countdown
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ neighbour barista!jae x non-idol!reader ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅
♡ genre/warnings: neighbours to lovers, but with a sprinkle of barista au and rockstar au?!? (jae is a busy boy)
♡ word count: 5,747 words
♡ author’s note: finally finished this pic !! writing this got me deep in jae feels so now i'm officially part of the jars fandom... <3 also a very big shoutout to my lover @hyucksos for betareading my first present tense fic ilysb xoxo
♡ song rec: hi hello by day6
◃───────────▹
Twelve minutes.
He’s tugging on his socks, so obviously mismatched, just barely making it out the door without tripping on his own two feet.
He fumbles and feels around his pockets for the keys, breathing a sigh of relief when he feels the familiar imprint against his jeans.
But the relief is short-lived. His eyes widen in panic when his gaze lands upon the sweet old lady making her way towards the elevator from her end of the corridor, walking stick in hand. Cursing to himself, he readjusts his guitar strap on his shoulder, making a beeline towards the elevator.
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” He mutters under his breath, fingers jabbing the down button at frantic speed.
Behind him, a door clicks shut. You step out, double-checking that your front door is locked properly.
You turn around, only to be faced with the broad back of your tall neighbour from the end of the corridor. You’ve crossed paths a few times before, but only briefly. From what you could gather, he orders a shit ton of takeout (as evident from the piles of recycled takeaway containers he leaves intermittently by his door), and is always up at irregular hours. You vaguely remember brushing past him by the elevator way past midnight a few weeks ago when you came home from a company dinner that ran way over. You were tired, shoulders slumped, looking forward to a warm shower and a good night’s sleep; whereas he was dressed in all black, hood pulled up over his head, backpack slung over his shoulder. He looked like he was going somewhere – at 2am.
You shake those thoughts away. It’s just past seven, and you’re running slightly late for your dinner with an old friend. The bus leaves in five minutes, so you really have to get to the bus stop soon. You briefly consider running down the stairs, but decide against it given you’re on the ninth floor.
You stand carefully behind your neighbour. He’s bouncing on his feet, fingers tapping against his thighs impatiently. Perhaps you’re not the only one in a rush.
The elevator dings, signalling its arrival.
Jae swears the door slides open at a snail’s pace. He’d already been late for the last few gigs – he couldn’t afford to not be on time today, unless he wanted his head on the chopping block. He quickly jogs in, pressing for the ground floor, but he’s so absorbed in getting in before the ahjumma arrives that he fails to notice your presence.
Your eyes meet in a split second, and he flashes you an apologetic look, before pressing the doors shut.
That bastard!
“I’m sorry!” His voice filters through the rapidly closing doors as you stand there in shock, refusing to believe that your neighbour just slammed the elevator door shut in your face.
Needless to say, you were late to your dinner.
For the next few days, whenever your line of sight falls upon that particular neighbour’s door, you feel your blood boiling underneath your skin.
───────────
You settle into the elevator, pressing your AirPods into your ears, ready to start the morning commute and face the day. It’s a Monday, the start of a new week, and you already miss the soft crinkle of your sheets under your skin.
Just as the doors slide close, a hand sticks in between the doors, prompting it to re-open.
Your eyebrow lifts at the new intruder.
And in walks none other than your menace of a neighbour.
He’s sporting large wire-rimmed, round glasses this time. A shoulder bag hangs upon his lithe frame, and headphones sit snug around his neck. A small ponytail sits atop his head.
You squint your eyes at it, staring.
He sucks in a breath, caught off guard by your presence. He nods his head, almost sheepishly, averting his gaze towards his old Converse, worn from years of sticky bar floors and spilt coffee.
The elevator doors slide close, trapping the two of you inside the metal cell.
You know it’s rude to stare, but the contrast between the tiny ponytail and the rest of him (or what you know of him, at least) is too stark to ignore.
He seems to feel the weight of your gaze, following your line of sight before patting his head down with his hand, wincing internally at the realisation that he forgot to fix his hair after brushing his teeth and washing his face.
