𝖢𝖠𝖳𝖠𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖦𝖤 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀. rocco
1304𝗐𝖼 (best friend) jaehyun & (gn) reader nothing but fluff some dialogue written in hangul and left untranslated to emphasize the language barrier | jaehyun is described to be taller then yn excessive drinking skinship
THE KOREAN WORD FOR LOVE CAN BE REDUCED INTO TWO COMPLETE CHARACTERS.
사랑 (sarang) is easily written, easily pronounced and a word you know well when spoken. A word you can pick out now and then whenever Jaehyun is carrying on with his friends. One easily identified by the fluctuation of his voice. The way it comes out in a low, slurred whine whenever he’s drunk and clinging to his closest companion, or the softened, sweet intonation accompanying a phone call to his parents.
It’s always the same with him. Said slowly and intentionally. 사 slips from his teeth, lower pitched than its following counterpart. 랑 finds itself in a higher register, flicked off the tip of his tongue as it presses against the roof of his mouth. 사랑 is a familiar, practiced word when verbalized, but not so much when it’s written.
Something that Jaehyun is endlessly grateful for, considering the fact that he finds himself tracing it on your body any time he has the chance.
It never started off intentionally, this pseudo-confession of his. It was an accident, like most bad habits are, after one too many three dollar shots at some shitty hole in the wall Taeyong recommended. You don’t understand Korean. Sure, a few words here and there, but nothing that makes you remotely coherent to anything he’s half-heartedly slurring in your general direction. This in and of itself doesn’t normally pose a problem.
But after his fifth shot? English words seem impossibly out of reach and his vocabulary reverts to what he’s most accustomed to.
“나는 이 노래를 사랑해요,”
His lips are pressed to the side of your head as he speaks. Voice barely audible over the pulse of the music and the quietness of his tone. Words reserved only for you, as if you had any chance of understanding them in full. The weight of his palm presses into your shoulder, fingers curling around the curve of it and slipping down to your bicep as he stumbles where he stands.
Jaehyun is glued to your side. Pressing every bit of himself against you in both a concentrated effort to keep standing and a selfish desire to be all over you without the consequence of his feelings being all too obvious. “난 그냥 취했을 뿐이야,” he’d slur to Taeyong after one too many knowing looks, brushing him off with a roll of his eyes and beginnings of a pout, “아무것도 아니야. 그냥 술을 너무 많이 마셨을 뿐이야.”
Your incapacitated counterpart’s blonde hair is sticking uncomfortably to the curves of his cheek and the back of his neck—roots grown in and dyed ends fraying—slick with sweat from the simmering heat of the dive. His tank top is in a similar state, now slightly sheer as it clings to his torso, the short-sleeved button up he was wearing as a jacket now long gone. It would be cooler if he weren’t hanging off of you, a point that Taeyong has brought up three times too many, but Jaehyun thinks he’d rather overheat than part from your side for more than half a second.
“You what?”
You can only catch the angle of his jaw from your peripheral, unable to move your head with the weight of his own pressing into it. You wish you could—see him, that is—so that perhaps you could read his lips. Sounding out the syllables slowly before he corrects you with a huffed out laugh. You’d probably catch more than one word that way, if you weren’t too distracted by the flush of his cheeks and droop of his eyes.
“나는 이 노래를 사랑해요,” he repeats, bridge of his nose brushing against the curve of your ear as he angles his head towards his shoulder. Words enunciated slowly, clearly, and a bit louder this time. An unconscious reaction from your inability to understand and one you’d appreciate more if it weren’t partially drowned out by the obnoxiously loud drunken chatter surrounding you.
“What about the song?”
You can hear him exhale, fingers squeezing your bicep in a gentle motion that you know is attributed more to frustration than affection (though perhaps Jaehyun would say it’s a little of both). But it’s not that your confusion over such a simple sentence is completely unfounded. The use of the formal 사랑해요 (saranghaeyo) isn’t necessarily wrong but…it’s an unusual word choice. 좋아한다 (joh-ahanda), to like, would be more fitting. To like a lot rather than to feel love for.
But Jaehyun has always been a romantic, never using 사랑 flippantly and attributing it to the things he truly does love rather than simply like. Like this song.
And you.
“사랑,” the hand unoccupied with being wrapped around you is quick to get ahold of your own, “사랑해요. 나는 이 노래를 사랑해요. 사랑해,”
Jaehyun’s fingers clumsily trace the hangul onto the back of your palm. Over and over again with each repetition. As if you had any sense of what the shaky, uncoordinated strokes of his finger meant. It’s an earnest effort, one that probably wouldn’t have helped even if you were able to gather what he was spelling out with the way he keeps sloppily combining the characters together.
“Love,” he slurs, accent unusually heavy in a way that makes the ‘L’ sound more like an ‘R’, “사랑해,”
The second time he found himself writing the word, it was more purposeful with little intent of teaching. And the third. The fourth. The tenth. So on and so forth. It’s hard, honestly, to encapsulate every bit of what he feels for you in either variation of the phrase; I love you.
Three measly words that he wears out in his head, stretching them thin with overuse. He loves everything you do, everything about you. How can that be explained in such a simple phrase? 새상에 너밖에 없어 seems more fitting, though even that falls short (and is perhaps more embarrassing to say aloud).
Jaehyun finds himself drawing 사랑해 on your arm whenever you sit next to him on the couch. Your back whenever he makes the mistake of sharing your “queen” (it’s barely a full) sized bed for a sleepover. On your pulse point at dinner. Your thigh when he’s driving. He murmurs it into every hug, every shove of his shoulder when you can’t help but burst into laughter, every squeeze of your hand, every touch. It’s second nature. To trace the characters in long, languid strokes of his finger. Effortless and unconscious. Something that now comes to him as naturally as breathing.
사랑해. I love you.
When you do ask, what he’s drawing, he only hums. Red hot embarrassment prickling at his ear lobes, flushing down his neck and resting in his cheeks like he had been caught red handed (which for all intents and purposes he had been). Face a color that could rival a stop sign as he raises the back of his hand in a poor attempt to hide his flustered reaction. Eyes looking everywhere but your own as he clears his throat. “Nothing,” he says with a nervous laugh, “Just drawing.”
Jaehyun’s always been a terrible liar; his tells are much too obvious for his own good. But you don’t push him for an honest answer. Whatever it really is, it doesn’t bother you. So you drop the subject. It’s nice—his hands on you. Even if he does act like he’s never touched another person before in such an affectionate way (he has, but none of those people were you).
It becomes something you expect, something you look for in the pauses of your conversations. Something you find yourself trying to recreate—tracing the same shapes into the palm of your hand, trying to recall the lazy rhythm of Jaehyun’s own fingers. Not knowing what it means, but writing it nonetheless.
사랑해. I love you.
🦌: every time i write for jaehyun i think of the worst aura loss of my entire life where i fumbled him so horrifically during our fancall and i have to shut my laptop and go take a walk
🏷️: rockstar haechan x fem!reader. fluff. oneshot. 800 words.
can be read as a part two to fate... and a cigarette.
after a long journey of courting you (three attempts), haechan finally gets his long-awaited kiss, or rather... cigarette smoke being blown into his mouth.
HAECHAN WOULDN'T STOP STARING. He has this habit of letting his gaze linger, which you've noticed since the first time you met. He looks at people — or he'd say just you — like he's in the Louvre, admiring a piece of art. Taking his time, letting his vision take in every inch, deciphering each part of you.
Do you like it? Yes. Do you still shy away every time? Also yes.
"Why are you staring?" you mumble, looking away from his gaze. You distract yourself by looking at the scenery before you.
For your first date, he took you to a cafe with a jazz band playing melodies from the 90s. He made the reservations, drove you there, opened every door and peeled your shrimp like a true gentleman. For your second date, he took you to Chinatown, where he showed you his favourite hidden gems and made you try his favourite street food.
And for your third date, he took you to a gig. You watched his friend Jaehyun's band perform with his hand wrapped around your waist, keeping you close. Now you're standing on the rooftop of Radost yet again, with his hand lazily draped around your shoulders as you smoke.
"You just look hot when you're smoking like that," he whispers. His lips graze the shell of your ears as he speaks, like he's breathing each syllable onto your skin. "Makes me feel things, you know? Can't help but stare."
"Pervert," you scoff, rolling your eyes in faux annoyance.
"You like it, though."
"Shut up."
You flick the cigarette with your fingers after each inhale, taking in the scenery from the rooftop. Radost is placed on the third floor of an art building, and you can see the skyscrapers of Seoul from its rooftop. You could hear the strums of the bass echoing out of the venue, and it feels oddly romantic, especially with Haechan's head leaning against yours. He really wouldn't quit with the staring, his gaze burning into your skin, much like your cigarette, as his finger outlines circles on your waist.
“You know it's our third date, right?” he whispers.
You raise an eyebrow, “Yeah?”
Haechan parts his lips and hesitates. And then his lips pucker into a small pout — a side of him you only discovered on the second date. You'd think that guys who wear eyeliner and sing rock songs would never, ever, pout, but Haechan proves otherwise. He does it all the time. When you disagree with him, when you don't let him steal a fry off your plate (jokingly) and when he's babbling about something.
It's cute.
“You forgot, didn't you?” he huffs, rolling his eyes.
“Forgot what?”
“Ugh,” he scoffs, taking his hand off your waist. You already miss his warmth. “You said… you'd kiss me by the third date.”
To his offence, you burst out into a fit of laughter, throwing your head back.
I'll blow the smoke into your mouth on the third date.
It was a comment made jokingly. He really took that as a promise?
“Are you done laughing at me?” he mutters, crossing his arms.
“Yes —” you answer, slowing down before laughing some more. Once your laughter dies down, you look at him with a grin. “You're seriously holding me to that?”
“Excuse me for taking you for a woman of your words,” he scoffs. He hates how you’re making fun of him, but loves the gleeful smile on your face. “Well… whatever. It's your loss, really.”
Haechan turns his body around to lean against the railing, resting his elbows on the metal and drumming his fingertips to the muffled music seeping from the gig. You take a deep drag from your Marlboro Gold, dropping the stick to the ground — and to his surprise, you press your lips against his.
His whole world stops. He goes slack (he'll call himself a loser for this later…) before finally loosening in your embrace, one hand resting on your waist and the other gripping your hip. You lick his lower lip, waiting for them to part before blowing the smoke into his mouth.
How can something so bitter taste so sweet? The mixture of the tobacco and your cherry lips is enough for Haechan to devote himself here, between your legs and against your lips. Eagerly, his hands move to grab your face, thumbs caressing your skin as he tilts his head to kiss you deeper.
He swears heaven is right here. When you part for air, your arms wrap around his neck before you slump your body against him, hiding your face in his neck. He could feel every inhale of air you breathe in, hearts beating against each other.
“So sweet,” he whispers, leaning his cheek against your head. He couldn't see you, though he could feel you smile. “Want more, pretty.”
“I only give more kisses to my boyfriend.”
Once again, Haechan freezes in his spot, brown eyes meeting yours as you lift your head. He pokes his tongue against his cheek. Touché. Brilliant way to make somebody ask you out, he’ll give you that.
“Can I…”
Before Haechan could even finish his sentence, he’s cut off by a kiss.
summary: ➸ ♡ To say that Lee Jeno is pretty would be an understatement. The man's gorgeous. One thing he uses to his advantage, going through college getting girls he spots his eyes on. But there's one he just couldn't get. His brother's bestfriend. You can continue and avoid your feelings for each other, but eventually, it'll happen. You were someone that stayed, a constant in his life. You might not know it, but for the years you've known Lee Jeno, he slowly became yours, inevitably.
"I should've known it was you, because no one else made sense."
GENRE: Angst, Fluff, Humour, Smut
WARNINGS: Minors DNI, Explicit Sexual Content, Language, Slight Alcoholism, Mentions of Drugs/Weed, fuckboy!Jeno, brothersbsf!reader
AUTHOR's NOTE: Holy shit, it's done! I was about to pull all my hairs off for this one :// but i can finally say that it's all worth it! I hope y'all are still here. And I really wish y'all would like this story. Enjoy reading!
WC: 18 k (I tried my best)
DISCLAIMER: This story is purely fanfiction. Only the names of the Idols are used, and does not reflect on them in real life. There's no way in any shape of form that they are like this in person, because I MADE IT UP. I don't personally know them. DO NOT STEAL / TRANSLATE / MODIFY. This is my work and I don't appreciate people stealing it. Thank you.
Enjoy reading! -ryo
Lee Jeno is a phenomenon.
Jeno, on the other hand, likes to think he’s just a pretty boy who kinda knows how to dribble.
Maybe he’s not bad in the actual learning part too, maybe he did get an award for the research paper he did on Biochemistry last year. Maybe he won MVP on three consecutive basketball tournaments, making history in his school as the only player to excel in both the sports and academics.
So yeah. He’s a textbook definition of an A-list student that you would totally see in one of the frames along the halls of this very school in about thirty years, with the trophies and accolades he made during his time here.
You wanna hear what’s even more annoying?
He’s hot. And he knows it. Please, he’s so undeniably gorgeous it's starting to hurt.
Unlike his friends, Jeno keeps it on the down-low. Which was surprising because he had every right to be cocky and brag about all of his achievements but he’s the least show-y among his friends.
In Jeno’s defense, he likes to let his performance do all the talking.
Words on the street says he fucks like an incubus, but talks like an angel. He’s proven to be hung, emphasizing the word proven, based on the girls he had walking side to side after he spent a good, long night with them.
But despite all of that, he’s pretty cool and quiet most of the time.
Which is even more attractive. According to a study based on no-actual-facts, girls tend to like the quiet ones more. Especially when they look like a greek god that managed to escape mythology and then learned to be a legend in basketball instead. In simplified terms, girls like Lee Jeno.
Naturally, of course, girls are all over him. That's something really common between the four of his friends, and you're not shocked that Jeno sleeps around-- because he just can. Girls will literally faint in front of him if they could, just to get his attention.
“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered, desperately trying to finish while a girl, known as Jennie, was bent over the counter. His hands covered her mouth, and to be frank, he just want this to be over with.
And of course, in typical fashion, Jennie is also a name most of the students are familiar with. Cheerleading captain, arguably a girl that’s expected to be with him. What makes it so easy, is that this girl is obsessed with Jeno.
Meanwhile Jeno, had no indication of being tied down. He likes hanging out with her sometimes, sure, but the girl’s way too much for him. Jeno likes being lowkey, despite being one of the most famous guy in campus, Jeno preferred to be outside the spotlight.
A couple more thrust, his eyes closed, mind far from the girl bent over in front of him who’s just desperately wanting to pleasure him, Jeno finishes. He murmured a curse, and as soon as the feeling of cumming washes off, guilt starts creeping in his veins as Jennie smiled in satisfaction as she fixes her uniform.
“God, you’re still so fucking good,” Jennie put her hands around Jeno’s neck, biting her lips in hopes to seduce the cold man in front of her.
“Come on, my brother’s gonna be here soon,” Jeno shrugged her hands off, fixing his shirt. He did not even get the chance to take it off, Jennie just went and got what she wanted as soon as she enters the apartment.
Don’t be mistaken tho, Jeno liked having sex, more so with a girl like Jennie. But Jeno’s consciousness can’t help and tell him that he’s stringing along this girl, knowing full well he’s not even one bit interested in pursuing a relationship with her.
Jennie never really cared about what he thinks tho, so that kinds of shaves a bit off of his guilt.
“Call me, okay?” Jennie tried to give him a kiss, but he’s fast enough to dodge it.
Jeno sighed as he walked the girl to the door. And in some wicked timing, his brother opened it, his step stuttering as he saw Jennie, but never minded the fact that the girl is walking side to side. Jisung, his brother, have seen this situation way too much before that it doesn’t shock him anymore.
Another footstep followed behind Jisung, You, not even sparing a glance over him, walking behind his brother. You looked bored, giving absolutely no interest over him or Jennie. He never really got bothered about it before. He’s just wondering when you started ignoring his existence like this.
You were nothing like the girl he witnessed growing up all these years.
The sweet smiles you used to offer him were all gone. The once cute little y/n that he knew were long gone. But what can he do, that’s just how it goes. Right?
People change. And you weren't an exception. But deep inside, Jeno has this unsettling sensation that hunts him at night. This isn’t you. You used to light up the room whenever you walked in. You used to make him believe in butterflies and rainbows and shit, but now, you’re just… there.
Jeno often wonders. But that’s about it. He’s way too much of a pussy to actually read through your chapters that led into this character you have now. So Jeno, the ever so nonchalant, settles in being curious– not concerned in finding answers.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
You were twelve, when you met Jisung.
At first, you’re confused. There’s a new family that moved in next door. It was a common occurrence in your neighborhood, really. In your very-long life experience of twelve years, you’ve seen countless families moving in and out. So you question in your pretty little head why your Mom is way too excited about this next one.
Turns out, the family that will be moving in is your Mom’s best friend. You were twelve, you did not care about your Moms friends like that. Apparently, they’ve been best friends ever since they were five. They just kept in touch all these years.
“I'm Jisung,” the little boy, an inch taller than you, reached out his peculiarly large hands at you.
You felt your Mom nudge you a little bit, so in annoyance, you accepted his hand. “Y/n.”
Both mothers shrieked in excitement, but you were busy trying to examine this boy's hands.
Little did you know, that handshake would lead to years of friendship that you’d forever cherish, no matter how annoying this boy with freakishly large hands is.
“Who’s that?” You ask, still helping Jisung to count all his pokemon cards. You point outside their house, by the courtside next to their pool.
Jisung looks, but rolls his eyes after. “That’s my big brother, Jeno-hyung. He’s obsessed with basketballs.”
Your little twelve year old eyes sparkle, watching the boy shoot hoops around the court.
“Ew, you like boys?!” Jisung, disgusted.
“Your brother isn’t a boy, You’re a boy. He’s a man.” You sigh dreamily in sight of Jeno, making Jisung gag.
“He’s old, like, fourteen. Please, he’s a loser! Playing with balls all day,” Jisung says as he waves his hands in an attempt to distract you from his brother.
“Oh well…” you didn’t let it falter your adoration towards Jeno.
And before you could even watch him longer than you wished, Jisung’s mother called you two in for clubhouse sandwiches, and she made banger sandwiches so you really had to follow up to the kitchen.
You were fourteen, when you realized you had a crush on Jisung’s big brother.
“That’s bullshit, the paranormal movie is full of crap!” Chenle, your new found friend, complains as soon as the movie ends. His high pitched voice woke you up, not even realizing you had slept halfway through the movie.
“Dude, it’s from CCTV footage. It’s definitely true!” Jisung counters, and you just want to go back to sleep again.
The Paranormal Movie was mediocre, and maybe you were just a sceptic, but ghosts just doesn’t do it for you. “Most of these horror films really just depend on jumpscares to be scary.”
“Oh, coming from Miss Little poopy pants over here,”
The room went silence over Jisung’s attempt at a clapback, you and Chenle looking at each other before breaking into a laughing pit.
“Poopy pants? Really?” You say, refusing to believe that Jisung still used that term as an insult.
Jisung, obviously flustered, resorted in grabbing two cushions, one at each hands and started throwing them at the both of you.
“Just get the freaking potato chips downstairs.” Jisung says, specifically to you.
“What? No! I’m not going down there!” You say, as you bury yourself further on Jisung’s bed.
“Because you’re scared?” Chenle, in a mocking tone. You flip him off, to try and cover the fact that you are scared because it’s night time and the lights are off.
“No, ghosts aren’t real. Why can’t Chenle go?” You whine even more.
“He already got the drinks, and this is my house so what I say goes!” Jisung grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of the bed.
And because you like proving your point that ghosts aren’t real, you let out a grunt, stomping your way out of Jisung's room.
Your way down the stairs goes smoothly, the light still being on. But as soon as you turn to the dark kitchen, that’s when it creeps in. Yes, you do not believe in ghosts, but you’d be fooling yourself if you say that being alone in the large empty kitchen didn’t scare you.
“Oh, god.” You whisper to yourself, as you desperately find the chips cabinet. Rummaging through as quiet as possible, but also trying to find it as soon as possible.
But when a noise from the table interrupts the creepy silence, you can’t help but yelp out a scream.
“Oh my gosh!”
You turn your head towards the table, just to find a cute little cat that had lost its way through the big surface.
“Thank God it was just a little cat,” you say in relief, but as soon as you try and step closer to it, a name being called from the stairs can be heard.
“Bongsik-ah!”
So it has a name. Bongsik.
A figure walks down the stairs, obviously, being Jeno.
You immediately fold into yourself, biting your lip as soon as he enters the kitchen.
“What are you doing down here?” He says as he carries the cat off the table and on his chest. It took a couple of seconds for him to look at you, and he smiles.
“Y/n-ie. Do you need something from the kitchen?” His soft voice snaps you from the trance, as he helps you with the chips you were trying to get from the upper cabinet. His body was so close to you as he did so, that you swear you can feel his heart beating.
“Y-yeah.. Just those chips. Thanks.” Your entire demeanor changes when it comes to him.
“Here you go,” He says softly, you wonder if he intentionally talks to you like that, or it’s just how he talks. A little bit inside you likes to believe you’re special and that he does this only to you.
“Thanks, uh– new cat?” You say in the most casual tone you could ever produce.
“Yep, a rescue. Mom brought it home the other day. Jisung freaked,” He chuckles as he looks at the cat, snuggling in his chest.
You awe in sight, wanting to pet the cat but you hesitated at first.
“You can pet it,” Jeno moves his body to yours, to allow you to pet Bongsik. You did so, and when the cat purrs at your touch, you gasp in awe.
“Hi Bongsik,” you say in a whisper, intended for the cat only. But you can feel Jeno smile at you.
“You can visit her everyday, not that you’re not here everyday, but she’s gonna be here starting now..”
“She’s adorable,” you say, still petting the cat in his arms.
“I love cats, any pet really. But cats just really bring out the inner softness in me, y’know?” Him being this close to you feels weird and intimate, but it's not like you hate it. Your heart is practically doing jumping-jacks right now.
You use him focusing on Bongsik as an excuse to look at him, even just a glance.
You get a closer look on his face, the mole he has under his left eye, the thin lips and his perfect nose. In the two seconds you allow yourself to take a peek, you convince yourself that you had his features memorized now.
You can just feel that it’s just gonna live with you forever.
Because as he takes Bongsik away and starts walking back up the stairs, you make a big-girl realization that you do have a crush on Lee Jeno.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
Jeno was woken up by the sound of his phone ringing. It was his brother, Jisung, calling in the middle of the night asking for his keys.
“What do you need my car for?” Jeno, frustrated as he grabs his keys from the night stand.
“My car broke down and Y/N really needs to get home.” Jisung on the other line also sounded like he just woke up. Jeno curses under his breath.
This wasn’t the first time he heard his brother in trouble with you being the main source of chaos. It’s always the same thing. Either you’re black-out drunk, or one of your boyfriends has dumped you on the side of the street.
Over the years, you had changed so drastically it almost gave him a whiplash. You used to be so careful and so paranoid about drinking, waiting until you turn 18 to get a sip of alcohol. And when you did, it’s like you never stopped.
So despite Jeno’s interrupted slumber, he gets up and leaves his shared apartment with his friends, just to wait outside his building for his brother. And surely, just like every other time this has happened before, he finds Jisung standing there in the cold.
“I need my car tomorrow, in pristine condition. One scratch and you’re done,” Jeno, tossing the car keys to his brother.
Jisung didn’t bother to answer, depicting the reality of brotherhood. But before Jisung could leave, Jeno turns to him.
“What happened this time?”
“She’s really–”
“Drunk?” Jeno finishes his sentence, as if he had seen this before. Jisung sighs in agreement.
“--yeah, and Chenle’s drunk too so he can’t drive her back to the apartment.”
“What happened to her? She isn’t really like this, at all.” Jeno dared to indulge in one of his curiosities.
“I’ve been asking the same question, hyung.” Jisung ends the conversation without really answering Jeno’s question, which frustrated him more.
Because of course, nobody really knows what happened. It’s a question he needs to ask you, directly. Only if you didn’t spend the last few years avoiding being on the same vicinity as him, then maybe he could actually talk to you.
“Three seconds left on the clock, Lee, for the three.. He shoots… and bang! Lee Jeno has done it again!”
Jeno thinks it’s getting way too easy for him. Winning at this point just felt like a routine for him. The new normal, it’s just how it goes around him now. Everytime the other team makes a mistake of letting him have the ball, the game ends with Jeno taking home the win.
Honestly, it’s getting pretty boring and predictable.
“That’s my fuckin’ man!” Yangyang, one of his teammates, excitedly hugs Jeno as he entered yet again another victory party for his team. It’s his second one this semester.
“Okay, dude, chill.” Jeno pushes the very drunk Yangyang away, afraid of getting thrown up on.
As he sinks his feet deeper into the party, he starts getting loose. The alcohol hitting the tense spot in his body, reminding him that fuck it, he’s the man of the evening. This party is for him. So why not have fun, right?
The music starts to sound less chaotic and more tolerable, and the people start to get blurry. Weed and alcohol really does the trick, Jeno thinks.
“Jeno, the man of the hour! That game was lit!” Jeno’s not sure who’s this man, but nevertheless, he still smiled at him and let him dap him up. He blabbers more and more about Jeno’s career path in professional basketball but just like always, Jeno just dismiss it.
It’s too early to plan for the future. He’s enjoying what he has now and content on just thinking about what happens today.Tomorrow is tomorrow’s problem, and he can’t be bothered to be bothered about what his future brings.
Some people likes to think they know what’s best for Jeno, and sometimes it does make sense, Jeno getting to the professional basketball league, in tune to what he does best now. But fuck that. Jeno doesn’t want to be in a box full of other people’s expectation of him.
“Jaemin’s not here?” Jeno finds relief to hear Renjun’s voice, one of his very few trusted people. In some way, knowing Renjun was here by his side, it made him feel that he’s okay.
“Yeah.. he’s still locking himself out.” Jeno answers.
Jaemin was his best friend first, and he knows Jaemin well. And for the first time, he knows Jaemin really do need time for himself. This isn’t something Jeno could fix, he knows when to step away. So he lets Jaemin be.
“Haechan?”
Jeno saw Haechan earlier but he’s not sure where he is now. That’s just how he is. He’s probably in one of the rooms upstairs, on his way to ‘pound town’ in Haechan’s terms.
In typical Jeno fashion, he tolerates some annoying congratulations for a bit, give fake smiles and forced handshakes before finding his way to escape the crowd. Although it’s difficult because again, this party is thrown for him and his team, he still finds a way.
And that way has a name. Yunjin.
“Ah, Jeno,”
At the back of the party, there's a huge backyard, large enough that if he’s with this girl fucking around at the very end of it, he’s sure no one will notice. His hands roam freely against the girl, letting her know his full intention. Not like she has no clue, the hands up her skirt gave her enough hints.
“Hmm,” Jeno hums, just to satisfy the girl’s pleas.
But before it gets further, a rustle of the grass made him stop his tracks.
Someone’s here.
“Wh–what happened,” Yunjin was confused as to why he suddenly stopped.
Jeno furrows his brows, and tries to look at whoever was on the back of the big oak tree.
“Sorry! Sorry– fuck, carry on, please!”
The familiar pitch of voice made Jeno move away from Yunjin. He knows who it is behind the tree. And he suddenly has no interest in going home with Yunjin.
You stumbled out of your hiding with a bottle of alcohol on your right hand, your left trying to pathetically cover your eyes as you tried to walk.
Jeno hates it. He fucking hates how drunk you are right now.
“Oh shit, Jeno!” You peek at the gap in your fingers that was covering your eyes, to see him looking at you with a mix of emotion you can’t make out. He’s not angry, but he’s definitely not amused.
“I–,” you burped, “I’m not here..” you followed with a laugh, finding all these hilarious.
“Don’t mind me!” you laugh again.
Jeno murmured a curse. “Yejin, I’m sorry but I need to go,” he says in finality, not even waiting for the girl to answer as he walks straight in your direction.
“It’s Yunjin! Ugh!” The last words he hears from the girl before she stomps away.
He shakes his head as tried grabbing your arm, to help you at least find a stable balance. He grabs the alcohol out of your grasp harshly.
“Hey, what the fuck!” You whined. You tried to chase the bottle, but with his hold on your arms, you failed to do so.
“Y/n, please, fucking stay still. You’re very drunk!” He says in a strict but stable voice, not wanting to rile you up even more.
“Give me it,” You whined again, much softer this time, and with no attempt at grabbing the bottle.
He looks at your struggling figure, eyes almost closing as you stumble against his hold.
“Ah, fuck it,” he curse one more time before propping you off your feet, carrying you in a bridal style.
“Hey, get me– Oh my gosh! Help!” You yell, but followed with a giggle, which made the people around you think that the situation is not something to be worried about. And they know you and Jeno, so him carrying you just makes sense.
He hates this version of you. He hates how this character you have is so far from what he knew you from. He hates that you find comfort in drinking, partying and sleeping with other men. He hates that whatever happened, it completely changed you. He hates that he cares.
“What the fuck are you staring at?” Jeno can’t help but to lash out at some people who gives him and you a judgemental look. He despises people who judge you.
He finds an empty room upstairs, and he puts you down gently. You dress is up to your waist now, so Jeno pulled it down. He opened his phone to text his brother to let him know you’re with him. He knows Jisung will be worried at your whereabouts. He also texted Chenle, to make sure that they know you’re safe.
He grabs a clean washcloth out the bathroom, and soaks it with cold water.
“I’m not… I am drunk.” You say, swaying your head left to right as you lay in the bed, trying to grab at whatever’s the softest around you.
He sat a foot away from you, but still reached his hands to your face to gently caress you with the soaked towel. This might help sober you up.
Speaking of being sober, Jeno entirely forgets that he’s also intoxicated. For some reason, he sobered up. Seeing you in this state made him think that he needed to straighten up and get you out of here.
“What the fuck are you doing to yourself, y/n..” he says under his breath, as he gently brushes the towel on your face. Seeing you deep in sleep now, he sighed.
You used to be so bubbly. You were sweet as honey, as bright as the sun. He still remembers how your eyes lit up every time you would talk to him. As he looks at you right now, it’s still the same features, the soft ones he grew to know, but he knows that once you wake up, you’d be a stranger again.
He sighed in defeat, and stood up. He was about to get water for you, before the door opened.
“Jeno,” It revealed Qian Kun, a man he heard is your boyfriend. Not sure about the boyfriend part, but he’s sure that he hangs out with you a lot these days.
Kun was his senior, basically the smartest man on this campus. Famous for his 5.0 GPA, this Kun guy really is a genius. He used to get notes from him, back when he was writing for his research paper. He had no idea how you two met, but it’s really not his business.
“She was in the backyard, drunk as fuck.” Jeno says, looking at your peaceful figure.
“Alright. I’ll take it from here,” Kun says, walking past him, around the bed to get to your side.
He can hear Kun murmur a pet name as he caresses your hair. Jeno felt the need to roll his eyes.
“Next time, keep an eye on her. If you can’t handle her, maybe you shouldn’t be with her at all.” Jeno didn’t care if he sounded harsh. He needs to let Kun know that you need to be taken care of properly.
“You don’t know her, Lee. So I suggest, keep your mouth shut and mind your own business.” Kun snapped back, standing up to look back at Jeno.
“Oh, I knew her long before you did. But I agree, she’s your business. I just hate to fucking deal with it because you can’t fucking seem to do it yourself.” With that, Jeno walks out the room.
And even if Jeno sounded secure, he can’t lie and say that leaving you with another man didn’t affect him, even just one bit.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
Looks from other people don't budge you at all.
They can stare at you, even whisper some bullshit about you, you really don’t give a shit. There’s nothing they can say that you’ve not said to yourself.
“You really should take it slow with the alcohol, y/n.” The first thing Jisung said as you sat down beside him. You rolled your eyes, and looked at him.
“Not you too,” You say rather exhaustedly.
“Especially me too. I’m your bestfriend and I’m just worried.” Jisung wasn’t the type to give out unsolicited advice, a serious one at that, therefore you sighed.
“It’s college, Jisung. We’re supposed to have fun.”
“Not to a point where other people have to take care of you.” That came out rather harsher than what Jisung had intended, but you really need it. You know it too. You just refuse to believe it.
“You don’t have to take care of me.”
“If not me, then who? You’ve been passed out drunk for the third time this week, y/n. I don’t know what definition of fun you have, but I think it’s not this.” Jisung was scarily serious now. You blink to try and process the seriousness of the situation.
You gulp, realizing that Jisung isn’t in the mood for your snarky comments right now. “Alright, damn. I’ll take it down a notch..” you say and look away from him.
You can’t blame Jisung for acting like this. You know that you’re spiraling down, you just refuse to accept it. In your head, this is just how college life goes. You get drunk, have sex and maybe a little bit of homework here and there. In your head, this is how it should be.
In a fucked up world, it is. But your world is already fucked up. So in a way, it just makes sense. To you.
“You have to get better,” Kun’s words rang in your head.
“This is the best I can, Kun. Chemistry isn’t really my thing,” you turn your homework down at Kun’s table. You were here after class, hoping to get help from Kun.
Despite popular belief, Kun isn’t your boyfriend. You’re too fucked up to commit into a relationship, no matter how good Kun is. Matter of fact, Kun is just the perfect man for that role. You can see yourself going straight with him, like your life might just take a turn for the better.
However, no matter how evil you see yourself as, you’re not that evil to give Kun the burden to have you as a girlfriend. You can’t do that to him.
And you did clarify that to him before sleeping with him. That whatever you have, just had to stay that way. He can’t expect something more. Surprisingly, he agreed. Qian Kun, the guy that has so much credentials because of his undeniable intelligence, the guy who rejected Harvard and Stanford, agreed to have a stupid set-up with a girl that’s one step away from actually losing it. Why?
You have absolutely no idea.
“I’m not talking about your homework, my love.” He says, sighing. You know that sigh very well.
You look at him, your eyes stoic as they can be. “We’re not having this conversation.”
Kun closed his eyes as he let out a deep breath. “You need to have this conversation. Lee Jeno had to carry you upstairs, in front of everyone last night. You were so drunk that you threw up all over yourself and you think that’s okay?”
Oh, so that’s what happened. He had to rescue you. Out of all people, of course it had to be him.
“Look, Kun, I didn’t come here to be judged. I was stupid for drinking that much, I know. But it’s not gonna happen again.” You say matter-of-factly. This is the second time this day that you had to promise to someone that you’ll be drinking responsibly. You feel like everyone is ganging up on you.
“Okay, sweetheart. Okay, calm down.” You didn’t know you were standing up until Kun pulled you from your wrist to sit back down.
Kun smiled at you and kissed your forehead, before sliding your homework back in front of you again and clicking his pen. “Let me see your answers…”
You’re glad he decided to drop the topic, but before you could even say thank you, an aggressive knock on Kun’s office got both of you to look up.
“Y/N! I know you’re in there! Qian, open your fucking door!”
You widen your eyes. “Fuck, it’s Yeonjun!” you say, standing up and grabbing your purse.
Kun looks at you, before looking back at the door. You can tell he had a very concerned face, but as soon as another man’s name fell out of your lips, he knew right away what situation you’re in. He pinched the bridge of his nose due to stress, and stood up.
“What is it this time?” He asks, not that he needed to.
“He’s just… Ugh, I told him we were over!” You say, feeling bad that this situation is happening in front of Kun. The knocks are turning more aggressive.
“Y/N, you slut!” Another loud bang from the door.
“I’ll deal with him.” Kun says. You immediately shake your head in disagreement.
“No! I’ll go. You don’t need to–”
“I’m not letting that man harass you, y/n—”
“No, Kun. I’m not letting you deal with my problems anymore.” Before Kun could even say anything, you opened up the door to see a very angry Yeonjun.
Kun rushed to your side, but you didn’t let him get in contact with Yeonjun and slammed the door shut.
“You’re gonna ghost me and you think that’s funny?” Yeonjun seemed to calm down, seeing you in front of him.
There’s quite a crowd that’s forming in the hallway, some have their phones out, some whispering whilst looking at you two. Not that you care.
“Let’s talk outside—”
“Yes, you’re coming with me after I punch that–” Before Yeonjun could even finish saying it, you looked him straight in the eyes, pointing at him.
“You’re not touching Kun,” you say, full of conviction. If there’s anything you could do for Kun, its that you will protect him from getting tangled with your mess.
You pulled his wrist to get him out of the building.
At the end of the day, there’s one thing that could shut these kinds of men up. It’s getting real easy, one thing you do for them and they’ll behave like a dog. It’s getting laughable, really.
So you shut them up. By doing what you do best.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
You were sixteen, when you got your heart broken for the first time.
“Stop looking at my brother, you weirdo.” Jisung threw a pillow towards your position on the couch.
The soft object hit you right in the noggin, earning a grunt as you pulled your eyes off of him.
“Bitch. It’s not my fault he’s getting hotter by the day. Damn,”
You were busy staring out the pool area, where Jeno and his friends are hanging out. You were at Jisung’s place, spending your summer in the most boring ways.
Good thing Jeno’s gorgeous self is here, entertaining you. He’s so pretty, you could just eat him up.
“No he’s not. He’s a nerd!” Jisung fights back, earning a smirk from you.
“Says the one who's summer plans are to play league of legends until he becomes a ‘Challenger’ .” You retort, cranking your neck back to where Jeno was.
You recognize his friends, of course. They’re starting to gain popularity in the school, especially when Jeno got on the basketball team.He’s been working out a lot, gaining extra muscles, toning his body to get even hotter. If that’s even possible.
“Eugh, Jisung, y/n’s drooling over Jeno-hyung again.” Chenle enters the conversation, with a soda in his hand and plops himself on the couch.
“I am not drooling!”
“I got something you can drool on.” Chenle’s awful snark earns a hefty punch on his shoulder from you, the boy laughing in a high-pitch tone that makes it even more annoying than it is.
“Anyways, I think he likes me too.” You sigh dreamily, remembering the things Jeno does to you specifically.
He always carries your bags for you. He’s always the first person to welcome you into their house, and the first person to ask if you’ve had breakfast yet. He offers you rides to school when he sees you walking, and he always asks how your day has been. He’s so charming, so nice and you just can’t help but give at least a little bit of malice into it.
I mean, there has to be something, right?
“Oh she’s crazy. She’s fucking insane!” Chenle dramatically gasps, and points at you like you’ve committed a crime.
“That is seriously concerning, y/n. The level of delusion– my god.” Jisung joins in, as he pauses his game to look back and judge you.
“You two are just haters. Get off my ass!” You flip them off, with two hands, each one gets a middle finger from you.
“Look, y/n, we’re just sparing you from getting your little heart broken. Jeno-hyung does not like you.” Chenle’s tone becomes more serious this time, but in your head, he’s wrong. If Jeno didn’t like you, then why would he get out his way just to walk you home whenever you leave their house way too late?
“Seriously. You guys, I really think he’s the one for me. I mean, I can’t really think of any other reason as to why he’s so kind to me, y’know?”
Jisung looked at Chenle as if he really cannot believe what he’s hearing from you. Chenle shakes his head left to right, disappointment spread all over his face.
A set of laughter broke your conversation as you three faced out the pool side, to see Jeno and his friends now actually playing in the pool. Jeno then went on the edge, the ones in front of the back door where you were looking from, and pulled himself out of the water.
The trinkets of water dripping in his hair was one thing, but his wet body being revealed in front of you, the perfect curve of his shoulders down to his small waist, and the veins in his arms definitely woke something up in you.
“Yeah… I’ll confess to him tonight.” your voice almost sounded strange, like you were in a hypnotic state, still mesmerized by Jeno.
“Jesus christ, y/n–” before Jisung finishes, Chenle interrupts.
“Dude, let her. This is her canon event.”
You had no idea what that means, and you’re not interested to know. One thing’s in your mind, Jeno will be yours by midnight.
9:56pm
It’s like the heavens planned it all out for you.
Jeno’s friends all left, as to your surprise, because you thought they’d at least spend the night. Jeno had always offered to let his friends stay, but this time, he asked them to leave before 6. Which is odd, yes, but this all favors you in a way.
Chenle and Jisung still visibly opposed to your idea, and you’re sure they had reason to think its not gonna work out, but it’s not like it matters to you.
Whilst the three of you are in Jisung’s room, you can hear the TV on the lounge area. Their parents are out of town this summer, something about a cruise, so that means, it has to be Jeno.
In your mind, it’s the perfect timing. It’s deep in the evening, the moon’s out, and there’s never been an opportunity where you’re brave enough to actually confess.
Your heartbeat notches another tempo, as you leave Jisung’s room, much to the two’s dismay.
Before you could get to the lounge area, you’d have to pass the kitchen first.
A couple more steps, your feet turning cold, but you still managed. But before you can get a glimpse on the couch, your name was called.
“Y/n?” It’s him. Fuck, it’s him!
Okay, so he’s in the kitchen. That’s fine. Take a deep breath, You just gotta talk to him!
“Jeno,”
You took a step closer to where he was, and he’s looking extra delectable with his white shirt and grey sweatpants. Not that there’s been a moment where he didn’t look good.
“Are you going home? Ask Jisung to walk you home, I kinda—“
“Jeno, I want to talk to you, actually.” Now your voice trembles, and you’re starting to feel nervous.
“Oh, okay. Sure, what’s up?” Jeno looks to be still oblivious to your anxious state. He puts down the wine that he was holding, and turned to you completely.
You gulped, finally looking up to his eyes. He had a shadow of smile on them, but was still curious on what you had to say. You're mere two feet away from him, yet his musky scent still invades your nose.
God, all of that can be yours.
“But you’d have to say it fast because I have—”
“I like you. Very much.”
The deafening silence engulfs you, and only the sound of your heartbeat was prominent. Him, on the other hand, eyes wide, mouth ajar.
“—and I know this is so sudden but I’ve liked you ever since we were kids. I’ve always thought you were cute and nice to me!” You tried to fill in the silence, because every second that passed with him not saying anything kills you.
Another second passed, and your nervousness is long gone, because it was replaced by an impending doom.
“Y/n, look, I really appreciate it but… I-I’m just being nice.. I have to be nice. You’re my brother’s best friend—”
Fuck, shit, fuck! This cannot be happening!
“Oh, my, god!”
A high pitched voice behind you tores the tension in the air, and when you looked back, you saw Eunmi, with an amused look in her face, then covering her mouth with her hands.
She let out a laugh, as if he finds all of this ridiculous.
All of a sudden, you can’t breathe. Your heart was about to explode as you looked back at where Jeno was, seeing two wine glasses behind him. The movie in the background, still playing.
And it all just stops.
“That’s so cute!” Eunmi screeched, before walking towards Jeno and snaking her arms around him.
“Babe, I was wondering why it’s taking so long, you didn’t tell me this girl is pouring her heart out to you! Awe,”
You can feel your eyes warming up. You had so much left to say. But your voice can’t be found. The heart ache was too loud for you to even utter a word.
And in the end, all you could say was, “I’ll.. go home.”
Then you were gone, every step with every tear drop, and although you expected it to hurt, it still surprises you how painful it was.
You’re glad he didn’t run after you. You can’t be more pathetic than this, but it would kill you for him to witness your vulnerability.
Jeno was your first love.
And then Jeno became your first heartbreak.
With all the smiles he brought you, you never thought he could cause you so many tears.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
Is it wrong to be this young and this tired?
You look at yourself in the mirror, analyzing every inch of your body. On the contrary, you don’t hate what you see. You’ve worked so hard to attain the body that you have now, and you’re satisfied where you’re at.
But there’s an empty feeling in your stomach that never left, and you can’t seem to figure out what it is. It’s always been there.
“Get back to bed,” You hear a disgruntled sound from the bed, and immediately your smile fades. You’re pulled back to reality, one that you hated to be in.
“I’m going home,” you say, before grabbing your clothes and putting them back on.
You don’t know why you do this, but you wait before walking out the door, for a sliver of a second to see if the man on the bed even attempts to ask you to stay. And just what you expected, he didn’t.
Sometimes you wish you’re worthy of being asked to stay, but who were you kidding.
There’s a deep routed scar that you’ve been trying so hard to cover. You like to think that the antidote that you have for it works, but the way you’ve been stuck in the same situation all over again says otherwise.
You thought you were healing, but the truth is, you just stopped feeling.
All your life is ahead of you, they say. But yours feels far behind.
You don’t really know where you went wrong, you thought if you became pretty, everybody would like you. You thought that if you agreed to sleep with them, they’d appreciate you. You thought that if you change your entire personality, they would start to see you.
Where did you go wrong? You dyed your hair blonde, you worked your body to achieve the hourglass figure and you even went ahead and let every man that looks your way to have you. Isn’t that enough?
See, this is why you hate being sober. You hate being alone with your thoughts, because it drowns you. You start thinking of things that overwhelms you to the point of tears, and you hate crying. You’ve already done too much of that before.
So why does everybody hate you for drinking? If that’s the only escape you know? It isn’t fair.
“I’m losing my mind,” you say, biting your nails and jerking your knees in frustration.
“Jesus, you’re like a crack addict without crack for a day.” Chenle says as he looks at you.
“She hasn’t had alcohol in a week,” Jisung says as if he’s proud, smiling at you.
You roll your eyes. You’ve been trying to stray off alcohol ever since Jisung and Kun asked you to. You ought to at least try, because you owe them that. On the latter part, if it didn’t work, and you spiral out, you can at least say that you tried.
“Ah, fuck it.” You say, but before Jisung freaks, you clarify, “I’m just gonna smoke for a bit, grandpa.” You say and dashed out of his dorm, down to the parking lot.
It’s winter, and the snow has already covered the streets. The cold was always your favorite season, it gives you reason to just stay inside and cuddle up in your cozy room.
You open up a new packet of cigarettes as you stand outside basking in winter air. It’s especially windy today, you thought.
The heat of the smoke traveling through your lungs was refreshing. It rivals the coldness of the wind, creating a balance that hits you just right. A perfect combination of sensation to combat the numbness in you.
Before the light hits the filter of the cigarette, you hear a screeching sound to your left.
