkward to even look at her, let alone talk to her. but then again, she's never been one to care about other people's comfort because about halfway into the night, you spot her trailing back to your table with a few people following her.
the group crowds your table and you find yourself pressed against a stranger who no doubt works with kitty. he shoots you a sleazy smile and you're grateful when you feel dokyeom subtly pull you closer toward him with a hand around your waist. what you don't expect is him to leave him arm there, draped down your back, finger resting against the small of lower back, sending chills up your spine.
"hey, you two! what're you upto, you've been stuck to this table for the entire night," kitty laughs.
dokyeom notices vernon among the group, much to his chagrin, smiling at you boyishly. you wave back at vernon with a soft chuckle, thankful that not everyone in this crowd was a snoozefest.
"just talking," is dokyeom's curt response. "are y'all enjoying the party?" he adresses the larger group, making it a point to not look at kitty.
"i wish there was more real food," someones pipes in with a grunt and people laugh in agreement.
"the wine's really good though. expensive stuff," vernon points out, looking at the wine glass propped between you and dokyeom.
"yeah, it's maybe the best thing about this party," you chime in with a smile. before dokyeom can somehow bring up the fact that he'd been drinking out of the same glass as you, ren gasps out loud, "oh my god, guys, the mistletoe man's back!"
you look around in confusion and find a man dressed in green overalls walking around with some mistletoe stuck his chest, neatly tied with a red ribbon stuck to his chest. "the fuck?" you mumble out and dokyeom laughs at your bewilderment. "it's a stupid tradition," dokyeom says softly to you, "heard someone say it's to foster closer connections between workers."
"by forcing them to kiss?" you whisper back with a grimace as you watch a pair break away from their kiss with bitter expressions. it's fine though because they look at each other's disgust and break into laughter, their table cheering them on.
"i think it's cute!" kitty remarks, watching the man as he turns around from a few tables over.
"shit, i think he's coming over here," ren curses. "why's that a bad thing?" kitty questions, smiling, eyes glued to the side of dokyeom's face. you might gouge your eyes out one of these days. you're too busy ignoring the ruckus kitty's causing with her frantic giggles as the mistetoe man approaches her. but then he goes past her and she goes silent, eyes coming to still behind you. that's when you realize the mistletoe man's standing square between you and dokyeom.
you turn around to the man with wide eyes but he simply smiles, "the mistletoe man knows when he sees two lovers!" you don't know what he means till you become aware of dokyeom's arm around you. he pulls away in surprise and his face is red when you look up at dokyeom.
"this is stupid," you murmur, hoping he'll agree and you wouldn't have to participate in this tradition.
"kiss! kiss! kiss!" ren starts a chant and everyone but kitty and vernon is quick to join in. dokyeom looks bewildered at the unison, and he looks at you, then down at your lips. "we don't have to do this," he comforts you.
"do you want to?" you ask him under your breath. you feel yourself flushing.
"i'll do it if you want to."
you hate how agreeable dokyeom is sometimes, wishing he would decide for you, for this once. you don't want to think about all the eyes on you, the whispering that's no doubt been reignited. everyone knows you and dokyeom have been friends and maybe something more for years now, but to witness conclusive proof is thrilling to them.
you feel frozen with the weight of the decision upon you. but then kitty opens her stupid mouth, "ah, dokyeomie, you don't have to do something you don't want to–"
that spurs you on, you find yourself pressing yourself against dokyeom, raising yourself to his height so you can press your lips to his. he meets you halfway, as if he'd been waiting for you to do exactly this, his large hand finding your cheek so he can seal the deal.
this goes without saying, you've never kissed dokyeom before, but the way it feels so natural has you questioning if this really was the first time. his lips are pillowy against yourself, his breath hitting your face sweetly when you finally pull away. his eyes are hooded like you've never seen them and you really wish you could memorize this feeling, ingrain it into your mind for later.
but the moment breaks when you hear the table around you erupt with all kinds of reactions. you don't care to look though, too busy with your own reaction to handle. your heart's fluttering but your eyes feel watery when you pull away from dokyeom. you don't know what to think of all the lines you've been worrying about, the line between you and dokyeom cracking the moment you leaned into his lips.
