Note: Obsessed with Eric and I need to protect him from the world, please and thank you. Also, Frodo divider created by me 😊
Warnings: anxiety, panic
Words: 1.5k
The carved out hull of the decimated subway car offers little in the way of protection, but with the power out it seems likely not to cause any unwarranted noise.
Eric ushers you in before himself, the light from the fluorescents of the station giving the two of you just enough to see by. The seats and bent handrails cast gruesome shadows across the small space, and you decide to take advantage of one particularly large pocket of darkness in the corner.
Your back presses up against the cool metal, dented from God only knows what. Slowly, you slide down to the floor and Eric lowers himself down beside you. Both of you are caked with dirt and there’s blood smeared against one leg of your jeans. Luckily, it doesn’t seem to belong to either one of you.
A steady stream of water is somewhere near, the comforting sound letting you breathe just a little easier. Eric must feel the same because he dares to lean in towards you and speak softly.
“Are you okay?”
Never did that seem more complex of a question. You’re not okay in the grand scheme of things, but you’re currently still alive and, for the most part, unharmed.
“I think so,” you whisper in reply. “Are you?”
Eric nods, rubbing his hands up and down his shins, the worn brown material wearing even thinner in a few spots now.
The two of you were fortunate to run into one another in an alleyway between two buildings—the only stroke of luck either of you have had lately. A natural ease quickly proved that you worked well together and seeing as neither of you wanted to be alone, the choice was obvious.
Even though it’s only been roughly twenty-four hours since you’ve met, with all you’ve been through in that time, it feels as if you’ve known Eric for ages. There was no denying how cute he was either, but your brain barely had time for fleeting thoughts like that when your focus is on staying alive.
“How’s your hand?” Eric asks.
You look at the offending appendage, purple from bruising, slightly swollen, and throbbing. Though, it’s slightly better since you’d found that bodega and swiped all the Tylenol and ibuprofen they had.
During the initial chaos of the invasion—is that what to call it? —your back was up against the brick wall of an apartment building and a man was sent hurtling in the air towards you. Your hand had the misfortune to get crushed between the high velocity man and the brick wall. Ever since you’ve met Eric, he’s been helping you wrap your hand and always checking in on it.
“It’s sore,” you admit.
“Let me see?” Eric extends his hand.
Taking a deep breath, you place your injured hand in his.
Warm, calloused fingers undo the binding currently covering the wound and toss them to the subway floor. It feels nice to let your hand breathe a bit, get some air. With just a featherlight touch, Eric traces his index finger around the mottled skin. The delicate touch sends goosebumps up your arm. If he notices them, he doesn’t say.
A sense of disappointment fills your gut when he releases your hand to get fresh bandages. You chew on your chapped bottom lip as you watch Eric rummage through the Phantom of the Opera tote bag you’d snagged from one of those tourist gift shops.
He sprays a bit of disinfectant spray on your hand, the mist feeling doubly cold after having the warmth of his large hand enveloping yours. Next comes a fresh bandage. Eric always applies them so carefully, making sure it’s not too tight but gives your hand some support. You watch him as he works, your eyes taking in the small details of his face while he’s busy focusing on something else.
His dark eyelashes are so long that they kiss his cheeks with every blink. The curls on the top of his head are messy from everything they’ve been through, but it’s unkempt in a charming way. It amazes you how dry his lips are from dehydration, yet they still look so pink and inviting.
Eric secures the bandage on your hand, and you momentarily move on to admiring the color and depth of his eyes when you realize he’s finished and no longer distracted.
Heat comes to your face, so you lift your injury up to inspect it, hoping to give you a minute to cool down.
“Thank you,” you whisper when you lay your hand back down in your lap.
“Of course.”
The good thing about needing to keep quiet during all of this is that none of the silences could be interpreted as awkward. It’s just self-preservation.
It goes on that way for about ten minutes before you feel your head get heavy and decide to lean it against Eric’s shoulder. It’s not long before he gently rests his head on top of yours. Despite the circumstances around you, a small smile grows on your lips.
But your peace doesn’t last long. A groaning of metal and the now too-familiar skittering of legs or pincers or whatever they’re called.
By the sound of it, you guess that the creature is coming from your left, somewhere down the subway track. But there’s no reason for it to know you’re here. As long as you can remain quiet, the monster should just pass you by without trouble.
A hitch in breath from beside you grabs your attention though. Your head jerks in the direction of Eric to find his breathing speed up and his eyes widen in that recognizable panic.
Pressing one hand to his shoulder, you get his attention and his head whips to face you. With your other, injured hand, you hold up a finger to your mouth for him to stay quiet.
Eric nods but the rate of his breathing only increases. You shake your head and lean in towards him.
“Breathe.” The words could barely be considered a full whisper.
You’ve helped him through these anxiety attacks a few times now so you try to tell yourself you can do it again. You can’t blame the poor guy for being so scared, either.
The clicking of the approaching monster comes closer then stops. It feels as if time pauses while you wait to see what will happen now.
Smashing the play button, the creature falls from where it must have been crawling on the ceiling, to land on the subway platform.
Eric jumps and you see his teeth clench together as he tries to keep the panic at bay.
Step by crunching step, the being stalks closer to your subway car. Even though it can’t see you, instinct tells you to get further out of sight.
As silently as possible, you scoot over so there’s enough room for you to lay flat on the floor of the car. Eric glances down at you and you motion for him to do the same. He gives you a quick nod and with shaking hands, moves to lay down next to you.
Within the cramped space it’s hard for two adults to lay flat, side by side, so Eric ends up on his side, facing you. If you turned your head to look at him, your noses would brush.
One long black limb stretches out from the creature and crushes a piece of metal right outside your car—probably the remains of an adjoining car.
Eric’s anxiety spikes again and before you can think about it, you wrap your arm around his shoulders and bring his body down on top of yours.
It’s not the most comfortable angle for either of you, almost awkward. But Eric wastes no time grabbing onto your waist, his head falling to the juncture between your neck and shoulder.
Consciously, you slow your breathing down in hopes that Eric’s will follow your lead.
Another crunch of metal rents the air and you both jump, clinging tighter to one another. Eric’s grip on your body changed positions slightly, and now his head is resting right over your heart.
You glance down and watch as Eric visibly calms. He takes a few deep breaths and lets his eyes slip closed as he lays against you.
It takes you a few moments to realize what caused the change. Eric’s head is on its side, his right ear directly over your heart. He’s listening to your heartbeat. And it’s calming him. The thought alone makes your heart rate speed up.
Slowly, you reach up and gently rest your hand in his hair. He tilts his chin up so he can see your face and you give him a small smile. The one he gives you in return brings forward the confidence to begin running your fingers through Eric’s soft curls.
The two of you stay that way, listening as the creature moves farther and farther away, until you can’t hear it at all anymore.
But even then, after the immediate threat is gone and everything seems peaceful and calm around you, you both still stay that way. His hands holding onto your body, his head over your heart, and you carding your fingers through his curls.
Maybe this subway car is a better place to be than you originally thought.
genre. fluff.
warnings. eric's yapping abt furry stuff 😟 reader hates on furries. slight make out. not proofread
pairing. eric x fem!reader.
wc. 951.
request. no.
a/n. @hursheys i hope this fulfills your eric delusions ☝️ i kinda hate the ending but whatever we're gonna roll with it.
net. @deoboyznet
“So then he was like ‘well that’s totally furry behaviour’, and, obviously, I took offense to that. Cause, like, hello that’s absurd! I’m not a furry. I just bark occasionally—”
You were all too familiar with Eric’s chronic insomnia. Much like a toddler, if he didn’t do enough during the day to exhaust his endless energy, he could easily stay up all night with no sense of time or how tired other people (you) were. You closed your eyes, still half-listening to your boyfriend’s rambling, although you had lost the context of it a long time ago. If you were lucky, you might even be able to fall asleep to his yapping…
As if.
