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RED WINE NIGHTS [L.SM]

what's the worst time to hook up with your best friend and change your relationship forever? probably the night before he gets on a plane and flies far away to become a world famous star.

pairing: formula 1 driver!dokyeom x f!reader

genre/au: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, angst, smut.

word count: 24,5k (oh my god i'm sorry)

content warnings: mentions of food, repressed feelings, messy hookups, reader is dumb, dealing with insecurities, one murder joke, alcohol consumption, jealousy, a car crash (no one gets hurt), seungkwan is a plot device | explicit smut: multiple smut scenes, masturbation, oral (f rec.), fingering, manhandling, he is very strong, protected sex, hair pulling (m rec.), multiple orgasms, sex with a lot of feelings.

🎧: this town — niall horan, don't say you love me — jin

note: this is for the 'Lights Out' collab hosted by the amazing @camandemstudios ! thank you so much cam @highvern and em @gyuswhore for letting me be a part of this collab ♡

thank you ro @shinysobi and em (again) for helping me with the banner ♡ lots of thank yous to aeris @aeristudios for reading this over for me and ensuring me it wasn't trash ♥︎ and alta @haologram for helping me brainstorm the first few scenes, they wouldn't have gotten done if it wasn't for you ♡ and to everyone who kept sending me encouragement, trixie @joshujin rae @nerdycheol and more people I'm sure I'm forgetting thank you too! I really couldn't have finished this if it wasn't for all of you 😭

THIS FIC IS FOR +18 READERS ONLY! MINORS CAUGHT INTERACTING WILL BE BLOCKED.

go check out all the amazing fics in the collab masterlist ! ♡ check out my main masterlist ♡ dividers used

I apologize for any mistake about f1 racing and races in general 😭 I had no time to catch any race while writing, but I did my best trying to remember the few I watched! this isn't realistic at all but i hope you have a good time reading hehe

last note: it's not specified, but I did imagine red bull Seokmin while writing, so, do with that what you will

hope you enjoy!! I can't wait to read your thoughts!!

The clock on the restaurant’s wall signals it’s barely 3:30 pm when the waiter walks towards your table with your order. His smile has the needed amount of politeness, mixed with a little bit of judgment at you for ordering two burgers with a side of fries at this hour.

You thank the young looking waiter as he sets the plates on the table, right before looking at the man sitting across from you, wide eyes and wiggly eyebrows to annoy him further.

“Don’t you love we’re doing this?” The salt shaker is heavy in your hand, coating your fries with a thick layer of salt before even tasting them.

Seokmin chuckles, shaking his head and extending his arm to lift the top bun of your hamburger. The tomato slices get squished between his fingers as he takes them out of your burger and puts them on his own.

There’s a faint shade of pink extending from his cheeks to his ears, probably from the unwanted attention of undoubtedly being judged by your snack choices.

“We could’ve waited until later, you know?” His mouth is full from already diving into his meal, and you chuckle in response as you salt his fries too. “Hey—stop that! Don’t tamper with my food!”

“I don’t want to hear you whining about them having no flavor in five minutes! I’m saving myself from misery!”

“You’re trying to poison me and stop me on my way to stardom!” He complains but still doesn’t stop the salt attack, “the people are going to wonder where the next big star went away to.”

“The people… being?”

Seokmin nearly chokes at the dry bread tickling the roof of his mouth, “a lot of people watch Formula 2, you know?”

The two older ladies sipping tea on the table beside yours whisper as they side-eye you two.

“They’ve been rooting for me. They even celebrated that I’m moving on from being a reserve driver and racing properly this season.”

“Oh, I’m sure…”

You didn't know that something other than Formula 1 existed before your best friend got scouted to race. Being subjected to weeks long bullying by all of your friends, and a thousand comments of ‘what did you think the One stood for?’ was enough for you to want to learn the basics.

But it was after Seokmin started racing and people started stopping him on the street, begging you to take their picture with the smiley man they knew from watching his races on TV, that you understood. It was big.

Now, after months of being a reserve driver, another thing you learned existed because of him. He had the chance to compete in a Formula 1 Championship for real. You didn't ask what happened, why the driver he's replacing can't finish the year. You celebrated his dream coming true.

“They're excited about me moving up the ladder!”

“Definitely,” you tease, hoping he knows you’re as proud of him as a best friend can be.

How couldn’t you be? The boy you used to save a seat for at lunch during the high-school days, the one who’d pirate formula 1 simulators to play during the little free time he got, who everyone doubted he had what it took to race professionally. He succeeded, and you got to see him through his journey with your own eyes as his personal cheerleader.

You see it every day, with every selfie taken with a fan, with every broadcast news showing his face, with every highlight of a race showing on TV. This is what he was meant to do, what he loves shyly, but with all his heart. And now, he finally has the chance to prove himself as a worthy driver after being overlooked by his team for so long.

“By the way," Seokmin starts as the first fry crunches between your teeth, "you have to watch every race now."

As if it wasn't already your plan, a sigh leaves you before responding, "Watching rich men drive cars fast every week? Oh! The dream!"

The grannies judge your dramatics before sipping on tea again, but you've learned to get used to being stared at. You had to, not knowing who could recognize the man who inhaled his burger in the time it took you to eat five fries.

"I expect feedback every Monday," his words come out muffled by the napkin wiping his mouth of any possible stain. "Are you eating these?"

You're quick to slap his hand away from the side of nuggets you ordered. “You said you didn't want any. Live with that."

It's always the same with him. Going out to eat anywhere, he never orders everything he wants, only to take a bite out of your order later. A new flavor of ice cream, pistachio flavored popcorn, nutella-filled churros, the list of things you never finished ‘cause he begged to try them is endless.

The crunch sounds of his fries takes you out of your thoughts, and you look up to find Seokmin's mouth moving.

"You still haven't told me why we had to drive three hours to get burgers at 4 pm."

"I did tell you!" A fry flies from your hand and hits him right in the face. He eats it like he hasn't eaten one in ages. "You just never listen to me."

"No, you didn't!" Seokmin smiles as he purposely annoys you. "I'm not buying that you just wanted to spend time with me."

"Why do you think, then? If I'm such a mean friend who doesn't want to spend time with her best friend before he disappears forever."

"Let me guess…" his finger taps repeatedly against the corner of his mouth as he thinks, unknowingly entrancing your eyes to look at the lower part of his face. "You want to kidnap me so you'll never have to be away from me."

It's common knowledge among everyone in your life that you and Seokmin are a package deal. From always seating with the other in high school to sharing any and every class possible in college, even if you weren't doing the same majors. An elective class showed up on both programs? You were doing it. You work well together, so why waste it?

The news that he was going to be racing more often was like a punch in the gut. When he became a reserve driver —and you learned that those existed only because of him, he stopped being needed on the paddock too often, and his visits to his hometown became more frequent.

Now, he's spending the rest of the season as a proper formula 1 driver. His dream come true. You should be proud. You are proud, but can't help feeling like a part of your heart crumbles a little every time the reminder hits that you won't see him for months, you won't hear the loudest laugh ever known to man, you won't have a shoulder to cry on.

How is life supposed to continue? There are other people in your life, other friends that you cherish, who will hang out at your apartment when you ask, watch the races on your couch, and tease Seokmin in the group chat. But none of them are him.

Seokmin squints at your thoughtful state, his face the entire view in front of you, and suddenly the half-eaten burger on the table becomes the most interesting thing in the small restaurant.

You take another bite to fill your stomach before it starts aching. "You'd love to live off my cooking, admit it."

His laugh echoes around the room, contagious and warm, and your laughter quickly joins. The idea of you producing any kind of meal is always funny to him.

Burned pancakes, cakes hard as bricks, brownies with zero flavor, some people are just not made for the kitchen, and that's okay. Seokmin's been your victim countless times. He always ate what you presented with good intentions, but not even his kind smile managed to hide the disgust in his eyes as he swallowed.

"I'd love that, you're right," he's breathless, trying to tone down his squeals after the scene he himself made and stealing a few fries from your plate in the meantime.

"If I'm not feeling like racing one day, I'll ask you to send me some of your undercooked cookies."

The memory he's talking about flashes through your eyes. "They were supposed to be like that!"

"With burned down edges too?"

"You're so mean," you avoid his stare by looking down to the table, finding there's hardly any food left, courtesy of the fried-potato-stealing. "You're about to lose your one and only fan."

"You're finally admitting you're my fan?"

"Well! Not anymore!"

"Like you don't love to watch me."

He smirks as he drinks the last of his soda, the sprite zero he insists is the best drink ever even if no one on the planet likes it, and your throat dries at the sight.

There's a line, and a blurry one at that, that you're never sure if he crosses on purpose or if it's your mind playing sick games. Your amicable, smiley, gentlemanly best friend couldn't be implying something else.

You do love watching him race. The interviews he gave after his F2 races, with the sweaty hair falling in front of his face and that tired smile he flashes to every interviewer. You watch everything.

Your camera roll is filled with blurry pictures of your computer screen, his face present in every single one of them, either celebrating a win or being embarrassed at a mistake. Always with the intention of sending them to him, let him know you were watching. Still, they don't leave their place in your phone gallery. But you never delete them either.

Suddenly, the urge to clarify something he didn't even imply takes over you, "I've never missed any of your races."

You catch it before he even replies, that soft glint in his eyes that appears when he's happy. "I know."

His smile is assuring, like the toasty air that envelops you when walking past a bakery, like that one weighted blanket saved for the coldest winter days, like a warm cup of tea before sleeping.

You've celebrated every step forward he took in the racing world. When he got into Formula 2, his first podium, his first pole position, when his team finally promoted to being a reserve driver for Formula 1. Things kept changing, but your friendship didn't, you stayed strong and cheered for him every step of the way, and he stayed the kind Seokmin you loved, even with all the fame that came with his job.

So, why does it feel different this time? He's always flying from one country to the other, except for the times he isn't needed on the paddock on race day, and doing video-calls instead of hanging out when he's away became normal for you two a long time ago. It shouldn't be different, yet it is, somehow.

The waiter comes with the check Seokmin asked behind your back, giving you no chance of paying for the meal before he's giving the boy his card and telling him to give himself a 20% tip.

But the boy's gone before your hand even reaches the depths of your bag, leaving you squinting at your best friend. "You shouldn't be paying for your celebration."

"Let me spend my money however I want," he starts grabbing his things, ignoring your moment of stubbornness. "If I want to spend it on you, I will."

"But—" his index finger places against his pursed lips, the shut-up gesture that always makes your blood boil.

It isn't his first time doing this. It's been happening since he realized that paying for meals behind your back was the only way he could get away with using his money on you since you've prohibited him from buying you gifts. It's annoying, and you'll pay him back. One day.

When he notices you're in no rush to get your things and leave, Seokmin stands on the side of your chair, towering over your, too calm, body ominously. "Are we done now? Can we go home? I still need to clean up my apartment."

Your phone's dry with no texts received during the meal time, so you lock it again and take a few seconds to place it properly on your bag, not sparing your friend a glance.

"Why do you wanna end the day so badly? Are you tired of me already?"

"I never get tired of you," Seokmin snatches your bag out of your hands and begins walking away with his long legs and big steps, your legs almost running to chase after him. "I just want to find out what you're hiding."

His smirk can even be heard as he pushes the glass door open.

"What could I possibly be hiding?"

"I don't know, maybe Seungkwan murdered the guy I'm replacing, and you want me to have an alibi."

"Shit, you weren't supposed to find out!"

His car stands out parked around the block, red and shiny, spottable it from a mile away. "Fine, if you're in a hurry, we can go back. It's okay."

Still, you refuse to get in the car, leaning against the passenger door as if time wasn't moving. With the keys spinning around your finger, you're not even sure how you got them. But, you congratulate yourself mentally for stealing them from him at some point, one last attempt to make the afternoon longer.

"It's a 3 hour ride back. Whatever you're planning can't take longer than that." Seokmin stands just a few feet before you, eyes narrowed in an intent to analyze and catch any of your signs, something he's worriedly good at. "Stop with that! Can't someone want to spend an afternoon with their best friend who she never sees? Is that a crime!"

Seokmin smirks lightly, eyes locked with yours as he teases, "I'll miss you too." "Oh, shut up!" Unable to stand under his gaze for long, the car keys fly from your hands to his, a sign of defeat. "Fine, let's go."

He chuckles in disbelief, walking not to the driver seat, but towards you. "I'm driving?" "You're literally a professional driver," the words blurt out of your mouth, as if a teasing reminder could draw a wall between Seokmin's body and yours. "Yeah, at 200 miles per hour." His smirk hasn't faltered since leaving the restaurant. He even looks… amused at your intents of joking your way out his interrogation.

Your eyes concentrate on the opened buttons of his shirt, almost all you can see from your point of view without tilting your head up. "My record so far is 50."

"Should I call the police?" Seokmin chuckles, and you want to die, his shoulders bouncing at the rhythm of his chest rising right in front of your face. "People drive like crazy here! No one uses their side signals anymore! I need to be prepared!" "Fine, I'll drive. But we're getting home in two hours."

You grunt in response, glad to not have to drive, but annoyed at everything that his return entails. The next morning, he'll leave, again, for longer this time, with less free hours he can spend talking to you. That's not a life you want to live in. A life where the robotic sound of Seokmin's chuckles breaking through the video call is the next time you'll hear his laugh.

Neither the TV or the phone screen do justice to everything Seokmin is. Through your eyes, he's the person who'd never judge you when you tell him your weird dreams, the one you'd learn things about a rich men sport for. He's… the sun, your sun. After today, the sun will go away from your sky, leaving your days blue, cold, and sunless.

Sitting on the car's leather seat, it feels like an eternity since you got to the restaurant, yet it wasn't enough time. "Don't let me fall asleep."

"I can't make any promises," Seokmin starts the engine, but when you turn your head to glare at him, he's already focused on you. "You've slept through my loudest alarms!"

"That was one time!" Something in his eyes renders you incapable of maintaining eye contact for long, and it's easy to use the road ahead as an excuse, "eyes on the road, Formula 1 boy."