It was a car, no, it was his car.
You mentally curse, throwing the unfinished stick to your feet and stomping on it. You frantically try to walk back up the building, but as you hear the car door slamming, you take a deep breath.
“Smoking’s really bad for you,” Jeno says, walking towards your direction.
“You basically run off of weed and gatorade, Jeno.”
Although you did try your best to keep walking, Jeno catched up in a couple of steps. You stood together waiting for the elevator.
“Is Chenle upstairs, too?” He starts.
“Yeah. Congrats on the game, Jeno. Sorry I had to ruin your night,” you followed it with a slight laugh, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Nah, it’s fine. Didn’t wanna stay in that party anyways,”
The elevator finally dings open, you hesitate to move at first, but when Jeno enters the lift and looks at you, you take this as a sign to walk in with him. So walk in you did.
“Kun took care of you, right?” He asks. You badly wanted to look at him, but you chose not to.
“Yeah.. he’s a great guy.” You silently say, not feeling good about the conversation.
“Hm,” he paused. The suspicious tone made you look at him, anticipating what comes out of his mouth next.
“I saw you walking out of Yeojun's dorm last night tho.” He says as if it was nothing, as if it was a little detail he had to tell you. But the underlying idea behind his statement was obvious.
You hitched your breath. No, y/n. Fight back.
“What can I say, I’m booked and busy.”
“You’re— that’s not something to be proud of, y/n.” He states as if he’s running out of patience, now looking back at you.
You smirked wider, “Oh don’t be a hypocrite, Jeno. You do the same damn thing,”
He grunts in frustration. “Yes but you’re different, y/n!”
8… 9….
“Different in what way? Because I’m a woman? And this isn’t what women do? Don’t give me that bullshit,”
“Fuck that, you know that’s not what I meant. I’m just protecting you from what people think about you.”
10… 11… 12…
“Jeno, I want you to listen to me carefully.” You took another step closer to him, looking up to level your face with his. “—whatever you heard about me, I want you to times it by a million, and when you think it’s bad, make it worse.” You whispered.
You tilt your head to hover your lips on his ear, “And guess what, who knows, maybe they’re telling the truth.”
And as soon as the elevator hits the 15th floor, you walk out without looking back.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
You were a lost cause.
Jeno thought he just needed to accept the fact that you’re just never gonna be the same.
He doesn’t know why it bothered him so much, the fact that you’re not letting anyone help you. It never bothered him before, and so, it shouldn’t bother him now.
It’s not his fault that you turned out to be this way. It’s not his fault.
So he distracts himself. Both in ways of basketball and women.
He tried to go back to his old ways, back to where he’s safe. He was doing fine, before you plagued his system. Plus, it’s not like he didn’t try, he damn did try.
Maybe this version of you is the real you. Maybe this is what’s meant to be.
“Holy fuck,” Haechan eyes the woman who walks out of Jeno’s room, obviously checking her out. Jeno just rolled his eyes and spread his arms around the back of the couch. Dragging a long hit of the weed he seemed to never get run out of.
“That’s the third girl this week, Jeno. Are you trying to break my record?” Haechan scoffed, as if proud of his friend.
“I’m not trying to break anything, but if you want, I’d gladly break your nose.”
Haechan put both his hands up, taking a step back because out of all of them, Jeno’s the one who could really do it. And he’s not trying to risk his beautiful face.
“Dude, this is bad.” Renjun was the second one to comment, following Haechan. He looked at Jeno’s state, and he can tell something’s not right. There’s something bothering Jeno, and Renjun can’t exactly tell what.
He had an idea, but he’s sure as hell won’t tell it to Jeno’s face.
“What? I have two weeks before the game. I need to relax.” Jeno says, ignoring the concern in Renjun’s face.
“And this is relaxing to you?” Renjun grabs an empty bottle of beer, one of the many that’s scattered all over the place.
Jeno didn’t answer, letting a sigh out of his lips and closing his eyes. He can’t think straight right now, or in the past week. He had been sleeping with different girls, to the point where he ran out of bed sheets to use. His room stinks of sweat and axe body spray, and he can’t seem to be satisfied, at all.
“I don’t know, Junnie. Just… leave me alone.” At this moment, Renjun can’t help but sigh. It's these kinds of moments where he knows that Jeno needs someone. Where the one month gap in their age really shines and Jeno needs his older brother, Renjun.
He puts down the plastic bag of trash and sat beside Jeno. “Look, Jeno. I’m not gonna sit here and ask you what this is about, but this is starting to look really sad. Jaemin is already down, and I don’t need you broken too. I can’t handle Haechan by myself,” Renjun, in an attempt to lighten up the mood.
“Junnie, just let me be, okay? I swear.. this will pass.”
“I sure hope it would. Because you can’t fix someone if you’re broken yourself. That’s just plain dumb.”
He grunts, and cursed deeply because he know’s Renjun’s right. But how can he, when it feels like he’s stuck? When has everything, but he feels like he’s got nothing? He has a great future ahead of him, he knows that, but why does it feel like something’s missing?
Girls, money, fame. What more could he want?
In a split second, Jeno regrets asking himself that question. Because he feel like he knows the answer, but he really doesn’t like it.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
“Lee Jeno, what the fuck was that?!”
Yangyang pushed Jeno, but instead of fighting back, Jeno just shook his head. He raked his fingers across his hair as he sat at the bleachers.
Thank fuck this isn’t the actual university game. Because if it was, they’d for sure lose the first quarter and Jeno will have his first ever loss written on his otherwise squeaky clean reputation.
“Don’t fucking yell at my face.” Jeno’s voice thundered.
“Five hundred dollars are at stake, and Minho would not let us live if you lose against him, Jeno.” Yangyang’s voice was a lot more controlled, but still angry, nonetheless.
“Man, I don’t really care.” Jeno let out an unenthusiastic chuckle, drinking out of his tumbler.
“What?” Yangyang feels like he’s mistaken. Lee Jeno doesn’t care if he loses? In a basketball game, that is? Oh he truly thinks the world has turned upside down.
Before he could even ask his friend again, Minho starts shouting from the other side of the court.
“What, Lee Jeno? The magic doesn’t work now, doesn’t it?” Minho yells, earning a laugh from his teammates.
“Fuck you! Games not over, bitch!” Yangyang yells back, full of confidence but looked back at Jeno, worry splattered in his face.
“Dude, I swear, we need to put that son of a bitch back in his place!” Yangyang angrily whispers.
“I’m gonna sit this one out, Yang–”
“How about we bet on that y/n girl?! Your brother’s friend, right? Heard she spreads it open to just about anyone who looks at her funny!”
Without even thinking, Jeno’s fast on his feet, and his vision turns red. His fist curled up and his logical thinking was out of the window. His vision is straight at Minho, and his only thought is to knock this bitch out.
Yangyang couldn’t even process anything, as he watches Jeno’s eyes darkens and before any of his teammates could even try and stop Jeno, his fist already connects with Minho’s face. The boy fell down, immediately knocked out, and chaos between both teams ensues. But Jeno didn’t stop.
He’s not letting Minho get up.
“Jeno, slow the fuck down.” He heard a concerned voice at the corner of the nearby club he went to. His feet dragged him here after the incident, wanting to drown himself with anything that could take away his mind from everything.
One shot, two shots, three shots, four.
“I’m paying you, Doyoung, aren’t I?” Jeno says, rolling his eyes at the older man in front of him.
Doyoung was another person Jeno trusts. Besides the three idiots back in his apartment, Doyoung is also the one Jeno’s comfortable with.
“Yes, but I don’t want to report an alcohol poisoning inside my bar, Jeno.” Doyoung can tell Jeno’s done for the night. Slumped over his counter, he forces the shot glass out of Jeno’s hold.
He signals one of his co-bartenders to take over the bar for a bit, before dragging Jeno’s body out of the bar. He notices the bruising at the boy’s hand but he didn’t say anything and drove Jeno home.
“I don’t want to go back to my apartment, Haechan’s there with a girl,” Jeno mumbled, slowly getting more and more sober as the fresh air wakes him up.
“Where’d you want me to bring you then?” Doyoung asked.
“I don’t know… fuck.. just, bring me back to my brother’s.”
Thankfully, Doyoung knew Jisung’s apartment. He’s close with both of the brothers, often being mistaken as a brother as well. But after graduating, he just naturally went off and did other things.
Doyoung huffs as soon as he successfully brought Jeno in front of Jisung’s apartment, however, another problem was that Jisung isn’t answering the phone.
“Jeno, I really can’t stay here with you, I just sneaked out of my shift,” he explains, but Jeno just dismissed him and nods. Doyoung knocks at the door before he left, making sure that if there was a person inside, they’d open the door for Jeno.
Jeno wasn’t as drunk as earlier, that’s for sure. What’s left is the pounding headache plus the fact that no one’s opening the door for him.
Out of sheer frustration, he kicks the door, strong enough to make a banging sound but not hard enough to damage it.
“Fucking Jisung,” he murmured to himself, almost turning his heels to walk out, but before he could, rattling on the other side of the door can be heard.
Jeno sighs in relief, but seconds after it opened, what greets him almost knocks the breath out of his lungs.
“Shit, Jeno.” Your soft voice matched your soft expression as you look at him with obvious shock.
Jeno, on the other hand, didn’t want to extend the painful awkward silence.
“I-Is my brother there?” Stuttering was never Jeno’s thing. Until this moment, he thinks.
“He’s… he’s like, I think at a girls place somewhere… fuck, I think her name’s Jieun or some shit..” Your eyes take turns in blinking, but still standing straight— conflicting the idea that you’re drunk. Well, at least not y/n drunk.
“Then why are you here?” He didn’t know why, but his hands automatically grabs the door knob to swing the door more open to see if you’re inside with somebody.
He just needs to know you’re alone.
“I crash here sometimes… when I’m locked out of my apartment.” You shoulders where slumped, words were coming out slow. Jeno can tell you’re not sober.
He can’t say shit because he’s not in an exactly sober state as well. So he just proceeds to walk past you to enter the dorm.
Technically, Jisung’s place is his place too. Their parents fixed it up for the two of them but Jeno chose to stay over at his shared apartment with the other boys. So he can do whatever he wants to do.
The entire place reeks of weed, and the floor has two empty bottles of Soju. He almost threw up, he hates Soju.
“Jesus fucking christ, Jisung.” He murmured as he picks up the trash, forgetting that you were standing behind him baffled.
“I’m sorry about that…” Of course it’s yours. Of course you’ve been drinking again. Fuck him for thinking that it’s his brother’s fault. Because it’s would always be you.
Jeno stays quiet. He’s not in the best mood to even look at you. Everything that’s been happening to him recently is because of you. He hates that he blames you, but he can’t just think of someone else.
“Jeno...” Your soft voice calls for him again. It took everything from him to ignore you, and walk back to the kitchen and throw all the trash away.
He’s hanging by a thread, and he starts to realize it’s a bad idea to stay here for long.
He takes a deep breath and walks towards the door, but before that, he felt a tight grip in his arms.
“Jeno.. talk to me.” The sultry voice you had did not go unnoticed, and Jeno couldn’t help but stop his tracks.
Don’t break, Jeno.
“Jeno.. please look at me.”
He forces your grip out of his arms. It kills him, so much to hear you like this.
“I’m leaving,” He managed to say, however, his feet says otherwise. He’s standing still, not even another step out the door.
“You’re not, please. Just… just look at me.” Jeno heaves, his hands turning into fists as he tries and compose himself.
Just this once.
He turns his heel and immediately surrendered. The moment he let his eyes on you, he already lost the game.
“Why don’t you want me?”
He gulps. He bit his lip to stop himself from saying anything, because he doesn’t trust that he’s not going to say something he’s not ready to say.
“You’ve had so many girls.. Jeno, why not me? I’m…” You paused, you look left to right as if you’re finding words to say. “..I’m better than all of them.”
“Y/n—“
“No! Fuck it, Jeno! There’s no fucking reason why you won’t fuck me! It doesn’t make any fucking sense!” Jeno hears ringing in his head, the string of patience threatening to snap.
“Why? Explain to me fucking why you would fuck all those bitches and not me? I swear.. Jeno, I’m good— fuck that, I’m the best—”
“I’m so—”
“Ask half of your team.”
In that note, the last thread he was hanging on to snapped. You want him? Fine. Take it.
He grips your arms and drags you inside of the room, and in his peripheral view, he can see your demeanor changes. Now, your eyes are mischievous, and your lips turning into a smirk.
“You want to fucking play that game? Fine, I’ll fucking play with you.” Jeno almost growls, letting you sit on the bed as he slams the door shut.
“Strip.” He orders, in the most dominant voice he has.
You bit your lip as you look up at him. Slowly discarding your clothes one by one, but not breaking eye contact with him.
His eyes were dark. So dark that you can’t tell anything that’s on his mind. His jaw tightens at the sight of you almost stripped off of your dress.
“I’ve been so fucking patient with you,”
The dim lights shone at his back, as he craned his body down, standing before you. Nearing his face unto yours, the mirror on the side of the bed depicted something out of a dark fairytale, a silhouette of a beast trying to tempt an angel.
But in reality, the angel had already fallen. Deep and hard. The beast didn't even have to do anything.
"Tell me you want me," he says.
"I do, Jeno. I really want you," And as of this moment, you lost the battle you've fought for all these years.
"All this time, huh? You're still lusting over your best friend's brother?" Now, his tone was slightly teasing. His once gentle hands on your cheeks turned possessive, his grip getting tighter.
"Dirty, dirty, dirty little girl. Bet when you fuck those boys, you think of me, don't you?" His thumb on your lower lip, parting it softly.
"This is your chance, y/n. Tonight, I'm yours. Just tell me the words," his whispers turned deadly, as his own lips are almost touching yours.
"J-jeno.."
"Pretty, pretty, pretty..." His words spit like venom. Every movement of his lips gave you a tease, your entire body burning with desire.
Your mind was under his control, and you completely and utterly surrendered to him. He's not yours— you're his.
"—Please," you finally choked out, and like a green light, Jeno kissed you with hunger, pushing his entire body weight onto you forcing you to lay down on the bed.
“I thought you won’t beg anymore?” The cockiness in his voice would usually prompt a reaction from you but you don’t care anymore.
This time, his hips close the distance between your bodies, maneuvering his knees to position between your legs. Careful not to crush you, he kept balance of his weight as he pushed his hip further, creating a slight friction between your clothed core.
After what it seemed like forever, his lips traveled down your neck, and almost immediately you can feel that he's gonna leave a mark. You'll definitely leave with a painted neck.
His hands expertly went under your dress, grabbing your breast, squeezing them ever so slightly. It doesn't take a full minute when his hands went around your back and unclasped your bra like it was nothing. All while he was focused on kissing every part of your skin.
Of course he's good at this.
Just then, he pulled away but only to pull your dress up and completely undress you. He took his time looking at your exposed body.
"You're so fuckin' perfect," he mumbled more so to himself as he admired you. He leaned in again but this time his mouth landed on one of your breasts, sucking them deftly.
"Shit, Jeno," you can't help but moan his name, grab the back of his head to level yourself. You pulled his hair, and you didn't know if he likes it, but with the way he groaned gave you a hint that he does.
As he keeps himself busy, his hands go down to your clothed core. Goosebumps ran down your body as his middle finger traced your slit, already feeling the wetness you've desperately hid before.
"So fuckin' wet, and all for me. Am I right, baby?" He whispered, you answered with a whiny 'yes' that it almost sounded like a stranger.
"Lemme' take this off," he quickly pulled down your panties, only to be welcomed by your soaking wet core. Jeno was ravenous, like he's been starved all his life.
The room was dark, only a dim lamp providing some light, but the wetness in your pussy glistens and reflects, that Jeno swore he's never seen something so beautiful. You're beautiful, and he's gonna make you feel just exactly that.
You can hear his belt buckle, him swiftly taking all his clothes off.
"God, I can never get used to how fucking pretty you are, my pretty little baby," he mumbled again, to himself.
"Who was the last guy you fucked, baby?" Jeno asked, catching you off guard. He was pumping himself as he looks at you, and you never thought he would ask such question.
"Wha-- why? I don't kn- probably—" Your speech cut off when you looked down at his moving arms, to see all of him.
You've heard rumors. You knew he was packing. But good God, he's so fucking big. Almost knocking the breath out of your lungs. You're starting to get worried if it would fit.
"Doesn't even matter.. everyone else doesn't count. Just me.”
He then pressed his finger down in your core, finding the clit right away. Rapidly circling his finger, and a wave of pleasure started to form. "Oh fuck--," you moaned.
He dove down to kiss you, this time passionately. Much softer than before. Only for you to feel his finger entering you that you went crazy. Not long before he added another,pumping it swiftly in and out. He moved away from your face to watch your expression. And he fucking loved it.
"Fuck, I'm gonna cum-" you whispered.
"Go on, baby." Jeno, encouraging you even more, fingers going faster.
"Shit.. oh my go-" and then it hit you, your first orgasm of the night. Jeno's face was all you can see, and his fingers was all you can feel. Your brows furrowed, mouth agape, you felt like you can't control your body. Jeno's lips was also parted, as if he gains pleasure from watching you reach your climax.
"Good girl," he groaned.
"Need more, Jen. Please," begging was never on your vocabulary, until now.
"Shh, no need to beg, baby. I'm more than willing to give you all," his sweet words acted as an aphrodisiac, igniting the fire in you. As if you needed him to be even more sexier.
Because it was dark in the room, your sense of touch is heightened. Every touch lingered, and its as if you were touch deprived your entire life. Jeno brings out your true colors, and you're not mad about it.
"Make you feel good," he whispered more praises, and you can hear him pump himself as he aligned his length onto your aching core.
"Oh my god," you can't help but gasp, the stretch overwhelming you. You've never taken someone this big before, and it fucking felt like its your first time. Not in a painful way, but because you've felt a whole new sensation.
"S' wet, baby, fuck, you're choking me," in a low groan, Jeno slowly bottomed out. He sits fully inside you, and you can feel every single inch, every single vein. It felt so raw, and so right.
"Hmm, fuck, fuck you feel.. fucking hell. S' good." You never expected Jeno to be this vocal, and you weren't complaining. You always thought he didn't like being vocal, but damn, were you so wrong.
"Jeno.." you moaned, and you can already feel your impending orgasm. Its just that good.
Before Jeno could even find a pace with his thrust,, he pulled out. Your eyes opened in confusion, from the abrupt emptiness.
"Fuck this," Jeno was fast on his feet, you wondered where he was going, but before your mind settles on a conclusion, you were blinded by bright lights.
"Need to see you properly," he reasoned, before he went back to the position he was before.
With the lights on, you can now see his perfectly lean body, toned abs and the sweat beading on his sideburns. He looked so hot that you could cum right there and then.
"So fucking beautiful," Jeno never failed to compliment you, as he stares at you before sliding it in again. For the second time you gasp, but because he slid it in so swift that you didn't even get a second to breathe before he pounds.
"Oh, fuck, Jeno!" you squealed, your entire body rocking back and forth with how rough he was.
His hands grabbed your left leg and hooked it in his shoulder, all the while he kept the fast pace of his thrusts. You can see his face twist, him biting his lips and looking up. His expert thrusts made his abs flex everytime. The sight was stunning, and for a second there you were lost. You can't believe other girls had seen this before you.
The orgasm you fought so hard was out of your control now, and you knew you weren't gonna last.
"Jeno, I'm gonna cum," you tell him, and he switched his position in no time. "Together. Cum with me," he muttered.
"Come inside, Jeno. I need it so bad," you were slurring words at this point, so barbaric with the feeling.
He unhooked your leg and leaned forward. Your body now pressed together as he wrapped your legs onto his waist, his hands finding your neck, holding it steady as he touched his forehead with yours. His piercing eyes were hyper focused on yours.
"Eyes on me, baby. Fuck, please," he moaned, his tempo going even more rapid and desperate. Both of your mouths was wide open at this point.
"Fuck! Fuck, fuck!" he stilled, as you both reached climax. He emptied himself inside you. You can't help but moan in a high pitch as orgasm washes over your entire body, an intense wave brought you to euphoria, and you never wanna leave.
"Damn," he whispered, almost in disbelief on how it felt to be with you. Still giving you everything he had, every single drop.
"Jeno," you called out once you relaxed, hoping to get him back to his senses.
"Wait- just.. shit." he managed to mutter despite his weak state. He's still wrapped around you, tight as if you were disappearing. Not to mention he's still balls deep.
A solid minute has passed when he decided to pull out, both of you hissing at the feeling. You felt so empty, and he felt so bare.
And when Jeno closes his eyes, he accepts defeat. You’ve successfully broken him.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
Sooyoung, Minnie, Hoyeon, Yoonah.
So far, those are the names that you gathered.
It doesn’t take a long time to figure out what Jeno likes, based on the girls he’s been with. They’re all hot, popular with the boys, and if not the same age as him, they’re older.
The other common denominator is that they all have experience. When Jeno started sleeping around, you would only see him with women who’s expected to be with him. Like those women who knows how pretty they are, who’s aware how to handle a man like Jeno.
So when you finally turn eighteen, you did not waste time.
“Do you think I look hot in this, Ji?” You ask innocently, looking at your best friend through the mirror you’re standing in front of.
He barely looks up from his nintendo switch, and when you make eye contact, the look of disgust on his face makes you roll your eyes.
“Your freakin’ ass is hanging off that skirt. You look like a…” Jisung turns his head towards Chenle on the other side of the room, playing on his playstation.
“…hooker.” Chenle finished the sentence for him. You hide a smirk.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you!” You did a curtsy, before grabbing your purse.
“Wait, where are you going?” Chenle asked as soon as he paused the game to see you walk towards the door.
“NCU is throwing this party for the new basketball team, got an invite from Jungwoo.” You gave Chenle a wink, knowing it would annoy the heck out of him.
“What?! Why do I not know about this?!” You flinched when Chenle says the first word in the highest octave possible.
“Probably because we’re not in NCU’s college department yet? The party’s exclusive for college students, dumbass.” Jisung says boredly, bringing his attention back to his nintendo.
“Except I got an invite, you losers didn’t!” And just for extra annoyance, you stick your tongue out to mock them.
Chenle only huffs, but takes his phone out of his pocket.
“Invited or not, I’m going. I’m sure your broke ass would take up a free ride to the party,” He says as he waits for someone on his phone.
“And how do you plan to enter the party, dimwit? You don’t have an invite,” Jisung asks.
“I’m Zhong fucking Chenle. That’s my invite.” He smirks, grabs his keys and your wrist. You flew a kiss towards Jisung and left his apartment.
Booming music, strobe lights. The bass vibrates through the wall and honestly, this is way too extreme from what you expected. This is the first real party you had attended, where you’re specifically invited.
Jungwoo was someone you knew, from one of your girlfriends. He’s three years ahead of you, making him a year older than Jeno. And to be frank, Jungwoo didn’t peak your interest at first. But when you knew that he’s in Jeno’s friend circle, you figured that maybe, you do like Jungwoo.
“Hey,” Someone from behind you whispers on your ear, making you whip your head. You saw Jungwoo, head hangs low just to whisper. He displays a playful smile as he hugs you.
But before you could even tighten his embrace, Chenle took a protective stance, putting his arms in between. “Woah dude, chill out.”
Jungwoo chuckled, putting his hands up. “Zhong, calm down,”
You immediately give Chenle a look of confirmation, “I’m good, Le.”
“Just making sure.” He says and steps back. He patted Jungwoo’s shoulder in a sense that he’s good. Chenle has always been protective, in literal terms. Jisung however, is protective in a motherly kind of way. In short, Chenle’s fights, Jisung nags.
“Why don’t you talk to Jaehyun? Heard he’s interested in taking you in the team.” Jungwoo says making Chenle widen his eyes, a breathless ‘really?’ coming out of his lips and Jungwoo nods. You pushed Chenle to go find the Jaehyun guy and before you know it, you’re alone with Jungwoo.
“He’s really into basketball, huh?” Jungwoo, sounding amused.
You on the other hand, start roaming your eyes around the room. You’re here for someone, and you need to know if they’re in this party, or else this would be a huge waste of time if he’s not here.
“Yeah, he basically worships Stephen Curry.” You looks at him, to at least try to entertain the boy.
“Mm-hm.” The way his hands crawl into your waist so naturally was a shock to you, but you don’t say anything at all. He starts walking and with his hands attached on your body, you can’t help but walk with him.
“So.. where’s the team?” You really did try to prolong the moment you’re with Jungwoo, but you just can’t stay still without confirming if he’s here.
“They’re upstairs. Some of my teammates doesn’t really like hanging out with too many people.”
“How about you?”
“I was waiting for you, pretty.” Jungwoo flashes a smile, someone could argue his most defining feature but then again, you have your sights on someone else.
True to his words, Jungwoo brought you upstairs, where it’s more intimate with a few people. There’s a lounge area in front of a bar and that's where you spot the certain someone you’ve been looking for.
And as expected, he has a girl with him.
“Hey, guys, uh– this is y/n.” Jungwoo awkwardly introduces you to everyone, including Jeno who at first was shocked at your presence, but soon enough replaced with a certain tension in his eyes.
You did a small wave, still shy at the amount of eyes on you. These people are legends on campus. They’re basically the school’s pride and seeing them acknowledging you was amusing. And Jeno, like the perfect man that he is, just fits right in.
“Hi, I’m Juyeon,” He extends his hands, so you, a person who doesn’t like leaving people hanging, gladly accepts it.
And everyone else follows suit, except Jeno. He was looking at something else, not even the girl he’s with. He’s fixated at his beer can, looking at it very seriously.
“Jeno?” Jungwoo asks, questioning why the boy didn’t acknowledge you.
He looked at Jungwoo, and he was about to answer but you did it for him.
“We know each other. I’m friends with his brother.” You smile at Jungwoo, and he seemed to understand it so he just lead you to the empty spot on the lounge.
They started talking, but your attention was on Jeno. You realized that this is his crowd, quickly you found that he’s very different in front of other people. He’s more talkative, that’s for sure.
But your eyes also catch the soft touches he graces the girl beside him. The whispers he gave, the smiles and subtle kisses on the side of her head. His arms around her and the jokes he tells just for the two of them.
It has been years since he rejected you, yet the pain still stings.
You took your eyes somewhere else, made easy as Jungwoo starts to caress your shoulder. He leaned below, matching your face. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you smiled at him. You weren’t, but you’re obviously not gonna tell that.
He hands you a shot of what you assume alcohol, with his eyes anticipating your next move. This is the first time you’re drinking without Chenle or Jisung around, and you’re unsure if this was okay.
But with everybody starting to look at Jungwoo’s waiting hand, the shot clearly for you, you start to panic. There’s no way you’re gonna embarrass yourself in front of these seniors.
So you suck it up and took the shot. You’re not sure, but you got a glance from Jeno that tells he’s not happy with your action.
The taste of the alcohol was strong, but somehow your throat didn’t burn. Yes, you definitely felt it heat up your taste buds but not bad enough for you to hate it. It’s like a sensation that hypes up your system.
And so, with your new found information, you were more confident in taking shots now. And exactly that you do.
But with the amount of liquid going in, it has to come out. So you excused yourself to the bathroom to pee. You assured Jungwoo you were okay, because heck yeah, you’re fine.
Not until you actually stood up. Good thing you didn’t stumble, but shit, your world is spinning.
You bee line straight to the bathroom and relieve yourself. It took a couple minutes before you finished washing your hands, and as you walk out of the restroom, you were met by a figure clearly waiting for you to finish up.
“J-Jeno,” you muttered, moreso in surprise.
“Y/n what the hell are you doing here?” He whispers, angrily of course.
“Jungwoo invited me!” You whisper back, leaning on the door behind you to balance yourself.
“Where’s my brother? Chenle?” He looms over you, and all you can think about is his luscious lips, mere inches to yours.
“They.. Chenle came with me, Ji stayed home..” You answer, despite being in a trance. The entire place is spinning, but not Jeno’s face. It’s there, in front of you.
“I need you to find Chenle and go home.” He says in finality, expecting you to follow. You knit your brows, as you take in offense over what he’s doing.
“What? I’m invited here!” You whined.
“Find Chenle. Now.” The growl in his last words made you slightly intimidated, not to mention his eyes burning holes into your own.
God, he’s so handsome.
You don’t know if its the vodka, or just plain recklessness that gave you the idea of just tipping on your toes and try kissing Jeno.
It made perfect sense in your head. Your hands cupping his cheeks obviously caught him off guard, but before your lips touch his, his reflex of pushing you off was unfortunately faster.
He shoved you harsh, causing you to stumble and almost losing your balance.
“What the fuck?!” He yells.
Your heartbeat went quicker. Everything started to process. Jeno looks so mad, he huffs and wiping his palm against the part of his face that your lips had touched.
“I-I’m s-sorr—”
“I have a fucking girlfriend, y/n!” He spits, words felt like daggers through your chest.
“Jeno, I’m sorry. I was out of—” Your eyes start to burn.
“Are you that desperate? I rejected you already, didn’t I? I will never look at you different than being my brother’s best friend, y/n! So stop this fucking delusion while I’m being nice.” Jeno points his fingers at you, making you flinch a little bit.
“Jeno, please.” Your tears are now slowly flowing. You attempted to grab his wrist to make him stay and listen to your apologies but he swiped it off like he’s disgusted to be touched by you.
“No, y/n. You’re like a sister to me. It disgusts me to even think of being with you romantically. So please, know your fucking place.”
With that, he walks out and leaves you broken.
You don’t understand. You did everything by the book. You looked pretty, you knew how he liked girls. You made yourself into his fantasies and he still can’t see past the fact that you’re just his brother’s bestfriend.
You take a deep breath between the sobs, calming yourself down. You felt horrible. You felt so sick and embarrassed. You felt so fucking desperate and pathetic that you just want to numb yourself of the pain.
You grab your chest, having difficulty breathing from crying too hard.
This is way more than a broken heart.
You’re no longer consolable, and there’s just no way you’re going back there with your makeup now ruined.
Are you that hard to want?
Are you that hard to need?
The tears don't stop as you walk out of the party. Gladly, everybody’s wasted so nobody noticed you ugly-crying.
As you turn to an alleyway, you shoot Jungwoo a text saying you got sick, and Chenle saying you got an uber home.
With your 7-inch heels on your hand, in the cold street, you walk in shame.
Bare feet on the sidewalk, shivering, that's when you noticed a bar.
Your feet prompted to enter, so that you did. You were going to drown the pain, and there’s nothing in your mind except alcohol.
You hoped that it would ease the pain.
And it did, the effects of it giving you a temporary memory loss. This was the numbing you needed.
The sensation of alcohol gave you solace, and for a while, your thoughts melted into nothingness.
Staring at the shot glass in front of you, you made a promise to your eighteen year old self.
That if Jeno doesn’t want you, you’ll make it your life’s mission to make everyone else crave you. You don’t need Jeno.
You’ll never be rejected again.
And just as soon as you felt like you can breathe again, your phone buzzed.
[2:34am] jisung: y/n, come home, quickly. it’s your mom.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
It was odd to say the least.
This has been what you’ve wanted for so many years. You prayed— and begged the heavens for Jeno to finally take you, to prove that you can get him.
And now, you’ve proven your point.
But why does it feel… strange?
Yes, it was the best sex you’ve had, and it might be the only one that could make you feel that way. It was mindblowing, it was everything and more.
Isn’t this the goal? For him to actually step over that line of being your best friend’s brother?
What else did you want?
Honestly, you don’t know anymore. Hence, you sneak out of the apartment in the middle of the night. Jeno was laying on his stomach, the comforter covering his lower half. His back muscles spread across the sheets and you take the art in. He really is sculptured to perfection.
You managed to put on your clothes and walk out of the apartment building. You find yourself in a nearby convenience store, walking through the isle finding something you didn’t know. Your mind is blank and empty.
These are the times where you wished there was someone to guide you to what you should do next. Because you have no idea. You’re confused, and you need direction.
These are the moments where you wished your mom was here. She would know what to do.
For a while, when you were with Jeno, you felt warmth you’ve always been trying to find from somebody else. With Jeno, you actually felt like sex wasn’t only about pleasure, but it’s also about being able to express unspoken feelings.
Sex wasn’t something you just needed to get over with. It felt amazing, It was perfect.
But it clicked too, that you know yourself was the only one who really appreciated it. Jeno— was in for the satisfaction. He never needed you like you needed him. You talked him into sleeping with you. You were begging for his touch.
You pushed him to a point where he just snapped and gave you what you’ve been desperately chasing him for.
And for what? Probably for you to stop. He was throwing scraps at you because he’s tired of that one girl who keeps chasing his tail. He just gave in, expecting you to finally give up.
Then it hit you. Your fourteen year old self, your eighteen year old self and your twenty-two year old self still has something in common.
You realize, that all the hard work, the wall you desperately tried to build was a fraud. Because at the end of the day, you never lost feelings for Jeno.
No matter how many people you’ve been with, it’s still gonna be Jeno for you.
That makes you laugh. In both ridiculousness and despair. Hopelessness felt eerily familiar.
Silly you, for thinking you’ve moved on.
Jeno is inevitable. And you’ll learn to accept it too.
As you reach up the isle and grab a bottle of Soju, a hand stops you.
“My love, are you okay?” A soft voice that you haven't heard in a while.
“Kun,”
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
Jeno knows he’s royally fucked.
He gave into your trap, and you’ve successfully defeated him. All his morals, his beliefs, and the logic he stands on was out the window.
He knows you planned it out too. This was your way of taking revenge on him, when he repeatedly rejected you years ago.
He tried to keep his distance, because he promised.
And he takes his promises seriously, especially when it involves you. And he felt like he broke the one thing that’s keeping the promise he made a couple years ago.
You weren’t supposed to end up in his bed. You weren’t supposed to still want him after everything he’s done. You weren’t supposed to even be involved with him. He’s supposed to stay wherever he is, on the sidelines, silently protecting you.
But it’s all been done. You and Jeno did it, and it cannot be reversed. And now that its happened, there’s not much he can do. He has to hash things out, he has to fix everything.
Because no matter how many women he had before, no matter how many times he tricks himself, he had always felt like it wasn’t what he’s been searching for.
And when he finally had a taste of you, he’s afraid he’s gonna want more. And he’s afraid that he’ll never feel the way it felt with you. He’s horrified that what happened opened his eyes with what’s the truth.
And when he felt the other side of the bed cold, he opens his eyes and you’re gone.
Yeah, this is just a game for you.
But for him? Oh, he’s eternally fucked. The shame, the guilt, and everything in between creeps up. And not of you, he’ll never—ever be ashamed of you. He’s guilty about the fact that he let himself get carried away.
Out of frustration, he hits his steering wheel as he drove. He can’t believe he just did that.
He was drunk, you were clearly not in the right state of mind. Even if you were, he was still drunk. What happened was fucked up, both for him and for you.
He takes a deep breath before pulling out his phone.
He carefully types, calculating everything he needs to say.
[7:35am] to: y/n
hey. dont say anything to my brother. it was a mistake, i was drunk. i don’t really like you like that.
He sent it quick, afraid he’d delete it if he hesitated longer. And just as he did, he felt his whole chest stiffen.
Because once again, he lied. Both to you, and to himself.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
You woke up through the sounds of your phone ringing. It was the next week after the whole thing happened with Jeno, and you’ve not craved anything but sleep.
Kun never asked questions. Which you’re thankful for, but you can’t help but feel bad.
You ghosted the guy, again, but he welcomed you into his apartment with open arms like nothing happened. His smile was there, the warmth of his embrace still the same.
Before you could even say anything about your guilt, he’s quick to tell you that it’s okay. He’s with you because he wants to. Although you can’t give him what he wants the most.
In a perfect world, if you weren’t so fucked up, you’d be with Kun, no questions asked.
You were lucky it was the weekend, and you’ve got no class. So you just laid on Kun’s couch, binging away, rotting in the cushions. Kun doesn’t mind, he says its better than you going out and drinking.
Which is true, plus you just can’t physically get yourself back up and doing what you do before, after what happened with Jeno.
Jeno, Jeno, Jeno. Fucking Lee Jeno.
It’s like a curse, following you all throughout your existence. He’s like a ghost stuck in your hip, a burden you’d beg to get off of you. There’s just no way you’d have to carry these feelings towards him until your seventy, right? Jesus.
Your head whips at the door when you hear it open, not expecting Kun to come home so early.
He’s not here ‘til 7, right?
“Oh, you’re still here.”
Well, you’re right. It’s not Kun. It’s his lovely roommate Ten. Note the sarcasm on the lovely part.
“Yeah.” You backed down to the couch.
If there’s anyone annoyed at your presence, it’s definitely Ten. You think he harbored the anger and disappointment Kun should’ve had with you— like some sort of anger translator.
“Your roommate must be overjoyed having your place for her own.” He says, with feign casualness in his tone.
“She’s doing fine,”
“I mean, at this point, you’re gonna have to pay your share with the rent.” He scoffs as he puts down his bag harshly on the counter.
You let out a deep breath, reminding yourself that this is also his place. You’re not in a position to return his attitude because you, in your own thoughts, are aware that you’ve overstayed your welcome.
“Kun says its okay–”
“That’s–” Ten’s voice in a high pitch, but quickly calming himself down. “--that’s because Kun can’t say shit to you. I don’t know if you noticed but my friend is literally insane for you. And of course, you like the attention.”
You can’t help but look at him, your mouth slacking due to disbelief of what he just said. You bit your lip and paused, not wanting to say things without thinking about it first. Again, you're not in a position where you’re purely innocent in this situation.
“What do you want me to do? Tell me. I’ll leave right now.” You managed to calm your tone, avoiding any more discussion.
“What I want you to do is to be straight with Kun, y/n. I know you’re used to being a player, but Kun isn’t. He agreed to your situationship because you weren’t ready. You ghosted him for a few weeks and still he took you in even tho I fucking knew it was a dumb decision because he’s just hoping to be with you again. If you’re not planning to be with my friend, then just fucking make your decision. I know you’re not that cruel to string him along. He’s a good person, y/n.”
His sudden outburst caught you off guard, but every word he said was like a slap to you. Every sentence was nothing but facts, and you knew deep inside that you were in the wrong. That Ten was right. Kun is way too good for you. He does not deserve this.
You felt your eyes starting to warm, for a hundredth time. You nod in agreement. However, you can tell he wasn’t finished.
“He’s not your back burner, y/n. And I’m not saying this to you because I have a problem with you, but I’m saying this because he’s my friend. At first it was fine, but when you treat him lesser than what he deserves, I just feel like you’re being.. really selfish. It’s clear that you have your eyes on someone else. But please, Kun doesn’t do this type of shit. He’s way too naive. Poor guy thought he did something wrong.” The last sentence hits you the most, thinking about Kun probably did think that he’s the one to blame.
You sniff, nodding along Ten’s statement. “I will… I’ll talk to him.” You quietly say. Ten just looks at you before sighing, walking towards his door. As soon as his door closes, the front door opened.
“Sweet cheeks, what’re you doing?” Kun asks, seeing you standing on the doorway staring at nothingness.
You immediately wiped your tears and looked at him with a smile. “Really sad netflix movie,” you excused. Kun doubts, but chooses to stay silent. He walks two steps in front of you before giving you a warm hug like he does everytime he sees you at his apartment.
You gulp, gathering courage to actually start the conversation.
“Uh, Can we talk?” you nip at the bottom of your shirt.
“Of course, princess,” The old nickname he had somewhat felt like an assurance that he’s still the same. It lifted a bit of weight in your chest.
You sat in one of the chairs, not knowing what to do. This place was once your safe haven, now it just feels strange knowing what kind of situation you are in.
“So, uhm, I want to apologize for.. essentially cutting you off. It’s just that, uh, I’ve been–”
“You’ve been with Lee Jeno, right?” he asks, a ghost of a smile still present in his face.
“Well, yeah, but also, I didn’t know that I had that much of a relevance in your life so...” you say, honestly.
“Darling, you were everything.” he pauses. “--but I know that I’m not what you need, or what you wanted. And that’s fine. You don’t need to feel bad, it’s just how it goes.”
“But I’m here, and I promise you, that you don’t need to feel responsible about how I feel. I’ll be fine.” He smiles, like he used to, but this time you know it’s fake.
“Kun, you’re too good for me. You deserve more than me.” Your eyes start to water, but Kun never lets it drop. He caresses your cheeks for what it feels like the last time, before nodding at you.
“I know, baby.” He leaned closer, lips slowly grazing yours. As you felt it, the instinct of kissing back was swift, but Kun did not give you the chance of doing so as he pulled away.
“Don’t kiss me back, please,” he mumbled, before caressing your face for what it felt like the last time before turning away.
And just like that, you lost the man who was ready to give you everything for a man who can’t even spare you a glance.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
Jeno is still out of his mind.
He had flunked out of practice, only attending a couple times out of the two weeks that he needed to attend. Barely even there, just standing and basically lifeless in the court.
His coach and his teammates already feel less secure because of Jeno’s state of mind, especially when he’s supposed to be the team’s captain. He feels like shit, truly, and he knows he should be focusing on the game. But how can he, when all he can think of is you?
His coach gave him a hard talking but even that can’t seem to shake him up. His willingness to play disappeared like it was nothing.
He’s pretty sure the entire team hates him now, and if only there’s time to replace him, they’d definitely do it, but finding a replacement, with his skills, is basically impossible. Moreso in limited time.
As soon as he enters his apartment, he throws his bag on the floor and tunnels through his room to lock himself in there. But as soon as he entered it, he was shocked to find his brother laying in his bed.
“What’re you doing here?” He asks, confused.
“Just want to know something,” Jisung says, slowly sitting up. He looks up his brother, standing in the door frame. Jeno couldn’t read his expression, but its pretty clear that he’s not happy.
“Did you sleep with y/n?”
Jeno didn’t know how to react, his eyes widened and for a while, he had nothing to say. But in the end, he knew this was bound to happen. If not you, it would be him spilling the information to his brother.
He didn’t need to say anything, and he knew the silence is more than enough for Jisung to conclude.
“She really likes you, you know? I just–” Jisung paused, “--I just don’t know why you’d sleep with her when you don’t like her back. You know she likes you, hyung. What, is this like an ego thing? She’s y/n, hyung. You know she’s different.” Jisung honestly just sounded confused and tired. He’s not angry, not upset, he comes off like he just wanted proper answers from his brother.
“Dude, just get out.” Jeno dismissed, which pissed off his younger brother more.
“Oh fuck you. You can’t even hold a conversation with your own brother? And if only it’s not y/n, I wouldn’t even waste my time. But it’s her. You know her,”
Jeno took a deep breath. “I like her too, Jisung. No, fuck, scratch that. I fucking love her.”
For a minute, it was silence. Jisung then took the initiative to talk,
“Talk to mom, hyung.”
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
Jeno was sixteen, when he realized that he likes the way you smile at him.
He saw you run down the stairs and straight to the kitchen. You were at his brother’s room, for a sleepover with his brother and Chenle. He was lounging on the couch, and he didn’t bother to turn on the lights. He likes to lay in here at night, cuddling with his cat, Bongsik. He can’t let the cat into his room because of his allergies, so he just settled on the couch.
Because Bongsik was alerted of your presence, the cat follows you to the kitchen. Jeno, of course, followed in pursuit. He can still remember the cute expression you had when you discovered Bongsik on the table.
He smiles at you, struggling to get chips from the cabinet. Naturally, he grabbed it for you. You had asked if Bongsik was new, and he answered yes.
“Yep, a rescue. Mom brought it home the other day. Jisung freaked,” He chuckles as he looks at the cat, snuggling in his chest.
He can see you almost begging with your eyes, wanting to pet the cat. So he let you. Surprisingly, Bongsik, who’s usually grumpy, purrs as soon as your hands come in contact with it.
You were so careful, and Jeno almost wants to chuckle at your meek attempt at staring at him.
A slight smile on your face was something Jeno noticed, from a close distance. He surely did not expect you to be this soft and angelic, but he thought to himself, that your smile is something he’d like to get used to.
Jeno was eighteen when he made his first mistake.
He had invited his friends over at his house. He had made some really cool friends, and he even got this girl he’s been trying to get with to tag along. Jeno feels nervous, of course, he wants to impress them.
Besides Jaemin, Haechan and Renjun, he also invites some people from the basketball team he’s trying to get into, and some girls that are part of the circle. And of course, the girl he had liked, Eunmi.
His friends encouraged him to make a move tonight, and for some dumb reason, he thought it would be romantic to bring out wine. So he went to the kitchen to do so, but got surprised when a soft voice called his name.
It was you. Your shy demeanor, and your avoiding gaze startles him but he can’t help but smile. You’re so cute.
He clears that with whatever you were gonna tell him, make it quick because someone’s waiting for him. But as soon as you open your mouth to say the next words,
“I like you. Very much.”
He feels like his feet are frozen. His heart starts to race and if only he wasn’t leaning on the counter behind him, he would definitely stumble. His grip on the wine glass tightens. He doesn’t know what to do.
The next words just came out, and he instantly regrets it.
“...I-I’m just being nice.. I have to be nice. You’re my brother’s best friend.” In a split second before Eumi interrupts the conversation, he can clearly see the pain in your eyes. The initial shock of the fact that he’s rejecting you was prominent in your face and he just wanted to take every word back at that point.
But before he could even utter another word, Eunmi decided to take over. You then quickly walked out, but before you can turn around, he sees a teardrop, and by then, he’s sure he’s made a mistake. He can’t believe he just broke your innocent heart.
Eunmi is no longer in his mind, his friends no longer his priority, the entirety of the night, you plagued his mind. He wanted to run after you, and apologize. But what exactly is it for? It’s not like he was rude. He was calm, but still, you were visibly upset.
Jeno blames himself, until the night ends, he shoots his brother a message to ask you if you were okay. He needs to know.
Jeno was twenty when he breaks his own heart for the first time.
He can’t believe his eyes. He doesn’t know which emotion he should feel, the anger that slowly builds up upon seeing you entering the party with Jungwoo, or the adoration to seeing you looking that good in your mini dress.