“So I was like, ‘dude, I have a girlfriend, why would you even suggest that’!? They went without me— good riddance— and I blocked them too, so there’s no need to worry. Maybe this is what Kevin meant when he warned me to stop hanging out with random people I meet on the streets. But, I met you on the streets too, so I can’t trust anything Kevin says anymore. Imagine if I hadn’t stopped to get your number at the crosswalk? My life would be so boring now!” Eric continued animatedly, drumming his fingers against the pillow that rested in his lap, picking out the rhythm to one of The Boyz’s songs.
“And I might actually be able to get some sleep…” You interjected with a tired whisper, rolling on your side to face your boyfriend. You opened your eyes with a pointed glare, and Eric’s let out a small “oh”.
“Right. Sorry, baby. You should sleep.” He said quickly, plopping down next to you and planting a quick kiss to your forehead. He was quiet for around 3 minutes, before you heard a small whisper close to your face.
“You don’t ever regret taking my number, do you?” You opened one eye to find Eric staring at you, his eyes wide like a puppy’s.
“No, I don’t regret it.” You said truthfully, a yawn coming in at the end of your response. Eric smiled slightly, his brain telling him that he should let you finally sleep, but it seemed his mouth had other ideas.
“What if I was a furry? Would you still date me?” You had to hold back a laugh at the question, assuming that it was a reference to his earlier rambling. Although you couldn’t recall how the full conversation had gone, you were pretty sure that even if you did, it wouldn’t help you understand Eric’s brain.
“Who said you weren’t already?” You asked sarcastically, earning a pout from the boy that was almost impossible to resist kissing.
“What if instead of talking to you I just barked in response?”
You raised an eyebrow at him, silently judging his train of thought that was getting increasingly more unhinged with every minute that went by. You being extremely tired didn’t help with your patience for his incessant questions. You loved your boyfriend, you really did. But sometimes you just wanted him to shut up and let you sleep.
“What if instead of walking—”
Eric thankfully was not able to finish his sentence, which you could only assume had something to do with crawling on all fours or galloping around like a pony, because you had finally given in to your thoughts and shut up his rambling with your lips. He was shocked at first, frozen in place from your sudden movement. But kissing you was as natural as breathing to him, so he quickly found his rhythm, pulling you closer by your waist and kissing you deeply.
“Was that a yes?” Came Eric’s first words when you broke off for air.
“If you mean breaking up if you became a furry, then definitely yes. Now shut your pretty mouth.” You stated clearly before crashing your lips onto his again, giving him no opportunity to protest.
It was surprising how easy it was to get lost in the kiss even when you were exhausted. With Eric eagerly leading, it was simple enough to just let him do most of the work. You tangled your fingers in his blonde hair as he squeezed your waist, letting his tongue slip past your lips gently.
It seemed your kissing idea worked wonders to exhaust your boyfriend’s energy, as when he broke it off and fell back onto the pillow, he wrapped you up in his arms and let his eyes fall close. You could feel his heart racing, your ear resting over his chest. His cheeks were flushed a pretty pink colour and his lips slightly swollen from the prolonged kiss. As his heartbeat slowed to a regular speed, you naturally matched your breathing with it, and the repetition lulled you to sleep quickly.
Eric held you tightly in his arms, listening to your steady breathing. He was tired, but his mind still raced with thoughts. Rather than meaningless questions he loved to throw at you, they all shifted to thoughts of you. He didn’t deserve your patience at the best of times, and was forever thankful that you truly loved him for himself.
He knew he could be overbearing and exhausting at times, but he tried his best to balance it with the soft romantic moments that you and him both loved. You were quite similar to each other, the more Eric thought about. Although you were definitely more subdued, which balanced his exuberant energy quite well.
He sniffed, not having realized until now that his eyes had welled up with tears from his thoughts. He sheepishly blinked them away and held you a little closer in his arms, falling into his dreamland with you.
↳ the boyz taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @blossominghunnie,, @cosmicwintr,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien,,
the concept of megan having those pics still in her phone 🙂↕️
speedy link
the ones from eric fic?
megan would be sweating bullets like dani would somehow see them even though they're way back in her camera roll atp. girl, they're not gonna jump out and show themselves to dani on their own
Your best friend Eric picks you up in the pouring rain after a bad date night. This night turns into the night your best friend will stop being your friend forever..
- Pairings: nonidol!eric x fem!reader
- Genre: fluff, friends to lovers
- Warnings: kissing, crying
Author’s Note: I wrote this at 5am so lmk if something is wrong grammatically. Also I’m having such a huge Eric phase it’s concerning…
You don’t know why you keep coming to these dates anymore. Planning blind dates with random people won’t get you anywhere. As much as you thought things wouldn’t get worse after your date insulted you by implying that the dress that you’re wearing doesn’t compliment your body, he also dumped you in the pouring rain afterwards.
You didn’t think this guy would be such a jerk to not even give you a ride home after you said your car is on service but oh well you were wrong about him.
The rain was getting worse and worse, it was pouring so hard that the dress you were wearing was now stuck on you like skin. Your hair completely wet and your makeup ruined, mascara was running down your cheeks and it looked like you’ve been crying. Not that crying isn’t the only thing you’re able to do right now.
You pulled your phone out of your purse to get into your contacts. Leaving home for university was fun but now you didn’t have many choices on who to call in a situation like this.
Your mind could think of only one person to which you were close to. Your best friend Eric, you and him were best friends since high school. Him getting into the same university as you was just cherry on top. You were really happy when you found out your best friend and you would be in the same university but things were not going exactly how you wanted them to go.
Six months into university Eric got into a relationship. His girlfriend was really pretty very smart too. You were feeling a little jealous. But you figured that you weren’t jealous of her relationship with Eric just that she gets to spend time with him and you don’t anymore. Or that’s what you wanted to think at least.
You didn’t want to say anything to your best friend about the way his girlfriend was making you feel. So you stayed silent watching your best friend slowly drift away from you. Unfortunately, you and Eric did get distant from each other without realizing it.
One week ago you found out that Eric and his girlfriend had broken up. The sad part was that you found out through a mutual friend of yours and his. He didn’t say anything to you, which hurt you a lot. You also said nothing, you didn’t want to pressure him into talking to you.
At this moment, no one would come here in the dark night to pick you up in the rain after a bad date except for Eric. You hoped that he wouldn’t have changed that much so that he wouldn’t come at all. And also you hoped this phone call could be the reason you two get closer again.
You searched for his name in your contacts and took a breath before pressing the call button. The little rings made you anxious waiting for him to pick up. Suddenly you hear his voice on the line, you haven’t heard him in a while. “Hello?” It took you some seconds to respond to him trying to sound okay at least if not good. “Eric, um I’m sorry I know it’s almost midnight” you tried to sound as stable as possible but you were failing big time. It was very obvious you were crying it was impossible for him to not notice.
“Are you crying? Did something happen to you?” Eric’s voice sounded concerned and as much as you missed him and his voice getting him concerned about you was not on your to do list tonight.
“I am stuck outside of this restaurant downtown and it’s raining pretty heavily. Could you pick me up?” Your voice was more stable than before. Your heart was racing waiting for his response. Waiting to find out if you were going to see him tonight or not.
You noticed that it took him some seconds before he got to respond. You felt uncomfortable all of a sudden asking him such a thing after you haven’t spoken to each other for so long “Please?” You added as if you weren’t enough pathetic so far.
“Share your location, you can’t be that far. I’ll be there soon okay?” He said and you couldn’t hear any undertone from him. You couldn’t understand if he was mad or concerned or annoyed.
You shared your location as he said and waited patiently for him. Your heart was about to leave your body thinking that you’re about to see and talk to your best friend after months. You felt so nervous. You were anxious that maybe he didn’t want to be your best friend anymore, you were scared that maybe he didn’t miss you as much as you missed him.
The sound of a horn woke you up from your thoughts. You looked at the direction where the sound was coming from and met his figure running over to you. His hands held your arms tightly looking at you up and down for any sign of injury.
“Oh my god get in quickly you’re going to catch a cold” he basically yelled while holding your hand now to lead you to the passenger seat. Opening the door you saw two dry towels on the car seat. Eric took one of the towels to wrap it around your body trying to make you warm in any way he could.