–
dokyeom's scared for his life right now. after the chaos around you settled a little, you'd looked at him and quietly asked if he could drive you home right now. he'd been quick to agree, following you out of the door without bidding anyone goodbye. but you're silent the entire walk to his car, not answering him when he asks if you're okay.
now that you're settled in the car, he pauses before starting the engine. "y/n," he starts softly. you focus on your breathing, staring down at your hands blankly. "i'm sorry."
this makes you look up at him, mouth slightly ajar. "...why are you sorry?" you ask quietly, lips set in a narrow line.
"i– that must have made you uncomfortable. i didn't know what else to–"
"i was the one who kissed you," you comment, looking away and out the window, hands now fists in your lap. dokyeom watches as you tuck some stray strands of hair behind your ear, "i should be sorry."
should be, because you weren't a bit sorry about the kiss. the circumstances that caused it? sure. but the kiss itself wasn't something you would undo.
dokyeom doesn't know what to say because there's so much to say. where does he even start? "i thought you always saw me as a… brother."
"what?" your eyes hold a sea of disbelief in them but then as you blink back at a solemn dokyeom, you think it's not that crazy for him to think that after all. "well, i used to. how could i not? mom had drilled it into my system to rely on you like you were family."
dokyeom hums, "...and?"
"i mean, i clearly don't think… i don't have the feelings of a sister toward you," you mumble, your cheeks on fire when you hear your poor phrasing. "if i did, it would be a problem that i wanted to kiss back there."
"you did?" dokyeom gapes and you look at him with a slight tilt of your head. "i– obviously!" you tell him.
he swallows, "wow. i don't even know what to think–" it's his turn to look at his hands that are trembling, "honest to god, i've never harboured anything but romantic feelings for you, y/n." he says this, head lowered as if in shame, ears revealing how embarassed he was. "i love your mother, but i swear she wanted to kill me the way she encouraged you to call me your brother when you were out with me."
you grimace, holding back a chuckle, "i'm sorry…"
"don't be," dokyeom sounds truly defeated, as if the work of hiding his feelings from you had finally caught up with him. "i'm sorry i didn't make myself clearer sooner. never imagined we'd talk about this because we got bullied into our first kiss."
you sigh, nodding as you mutter an agreement. dokyeom rises from his slouch slowly, coming to lock eyes with you. one of his hands comes to rest atop your own fist, prying it open so that you were holding his. you feel warm beyond imagination, feeling like you might burst open with the intensity of your feelings for dokyeom, wondering how you'd ever managed to keep them secret.
"can…" you stop, voice hoarse, licking your lips nervously, "will you kiss me? for real this time?"
it doesn't take dokyeom a moment's hesitation to close the distance betwen you, his soft lips back on yours, not soon enough for you to get used to the gentle saccharine daze that overcame you. your unoccupied hand card through his hair, similar to a few hours ago when you'd been fixing it, but this time dokyeom lets out the mewl he'd been contatining last time.
he pulls away with a somewhat grunt, eyes starry, "there's no way you didn't know what your were doing." you look back at him, a little breathless with a look of complete confusion.
he sighs, giving in and rest his head against yours, "when you were fixing my hair earlier, i thought i'd die of a heart attack. finally give up and move on from you, if only in death."
"don't say that, dk," you scold him, hands around him in concern, "and i don't understand why– i mean i feel like we've touched… in other ways before so–"
"i don't know either!" he exclaims, "i just– you looked so fucking gorgeous tonight and then you kept being oblivious to how obviously down bad i am for you– i just couldn't."
"hey, you weren't obvious if i didn't know! that's unfair…" you mumble, looking away with flushed cheeks. it didn't make sense to you.
but dokyeom simply laughs into your shoulder, pulling you into a hug, not much of a change for your dynamic. you'd hugged dokyeom countless times before but now you feel unimaginably closer to him, like you were actually holding him, the entirety of him in your arms. it was incredible, the warmth that blossomed inside you in the silence that surrounded you. it was love.
love shows up even in the early mornings when you're with dokyeom. he'd slept over after your date last night, when you'd insisted you would be too lonely to sleep if he promptly took off (like a gentleman, he commented). you'd laid in bed till 2 am, kissing and talking the night away, his hands finding their indents underneath your worn-out tee.
you wake up to his nose snuggled in your neck, breathing softly in slumber, hair sticking out every which way. you can't help the loving giggle that leaves you, making him stir in his sleep, arm coming to sit atop your bare stomach.