The buzzing all around you stops, your eyes shooting open and settling on the familiar gray columns and walls of the garage. Hours spent sleeping, hours missed. You wasted your time.

A ruffling sound turns your neck to the driver's seat, where Seokmin's snacking on a bag of spicy Doritos and already looking at you.

"You fell asleep," he says with a mouthful, smiling like it's funny.

Like it's funny that your last hours alone with your best friend flew by cause you were so weak you had to fall asleep. "Tell me something I don't know, Sherlock."

You regret the tone you used as soon as Seokmin raises his eyebrows and turns to unlock the car doors. "O…kay, bad mood after a nap. Got it."

He's out of the car in a beat, only his arm in your sight as he grabs the keys without looking in.

"It's not that—I'm sorry." The passenger door shuts closed behind you as you flap your arms in the air to draw his attention back, "I just didn't want to spend our last hours together passed out."

Seokmin stops in his tracks and turns around, barely a few steps away from the car, and from you, "You're acting like you're never going to see me again."

"Well, you'll be much more busy!" He looks unconvinced, shoulders still slouched due to your outburst, so you keep going, "what if the fame gets to your head and you start ignoring my calls, or leaving me on read after the third voice note telling you the gossip around school."

"I'd never do that! Gossip is my main priority." The corners of his mouth lift as he sees you walk up to him, ready to go up to his apartment after all. "Funny."

Countless times you've done the same, walked the same cold garage and hopped on the same elevator, with the same Seokmin who's walking by your side but ever-so-slightly ahead of you.

As he turns to click the button to his floor, you check your phone again and see the text you've been waiting for. "But, seriously, don't start ignoring my calls, or I'm flying to whatever country you're in, and making you pay for the plane ticket."

He chuckles again, and the same warm nostalgic sensation takes over your every organ, again.

There's nothing out of the ordinary as you get out of the elevator, steps coordinated walking the hallway you know by memory. It's suspiciously silent, as if the echo of your feet against the tile floor was enough for you two. But you're not ready to say goodbye. "We're finally back here." Seokmin fidgets with his keys, awkwardly standing beside his door and facing you. "You can drop the act now."

"What act? We spent the day together like I wanted," You cross your arms in front of your chest, giggling at his confused face."You're finally rid of me, happy?"

"Yeah, yeah, like I believe that." Seokmin sticks his ear against the wooden door, trying to hear even a sliver of a noise from inside his own apartment.

"Okay! Bye now!" With a slow pace, you begin walking away, the elevator still waiting for you. "Call me when you leave for the airport, okay?"

He, then, realizes you're actually leaving. You almost miss the small smile and the wave of his hand before you turn and walk away. All you get before he clicks his door open, defeated.

"SURPRISE!"

The screams from inside Seokmin's apartment reach you before you even turn back around, right when he starts laughing and locks eyes with yours.

You're back by Seokmin's side in seconds, with your hands on his back and pushing him inside his crashed home. "You didn't think I was just going to leave like that, huh?"

A walkway forms between all your friends, letting the man of the hour in as someone closes the door behind you. Everyone greets and hugs Seokmin, who's still in a bit of shock that all of this happened behind his back. Thanks to you.

“How did all of you get in?” Seokmin's smile is as big as ever, glancing at everyone before setting his eyes on you.

“I gave them my key.” You shrug.

You've always had a key to his apartment in case of emergencies—the emergencies being either Seokmin getting his arm stuck between the wall and his too big bed, or times he forgets to do the dishes before flying to a country on the other side of the world.

"I didn't give it to you so you could pass it along to everyone!"

"Acting like you weren't pouting thinking I had nothing planned for you."

Everyone laughs at Seokmin getting exposed by your comment, but he gets over it quickly as something else catches his attention.

There's a huge poster hanging where Seokmin kept an undecorated wall, with hand-painted blue, red, and white letters spelling the guest of honor's name. Just his name.

Someone you don't see pops open a bottle of champagne, and everyone goes wild with celebration, claps, and a few whistles here and there. Seokmin gets forced into the living room by Chan and Mingyu, who swear he'd previously told them they could use his fancy new washing machine before dates.

You've been with him the entire afternoon, so you let the rest of the guys harass him for a while.

Music starts blasting through the expensive speaker system Seokmin set up—another reason why you wanted the party to be at his apartment. The playlist had been kept a secret from you. Everyone was afraid of what songs you’d add if given the chance, and it almost made you go crazy. But the music is not eardrum-shattering, so you let it be.

The layout of Seokmin's apartment is tattooed in your brain. How many nights have you crashed on the very same couch Wonwoo's playing with the X BOX in right now? Or how many times have you come in the middle of the racing season to take care of Seokmin's plants?

Someone screams in the living room, followed by a choir of laughter and flashes of phone cameras. The guys are making sure Seokmin won't miss their pranks.

"Did he figure it out?" Seungkwan catches you in the kitchen, about to raid the wine cabinet.

You could walk around Seokmin's apartment blindfolded. You know in which kitchen cabinet is everything you need, where he hides the fancy wine, and you’re the only one he doesn't give shit to for drinking it.

"He suspected I was planning something, but I handled it like a champ."

"You hit him in the head and gave him temporary amnesia?"

The corkscrew in your hand works as a temporary threatening device, and Seungkwan throws his hands in the air with a pout and a frown of eyebrows of the same threat level.

"He looked really shocked," Seungkwan continues after you've placed your weapon back on the counter. "I don't think he expected all of us to be part of the surprise."

"What else could he expect?"

Seungkwan shrugs as an answer.

Grabbing one of the two matching wine glasses from the cabinet—your favorites, your mind drifts back to Seungkwan's statement as you fill your glass past the recommended amount.

Sure, Seokmin suspected there was a surprise waiting back for him. But why would his group of friends not be a part of it? Everyone wanted to celebrate his success, his final step up to where he always wanted to be. You made sure everyone came, put Seungkwan in charge of setting up the party while you distracted Seokmin all afternoon. It was a perfect plan, and it worked! He was as shocked as ever.

The taste of dry and sweet red wine dampens your lips, and you gulp down half the glass, enjoying the taste. It's a tradition. Drinking red wine on special occasions. For tonight, you didn't wait for Seokmin, afraid to interrupt his time with his other friends before snatching him back with you.

"Ew!" Seungkwan's hand gets dangerously close to the glass in your hand before you slap it away. "Grab your own glass! You know where they are."

“It's just a sip!” His eyebrows frown again, this time genuinely offended.

“You know you can die.”

“From what? The possibility of getting in contact with someone's saliva? Tell that to your past self from the college years.”

“I'm still in college!” You defend yourself, even if fighting against the memories of your slutty era is pointless.

“Stalling entering the job market doesn't count.”

“Now I’m definitely not giving you anything.” You gulp down the rest of the wine while purposely holding eye contact with Seungkwan. He doesn’t stop you. "Hope you get h.pylori and die."

"You don’t get—Hey I wash my hands!" Someone entering the small kitchen interrupts Seungkwan’s declaration.

Vernon pops into view for two seconds, putting his hands on Seungkwan’s waist to move him a bit to the side and be able to reach a forgotten bowl full of chips left on the counter. You don’t miss the touch or your friend getting red as a tomato.

"I'm not talking about hands." Hiding your giggle behind your empty glass, it’s clear your friend’s now focused on something else.

"Bitch,” Seungkwan mutters, crashing into none other than the man being celebrated while on the way out.

Seokmin emerges through the kitchen door, hair a mess and with more buttons of his shirt opened. The wine bottle sitting on the counter beside you draws his attention immediately.

“What happened to you?” You can’t help but chuckle, your eyes following him until he stands against the wall just by your side.

He grabs the wine bottle from the counter and drinks straight from the tip, gulp after gulp falling down his throat as he quenches his thirst. “You left me alone with feral people and drank our wine alone.”

You laugh, handing him a matching wine glass as he grabs another bottle for himself after tasting yours. “I wanted to give you some time with them after having you all for myself.”

The guys always whine about not spending time with Seokmin in between the races he attends. They complain about you getting all the privileges and not sparing even a phone call for them—which you are guilty of. So, you don’t want to hear their bitching and whining again after tonight.

“Never do that again.”

Seokmin sighs dramatically, now pouring himself a proper glass of wine and then pouring the rest of it on yours before discarding the empty bottle in the trash can. He doesn’t waste time, clicking your glasses together in a toast and downing the liquid at record speed.

You do the same, eager to get on with the party. Hoping that it will never end.

The front door closes shut under the push of your hands and there's finally silence.

You look back at the, somehow, clean living room the guys left behind, but sigh at the reminder of everything that was left in the kitchen. It's not the worst you've seen, but it's not something you want to deal with.

Seokmin's grabbing stray beer cans and putting them away in a trash bag he placed on the floor. He shouldn't be cleaning up the mess that solely exists because of you. But he's nice, too nice, and wouldn't let you close to the mess.

“Go see the guys out and I'll clean up.” He said, ushering you away from the messy kitchen and into the pathway to the door.

“You need to rest for tomorrow. Let me, please.” You tried to take the bag from his hands, but he’s faster and stronger, and it was away from your reach in less than a second.

“Stop arguing with me on our last moments together!” He retorted, using your words against you, and that won him the argument.

But now, with your one job done, and your friend ignoring you in the name of dish washing, your mind wanders to dangerous places.

After tonight, it will never be the same. He’ll be too busy, too famous, wanted by everyone around him. He said he’d never stop annoying you, but what happens when the rich parties inevitably make him realize the people back home don’t compare to his new circle?

The surge in thoughts about the future triggers the hangover headache prematurely. Red wine always has two different possible outcomes: either you make bad and stupid decisions or you get the worst hangover ever known to the human species. Seems that tonight you’re getting the latter.

“I'm making us hangover smoothies. I don’t want to feel dead tomorrow.”

His blender is where you knew it would, sitting untouched and with a layer of dust accumulated on top.

Seokmin doesn’t argue with you, “use anything I have left. Can’t let it go to waste.”

Opening his fridge after his approval, you’re met with the squeaky clean white interior and a few vegetables you’ll for sure use. “Why do you have an unopened bag of spinach when you’re leaving for months?”

“So you could use it for your anti-hangover concoctions," he lies, and you side-eye him so hard he bends over laughing. “Use it all and stop judging me.”

Every green vegetable you find goes into the blender, with a lot of lemon juice and the last few ice cubes that weren’t used for drinks.

Blender noise fills the comfortable silence that falls between you two as Seokmin finishes the dishes and rests against the cabinets behind you. Your body tingles, feeling his stare on your back, watching your every more.

The kitchen is too narrow, and Seokmin knows you hate it because you told him about a million times. There isn’t space for him to be standing where he is, yet, you can’t find it in you to complain. It’s the last time you’ll have him this close to you for a long time.

Seokmin’s eyes follow you as you find the glass cups you always use for your smoothies and pour the green liquid in.

“I have to clean that now.”

“Don’t complain about my good deed,” you roll your eyes as you hand him his part of the hangover cure, “I'll do it tomorrow in the morning."

He chuckles and gulps down the drink, as he always does despite not believing when you say it helps with feeling better after drinking. You rest your hips against the counter, angling your torso backwards and hoping the added centimeters between you will help the suffocating feeling of Seokmin standing so close.

The overpowering taste of spinach takes a few sips to get used to, but you don't flinch at the bitter taste, knowing you're under Seokmin's scrutinizing gaze even if you're avoiding his eyes.

“It's not your best,” he says, reading your mind.

“You're the one that forced me to put in a whole bag of spinach!”

Knowing there’s no way you’ll finish the awful smoothie, and using it as an excuse to still not look at Seokmin, you put the half-empty glass in the sink.

“I told you I had it just for you,” he states with full honesty. And you hate that you believe him.

There it is again. The invisible line about to be crossed. There must be something in the air. Maybe the mix of questionable old vegetables and lemon juice made you delirious.

“Should I feel insulted?”

“I knew you’d want to make a smoothie so neither of us feel like shit tomorrow,” Seokmin shrugs, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It could be. It should be. But, judging by your pulse accelerating, it doesn’t feel like it.

“Yeah! And now the only thing I’m capable of making in a kitchen is ruined!” You try to joke, to ease the tension in the room, to stop being so twitchy under Seokmin's gaze. But everything feels too warm, too something. “I’ve never put that much of anything into my creations.”

To your demise, Seokmin chuckles, getting off where he was resting against and taking one step into your personal space.

“So, when I peed purple for a week straight, that was a complete coincidence?”

Your breathing stops as he stretches in front of you to place his empty glass on the counter. His expensive perfume is all around you, his chest your sole view, and you get goosebumps at the warmth of his body against yours.

“How was I supposed to know that beet turns pee purple?”

His head’s tilted down, eyes on you again and resting his body on a hand too close to yours on the counter.

“It doesn’t unless you put too much in what you eat!” His smirk is all you need to know he's teasing you on purpose. But you can't seem to shut up, wanting to fill an incoming silence at all cost.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed your last party and last smoothie with me, ‘cause no other hangover cure will ever compare to mine.”

Seokmin takes a deep breath, realizing, once again, that even if things aren't changing, a lot is. His kind smile turns sad as memories flash through his eyes.

“I had a lot of fun. Thank you.”

The moment's changing. You feel it in the air. All the borrowed time you got with him, time you took for granted, is now coming to an end. He'll leave and you'll stay behind, like you always do.

“The guys are all going to miss you,” words stumble out of you, the only way you find to freeze time, to be with him for a little longer. “I can't believe you agreed to let those two use your washing machine! I swear if they call me to come help them I'm—”

Words stop coming out of your mouth, a pair of lips against yours sealing them shut.

Seokmin's hands cup both sides of your jaw, so gently you barely notice them there over the feeling of his mouth against yours. The noise all around you quiets down for the first time since the big news.

That is, until you realize what's happening, and your hands, that were sneaking up his torso and almost wrapping around his neck, push him back.

His wide eyes connect with yours as your eyelashes flutter open. “I’m sorry, I—” He starts, and both of your apologies come out over the other.

“N-no, no, it’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting it,”

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day,”

“It’s not that I didn’t like it,”

“And you wouldn’t shut up, so I—”

“Actually, I think I did like it—”

“What?” You both ask at the same time, registering what the other was saying.