The air is tense and silent for the rest of the ride. You have nothing to say to him. He seems to be mulling over the right words.
The doors slide open, just as his lips part.
“I’m sorry again.” He calls out, voice small as he realises the chances of you hearing him are slim. You’d already stepped forward, feet crossing the threshold of the elevator. He continues anyway. “I know it was a pretty rude thing to do, but I couldn’t afford to be late again. I… I’m sorry.”
You stop in your tracks. You don’t say anything, or turn around. You simply nod lightly, before continuing with the rest of your day.
Jae lets out a breath he didn’t even realise he was holding.
Let me make it up to you, he wants to say, but the words die in his mouth.
───────────
It’s early – way too early, and Jae tries but fails miserably to rub the sleep from his eyes. He yawns, wondering to himself how anyone could possibly function at the crack of dawn.
(Or at least, it feels like the crack of dawn for him, a seasoned night owl. It is, in fact, quarter past seven, which is a perfectly normal time for human beings to start their days.)
He glances at the clock.
Eight minutes, Jae reckons. Eight minutes before the morning rush starts and he’d have to interact with other people like a normal, functioning member of society.
A sense of dread settles over him.
For now, he absentmindedly wipes over the surface of the coffee machine, the paddle, the coffee grinder – his metal companions for the morning shift. To his left, just at the corner of his eyes, sits his notebook, open to his recent work.
It’s an uptempo, pop beat coupled with a melody that sits easily on the ears. He has the instrumentals locked in, but the lyrics are a different story. It’s taking him longer than usual to come up with a cohesive narrative, and by this point, he’s tired of constantly hitting dead ends.
The windchime sings, signalling the arrival of customers. The early summer air blows through the open doors, the fresh scent of newly sprouting trees mingling with the lingering aroma of coffee beans in the air.
“Welcome to – Oh?”
Jae stops, tongue tied. An uneasy smile works its way onto his lips. He tries to conceal his surprise with his best customer service face. “Good morning, what can I get for you?”
Your eyes meet his in recognition. A look passes through your face for a mere second, before you recover your composure. You flash him a polite, tight-lipped smile. “Morning, can I get an iced latte please?”
He pulls a plastic cup from the organised pile, scribbling onto its side with a black marker. “Iced latte, coming right up.” He smiles , keying in your order and readying the card machine.
You linger by the counter. The cafe is empty, as it usually is. You’d tried to come in earlier to beat the morning rush and get your caffeine hit before stepping onto the train.
It’s funny, you think to yourself. You’ve lived in this apartment for months now, and frequented this cafe a few times a week, but you’ve never once crossed paths with your barista neighbour. Perhaps the timing never lined up properly, until now.
“Iced latte!” The voice you’ve only heard from the echoes along your hallway or within the confines of the metal elevator rings throughout the empty space.
The owner of said voice, whose eyes were partially concealed by his too-long fringe and a cap, shines slightly as he passes you your drink. You find it hard not to notice the dark eyebags sitting below his brown orbs.
“Thank you.” You mumble , voice small. You feel uncertain, as though you should say something more, but decide against it. After all, he did close the elevator door on you.
“Wait!” Jae calls out, stopping you from leaving. He disappears behind the counter for a second, and re-emerges with a brown bag. He passes it to you.
“What…?”
“It’s on the house, I hope you like chocolate chip cookies.” He explains sheepishly. “An apology for what I did last time. I truly am sorry.” He says , voice and eyes both laced with sincerity.
“I… Thank you. It’s fine.” You reply, accepting the cookie, but unsure of what to make of the interaction. The words linger in the air for a moment too long.
“Jae.” He blurts out, a desperate attempt to fill the silence. Inwardly, he cringes at himself. “My name is Jae. You’re 918, right?”
A small grin spreads across your lips. You nod, “Yeah, I’m Y/N.”
“Well, I won’t keep you. See you around, Y/N.”
───────────
It’s funny, because you swear you’ve never seen Jae at the cafe before, until that day.
And then, all of a sudden, he starts popping up everywhere.