"sweet boy," you mumble, placing a kiss atop his forehead and watching in awe as his brown eyes come to life at the action. "you awake?" you jokingly ask but dokyeom responds with a groggy grunt, smiling with fluttering eyes.
you run a finger through his hair. he groans, "don't wake up yet." you laugh, stroking a strand behind his ear, "but i'm already–"
he cuts you off with a pout, "no, don't wake up, love. please, want to sleep some more."
you sigh and shift impossibly closer to him. "all right, then. can't argue with that logic."
with that, you doze off again. how you manage to fall right back asleep is beyond you, though it might have something to do with the fact that dokyeom's presence brings you a serenity you didn't know you could feel, a feeling that's better than the soft comforter that he himself had picked out for your bed. his arms hold you close, the sweetness melting your heart the whole time you dream, dreaming of dokyeom and of love.
a/n: another dialogue prompt i did a little while back. one of my bigger projects is almost finished and ready for posting. thank you everyone for your continued support and patience~ mwah~!
You stand up abruptly, the chair scraping backward with the force of your reaction. Seokmin remains seated, unperturbed by your intensity. His relaxed posture is far different from yours, with your hands balled into trembling fists at your sides and muscles tensed in preparation for a thus undetermined fight or flight. He looks down his sharp nose at you, brows raised just slightly and lips pressed into a thin, flat line. It's as you're staring him down, his aloof expression fueling the fire of rage in your stomach, that you finally find your voice, fight overtaking flight.
"I will find out who killed my husband, with or without your help," you say, each word leaving your mouth sharply and determinedly, in a way that you hope is forceful enough to get a reaction out of him.
So you stare Seokmin down, keeping your expression steely as he meets your gaze. Finally, he narrows his eyes, leaning back in his chair with an indiscernible expression that makes your heart skip a nervous beat. You maintain your cold, tough veneer as best you can, jaw clenched so tightly shut that it's beginning to hurt.
However, as the silence continues to hang in the air, you find your resolve faltering, brows slowly drawing closer together in response to his silence. A muscle in your jaw ticks, and you immediately break character. Your shoulders slump from the tension, and you lean your head back to stretch your stiff neck with a sigh.
"Seokmin," you whine, glancing down at your script, "pausing for dramatic effect is nice and all, but did you really have to wait that long?" You skim over the text again, reassuring yourself that you did indeed say the correct line. Your co-star doesn't reply immediately, once again, and you look up with the full intention of scolding him — only to find him gazing at you already, cheeks and ears tinged a pleasant pink.
"Seokmin?" you ask, and he shakes his head, eyes darting away from you. Nervously, he clears his throat, eyes still cast to the side, and you find yourself even more perplexed than before.
"You feeling okay?" you ask, setting down the script and reaching a hand out to feel his forehead. He flinches at the sudden contact but then goes completely still as you try to gauge his temperature.
"Sorry," he blurts, lightly grabbing your hand as you begin to pull it away.
"What's wrong? Did you forget your line?" you ask, gently rubbing circles on the back of his hand with your thumb. Seokmin looks down at your joined hands and purses his lips nervously,
"Not exactly…" His reticence and reluctance to look you in the eyes leave you both confused and a bit irritated at his antics now, especially since this scene had been going so well this read-through. It had taken you so long to figure out just how to deliver this scene properly, only for Seokmin to freeze up on you during your best run yet.
You heave a sigh, ready to tell him it's time to call it a day, but he tightens his grasp on your hand ever so slightly, as though sensing your intentions.
"It's just… I'm embarrassed to admit it."
"Admit what?" Seokmin's shyness suddenly makes you anxious — what could possibly have made him so silent? After taking a moment to compose himself, he finally lifts his chin and meets your gaze, still looking rather sheepish.
"You, um — you know how sometimes people say someone is hot when they're angry?" he asks, voice small. You nod, and Seokmin glances away again before continuing.
"Yeah, you're— I—"
"Seokmin," you interrupt, reaching out with your free hand to card your fingers through his hair, giggling under your breath as you watch him struggle to find the words. "Are you trying to say I'm hot when I'm acting angry?"