He lead you to get in the car afterwards closing the door behind you and getting in the driver seat. He put his keys in and started his way over to your house.
The ride was a little silent. None of you talked and the only movement between you was when Eric opened the air conditioner to keep you warm.
When he pulled up in your porch he decided to make the first move “Can you tell me why you ended up like this? Do you have any idea how scared I got looking at you standing in the rain?” His tone was serious. He was seriously concerned about you and that made your heart flutter.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t have anyone to call I didn’t want to disturb you or get you concerned about me” you felt a little bad making him that scared. And also felt bad about how much you liked that he still cared about you. “I was on a date with someone who clearly didn’t like me.” You continued explaining to him
His brows furrowed as you said that. He was looking at you focused on everything you were saying as you explained to him how your date insulted you and then left you in the pouring rain without a way to get home
“ Why did you go out with him? I’ve told you so many times to get to know someone before trusting them on anything” he said looking a bit more mad than concerned right now.
You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. He was right after all.
“God can’t you see what’s good and what’s not?” He looked at you again, his tone still sounded mad. This time it was like he was blaming you for everything and like he was mad at you about it. You didn’t quite like how he was blaming you for everything as you were sitting next to him after getting your feelings hurt tonight
“If you want to blame me about it you can go home now. Thanks for the ride, you can go back to not talking to me now” You tried to avoid adding this last sentence but you just had to bring it up. You opened the car door getting out and walking to your door trying to get your keys out of your purse. Eric followed the same movements as you and was standing now just behind you. “I didn’t mean to blame you. I’m sorry”
His voice more relaxed than before. His apology sounded sincere which made you stop fumbling around with your keys and turn around to face him.
“Can I come in to talk to you?” He continued with his eyes giving you an apologetic look. You couldn’t watch you and him be like this. You gave him a little nod and opened your door letting both of you inside.
Eric hasn’t been in your house for a while, the moment he got inside he started noticing all the little changes you made in the house. You told him you’ll be back in 5 minutes after you change into something dry and get a towel for your hair.
He started walking around looking at the flowers on the coffee table,knowing how tulips were your favorite he smiled a little without noticing. His eyes caught some photos you hanged on the wall. Family photos, you traveling. His eyes landed at the pictures of you and him together in high school, when you went to prom together cause you promised it to each other. Pictures of the first year in university, when he treated you to pizza and beers for the first day as university students.
His smile didn’t fade once, if not it was getting bigger and bigger. He was thinking about all those memories he made with you. He knew he missed you like crazy but seeing pictures made it ten times worse.
“What are you looking at?” You said from behind holding a towel to your hair. Eric turned around half scared half embarrassed about the fact that you caught him looking around.
You realized he was actually looking at old photos of you and him together and suddenly understood why he was acting like that.
You chose not to comment on it and try to talk to him about everything that has been going on. “I’m sorry for tonight. I made you drive all the way to that restaurant to pick me up” you said trying to break the ice and he looked up at you to respond. “Don’t worry I’d do it again if you asked me to” he said comforting you with a soft smile also. You gave him a little smile back not knowing what to say but before the silence became uncomfortable Eric spoke up again “I wanted to say that, I miss you. I know we’ve been distant and I know it’s because I got into a relationship and I’m really sorry for pushing you away. If i had realized what I was doing at the time I really wouldn’t have pushed you away from me.”
He said looking into your eyes as a sign of sincerity. You couldn’t be mad at him ever. He meant it. You missed him too so much. Talking to him and seeing him tonight was so overwhelming for you. You needed Eric next to you at all times.
“I’m sorry I let it happen as well. I really missed you too you have no idea.” You said back to him as you tried to hold your tears back.
Eric moved closer to you still looking at you in the eye going in for a hug as you let him enter your personal space and hold you tightly after so many months.
Feeling his hands around your waist made your heart face again. You tried to ignore how your heart always does that when you’re with Eric ever since high school.
You chose to avoid those feelings you had for him. You couldn’t tell him how you only went to those blind dates to find someone better than him but failed miserably.
Eric snapped you out of your thoughts suddenly talking in the hug “I need to tell you something if we are going to just solve everything right?” He said and this made your heart race even faster.
Your heart was hoping he would actually feel something for you back while your mind was telling you to push those stupid feelings away.
“You can tell me everything” you said pulling out of the hug to make eye contact with him. While you were expecting him to have a smile on his face as you did his expression was much more serious than yours
It looked like it was taking him some courage to speak to you about what he wanted to say. But you gave him the time he needed.
Finally he was ready to talk to you as you could read his thoughts through his eyes.
His eyes were looking straight at yours as he took a deep breath before he said anything and held your hands on his
“ I like you. I know we’ve been best friends since high school and this is not the kind of relationship we have with each other. I tried avoiding those feelings really that’s why my last relationship happened. And that’s also why I ended it. I know this might ruin everything but I wanted to tell you.”
Did he really say this right now? Like you’re not dreaming right? Could he read your thoughts just seconds ago?
Eric was scanning your eyes for any sign of discomfort trying to see if he crossed the line.
You were in pure shock not knowing what to say. Thankfully you woke up pretty quickly to realize he’s waiting for you to talk. “What? You mean that? Like you really mean that? You don’t like me in a friendly way right?” You sounded a little stupid at the moment which Eric found adorable causing him to giggle.
“ I mean it, I like you in a ‘I want to be with you’ way I promise” he joked this time seeing how flustered happy and shocked you got all at once. His smile never leaving his face now and you noticed how even his eyes were smiling
“ I really like you too, I went to all those blind dates to try and find someone better than you but I found none. I like you” you replied in a soft tone not being able to hide your smile anymore. Your heart was beating so fast your whole body was overwhelmed with happiness and his hands never left your waist this entire time.
His eyes never left yours and he was looking at you so softly. His eyes could say a hundred things to you that no one could even describe in words.
“Can I kiss you now?” He said with a spark of excitement which made you laugh a little looking at how cute he was. You gave him a little nod together with a smile as he moved his hand from your waist up to your cheek to cup your face softly and lean forward into you. Both of your eyes closed naturally leaving your lips as the only way of communication with each other.
When his lips met yours it felt like fireworks were flying around in your stomach. Your heart probably exploded and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss making Eric break a smile as well. You don’t know for how long you’ve been waiting for this moment to come not even knowing if it was ever coming to reality. You couldn’t be more happy right now. You won your best friend back and also gained a lover along the way.
What you and Eric had was rare. It felt so right to be together. He understood you and your needs completely and you understood his. After all you started thinking that maybe you were meant to be his.
genre: angst, fluff
summary: on a cold, rainy night, standing across from the person you thought was your forever, you’re forced to ask yourself the question you’ve been avoiding: what if love isn’t enough?
warnings: Emotional conflict, arguments, mention of anxiety, implied toxic relationship dynamics, emotional breakdown, implied strangers to lovers to exes
pairing: eric x fem!reader
wc: 1.6k
The first time you met Eric, it felt like the only good thing about a night you wanted no part of.
The party was too loud, too crowded, too full of people who seemed to be performing joy rather than feeling it. Music thumped through the walls like a heartbeat you didn’t want to share, and every laugh felt like it was trying too hard—sharp, hollow, echoing off the kitchen tiles. You were only there because your friend had begged you to come, promising it would be fun, promising you’d “get out of your head for a bit.” But fun felt like the last thing on your mind as you hovered near the kitchen, fingers curled around a plastic cup of something you didn’t want to drink, counting the minutes until you could slip away unnoticed.
You hated parties like this. The kind where everyone seemed to know each other but no one really saw each other. Where conversations felt like transactions and eye contact was a dare. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, pretending to check your phone, pretending you weren’t already halfway out the door in your mind.
Then Eric appeared.
“You look as miserable as I feel,” he said, leaning against the counter with a half-smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. His voice cut through the noise like a secret meant only for you. His dark eyes held a teasing glint, but there was something softer there, too—something that didn't need to be loud to be heard.
