thinking about ... san who uses you as a pillow .ᐟ
you barely make it halfway onto the bed before SAN collapses on top of you like a wwe wrestler. “san—” you gasp, trying to fight for air as his weight sinks into you, arms already wrapping snugly around your waist.
“i missed you.” his voice is muffled against your chest, his broad shoulders nearly swallowing your frame whole as he burrows deeper like a sleepy little kitten. “couldn’t sleep right last night, because my shoulders hurt again.”
you sigh upon hearing this, threading your fingers through his dark hair, it’s not the first time he is telling you this, but you are the only person that makes it comfortable enough to endure the pain. “i told you to try sleeping on your back, or stomach.”
“i can’t,” he groans, nuzzling against your collarbone. “my shoulders are too wide, and i just keep rolling over… i almost fell from the bed.”
he’s ridiculous, like literally utterly ridiculous, but at the same you can’t really blame him for not getting a decent sleep. “so what, i’m your pillow now?”
“the best pillow,” he murmurs, pulling you closer somehow. “so soft and warm, smells like strawberry chocolate cake, and you scratch my scalp just right—ah, there, like that…” he practically purrs under your touch, muscles relaxing beneath your fingertips as you gently massage his head. his biceps flex slightly as he shifts, dragging your leg over his hip like a possessive little monster. clingy, much?
you raise a brow, not because you are not used to this, simply because it comes out of nowhere, and very abruptly. “sannie, you’re being needy today.”
“i’m always needy,” he says without shame, cuddling into your warmth, smiling against your exposed skin. “especially with you.”
rolling your eyes, pretending to be annoyed, however, your hand doesn’t stop moving through his hair, and your fingers trail down his bare arm, tracing the lines of his muscle with just enough pressure to make him twitch.
“also, i’d like to file a complaint.”
“hmm?”
“you’re making it really hard to focus on your face when your arms are out here lookin’ illegal.”
he lifts his head, a grin that reaches his eyes, even making his dimples come out of hiding. “oh? baby, do you mean these?” he flexes, just slightly, watching your eyes follow the movement.
you swat him, not hard enough, but just enough to make him stop teasing you. “san, stop that! you’re too pretty and you know it.” he laughs, before ducking back down to kiss the side of your neck: gentle, lingering, stupidly in love. “i love you, you know?”
you pause, fingers threading through his hair again. “yeah, i know, and i love you too.”
but it still hits you like it’s the first time every time. when san says those three words, you forget about everything, when you look at him, he is the only one you think about. he may be a lovesick idiot, but you are crazy in love. “and i love your stupidly wide shoulders,” you murmur into his hair. “even if they’re the reason i wake up squished half the time.”
at that moment, you felt him relax, and yes, he was asleep. san always falls asleep quickly when you are here next to him, can’t blame him, you do smell like strawberry chocolate fresh cream cake, oddly specific but that’s just san for you.
𝙂𝙀𝙉𝙍𝙀: 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵, 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘩, 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘺'𝘢𝘭𝘭, (evil) secret camboy with a corruption kink au, 18+
𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙩 𝙗𝙛! 𝙎𝙖𝙣 (𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙚) 𝙭 𝙄𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙩! 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧
𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎: He was sweet—almost too sweet. The kind of boyfriend who said all the right things, touched you like you mattered, and smiled like he had nothing to hide. But the charm was a mask, carefully crafted to disarm. Behind the softness lurked something darker: a hidden lifestyle he documented regularly online under the pseudonym ‘ch0i-kitty’, who posted content of girls he slowly corrupted on camera, vulgar perversion and live streamed conversations about his target of choice.
You thought you were falling in love.
You didn’t realize you were being documented.
AKA In which your sweet boyfriend isn’t as sweet as you originally thought and is a pervert with a taste for corrupting girls on camera. wc: 7k
warnings: characters have little to no moral code, corruption kink, impact play, full nelson, strangling, hair pulling, overstim, dubcon (somewhat), rough sex. dom!san, mindbreak, coercion/intended manipulation, san’s a massive pervert and a red flag (like genuinely, it’s pretty bad), reader gets photos of them taken without their permission—heads up, plot twist!
don’t read if u don’t like it
this is arguably the filthiest thing i’ve written on this blog thus far…. and that’s saying something LMAO
“Baby, did’ya eat today?” San reaches across the table, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. You shake your head, hair swaying, and take a sip of your iced tea. The condensation seeps into your fingers, and without thinking, you wipe your hand on your lap. Bunny’s diner—a diner owned by San’s childhood friend Seonghwa—was bustling under the brunch traffic. You don’t notice San’s gaze drifting upward—nor the way he taps his finger against the salt shaker, nudging it just enough to send it tumbling off the edge.
“Fuck—sorry.” Face chagrin and flushed as he tries to reach under the table, purposely bumping his head against the edge. San gets on his knees, scraping at the excess salt on the floor slowly—eyes darkening as he makes contact with your skin tight panties that practically restrict the blood flow around your cunt.
You’re wearing white today.
Cute.
He makes sure his phone’s on silent before he snaps a photo, pocketing it before sliding back into the booth, and sighing exasperatingly. “Why am I so fucking clumsy?” He groans and threads his fingers into his head to curl into himself. “—I feel like everyone heard that.”
They didn’t. He knew they didn’t. Not under all that clanging going on in the Diner’s kitchen.
You reach forward, grabbing his hand with doe eyes. “No one heard it! It’s okay, baby. I drop things all the time.”
It takes everything in San to not moan.
You were perfect.
He couldn’t stop talking about you when he live-streamed last night: everything he wanted and planned to do to you, your name falling out of his lips as he touched himself slightly out of frame—gripping tightly, grinding—stifling his moans with gritted teeth against a belt so you wouldn’t hear him during your call.
You called for no reason. All you said was “I called because I missed you. I love you.”
Sugary. Honey. Cotton candy and the color pink. You were the sweetest fucking thing.
And he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to ruin something so badly. None of the other girls before you wore innocence as well as you did.
To them? It was an aesthetic—something subject to change. They wanted him to ruin them. But you?
You were his idle angel and sweetness incarnate—doll like lashes without a hint of suspicion or mal-intentions. Shy. The type to naturally hold a hand out when you needed help getting down from somewhere and not flinching when a big arm wrapped around your waist to pick you up.
The type to kiss San and plan on a wedding—not him stuffing you full of cock and fucking you dumb into a stale pillow in his dorm room. To flinch and pull away in embarrassment when his hand crept under the cup of your bra, begging him kindly to take it slow.
Which he did.
He has been.
He savors the push and pull—it’s how he knows you’re the real deal.
San watches you slice into the Canadian ham, a content smile tugging at his lips as you happily dig into your eggs Benedict. You’d need all the energy you could get.
He slides his pancakes over to you, smearing honey butter and packing on the cinnamon just the way liked them and tells you he’s too full to eat anymore.
“You’re missing out, Sannie.” You jest, tapping the tip of your fork against your teeth playfully. “You barely ate—“ you pause to take a bite, smiling at him mid-chew. “Something on your mind?”
He bites back a smile, eyes folding into half moons as he stared at you for a couple of beats “It’s just cute—the way you look when you eat.”
“The way I eat?” You tilt your head.
“Yeah—you just…stuff your mouth until it’s super cramped. Careful” he wipes cream from the side of your mouth ”— you might choke if you take too much all at once.”
A sudden tension threads through his voice, pulling your eyes up from the plate, curious. You nod, offering him a sweet smile.
“Aye, captain!”
San always worries about the smallest things.
He scrolls through his phone as you finish your meal, the clink of your fork masking the soft swipes of his finger. You don’t see the images flashing by—candid frames of you lost in thought, others taken while you slept, your shirt slipped just high enough to expose the delicate curve of lace against skin. Some are closer, hungrier: your legs parted in sleep, revealing only the faintest swell of softness. He lingers on that one a moment longer, gaze unreadable, mouth still curled in that contented smile.
When you finish eating, San calls for the waiter with a patient smile—sliding a stack of bills down before rearranging the dishes politely and leaving.
San’s thick, calloused fingers grab hold of your hand —threading meticulously before leading you out of the Diner, exhaust fumes of humid street stalls and early autumn conundrum waft into your nose. You feel content. Full. Happy and in love.
You watch his side profile, the breeze tugging gently at his cropped hair. He glances both ways, unfazed by your gaze, then crosses the road with you—heading toward his daddy’s old ’70, the metal sun-warmed and waiting.
You trail your fingers along the muted, rust-red paint while waiting for San to unlock the door—then slip inside as he murmurs a small joke under his breath. He rolls the windows down, knowing you like to rest your head on his arm while he drives, your feet dangling out the window—just far enough to feel free, but never close enough to tempt danger.
At a red light, San reaches a hand towards the glove compartment—digging around before pulling out an old camcorder. A small jingle plays as it turns on, the chime beckoning a giggle from you. “What’s that?”
He doesn’t answer—just presses play.
“Smile for the camera, pretty.”
Then he gives your thigh a light smack when you laugh, face buried in your hands as you shrink back into your seat, grinning behind your fingers. Playfully, you peek an eye out—laughing with your heart, wind in your hair, and girls just want to have fun by Cyndi Lauper playing in the background.
He gets you home safe and sound, kissing you a little bit rougher than usual. The red light of his camcorder still flickers on his dash—camera becoming a voyeur on top of his dashboard when his hands rest on your thigh, fingers idling just beneath the hem of your dress and pulling lightly to squeeze the flesh it’s sandwiching.
You skip to your porch, all girlish giggles and swaying skirts as you wave goodbye and close your screen door. And San watches.
Intent.
Indulging.
Ravenous.
“She was wearing white today.” San tinkers with a rubix cube, webcam pointed low enough to capture the sharp of his jaw—a canine-like half grin, as he licked his teeth and sucked in a frustrated breath. He unbuttons his dress shirt just enough for a golden sliver of skin to peak out and spreads his legs purposely so that his pants are taut on his form.
Little pings sound from his desktop and he doesn’t bother reading any of the incoming chats from his stream. “It was practically choking her pussy—you think that’s why she chose to wear it? Friction or what not?” He scoffs playfully, rubbing a thumb over the flat of his stomach as he leans back on his computer chair, recalling.
The way you tasted like honey butter and cinnamon and the way your underwear was tight enough to make your flesh swell red.
A celebratory chime rings from his computers speakers, an automated girl singing “points, points!”
[• ch0i’s_fav-kitty_ gifted 200 points and left a note! “Ruin her for the rest of us.” ]
San smirks cunningly.
“Well, since you asked so nicely—I’ll plan a gift just for you, kitty.” He unbuttons the last few notches on his dress shirt, sliding his palm down the flat of his golden tummy and under his slacks. “But until then, I’ll dedicate this show to you.”
Biting at the cuff of his wrist, stifling his moans and keening his neck just enough to keep the crowd satisfied since they weren’t allowed to see his face. San was in his element and this was his arena.
He’ll use the money from this livestream to pay for something sweet, vanilla, and totally boyfriend coded before melting you down into something wrecked. Unrecognizable. Fucked up and pretty just for him.
The best part? He’s waited this long so you’d let him do it willingly.
Choi San knew he had all the makings of the perfect boyfriend—the kind others envied, whispered about, and admired from afar. Charismatic, intelligent, and from a well-to-do family—and upon arriving as a legacy to his university, he was immediately ushered into the most prolific brotherhood of the institution. You’d hear his name uttered in locker rooms, the corners of lecture halls, and in offices as Professors discussed recommendation letters.
He sold the best parts of himself when it came to finding love, but profited the most off the filth he worked hard to keep separated from his offline life.
There’s just one tiny pothole in San’s initially seamless perfection: he liked ruining things. Good things. Especially good girls. On camera.
Everyone believed San had immaculate taste in women. The few he entertained publicly all shared the same quiet allure—graceful, composed, the kind of girls who seemed untouched by anything cruel. Poised. Innocent. Almost too good to be real and too hard to dislike.
What they didn’t know was that San preferred them pure for a reason—because he had a fucked up way of getting off. If he got them to love him enough, then he’d be able to do anything—including filming every moment he got to break them down on camera. The slow sip of corruption dousing a white dress in a way that bested murder. To be caught on tape and immortalized—proof that he had the makings. The power to ruin without apology.
It started as scratching a place he knew he shouldn’t have scratched in the first place— a shaky livestream, stuttered words that left him like he sat in either a confessional or investigation room until he finally settled comfortably into the skin of his darkest desires. The small online community quickly grew once he released his special series, sugarcoat: a long term documentation of girls he dated and taped for his loyal followers—all perfect subjects for their fixation on the act of corrupting.
But with the others before you, it all felt like roleplay. What Choi San wants is what Choi San gets—and this is to his detriment. It was too easy. If he’d asked any of them on the first date to film, he would’ve gotten the green light.
Performative innocence, not even played to the T. C-rate actresses in frills and lace—itching to tear off the costume once shooting ends.
San didn’t camboy for money. He did it as reprieve from the kind of perfection that stifled him with its ideals on a daily basis. Here, he could be horrible.
Desired for his ugliness, for his muck.
And you were the closest thing to a natural high he’d ever felt in his entire life—the sweetest layer of his series. His beloved cherry on top.
“Did you like it?” San chuckles, dimples carving into his grin, softening the sharpness of his features. The flashing LED lights of the carnival dance in his eyes, tiny sparks catching like stars—like every bit of the boy you used to dream about. You’re breathless, and not just from how he looks in that black compression shirt, clinging to him in all the right ways, but from the rollercoaster he’d talked you into riding.
“…Like’s an understatement. Can we go again?” You bounce on your toes, ponytail swinging excitedly. San sighs playfully, and then shakes his head. “Baby, I’ve got a surprise waiting for you at my place—remember?”
Eyes brightening, you hold on tight to his left arm while making your way out the exit. The distance screams of ride-goers and arcade game music muffle your conversations—almost domesticating them. “Come on, can’t you give me a clue? What’s the surprise?”
“No. Can. Do.” He furrows his brows, punctuating, and then slings his arm over your shoulder—pulling you into his arms to lay a kiss on your temple. “Be a good girl. Patience is a virtue.”
Roses.
Take out dinner that arrived just on time and tapestries hung around his dorm room to make it look more cozy and less clinical under the usually bright fluorescent overhead light. He bought an extra toothbrush and filled one of the drawers of his bathroom with a variety of skincare products, essential oils, and menstrual products.
Your favorite ice cream was frozen to perfection in his freezer and the T-shirt you liked stealing from him already waited at the edge of his bed for you, folded kindly.
San shut the door behind him, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watched you flit around the room, gently tapping the new fairy lights with the tip of your nail.
“I thought we could have a sleepover now that the term’s over,” he said. “With the internship starting soon, I won’t get to see you as much.”
“San…I love it. Your room finally looks lived in” you jest, elbow bumping his waist, and turn towards him to wrap your arms around the slim of his waist. He flinches slightly, body tensing—sensitive. Internally groaning because you probably don’t realize how close he’s been to snapping.
The air feels…different. Charged. Laced with an unspoken expectation—San sees it in the way you seem to curl shyly when he digs his face into the crook of your neck, your usual behavior and touchiness diluted into something moderately restrained.
You typically fed on physical affection the way someone would drink water, a domesticated sense of skin to skin contact: a pinky locked with his as you studied, legs draped onto his lap while scrolling through your phone or leaning over his shoulder to watch reels with him.
You’re seated between his legs, facing the TV. Some vintage horror movie drones on in the background, as a girl screams in horror when an undead fist pushes straight through cemetery dirt—reaching towards heaven.
She fails to run away in time and you laugh.
He didn’t expect you to find it funny, a quirk to his brow when he swears he hears you mumble “Survival instincts of a peanut” under your breath.
When you adjust, San stills. Breath hitching when he feels the lace of your skirt rub against his jeans and he knows you feel it too.
He tries his luck and slides a palm under your shirt before rubbing the skin of your stomach casually. You lean into it, hips unconsciously rolling towards his hands.
It’s the flush on your face that undoes him, eyes unfocused, looking almost confused by the wetness he knew made your panties cling to your skin.
“—baby. Can I touch you more?” He coats his words in sugar, breathing into your ear sweetly. The edges of his voice beg.
“…mhm.” You nod slowly, hair falling over your cheekbones as you peer up at him. San pulls you closer, your back pressed against his chest as he peppers wet kisses up your neck.
He groans when you shiver and your back to press your breasts into his hands instinctively.
But you flinch away, a quiet embarrassment settling into your bones. You look confused, thighs closing and pressing against each other looking for relief in the pressure. “San, wait—I’ve…never done this before. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Do you trust me?” he asks, his gaze steady as he tilts your chin up, capturing your lips in an upside-down kiss. His jaw moves slowly, deliberately, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that’s both soothing and seductive. You hum, eager, reaching up for more—until he pulls back, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes.
“I… like filming things,” he continues, voice low, almost coaxing. “I want to remember it. Forever. Can I?”
Your eyebrows scrunch together—conflicted. “Sannie—what if I don’t look good on camera and you have that on you forever?” He shakes his head. “Baby—“ running his hands down your body and under your bra, cupping your breasts and twisting the tips of your nipples. A sharp yelp leaving your lips as he licks up the side of your throat. “I promise, you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
His serpentine eyes lock onto yours without hesitation, unflinching. His presence wraps around you like a tightening coil, arms holding you in place as you suddenly feel small, almost like prey caught in his grasp.