"You just looked so pretty I got distracted!" he whines, finally breaking out of whatever anxious funk he'd been in, now grasping your hand in both of his. "I couldn't remember my lines, but I didn't want to make you feel awkward." His exaggerated pout immediately has you laughing at his cuteness, and you sit down on the arm of the chair he's in and shake your head fondly.
"Ah, and everyone was saying you're the professional," you tease, and he whines again.
"Hey, I'm good at my job! It isn't my fault you're so pretty," he retorts, though his voice trails off at the end, seemingly because he notices the sudden lack of space between the two of you.
"Well, how do we work past this in time for filming, then?" you ask, and at that Seokmin smiles blindingly.
"I have a few ideas," he says, eyes sparkling, and although you find yourself taken aback at his sudden boldness, you soon regain your composure enough to respond in kind. You lean in even closer, breath mingling as you reply,
pairing: lee seokmin x female reader
genre: runaways au + criminals au
wc. 2.5k
a/n: this jumps from two different timelines, i hope it’s not too confusing lol. one timeline is inspired by triple h’s “365 Fresh” mv and the other timeline is inspired by the fic “polygraph” by @boosoonhao (which i believe isn’t on tumblr any more but nonetheless, i gotta give credit)
“Lee Seokmin,” the interrogator gruffs, holding up a manila file folder, “is that your real name?”
“yes.”
“Do you know why you’ve been brought in for questioning?”
Seokmin doesn’t understand why such formality is being taken. He knows. The interrogator knows. The whole watching world knows why Seokmin is being kept behind metal bars. And yet, no one but you knows the truth.
“yes.”
>>><<<
Seokmin is dressed nicely. Too nicely for this bar. His navy dress shirt and slacks are paired with an itch near the nape of his neck. An itch to do something incredibly impulsive and stupid. An itch to do something like steal a car.
And so he does.
It’s just his luck that the car happens to be a Porsche. But when he nearly runs you over, he doesn’t think it’s luck anymore. He thinks it’s something closer to fate. Something closer to mercy.
He only notices the red under your nails and the dried blood on your knees after he’s offered to give you a ride. He decides to ignore it.
“Where to?” he asks nervously over the hum of the radio.
“Anywhere but here.” You answer sticking half your head out the window.
>>><<<
The interrogator chuckles lightly after reading one line of Seokmin’s file. “Did you notice anything odd about the woman who you picked up on the night of the 25th?”
Seokmin knows his answer, yes. But he doesn’t think it’s for the reasons the interrogator wants to hear.
“no.” he lies. The interrogator seems to believe it.
“Well,” the interrogator continues, his voice turning low as if he’s letting Seokmin in on a private joke, “the hitchhiker you picked up that night is a criminal. Did you know that Mr. Lee? Or am I supposed to believe it was a coincidence?”
“Believe what you want.” Seokmin says dryly.
“I can get you out of here Mr. Lee.” The interrogator leans towards Seokmin. “If you give me some details about the girl, I can get you out.” The interrogator waits for him to say something. Seokmin stays quiet. “Seokmin—can I call you that?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “I heard you’re quite the artist.”
“Where’d you hear that from?”
The interrogator ignores Seokmin’s question. “Just draw her as you remember.” He says sliding a blank sheet of paper and a pencil across the table. “Draw her and I can get you out of here, Seokmin.”
Seokmin takes a long look at the paper before he crumbles it and throws it at the mirror. He hopes the paper hits the mirror close to the faces of someone spectating.
The interrogator shakes his head. “Seokmin,” he utters with such pity it almost works, “I’m on your side. I want what’s best for you.”
Seokmin scoffs. “Isn’t it time for your lunch break or something?”
“It is actually.” He stands up. “While I’m gone, I want you to think about what she would if it was her in this room and not you.” The interrogator leaves without another word.
Seokmin smiles at the realization that they don’t know what you look like.
>>><<<
He doesn’t tell you it’s a stolen car. He imagines in this scenario ignorance must be bliss. But when he stops for gas after driving for hours to the middle nowhere, he finds you’re not the only who’s been ignorant. More specifically, he finds two duffel bags overflowing with cash in the trunk.
“What did you do? Rob a bank?” you ask breathlessly, staring at the money with wide eyes. Seokmin elects to not let you in on clueless he is.