Can he sense the rapid beating of your heart? Is that why his smile keeps widening?

You're sure the warmth you feel growing on your face is visible from a mile away. Concealing your thoughts and feelings is hard in his eyes. He reads you like an open book, there's no way he can't see the fireworks he just lit up in you.

For the first time since knowing Seokmin, no words come out of your mouth, too focused on the growing electricity all around. You pushed him away, but he’s still close, too close. His kiss’ repercussions in your body and soul aren’t disappearing, the feeling of his lips against yours so palpable you’d think they were still there.

All the times you found yourself contemplating how it’d feel to kiss your best friend, and all the times you ushered the thought away, the conclusion was always a negative one. Everything would change, it wouldn’t work, or he’d hate you.

But now, he isn’t backing away, there isn’t disgust in his eyes, which haven’t left your lips since you separated. You’re still you, and he’s still him, standing in his kitchen, using the narrowness of it as an excuse for your closeness.

“You did that to shut me up,” you repeat the last part of his confession.

“And you liked it,” he chuckles again, but you catch as he takes another deep breath, a nervous tick he's always had.

“You're so annoying,” you mutter, with your lips still tingling from his touch.

“Yeah, but you're still gonna miss me.”

Maybe Seokmin knows you too well. Maybe he knows that his smirk and his stare going from your lips to your eyes make a mess of your organized mind. You had a plan for the night. A well thought out plan that didn’t include making eyes at each other and reconsidering your friendship.

“Yeah, I will,” you reply in a beat.

Because you will. Because the thought of being away while his life changes so much is scary. Because you’ll become nothing to him while he’s everything to you. Because you won't be with him while his dreams come true. Because you’ve been standing on the sidelines for so long, loving him more than you should.

And yet, he’s here now. Your Seokmin. Refusing to leave your side, with the buttons of his shirt enticingly open and his parted lips a remainder of where they just were. His stare’s lost on the lower part of your face, mind racing with thoughts you hope are similar to yours. Desire. Longing. Want.

Seokmin takes the tiniest step forward, enough to have your chests colliding. You’re not breathing, you can't, waiting for what his next move will be. His hands find their place on both sides of your waist, holding you in place even if there’s no chance you’re running away.

With his face so close, his breath fans over your awaiting lips, a sick game to have you at his mercy. His smile fades the closer he gets, eyeing you for what it feels like hours before asking, “Can I kiss you again?”

Your response is automatic, as if your body knew what he’d say. “Please.”

It comes out as a whisper, and you barely finish the word before he’s on you again.

All doubt is erased the second his lips mold with yours, evaporating into the steamy atmosphere. Letting yourself dwell in this re-kindled desire, you sigh as he dominates the new kiss, soft yet needy as his hands push your chest further against his.

Your hands find the back of his neck, threading with his hair and tightening your grip. Seokmin bites at your lower lip in retaliation. Both pushing and pulling, bringing the other closer until there’s no speck of space left between you.

The marble counter digs into your lower back, but that pain becomes the least of your worries when Seokmin’s tongue swipes your lower lip, asking for access. The mess of teeth and tongue flushes your whole body from top to bottom.

The lemon and spinach mix with the faint taste of wine as your tongues meet. It’s messy in a way you never thought Seokmin would kiss like.

How many girls had the honor of feeling him against them, his lips gliding over theirs instead of yours. All the opportunities you missed due to digging your feelings into a grave they’re now popping out of. You can’t help melting against him. Finally yours.

A hunger you’ve never felt before runs through your veins, looking for a way to feel Seokmin everywhere all at once, to get back all the time you could’ve gotten with him. His muscles tense under your touch, hands wandering everywhere you can reach. You know he feels it too. The want.

You moan in his mouth, and something takes over him. His arms get loose before you feel his hands gripping at your thighs, lifting you up until you’re sitting on the counter. The frenziness of it all blurs your surroundings. The sound of Seokmin’s forgotten glass falling into the sink is merely a background noise along with the wet sounds echoing in the kitchen.

Like a magnet, his hips find your legs spread for him, pushing his growing hard against your core with the barest amount of desperation, and that has you moaning sloppily against him once again. Thank the universe for making you choose to wear a skirt for the party.

Wanting more of him, your hands make space to sneak between your chests, undoing the last buttons holding Seokmin’s white shirt together. His warm skin gets chills under your cold fingers. His lips go still on yours as you feel down his chest, breathing into your mouth the further down you get.

Years of forbidding yourself even from peeking at him if he was showing a bit of skin. Years of wondering how his golden skin would feel against yours. Neither the past or the future matter. Now, you’re nothing more than two people looking to fulfill years of accumulated longing.

You tease his hardness over his jeans, earning a groan against your throat as Seokmin kisses down your neck. The both of you refuse to take your hands off the other, making it a chore to unbuckle the expensive belt he's wearing.

“Are we doing this?” Seokmin asks, voice hoarse against your skin.

In the haze of his hands on your ass and his lips pressing on your pulse point, feeling the acceleration, there's no time to doubt what you want.

“If you have a condom, then yes.”

Like the human of the male species he is, Seokmin takes out one out of his wallet at your request. He lays it on the table with a smirk, lips red and swollen all because of you.

“Should we talk about it?” He asks again when he feels your hands toying with the hem of his jeans.

The few layers of clothes don't do anything to hide Seokmin's bulge pressing against your core. And his hands go up and down the sides of your thighs, to tease you more or to draw your attention, you’re not sure, but it sends waves of arousal crashing through your body.

“What’s there to talk about?” It sounds stupid the second it leaves your mouth.

What should you say? That things won’t change after this? That things changed already? That you wanted this for so long you forgot how life was like before him? Too much talk. Too many feelings you don’t want to deal with just yet.

Seokmin looks at you, a mix of desire and scepticism all across his face. “You know—”

“Let’s just,” you interrupt him before he says anything that could break you, “see how it goes. We can talk after, but I need you right now.”

His throat bobs at your words. A fight going on in his mind that your hands interfere with, caressing his lower back.

“We don’t have to if you’re not sure.” You can pretend this never happened if he's doubting everything.

He takes another deep breath, releasing in half a moan that does nothing if not encourage the pulsing of your core against his. And you're sure he can feel it.

“Seok—” His mouth smashes against yours, cementing his decision.

Melting at his touch again is easy. The sound of fabric and metal hitting the floor draws your attention to the lack of another layer between you. He's big. Big in a way you know you'll feel his stretch for days after.

Your legs wrap around Seokmin's hips, pushing him so closely against you there isn't a single atom separating your bodies. His mouth on yours is merciless, his tongue working as if trying to memorize every crevice.

“I really, really want to eat you out,” he sighs into your lips.

“Nothing's stopping you, driver boy.”

Seokmin sees it in your eyes. A glint of desire that mirrors his. “You have the next world champion between your legs and you’re making jokes?”

Your eyes are locked with his as he sinks to his knees, his hands holding your thighs open until you're all he can see. His gaze turns hazy, descending down your heaving body until it lands on your poorly clothed core. His fingers hook on your sides, leaving you bare for his eyes to see.

The kitchen grows hot with every second Seokmin spends admiring the mess of juices he caused with a few kisses. All you want is for the ache to stop, to shrink before his stare and be satisfied from the years-long accumulated desire.

He takes you in, just millimeters away from where he wants and almost tipping you over the edge of the counter.

An experimental lick between your folds makes you both mutter equally hungry curses. His breath against your wet core drives a shiver up your body, followed by a rush of liquid fire through your veins.

“You haven’t—raced even o–once,” Half of his brain is paying attention to you talking, the other half concentrating on kissing your inner thighs and spreading your folds. Your pulse races, growing expectant seeing his lack of shyness. “You don’t have—fuck—bragging rights.”

Words get stuck as Seokmin attaches his mouth to your mound again, decided on making your brain scramble to make sense.

He mumbles something in response, muffled by his tongue lapping at your juices and moaning like a starved man. You grip his hair, keeping him in place as the familiar fire begins to pool at the base of your stomach.

“I’m not—” he nods against your core, cutting away any possible thought from your head.

You feel his smirk against you, as if the embarrassingly quick way he has you done for him was amusing. He knows your signals, learned to interpret your body language, all for this moment. To please you correctly.

Delving his tongue in your entrance, your whole body quivers as his nose bumps against your clit. Your insides clench around nothing, walls begging to be stretched and dripping arousal for him to taste.

Your hand tightens on his hair as your hips grind against him, chasing the light ahead with your eyes shut tight.

“Fuck, you're so good,” your words feed his eagerness, now more determined to show you just how good he can make you feel.

Each swipe of his tongue gets faster and harder, and he doesn't seem to mind that your hand's keeping his head suffocatingly close to your core. You'd be worried if it wasn't for the mix of grunts echoing against the kitchen walls at every wave of arousal dripping out of you. He might even be enjoying it more than you.

His hands try to keep your legs open for him, but you lose control of your body feeling the coil snap hard at the flick of his tongue. It's his strong hold against the trembling of an earth-shattering orgasm sending trembles down your body.

Your body goes limp, weight falling back when you let loose Seokmin’s head and place your hands on the counter for support. He licks every sensitive part of your core, looking straight into your eyes as he cleans you up. A menace.

Oxygen takes work to get in your lungs. Mixed feelings colliding and getting your soul sucked out of you was not how you planned to end the day. But Seokmin gives you no time to ponder about it any longer.

His lips find yours once again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You bring him closer, attempting to get rid of his godforsaken shirt so you can see him properly.

“Are we in a rush?” He chuckles, but lets you take it off him without getting in your way.

“Mhm.” The plastic packet warms up in your hands before you tear it open and roll the condom down your friend's length. “If you're not in me in the next two seconds, I might die.”

“Glad you're not dramatic.” His hands grip your thighs wrapped around his waist like he has all the time in the world.

“I'll go home and take care of it myself, then.”

Something inside him snaps at your teasing. A mix of desire and wonder flashes through his eyes. But before you get to question it, you feel the head of his cock dragging along your lower lips.

He prods at your entrance, and for a second, you worry if it'll fit. Every cackle you let out at your romance books comes back at you like a boomerang in the form of your hot best friend filling you up and stretching your walls in new ways.

Seokmin's hips stutter when he's all the way in, your insides quivering around him trying to get used to the stretch.

“I need a second,” you say at the same time as he announces, “I'm not gonna last.”

Your bodies are so close, you're not sure who chuckles first, but the vibrations travel from chest to chest and all the way down.

Slowly, the dragging along your walls beats the uncomfortable position on the counter. Seokmin’s strong arms hold you against him, setting the pace with his hips and moving your body to wherever he wants.

You let him take control, indulging in every feeling he sparks. From his fingers digging into your flesh, to his cock gently prying you open with every stroke. His soft grunts by your ear only egg you further. Everything is him. Time should stop right this second and never resume.

Your nails scratch Seokmin’s back when he reaches that point that makes you squirm, and everything turns blazing hot.

Seokmin’s thrusts lose control, making you lose your breath as he lifts you off the counter and drills into you, searching for his orgasm. Your arms wrap around his neck, fearing your inevitable fall to the floor. But, once again, Seokmin’s full of surprises.

His biceps cage your torso to his, almost effortlessly keeping you in the air to thrust with no control. You take it all, everything he has to give as he mumbles nonsense praise into your ear.

Waves come crashing out of nowhere, and Seokming holds you through it all. Shaking in the air as your walls pulsing around him trigger his pending orgasm. You’re so sensitive you can feel his length twitching and unloading into the condom.

A choir of deep breaths and curses echo around the silent kitchen. Seokmin sets your limp body on the counter again, discarding the used condom in the trash. You should probably take care of that.

There’s so many things to do still. “We should finish cleaning up.” Your voice comes out half a whisper.”

Seokmin pulls his pants back up after retrieving your panties from wherever he threw them. Your body craves something. More. You don’t do silence. You can’t.

You could say something more, start a serious discussion about your friendship, about the future, his future.

But there’s so many things to do. Clean. Talk. Leave.

One of your hands flies across the narrow kitchen and finds Seokmin's wrist. His eyes haven't changed in the seconds of ruffling silence. A glare of hope flashes through them.

There's so many things to do. But only one that you want to.

Pulling him back against you is easy. Finding his lips and opening up for him again is even easier. He lets you take control, nods against the skin of your neck when you mumble instructions in his ear, and carries you across his empty apartment into his bedroom.

The coffee burns the roof of your mouth before you gulp it down. Hopefully, the warm drink will help the ache on every one of your muscles. The bitter taste makes your forehead hurt, the perfect excuse to hide your face behind the mug and ignore everything else.

A pair of eyes in front of you digs holes through every surface you put between you and him.

“If you don’t spill the beans in the next five minutes, I’m leaving.” Seungkwan’s voice tears the invisible wall down.

“I already told you what happened,” you mumble as you take another sip.

The cozy coffee shop near your place felt like a nice place to sit down and have a hard conversation at first. But now, the tired people who just want their morning coffee to go to work feel like they're judging you.

They must all see your messed up hair and realize you've been wearing the same clothes for over 24 hours. Even the shame must be seeping through your pores, filling the air inside the place with the distinct smell of embarrassment.

Looking everywhere but at your friend, you first hear his sigh, then his hands are taking your distraction away from you.

“You slept with Seokminnie,” he starts, and you mutter a chorus of r-rated curses that don’t do anything to stop him. “That doesn’t explain why you called me at 6 in the morning and forced me to have a terrible breakfast just hours before my flight.”

“I needed to eat something and you guys ate everything left last night,” you avoid the topic, and Seungkwan sighs dramatically, again.

“You didn't go to the airport.”

Seungkwan, with his judging eyes and exaggerated grunts, has been your voice of reason since forever. He lays it thick, rips the band-aid off, whatever you wanna call it. You need the shock, you need to hear the words from someone else. Maybe it makes sense if it's not coming from your own over-thinking mind.

“He probably doesn’t even want me there.”

“You know,” he sets your stolen mug on the table, ready to dig and poke until you give him what he wants, “for someone with that many master degrees, you’re pretty stupid.”