You glanced at him, surprised someone else was willing to admit how unbearable this night was. “Guess we can be miserable together.”
He chuckled, low and warm, like the kind of laugh that didn't ask for attention. "Solidarity in suffering. I like it."
And on that note, the night shifted.
He didn't try to impress you. Didn't launch into some rehearsed story or ask if you were "having fun." Instead, he pointed out the guy in the corner who'd been trying to flirt with the lamp for the past ten minutes, and you snorted into your drink. He leaned in close to whisper commentary on the party playlist, how it sounded like someone had discovered Spotify's "Chaotic Energy" mix and run with it, and you laughed more than you had in weeks.
He made the room feel similar, quieter. Like the two of you were in on some private joke, the rest of the party had missed. The way he rolled his eyes at the drunken dramatics happening in the living room, the way he leaned in just enough to make you feel like you were the only person who mattered, the way he asked questions that didn't feel like small talk, all of it chipped away at the walls you hadn't realized you'd built around yourself.
You found yourself talking more than you expected. About how you hated parties but loved people watching. About your friend who dragged you here and how you'd sworn you wouldn't stay past ten. About how you sometimes felt like you were always on the outside looking in, even when you were right in the middle of things.
Eric listened. Really listened. And when he spoke, it wasn't to fill the silence, it was to meet you in it.
By the time he asked for your number, the party faded into a blur of background noise. You gave it to him without hesitation, without second-guessing, without the usual mental checklist of reasons why you shouldn't.
And just like that, it started. The late-night phone calls that stretched into early mornings, the slow unraveling of secrets you never thought you’d share, the way his laughter made something inside of you feel weightless. Eric had this way of making everything seem like an adventure, even the smallest moments—grocery store runs turned into scavenger hunts, rainy days became excuses to dance in the downpour. He made you believe in love, in something bigger than yourself.
“You’re it for me,” he whispered one night, tracing lazy circles on your arm as you lay tangled together in his bed. “I don’t think I ever stood a chance against you.”
Neither of you knew then how much love could turn into something sharp, something that could cut.
The fights started small. Stupid things. He forgot to call when he said he would. You misread a text and assumed the worst. It had been short, cold—"Can’t talk rn. Later."—and after days of feeling a growing distance, it felt like confirmation of every fear gnawing at you. Your thoughts spiraled. Was he mad? Bored? Was he pulling away? So you texted back, asking if something was wrong, if you had done something. Minutes stretched into an hour, then two. By the time he finally responded, all he said was, "You’re overthinking again. We’ll talk later."
When you finally saw him that evening, the air was already heavy with unspoken words. He sat across from you on the couch, scrolling through his phone like nothing was wrong, and the silence was unbearable. You couldn't take it anymore. "Eric, I’m not crazy for wanting to know if we’re okay. You can’t just shut me out and expect me to pretend like it doesn’t hurt."
He sighed heavily. "I wasn’t shutting you out, Y/N. I was busy. Not everything is a sign that something’s wrong."
"It feels like it is! Lately, it feels like you’re always slipping away, like I have to hold on tighter just to keep you here."
"God, do you even hear yourself?" His voice had hardened. "You make me feel like the bad guy when all I’m trying to do is love you."
“Then why does it feel like I’m always the one apologizing?” you shot back, voice shaking. “Like I have to tiptoe around what I say, just to keep us from fighting?”
Eric ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. “Maybe we just— I don’t know. Maybe we’re too different.”
That sentence hung in the air like a weight, pressing down on your chest.
"Too different?" you echoed, the words tasting like something bitter. "So what are you saying, Eric? That this—we—was a mistake?"
He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m saying. I just—this shouldn’t be this hard. It shouldn’t feel like we’re constantly walking a tightrope, waiting for the next fight."
You swallowed the lump in your throat. "So what, you just want to throw it all away? Everything we’ve built?"
He exhaled sharply. "I don’t want to fight anymore, Y/N. I don’t want to keep hurting you. I don’t want to keep feeling like I’m not enough."
The words cut deeper than you expected. You stared at him, heart pounding, hands clenched into fists. "You are enough, Eric. You always have been. But if you can’t see that, then maybe you’re right. Maybe we are too different."
Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Then, without another word, you pushed yourself up from the couch and grabbed your coat.
The night air was cold when you stepped outside, the sky heavy with clouds that threatened rain. You barely made it half a block before the first droplets fell, light and misty at first, then harder, drenching you within minutes. But you kept walking, anger and heartbreak warring inside you, your breath coming in uneven gasps.
Behind you, the front door slammed. You heard Eric's voice calling your name, his footsteps pounding against the wet pavement as he chased after you. When you didn't stop, he caught up, breathless, his hair plastered to his forehead, his shirt clinging to his skin. His expression was raw, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Y/N,” he called, voice hoarse. “Don’t walk away like this.”
You let out a hollow laugh, wiping the rain from your face, though it was useless. “Why not? Isn’t this what you wanted?”
He took a step closer, his voice desperate. “No. I don’t want this. But I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to stop hurting you.”
Your throat tightened. “Then why does it feel like loving each other always comes with a cost?”
Eric opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no answer. Maybe there wasn’t one.
The rain clings to your skin as you stand under the flickering glow of a streetlamp, heart pounding against your ribs. Eric is staring at you, eyes dark with something you can’t quite name.
“Say something,” you whisper, voice raw. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me—” Your breath catches in your throat. “Tell me we’re okay.”
Eric’s jaw tightens. He looks away, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N, I—”
He doesn’t finish, and that silence is louder than anything else.
You let out a shaky breath, each word tasting like heartbreak. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe we’re just not meant for each other?”
Eric flinches like you struck him. “Don’t,” he says, shaking his head. “Don’t say that.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Your voice wavers. “We keep hurting each other. We fight, we make up, and then we do it all over again like it’s some sick cycle we can’t break.”
Eric steps forward, reaching for you, but you step back. The space between you feels like an ocean.
“I love you,” he says, desperation seeping into his voice. “I—God, Y/N, I love you so much it hurts.”
You shake your head slowly. “Love isn’t supposed to leave us both in pieces.”
The silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating. A car speeds past, its headlights illuminating Eric’s face just long enough for you to see the raw emotion there. But love isn’t always enough. Maybe it never was.
This is definitely a mistake, you think to yourself. And yet, you are going to make it.
You sigh a little. You’re on your way home, walking down the street at night, wet pavements shiny under the streetlights. The air is warm, since it’s already almost summer, with only weak hints of cool breeze. And you’re not alone. Walking next to you is a man, well, just barely a man. At the very least a man enough to gather the courage to cockily hit on you at the bar.
It’s kinda admirable, you have to admit, that he had the balls to walk up to you, a woman obviously older and more mature than him, by a few years, and to use a cheezy pick up line with even cheezier wink. He looked cute though - a sort of a basic frat bro, in ripped jeans, tshirt and a varsity jacket, with cute face and obnoxious bleached blonde hair.
You rolled your eyes at him, but he was kinda cute so you let him try again, and boy, did he try. Not wanting to lose the chance, he bought you a drink immediately, and pulled out every compliment he could think of. You just leaned back on the bar and let him sweet talk you, while smirking. It was amusing to jokingly shoot down his advances and it felt good to see someone try so much for your attention, and even though you thought of him as just a dumb horny boy, it was flattering anyways.
You had fun with this whole situation, so as you were sitting on the bar stool, with him leaning on the counter, you offhandedly mentioned you’re going home soon, throwing him the bait that you knew he was hoping for. He immediately leaned closer to you and with his hand daringly on your thigh he asked: “Can I walk you home? Just so that you wouldn’t go alone at night.”
You smiled. You both knew what he meant and the excuse couldn’t be more thin-veiled. But you agreed. You could see the sparkle or excitement in his eyes when he realized that he’s gonna get what he wanted - which was you.
He introduced himself as Eric and he wasn’t lying about that, judging by the hollering his friends provided when they saw him actually going to leave the bar with you. Which was decidedly embarrassing, as if you already didn’t feel like a cradle robber. But who cares, you shrugged it off in your mind. He’s a consenting adult and it’s not like you will be planning a future with him. Definitely not beyond the future few hours, in any case.