The elevator, the cafe, the recycling bins downstairs, at the convenience store across the road, by the bus stop.
You searched it up late last night. It’s called the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon; the frequency illusion – the phenomenon of suddenly noticing something, or rather, someone, and then seeing it appear everywhere around you.
Six minutes.
There’s not much time until your bus comes, and if you miss this one, you’d have to squish and be squished in the next one. You briefly consider skipping coffee this morning, but a yawn tears through your soul, reminding you of just how late you stayed up last night.
This won’t do.
You push past the cafe’s double doors, feeling the scent of freshly brewed coffee enveloping your fatigued body.
That, and a now familiar voice.
“Morning!” He’s rather chirpy today, you think to yourself as you approach the counter. “The usual?”
You nod, stifling a yawn. Wordlessly, you go through the motions of a cafe regular, pulling out your phone to pay and passing Jae your loyalty card.
“Long night?” He asks from beyond the steam and screams of the coffee machine.
You shake your head. “No, just bad sleep.”
He laughed, eyes glinting teasingly. “Have you ever considered that perhaps your caffeine addiction is messing with the quality of your sleep?”
You narrow your eyes at him. “Don’t take my one single joy away from me.”
Jae pulls his hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying, I know I work in a cafe and all and we profit immensely from this addiction of yours, but cutting down wouldn’t hurt.”
You pout, arms reaching out for your savior; your beloved iced latte. “I’ll consider it.”
He reaches across the counter with your coffee, but not before pretending to pull it back. Your hands follow the direction of the plastic cup a little too closely, fingers brushing his with a feather light touch.
“Wow, you really do have a problem.”
“Shut up.” You scold. “I’m leaving!”
“Oh, one sec.” He hands you another brown bag, this one much larger than before. “I messed up an order – there’s two slices of cheese instead of one. I’d usually just play dumb, but you know how particular the neighbour ahjumma is with her ham and cheese croissants.”
You laugh, because you in fact have no clue about this whatsoever. You just take his word for it. “Given how much free food you’re dishing out to customers, you’re probably running a loss at this rate.”
“Not just any customer, just you.” Jae teases, a playful lilt in his voice.
You wave at him, looking at your app for the next bus.
───────────
It’s the weekend, and the weather outside is smiling at you, beckoning you to leave the confines of your house.
You comply, pulling on a simple t-shirt and shorts, and tying your hair back in an attempt to look somewhat neat. You step into your slides, grab your keys and let your feet guide you towards your recent obsession. Everyday, you found yourself in one of three places – your home, your office, or the cafe downstairs.
“Welcome to – Oh?” A curious laugh punctuates the unfinished sentence. “It’s the weekend!”
“I know.” You reply breezily, leaning across the counter. “I’m addicted, remember?”
Jae laughs, and you’re suddenly struck by how familiar it sounds in your ears, like a memory you keep reliving, over and over again. “You really are. The usual?”
You hum in agreement. “Yes, and…” You trail off, eyes travelling across the pastries on display in the fridge. It’s the weekend, after all. You make up your mind in an instant. “And a chocolate chip cookie, please.”
“Coming right up.” He nods, firing the coffee machine up.
You linger by the counter, your usual spot, not really bothering to find a seat. You prefer to be in his company anyways.
“Any plans for today?” He asks casually, just as he shovels ice and pours milk into a plastic cup.
You shake your head, pulling your phone out to pick up where you left off from last night. “Not much – laundry, chores, groceries.”
“What are you up to?” Jae wonders, setting your iced latte down on the counter top. He attempts to peek past the coffee machine, but to no avail.
You hum absentmindedly. “Hmm, sudoku. I’m not really good at it though.”
“Pass it over.”
You lift your eyebrow, doubtful. “Really?”
“You’d be surprised.”
Considering you have nothing to lose, you hand your phone over, in exchange for the iced latte. You take a big sip, allowing the caffeine to flow through your veins. You shut your eyes and sigh appreciatively.
“Addict.” Jae scoffs, watching you with a teasing glint in his eyes, before turning his attention to your puzzle.