“What the hell, dude!” There's nothing throwable at your reach, so you slap his hand away from the table.

“Why are you being like this?”

“I think sleeping with my best friend is a very reasonable thing to freak out about.”

“You said it was good!”

Seungkwan’s eyes are as wide as bowling balls. The initial sex news didn't surprise him at all, but your stupidity seems to have reached unprecedented levels.

“Did you accidentally tell him you’re in love with him or something?”

There's a beat of glaring silence before you say, “you know I didn’t do that.”

It's a recurring thought that you're used to covering up with much more important subjects. It's something you're entirely too careful about to just blurb it out in the middle of a careless bone.

He checks out his notifications with a shrug. “That explains why he’s not replying to my texts and screaming at me, I guess.”

“You’re texting him?!”

Your arm flies into Seungkwan’s personal space a bit too late, and he instantly holds his phone out of your reach.

“Team business! Go away!”

You scoff, but his attention is now on texting someone. To your knowledge, everyone on the team had the same flight except for Seungkwan, who had to get one later for reasons he decided not to tell you. You're glad he's here, still, witnessing his most dumb friend.

“What the hell did you do?” He asks again after he locks his phone and puts it in his pocket.

“Nothing! I just woke up and left.”

Seungkwan glares at you. You glare back. He's no mind reader, but he must be seeing something in you, and you desperately want to find out what it is and hide it.

“What?”

“Did you talk, at least?” You shake your head. “Left a note?” Another shake. “Why?”

“I don’t know! I couldn’t stay there.”

You ghosted your psychologist months ago, but you know she'd say something about not being able to face the consequences of your actions. You'd argue that you just wouldn't want to hold Seokmin back from what he always wanted. Tie him to you and his past life.

“So, you’re making me your accomplice.”

“And I'm the dramatic one.” You don't know how many more eye rolls you have in you.

Seungkwan crosses his arms on the table, which means the conversation is now a serious one. “What should I say if he asks where I was? Or if you talked to me?”

“Just—” air leaves your lungs in a sigh. “Don’t tell him, please? I can’t talk with him right now.”

“You’re going to have to, eventually. You know that, right?”

“His mind should be on his race in a few days. He needs to train, and I don't want to bother him with useless drama.”

“He won't contact you if he thinks you want space.”

“I need space! I'm going to talk to him after I practice my speech. I promise.”

After life restarts, when your Seokmin-less days become the new normal and the dread keeps you company, you'll do it. When you're sure you can live without him.

“Okay, now that the freaking out is over, can you please tell me what happened? I want excruciating detail.” The last of your coffee finds the wrong pipe down your system and you choke at Seungkwan's ask. “It's like being inside a soap opera!”

—

Every muscle ached. The soft mattress you were laying on did nothing to help your body stop tensing, but there were two big arms keeping you close to a human-shaped heater.

His skin felt soft all around, nothing in between you and him but an invisible wall you began to build as soon as you gained consciousness. His sheets enveloping you smelled like him, sweet and expensive.

You almost closed your eyes back and pretended it was all a dream. You'd wake up and you'd be back at your place, just another more than friendly dream about your best friend. Nothing out of the ordinary. But you couldn't.

Reminders of the night all over the bedroom attacked you when you opened your eyes.

In the corner of the room, his luggage judged you as you tried to free yourself from his grip. The party clothes scattered around the floor, the used condoms on the bathroom bin, framed pictures of the two of you over the years. Every stage of your friendship plastered inside the four walls.

There was time before his alarm went off. The alarm that'd set off his bright future.

Getting dressed was the easy part. Covering every bit of skin of your body Seokmin made his, dressing up with the clothes he took off. Putting yourself back together.

Your face in the mirror was the first jumpscare you confronted. Tear stains decorated your cheeks, your natural make-up a mess on your skin. His mess. Your heart squeezed as you scrubbed your face with foamy soap, trying to hold off on tearing up and making noise.

Seokmin's deep unknowing breaths were all you heard. His eyes fluttered closed and the tiniest smile on his face broke you a little more inside. You'd just ruin him.

Somewhere in the living room was your forgotten bag, with your half-charged phone and two sets of keys to different apartments. Seungkwan must've put Seokmin's back inside your bag without you noticing.

Outside the bedroom, beginning to forget the night before was easier. Without the constant reminders, and his fingers so close to where you always wanted, the journey to forget began.

The last reminder made you jump. Green goo stuck to the dirty blender still on the counter, with a broken glass dumped in the sink, victim of two rushed people out of their mind.

For once, you wished you were drunk. You wished there was an external component to help you blur the events of the night. Memories that will inevitably hurt you and the friendship you've built for so many years.

Maybe, if you fuck up first, the heartache would be easier, too. If it was your fault, and not his. If you broke his heart before he had the chance to figure out he could do better.

Closing the door behind you, cementing your decision, was the hardest thing you did that morning.

—

“I should’ve known there was a vibe after that bullshit you told me about dying and whatever,” Seungkwan observes after carefully listening to your rendition of the morning.

“What are you talking about?”

“You were making a scandal about me drinking from your glass and then Seokmin came in and drank straight from your bottle. I couldn’t believe it, but you're both so weird I didn’t think much of it, and—”

His rambling continues, and you'd be offended by him calling you weird, if you weren't busy having slight memory issues.

“When did he—I don’t remember any of that.”

“Oh, but it happened. My memory never fails.” At your confused expression, he presses. “Were you that drunk?”

“I wasn’t drunk! And I made hangover smoothies after, I told you.”

Everything feels so natural with Seokmin, that sometime during your friendship you stopped paying attention to his actions so you wouldn’t overthink about what they meant.

“I still hate drinking from the same cup.”

“Oh,” Seungkwan wiggles his eyebrows and gets his hand slapped again, “It’s just your awful memory then.”

“Shut up, asshole. My memory’s just fine.”

Seungkwan checks his watch out of habit. He probably should already be leaving for the airport, needing to get there a few hours prior and all that.

“You need to go.”

You don’t want to keep him any longer. He also has his future ahead. Having an existential crisis can wait.

“I don’t want to leave you freaking out. What if you do something horrible? Like getting a face tattoo?”

“Fuck, I should cancel my appointment, then.” Seungkwan laughs, though skeptically. “I can figure it out, I promise.”

You know he's worried. About you, about Seokmin. His eyes analyze every micro-expression on your face, and you try to be as serious as possible.

“I'm always a text away,” he settles on saying. “A call too, but let's do those less often.”

“Don't worry about that. I need peace and quiet, and you talk too much.”

“Bitch,” he mutters and pretends to gather his things. But he should be doing it for real.

“Okay, now leave!” You usher him away, leaving him no choice but to obey after making a scene. “Have a safe flight!”

“Hope you had safe sex!” He yells back, louder than he needs to.

“I hate you! And I hope your plane crashes!”

“I'll miss you, too!”

People stare at you, and now that Seungkwan's out the door and moving on, you care.

There's so much silence without him, just you with your thoughts and judging stares from the other clients in the café. The pressure’s there, all around you, to get it together.

Will you be able to live without Seokmin this time? Not just kilometers away from you, but actually ignoring you? It's your fault, there's no denying it.

You'll get it together. You'll reach out to him first. Fix your friendship after fucking up tremendously. Easy.

The first few days pass with dread. Empty and gray. Sticking to your new routine is the way you found to not get lost in the emptiness, or in the unwanted thoughts.

Going back to college fills your every day. New classes to attend, assigned readings, essays. Anything you can do to stop the tsunami of thoughts, you do. But, if the three books and the open laptop in front of you prove something, it's that it’s not working.

You managed to snatch a table for yourself at the library—not that it was hard since no one willingly is on campus on a Saturday afternoon, decided on putting your mind to work on something. But you’re not stressed enough to do school work yet, and the people all around you talk so loudly, you find yourself listening to them to pass the time.

Gossip about people you don’t know is always interesting. Some girl kissed her friend’s ex at a party, another girl failed her first exam in her life, then a muscular guy chased the librarian around to look for something too specific. Fun to hear, but you take your phone out anyway. Less possibilities to form a thought.

You sip from your untouched black coffee on the table, only to realize it’s not coffee and it's not yours. It’s what Seokmin always drinks: a matcha with three packets of sugar. You always put his order first, and you must’ve automatically ordered his favorite instead of yours this time. Embarrassing.

The green drink goes down your throat with a sting.

Scrolling through social media, you can't escape your wrong-doings, or your algorithm. The timeline’s filled with clips and posts from the Qualifying, mostly people complaining about their favorite driver's position on the grid for Sunday.

There's only one person you'd share tweets with and laugh about the ridiculousness of some people's opinions.

Further down, you see what you were half avoiding, half expecting to see.

“Lee Seokmin, eliminated in Q1.”

You had talked about it, the possibility of him not doing great during the first races. Even though your little knowledge of how races work and his refusal to tell you the team's strategies snowballed in your brain into the idea that it was impossible for him to do poorly.

Starting P16 isn't bad for a first race in a Grand Prix. It can't be! Your fingers itch to text him, to encourage him, somehow. His chat glows on your screen, almost growing cobwebs from the inactivity.

Seungkwan was right. You knew it even before he said it out loud. Seokmin wasn't going to contact you first, he'd wait until you were ready to talk, not wanting to pressure you.

His profile picture taunts you. A photo you took yourself over time he came to visit. He'd made you drive him to the beach and you watched him surf for hours, not without hearing at least five pleas for you to join him.

You had your fun, staring into the ocean, seeing Seokmin riding the waves infuriatingly well. Was there nothing he was bad at? You remember taking your phone out, recording him riding the tallest wave you'd seen until then. Then a picture, and more as he came out of the water and ran to you with the biggest, proudest smile on his face.

Your stomach turns. That won't ever happen again. You're sure he'll never direct a smile that is happy and warm to you ever again.

You lock your phone and put it away before you do something stupid. He's probably busy for the race the next day. A text from you will only make things worse, you're sure.

—

Against your better judgement, and breaking your promise to not think about a certain driver, you find yourself seated in front of your small TV. Your inner alarm clock woke you up almost automatically to catch the tests before the race starts.

Race Day craze was all over your social media, with clips of every driver and predictions being almost inescapable. You couldn't catch the pre-race interview some driver is always subjected to, but you're on time for everything else.

Seokmin's face fills your screen before you have the chance to open the camera app. The dark blue uniform makes him look serious, his smile nowhere to be seen on his concentrated face.

The last time you saw him, he was peacefully sleeping on his bed with his lips curled. That Seokmin looks nothing like the one being filmed as he puts on the colorful helmet and gets in the car.

Your heart pounds inside your chest as if you were the one about to drive, and a mix of nervousness and excitement reverberates from your head to your toes. For a moment, even if your best friend hates your guts, you're as happy for him as you've ever been.

Regret. A painful regret punches you in the gut. He doesn't look sad, but there’s something missing in him. The little wrinkles beside his eyes, that shine of warm happiness that followed him everywhere.

Seokmin hates you. He has to. You changed everything then dipped before you could make sense of what happened, together. The Seokmin you see on your screen must no longer be your best friend. Not even your friend.

You look at his contact again, unsure if he'd want you to reach out after all. You lost him for good. All the hope you've harbored trying to get your feelings in order, now gone.

His voice coming from the speakers startles you. It’s important for drivers to check if their mic and radio work, and usually they’ll just say nonsense or sing a song they like so their engineers know what the issue is, if there’s any.

The last time you heard his voice, he was mouthing lust-filled nonsense against your naked back.

Then, the first lines of a song you thought Seokmin would never sing in public reach your ears.

“You're insecure, don't know what for.”

You cackle as your eyes go back to the screen. You can’t see his face under the helmet, except for his crescent moon shaped eyes as he sings.

“You're turning heads when you walk through the door.”

Could there be hope?

To everyone listening on the paddock and at home watching the TV, Seokmin’s just singing a 2011 pop staple. But, to you, it’s a sign that your best friend might not hate you after all.

Countless were the karaoke nights you sang that song together until your lungs couldn’t take it anymore. Seokmin, as always, gave the performance of his life every single night, out-singing you and your pitchy screams.

But it wasn’t about the singing. That song became a joke between you two. You’d hear it in the supermarket and you had to send him a voice message. When it came on the radio, you’d look at each other with twinning grins and burst out laughing. It was your song, and now, he’s singing it knowing the whole world is watching him.

Does he know you’re watching too? He has to know you’d never miss something so important to him. You waited for him outside a class after your first fight. You paid for his meal one time you argued and he left the restaurant. Across the timeline of your friendship, you fought so many times, but never failed to be there for him.

People laugh off screen, and Seokmin keeps singing until they tell him everything's working fine. He concentrates on the car and the circuit in front of him, arms tensing as he fixes his posture.

Seokmin starts the race quickly after, and you watch it all with more enthusiasm than ever. You don't want to miss any detail to make sure you tell him everything after.

Unfortunately, he doesn't earn any points for the championship. But ending at P17 isn't bad at all! Sometimes finishing the race in one piece is all that matters, or so Seokmin said a lot of times after you made fun of him during his F2 era.

From the way he gets out of the car, you can tell he's disappointed. His slouched shoulders that don't match the weak smile he shows the camera give it away.

A few reporters rush to shove their mics in Seokmin’s face, ignoring the sweat dripping down from his hair onto them. You barely hear some of the questions thrown his way, but he picks some one by one and answers perfectly.

“How do you feel after your first race?”

He rakes his fingers through his damp hair before answering, “It was all I ever dreamed. A little disappointed at the result, but now I can only go up!”

His answer eggs the reporter on, who chuckles as the few that didn't get their questions chosen move on to other drivers.

“It was a good start today, but you couldn't recover the spot you lost after the pit stop.”

“It was unfortunate, yeah. The soft tyres we changed into degraded quickly and I couldn't gain back any spot,” Seokmin replies expertly. “Still, I'm happy to have finished, and I hope I have a good season ahead!”

“Your family must be very proud of you, seeing you race after being a reserve driver for so long.” The reporter sounds captivated by Seokmin, continuing with the interview when he could’ve stopped after the race feedback.