~~~
You left the bar, and you’re walking in on the dark street. He put his arm around your shoulder, but as you’re walking he slid it down to your waist and then ass. He thinks he’s so sneaky, you snort, but let it go. In any case, save for his amusingly daring behavior, he doesn’t seem too bad. He can keep up with the small talk and even banter. He seemed interested enough in your personality too and had no problems talking about himself either. Cracked many jokes, some of them even a bit risqué, but never off putting. You’re attracted to not only his face but also his puppy personality. And, if you’re honest with yourself, you’re getting more and more aroused by his sneaky touches.
Not before long, you’re standing at the front of your apartment building. It’s now or never.
Technically, you agreed to only him walking you home so you do have an out, but you won’t be using it.
“Wanna go up?” you ask, with one eyebrow raised. It sounds like a challenge.
“Sure,” he replies, trying to look nonchalant, as if he wasn’t almost vibrating with anticipation. You unlock the door and you lead him to the elevator. You can almost feel his eyes being glued to your ass, and when you stop to press the elevator button, he stands behind you. He’s so close his chest is almost touching you and you can feel his body warmth and smell his cologne, and it makes you want to either lean back at him or at least push your ass back. But you don’t want to be the one to initiate anything much, you want to leave it all on him and just feel wanted and pursued by a hot, younger guy. And he, of course, delivers - he would obviously not miss a chance to push you a little.
His hands are running over your hips and he leans forwards to nose along your neck, so you tilt your head to make way for him and he uses the chance to suck on your skin. It doesn’t take long and the elevator door opens with a ding and Eric does not waste a second to quickly push you inside the elevator. You barely get a chance to select the floor and he’s already pressing you against the elevator door, suddenly getting so impatient, almost frantic, as he kisses you deeply. He’s crowding you against the wall completely and you can feel his hard cock on your hip, slightly grinding against you, as if he’s either not realizing he’s doing it or he just can’t help himself.
You really don’t want him to blow it even before you get into the apartment, so the moment the elevator stops and opens the door, you grab Eric’s hand and drag him out. You pull him through the hallway until you get to your door. You’re trying to find the keys in your bag, when you feel Eric his hand on your ass, touching and squeezing and even daring to sneak to rub your pussy from behind over your pants. You can feel it making you wet, but the waves of excitement are distracting you from finding the damn keys so you have to straighten up and push his hand away gently. “Behave,” you say and he immediately sobers up from his excitement a little and silently nods. He’s blushing and his ears are red too, his breathing heavy and bulge in his pants obscenely visible. But he stays still, like on command. “Cute puppy,” flashes through your mind, but you try to ignore that idea.
You fish out the keys with him patiently waiting next to you and open the door to your apartment. It doesn’t take much longer for you to end up with him in your bedroom, leaving only a trail of clothes behind you. You like him more and more the less clothes he’s wearing - even though he’s not tall, he’s nicely muscular and lean and you can’t resist running your hands wherever you can reach. You unbutton his pants and don’t hesitate to stick your hand into his underwear to pull out his cock. It’s a nice size and pretty shape and already leaking so much it gets your hand wet. You tug on his pants and he gets the hint and takes them off, even if it means he has to let go of you for a second.
Because he, on the other hand, is almost ripping the clothes off you and when you’re finally both naked, he pushes you onto your bed. Falling on your back, you move up a little and your legs fall open. He immediately crawls between them, grabs your thighs from under and lowers his head, sticking out his tongue to lick your pussy. The wet and warm feeling is pleasant and on any other occasion you would appreciate it, since you can tell he’s not doing this for the first time. But now, you’re too pent up to want anything else than a good hard fuck and you can tell by how red and wet his cock is that he’s more than ready either.
You grab him by his hair and pull him off your pussy. “Did I say you can do it?” you ask.
His eyes are glassy and his face is flushed. “No but can I? Please? I’m good at it, I can prove it to you,” he pleads, but you have other plans already.
“No.” you smile. “I want you to fuck me already, you can prove yourself there” you say and reach to open your nightstand drawer, to take out a condom. You throw it at him and he catches it, ripping it open to roll it over his cock, while you decide how you want to be fucked. Hmmm. Tonight you’re really in for something fast and hard, so you get up on all fours. “I hope you can do it hard, don’t disappoint me,” you smirk at him and he nods quickly at the instruction, his mouth open in an attempt to focus on the task.
He hurries to situate himself behind you and you can feel his cock slowly push into you. It feels good and once he sees you’re okay, he starts moving.
He doesn’t waste time and works up to a quick tempo quickly. fucking you with deep and fast strokes. You’re so wet the glide is smooth and his cock is perfect to hit all the good spots inside you. He’s holding you firmly by your waist and the whole room echoes just with the sounds of your bodies touching, your moans and his gasps. He even sounds good, his heavy breathing and whimpers sounding so erotic to your ears, he’s not even trying to hide his arousal and excitement.
He really is good, better than you would expect from a young guy and he’s fucking you so thoroughly, you feel like your head is empty and you’re going insane at the same time. You’re getting close and you quickly consider whether you even want to try to rub your clit with your hand to come, because it seems he will be able to get you there by himself.
You’re barely holding on anymore and you’re this close to coming, when he takes one hand off your waist and slaps you over your buttcheek.
“You like when I fuck you this hard, you slut?”
A. What.
You immediately stop and turn back at him. Anger rises in you rapidly, at this dumb college frat boy daring to speak to you like that, as if he imagined he’s in some kind of a porn.
“What the fuck did you say?” you lash out and he stutters.
“I- I’m sorry I-,” he’s all red and before he’s able to finish the sentence you push at his chest so that he falls back and you immediately climb up and sit on him. His cock hasn't softened in the slightest so you just grab it and sit on it, until you’re firmly placed on his lap. He’s still shocked a bit, so you use the chance to take both of his hands and pin him by holding his wrists on the bed above his head. You lean forwards and start riding him, building up the pleasure again - he whines and closes his eyes, but you’re not gonna let him just enjoy it.
“Look at me,” you order and it takes a second, but his eyes flutter open. He’s dazed and you wonder how long it will take to make him cum. Not long, probably.
“Who is the slut now? Huh?” you taunt him, not stopping your movements.
“I- I-..Ah, I am, I am the slut,” he whines. He’s trying to move his hips to thrust up, but you’re riding him so vigorously he has no space or opportunity for it. He can just lie down and take it.
“Yes, that’s exactly what you are, just a breathing dildo for me to use,” you smirk. “Whose slut you are?”
“Y-yours,” he answers and you can tell he’s about to cum already so you speed up.
“Whose?” you slap him over his face.
“Mommy’s! I’m mommy’s slut, ah please,” he sobs and finally closes his eyes and he’s cumming inside the condom, his cock pulsating inside of you.
Seeing him react like that is what brings you over too, and you ride him hard as you cum, squeezing his cock and stopping only when you come to your senses and hear him whine from overstimulation.
You drop on the bed next to him and you’re both just breathing out your orgasms for a few minutes. He cuddles up to you, clearly needing some further contact and you let him hold you by your waist, with his head on your shoulder. You play with his hair to calm him down and you’re not exactly sure what you should do next. Kick him out? Let him stay? You know what you want to do and you also know that it’s not the best idea. And you don't even know his opinion.
But he solves that one for you. He’s already falling asleep, but he raises his head up a little and asks with a sleepy voice:
𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚!⭒classmate!eric x reader 𖦹 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘! ⭒suggestive 𖦹 𝗪𝗖!⭒1k 𖦹 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦! ⭒highly suggestive content (no explicit sex), a lot of heavy making out, swearing
[ 11:47 a.m.] "shh, eric, shut the fuck up, you're gonna get us caught."