San guides your hand to lock behind your back. Sandwiching your arm and gripping it above his aching cock. “See what you did to me?”
He grinds into your hand with a deliberate whimper into your ear.
His grip on you tightens, absolutely fucked out. For the love of god he’s waited months. It’s the longest he’s ever held out for. After a couple of beats—hesitation crumpling under the weight of profound lust, you agree. “Whatever makes you happy.”
Fuck.
He’s obsessed—you’re perfect for the gig. For him.
San doesn’t think he wants to share the footage for once, second thoughts running rampant.
“Whatever makes you happy?” he repeats, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Are you sure? Can I do whatever I want to you?” Wide eyes gaze at him. Pure. Unadulterated with the right amount of curiosity.
“If it’s for you—yes. I trust you.” His mouth clashes with yours instantly before sliding his tongue in when you gasp in surprise. A string of saliva connects your mouth when he lets you go.
“Lay down.” There’s a sudden chill in his tone. An unraveling—strict, direct, impatient and leaving little to no room for hesitance.
Reaching over to his dresser, he pulls the same camcorder and adjusts it so it’s pointing directly at you. San turns the zoom dial, diluting the environment of the room and focusing entirely on you.
Without delay, he casually reaches over to unzip your skirt and pull off your panties like he’s done it plenty of times before.
He lays one of your legs over his lap and spreads you open. Your hands immediately jolt to cover your face, thighs slamming closed in attempts to hide from him.
“Let me see you. You were being such a good girl. I want to look at your pretty little pussy.” Peaking one eye at him through a gap in your fingers, you slowly part your legs. He spits on his fingers, still seated next to you as he leans from the side to gaze down at your cunt.
Making sure that the camera is framing you properly, he pulls at your folds with two hands—one on each side so that the camera catches the fluttering of your fleshy insides. Your body jolts, a small moan of surprises tumbling out when he massages your clit in circles and holds your leg down with a firm hand.
“Does it feel good?” He giggles when you nod in surprise. Doe eyed as you finally put down your hands and stare at his movement.
“It’s such… a pretty color. I wanna see it more.” A smack lands directly above your clit— a silent scream choking in your throat at the intense stimulation and sting. San mentally counts to ten, each slap descending faster, harder, and landing more precisely. Rubbing side to side, your body jolts when you feel your cunt clench around nothing—raising your hips to dig his hand against you with more pressure. Rhythmic moans leave you when your orgasm hits you, but he doesn’t stop after the waves leave you.
You body flinches from the sensitivity, small jerks as you push and pull away from his touch “San—I can’t.”
“Yes you can. And you’ll take it until I want to stop. Understood?” You only cry out, tears welling in your eyes at the intense stimulation. He smacks your cunt again. “Understood?”
“Understood!” You bite out, relenting, and he slides a finger into you—curling and feeling the gummy texture.
He commits it to memory and wishes he had the sort of camera that could film from the inside. He’ll buy that later.
You don’t know how long he fingers you for.
You’re restless—finally growing accustomed to the continuous ministrations of his hand. There’s nothing gentle in the way San drives you flat onto your stomach—his body looming over you like a dark shadow, muscles tense beneath the fabric of his compression shirt. A quick unbuckling and shuffling of him sliding off his jeans later—and your vision goes white when he pushes himself into you in one go.
He’s huge.
San grins darkly when he hears your choked whimper, slamming down into you and pressing his full weight against your back.
The bed creaks repetitively with his brutal pace, muffled screams leaving you as he fucks into you—definitely bruising your cervix in the process. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, drool slipping out of the sides of your mouth—totally icing out the fact that you’re fucking obscenely loud at a dormitory. Someone bangs on the wall but San only fucks you harder, pulling your hair and pressing into you until your body goes limp and lays completely flat on the bed.
Everything is blanking out. Your name, what you’re doing, where you are and with who “S-san I can’t take it.”
He tugs you up by the hair, vulgar slaps against the reddening flesh of your ass continuing their onslaught. “You can take it baby. Just be a good girl and shut up for me.” Slapping your breasts, he flips you over and slides himself snug against you—pelvis pressing yours directly and stuffing himself back in.
Both of his hands wrap around your throat, unrelenting—brutal. The veins on your face rise to the surface, mouth falling open to try and scream but immediately failing. All of his weight is being held on your throat as he uses the force to propel himself forward—digging into you.
You think you pissed yourself mid orgasm, but San keeps going—eyes obsidian and dilated, bordering on animalistic frenzy. Slapping desperately at his arms because of the overstimulation again—you claw at the skin, gasping and seeking breath. He sends three more hard thrusts down before cumming thick ropes into you with a pornographic moan. “F-fuck.”
San swears he’s never seen anything more pretty than you lying under him—bruised, drying tears and smeared mascara—body completely red like it’s fighting a fever. He slaps his cock onto the fat of your pussy before leaning down and breathing in the smell of your sweat gathering in the crook of your neck. He massages your hip, coaxing—and pulls you in to cuddle.
Just as he’s about to slip back into the role of the perfect boyfriend, you murmur sweetly.
“Did that make you happy?”
He stills. Clock ticking in the back of his head up until it hit five seconds
and flips himself onto his back, tugging you along with him—fumbling to push his already fully hardened cock inside. His arms slide under your armpits and lock behind your neck before he jack hammers upwards—pushing past his own sensitivity, fully intent on fucking you until you felt like raw meat. You don’t count how many orgasms you had or how many people knocked on San’s door groggy and pissed only to be ignored.
He groans, pulling out to slap your cunt before quickly sliding back in. “ Do ya like that? Feels good princess? You’re doing so good.”
Your legs grow tired from having to hold your weight up from his chest, feet flat against the bed before going limp—back sandwiched against his damp skin. San doesn’t stop, only slithering a hand down to rub your clit in circles. “Are you happy? Am I being good enough? Sannie, I’m tired.” You whine lightly, eyebrows scrunching as tears threatened to fall.
He whimpers “So fucking good. I’m almost done, sweetheart. Just one more and we can go to bed, yeah?” You almost black out when he fastens his pace, spraying while orgasming and arching your back with vulgar moans.
He pulls out this time, cumming on the fat flesh of your thighs before petting your pussy lightly—appeasingly in performative apology. San holds your body tightly against him, clamping his arms around you while peppering kisses on your shoulder.
“You made me so happy today—seriously, you’re my favorite girl ever.” He rocks you lightly as you giggle.
God, he’s obsessed.
You were the perfect balance between submission and maintained innocence. He’s too tired to look over the footage, but his brain still maps more content ideas.
There’s no way he’s sharing this one but…he’ll still talk about it once he livestreams.
San thinks he might actually love you—and it’s that thought that carries him into deep sleep.
When San’s breathing lulls softly, your eyes blink open in the dark. Slowly, carefully, you reach for his phone, unlocking it with practiced ease. Your thumb drifts across the screen, skimming through his apps—until you find it. A hidden folder buried deep in his files.
Photos, videos, pixelated and zoomed in screenshots of your legs spread open. It’s casual almost—the way your eyes drift around his screen, observing.
Silently, you close out the apps one by one, then inch closer to his sleeping form. Unreadable eyes watching him sleep without blinking. You trace his nose bridge and jaw, kissing him lightly as he slept
slightly unsatisfied by the extent of his hidden perversion.
You thought it’d be worse.
You shut your apartment door—pulling your hair tie away and shake the hairs threatening to fall in your eyes before tugging off the cashmere sweater off like it burned you. The rest of your clothes fall like feathers to the floor, leaving a trail to your bedroom.
You fucking hated cashmere. Fingernail tapping against a custom Zippo—cherry etched into the steel—you flick it open and light a cigarette. Smoke curls around you as you sink into your computer chair, wearing nothing but your underwear. You type in the password: ch0i’s_fav-kitty_.
The page immediately opens to a pending livestream
[ch0i-kitty is online • ]
“—she was such a good girl. Nothing like the others. Pure. Willing to take it and learn—“ You grin, taking a fat drag of your cigarette before leaning back—amused.
Are all boys this dumb? This easy?
All you had to do was play good girl at a surface level for a hotshot like him to come crawling. You watched San for months—committing to the trails of information you could find: a small business card in the backdrop of his stream, the edge of a university hoodie, a fraternity ring—never missing a single livestream to know the exact kind of girl he wanted most but could never find. Not in full at least.
Either too good and too willing to be bad for him. Too slutty from the get go and unable to convince him that they’d never had sex before—rookie stuff.
No one was committed to the bit. Not as much as you were.
Lifting a hand to grab your phone, you call just as San eased a hand down his dress pants—mirroring his actions by peeling your underwear to the side.
You see him grit his teeth and try to control his heaving breaths before answering the phone on live, voice resonating directly into your ear. “Hi baby, you okay?”
Slinking a finger inside, face flushed red with maniacal victory “—nothing. I just called because I missed you.” You grin devilishly when he tilts his head back, stifling a groan as his fist picks up in speed.
“—I miss you too, baby. Already.”
You hum softly, a smile in your voice as you lie—just for a second—saying you had to head back to work. Then you hang up.
You flick the ash off your cigarette, not blinking as you watched him get off. Fingers clicking against your keyboard—positively transfixed by the camboy you’ve obsessed over for a year. He deserves a little treat.
[• ch0i’s_fav-kitty_ gifted 100 points! ]
“Thank you for your donation, kitty. You’re the best.”
Choi San was yours.
And you were his.
because no one could play the good girl better than you.
synopsis : A mafia marriage built on contract and convenience is shaken when a near-fatal attack exposes the fierce, mutual love both partners have been hiding.
genre : slice of life, fluff, mafia au, little angst, comfort, slow-burn, romance
warnings : mentions of blood
author’s note : 2nd last member for the mafia aus that im doing 😛 hope yall enjoy 🤍
word count : 1.9k
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You learned early on that loving a man like Choi San meant learning the language of restraint.
Silence instead of questions. Distance instead of demands. Trust instead of reassurance.
The contract spelled it out in black ink and colder words: marriage for alliance, protection, appearance.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
You signed anyway.
San stood across from you that day in an immaculate suit, hands folded neatly in front of him, eyes unreadable.
He didn’t smile. Didn’t frown.
Just nodded once when the papers were done, like you’d finalized a business deal instead of tying your life to his.
“From today onward,” he said evenly, “you’re under my protection.”
Not my wife. Not mine.
Protection.
And yet.
You hadn’t expected the way his jacket would always find its way onto your shoulders when rooms were cold. Or how his hand would hover just behind your back in crowds, never touching, always guarding. Or how he memorized your schedule better than his own.
You hadn’t expected the way his eyes darkened whenever someone looked at you for too long.
You especially hadn’t expected the bullet.
The memory still replays too vividly: the sound of gunfire ripping through the air, bodies scrambling, someone screaming your name.
You remember reaching for San—then the impact, the way his body slammed into yours, the force of him knocking you down as something wet and hot bloomed against his side.
“I’m fine,” he’d said through clenched teeth, already shoving you behind him. “Stay down.”
Liars always say that.
Now he lies in a hospital bed instead, hooked up to machines that beep too loudly, too insistently, as if they’re afraid he’ll disappear if they stop watching him.
You sit beside him with your hands folded in your lap like a child waiting to be scolded.
This is your fault.
If you hadn’t insisted on attending the gala. If you hadn’t stepped away from his side. If you hadn’t smiled politely at the wrong man—
Your jaw tightens.
You remember him. Tall. Well-dressed. A little too familiar. He’d leaned close, voice low.
“Didn’t expect San to marry someone like you.”
You hadn’t known what he meant, only that San’s hand appeared at your waist immediately after, grip firm, possessive.
“She’s mine,” San had said quietly.
The word had settled deep in your chest and refused to leave.
The heart monitor beeps steadily now. Mockingly calm.
You stare at San’s face—relaxed in unconsciousness, sharp edges softened.
He looks younger like this. Less like a crime lord.
More like the man who makes sure you eat when you forget, who waits up even when meetings run late, who pretends not to notice when you fall asleep on the couch beside him.
Your fingers curl into the sheets.
You lean closer without realizing it.
“I hate you,” you whisper, because loving him feels too dangerous to say aloud. “You don’t get to scare me like this.”
Your throat burns.
The doctor said he’d be fine. The bullet missed anything vital. Surgery went well.
Still, fear doesn’t obey logic.
You brush your thumb over his knuckles, just once.
Warm.
Your chest caves in.
Before you can stop yourself, you lean down and press a soft kiss to his cheek—barely there, barely a confession at all.
The heart monitor loses its mind.
You jolt upright as the beeping spikes wildly, panic flooding your veins. “What—?!”
San stirs.
Then his hand closes around your wrist.
“You,” he rasps, voice thick with sleep and something sharper. “You kissed me.”
You freeze.
“You’re awake?!”
His eyes flutter open, dark and unfocused at first—then they land on you, and something shifts.
Awareness. Vulnerability he never lets anyone see.
The heart monitor continues its furious protest.
“That’s—” He swallows. “That’s new.”
You stare between him and the machine. “Your heart rate just tried to kill itself.”
He huffs out a breath that might be a laugh. “Yeah. It does that when you’re close.”
Silence crashes between you.
“…San.”
“Yes.”
“Why.”
His jaw tightens. For a moment, you think he’ll retreat back into cold professionalism.
A mafia boss. A contract husband.
Instead, he looks at you like a man who’s been caught.
“I thought,” he admits quietly, “that you didn’t care.”
Your breath stutters.
“I thought you stayed because it was easier. Because the contract protects you. Because I’m useful.” His grip loosens slightly. “I never thought you’d… choose me.”
Choose him.
“You got shot because you jumped in front of me,” you whisper.
“That’s my job.”
“No,” you say. “That was instinct.”
He doesn’t deny it.
The door opens suddenly, footsteps approaching, and San’s expression changes instantly—walls slamming back into place. His hand slips from yours like it was never there.
The nurse smiles politely at you. “Your husband’s vitals spiked. Everything okay?”
San answers before you can. “Fine.”
Too quick. Too sharp.
The nurse eyes him skeptically but nods. “Try not to get too excited.”
When she leaves, San exhales slowly.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “Didn’t mean to… scare you.”
You laugh weakly. “You’re unbelievable.”
His gaze lingers on you, softer now. “You shouldn’t have kissed me.”
Your chest aches. “Why not?”
“Because if I start wanting things I can’t have,” he says quietly, “I get reckless.”
You think of the man at the gala.
Of San’s hand at your waist. Of the bullet meant for you.
“…San,” you say slowly, “who was he?”
His eyes darken instantly.
“Who.”
“The man earlier. The one you nearly killed with your stare.”
San’s jaw clenches. “No one important.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He looks at you for a long moment. Then—
“He’s been watching you,” San admits. “Too closely. I told him to stop.”
Your stomach twists. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t want you scared.”
You swallow. “You don’t get to decide that alone.”
“I do when it comes to you,” he says fiercely, then stops himself. “I mean—”
The heart monitor spikes again.
San curses under his breath.
“…You see?” he mutters. “Reckless.”
You lean in, voice soft but unyielding. “San. Look at me.”
He does.
“You don’t have to protect me alone,” you say. “And you don’t have to pretend you don’t care.”
His eyes search your face like he’s memorizing it all over again.
“Then don’t give anyone else a reason to look at you like that,” he says quietly. Jealous. Honest. Bare.
“I don’t trust myself when they do.”
Your heart thunders.
“You don’t get to be jealous if you won’t admit you’re mine,” you whisper.
San’s breath stutters.
“…Say that again.”
San’s voice is low. Not threatening—but dangerous in the way honesty always is.
You don’t move away. Your heart is pounding too loudly for fear to win now.
“You don’t get to be jealous,” you repeat softly, “if you won’t admit I’m yours.”
The heart monitor spikes like it’s tattling.
San exhales sharply and squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s physically restraining himself from something—words, maybe.
Or you.
“You don’t understand,” he says quietly. “If I say that out loud, I won’t be able to stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Wanting you,” he answers immediately. No hesitation. No calculation.
That knocks the breath clean out of your lungs.
He opens his eyes again, gaze burning, stripped of the careful distance he usually keeps. “This world eats people alive. Anyone close to me becomes a target. I married you to keep you safe, not to—” His jaw tightens. “Not to love you.”
You swallow. “And how’s that going for you?”
A humorless laugh escapes him. “Terribly.”
The door opens again before either of you can say more. This time, it’s not a nurse.
It’s him.
The man from the gala steps in with an infuriatingly calm smile, hands tucked into his coat pockets like he owns the place. “San,” he says pleasantly. “Good to see you breathing.”
San’s entire body goes rigid.
The heart monitor resumes its frantic commentary.
“What are you doing here,” San says flatly.
“I came to check on you.” The man’s eyes flick to you—too slow, too intentional. “And your wife.”
San moves before he thinks.
He tries to sit up.
Pain flashes across his face instantly, a sharp hiss tearing from his throat as his hand clamps to his bandaged side. The monitor shrieks.
You’re on him immediately. “San—don’t—”
“Get out,” San growls, eyes never leaving the man. There’s something feral in his gaze now, something raw and unrestrained. “Now.”
The man chuckles. “Relax. I’m not here to cause trouble.”