“I hope they are,” he chuckles and your stomach turns. “Everybody back home was excited to see me today.”

“I'm sure they’re waiting to call you as soon as you’re done here.”

“I’ll be waiting by the phone, mom!”

There’s no denying the natural charm Seokmin delivers with each word. His answers are all effortless, and he doesn’t look bored or bothered by the questions. You knew it before, but it gets clearer and clearer that that’s where he’s meant to be.

“Anyone special back home? Any girl you’re hoping to impress?”

Seokmin chuckles with embarrassment, and you feel heat rushing up your cheeks.

“There might be. I'm not sure, yet.”

“C'mon! Now you're a professional driver, who would let you get away?”

“I wish it was up to me,” he chuckles again with an unreadable expression. “It was good talking to you, man! See you after the next race!”

“Sure will!” The reporter replies and the next driver shows up on screen. But your eyes follow Seokmin's figure blurring further and further in the background until he disappears.

You can fix this. You won’t let your stubbornness get in between him and you. He gave you the sliver of hope you needed. Whether he meant it or not.

Bitter taste envelops your tongue from biting your nails, and you're sure you're carving a hole on your floor from pacing in circles. Your phone stares at you from the other side of your room, laughing at you.

Every minute that passes after the race that you’re not calling Seokmin is a wasted one. There really are only two options: either you call him and confront your mistake, or you never talk to each other again.

Both scenarios would result in losing him. Though, living in a world where Seokmin isn’t a part of your daily life seems even worse than admitting your feelings out loud. There has to be a way to keep him by your side still.

Seokmin’s picture shows up on your screen. Your phone is in your hand and you’re calling him. Blood pumps faster and faster from your heart, but there’s no time to panic.

“Hi,” Seokmin’s voice buzzes through the line.

The shock of him not ignoring your call makes you unable to speak for a few seconds. You were panicking so much, you forgot to rehearse what you were going to say to him.

“Hi, loser,” you say quietly over the silence.

His guard is up, no trace of a smile in his tone as he replies, “You saw the race.”

“I told you I wouldn’t miss it.”

Your earnest words fade into the awkward silence. You knew you'd have to push through it to get him to hear you. The next questions mumble out of your lips, so quickly you regret them instantly.

“How are you? How’s the fame treating you?”

“It’s fine. Nothing really changed, just more people watching.” His tone's flat like never before.

“I hope you're not too bummed about the result. I know you're going to do great in the coming races!”

He only hums in response.

The deafening silence creates a black hole inside your room, sucking any idea you could possibly get to alleviate the awkwardness. He’s waiting for you to talk, that’s clear.

“Listen, I wanted to talk to you, about…” the words take work to get out of you, and in the end, it doesn’t even sound like you intend to. “What happened at the party.”

“You left,” he says, with simplicity, with hurt.

“I panicked,” you rush to half-explain. “I'm sorry.”

There’s so much more behind your words, so many things you can’t bring yourself to address out loud.

“We could’ve talked about it, together.”

“I know. I know you wanted to.”

Seokmin's doing a great job at presenting the facts, but not helping you form a forgiveness-earning speech. Dryness was expected from his part, but you didn’t expect words to be so hard to find after hearing his voice.

“There’s no excuse for what I did. I was awful. I shouldn’t have left and I shouldn’t have ghosted you all week when it was so important for you.” Your throat tightens as tears begin brimming from your eyes. “I’ve been a terrible friend, and I’m truly sorry.”

The line falls dead as he considers your apology. Knowing how important this race and the entire week was for him, you don’t expect Seokmin to forgive you easily. You don’t even deserve it. And if he’s willing to give you another chance, you’ll work hard to earn his trust again.

You can almost picture his face as he breaks the silence. “I didn't mean for it to change things between us.”

Seokmin's words leave a sour aftertaste, even though it’s what you wanted to hear. He wants to stay friends. You should be thrilled.

“Good,” you exhale. “I don't want things to change either.” If there’s disappointment in your voice, he shows no signs of realizing.

“I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No, stop that.” You jump in place. “You didn't do anything wrong. It was me who ran away like a coward.”

“You're right,” he chuckles in response, and a sense of familiarity takes over the call. “And I had to clean the blender.”

“Fuck! I'm sorry for that, too.” He's back to teasing you, and you're easily embarrassed.

You laugh together as if everything was okay again. As if the ghost of his fingers on your skin and his tongue on yours didn't wake you up every night in a cold sweat.

“Can we just—It may not be fair for me to ask you this, but, can we pretend it didn't happen?”

It. You can't even say it.

His breathing slows, thinking carefully. You fear you're about to lose him, again.

“I don't want us to fight,” you over-explain, and he sighs.

“Me neither.”

“And you actually can't be mean to your fans, so, you'll be forced to talk to me no matter what.”

After what it feels like years, your body relaxes. Hearing him chuckle because of you again feels good, warm, right.

“You're my fan now?”

“I've always been. Ever since you got your driver's license.”

You're so honest, the rest of the truth almost slips out. But it's not fair to him. You can't just blurt everything out over a call and expect him to be okay with it.

Instead, you let him ramble about the car, the race and the team. And you hear and comment about every detail. Because you're also excited for him.

You talk for hours, and the awkwardness fades away as the call progresses. With you telling him how it feels to go back to college and him explaining the differences between f1 and f2 to help you understand things for the next races.

He doesn't have to know that you googled everything the day before. You're happy he's willing to talk to you like everything is normal again. You won't waste your second chance.

Your windbreaker jacket fights for its life against the storm you didn't realize was coming into town until it was too late.

The rain and you have become one.

Your socks stick uncomfortably to your feet inside your drenched sneakers, and you can only hope the jacket covered your bag enough so your things didn’t get ruined.

You enter your building, in a better mood now that there’s a roof over your head after walking from the bus stop. Almost instantly, you open the camera app, take a photo of your soaked hair sticking to your face and send it to Seokmin before hopping on the elevator.

In hopes of restoring most of the normalness you’re able to, you’ve begun texting every day with him, mainly with mundane updates about your days that easily turn into conversation.

A new notification makes your phone buzz in your hand, and your heart races with anxiety and excitement; the new mix of feelings you started getting when talking with Seokmin.

Getting a text from your best friend shouldn't feel giddy, it shouldn't draw an instant smile on your face and make your hands tremble.

Still, you try. You try to answer his questions about your new major as a best friend would. You send him posts you see on your timeline about the racing season, and he sends you memes about university. You try not to zoom in on the mirror selfies he sends daily and try not to remember the feeling of being wrapped in those same arms.

It's late at night for you, but for Seokmin, the day just started. ‘Heading out to train’, said his last message before your storm selfie. That was over half an hour ago.

You change into dry clothes and flop down on your couch as your blood pressure drops seeing his new texts.

‘You need to stop your hate for umbrellas’, reads the immediate response to your photo. You'd argue that it wasn't your refusal to carry umbrellas this time, and you genuinely didn't know it was going to rain. But the next few texts restrict the oxygen flow to your brain.

Seokmin's sitting sideways, with his full body on display and his side profile almost testing you from far away. The angle makes it so the empty gym occupies most of the photo-space, but your eyes don't see anything else other than him.

Two dumbbells sit at the sides of his feet, probably unused as he doesn't look sweaty yet. The black shorts he's wearing don't do anything to hide his thigh muscles as they tense from the position he's in. Muscles you felt slapping against your own not long ago.

Deep inside you, a sliver of guilt appears, trying to overshadow the turmoil beginning to pool at the pit of your stomach.

You've tried to push down everything Seokmin makes you feel that you shouldn't. But it's so hard when the very sight of his body takes you back to that night again.

The lights inside your home remain off. You forgot to turn them on when you came in, and only a few rays of the street lampposts bleed through your curtains. It's so dark, it's easy to step over the embarrassment and let the desire, that you fought so hard to hide, win.

As your hand pushes down past the hem of your jeans, the inner fight going on in your mind blurs completely. That night is burned on your eyelids like a tattoo. It follows you everywhere you go, but it’s forever only in your mind.

Your body quivers imagining Seokmin’s hands are touching you and not yours. You burn with embarrassment and lust, body flushed as his muscles flex below you. How it would feel to have his fingers inside you, longer, deeper, and looking to please you until you’re done for.

The ghost of that night drives you to the finish line. Sticky, tired, and knowing it can never happen again.

Your phone buzzes on the table with more notifications. You never answered him, blinded by what isn’t real.

If Seokmin notices you leaving him on read for a suspicious amount of time, he doesn’t comment on it. His next few texts are all complaining about the new routine they have him on, but then saying he enjoys the challenge and seeing the results.

Those results are going to make your life really hard moving forward.

When old people complain about the new generation being addicted to their phones, you always argue that it’s the new way we have, as a society, to learn new things every day. Sure, you can get misinformation from anyone, even on the internet, but the easier access makes everything faster.

Besides, the older generation is just as addicted as they claim others to be. You’d go even as far as to say that it’s worse for them.

You would, but you’ve been proving old people right for the past few days.

For Fridays to be your busiest day of the week, full of classes and group meet-ups for projects, your screentime resembles too closely the one of a 10 year old addicted to tiktok. You’ve been constantly checking your notifications for the past two days, and always see your lockscreen empty.

Waiting for your order at the coffee shop you had a heart to heart with Seungkwan a few weeks ago, it just looks like Seokmin decided to hate you again.

Reeling back to when you apologized, everything seemed fine! Your last text conversation didn’t differ from how you’ve been talking.

If you did something to pass him off again, it would be nice for him to tell you for once.

The bartender's loud voice startles you out of your thoughts. “Iced matcha latte!”

You groan at your changing coffee order but take the cup from the worker regardless. The table you've become a regular off is empty, and you sit on your self-assigned chair to contemplate your life's twists and turns.

The text conversations with Seokmin don't stray far away from friendly updates and banter here and there. He hasn't been available for calls either, so you know you didn't slip and said something you weren't meant to.

The last picture Seokmin sent you catches your attention. He had the day off and his teammate invited him to spend the day at his yacht.

Blueish teal water surrounds him, but even if there's nothing inherently insinuating about the picture, you can't avoid looking at his face for longer than necessary. Your eyes then steer to his naked shoulders, imagining what's below the edge of the photo.

You've sunk your teeth on those shoulders, felt that very same nose against your core and came so hard you forgot how to breathe.

Seungkwan’s name flashes on your screen with an incoming video call, making you jump on your seat and gaining you a few weird looks.

After taking a deep breath, you check your airpods are still connected before accepting the call.

“I can't believe I have to call you myself to get in touch with you!” He accuses as soon as you pick up.

You try your best not to gasp too loud. “You told me not to call you!”

“A text wouldn't hurt either,” Seungkwan rolls eyes. “And I know you've been texting ‘Mister Yacht Party’, so don't tell me you haven't had time.”

With everything going on, and you trying to ignore anything even remotely related to Seokmin in case you slip up, you’ve forgotten about the other relationships in your life too. Your incapability to interact normally with Seokmin made you grow apart from everyone, in case they ask, in case they realize.

“Okay, I yield. I'm sorry, I should've texted you.”

Seungkwan, even if he knows what happened, is still as busy as Seokmin. You didn’t want to bother him with your college girl problems.

“Thank you. That's nice to hear.” He shows a genuine smile. “How have you been?”

“Classes and group projects and all. I don't want to annoy you with my boring routine.”

“Not that I like being annoyed, but you should tell me anyway! It's not boring to me if you like what you’re doing.”

It's heartwarming and annoyingly sweet of him, and you'd tear up if you weren't in public. “Thank you, really, but I want to talk about you! The new hotshot mechanic in Formula 1!”

His ears grow red with embarrassment. “I'm just observing the actual mechanics do their job for now.”

“That's how you learn! They'll eventually ask you to hold some tools and then you'll be working with the cars in no time!”

“Let’s hope the universe hears you,” he chuckles his words out.

In the background, you see a shadow of a figure moving before hearing Seokmin's voice. You don't quite get what he's saying to Seungkwan, but your body freezes as their focus goes away from you.

You haven't called Seokmin since you apologized weeks ago, because he's busy and you still received his daily updates anyway. But his recent silence put a stop to any progress you thought you made.

A door closes on Seungkwan’s side of the call, and his attention comes back to you. You have to pretend to be cool about it.

“So, how do you feel about that new lifestyle of his? Partying with famous people and all.”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I’m a mechanic, not his manager,” he throws you a glitchy knowing look. “I'd like it more if he found a way to get me invitations, though.”

“I'm sure they all invite their teams to their rich men hangouts.”

“Well, they invite their friends and I'm trying to replace you.” You're about to argue when he continues, “But I'm not letting his dick anywhere near me, so I guess I'm at a disadvantage.”

You choke on your drink. “Don't say that out loud! What if he hears you? Oh my God.”

“Oh, don't be dramatic.” His evil smirk shows you no compassion.

Your eyes scan the café in search of any wandering stares. “I shouldn’t have told you anything.”

“Too bad, you can't regret it now!” Seungkwan tries, but your worried expression doesn’t go away. “Don't worry about your sex drama. He just left anyway, he won't hear.”

The little information about Seokmin piques your interest. You guess it's his day off, since Seungkwan isn't working either, but he clearly had plans. You're not part of them. You haven't been for days now.

“Where did he go? He hasn't texted me in days.”

At your question, Seungkwan's expression turns. “Oh, shit,” he mutters under his breath.

“Are you kidding? What? What happened?”

“No, it's nothing. I'm sure he'll tell you.”

“So, there is something.” Nothing Seungkwan says helps calm you down.

“I didn't say that.”

“Come on. Did I upset him? Is he avoiding me? Is he getting drunk with Charles Leclerc again? Or worse, with Max Verstappen?”

Is it possible that Seokmin simply got tired? Maybe he realized texting wasn’t enough to keep a relationship going and decided to pursue something within his reach.

“You didn't do anything,” he sighs. You can't tell exactly why.

“Then, what? Where did he go?”

“He's doing something for his publicist.”

Whatever you thought his answer would be, that isn’t it. You didn’t even know Seokmin had a publicist, though it makes sense since he’s a public figure.