"i bet you'd like that–"
he probably was going to get the two of you caught one of these days. it was ironic how he said you'd be the one to enjoy it when part of you thinks he gets off on the thought of getting caught, the idea of someone walking in on the both of you doing something you shouldn't be doing typically something that would appeal to him.
pushing open the door of the janitor's closet, you walk in, eric stumbling in noisily after you. you turn to glare at him, only for him to grin innocently back at you in return, shutting the door and locking it. ah, that lock.
something about the whole risqué nature of yours and eric's escapades caused a whole different type of warmth to pool in your stomach; the lying about feeling sick and needing to pay the nurse a visit, the sneaking around campus to find a place to make out, the hushed giggles, the janitor's closet itself.
the locking of the door was really the cherry on top, the icing on the cake. oh, and not to mention the way eric was looking at you now and how that served to dampen your panties.
finally positioned the way you liked it– you with your back against the door, peering up at him and eric towering over you, a singular hand placed slightly above your head, effectively caging you and holding you in place– you released a sigh, clasping your hands behind your back and smiling up at eric.
"hi", you giggled, making him let out a half-scoff and half-laugh, bringing a hand up to daintily caress the side of your face, picking a loose strand of hair between his fingers and twirling it around one sensually. "hi", he replied sarcastically, tucking the lock of hair behind your ear and leaning in a little closer with a small smile.
"i think we might need to find a new place from now on. i have a feeling that mr. kwon is getting suspicious about how this stupid bucket is always knocked over", you inform him, glancing at the said bucket that had toppled over due to eric's usual clumsiness.
"but i like this closet. it's so cosy and so, so tight", he remarked, voice gradually growing deeper as the sentence progressed. you let out a huff, drawing patterns on his firm chest with your nail ever so slowly, catching your bottom lip between your teeth while looking up at him. "is that so? what else is...tight in this room?" you preened, dragging your nail down his chest, bringing out a groan from him.
"hmm let's see. how about your little cunt", he smirked in an almost sadistic manner, your eyes widening at his brashness, only to narrow with a playful glint. "oh yeah? maybe it's because you just can't fuck it right, sohn."
his own eyes narrow as well, gaze darkening when his hand came up to wrap around your neck, giving it a light squeeze. "you're asking for trouble, princess", he said, tone light and airy when his actions proved to be contradictory, hand tightening and lip curving up slightly.
"and what are you gonna do about it?", you challenged, knowing you pushed all the right buttons when he lets out a low growl, crashing his lips onto yours hungrily. the kiss is a fierce one, full of aggressive tongues and clashing teeth, hands messily roaming the expanses of each other.
his lips move together with yours in a way that shows that he is in control of the kiss, tongue swirling around as if exploring you, mouth devouring yours furiously. his hand moves away from your neck and finds its way to your breast, squeezing and kneading it in his palm harshly, causing you to cry out into his mouth.
he manages to suck your tongue into his mouth, lips sliding up and down the length of it before attaching them back to yours for another kiss just as passionate as the last. his soft, pretty lips move on to commence their attack on your neck, licking, sucking and biting at your supple skin.
tilting your head back and moving your hair to your other shoulder, you allow him more access to your neck and an efficient way for him to grab a fistful of your hair into a makeshift ponytail, tugging on it just enough for it to sting yet feel pleasurable.
his curious hands find their way to your ass, tugging you up and into him before delivering a sharp slap to your ass cheek and grabbing a handful of it.
"god, i love this fucking uniform", he moans out against your mouth. "this short little skirt on you, giving me such easy access to this perfect ass of yours." with that, he brings his hand down against your ass sharply another time, delivering a resounding slap and grinding his hips into yours. he flips your skirt up, slipping his hands under your panties and grabbing your bare ass, giving it a tight squeeze which elicited a breathy sigh from you.
finally pulling away, a string of saliva connected your mouths, both of your lips red and puffy, chests heaving and pupils dilated. two of his fingers travel up your body to break the string, the spit now coating them and he holds them up to your mouth, tapping your bottom lip and mouthing "ahh". rolling your eyes, you still obliged and parted your lips, allowing for him to shove his fingers in, sucking them dry.
he let out an uncharacteristically broken sigh, eyes boring into yours before leaning in to lick a stripe in between your now pouting lips. he places his hands on your shoulders, the lust and desire that he felt practically radiating off of him. "on your knees, baby."
a/n: this was previously posted on my main @/pearlhoon, however when i accidentally deleted that blog, the fic was deleted as well. this is a reupload; it has been renamed and was previously titled “solace”
You always imagined what it would be like to have a cliche, stereotypical meet-cute. Maybe, you’d meet The One at the coffee shop your best friend works at. You two would order the same thing to go, perhaps, and the identical order would spark a conversation. Or, maybe, you ride the same bus into campus, sitting beside each other and noticing something that’s similar. A book, the same song on a playlist, identical shoes. Or, rather, the same unique course that only 6 other people thought to take, and you’re sitting beside each other, and the specificity of the class brings you two closer.
You’d met your boyfriend in a meet-cute, or as cute as you could manage. Two people in line at the bookstore, hands full of textbooks. At the time, he’d been everything—right look, right style, right smile. You still love him, and you’re sure he feels the same—he has too—it’s just that you two are busy with finishing school. It happens to everyone.
Whether or not he’s The One is a different discussion.
Either way, you’re certain there’s something similar. There has to be. Opposites attract is a lie, and you, for one, know it. Same with the meet-uglies. How could anything good come from accidentally spilling food on the other or accidentally punching someone in the face because you’re animated when you talk? It’s simply a setup for failure.
It—meeting The One—surely doesn’t happen like that, and it most certainly doesn’t happen when some dumb boy on a skateboard accidentally bowls over you.
You watch your coffee crash to the concrete, lid popping off on impact and five hard-earned dollars running into the cracks of the sidewalk, undrinkable. You hear a few people at the bus stop gasp, and the skateboard—presumably—rattle off into something that stops its momentum, a distinct type of clunking noise. Your body hurts from hitting the ground unexpectedly. Your vision is shaken and it takes a minute to realign.
When it does, you see the boy who’d run into you. His eyes are wide with concern, hands reaching down to help you up. His hair, dark with select blond highlights, is mostly hidden beneath a blue beanie. You note the backpack straps over his shoulders, and you feel slightly better knowing it was someone your age from school who could be so idiotic.
Slightly.
You reach up and brush his hands away, prompting his expression to change from concerned to confused. His brows knit together as he watches you stand up without his help and brush yourself off. You pick up your now empty coffee cup and toss it into the trash can by the bus stop.
“I guess that means you’re okay. I’m—”
“I don’t really care who you are,” you say, turning back towards him, a sneer and venom dripping from your words. The annoyance on his face only sparks yours more. “Other than you’re now the guy who owes me a coffee. I’d taken two sips. Two.” You hold up your fingers for emphasis.
The boy walks up to you, skateboard now retrieved. He holds it by one truck as if it’s the lightest thing in the world, as if something like this happens every day. “Then let’s go get you a new one. What do you order?”
“It’s too late today,” you reply, angry you have to even explain this. You motion down the street to where the bus slowly approaches, a clear and loud sign that there’s no more time. “Some people work on finely tuned schedules.”
The boy scoffs, rolls his eyes. “As if.”
You turn back towards him, eyes wide with brows crossed. “Excuse me?”
“So finely tuned you walk in front of a skater who rides this same path every day at the same time?” He holds up his board for emphasis, and you feel like batting it away, taking it from his hands and throwing it into the street, jumping on it until it snaps. The bus pulls to a halt, breaks sighing as the doors swing open, and you have to remind yourself you have to actually get on and not stand here arguing.
You try not to feel bad when the boy retrieves his bus pass too.
“Doesn’t matter. Besides,” you say, pulling yourself up to the first step, “it was free anyway. The coffee.”
“And why do I care?” he asks, following you. “You don’t want another anyway.”
“I don’t want you to think you owe me anything.” You walk down the aisle to your normal seat, sliding into the window seat. You watch the boy pick the same seat but on the other side of the aisle, his board and backpack resting in his lap. He watches you with an emotion you can’t quite pin down, eyes taking in every aspect of you.
He speaks before putting his headphones on and turning away. “Well, then I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t have time to get you coffee, or else you would have owed me something instead.”