“And how about you?” he bites back, nodding to the blood still caked under your nails, “did you kill somebody?”
You squint at him for a while. Before reaching down and slipping out one bill from a bundle. You don’t look away from him. Seokmin doesn’t either.
You wave the bill in his face. “I’m gonna get some snacks.” You head towards the shop.
Seokmin grabs some money for himself and follows you inside.
>>><<<
The interrogator has returned, and he taps one finger on the metal table while the other flips through the pages of the file.
“Mr. Lee, were you aware of what exactly was inside the silver Porsche 911 Turbo S?”
“no.” Seokmin answers honestly.
>>><<<
“Don’t you have a life to get back to?” Seokmin asks at some point to fill the silence. You had both gotten tired of the radio.
You shake your head, and open the window slightly. “Not really. Do you?”
He doesn’t answer. “Why not?” he prods further. Although if Seokmin were to guess, he wouldn’t say you were particularly interested in this conversation. Not with the way you shuffle your arm through the plastic bag full of mismatched snacks.
You tear open a bag of skittles. “Life is too messy to get attached.”
“It sounds like you’re just sad.”
“Maybe I am.” You respond. He holds his hand out for a skittle. You drop a couple in his palm. All purple ones, he holds back a sigh. “Doctor says it comes with the seasons.”
He swallows the skittles like they’re pills. “Well, the seasons come and go.”
You tilt your head in thought. And this time when he holds out his hands for more skittles, you give him one of each color.
>>><<<
“What role did you play in the heist, Mr. Lee?”
“None, sir.”
“Then how did you come into possession of the money?”
“Luck.”
The interrogator hesitates. “You call that luck?”
“Fate then maybe.”
The interrogator looks around the interrogation room, gliding his eyes along every metal surface in the empty room. He raises his one eyes brow, unconvinced.
“Mercy.” Seokmin says as a last attempt.
The interrogator accepts it.
>>><<<
It goes on like that for longer than Seokmin would like to admit. The days he spent with you on the road in a stolen Porsche almost had him believing that living life was easy. Because with you, it sort of was. You spent the nights in parking lots or in motels if you could find one. You take turns driving. Neither of you have your license.
One day, while you’re driving, Seokmin sticks half his body out of the sunroof. You don’t say anything about it even though it’s raining. Even though you’re getting wet from it. Instead you roll down your window. Seokmin can see your arm stick out from his view above the car. Your fingers stretch out wide as if you’re trying to capture the wind in your palm. Seokmin smiles at the grey clouds. He screams—
are we alive, then he whispers, “or are we dreaming.”
He can hear you humming the song in the driver’s seat.
>>><<<
“Seokmin, I believe you’re innocent.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Well in that case,” Seokmin retaliates, raising his cuffed hands, “how soon can I get out of these?”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Mr. Lee.”
Seokmin sighs.
“Why’d you steal the car?” The interrogator probes. And for a second, Seokmin thinks he sounds genuinely curious. Seokmin’s almost sad he can’t give the man a real answer.
Seokmin settles for a shrug. The interrogator sighs.
“Listen, Seokmin. You’re smart. I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now, but we aren’t all that interested in you. We, not just me, but we believe you’re innocent. We know that you just got caught up in all this. Wrong place wrong time type beat.” He pauses for a moment. “It’s the girl we want Seokmin. Tell us what you can about the girl and you can go free.”
Seokmin hesitates. “What’s the catch?”
The interrogator is quick to respond. “No catch. You walk free. Seriously.”
“Sounds hard to believe.”
>>><<<
Everything changes the day you watch the news.
“So you are a robber.” You say to him as he exits from the bathroom. You’re seated with your knees up to your chest at the foot of the motel bed. He can see the reflection of the TV in your eyes. He reads something about a multi-million-dollar robbery from the safe of a government official. He reads something about a getaway car having half the cash. He reads something about a Porsche. He reads something about it being last seen at the bar he went to. He reads the realization settle in your eyes. Although he’s not sure what you expected.
Everything changes the night Seokmin comes clean.
Because the night he comes clean, is the night you do too.
>>><<<
“Do you know what she did, Mr. Lee? Do you know what crime she committed?”
Seokmin bites his lip, forcing silence.