At your expectant face, Seungkwan realizes you need much more information than what he’s providing. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

“I'm going to fly wherever you are with the sole purpose of snapping your head off.”

“You don't scare me. You can't run a full block without getting the air knocked off you!”

“Besides the point! Just tell me already! I have no one to gossip with about famous people besides you, come on.” It's just gossip, you repeat to yourself. Celebrity gossip.

“Fine, but don't freak out, okay? Promise?” You nod, unsure but determined to know. “He's… on a date.”

For a second, your heart stops. “A date.”

“A PR date.” You glare at him, confused and paralyzed. “You know, when two managers arrange a dinner with two famous people to, like, boost their popularity.”

“Why the hell should he boost his popularity? He's a driver, not a fucking pop singer.”

“I know jack shit about marketing, don't ask me!” Seungkwan throws his free hand in the air, with his eyes wide at your reaction.

Your mood drops to new lows. If you weren't in a busy café, you're sure your throat would begin closing as a warning for incoming tears.

“Look. They just have to be seen hanging out. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It sounds like something if this is why he's been avoiding me.”

“I'm sure he has his reasons.”

If it was just a PR strategy, Seokmin would text you complaining about it. At least past Seokmin would have. The Seokmin you didn't ruin.

Any effort you were doing to seem uninterested fades. “Who is she?”

“Nope! We're not doing this.”

“W-why?”

“Because it doesn't matter!” Seungkwan almost yells.

“It does! His publicist team wouldn't choose someone random. They at least have to seem to have chemistry.”

This is what you were afraid of, Seokmin finding new people and realizing you're not worth the trouble. It makes perfect sense he'd want to stop contacting you altogether.

“You didn't even know what a PR date was 5 minutes ago. You don't know how it works.”

“But it makes sense! You can't deny that.”

“I can. And I will,” he asserts. “You shouldn't overthink about it. It's just a one time thing.”

“Yeah, you're right.” Just a one time thing. “I don't care.”

“Good.” Seungkwan exhales in relief. But his relaxation is short-lived.

“I don't care if he dates! He has all the right to.”

“Oh, boy,” he mutters as you start your ramble.

“He's a free, single man who just became famous. Of course he has all kinds of beautiful women lining up for a chance.”

“That’s not what I meant, just saying.”

“It's a matter of time before he gets married to a beautiful and rich model who'll give him children with symmetrical faces and buy them designer onesies.”

“Your twisted mind keeps surprising me, years after years.”

“It's not twisted, I'm being realistic.”

Being realistic is the only way you can save yourself from bad situations. You set the expectations low enough that nothing surprises you, nothing tears you down, because you were prepared.

You and Seokmin are nothing more than friends. If you were anything more, the distance and his new relationships would make everything harder. With your busy college schedule and his training, there could be nothing else.

You'd hold him back. And that would be worse than seeing him date anyone else.

The next day, the news and social media are filled with photos of the new hot couple out to dinner. But you don't allow yourself to care more than you should.

The numbness helps. Even if your eyes itch at every new angle of the two of them talking at the table. Even if he shows her that same smile that makes your stomach flutter. Even if that girl isn't you. It shouldn't be you. It could never be.

After the spectacle the day before, you should’ve expected to find that girl’s face in the foreground as soon as you turn on your TV. You gave Seungkwan’s words some thought and believed him when he said it wasn’t something to worry about, that it was just a one time thing. It certainly is not.

They came into the paddock with their arms interlocked, ready for the cameras to show them to the whole world. As Seokmin went to get ready, she stood on his team’s side, with her effortless beauty and perfect fitting outfit.

The sour mood kept getting worse as the race preparations started. Seokmin doesn't hesitate and radio checks like normal, no singing involved.

It's your fault really. You had your expectations too high for the reality you live in. Seokmin’s not going to sing One Direction before every race to get your attention. Stupid.

The first hour blurs past with a debilitating heartache. Every time Seokmin does a successful overtake, the camera focuses on his new date. Her reactions fuels social media just as much as him doing well.

You don’t catch the rest of the race. You mentally can't handle it.

It's late in the evening, so the cashier at the supermarket doesn't look at you weird for buying a ridiculously priced red wine. It's too late when you realize the brand you gravitated towards.

The race is on its last laps when you get back. Your eyes stick to the screen, that you forgot to turn off when storming out, even if you don't want to. It's a tense game of overtaking, falling behind and the ranking changing with each lap before it finishes with Seokmin positioning P11.

You watch as he celebrates with his team. Everyone with smiles on their faces and palming Seokmin on the back. And she's also there.

He was really close to gaining points for the championship, which is huge for a new driver. You know he's probably at it inside his head, telling himself that he should've placed in the top 10.

The sports channel's now airing an old basketball tournament, formula 1 long gone from your screen. You stare at it blankly, with only Seokmin’s face as he got out of his car in your mind. You want to tell him that he did awesome. That no matter the position he ended at, with all the maneuvers he managed against the other drivers, he cemented himself as someone to watch out for.

You turn the TV off and head to bed, hugging the unopened wine bottle and trying to convince yourself not to do anything you'll regret. You know it's too late when you hear his voice over the speaker.

“Hi?” The sound of a door closing echoes through the line.

Once again, you called him. Instead, this time, there was no hope that he'd answer.

“Congrats on today.” There's no cheer on your tone. “You did great.”

“Thank you. I just got to the hotel.” You hum in response, not knowing what else to say. “I-I wondered if you were watching.”

“I was.”

Silence follows your affirmation. He didn’t expect you to call. You didn't think you would either.

“I'm guessing you saw…”

“I couldn’t really ignore it,” you say dryly.

“I was going to tell you but-”

You interrupt him, “It's okay if you didn't want to.” You know you have no right to be upset by a date, he doesn't owe you an explanation.

“I wanted to.”

“Oh.” He doesn't owe you an explanation. Doesn't matter how bad you want one.

“I just didn't know how.”

You think about it for a second. Does that mean he can just ghost you entirely? Do you have the right to complain when you did the same thing not long ago?

“I missed you these past days,” you decide to admit. “You didn't need to go all silent treatment on me.”

“I'm sorry, I really am. It was just—a weird situation.”

“Kwannie told me about it.”

“That weasel,” Seokmin mutters. “Yeah, he knew ‘cause I was with him when my manager called me.”

You chuckle, fixing your posture and laying face up in bed. “He didn't want to tell me but I forced him.”

For a second, everything feels normal again. Your smile shows back up as you stare at the ceiling, hearing Seokmin laugh lightly at what you said. He’s still your best friend.

You hear ruffles of sheets on his side. He's also in bed. “Why did you want to know?” If you shut your eyes, you could picture him laying with you.

“Why did I want to know the reason why my best friend was ignoring me?”

“Okay, fair. I'm sorry, again.”

“I was actually sad, you know,” you chuckle your words out. “I bought wine to get sad drunk and all.”

“Are you drunk in bed? What time is it?” Your stomach does a funny flip at his concerned tone, but you push it back down.

“I know it’s barely after noon for you, but it’s night time here,” you remark before taking a deep breath. “I didn't open the wine. I called you instead.”

“Good, ‘cause you can't be trusted when you're wine-drunk.”

“Okay, now I'm getting offended! When have I ever misbehaved when drunk?” You regret the teasing question as soon as it leaves your lips.

“Do I have to remind you of the last time we drank a whole bottle of red wine each?”

The conversation was going there regardless, but you still lose your breath at his mention. The forbidden topic. You shouldn’t be talking about it, but you need to clarify something to him before trying to delete it from your memory. It’s not much of a confession, you just need to get it out there.

“I wasn’t drunk.”

“I know,” he replies almost too quickly.

“It wasn't like I didn't know what I was doing.”

Seokmin might’ve initiated the kissing and touching, but you were just as eager as him. After all that time, he was kissing you like it meant something, and it was easy to ignore the uncertain future when his hands were on you and he was licking his way into your mouth so good.

“After you left, I just thought-”

“You shouldn’t worry. You didn't do anything wrong.”

The burden of that morning comes creeping into your mind. He still sounds hurt talking about it, and you wouldn't hold it against him if he still resented you.

“I know you don't want to remember it.” His words are so quiet you almost break. He might’ve forgiven you, but you didn't mend the wound you left him with.

“It's not that. I-” You want to explain, but you can't finish the thought.

“It's okay.”

“But it's not!” The darkness allows you to speak your feelings out loud. In the pitch black of your room, no one can judge you. “I do remember it. Like, a lot. And it's embarrassing.”

From the other side of the line, only breathing sounds can be heard. You shouldn't have said anything. You need to learn to shut up and stop making everything weird.

“I remember it, too,” he replies, shy and quiet. “Every day.”

Oh. Goosebumps creep up your body, your blood sizzling traveling through your veins from head to toe.

You want to believe him so bad. “You don't have to say that just because I did.”

“I'm not. You need to stop putting words in my mouth.” Seokmin sounds severe, tired of going around circles but never getting to the point.

“I can't really see your reactions through a call.” You try to hide your nervousness behind a chuckle. “You could be making puking faces and I wouldn't know.”

“Isn't my word enough?”

“It's not. Sorry,” you chuckle again. What else can you do?

“Close your eyes,” he instructs.

“For what?” You ask, incredulously, but still do as he says.

“Close your eyes. Imagine me there, like we're talking face to face.” He sounds so calm, all while your thoughts reel looking for an answer as to what he's doing. “Are you laying down?”

“Yes.”

“What would you say if I was there?”

“I-I don't know.” Your voice shakes, anxious and expectant.

“If you were here with me, I'd be the happiest man in the world,” Seokmin admits, and your heart stops.

“Aren't you happy living your dream?”

“It's not the same if you're not here watching.”

“But you did well today!”

“And I wanted to celebrate with you. But you weren't there.” While the celebration seemed nice on TV, he's telling you another story. “I didn't go out with them. I came straight here to the hotel. I was about to call you when I saw your name on the screen.”

Your legs shake lightly with excitement. All that sadness you felt taking over you dissipated with each of his words.

“I missed you. So I called.”

“I'm glad you did.”

Ending the conversation at this moment, switching the topic even, would be the wise decision. You didn't have a single drop of alcohol, but your mouth is unrestricted.

“I wish I was there with you for real. Not in your imagination.” You swallow hard, but it's not enough to stop your blabbering. “I don't like not being with you.”

After a pause, Seokmin finally speaks up again, "You could be.”

You chuckle in disbelief. “I can't go to a race.”

“I don't mean to a race. Or at least, not just one.” You're speechless, scavenging in your mind for any other thing he could be talking about. At the silence, Seokmin continues, “You could be with me.”

“What are you saying? Seokmin, please.”

“C'mon,” he spits out, as if it was obvious. “You know.”

“Know what? I was just saying-”

“You know how I feel about you.”

—

The bed dipped where your bodies were tangled together. It was too hot, your skin glistening with sweat, but neither of you cared.

His arms wrapped around your waist, flushing your back against his chest to keep you from escaping. You were too sleepy to even think of the possibility. His steady breath and the beating of his heart were more calming than anything.

Nothing seemed real. Your eyelids felt heavy after being up all night, and you were sure the sun would come up any minute. Time, unfortunately, still moved.

You were almost drifting to sleep when you heard his voice.

“This,” his words slurred, as if he was on the verge of falling asleep, too. “This meant something right?”

You didn't know if he was awake, if he wanted an answer. He surely felt your lungs suddenly not filling with air.

“Yes,” you replied. Only with the lights turned off and in the limbo between days you could admit something like that.

“I don't think I can ever go back.”

—

For the tenth time in the night, your heart stops. You're shivering, beginning to sweat from the overwhelming sensation. For how much time have you waited to hear him tell you this?

“You can't say that. Not right now.”

“When should I? There's no such thing as the right time. I feel it, right now. I l-”

“Don't. Please, Seokmin,” you choke out, trying and failing to stop the cascade threatening to fall from your face. “We can't.”

“Why?” Your eyes are still closed, imagining his reactions like you've memorized his face and his every expression. “Why can't we try? Don't you feel it too?”

“It's not that simple.”

“But it is! Why are you so against it?”

“Because I don't want us to change!” You yell into the air. To him. Pleading to the universe.

“It won't. I know it won't because it never has.” Seokmin's not calm either. You can tell there's something brewing behind his thought out words. “I’ve liked you all this time, all these years. Since I was nobody and you insisted on coming to watch me get my racing license. You were the only one there, you were always the only one supporting me at the beginning.”

“I didn't say anything then because I didn't feel worthy. I never thought you'd look at me the way I looked at you. And that night,” he continues. “I kissed you that night because I wanted to since forever. You were acting like everything was going to change drastically, but my feelings weren’t going to. And they're still the same. You finally looked at me when I was leaving and I thought it was my last chance. Then, you wanted to act like nothing happened, and I accepted. I went on with it, thinking that at least I was still in your life. But it's not enough. It's not enough anymore.”

“Seokmin, please.” Tears stream down your face, nothing working to stop them. “I'd just hold you back.”

“Why? Why? I want this! I'm asking you!”

"Because! You're moving forward, doing something with your life, getting to where you always wanted, and I'm stuck here, studying like I've done all my life, watching everything from the sidelines.” Hiccups force you to take a breath, no matter how hard it is. “I'm not worth it. You should be with someone with a future. With someone you can hug, and kiss, and actually be with.”

“I don't want anyone else. I want you,” he pleads quietly. You're breaking him, again. “I don't care about having to video-call to talk. I'd gladly do it with you.”

“It might seem like enough now, but you'll get tired. We'd start hating each other for being busy the only time one of us had time.”

“You're always so pessimistic. We can make it work! We've been doing it for years now!”

“But it’s different. I-I don't think I could handle it.”

“Tell me. Tell me you don't want to be with me.” He asserts. Done. Tired. “But I can't go back to how it was. It'd hurt too much.”

Everything stops as his words settle in. You don't have any more teats to spill. The thing you feared became real. Your relationship isn't enough, he wants something you can't give him.

You clear your throat, “I'm sorry.”

You've said those words too many times to each other. But this time it's not to take what you did back. You know you're breaking his heart, but there's nothing else you can do.