Eric Sohn.
That’s the name of the boy who’d run into you. Your wrists still hurt from where they caught the ground first, ensuring only they would be scuffed up. You flex your fingers in class as you watch the boy—Eric—take notes two rows ahead of you. The board is propped up against his chair, and you’re shocked at the diligence at which he’s note-taking.
Who would have thought such a fool would be taking the literature of mythologies?
You wouldn’t have caught his name if he hadn’t spoken after, asking the professor a question. About what, you aren’t sure. You stopped listening the moment you registered who it was. It doesn’t matter, you suppose. It’s not like you care about this person, this completely and totally rude stranger. You’re upset with everything about him, and especially upset with the reality that you’ll be seeing him at least twice a week for this class.
Your boyfriend taps your shoulder. You can tell he’s bored with this class already—he only took it because you convinced him. Between your two schedules, it was hard enough to get time together. You figured it would be fun taking a class together, but this was the only one he could take without any prerequisites.
His lack of interest in everything you two share makes you worry.
“Who’s that?” he asks, and you can’t tell if there’s an accusation in his tone or not.
You shrug him off, and any thoughts of Eric get put aside, into the mental trash can where you declare they belong. “Just someone I saw this morning. It doesn’t matter.”
When class is out, you make sure to leave well before Eric is even done packing his bags. You won’t give him a chance to say anything else to you. For all you know, you’ll only ever see him in this class. Less than three hours a week—you could handle that. Especially if he doesn’t change seats and he stays away from you.
You can deal with this because there’s nothing to actually deal with. Eric is just a classmate whose name you happened to learn, and nothing else.
It matters, apparently. You're certain your blood is boiling, just as hot as the espresso and the coffees Juyeon brews during his shift.
Every Friday, you come to this cafe after your last class to study and make sure everything’s done before the weekend. Every Friday, you say hi to Juyeon and he makes you your favorite drink or surprises you with something new. Every Friday, you study in peace. Even if your boyfriend can never make it, always busy with this, that, or the other. On Fridays, you find a unique kind of solitude.
“So you know Juyeon?” Eric asks, sliding into the booth seat opposite you univitied, a terrible grin on his face, shattering any hopes you had at solace. Everything about him is completely and utterly irritating. There’s no way around it, but you can’t just be blatantly rude. Not after you saw how excited Juyeon got when he walked in.
“You do too?” you muster, forcing your tone to stay level.
Eric nods, a genuinely happy look on his face now. “He and I are besties. We go way back.”
“Besties?” you ask, disdain dripping from each sound. You cross your brows. You’d come to the cafe to study, and get more coffee, and nothing more. Seeing your friend Juyeon in his element always made you productive, too. And it had been weeks since the first day of class, and he was never present. So what gives? “Why are you even here?”
Eric raises a hand towards the counter, where Juyeon’s diligently working to make the next order, unaware of any rivalry brewing in the corner of his cafe. “To see my bestie. Duh.”
“Okay, but why are you here?” You tap on the table for emphasis. This boy's presence alone is shattering your Friday routine.
Eric swings his hand towards you. “To say hi to my classmate, and share wonderful knowledge and interesting takes from the class we share together.” His smile is disarmingly charming, unnervingly so. For a small moment, you see what the others in your class see: the good-looking boy with a nice laugh who skates.
And then you remember when he ran you over on said skateboard.
And it all vanishes as quickly as it appeared.
You level him a stare over the screen of your laptop before dropping your attention. Not like you can focus with him so close, so actively trying to gain and regain and keep your focus, but you aren’t going to let him know that.
There’s a ding from your phone, and you anxiously—perhaps too quickly—check it. You try not to let your shoulders sink too much when you see it’s just a Twitter notification, and not a reply from your boyfriend. You’d wanted to hang out, wanted to see him. At this point, it wouldn’t matter what the two of you did, as long as you got to spend time together.
And yet...
You lock the screen, flipping the phone face down and pushing it away, hoping Eric thinks it's so you can focus on studying. Not that you care what Eric thinks, even if he is the one who’s sitting across from you and making conversation and your boyfriend is—who knows where, with who knows whom.
Even without looking directly at him, you can see Eric’s body language change, from carefree to something stiffer. He’s quiet for a moment, and the only noise is the dishes clinking from whatever Juyeon’s doing across the cafe. Then, “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
You scoff, a sharp laugh, and you try to keep your attention on the laptop screen in front of you and not look up at Eric. Every sour emotion moves to the front of your mind, the tip of your tongue. “Something like that.”
“So…” he begins, drawing out the word. He pushes your laptop lid down, and before you can snap at him, you see a piece of yellow note paper with something scribbled on it between his first two fingers. He stretches it closer to you, indicating for you to take it. “I want to try again. Meeting you, that is. I’m Eric, and I’d really like to be your friend.”
You aren’t quite sure how it happened, or how you even let it happen, but Eric Sohn has found a way into your heart. He doesn’t take up much room, and he is on the edge of it, ready to be kicked out at any moment. But he’s there, a bright spot in your otherwise mundane and empty week.
Once you’d explained how you’d actually come to the cafe to study, you were shocked to see he joined you to do the same. The boy who always had something funny or witty to say would turn serious, and so quiet you nearly forgot he was there if it wasn’t for his occasional coughs, the sound his cup made when he placed it back on the table, or every time you felt him steal a glance.
You aren’t sure how Eric knew, either, but it always seemed like whenever you were upset about your boyfriend, or what now felt like the lack thereof, he’d find some way to make you laugh. He’d even come to sit next to you in class, taking the seat on the other side of you, even though your boyfriend stopped showing up weeks ago.
Just like he stopped answering your calls and texts.
Juyeon had caught you alone one morning before you’d left for the bus. He’d handed you your drink but didn’t let go when you went to take it. When you tugged on it, laughing it off, a knowing smile crossed his lips.
“What?” you’d asked.
“How’s Eric?”
You didn’t like the tone in his voice. “What do you mean? You’re friends with him, ask him yourself.”
Juyeon let go of the cup, but his smirk remained. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”
You’d boarded the bus upset, brows crossed with annoyance. Because that’s what Eric was to you: annoying. Sure, he was charming. Funny. Had wonderful and helpful ideas for class when the professor couldn’t actually teach the material. He gave good feedback on your projects and you were happy when you were paired together for group work because you trusted him to get things done.
But, at the end of the day, he was annoying. Something that was ever-present, always there.
And right now, he’s annoying you more than ever.
“I have something to ask you.”
“Go away, Eric,” you snapped, walking up from the street to your dorm. Eric, did not, in fact, go away, but followed you, his footsteps echoing in the night. Your boyfriend’s text made it hard to think, present at the top of your mind. We should see other people. Bye, I guess. You didn’t even know what to say, how to respond, and you’d spent the whole day in a haze of sorts, going from one motion to the next.
Who sends a breakup text at eight in the morning?
Students buzz around, some walking and others riding bikes, all returning from their day out. The sun, barely beyond the edge of the horizon, still casts enough light for it to be considered daytime, but the edges of the distant sky darken to a rich navy. The heat at the back of your neck is unbearable, and you hate that you know what caused it.
What’s causing it.
You want to kiss me so bad. It had been a tease. The two of you, taking the same bus back to the dorms, sat beside each other. Like you’d always done ever since the friendship had started to blossom between you. As the semester waned to a close, you found yourself spending more and more time with Eric. You tried not to pay too much attention to how close he was, how your shoulders knocked against each other whenever there was a bump or turn in the road. You didn’t let yourself think of Eric that way, even though now you technically could. Now that you are single. You tried not to see the way he watched you with awe, admiration. It was exhilarating, even with the nerves of letting your guard down. Your banter had escalated, and it felt so easy to have such a back and forth with Eric.
Then your stop arrived, and he’d said that, and you’d just—run away.