“You already did,” San snaps. “You looked at her.”
Silence slams into the room.
The man lifts his brows. “Possessive for a contractual husband.”
That’s the wrong thing to say.
San’s fingers curl into the sheets so hard his knuckles go white. “Say her name again and I will forget I’m bleeding.”
“San,” you whisper, gripping his arm. You can feel the tension vibrating through him. “Please.”
He looks at you then—and the shift is immediate. The fury softens into something achingly gentle, like he’s terrified he scared you.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”
The man watches, intrigued now. “Interesting.”
San’s gaze snaps back to him, ice-cold. “Leave. Or I’ll have my men escort you out in pieces.”
A beat.
Then the man lifts his hands in surrender. “Message received.”
Before he exits, he glances back at you one last time. “You married a dangerous man.”
You don’t hesitate. “I know.”
The door closes.
San collapses back against the pillows, chest heaving. The heart monitor slowly begins to settle.
You turn on him, hands shaking. “Are you insane?! You’re barely stitched together!”
“I know,” he says hoarsely. “I’m sorry.”
“You could’ve torn something—”
“I know,” he repeats. Then, softer: “But I won’t let anyone look at you like that. Ever.”
Your anger deflates, replaced by something warm and terrifying.
San stares at the ceiling. For a long time, he says nothing.
Then, quietly: “I almost died today.”
Your throat tightens.
“And the only thing I could think about,” he continues, voice rough, “was that I never told you the truth.”
You reach for his hand again. This time, he doesn’t let go.
“I watch you sleep,” he admits. “Not in a creepy way,” he adds weakly. “Just… to make sure you’re breathing. I memorize the sound of your footsteps. I know when you’re upset before you say a word. And every time someone gets too close to you, I imagine how many bones I’d have to break to make them regret it.”
Your lips tremble. “San…”
“I’m in love with you,” he says. “Violently. Inconveniently. Completely.”
The heart monitor loses its mind again.
You laugh through your tears. “You’re really bad at hiding it.”
He huffs. “Apparently.”
You lean down, forehead pressing to his. “For the record?”
“Yes?”
“I’ve been in love with you since you learned how I take my coffee and pretended it was a coincidence.”
His breath catches.
“Since you sleep on the couch but still tuck the blanket around me first,” you continue. “Since you put yourself in front of a bullet without thinking.”
San lifts his free hand, cupping your cheek with reverent care, like you’re something sacred.
“I’m going to spend the rest of my life making this up to you,” he vows softly. “Every missed confession. Every night I pretended you weren’t already mine.”
You kiss him—slow, careful, full of promise.
The heart monitor absolutely cannot cope.
San laughs against your lips, breathless and stunned. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
“Nope,” you say, smiling through tears. “My mafia husband fell in love with me and his heart monitor snitched on him.”
He pulls you closer as much as the wires allowed.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Let it scream. I’m done pretending.”
ᯓ Don't you look at me like that, it's just too real
pairing: Choi San x fem!reader
synopsis: 3 am texts might turn into something more if you let it. Will you? - or two idiots saying anything but facing their feelings content: college au, frat!san, drinking, sneaking around, anxious attachment lol, wingman mingi, angst, crack (bc i am funny [don't tell me if i'm not]), hurt n eventual comfort, smut. wc: 12k featuring: '99 liners, all of Aespa, txt: Yeonjun, Soobin, Skz: Bangchan (for like half a second)
for @ikeukiss <3
⭑루안: HI LEXI!! i am your secret admirer!!! i got two inspirational songs for you to listen to (other than the other 15 in the playlist) DLS - by nessa barrett and dls - by artemas, fitting right? fun fact, they were together when they wrote these songs, hihi. i also have way too many songs associated with this fic anyway, I hope you enjoy lex xoxo
this is my work for @everyonewooeverywhere 's fic exchange. check them all out - masterlist <33
also big thanks to everyone who helped me with this when times were rough, i gen owe my life to all of you<3
playlist (like were back in the wattpad times):
dirty little secret - nessa barrett
dirty little secret - artemas
i like it - stray kids
creep (san) - ateez
s.l.u.t. - nessa barrett
we can't be friends - ariana grande
would've been you - sombr
favourite crime - olivia rodrigo
how could you love somebody like me - artemas
scare myself - nessa barrett
given enough - nessa barrett
doubt (demo) - twenty one pilots
does god cry? - nessa barett
we never even dated - sombr
escapism (sped up) - raye
love looks pretty on you - nessa barrett
stolen dance - milky chance
i might have a problem with nessa im sorry
Frat parties are always the same. Frustratingly good-looking men living in a frustratingly good house. Privileged wannabe somebodies who put their dicks into every hole it doesn't even belong in, while hardly maintaining a 2.0 GPA.
But still, here you are at the ATZ frat at midnight. Dragged by your best friends, drinking cheap beer, holding eye contact with men whose cologne you can smell from the other side of the room.
You thought maybe they were the frat that would change your mind about the stereotypes, have the party of your life, and get you back into social university life. But you were so wrong - this year's starter party was just like the others.
"I'm gonna get some water," you murmur to Minjeong, who is way too interested in a frat brother's speech, her hands waving to you dismissively.
The kitchen is the same as it was in every house on campus, overflowing with dirty dishes, red cups, and sticky counters.
Where would a frat guy keep water?
The answer is as easy as it may seem: the pantry. Hidden behind the racks of the cheap beer, your friends were happily sipping until inebriation. As you reach to put the beer to the side, another hand comes reaching for the same racket. And with your luck, who would it be other than Choi San?
The campus golden boy, and the frat brother of your best friend's boyfriend. You've seen him around at other parties, across rooms, but never this close.
You always knew his name, just like everyone else on campus - but your story had a little more depth to it. He was in the same social circles you were in, yet you never had the chance to talk before. You weren't his cup of tea based on the stories you heard, and he sure wasn't yours either.
"There is also water in the cooler," he says, grabbing three bottles of beer with one hand. "Unless you’re into warm disappointment."
You blink at him. "…Come again?"
He chuckles before he starts talking again, "Those waters are uncooled, and have been here since god knows when," he gestures with his free hand towards them, "There's a cooler in the living room with water."
"Thanks?" your voice is amused - unfamiliar to you even. You just stood there, neither of you going back to the chaos of the party. Him to his audience of multiple girls, and you to your respective job of third-wheeling Minjeong while Aeri and Yizhuo were lost in the crowd.
But all of the escape routes seemed to disappear from your mind the moment his mouth opened again. "You don't look like you're having fun."
You scoff, "I'm having the time of my life, can't you see?" Your hands open and gesture around, "the sole of my shoe sticking to the linoleum with my every step, warm drinks, half-dressed jocks yelling over the typical frat music - what else could a girl want?"
He laughs a little, the smile staying on his lips. "You can always just… go," he says, eyes glinting in a way he knows that sentence actually challenged you to stay.
The next half an hour was a mess; You remember following him upstairs, but not the part of agreeing to it.
This is reckless, yet your body doesn’t seem to care as his fingers trace the hem of your top, pausing just long enough for you to change your mind. The heat of his hands warm against your soft skin as he freed you from your dress, kissing up in sync with his hands. Where has the girl gone who swore she would be dead before being found in a frat brother's bedroom?
What happened next wasn't gentle, or anything to keep up his soft golden boy façade. Moans, breaths, and hands intertwined. The room was a mess of limbs and discarded clothes, the mirror foggy with heavy breaths, and with everything you wanted from a casual intimacy.
His forehead presses to yours at some point, so familiar and just right. Something is unsettling about how easily he reads you.
His nails are leaving crescent moons on your hips as he holds you on top of him. It's sensual, and there is this slowly growing feeling in the pit of your stomach that's different from your high.
His tip rubbed against the perfect spot with every thrust. Your climax came heavy and unannounced; everything was perfect: his hands supportive on your thighs as you bounced, the look in his eyes, and his sweet little words whispered into the darkness of the room.
You were spent. Spent but content. His arms were sloppily wrapped around you as a soft weight on your waist. The room smelled like sex and sweat, mixing with his laundry detergent - if frats even had any.
Your eyes opened and took in the digital clock that sat on the nightstand next to you, and reading 3 am off of it was enough to sober you up. With eyes wide open now, the zippers of your boots got stuck in the haste you were trying to put them back on.
The shift hits him fast. The confidence and peace of mind he felt quickly became this ugly feeling of insecurity.
The covers tousled around him as he sat up, chest still naked and glossed with sweat, his hair a mess as his hand ran through it. Still trying to make sense of whatever happened in the last few minutes. "Where are you going?"
"Don't take it to your heart, everything was amazing - I just don't stay the nights." Hair tossed from one side to the other as you searched for your other sock. When you were finally presentable for the outside world, your hand was already on the knob. "This was really good, Sannie. We should do it again sometime."
And with that, you were out the door.
He fell back on his bed, staring at the ceiling a second longer than normal. The sound of your fading steps outside the door felt wrong and too quiet in contrast to what it was like before. Your side of the bed still had that little dent and warmth to it, the only reason he knew you actually were there, and it wasn't just a figment of his imagination.
—
"Oh, and then he was like 'I hope you're not joking, Minjeong,' like the fuck I was." Minjeong's mouth was full of cereal as she spoke, more spilling back to her bowl than what actually made it into her mouth.
"Can you actually shut up for a minute?" Yizhuo whispered, fingers pressing on her temples like it would make her raging headache disappear. Across her, Aeri just face planted onto the table, black hood up on her head.
Jimin's eyebrows etched together on her forehead as she scoffed at their banter. The apartment after a night out is never really boring, especially with the stories to tell - right now to Jimin, who was bundled up with her boyfriend all night, instead of tagging along. Her eyes slid to you in a silent question: anything noteworthy? And you just shook your head in response.
She didn't question when you came home at half past three, looking like what you actually were - freshly and well fucked. She just brushed it off. After years of friendship, she knew when not to push.
"So Yeonjun's birthday is this weekend," Jimin said at a reasonable volume for the hangover. Still, they groaned in unison anyway - may it be the volume or a mention of another party on their already unstable stomachs. You and Jimin chuckled at them as she finally joined the table too.
"Another frat party, great," Aeri's muffled voice sounded from where she was folded over the table. "Do I have-"
"Yes, you have to," Jimin interrupted her, a smile now persistent on your face. "He came to yours, too." Her voice was authoritative and held no place for argument.
—
Sunday slipped by with ease, and so did the next week. "Give me that shimmer, please," you said, yelling over the obnoxiously loud pregame music Yizhuo was forcing everyone to listen to. What even was this Pitbull? The party started an hour ago, but there wasn't such a thing as being late in the university party life.
When you arrived another half an hour later, everything was buzzing at ATZ frat, similar to last week's party, but this one was decorated with garlands and birthday signs as if everybody on campus wasn't already aware of it being The Day of Yeonjun's birth.
The house reeked of cheap beer again, but it blended with the undeniable smell of weed also. There was beer pong in one corner, a guy doing a keg stand in the other, some kissing couples, and your favourite - spin the bottle in the middle of the living room.
You sat down between two random girls from your year, smiled at them, and took in the people in the circle. Yunho and Mingi from IT, Chris from business, a few unknown faces,
and… San.
He has a puzzled look on his face, eyebrows slightly furrowed, and you can see his tongue poking his cheeks from the inside. When Mingi noticed you, he hit San's arm with a blinding smile on his face - way to be subtle, dude. "Okay," Mingi clapped his hands together, "Regular seven minutes in heaven for my boy YJ." As if said guy wasn't in a happy relationship.
A few grunts and happy claps sounded from the circle. Yunho and San just shook their heads at Mingi, who looked like he never had a better idea than this in his life before. Good job, Cupid. The bottle spanned in the middle, stopped every once in a while with a dramatic gasp by the crowd and the players.
Everything went fine for you, the bottle hadn't even stopped near you, to the point it was as if a dark spell came upon you. Oh, but did that spell have it out for you.
In the next round, the bottle was spun by Minjeong's hand as she and Jimin screeched that they were doing you a favour, and it stopped on… Mingi. His smile dropped immediately, eyes wide as he stopped every action he was up to before. He observed San's face, who just looked at him, dumbfounded.
The plan backfired.
A random guy spoke up, "Just go." Who was already eager for his next round with another victim to his beer breath.
But Mingi's brain is working overtime for an excuse - don't get him wrong, he doesn't have a problem with you, but he knows something happened between you and San last week because he saw it on San, and most importantly, he heard it. The 3 am conversation with his own girl wrapped in his arms, every word that left your mouth was clear in the room next to San's - and who was he if not his best mate's wing man.
"I'm gonna pass on this one," he says dismissively, his beer pointed at the bottle in the middle like it personally offended him. "I've already been twice tonight." His hand lazily gestures to the circle, and your eyebrows knit together. "I'm gonna let golden boy take on this one."
"What, San?" the guy from earlier interjects with a scoff. "He hasn't even played yet."
Mingi's bottle tilts in his direction, "Exactly." All eyes shifted to a now very stiff San, whose gaze was already on you, searching your face for any reaction.
You stood up, patting your palms off on the front of your jeans, already heading to the designated closet. "Does it matter? It's seven minutes, not a proposal," you scoffed, looking at them over your shoulder, but turning back just before you could have seen which men stood after all.
The closet door closed behind you by that very same hand you saw last week. The music is quieter now, and so are the little cheers by the players outside. You couldn't see the way San's jaw tightened in the dimly lit room, or how his hands flexed as he crossed them across his chest.
"So…" his voice broke the silence.
"So?" your own arms crossed also.
"You left." His voice had that same vulnerable tone it had the last time you heard it. He wasn't accusatorial, just factual, and somewhere deep inside, that tone was exactly why you stepped closer. Arms uncrossing but not reaching out to him.
"I don't do sleepovers, Sannie," you said in a low voice, demanding all his attention to catch it over the muffled, yet loud music behind him.
His chest shook with an amused yet mocking laugh, "I figured." His tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he looked to the side.
"And if you want it to happen more times," your breath caressed his chest under his open shirt, "it stays like that." His head whipped back, nose scrunching slightly. He fell silent, which made a small anxious ball form in your stomach.
"No public scenes, no hand holding, and… no expectations," your voice filled the small place. He was leaning against the door now, gaze scrutinous, dissecting every part of you, "And I think that night was something we're both eager to recreate." the words tasted sweet on your tongue.
His breath hitched, "And if I see you on campus?" That question was enough for you to be sure he is already thinking about it. He felt this, too, and maybe that should've been your clue not to get into all of this.
"You keep walking."
And that's exactly how this awkward limbo started. Acquaintances by day and something far less innocent by night.
—
With the following weeks, you fell into a cycle, one message at 12:35 to confirm if you were going or not, but never before that. You went over to his place - never yours, not risking it with the girls - had mind-blowing sex, and left around 3 am. It wasn't exactly a rule you had, rather a promise.
Other than everything that was happening behind closed doors, no contact actually happened. You passed him on campus on Monday, and he didn't stop, didn't nod, he didn't even glance. Just like you told him to, as if he forgot the taste of your moans on his lips from two nights prior.
That Friday, your phone buzzed exactly at 12:35 am
San
you coming today?
A smile overtook your face at every message. Already dressed in his black hoodie and some sweatpants, out the door by 12:40.
He didn't even let you close the door behind you; his hands were already on you, grabbing everything and everywhere all at once. His mouth kisses its way up your neck as he pulls the hoodie over your neck, tossing it on the floor.
He barely lets you inside before his hands and lips are on you. A whimper broke free in your throat as he played with your plush breasts, fingers rolling your nipples between them, making you arch into him.
"I was waiting for you all day," his forehead pressed against yours as he worked on the hemline of his sweatpants. Pushing it down just enough to free himself of it, "to hear those little moans slip out of your mouth, instead of watching you from afar."
Your hand wrapped around his cock, which was already throbbing, tip glistening with precum. His head lolled back with a hiss from the contact "Fuck," you dropped to your knees in front of him, hand pumping him a few times before taking him into your mouth.
The night blurred with gasps, heated eye contact, and some hushed words into your ears, but the clock read 3:12 am again, and San was a second away from falling asleep - that was your cue to leave, but this time it wasn't as easy.
You didn't make the goodbye harder with a kiss on his lips, just gathered your belongings and softly closed the door behind you, hoping the frat was asleep by now. San didn't even think about questioning you leaving, just went headfirst into the shower.
But as soon as the others heard the water turn off, they invaded his room. Mingi dropped dramatically onto his bed next to him. Yunho and Wooyoung just sat on the end of his bed, all of them looking excitedly at the seemingly alarmed San.
"What is this about?" he asked, looking between them, piercing each with a confused glare - it wasn't every day that your friends came into your room at 4 am.
"So sneaking around?" Mingi started, and Yunho quickly slapped the back of his head. The younger one dramatically held the back of his head as Wooyoung tried again.
"You like her," he didn't ask, rather stated. Wooyoung's glasses sat on the top of his nose, giving him a teacheristic look, as if he was giving San a piece of mind. "And… she is using you."
"What is wrong with both of you? Oh my god," Yunho face-palmed between them, "it's four in the morning, don't be like this." At least one of them had a few brain cells. Emphasis on a few.
"Exactly, four in the morning, and she left him here… again." San's nostrils flared at Mingi's sentence.