He remains silent for a moment, studying the screen. “You’re nearly there.” He begins. “But I think you need to take a few more risks.”
“What do you mean?” You lean forward, trying to get a glimpse of what he’s seeing that you clearly aren’t.
You get all up in his personal space, staring at your phone without paying any attention to the way Jae’s breath hitches in his throat. The scent of your freshly washed hair invades his senses, and for a second, he’s not sure whether he wants to take a deep inhale or hide away in the storeroom out back.
“Jae, what do you mean? I don’t get it.” You stare, willing the right numbers to appear in the right boxes.
He clears his throat. Focus. “I mean, you can just take guesses to eliminate your choices. Like, see here?” He points to a pair of boxes in the corner of the board. “The eight could go here, or there right? So you can just take a guess. And if it’s wrong, you’ll know immediately where it’s meant to go.”
You mull over his words, “I guess you’re right… How are you so good at this?” You wonder aloud, looking up to stare into his eyes. You feel your heart stutter in your chest at the closeness. You swear you could count his eyelashes if you focused.
“Uhm,” He gulps. He tries to compose himself, fingers reaching for the brown paper bag, long forgotten. “Your cookie.”
“Thanks.” You mumble, quickly accepting it and taking a bite. You wait patiently for his response.
“Yeah, my sister used to play heaps. We passed a sudoku book back and forth on the back pews of Sunday church when we were kids.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at the mental image your mind conjures up at his description. “Really?”
He bites his lip, a shy smile gracing his features. “Yeah, pretty lame, huh?”
You shake your head. “No, just a bit nerdy.”
“Sounds about right.”
───────────
The days pass in a whirlwind.
Your newfound routine gives you comfort. You find yourself looking forward to waking up to a new day, and another cup of coffee from your neighbour-turned-barista.
(You didn’t know it then, but neither did he. And the lingering conversations and warm exchanges prompted him to request more morning shifts, and to be home earlier, and to get to bed at reasonable times – just so he could be the best version of himself when he greets you in the morning.)
Early summer rolls into the rainy season, and the rain fades away to autumn. As the weather grows colder, you pull on more layers to keep warm. And yet, ironically, it feels like you are slowly, but surely, peeling back the layers of yourself.
(For him, of course.)
It’s a chilly morning, and you still haven’t let up on the iced lattes. You walk into the cafe, appreciating the warmth of the heaters in the cozy space.
“You’re a bit late today.” He remarks, pushing the iced latte across the counter, ready for your arrival.
You laugh, waving to greet him. The two of you dance a familiar tango – you pay, and he stamps your loyalty card. “Thanks for being prepared. I took the day off today.”
“Oh, how come?” He asks, fingers fiddling with his pen. His notebook lay open, long forgotten.
“Gotta go to the hospital.” You reply, pouting as you sip your morning coffee.
His eyes shoot up in alarm. “Hospital? Everything okay? You feeling alright?”
“Woah, woah.” You scoff, finding his worried expression endearing. “Aren’t you a little too invested in my health, as my barista?”
He averts his gaze, hands gesturing vaguely in the air. “You know, this cafe would crumble without your patronage.”
You laugh at that. “Yeah, well, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Just a routine checkup, nothing too serious, I hope.”
Jae breathes a sigh of relief. “Well, that’s good to hear. As your barista, I hope you will remain healthy so I can keep enabling your caffeine addiction.” He disappears briefly from behind the counter, and emerges with another brown bag. “A sweet treat, for good luck.”
He sets it down on the counter, next to his notebook. You reach towards it, but your eyes linger on the page. Chicken scrawls fill the lines. “What is it?” You ask, curious.
Jae sighs deeply. “A song I’ve been working on for ages, but it just refuses to come out right.”
“You write songs?”
He looks at you, eyes vulnerable. “Uhm, yeah. I sing too, and play the guitar. And the keyboard, if it’s required.”
“Oh!” The pieces of the puzzle fall into place. “That’s why you carry around a guitar!”
“No,” He begins, voice uncertain. “That’s because I play in a band.”
“You play in a band? What?!”