You had walked in with the confidence he failed to notice before, with Jungwoo’s arm around your waist. He clenches his fist, but soon he gets caught in his own mind when his girlfriend of two weeks leans over to him.
The train of thought he had was still there, however, he was forced to pretend like everything’s fine. Although he can’t look at you in the eye, when he can certainly feel your gaze time to time.
What he can’t absolutely avoid tho, is his eyes on Jungwoo’s touches. Since when did you let a random man touch you like that?
More so, a man like Jungwoo? Much older than you, and he doesn’t remember Jungwoo and you ever be in the same vicinity as each other. Why are you so comfortable with him already?
Green doesn’t suit Jeno. So he tries to focus on the girl beside him. But mentally, he counts the shots that was given to you. Too many, and if the situation is different, he’d take those shots and shove it up Jungwoo’s ass.
But as soon as you stood up, his quick reaction was to follow you.
All he can think about is you getting out of here.
“Find Chenle. Now.” He groaned, despite his anger, he doesn’t like yelling at you.
What you did next was unexpectable.
You had tried to kiss him.
His reflex was to push you, and that, he did. His demeanor changes, and everything that falls from his lips after that was a blur to him.
One thing’s clear, the look in your eyes. You were so defeated, but Jeno didn’t let it affect him. He was blinded by anger, and the fact that you’re so drunk that you’d kiss just anyone. Not to mention a man that has a girl! What has gotten into you?
“Are you that desperate? I rejected you already, didn’t I? I will never look at you different than being my brother’s best friend, y/n! So stop this fucking delusion while I’m being nice.” Lies after lies after lies.
He was completely out of his mind when he said that to you.
And when you cried in front of him, he felt his own heart break. Every tear is equivalent to a stab right through his chest.
Right there and then, he wanted to beg for your forgiveness. Say that everything wasn’t true, that he doesn’t think you were desperate. Hell, he would kiss you back if you’d let him.
But all those hope was thrown away when you left. Because what’s left was this strange, terrifying feeling that somehow, this was the last straw for you.
And Jeno despises himself for causing you pain, over and over. He curses at his own self for being so coward.
“Hey Jen, how are you?” His mom’s voice was enthusiastic as ever. Even over the phone, he can hear the smile in her face.
He thinks he should be honest. “Not good,”
“Aw, is it your practice? Don’t worry darling, just a few more months and you’ll be graduating!” He smiles at his mother’s sweet voice of anticipation, he can just imagine the tiny claps she does.
“No, mom. I—“ He closes his eyes in frustration. “I have to talk to you about something,”
“What is it? Is it your brother? About y/n?” Her tone changes, now sounding concerned.
Jeno curses mentally, because of how quick his mom mentioned you.
“It’s about y/n,” he says lowly, testing the waters for a bit.
He hears a deep sigh, “I called her a week ago and she’s been real distant from me, Jen. Anything I should know?”
“Mom,” He almost whines. He just wants to spill it out.
“What? You’re worrying me. Is our y/n okay? God, she’s been out of control, hasn’t she?” The concern is now intensified, and Jeno thinks he should just spit it out. But his tongue can’t seem to say it.
“She.. she’s fine.”
“Good gracious, okay. I thought something had happened. Her mother must be frowning at me from heaven right now. Still remember your promise to your Auntie, right?”
Bingo. The very reason as to why he can’t just say it. Why he can’t just be with you already. It’s because of this god forsaken promise that he made.
“You need to be a big brother to her, treat her as your sister. She has nothing but us now, Jeno.”
He almost cries, he just wanted to yell. He felt as though he failed his mother, your mother and you. He shouldn’t be feeling this emotion towards you. This harbored feelings are forbidden. He can’t. He just… can’t.
He lets his eyes get warmer, gripping in his phone harshly. He takes a huge, deep breath.
“Mom, I love her. So much. I- I can’t… I can’t keep on hurting her and pretending that I only look at her as a sister.” He pleads, finally letting it known. There’s no turning back.
Silence was deafening on the other line. Every millisecond, he can feel his heartbeat race.
“Jeno, we’ve talked about this.”
“I love her, mom. I do, I really do.” He cries, for the first time in a long time.
“She’s your sis—“
“She’s not! God, she’s your best friend’s daughter, I know that but I’m not her older brother. I’m a person that truly loves her. I have loved her for so many years but I keep on h—“
“Jeno, hush, darling. I understand… but she’s our family. If all these feelings get old and you decide you don’t love her anymore, who will she turn to? Not us, darling because at the end of the day, we’re your family. I’m just… worried about her, she has… no one to turn to if this all blows up.” His mother’s response, despite the rise of emotion, was still calm and soft.
“I won’t, mom. Please, just let me love her. I can’t keep hurting her, mom, It kills me.” Jeno never begged this much. Just for you. His only exception.
His mother pauses, way too long, before finally breathing out again. “Okay, darling. I trust you. But please. I beg you, not to hurt her. We’re all that she’s got.”
Jeno whips his head up, baffled as to how easy she agreed to him. A little to no persuasion, and it didn’t even take ten minutes.
“What? J-just like that?” Jeno questions in disbelief. Years of yearning, years of hurting you, when Jeno could just do this early on?
His mom, regardless of the moment, managed to let out a breathy chuckle.
“Darling, you’ve proven yourself over the years. Me and your Dad had an inkling that you have a special admiration for Y/n ever since before. Its just unfortunate that her mother had to pass, and had asked us a favor— more to you, to look after Y/N like your own sibling. And when you agreed, I felt like it’s just how it goes. But years of seeing you pretend to not care about her, and seeing you struggle to cope with your feelings, I knew then that you were serious.”
“Me and your Dad realized that our eldest, really, has grown up to be a man. And seeing you still have the same passion and the same feelings towards her until now, says that you’d stop at nothing at this point. So what’s the use of preventing you?”
And with that, Jeno was free. Free of constraint, of guilt and control over his own will and feelings.
Like a baby, Jeno falls asleep with tears in his eyes. In complete satisfaction on how things went. Now, his only problem is getting to you, and begging for your forgiveness. Wishing by then, you’d still want him.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
Jeno didn’t waste his time. As soon as the morning comes, he’s fast on his feet. He wants to talk to you, he wants to clear everything up. He had tried to text and call, but he quickly realized you blocked his number.
He called his brother next, but Jisung also has not heard from you since yesterday.
It wasn’t until 5pm that he couldn’t find you, he started to worry. None of your friends know where you are, and you’re not in your apartment either.
He contacted every possible soul that could even have a hint on where you’re at, but none of them knows.
He feels like he’s running out of time, running out of momentum.
And just as soon as he was about to call for help, he received a message.
[5:32pm] unknown number
she’s at dreamscape hill. she likes going there to ease her mind. take care of her, please. -k
He didn’t care to ask who it was, he just prayed that whoever sent him this message was right.
And off to dreamscape hill, Jeno goes.
He can barely catch his breath when he arrived, heart pounding at his chest. It was past sundown when he found you sitting at the bench, on top of the hill.
It’s you. He’s sure it’s you. To the curves of your shoulder, to the waves of your hair. Call it creepy, but he spent years looking at your back, from afar, forbidden to even glance at you when you’re close. So yes, he’s a hundred percent sure that it’s you.
He’s a few feet behind you, when he noticed the earphones you had on. Probably why you didn’t hear the ruffling of the twigs and leaves as he walked closer.
And in divine timing, you look back at your shoulder, looking straight at Jeno’s eyes, as if it made sense why he’s here.
Slowly, you pull the earphones out.
“What’re you doing here?” You ask, almost a whisper. But the city in front of you gave him enough silence to hear every breath you take.
“Finding you,” he answers. He struggles to keep his words straight, the thumping in his chest causing him to stutter.
You blink thrice, seems like you’re still processing Jeno’s answer.
“Why?”
Jeno took a couple step, and finally he sat beside you. he looked forward at the cityscape. He took note of your body language, it seems to him that you’re starting to get nervous.
“To tell you I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took this long for me to find you. I’m sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry for making you cry. I’m sorry that I wasted years, and I’m so sorry I lied.” Jeno says every word with great diction, in perfect pace and clear voice. He wants you to understand every word that he says.
He hears you let out a huff, as if in disbelief. His heart went even more faster, scared on what you might say.
He’s never anticipated an answer like this before. He never had to grip at his own knees in nervousness before. He can’t even look at your expression.
“I think we’re past that, Jeno.”
This is what he’s afraid of. He might be too late, he might fuck this up. Nevertheless, he’ll never regret trying.
“I know that I’m years too late but you need to understand—“
“I don’t need to understand nothing. What I need is to just live my life, love my life. I have spent years yearning for you, let me love myself too. I think I’ve loved you since I met you, Jeno. I just mistook it for curiosity. Everyone else isn’t you, and turns out that’s a huge problem for me.” Jeno can hear you smile, and when he finally let himself take a look, he softens.
You’re smiling like you used to smile. You’re smiling like you again.
“That’s because we thought we could alter fate, and tell me I’m batshit crazy for believing but I can prove to you that we’re just… soulmates, y/n. Y-you’re meant for me as much as I am for you.” These are some words Jeno never thought he would use. The things you make him do.
You chuckle again, while shaking your head. Do you find it ridiculous? Do you think Jeno is joking? Are you finding all of these insufferable? God, Jeno wished he could read you.
“We are not soulmates, Jeno. This is not some divine intervention, and shit, this is not fate. I wanted this. I knit the threads of my destiny until it spelled your name. I love you intentionally, Jeno. It’s not the stars and the heavens that brought us together. I did.”
Jeno was speechless. He could not utter a single word, he felt like he had no right to dictate you about what you feel. He’s ashamed, because what you said was right. You made him feel this, because of your desire for him, you made him fall. And damn it, he fell hard.
“It’s like you filled my lungs with flowers, although they are pretty, it made it hard for me to breathe. That's how much I wanted you.”
“Y/n, I will apologize to you forever if you wanted me to. Just… just please, let me have my chance.” Jeno begged like he never did before. He let his emotions out, and all for you. Because you deserve it. You deserve the real him.
Slowly, he felt your hand on his clenched fist, instantly letting it loose. He took the opportunity to lace your fingers together. It felt right, like your hand always belonged intertwined with his.
“If I took this chance with you, that would be the knife that would slit my own fucking throat, Jeno. And you know what’s funny? I’d probably apologize for bleeding in your shirt.”
“So let me have this time for myself, Jeno. And just like the old saying, time will tell. And if we find each other without even looking, then that’s when I’ll believe in that fate you were talking about.”
As your grip in his hand loosens, he felt like this was the first and last time he’ll get to hold your hand. He wanted to be selfish and not let you go, but he knows he’d be cruel to do that.
So he didn’t move. “I’ll see you around,” you say.
“I’ll find you,” he whispered, to you, to himself, and to whoever who’s listening. Let it be the heavens, or the devil in hell. He whispered to anybody, because he knows he’ll do it, and he wants everyone to stand witness to this promise.
“Sure you will,”
And in every step you made, as your body slowly walks away, you took his heart with you. Its yours, anyway. He’ll just have to find you to have it back.
୧ ‧₊˚ ☆
“Lee Jeno! Lee Jeno! Lee Jeno!”
The screams from the bleachers never seemed to falter, only getting louder each time.
The band is on full blast, people running around down the court as soon as the last whistle of the game went off.
Jeno had won the much awaited game against the SKU, with a whopping 73 points under his belt, making it the first time in his school’s history to earn that many points, by a single player, in one game.
This just solidified his reputation, being named the greatest player that had ever stepped foot on this campus.
And to make this game, even more legendary than it already is, it’s the last game of the season before Jeno graduates. So he’s literally going out with a bang with this one.
His teammates celebrated the win, begging Jeno to go the the victory party. For the first time, Jeno refused to attend a victory party. Much more, a victory he made happen.
He walked past the girls that’s lining up to take a picture with him, immediately walking straight back to the lockers.
He shoots a text at Renjun, informing his friend that he’ll head home, instead of attending the party.
He was about to turn to his locker, when his name was called by a familiar voice.
Jeno looked back, and to his disappointment, it’s Jennie.
“Why haven’t you answered my calls? It’s been months, Jeno! You can’t just..” Jennie couldn’t even finish her sentence, stomping her feet like a toddler.
Yes. It has been months since he blocked every girl that he had ever slept with.
Three months, thirteen days, and twenty-one hours, to be exact.
“My team’s gonna be here soon. You don’t want me to embarrass you in front of them, trust me.” Jeno’s threat was casual, but he’s serious enough for Jennie to take the hint.
“B-but, Jen, it's me.” Jennie’s voice turns softer, making Jeno cringe at the tone. She then tried to touch his shoulder, but Jeno was quick to dodge.
“Exactly. You’re you, Jennie. And I don’t like you.”
The girl was aghast, to say the least. Her mouth wide open in disbelief. Taking Jeno’s advice, albeit with offense, she stomps her way out of the lockers.
Just as he said, his teammates started flocking in, with his coach holding the trophy. He lost count on how many pats in the back he received after the game. The repetitive congratulatory messages are starting to grow old.
“Are you really not coming? You’re literally the man of the year, dude. Everybody’s gonna be looking for you!” Sungchan, one of his teammates says.
“Nope,” Jeno says with a pop.
“Come on, this’ll probably the last victory party you’ll ever have!” Yangyang joins in, but Jeno just shrugged his shoulders.
“Sorry, dude. I got a thesis paper due in two days.”
A plethora of complains, grunts and ‘what?!’s came pouring in after his statement, but Jeno stood his ground.
Jeno was serious. He needs to study for his thesis paper, and pass it on time. His professor expects him to match his academics to his basketball career, and he doesn’t want to disappoint.
Before the commotion gets even more wild, and before Jeno gets kidnapped into attending the party, he swiftly bids farewell to his coach, the only person that mattered to him. His coach just shook his head and gave him a nod, before letting him go.
“You did well, kid.”
Jeno heads through the parking lot. He had been stopped by students every ten seconds therefore his usual 4 minute walk to his car ended up being 30 minutes.
He starts up the engine, but before taking off, he checks some of his messages.
[8:43pm] dong(yuck!): congratulations, lebron ‘lee jeno’ james! the game was so cool dude u look good throwing balls lol btw im staying at my girls hauz. also ur welcome. also enjoy. lolz
[8:54pm] jaemjaem: dude that game!!! ur on FIRE my guy!! pls pls apply for nba so i can watch courtside with kanye west :D im out rn and i wont be home til tmrw. ur welcome ;)
[8:59] jisung: great game couldve been better tho… anyways… wrap it b4 u tap it!!!
[9:02pm] injunnie <3: game was lit. didnt understand shit abt the game but u did good. im spending the night @ my moms so u better make it worth it, lee jeno.
Jeno’s breath hitches, and before he could even question the hints his roommates are giving him, another ping notifies his phone.
[9:04pm] unknown number: hi. im at urs. can we talk?
Jeno knows not to speed, but tonight, he swears his tires didn’t even touch the concrete. He is flying off the highway.
With sweaty palms, he enters the security code to his door. Hands shaking, he opens it up and with the sight of a woman’s shoes on his doorstep, he takes a deep breath.
“I hope you don’t mind, it was Jaemin’s idea to let me in without telling you. Uh, so if you’re not—“
“Y/n,” he gulps as he takes in your figure, standing in the middle of his kitchen.
“Yeah.. it’s me.” You smile tightly, shrugging your shoulders.
Even though Jeno was ready to leap and drown you in his embrace, he stood his ground. He’s still not sure why you’re here, and until you say so, he’s not moving. The last thing he wants to do is push your boundaries.
“What’re— what are you—” He feels stupid. Stuttering like a five year old in front of you.
“Figured we could talk. Jisung and Chenle got sick of me moping around so they made me—“
“I hope you’re not being forced to talk to me. I told you, I’ll wait. No matter how long,” The sincerity laced in his voice was prominent.
“I promise you, I went here in my own will. Two idiots just talked some sense into me, and Jisung told me about the promise you made my mom years ago.”
Then there was silence. But this time, it wasn’t deafening. It was peaceful. Its as if you two are finding serenity in each others presence and just the way you stare at each other already says the words your mouth couldn’t speak.
But Jeno cut it short. “Does this mean..”
“I want to try, Jeno. I want to experience this with you. Slowly, at our own pace. I want to go on dates. Carnivals. Watch netflix. Everything, with you.” There's a tinge of shyness in your voice, and Jeno just wants you to scream it out. You don’t need to shy away from him.
“Everything, with me. At your own pace. I’ll accept everything you can offer,” He assured your worried mind.
You nod gently. “I want to feel loved without feeling like I’m begging for it,”
Jeno shakes his head vigorously, “No, baby, you’ll never beg to be loved, ever again. I swear in my grave.” He takes one step closer.
“I’ll trust you and risk getting my heart broken again, but I really hope you won’t.”
One more step closer “I will never. Baby, you’re it for me. I didn’t know it before, but I should’ve known it was you, because no one else made sense.”
You nod again, biting your lip. “When I visited my mom, I told her about you,”
“Yeah?” Jeno asks, in a sweet tone, taking another step closer.
You smiled at him. “I bet she would trust you too,”
“I will not break her trust. Not again,”
He watches carefully as you raise your hand to cup his cheeks, his reaction was to lean into your touch. He takes your initiative as a signal, but still takes his movement slowly.
You gulp, looking up at him. “Can you love me now?”
“Oh, baby. I have loved you since forever. It just took me time to realize it.”
And then, as you tiptoe to match his height, he feels your lips on him and he swears that you taste like heaven.
Jeno didn’t remember how long you talked that night, but somewhere in the midst of your laughter and smiles, he decided that he would destroy the world for you.
Because you might not know it, but in every universe, in every lifetime, and in every story, Jeno has always been completely, madly, and inevitably yours.
A/N: From the bottom of my heart, I apologize for making you guys wait this long. I promise, it just happened to be my worst year ever :'(( but at least she's here! I just wish this could at least be worth it. Tune in for the next part (I promise, it would NOT take this long lmao)
GENRES ☆ smut, fluff, angst, a bit of crack?, enemies to lovers, fake dating, college au
WARNINGS ☆ 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. profanity, substances (alcohol consumption, one mention of weed), light smut (oral [f receiving], praise kink), use of nicknames (baby, babe, princess, my girl, gorgeous), mentions of throwing up, one mention of blood, the characters are in their mid 20s in this fic, reader wears glasses and has a pet cat, yuta’s hair is red in this because that’s his best hair colour i don’t make the rules
SUMMARY ☆ college life is full of uncertainties, but there is one thing you know for sure: nakamoto yuta hates your guts, and the feeling is mutual. so when he goes to you and asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend, you start to realise that maybe you were wrong about him too.
WORD COUNT ☆ 24.2k (im so sorry)
PLAYLIST ☆ click!
AUTHOR'S NOTE ☆ heya lovelies !! this is my first ever full-length one shot, as well as my first time ever sharing my smut with anyone so i’m kinda nervous lol if u think u’ve read any other of my full-length one shots before, no u haven’t <3 i also got carried away because i truly did not expect it to be this long 😭 big thanks to my friends lou for the feedback and carol for beta reading and encouraging me to continue writing when i kept having second thoughts 🥺 enjoy reading and feedback is always welcome !!
THE END OF YOUR MID-TERM BREAK always meant going to the nearest coffee shop with your two best friends, with the intention of catching up on all the things that happened on your short-lived holiday. It also functioned as the last time for you to have some fun before you knuckle down and keep your focus on studying for the final exams, merely six weeks away from now.
“Anyway, that’s how we managed to pull off the biggest cookie heist in the Im household,” Nayeon finishes, leaning down to take a sip of her chai latte.
“Must be fun, having younger cousins,” Jennie sighs in envy. She cradles her chin in one hand, toying with the ends of her hair with the other. “Meanwhile, all my cousins have grown up to be obnoxious jerks!”
You raise your eyebrows. “But not Taeyong, right?”
Jennie crinkles her nose in disdain. “The cousins on my mom’s side like to pretend I don’t exist. It’s a low bar, but Taeyong is the only nice one,” she throws her hair over her shoulder. “Speaking of, he should be here soon. You don’t mind him interrupting our girls’ day out, would you?”
You don’t mind at all. Despite your friend’s pretend indifference towards him, Lee Taeyong was the resident sweetheart, known and liked by everyone on campus. The music production major is the captain of the dance club, frequently volunteers to tutor his peers and on top of that, always makes sure to bring treats and small toys for your cat whenever he drops by your place.
What you did mind, however, is if he happens to bring along a friend of his with him. Although Taeyong could integrate himself into virtually all of the social circles around campus, there is one group he sticks with more than the others – the group filled with fuckboys, notorious for flirting with anyone who was available and throwing wild parties. How the sweet Taeyong manages to get along with people so different from him is beyond you, but you figure men will always be men.
As if sensing your thoughts, Nayeon remarks, “I don’t think he’ll be with anyone today. I’m sure they’re too busy unpacking.”
You push your glasses up your nose and shrug, only hoping that was true. Even though not all the men in Taeyong’s friend group are bad apples, you’ve had more than enough awkward encounters with them to last you a lifetime. Plus, there is also one person in that group that you dislike more than the others, and you know Taeyong wouldn’t consider bringing that person within a ten feet radius of you.
The doorbell of the cafe rings, followed by two sets of footsteps and familiar laughter. You tense.
Today is not your lucky day.
You look up to see Taeyong heading towards your table. And behind him, wearing his signature smirk, is the bane of your existence – Nakamoto Yuta.
Many people have asked you why you hate Nakamoto Yuta, and your answer has always been: where do you even begin? His annoyingly vibrant red hair, the fact that he coined the nickname “Glasses” for you because of your poor eyesight, the way he’s able to get along with everyone except you and the fact that he’s been your rival for the top spot of the class ever since you could remember were only a few reasons the mere sight of him can make your blood boil.
Before you can even process your thoughts, Nayeon hisses, “Behave.”
You resist the urge to let out a groan at her command, and when you meet Taeyong’s eyes he directs a sheepish smile at you. You glare at him and look down at your phone, deciding to scroll through whatever that would make you feel less irritated at that moment.
“Hey, guys,” Taeyong greets when he reaches your table. “Enjoyed your break?”
You mumble out, “Hi, Taeyong.”
Taeyong nods at you and Jennie, and begins to listen to Nayeon as she animatedly recounts the story of how she and her younger cousins managed to steal the five batches of chocolate chip cookies her aunts had baked. You also want to listen to her story even though you had just heard about it three minutes ago, but someone slides into the seat across from yours. Despite yourself, the action captures your attention.
“Just going to ignore me, Glasses?” Yuta grins at you, completely disregarding your friends and the fact that this was supposed to be your private time with them. “Or have you already forgotten about me after such a long time?”
“Yeah, I was too busy having fun to think about things that don’t matter,” you snap back. “Anyway, two weeks was long for you? Did your friends not want to hang out with you or something?”
“Here we go,” Jennie mumbles under her breath. You pretend not to notice.
Yuta slaps a hand over his heart. “Ouch, right in the feels,” he pouts. “My break was fine, thank you. Kinda missed seeing your annoying butt around, though.”
“I’m flattered, but the feeling is not mutual,” you retort, and before you can say more, Jennie clears her throat.
“Anyway, that’s the end of the story!” Jennie says abruptly, even though you’re sure from Nayeon’s expression that she had more to tell. Subtle. From Yuta’s face, you can tell he thinks the same thing.
The both of you normally try to avoid seeing each other as much as possible, knowing it would only lead to endless arguments, but right now you’re blaming Taeyong for even daring to bring Yuta into your presence when he knew you were going to be here.
Jennie claps her hands and looks up at her cousin. “Yongie, you wanted to give me something, right?”
“Oh yes,” he holds up the bag that he’s carrying and sets it on the table, a look of amusement on his face. “A little present from my mom – to remind you that you should have come to visit her during the break, and she’s mad that you didn’t.”
“Oh, it’s because–” Jennie starts, but Taeyong is quick to cut her off.
“Oh, and I’m mad too.”
The two start bickering in their mother tongue, and you and Nayeon share a smile at their antics. Yuta is still sitting across from you, but you’re trying your best to ignore the fact that, for whatever reason, he’s looking at you. You look down at your phone again, desperately wanting for the guys to be gone already so you can finally get back to your precious dishing time with your best friends.
“Take a picture, Nakamoto. It’ll last longer,” you comment sarcastically, unable to handle Yuta’s gaze on you any longer.
He seems undeterred by your sudden jab at him. “It’s cute that you’re trying so hard to ignore me, Glasses,” he sighs. “I’d like to see you ignore me when I beat you for valedictorian next year.”
“Okay, enough,” Taeyong cuts in, sparing his friend a warning glance when he sees the look on your face. “Jennie, you’re going to visit me and my parents during the next break and that’s a promise, okay?”
“For ahjumma and ahjussi, maybe, not you,” Jennie teases, then her face softens. “But thank you for the food.”
Taeyong nods, then pats Yuta on the shoulder. “Anyway, we should get going or we’re going to be late.”
Yuta hums in agreement and is about to get up when Nayeon clicks her tongue. “Wait, pretty boy, you still owe me ten bucks.”
Pretty boy is the nickname Nayeon coined for Yuta in high school – a moniker that you would agree suits him to some degree.
(Not that you would ever admit it in a million years.)
Yuta groans, head falling back in annoyance. “I haven’t forgotten. Hold up, I think I have some cash on me.” He reaches into his jacket pocket when a handful of paper scraps fall out and scatter all over his lap. With a mutter of annoyance, he reaches down to pick them up, and you’re expecting him to put them back inside his pocket when he suddenly crumples them up in his hands.
You raise your eyebrow in surprise. “Hoarding trash in your pocket, huh? Is finding a trash can too difficult for you?”
Yuta glares for a split second before the maddening smirk is back on his face. “Thanks for your concern, Glasses. It’s actually all the phone numbers I got working at the bar last night. Not that I need them, I already have enough women wanting me.”
You roll your eyes as the others laugh and let out dog whistles at his incredibly distasteful comment. Only Yuta could make your friends think such a repulsive statement is hilarious.
“No shortage of girls chasing you everywhere, huh, pretty boy?” Nayeon asks playfully.
“None, unfortunately,” Yuta shakes his head, producing a ten dollar note from his wallet and handing it to Nayeon. Seeing Taeyong already heading for the door, he shoots them a smile. “Bye, girls.”
He turns and winks at you. “See you around, Glasses.”
You’re left glowering at Yuta’s backside, your scowl only fading when you hear the sound of the door closing behind them.
“God, I can’t stand him,” you murmur.
Jennie lets out a practised sigh. “Yeah, we know.”
During your first year of college, you accidentally found a secret corner in the campus library while searching for a textbook for your major. The corner was cosy and out of sight from the rest of the library, perfect for when you need some peace and quiet. Ever since, it’s been your place of solace.
It’s usually the place you go to to be completely alone, and this time you needed a few hours of reading by yourself. It’s been a week since your mid-term break ended, and after nights staying up studying, you suppose right now is a good time to have a short rest from cramming information into your brain, and just enjoy a romcom book instead.
You are one hour deep in your romance novel when you hear footsteps in the library getting louder. You figure it’s Nayeon, the only other person who you’ve told about the secret corner, coming to find you as she’s chided you many times on how you tend to lose track of time when you’re in here.
The footsteps end in front of you, but you don’t look up from your book. “I’m at a good part, Nayeon, give me a few minutes.”
“Are the characters making out or something?”
The unexpected voice makes you snap your book shut and when you push your glasses up your nose to see clearly, you could only stare up in shock. Nakamoto Yuta stands in front of you, an unusually shy smile on his face. At first you’re speechless – he is the last person you would want to see anywhere, let alone in what was supposed to be your safe haven from the rest of the world.
“What are you doing here?!” you hiss, and then you look back down at the novel in your hands. “Great, you made me lose my page, you idiot!”
Suddenly, Yuta’s voice is devoid of his usual humour. “Can we talk?”
“Can you go be annoying somewhere else?” you flip through the pages rapidly, barely noticing his serious tone. You smile in relief only when you find the page you’re looking for, and you prepare to resume reading.
Yuta lets out an exasperated sigh at your attempt of scaring him off and kneels down to your level, and to your surprise, he takes your book, secures the page you're on with your bookmark and then puts it aside.
“Seriously, I need your help,” Yuta murmurs, his big brown eyes staring deeply into yours. His face is so close to you, his voice so gentle that for a moment, you’re unable to stop and think about the sheer absurdity of his words.
“I–” you start, before shaking your head and letting out a snort. “You need my help? Couldn’t you have asked, I don’t know… anyone else?”
“You’re my last resort,” Yuta responds immediately, as if he’s already rehearsed what he’s going to say. You think he’s about to drop the serious act and start teasing you again, but his lips are still tucked into a thin line. “And believe me, you’re the only one who can help me.”
“I seriously doubt that,” you scoff, getting ready to leave. Your secret corner isn’t even safe anymore. The only place you can go back to would be your dorm room, a place you know would be empty of any fuckboys or sworn enemies who would only ruin your mood. You know your roommate Jisoo would probably have someone over for the night, but it’s a small price to pay to avoid seeing Yuta again.
Yuta watches silently as you gather your things. You think he’s given up on whatever he was going to ask you and let you leave when he speaks up again.
“I need you to fake date me.”
You stop in your tracks.
“What?” you stutter out. “You’re kidding, right?”
You know he’s not kidding, not when he’s staring at you so intently – not when you had heard his voice as clear as day, and with no trace of irony in his words.
“Y/-”
You burst out laughing. You laugh and laugh until your sides hurt, all the while Yuta is still kneeling in front of you, and you’re clutching your stomach at the ridiculousness of it all.
“You want me to fake date you? Seriously? That’s what you need my help for?” you manage to finally say after your laughter dies down, wiping tears of mirth off your cheeks. “Oh, Nakamoto. That’s funny. Like that’s ever going to happen. I mean, what would I even get out of it?”
You can see Yuta’s cheeks are lightly shaded pink after seeing your reaction to his statement, but he replies without a hitch, “You can show off your hot-ass boyfriend to everyone else.”
“Yuta!” you smack him with your novel, and he grunts at the impact. “I’m serious. How would that benefit you? More importantly, how the hell would that benefit me?”
“I don’t know!” Yuta grumbled, softly rubbing the spot on his arm where you had smacked him. He finally gets up from his kneeling position and starts pacing around. “Listen, so many girls have been–”
“Oh my God, I know, there’s no shortage of girls that want you–”
“Let me finish!” Yuta snaps, his hands balled in fists when he glares at you. His face and voice softens after a beat, and he takes a deep breath before continuing. “Girls have been messaging me left and right asking me to go out with them. And–” he runs a hand over his face. “–I’m tired of it, okay? I’m not interested. And they’re not getting the message. I thought that maybe, if I get someone to act as my girlfriend, they will back off for a bit.”
You scoff. “Then get an actual girlfriend, you dick! Why get a fake one?”
“Because like I said, I’m not interested,” Yuta repeats slowly. “I’m not looking for an actual relationship right now. And, like… I came to you because I know for a fact that you won’t want an actual relationship from me. I don’t know…” he sighs again, staying silent for a moment. “Just… think about it, okay?”
You stare at him silently, still in disbelief at the words he had just said. You’re almost convinced that you had fallen asleep while reading your book a while ago and this is just some strange hyperrealistic dream. Yuta honestly, genuinely believed that there was a chance that you would help him and go along with his crazy request. You don’t know how you feel about that.
What you do know, though, is that you don’t want to be tangled up in Nakamoto Yuta’s business in any way.
After a long pause, you shake your head.
“I’ll give you my answer now, Yuta. Thanks, but no thanks.”
You sling your bag over your shoulder and stand up from your seat, romance novel in hand. You can’t resist the temptation of looking over your shoulder and commenting one last time.
“Rejection doesn’t feel so good now, does it?”
You relish at the sight of his red cheeks before leaving the library.
You had been studying in your room when Nayeon and Jisoo had burst through the door, begging for you to try on a few outfits they had put together. You agreed, thinking it was only going to be a brief try-on and then you’d shove the outfits back in your closet, but somehow they’d convince you to keep the clothes on and crash a nearby party with them. To top it all off, they had also asked you to ditch your glasses so you could finally use the coloured contacts that you very much disliked wearing.
That’s how you find yourself in the corner of some random stranger’s house, nursing a red solo cup in one hand. The dress your friends had put on you showed off your legs a lot more than you would have liked, so now you’re trying your best to keep yourself warm with the crappy booze they were serving.
As you survey the small crowd surrounding you, you’re hit with the realisation that you don’t really know anyone here. You know the point of your friends dragging you to this party was for you to mingle a little more with other people, but somehow you’re unable to think of any interesting opening lines to a conversation that could last longer than two minutes. You’d rather have a friend beside you, but Nayeon is chatting it up with someone from her major and you don’t want to interrupt them. Just a while ago you also caught a glimpse of Jisoo heading upstairs with a stranger you hadn’t seen before, and you definitely don’t want to disturb her fun time.
You hadn’t even bothered telling your friends about Nakamoto Yuta’s offer he had given a few hours ago. That man was not worth wasting your breath for.
And yet, your thoughts kept drifting back to him.
Yuta actually had the balls to ask you, his sworn enemy, for help in becoming his fake girlfriend. Out of all the things! You still remember the stony expression he had on when the words I need you to fake date me had left his mouth, signifying that yes, he was being one hundred percent serious. You know he’s known for his unpredictable and somewhat wild streak, but to ask you to do such a bizarre thing…
You don't know what to think.
“Hey, cutie. Can I get you a drink?”
Your head snaps up to see a tall stranger smirking at you, his eyes red from him smoking what you can only assume is some offhand weed that you know are usually at these types of parties.
“I already have one, thanks,” you smile politely, raising your cup to show him. Now, you desperately wish there’s a friend by your side – you’re not in the mood to be hit on at the moment.
But the stranger doesn’t get the hint. He steps close enough to you that you can instantly smell the repulsive mixture of substances in his breath. “That shitty beer they’re serving? Don’t be stupid. I’ll get you a real drink,” he leans in, dropping his voice so he could whisper in your ear, “Unless there’s something else you want me to do for you?”
Your stomach churns at the implication of his words.
“Um, no, thank you, I… have a boyfriend,” is all you manage to say before slipping away from his presence.
You sprint outside of the house, trashing your cup in the process, relieved to be free from the smell of booze and flirty men who wouldn’t take no for an answer. You pull out your phone from your purse.
you: gonna bail, will u and jisoo be okay?
nayeon: yeah i didn’t drink anything so ill be driving us back
nayeon: u okay tho?
you: just need to do sumn real quick. dont worry ill find my way home
As soon as you know your friends will be fine, you immediately call for an Uber. You have one destination in mind.
You're surprised how quick the ride to Yuta’s place is. Amazingly, you know what you’re going to say to him now. Maybe it’s the alcohol running through your veins that’s making you do such an illogical thing, really.
When you knock on the door, Johnny is the one who opens it. “Oh, hey.”
When you see his look of surprise, you’re now realising how crazy you must look. Johnny must have not recognised you at first, especially now that your usual glasses are gone and your eyes are a shade of grey. You do suppose you can’t be the first person to show up at the guys’ dorm at midnight in a little dress and heels, but the thought of you being compared to those other girls doesn’t really comfort you.
You make a feeble attempt at covering yourself up, giving him a bashful smile. “Um, hey Johnny. Is Yuta home?”
Johnny’s eyes widen even further, causing your embarrassment to grow tenfold. You can only imagine what Johnny could be thinking right now.
“Uh, yeah, I don’t think he’s asleep yet. Want me to get him?”
When you nod and Johnny’s gone, you rub your hands that you didn’t realise were sweaty against the back of your dress. You can already think of all the things he would say when he sees you. Hearing a nauseating Aww, did you get dressed up all for me, Glasses? from Yuta may as well happen. The insanity of what you’re about to do finally hits you, but there’s no turning back now.
“Y/N?” Yuta says, standing in front of you in nothing but a pair of sweats, with his red hair looking exceptionally vibrant in the night. He’s clearly too shocked to come up with his usual cocky opener, and for that you are grateful. “What are you doing here?”
You can’t see where Johnny went and you know he’s not the type of person to listen in to his friends’ private conversations, but you’re not willing to take the risk. “We need to talk,” you assert, brushing past Yuta and heading straight towards his bedroom. His jaw drops, and you’re equally surprised at how different you’re behaving. The alcohol really is making you act more brazen than usual.
“Well, come in, make yourself at home, why don’t you?” Yuta grumbles, his bewildered expression now changing into one of annoyance as he closes the bedroom door behind him. “What do you want? You here to reject me again?”
You lean against the wall and take in your surroundings, in awe of how immaculately his bedroom is decorated, with accents of space blue and striking reds all over. You spot an electric guitar in the corner. You didn’t know he played any instruments.
“I’ll do it.”
“What?”
“I’ll be your fake girlfriend, Yuta,” you tell him, and you see his eyebrows raise in amazement. “But I want you to know that I’m also doing it for my own gain.”
Yuta immediately scoffs, but there’s a hint of amusement on his face. “Okay. What’s in it for you?”
“To get my friends to stop dragging me to parties I don’t want to go to. But also, if they do manage to get me to go to a party somehow and there are annoying dudes there trying to flirt with me, I can say I have a boyfriend and I wouldn’t be lying.”
“Sort of,” Yuta comments drily. He crosses his arms against his chest, and it’s difficult not to notice his perfectly sculpted biceps. There’s a chain tattoo wrapped around his left arm that you’ve never seen before. “Well, I didn’t expect this. I guess I should say thanks.”
You shrug, looking down at the floor. “It’s whatever. I love those girls, but they can’t get off my ass about joining them at parties, when sometimes all I want to do is study at home,” you admit reluctantly, before looking back up at him. “Anyway. How are we going to do this?”
Yuta shoots you a grin, and for once it’s not the usual one that would make you roll your eyes. “I’m so glad you asked. To do this, we have to fool everyone, and that includes our own friends. Because if our friends don’t believe us, Glasses, then no one will.”
You’re irked by his use of the nickname (like, you’re not even wearing glasses at that moment!), but you tilt your head in curiosity. “What are you getting at?”
“Before we just tell everyone that we’re dating, we have to hang out with each other. One on one.”
Your mouth runs dry at what he just said – but Yuta’s not done talking. “You and I both know that everyone knows that we can’t get along, Y/N. How the hell are we going to convince them we’re dating when you keep insulting me?”
“You always insult me too,” you retort, and he nods solemnly.
“Yes, I have, and that’s why we have to stop doing that as soon as possible. Tomorrow I have an early morning class, but I’ll be free after. We can figure out all the details then,” he looks at you, reaching in his pocket for his phone. “Give me your phone.”
Your hands feel sweaty again at the thought of Yuta being able to contact you any time he wants, and you hope he doesn’t notice how jittery you are as you hand him your phone.
As he types his number in and calls his phone from yours, you let out a dry laugh. “So it’s a date, huh?”
“I guess you could call it that,” Yuta gives your phone back to you but is unable to meet your eyes. Is he feeling embarrassed at the thought of going on a date with you?
Your heart drops when you think about it. You think you’re sobering up now, because now you’re wondering if you've just made a huge mistake.
“Um… I should go,” you breathe, clutching your purse close to your chest.
“Wait,” he says, looking into your eyes again, and there’s a small smile on his face.
Any second thoughts you have vanish instantly.
Yuta extends his hand out, his grin growing wider. “We should shake on it.”
“Shake on it? You’re such a dweeb.”
He rolls his eyes. “Just do it.”
So you do.
You wake up with a light headache, but you’re surprised to find a painkiller and a glass of water on your nightstand, a small note sitting right beside it.
take this, I know you need it -N
You sigh in awe, thanking the heavens for you having such a godsend for a best friend. You don’t know what time it is, but the rest of the apartment is quiet, so you assume your roommates are at their mid-morning classes. After taking the pill, you check your phone for the time. As you suspected, it’s almost 11. You also have two unread texts that were sent to you half an hour ago.
Unknown: this is yuta. i’m free now
Unknown: unless ur still sleeping lol
You roll your eyes, swiftly typing a response.
you: dickhead
you: u would sleep in too if u had my bed
You don’t know how long it will take for him to reply, so you put some music on and take a shower. Your pet cat Pumpkin isn’t scratching at your door like he usually does, so you reckon one of your roommates had already fed him for the morning.
As you’re getting ready, you recall the events of the night before with a shudder. It feels like a fever dream that you actually showed up at Yuta’s house in the middle of the night so you could tell him that you would pretend to be his girlfriend, but that crappy beer you had must have given you a boost in confidence.
You’re in the middle of having breakfast when you hear your phone buzz.
yuta: oh good morning sleeping beauty
yuta: come find me at the library ;)
Fifteen minutes later, you find Yuta sitting at a lone table right in the center of the library. He’s dressed in a grey hoodie and blue jeans, his red hair tied up into a mini ponytail.
“Took you long enough, Glasses,” Yuta remarks when he sees you, a smirk on his face.
You ignore his comment, pulling up the chair across from him and sitting down. The library is empty besides two people sitting at different corners, so you don’t bother keeping your voice hushed. “Let’s talk terms,” you start counting off your fingers. “First, no more calling me Glasses.”
Yuta pouts at that. “Aww, come on. Not even as a – what do you call it – term of endearment?”
“No,” you narrow your eyes at him. “Fake boyfriend or not, that’s a stupid thing to call your significant other. No more Glasses,” though he still looks put out by it, you take his silence as a sign to continue. “You can call me by other nicknames. The usual, like baby and stuff.”
“Okay, stuff,” he grins.
You glare at him.
“Fine, baby it is,” Yuta relents, crossing his arms over his chest. “Damn. You’re no fun in the morning, huh?”
You really aren’t. You once gave Jisoo the silent treatment for one whole week because she had the audacity to prank you by setting an early alarm on a day you were supposed to peacefully sleep in, but that’s not a story you are going to tell him.
“Second, this relationship shouldn’t last longer than a month.”
“Don’t I get a say in that?” Yuta protests, raising an eyebrow at you. “What if girls start hitting on me the second we break up?”
“That’s your problem,” you smile smugly. “Remember, Nakamoto. I’m only doing this fake relationship for my own gain, and I only need it until the end of finals week.”
He stares at you for a moment with narrowed eyes, and you expect him to say something biting back to you, but suddenly the smirk is back on his face.
“Fine. My turn to list my own terms.”
“I’m not finished y-”
He clicks his tongue, interrupting you. “You talk too much, baby. Are you forgetting who came up with this whole fake relationship idea in the first place?”
You could only glare as you keep your mouth shut, and nod at him as a way to tell him to begin.
“We need to go on fake dates. All the time,” he says so solemnly that you almost laugh. “To fake it for the gram, of course. And whenever we’re around our friends, we have to hold hands or something. Just so they don’t get suspicious.”
You blink. The thought of holding hands with Yuta in front of all your friends made your stomach do a flip.
Yuta grins at you, relaxed as ever. “Why don’t you take a story of me now? The sooner the better.”
It’s difficult to argue with his logic, so you pull out your phone and quickly snap a picture of him looking to the side, his tiny ponytail on display. As you prepare to post it on your story, you can already hear all the things your friends will say the second they view it, but you push that thought down. You’ll just have to worry about that later.
“Anything else?” you say as you put your phone back in your pocket.
“You need to call me baby too,” he adds, and you groan out loud.
“Come on!” you cry out, looking at him in exasperation. “Isn’t that the guys’ thing to do?”
“Incorrect. And very sexist of you,” Yuta deadpans. “Call me baby, and I’ll stop calling you Glasses for the rest of time. Deal?”
It’s a very tempting offer, and even though you’re still inwardly cringing at how you’re supposed to call him baby, you sigh in surrender. “Fine, whatever. But I have one last condition.”
“Shoot.”
“After the time is up, if we go back to being enemies or not, you can never tell anyone that this relationship was fake. That will be too embarrassing for either of us.”
Yuta smirks. “Whatever you need, baby,” he replies and you roll your eyes. That nickname will take a while to get used to. Before you can say anything, he looks at you and says, “By the way, we can’t tell anyone right away, or they’ll never believe it.”
You nod. “That’s fair.”
Although you would prefer to get this done with as soon as possible, you agree with Yuta. You know that Nayeon (and perhaps Jennie and Jisoo to a lesser extent) knows more than anyone just how deep your hatred for Yuta ran in your bones, so telling her that you’re suddenly dating him won’t fool her at all. You suppose that Instagram story that you posted of him was a good start to your deception.
“Okay,” you clap once, flashing him a saccharine smile. “Well, if there’s nothing else, I’m done talking. Go away,” you tell him, pulling out textbooks and a few notebooks from your bag, readying yourself for a long day of studying ahead.
Yuta doesn't move, still looking at you with those big eyes of his.
“Or…” he trails off, and you look up at him, waiting for him to finish. “...we could study together, and after you're done, we could get to know each other a little better. How does that sound?”
You rub your temples and sigh. “Just as long as you don't piss me off too much.”
He grins, signing an X over his heart. “I'll be the best study buddy, I promise.”
Yuta then pulls out his own textbooks and supplies and you gasp in surprise at the amount of pens in his large pencil case – two large bundles of them are tied together with rubber bands, plus a few loose ones that are scattered at the bottom.
“Do you really need that many pens?” you ask.
He shrugs nonchalantly. “I tend to go through them a lot because I make a lot of notes in class. You can take some off my hands if you want to.”
You shake your head in disbelief and reach for a blue pen. “Well, now I know who to go to when I need another pen,” you joke, fiddling with the clicker and doodling with it at the corner of your notebook. You start writing out some notes with it. “Wow, this is a really good one. Never thought you’d be the one to write down your notes, Nakamoto. I just assumed you typed them all into your laptop or something.”
Yuta sends you a wink. “I’m traditional like that.”
“Are you sure I can take this?” you question, eyeing the pen in your hand. You can’t deny that you’re already fond of how easy and comfortable it is to use, but you’re hesitant about taking something from Yuta.
“Of course. I mean, I literally have 50 more.”