"She had somewhere to be." Couldn't you think of anything better, San? Oh my god. He internally facepalmed but kept his ice-cold expression to his friends.
But neither of them bought it. Wooyoung's eyebrows lifted. "At three twenty?" and San just continued to dry his hair with a towel in silence, but his moves now were a bit more stressed, urgent, and maybe a little stiff.
"Have you told her you like her, Sannie?" Yunho questioned, worry etched on his face.
"I didn't, because I don't." The bed creaked as he stood up, throwing the towel into the hamper, "It's not that deep," he scoffed, disappearing into the bathroom again.
Wooyoung lies back on his forearms after fixing his glasses with a hand, "It is for you."
Yunho sighs, "Look, man… if this is just hooking up, good for you, but don't pretend you're not waiting for her to sneak in that door every night."
The room echoed with water splashing sounds now, and San muffledly called from the bathroom, "I'm not-"
Mingi cuts him off with a scoff, "Yes, you are." the smile left his face, "You leave parties at two am just to come home and shower before she fucking comes."
San appears again, toothbrush in his mouth, "She was clear about this," he gestures around with his free hand, "She doesn't want a relationship."
Wooyoung scoffs again, "Exactly," he says quietly through gritted teeth.
Mingi softens now, "We just don't want you with someone who won't even look at you outside these four walls."
And that makes San snap. He spits the toothpaste into the sink. "She's not like that." they all know they shouldn't push him more; it is 4 am for him after all, too, and he must know all of this somewhere deep within himself, right?
But Yunho soflty adds the last blow, "Who are you trying to convince? Us or yourself?" he doesn't even respond to it; he knows he's too deep, but is way too afraid to say anything. Terrified that even if he says it to his friends, you will disappear from his grasp.
"It's just casual." He says after a beat, "Now get out, I have class early." he says somewhat angrily, getting into bed and pulling the covers over his shoulders while trying to ignore the presence of his friends.
When they leave, he checks his phone, silently longing for a message from you, even though he knows he won't get anything until tomorrow night.
—
You sat with the girls at the table like usual the next morning. Minjeong was twirling the spoon around in her bowl as she eyed you curiously. "You shower at 3 am a lot lately."
The sandwich in your hand freezes halfway to your mouth before you continue scrolling on your phone and bite into it, "Insomnia," you say dismissively, eyes pointedly ignoring her, buried deep in your phone.
Minjeong hums like she doesn't believe you, "You think you’re the first person to try this ‘no feelings’ thing?" and your back straightens, eyes snapping to hers.
"What do you mean?" your throat feels dry.
She holds your gaze for a second too long, "Forget it," her shoulders shrug, "just… don't be stupid."
The mood in the apartment shifts immediately when you leave for class, and Yizhuo puts her phone down, trying to get the girl's attention. "So…" she says, leaning back against the couch, "Is this one of those where we don't ask questions?"
Jimin folds her arms, exhaling softly, "It's obvious she's seeing someone, but is clearly low-profile," she gives the girls a puzzled look, "We won't get anything out of her."
Minjeong scoffs at the table, "My low profile doesn't mean coming home at four am," her glass clinks against the table with the force she slams it down. "but that might just be me."
"Yeah, that part worries me a bit too," Aeri joins in, her lips pursed, "But knowing her, it was her who set this all up."
Jimin shrugs. While she also knows it's true, she won't say anything. "She'll tell us when she wants to." And with that, they all fall quiet. Questions still simmering in them, but they don't have anyone to get answers from.
The guys stop pushing San after a few weeks, knowing they won't get anything out of him either. You just get ugly glances thrown your way from Wooyoung.
All of this didn't make sense to San. Why would you want something quiet, hidden from everyone else? So you could have someone else behind his back?
At first, your messages came every weekend, then one day you texted him on a Tuesday too, forgetting about the boundaries you set for yourself. The attraction you yet denied, and the feel of his skin on yours, mattered more than some words promised to yourself in a mirror.
And by December, the times you stayed have gotten longer every time. It started with staying until 3:30, just a little longer, cuddled up in his arms. He thought it was a coincidence, but didn't dare to say anything about it.
A few weeks into the new year, you texted him a little bit earlier than 12:30.
You
The girls are out
Wanna come over?
And he was so shocked he nearly dropped his phone. He quickly grabbed his hoodie off the back of his chair and told the guys he was going for a run. Let's just say San isn't a good liar. Your room feels unfamiliar. He just doesn’t say it, or why it does.
Mouths also got bolder with every week passing. A sweet "I need you" texted here, a "You're mine" whispered in your ear between thrusts, and an "I'm yours" kissed up on his chest - all in the haste and clouded by lust.
Another few weeks went by, some spent at your place, some at his. But after one really hard day after exams, you spoke up while cuddled up in his arms, "Can we shower? I feel sticky everywhere," voice barely above a whisper.
He doesn't even know how to react at first, but he is already standing, searching for a spare towel for you as you giggle at him from where you lie in bed. All of his sweaty, naked glory standing in front of you, with the biggest dimpled smile on his face. "What's so funny, huh?" his hand reaches for your jaw, looking down at your blown pupils.
"You're cute when you're flustered," you say, gently biting at his thumb that brushes over your lower lip. All that seduction makes him forget about that little detail of your lenghtened stay. One step closer to something neither of you wants to name.
The shower is warm, with the water running down your body, and him pressed to your back, hands slowly caressing your hips, you could almost say it's too warm.
You step out together also, towelling off parts the other can't reach. He passes you a shirt as muscle memory, but what shocks him more is the sight of you getting back into his bed. But he gets under the covers too, not daring to question it just pulls you closer to his chest, inhaling your scent. Your leg hooks over his hip, tracing patterns into his skin, muscles tensing in his back as you do.
He knew this was dangerous, getting more tangled in this mess day by day. Not because of what you were doing, but because of how natural it felt.
But at 4:17, you shuffle out of his arms again. Not even trying to untangle from his arms softly, your back is turned to him when he opens his eyes, hands reaching for your jeans, slipping your legs into them.
"You're leaving?" his tone was hopeful. But even he doesn't know what he's hoping for. Maybe for you to hesitate in your movements, begging in his head for you to even consider staying with him, to change something about this, and for you to look at him like you did in the shower.
But you don't. You just scoff at him, not even sparing him a glance over your shoulder, "Yeah. You ask as if I ever stayed," a quiet mocking laugh leaves your lips again.
He turns onto his back, hands tucked under his head, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts are too loud to hear you leave. He thought showering together finally meant something, all these little rules bended could've - no, should've meant something. But you still won't let him have this, have you, in daylight.
The next day after San's classes, everyone is already at the house, Mingi and Yunho are browsing Netflix on the couch, and Wooyoung looks very occupied behind his laptop screen at the dining table.
Mingi looks at San, munching on some popcorn, "Bro, you're glowing," and San just rolls his eyes as a response.
"She stayed," Yunho leans back further into the couch, eyes sparkling as he looks up at San. Yeah, thirty minutes longer than usual.
"She's training you," Wooyoung says, voice as calm as ever, still not looking up from the screen. It makes San's head snap, eyebrows furrow as he looks at him. "To expect more," he continues, "Without ever promising it."
San laughs it off, calls him something between a parent and a psychiatrist, but later that night, when you're on top of him, kissing down his chest, his mind is somewhere else. Thinking way too deeply about Wooyoung's words that are now mixing with his own thoughts from last night.
You can feel it in him, the way his eyes are way too clear, almost glassy. "What's up, Sannie?" you ask, hands travelling lower on his abdomen. Breezes started to pick up outside the house, rain splattering softly against the concrete.
Don't you look at me like that, it's just too real
But this time, he doesn't pull you closer; he has realised you will always be in this weird limbo if he doesn't question anything. "What are we doing?" your hand freezes on his stomach, immediately getting off him like he is burning you.
Your ears are ringing like static. "What do you mean?"
I don't have to be the one.
He sits up slowly, leaning back against the headboard. Muscles tensing in his chest as he looks at you, alarmed, hands flexing by his side. His stare feels cold on your exposed skin. "I told you not to expect anything more from this." your voice gets weaker with every word.
We don't have to be in love
He scoffs, "And what?" his eyes dart to the side before resuming his sentence, "We fuck every day but pretend we don't even know each other until you become bored?"
Your hands are shaky as you reach for your clothes at the end of the bed, getting dressed as quickly as possible. "What part of we keep it discreet did you not understand?" your hair is getting messed up by your hands, panic overwhelming all of your senses just from a few words. "You are so into me for what, San?"
The question hangs in the air for a second; his eyes are wide open as he's looking at you, stunned. "I don't do relationships, and I think I told you that." Hands are running down your face now. "I can't." He is getting up from the bed, moving slowly, not to freak you out even more, but tears are already falling from your eyes.
His hand automatically reaches out to wipe the stray tear from your cheek, but you pull away before he actually touches you, lips trembling, struggling to keep the sobs in now.
"We could be fucking endgame if you didn't let your fears take over you." his words are controlled, but the way his chest is heaving wildly says otherwise. "Don't you feel it?"
He doesn't even finish his last sentence when you scream at him, "I don't want to be endgame!" all of the words are raw with emotions you swore you didn't have. The frat is quiet around you; most of them who were asleep by now must be awake again by your volume.
His eyes dart to the door; he still cares, scared that someone might hear you - but it might be too late for that. He is also pissed, mad at you for making it feel like all of this went off on him, and his feelings. So what, you bending your own rules for him meant nothing to you?
Everything you whispered into his ears was just for the moment? I need you. We were made for each other. I'm yours. All of those for nothing? He shakes his head, trying to get rid of the pounding inside it, "You don't get to act like I imagined this." His own volume raising, voice raspy.
While you are spiralling, your mind is louder than his words are by now, and yet all of your words that leave your mouth are said without putting much thought behind them. "W-why now?" Your hands are moving animatedly with your words, "You've been fine with this for months."
The floorboard creaks under his feet, and the rain outside is falling harder and harder against the window. He is looking at you, the words stuck in his throat at first, until he spills them, "Because I'm not the only one who sees it."
That sentence is enough to make you pale. Your head is buzzing, knees bucking under your weight. Even though you are looking at him, you don't see him; everything is blurry, dark, and raw.
"They hear you leave, see when you come over. They know." he gulps, remorse and guilt already clawing up his spine, but he doesn't stop. "Do you know how stupid it makes me look?" His volume is rising with every word said, hands gesturing wildly.
His words are like a slap, "Oh, so that's what this is all about," you scoff, totally taken aback. "Your fucking pride." It all makes sense now.
"My pride, huh? If this had been about my pride, we wouldn't be here right now." his head tilts, expression hardening, "I am just tired of feeling like I'm the only one caring."
"You weren't supposed to care!" your voice cracks violently, "That was the whole point! to not get feelings involved."
"Oh, with all this, please even start saying that I forced myself into your bed also," he mockingly laughed, and you felt cornered, exposed, as if your soul was torn open and presented in front of him to see. The windows rattle behind him with the force of the downpour. Someone shifts in the hallway outside.
"I never asked you to fall for me," you spit, the words leave a bitter taste in your mouth, and have the same reaction on him too - his face drops all of those ugly emotions sitting openly on his face now.
"I didn’t fall for you alone," he says, quieter now, vulnerable.
"No," You shake your head rapidly, "San, don’t do that. Don’t act as if I promised you something."
"You did," he fires back immediately. "Every time you said you were mine. Every time you said you needed me. You don’t get to pretend those meant nothing to you!"
You grab your shoes with shaking hands. "This is why I said no expectations, I can't be what you want." Sobs break free from your chest with every syllable. "I don't need the pressure of a relationship, the fear of ruining someone."
He stares at you for a long moment. As if he’s about to say something that can’t be taken back. His lips press together, his voice a mere whisper now, "You already have."
That seems to sober you out of whatever trance you were in; now you're actually slipping into your shoes. "Fine," the words are quick as they leave your mouth, "No more sneaking, you don’t have to feel stupid anymore."
He is frozen in place, his world warped around you. "Is that what you want?"
But your hand is already on the doorknob, stepping out the door without answering his question, and this time, you don't take a look around to see if anyone is there, because you know there are. You walk past them in the hallway, walking straight to the front door, hood shading your head.
And the worst part is, San doesn't call after you. The front door slams behind you. San is still standing in his door. Half of the frat is standing in the communal place, and even in the hallway, giving him pitying glances - but the show is over, hope it was entertaining.
—
The front door closed softly behind you, your sneakers fully drenched in water. The girls look up from the couch - a movie still playing in the background - but they’re on their feet immediately. Hands are everywhere. Peeling damp fabric from your skin. Someone disappears and comes back with a towel.
Your hands were shaking through it all, and hoarse sobs escaped your thinly pressed mouth before you could stop them. Jimin was the first to ask you softly what happened, hands sweetly caressing your cheeks, and that was enough to make the raw, deep sobs break free, and you collapsed into her arms. Trying to grab at anything, any part of her, as an anchor, to get back on your footing. But with every caress on the back of your head, it just got worse. Your sobs got more intense, full body shaking with the intensity.
They try to get you to the couch, arms on your lower back, hands guiding you to sit. The couch dips on both of your sides; everything feels blurred and distant. They are all whispering to you, their voices overlapping. Trying to calm your harsh breaths down, but nothing seems to work.
Jimin's voice comes from in front of you, "Did he hurt you?" and you stop the cries just enough to shake your head through it. How could he.
Minjeong's voice comes from your side, and her hand on your shoulder is grounding. "Did you hurt him?"
Every muscle in your body freezes for a moment before violent whimpers escape you harder than before, if it's even possible. Your hands come up to your face, crying harder into them. Your thoughts keep running one by one as if they are running from something. But they are too loud, repeating over and over: reckless, you weren't supposed to care.
You try to stiffle the sobs, biting your lips now, the coppery taste flowing into your mouth, but the pain is nothing compared to what you feel. "He wanted more," you let out between hiccups. You don't elaborate further, and they don't push either. Comforting you until the cries finally stop.
—
Going to classes starting the next day was a struggle. He was everywhere - not him, though, but his friends.
You passed Mingi and Yunho in the hallways between lectures; their faces held pained expressions before quickly averting their gazes. Wooyoung threw you dirty glances across the cafeteria; he didn't bother hiding it. He was sharp and cold, even when the girls were there. They noticed too, how couldn't they? Everyone felt the tension stretching across the room.
Your head hung low between hunched shoulders, as you pushed food around your plate. "I’m gonna head back," you muttered finally, standing before Minjeong or Jimin could ask anything. You already turned your back on them, before they could argue, taking the longer way back to the apartment just to be sure.
Across campus, San hadn't even made it to class. He was still in bed at their frat house, sheets twisted between his legs. switching between tossing, turning, and staring at the ceiling.
When the others came back from class, the silence was deafening. San's door had been closed since yesterday, and none of them really knew how to approach it, how to approach him. It wasn't just the mood hanging in the air, because it was also suffocating, but rather the fact that they heard everything.
They couldn't just waltz in and ask what happened, because San knew they had heard, even though he most likely would love to forget about that part.
But they knew San needed them, even though he wouldn't come outside, talk to them out of pure will - they knew. Wooyoung ended up cooking for him, it was a bit as if it was a we're sorry for listening soup, but also a we're here for you.
Yunho knocked softly on the door, all three of them stepping in after the muffled and tired, "Come in" from the other side. They felt like they didn't really fit in that room.
They pushed the peace offering forward, "We made you soup," Yunho said, scratching his neck. "Well, Woo did, but we helped spiritually." an awkward chuckle left his lips, and San gave him a soft smile. "How are you?"
San shrugged, taking the bowl and dipping the spoon in. "You look like shit," Mingi said automatically, but his voice and face softened when San didn't react. Yunho shot him a look, saying, "So not the time, bro."
All of them took a seat on the bed around him. "Did you sleep at all?" Yunho questioned again, mindful of San's feelings - unlike our jokester over there - San shook his head, eyes fixed on the soup as he took another slow spoonful. "What happened after she left?"
San didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stirred the soup slowly, the spoon clinking softly against the bowl. "What would've?" his voice small, distant. He doesn't explain further, but continues fidgeting. He feels… numb. He knew the probability of this happening when he asked you yesterday, but hoped for another outcome, but hoping only gets you so far.
Why did he need to have labels on something that worked? If something is not broken, you don't have to go out of your way to try to fix it. Why push until it broke? You were just not his, and admitting that to himself, even not out loud, made this crippling, aching feeling tighten in his chest.
"She knew I couldn't do casual," he shrugged off the words as if they didn't matter, "yet she stayed." his voice had this vulnerable edge to it.
"You knew she couldn't do serious either," Wooyoung spoke up; he might've been blunt, but his expression held tenderness and love towards his friend, which none of them had seen before - not this directly, at least.
"She didn't stay for months, because she didn't care." Mingi fidgeted with his sweatpants' string.
In San's eyes, it was too late to wonder about that. He also kept pondering it throughout the night - why did you stay? What was it that made you stay? For such a length of time, nonetheless. Why did it feel like something more when you fought skin and blood about it being just casual?
But all of these questions lost relevance when you shut the door behind you last night. Because whatever it was, it was too much for you, and certainly not enough for him. He could cling to this sadness and pain with all his might, but it wouldn't change a thing.