“She killed the Minister.” The interrogator lets it sink in. “She committed cold-blooded murder with her bare hands. Then let you take her across district lines. Keeping you in the dark.”
Seokmin cracks his neck.
“Mr. Lee at any point during your time together were you made aware that you were travelling with a foreignly trained assassin?”
Seokmin laughs, and the interrogator slams his fist against the table. It makes the one-way mirror shake.
“She had you believe she was innocent, Seokmin. She had you believe that you were the criminal.” He all but screams.
Seokmin meets the interrogator’s eyes steadily. “Is that supposed to make me angry or something?”
>>><<<
“You don’t have to stay.” He tells you as you get ready to leave the motel the next morning.
“Yeah, I know,” you mutter, pushing your hair behind your shoulder, “but what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t.”
Seokmin can’t tell if the word friend makes his heart leap or sink.
Somehow, it’s easy to be on the run. The car isn’t recognized. Maybe people watch the news even less than he thought.
You stay at motels less. Seokmin doesn’t mind. He gets to watch you nod off while he drives. He gets to watch the bullets you send into the sky.
Close your eyes, you say pointing to a star in the sky, make a wish.
His wish comes true when you press your lips to his one night. It’s not gentle or soft. Your lips don’t fit together perfectly. There is no sign that you and him are etched in the stars. Instead It's a mess of lips and limbs. Tugging of hair and of the hem of his shirt. A mix of open-mouthed kisses and fast paced hearts. And somewhere between the mess of it all Seokmin thinks he says I love you and is surprised to find that the voice doesn't sound like his but of someone else’s entirely.
He regrets the words the moment they slip out. He wants to yank them back from the air they pollute but the letters are already out of his reach. He doesn’t mean it. He realizes a second too late that he only loves you in the moment.
And somehow, in the next kiss you give him you express that you understand. And that in this moment, you love him too.
Thinking back to that time, it’s all a blur painted across white clouds and blue skies. One. Two. Three bold strokes. Then a fourth made by a paintbrush dipped in memory, and a fifth stroke made by a shade that encompasses you. Seokmin thinks life is kind of like that. Messy and blurry. A painting without meaning. A car with no destination. A movie shot in vertigo.
But being on the run doesn’t stay easy for long.
>>><<<
“Mr. Lee, did you know she’d run?”
“How do you mean?”
“When you got caught, Seokmin, did you know she’d run? Did you know she’d let them take you away as long as it meant she got to escape?”
Seokmin can’t help the way the words sting.
>>><<<
“What happens if we get caught?” Seokmin whispers into the curve of your body one night.
“What about it?” You ask back, pulling at the ends of his hair.
“Will you run?”
You grab his hand, entwining it with yours before you bring it against your lips.
“Ride or die,” you press into the back of his hand.
Seokmin whispers it back, ride or die.
>>><<<
“It’s almost time to call it a day, Seokmin. Anything else you can tell me?” The interrogator tries one last time. “About the girl? About the murder? About the money? Anything?”
Seokmin shakes his head.
“Maybe, you’re not as smart as I thought.” He tells Seokmin honestly. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Lee.”
>>><<<
You do get caught, eventually. Seokmin isn’t really sure when it happens exactly, but it does. By the time he hears the siren chasing after the dirt covered Porsche, the days and nights and afternoons and evenings have already bled together. By the time he hears the chopper from above, you already look like you’re ready to be someplace else. Like you’re bored. Like you’ve been holding on to the Porsche and the boy inside for a little too long, like you’re ready to let go.
When the time comes, Seokmin doesn’t have anything left in him to run. He lets himself get caught. And while the handcuffs close around his wrists, he watches you run into the horizon. He watches as you disappear into the setting sun.
>>><<<
The next day comes, and Seokmin is taken back to the interrogation room. He waits for the interrogator to enter.
The lock on the door unclicks eventually, and the interrogator walks in.
“Mr. interrogator. How I missed you?”
“Mr. Lee, the interrogator you had yesterday is unable to return today. I will be asking you some questions instead. Is that alright with you?”
Seokmin’s mouth drops. He can’t nod. He can’t say anything. He can’t do anything but slowly comprehend the fact that you are standing in front of him. Seokmin thinks for a moment that it might be his own imagination.