“Thanks,” you reply quietly, feeling a surge of gratitude. A week ago, if someone told you that Yuta will offer something to you and you’ll willingly accept it, you would have laughed straight in their face. You're aware that it’s just a pen, but the sweet gesture tugs at something in your heart.
Maybe Yuta doesn’t really hate you as much as you think he does.
You sneak a glance at him and a small crease has appeared between his eyebrows and his lips has formed into a pout as he’s carefully highlighting a passage in his textbook. It’s strangely cute, especially since he’s using a neon pink highlighter. He inclines his head down, and you see that the hair band holding up his ponytail is also a light shade of pink.
Your heart skips a beat.
You clear your throat as if he suddenly caught you staring, even though you’re sure he’s still focused on taking notes. Fighting the sudden wave of awkwardness in your gut, you try to focus on your own books.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you fish it out to see you’ve gotten a few notifications.
nayeonyny replied to your story: ur hanging out with the DEVIL himself????
jennierubyjane replied to your story: is this real lol
You resist the urge to immediately reply to your friends’ messages, and ignore it for now. As you look at Yuta, his head bent down as he studies his notes, it sinks in that this will be your life for the next few weeks.
What have you gotten yourself into?
The rest of your study session went by without a hitch, save for a couple of snarky remarks from Yuta. He had been a really good study buddy, much to your surprise. You really admire his commitment to taking down all of his notes – and now you understand why, seeing as how his handwriting is the neatest and the most beautiful of anyone you’ve ever seen.
(But you did not voice your praises to him because he really doesn’t need another reason for his head to get any bigger.)
After an hour of studying, you made good on your promise to get to know each other better. Yuta had listened intently as you explained the reason why you chose your major, and in turn, he told you that he had a few dozen cousins in Japan that he has never met. It was only when the sun had dipped low outside the library windows that you decided that you'd learned enough about him and called your study session to a close.
The rest of the week consisted of the two of you playing the part on social media, with him posting several cryptic shots of you on his stories – which was met with much pestering from both your friend groups – and you informing your friends how you would be too occupied to join them partying or going out at night. While you didn’t exactly disclose what you were going to be doing during those times, you were leaving that up to their imaginations.
In truth, though, you mostly went to the nearest cafe to study in peace. The other times were reserved for your fake dates with Yuta.
You’re not oblivious as to how Nayeon has been suspicious of your behaviour, but you’ve been able to dodge her questions for most of the time. You think you're positively dying from the weight of keeping a secret from your best friend, but as for now, your only confidant is Pumpkin.
You’re getting ready in your bedroom when you let out an apprehensive sigh.
“It’s happening today,” you tell your cat, staring into the vanity mirror.
Pumpkin is lying on his back on the edge of your bed with his furry stomach exposed for you to see, and you're sure he’s asleep until he lets out a trilling sound at your comment.
Usually you’d coo at every little noise and action done by the cat and the sight of his white tummy would be too adorable for you to resist, but you’re too preoccupied by your thoughts to even notice.
Today is the day.
Yuta will be arriving at your place at any moment, and you could practically hear the quiet beating of the clock in the living room ticking down the seconds until you hear the doorbell ring.
Both Nayeon and Jisoo are still lazing around at home, because unlike you, they don’t have classes until later in the day. There’s a soft rumbling sound of the television that carries through the thin walls. Someone’s in the living room – right next to where the front door is.
You can taste the dread in your mouth as your brain comes up with all the possible scenarios of how your roommates would react when Yuta walks through that door.
Once you’re done putting the finishing touches of your outfit, you gather your things and stop by your bed to stroke Pumpkin’s ears. “Well, wish me luck.”
You’ve opened the door when Pumpkin gets down from the bed and stretches, suddenly deciding that he’s not in the mood for a nap anymore. He follows you into the kitchen and takes his usual spot on the kitchen island. You smile for a second at how cute he is, but your mind clouds again once you spot who’s in the living room.
Jisoo’s hogging the couch, which is in plain view from where you’re standing in the kitchen. The TV is playing a rerun of Stranger Things, but you don’t really think she’s paying any attention. Jisoo turns around when she hears the rattling of the fridge door when you open it.
“Oh, hey,” Jisoo greets, stifling a yawn. “Got a lot of classes today, huh?”
“Yeah,” you return timidly, taking a bottle of root beer from the side rack and unscrewing the cap with more force than necessary. You chug down the drink hastily, silently wishing it was a magic potion that could give you the confidence to go through with what you’ve planned for the day.
Jisoo doesn’t seem to notice the tremor in your voice. She runs a hand through her hair then studies her nails. “Sucks. Well, I have nothing to do for a while. Do you want me to drop you off?”
A nervous laugh escapes you. “Thanks, but I kind of already have a ride.”
The ringing of the doorbell makes you jump.
Jisoo gets up without a word, and before you can say anything, your roommate has opened the door to reveal a smirking Yuta, clad in all black.
There’s no mistaking the confusion in Jisoo’s voice. “What are you doing here?”
Yuta’s sporting a lazy smile, and doesn’t seem to notice how bewildered your friend looks. “I’m Y/N’s ride for today,” he says casually, as if it’s the most natural words to ever come out of his mouth.
You’re mortified when you witness how wide Jisoo’s eyes have become, and you’re convinced that they just might pop right out of her sockets if you don’t intervene.
You set down your root beer on the kitchen island and walk towards the door. “I got it from here,” you say breezily despite feeling the opposite. You reach for Yuta’s hand, to which he immediately clasps yours in his, and then shoot your roommate the sweetest smile you could muster. “See you at lunch, Jisoo.”
Jisoo’s still agape when you close the door behind you, and you wait until you’ve gone down a floor before speaking up. “Couldn’t you have been a bit more subtle? You almost gave her a heart attack!” you hiss, glaring at Yuta.
But Yuta is unfazed by your outburst. “You’re the one who held my hand first,” he responds without hesitation.
You look down and realise that your hand is, in fact, still intertwined with his even though you’re now in the lobby and are walking out towards Yuta’s car. You quickly pull away, feeling your cheeks warm.
“Whatever,” you retort. You're unable to find a proper comeback, too focused on the fact that you were holding onto his hand for way too long.
Embarrassing.
You let out a deep breath and cross your arms against your chest. “Anyway, just remember – I don’t want to flaunt whatever this is in everyone’s faces. That’ll just make us look desperate!”
Yuta opens the passenger seat door for you. “Can’t be a new thing for you,” he deadpans, leaving you speechless.
He stares at you before his expression breaks into a rueful smile. “Okay, I take that back. I said no more insults, right?” he affirms, playfully leaning against the door. “Come on, get in the car. Don’t want to be late, now, do we princess?”
It’s only because he reminds you that the both of you will be late that you’re willing to dismiss his incredibly half-assed apology. You slide into the passenger seat with a huff.
You wait until he gets in the car before you look at him pointedly. “I don’t want to hear another word from you until we reach campus.”
“No promises.”
Aside from the soft rock music blasting from the car speakers, the short ride to the campus is actually rather quiet, in contradiction to Yuta's attempt to tell you otherwise. You suppose he knows that you’re on your last straw – especially after the whole hand-holding incident – and the two of you have to be on good terms on the day you’re supposed to quietly debut your fake relationship to everyone.
You’re glad he knows that, because one more remark from him would have just infuriated you further.
Before leaving for his own lecture, Yuta drops you off in front of the lecture hall, a smirk on his face. “See you later, baby,” he whispers right next to your ear just for you to hear, and you try to ignore the goosebumps that form on your skin.
During the class, your thoughts keep veering to what Yuta told you when you went on a fake date just three nights ago.
“We do it on a random afternoon, when everyone’s eating in the cafeteria,” Yuta says conspiratorially, fiddling with his thumbs. You notice that’s a peculiar little habit he does whenever he’s excited. His half-eaten burger has been pushed aside, too caught up in telling you about his plan.
You stare at him blankly. “Do what?”
“We walk in together, holding hands,” he announces, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “What do you think? Not too over-the-top, but still enough to get people talking.”
It’s undeniably clever, and you don’t really have your own idea on how to go about it, so you reply: “Let’s do it.”
But looking back now, your stomach does flips when you think about what you're about to do very soon. Holding hands with Yuta in front of Jisoo in the safety of your own apartment is one thing, but walking into the cafeteria hand-in-hand with him where practically the entire college population could see it is another.
Uncharacteristically of you, you’re unable to focus much during your classes. You only have two before the inevitable lunch break, and before you know it, you’re at the place where the two you agreed to meet.
As promised, Yuta is already there waiting for you, his bag slung over one shoulder. Instead of his usual smirk, he shoots you an easy smile that strangely eases the knot in your stomach.
“Are you ready?” he questions, hand outstretched for you. You take it.
“Now or never, I guess,” you say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. You’re sure he could see right through your demeanour, seeing as your hand is unusually sweaty. You’re awaiting a snide comment from him about it, but he doesn’t say a word.
When the two of you walk through the cafeteria doors, you can immediately feel eyes on you. You spot Nayeon, Jennie and Jisoo at your usual table, and if it was any other day, you’d head straight to them.
Today, you have a different plan.
Hand still clasped in his, Yuta leads you to where Johnny, Jaehyun and Taeyong are sitting. It’s Taeyong that notices you first, and you almost burst out laughing at how wide his eyes go when his gaze lands on your intertwined hands. The other two crane their necks to catch a glimpse at what he’s looking at – and when they see you, Johnny falls silent and Jaehyun’s jaw drops.
You send Yuta a sweet smile when he pulls out a chair for you to sit on.
“Thanks,” you say appreciatively as you take your seat, secretly loving how your little audience is making zero attempts to hide their stares. Yuta takes the seat across from you, and you can tell he’s also trying his best not to laugh.
Johnny clears his throat, so quick to fix his composure. “Y/N, I didn’t know you’d be joining us today.”
“Yeah, Yuta invited me at the last minute. I hope you don’t mind?” you say in a light-hearted tone, studying their faces intently.
Taeyong and Johnny immediately shake their heads at your words. Jaehyun, though, is still staring at you for an impolite amount of time at this point, so Johnny not-so-subtly slaps him in the back.
“Fuck!” Jaehyun coughs heartily, before choking out, “Um, no, we don’t mind at all!”
Before you can respond, Yuta murmurs, “Heads up, we’ve got company.”
You want to look up and see who Yuta’s talking about, but you can already tell who it is by the familiar sound of stilettos clicking, getting louder as she heads towards your direction. Only one person you know would bother wearing six-inch heels and outfits that were way too elegant for a Thursday afternoon lecture.
Jennie slams a hand down in front of you the moment she reaches the table, making everyone jump at the sudden intrusion.
“Hey, Y/N! What’s going on?” she asks you, her tone a tad more enthusiastic then what it probably should be. She has a grin on her face, though it screams confusion more than anything, and you almost giggle.
“Oh, nothing, I’m just gonna have lunch with Yuta today,” you reply with a cheeky smile.
“You and your friends are welcome to join us if you’d like,” Yuta adds smoothly, and before the words are completely out of his mouth, Jennie is already rushing back to tell the others. Two minutes later, Nayeon, Jennie and Jisoo have squished themselves into the seats beside you, even though there’s really not enough space for all eight of you on that table.
Ignoring the awkwardness in the air, Yuta reaches into his bag and lays out a few packed pastries onto the table. “I’ve got some for everyone,” he says. Then, he sends you a wink as he hands you a package. “And your favourite, baby.”
Gasps are heard around the table and your face heats up when the nickname falls from his lips.
There’s the final nail in the coffin.
Jisoo turns to you with a puzzled look. “Okay – what? What’s going on? Why are you sitting at the guys’ table? And why is calling you baby?”
Yuta directly stares at Jisoo, a solemn look on his face. “I would think that that’s a normal thing to call your girlfriend.”
Ah, so much for not flaunting your fake relationship in everyone's faces.
“Girlfriend? What? You’re dating?!” Jennie shrieks, attracting attention from the surrounding tables. As if the sheer amount of people sat at this table wasn’t conspicuous enough. You resist the urge to bury your face in your hands.
“Is that why he dropped by this morning saying he’ll be your ride?” Jisoo asks you, her eyes still wide in amazement.
“He dropped by this morning?” Nayeon’s eyes quickly turn to Jisoo, scandalised. “You didn’t tell me that!”
“Hey, listen, I was kind of too shocked to tell you–”
“Uhh, don’t you two hate each other?” Jaehyun asks, a bewildered look on his face.
“Maybe they finally realised they had to get rid of the sexual tension between them and just fucked it out,” Johnny mumbles in amusement.
Your head snaps up to look at Johnny. “What sexual tension?”
Seeing the look on your face, Yuta waves his hand dismissively. “Alright. alright, relax,” he says coolly, his signature smirk back on his face. You haven’t seen it on him for so long that you almost forgot how the sight of it used to infuriate you. He crosses his arms against his chest. “We did a study session together last week and have been hanging out ever since. No crime against that, is there?”
“And – let me get this straight,” Taeyong cuts in, putting up a hand to interrupt Yuta, before looking at you. “You didn’t attempt to strangle him even once?”
You shake your head and laugh. “Oh, believe me, I wanted to – at first,” you begin, surprising yourself at how truthful you're being. You glance at Yuta to see what he’s thinking, and he’s staring back at you. “But he’s actually not so bad once you get to know him.”
Yuta grins. “Thanks, babe. Right back at you.”
“This is crazy,” Nayeon deadpans, her gaze landing at the package in front of you. “I mean – two weeks ago you were saying you hated his guts. And now he’s getting you your favourite pastry? That’s crazy.”
In the commotion, you had forgotten that Yuta had given you something until Nayeon pointed it out. You look down at the package and raise your eyebrows in surprise when you realise it’s a chocolate croissant – your favourite ever since you could remember.
Did you ever mention that to him?
From what you can recall, the only information you told him was about your family, your education and your career goals, so you’re not sure how he could have known that. You decide to brush it aside for now, seeing as how Jennie is furtively nudging you at that moment. You turn to her with a questioning look.
She leans in to whisper in your ear. “Ignore Nayeon. I’m really happy for you, babe. I mean, look at the way he’s looking at you.”
Yuta’s gaze is indeed on you, and there’s a mysterious smile on his face. Right away, you know the others would interpret it as a smile of adoration or something like that, but you know exactly why he’s smiling.
The plan is working.
“I don’t buy it.”
You look up from your textbook, seeing Nayeon leaning against your doorway. As if understanding her words, Pumpkin, curled up by the wheels of your chair, lets a meow of agreement.
You don’t even have to ask what she’s talking about.
“Why not?” you raise an eyebrow in fake confusion, masking the nervousness you feel inside.
Nayeon stares at you for a beat, before coming in and sitting at the edge of your bed. You spin around in your chair to face her. “Because you hate that man, Y/N. With every inch of you.”
“Things change, Nayeon,” you offer your already-rehearsed explanation, even though you could already feel your walls crumbling. It’s physically impossible to keep anything from her – your best friend knows you like the back of her hand.
And just like you expect, Nayeon gives you a knowing look.
You let out a sigh, getting up to close the door. If Nayeon is going to know about your deception, you’re not going to take the risk of Jisoo possibly overhearing you confirming it to her.
Once the door is securely shut and locked, you turn around and cross your arms with a huff. “Okay, fine,” you confess quietly. “It’s not real. But I have a good reason behind it.”
Nayeon’s face is a blend of amusement and curiosity. “And what’s that?”
You run a hand down your face. “To get all of you to stop pressuring me to go out all the time!” the second those words leave your lips, you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. You didn’t realise how much this secret has been dragging you down all week. “Look, I love you, but you know how much my studies mean to me too.”
“Oh.”
The room falls silent.
“Okay, uh…” Nayeon starts but trails off quickly, suddenly staring at the floor in front of her. You tilt your head to look at her, and even though her face is angled away from you, the guilt on her face is crystal clear. “You, uh… we’re that annoying that you really had to get a fake boyfriend to get rid of us? I… I’m so sorry, babe.”
Your heart sinks.
“Hey, don’t say that,” you sigh. You rush to sit next to her, and start patting her back assuringly. “It’s not just that. I mean, it’s also my fault for not learning how to say no. I know you mean well, really, wanting me to find someone for myself and all – but I don’t think I can really say no since Jisoo’s not as understanding as you, you get me?”
Amidst your speech, Nayeon lets out a muffled laugh.
“Also, when I went to that party with you two last week – even though all I really wanted was to just study at home – an icky guy tried to hit on me. I just thought that was the last straw.”
Your friend nods, the uncertainty on her face clearing a little. “Okay, I guess I get that. But, um, why pretty boy, of all people?”
“He approached me first. At my library corner. Said something about wanting all the girls to stop chasing him,” you explain in irritation, before smiling smugly. “Of course I said no first, but I changed my mind and agreed to do it because I’m a better person than him.”
Nayeon rolls her eyes at your words. “Very big of you,” she replies drily.
“Don’t get me wrong, I still hate his guts,” you tell her in defiance, then falling back into your sheets. “It won’t last long. Latest probably until finals are over.”
Nayeon doesn’t turn to face you, instead she’s staring at something on the floor of the bedroom. Perhaps she’s looking at Pumpkin – as the room goes quiet, you can hear him grooming his fur.
Your best friend finally speaks up again, but this time her voice is guarded. “I wonder why he came to you though.”
“The poor guy must have been desperate,” your attempt to snub, but the promise you made to Yuta about not insulting him anymore lingers at the back of your mind, and your tone falls flat. Of course he’s not here to hear it, but the guilt eats at you anyway.
“And yet you agreed,” Nayeon turns around to face you, a teasing smile on her face. “Maybe you’re the desperate one.”
“Hey!” you grab your pillow and smack her with it. “Not cool!”
Nayeon giggles at your reaction. “Well, it makes sense now. I guess I can see why you didn’t tell me about this.”
You look directly into her eyes, shaking your head. “You’re the only one who knows. And you can’t tell anyone.”
Not even Jisoo, the words are at the tip of your tongue, but you know you don’t have to voice it to Nayeon. The both of you know that if Jisoo learns about your fake relationship, soon the entire school would know because she can’t keep her mouth shut to save her life.
“I won’t tell a soul,” Nayeon promises.
You’re currently scouring through your wardrobe, looking for a decent outfit you could put together. It’s Friday night – a time that you would usually reserve for staying in and curling up in your room with a novel, Pumpkin sleeping soundly by your side.
Earlier when you were having lunch with your friends, though, Yuta had dropped by your table to ask you something.
“You wanna go out tonight?” he leans forward to whisper in your ear, but his voice is loud enough that everyone at the table has already heard it. Nayeon cocks up an eyebrow, while Jennie lets out a low whistle and Jisoo grins.
“Um, what?” you reply blankly, wiping the side of your mouth where a bit of your latte had dribbled out.
“A date, just the two of us. I figured since it’s a Friday…” Yuta shrugs, tilting his head in curiosity. “Unless you don’t want to?”
You’re well aware of the pairs of eyes on you, awaiting your answer, and you wish Yuta had told you he was going to do this beforehand so you could’ve prepared a proper response – because you don’t know how to react.
It takes you a few beats to realise that you’re taking too long, so you just nod. “Okay, sure. Where do you want to go?”
“Ah-ah, that’s going to be a surprise,” he winks, before readying to leave. “I’ll pick you up tonight, babe.”
You swear you could’ve strangled him for pulling that stunt without any prior warning, and now you’re cursing him for keeping the location of the date a secret – because what the hell are you supposed to wear?
The door of your bedroom opens and Jennie walks in, heading towards your wardrobe at once.
You let out a cry of relief. “Oh, thank God you’re finally here!” you sigh, collapsing onto your bed. You’re sitting on top of a few pieces of clothing you had thrown on your bedsheets while searching your wardrobe, tossed aside because none of them really felt right. “I have nothing to wear.”
“Nonsense! I know exactly what you should wear,” Jennie assures you as she sifts through your clothes.
You’re not sure what she’s referring to, but since she’s the fashion design major, you suppose you should trust her judgement. When Jennie pulls out your favourite sleeveless dress, you look at her skeptically.
“It’s going to be cold outside,” you attempt to oppose.
“Then wear it with this jacket,” Jennie responds, holding up a black leather jacket that you only wear on special occasions. The outfit matches perfectly, you admit, but it’s also much nicer than what you thought it would be.
On your previous meetups with Yuta, you just threw on whatever was most comfortable for you at that moment and called it a day – but that was also when you weren’t trying to convince anyone that you were actually dating him.
Seeing the look on your face, Jennie shakes her head. “Come on, you’re going on a date! You should look your best!”
You can’t really argue with her without making her suspicious, so you agree. Jennie leaves the room so you can finish getting ready. Yuta had texted you earlier saying that he’ll arrive at your dorm around 7, so you still have about ten minutes.
You’re looking in the mirror and fixing your hair when you hear the doorbell ring. When you leave the bedroom and enter the living area, Yuta’s hovering by the doorway, chatting quietly with Jennie. You spot Pumpkin curled up on your sofa.
“Well, don’t you two look like two peas in a pod?” Jennie coos, a grin on her face. Yuta’s also wearing a leather jacket similar to yours, and now you’re wondering if she had chosen this outfit for you on purpose.
“Hey,” Yuta greets you with a smile, his hand extended out for you. “Shall we go?”
You nod, taking his hand. An inexplicable warmth spreads through your body when he intertwines his fingers with yours. You turn to your friend. “Um, I’ll see you later, Jen.”
“Have fun, you two!” Jennie shouts as the door closes behind you.
The second you know there’s no longer an audience, you pull your hand away from his. The hallway is slightly chilly, so you pull your jacket close to your body.
“Are you really not going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Nope.”
You huff. “Fine, but the least you could do is pass me the aux.”
In your peripheral vision, you see Yuta sporting a wide grin. “Whatever makes you happy, babe.”
You can’t really tell if he’s mocking you with the use of the nickname, but when you reach his car, he indeed lets you take control of the music. You put on a chill playlist and lean back against the seat with a sigh.
“You should’ve told me that you were going to ask me out today. I almost blew our cover in front of our friends!”
You can tell he wants to look at you, but Yuta is never one to take his eyes off the road when he’s driving. Instead, he replies evenly, “Dates are a part of our deal, are they not?”
“Yes, but like I said, you should’ve at least warned me first,” you retaliate.
Yuta shrugs, his hands still on the steering wheel. “Just wanted to surprise you like a normal boyfriend does.”
“Fake boyfriend, that is – or have you already forgotten that?” you reply sarcastically. You glance at him, continuing, “And another thing – you should really cool it with all the nicknames! Like, what’s the point of calling me babe when there’s no one around?”
You hear him scoff. “And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“You’re the one who should start calling me babe or baby! I’ve never heard you call me that even once,” he grates, his tone brusque even though his gaze is still fixed on the road ahead. “I told you, it’s either that or I will call you Gl-”
“Okay, okay!” you grumble, already flinching before the first syllable of his former nickname for you had even left his mouth. Your glasses are on your face tonight, only serving as a sick reminder of what he used to call you. “I’ll call you baby or whatever. Just don’t ever call me that stupid word ever again, please.”
Yuta snickers and you groan inwardly, resenting how easily you had let him have that victory. It’s silent for a moment before you turn to face him again.
“Can you tell me where we’re going now?”
“No.”
“Oh, come on!”
Despite your constant prodding, Yuta held his ground and had kept his lips sealed for the entire car ride. You admire his determination to keep your destination a secret – because the second he pulls up into the parking lot of the newest arcade center in the city, it all becomes worth it.
“No way,” you mutter in awe, unable to hide your grin as you survey the impressive size of the building. The word FUNSCAPE is emblazoned across the front, flashing in bright neon colours. You pull out your phone to take a photo of it.
Yuta maneuvers the car into a parking spot close to the entrance and once the engine is off, he turns to you and wiggles his eyebrows. “Hope you like it.”
You’re already scrambling to get out of the car. “Are you kidding? I love it!” you squeal in excitement, slamming his car door shut behind you. “I’m going to beat the shit out of you at every game.”
He grunts. “We’ll see about that.”
Walking through the front doors together, Yuta heads to the front counter to exchange money for some tokens, while you stride across to a row of air hockey tables. Immediately you’re reminded of the times you played it with your best friends in the arcade at the local mall back in your hometown. That arcade was much smaller and nowhere near as grand as this one, but the familiarity of the sport and the memory still warms your heart.
When Yuta approaches you, a handful of tokens in his grasp, you shoot him a deceptively sweet smile. “You’re going down, buddy.”
“Oh, you’re on.”
Choosing the nearest table, Yuta sets his phone next to the scoreboard and opens the camera. He changes it into a selfie video mode, and you can just barely see the two of you at each end of the frame. You look at him curiously. “What’s that for?”
“Officially, for the gram,” he tells you seriously, before his face breaks into a cocky smirk. “Unofficially, visual evidence of how easily I can beat you.”
It’s laughable how he really believes he has a chance at winning over you, a former air hockey champion amongst your friends. You don't want him to know how confident you are in your skills, so you mirror his smirk. “Keep dreaming, Nakamoto.”
Yuta inserts two tokens into the slot and presses the record button on his phone, and the game begins. You grip the disc in your hand, swinging a puck at an angle, which then bounces off the wall and goes straight into Yuta’s goal.
Yuta’s nostrils flare at your immediate success, and you snicker. The tricks to winning are already coming back to you, even though you haven’t played in a while. As the game continues, Yuta is able to sneak one or two pucks into your goal, but his points still pale in comparison to yours. Before long, the scoreboard has declared you the winner. Yuta groans in defeat and you laugh.
You bring the disc to your mouth and blow on it, as if blowing smoke off the barrel of a gun. “Still got it,” you smile smugly.
Yuta rolls his eyes. “Please, you got lucky. I’ll beat you in the next round.”
He inserts another two tokens and the game starts again. Now, he’s able to block some of your shots towards his goal, but your blocking technique for your own goal remains unbeatable. Two minutes later, the scoreboard shows that you’ve trumped him again, and Yuta is left glaring at the numbers on the screen.
“Still feeling good about that visual evidence, Nakamoto?” you let out a small giggle.
Yuta shakes his head loftily and snatches up his phone, ending the video recording. “You win this time, babe. But I know for a fact that I’ll beat your ass at any other game here.”
Taking his words as a challenge, the two of you head towards the basketball machine to insert a few tokens. Even though you’re quite sure that he’s not into any sports, Yuta is surprisingly good at aiming for the net – and you aren’t even mad when he eventually wins.
“Can we call it even now?”
Yuta grins, nudging you with his elbow. “Are you too scared to play anything else now just because I beat you at this?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I can beat you at billiards with my eyes closed,” you shake your head indignantly. “You up for that?”
“You bet your ass.”
Walking towards the billiards table, you two agree for a best two out of three game. Yuta wins the first round, much to your chagrin.
“What were you saying about beating me with your eyes closed?” Yuta asks you as he places the cue stick behind his neck and rests his hands on each end. There’s a smirk on his face, but his head is tilted at an angle that you find somewhat endearing.
Immediately, you feel the urge to take a picture of him in that specific pose, so you pull out your phone and aim your camera at him. Yuta barely has any time to react but he’s able to put on a surprised little smile before you take the photo.
As you pocket your phone, you reply snarkily, “Don’t celebrate anything just yet. It’ll just be embarrassing for you when I win.”
True to your word, you manage to pull through and win the other two rounds. As soon as the final ball falls into the hole, you slam the cue stick against your hand and grin triumphantly. “And that, Nakamoto, is how you do it.”
Yuta lets out a groan. “Fine, you win. But I must say, you’ve got one hell of a game in you,” he says while rolling his eyes, but you can see hints of a smile on his face. “Respect.”
You were expecting him to accept his defeat with much less grace, so your grin only widens at his comment. You look at your surroundings, dozens of machines and plenty other games occupying the massive space. “Well, what do you want to play next?”
Yuta glances down at his watch, and then sets his cue stick down on the table. “Actually, I was thinking we could grab a bite. There’s a hot dog place just near here – sound good?”
“Sounds perfect.”
Five minutes later, you and Yuta are walking side by side to the hot dog restaurant. Yuta had insisted on driving, but you didn’t see the point of it when all you needed to do to get to your destination was just to walk to the other side of the parking lot.
The air is quiet as you stroll past the abundance of cars. It’s also slightly cold just as you predicted earlier, which wouldn’t be a problem since you’re wearing your jacket, but your bare legs definitely feel the chill.
You sneak a glance at Yuta, whose hands are buried deep in the pockets of his jacket. The wind has swept his fringe away from his face, leaving a red tuft comically sticking up in the opposite direction from the rest of his hair. You giggle.
“What?” Yuta asks, his head turning to you.
You look away quickly. “Um, nothing. It’s just – I can’t believe you wanted to take the car when the restaurant is literally two minutes away.”
“It would’ve been less than a minute if we drove,” Yuta grumbles quietly, then looks back at you with a smirk on his face. “Besides, the car’s heater would have saved you from shivering like you’re doing right now.”
You glare at him, quietly wondering how he could have possibly known that when he hasn't spared you a glance since leaving the arcade. “I would’ve worn something more appropriate if you had just told me where we were going!”
Yuta chuckles, removing a hand from his pocket and reaching for yours. “Fine, that’s my bad,” he apologises, squeezing your hand. “Feel better now, baby?”
The nickname and the warmth of his touch immediately makes you feel less cold, but you’re not going to tell him that. “Whatever,” you mumble quietly.
Thankfully, you reach the restaurant half a minute later, and it’s significantly less chilly. Yuta leads you to a seat next to the window, and as he momentarily leaves to order your meals, you decide to scroll through Instagram.
The story you’ve posted of Yuta has gotten a few likes, with Jisoo replying with “👀”. Nayeon still hasn’t viewed it, but you can’t help but wonder what she would say once she does.
The two of you haven’t had a moment alone together ever since you told her the truth yesterday – and so, you had no one to privately complain to after Yuta had dropped the bombshell during lunchtime. While your other two friends had gushed over how smoothly Yuta had asked you out, Nayeon only gave you a quiet gaze that you couldn’t quite decipher.
Yuta returns a minute later, setting down a large tray in front of you. “Eat up, princess,” he says even though you’re already reaching inside the paper bag. The smell of fried goods immediately hits your senses and your stomach growls.
“You got my order right,” you remark as you survey the hot dog in front of you. “I thought you’d order it wrong on purpose just to piss me off or something.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because that’s just the thing you’d do,” you roll your eyes as if it’s the most obvious statement in the world.
Yuta chuckles. “Nonsense. You know what they say – happy fake girlfriend, happy life.”
“I think the phrase you’re talking about is actually happy wife, happy life.”
He shrugs, beginning to munch on his fries. “Well, potato, tomato.”
You don’t have a response to that, so you start digging into your hot dog. For a while, the only sounds that can be heard are the quiet chewing from the both of you as you enjoy the food, and the rustling of the paper bag as Yuta reaches for a handful of fries every now and then.
You sigh happily as you lean back in your chair, content with finally having some food in your belly. The games at the arcade had taken up a lot more of your energy than you thought.
You shoot a curious look at Yuta, who's finishing up the last of his fries.
“So…” you begin. “Are you getting fewer numbers from girls compared to before?”
“Not really,” he mutters almost incoherently, tossing the empty fries carton aside. He picks up the tissues laid on the tray to rub the grease off his fingers. “My DMs are still full with people who just can’t take the hint.”
“Maybe they’re not buying it,” you hum thoughtfully. “I mean, we did hate each other's guts like a week ago.”
Yuta tilts his head, a grin spreading across his face that’s so blinding that you’re caught off guard by the sight. “Does that mean you don’t hate me anymore?”
You hesitate, before narrowing your eyes at him. “Don’t get it twisted, Nakamoto. You’re still pretty damn annoying, but… I guess you’re more tolerable now.”
Yuta’s grin grows even wider, even though you aren’t sure that was even possible. “I’ll take it,” he falls silent again, fiddling with the tissue in front of him before he clears his throat. “I might have an idea of how to sell our relationship even more.”
“How?”
“We should take a selfie together and post it on Instagram. On our actual feed – not just the stories. And not just a normal selfie either, we should be posing like one of those nauseating Instagram couples.”
Oh hell no.
“Absolutely not!” you say, looking at him incredulously. “I don’t want your face anywhere near my feed.”
“Then we’ll just post it on mine,” Yuta challenges immediately, but you aren’t too keen on that either.
“Yuta–” you begin, but he cuts you off.
“Listen – just one pic. The most lovey-dovey, cringiest couple photo to end all lovey-dovey cringey couple photos. Once finals are over and we break up, I’ll delete it and it’ll be like it never happened!” Yuta tries to persuade you, his expression pleading. You give him a questioning look, though you’re silently weighing the pros and cons of what he’s proposing in your head. He sends you a sweet smile. “It’s for your own benefit too, you know?”
You suppose that’s true.
“Fine. We can do that,” you sigh in defeat. “But… later. I don't think I'm ready for that yet.”
Yuta brings his cup of Coke to his lips to hide his smirk. “No pressure, princess.”
Jisoo is absolutely hammered.
To be fair, so are you. The ceiling seems to be spinning and the neon club lights are a little too bright that you have to squint your eyes every time you look up, but you’re not stumbling over your own feet like your friend on the dancefloor is doing right now.
“How does she do it?” Jennie sighs as she twirls the glass in her hand around mindlessly. Her other hand is cupping her face, elbow on the bar as the three of you take in the sight of Jisoo grinding on the dancefloor with a stranger.
Nayeon’s beside you, nursing her own drink in her hand. “You want to be like her? Really?” your best friend asks with a tilt of her head.
“Why not?” Jennie argues, waving a hand to punctuate her point. “That girl attracts practically everyone she sees. Me? I’m lucky if I find one decent guy on Tinder.”
“I told you nothing good comes from that app,” Nayeon shakes her head in disapproval, bringing her drink to her lips.
“Oh, give me a break!” Jennie sighs, leaning back in her seat in exasperation. “I know it’s not easy, but everyone deserves to find the Yuta to their Y/N, alright?”
“What?” you squeak, half-dazed.
Jennie sends you a smug smile. “I gotta admit, I’m jealous. You managed to bag one of the very, very few good guys on campus.”
You blink, opening your mouth to reply but Nayeon cuts in drily.
“Oh, that’s attractive.”
You follow her line of vision to where Jisoo is on the dancefloor, doing what you can only assume is her weird version of twerking.
You start snickering uncontrollably.
You reach out to take a sip from Nayeon’s drink, but almost fall on your face when you do so – thankfully, she steadies you just before you could embarrass yourself.
“Alright, babe,” Nayeon chides, gripping your arm firmly. “That’s enough drinks for tonight.”
You groan. “Come on! I had, like, half the amount of what Jennie had. Can’t I have a bit mo–” A wave of nausea washes over you, and you hang your head down before you can finish your sentence.
Jennie appears beside you. She shakes her head, taking your other arm that’s free. “Bullshit. You’ve definitely had more than me,” she informs. You try to search for the usual telltale signs of her being drunk, but the dizzying array of light above stops you from really looking at her properly.
Nayeon hums in agreement. “Besides, Jennie can hold her alcohol well. You, my dear? Not so much.”
Another surge of sickness comes over your body, and you hang your head down in an attempt to let it pass. The pounding in your forehead grows as Nayeon and Jennie begin discussing something.
Nayeon taps your shoulder, her voice sounding far away even though she’s just next to you. “Where’s your phone?”
“Front pocket,” you mumble.
You don’t pay attention to Nayeon as she fumbles around in your purse, too focused on fighting off your nausea. Suddenly, a water bottle is placed in your hands and you’re not sure how, but you're grateful for it nonetheless as you greedily down its contents. Nayeon pats your back as you gulp down the water, and you could hear Jennie murmuring quietly into a call.
“Okay, Y/N,” Jennie finishes, and you look up to see her tapping away at your phone, then she hands it back to you. You accept it with shaky hands. “Yuta will be here soon.”
You nod aimlessly, her words not really registering in your head. Nayeon clears her throat. “Yuta?”
“Your place is too far away, and Miss Lightweight here–” Jennie shoots you a sideways glance, “–will definitely throw up in the Uber if the drive takes too long.”
“Okay, yeah, but isn’t your place just nearby?” Nayeon replies, and there's something significant in her tone, but you can’t really tell what it is in your drunken haze.
“There won’t be space for all four of us,” Jennie shrugs, patting you on the shoulder and grinning widely. “Besides, I don’t think pretty boy would mind, would he, Y/N?”
You moan. “I’m gonna be sick.”
Nayeon guides the water bottle in your hands back towards your mouth. You don’t know how much time passes as your friends try to sober you up, but Yuta suddenly appears in front of you.
He’s looking very much out-of-place amongst the sea of stylishly-dressed people in the nightclub, seeing that he’s only clad in grey sweatpants and a black slogan tee that says I have no idea why I’m out of bed.
Your headache a little cleared now, you’re able to manage a smile. “My knight-in-funny pajamas is here.”
The look of concern on Yuta’s face immediately melts away at your words. He rolls his eyes at you and turns to your friends. “Will you ladies be okay?”
Jennie nods. “Oh yeah, we’ll be fine. We were just worried about this messy drunk here,” she says and pats your shoulder affectionately.
You pull away indignantly, crossing your arms. “I’m not messy!” you protest, sliding off your seat. “Look, I can still dance a bit. Which move do you want to see–”
Yuta wraps an arm around your shoulders, shutting you up. “You’re a funny little thing, babe. Time to say bye.”
You wave defeatedly to your friends as Yuta leads you past the crowd of dancing people and out to his car parked outside. The ride to his place is surprisingly quick and quiet – he doesn’t turn on the radio, but you suppose you should be thankful because the rock music he would normally play would only make your headache worse.
“How much did you even drink tonight?” Yuta chides as he follows you into his apartment.
You shrug. “Um, not that much–”
“Bullshit.”
A smile tugs at your lips. ”Okay, fine. I don’t know – just, seven vodka shots,” you admit, but he keeps his gaze on you. “Ugh – and a few martinis, okay?”
Yuta shakes his head and turns to lock the door behind him. “The bartenders should have cut you off – all of you. I definitely would’ve.”
“That’s because you’re no fun!” you retort as you collapse onto the sofa – but the sudden swift motion makes you feel nauseous again, and you lay a hand over your face.
You hear a sigh, and suddenly Yuta’s hand is stretched out in front of you. “Hey, come on. Let’s get you into something more comfortable.”
You toe off your heels and gratefully take his hand. The familiar warmth returns, and you relish in the feeling as Yuta helps sit you down on his bed. You pay him no attention as he shuffles around the room and opens a few drawers. A minute later, you’re still fighting off your headache when he hands you a T-shirt, shorts and a towel.
“I thought you should take a shower or something… it could help,” Yuta hesitates. His eyes flicker all over the room, and you wonder what he’s thinking of. “Um, there’s also a spare toothbrush in the cabinet. I’m going to see if we have any painkillers left.”
You reach for his arm. “Wait, do you have–”
“Saline solution? Yeah, it’s by the sink. I also have a case here somewhere,” Yuta releases himself from your grip. He heads towards his drawer and rummages around in it. “Ah, here you go.”
You take it gratefully. You’re about to open your mouth to speak, but Yuta leaves the room without another word, leaving you staring at the door in disappointment.
Sighing, you peel off your dress and enter his bathroom. The hot temperature feels absolutely heavenly and you’re not sure how long you were in there but when you step out, there’s a large glass of water and a painkiller on Yuta’s bedside table.
After putting on Yuta’s clothes and swallowing the pill, you’re about to leave the room to look for him when there’s a knock on the door.
“You doing okay in there?” Yuta asks. “Can I come in?”
You open the door and he steps in.
“Just here to take a few things and I’ll leave you be,” he mumbles. You swear there’s a faint spray of pink on his cheeks when he lays his eyes on you – but since you’re not wearing glasses, you decide it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you.
Standing by the door, you could smell the sweet aroma of fresh coffee waft in.
“Did you make coffee? May I have some?” you ask hopefully.
Yuta hums and shakes his head. “Absolutely not. Don’t want you any more dehydrated than you already are right now, darling,” he meets your eye. “Just finish that big glass of water I gave you.”
“You really are no fun,” you sigh in defeat, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “You’re forcing me to sober up so I can drive myself home or something?”
You’re half-joking, but Yuta knits his eyebrows together. “Y/N, it’s almost 2 in the morning. You’re not going anywhere. Just crash here and I’ll drive you home in the morning.”
You rise and brush your fingers against his. “Wait, Yuta. You really don’t mind that? I didn’t know what to tell my friends… I’m sorry for dragging you into this,” you apologise timidly.
In the quiet of the night, you’re suddenly aware of how close his face is to yours – and you look at him. Really look at him. His face is bare, and there’s a cute little mole next to his nose that you’ve never seen before. His brown eyes, warm as ever, stare into yours, and your heart starts hammering in your chest.
Yuta squeezes your hand, and the sensation sends a jolt up your arm. The sudden grin on his face does little to help the flutter in your belly. “It’s all good, babe. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of my fake girlfriend?”
Something in you recoils at the word fake. It must be because you’re drunk – that’s the only explanation you can come up with at the moment.
His eyes scan the walls of his bedroom, and his voice drops to a whisper when he looks back at you. “You should sleep here. I’ll take the couch,” he says as he reaches for the doorknob. “Goodnight, Y/N.”
Yuta shuts the door behind him, leaving you with nothing but silence. You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding.
A feeling tugs at you, and something about it lets you know that it won’t go away all that easily.
But it’s a problem for tomorrow. Shrugging it off for now, you reach for the glass of water on the bedside table and down it in three big gulps. You lay back against Yuta’s pillows. They smell like him, clean and incredibly comforting. The exhaustion of everything that’s happened that night finally weighs down on you, and you find yourself falling asleep soon after.
You’re feeling under the weather – or at least that’s the excuse you’re giving for skipping classes today.
You’re back in your own apartment, cuddling with Pumpkin on the couch. You’d informed your roommates earlier that you won’t be attending classes, and now there’s no one else in the apartment.
You’re scrolling through Instagram, trying to get your mind off the situation you found yourself in earlier this morning. Without your glasses, everything had quite literally been a blur when you woke up in an unfamiliar room, but it all hit you once you could make out the unmistakable shape of a guitar in the corner.
Yuta wasn’t awake yet when you entered the living room – and you thanked your lucky stars for that. If he had caught a glimpse of you and your puffy, makeup-smudged face along with the dress from the night before that you could barely zip yourself into, it would've been absolutely mortifying. You don’t know how you managed to slip out the front door without stirring him, but as soon as you left his apartment you called Nayeon for a ride home.
Your best friend didn’t say a word when you’d slid into the passenger seat in your disheveled state, assuming you were too hungover to explain – and you were grateful Jisoo had already gone to campus when you’d arrived back home, for you were not in the mood to answer any awkward questions.
The doorbell rings.
“Pumpkin, could you get that for me?” you say idly, still scrolling on your phone.
The orange cat doesn’t move a muscle, so you sigh and roll off the couch. When you open the door, the last person you expect to see is your fake boyfriend.
He’s dressed in a basic black T-shirt and skinny blue jeans, his red hair falling by his eyes and framing his face. You almost scream at how good he looks.
Before you can say anything, Yuta flashes you a blinding smile.
“Hey! Just wanted to check up on you,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. The action is strangely out of character for him, but you can’t deny how cute it is. His expression softens. “Um, you left without saying anything and then I heard from Jennie that you’re skipping classes today. Is everything alright?”
Despite everything, you manage out a smile. “Oh, I’m… fine! I mean, still a little hungover… but fine.”
You stand there in the doorway, mind going blank. Yuta’s still smiling at you, waiting for you to continue, but when you stay quiet his gaze drops to the floor. You curse yourself because now the silence is much too deafening in your ears, but you have no idea if there’s anything more to say.
Yuta clears his throat. “Well, okay, I’ll get out of your h-”
“Hey, wait, um–” you grab his hand before he can turn away. “–thank you… for last night. And for checking up on me. You seriously didn’t have to do that. Like, you could’ve sent me a message or something.”
Yuta’s looking down at your intertwined hands, and when he looks back up at you, there's a smirk on his face. “Just making sure you didn’t get lost or fall on your face on the way home. Your friends would have my head on a platter if anything happened to you on my watch.”
You scoff, immediately letting his arm drop from your grasp. “I take my thanks back.”
Yuta grins. “It’s all good, babe. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
By the tone of his words, he sounds like he’s gearing up for a goodbye, and your thoughts are confirmed when he angles his body away, about to turn and leave.
But you don’t want that to happen. Not just yet.
“Wait – do you wanna come in?”
He pauses, then nods. You turn and lead him to the living room. Yuta sits himself in the seat adjacent to where your orange fur ball is still curled up, and surprisingly, he doesn’t growl.
Pumpkin did not like him when they’d first met, the cat hissing at Yuta when he’d tried to pet him.
“He doesn’t like the smell of fuckboys,” you had joked, to which Yuta gave you a glare. The cat made a point to growl whenever Yuta dared to come close again – and again, the next few times he swung by your place, but that never deterred Yuta.
“He’ll grow to like me, just like his mama did,” Yuta had declared with a wink, and you had rolled your eyes then. Yuta was never humble whenever it came to how well-liked he was by everyone. But his cocky remark seems to be proven now, when Yuta had given him a pat on the head and Pumpkin acknowledged him with a meow.
You fiddle with your thumbs. Now that you’ve invited him in, you’re not really sure what to do. Your idea for the day was to hide from the rest of the world (though if you were being honest, it was actually to hide from the very man that’s in front of you right now), but that was thrown out the window the second he showed up at your door.
“So, um… did you have any plans for today?”
You hope it’s a good conversation starter, because it’s all you can come up with at the moment.
Yuta leans back in the seat, folding his arms and placing them behind his head. “I was going to go to a cafe and study there,” he shrugs. “And I was going to ask if you could come with me, if you’re up to it.”
“Come with you? What for?”
The smirk is back on his face. “So we can make good on our deal and finally take that selfie.”
You’re left speechless, and you must’ve taken too long to respond because Yuta frowns.