His grip tightens around the bowl; maybe Wooyoung was right all along. You might've been teaching him to be on his toes all the time, scared that you might leave any moment if something doesn't happen the way you want it.
But if you were such a bad person, why did it all feel so good?
He exhaled loudly, silence settling louder in the room than it was before as he set the empty ceramic on the nightstand. "Doesn't matter now," he mutters, pulling the covers higher up on his body, "she made that part very clear." The guys share a glance on the spot on his bed, not pushing further.
"I'm fine," San speaks up again, noticing their concern. The words seem to be enough, at least enough for them to understand to drop the topic. Even though nothing about him seems fine.
And just like that, it stopped. They didn't nag San anymore. The girls didn't ask for more from you either, and most importantly. No more late-night texts, Mingi doesn't hear your soft footsteps along the dimly lit hallways at four am, and Minjeong doesn't see the soft glow on you anymore either.
Studies were there to distract you both from something that couldn't quite be named. Tears could be easily buried under deadlines, thesis papers, and exhaustion. You avoided the Greek row as if it were the plague, and he did the same with your apartment building - making both of your walks longer with ten minutes minimum.
This all wasn't intentional from either of you.
But no matter how many times you told yourself this in the mirror, even you couldn't believe it.
Weeks passed, then months. Routes only got longer, and the tension didn't disappear either; it just settled, deep both in your guts, waiting for the day it would be resolved.
"Guys," the apartment door swings open with more force than necessary. Jimin's voice cuts through the chatter before she even steps into the room. Her bag slips from one shoulder as she wrestles her shoes off. All eyes snap to her instantly.
"What's up?" Aeri asks, already suspicious from Jimin's tone alone.
She grins, a little breathless as she explains with big hand gestures, "Yeonjun is planning a trip out of the city, after the exams."
"A trip?" Yizhuo straightens.
"Yes, exactly. We'll go drive down, party some in the good weather for a few days," Yeonjun explains to the guys across campus.
"Bro-" Mingi's voice echoes through the shared space, as he fist bumps San, who sits there grinning ear to ear.
"Say less," Yunho says, his own smile wide on his face.
"Who's coming?" Mingi leans back into the couch, arms crossed against his broad chest.
"Everyone basically," so helpful, Yeonjun. "Us, Jimin, other girls." The room reacts instantly, voices overlapping in happiness, laughter everywhere.
"A break does sound so fucking good right now," Wooyoung whines, his own happiness sitting out on his features, "The first good idea you had in a while, YJ," he teases the brown-haired guy, who just rolls his eyes in response.
"I helped him come up with it," Jimin explained to you, hands crossed across her chest with delight, back at the apartment.
Minjeong glances at you for a minute before responding, "Yeah, we could use that," and just like that, it's almost as if it was written in stone.
Exams came and went in a blur, with way too many Red Bull cans crashed in distress, all-nighters, and forced focus - everyone too busy to think about anything else, until now.
Windows rolled down in Jimin's car, music loudly flying around the space, mixing with the warm air. Laughter filled the space between sentences, words overlapping in playful arguments, and also, way too many bags filled the boot.
"I swear to God the business prof sets us up for failure every time," Yizhuo groans from beside you in the backseat.
"But you passed, didn't you?" you questioned, smile wide on your face. Jimin's fingers tapped rhythmically against the wheel, her eyes finding yours every now and then in the mirror.
Minjeong turns to you from the passenger seat, "How did you even finish your essay in time?"
"Just tried to make it sound smart," you shrug.
"And she succeeded," Aeri scoffs, her hair whipping around in the wind.
"Fake it 'til you make it," Jimin speaks up, which is followed by some more laughter, turning into more banter, and for the first time in a while, everything feels… easy.
The car rolls up to a smaller street, and it comes to a stop in front of a large, modern house, sunlight reflecting off the windows, like in the movies.
"Okay- this is fucking insane," Aeri breathes out.
"Yeonjun did say he went all out," Jimin grins, already unbuckling herself, and so do the others, "I was honestly scared to let him do the booking alone," she chuckled.
You step out of the car, stretching your hands above your head slightly, eyes scanning the landscape. Trimmed bushes along the driveway, which already had two cars parked, your gaze settling on one of them, something about it feeling familiar, making you frown a bit, but the thought fades as fast as it came.
The moment you step inside, you hear it, laughter, music blasting and water splashing from somewhere deep in the house. "Pool's out back," Jimin explains, and starts heading towards the noise.
The patio doors are open, revealing multiple sunbeds, a pool full of men playing with a comically large ball, and a very familiar tan back. His head falls back with laughter, missing the throw entirely.
But your stomach drops at the domestic sight, all the music static in your ears, freezing in your steps momentarily. At the commotion, the game stops and all faces turn to your group.
His smile drops instantly. Body stills mid-turn, and his eyes meet yours. Everything gone, just the two of you, all the unsaid words, the times you both thought about each other in the time spent apart.
"Babe-" Jimin laughs, running past you straight into Yeonjun's arms, pressing a kiss to his lips. The moment between you breaks, music comes crashing back, greetings yelled over it, with some laughter, and splashing of water. You nod at something Aeri says, but you haven't registered a word she said.
San breaks eye contact, jaw tightening as he looks away first.
Fuck.
You haven't actually realised how hard it would be to see him after all these months. It was the same as before, but now you know the taste of his lips and the way his eyebrows scrunch when he laughs. And fuck, did you miss it.
Minjeong was the first to notice it, a little yelp left your mouth as she pinched you, getting your head back into the conversation, and hopefully clear from San. "Gonna show you guys the bedrooms, alright?" Yeonjun's hands clapped together, as he showed the way.
The furnishing was just as beautiful as the outside. The hallway upstairs had five doors, three on the right and two on the left. "You guys fight for the roomings, actually," he chuckled, "we have 2 for you to split, and Jimin is sleeping with me."
—
You leaned back on the sunbed, shades sliding down your nose, while the girls fussed over cocktails in the kitchen. From the patio, you could see San and the guys tossing a beach ball in the pool, laughing too loudly, too carefree. The bubble of laughter felt almost like a shield, separating you from him. And maybe you liked it that way.
Later, when the music got louder and the sun dipped lower, you found yourself in the kitchen. Glass in hand, you noticed Minjeong and Wooyoung exchanging something small - a look, a smirk, a secret joke - before returning to the group. You couldn’t help the pang of curiosity that flickered in your chest.
That same night, the sand slid around in your sandals. Loud music played everywhere around you, the table was sticky with spilt drinks, and full of laughter.
"-and then he fucking screamed like a little girl," Soobin wiped the tears of happiness from his eyes.
"That's actually not how it was!" Mingi tried to defend himself, but everyone was too deep in laughter to notice his argument.
Tonight, somehow, everyone had too much to drink except you, and the virgin Pina Colada you were nursing won't help your case. San was sitting on the other corner of the table, his head thrown back, adam's apple on full show. He looked easy. As if nothing was weighing on him.
The chatter continued until a loud yawn interrupted Yunho mid-talking. "Sorry to be a party killer, but I am gonna crash," Minjeong stood from the table, her legs wobbling a bit under her weight. Hopefully she didn't mean it in the literal sense.
"Already?" came from Jimin, who was having problems keeping her head up. Talk about alcohol tolerance.
"It's nearly three am," The other girl chuckled and stifled another yawn. The task of waving to everyone at the table and walking to the sliding door seemed too much for her, and she tripped over her own legs.
"I'm gonna help her get to her room," Wooyoung chuckled, but almost had just as much to drink as her, and their steps quietened up on the stairs. Jimin was the next to be escorted to their room by Yeonjun, who saluted as they left.
Eventually, the clicking of glasses and laughter grew quieter, the music also lowered in volume somewhere along the way, and the last three remaining were Soobin, San, and you.
Soobin was still talking about something, hands gesturing wildly, but no words that came out of his mouth reached your ears. San was twirling a straw in his glass. It’s stupid, really, the way your brain fills in details you tried to forget for months - the curve of his mouth, that little wrinkle near his eyes.
Suddenly, his face turns towards you, eyes raking over your face in a soft but subtle way. You look away immediately, embarrassment burning your cheeks "I'm gonna head in," your voice cuts off Soobin, he barely reacts, but San does.
"Yeah," he mutters, standing a second after you, "same."
The house is quiet after the mumbled goodnights, not silent but softened. Some chuckles are coming from upstairs, heated conversations on a TV that has been left on, and your steps on the wood stairs under you, in sync with San's.
The second you step into the room, you are reaching for your bag, desperate to get into more comfortable clothes, but the silence makes you pause. The bed is untouched, Minjeong's side is exactly how you left it in the morning. Your eyebrows knit slightly, but you don't think much of it, just grab your things and head to the bathroom.
The water is hot, hotter than what you're used to, but even this doesn't really help. He is still there. Not even the memory of the nights spent together, but him earlier, sitting across you as if nothing had happened.
You tilt your head back, eyes closed, as the steaming hot water washes down your face. It would've been easier if it were nothing. If you had stopped feeling the guilt eating away your soul every time you look at him.
If only you would've realised the truth in his words while you were in the same room as him.
Your hand presses against the tile; the smooth surface hasn't taken the warmth over yet, and the cold grounds you before you turn the water off.
The hallway is cold when you step out. The salty sea breeze cools the house through the open windows. You take a few steps before you notice someone sitting at the end of the hallway, a blue light illuminating his face.
Not in his room, not sleeping, just slouched in the armchair. "You're not in your bed?" Perfect observation, champ, keep it up.
San's mouth moves into something that isn't quite a smile, "Neither are you." Confusion takes over you a second before it all clicks while looking at the closed door of the room he shares with Wooyoung.
"Oh."
He lets out a quiet breath, leaning further into his chair, with a smile fully taking over his features, "Yeah,"
"So what… you just stay out here all night?"
"That was the plan, yes."
You shake your head before you can think about it, "That's stupid,"
His eyebrows lift slightly, "You got a better idea?"
You hesitate, because you know you shouldn't, but the words come anyway; you lost control over them a long time ago. "You can just take the other side of my bed."
He sits up, back straightening, eyes piercing you, trying to figure out if you are serious. "Your bed?"
You shrug a little too quickly as a response, "We both know Minjeong isn't coming back tonight."
His jaw tightens, as if he is actually considering the offer. Your palms are sweating, heartbeat way too loud in your ears for your liking, "And you?" he questions, eyebrows still furrowed on his forehead.
"I mean," you let out a small breath, "It's not like it matters,"
His eyes flicker, something unreadable passing in them, overtaking his previous sceptical look. "Right."
"Unless you'd rather sit here all night," you say, crossing your arms over your chest, already turning on your heels towards the bedroom.
He grunts behind you as he stands from the chair, mumbling something sounding awfully a lot like "You're unbelievable," yet he is still following you…
And you end up back in the room, but now with a companion. The mattress dips behind you, while you stare out the window, unmovingly, as if staying still enough would make this feel somewhat normal.
"I could've also taken the couch," he mutters, voice muffled over the cover near his mouth.
"And what's stopping you? Oh, wait, I know, Soobin. Who is already sleeping there," you state matter-of-factly, rolling your eyes so hard it almost makes a sound.
"I was fine," he huffs.
"Sure you were."
Silence stretches over the room, but it's thinner this time, tainted with tension, and every unsaid word that is begging to escape both of your lips.
"You always do that," he says suddenly. Looks like he might not hold those words back.
"Do what, exactly?"
"Act like nothing means anything." his words hit you hard, like another hit on your self-esteem, slowly crumbling the walls down you had no idea were already torn. The saliva you try to swallow feels like a thousand needles in your throat.
"W-what do you mean by that?" your throat starts clogging up even more, breaths stagger, and you feel him shift behind you.
You can feel his breath on your back, eyes burning holes into the back of your head, "You disappeared." his voice is uncertain, doubting the words he is giving a voice to.
"I didn't-" hands clenching the soft comforter.
"You did." His voice holds more sternness now, but it's still not loud, which somehow makes it worse "You decided it didn't matter, so I went along with it." the silence crept back into the room, but now it felt thicker, blocking your airways.
You sat up in bed, quickly turning towards him, eyes wide with disbelief, "That's not what happened." the words raggedly left your mouth, as you felt tears pearling at your eyes.
He is already looking at you, "Then what did?" his expression is soft, almost broken. His lips drag out the syllables of your name, "Tell me," his hand reaches out to you, but stops midway, grounding himself from the feeling of your skin on his.
"I thought that’s what you wanted," you admit, barely above a whisper, gaze falling to the comforter that's in your tight, shaking grip - anywhere but on him. "I thought that's what I needed," the words finally leave your mouth, making your chest feel lighter.
"I-I thought having a connection without feelings would make it all easier," your chest heaves with deep breaths, "No expectations, no pressure, just… something I could walk away from when it got too much." said out loud, it sounds harsh, so mean.
"I thought if I didn’t call it anything, it wouldn’t-" a hiccup halts your sentence, because when you were too lost in your words, tears started streaming down your face, but these weren't the hysterical, loud and angry tears they were last time, no. They were soft, delicate and more importantly, real. Something you haven't told anyone before, it didn't hold relevance; the less they knew, the easier it was.
But it was never meant to be easy with San.
"-it wouldn’t hurt when it ended." the room filled with your sobs and shaky breaths that bounced off the wall mockingly, because San didn't say anything. Heat creeps up on your cheeks and ears, burning hot under your skin, making the pounding of your head even worse now. It's loud, louder than the silence he doesn’t fill.
You drag in a shaky breath, realisation hitting you as a cold wind, making you quickly wipe at your cheeks with the back of your hand. "Forget it," you mutter, voice small, already retreating. "I shouldn’t have-" you shake your head, turning away from him, curling in on yourself as if you can take it all back if you don't see him.
The pounding intensifies in your head, but now it's accompanied by loud thoughts that scream at you, of course he doesn’t say anything. Why would he? You never knew when to stop. The silence stretches just long enough to make your chest ache, too.
But then the mattress shifts, not away but closer. Your whole body stills, holding in the sobs that want to shake your chest with the force. His movements are stalled, hovering over you for a second, trying to decide if he is allowed actually to do this, but then it softly settles around your wrist, not pulling or forcing you, just holding.
"Hey," his lips wrap around the syllables of your name again. It sounds so pretty coming from his mouth, it still makes your breath stutter, and hesitate about turning back to him. "Look at me," you shake your head immediately, and it makes his grip tighten slightly, not to the point where it hurts; it's just more assertive now. "Don't do that," he murmurs, and it sounds just like it did all those months ago, but now it's him saying it so softly.
"You don’t get to say all that to disappear on me again," his voice is low, vulnerable just like yours was before closing off.
Your breath stutters again, chest rising unevenly as you try to steady it. "I'm not-" your voice breaks, and you squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head against the pillow, "I'm not disappearing." but the words do nothing to reassure him, or you, for that matter.
His thumb shifts slightly against your wrist in a soothing way. It's small, almost unnoticeable, as if he were testing the space between you. "Then stop acting like you are," he says quietly.
Your lips press together, but another sob slips through anyway, softer this time; your body is giving up on holding them in. "I don’t know what you want me to do," you admit, the words barely making it out.
You feel it before you see it - his grip tightening just a little more, his body shifting closer behind you.
"Stay," the words sound simple coming from his mouth, he isn't even demanding, but then why does it feel like it? Your chest aches at how easy that sounds.
"It’s not that easy," you whisper.
"I know," his voice is now a mere whisper, "but you’re making this harder than it needs to be." his faintness makes you consider turning back to face him, finally, after all the words spoken, for the first time.
Then, slowly, you turn; his hands don't leave your wrist; if anything, they reassure you in your movement. He is closer than you expect, close enough that you feel his breath on your tear-stained cheeks, close enough that you can see the way his expression softens the second you look at him.
He is still the same guy who called you out on your insecurities and wanted to help you change for you, with you. Maybe feelings aren't as bad as you thought, or you just need someone you know you will be safe with. Because they were always there, maybe not in the form of labels or words, but rather unconsious actions.
And when his arms pulled you closer into his embrace, you didn't think about the time, or the fastest escape route; you just let yourself enjoy it.
—
"Pass me some eggs, YJ," Wooyoung ordered in the kitchen, which quickly became his territory around the Airbnb - after Soobin and Mingi almost burnt it down on day one. There was no fooling around when he was there, just order and discipline.
So when you and San walked in, quietly arguing over the coffee machine - bumping shoulders, nudging each other out of the way between half-suppressed laughs - Wooyoung was already seconds away from snapping. Until he looked at you.
His hands were working on the scrambled eggs in front of him, but his eyes bounced between the two of you, and then quickly clicked with Yunho and Mingi's gazes, whose eyes were just as wide.
"What got you looking like that, Jung?" Yeonjun mumbles through a mouthful of toast.
Jimin immediately smacks the back of his head. "Swallow first. God."
"Ew," Aeri grimaces from across the table.
Wooyoung shook his head in response, all words stuck in his throat as he watched the scene unfold in front of him.
"What are we looking at?" Yeonjun questioned again, but this time in a hushed tone from Jimin, when he realised even she and the other girls were staring at you - but all for different reasons.
Yunho, Mingi, and Wooyoung exchange glances - caught off guard by how… easy San looks next to you. As if what started after the year-opening party never ended, it was just put on hold.