But then you sit down and slide a paper towards him. “What can you tell me about this?”
He doesn’t take his eyes off you. You try again. “Trust me, Mr. Lee. You’re gonna want to see what’s on this paper.”
And with the words trust me echoing in his mind, he does.
On the paper, he reads something about I’m sorry. Something about don’t react, they’re watching. And something else about not with them. Then lastly something about I’m on your side, trust me.
And at the bottom of the paper in your nearly indecipherable writing, he makes out—
I’m going to get you out of here. I promise. ride or die.
Seokmin looks back up at you.
“So, what can you tell me?” You ask again, voice hard and cold. But Seokmin can see the smile peeking out from behind your tightly sealed lips.
“I’m sorry,” Seokmin says to you, carefully void of any emotion, “I can’t see what’s on the paper. It’s all blurry.”
After years of trying, it’s time to ask yourself if it’s still worth it.
p — DK (lee seokmin) x trainee! reader
a/n — first time doing bullet form :0 (mostly bc i can’t write paragraphs at the moment oops) but i hope you enjoy!
you’ve been training for about 5 years now
and damn is it tiring
when you came to seoul, you knew what you were getting into
you read and watched a lot on the life of trainees because your parents weren’t the most supportive
only when you showed them how much you knew and how prepared you were did they let you
but still, despite all the research, it never prepared you for how tired you’d become through training
school in the morning until afternoon, training until 1am or later, schoolwork until school starts
at first you were okay with it
you were excited, even
like BRING IT ON!!! I AM READY!!!
but after years of uncertainty, leaving the industry was getting more and more appealing
you realized you wanted to leave that after the third time you were told that your debut would have to be delayed
you didn’t blame the company, you understood
you were from a small company
debuting was expensive and they were already paying for your school, food, and your dorm
but, it just hurt
you constantly pushed yourself to the extremes, mentally and physically
trying to keep yourself together and be a good student and trainee but
for what?
to have their debut delayed again?
you thought you were patient enough but after working this hard, without any assurance this hard work was going to go anywhere
it changes someone
you were in the practice room when you finally decided it was over
looking at the picture of yourself when you had first joined the company,
you cried
you cried over the heartbreak of a delayed debut, cried over the constant pressure from your family to succeed, and cried over the realization that your dreams weren’t meant to be
you promised yourself when you started you wouldn’t give up on your dream, no matter how difficult things may seem
but this was too much
as heartbreaking as things were, you had to give up
no one can persist this long and not burn out
the sound of your crying drowned out the sound of the door opening
only when someone’s arms wrapped around you, did you realize someone came in
you wanted to see who it was but they wrapped you tightly into a hug
focusing on the sound of their heartbeat, you eventually stopped crying and fell asleep in their arms
hours later you woke up
still in someone’s arms
but the grip loosened and you finally saw who it was
it was seokmin, who also fell asleep while holding you
you felts tears starting to pool in your eyes just thinking about how thankful you are to have him
but before it got any worse, he start to wake, probably realizing you moved
his eyes opened and just looked at you, bleary eyed
he noticed the tears in your eyes and wiped it
he pulled you in for another hug and with your face resting on his chest,
you began to speak
“the ceo told us-”
only for seokmin to shush you
“i heard from minseo”
his statement just confirmed that last night wasn’t a nightmare
the debut was delayed without a clear date
and by the look of it, you were going to be forever in a cycle of constant disappointment
you looked down, avoiding his face when you spoke again, quieter
“i don’t think i can do this anymore, seokmin”
he tilted his head to the side
“do what?” he placed his hand on your back and rubbed it
“i don’t think i can wait anymore. i can’t keep studying and training without any sign that i’ll actually be able to debut. i thought i was patient enough but i’m so — so tired.”
“if you want to leave, then you can.”
you looked up at him after he said
“i thought you’d say something like, you can wait or you just need a break.”
“why would i? it’s your life.”
when he says this, he covers your hands in his
“i mean, didn’t seungcheol and jihoon wait longer than me?”
he shifts his position and brings you even closer
“well, yeah. but they’re not making the decision here. you are. if you end up waiting, i’ll support you all the way. if you leave, i’ll support you wherever you go.”
you tried to look into his eyes for any sign of uncertainty but found none