“If you’re not up to it, it’s fine. It was just a suggestion. Are you still sick? I should c–”
“No!” you interrupt his flurry of words, but the word sounded much sharper than you intended. You try to lighten the atmosphere with a laugh. “No, sorry, that sounds great. I just–” you look down at your worn out shirt and shorts, “–need to get dressed. Could you give me a minute?”
Twenty minutes later, you’re waiting for Yuta to come back with your drinks, sitting in a small booth in your favourite coffee shop. You hadn’t paid much attention to anything when you’d left your dorm, because on the ride over, your mind was on one thing and one thing only.
The selfie.
You haven’t forgotten about it – in fact, it hasn’t left your mind, as the mere idea of posting a picture with Yuta on Instagram makes your brain short circuit. Especially when he insists that the two of you should pose like an affectionate couple. Plus, you were definitely against it when he first suggested it, but now the idea doesn’t sound so bad after all.
“Here you go,” Yuta flashes you a smile as he sets down your latte on the table. He’s holding a coffee of his own, and you raise an eyebrow skeptically when he slides into the booth next to you.
“Didn’t you have coffee last night as well? Who even drinks coffee at that hour?” you ask him teasingly.
Yuta lets out a nervous chuckle, his hand finding the back of his neck. “Actually, coffee at night makes me sleepy. It’s weird, I know.”
You shrug and take a sip of your latte and sigh in contentment, shoulders relaxing as the sweetness of the drink warms something in your chest. You turn to Yuta with a smile.
“Y’know, I’ve been craving this ever since I got a whiff of what you made last night,” you confess. “Next time I drop by, you should show me your mix and brew me some.”
Yuta hums in agreement, then his eyes widen in recollection. “Oh actually, before I forget,” he reaches in his pocket before holding out the contact lens case you had used the night before. “You left this behind.”
“Oh… thanks,” you say sheepishly as you take it and put it in your purse.
In your rush to leave this morning, you know you must have forgotten something as trivial as that. But the whole fiasco of sleeping over at Yuta's is really something you’d rather not remember right now. Or ever.
There’s something else you're curious about, so you shoot him a glance. “By the way, why do you have a lens case and saline solution? You don't wear contacts, do you?”
Yuta’s expression remains neutral, but for some reason he’s avoiding your gaze. “Well, actually… they belong to Johnny. I don’t know how his stuff got in my room.”
That would explain it – though you weren't aware that Johnny wore contacts. In high school, all you remember about him was that he was the star basketball player that the girls fawned over, not someone who would ever read enough books that he'd eventually need glasses to help with his vision – but you suppose after years of late night studying, any college student’s eyesight will get worse.
Before you can question him about it further, Yuta clears his throat and grins. “So, can we finally take that selfie, baby?”
“Yes, um…” you say hesitantly, your eyes dropping to the table. “So, how exactly are we going to do this?”
It’s not that you aren’t ready for it – in fact, you’ve decided that the selfie is a great idea – but your mind is still racking for poses the two of you could do.
Yuta lays his hand over yours. “If you’re uncomfortable with it, let me know and we don’t have to do it,” he tells you before breaking out into a grin. “But I do have the perfect pose.”
You look at him questioningly. “What is it?”
With your glasses back on your face, you can clearly see a faint blush on his cheeks when he announces, “I smile at the camera while you kiss me,” he angles his face away and taps his cheek. “Here.”
You stare at him for a few beats, letting the words sink in. “Can’t it be the other way around?” you eventually reply, laughing nervously.
“Do you want it to be?” he asks you, tilting his head and he takes a sip of his coffee. “Because I don’t mind either way.”
You bite your lip in contemplation, Yuta still looking at you in curiosity. You let out a breath. “Um, why don’t we try both poses and you decide which one is best?”
“Sounds good to me,” Yuta replies, the grin easily making its way back to his face. He slides out his phone from his pocket and opens up the camera app.
“You ready?” he asks, putting the camera in selfie mode, and you nod. Yuta’s still sporting his big grin as he stares into the camera, and you pucker up your lips to kiss him.
You close your eyes and lean in. His skin is unbelievably soft when your lips touch his cheek, and you’re taken aback by his cologne hitting your senses. You hear the camera go off a few times, but it barely registers. When you pull away, you find that your breath is unsteady.
“Perfect,” Yuta chuckles as he readies himself for the other pose. “You good for the next one?”
“Just–” you suck in a breath and shake your head. “Give me a second.”
You’re dizzy. The air feels thick, and you’re unable to think about anything except for his cologne. You clear your throat and manage to meet his gaze.
His smile falters into a look of concern, and something about it makes your heart flutter. “Y/N, if you’re not comf–”
“No,” you cut him off gently, taking his hand in yours and squeezing reassuringly. Your grip is steady, despite the thundering behind your ribcage. “I’m okay, honestly.”
Relief washes over his face, and Yuta hands you his phone with a smile. “Alright babe, your call.”
You put the camera in front of your face, ready to smile.
You’re expecting a quick kiss – something sweet and brief, but what you don’t expect is Yuta’s hand finding the back of your neck. Goosebumps rise on your arms at the sudden contact, and your breath catches.
Then he leans in.
Yuta’s lips touch your cheek, the tips of his hair tickling the side of your face, and your heart’s beating so loud in your ears that you’re convinced Yuta could feel it with his grip on your skin. You close your eyes and melt into him. For a moment, it’s just you and him against the world.
“Um, Y/N, the camera…” Yuta’s breath is hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.
“Oh, uh–” your voice comes out breathless and you almost scream at how embarrassing you sound. “–right.”
Somehow, you’re able to move your hands and the shutter clicks a few more times. Yuta’s kissing you again, and you smile, his touch and his cologne enveloping your senses.
When Yuta finally pulls away, you brush your fingers to where his lips had been on your cheek. Your face is embarrassingly hot at this point, and you silently hope that Yuta wouldn’t notice. You run your hands down your arms in an attempt to steady your heartbeat – but it’s useless. Your heart is still beating erratically.
Yuta flashes you a smile as you give his phone back, your hands all jittery. But if he does notice it, he doesn’t let on. “Awesome,” he breathes as he swipes through the photos. “Do you want to take more pics with different poses or do you think this is enough?”
“I think that’s enough,” you blurt out a little too quickly. You curse under your breath before clearing your throat. The truth is, you don’t know if you could go through with taking more couple photos with Yuta without possibly passing out. You force yourself to speak again, though it comes out tighter than intended. “Um, so which one do you think is the best?”
Yuta sets his phone down and shakes a finger. “Ah-ah, you’ll just have to see it with everyone else when I post it later tonight,” he smiles, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Gotta surprise you a little bit, or else where’s the fun in that?”
You want to argue with him. Usually, you would – but your mind is still clouded by what happened moments earlier.
All you can manage out is a quiet, “Just… make sure I look good.”
Yuta’s about to take a sip of his coffee when he smiles at you, something unreadable in his eyes. “Darling, you always look good.”
There’s something wrong with you.
You’re lying on your bed, eyes directed at the ceiling. Everything is quiet – the whirring of the fan overhead, Pumpkin purring beside you, the low rumble of voices coming from the other side of the wall – but it all pales in comparison to the persistent pounding in your chest.
It’s been hours since you left the cafe and Yuta had dropped you home, but since then, your mind hasn’t stopped replaying everything that’s happened.
You let out a groan, breaking the silence that blanketed the room. Pumpkin stirs from his sleepy posture, so you absentmindedly stroke his fur in apology. You roll to lay on your side and reach for your phone.
There’s nothing yet, so you set it back down.
You’ve been checking Instagram every few minutes – not obsessively, exactly (though if you were being honest, this might be the tenth time you’ve refreshed your feed) – but enough times that you’ve been disappointed with the lack of any new posts from a certain someone.
Between the regular Instagram checks, you’ve been huddled on your bed surrounded by pillows, staring at nothing in particular. You know your roommates have been home for quite some time now, but you had no energy to speak to them from the moment you got home.
When your phone pings, you hate how your heart jumps at the sound. You sit up, unlock your phone and see that you have a new notification.
yuu_taa_1026 tagged you in a post.
When you click on the post and the photo finally loads, you gasp.
He had chosen the second one – the one where he’s kissing you.
Your eyes are closed in the picture, an open-mouthed smile gracing your lips. He’s also smiling into the kiss, a real, genuine smile that’s a stark contrast to his usual cocky smirk. His caption is only two words, but it sends a flush of warmth throughout your body.
yuu_taa_1026: My gorgeous 🖤
A bittersweet feeling tugs at your chest and you bury your head in your hands. You don’t know why you’re feeling this way – and you sure as hell know that you shouldn’t be feeling anything.
Not over fucking Nakamoto Yuta, of all people.
You still remember the words he had uttered when he proposed this fake relationship to you a few weeks ago. It replays over and over in your head – like some sick mantra.
I’m not looking for an actual relationship right now.
You throw your phone across the bed.
It means nothing to him. You know that, he knows that. It’s the exact reason why he came to you – so that nothing would be complicated.
But the way he looked at you after taking the photos didn’t feel fake – and the way your pulse still races just thinking about it doesn’t feel like pretend. You can still feel the way he touched you – the sensation of his hand searing into the back of your neck, the ghost of his lips still lingering on your skin, as if it had just happened just moments ago.
It’s still imprinted in your mind, the way the word darling had fallen from his lips, as if he’d called you that nickname for all of his life. And you can’t deny how the mere sight of his smile made you feel as though the sun shone from right inside you.
You let out another groan. This can’t be happening.
There’s a knock on your door, and you mumble out, “Come in.”
Both of your roommates stride in at your response. Jisoo doesn’t spare you a glance and heads straight for your closet like she usually does. Nayeon, however, sends you a look and takes a seat next to you.
“Are you okay?” your best friend asks as she looks down at you, her face threaded in concern.
“No,” you groan.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jisoo muses, sorting through your clothes. She phrases it more like a sentence than a question, but you decide to answer anyway.
“Nothing,” you murmur, laying a hand over your face. You rack your brain for an appropriate excuse. “I think I’m just stressed about finals.”
Nayeon raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say a word. Jisoo clicks her tongue, and you get a sense of what she’s about to suggest.
“Then let’s go out. Our senior Seulgi is throwing a party at her house tonight.”
Ah, like clockwork.
Nayeon opens her mouth to respond, but you beat her to it. “I’m not in the mood to fraternise right now,” you say icily.
Jisoo gasps, finally turning to face you and you see she’s got a hand over her heart. “Y/N! You know me better than that,” she scolds, and there’s no mistaking the irony in her voice. “Come on – no frat boys tonight. Just us girls, and lots and lots of booze.”
You shudder to think about drinking again as you’re still recovering from the sheer amount of alcohol you had consumed just last night, and you also wonder how Jisoo could suggest such a thing – considering the night before, she had as many drinks as you did, if not more.
Nayeon seems to read your thoughts, and she pats your arm gently. “I think we should go. To blow off some steam before the exams,” she whispers to you. “Take your mind off… everything.”
You suppose the buzz would be a welcome distraction from what you’re feeling right now – plus, Jisoo’s already holding up the perfect outfit for you to wear.
You smile.
“When do we leave?”
You fully believe that the universe hates you, because the second you step into Seulgi’s house, you spot an unmistakable mop of bright red hair amidst the small crowd in the lounge area.
You swallow your groan and duck into the kitchen, where Nayeon and Jisoo are greeting your seniors. After exchanging hellos with Seulgi and her friends, they give you the cups in their hands, mumbling something about how the punch may have already been spiked with something strong and they wanted the three of you to taste the punch in its purest form.
(Though you definitely wouldn’t have minded if the drinks did contain alcohol, as that is exactly what you want right now – but you don’t tell them that.)
You find yourself perched on the kitchen island minutes later, drink in hand as Nayeon sits across from you. Boxes are scattered around the kitchen, and you can see in an already-opened box that there are bottles of whiskey inside them.
“Are you feeling better?” your best friend questions, eyeing you up and down.
The skirt you’re wearing is a little short and the breeze from outside causes goosebumps to travel down your legs, but you let out a nonchalant shrug.
“Yes,” you affirm, taking another sip of your drink. “Told you, I’m just stressed about finals.”
There’s a ghost of a smile on her lips. "You sure? It’s not because you’re stressed about someone…” she tilts her head, “someone who just happens to be in the next room?”
You freeze.
“You saw him too?” is all you can say, unable to meet her eyes.
“He’s kinda hard to miss,” Nayeon grins. And it’s true. You could spot Yuta’s red hair from a mile away.
You don’t say anything, not even when Nayeon sets her drink down and shuffles to get closer to you. You keep silent when she takes your hands, and she squeezes them comfortingly.
“Listen. I don’t fully know what’s going on,” Nayeon admits. “But whatever it is, you have to talk to him about it. Nothing good ever comes from keeping your feelings hidden.”
The second the words fall from her lips, the weight on your chest that hasn’t disappeared since this morning suddenly feels like it’s been lifted. Somehow, your best friend always knows the exact thing to say.
You squeeze her hands back and smile at her. “I know. Thanks, Yeon.”
You sit there in silence for a few moments, hands still clasped together – that is until a couple of loud shouts echo from the hallway. A minute later, a disheveled senior pokes her head around the corner, a look of irritation on her face.
“Can one of you come and help me? Jisoo’s locked herself in the bathroom and she’s crying or something, and she said she will only talk to one of you.”
“Oh God, that girl – I’ll take care of it,” Nayeon lets out a practiced sigh. She sends you a skeptical glance. “Will you–”
“Just go, I’m fine,” you wave a hand dismissively, and when Nayeon disappears with the senior, you take up one of the bottles of whiskey from the opened box. Unscrewing the cap and bringing it to your lips, you relish the strange sense of relief when the liquor runs down your throat.
You don’t know how long you sit there as the thud of music booms through the kitchen wall, but after you’ve finished downing two bottles, you decide to head towards the lounge.
You’re definitely drunk now – you feel the buzz as you move your hips sway to the beat, and your mind is no longer focusing on things that you don’t want to think about right now.
“Hey cutie, mind if I dance with you?”
You turn at the unfamiliar voice and find a stranger smirking at you. There’s a hungry look in his eyes that immediately makes you feel uneasy. Right on instinct, you take a step back and open your mouth to decline, but before you can say anything, a voice cuts in. “She has a boyfriend.”
Yuta’s standing beside you, a cold look on his face as he stares down the stranger. His normally warm eyes are now steely and sharp, and it sends a reckless thrill through you. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, to which you grab his hand in gratitude.
The stranger lets out a scoff and spares you a glance. “When you get bored of him, gorgeous, come find me.”
He retreats into the crowd, though Yuta doesn’t stop glaring daggers at him until he’s fully out of sight. Once it’s just the two of you, Yuta lets out a sigh and shoots you a worried glance.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice rougher than usual. You take both his hands and place them on your waist, while you wrap your hands around his neck, fingers brushing his nape.
You don’t reply, instead you say, “Let’s dance.”
At your request, Yuta smiles and starts swaying you back and forth to the rhythm. You take the opportunity to check him out. He’s wearing a plain white tee, dark ripped jeans and your favourite leather jacket, a silver chain necklace dangling from his neck. His red hair is left unstyled, just the way you like it – and when you gaze into his eyes, you realise he’s put on dark eyeliner.
He looks effortless, yet so fucking attractive.
You let out a sigh. “Gotta be honest, I didn’t think you’d be here.”
Yuta shrugs. “Neither did I, but… Johnny convinced me to let loose one last time before finals.”
The smell of alcohol is strong from his breath, and because of the proximity, you wonder if he could smell the whiskey in your breath too.
“Johnny knows Seulgi?”
“Johnny knows everyone.”
There’s a twinkle in his eye and he’s giving you such a toothy smile that you can’t help but look at him curiously.
“What?”
Yuta’s eyes scan your face and then your outfit, and for a moment you’re not sure if he’s going to answer you – but then he lets out a chuckle. “Nothing, it’s just… what I said earlier. I was right.”
“About what?”
Yuta bites his lip. “About how you always look good.”
Your pulse starts racing.
You don’t know if it’s the alcohol, the music or the dark lighting of the room that makes Yuta look so dangerously tempting.
All you know is that you really want to kiss him.
He’s still looking at you, something unreadable in his eyes. Your eyes drop to his mouth, and when you lick your lips in anticipation, you could see his face falter.
Yuta looks away, clearing his throat.
“Yuta,” you call, your voice finding its vitality. He looks at you again, but now you recognise what’s in his eyes. Doubt.
“Yeah?” he murmurs.
You lean in towards him, slowly – and to your satisfaction, his breath shudders against your neck.
“I think you looked insanely hot when you got jealous just now,” you admit quietly, and he lets out a groan that makes you weak in the knees. “So hot – that I really wanted you to kiss me.”
“Really?” Yuta’s voice is dangerously low now, igniting a fire in your belly. He squeezes your waist and his touch only makes you want him more – but he’s still hesitating. There's a question in his eyes, as if he’s silently asking you if he should hold back.
You don’t want him to hold back. Not anymore.
You grab his collar in desperation. “Just kiss me, please,” you almost moan, and he crashes his lips against yours.
It’s electrifying how fervently Yuta kisses you, his hands finding your jaw and his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as your mouths move in sync. The kiss is messy, desperate – and when you tug at the roots of his hair, the moan that he emits into your mouth leaves you aching in desire. The crowd blurs around you and everything fades.
Until the catcalls and wolf whistles are too loud to ignore – and then Yuta finally pulls away from you.
“Upstairs?” he mumbles breathlessly, foreheads pressed together as you both are panting heavily. Your heartbeat’s thundering and you can’t come up with any words, so you just nod, trailing behind him as he laces your fingers together and pulls you through the crowd and up the stairs.
Yuta pushes open the first door he finds and the two of you are barely inside the room when he’s kissing you again, his hands roaming your body with urgency. You pull away to take the jacket of his body and toss it onto the floor, before he leads you to the bed.
“You have no idea how fucking bad I want you,” he hisses, leaning down so he can kiss you again. It’s more intense than before, and when Yuta palms your clothed breast and you let out your first moan, he growls.
“Fuck, you drive me insane,” he mutters, lips leaving yours to kiss your jaw, and then your neck, and then his kisses trail lower and lower until his hands find the waistband of your panties. It’s there that his motions stop – and Yuta looks up at you, eyes dark and lips parted.
“Do you want this, baby?” he asks softly, his chest puffing up and down from shallow breaths.
“Stop talking,” you groan, pushing his head down to where you need him most. It’s all the permission he needs, so he swiftly pulls down your panties and tosses them aside. Yuta pushes your skirt up and you gasp at cold air hitting your core, but it’s immediately replaced by the warmth of his touch.
Yuta places his hands on your knees for leverage, and then he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. Your breath catches with each kiss from him – all of them slow and teasing that you’re left squirming and whining under his grip.
You let out a soft cry when he finally puts his mouth on you, and the first stroke of his tongue sends you to heaven. You need something to ground you down, so your hands find his hair, and when Yuta hears the sounds that you’re no longer holding back, he lets out another growl and squeezes your thighs.
“You taste so sweet,” Yuta grunts, and the vibrations of his voice send sparks up your spine.
You moan in response, unable to form a coherent sentence. Yuta is reaching all the right places that you swear that you’re seeing stars. His mouth is hot, sucking gently and then changing rhythms until your legs are trembling with every flick on his tongue. Your moans grow even louder when he adds his fingers into you, scissoring you open.
Yuta’s grip has you paralysed, and you’re unable to move – but you feel your high coming on any moment, so you whine and pull at his hair as a warning.
“Mm, gonna come for me, baby?” he groans appreciatively, one hand reaching up to fondle your breast and the other now rubbing circles on your clit in just the right way. “Come like the good fucking girl you are.”
The overwhelming new sensations combined with Yuta’s encouraging praise send you over the edge, your orgasm washing over you like a wave. You can only moan in pleasure as you tug at Yuta’s hair for your dear life, all while he continues the motions against your core.
You’re still breathing heavily as the last remnants of your orgasm leaves your body. After getting up from his kneeling position, Yuta moves up the bed to be face to face with you, supporting his body weight by putting his arms by each side of your head and seizing all of your attention.
“Good?” he mumbles, his voice so impossibly deep that goosebumps rise on your skin. He leans down to kiss you and you taste your essence on his lips. You moan, gripping his arm with desire.
“Good,” you whisper, and you feel him smile into the kiss. His mouth then leaves yours to move further down, now leaving a trail of kisses along your jawline.
“Can my girl take a little more?”
Though you’re still trying to catch your breath and your legs are still trembling, you can’t deny how fucking tempting Yuta looks on top of you. His red hair is all mussed courtesy of your fingers, his eyes darkened with lust and his plump lips glossy from giving you the best head you’ve ever had in your life. God, he is absolutely ethereal.
And you need him.
All of him.
You grip the chain of his necklace and pull him close to you again.
“I need you, Yuta.”
Satisfied with your answer, he pulls you in for another messy kiss. While he nips at your bottom lip, begging for entrance, you guide his hands to the hem of your shirt. You could sense his hard-on pressing against your tummy, the sheer weight of it against your body making you shudder in anticipation. You tug at his sleeves, desperately wanting to feel his skin on yours now.
But Yuta’s not done teasing you yet. His hands stay on your waist, gripping firmly. He pulls away from the kiss and before you can complain, he ruts his clothed knee against your still-sensitive cunt. You gasp at the unexpected friction.
“Fuck, Yuta,” you moan shamelessly, curling a hand over his bicep. “Just fuck me, please!”
His fingers rest at the hem of your shirt when his eyes meet yours. You’re expecting him to rip all your clothes away now and finally give you what you’ve been craving from the moment he had kissed you in the dim light of that lounge room.
Without warning, he abruptly removes himself from you, muttering under his breath, “Shit.”
He scrambles to back away from you, getting off the bed and running a hand through his hair as he starts pacing around the room.
You look at Yuta in alarm. Your body is immediately exposed to the chilly air at the loss of contact, so you use the pillow next to you in an attempt to warm yourself up. The atmosphere of the room has changed so quickly in just a split second that you don't know what to think.
“Wh–what’s wrong?” you question anxiously. You can’t deny that your mind is still fuzzy from his touch, but any feelings of arousal you had fades away when you see the worried look on his face.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Yuta groans lowly, burying his hands in his hair. You’re not really sure what he’s sorry for, but you’re also too afraid to ask. He stands rigid in the middle of the room for a few seconds before heaving a sigh and moving to sit at the edge of the bed.
“Listen, uh, I’m sorry,” he starts, though he’s unable to look at you properly. He tugs at the roots of his already messy hair. “It’s just – we’re both kind of fucked up right now. We… we shouldn’t be doing this, Y/N.”
Your heart shatters.
“Are you alright?” he’s looking at you now, eyes wide with concern. His lips are swollen from how intensely he had kissed you, the bulge in his pants still apparent. You would’ve laughed at how comical he looked if you didn't feel as though someone just punched you in the stomach.
Yuta lets out a breath. “I just th-”
“No, I get it,” you interrupt.
It takes you a moment to get up from the bed, and you pick up your underwear that was carelessly tossed onto the floor by Yuta moments earlier. You quickly put them on, ignoring how uncomfortable you feel with your arousal still dripping from you, before turning to him.
“It’s okay, Yuta.”
Yuta’s expression shifts. “Really?”
You’re well aware of the amount of drinks you had consumed earlier in the night, but you feel more sober than you have ever been before. The alcohol in your system may have clouded your judgement and actions before this, but now you can see it.
You can see it all, clear as day – like a revelation that’s been in front of you all along.
“It’s my fault,” you start, and despite the lump in your throat, your voice comes out steady. Tears are threatening to spill from your eyes, but you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he made you cry.
You would die before letting him know how much pain he’s caused you.
You give a dismissive shrug. “I don’t know why I thought that you could… ever look at me like that. Then and now.”
You should have seen this coming. It stings, how you let yourself believe that there was a real chance that Yuta had genuine feelings for you.
How naïve you’ve been.
Yuta’s eyes widen when your words sink in. “No, Y/N, I-”
“I get it now. Things never change, do they?”
There’s dismay written all over his face, but you’re sure whatever he’s feeling pales in comparison to the knife in your chest. You knew this, you predicted this – nothing good ever comes from being tangled in Nakamoto Yuta's business. Yet here you are, standing in front of him with the last shreds of your dignity, body trembling from the sobs that threaten to spill. The room is suddenly spinning, and you wish that the floor would just crumble from underneath you and swallow you whole.
“Listen, Y/N-”
“Have a good night, Yuta.”
You ignore his protests as you close the door behind you. You wait until you’ve rushed down the stairs, past through the sweaty bodies in the living room and out of Seulgi’s house before you finally let your sobs tear through the night.
You can’t believe you let it happen again.
You were thirteen years old when Nakamoto Yuta first broke your heart.
He had been your first crush, and though every other girl seemed to fawn over the drop-dead gorgeous Taeyong and the confident Johnny, you had always been attracted to the studious and quiet Yuta.
His hair had been jet black then, and was a little longer than what the school rules probably allowed it to be. It curled a little over his ears and his fringe almost reached into his eyes every time you stole glances of him poring over his notes in class. Despite how he was the model student, always obedient to the teachers and focusing intently during lessons, you liked that there was still a small part of him that allowed himself to rebel.
“That guy? Really? He looks so grumpy and he doesn’t even talk to anyone,” your friends had said, affirming your suspicions that they thought it was just a silly infatuation.
And perhaps it was true – anyone would think that Yuta was aloof given how he never spared anyone much of a glance during lessons, or how he mostly spent lunchtime alone in the cafeteria.
But what your friends weren’t aware of was that Yuta had, in fact, spoken to you before.
One evening, you had gone cycling a few blocks away from home when you accidentally crashed onto the mailbox of one of the houses. You let out a cry of pain first – and then the anxiety kicked in, because your own house suddenly seemed so far away and you weren’t sure if you could walk all the way home.
As if the heavens heard your prayers, a boy of your age walked out of the house, immediately running to you in concern and asking if you were alright.
You recognised him. He was the strange boy at school that never seemed to do anything outside of his studies. Despite the fact that your knee was scratched and blood was running down your leg, all you could focus on was how freaking cute he really was when you looked at him closely.
He helped you get off the ground, supporting you all the way into the house where he asked his mother to help you clean up the injury. The second you were bandaged up and told him you were completely fine, his worry melted away – and then he flashed you a smile and held out his hand, introducing himself as Yuta.
You ignore the fact that you already knew his name, too mesmerised by how blinding his smile was. Somehow, you were able to shake his hand and you introduced yourself – and the next few hours were spent watching reruns of Mr Bean while finishing cans of Dr Pepper. As the sun dipped low and you mounted your bike, you thanked him for the evening and promised that you now owe him one.
You tucked that memory down deep in your heart, a precious little secret that’s just known to you. You didn’t care that everyone else thought he was unapproachable because of the serious face he put on during class – all you knew now was that he could smile, and his smile was the prettiest thing you’d ever seen.
You were quite content to admire Yuta from afar and only speaking to him on occasion, fully knowing how important his studies were to him – because they were just as important to you too. But the stories of your peers asking their fellow classmates kept coming – and you couldn’t deny that the concept of going on a date intrigued you.
Months passed, and there was still no sign of Yuta going out with anyone. He was a little different now – he’d gotten a haircut, his social circle was growing and he started hanging out with more of the guys – but your crush on him was still going strong.
It was on a Friday afternoon that you gathered the courage to finally ask him to go out with you.
“Hey Yuta,” you greeted, smiling shyly. The locker area was crowded with your schoolmates and two of his friends were by his side, but you were determined to not let that bother you.
Yuta spared you a glance and closed his locker, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Oh, hey.”
“Um…” you started, suddenly aware of the number of eyes on you. Whatever. You can do this. “I was wondering if you wanna… go out with me this weekend? We could go to the cinema, and… I don’t know, you can pick the movie.”
The boys flanking Yuta let out snickers and gasps were heard from all around you, to which you begrudgingly ignored.
But you took one look at Yuta and everything else faded away.
There was a frown on his face.
“Go out with you?” Yuta asked incredulously, like he was wondering why you would ever dare to ask him such a question. He eyed you up and down, and suddenly you felt very small under his gaze. “I don’t even know you.”
Your heart dropped to your feet and everything went silent.
You’re never been rejected before, but the stories you heard from your friends felt extremely tangible to you now. Yuta, a boy you thought was an absolute sweetheart, just rejected and humiliated you in public.
There was laughter. The rest of the world became clear again, and you heard it now, loud and distinct – everyone around you was laughing.
At you.
Tears stung your eyes but you blinked them back. You didn’t know how you found your voice, but you were somehow able to squeak out, “Oh! That’s okay, um, see you around then.”
You turned on your heel and ran out, but the sound of everyone laughing at your mortification, the sneers of his friends, the words of Yuta’s rejection still echoed in your head.
It echoed until you reached home and curled under your blanket, crying silently until you were all dried out.
It echoed for days, even when you decided to skip school for the next week because you knew everyone would just stare and whisper.
And that’s when you vowed to yourself: you would never, ever let Nakamoto Yuta hurt you again.
Nayeon hovers in the doorway, a pensive look on her face. “There’s someone here for you.”
You’re bent over a textbook, pretending to read a paragraph even though your brain hasn’t been processing any of the words on the page. The coffee you’d consumed earlier hasn’t helped much either.
You get up from your seat without a word, brushing past Nayeon and making your way into the living room. You feel her trailing behind you, and when you’re in the living room and reaching for the doorknob, Nayeon grabs your arm.
You turn to face her. There’s no mistaking the worry on her face, so you send her a tired smile and say, “It’s okay – I got it from here. Thanks.”
Nayeon squeezes your arm as a silent assurance. With that, she heads into her own room.
You push open the door and Yuta’s leaning against the wall, hands buried deep in his pockets. He doesn’t look good – though to be fair, you’re certain that you don’t look any better than he does. The cocky expression he usually wears is gone, aggravated by the heavy bags under his eyes. His red hair is even messier than normal.
You’ve never seen him like this before.
If you were being honest, you’d thought that some sick, twisted part of you would find a little satisfaction of seeing him all tired and hollow – but the sight of him like this only tightened the ache in your chest.
“Hey,” Yuta greets quietly, eyes devoid of its usual flare or humour. “I didn’t know if I should come, but… I didn’t want to leave things like that.”
You don’t say anything, still gripping the edge of the door.
You knew it was coming. You were expecting Yuta to show up at your door.
But the events of last night are still fresh in your mind. The pain and the rejection felt all too familiar – and all the heartache Yuta has caused you came crashing down into you once more, like a thousand knives in your chest.
You knew for a fact that Yuta would come to you eventually, but what you don’t know if you’re ready to accept what he’s going to say. You almost feel like slamming the door in his face and telling him to get lost, and that you never want to see him again.
Despite it all, Nayeon’s words echo in your head.
Nothing good ever comes from keeping your feelings hidden.
So you stay put.
But Yuta doesn’t meet your gaze. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” he lets out a breath. “Not for stopping us last night. I – I think I was right to do that. I mean, we were drunk, and we weren’t in the right place… especially because… of our history.”
Your throat runs dry.
He finally meets your eyes, and you know that emotion blazing in his eyes all too well.
Longing.
“It’s not an excuse, but… I was a stupid kid,” his nostrils are flared, and he runs a hand through his hair. “I felt like the odd one out back then, so I did it because I thought it would make me look cool.”
You could see it now – the quiet, nerdy little Yuta earning validation from his friends for breaking a girl’s heart. And you almost laugh at the thought.
“I wanted to apologise to you, I swear. But you had already written me off by then, and – I couldn’t blame you for that,” Yuta shrugs like it’s nothing, but there’s a bitterness in his tone. “And it’s so, so stupid, but after that I couldn't stop thinking about you.”
Yuta takes a step towards you, and your heart begins hammering in your chest.
“I saw you. Everywhere. Every time I turned on the TV, there was a rerun of Mr Bean. Whenever someone was riding their bike in front of my house, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Fuck, I couldn’t even drink sodas without remembering the Dr Pepper we had! And when my vision started to get worse, all I could think of was how you must’ve felt every time I made fun of you for wearing glasses.”
Yuta’s face is just inches away from yours.
You can’t breathe. You don’t know if you ever knew how to.
Your heart nearly stops when he takes your hands, but you let him intertwine your fingers with his.
“Y/N, I – I’m not expecting you to forgive me or anything. I hurt you. I know I did. But I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry,” Yuta sighs, his eyes finally landing on your face – and when it does, his voice cracks a little. “And if you let me have another chance, I’ll show you just how much you mean to me – for real this time.”
You don’t know how long you’ve been holding your breath, but you finally let it out. You keep your gaze on him – his eyes are full of pain and anguish, but you feel something.
It's a small part of you, beginning to heal.
Neither of you speak for a while, only letting Yuta’s apology soak in the silence.
Until finally, you lean in, resting your forehead against his – and even after everything, there’s still the familiar warmth in Yuta’s touch, ever present and comforting.
“Yuta, I really appreciate you saying that,” you breathe out, and when Yuta’s eyes light up, you almost don’t want to go on with what you’re about to say next. You know you have to push through – even if it means that it’ll disappoint him. “But… it’s still too early. I – finals are coming up and I can't think about this right now and – and I just need some time.”
“All the time you need,” Yuta whispers, his breath hot against your face. He squeezes your hands – and it feels like a promise. “Whenever you’re ready, just know I’ll be waiting for you.”
When he pulls away, he’s wearing a smile – it’s a little weary, but you could see the light slowly returning to his eyes.
“See you around, Y/N.”
You watch his figure retreat down the hallway and disappear.
And for the first time since last night, you have a tiny inkling that everything will be alright.
Your life’s been quiet ever since finals ended.
Even though it’s now common knowledge between your friends that you don’t really have anyone to occupy your time, you’re still surprised that none of them have been pestering you to go out as they usually would.
Campus has quieted too – the frantic energy of everyone facing the pressure of their studies is long gone. With the early days of summer rolling in, the atmosphere feels warm and comfortable.
Besides a text that you never sent and a couple of shared glances at the library, you haven’t spoken to Yuta since that day outside of your dorm – but his apology still lingers at the back of your mind, along with his promise to wait for you.
When Johnny told you earlier that he had been hanging out with Taeyong (read: around the music building), you had a vague idea of where he would be. There’s a little bench next to the building overlooking the campus gardens, perfect for a little peace and quiet – and that’s exactly where you find Yuta.
He doesn’t notice you approach at first, too focused on the view before him. There’s a guitar case by his feet, and you silently remind yourself to ask him to play a song for you one day.
“Yuta,” you call out gently.
At the sound of your voice, Yuta looks up at you, a twinkle in his eyes. “Well, well, look who survived the academic tornado.”
His tone is teasing, light-hearted, and you feel your knot in your stomach melt away already. You take the seat next to him. “Just barely, but yeah. I’m officially free now,” you declare. “And I’ve been thinking.”
He doesn’t say a word, staring at you intently. Your tone wasn’t hostile at all, but there’s still the uncertainty of what you’re about to say – and you can see it weighing on him, the caution in his eyes and the carefulness of his actions.
You take a deep breath and exhale. “That day – you were right. You did hurt me. And I hated you for it. I promised myself that I would never let you do it again – so I completely cut you off. I convinced myself that you were the monster that I wanted you to be,” you admit, sparing a glance at him. Before you realise, mirth seeps into your words. “God, it was frustrating, because I still had to see you all throughout middle school and high school – and when we graduated and I thought I was finally free of you, somehow we still ended up at the same college.”
Yuta chuckles, light and slow, and the sound sparks something in your chest.
But you're not done speaking yet.
“Maybe I did hate you at first. But I think over the years, it just turned into annoyance – especially when we started fighting for the top spot in class and you started calling me Glasses.”
You fiddle with your thumbs. You’re grateful that Yuta hasn’t interrupted to say anything yet, because you’re still untangling the thoughts in your head.
“Still, after all those years of convincing myself and everyone else that I hated you, I don’t know if I can just take that all away so quickly,” you confess, and take his hand. Slowly, but surely – a smile starts to form on his face. “But I’m ready to give you a chance, Yuta. I’m willing to try, if you are.”
Yuta's fully grinning now, and he brings your hand up to his face to plant a kiss. The brush of his lips against your skin sends butterflies through your stomach. “I am,” he vows. “More than anything.”
And your heart soars.
You really want to kiss him again.
So you lean in – and Yuta’s face is flushed in pink when you place a kiss on his cheek. Your hand is still clasped in his, but you don’t let go. You don’t want to.
“So…” Yuta begins, tilting his head. His eyes are alight now, and it sends a warm flush through you. “Will you go on a date with me tonight? A real one this time?”
“Yes… on one condition.”
“Anything,” he says, squeezing your hand.
“No fancy dinners or anything like that, please,” you assert, and when you see the curiosity in his face, you let out a laugh. “Let’s just… take it slow.”
“Slow,” Yuta repeats, then slowly raises an eyebrow. “Unless I tell you that I’m willing to take my shirt off right now?”
You roll your eyes, nudging him in the shoulder. “Don’t push it, Nakamoto.”
He grins at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the most adorable way. You sigh in contentment and pull him close, wrapping your arms around him as he melts into your embrace.
You don't know what the future holds, but you’re certain that in this moment, you're content to sit and enjoy the pretty view, holding hands with the prettiest boy you've ever seen.
You never liked rainy days. Then a boy with a warm smile and an umbrella wandered into your life, and somehow, the storms didn’t seem nearly as frightening anymore.
Word count. 17370
Content. Dancing in the rain on the rooftop. Many walks home together under the rain. Forbidden love-ish, you are his coach’s daughter. Gets angsty at the end but has a HEA. Hella down bad Haechan, he would get on his knees for you if you asked.
M.list + a/n. First Haechan and 10k+ worded fic. I enjoyed writing this one though, heavily inspired by the song 雨爱. Took months listening to that song to finally come up with a plot that I was satisfied with that could encapsulate the whole meaning. Hehe happy reading!
Act I. Somewhere between the thunder and the quiet, I found you.
The first time you met him, it was pouring outside. The heavy beating of the rain and the rumble of thunder felt as though the sky was sending a warning–one in which you were oblivious to.
You had been cooped up in the school library, immersed in studying about body systems and cells after the disappointing failure in your previous quiz. Time flew by quickly and little did you know, you were leaving the school building late at night when the librarian had came to chase you away.
You hadn’t even realise that it was raining, not until you fully exited the confines of the school and your body froze instinctively. It was like your body knew it was raining before your brain did, heart spiking and eyes darting side to side as you examined the battlefield. You hated the rain, the thunderous claps that resounded a little bit too loudly for your liking. You flinched when a particularly loud thunder echoed.
With shaky hands you managed to grab your umbrella from your bag, yet continued to stand still with it clutched tightly in your hands. You debated on cowering back in school. Perhaps you would just stay in school until it passes, if it continues until morning then so be it.
You were about to turn back into school when a voice spoke from beside you, “are you okay?”, your eyes shot up. The boy beside you frowned as he looked at you, concern evident in his gaze. His eyes trailed from your hand—tightly gripping your umbrella—to the tension lining your shoulders. His hood was pulled up, his hair slightly ruffled yet somehow still effortlessly neat. He had, admittedly, very pretty eyes.
For a second, you had been in a trance until you were brought back by a piercing scream of thunder, making you jump and let out a shriek. Your cheeks reddened in embarrassment from your cowardice, already knowing that he was probably going to make fun of you.
He did none of that.
“I can walk you home,” he simply suggested. “I promise I’m not a stalker, kidnapper, nor a murderer,” he continued, as if predicting what you were going to say when you parted your lips. You struggled with words as you processed what he said.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s not a big deal,” he replied. He took a step towards you, gently turning you around to face him. Squinting in concentration, he raised his hands, carefully tucking your hair behind your ears before taking the headphones around his neck and placing it over your ears. The world immediately fell silent as melodious, calming music filled your ears instead, as if the downpour was from another world.
“Good?” You read his lips as the noise cancellation worked its magic at silencing him too, you gave him a small, shy nod and his lips tilted upwards in satisfaction. He turned away, opening his umbrella, prompting you to do the same.
Surprisingly, you found your heart calm as you finally stepped out of the shelter, him following closely behind with his own umbrella. You felt less alone, and it helped that the soft tunes playing through the headphones replaced the loud roar of thunder.
Soon enough, you arrived home, letting out a sigh of relief as you reached the sheltered entrance at your front doorstep. You turned around once you closed your umbrella, removing the headphones from the top of your head. The world became clear again, the loud thudding of droplets falling on rooftops, the constant low voices from the sky. Despite all that, you managed to smile.
The boy stood in front of you, still under the rain, holding up his umbrella. You handed his headphones back. “Thank you…” you trailed off, not actually knowing his name.
“Donghyuck,” he finished for you.
“Well, I’m y/n, thanks for helping me,” you gave him an appreciative smile to which he simply nodded in acknowledgement.
After a beat of silence, Donghyuck turned around and walked away.
Act II. Some love stories are meant to begin with storms.
School the following day had been as boisterous as the day before, everyone raving about the ice hockey game from two days ago. The school had won, and apparently it had been a miracle considering that they were up against one of their top rivaling schools. It was getting annoying to be constantly reminded of it, if you were being honest. Your dad had came home with the widest grin on his face, clearly in a good mood and went on and on about the entire game. You were happy for his success, truly, but it got a little long-winded towards the end as the hockey terms blurred together into a jumbled mess in your brain.
“Listen. I know I shouldn’t watch any hockey games as a loyal friend of yours, hockey team coach daughter or whatever. But everyone has been non-stop with their chatter about some new rookie with god-given talent that curiosity got the better of me,” Aria, your best friend, started rambling. “Holy hell he is really good and more importantly, he is hot.”
“Curiosity kills the cat,” you could only reply, not really interested in anything hockey despite your dad’s occupation. Even while your surroundings had always revolved around hockey, you always made sure that your world didn’t.
“Well, his looks can certainly kill me for sure, so you’re not completely wrong about that,” the latter swooned. “Did you know that it was his first game of the season and he already scored a hat trick? And it was against one of our biggest opponents. No wonder everyone has been talking about it for so long.”
“Well, good for him,” you vaguely replied, munching on the watermelons you had packed to school. “Seriously though, my dad has been going on and on about it so I already know everything about his amazing talent. He wasn’t sitting on the benches only because one of the seniors got injured, guess he really seized the opportunity,” you added, just so you sounded like you had been engaged in the conversation–though, you were really just zoning out.
“Anyways, Haechan is really hot. Like really swoon-worthy so I get the recent hype, together with his talent, he is really the epitome of ideal type,” Aria gushed before collecting herself. “Okay anyways that’s all I have, I will officially be back in loyal best friend mode and not talk about hockey,” she put on a poker face, which didn’t last long before it broke into a grin. “But he really is hot.”
You rolled your eyes. “Oh wow, he must be really ugly,” you deadpanned before cracking a smile at the latter’s exasperated face. The two of you continued talking until the bell rang, signalling the start of the next period.
You had gym class alone–much to your dismay–so you snuck out. It was not new for you to skip the period to study; the goody-two-shoes in you didn’t seem to apply to physical education. You surreptitiously exited the indoor stadium while everyone was distracted, heading up to your sanctuary–the school’s rooftop.
To say you were bad at biology was an understatement–you were terrible at it. Your less-than-ideal grades on the previous quiz was still gnawing at your ego. With your back against the wall as you sat down with your notes on your lap, cool wind blowing calmly in your direction, you started revising and understanding the concepts. You couldn’t afford another failure. You needed a scholarship, and to earn it, you needed every grade to be impeccable.
Unbeknownst to you, Donghyuck had similar ideas. The only difference was that he was having a free period, his wired earpiece in his ears as he softly hummed to the song while climbing up the stairs to the roof. What you had previously thought was a secret spot was not so secretive after all.
The door closed behind him with a soft bang, startling you as you had not expected anyone to be up here. Your eyes shot towards the entrance, surprised to find the same set of eyes from yesterday.This time, he was wearing glasses, the hood of his zip-up hoodie was down, in place of his headphones was a set of wired earpiece.
“See something you like?” there was a lilt to his voice that hadn’t been there the day before, his words taking a teasing tone as his lips curled up in amusement.
“Wha– What the hell are you doing here?” you sputtered, turning your head back to face the front in embarrassment from having been caught staring at him. The contrast in his personality was striking, he seemed serious when helping you yesterday, not teasing nor playful.
He shrugged, settling down beside you, grabbing one of your notes that was splayed out messily on the ground. “Mmm…Biology my favourite,” Donghyuck hummed.
That got your attention. “Really? Are you good at it? Would you mind tutoring me?” you asked excitedly, thinking that perhaps this might be a perfect solution for you to buck up.
“My favourite subject to skip,” he clarified, breaking into a grin. “You’re cute when you get excited,” he laughed, ruffling your hair endearingly. You were supposed to be annoyed, and yet you could only feel shy after his off-handed compliment. The boy seemed really easy-going, carefree.
“You’re really different from how you were yesterday,” you muttered, snatching your paper back from his hands to busy yourself. “I preferred it when you weren’t making fun of me.”
Donghyuck turned to you, squinting at your face in concentration as if he was trying to remember something. “We met yesterday?” he asked. Your face dropped, blood rushing to your cheeks as awkwardness seeped in. You were just someone he helped, of course he wouldn’t remember you, you thought.
“Uh–nevermind.”
And there goes his beam once again. He was honestly quite a convincing actor. “Gotcha! You should have seen the devastation on your face, y/n,” he teased. Humiliated, your lips tilted downwards, not finding any of this funny at all. You shoved your things into your bag, zipping it up and was prepared to leave but was stopped by him grabbing your wrist. “Wait. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you mad,” his eyes glimmered with guilt now, all hints of playfulness gone. This version looked more like the version of Donghyuck that you had encountered yesterday.
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. You’re hurt and I’m sorry. I should have thought that through, I know we’re barely even friends to be joking around like that so quickly,” Donghyuck frowned. “I was just having a bad day and you seem like you’re having a bad day too. So let’s have a bad day together, sit down. If anything, I should be the one leaving because you were here first.”