On the other side of the kitchen, Jimin, Aeri, and Yizhuo watch you instead. Not the interaction, but you. The way you didn't hide your emotions, and let your expressions give it away. They only saw the little smiles at your phone or the post-meeting glow on you, never you actually interacting with a man.
Yeonjun's eyes snapped to Soobin with a silent question, but Soobin only shrugged and continued eating his breakfast.
What they didn’t know was that this started hours earlier.
When you first opened your eyes, something weighted your waist down, heavy and warm. You don't turn around immediately, but you don't run to free yourself from the embrace either. That’s new.
"Morning," San's voice comes, rough with sleep, being awoken by your subtle stirring.
You exhale slowly and let yourself get lost in the feeling of his arms - trying to rewrite it in your head as something safe, instead of something suffocating. "Morning,"
He lets himself enjoy the feeling too before he asks, "So… what now?"
Your body reacts before your mind does - muscles tightening instinctively - but this time, your thoughts don’t spiral with it. "I don’t know," you admit, and for once, you don’t hate how that sounds.
He is silent after your words for a few seconds, "Okay."
"Okay?" you repeat.
He shrugs lightly, but there’s something steadier underneath it. "We'll figure it out."
And by the time you walked into the kitchen, it showed.
—
The car door slammed shut behind Yizhuo, who was the last to get in, as Jimin was already reversing out of the driveway. "I barely sat down!" Her voice was loud over the already-screaming music and laughter in the car. The usual banter started - actually resuming the one from breakfast.
When you finally got out of the car, that's only when you noticed how irkedly Jimin and Minjeong eyed you. They had this unreadable expression on their faces, but didn't mention anything about it.
The mall was a bit smaller than the one near the university you usually went to, but it had just as good stuff. "This is so cute!" Yizhuo exclaimed, her pitch jumping up an octave.
"Don't steer away from the topic, Yiz!" Jimin huffed because, for once, the younger girl had someone clearly interested in her - other than Aeri, but we don't talk about that. "He was clearly staring at you!"
"Yunho is not subtle," Minjeong adds with a giggle, her hands threading through some clothes on a hanger. "Well, he is more subtle than someone else,"
"What’s that supposed to mean?" you ask, glancing over from another row, a soft heat flushing your cheeks.
"You know the thing some people did earlier in the kitchen?" Minjeong continued, and the others chuckled, "Well, that wasn't-"
"Okay," you cut her off, your hands coming up in front of your face, hiding your smile.
While back at the house, the others were on the same questioning principle, "So," Mingi starts, dragging the word out as he leans back in the sunbed.
San doesn’t even look up. "Don’t."
"I didn’t even say anything yet."
"You were about to."
"Yeah, because what even was that in the kitchen?" Yeonjun speaks up; he is still clueless after all…
Wooyoung slaps a hand on his back, "And you don’t even know half of it," he says through puckled lips.
"Well, we talked," San finally lets out with a sigh, "When the other day, Wooyoung decided to put me out of our bedroom without prior consultation," his voice gets louder with every word and shoots his best friend a playful glare.
Wooyoung's cheeks heat as the others' eyes bounce between them. "Wait, what?" Yunho questions.
"Nothing, tell me more about what you talked about." Wooyoung quickly averted their attention to the more important matter.
"We’re… figuring it out."
Mingi lets out a low whistle. "That sounds serious."
"You’re blushing." Your head snaps back up at Aeri’s voice, hand still half-covering your face.
"I’m not," you mumble, already turning away, pretending to be very interested in a random rack of clothes.
"You are," Yizhuo sings, stepping closer, eyes narrowing playfully. "This is new." she stretched the last word.
"Are you sure you want to do this again with San?" your smile falters for just a second. Not enough for anyone to fully catch it - but enough for you to feel and think. "…Yeah," you nod, but the silence is immediate and heavy between the five of you.
"Do what again?" Yizhuo is the one to break the quiet first.
"Wait- what?" Aeri's face contorts into further confusion.
But Jimin's features light up, her eyes wandering around as she pieces it together. "San was the guy you hid from us?" Her tone was soft, trying so hard not to sound accusatory, just curious. As the words leave her mouth, it dawns on the other two, their jaws dropping silently.
Your cheeks are burning, muscles tightening, and for the second time today, your mind remains clear, enabling you to answer, "Yes." Your voice is not much louder than the shop's commercial music echoing off the walls.
Your body still doesn't respond well to the stress. Your shoulders stay tense, your stomach twisting slightly, like it’s still bracing for something that never comes. Because instead of the reactions you expect - the disappointment, the questions - they’re just staring at you.
And then they are- squealing? what.
"Oh my god!" Yizhuo forces out, her voice jumping straight to whistle notes as she says your name, "You talked it out?"
"No- wait, wait," Aeri interrupts, hands gesturing in front of her wildly, "How'd- When- What?" she giggles at her own stutters, "Wow, I am actually done for." that makes all of you laugh. The comfortable atmosphere returns as if it never even left.
"Well, we were kinda forced to resolve it," you murmur, eyes pointedly everywhere but at them. letting silence take its place for a second, as you carefully choose your words, but fuck it. "He slept in my room last night."
"What?" they all say in unison, gaye averting to Minjeong, whose turn is to be all flustered now.
"Then where did you sleep?" Jimin points at her, jaw dropping to the point where it seems inconsiderate to other shoppers.
"I think we should grab a coffee and sit down somewhere," came the proposition from the pink-haired girl, whose eyes were still wide and starved for information.
Talking over coffee suddenly seemed easier; words came from you with ease, answering questions each of them had, one by one. While still staying onpoint wth every little detail, and parts they already knew. By the time you finished, all eyes were averted to Minjeong, who thought she would be let off the hook - but boy, every secret came to sunlight today.
"I don't know what to tell you guys," she sighed, eyes glinting in a similar way she always told yours were. "We are together when we can be, And… It’s far more than casual." Four very loud gasps grabbed the attention of everyone in the cafe. "We just don't know if we're ready to tell everyone,"
Understanding nods, and words were directed at Minjeong as she played with the straw of her drink, flustered under all the attention.
"Okay, one thing, guys," Aeri spoke up after a few seconds of comfortable silence, pointing between all of you. "No more hiding stuff like this. I can’t handle another reveal like that." she laughs along with you, "I'm not joking- I might die."
For the first time since everything started - it doesn’t feel like something you have to hide. Not from them. Not anymore.
—
By the time you get back, the house is settled into this soft, casual afternoon. The last rays of the setting sun light up the Airbnb, with everyone retreated into their own quiet corners. You barely settle, step out to the patio when you hear his voice calling out your name.
"You're back."
You glance up at him, smile wide with his dimples, as he forgets about the phone in his hand as if he'd only been half-paying attention to whatever was on it in the first place. "Yeah," you hum, smile mirroring his, "We survived it."
His smile deepens at that, "Barely?"
"Barely." You both think the other went through a similar script while you were apart, but assumptions need to be asserted; we can't have another miscommunication… "I told them."
His expression stills for a second, but not in a panicked way; he is just… Waiting. "All of it?"
You nod, leaning back against the sliding door, "Pretty much,"
"I'm glad," he exhales softly, as if something unclenches in him finally. And his words are enough to make your own chest feel lighter, too.
"They didn't freak out… as much as I thought they would." you chuckle, feeling like you need to fill the silence with him - not because it’s uncomfortable, but because you like talking to him. Because he listens. "They’re probably going to be… annoying about it now," you mutter.
"They already are," he says, a hint of amusement slipping through, making you laugh, stopping just beside him now. Not too close, but close enough that your shoulder brushes his for half a second. Why does this feel harder than when it was just physical? Neither of you moves, settling into each other’s quiet warmth.
And for once, it doesn’t feel like something you have to overthink.
San is your first love. He broke your heart and played with your feelings without even kissing you back when you two were in highschool. Now, many years later, you do your best to avoid crossing paths with him because there's just no way you could ever hate him, but there's also no way you two can be friends again. But his best friend is also one of your best friends, so there's only so much you can do to avoid San when he arranges a dinner you're forced to go to.
PAIRING: first love!choi san x afab reader.
GENRE: one shot (fluff, angst, smut)
WORD COUNT: 20k (yikes).
WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, unnecesary pinning, a looot of context, bad friends :(, some arguing, tension, drinking and drunk behavior, tears, making out, description of female anatomy, oral (f reciving), fingering, love making, pet names (babe, baby), flirty seonghwa, wooyoung being a little shit again but also a genius, gyuri almost commiting a crime.
NOTES: hi everyone! this is a lenghty one, i know, but trust me when I say the context is necessary to understand what reader goes through with san. also, some of this may or may not have happened to me (have fun figuring out which part) (it's quite obvious tbh). THIS IS PART OF THE SHOW AND TELL UNIVERSE BUT CAN BE READ AS A STAND ALONE, even though there's some references and characters that you can only know if you read s&t lol. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3
Well, it's nine years way back? You were only fourteen when you first saw him.
He moved back to your area of the city a year after you moved from an entirely different one. You thought you knew every school secret there ever was, provided by your new best friend, Gyuri, but she didn't tell you about him at all.
She claimed that it was because he didn't cause any stir the years they studied together before and after spending a whole first period in your eighth grade classroom with him at the back of the class, silently taking notes, you couldn't phantom why.
He was great at every subject, seemed to have a lot of popular friends and was, overall, a pretty nice guy. He was also very cute, skinny but you could tell he was the kind of guy who played a sport outside of school hours and he had a cute pair of dimples that showed everytime you scanned the classroom just to lay eyes on him.
Choi San was a perfect boy to crush on, even a perfect guy just to have as eye candy during recess. You felt really strongly about him, not really forming a full opinion although your gut told you right away you were right. There was something about him… but you only figured that something until later, next year, starting your ninth grade.
Gyuri and you were avid readers. Precocious girls, with minds way above your age. All your teachers praised came laced with the same compliment so you both decided that was the truth. You rejoiced in it, thinking you shared things in common with the grown ups and decided that that was the key to feeling a little superior in comparison to the rest of your classmates, who neither of you liked very much.
Until they all decided to start dating each other and you two realized you were nothing but two kids with great imaginations and a love for school, praise and fictional men that couldn't be translated to the real world without sounding delusional and weird.
So you decided to do something about it. And so, on a random Tuesday recess, you two scanned the crowd trying to find two boys (or a boy and a girl, because you always knew you liked girls too) worthy of your affections. One for her, one for you. Bonus points if the two of them were also best friends, of course.
Double dates were all the buzz at the time anyways.
Besides, only then they could understand the bond you and Gyuri had. Sisterhood like no other, nevermind Gyuri actually had an older sister and a niece at the ripe age of fifteen.
And so when your index finger scanned the crowd and eliminated at least three potential crushes before landing on Choi San, you felt like it was meant to be.
You see, his best friend, Jung Wooyoung, was perfect for Gyuri to crush on. He was almost as tall as she was at the time and his easy, outgoing personality was compatible with her book crush at the time as well.
He also flirted with her on several occasions before that.
So it was meant to be.
Choi San, on the other hand, had never even glanced in your direction before.
Just like your book crush did before he fell in love with the main character.
See? Meant. To. Be.
It was decided then that, although Choi San was not going to be your first crush ever, he was going to be the guy that motivated you to be at school for the time being, because math gets really boring after trying and failing at least ten times.
You thought nothing of it when it felt a little forced, when you couldn't blush at all at the sight of him and you gathered that it didn't need to happen like in the books you read. You simply needed to say his name when someone asked you if you had a crush on anyone and that was enough to be in symphony with the rest of your classmates.
Your longing glances were caught once or twice by him and you brushed the weird flip your stomach did everytime he looked away, blushing a little. You never really cared when it happened, really, knowing his crowd and your crowd (Gyuri and you) would never even cross paths in the first place.
You two kept to yourselves and your little book unofficial book club, sitting on the floor at lunch time and cursing everyone who dared to call you weird for it. San and Wooyoung had a crowd of people at the loudest table laughing with them over stupid teen jokes and, uh, sports? You didn't even know.
And then the unimaginable happened.
Jung Wooyoung sat down, criss cross applesauce and everything, in front of you on a random Monday afternoon while you and Gyuri discussed the english assignment due next period.
Gyuri was not too excited about that.
Turns out, the only one excited to have a crush at school was you. She was very much still in the Lonely Hearts Club phase while you skipped all the way to your The Notebook phase and she was, in her own words, too afraid to admit it when you came up with your crush plan.
You forgave her, of course, and decided to wait for her as long as needed because you were certainly not about to be an individual and have a crush on your own.
And by the time Wooyoung smiled at you both and introduced himself to you, like you weren't in the same class for a year already, you thought your pretend crush on his best friend evaporated and joined the void superficial and fleeting interests you had.
But then Choi San sat beside him, his knee brushing against yours in the process, and you knew you would have to issue a formal apology to your best and only friend for leaving her behind on this little thing.
Because, oh boy, were you crushing on Choi San.
You felt the blush rush to your cheeks and then fell silent while your friend and his friend discussed Fifty Shades of Grey for some reason you never cared enough to discover and you knew you were done for.
It was the first time seeing his dimples in full action, so close to you, so you completely stopped functioning all together. Amazing.
When you decided to have a crush, you never took into account that you were, actually, quite shy. And he really wasn't, but you noticed that he knew when to talk and what to say and with your friend being a lot more outgoing that you were it gave you the comfort that she would speak for the both of you while you admired from the sidelines as your little duo became a group of friends you still miss deeply to this day.
He was funny and you laughed at your jokes even though you pretended to be tired and completely worn out by the school day, resting your head on Gyuri’s shoulder and stealing glances at the boy while she kept arguing with his best friend.
Wooyoung was popular and liked enough to have a few people sit with you later that week, people who never even knew you existed before that. They were good friends with San as well, so you tried your best to keep up with everyone until she sat down next to you one day.
Arin was not really a bad person. She just was a bit conceited, calling herself princess type of conceited and you never really related to her even if she was nice to you to your face. She was absolutely gorgeous and, you found out with Wooyoung’s arm around your shoulder and a whisper to your ear, she had been San’s crush since they were both in elementary school.
That would explain the sudden tension at the table when she sat down next to you, said hello to everyone, offered you a sweet she just bought from the cafeteria, and stared at San for the remainder of lunch time.
You also noticed Wooyoung glaring at her a little and he later explained to you that he didn't really like her all that much. She loved attention and San gave her attention, so she would intentionally flirt with him to get her ego stroked in return.
It didn't really matter how he felt about the girl, though, he didn't have to like her just because his best friend did. And when you caught her batting her eyelashes at San, you knew you didn't even stand a chance.
You tried to hide the disappointed look on your face but both Gyuri and Wooyoung looked at you while the two of them flirted endlessly for the remainder of lunch time and you figured you were doing a pretty shitty job at it. He didn't glance at you once either way, so it didn't really matter.
Arin did but she just complimented your eyes and then started a conversation with someone across the table, her annoying sweet and fake voice making your right ear ring in disapproval.
Either way, you ended up becoming her friend. Gyuri was not very fond of her and neither were you, but you all went to the bathroom together, did your makeup together, did school projects together and then sat everyday at lunch together with the rest of the guys who were, in one way or another, trying to get her to like them.
Because, once again, she was a sight for sore eyes.
It wasn't until later, in the middle of the year, that one of them did. Not Choi San, but Choi Yeonjun.
You remember the day you found out they were together and the gut wrenching concern you felt when you found out that San was not at school that day.
It was after summer break, you remember Wooyoung telling you that San and his family took a few more days of vacation and if you couldn't believe your eyes when you saw the new couple sharing a sweet kiss at the designated lunch table, you could only imagine how San felt the next day when he saw the same image right in front of him.
Yeonjun was his friend, right? He knew about his crush and decided to get together with her anyways. Surely, San was devastated.
But he wasn't. He just cheered them on and then laughed along when Yeonjun shoved his arm playfully after the hollering.
But you saw through it.
Your crush on San made you observant. Made you believe you knew him better than everyone else and so, after lunch, you took out your phone and pulled up the notes app. Writing a simple “are you okay?” in it and passing it to him the next second, you were surprised with yourself before you saw him frown a bit. And then he understood what you meant.
Nodding, he passed you the phone back, before giving you a reassuring smile that you treasured in your heart and saw in your dreams.
You didn't believe him, though, but stayed close enough to everything related to the situation to hold Arin in your arms when Yeonjun inevitably broke her heart.
Starting your tenth year, he moved back to his city and decided to play the I thought we weren't even that serious card on her. Which was nasty, considering love it's very, very serious for a sixteen year old girl.
By this point, you were all a little family and hanging out after school and on the weekends was not unusual, so it didn't surprise you when Arin invited you, and only you, to her house after choir practice on a Thursday.
She lent you her older sister’s clothes to wear (because her's would never fit you. Her words, not yours) and took you to a walk in the park just to break your heart for the first time ever.
“You know… I thought love was something I couldn't find in highschool anymore. But San it's really making an effort, you know? He's been there for me ever since Yeonjun left and… Well, I think he's going to ask me to be his girlfriend tomorrow.”
Grasping the park bench she forced you to sit at, you only nodded and let out a shuddering breath that gave away what she was trying to figure out since earlier that day.