“It's done then.”

You hope he doesn't hear you getting choked up. It's not fair to him when it's your fault.

“Goodbye,” It's a whisper of your name, but it hurts like a gunshot.

You start living zoned out. Seconds blend into hours and hours blend into days, seamless. Your body works on autopilot, repeating the same cycle day after day: go to classes, eat, sleep, repeat.

The past weeks were just a test, nothing compared to the real thing. Living a life knowing you will never have Seokmin by your side again.

Roughly two weeks have passed since the cursed phone call that changed it all. Two weeks since you had to admit the worst part of your insecure brain to him. Two weeks since you broke his heart. But you push through it, even if it seems like days will never have bright colors again.

From time to time, you check your phone in hope to find something, and disappointment is always the result. You've exchanged texts with Seungkwan, disclosing the least amount of detail possible to his gossiping self, but even if you want to believe things will get better, it never feels normal. He'll always be in Seokmin's team. Even him talking to you feels like treason.

Is there a world where this wasn't the end result? Maybe if you weren't a coward.

Stepping slowly on the grey cement, you get out of the library and see your bus speed away from your stop. Another small consequence of your actions. You've given up on anything working your way by now.

You wait for the next one with a blank mind. Standing at the bus stop, staring at your feet, you try to think of something that aren't Seokmin's last words to you, ever.

It's done then. They sounded so harsh at that moment, but the more you think about it, the more you realize how badly you hurt him. It was for the best, you think. It has to be. You're saving both of you from a worst heartbreak. If you let yourself fall more deeply, it'd hurt more. You can't handle that.

The Sunday sun makes your skin prickly with sweat. You didn't put in sunscreen before deciding to kill time in the library doing God knows what. A day full of regrets, it seems.

When you finally sit on the bus, some time later, you don't fight the urge to check on the latest sports related news. You aren’t in each other’s lives anymore, but that doesn’t mean you won’t check on his career. You’ll never stop supporting him.

Your Seokmin related news have been scarce since that call. Of course, you chose one of the few race free weekends to end your friendship. You knew how he spent his free weeks, but you didn’t hear anything about him either. You didn’t ask.

This week’s race was one Seokmin had been expecting since the first moment he got the news that he’ll be racing. The São Paulo Grand Prix was specifically hard for him. Not only is the weather in the region unpredictable, it’s also not located on flat ground, which means it follows the ups and down of hills, and it’s a counterclockwise circuit, which has different repercussions on the driver’s body.

You may not have hourly updates of his life anymore, but you’ve built an entire encyclopedia of Seokminisms. With the anxiety that comes with having to follow his team’s past success on the circuit, combined with the special training to get the body ready for the race, Seokmin probably hasn’t left the gym in days.

The race started while you were waiting on the sidewalk. Seokmin started at P10 and quickly gains a few spots as the laps progress, positioning P7 by the time you reach your home.

But, with all the sad groveling you’ve been doing, you haven’t checked São Paulo’s estimated climate for the weekend. You realize your mistake the second the sun stops illuminating your screen, replaced by a gray, worrying layer of clouds covering the sky. The narrators all comment on the weather change and the start of the rainfall, expected in the region at this time of the year.

Racing under the rain is normal, every driver has done it countless times. It's the decreasing ability to see past one meter ahead that worries you.

Your remote is in your hand the moment you sit on your couch, without even taking your outside clothes off. Your eyes glue to the screen. Seeing the amount of laps decrease without any incidents lets you breathe, but the anxiousness never leaves.

Seokmin manages to block drivers from passing him, and not even his rushed pit stop prevents him from staying within the scoring positions, but when he celebrates through the radio, you can almost hear the toll the circuit is taking on him. Racing counterclockwise pushes the driver's neck to the right, straining the body uncomfortably.

The storm worsens each minute that passes, and you wonder why they haven't stopped the race yet. With 5 laps left to finish, maybe there's hope it can be done. For a second, you think that too.

Seokmin overtakes another driver during the ‘S’ turn, officially positioning P5. Having just 4 laps left, it's basically his final position.

But the rain doesn't relent. If the hope was that the storm ended as a mere drizzle, everyone was wrong. The circuit and paddock were nearly invisible, cast aside by the blurring rain.

It happens before you even register what’s barely visible behind the rain.

Tyres squeak against the pavement, harsh and loud. No one knows what happened. The sports narrators describe the accident you can’t see, wondering which driver almost managed to finish the race.

The broken car’s color is barely recognizable. You listen attentively to each driver that stops racing, name after name hoping to hear Seokmin saying he’s at the pit stop.

“The back right tyre’s done for,” his voice gets picked up by the radio with a chuckle, followed by a choir of questions from his team.

You exhale for the first time in minutes. If he’s talking he must be okay. But you don't get to relax. No one knows what happened, or how badly the car or Seokmin were hurt.

The storm calms down just barely, but enough to see both the medical car and the safety car doing their respective jobs.

Seokmin is extracted from the car and instantly laid down on a gurney. The narrators explain the way his degraded tyres slipped on the wet asphalt and caused the car to run into the wall.

You analyze the repetition, now clearer thanks to the many angles the races are filmed in. Somehow, as the experts are explaining, Seokmin managed to turn the car in a way it wouldn't badly hurt him before it crashed. It could’ve been much worse.

But, even with every maneuver in the world, he still got carried to the hospital, and you have no way of knowing how he was. You couldn't ask him. You couldn't ask anyone.

Your TV is off the second the narrators change topics and the race resumes to the last laps. As the afternoon goes on after the race finishes without him, you stop caring about everything else. Anything that isn't news about Seokmin goes in through one ear and out the other.

Hours and hours pass with you debilitating your sense of sight by looking at your phone, searching news articles and social media for any kind of information. You get nothing, only people discussing the ending positions. How can no one worry about a driver getting injured?

You're about to give up when your ringtone catches your attention. You pick up instantly. “How is he?”

“He's at the hospital,” Seungkwan sighs. “They're just now allowing visitors.”

Okay. If they’re allowing people to see him, it probably means he’s not in need of intensive therapy. He’s okay.

You might be more relaxed, but there are still tons of questions to ask. “Are they making him stay the night? Is he hurt?”

“I don't know the extent of his injuries yet, I'm sorry.” Seungkwan sounds out of breath, like he’s pacing back and forth in the hallway.

“What happened?” You insist. “I couldn't see anything with the rain.”

“The team didn't manage the pit stops correctly and the car slipped with the wet floor.”

“So, his team and whoever decided that the race could continue with the storm are idiots.”

“Hey! I told them it wasn't safe?”

After watching so many races over the years, it became clear that when anything that could endanger the drivers came into play, the race would stop until it was safe. The weather in that region of Brazil might be unpredictable, but a storm is still a storm, and just thinking about Seokmin being as blind to the circuit as you were from the cameras puts a lump in your throat.

“I don’t understand how they allowed that.”

“Me neither, I swear.” Seungkwan sounds defeated.

Deep down you know he was probably fighting everyone on the paddock before the accident happened. He isn’t making jokes and teasing you like he usually would. You don’t want to fight.

“Can you just—let me know if he's okay?” You whisper, fearing that saying it out loud would trigger some response from the universe.

“Why don't you ask him yourself?”

“You know I can't do that,” you protest. “He hates me.”

He sighs and continues with a babying voice, “He doesn't hate you.”

“He does. Don't lie to me.”

Seungkwan is aware that you and Seokmin talked and essentially ended your friendship, but he doesn’t have a clue what you said to him, the way he pleaded for you to listen and how you refused. It hasn’t been long enough for him to even consider beginning to forgive you. And it’s okay. You did it knowing the consequences.

“You're so fucking stubborn,” Seungkwan mutters. “I can't believe I have to do something for you two to grow some balls.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” You must look crazy, pacing around your apartment screaming at the phone.

“You're coming here.”

“Here? To fucking Brazil?” He just hums as a reply. “Yeah, right.”

“You are. I'm booking you a plane ticket right now.”

He must be joking. “You're not.”

“Hell yeah I am! And I'm using his card, too.”

“That's called stealing. You know that, right.”

“Not if it's what Seokminnie really wants.”

His nickname being uttered pinches your heart. You want nothing more than to see him, to hug him and breathe him in. If these past two hours proved anything, it’s that being away from him and left out of what happens to him is hell on earth.

“I can't go there,” you repeat quietly. “He won't want to see me.”

“He will.” You sigh with hesitation, but Seungkwan interrupts you before you can object. “I won't tell you how he is if you don't come. And I'll pay the guys to not talk to you, too. Simple as that.”

“You can't be serious.”

The free trip offer starts sounding not too bad. You fear if he pushes you a bit further, you’ll accept. You’re weak when it comes to Seokmin and he knows that.

“I have never been more serious about something in my life.”

You sigh again, knowing you’re going to accept. It’s as simple as that, and you hate yourself for it. How are you going to get ready for the inevitable heartbreak that’ll come with seeing Seokmin face to face again?

“I'm going to punch you in the face when I see you.”

“And I'll gladly take it. After you talk to him.”

The doorknob is within reach from your hand, cold, taunting, and the thing that separates you from the one person you want to see the most.

For once, you forgot about your other responsibilities. You threw everything away and jumped on a plane on a Sunday afternoon to travel to the other side of the world. Currently, Seokmin's well-being is your top concern, above going to beginner college classes.

On the plane you could only think of that to say to him. Seeing him again was such a wild and foreign idea that, even standing with only a wall between him and you, it still doesn't seem real.

Hours in the sky didn't prepare you for shit, and the emptiness of the hallway gives you chills.

Your heart's pounding like you're being chased, with your hands sweaty and brain reeling. You're in no state to face the most important person in your life. You need to get it together.

Trying to accustom your brain to the high possibility of receiving a string of curses and screams, to be asked to get out and never return, is not hard. Hearing his voice will be enough. Knowing he's okay, at least physically.

After taking a deep breath, but not yet revealing yourself, you knock on the door as you open it slightly.

You hear Seokmin sigh before he says, “Soonyoung, I already told you I don't want—”

Whatever he was about to say gets cut off when you peek your head through the opening.

Seokmin's sitting with his back against the lifted bed, already dressed in his clothes and with no visible bruises or stitches. He's as shocked as you that you're entering his room, blinking rapidly trying to check if he's seeing correctly.

“Can I come in?” You ask, knowing there's a high possibility of being denied.

There's a beat of silence before he asks, “Why are you here?”

You take a step into the room, and when he doesn't tell you to get lost, you take it as a yes.

“I saw what happened.” You stand awkwardly away from his bed, searching for injuries on him and feeling his eyes going over you. “I was worried.”

“So you flew all the way here?” Of course, he's not convinced, especially after your last conversation.

“I wanted to see if you were okay,” you reply, but it's not the whole truth. “I wanted to see you.”

“There was no need for you to—”

“Well, I came.”

You stare at each other, trying to figure out what's going through the other's mind.

Now that he's in front of you, waiting for you to say something, words don’t want to form sentences in your mind. Whatever you planned to say disappeared the second his eyes laid on yours.

His silence is unnerving. Maybe you made a mistake. You'd rather him scream and tell you how much he hates you than being subjected to the icy quiet for any longer. What else were you expecting?

“I'm sorry—maybe I shouldn't have. I'll leave.”

You motion to turn around and leave. Seungkwan got you a back ticket for the next day. You can wait at a hotel until then.

Tears pool on your eyes as you begin to face the door. Everything moves at a slow pace. You saw him after months being away, and you're ending it once again.

“Wait! Wait a minute.” His voice freezes you in place. “Don't leave.”

“I should let you rest.” You turn halfway, still not facing him again. “You probably don't want to see me.”

“I'm glad you're here.”

For the first time in weeks, you feel like you can breathe. As you dare to look his way again, your lungs fill with air and a weight lifts off your shoulders.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you chuckle to hide your nervousness. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no. Just a few bruises on my left side. The circuit had nothing on me.”

You laugh with him, unsure of what's appropriate to say. Yes, he's an amazing driver, but you were still worried, and now you know he's okay. There isn't really anything else to do.

“It's okay if you hate me,” you blurt out.

Because it is. You can't expect him to be forgiving just ‘cause you showed up at the hospital. It's not fair to him.

“You don't get it,” he sighs and pushes himself up the bed. “I don't.”

“I was awful to you and now I have the nerve to show up! I wouldn't hold it against you if you did.”

Seokmin walks towards you, casting his shadow on the white cemented floor. You can't look down for long, because his form blocks any other view and his scent and warmth touches your skin, erupting goosebumps all across your body.

Your throat threatens to close. It's hard to swallow with the rush of emotions taking over you.

Before he can speak, the door behind you opens and reveals one of the nurses. For a second, you forgot you were in a public place in another country.

“You're officially discharged, Mr. Lee. Is this who'll be taking you home?” She points at you.

You look at him, perplexed. He doesn't even have to stay the night. Seungkwan played you. He made you worried sick, he flew you here in a rush, for the whole thing to be over after a few hours. He'll pay for this.

The nurse taps her foot against the floor, waiting for an answer. “I am. Yes.”

It's a quiet taxi ride to the hotel Seokmin's staying in. The unsaid words between you are for no one else to hear. Not the driver, not the hotel staff, not even the hot air engulfing the hallway.

When the door clicks closed behind you, you rush to place all his things on the couch –because of course he booked a room with a full living room.

“I could've got my stuff, you know. I didn't break both arms.”

“You should rest for a few days.”

Seokmin stands behind you, waiting for you to quit stalling and face him again. His presence is all too ominous, drawing heat up your body.

But you can't deal with the pressure. “I'll leave you to it.”

He grabs your hand, keeping you from running away. “Why did you come?” He asks, voice too close to you.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” you whisper back, turning around slowly.

“And hopping on a plane and coming to São Paulo was your first choice? You could've texted me.”

His eyes bore holes on the top of your head as you avoid his stare. Analyzing the room is much more important than catching his eyes and melting right into his hold.

“I wasn't sure if you'll reply.”

“Then, you could've texted anyone else.”

“It's not the same.”

Seokmin's hands creep up your arms, boiling your blood everywhere he touches. When he reaches your neck, his fingers tilt your jaw up to finally meet your eyes.