He dropped his grip around your wrist, patting the spot that you were previously sitting on. Hesitantly, after weighing your options between sitting back down or going back inside and potentially be caught by a teacher for skipping lessons, you sat back down. Though this time, you didn’t take your notes out again.
A moment of silence passed before Donghyuck offered you one side of his earpiece. You raised a brow in question, but accepted it anyway, placing it in your ear. He restarted the song he was playing, the same soft tune from yesterday filling your ears. No lyrics, just instrumentals with someone humming a melody, as if it were an unfinished song. Even so, it was soothing, the voice like sunlight breaking through clouds after a storm.
“What song is this?” You asked curiously. Donghyuck seemed abashed by your question, lips parting yet no words escaped as if he did not know how to reply, a tinge of red colouring his ears.
“Well…um…It’s a work in progress,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Actually, I made it,” he admitted. Your eyes widened in shock, glancing up to meet his eyes. “Yup, I just haven’t yet figured out what the lyrics should be.”
“For what’s worth, it’s really good,” you complimented, slightly in awe that he could compose such a catchy tune.
Donghyuck felt a little bit shy at your words, and also a sense of relief. You were the first person he had ever allowed to listen to his music, he didn’t know why but hearing your opinion mattered to him more than he realised. He hadn’t even realise that the song playing through the headphones was his until he took them back from you yesterday.
You started humming to the melody and that placed a small smile on Donghyuck’s face. You were just a girl he met yesterday under the rain, yet watching you appreciate his work made his heart skip a beat. Maybe it was because it was his first time letting anyone into this side of his life, the side that no one knows about. The sunlight highlighted the freckles across your face, your expression peaceful. Donghyuck decided that he preferred you like this–content, tranquil, ethereal. Ethereal? Well…maybe you were a little breathtaking to him.
The two of you had some small talk, getting to know simple facts about each other until the bell rang indicating the next period. You had been so absorbed in conversation with the latter that you only realised that it was drizzling when you stood up. “Oh, it’s going to rain,” you mumbled, eyes darting up to look at the darkening sky.
“Just in time then, time to head back indoors, sunshine,” he opened the door for you, bowing down and lifting his hand in a dramatic gesture that seemed to say ‘ladies first’.
“Sunshine?” you raised a brow questioningly, entering the confines of school once again.
He shrugged like it was nothing, making his way down the stairs, pausing right at the door leading to the hallway. “Can’t remember your name,” he joked before disappearing through the crowd of students. This time, you weren’t offended because you knew he was just kidding. If his words itself wasn’t obvious enough, the twitching at the corners of his lips would give him away.
For the first time in your life, you hadn’t immediately ran for shelter at the first sign of rain. Perhaps you were a little enamoured by the boy, from the glint in his eyes to the thoughtfulness of his actions distracting enough to blur the world around you.
And maybe your heart warmed a little at the thought of him.
Act III. Coincidence or fate? We always meet when it rains.
It had been a few days since it last rained, and you wished for that streak to last much, much longer. Luck wasn’t on your side today though, or maybe it was, depending on how you saw the situation. You were already cooped up in your room this time–thankfully–though the screams of thunder from outside was still merciless.
Out of all days, your dad had decided that today was the perfect day to invite his players over for a ‘team bonding’ dinner. Their boisterous laughter resonated throughout the house, infiltrating the silence in your room. Maybe that was a good thing as it had drowned out the boom of thunder significantly enough for you to not be as affected.
There was a few minutes of peace where you thought that maybe this wasn’t so bad. You could get through this without going down to grab your airpods that you left in the kitchen in your haste to hide out in your room when the first of many players had arrived.
And exactly at that moment where you think that it will all be fine, the gods decided to start playing their tricks.
The storm seemed to get heavier, the sound of thunder gaining volume while the noise from downstairs seemed to have quietened. Even under the comfort of your blanket (and an army of soft toys guarding you), it was inadequate against the onslaught of thunder. Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to get yourself to calm down, breathing in and out to ease your anxiety but to no avail.You had never mastered the art of being unaffected without the help of anything noise cancelling, or anything that could simply drown out the noise.
You laid there for a few more minutes, hand tightly clutching your phone as if it were a lifeline, the video playing already falling on deaf ears, tuned out by your mental prayers for the storm to dwindle. Eventually, you sighed in exasperation, deciding that you can’t go on like this until morning and at least it wouldn’t be quiet and dark downstairs when you went to grab your airpods if you did it right then and there.
Once you’d collected yourself, you rose to your feet and padded quietly toward the door. Carefully, you peeked over the stair railing, spotting the team gathered in the dining room, laughing and eating together. Perfect, you thought, already mapping out your route to the kitchen just beyond. Undetected and quick—that was the goal. The only challenge would be slipping past the dining room unnoticed.
With determination in your steps, you followed the steps that you pictured in your head. Steeling yourself when a roar of thunder came through, and biting down on your bottom lip to prevent a squeak from giving you away. It was laughably easy, your lips curving in victory when you got past the dining room and turned the corner into the kitchen.
That was your mistake. A miscalculation on your part, for the kitchen wasn’t in fact empty.
“Sunshine? What a lovely surprise,” Donghyuck mused, one hand holding a drink and the other his phone. His eyes raked over your figure, from your bare feet to your sweatpants and hoodie, the corners of his mouth twitching at your messy hair like he was holding back a laugh.
Inwardly, you groaned, scolding yourself for not having thought of checking whether the coast was clear in the kitchen itself. You assumed that the group inside the dining room was large enough for an entire hockey team, who knew that there was one more extra lurking around elsewhere (for example, ahem, the kitchen?).
You had to admit, you didn’t look your best right now and that was slightly embarrassing in front of the boy whom you had recently got to know. “Will you keep it down?” You hissed, walking towards where he was–not purposely, your airpods were right beside him. “I’m trying to avoid being spotted by any players right now…wait are you a hockey player too?” you eyed him up and down now, analysing his physique. He had a relatively slender build that you wouldn’t peg for a hockey player.
“Yup I am,” You scoffed at that. Just your luck, you ended up entwined with a hockey player once again. The latter didn’t take offence to your expression though, in fact, his eyes glinted with amusement as he watched you. “What’s wrong with hockey players?”
“Oh nothing, just that the previous time I became friends with one of my dad’s players he ended up dating a popular girl and started bullying me for absolutely no reason at all. So now I kind of just get an ick from hockey players,” you explained dryly, snatching your airpods from the table and turning around back the way you came from. “Enjoy your dinner,” you waved.
“Wait, I can walk you back to your room, it’s raining aren’t you scared to go back alone?” he stopped you with a hand on your wrist.
You jumped away from him as if you were struck by lightning. “Seriously, I might be scared of the rain but I’m sure I’ll be fine walking max 30 seconds to get to my room. Thanks for your concern though, have fun bonding,” you went on your way to the door but froze when you heard a voice call out from the dining room.
“Haechan! Hurry up and come back you don’t want to miss this.”
“Coming!” The boy behind you called out. You stopped there dead in your tracks, colour draining from your face as you processed the newfound information.
Slowly, you turned around, looking at Donghyuck with an entirely new light. “You’re Haechan?” You asked, your tone coming out accusing. Eyes narrowing to his face, a flash of hurt passing your eyes. “You said your name is Donghyuck,” you added weakly. You didn’t understand why you were so upset over this, you barely knew this guy and yet the most basic thing about him you did know was a lie? And he was the famous star player rookie that everyone had been talking about in school. Aria wasn’t lying then, he is undeniably good-looking, perhaps devastatingly so.
Donghyuck’s heart dropped in his chest, a tinge of guilt caused his throat to constrict, lips tipping down at the hurt splashed across your face. He didn’t like being the reason that you were sad. “I didn’t lie to you, not exactly,” he started, “my real name is Donghyuck, Haechan is just a nickname that most people call me or know me for. It has always been hockey player Lee Haechan, not hockey player Lee Donghyuck.”
“Hae—Y/N? What are you doing in the kitchen?” Your dad appeared in the doorway, his gaze shifting from your downcast face to Donghyuck, whose hand was still outstretched as if he’d been about to reach for you. “What’s going on? Did you hurt my daughter?” Your dad fumed, standing with his arms akimbo as he glared at Donghyuck.
It hadn’t yet clicked in Donghyuck’s head that you were his coach’s daughter until then and there, recoiling as he realised the implications. “I’m sorry, coach,” he simply said.
“It’s okay dad, he didn’t do anything,” you said in an attempt to placate your dad. “We were just talking and I was about to go back to my room and sleep so goodnight!” You flashed him a smile that worked in softening him.
“Alright, sweetie, sweet dreams.” With that, you turned and left, leaving Donghyuck standing there awkwardly with your dad, watching you go and feeling kind of betrayed that you were leaving him alone to face his wrath. However, it seemed that you had done your job well in pacifying him, your dad sighed, patting the boy on his shoulder. “You’re one of the best players I have right now, Haechan. I won’t tell you to stay away from my daughter but if you ever do anything to hurt her, you’ll face the consequences,” He warned, before smiling warmly. “Okay, let’s get back to team bonding, shall we?”
With the storm raging outside and the knowledge of you staying right in the confines of this house, Donghyuck hesitantly took his seat in the dining room once again. He felt bad for how the two of you left things right before your dad had interrupted, having not yet fully resolved your misunderstanding. He just had to talk to you again in school.
Despite your father’s warning, somewhere deep within his heart, he thought that any consequence would be worth it, for you.
Act IV. Frozen ice, thawing hearts.
It was late, the moon was already strung high up in the sky, hallways quiet and the library empty by the time you left. Your footsteps seemed to thunder in the silence, picking up your pace to get to the skating rink quickly to meet your dad. You had been too engrossed with a particularly challenging mathematics problem, to which your stubborn self refused to leave until you solved it. You were lucky to have a dad working with the skating team at your school. Their practices were always running late and you can study in the library in peace knowing you have an easy ride back home on those particular days of the week.
Entering the ice rink, a gust of cool air caused you to shiver. Goosebumps started to rise along your arms as you got closer to the rink in the center of the room. Making your way in the direction of your dad’s office, you felt a little anxious at the thought of potentially seeing Donghyuck.
It had been a week since the team dinner and you may have been purposefully avoiding him, still feeling hurt from his lie. You knew it was unreasonable, it isn’t as if he truly did lie in the first place, and in reality, he was only honest with you and lying to everyone else with his alias. Logically, the team should have already went home, it had already been an hour since their practice had ended, so you knew the chances of bumping into him were basically zero.
The office was just opposite of their locker room, there wasn’t a single whisper of a sound coming from there so you assumed they had all left as usual. You mentally thanked the stars for that blessing.
“Sunshine?” Nevermind. You thanked the stars too soon. Your hand dropped from the door handle and you quickly spun around, facing the same boy who you had been avoiding all week. His hair was damp from his shower and a whiff of his fresh, clean scent drifted in the air. None of that caught your attention unlike his eyes did, they had a hint of dullness in them, as if something was bothering him and he didn’t quite know how to fix it. And yet, when his eyes met hers, they shined with what seemed like a glimmer of hope.
His mouth opened and closed a few times as though he was at a loss for words, not knowing what to say or do with himself. He wanted to clear the air so badly, yet he didn’t know how to start a conversation about that, you had clearly been avoiding him and he’d rather not make you uncomfortable. “What are you doing here?” He ended up asking instead, starting with something easy despite wanting to blurt out every apology in the world and beg on his knees for you to be his friend again–if the two of you were even considered friends in the first place.
“Oh, uh I’m just meeting my dad so that we can go home together,” you answered. Donghyuck knew this was his chance, if he didn’t talk to her now, they would never talk ever again.
“You should probably wait for him to come out, he is lecturing one of us right now,” the lie easily slipped through his lips. There was a moment of silence before he continued, “can we talk?” You frowned at that, eyes darting around, debating your options. Ultimately, you knew you couldn’t get out of this one with your dad still busy in his office.
“Okay,” you softly agreed. Donghyuck let out a relieved breath, now wrecking his brain for the right words to plead his case.
“Listen. I never meant to lie by omission, it just felt right to tell you my real name rather than my alias. In fact, I’ve always disliked the kind of attention and responsibilities that ‘Haechan’ came with. God-given talents, good looking ice hockey player who would go pro. I have always preferred my real name, not that anyone cares about what I prefer or don’t,” he chuckled bitterly. “When I realise that you didn’t know who I was at all, it felt right to give you my real name. I’m sorry you felt hurt by that, I swear I never meant to hide my identity from you or anything. Please, can you forgive me? I really, truly want to be friends with you,” he spoke with a deep, overwhelming sincerity.
You could tell how genuinely apologetic he was and you honestly felt kind of bad for being mad at him for this long. It felt a little touching to know that you got to know the real him instead of his popular hockey player side. And the way he was looking at you, like your next words could either make him the luckiest man alive or destroy his entire world, sent your heart racing and your thoughts spiraling. It was the intoxicating realization that he had placed that kind of power in your hands, offering it up on a silver platter without hesitation.
You took a few steps towards him. There was a lump in your throat preventing you from getting any words out, so you could only give him a small, almost imperceptible nod. The boy’s eyes lit up at that, “really?” he asked, needing your words to confirm what you were implying.
“Yes. I forgive you and we can be friends.”
“Thank you! I swear you won’t regre–” his words got cut off and the wide grin that had taken over his face was replaced by a sheepish expression.
“Y/n? You’re here already? Why didn’t you come in and tell me?” Your dad stepped out of his office with his backpack swung over one shoulder while he locked his door behind him. “I was about to go find you after waiting for so long, I assumed you got caught up in the library or something,” he finished.
A dawning realisation that Donghyuck had lied about your dad meeting someone just so that he could talk to you made you roll your eyes and glare in his direction. “Oops?” He mouthed, guilt overshadowing his face. Perhaps it was not the brightest idea to tell a lie when your anger came from him lying to you in the first place. He was about to open his mouth and apologise again, when he saw the small, amused smile curving your lips. It felt like a cupid’s arrow struck him in the heart at the sight, bewitching him as all he could do was stare at your mouth, his chest tightening while an ache bloomed beneath his ribs, sharp and inexplicable. For the first time, he realised just how pretty you were.
“Haechan? Didn’t I tell you to stay away from my daughter?” Coach frowned.
“Yes, Coach but we are friends now so you can’t possibly be depriving your daughter of my amazing presence, right sunshine?” The boy flashed a boyish smile. He didn’t really care if his coach minded their friendship, he was going to treasure it.
Your dad sighed, knowing his antics. “Is that true, sweetie?” he aimed his question at you, you only gave him a rueful smile in response. “Fine. As long as you don’t do anything to hurt her. One tear and I will murder you, and I know how to make it look like an accident,” he threatened, eyes narrowing on his player.
“Cross my heart and hope to die, coach,” Donghyuck saluted playfully though his words were sincere. And with one last grateful smile aimed at you, he left with a slight bounce to his steps and him humming a tune as he walked away.
A quiet laugh might have escaped you, drawn out by the endearingly dorky, wonderfully ridiculous sight before you.
Act V. Rain sings against the ceiling, we skate as if the sky were silent.
A few weeks passed, the two of you were almost two peas in a pod at this point and many around the school were starting to pick up on the blossoming friendship between the two. Every lunch break was spent with Donghyuck by your side, munching on your food at the secret spot on the rooftop. Your library study sessions were a little bit more distracting with him by your side, at least until he had to leave for practice then you’d get the peace of mind to focus on studying.
On days when it rained and your dad being too busy to drive you home, he dutifully walked you home after school. Those were the days where he was quieter, handing you his headphones without a word and allowing you to listen to one of his new works or any of his old ones. His voice was soothing, amongst the pattering rain. It gave you a break, everything else became distant as you focussed on the calming melody.
Admittedly, you felt bad and a little bit guilty for ditching Aria but she always told you that she didn’t mind and that “if it were her, she’d spend every second of the day with someone who looks like that too.” Despite that, you continued to try to dedicate some days to eat with her and catch up.
☁︎‧₊˚☔︎︎
You genuinely didn’t know how you ended up here. Sitting on one of the benches by the ice rink, hands clenching and unclenching as you stared at the intimidating rink. “Here, these should be your size,” Donghyuck grinned as he held up a pair of skates, mischief dancing in his eyes as he took in your deer-in-the-headlights expression. “Oh aren’t you a ray of sunshine, you should see your face right now,” he chuckled as he placed the skates down beside you.
“Oh shut up, I don’t even know how you convinced me to do this. I hate skating,” you sighed. Just as you were about to bend down to untie your laces, Donghyuck squatted down and did it for you. “I can do it myself, I’m not a baby,” you tried to swat his hands away.
“You’re right. You’re not a baby, you’re a princess. Just let me do this for you, okay?” His voice was gentle, a softness that reached a deep part in your chest. Taken aback by his words, and distracted by controlling the rising heat in your cheeks, you allowed him to help you. His hands were gentle as he grabbed your ankle, wiggling the skates onto your feet before tightening the laces for you. His lips pursed in concentration, every step meticulous as he helped you put on the skates. Once he was done, he tapped the skates twice. “Do they feel alright? Too tight? Too loose?” he questioned.
You wiggled your feet before shaking your head. Donghyuck got up to put on his own skates before standing before you with a hand outstretched. “Well, no time like the present, sunshine. Let’s get to work,” the corners of his lips lifted into an encouraging smile. You were wobbly on your feet as you grabbed his hand and stand up on the two blades, practically waddling towards the actual ice rink. “You’re cute, like a baby learning her first steps cute,” Donghyuck snickered, his blood circulation cutting off where your death grip on his arm began.
You glared up at him as you gripped onto the side wall right before touching the ice. “You said I’m not a baby just a few minutes ago,” you said pointedly, grimacing as you tested the ice with one foot, only for it to slip making you retract your foot back into the safe zone.
“Well, okay maybe you are a little bit of a baby, but you’re a princess all the same sunshine,” he breathed wistfully. Unlike you, he stepped onto the rink without hesitation, doing a little turn before coming to face you. “Come on, sunshine. You can do it, nothing will happen to you as long as I’m here. And did I mention that I am the most talented player in school? Yup, that’s right. No better teacher than me to teach you how to skate and potentially fall in love with it in the process,” Donghyuck spoke with arrogance, his eyes dancing as he watched you.
You inhaled a shaky breath, gripping both hands tightly on the side wall as you finally placed both feet onto the ice. “Okay now what?” you grumbled, your entire weight basically leaned against the wall, gripping on for dear life.
“Bend your knees and keep your feet shoulder-width apart,” he instructed. For a set of relatively simple instructions, it was really difficult to do. Your knees shook as you tried to bend them and keeping yourself balanced proved to be a challenge. You bit your lip in concentration, trying your best not to fall. It took a few tries before Donghyuck was satisfied enough by your posture. “Now, look up, don’t look at your feet or you’ll fall. Focus on me, sunshine,” he took one of your hand that had been grabbing onto the wall, your eyes widened in panic making you stumble a little but he managed to fix you back upright.
Gradually, with one hand gliding along the rink wall and the other clasped in Donghyuck's, you inched forward one careful step at a time until you completed a full lap around the rink. The hardest part was not giving in to the urge to look at your feet. You were already sweating despite the cool air, your knees threatening to give out from the strain. “I hate ice skating,” your complaint only caused the boy to laugh. “Seriously, I don’t know how you do this while holding a stick and focussing on a puck at the same time. That’s quite crazy to think about and you’ve been skating backwards the whole time, how do you even do that,” you rambled as you gripped on the wall and stretched your legs out a bit.
“I’ve been doing this since I was five, of course it comes naturally to me now after so many years silly,” he flicked your forehead, gesturing for both your hands to hold his now. “We’ll go a few more rounds,” you groaned in response.
“If you let go I am going to kill you,” you threatened, grasping his hands tightly as he led you away from the side wall. “You know, if I knew better I would think that you’re just using this as an excuse to hold my hand,” you commented, squinting at his jovial appearance in suspicion. The more you looked, the redder his ears seem to get. “Ha! I knew it, that was definitely part of the plan,” you concluded, rolling your eyes at his bashful expression.
You did another three laps around the rink before taking a short break. It was getting dark outside, dark clouds overhead as it started to drizzle. Raindrops pattered on the transparent ceiling above the rink, the thundering was muffled in the confines of the space. Not that you noticed it was raining though, your full focus simply on the boy before you.
“Alright, one last lap then we can stop,” he announced.
“Finally.”
At first, the two of you continued as usual, with both your hands in his as he guided you along. “I’m going to let go, I think you can try skating on your own now,” he alerted you before slowly letting go, except that your grip tightened the moment you processed his words. His eyes softened as they looked into yours. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall, alright? Do you trust me?” He gently pacified. You drew your lips into a thin line before nodding slowly. “Good girl,” he said as you reluctantly let go of his hands.
Now skating on your own, you felt your heart raced in fear. It took you a while to find a balance that didn’t make you wobbly and scrambling for control over your movements. But in the end, you managed to skate by yourself. “Hey! Look! I’m doing it!” You grinned, eyes darting towards his face.
That was a mistake. You shouldn’t have looked at him because the moment you do, you were struck in the gut at the sight. His eyes glimmered with pride as he watched you, a doting smile lifting the corners of his lips. On the ice that was basically his second home, he looked like something otherworldly–natural, youthful, and serene in a way he never really was despite his laughter and jokes. Fascinated by the joy radiating from him, you forgot about where you were and what you were doing.
In that exact moment of distraction, your feet slipped out from under you. Everything happened in slow motion, one moment you were on your feet and the next you felt like you were being lifted off the ground, falling backwards. A petrified scream escaped your lips but before you could fall to the ground, Donghyuck’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you up towards him.
“I told you I got you, didn’t I?” he murmured, steadying you, his arm never leaving your waist. Your hand clenched a fistful of his shirt, needing something to ground yourself. Your breath came out in short, uneven heaves, the adrenaline from your close fall causing your heart to palpitate. “Come on, I think that’s enough for today,” he spoke softly, his eyes scrutinised your body, ensuring that you weren’t hurt anywhere. Your eyes were still widened in shock, hand shaking slightly and clearly not knowing what to do with yourself anymore.
Before you even finished processing what happened, Donghyuck was scooping you up in his arms. You let out a squeal in surprise as he cradled you in his arms while yours instinctively circled around his neck. He glided effortlessly across the ice, carrying you back to the rest area as though you weighed nothing at all. You could only stare at his side profile, from his sharp jaw to his long lashes, his eyes a warm honey brown up close. His breath fanned your cheeks, his hands clutching you firmly to his chest.
Too quick for your liking, you were placed down on the bench, his warmth disappearing but not the flush that had occupied your cheeks. You were quiet as he took off his skates before moving on to unlace yours. “There you go, back to the world where concrete is the ground you walk on,” he joked, standing up from his knees after helping you put your shoes back on.
“I would kiss the ground if it weren’t full of hockey player dirt on it,” you drawled.
“Well, you’re not wrong.”
The two of you left the rink together, and just like that your bubble was burst. The world came back into focus as a roar of thunder echoed through the hallway causing you to flinch. “I’ll walk you home,” Donghyuck stated simply, a hand on your lower back which guided you towards the exit of the school. “I finished a song yesterday, you can listen to it,” he rubbed the back of his neck shyly. Forcing down his nerves, he tucked your hair behind your ears before gently placing his headphones over your head. He pulled out his finished song, playing it for you to listen as you got your umbrella out.
And just like that, the two of you walked together side by side, each with an umbrella in hand. The pounding of the rain replaced by Donghyuck’s mellifluous voice, the onslaught of droplets not as intimidating as it once was.
“It’s a love song,” was your only comment when you handed him back his headphones at the shelter by your door. The boy frowned as he thought about it, he never realised what exactly he was writing about when the words were flowing so smoothly, just that everything came out of him as he thought of you. It dawned upon him then that it was in fact a love song, his ears turning pink as he became flustered. “Do you have a crush or something?” You pressed, not knowing why your chest ached at the idea of him liking someone.
“I didn’t even realise that it turned into a love song,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Well, I guess it is what it is. The lyrics just came to me naturally, don’t let it get into your head, sunshine,” he said calmly although inside, his mind he was spiralling as a sinking realisation was beginning to unfold the more his eyes ran over her features.
“Well, goodnight, Hyuck.”
“Goodnight, sunshine. Make sure to dream of me,” he teased as he walked backwards while waving at you. You only rolled your eyes, turning your back and entering your house with a smile on your face.
Act VI. When there is rain, there is you.
The school was buzzing with energy on game day, everyone talking about the most anticipated game of the season since it was with the school’s biggest rivals. There was a long queue to enter the arena, everyone eager to secure seats inside and spending time to grab some snacks to eat as well.
You and Aria were no exception, the two of you chatting merrily as you queued up despite the mild migraine that was developing from all the noise. “Did you hear about the school dance at the end of the year? We should sign up,” Aria chirped. “You can go with Haechan, you know, your boy with those god-given looks.”
“He isn’t my boy.”
“Please, semantics. He literally doesn’t give any other girl the time of day except for you,” she dismissed you with a wave of her hand. “You should ask him to the dance.”
“What? No thanks, I can’t even dance I’m not really interested in attending it at all,” you pressed your lips together. You didn’t really think that he’d go to the dance with you anyway, you were sure that he’d ask someone much prettier and on the same social status as him to boost his reputation.
“Then, how about you attend it for me? Pretty please, we will have so much fun together, I promise!” Aria pleaded, flashing puppy dog eyes at you.
“I’ll think about it,” was all you gave her, though her victorious beam was all it took for you to know that you’d agree. She was your best friend after all, and it was only right after being so preoccupied for the past few weeks.
Conversations died off suddenly as the crowd parted to create a path for the boy who was squeezing through. “Excuse me– Oh sorry! I didn’t mean to bump into you,” Donghyuck’s voice generated whispers from the crowd, but at the same time fangirls were yelling his name. “Yes, thanks for your support. Sorry– I’m kinda in a rush to get back in time for the pre-game talk,” he politely signed some autographs, bowing and thanking fans. Thankfully, his height gave him an advantage to scan the crowd, in search of you.
His eyes brightened when he caught sight of you, now moving quicker in determination to get to you. “Hey sunshine,” he flashed a dimpled smile with a slight tilt of his head when he reached you. The attention immediately fell on the two of you, some curious while others gave her death glares, making you embarrassed. He turned towards your friend, “Hi Aria! Nice to see you again,” he greeted her as well, and your heart fluttered at that–there was something hot about the way he respected and included those you cared about despite not being close.
“What are you doing here? You’re basically risking getting mobbed right now,” your eyebrows furrowed at the thought of him getting hurt.
“Aw your concern is adorable, sunshine,” he gave a light tap on the tip of your nose. “But I came to tell you that I saved seats for the both of you, follow me.” Without giving you a chance to reply, he turned and started walking towards the entrance. After every few steps, he turned behind to check that you were keeping up, but it seemed that you weren’t close enough for his liking because the next time he turned around, he frowned at the distance and walked back to grab your hand.
Now he was practically dragging you through the crowd with Aria following close behind you. Her wiggling her eyebrows when she made eye contact with you, before eyeing your hand that was clasped in his. “Aw the two of you are so cute together,” she cooed playfully, voice low enough for only you to hear.
You could only direct a glare at her before moving your attention back to where you were headed. Entering the arena was definitely much less suffocating than the hallway outside, it was slightly cooler inside though not as much as when it was just you and Donghyuck. It did little to ease the migraine blooming, moving your head side to side to try and balance out the pain. The boy brought the two of you to the very first row, right in front of the plexiglass. “Sweet! Front row seats,” Aria exclaimed, immediately settling down and admiring the close-up view of the ice.
You turned towards Donghyuck, “thanks for saving us seats, it was getting really stuffy waiting out there for so long, I honestly have a migraine now,” you thanked, sighing as you brought a hand up to rub your temple. He examined you for a moment, not saying anything for a moment though concern flashed in his eyes. He raised his hand towards your hair, gingerly tugging your hair tie down from the length of your ponytail, letting your hair fall in loose waves.
“Is that better?” he prodded while he slipped your light blue hair tie around his wrist.
“Slightly,” you raked a hand through your hair, loosening the tightness that probably did contribute to your headache. “Thanks,” you mumbled. “You can go do your…whatever it is you do now,” you vaguely waved your hand towards the direction of the locker rooms.
“Whatever it is I do, huh?” his eyes sparkling with humour. “Well, I gotta go, hope you enjoy the game, sunshine. You too, Aria,” he lightly jogged towards the locker rooms, knowing that he only had a few minutes left to gear up. Though, somehow he felt lighter today than most other days with the knowledge of you in the crowd. His thumb absentmindedly brushed over the hair tie circling his wrist, and a fond, almost imperceptible smile bloomed across his face.
☁︎‧₊˚☔︎︎
Donghyuck was entrancing when he was in the zone, he glided across the ice gracefully, controlling the puck with such ease that had you captivated. It was like ice hockey was an art to him, not a game. Watching him for the first time, you finally understood the rave over his skills on ice. The timer buzzed, signalling the end of the game which for once, your school had easily won against your rivals all because of the arrival of Donghyuck–or Haechan when it comes to hockey. His teammates were patting his back for the hat trick he pulled off, and it was clear that he was basking in the thrill of the win.
“Oh shit,” Aria cursed as she texted on her phone, her lips turning down at the texts she was reading.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m so sorry, y/n. I have a family emergency and I need to get home ASAP, do you think you’ll be fine getting home by yourself?” Aria said apologetically, rushing to grab her purse from the chair and standing up.
“Yeah I’ll be fine, you get home quick before the crowd gets any worse. Let me know if things are okay later,” you reassured. Gratitude softened her expression before Aria ran out of the arena. You sighed as you got up from your seat, slowly making your way out together with the rest of the crowd. Your headache was a dull throb now, the game managing to distract you from the pain.
Though, maybe you spoke too soon about being fine. The moment you stepped out of school, you were greeted by a downpour. You stood as still as a statue as you stared in horror at the droplets of water cascading down rapidly. Gathering your courage, you reached for the umbrella in your bag, only to realise that it wasn’t there. With a dawning realisation that you had forgotten to put it back in your bag after leaving it out to dry at home, an unrestrained whimper left your lips.
You began to spiral as you stood there under the shelter, just mere inches away from the rain. You should go back inside and wait it out, or wait for your dad to be done and catch a ride home. You could be patient enough to wait for all his post-game meetings to end. Despite all the logical course of action that your brain came up with, your feet refused to move. It was like standing on quicksand where your legs started to feel heavy, and it was a struggle to bring it up to simply walk.
Just when you were about to be on the brink of tears from your helplessness, a jacket was draped over your shoulders. The familiar crisp citrus scent with a hint of bergamot invaded your senses, the warmth from the jacket calming you down. “You’re shivering,” Donghyuck’s voice was a whisper right by your ear. “Are you okay?” His eyes flickered over your slightly dazed expression, while his hand held his umbrella.
“Wha– What are you doing here?” You choked out.
“Why else? It’s raining,” he spoke as if it were the most obvious explanation in the world.
“But isn’t my dad having a meeting with you guys, and having celebrations for the win after?” you questioned, turning to face him. You were surprised to see his frazzled demeanor, worry creased his eyebrows, raking a hand through his already disheveled hair while his gaze searched yours for any signs that you were panicking.
Only when he was pleased with what he saw, did he reply to your question. “I’ll go back later, you’re more important to me than some stupid game,” he clicked open his umbrella, gesturing with his hand for you to do the same whilst your mouth was slightly parted as your mind still reeled from his words. “Where’s your umbrella?”
“I forgot to bring mine,” you said sheepishly once you came back to your senses. Stupid boy with his ridiculously swoon-worthy mannerisms, you should have been given an award for how fast you recovered to be able to act as normal as you could bring yourself to be.
“We can share then,” he motioned for you to hold the umbrella for a moment, taking the headphones from around his neck and placing them over your ears. It was routine at this point, the fact that he never allowed you to just take it from him and put it over your ears yourself. With a hand resting on your waist, he pulled you close to him as he held the umbrella over the two of you, tilting it more towards you so that you’d be sheltered more.
The two of you walked together, you sticking close to Donghyuck’s side. Heat crept into your cheeks as a quiet realization settled over you—you couldn't remember the last time anyone had cared for you the way he did. Tugging the jacket closer to yourself as a particularly cold gust of wind blew, you were drowned in the fragrance that was uniquely his.
It didn’t take long before the two of you arrived at your door, his hand never leaving your waist until you were in the safety of the shelter over your porch.”Thank you,” you handed back his headphones, trying to remain calm although you were dreading being left alone in your house under this heavy rain.
Instead of leaving, Donghyuck reached a hand into his pocket, taking out an ipod with wired headphones connected to it and placing it in your hand. You looked down at the device in wonder, before looking back up at him in confusion. “I downloaded all the songs that I made inside, it’s grouped together in a playlist. And there is another playlist for covers by me of songs that you like, and there is also the songs that you like but with the original singers because I’m sure you’ll get sick of my voice eventually,” he rambled nervously, his eyes darting left and right, not really seeing you although you stood there in awe as you stared up at him. “It’s a gift. You don’t have to give it back to me, I just hope it will help you feel less alone when you’re home and it rains,” he finished, finally meeting your eyes.
You didn’t know what to say, tears were gathering in your eyes as you felt touched by his gift. You closed your fingers around it, knowing no words could ever capture how deeply grateful you were, you did the only thing that came to mind. Without giving yourself a chance to overthink it, you took a step forward, rising onto the tips of your toes, and brushing a soft, fleeting kiss against his cheek.
“Goodnight, Hyuckie,” you smiled shyly before quickly turning and entering your home with the ipod clutched tightly in your hand.
The boy stood there in a trance, eyes fixed on the door, his free hand coming up to lightly graze the spot that you kissed. He felt like he needed to go and see a doctor to make sure that he wasn’t having a heart attack, surely it wasn’t normal for one’s heart to pulse this fast and vigorously like the rapid beat of raindrops that fell onto his umbrella in waves.
Finally snapping out of his stupor, he turned to leave–but not before murmuring a quiet, “Goodnight, sunshine.” The wind carried the words away, though the smitten smile lingering on his lips remained.
Act VII. The rain became our music.
It was official, you and Aria had signed up for the end-of-year school dance, though very reluctantly on your part. You hadn’t dared ask Donghyuck if he would like to go together, afraid to embarrass yourself and ruin the friendship in the process.
However, your friendship with him might already be slowly crumbling. Your heart felt heavy in your chest, it felt like a knife was being continually twisted in your gut. Melancholy threatened to pull you under, words in your textbook seemed to jumble together as your focus kept drifting away to the gossip that had spread across the school.
Donghyuck said he already asked someone out to the dance.
Apparently he asked Seoyeon out.
Hockey god with the cheer captain? Now that’s quite a pair.
I’m surprised he didn’t ask y/n, I always thought they were dating.
Long story short, he asked someone and it wasn’t you. And that hurt more than you thought it would, considering that your feelings for him was already growing to become such a palpable thing. You tried to act normal when the two of you hung out, but it proved to get progressively more difficult to maintain the act the closer the day of the school dance came.
Aria was over at your house, her making herself comfortable on the beanbag in your room while you sat at your desk. Your head on the table, his voice filled your ears while you stared at the ipod. For the nth time that day, you let out a sigh. “Maybe I shouldn’t go to the dance,” you mindlessly traced the frame of the device. “I probably can’t control my emotions if I saw him with someone else.”
“Screw him!” Aria declared, standing up from her position and walking over to you, removing the earphones and putting the device out of your reach. “You go for yourself and me of course, we go and have fun. Not go there just for a guy, alright?” she poked your side annoyingly until you grumbled out a reply in agreement. “Come on, let’s go shopping to find us the perfect dress for the occasion. I think we’ve wallowed in enough self-pity here.”
☁︎‧₊˚☔︎︎
Time flew by quickly, and soon enough it was the day of the dance. The navy dress you wore skimmed your figure, cinching at the waist and flowing effortlessly to your ankles. A high slit traced its way up one side, stopping mid-thigh, revealing glimpses of your leg with every step. Your hair was curled and fell in loose waves, the makeup that Aria did for you enhanced your soft features, turning them a little bit sharper than usual.
You looked beautiful to say the least, as you twirled in front of the mirror to admire yourself. “Wow, you’re actually really talented,” you complimented her.
“Please, my effort is nothing if the person herself isn’t my prettiest best friend,” Aria grinned. “Aren’t you so glad you decided to go with me, dressing up is so fun. We literally look so hot.”
You would be lying if you said that you were not nervous about seeing Donghyuck there, and that you won’t be bolting out of the hall if you saw him with his hands around someone else. He wasn’t even yours and somehow it felt like some kind of betrayal, but jealousy never made sense.
You were a bundle of nerves as the two of you entered the school hall that had been turned into a ballroom, the place was already packed with people. Music was blasting on the speakers, some people danced on the dance floor in the middle while others were snacking and drinking by the standing tables at the side. The scene was quite intimidating for your relatively introverted self, you subtly hid behind Aria’s back as she led the two of you over to an empty table.
With your head down and a lack of awareness towards your surroundings, you didn’t notice the pair of eyes that was basically drilling two holes into your figure. Donghyuck stood still amongst his teammates, finding it impossible to drag his eyes away from you ever since you entered the room. Everything else was a distant hum as his eyes greedily devoured you in that dress.
You were so pretty it hurt.
His lips parted and his eyes glazed over as he watched your timid self trying to make yourself seem smaller in the crowd, not realising how absolutely stunning you look. The most beautiful one in the room, or in any room honestly. He could never get enough of you, and it was becoming painfully clear in the way his mind spun when you weren’t around, as if he was facing withdrawals from the loss of his drug. You were an addiction to him, nothing else came close to the way you made him feel–like he mattered.
His legs seem to have its own plans, not being able to help himself but gravitate in your direction, only stopping once he is standing directly behind you. “Fancy seeing you here, sunshine,” he tried to sound normal, but his words came out a little bit too breathless to be considered anything remotely normal. You turned to face him and he felt like he had been struck in the chest again, his breath hitching as he watched you up close. He could only blink as he stared in silence, all words dying on his tongue. When a hair fell loose, he instinctively raised his hand to tuck it back behind your ear. “Pretty,” he breathed, the word escaping him before he could stop it.
You pretended that you didn’t hear what he just said, and also pretended to be blind towards the awestruck look on his face as he kept staring at you. A light flush coloured your cheeks at his scrutiny. He was dressed rather elegantly himself, the top button of his dress shirt undone making him messy yet devastatingly attractive. However, you picked yourself up and managed to get the words that had been in the back of your mind out. “Aren’t you supposed to be with your date? I don’t think she would be very happy if you came to the dance and went to talk to another girl,” you bit out, arms crossed over your chest as you tilted your head and an icy look overshadowed your face.
His face twisted in confusion at your words, finally sobering up and dragging his eyes up from the glimpse of your leg at the slit of your dress to your eyes. “What do you mean? I didn’t ask anybody out,” he blinked, baffled by your cold statement. “You should know better than to listen to the rumours people say about me all the time.”
“You…didnt?” you echoed, all the tension from the past week leaving your body. He shook his head in confirmation, frowning at the idea that you thought he could even spare a glance for any other girl when he had you.
“Is that why you’ve been so distant lately?” He took a step closer to you like he couldn’t help himself. The faint scent of vanilla enveloped him, soft and comforting, and suddenly it was all he could think about. You, you, you, you, his mind kept chanting, he felt delirious from being in your presence.
“Well…I though–”
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he cut you off, not being able to take it anymore, he needed and wanted you alone. Maybe it was selfish but he wanted you all to himself, every day and every second, though the urge seems to be especially maddening tonight. Something about you in that dress was intoxicating, his mind reeling from the intrinsic need to have you, to do so many forbidden things that he shouldn’t be doing to a girl who was the daughter of his coach. “Sorry Aria, I’m stealing her from you. Have fun though!” he made sure to acknowledge your friend, waving one hand and lacing his other together with yours before dragging you out of the place.
He didn’t just stop in the hallway, he continued to pull you in the direction of the stairs, up and up until it became clear that the two of you were headed to the rooftop. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t just drag me out of the event and leave Aria alone, I literally came here with her for christ sakes. I feel so bad now. What are we even going to do on the ro–” you yelped in surprise when Donghyuck turned around just before the door to the rooftop, a wild sort of look glazed over his eyes.
“Will you dance with me?” His question was sweet and simple, desperation seeping into his voice. You felt a thousand butterflies explode in your stomach. Your eyes widening in surprise as he stretched a hand out for you to accept. Tentatively, you placed your hand in his and he grinned widely at that, his dimples making an appearance at the corners of his mouth. “Do you trust me?” His question came as a quiet murmur, and with you giving a short nod he opened the door to the rooftop and pulled you out before you could even process why he even asked you such a strange question.
Your answer became clear when the first drops of rain touched your face, it wasn’t heavy but it was somewhere between a drizzle and a light rain. You worried your lip as you kept up with him, bringing you to the middle of the roof. He pulled you towards him, his other hand coming to your waist. “Is this okay?” He asked, eyes scanning your face for any signs of discomfort. “I thought maybe leaving a happy memory under the rain could dissolve some of that fear of yours.”
You smiled at that. He was always caring for you. You brought both your arms around his neck, meeting his eyes and softly replied, “It’s perfect.”
The drops of rain that slowly drenched you didn’t really bother you as much as they normally would, for once your fear of the rain seemed to be set aside, a sense of tranquility surprisingly encapsulated the atmosphere instead. The two of you didn’t need any music, the song of the raindrops was sufficient enough. It was a heady feeling as you stared up at him, your eyes sparkling with admiration that Donghyuck didn’t miss, and he felt like his heart was going to explode.
The tension between the two of you was overwhelming as you slow danced, no words were spoken and yet it felt like there was a million words being exchanged amidst the silence. Your eyes subtly darted from his eyes to his parted lips, and a suddenly staggering urge to kiss him pulsed through your blood.
He was no better, his mind was spinning with thoughts about kissing you too, the pink lipstick you had on made it all the more tempting. His hand came up from your waist, trailing across the smooth skin of your bare shoulders before cupping your cheek. He lifted your head up slightly, his thumb gingerly traced your bottom lip. “Soft,” he breathed, more to himself than anything, his eyes fixated on his thumb that kept lightly dragging back and forth across your lip like he couldn’t bring himself to stop. You held your breath at his intimate touch, waiting with a bated breath for what he was going to do next. “May I kiss you?” He finally asked, his eyes dragging to meet yours with desperation laced in them, like he was close to losing the last bit of self-restraint over his animalistic needs.
Your only reply was to lean closer to him, your lips parting in anticipation, and that was all the indication he needed. Without another wasted second, his mouth met yours. The kiss was gentle, delicate and filled with every little bit of longing the two of you had for each other. The softness of your lips against his, the taste of berries from your lip balm and the vanilla fragrance that seemed even stronger now caused the boy to feel dizzy. He was drowning in you, and he didn’t think that there was a better way to die than this. His thumb stroked your cheekbone as his mouth kept taking and taking, tilting his head slightly to deepen the kiss, drawing out every last bit of sensation from you with an eagerness he didn’t think he was capable of feeling. He knew he was in deep trouble, because deep down, he knew that one taste was never going to be enough when it came to you.
Eventually, the two of you broke apart, and the world came back into focus. The rain was heavier now, basically beating down on you, making your dress stick to your skin. Your lungs heaved as you inhaled air in, trying to get back to your senses after that mind-altering kiss. Your mused hair, flushed cheeks and swollen lips only seemed to make you look even more like a goddess in his eyes. He wanted so badly to repeat everything that just happened again, but he knew the rain was getting too heavy to stay outside for long. With a gentle hand on your lower back, he guided you back indoors, the rooftop door closed with a loud bang and silence followed as the noise outside faded.
The two of you were drenched, your makeup smudged and your skin sticky. You felt disgusting and yet you’ve never felt more beautiful standing there with all of Donghyuck’s attention on you as if he couldn’t bear to stop looking at you, like it physically hurts to look away. A bashful smile curved the corners of your lips, feeling slightly flustered after everything that had went down.
“Thank you for that, I don’t think I’ve ever felt that serene while standing under the rain before,” you broke the silence, tilting your head down as you looked at your feet. “You do a lot for me,” you commented, as if it was just a simple observation. His fingers gently cradled your chin, tilting your face back up until your eyes met his. There was a mixture of emotions in his eyes, tenderness and something else–something profound, something so deep that you were too afraid to name.
“I’d do anything for you.”
Act VIII. We weren’t meant to last–only to fall like rain, soft and fleeting.
The next few days passed in bliss, ever since the first kiss, it led to many more. Sweet, innocent pecks when Donghyuck saw you like he couldn’t help himself. There were other times when the kiss deepened until you felt it in the very core of your being, he kissed like he wanted to leave a permanent imprint of himself on you. And yet, the two of you still weren’t together officially, and honestly, you didn’t even know what the two of you were anymore. Friends didn’t kiss, and yet he didn’t ask you to be his girlfriend. It was confusing but you decided to let it go and watch how things play out.
Though, maybe that was the wrong thing to do. Gossip spread like a plague, with many catching on to the development of your friendship with Donghyuck, some even witnessing the kisses that you two shared. There had always been gossip, you just hadn’t realise how detrimental these particular ones were.
It was gloomy outside when you reached home one day, your dad was sat on the couch, his eyebrows furrowed with a troubled expression on his face as he watched something on his phone. “I’m home, dad,” you announced as you entered the living room.
“Come here,” his tone was serious, the kind that came before a scolding. The moment you settled down beside him, he turned and showed you the video playing on his phone. Your shoulders stiffened, your eyes widening and ears growing hot when you realised what he was watching. A video. One of you and Donghyuck kissing right by a secluded corner beside the lockers. “I might only be a coach for the ice hockey team but by no means does that mean I am unaware of what goes on in school, nor am I oblivious to what my players do outside of their time on the rink.”
“We…We’re just…” You trailed off, at a loss for words.
“Just what? Fooling around? Dating?”
“No! We’re not dating, I–I don’t know…One thing just led to another and it just…happened,” you played with your fingers nervously, scared of your father’s wrath that you knew was coming.