“I'll say yes but only if you say it's okay to do so.”
Arin was not really your friend, the same way Yeonjun was not really San’s friend.
Because there's no way you would ever be okay with it.
And yet, you tried your best to give her a smile and pretend the sound of your heart breaking didn't bring tears to your eyes “Of course it's okay. Why wouldn't it be?”
A week later, they were officially dating. The rumors spread around like a wildfire and it took out of you with everyone calling San a nasty rebound and you doing your best to prioritize the ghost of the friendship you had with him. That whole fiasco lasted a few months.
Months in which your friendship with everyone just grew stronger. Gyuri was still your best friend, Wooyoung was crushing on her hard and everyone knew, Arin and San were a steady couple, a new girl joined your class that year, named Yeri, and the principal assigned her to you because she thought you two would get along really well.
“I like girls,” was like, the third thing she ever told you while you were showing her the school “I'm just telling you now because I don't plan on hiding it and you are wearing a pride pin.”
“Oh, that's cool. I like girls too,” you smiled, looking at your pride pin “I didn't hide it either and no one gave me shit about it, so, don't worry.”
Yeri also liked the mainstream music that you liked and soon she became a new addition to your group. And with Arin spending all of her free time with San, you, Gyuri and Yeri only grew closer and closer. You didn't have Arin’s voice in your ear telling you the million reasons she found Yeri uncool, but you saw it in her face every time the table laughed at one of Yeri’s jokes.
And so, it went on for a while:
Your mom driving all of you around in her car to the beach, to dinner, to the movies and letting you have mixed sleepovers at your house (meaning you, Arin, Gyuri, Wooyoung, Yeri and San) was fun and all, but it was not enough to distract yourself entirely. Everytime you glanced at the couple, that sinking feeling in your chest would appear and sulk your whole mood for, at least, fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes of pretending you were okay with them before forgetting completely for an hour or so and then the cycle would repeat until you were alone staring at the ceiling and doing your best to not cry about it.
All it took was your first kiss being Yeri of all people for you to decide that it was time to retire your crush for Choi San once and for all.
And for a while, it all went according to plan. You decided to tell Gyuri that it was okay because he was your friend first and the guy that you liked second and that you were not fourteen and desperate for love anymore, that it was time to go on with your life as if nothing really happened in the first place.
You were hooking up with Yeri anyways, so it seemed like you were doing just fine.
You grew closer to San as well and even though he mostly talked to you about Arin and whatever tantrum she was throwing at the time, you really started to feel some sense of normalcy within you when it came to just speaking to him.
You no longer blushed when he made you laugh, you no longer looked at him with the longing of a past life lover and you were really happy for him because, at the end of the day, he was really happy with his relationship.
Until winter break came around and Arin decided to give San his first heartbreak ever.
She decided to call for a break in their relationship because she was, in his words, too overwhelmed with the amount of love and attention she was getting from him.
Which was completely fucking insane considering the fact she forced him to save her contact as Princess Arin and all.
So naturally, you sided with him. And she didn't take it to heart because everyone knew you liked San anyways.
She told you the news herself through Facebook after asking you to explain to her the English assignment due next day and then she decided to tell you something you'll never understand because you no longer are on speaking terms with her:
Princess Arin: u know i broke up with him because of u right? :)
Princess Arin: one day I'll tell u all abt it.
She never told you anything about it. And by then, you were starting your last year and San was your best friend who hung out with you everyday after school, calling you late at night and helping you with assignments through Skype. So you didn't really care.
And as the day passed, you started understanding the connection they talked about in books and movies. You thought you did before, Gyuri being your eternal person in this world, but it felt so different with San.
Different and good. Different and achy enough for you to want to keep it in your life.
Your dynamic was friendly, sure, but it was alright. It consisted of banter and daring stares as well as laughter and soft moments you treasured till this day.
“It's way too early to be this annoying, Choi San.”
“Oh, you think this is me being annoying?”
You both got an hour of detention for disturbing the class that day.
You loved it.
But then, after almost a month of picking up the broken pieces of his heart one by one, and your mother giving him a self-help book to make him regain the confidence he lost during the breakup process, you realized that you were in love with him and there was nothing you could do about that.
You noticed one friday afternoon, when he offered to pay for your and your mom's ice cream at the drive through, when he scrambled to get all the change he had on him to leave a tip for the person who handed you guys the sweet treat, that there was no way you didn't love him.
And it was confusing as fuck when everyone else started to tell you he had feelings for you as well.
“Think about it. You text each other good morning everyday” Yeri listed with her finger and you nodded “Then, you go to school, sit together and spend the rest of the day together” another nod “Then after school you either go get ice cream together or hang out for a bit with your mom while she drives him home. And after that, you get on Skype for the reminder of the afternoon and then he calls you on your house phone and you two spend the rest of the night talking before falling asleep on the line together,” she looked at you like you were insane for even denying the accusations made against San, but she continued anyway “And then it's rinse and repeat and it has been that way since… What? Three months ago?”
You nodded again, defeated.
“Girl, he likes you.” she sighed, annoyed and a little tired, before sitting on your lap and kissing your lips affectionately “And you're here making out with me instead of him. You really are a lost cause.”
That didn't stop you from hooking up with her until she found a girl who's heart was not reserved for someone else, though. Said girl went to a different school and was a year younger than all of you, but she looked very happy and stopped secretly kissing you in the school bathroom like a week after they met.
And when she finally told everyone, you were really happy for her, but San not so much.
It was the night you thought everything was about to change. The night you thought he was about to kiss you or you were about to kiss him, whatever happened first.
Laying in your bed, facing each other in the dim light, he thought it was the biggest form of betrayal and pouted the whole time he explained to you why.
He thought you liked her and you realized he didn't really pay attention to you after all. Not the way you did with him.
Bless his heart.
You didn't kiss him that night because he wouldn't shut up about you and Yeri.
“I mean, why couldn't it be you? She clearly liked you if you two were hooking up for over a year” and when his hand came to rest on your back, under your shirt, you breath hitched enough for him to notice it but not enough for him to just don't do anything about it except trace the curve of your silhouette with the pad of his thumb “I don't understand why anyone would pass the opportunity to be with you.”
Huh. Maybe he did have feelings for you.
No. He's just being a great best friend. Don't take that for granted.
But it was impossible for you not to take Yeri’s words seriously as time went on.
You didn't want to think he was giving you mixed signals, but yet again there was that one time when you reached behind your passenger seat in your mothers car to pinch his leg playfully after he pulled on your hair a little bit from behind, only to end up holding his hand the rest of the car trip to his house.
His fingers slowly caressing the back of your hand were just too much for you not to get everything mixed up.
Or that other time when your school held a Woman's Day event, and your class president decided that all the boys in the class were going to give roses to the girls.
When it was your turn to get a rose, you knew no one would give you one. But Yeri stood in line and collected a rose from the bin before the class president had the opportunity to say anything else.
“I'll take that, thank you very much.” She turned to you, smiling. San blocked her way to you a second after.
“And just what do you think you're doing?”
“Giving my best girl a rose, of course.” She peeked around him, giving you a wink that you could only roll your eyes to.
San turned to you, the fondness in his eyes making you question the decision of not pretending to be sick that day. It was too much for you to handle.
“To the back of the line, then. I already called dibs on her,” he turned to your friend, snatching the rose from her hand in one swift move “I'll take that, thank you very much.”
He had no idea what that meant to you back then. It was true that, at school, he behaved a little differently than when you two were alone.
He was athletic, so he had some friends that you were sure used to ask him what the fuck was he doing wasting his time with a girl like you instead of getting a new girlfriend.
He had a family that didn't approve of yours, too. You felt it the first time you met his mom and, even though she was nice to you and your mom, you could feel the judgemental stare she gave both of you when your mom told her she was a single parent.
San told you that it didn't really matter, that his mom didn't have to like you because you weren't her friend, you were his.
He played with your feelings a little too well. Wanting him, adoring him and letting yourself be consumed by the thought of him loving you back was enough to keep it going. To ignore the fluttering way your heart kept beating whenever he talked to you which was all the time.
You assumed the way he behaved with you in private was the real him. The one who didn't care about appearances or his family approval.
The one who cared about you.
It was dizzying and fantastic and you thought he just might've been the love of your life.
But then he would tell you how much it hurted when he saw Arin at school and how much he missed her, the intimacy they shared before, and reality would come crashing down and setting your delusions on fire again.
He had sex with Arin. You would never stand a chance.
Or so you thought he did. Except when you overheard Arin speaking to her friends and that was the first time you ever got mad at Choi San.
“And, you know, me and San were never intimate like that so I wouldn't know but I think boys have no idea how to please a woman if they tried to.”
What?
Oh. So he lied to you.
And you were so upset by the thought of him making up stories of their intimate time together that it didn't even cross your mind that Arin might've been lying to save face.
So when he came back from the bathroom and sat at his usual desk in front of you, you didn't even think about his feelings when you decided to treat him like shit for lying about something so important like sex to your face.
“Leave me alone, San! I don't want to fucking talk to you right now!”
The hurt expression he gave you after that is one you would never be able to forget.
But you grew to be stubborn and a little overprotective of your own feelings, so you thought him playing the part of your best friend all these months and sweet talking to you was just another one of his lies.
“You guys not being friends right now doesn't make any fucking sense, sweetheart.” Wooyoung's tone is careful and laced with affection, but you knew he was playing the devil's advocate on behalf of San. With his arm around Gyuri’s shoulder (by that point, they were a thing for over two months) you could swear you saw him smirk when the nickname brought a scowl to your face.
He might've been worried, but he was also a little shit.
“You really are going to let Arin ruin what you two have?” Your best friend was, of course, on your side. But she was your best friend for a reason and her love included pointing out when you were behaving like an infant at the age of seventeen and a half.
“You two are practically dating and you're going to let the evil ex-girlfriend get in the way? Over something you weren't even supposed to hear in the first place? Come on.”
Again, Wooyoung was a little shit. And you were so upset about everything that you shyness couldn't even help the fury behind your reply:
“Stop saying that! We are not practically dating, he's in love with Arin and I'm not sure I even like him like that anymore!” Getting tired of everyone and their mother (your mother) feeding your delusions, you came to the conclusion that putting a stop to your friendship with Choi San was for the best.
And, in doing so, you ended up breaking your own heart for the second time in your life.
But he didn't put up an easy fight at all. You remember the feeling of pure joy when he grabbed your hand on the way to the cafeteria one day, pulling you so hard you almost ended up sitting in his lap, and the way his pleading eyes begged you to listen to him one last time.
“Us not being friends doesn't feel right, Y/N…” he said and the word he used to categorize what both of you had hurted you, but you pushed the feeling away “Please, let's not fight anymore. I don't even know what happened, but I forgive you for yelling at me and I hope you forgive me for whatever it is you think I did.”
Of course, you forgave him the next second without thinking too much about it. And for a while, everything went back to normal. You Skyped as usual and occasionally you let your other friends join the call even though it didn't really feel like it used to before.
The next thing you knew, your feelings were in full bloom again and when you realized it, it was too late.
Because by then, you had already let your childhood friend, Sunhee, join a few Skype calls and by the fourth one she invited her friend, Minseo, to them as well.
Terrible, terrible mistake. Because even through the screen, you could see that Minseo looked a lot like Arin with the added bonus that she was down to earth and cool and liked the same things San liked.
You liked the same things San liked as well, but it never seemed to matter.
Because not even two months after you decided to stop talking to San over a lie you weren't supposed to find out in the first place and then became friends one more time, he gets together with Minseo and you're sick to your stomach all over again.
You hated her. Not because she was, suddenly, his girlfriend (not girlfriend girlfriend, but in a friends with benefits arrangement you never even knew why he agreed on in the first place) but because suddenly she was so fucking obnoxious and didn't seem to like you either.
Was it not painfully obvious San didn't have feelings for you? Why was she mad at you then? You literally brought them together!
And all you got in return was her telling him she didn't feel comfortable with him having a girl best friend. That ungrateful bitch.
He stopped calling. He stopped texting, he stopped carpooling with you and your mom after school and he stopped caring whether your math assignment was done or not.
He stared pulling away more and more and it didn't matter how hard you tried to get him to talk to you, it seemed like he never really fucking cared about you in the first place.
And by may that year, you didn't speak to San anymore. Granted, the only person he did speak to was Wooyoung, but even their friendship was falling apart.
For the first time ever, San broke your heart firsthand. And it felt really, really fucking bad.
You cried to your mom about it, she reminded you that you were nothing but a great friend to him and that, if he didn't take the time to appreciate that, that was his loss not yours.
And she started hating him from that moment on. But you couldn't hate San, not even a little bit.
Why would you hate him for not liking you back? For not loving you the way you loved hi—
Your laptop closes down right in front of you and when you try to look up to find out who's responsible for interrupting your writing time, you get interrupted again.
“Ouch! What the fuck, Gyuri?” The slap to the back of your head is quick and filled with rage.
“What the fuck are you even writing. I can read from here, you know?”
“I'm just laying my feelings down and— Ouch! Stop that!” You try to hit her back but she turns away quickly when your hands almost knock her coffee mug out of hers.
“You can't possibly still have love for San, Y/N. It's been years.”
It's been four and a half, to be precise. But who's counting, right?
“And why are you writing it in third person? You don't usually do that.”
“I don't really know, Gyuri!”
“I’m telling you, this celebratory dinner bullshit it's affecting you way more than it should,” she sighs, plopping down on the couch of your shared living room, and you leave your seat at the table to join her “He might not even show up. He has that thing with Kyungmi.”
Kyungmi.
You couldn't get to that part on your open document, but San left Minseo when he met Kyungmi at one of the frat parties they love to attend. Wooyoung told you that he said that it was love at first sight and you even met her briefly when you picked Gyuri up from the apartment he and San got when they started college together.
She’s gorgeous and doesn't look like Arin or Minseo at all. It’s a different type of gorgeous. She's a year older than San and went to the same school as them and Gyuri.
You think you might even like her better than him.
You tried to be happy for San when you found out, but you two barely even speak a word to each other and you convinced yourself a while ago that you couldn't care less if he sees right through you and your fake smiles.
You gathered, after everything happened, that San knew you liked him and took advantage of that. Unintentionally, but he did anyway.
You sigh, resting your head on your best friend's shoulder. “It’s his best friend's celebratory dinner, though, he needs to be there.”
Two seconds pass and then you both say it at the same time: “He’s in love.”
And when San is in love, he has a one track mind with the name of his lover as the goal.
You nod, but you can't help but to be insistent “It's Wooyoung's celebratory dinner, he needs to show up, right?”
“I might not even show up, he's a pain in the ass.” She replies but you can tell her annoyance is not genuine and it makes you smile.
Gyuri and Wooyoung broke up towards the end of your first year of college but you all stayed close friends. A one year relationship was not enough to fuck up the friendship they had and they decided to stay civil until, eventually, they became close friends again.
To this day, you wonder why you and San couldn't rekindle your friendship when it became clear to you that you missed your friend and not the guy that you liked.
Because San was always your friend first and your first love second.
But it doesn't really matter anymore, because Gyuri is forcing you to shower and reminding you that you two need to keep Wooyoung on his best behavior tonight.
“That girl he used to like before me is going, he said. I looked her up, she's single and he needs to get together with her because I can't take him whining about it anymore.”
They keep things with each other way too civil, you think.
“I'm telling you, if we don't show up he's going to do that thing where he gets drunk and makes a fool of himself. I can't have that, I'm on a mission.”
“A mission to get your ex laid?” You ask, shampooing your hair.
“A mission to get him a girlfriend so he can stop crying to me about feeling lonely.”
“Maybe he wants you guys to—” The shower curtain opens and you see your best friend’s scowl before covering yourself up with your hands.
“Gyuri!”
“Don't you dare say what you were about to say or I'm divorcing you.”
You chuckle “Sure you are.”
You're left alone again with the water stream and she goes back to do her makeup “I told you back in ninth grade that we weren't a great fit and I was right. We can't get back together,” she sighs “It'll ruin everything.”
“I doubt it will but you guys have been friends longer than you were boyfriend and girlfriend, so I'll just have to deal with my parents being divorced and civil.”
“God, don't ever refer to us like that again— Oh! Speaking of parents,” you see her beam at her phone when you move the shower curtain to search for your towel and then she shows it to you “Mingi and Love just celebrated their one year anniversary!”
Love being Mingi’s best friend. Gyuri talks to you about her college friend group all the time. The drama fuels your dinner conversations, you even follow a few of them on social media.
“What does that have to do with parents?”
“They're the mom and dad of the group.”
San is in that friend group, you can see him in the back of the picture and you recognize his apartment layout too. He's not the main focus of it but he's all you can see until you notice the couple sitting near him on the couch.
The picture shows both of them, her in his lap and Mingi looking at her with stars in his eyes.
Good for them.
“Is that the girl he was friends with forever before they finally realized that they were in love?”
“Yeah,” she sighs in contempt, looking down at the picture again “I was there the day it happened. I mean, not physically with them, but they left Yunho's party together and I told Wooyoung that it was finally about to happen!”
Gyuri is not a romantic person at all. Her excitement shows you that she really loves them and so you soften at the news that would usually give you and your dry love life a headache “It was the day before you called me to get you out of that awful date.”