Everything you expected to see in his eyes, from disappointment to dislike, or even repulsion, it's not there. His expression is as soft as ever, except for the faintest smirk forming in one corner of his mouth. Not that you're looking.

“Why did you come?”

“You know why.”

Words were never your strong suit, especially not when the man you love is staring down at you like you hold the secrets of the universe. After all this time, how can he not know?

“I don't. That's why I'm asking.”

You roll your eyes playfully, falling into his trap too easily.

“I missed you. Is that what you want to hear?” He's smug as he nods and urges you to keep going. “I hate being away from you. Because, I am my own person, but I don’t know how to live if it's not with you and your stupid smile by my side.”

“I have a stupid smile?”

“Very stupid.”

You chuckle together, chests almost colliding from the closeness. He isn't stepping away. You don't want to either.

“I'm sorry—for the other day.” You see his expression fall into seriousness.

“You don't have to apologize.”

“No. I do.” Your hand in his chest stops him from contradicting you. “I shouldn’t have acted out like that. Not after we slept together, and especially not during that call. I got scared and I was selfish to think that it was the only way I could save myself from being hurt. And I know I keep fucking everything up, hurting you and then apologizing. I don't know how you have it in you to keep wanting to see me even when you hate me, but I'm also selfishly happy that you do.”

“That's where you keep getting it wrong.”

Standing in the middle of the empty room, you're trapped between his hands and the weight of his following words.

“You didn't let me finish what I wanted to say that day,” he continues. “I don't know why you're scared to hear me say it, but now that you're here, I think it's because you're ready to.”

Seokmin breathes in and out, giving you time to reject him. You want nothing more than to hear those few words.

“I love you. I've loved you for years and I have never stopped. I don't think I'm capable of feeling any other way about you.”

The four walls surrounding the both of you suffocate you. Breathing takes double the effort after hearing the words you've been chasing for years.

When his thumb caresses your cheek, you realize he's wiping off the tears running down your face.

“Don't leave. Stay with me tonight.”

Not trusting your ability to speak at the moment, you only nod and let him lead you to the bedroom, after ensuring you're leaving your bag with his stuff.

Getting into bed with him feels just as natural as it feels like the most anxiety inducing thing you did ever in life. While your pajamas consist of old stretched clothes that don't fit anymore, his is only a pair of shorts. Nothing else.

Inside the covers, your bodies are drawn together like magnets, and your head's suddenly laying on his bare chest. His steady breathing could soothe any worry. You'd drift to sleep if it wasn't for the little time you have together.

His hand searches for yours and interlocks your fingers right above his stomach. All so intimate, but for once, you don't want to run away.

“Are you missing class tomorrow?” He asks, breaking the comfortable silence of the night.

“Hmm, yeah, my flight back leaves at night.”

With your eyes closed, you feel his light chuckle against your cheek.

“Miss goody two shoes skipping an entire day of class? For me?”

“Oh, shut up!”

You aim to hide your face behind your hands, but he grabs your wrist before you even get the chance to. With his other hand, he lifts your chin up, once again connecting your eyes.

The yellowy lamp on the nightstand highlights the feature on his face. His high cheekbones take the cake, pinkish red due to the warm temperatures. You see his eyes going over your face too.

Your shy smile dies below his stare. A thousand thoughts run inside his mind, unsure of everything.

“Have I told you how happy I am that you're here?”

His voice, so soft and honest, melts you in place. You feel giddy all around, being with him so comfortably. Weeks ago you might’ve been panicking in the same scenario, but every minute it passes, your decision becomes clearer and clearer.

“Happy enough that you won't mind that Seungkwan used your card to pay for my plane tickets?”

“I knew I shouldn’t have given it to him for those discounts he wanted.”

You chuckle. “You're a good friend. To everyone and to me.”

“A good friend, huh?” Seokmin's hands drift down to your hips and lift you until you're on top of him. “I don't think you'd allow any friend to touch you like this.”

He traces your back, feeling your hot skin as his hands drift inside your t-shirt. Your eyes almost close with a sigh, but the sight of him under you is one you don't want to miss a second of.

His bare chest under your touch rises and falls as he thinks of a witty answer. Your fingers go over his skin, finding every mole on his torso and wishing you were the only to have seen them.

“What do you want to be, then? The ‘best friend’ title is already yours.”

“The one that starts with ‘boy’.”

“Boy best friend?”

It's fun to tease him, more so when you seem to be in charge of the situation. But, without changing his position or his tone of voice, he manages to flip that around.

With all this time away, you forgot Seokmin is not who he always seems. He's kind and infectiously happy, but he's also a man that frequents the gym and knows his effect on you.

When he pushes your hips down on his groin, your little shorts and his paper-thin sleeping shorts let you feel just how much he wants you.

“Fuck,” you mumble, and it's clear he got what he wanted.

One hand caresses the side of your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before he says.

“You're really pretty.”

If he can't see the wave of warmness across your face, you're sure he can feel it.

“I didn't even put make-up on before coming ‘cause I was in such a rush.”

“You sooo care about me.”

Your jaw and your neck and your nape, all fall into the trap of his touch. His magnetism almost controls you, lowering your face slowly, entranced by the way his lips move.

You kiss the corner of his mouth. Then, you kiss up his jaw and both his cheeks. He chases your lips but you manage to avoid him, save for the faintest graze when you speak.

“And you sooo love me.”

Seokmin hums in response, letting you have your teasing moment back. He doesn't know that you're trembling inside, feeling his length twitching under you with just a few kisses.

“Are you going to let me kiss you or should I beg?” The breathless question almost leaves you speechless.

“Only if you promise to never stop.”

“You're gonna have to restrain me, then.”

“I bet you'd like that.”

Seokmin breaks the tension, pushing your neck down and finally connecting your lips after so long.

Neither of you waste time, delving into the kiss like starved people. You don't know how you lived this long away from him after learning how he tasted.

Teeth clash as your limbs tangle together trying to feel every bit of skin you can. You grind against his bulge shamelessly, earning groan after groan into your mouth. He doesn't stop you.

The few layers between your cores allow you to feel everything. Your already damp panties stick to your folds with his shape dragging along.

You moan in each other’s mouths, desperately seeking to satisfy the fire growing inside you. His arms hold you impossibly closer, keeping you in place as his tip presses against your clit over the clothes.

“Seok—what the fuck.” You're breathless, with your body flushed with embarrassment at how quickly he's able to get you to the edge without even touching you properly.

You hide your face on the side of his neck as he keeps going. You let him get off against you, feeling his cock grow with every day of his hips and every moan you don't contain.

“Can you come like this?” The broken words struggle to leave him between the light grunts he lets out.

“I don't want—” His hand going under your shorts cut your words off.

In between your sweaty bodies, Seokmin found a way past your inner thighs and now plays with his fingers against your drenched panties. He sneaks past the last bit of fabric and coats his digits with your arousal.

“Fuck, baby, already?”

You can't find it in you to be embarrassed anymore. Not when you feel the rapid beating of Seokmin’s heart as he feels just how much you crave for his touch.

Your nails claw on his shoulders as he prods two digits on your entrance, warm and ready for him since that first time not long ago.

“I've thought about this every day for months,” he admits as your walls clamp around his fingers. “Having you like this.”

“Really?”

If he responds, it sounds like mumbling nonsense to you. You're barely registering his words, concentrating on his long fingers reaching places not even you could.

Your body doesn't give any of you a warning before you start trembling on top of Seokmin. He curls his digits to take you further into the moment and doesn't stop until you're coating his entire hand.

You ride the orgasm down as he kisses your shoulder, so sweetly one wouldn't think he still has two digits buried inside you, taunting your sensitive walls.

With all the strength you can gather, you get up from the bed, feeling empty at the loss of him. You take off your t-shirt and shorts in one go, leaving only the ruined panties on.

“Don't just stare at me,” you say with your most playful tone you can manage. “Get a condom or this isn't happening.”

Your voice draws him out of the trance he was in, looking at you.

“Right, yeah, right.” He scrambles to get up and find his discarded pants. “I think I had one here.”

Now back on the bed, you take his place as he breaks open the plastic packet he found in one of his pockets. You watch him pull his shorts down and puts the condom on like eye candy as your body prepares for him.

Seokmin crawls on the bed, kissing up your thigh and stomach until you're face to face.

“The doctor said you should rest,” you giggle as he pecks your lips and wraps your legs around his hips.

You clamp against nothing as Seokmin kisses you deeply once more. His hard glides along your sensitive core, but you want more.

“The doctor didn't know I'd have a pretty girl in my arms.”

He kisses down your neck as his protected length coats with your arousal, pressing your wet folds and swollen clit and making you moan into the air.

“Stop playing with me.”

Seokmin chuckles against your chest at your plea, his breath fanning over the damp spots he's leaving on your skin. Every fire he ignites sends waves of heat through your body down to where your cores meet.

“Look who's begging now.”

“I don't beg. I demand.”

You feel his tip just barely poking at your entrance, so close yet so far from what you need. He pins you down with his whole body, rendering you incapable of doing anything else than taking his teasing.

“Hmm,” he hums against your throat, liking up your jaw until his lips press against your earlobe.

Your warmness welcomes him as he stretches you open slowly. Seokmin's long fingers weren't enough to prepare you to be filled by his hardness again.

Every time your mind wandered to that first night, worried but needy at the same time, you spent longing to feel him against you. But you weren't ready for his cock to carve space for his shape to fit in.

“Shit,” he half moans in your ear.

But his noises just turn you on more. Your insides hug him tight in place, and you can feel his dick twitch every time he tries to move.

He snaps his hips back until he's almost all the way out of you. “Min–”

“I'm giving you what you wanted, baby.”

His hips pound against yours, hard, filling you up to the hilt again. The bed squeaks below you as he starts thrusting mercilessly.

A choir of grunts and moans echo around the walls, over and over as Seokmin reaches every spot to make you scream. and scream you do.

You scream his name like a mantra, no longer afraid of the meaning of what you're doing. You allow yourself to feel everything he gives you. Every thrust, every moan, every sweet word in your ear. You're ready for him. All of him and what it entails.

When you rake your nails down his back, he loses control of his thrusts. Your touch sends him to another plane, where he can't control the way he moves or thinks. “Oh my God!” You roll your eyes back at the new added pleasure.

Seokmin's thumb circles your clit slowly, contradicting the menacing pace of his hips. He pushes every button to make you squirm, to squeeze around him harder and harder until he has to push your walls open. It's too much. It's everywhere and nowhere. Your mind and body are focused on reaching the fireworks that Seokmin strokes and strokes to explode.

Everything combines in one deliberate stroke that has you seeing stars, trembling under Seokmin's body uncontrollably.

He whispers praise in your ear as he keeps thrusting in his search for his orgasm. Your gummy walls, sensitive and still wanting, quiver around him, making it hard for him to continue his pace. But it's not hard for him to cum into the condom after you egg him on.

This time, when he gets up to clean the both of you, there isn't a single drop of panic creeping up on you. And if there were, you wouldn't let it.

“I hope you're not getting any ideas,” Seokmin chuckles as he gets back under the covers with you. “I have one idea. But you're gonna like this one. I promise.”

He stretches his arm for you to lay your head on and you happily comply. You accept his every act of affection, his soft caresses on your sides, his kisses on the top of your head. You even proudly wear the big shirt he gave you.

“What's on your mind?” He asks, a bit scared. “There’s something I haven't told you.”

The truth at the tip of your tongue draws heat up your body. He just saw you naked and kissed every inch of your body, but this is another kind of bare.

He waits for you to continue, and you hide your face from his too kind eyes.

“As you know, I've been letting all the scary thoughts I had dictate my life decisions.” He hums, and you go on. “But, I've been so scared of losing you, that I thought I'd be easier if it was my fault. I couldn't stand the thought of drifting apart without reason, so I made one up.”

“We were never going to-”

“Shut up.” You shut his mouth with your hand. “I know that now. I'm getting there!”

“Anyway, you showed me that I had nothing to be afraid of. You kept giving me opportunities even when I didn't deserve them and I realized that my paranoia warped my image of you to someone you really weren't. And I can't believe that I believed that for so long.”

You chuckle with nervousness and finally look him in the eyes.

“I love you, too.” A tear runs down your cheek. Seokmin caresses the side of your face but doesn't interrupt you. “I don't know when it started, because it's so natural to me that I feel like I've always loved you. The truth is, I can't see myself with anyone else. It's always been you.”

There it is. You poured your whole heart out and the world as you know it it's still the same.

Seokmin closes the small distance between you, kissing your tears away. He wasn't spooked, he didn't run like you always imagined.

“I really needed to get that out before I fell asleep,” you find it in you to chuckle.

His two hands hold your face. You look straight at him, the first time you can't decipher what he's thinking. The wrinkles by his eyes make an appearance before he cracks into a smile. Your favorite smile of his.

“I'll tell you that I love you everyday if that's what you need. Every hour. Every minute, even.” He tucks your hair behind your ears, so there's nothing in the way between your eyes and his.

“I'd like that very much.”

A shower of pecks comes your way. “I love you.” One on your lips. “I love you.” One on both your cheeks. “I love you.” And one on your nose. Just everywhere. You giggle and fight for a way away from his trap, but he's decided.

“Will you be my long term, long distance, low commitment, casual girlfriend?”

You were about to cry your eyes out again, but instead you frown in confusion. “What the hell is that?”

“You don't know that line? It's from the Barbie movie!”

“When did you watch the Barbie movie?”

“My teammate’s daughter forced me once.” He joins you as you laugh hysterically. “But seriously, will you be my girlfriend?”

You think about it. For real this time. With no self-sabotage and the real Seokmin sitting in front of you.

You nod eagerly and kiss him again, knowing it's the first kiss of millions you'll share with him forever.

“I can't believe I'm officially a WAG!”

“Okay, now where did you learn that term?”

note: thank you so much for reading! this last scene wasn't proof read, so, i'm really sorry if it has any mistakes :(

i hope you enjoyed! please tell me your thoughts and don't forhet to check out the other fics in the collab!

#dokyeom x reader

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