“Good,” that word surprised you causing your eyes to shoot up to his. “It’s not too late to cut things off with him yet,” you dad finished. It wasn’t his words that caused your heart to shatter, it was the blatantly clear disapproval he had towards your relationship with Donghyuck. The way he so easily asked you to break things off like anything the two of you had was just a minor obstacle, a temporary setback.
“Why would I do that? I really like him, dad,” you argued, standing on your feet as you started getting restless. In fact, you were so sure that your feelings were progressing towards a very different ‘L’ word.
“It’s for the best. Haechan is one of the best players right now, in fact he might even be the best. Many coaches have came to me asking about him and he is most likely on his way to be the first draft pick in the NHL. He is not going to stay, y/n,” his last words were spoken quietly, almost pitifully. “I just don’t want to see you hurt, it’s better to end things off now when it is still fresh or you’re going to face an avalanche worth of melancholy later on.”
“Can I at least be friends with him?” Your fists clenched, your whole body had gone numb as you processed your dad’s words.
“Alright. Just promise me you won’t go any further than that?” Your dad raised his pinky, the gesture so familiar, the action that seals any pact you two made ever since you were a child. With a shaky finger, you raised your own to his, interlocking them together.
☁︎‧₊˚☔︎︎
It was painful, to say the least. At first, you thought it would be fine if everything just went back to how it was before. But it became very much clear after every turn of your head just when Donghyuck was leaning in to kiss you, or the very lame excuses you made that it was harder than it seemed. Every glimpse of hurt you saw in his eyes, which he quickly composed himself of, was like a punch to your gut.
You hated that look on him.
It went on for close to two weeks, today however, he seemed to have had enough. The two of you stood right outside the school main doors, under the shelter, you bracing for the rain again. You frowned at the storm, it was much much heavier than normal, so much so that the path was barely visible.
“Well, are you ready, sunshine?” He gestured towards the incoming warzone. “It’ll be fine as long as I’m here,” he winked, an easy, reassuring smile on his lips. You glanced at him nervously before nodding, and Donghyuck thought it was the perfect time to give you an encouraging peck. He leaned down, aiming for your lips, but at the very last second, you turned your head causing him to land on your cheek instead. His fist clenched as his eyes shined with hurt, disappointment, rage. “What’s wrong?” He bit out.
“What do you mean?” You made an attempt to act oblivious, hoping he’d buy the act though you knew that was futile. You knew you had pushed him to his limits.
“Don’t go pretending that nothing is wrong, you’ve been constantly rejecting me. I thought things were going so well, did I do something wrong? Is there any way I can fix it? Is there any way I can bring back the god damn eyes that looked at me like they wanted me as badly as I wanted them?” His breathing came in short huffs, his words coming out aggressive as the accumulated wells of hurt he tried to bury floated to the surface. It hurt even more when you started pulling away the moment he was ready to formally ask you out, to be his. You were speechless, your hands fell weakly to your sides, your umbrella falling to the floor though you didn’t make a move to pick it up. “Please, just tell me what to do. I said I would do anything for you and I meant it. If you want me to transfer schools to avoid all the gossips, I would. If you want me to tell every god damn person in that school to stop giving you the cold shoulder, I would. If you wanted me to quit the god damn hockey team just so that there is no conflict of interest, I would do it in a heartbeat.”
You flinched at the last bit, it hit too close to home. You didn’t want him to give up his future for you, and if he was such a global talent at hockey, you can’t possibly let him just give it up for you.
“Y/n, please. I don’t care what it is, just tell me what I can do to get you back,” he pleaded, practically begging for an ounce of what transpired that night in the rain. For the admiration, affection, perhaps a tinge of love that he knew intrinsically sparkled in your eyes that day. Now it seemed overshadowed by something else, a load of reluctance and uncertainty that clouded your eyes. Cold. Blank. That was what he would describe it, and he absolutely hated it. “Please,” he breathed, one last ditch attempt at pulling the strings.
“I…I can’t do this anymore,” your words cracked something in him, he felt like his heart was being sucked out of his body, the beats slowing like it was going to be his last.
“Is this because you’re scared? Or is this about the rumours, or your dad? Is that it, you’re just going to give it up just like that? All of a sudden?” His jaw was clenched so tightly that a vein popped in his neck. “Do you seriously think we can go back to before the kiss happened?”
Tears clouded your vision, you hated how hard he was making this for you. You didn’t recognise him anymore, his walls were so clearly built up to shield himself against whatever you were throwing his way, his eyes a sea of emptiness. “I’m just saying we’re better off as friends,” your fist clenched by your sides as you hissed the words out.
“So you’re saying it meant nothing to you?” His voice came out steady although inside he felt like his world was crumbling. He couldn’t imagine not being something more with you, being friends just wasn’t going to cut it anymore. “I was just a fling, is that it?” He let out a bitter laugh.
“No! Of course not, you’re not a fling.”
“Then why do you want to go back to being just friends?”
“I told you, I can’t do this anymore,” you pursed your lips, fighting back the tears that threatened to run down your cheeks. It was practically a shouting match now, the two of your voices growing louder while the rain seemed to get progressively heavier at the same time. It was ironic how fitting the weather was to your current situation. “I’m just saying we should go back to being friends. We’re better off being friends.”
“So what you’re trying to say is that we should be friends that don’t kiss, friends that don’t know the taste of the other’s lips, friends that walk together whenever it rained and pretend like everything in the past never happened. A bit too late for that, don’t you think?” He said darkly, fingers running through his hair in exasperation. He hated to see the tears in your eyes, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to comfort you right now. Not when his own heart was breaking, not when a huge part of him was being ripped out and torn to pieces. A knife twisting in his ribs and stabbing over and over again, he never felt this kind of agony before.
“No!” You practically shouted the word out, tears were streaming down your face. You hated doing this to him, the fragile bond between the two of you seemed to be breaking with every word. “What I’m saying, Donghyuck, is that it is friends or nothing,” your last word came out harsh, so much so that you saw him physically recoil.
You were too overwhelmed by your emotions to hear his response, you quickly lowered yourself to pick up your umbrella. Opening it as quickly as you could, you ran off into the storm back home, without any headphones, and without him.
Act IX. It rains, and you’re not there anymore.
Friends or nothing.
Friends or nothing.
Friends or nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
Donghyuck’s mind spiralled as it kept replaying your last words, spoken with such finality that he knew you were being serious. He knew he would be better off without you if that were the case. Surely anything would be better than being your friend. The friend who stood by your side. The friend who watched you fall in love with someone else. The friend who smiled, laughed and joked around with you while pretending that everything was okay, like he wasn’t already so deeply in love with you he couldn’t see any other options anymore. The friend who was relegated to stay by the sidelines, watching someone else take your hand in marriage, kiss you, love you, have a future with you like he didn’t want all of that for himself. The friend who would be loyal and content with just being there, keeping all of his urges to commit murder against the hypothetical ‘other man’ and hide the fact that he wanted to get on his knees and beg. Beg and beg and beg for you to see him.
And yet despite all the hurt that would come with simply being your friend, losing you altogether was probably ten times worse. It could be better, he won’t see you, won’t give in to the overpowering feelings he had for you, and be able to move on, eventually. Who was he kidding? He knew you were it for him, there will never be ‘moving on from you’ in his books.
If he had better self-restraint when it came to you, he’d probably make better decisions. But that was the thing about drugs, it clouded your judgement, and all you could think about was your next hit.
That was why despite the hurt, anger, resentment at the ultimatum you had given him, he still followed behind you that day in the rain, after your fight. Because in spite of everything, his soul couldn’t live without you, and it couldn’t help but worry about you. He walked a few paces away, not close enough for you to feel his presence but enough for him to make sure that you got home safe. And even with the rift between the two of you, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride from the fact that you got home by yourself, without music, without him, and with the heavy storm. Though it scared him to think that the day has came where you didn’t need him anymore, when he very much needed you like you were his oxygen.
It wasn’t really a hard choice when it came to choosing between having you as a friend or not having you at all. In a heartbeat, he would choose to be your friend. You had so thoroughly altered his entire system that he’d rather have scraps of you, just enough to get a high than have nothing at all.
For a world without you, wasn’t a world at all.
☁︎‧₊˚☔︎︎
You thought it’d be easier. You cried yourself to sleep that night, and every night since then, mourning for what could have potentially been such a beautiful, delicate thing that was so easily destroyed in the span of a day.
You selfishly wished that he would choose to have nothing to do with you, to hate you so much that he’d avoid you like a plague, wouldn’t even spare a glance at you anymore and open his eyes to see the rest of the plethora of much beautiful girls vying for his attention.You wished so badly that he would choose to want nothing to do with you anymore so that it made things easier, easier to forget about him, easier to forget how easy it had been to drown in his affection. But no, he had to be his stupidly understanding and selfless self, and choose to continue being your friend.
He appeared by your side like nothing had happened, like you hadn’t hurt him in inexcusable ways with your words, like you hadn’t broken something in him since the day you started rejecting his advances. He never mentioned a single thing about that day, not the way he stopped calling you ‘sunshine’ in the entirety of your shouting match, nor the way he shook with rage you had never imagined he’d be capable of when he was normally so jubilant.
However, everything did change after that day, and you couldn’t pretend that it didn’t happen as easily as he did. So you continued to avoid him, not knowing how to act nor be his friend anymore, not knowing how to respond to his casual teasing when there was some truth in them.
You started to hang out with Aria again, not daring to go up to the rooftop for lunch with him as usual. Not there. Anywhere but the place where everything began, the place that was filled with only the happiest memories. It felt too fragile to pollute with such negativity that you seemed to feel on the daily now.
Your best friend tried her best to cheer you up, despite not knowing what was going on between you two. You only vaguely summarised, excluding the part on your agreement with your dad, which she would definitely say to “screw that shit,” and tell you to do the exact opposite of what you promised. You felt lethargic in school, like your body was there but your mind somewhere else, every action was auto-pilot and that was probably the only reason you were still surviving school.
Despite giving Donghyuck an option to be friends, you clearly weren’t prepared for the case that he did choose that. It hurt too much to see him, he embodied everything you yearned for, wanted, loved, and then lost. On rainy days, you quickly left on your own. On days where they had practice and you were catching a ride home with your dad, you waited for him in the car.
On nights where it rained, you succumbed to your compulsions. The earbuds in your ears, ipod clutched tightly in your hand and the jacket that you never returned wrapped tightly around you. His voice flowed melodiously through your ears, and although it hurt, it was comforting all the same. The sound of his hum like a soft caress on your skin, and when you closed your eyes, you could almost imagine him right behind you, singing, his breath tickling the back of your neck. Sometimes, it felt so real that you would shoot up from bed and look around, only for reality to wash over you.
He would never do that to you. Friends didn’t sing to each other while being a hair’s breadth away. It was an awful reality to live with but it was the choice you had made.
Sometimes you wished that you could go back in time to when the two of you were dancing contentedly on the rooftop, freeze time then and there. You would have begged for the rain to never cease despite your fear of it. The rain had always felt friendlier with him there.
In school, you did a good job with avoiding Donghyuck, although he tried very hard to strike a conversation with you or to simply stay by your side. You never gave him the time of day. You could tell that every excuse you gave wounded him, though he shoved his feelings down before it could take root, giving a nonchalant shrug before saying a simple,”maybe next time then,” after every rejection.
The ridiculously bewitched part of you was relieved that he was still there when you needed him, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to spend more time with him other than the few short ones you had.
It was so clearly your fault, but deep down, you knew that eventually he would reach his limit of his tolerance for you again. And this time, he would inevitably leave you. For good.
Act X. Fear the rain, but not me. Anything but me.
Donghyuck didn’t know what to do anymore. It felt like his entire world was crumbling around him, he was sluggish at practice, he barely had an appetite for food, the constant pressure in his chest refused to cease. He felt like dying.
He was a ball of anxiety, the only thing that seemed to remotely help was your hair tie on his wrist, the hair tie that he never took off ever since he worn it. He fiddled with it, his eyes absentmindedly stared at it, unconsciously tracing the length of it with his fingers as his mind filled with thoughts about you. You. It always all came back to you.
You were life and death itself.
He didn’t understand why, what he did wrong, why you wouldn’t let him hang out with you anymore. He didn’t know what hurt more, you making excuses not to spend an extended period of time with him or the fact that you seemed to change your mind about even being his friend. He was sick and tired of your mixed signals, so, so god damn tired. He didn’t want to be a hockey god anymore, he didn’t want to have all this pretentious people vying for his attention like being around him would suddenly give them a boost in their status quo.
He wanted to stop being Haechan. He wanted to scream that he was just a normal boy like the rest of them, that he could lead a normal life, fall in love with a girl, date her, lose himself in her. More importantly, he wanted to be brave enough to give up hockey altogether and pursue his secret little hobby in music as a career instead. A hobby that only you knew about.
But he didn’t want to do any of that anymore, not if you weren’t there by his side. Not if you refused to look at him in the eye anymore, not if you dismissed him so easily like he didn’t matter.
“I’m so sorry, Donghyuck, I have a lot to study, I need to catch up with my work in the library later,” you bit the bottom of your lip, hand gripping your books tightly to your chest. Your eyes looked past him, to the wall behind, not really seeing him despite him being right in front of you.
His fists clenched tightly, another fragment of his heart chipping away. Why did he even bother anymore? Why couldn’t he just read the room and leave you alone, avoid you like you did so easily to him? Why can’t he just stop hoping that today might be the day where you would finally try to bridge the gap that had grown between you two, to go back to some semblance of a friendship that had first formed under the rain. His soft spot for you was turning into his biggest weakness, the fact that he would willingly take jabs after jabs for you although he was slowly losing himself in the process. But despite every word in his mind that wanted to plead with you for something, anything. He tuned it all out, bottling it up and throwing it deep down somewhere in the back of his mind so that he can let it all out later when he was alone.
He gave a forced smile, eyes skimming over your face, landing on your lips for a second longer in longing. “Okay then, hope you have a good study session,” he forced the words out of his lips, taking a step back and turning the corner so that he didn’t have to look at you any longer than what he could take without touching you.
☁︎‧₊˚☔︎︎
You lied. You weren’t headed to the library at all. You were headed home, straight home right after the last bell rang. You were so exhausted, so tired from everything. So mentally and physically drained that you walked home without hesitation despite the rain. You did realise that you weren’t scared of it anymore, it didn’t intimidate you.
You didn’t know when or how but your perception of the rain slowly changed, instead of a monstrous thing, it was quiet, comforting yet relentless in a way that echoed your own feelings. It was more of a companion now.
You were just one step from entering your porch when you impulsively decided that you didn’t really want to go inside and wallow in your feelings so soon. You looked up at the sky, letting your umbrella drop to the ground and basking in the way the droplets of water soaked you. You closed your eyes, imagining that day on the rooftop where everything felt so simple. Like the rain wasn’t that big of a deal as you’ve made it out to be since young.
“When are you going to stop avoiding me?” A familiar voice drifted to your ears, it was broken, bitter. Your eyes shot open as you saw him standing there, one fist clenched while the other held his umbrella over his head.
“I’m not avoiding you.”
A hollow laugh escaped him, his eyes emotionless, blank. “Put me out of my misery, y/n.” A pause. “I told you already, I would do anything for you. If it hurts too much to have me as a friend just tell me to leave, to never spare another glance at you, to leave any room once you enter, to never dare to even think about your name in my head ever again.”
“But…but I don’t want any of that,” you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push back all the pain that came from looking at the shell of himself, a shell that you had caused.
A wild look crossed his eyes, borderline maniacal. “Stop giving me mixed signals. Stop giving me hope that I can do something to change the outcome. Stop implying that I have a chance to get you back. Just stop. I can only handle so much before I fucking break, y/n,” his voice cracked, defeated tears escaped his eyes, running down his cheeks. The vulnerability in his eyes so palpable that you couldn’t breathe. “Just tell me that you want me gone,” his words came in a whisper, carried by the wind.
He didn’t even realise that he had instinctively inched closer to you, now holding his umbrella over you both, because that stupid soft spot for you was still concerned about you getting sick from being drenched in the rain. “I can’t,” you admitted.
“You can’t?” He paused. “Then tell me that you want me to be your friend.” Silence. “Oh for goodness sake, y/n. What do you want from me.” Words were lost on you, although the answer to that question easily came to the forefront of your mind, the one thing that you couldn’t possibly have with him. “You just want me to continue being your little puppet, is that it? For me to just be conveniently there for you all the time, but never letting me come anywhere close to you,” he laughed humourlessly. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how much more I can take if that is the case. It fucking sucks being just there, you being within reach and yet barely close enough to touch.”
You hated all of this, the way he was headed towards self-destruction, the way he was degrading himself and never once saying a single bad thing about you. Like he was the one who needed to be better for you, to be patient, to do whatever you asked, to be fixed just so that he can have you. Maybe it was all of these facts that made your resolve crumble, a choked sob escaping your lips and the moment one came out, everything else escaped. Tears cascaded down your cheeks as rapidly as the rain poured, your breath coming in short, choked huffs.
“Sunshine?” His voice was so soft, gentle. Like in spite of all his hurt, he couldn’t bear to witness you being hurt, being converted to a sobbing mess because of him. Each short gasp and sob was like a stab to his heart.
“I want a relationship with you. I can never be anything less than lovers with you. I can’t even breathe without you sometimes, while other times, just the knowledge of you being alive somewhere else in the world makes breathing easier,” your confession came out in a rush, lips trembling. “But I can’t have you because you are going to be this hockey legend superstar, and you’ll be going to the leagues and probably moving to America to play professionally. And I can’t possibly be the reason that you lose all of those amazing opportunities, even if it hurts, if it meant that you’ll be successful, everything would be worth it.”
A dawning realisation settled over Donghyuck, all his heightened emotions expelled from him at your words, his eyes softening and the tension in his body dissolving. “Oh, my selfless sunshine,” his free hand came to caress your cheek, tilting your head up until you met his eyes. His thumb tenderly wiped away your tears. “Was that what your dad told you?” He mused, watching as your head nodded slightly in his hand. “Then I would tell you that I never had any plans to play hockey professionally in the first place. That my dreams were always to create my own music, to let my loved ones listen to them, to see the strength and smiles on people’s faces that my music brings. That i’ve already been scouted by companies for my music because I’m not just talented in hockey, I guess I kind of have a talent at that too.”
Your mouth parted in awe as you listened to him speak, all while he unconsciously ran his fingers through your hair to smoothen it. “You never told me that before,” you mumbled, eyes closing at the wave of tranquility his touch brought.
“Because I don’t talk about it with anyone. I’ve only allowed you to listen to them, other than the producers who are analysing my work, no one else has ever heard my songs before. And none of them have heard more of my songs than you have,” a sweet smile occupied his face. “I guess I had a thing for you since the first time we met, considering I already let you hear one of mine before I even knew your name.”
The rain had slowed to a low drizzle now, the sun making a slight appearance over the dark clouds. “So what now? I think you will need to get through my dad if we are going to establish any labels, and there is a high chance my dad is never going to approve of us being together,” you sighed.
“Do you want a relationship with me?” He brought his umbrella down now, the rain having completely halted. You nodded firmly. “Then I’ll slowly convince your dad that I’m the one for you. I told you I’d do anything you want, and if you want me by your side forever, then that’s where I’ll be, regardless of what your dad thinks.”
“And if I want a hug right now?”
“Then you’ll get a hug,” his arms circled around your waist, your soaked shirt making him damp. He didn’t care, only pulling you closer to his chest, your head tucked under his chin. Your own arms came around his waist as well, and it felt like you could finally breathe again. Your ear rested over his heart, listening to it beat, rhythmic and soothing just like his voice.
“Hey, look! It’s a rainbow!” You exclaimed, pointing towards the sky excitedly. Your eyes switching from the view and back to the boy who only stared at you fondly.
Your heart warmed, understanding slowly creeping in that a world without him as your lover was never an option in the first place. After all, he helped you get over your fear of the rain, through his quiet actions, the subtle encouragement. The quiet devotion that he had towards you, you had always known that even while you walked alone in the rain, he was never far behind. The shadow of his back as he walked away that you couldn’t resist staring at every rainy day from the peephole at your front door the moment you enter your house. It was silly that he could think that you would never notice him, from the reflection of security cameras along the way, there was always glimpses of him not far behind. The warmth of his devotion like a soft caress at your lower back, guiding you and pushing you to walk home. Always watching, always worrying, always caring for you, even when he was mad and hurting.
And then you knew. You never truly feared the rain. It was the loneliness of walking through it by yourself, getting lost amidst the mistiness that came with the pouring droplets, no one being there to help.
But knowing he was there, always just a step behind you, was enough.
arden's note: long story short, we all wanna dance with Taeyong. And yes, this is about make a wish. it is extremely outdated, but I think it turned out cute so here you go! hope you enjoy it!
You held the final pose as the music came to an end, heavy breaths filling the practice room.
“Ok, ladies, that’s a wrap for today.” the choreographer announced, satisfied with the progress you had made for the day. “Thank you for your work!” Sighs followed, the girls around you catching their breaths, thankful that practice was finally over. “Make sure to get a good night of sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow!”
Soon after, your group’s leader grabbed the few dramatic members who exaggeratedly laid down on the ground and leaded all of you to bow to the choreographer to thank her for her work.
As usual, the members then scattered across the studio, some rushing to gather their stuff and leave as quickly as they could, others deciding to practice a little more by the mirror and other opting to chat on the sofa near the door. You, however, grabbed your water bottle and walked towards the choreographer.
“You’re staying today?” Eunseo’s voice stopped you on your tracks. Looking at your same age member and closest friend, you noticed she already had her puff jacket and beanie on, bag slung on her shoulder. Yeah, she was definitely on the ‘get off of work asap’ category.
“Yeah, I need to get this down…” you explained, hesitating as her disappointed pout intensified, upset that you wouldn’t share the car ride home. But there still were a few minutes left until the next group’s practice session, and with your debut right around the corner, you figured you could use any second to better your performance, whether it be dance or vocals.
“Ok, but don’t push yourself too far.” she warned, aware of how hard you had been working the last month. “I’ll see you at the dorm!” She waved, leaving the studio.
Now standing in the centre of the room, the choreographer showed you the move for the billionth time, trying to explain it the best she could in a way that would finally click in your head. You were beginning to think you were either really stupid or the choreographers who had come up with this specific move had conspired against you and manifested the downfall of your yet non-existent idol career.
After a while of practicing, the clock on the wall read 6 PM.
You smooth your shirt down and made your hair look a bit more presentable since the other group would be arriving anytime from now. Nonetheless, you kept on repeating the same section of the choreography over and over again as the choreographer gave you some directions.
It wasn’t easy being a trainee, everyday was repetitive and exhausting, but now, with your debut date finally nearing, you could finally see the end of the tunnel. You just had to work a little bit-
A loud group of people was suddenly heard approaching the studio. You hoped that they were just passing by, to give you a bit more time, but soon, much to your dismay, the door opened.
“Oh, the rookies are here!” a male voice exclaimed softly. It wasn’t necessarily one you knew by heart, but not entirely strange either, its vague familiarity catching you off guard and distracting you from the detailed explanation the choreographer was so kindly giving you. Bless her heart for being so patient with you.
Scanning the practice room through the mirror in front of you, you watched as the group of men that entered the room quickly turned on their professional personas upon realizing there were other people in the studio, greeting the girls who were still excitedly chatting on the sofa.
This was your cue to leave. The next group had arrived, and you didn’t mean to bother their practice. Maybe if it were Aespa you'd stay in your little corner and train the choreo for a little longer, as you were great friends with the girls. But that certainly wasn’t the case.
You had obviously been in the presence of NCT before, you’d been a trainee at the company for 2 years after all. You’d seen a few of their live performances, passed by them on the hallways and even greeted a couple of members on the elevator when you were going to the recording studio.
Except, this time was different. This time there were many of them, up close, and it wasn’t a 1-minute interaction you could swiftly breeze through. Plus, you were pretty sure the voice you had heard belonged to Lee Taeyong, THE Lee Taeyong, and right now you didn’t have Eunseo by your side to hold your hand as you freaked out.
Needless to say, sweating on the same floor as NCT was a terrifying thought and you needed to get out of there fast.
"Do you get it now, Y/N?" the choreographer’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. "The trick is all on the shoulders. Use your shoulders, not your arms." She looked at you expectantly.
"Oh- that actually makes a lot more sense..." your voice trailed as you nodded frantically, hoping she would catch on to your sudden rush to go home.
"Ok. Then let's try it one last time from the top." she ordered.
"What-" A mix of confusion and embarrassment was written all over your face as she quickly walked towards the computer to play the same song for the nth time this afternoon.
Oh, you swear to God you're fine hahaha- you're just about to practice your debut stage in front of your seniors, everything is super chill.
Not only that but in front of NCT, the group that made you want to be an idol.
Nervously looking around the room, you realised all members of your group were now gone, the only people left being the group of men standing by the door, chatting with each other. You silently prayed that they were way too distracted in their conversations to pay you any mind.
But as the music starts every inhibition seemed to vanish, both your mind and body locking into the rhythm. The choreography flowed through you like it was second nature, limbs moving without you even having to spare a thought about it. Suddenly there was no one else in the studio, no eyes looking at you. Just you and your reflection. And, well… your choreographer, who had luckily spared you the shame of dancing all by yourself.
As the choreo came to an end, you honestly felt like it went pretty well. You hit every move cleanly and were able to do the damned step at the right timing, although you felt like it still needed a little bit of work.
Claps immediately erupted from behind you, some of the men even shouting encouraging praises. This made your confident demeanour do a whole 180, tensing up and shyly bowing to them as deeply as you could to express your gratitude. They found endearing how the fierce look in your eyes was quickly replaced by a flustered state, red spreading across your face and ears. They could definitely relate to the way you felt in that moment, having gone through the same emotions when they were trainees and performed for their seniors for the first time.
"Damn, you got even better, Y/N!" Shotaro approached to give you a side hug, making you smile. It meant a lot coming from him. Not only had you two grown close while training together, but you were both also debuting at the same time. You couldn’t help but think how much more pressure he must have felt, debuting in an already established and successful group. Proud was an understatement when you saw the light in his eyes.
As NCT waited for the final member to arrive, Shotaro was kind enough to make small talk with you, catching up on everything you hadn’t had the opportunity to chat about in the last few weeks, due to mismatched schedules.
After the last member entered the studio, and after a lot of teasing over his lateness, they started warming up, joking around occasionally.
For such a successful group they sure joked around a lot during practice. As you made your way to the corner of the studio towards your bag, you analysed the group of men through the mirror. Maybe they weren’t that intimidating after all. They’d already seen you dance, what was there to be afraid of? It couldn't be that different from being in the studio with Aespa. Plus, having been in the industry for so long, they’d probably not even care that much about your presence.
And so, you decided to stay for a little while longer.
You walked to the corner where your bag was to drink some water.
Grabbing your water bottle and crouching down to relax for a bit, you finally came to your senses, daze from the fever dream you swore you were living calming down. Only then you noticed that it wasn’t a fixed unit, but a completely random combination of members. I guess NCT U is having a comeback soon…
You found yourself curiously checking out the choreography, admiring their work. You’d deny it was just a rehearsal if you didn’t know any better. And the damn song was really catchy, bound to top the charts.
An hour had flown by. The dance move was now coming naturally to you and the whistle of the song that had been playing in loop in the background was now stuck in your head.
“Ok, boys, 15-minute break!” the choreographer announced, followed by sighs and groans of relieve.
Much like your group would during intervals, the members dispersed through the practice room, some staying to chat or just sit in silence and others leaving to go to the bathroom or get something to eat.
You saw the reflection of a body in the distance trying to mimic yours and as it became clearer-
It was Taeyong, THE Lee Taeyong.
When your eyes locked through the mirror, you freezed in place, quickly turning around towards his direction with an embarrassed smile on your face, bowing awkwardly as he approached you.
"Damn… I thought you were just overthinking but turns out that move is actually hard.” He scratched his head, ever so humble, something you wouldn’t expect from one of the biggest idols of the company, and maybe of the whole industry.
And that’s how you found yourself next to THE Lee Taeyong trying to teach him your own debut coreo without panicking or at least trying not to. It was rather astonishing, but not at all surprising, how quick he caught up with the moves. It was also embarassing how, with only 5 minutes of practice, he was already doing a better job than you.
"How do you even get it to move like that?" he asked genuinely, eyebrows furrowed, as if he wasn’t already nailing the move. Damn perfectionist.
"Well- it's all in the shoulders..." you tried to explain, not really all that convinced with your own statement.
"She told you that didn't she?" He pointed to the choreographer, already well acquainted with her, to which you nodded shyly, earning a laugh from him.
Now that you had finished teaching him the section of your choreo, an awkward tension filled the air. However, Taeyong was set on avoiding the silence between the both of you, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. "Well, thanks for giving me another headache, now I have 2 different moves to practice."
"Wha- Which move are you stuck on?" your voice raised a bit in disbelief, truly confused as to what he could possibly be struggling with. You had been eyeing him specifically (for no particular reason) andhe was near perfect.
Your sudden change in tone and shock on your face served as a compliment to him, as if you truly thought that he could do no wrong. It was his turn to shy away.
"The main one...” he muttered. “I just think I could do it better..." He showed you the move as he eyed himself in the mirror, monitoring every curve and angle of his body. He quickly confirmed your suspicions; he was already doing it perfectly indeed.
As if on instinct, you tried it out yourself. The choreography was really cool and you already knew that sooner or later you'd learn it from beginning to end. But, as usual, you had, unfortunately, underestimated the difficulty of the move.
Damn… head isolations were definitely not your strongest suit...
"Yup. It’s harder than it looks but once you get the hang of it, it gets easier." he encouraged, chuckling softly at your attempt, as he could relate to the struggle.
"Well, now we both have 2 headaches." your voice trailing as it got awkward once again.
And great... now Taeyong can’t possibly find anything else to say. Damn him for being awkward. All he wanted was to support rookies and fellow colleagues.
And damn you for being so starstruck that you couldn’t even look him properly in the eyes. You never expected Taeyong to approach you and much less hold a full-on conversation.
Damn both of you for being two introverts who are desperately making an effort to get to know each other but get overly timid to even try to make small talk.
"Break’s over, gotta steal Taeyong from you." Jaemin suddenly appeared out of nowhere, like a knight in shining armour, here to save both of you for embarrassing yourselves even further. Throwing his arm over Taeyong’s shoulders, Jaemin munched on the cookies he had just bought on the hall's vending machine.
His casual tone took you aback, you two had never talked before, in fact, you didn’t even recall ever crossing him before. But there was no point questioning it. Probably something between both of you being around the same age and him trying to make you more comfortable.
Upon your stunned silence he just smiled. "You want one?" He extended the arm that held the snack’s bag in your direction, offering you a cookie.
"Ahmn- yeah, sure." You gladly took it. You were slowly getting hungry, close to 5 hours on the studio. “Thank you.” You bowed politely, not wanting to be overly casual to the point of coming off disrespectful.
"You should really go home and get some rest. You've already got that move down perfectly, to be honest." Taeyong advised earnestly while taking one cookie for himself. He had been in your position, and quite frankly, still also found himself doing it years into his career. He knew that perfectionism was an addiction and that one of the greatest things one could learn was knowing when to stop and be satisfied with what they had achieved.
Jaemin laughed at his words. "You already had it an hour ago! I'm convinced you just wanted to stay here to watch us!”
"I wasn’t-" you hesitated, his teasing making you blush.
"Of course you weren’t…” He winked, a damned smile spreading across his face as he saw your face turn red. “Now let's go, hyung." He grabbed the oldest by the shoulder and guided him back to the group.
“See you around, Y/N!” Taeyong said as he was dragged by Jaemin to resume their practice.
For a minute you could feel all the tension in your body drop, finally feeling like you could breathe. Was this even real? Had you really just danced with your favourite idol of all time? The one that had inspired you to take your love for dancing more seriously? To audition and follow your dream of being in a group? It had been nothing less than a privilege. And not only that but he had been so nice. And… wait-
How did he even know your name?
But dear Y/N, the real question was… how could he not?
As with any other rookies, Taeyong had had his eyes set on your group for a while. It was like him to always pay attention to the new talents and future company colleagues, so, he couldn’t deny that he had peaked once or twice into the practice room, curious about what your debut song and choreography would be like. And he would be a fool not to notice you. You, who stood out between the members by miles, with sharp dance skills and mesmerizing charisma. If he didn't know better, he wouldn't have believed you were a rookie, your 2 years of hard work definitely showing. Once he caught your name, in a random conversation he overheard between managers on the hall, he made sure to remember it, as he was certain you would be one of the aces of the next kpop generation. Solely because of that (and for no other particular reason).
SYNOPSIS : "happy halloween! time to play one giant insensitive prank on you like the popular movie franchise "stab!" lol it'll be funny dw"
WC : 12,670 words
WARNINGS : heavily based on the scream franchise. established relationship, strong language, jeno = billy and reader = sydney essentially, jeno and reader have sexy time with the mask on, oral (f. receiving), p-in-v sex, cunnilingus, dirty talk, um premeditation 😀, no happy ending. guys this is literally about a (fictional) murderer. there is a chasing scene. think scary movie 1 in the theater but more, like, serious.
AUTHOR'S NOTE : happy october :3 when you really think about it, isn't halloween time everyday? here's something i actually worked on bc im insane. also, there's a bit of an inconsistency with the writing; i said jeno already got tickets but obvi theyre seeing it at the theater party. i was already 3/4 of the way done writing it when i remembered so pls just ignore it plsplspls i beg. as always, please let me know if i forgot any warnings <3
DISCLAIMER : the characters in this story are to be allusions to real people, and none of the situations, personalities, and actions found here should reflect reality. i do not believe in any of the problematic actions displayed and mentioned. this story was created with zero intention to violate the images of the artists.
It was October, which meant another "Stab!" movie was going to be released within due time, which also meant, everyone was going to harp on about the events that happened last year; that happen every year. The "Stab!" movies that got rereleased in theaters every year for a week were really... not all that good, in your (unprofessional) opinion. They were poorly made "based-on-a-true-story" movies that influenced a worldwide prank across the world that caused a lot of actual real world deaths and trauma. But, your boyfriend, a film student, thought it was one of the best movies ever made! You remember you both started dating around this time almost three years ago and seeing the rerelease of the 1997 slasher film was quite unexpected. You didn't even know it existed until that time, when Jeno, your boyfriend, excitedly asked you out on that first date to see it.
You could remember your boyfriend shoveling buckets and tubs of popcorn into his mouth as you could barely stomach the thought of Sidney Prescott being harassed for years, decades. Your own judgement was being questioned that night and you ignored it.
Sitting at your laptop in the library, you let out a deep and long sigh as you stared at the blank word document. Given it was October and you were a criminal history student, it was only natural that you were given the assignment on criminal offenses that happened during the Halloween season. And of course, the first thing that popped up into your head was the Woodsboro Murders, after all the rewatches over the last year. The tabs open on your computer about the crime significantly slowed down your laptop that you were willing to opt for the books that rested on the library shelves.
And if it wasn't the cherry on top of your already obnoxious day, your computer crashed. Meaning, browsing the aisles for any information about your subject and writing the information down the classic "pen-to-paper" way was the only way you were going to get your work done, which was probably a blessing in disguise, considering you knew how easily you could get distracted.
You dropped your head to your hands, letting out a sigh before you lifted your head, your laptop slamming shut.
"I wanna play a game." Your boyfriend spoke in a sinister voice as he looked at you, holding a Billy the Puppet mask from the Saw films over his face, before he pulled it down to smile at you.
You sighed again, packing up the laptop, "Not funny." You grumbled.
Jeno laughed, turning his wrist to look at the mask, "What? Who doesn't love Billy the Puppet?"
You glanced at Jeno through your lashes and zipped up the bag you had, before walking over to the Windows Vista desktop your university refused to update and searched up your keyword: "Woodsboro." And you hoped your boyfriend wouldn't peek over your shoulder and-
"Woodsboro?" He perked up and looked at your face, "Are you studying about it?" He began to overload you with questions; "Why are you studying it?" or "How far are you along?" or "Can I help you with whatever you're studying this for?"
You couldn't blame him, you really couldn't. He was like a puppy who just found a stick in the yard. You knew that if you even slightly mentioned "Stab!" or the murders, you'd have to deal with your boyfriend bouncing off the walls. You were surprised he never decided to join your criminal history class, purely based on the fact he was the most knowledgeable person about the subject that you knew.
You looked at the top three recommended books, and erased the search from the results, wandering down to the section of the library. Jeno followed close behind. "It's for my criminal history class." Was all you said.
"I can help you!" He chuckled.
You stopped right at the final section pulling out the book titled "The Woodboro Murders" by Gale Weathers. It was a best seller, apparently, if the bright red font at the top of the book wasn't enough to tell you that. You held it in your arm before you pulled the second book out and placed in on top of the other. "Jeno, I know you're excited to help but it's history. This isn't some trashy movie about slashers."
Jeno winced as you criticized his favorite movie, holding his hand to his chest, "Come on, baby, you know I know better than anyone about this stuff." He smiled, "I can help you. I don't know just the trashy horror movie stuff. I know the psychology and the science behind it."
You attempted to walk away, but Jeno quickly pulled you back to smile at you, the Billy the Puppet mask still lingering in his hand.
Jeno was always handsome, and he knew it too. If there wasn't multiple times he was able to win you over with just his looks, you'd be lying. So, when he looks at you with his soft smile, and his soft eyes, you begin to fall all over again. You take in his features; the mole that sits under his right eye, his nose, how beautiful his eyes looked.
Fuck, you swore to yourself, here we go again. "Fine, you can help me." You almost grumbled. Almost. "But, I'm not using the movie as a source." You pointed at him, "Everything we include has to be in any of these books or reliable sources on the internet."
Jeno held his hands up once more, chuckling, "I got it. I got it. Consider the existence of Stab completely erased from my mind from this moment forward."
"Good." You continued down the middle of the book shelves, grabbing another book, your boyfriend following close behind, his hands brushing against the spine of the books.
Jeno perked up, "Hey, we've got a few days before our anniversary. I was thinking we could go see that rerelease on the day of."
You glanced at him once more, "I really need to keep a counter of how often you mention that movie."
As much as you hated the movie, and it's effects after the release, it was like you were reliving your first date with him. Last year, you guys went to the same theater, ordered the same snacks — a large popcorn with extra butter, gummy candy and one large soda you both shared — and you both were lucky to get the same exact seats as your first date. And you hoped that you could relive that day over and over again.
You glanced at Jeno, tilting your head to the side, "You already have the tickets, huh?" You asked.
"Yup." Jeno rummaged through his pockets and pulled out the tickets to show you, throwing his arm over your shoulder, "Same auditorium; same seats."
You smiled to yourself. Sure, he could tick you off mentioning "Stab!" ten to twelve times a day, but... you loved him. He was your boyfriend. And the attention to detail he always had was admirable.
You pecked his cheek, making his smile grow even wider, feeling your chest tighten as you admired his features silently once again, holding the books in your arm as you ran your fingers through his hair.
He was annoying, but he was also sweet. And he was all your own.
After a long and grueling study session, cramped hands, and an overwhelming amount of information that you weren't even aware of, it was now officially 8pm, and the university library was closing for the night, the librarian grabbing the books off your desk to add to the cart of growing stock. Despite Jeno's promise, he continued to cross reference "Stab!" while he read pieces from Gale Weathers' book. You swore, you couldn't get through a paragraph before your boyfriend said, "I remember that in the movie."
The sheet of paper that held your precious grade was zipped up into your bag, kept nice and neat in between your laptop and your textbook. Jeno held your hand as he walked you through the dark sidewalk down the University Road, where your shared apartment was located. Jeno and you have lived together since the second semester started in the last week of August.
The co-ed dorm you two lived in was fairly small — one floor and only 17 dorm rooms. It also happened to be the first place you met Jeno. Jeno originally stayed in the dorm room across from your own, which is the current one you both stayed in now. You remember him peeking out of his dorm room door with nothing on but a pair of grey sweatpants, shouting something at his friends as they ran down the hallway. You later found out they were his dorm mates — Mark and Donghyuck. When you stepped into the room, the striking contrast between the two sides of the room was nauseating. Jeno had action figures, replicas and movie posters decorating his side; something every movie buff held proud. Your side was almost empty. You barely had any decorations on the wall and the only decorated area was your desk. It wasn't much, but it was home, at least for now.
When the door to the room opened, you let out a sigh, kicking off your shoes and dropping your bag on the couch, you fell onto your tiny dorm bed. "Finally, nap time." You mumble.
Jeno set his own items down and sighed, "You should relax for now and then we'll pick up where we left off."
You had a routine of coming home from either work or school; kick off shoes, set stuff down, nap. It was the same every single day. Jeno had a very opposite routine. He always kept his slippers on, he neatly placed his items beside his desk and then he sat down, and watched a movie off his scratch away chart of the one hundred highest rated movies of all time.
Yet, today, he seemed to be in a different mood. He hung up the Billy the Puppet mask next to the plethora of other horror movie icons, before his hand brushed along his prized possession, the killer from the Woodsboro murders. It was a little odd that his favorite mask would be one from actual real life cases, but you know it wasn't because of that. It was because of "Stab!" but, you know if you try to explain that to someone, they'd just give you a dirty look and silently judge you, or more rather, your boyfriend. Maybe a little bit of you, as well, for trying so hard to defend your boyfriend.
Grabbing the mask of the infamous double killers, Jeno pulled it over his head, looking at you through the mesh eyeholes, crawling his way across the impromptu king bed, leaning close over your shoulder as you laid on your stomach. The smooth pvc plastic and the polyester fiber brushed against your skin, and you turned your head to look at him. "What do you think you're doing?" You asked with a bite.
Jeno shrugged, "I don't know. Aren't girls into this type of stuff?" He whispered through the mask, slowly lifting it over his head to look at you, "I thought girls were into the, like, masked guys and shit."
You scoffed, laying on your hand, "Some girls. And I don't think it's actual killers they're into."
Jeno shrugged, pulling the mask down once more, running his hands against your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing against your shoulder blades, "I don't know. I've seen some people into some pretty messed up guys."
You rolled your eyes again, "Some people are into that stuff." You shrugged, turning your head to the side as he ran his hands over your skin, "Fuck, I don't know, Jen. I hardly even know if I like my school major."
"Fine, fine." He scoffed, "But you don't even wanna try it with the mask on once?"
You rolled your eyes, "Take the mask off, Jeno."
Jeno sighed, pulling the mask off before tossing it to his side of the makeshift bed, "You don't even wanna spice up our sex life a little bit?"
You rolled over so you were on your back, his legs straddling your hips in some type of sick power play. He looks amazing up there, you thought. Your fingers traced the curve of his thighs, "I think our sex life is perfectly fine, if you ask me." You shrugged playfully, "Maybe some other time?"
Jeno groaned, "You're ruining this marriage." He responded sarcastically, "It's someone else, isn't it?" He crossed his arms.
"Yes, oh, my god, I completely forgot I was having sex with your manager from the theater." You gasped.
"With Jaehyun?" Jeon gasped, "I don't blame you. How'd you pull him?" Much to your dismay, he climbed off from on top of you, laying his head on your shoulder as you both laid down.
You shrugged, "You know, same way I pulled you."
Jeno rolled his eyes, "Okay, quit it. I'm actually starting to think you're fucking Jaehyun." He grumbled, "Speaking of Jaehyun, the Halloween Party. Are we going or what?"
"Yeah, sure. We have nothing else going on." You sighed, "I'd much rather go to a Halloween party at the theater than here at one of the sororities or frats." You rolled onto your side so you were facing Jeno, smiling sweetly.
"Sounds like a plan to me." He gave a dorky smile, "We could probably even skip the date night and just go to the party."
"You don't wanna see the movie?" You mumbled, "Wait, let me guess..." You cleared your throat, putting on your best "Jeno" voice, "They're actually showing Stab for the party, oh my god!"
"I don't sound like that."
"Um, actually, you do." You teased, nudging his shoulder. "Did I get it right?"
Jeno chuckled, shrugging, "It's the theatre's most popular re-releases. So, for them to close down early just so we can watch the movie for a party is pretty amazing." He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him, "Plus, Halloween is our anniversary. It can be a two-in-one celebration."
"I guess you're right." You mumbled, "Pretty amazing." You repeated, fighting back a yawn, "I'm sleepy." You whispered as you curled up close to Jeno, smiling to yourself as you feel him cup the back of your knee to bring your leg over his hip.
His fingers brushed against the skin of your cheek, laying his head on top of yours, something he normally did when you'd nap so you had complete darkness, "Go to sleep, babe. I'll be here when you wake up." He whispered in your ear, barely above a whisper.
Your heart fluttered at his soft voice, feeling yourself already starting to drift to sleep, relishing in the feeling of his fingers brushing against your skin, his other hand pinned against the bed as it was wrapped around your back and placed on your hip. While you pinned his arm down to keep him from moving, he had your head pinned down with his own. It was your preferred cuddling position; your own pretzel twist.
You woke up hours after you had fell asleep to a loud clatter from the window behind you. Jeno was no where to be seen, and you immediately tensed up at the sound. Laying perfectly still as if you were still sleeping, you didn't dare attempt to put your life on the line.
Oh, god, you thought, is this really happening right now? Your mind began to race with a million different thoughts, "I don't wanna end up on Cold Case Files," and "I don't want to go out this way."
"Shit." You heard in a familiar voice, turning around to see your boyfriend climbing in through the window.
You sat up straight, "Jeno?" You called out through your gravely and sleepy voice, squinting your eyes as your boyfriend shined the flashlight from his phone in your eyes, your hand shooting up to block the light from your eyes, "What are you doing?"
Jeno pointed to the door, "Locked myself out." He grumbled, stumbling as he finished climbing through the window, quickly bending down as a metal jingling echoed between the two of you.
You just glanced as Jeno quickly shoved the keys into his sweater pocket, too tired to care, "Hm..." You hummed as you laid back, "If you went out with Mark and Jaemin, I don't mind." You sighed.