“Why are you so surprised?” He laughs nervously, unsure of what to make of your constant line of questioning.
“Nothing, it’s just… You’re… Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t necessarily fit the image of a band member.”
Jae clasps his hand across his chest in faked agony. “What does that mean?!”
“I mean, no offence, but you said you used to play sudoku with your sister in church. You’re telling me that boy grew up to play in a band?”
His lips formed a pitiful frown. “Hey, now you’re hurting my feelings. And yes, maybe you don’t really know me that well – have you considered that?”
You open your mouth, but fail to come up with a smart response. “I’m sorry,” You say sincerely. “I guess we don’t really know each other that well for two people who spend most mornings together.”
“Now you’re just making it sound romantic, Y/N.”
Your eyes meet his, holding his gaze for a few moments. The air is strung high with an unspeakable tension.
You take another sip in an effort to dissipate the awkward air, before staring at his notebook. “Can I take a look?”
Jae nods, a sense of deja vu washing over him. “Are you gonna help me with my lyrics cos I helped you with your sudoku?”
“Perhaps.” You mumble, reading his words. It was messy, barely legible, with a slight slant – somehow, it was so him. “Don’t underestimate me, you’re looking at the eighth grade spelling bee champion.”
He steps away to clean the dishes, leaving you to your devices.
When he comes back, you’re already scribbling across the page.
“How much do the words have to rhyme?” You ask, curious.
He hums. “Not exactly, but they do have to flow naturally together. I don’t really know – it’s hard to explain, I just go with what feels right. But for some reason, I’m really struggling with this one.”
You nod, considering your options. “I’ll see what I can do.”
───────────
All day, at the office, you run your fingers across a single piece of paper.
A five-inch piece of parchment with the name of a band you never heard of, until this morning. A date, a time, and a venue not too far away from your office.
You’ve been thinking about it all day – what his voice would sound like, what you should wear, how the audience would react. Your colleagues had to tap you repeatedly on your shoulder to ensure you were paying attention during the weekly stand-up.
And yet, nothing could calm the persistent hammer of your heart against your ribcage.
You met him first, as the annoying neighbour that slammed the elevator doors in your face.
You got to know him, slowly, as the barista who made your iced coffee every morning with a warm smile.
Tonight, you’ll see a whole other side of him. The performer; the artist underneath the overgrown fringe and wide-rimmed glasses and black hoodies. A different Jae.
It strikes you, then. The layers of him are slowly getting revealed to you, one by one, each more interesting than the last, and you want nothing more than to keep peeling back the layers of him.
Three more minutes…
You think to yourself, willing the hands of the clock to move faster so you could get ready to leave.
───────────
“Two minutes til showtime!” The stagehand calls in a booming voice.
On your trip back from the bathroom, you catch him standing in the corner, alone, leaning against a wall.
His fingers twirl the guitar pick over and over, a nervous tick.
You debate between leaving and staying. As your thoughts circle in your head, you watch him pull out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
This wouldn’t do.
You walk up to him and wave.
He sees you crossing the room and flashes you an uncertain smile.
“What are you doing here?” He asks softly, voice small. “You’re not gonna get front row seats at this rate.”
“I’m here on very important business.” You tease, a grin working its way onto your lips. Your gaze flickers towards the pack, and for a second you contemplate whether what you are about to do will cross an unspoken boundary, but you think, to hell with it.
“I’m not –” He begins.
You wordlessly reach out towards his hand, holding his trembling ones in yours. “No,” you spoke softly, with a quiet determination. “You won’t. You don’t need it to do well out there, trust me.”
Jae looks at you for a second, in awe. He looks away when the tightness in his chest gets too much. “How do you know?” He whispers, voice so small that your heart stutters in your chest.
“Because,” You take a deep breath, knowing that your words have the potential to make or break his confidence. “You’ve done this before, and you’ll do it again. Because you’ve conquered your nerves in the past and gave the audience a great show. Because you’ve performed and rehearsed these songs so many times. Because I helped you with the lyrics for one of them.” You pause, tightening your grip on his hands, and staring deep into his eyes. The lighting around you is scarce, and you can just make out your own reflection in his large glasses. But beyond that, his eyes are fixated solely on you, unwavering. “And because I believe in you.”