Eric calls out your name again, and you can tell he’s only a few steps behind you. The road to the dorms from the main street isn’t wide enough for cars, but enough for bikers and pedestrians to share. The dotted line suggests which side to walk on, but you’d come to learn that bikers simply take the path of least resistance. The lane feels too wide with not enough space all at once. You wish for Eric to be nowhere and to be in his arms at the same time.
Maybe, somehow, he’s taken up more room in your heart, burrowed his way in deeper. Maybe it happened when he slowly started to remember the little things about you—your favorite pen, the way you got your coffee. How he’d show up at the cafe before you, with your morning coffee already in hand. The way Juyeon seemed to suspect something—as if he was aware of feelings on both sides. How you caught yourself staring at the back of his head in class before he moved seats, tracing over the outline of his form before realizing you’d lost five minutes of lecture.
Perhaps this is how Persephone felt, being stuck with Hades. Knowing it was something caused by a trick, but never being able to undo it, even with the knowledge of how it occurred. But that was the thing—there was no trick with Eric. Maybe the trick was when he reintroduced himself, but that didn’t feel like a trick. There was an honesty to him that day that you found endearing, and ever since, you’d been looking for more and more things to like.
Maybe it was how, when your boyfriend—or, rather, ex-boyfriend—faded out without so much as a real goodbye, Eric entered your world in a bright bath of color and sound.
How annoying.
You turn to tell him so to his face, and then everything happens far too fast. You’d stepped out into the middle of the path, and in doing so, put yourself on track for a head-on collision with a biker. You froze, and then felt Eric’s hand wrap around your wrist and pull. You crashed into him, and the two of you fell to the ground, tumbling over the other before stopping. You hear the biker call out a hasty Sorry! over his shoulder, but it’s drowned out by the race of Eric’s heartbeat, of his breaths as he rests his head on yours, holds you in his arms.
And before you can let yourself fall into him, you get angry.
It’s not fair to him, and you know it even as you pry yourself from his grasp, pushing up on the ground. You don’t dare look back, and you’re readying to say something harsh and regrettable when you inhale through your teeth, one hand going to the opposite wrist. There’s a small cut on your palm, from some rock on the ground, and it’s red and angry.
“What is it?” Eric asks, and his voice is calm and quiet and not at all what you deserve for having treated him like that.
You still can’t stop yourself, every emotion you’d had since your ex’s text this morning boiling up to the surface. You feel tears prick at the edges of your eyes. “Nothing. Go away.”
You turn towards him, trying to make it seem like you’re serious, but you can already tell it’s a mistake on your part. Eric bites his lips, and it looks as if he’s in just as much pain as you are. “Stop being like this, and let me help you. I’m not going to disappear, I promise. I’ve been here this whole time.”
And maybe it’s because of how he looks, with small tears smarting his own eyes, or the words he said so honestly, or your guilt over your own actions threatening to drown you and devour you whole, but you let him take your backpack and follow you as you walk to your dorm room.
You walk through your door together, taking off your shoes before you lock the door and Eric takes a seat at your desk, placing your and his things politely on the ground beside him. You go through your motions, trying your best to pretend someone you very well might have a major crush on isn’t in your room. You spend perhaps a little too long dressing your wound in your bathroom, taking the time to look at everything in the first aid kit just in case, before you walk back. Eric looks like he hasn’t moved, but he sits ready to stand at your beck and call.
“Thanks for your help,” you say in a half mutter, your hands crossed over your chest. “You can go.”
Eric shakes his head, finally standing and stepping close to you. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been weird all day.”
“Yeah, that’s what happens when your boyfriend who’s been ghosting you finally breaks up with you over text.
The look of pity on Eric’s face bothers you. “I’m sorry,” he says softly.
You scoff, turning away. “What? Like it affects you? Like it hurts you?”
"Of course it does! Seeing people play with your smile, as if you don't deserve to be happy all the time?" There’s an honesty to Eric’s voice, one you’ve come to associate with him. It’s not the playful snark he usually uses with you. The look in his eyes is serious, and disarming. You take a step back and try not to feel anything when you see his features cross with an emotion you can’t quite name. “You’re never happy with him. I could see that even before we were friends.”
“Oh yeah? Like when?”
“Every time you tried to get his attention when you walked into class and he acted as if you were just some random person he might be interested in.”
“Then what?” you ask, your nerves rising again. You think back to all the times you’d imagined meeting The One, all the good and polite interactions. You think of all the times you and Eric spit harsh, teasing words at each other, but how it never felt like too much. When you speak, there’s no venom in your words—just curiosity. “Do you think I’d be happy with you?”
“I would do everything I could do to make sure you were happy,” he says. “Always happier than when you were with him, because that’s what you do when you like someone.”
You blink, taking a moment to process his words. “You like me?”
Eric laughs, as if he doesn’t believe your confusion. “Did I not make it obvious? Even though I knew you were seeing someone else—except that gives him way too much credit. He was done with you by the fourth week of class.”
You step closer, feeling exasperated but more curious than anything else. “And how do you feel, exactly?” The teasing tone from before, from all the other times, is back in your voice, and it feels so natural. It also slightly annoys you, in an annoyingly endearing way, because for the whole semester you’ve known him, Eric’s never been one to talk around a topic, and yet—
His hands grip your shoulders to get your attention before slowly rising to cup your cheeks. “I’m in love with you, Y/N. I have been for so long I don’t even know where to start.” With each word, you realize just how close he is to you, but you’re too enraptured by his words to even think about moving.
Eric takes a deep breath before continuing. “I never hated you, even if it seemed like it for whatever reason. I’m pretty sure you hated me, though, and I can’t blame you. I guess it just seemed like that because you intimidated me, and I had no way to act other than tease you. It was the only way I could try to be your equal.”
“Equal in what?” you ask, trying hard not to focus on how his hands feel against your cheek. How delightfully warm and tender they are. How you can already imagine yourself getting used to his touch.
“Equal in anything. You’re so cool and that’s what hurts the most.” You don’t miss how his eyes drop to your lips in his pause. “You were stuck with someone who didn’t see how amazing and incredible you are, and they just threw you aside like you’re nothing.”
Your hands shake slightly as they rise to hold onto the open hem of his flannel, pulling yourself that much closer. “And what would you do?” you ask, leaning in, giving into all the thoughts you never fully allowed yourself to think upon. “What would you do if I were all yours instead?”
“I’d started by giving you everything you deserve,” he says, then he presses his lips to yours, and you’re sure you can feel his adoration. It’s a kind of reverence you’d never experienced before, and it pools in your stomach, making your knees weak. It’s something you want to savor, experience so many times you have it memorized yet you still want more.
“Eric…” you start, pulling back just enough to speak, but you can’t find the words. Instead, you kiss him again, and notice he tastes like bright citrus and laughter and hope. You run your okay hand through the back of his hair, your bandaged one rising to rest on his shoulder. You feel his arms drop to go around your waist, enveloping you in a safe warmth. He holds you tight, twirls you around, and you’re both laughing when you collapse onto your bed, side by side.
“I really thought you hated me,” he says, lacing his fingers between yours. “That’s why I never did anything too much, even when Juyeon told me I had a chance.”
You laugh, looking at your hands in Eric’s, witnessing how careful he is with your hurt one. “I never hated you, but you did annoy the hell out of me.”
Eric laughs now, the kind you do when you could either keep laughing or start crying. When he looks up from your hands entwined, you see there’s a soft smile on his lips. He pulls your knuckles to his lips for a tender kiss. “I’m sorry we were so terrible to each other.”
“And I’m sorry it took so long to figure out.” You place your free hand on his cheek and lean in for a kiss, and you smile as you feel Eric curl into your touch, feel him smile against your lips. “If I knew kissing you was this fun, I would have tried it a long time ago.”
Eric shakes his hand from yours to reach out and grab at your waist, tickling up your sides and eliciting a series of giggles. “You should have figured that out just by seeing me.”
“Is that so?” you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck, and Eric hums in reply. You aren’t sure if Eric is ‘the one’ just yet. But you are sure you’ve found a new, special solace with him. One you’ve never found with anyone else. You pull him closer to you, smiles on both your lips. “I think you should kiss me again, just so I know for certain.”