Jeno chuckled as he made his way around the room to set down his items, "Heh, you caught me." He rubbed his neck, climbing into the bed beside you once more, "I snuck out an hour and a half ago to go out and eat."
You could tell he was just as tired as you were a few hours ago, but he was forcing himself awake, "What'd you guys eat?"
"Meat." Jeno shrugged, "Nothing exciting. You know those two." He buried his face further into the pillow, his eyes closing, "Did you sleep well, baby?"
You nodded, "Yeah." It's all you said, reaching your hand up to brush some of his hair from his eyes, your thumb brushing against his cheek, "As much as I'd love to stay here and cuddle, I should get that paper done."
Jeno hummed, peeking an eye open, "Did you want any help?"
Your heart warmed at the question; not because he asked, because he was willing to help you even though he was tired, "No," You whispered softly as you took into consideration his restlessness, shaking your head, "No, baby. Just rest. I can handle it." You placed a chaste kiss to his neck, slowly sitting up. You grabbed a plush blanket to wrap around your shoulders, making your way to your desk as you pushed yourself off the bed.
This was normally how you and Jeno both functioned; one was awake at the crack of dawn and asleep by 9pm, the other was asleep until noon and up until 3 in the morning. It's a miracle that the two of you found a way to be with one another.
Sitting at your desk, pulling out your Holy Grail of a assignment and set it neatly on the top, opening your laptop to look at the screen as you slowly booted it up. Seemed to be running fine, so you decided it should be okay to use, even if you had to keep it plugged in. The previous document saved just how you left it — empty and barren. You didn't even have a sentence on the screen.
Maybe technology wasn't the right move for schoolwork, you thought to yourself as you compared the two forms of documentation. The sheet of paper was a little more than halfway filled, and although the pen ink smudged from your hand swiping across the paper, it still looked pretty damn good. Compared to the digital sister, the paper seemed like the one who had everything all together.
You decided to pick up where you left off on the sheet of paper, using your laptop for music and the pdf of the books you used earlier open on each tab.
You looked up from the paper, squinting your eyes as you looked at the laptop screen, highlighting the words with the cursor.
"That's interesting." You titled your head to the side, reading the line of text in your head.
"Sydney Prescott was unaware at the moment, but she noticed when the killer attacked, her boyfriend, Billy Loomis, and his best friend, Stuart "Stu" Macher were no where to be seen."
The line made you uncomfortable, shifting in your seat at the thought, clearing your throat as you read the line over and over again. Gale Weathers then goes on to describe how significant it is that Sydney Prescott should've realized, but then again, you sympathized with Sydney. After all, she loved Billy.
God forbid Jeno did something like that, you'd probably have to be thrown into an asylum.
You decided procrastination was the best option for the evening, using the pen as a paperweight and closed the laptop screen. You stood up from the desk and sighed, scooting over to the bed before laying down beside the sleeping Jeno.
Despite your previous nap, you laid your head down on the pillow and felt yourself falling asleep.
That evening, you thought about Jeno and your upcoming date night/Halloween party. You opened your eyes through the night, glancing over to check on your boyfriend, going as far to adjust the blanket over his shoulder and brush hair from his eyes to just make sure it wasn't an illusion.
God, you just wished he wasn't a maniac like Billy Loomis.
Despite your best efforts to go to bed at an early time, you tossed and turned, you shivered, your legs grew restless. And then the sun peeked in through your window, and you only glared. 7 in the morning and you were awake even before your boyfriend. Your eyes burned from the lack of sleep and you couldn't help yourself but to curse the sun as it extended across the skyline. You sat up slowly from the bed, looking wistfully out the window of your dorm room, the blanket covering your legs.
The thoughts you had in the back of your mind from a few hours before still lingered in your head, because it's entirely possible for something like that to happen. It's entirely possible for a significant other to go off the bend and be a crazed murderer. And it's entirely possible that it can be the person you share a bed with.
You sighed softly as you pushed the thought away and stood from the bed, the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You trudged along to the bathroom inside your dorm room, shutting the door behind you as you looked into the mirror. The eyebags were a dark grey, your eyes blood shot and your eyelids hung low. You looked like death to put it simply, and you felt it.
Turning on the sink and grabbing your toothbrush, you squeezed a glob of toothpaste onto your toothbrush and began to brush your teeth. Although, you were sure you weren't really brushing as you felt your eyes struggle to open every time you blinked, your grip on the brush weakening every time your eyes weighed closed.
The bathroom door opened and Jeno stepped inside, placing a kiss on the side of your head, "Morning, baby." He whispered, grabbing his own toothbrush, "Stayed up all night again?"
You looked at him through the mirror, shaking your head before rinsing out your mouth, "No." You mumbled, clearly half asleep, "I was, like, half asleep, half awake the whole night."
Jeno chuckled, brushing his teeth, "You get anything else done on the paper?"
"Yeah, I got a lot done." You nodded, setting the toothbrush back in the drawer you kept it in, stepping off to the side, "There was a lot I learned."
"It's interesting, right?" He spit out a glob of toothpaste, scraping his tongue before starting to brush his teeth once more, leaning on his hand against the bathroom counter.
"Yeah. I didn't know it was that complex..." You mumbled, "Do you have work today?"
Jeno rinsed out his mouth, sighing, "Yeah, baby, I do." He placed his toothbrush next to yours, looking at you with a faux pout, "Unfortunately."
You nodded, pressing a small kiss to his lips, "Well, I'll be here when you get off." You grabbed his hands, squeezing them, "You should probably get ready to go."
Jeno chuckled, kissing your lips again, "You want me to go that badly?" He teased, "You inviting Jaehyun over or something?"
You laughed, "No. Just don't want you to be late."
Jeno's hands rested on your hips, smiling, "Don't worry about that." He kissed you again, lifting you in his arms to sit you on the bathroom counter, his hands brushing against your thighs, "I have plenty of time."
You pulled away from the kiss, smiling, "Do you though? You still have to shower, get dressed, and put gas in the car. Or were you just gonna make me pay for it again?" You teased, climbing off the counter, "Take your shower." You stepped out the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.
Jeno wasn't always the most punctual, which can be frustrating to you and to his co-workers. You wouldn't necessarily blame him, but you would blame his distractions. He has a lot on his plate; school, work, your relationship. He still needed to purchase a camera for his film class. He tries to act like it doesn't bother him, but you know on nights where he stays up a little later than usual, he's dwelling on it.
You sat down at your desk, trying to distract yourself from the exhaustion you felt by watching youtube videos your professor recommended and switching between that and writing your paper. Jeno stepped out from the bathroom and you felt the heat from the shower push into the room, and you smelt his conditioner in the air as he quickly got dressed for work.
"I'll be back later, baby." He pressed a kiss to your cheek, "Don't wait up, alright? Take a nap or something." He ran his fingers through your hair, and you turned to look at him.
"I hope you have a good day at work." You kissed his lips, smiling softly as he turned to walk out the door, "Why do you have that mask with you?"
Jeno paused, turning to look at his bag, "Chenle doesn't think it's an actual replica, so he said he wants to check it out on our break." He sighed, pushing his hair back with his hand, "I'll see you later baby." He smiled, stepping out the door and closed it behind him.
"Okay." You whispered, listening as his keys made a metallic sound down the hallway and the hydraulic door hinge squeaking as it closed shut.
Ever since last night, you actually sat down and read Gale Weathers' book, collecting the information from her eyes. Sure, she had a pretty shallow standpoint from it; This wasn't her trauma to write about. But, it was still pretty interesting as she pieced things together.
You were at least 5 chapters in, hunched over your laptop as you read, anxiously nibbling on your nails as Gale describes the beginning of the stressful months that were ready to approach them. Until, your phone rings. Of course it rings. First time you've actually read a book instead of skimmed the pages in months. You unlocked your phone, answering the call.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Y/N, it's Jaehyun." You could hear the popcorn machine popping behind him, "Jeno's manager from the cinema."
You chuckled, "I know who you are." You smiled to yourself, wondering if Jaehyun even knew the running joke that you and your boyfriend had; prevailing him as a God, "What's up, Jaehyun?"
"Well, Jeno's running a bit late. It's nearly been an hour and I haven't gotten a call or a text or anything from him." Jaehyun's voice shrunk, "Is he there?"
"No, no, he left a while ago. I thought he was heading to work." You put Jaehyun on speaker phone, immediately clicking the Find My app, scrolling to find Jeno, "I'm looking at his location right now and it says no location found." You mumbled.
"Alright, well, I'll try to give him a call or two. You should try, too. He might have had something happen to the car." Jaehyun spoke, "Just let me know. You have my number, right?"
"Yeah, I do." You mumbled, "I'll call him right now and let you know what's up." You quickly hung up and called your boyfriend.
Okay, he had awful sense of time and he wasn't punctual in the slightest but he's never been this late to work, especially when it helps him pay his bills and pay for that new camera he needed. You pressed the phone to your ear before it immediately was sent to voicemail with the automated voice telling you what you already knew: The number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time.
Seriously? You scratched the back of your head, setting your laptop to the side as you leaned against your elbows. There was one way to find him, something that he never left the dorm without.
You opened the Find My app once more, and scrolled to his AirPods. Or more rather, your AirPods that he's borrowed more than you used after you got them. If he opened them recently, you would've been able to find where exactly he was. So you did just that.
But, much to your dismay, he hasn't opened them since the night before, his location still reading as the restaurant he went to last night with Mark and Jaemin.
You called Jaehyun back, "He didn't answer the phone and I tried to see if I could see where he was from the AirPods he used, but no use."
Jaehyun sighed, "Alright, thank you, Y/N." He mumbled, "I hope he'll be able to get off the hook for this. He better have a damn good excuse."
"I hope he does." You whispered, "Sorry I wasn't much help, Jaehyun."
"Don't worry about it, Y/N. You did more work than I did." He gave a small "goodbye" and hung up the phone.
You really hoped he had an explanation for what's going on. You weren't the type of person to immediately jump to conclusions, saying that he cheated. You don't think he's stupid enough to pull something like that.
You sighed, laying your head down on the desk as you drowned in your thoughts, feeling the exhaustion take over your body as laid there.
There it was again. A clatter from the window being forcefully pulled up. You immediately perked up, the drowsiness from the nap you don't remember taking stuck to your body. Your back hurt from being hunched over the desk where you napped.
You leaned back in your chair to peek over at the window, ignoring your back begging for a little bit of leisure after you slept like a ball for the past 4 hours. It was a little after 11 o'clock, 18 minutes before it turned noon.
Standing from your desk, you approached the window and looked out the glass, shocked to find nothing, or no one. Just the dying bushes planted by the school's agricultural center, and some fucked up tanbark that kept the moisture in the dirt.
"Hey, baby."
You jumped, turning to find your boyfriend standing behind you with his prized possession covering his face. "Jesus christ, Jen." You swore, pushing at his shoulder, "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Got sent home." He shrugged, lifting the mask from his face with a smile, "The car ended up breaking down, my phone died and I had to walk 4 miles down the road to get there.” He dropped his bag on the footboard bench at the end of the bed frame, setting the mask on top of it.
"Jen, you really gotta start going to work in time." You sighed, "What if you get fired?"
"Come on, baby, it's just a part-time job." He chuckled, pulling you closer to him, "I can find something else."
"Fuck, Jen, do you know how bad that'll look if they call the theater and they have to tell them you're unreliable for calling out or for showing up late?" You ranted, letting go of his hands, "You know I can't afford to pay for this dorm by myself, let alone my school payments."
"Jeez, babe, relax." He chuckled, "Come on, why don't you take some of that aggression out another way?"
"Jeno," You sighed.
"Y/N," He responded, "When's the last time you and I had nasty, angry sex, huh?" He chuckled, grabbing your hands again, "I miss you, baby." He whispered, pulling you into a tight hug, squeezing you.
You hated to admit you missed it, too. Especially when you were this annoyed with Jeno, you hated that this was turning you on, listening to him talk about it.
"Come on, baby." He whispered in your ear, guiding your hand to the bulge in his pants, "Seeing you all angry gets me worked up, baby, I can't help it."
"Jeno." You rubbed him through his pants, "Jen,"
"Hm?" He pressed open mouthed kisses to your neck, his hands brushing against your skin in a desperate attempt to soothe his thoughts.
"Please, baby, just listen to me for 3 seconds."
Jeno pulled away from kissing your neck, humming, "Okay, okay, I'm listening."
"Tomorrow, you're going into work and you're gonna be on time, with your phone charged and everything." You cupped his cheek, "I don't want you to lose your job because you're late."
"Okay, mistress." He teased, "You've have a little dominatrix hidden, don't you?" Jeno kissed at your cheeks, as he cupped them.
"Stop making it sexual."
He chuckled, "I can't help it, baby. I romanticize everything you do, babe." He whispered gently before he kissed you, sitting you down on the mattress of the bed, "It's cute seeing you act all tough and strict." He kissed at your skin, pressing you down against the mattress, straddling your hips.
His tongue brushed against your neck as he kissed you, his hands pushing your shirt over your head, letting your hands rest on his thighs.
Jeno pulled away from kissing at your neck, smiling down at you, "Do we have any condoms left?"
You sat up, looking at the bedside table, "Probably in the drawer."
Jeno crawled off of you to rummage through the drawer, clicking his tongue, "Damn." He mumbled, flitting through papers before he let out an exclamation, pulling out the foiled packaging from between the pages. "Got it."
"I knew you'd find it." You smiled, gasping as he pulled you closer to him on the edge of the bed by your ankles, watching him kneel down.
"Mmhmm," He hummed, pulling your bottoms down your legs, his lips kissing at your legs, "So pretty." He whispered, teasingly biting at your thigh, "Wanna taste you, baby."
You chuckled, running your fingers through his hair, watching Jeno's finger tangle in the waistband of your panties.
"That okay, baby?" He whispered breathlessly, his lips swollen from kissing at your legs.
You nodded, "That's fine, baby."
Jeno smiled, pulling your bottoms and underwear down your legs, kissing up your legs, his lips hovering over your cunt and his breath fanning against your wetness, "Fuck, you're already wet, baby?" Jeno's thumb rubbed at your clit, licking his lips.
"Jen..."
Chuckling, Jeno smiled, flattening his tongue against your cunt, moaning lightly as you drooled against his tongue, "Fuck, baby..."
You moaned sharply, your fingers tightening on his hair, "Jeno..."
Jeno smiled, kissing at your pussy as he continued to lick at your clit, his fingers slowly pressing into your entrance, pumping his fingers into you, "So tight, baby. So sweet." He groans, "You're so perfect, princess."
You gasped as his fingers brushed against your gummy wall, curling his fingers as his lips kissed your hip, a weak moan escaping your throat.
Jeno listened to your moans as he continued to pump his fingers inside you, sucking your clit and tasting you on his tongue. How sweet you tasted, how your slick drooled from the length of his fingers to knuckles, and how amazing your gasps and moans sounded to his ears; Like music, a symphony. If he could listen to your sounds on repeat, he would, over and over and over. He couldn't get enough, he wanted more, wanted you.
Giving a teasing peck to your slit, Jeno kissed your hip, your stomach and up your body until he stopped at your neck, taking in your scent as he struggled to unbuckle the belt he wore with his work pants. "Little help?"
You chuckled, running your fingers through his hair once more before you moved your hands down to unbuckle his belt, the echo of the buckle settling around you both, letting Jeno's lips meet your own in a desperate kiss, his tongue pushing between to rub against yours, a deep growl escaping his throat as your thumbs hooked around his bottoms, helplessly attempting to tug them down his legs. Parting from your lips, Jeno gave a breathy chuckle, his breath fanning against your face. He grabbed the condom he set down on the bedside table, keeping his eyes torn from your own for no less than a second.
Tearing it open with his teeth, Jeno gently pulled the rubber from the packaging, rolling it along his length, “Fuckin’ finally.” He whispered to himself, “I missed feeling you." He pressed kissed along your jawline, listening to the gasp leave your lips as he slowly pressed into you. "Shit, you feel so good." He whispered.
Jeno slowly started moving, and you've been thinking — actually thinking about something he mentioned that you couldn't possibly know if it was a joke or if he was serious. You dug your nails into his arm, “Wait.”
His hips immediately stilled, and he looked down at you, “You okay, baby?”
You cleared your throat shyly, “I’m fine, I just—”
“What is it?” He chuckled, brushing hair behind your ear, “You can tell me, princess.”
You couldn’t believe you were saying this, and you couldn’t even believe you were considering it. But, you can’t knock something until you try it, “I was thinking we could try it with… the mask on…” You love looking at Jeno when you were having sex. You love seeing his expressions, looking into his eyes as he was buried into you and you loved watching his brows furrow together as he gets closer to cumming. But, there was something alluring behind the idea of the mask. Almost like it was a mystery to how he’s feeling. It was sounding more exciting as every second passed. And, you could see just how excited Jeno was as he reached over to where he set the mask down, smiling at you as he pulled it on. Attempting to move, you rested your hand on his chest, “Ah, first, some ground rules.”
Jeno moved the mask to the side, his eye peeking at you, “All ears.”
“First, keep the freaky murders out of this, okay?” You started, watching him nod, “Second, this is just to test it out. I didn’t wanna just immediately cross it off the list of freaky shit we’ve done if we don’t do it.”
“Understandable.”
“Third, Roleplay is optional. But, I’m keeping anything too crazy off the table.” You looked at him, “Got it?”
“Got it, baby.” He smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek, “I love you, princess.”
“I love you, too, Jen.” You cupped his cheek, kissing him on the lips, slipping your tongue along his own to reignite the fire that wasn’t completely snuffed. Jeno eagerly reciprocated, his moan vibrating against your lips.
“Damn, don’t know if I really wanna keep the mask on now.”
You giggled, pressing another kiss against his lips, “Better put it back on before I change my mind.”
Jeno placed the mask back against his face, his eyes showing the smile you couldn’t see through the barrier, “I’m gonna start moving, baby.”
“Mmhmm,” You nodded, biting your lips as you felt his hips moving at a slow pace, the moan caught in your throat bubbling over.
Jeno had some type of fixation with your hands, one hand tangling with your own as his other pinned yours against the mattress. He loved seeing your hands wrapped around his cock, his wrist, intertwined with his own. He loved feeling your hands tangled in his hair, grabbing his biceps and digging into his skin, sometimes around his neck, if you both felt that was the move. Your hands were his favorite part of you.
Jeno squeezed your hand in his own as his hips pressed into you deeper, swearing under his breath as he felt your pussy weep around his cock, “Feel so good, angel.” He groaned, throwing his head back, “Missed this pretty pussy.”
You whined, your chest heaving as you squeezed his hand in your own. Words attempted to escape, but only came out as gasps. Jeno always had a way of filling you to the brim, and bringing you to the edge quickly.
Jeno could feel how badly you missed his cock; squeezing around him, the choked moans and gasps, the way your body tensed, and how your eyes rolled behind your eyelids. Sweat lingered on his forehead behind the mask, his breath growing heavily as he watched you writhe in desperation, “Like that, baby?”
You nodded when your words betrayed you, feeling Jeno’s hands leave your own to grip your waist and move you along his length, “Fu-“ You moaned as his hips piston against your own, reaching your hand up to tangle in his hair under the fabric of the mask, “Just like that, Jeno.” You stuttered out to your best ability, the pleasure overwhelmingly covering your body in a sheen of sweat.
Jeno smirked under the mask, his thumb moving to rub at your clit to heighten your experience and bring you closer to the edge, “Such a good girl, telling me just how you want it.”
Every word Jeno said pushed you closer to the edge, your legs mindlessly wrapping around his hips, “Feels so good… I’m almost there, Jen.”
“Me too, princess.” He gasped, his eyes trained on where you two met, the white, creamy ring sitting at the base of his cock, “Fit together so perfectly.” He moaned out, his thumb continuing to rub harsh circles on your clit, “Feel it, baby? ’S like you were made for me. Such a pretty cunt for my cock.”
Your fingers tightened around his hair, tugging at the strands as he continued to speak, “Jen…”
“You cummin’ already, baby?” He chuckled, “Such a good girl, cumming on my cock. Wish I could fill you up and make you mine already. Wanna show everyone you’re my girl.”
As he continued his assault on your cunt, you hung onto his every word, your pussy clenching around him. The ability to form sentences with words and exclamation has long since been fucked out of your brain, the only thing repeating in your head was, “Jeno, Jeno, Jeno.”
Jeno let out a raspy moan, the mask brushing against your chest as you felt his cum fill the condom, the heat filling your belly with warmth. Your chests both raised in sync as you attempted to catch your breath. Pulling the mask off, Jeno stilled inside you, smiling down at you sweetly, "Good job, baby."
You smiled back, pecking his lips, "Good job to you, too." You hummed, leaning back on your elbows, "Okay, pull out. I gotta piss before I develop a UTI."
"I love when you talk dirty to me." He teased, pulling out of you slowly before he laid back on the bed, steadying his breathing. Laying his head on the arms he crossed behind his head, he glanced around the room while he waited for you to come back from the restroom, “Did you get any work done on your paper?”
Returning from the restroom, you laid down beside him, “No, because someone gave me a call saying some guy was missing and they didn’t know where they were.”
Jeno rolled his eyes, “Haha.” He laughed sarcastically, “I told you, the car broke down. I couldn’t do anything but walk there.”
“I’m just teasing.” You nudged him, curling against his side as he wrapped his arm around your waist, the both looking at one another sweetly.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered.
“For what?”
“I know I’m shitty with getting to places on time, and you have every right to be mad at me for this. You shouldn’t be the only one who needs to deal with this.” He brushed his fingers along your side, rubbing his thumb along your hip, “I’m gonna listen to you, okay? I know it seemed like I wasn’t paying attention but I was.”
You pressed your forehead against his, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, “I know, Jen. And, I appreciate you for everything you already do.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, Jeno.”
You both settled for relaxing and enjoying one another’s company, especially considering you both rarely got days off together. Jeno played a movie on his charged phone, which you both cuddled and watched. And it wasn’t Stab much to your surprise. It was something you suggested. You used that as proof that he loved you, even if it was something small like this; Cuddling, watching a movie together, sharing kisses and random thoughts either of you had about the film. You couldn’t wait for another day like this, even if it was years away.
You don’t remember falling asleep, and you don’t remember Jeno leaving for work that morning. You don’t even think he said goodbye, and it didn’t smell like his shampoo in the dorm room, nor his cologne. Rubbing your eyes, you glanced around the room, for any sign he left for work; a note, a text message on your phone screen, or even a Tupperware bin with some food he made or ordered in. And after a long look around the room, you found the post-it note stuck to the paper of your notebook with all the information you could think to include in your report of the Woodsboro murders that read; “Be back later. Went to work. Make sure to finish your paper. Love you.” And in smaller hand writing underneath his already small lettering, he wrote, “P.S. Left some dirty clothes on the floor. I’ll do the wash later.”
Setting the note down, you sighed, walking around the small dorm room to find said clothes he left on the floor, but you couldn't find it. You checked the back of his chair, the bathroom, by the dresser, but you couldn't find it. You squat down, looking underneath the bed to find, lo and behold, the dirty clothes he left on the floor. You wondered how much of a rush he could've been in to kick them under the bed.
You reached under the bed, grabbing the clothes only to immediately drop it as soon as you pull it out, your hands covered in red liquid. It covered the floor where you had dropped it, a "splat" echoed in your head after you'd done so. It wasn't as thick and red as blood, and it definitely wasn't as thin and clear as water. You couldn't decipher what it was. It dried down quickly on your hands and the floor.
Horror aside, you rised from the ground, and grabbed a brush to clean the mess off the floor — you'd interrogate Jeno later — and scrubbed the living hell out of the floor. You were sure the finish over the hardwood floors were coming off by how hard you were scrubbing. You had to get the deposit back for the dorm room, even if you had to scrub the floor on your hands and knees.
Kneeling there, you felt tears brim your eyes as you thought to yourself, "What exactly am I cleaning up?" You felt your arms burn with each motion you made, you felt your breathing grow heavy. You could count this as your workout for the week.
"Jeno, you idiot." You whispered to yourself, the tears rolling down your face, gasping for air. "God, this is so stupid." You used your sleeve to wipe at your cheeks, a shaky breath escaping your lips.
You tried to push the thought from your mind, deciding to just focus on your other preoccupation, which was sitting inside your laptop, begging for any type of attention from you divided brain. So, you did. Cross-referencing your notes, reading the PDF of the books on your laptop and then switching over to Microsoft Word to type anything that came to mind, as long as it's relevant.
Yet, you could feel your mind drifting.
You sat there, pausing as you thought about everything you've read as if you could even begin to connect it to your life. There's so much Sydney Prescott went through that you couldn't even begin to comprehend. Rubbing your temples, you were reaching the final stretch of the paper, attempting to type out a conclusion that would make any type of sense for it.
The dorm room opened and you turned briefly to find your boyfriend walking in with the earbuds in his ears, "Hey, baby." He walked over, pecking your head, "How's the paper coming along?"
You tapped your pen against your notebook, "I'm stuck."
Jeno began to dress down from his work uniform, his eyes glancing at his side of the bed, the green and white heavy duty scrub brush laying on the ground, covered in the diluted red suds. "Did you grab the clothes?"
"I was trying to." You mumbled, "What was on them?"
"Why'd you do that?" Jeno voice was deeper and you can see his brows furrow as he looked at you.
You turned around in your seat, looking at him, "I was trying to help."
"I told you I'd do it." He shouted.
"Jen, I was just-"
"I said I'd pick them up and wash them."
You glanced down at the clothes on the floor, whatever was on them leaking between the floorboards and you winced at the thought of it staining the floor. "I just wanted to help! The laundry basket isn't far from where you put them."
"Well, I was in a rush. I didn't have time to throw them in the basket. That's why I left them on the floor."
You sighed, rubbing your eyes, "I just thought I was saving time by moving it to the basket."
Jeno pulled his work shirt off, groaning, "I didn't want to ruin the other clothes in there."
"And just leave it to soak into the flooring?"
"No— God, fuck." He threw his work shirt into the laundry basket before picking up the soiled clothes and placing them inside, "There, happy?"
You looked at him, "What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing!" He grumbled, "Just wish you didn't have such lousy faith in me."
"I never said I did."
"You sure as hell implied it." He grabbed the basket and walked out the dorm room to the laundry room down the hall.
Your eyes narrowed at the back of his head before you went back to your paper, finishing it off in record time. It was finally time to prepare your paper to be printed, turned in and graded. You unplugged your laptop, making sure to save your finished paper before you shut it off and carried it out to the library.
You gave the two dollars and fifty cents to the librarian to use the printer, and stood by the machine to print out your report.
As the belt of the printer echoed through the library and watched each paper spit out after one another, the ink bleeding into the back, you were now preoccupied with everything you read about the Woodsboro murders, what exactly your boyfriend was upset about and whether or not, you should be the one to apologize. You didn't think you were doing anything wrong. You thought you were helping by grabbing the clothes. You really weren't concerned about whatever was on it anymore; all you know is you were happy it wasn't blood.
Maybe this whole report was getting to your head. You've read Sydney Prescott's encounters too much to the point you were scared what she went through was happening to you. How impossible is it?
You're just paranoid. You're being delusional and dramatic and you could only do your best to gaslight yourself into believing you're being a crazy girlfriend who had no reason to make your boyfriend feel like an idiot.
Drowning in your thoughts, you didn't draw your eyes away from the printer, unaware of the beeping it gave you to grab the papers it finished printing out.
Like you were a puppet, you grab the papers, tucking them under your arm with your laptop, and made your way to the hole puncher, pressing down on the lever after setting the papers inside.
Everything felt like ten tasks wrapped into one as you did them, like it was neverending.
You hole punched the papers, and placed them onto the counter, "Hi," you smiled to the librarian.
"Hi, what can I help you with?" She reciprocated the smile.
"I wanted to purchase one of the report covers." You nodded your head to the item, opening your wallet.
She rised from the chair, grabbing the cover.
You glanced down at the glass box you placed your laptop and papers on, eyeballing a newspaper that was displayed in the box. From what you could read through the glass, there seemed to have been some recent murders around the area. Jesus, you spent these last two days inside like some recluse and people have been dying.
“Can… Can I also get one of these papers?” You asked, pointing at it through the glass.
The librarian nodded her head as she set the items down, using the key on her keyring to open the glass case and grab a newspaper, setting it down beside the covers and your items, “All right, your total will be 5 dollars even.”
You dropped the bill onto the counter, grabbing your items and made your way out of the library. You anxiously hurried back to your dorm, opening the door to the room, setting the items down on your desk. The newspaper laid flat on your desk, your eyes reading over the article from a distance.
It was nauseating, reading over the details. Two people gone in two days… It was hard to stomach it.
You sat down on your chair, staring at the front page. To think you were perfectly fine while these people were living their last day being tortured. Obviously, you couldn’t have worn a cape and saved them, but, you wished there was something you could’ve done to prevent something like this from happening. The addresses seemed all too familiar. Like, you’ve seen them before. Somewhere familiar almost.
The door opened and you heard a sniffle from the doorway, “Oh, baby.” Jeno whispered, wandering over to you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, “Baby, I’m so sorry. I-I had a rough day at work, hearing shit from Jaehyun and everyone about yesterday, and I took it out on you and I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be making a big deal over you helping, especially not since our anniversary is tomorrow.”
You rubbed his head as he nuzzled his nose against your neck, “It’s okay, baby.” You kissed his cheek, “Hey, have you heard about this?” You motioned to the newspaper.
“About what?” He lifted his head, looking at the front page of the newspaper, “Yeah… Yeah, I heard about it. Chenle was mentioning it at work today.”
“It’s sad.”
“It is.” He sighed, rubbing your shoulder with his hand, “All we can do right now is just be happy it wasn’t us.”
You felt the lump in your throat strain as you tried to keep your tears back, “I guess you’re right.”
Jeno pecked your cheek, glancing at the papers on your desk, “You finished the report?"
“Yeah.” You folded the newspaper up, setting it off to the side, flitting your fingers through the paper, “Wanna read it?”Jeno scoffed, “Uh, yeah.” He grabbed the paper, beginning to read through it in silence, as if he was absorbing the information. You sat there, waiting for his input, which was often accompanied by the mention of his favorite movie.
Jeno read the pages all too quickly, turning to look at you, “You always have such a way with words, baby.” He set them down beside you, “You’ll definitely get a high grade on it.”
You smiled, threading the paper through the loops, preparing it to be turned in, the cover with your name, title of the report, class, et cetera, et cetera at the top. “I’m glad you think so.”
“You put work into it. Compassion, care, intellect. You would deserve it.”
“How’d the wash go?”
“They’re in the dryer right now.” Jeno leaned back on the bed, pulling his phone out, “Should be done in 20 minutes. More or less.”
Your heart still ached from what Jeno said earlier, so you returned his answer with silence, not able to find words to express yourself. At least, not yet. You decided to keep it under wraps until after your anniversary tomorrow. After the party. After Halloween.
It was Halloween night. Jeno and you have spent the beginning of your anniversary cuddling in bed, whispering soft “Happy Anniversary”’s to one another. He took you out to breakfast, lunch and shopping. “Just to show you off,” Jeno tried to convince you. But, now, it was time to sit through the two hour long movie Jeno and you both shared every anniversary. Jeno thought it’d be funny to dress up in the Ghostface costume for the evening, since he was the “star” of the movie. He said that, “behind the mask, it wasn’t just Billy Loomis or Stu Macher. Together, they worked as one.”
“I got an A on my paper.” You briefly mentioned as Jeno drove you both to his work place. Turns out, his car just needed a jumpstart.
“That’s great, baby. I knew you’d get a good grade.” He chuckled, turning his head to look at you before looking at the road again, “What’d you get docked off?”
“Turns out, I was a bit too sympathetic in my writing. I got docked a few points for ‘appearing too biased’.” You shrugged, “It’s whatever.”
Jeno chuckled, “Well, I thought it was amazing.” He smiled as he pulled into the parking lot of the theater, “Just goes to show that you have a better point of view than other people. Not everyone will understand that.”
Unbuckling your seatbelt and grabbing your bag, you exited the car, “I guess, but I understand it from my professor’s perspective. It’s supposed to be an informational report, not an opinion discussion board.”
Jeno followed, locking the door behind you both, “Doesn’t mean you can’t share your opinion.” He grabbed your hand in his own and guided you to the front doors of the theater. The theater was covered in Halloween decorations, and it was unfortunate that it’d all have to come down after this evening.
Jaehyun and Jeno’s other managers were handing out drinks and popcorn to your boyfriend’s coworkers, who wandered off to the theater they were all familiar with. Approaching the counter, you heard a loud “Boo!’’ echo off the walls, causing you to jump and hold your hand to your chest.
“Chenle, what the fuck?” You scolded, glaring at him through your lashes.
“Dude, Chenle, I told you not to do that stuff tonight.” Jeno sighed, rubbing his temples, “I told you Y/N’s been freaked out cause of all the shit happening.”
“My bad. I meant to scare Jeno more than I did to you, Y/N.” Chenle chuckled, “Sorry.”
You sighed softly, “Doesn’t help that it already happened.”
Jeno wrapped his arm around your shoulder, silently comforting you as he spoke with Chenle, “We’re wearing the same costume.”
“We, indeed, are.” Chenle sighed, “You just can’t stop copying me.” He glanced down at the mask he held in his hand, “Is that the replica? Are you seriously wearing it to this?”
Jeno scoffed, “Where else am I gonna wear it?” He questioned, moving up in the line as it progressed, “I can’t keep it hanging up on my wall forever.”
Your heart settled in your chest as you walked up to the counter, looking at Jaehyun, mouthing a quiet, “Help.”
Jaehyun already knew the predicament you were in; forced to listen to the conversation of two movie buffs talking about “Stab!” He’s had to deal with it for the last 4 years the two had worked there. There was times he’s even had to apologize for interrupting their precious reminiscences of the movie. “Chenle, Jeno, Y/N, what can I get for you guys?”
“Jaehyun!” Chenle greeted him over the counter with open arms, “Be a doll and get the lady some Sour Patch. I scared her half to death trying to scare her boyfriend.”
Jaehyun sighed, glancing at you, “Freaked out about those things happening around town?”
“You could say so.” You accepted the candy the man offered, “Just found about it yesterday, too.”
“Yeah, she could hardly sleep last night.”
“Babe,”
“What?” Jeno shrugged, “Not saying it’s a bad thing. Just a little uncharacteristic of you.”
You sighed, letting Jeno grab the popcorn and the drinks for you two, “Thank you, Jaehyun.”
“You’re welcome, Y/N.” He smiled, nodding his head to you.
Jeno guided both you and Chenle to the theater the movie was showing in, letting you take the lead up the stairs. There they were, the seats you both sat in 3 years ago, still in the condition you remember them in. So many people have sat in these chairs and would never understand just how much it has meant to you and your relationship. You sat in the aisle seat, gently taking the drinks in your hand as your boyfriend sat down beside you. He was quick to lift the arm rest between you two to pull you closer to him, his arm wrapped around your waist with the popcorn bucket sat in between you both. He accepted his drink and set it down in the cup holder.
“Just like all those years ago.” Jeno sighed, resting his head on top of yours.
You smiled to yourself, grabbing his hand in your own, “As much as I pretend to hate this movie, it still has a special place in my heart.”
Jeno kissed your knuckles, watching as his co-workers and plus one’s fill their seats. The smell of butter on popcorn filled the air, and the quiet chatter between everyone echoed off the wall.
Jaehyun entered the theater, standing at the front near the screen, “Happy Halloween, everyone!” He greeted, crossing his arms over his chest as everyone repeated the words, “Much to my reluctance, your coworkers requested this movie to be shown because of the connotation that it is the halloween movie to watch.”
Jeno and Chenle both gave hoots and hollers at the mention of their suggestion getting picked.
“It also happens to be the first movie our favorite visitor saw with her boyfriend here at the theater.” Jaehyun motioned to both you and Jeno, everyone turning to look at you, “This is also a token of our appreciation to our team for the close end-of-the-year. We would not be here without all of your guys help and hard-work.”
The theater filled with clapping, cheering and sweet words called out to everyone’s favorite manager.
“Settle down, everyone.” He chuckled, “Alright, everyone. Presenting this evening is Stab! Please silence your cell phones and enjoy the movie.”
The lights turned down and you watched the film light up the screen. No previews, no movie trailers, just pure film. It started out how it always did; Casey Becker popping popcorn on the stove, the harsh lighting of her house bringing out the color of her blonde hair.
Despite watching the movie multiple times, every fake jumpscare, every fake gore still made you jump and turn away from the screen. Jeno chuckled, comforting you as best he could, pecking your head.
"I've got to use the restroom." You whispered, attempting to stand up.
"Wait, you'll miss it." Jeno focused on the screen as he watched the movie intently, absorbing everything.
"Jen, we see the movie all the time. I'm sure I know what happens." You stood from the seat, glancing at the row behind you, gasping softly.
The row that was once filled with Jeno's coworkers was now empty with a horrific scene that you couldn't stomach.
Heads slumped forward, bodies slack, popcorn spilling out on the floor as the hands they had on the paper bucket were loosened.
You nudged Jeno's shoulder, unable to speak, who only glanced behind him, a sigh escaping his lips, "He always does this."
"What?" Your brows furrowed, "Jeno, what?"
Jeno set the popcorn down on the now empty seat beside him, where Chenle was.
"You... You—"
Jeno covered your mouth with his hand, covering his face with the mask, speaking through the mesh, "You're too trusting."
You felt your bottom lip quiver as he looked at you through the eyeholes, the tears rolling down your cheeks. You were an idiot, such an idiot. The sneaking out despite having his keys, the car "breaking" down, the dirty clothes, the disappearing. How didn't you see it? How didn't you see that he was the problem this whole time?
"You seriously believed I wasn't doing anything against your wishes?" He whispered, "You're such a dolt. You'd think reading all the books on criminal behavior would have made you more aware of what you were getting into."
"Jen..." You mumbled through his hand, "Please, ju-just let me go. I-I won't tell anyone."
Jeno clicked his tongue as he nodded his head towards Chenle wandering around the ground floor, holding Jaehyun by the back of his neck, bringing you both face to face, "You're too cute, thinking you'll be getting out of this."
The movie continued to play in the background and you couldn't help but repeat all the lines in your head.
Jaehyun struggled against Chenle's grip, his brows furrowed.
"For what it's worth, I actually was in love with you." Jeno whispered in your ear, "Every time I was with you, I felt butterflies in my stomach and my chest ached every time I thought about being apart from you." He rested his chin on your shoulder, "Consider this orientation."
He wrapped your hands around a clip pointed blade, one you didn't even know he owned, guiding it to point at Jaehyun's stomach, yet not piercing the skin just yet.
"All you have to do is push this blade into his belly. Kinda like gutting a pig."
You shook your head, your face contorting as he explained it to you. The tears continued to roll down your cheeks and over the black gloves Jeno wore.
"I told you she didn't have it in her, Jeno." Chenle chuckled, "She's too humanitarian."
"Shut up." Your boyfriend — or rather, at this point, your ex-boyfriend — glared, "She's gonna have to get some blood on her hands if we don't want to go down by ourselves."
Jaehyun attempted to yell, Chenle's hand covering his mouth quickly.
During the little squabble the two wannabe Ghostface's were having, your hand loosened on the knife that Jeno had released to point at Chenle.
Jaehyun and you both made eye contact, silently communicating with one another. He nodded his head to the knife in your hand, you shook yours, and he looked at Jeno, raising his eyebrows. You knew what he was telling you to do. "Use the knife on your boyfriend who was actually a homocidal maniac and planned this whole entire thing."
Using the knife Jeno planted in your hand was you accepting that everything you put in for the last 3 years was over. That despite all your efforts to put him up on a pedestal as the "best boyfriend who might have an odd obsession with this slasher film" was all for nothing. That all those things people have whispered about him was true and that you were nothing more than enabler. That you were none the wiser to all these strange behaviors coming from your boyfriend.
It made you nauseous to believe that were put into this situation and you dragged innocent people into it.
Jaehyun was almost begging you, pleading you, to set all those feelings aside and to get the upper hand in this situation. He wanted you to realize that this may be the end of 3 years but that you'll be free from the gossip, from the worry of what he was truly doing, from spending an extra 3 years trying to convince yourself that Jeno is a good guy and not some maniac under wraps.
You shook your head, feeling your bottom lip tremble as you considered the options. You could either let the two toy with Jaehyun and yourself like you guys were fashion dolls, or you could attempt to end this now and give them a taste of their own medicine. It was hard to detach yourself from Jeno — you had spent every day of your life with him after that first day. You both moved in, you adjusted your schedules for one another, you shared bills, you shared chores, you shared one another. You drag your eyes along the mask that Jeno wore, silently wishing it was just some big, giant cruel prank that would end with Ashton Kutcher coming out with a camera crew and a team telling you you had gotten punk'd in this day and age.
I can't, I can't, I can't, you whispered to yourself as the tears were pouring from your eyes, gripping the knife and turning in Jeno's arm; which seemed to loosen out of habit; the knife meeting his abdomen.
"Ow!" Jeno looked at you, glaring, "You stabbed me!"
You held the crimson-stained blade in your hand, sobbing, "Please, Jen... Please don't do this!"
He looked to Chenle, then back at you, "I've never been stabbed before."
Jaehyun used the distraction as a way to make his way out of Chenle's grasp, blocking you with his body, "Both of you, you can walk away from this."
You let Jaehyun block you, exchanging the knife between your hands, allowing him to hold it out in front of him.
"Walk away?" Jeno's gloved hand covered the wound, "It's too late for that." He chuckled darkly, "You know why other killers get caught so fast?"
"Jeno, please stop!" You screamed.
"Because they don't take the extra precautions; different sized shoes than regular ones, different cologne, different clothes than regular. They never take the time to make a whole new persona."
The two walked up the stairs, pushing you both into the back row, Jaehyun's hand holding your shaking one in his, "Jeno, Chenle, please. Let us go. You already got everyone else in the theater. What does it matter if there's 2 left?"
"Because if she lives," Chenle pointed, "We're suspects."
"And if you live," Jeno whispering almost sinisterly, "She has a witness."
"I won't say a word, please... please, Jeno, you know I won't. You know I won't say anything." Your bottom lip wobbled, "Just let us go."
The movie continued to play in the background, the contours of the mask illuminated by the scene on the screen, "Don't you remember this scene, Y/N?"
You glanced at the screen briefly, being reminded of the first date you both shared; It was when Billy confronted Sydney after being arrested. Jeno was holding you close to his chest that first day together, like he didn't have a care in the world that it was your guys first date.
You shut your eyes, squeezing Jaehyun's hand in your own, which he reciprocated in comfort. Jeno spoke, but you tuned it out, trying to calm down from the anxiety attack that rised in your chest.
Jaehyun, Jeno, Chenle. Chenle, Jeno, Jaehyun. The conversation continued on and on, each arguing with one another as if it was over the last slice of pizza.
You weren't a final girl, and never did you have it in you to be a final girl. Like Chenle said, you're too humanitarian. But, you stood against the wall, your heart thumping in your chest as Jaehyun defended you both with the knife.
Everything was a blur; Jeno and Chenle teaming up against Jaehyun, Jaehyun receiving a wound on his cheek, You couldn't move. You were frozen. This wasn't a movie, it wasn't a stupid sequel to "Stab!". You were forced to watch this go on, and you could barely move.
Jeno gave a final look at you through the mask, before a thud echoed across the theater, Chenle falling right after.
You sobbed silently as you looked at your boyfriend laying on the floor of the theater, annoyed to see the cold pvc plastic of the mask and not his handsome face that you grew so familiar to seeing.
Jaehyun kneeled beside you, grabbing your hand, "Come on. We've gotta get out of here." He helped you up, and you half expected for Jeno to follow after you, not as this monster he became, but as your boyfriend.
"Jeno..."
"No, come on." Jaehyun whispered, letting you continue to stare at him as he lead you down the hallway of the auditorium. "Last time I hire Stab fanatics." He grumbled to himself, sitting you down at a square table in the lobby as he called the police on the theater's phone.
You glanced at Jaehyun, noticing the blood seeping through his work shirt, his breathing heavy.
"You're hurt."
Jaehyun quickly gave as much information as he could to the police, before he hung up and looked at you, "I'll be fine. First responders should be here soon."
You sighed, "I'm half expecting Jeno to come through the door and tell me he's ready to go home."
"It'll be hard to get used to." Jaehyun winced, leaning against the concession counter.
"I don't know if I want to get used to it."
Jaehyun sighed, "He tried to kill you." He mumbled, "He tried to have you kill me." He looked at you, "He didn't know you. Someone who loves you would never subjugate you to that."
The shock was enough to force you to stop crying, rubbing your arm with your hand. Jaehyun was right; if Jeno truly loved you, he'd never put you into this situation. The sirens and lights reflected and echoed off the walls just as the first responders arrived.
Jaehyun offered his hand to you, which you kindly took as he led you out the door.
It's been weeks since everything at the theater went down. Jaehyun and you met up frequently for emotional support. You're in therapy after everything that happened. You'd still find yourself thinking about Jeno, waking up in the morning questioning where he was.
That evening at the theater, after the police arrived, Jaehyun was transported to the hospital for treatment. Leaving you alone outside the theater, sniffling to yourself. They exited just as quickly as they entered.
"Didn't see anything." One of the police officers said to another and you whipped your head towards them, making it completely obvious that you were listening.
"You telling me there wasn't two adults in hooded robes with those cheesy Ghostface masks?"
"Nope. Only those victims in the seats."
You moved back in with your mother after that. You spent more of your time looking over you shoulder, in fear you'd see your ex-boyfriend with a knife, rather than enjoying your life as it is now.
You could hardly settle in your bedroom, laying on your side watching the movie on your television screen. Nothing too exciting, just a re-run of Mrs. Doubtfire. With your head leaning on your hand and your blanket over your shoulders, you heard a creak behind you.
You didn't dare look, but from the mirror you had angled to face your bedroom door, you saw the same pvc plastic you see in your nightmares, and the shine of the blade.