“Y/N,” Jae lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. It feels like a huge burden has been lifted off his shoulders. “I –”
“It’s showtime!”
A worried look passes across his eyes. You hold his shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “Go, I’ll be watching from the front row.”
“Promise?” He asks, uncertain.
You nod vigorously, knowing right then and there that you would promise him the world if you could.
───────────
The performance passes in a blur.
One moment you’re jamming to the addictive beats, the next you’re being swept off your feet by Jae’s sweet, sweet vocals. You welcomed it all – moving your body to the music and allowing yourself to be serenaded by the band’s frontman.
All that dancing and cheering makes you parched, and you want to prolong the buzz and adrenaline with a glass of something chilled and strong.
“Hey, can I –”
“Gin and tonic for her, please. And a pint of beer for myself.” A voice, low and familiar, spoke next to you.
You turn towards it, and settle your eyes on the owner. He leans on the bar counter, all 6 feet of him, messy hair with sweat threatening to drip down his chin, staining his graphic tee and ripped jeans. He flashes you a teasing smirk.
“Jae,” You breathe, unsure of what to say or do after being completely moved by his performance and stage presence. You had no idea that your klutz of a neighbour could get the crowd going like that, like they were hypnotised by a magician. This is an entirely different side of him that you’ve never seen before, and you’re not entirely sure how to interact with it.
“Y/N,” Jae hands you your drink, and clinks your glass in a toast. “Did you enjoy yourself?”
“Yes.” You answer without hesitation. Taking a sip of your drink, you feel the cool liquid rush down your throat, doing little to calm your quickening pulse.
“I could tell.” He laughs as he takes a swig of his beer. Jae considers you for a second, eyeing you with a certain intensity that makes you warm both inside and out. “You were having a bit too much fun. It was a bit distracting, honestly.” He continues in a playful tone.
You look at him questioningly.
Instead of answering, he just moves closer to you. The bar is getting more crowded by the minute as people try to refill their drinks after the performance. Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the heat from his warm body radiate towards you. Bar goers begin yelling out their orders, and along with the music blasting from the speakers, it becomes harder and harder to hear each other.
Jae places a steady arm around your shoulders, shielding you from the wave of people moving towards the counter. He leans close to your ears, his breath causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. “How about we get some food? It’s way too hectic here.”
You’re not sure what comes over you, then. Maybe it’s the close proximity with Jae that messes with your brainwaves, or the reassuring squeeze of your shoulders, or perhaps just the comfort of leaning against his sturdy form in a room full of strangers. You reach within yourself and find the courage to utter the next few words, “Are you taking me out on a date?”
“Am I what?”
“I’m not repeating myself!” You laugh, ushering him towards the general direction of the exit.
He trails closely behind you, pretending that he didn’t hear you. “Say it again! I can’t hear –”
You shoot a pointed look towards him once the two of you make it outside. The constant pushing and shoving ensures you’re pressing flush against him, his arm never straying far from you.
The night air is chilly, and you feel a shiver work its way through your bones. Wordlessly, he pulls out a hoodie from his backpack that you didn’t even realise he had with him. Jae helps you pull it over your head, and work your arms through the sleeves. You’re momentarily winded by how his scent swallows you whole. When you emerge from the oversized hoodie, completely engulfed by the fabric, he helps to sweep your hair away from your eyes.
He smiles at you like you’re the best thing that ever happened to him. His gaze is soft and sparkly, his gentle touch lingering on you. You wish it stays there forever.
“Jae…”
“C’mon, let’s get out of here.”
───────────
And that’s how you ended up back where it all started – within the four walls of the elevator.
Lingering touches, harmonious giggles, and smiles that hide more than you’re both willing to put into words.
The two of you stumble in unceremoniously, drunk off of something richer and more potent than alcohol.
If you were asked to recall what your conversation was about, you probably wouldn’t be able to give an accurate recount. Your ears could only register the bright notes of his laughter, high and loose, yet familiar all the same. Something about the set, perhaps, or his nerves, but you really couldn’t pay attention to much else other than his warm body against yours.
It feels like you were wrapped up in a warm bubble, away from the rest of the world. As the elevator ascends to the ninth floor in what feels like the longest ride ever, you find yourself welcoming the touch of his arms as they snake around your hips, pulling you real close.
Jae presses his lips against your hair, deeply inhaling the whiffs of shampoo that he only ever caught briefly on your morning coffee runs. It makes him lightheaded, but in the best way. “Hmm,” He hums, and you feel rather than hear him mumble against your skin. “You know, I love being around you.”
You giggle against his chest, fingers absentmindedly playing with the belt loops of his jeans. “Really?”
“Yeah, I was never much of a morning person, but somehow you changed me.” Jae pulls away slightly, and you have to actively fight the whine that works up your throat at the lack of close contact. “I love how I am around you.”
“Me too.” You admit, looking deep into his eyes, unconsciously nodding and moving closer to him. Now that you got a taste of him, you couldn’t bear being apart.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
A few moments of silence follows, as the two of you sway in each other’s arms. Jae’s eyes break away from yours and travel slightly down, down, and down, towards your lips. As if on cue, you bite on your lips, heartbeat thundering against your ribcage.
“Don’t,” He groans, pained. “Don’t do that, you’re so distracting…”
You laugh a little, but refuse.
Jae reaches to cup your face in his hand, his thumb working to pull your lips away. “Can I…” He breathes, leaning in on instinct.
Ten seconds, you think, until you can finally indulge in your curiosities (recently, your waking thoughts are preoccupied by how it feels to have his lips touch yours).
“Can I… you know?”
You couldn’t help laughing at his nervous demeanour. “What? I don’t know.”
“Y/N, please…” Jae whines, his thumb caressing the side of your cheek with a feather light touch, conveying his pleas. He hopes you get the message and stop torturing him already, for goodness sake. For what it’s worth, he’s waited long enough.
You shrug your shoulders, settling deeper into his hold, enjoying the skin-to-skin contact with someone who was always in your orbit but felt just beyond your reach.
Jae licks his own lips nervously. “I… Kiss… Can I –”
You don’t let him finish his sentence.
You grab him by the collar and pull him towards you. The moment your lips touch, the haziness in your mind clears. Nothing matters in that moment other than the feeling of him against you, pressed so impossibly close. It’s like you woke up from a deep slumber, refreshed, or the first satisfying breath after being trapped in an enclosed place. Time slows as your lips move languidly against his, your hands exploring on its own accord, first trailing down his shirt, then up to hook behind his neck, clutching his hair in earnest. At the same time, he walks you backwards and presses you against the metal wall. His palm, big and warm, cradles your face in his grasp, as though you’re his most prized possession. You let him, melting in his touch.
The seconds pass in this way, the two of you too lost in each other to care about anything else around you. And you want to keep going too, if not for the inconvenience that is breathing.
You pull away reluctantly, filling your lungs with fresh air, taking a moment to recover because – what was that? You feel like your brain is turning into mush.
Jae can’t seem to get enough. He holds you close against him, his arms tightening around your middle, taking a big inhale as he buries his face in your neck.
“You have no idea…” He begins, breathless. “No idea how long I’ve waited to do that…”
You just giggle softly in response, not trusting your lips to form words yet. You just snuggle closer to him.
“Do you wanna come back to mine? I’ll order food.”
You nod shyly.
“Also, what’s taking this lift so long…” He tears away from you briefly to stare at the buttons, only to realise that neither of you even pressed them in the first place.
Laughter spills from your lips at the mishap, clearly both of you were too caught up in each other to notice.
And so the rest of the night ends with lots of fried chicken, cheesy rom-coms and cuddling on his couch.
(Of course, he lets you steal the duvet at night, preferring to spoon you instead in search of warmth.)
(He lets you steal his hoodie too, and a t-shirt or two. Or a few.)
(And his heart.)