Ah, that also happened back then. You shudder at the memory.
“Tell them I say congrats, babe.”
“I'm bringing you as my plus one.”
You laugh, confused “To where?”
“Their wedding, duh.”
“They practically just got together,” you remind her, a year is not enough time to propose “And I don't really know them, Gyuri!”
“They love you,” she assures you as you step out of the shower “I have been speaking about your antisocial ass for years. They can't wait to meet you.”
“So you've been shit talking behind my back for years? Is that what I'm hearing?”
She laughs “No, babe, that's Wooyoung's job.”
Clearing your throat and looking at your friend through the mirror, you try to be as nonchalant as you can when you ask: “Has he… Did he tell you if…”
“No, Y/N, I have no clue if San is going or not and Wooyoung is actually mad at him at the moment.”
“Why?”
She looks at you, sighing “He's been lacking as a friend lately.”
“Hm.”
“I hope you're not planning on swooning if you see him. Fuck him, Y/N.”
“I know…”
“And by fuck him I mean he doesn't deserve you or your forgiveness.”
“He didn't do anything to me, Gyuri,” you remind her, shrugging “Not reciprocating my feelings is not a crime so I don't have to forgive him for anything.”
You can practically feel her starting the San hate train engine, so you step out of the bathroom but her voice follows you.
“And what about that time he ditched you for Minseo when you asked him to go with you to that medical appointment, huh?”
“Cut it out, Gyuri…”
But her head peaks around the corner, into the hall where you're rushing towards your room “Or that time when—”
“Can't hear you!” Turning to look at her, she gives you an affectionate middle finger and heads back to the bathroom.
Closing the door, you lean into the thin wood and sigh, getting San’s face out of your mind so you can focus on getting ready and actually show up for Wooyoung and Wooyoung only.
He just got a permanent position after completing his internship at a company that's your company's rival. He's going to crush you and steal clients from you but you are genuinely so happy for him.
You should've guessed he enjoyed books as much as you did back in highschool. The debates he used to have with Gyuri were not all about flirting with her but also because he has a passion for books.
And now he's going to work in the same field as you.
You're so proud of your friend.
As you get ready, you remember the excitement cruising through your body when your boss trusted you enough to give you the first manuscript of a new client so you could edit it. You're sure Wooyoung is going to do better than you, taking into account that he actually went to college for this.
You didn't.
You met your boss at the part-time job you got in senior year, when you were trying to distract yourself from all the pain and the horrors of becoming a grown up. She was chatty, got a little too drunk on soju and told you she was starting her own book publishing company.
When she returned months later after remembering that you told her you loved books and would love to work for as a publisher one day, she offered you a job in her company right after graduating highschool.
You took it because you didn't think an opportunity like this would show up ever again.
She was truly a blessing, the kind of person you never really believed in until she taught you all you needed to know about publishing and editing and encouraged you to take online classes during the nights so you could get, at least, a certification on what you do.
You're proud of yourself too. The opportunity found you in a specific moment of your life where both your heart and your self esteem were destroyed and now you're not the person you used to be.
Maybe that's why the possibility of facing San makes you so nervous. Collective memories are dangerous because the details never match the ones on the other person's head.
You know who you were back then but… Are you the same person in San’s head?
You don't even want to find out.
Scanning your outfit in the mirror for the last time, you take the shoes you're wearing tonight out of your closet and walk over to the living room.
Only to find Gyuri laying on the carpet under the coffee table, half dressed and on her phone.
“You're going to mess up your hair.”
“I don't care, I'm not going.”
Sighing, you sit down on the couch and staring at the wood of the table covering her face.
“What happened now?”
“The bitch canceled!”
“Wooyoung?”
Poking her head out, she frowns at you “No, his first love.”
“You were his first love.”
“You know what I'm talking about, Y/N!”
Laughing at her, you offer her your hand “Get dressed. Who cares if she's not going? He's not going to sulk because he's going to have you and his best friends there.”
She whines like a child when you pull her up from the floor “I had a plan!”
“Then make a new one, babe. We're going to be late.”
She starts to whine again but then stops mid-groan to give you a once over. You shift uncomfortably on your feet, suddenly self-conscious about your appearance for the first time in years.
“You look really hot…” she tells you and you fake gag at her words “Really pretty. Like a fairy and a smoke show at the same time.”
You can't possibly look like that when you have such a simple outfit on, floor length high waist black pants and a flowy sleeve top that ties in the middle. It's barely formal but now you're thinking too hard about it.
Blushing, you wave your hand to dismiss her compliment “Oh, my god. Go and change!”
She rushes to her room on the opposite end of the hall and you finally breathe, looking down at your choice of fit and wondering if it's too much.
Gyuri would've told you if that's the case, but either way it haunts your mind in the car on the way there, leg bouncing up and down under your best friend's judging gaze that only softens when you pout at her.
“They are going to love you, babe. I'm so serious, they've been waiting years to meet you.”
You nod because, yes, you're concerned that her friend group is not all as welcoming as she paints them to be.
And you wish your doubts would go away but you're really, really not good at making friends. You're cautious, extremely closed off to new people and not as good with conversation no matter how much confidence you gained over the past years.
When you walk to the loudest table at the laid back restaurant their friend Seonghwa made the reservation at, you think you won't be able to fit in with everyone else. You feel like an intruder, like Gyuri is supposed to enjoy this part of her life without you here.
That's why you rejected every invitation they ever made.
You celebrate birthdays with her, with Woo as well, but it's all very intimate and separate from their social circle, the one that includes the man you haven't fully faced in years.
But you can't exactly back out now, not when one of them turns to you and seems to light up when they see you.
“Oh? Is this her?” you recognize Hongjoong from pictures, he's the only one facing you when you approach the table, lowkey hiding behind Gyuri like a child.
“Who?”
“Huh?”
San is nowhere to be seen. Thank god.
Slowly, everyone turns around and you see their faces light up with both delight and surprise. Your heart is pounding, you feel it in your throat, in your eyes, in the heat that colors your cheeks.
But Gyuri just steps aside and presents you with a smile “This is her!”
“Oh, Y/N!” Wooyoung gets up, rushing towards you and crashing into your frame with a crushing hug “I'm so glad you're here,” he murmurs into your hair and then turns to his friends, quiet them down “Everyone, this is Y/N, one of my best friends in the entire world.”
He's such a dramatic human being.
You love him so much.
Raising your hand, you shyly wave at them “Hi.”
The entire table erupts with joy. Some of them greet you, some of them are saying that they are happy to be finally meeting you and Wooyoung grabs your arm and plops you down into the seat next to Gyuri, at the edge of the table.
Laughing, you apologize for not meeting them sooner and then you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders.
Panic raising, you quickly turn around to see who it is before releasing a shuddering, but calmer, breath.
“She's a very busy woman, guys. She works for the competition, my competition,” everyone gasps at that but Wooyoung is smiling at you “and she's very good at what she does. Which means she's busy, get off her case,” he puts a glass and a can of beer in front of you “Drink, babe.”
“Thanks, babe.” You whisper back and he leans in to peck your head before going away.
Gyuri groans “Stop stealing that from us! It's our thing, Y/N, don't indulge him.”
“It's his celebratory dinner…” you argue with a laugh that Hongjoong and Mingi follow.
“Yeah! Can you get off my case tonight, Gyuri?”
She huffs, wrapping her arms around you “I hate you all.”
“No you don't!”
The table laughs and everyone returns to their individual conversations when Woo sits down on his spot.
There's a few seats left, one besides Mingi and one right in front of you but you don't think too much about it because soon Gyuri gets up to ask Yeosang something and Seonghwa occupies her seat right beside you.
You think he can sense that you're more shy than you let on, because he doesn't include you in whatever he and Yunho were talking about and waits until he stops talking to him to turn to you.
“So, you work for a publishing company?”
The question catches you off guard and you swallow the beer quickly before nodding “Y-yeah, I… Yeah.”
He chuckles “You're nervous.”
“I'm just not as good at meeting people as Gyuri is. She usually does the job and I tag along.”
“I feel like I know you already, though.” He says, leaning back on his chair.
“Because she talks a lot about me?” he nods “Yeah, she tends to do that.”
“Wooyoung also talks a lot about you, San too… Sometimes,” your cheeks heat up and he misinterprets what it means “All good things, I promise.”
You doubt that.
Your brain gives you a hundred and one possible things San could've said about you.
For some reason, none of them are good. But you choose to believe the gorgeous, long haired guy in front of you.
“Well that's good to hear,” you take another sip of your drink before smiling at him “I was sure Woo was trash talking about me.”
He shakes his head with a smile “He wouldn't dare, he has Gyuri on his ass all the time and I'm sure she would kill him.”
“I'm sure she would kill him even if he didn't do it.”
His smile grows wider “That's true,” he says, looking over at them who are, very coincidentally, fighting about something. You let out a sigh and he laughs again before clearing his throat “So, the publishing company. What kind of books do you like to edit the most?”
Your smile grows wider too.
For the next hour, you talk to Seonghwa about your job and how you started in it. He asks you about your classes and the challenges that you face on a daily basis and Wooyoung overhears and ends up joining the conversation as well.
You don't even hear footsteps nearing until a voice cuts everyone off.
“I'm sorry I'm late!”
“Baby!” Mingi gets up from his seat, but no one else does so he's stuck between the table and his girlfriend.
“Oh, that's Love, huh?” you ask Seonghwa, Wooyoung too entertained messing with the couple to hear you anyways.
“Yeah… Is that how Gyuri refers to her?” He frowns.
“Mhm,” you answer, leaning into him like you're about to tell him an important secret “I'm not supposed to call her that, don't tell her.”
Seonghwa leans in too, pretending to zip his mouth shut and you laugh.
The girl wiggles her way into the seat reserved for her and everyone lets out a groan when they smooch each other. You can only giggle and the sound draws her attention to you “Y/N?”
You quickly nod “Yeah, hi, nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you! Finally, I thought Wooyoung and Gyuri had an imaginary friend,” you laugh, shrugging at the joke “Love your outfit, by the way, are those— Oh, San, hi— Are those jellyfish?”
You want to answer. You truly do, the yes right at the tip of your tongue, but words leave you when you turn your head around and find San already looking at you with wide eyes.
He looks great, he's a bit more muscular than what the pictures show and than the last time that you saw him, his arms hugging the fabric of the dress shirt he's wearing like it was tailored for him and everything.
How dare he.
You wonder if his heart is beating as loud as yours is right now. If he's surprised, disappointed or happy to see you at all.
“Her favorite animal.” He answers for you “Hi, Y/N.”
“Hi…” you whisper back and it feels like you're in a trance. He doesn't look away but the table quieting down once again snaps you out of it and you turn to the girl with a wide smile that you hope conceals whatever the fuck you're feeling at the moment “I love jellyfishes. Had a phase as a child when I would exclusively talk about them, too,” you chuckle, nervously, reaching for your earrings instinctively “Gyuri gave them to me as a present last Christmas.”
You definitely overshared just now. From the corner of your eye you catch your best friend getting ready to step in if needed.
Love looks at you, then at San (who's just standing next to you without uttering a word) and then back at you again, smiling like she just figured something out “Well, I love them.”
“Thanks…”
Coughing unnecessarily loud, Wooyoung gets up from his seat “You're late.”
It takes a second but San tears his gaze away from you to look at his best friend and you take the opportunity to chug down the rest of your beer “Sorry, something came up.”
Seonghwa turns at that and looks at him as well “You good?”
“I am. Did you guys already eat? I'm starving.”
“Nope. We're about to order. Let me get you a drink, come here.” And just like that, he disappears from your view and you almost sigh in relief.
“Are you good?” Seonghwa asks you next and you reckon he's very observant. But then again, you're not the most gracious human being when you're in San’s presence, so, you figure everyone else noticed your change of mood as well.
“Yeah, I just… I haven't seen him in a while and I didn't think he was coming. I was surprised, that's all.”
“I can see that,” his eyes move around your face for some reason, frowning a little bit but then he seems to let it go, getting the menu closer to you “Okay, good, um… I actually made the reservation here because they have the best samgyeopsal in town.”
“Do they?”
“Mhm, so…”
He helps you pick your food and when it's time to order, he moves back to his seat. Gyuri asks you with her eyes if you're okay, you nod and grab her hand under the table with a tiny smile and then everyone is moving around to make space for San and Woo once they return.
He doesn't sit in front of you.
Relief floods you and you can finally feel your muscles relax as he is so far away, at the other end of the table and in the same row of seats, so you don't really see him unless you really try.
Which you don't, so your food goes down easy and the rest of the night as well.
Until everyone but you and Seonghwa move around their seats and he ends up right in your point of view as you do your best to ignore him and focus on his friend.
Seonghwa asks you about your hobbies, you tell him that you love to write movie essays on websites no one even cares to read and he asks you to show it to him so he can look it up when he gets home.
“And you've always done this? Since highschool?”
You nod and he beams “I read like the first three lines and it looks really good, Y/N. Is that why you love books so much? Because you're a writer?”
“I wouldn't consider myself a writer but… Sure, I love to write.”
“Did you know this?” he turns to San and your smile drops a little.
“Know what?”
“Your friend is an excellent writer.”
“Oh, I know. She, uh… Used to write stories on her notebook instead of paying attention in math class,” he sips on his drink and at the detail you didn't know he knew, you turn to him fully “I used to read over her shoulder sometimes.”
“She's really good.” Seonghwa is looking at your phone, still reading “Really smart, too.”
San’s jaw tenses a little and you can't understand why “I know.” He says again.
His friend is none the wiser, blocking your phone and returning it to you “I like it,” he says, smiling and you blush “The essay.” He clarifies after a second, prompting a laugh out of you that he joins.
San doesn't laugh, but you don't pay attention to him because Seonghwa is asking you something else.
When it's time to leave the restaurant, Wooyoung suggests going back to his apartment to milk the get-together as much as you all can.
You all throw your napkins at him in feign disgust at the choice of words but you all accept his proposal either way.
So now you're sitting on the couch, legs crossed and head on Gyuri’s shoulder while you listen to all of them talk (more like argue) about something that happened at their university last week, their voices drowning the soft music playing out of the tiny speaker resting on the counter.
San is on the floor, to your right. It's hard to keep your eyes off him when you feel him looking at you when you close your eyes and let the noise fade into the background. It's not like you're able to add something to the conversation anyway and Gyuri seems to be drinking her sorrows (not being able to hook Woo up with the girl she told you about) away.
Your best friend is slurring her words already, drink in hand and index finger pointing at Jongho accusatively because, apparently, the fight they're talking about was his fault.
“You don't—” she hiccups “You don't even know why it was your fault and it pisses me off even more, you know?”
“Okay, let me take that.” Taking the drink from her hand and before she starts complaining you stand up to make your way into the kitchen.
The sink is full and a mess, so you pour the liquid into it and leave the glass sitting right beside it. Distracted by the dilemma of helping Woo out with the dishes or not, you don't notice someone else also entering the space.
That's why you jump a little when you turn and catch Seonghwa leaning on the wall by the entrance. It startles you enough to laugh the nerves out afterwards and he shakes his head, smiling.
“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. They're boring me to death with the fight story.”
You nod, realizing that maybe that's because he doesn't attend the university anymore. He told you he graduated last year “They're too drunk to let it go.”
“Too drunk to dance to this amazing song, too. Who's playlist is that?” he frowns and you rest your back into the sink, rolling your eyes because he's pretending he doesn't know “Oh! Right, it's mine.”
“And they just don't know how to appreciate it, huh?” he shrugs and you click your tongue “They're such bad friends, Seonghwa, I truly don't know why you keep them around.”
“You appreciate it,” it's your turn to frown and he leaves his spot at the wall to walk towards you “You were singing along to it,” he explains and you let out an ah, nodding as he extends his palm to you, clearly inviting you to dance.
“Oh, I don't… I don't really know how to—”
“I'll show you.”
His kind eyes are asking you to trust him. You really, really shouldn't.
No matter how hard you try to bury the hopeless romantic little girl who decided to have a crush on a guy back in ninth grade, she's still there, begging you to let loose and live a little.
When you grab Seonghwa’s hand, you think the smile he gives you was worth listening to her.
You can't even tell the song that's softly playing anymore, a mellow r&b melody reaches your ear but you are not listening. You're focused on him, on the way he spins you around even if it doesn't fit the bit, on the way he laughs softly against your ear when he pulls you close by your hand and then pulls away just as quickly.
Laughing as well, the spell of this beautiful stranger (because you remind yourself you don't really know him that well) is hard to break.
Until it does.
Someone clearing their throat behind you stops you and Seonghwa's feet from moving any further. When the tall, older guy turns you around, you're face to face with San and his scowl.
“Sorry to interrupt but I need to get started on the dishes. Everyone else is heading out too,” he looks behind you, at the man who's still standing close to you and grabbing your hand “In case you want to ask Mingi for a ride.”
“They finally stopped fighting!” he fakes excitement, finally letting go of your hand and walking in front of you, blocking San with his body. You chuckle, barely clapping your hands to join the pretense as he's pulling up his phone “Can I ask for your number, Y/N?”
Blinking a few times, you're not sure if your heart speeds up because he's asking or because you hear San sigh exasperated behind him “S-sure.”
When you put your information on his phone, he bids you goodbye with a pat on your head and hugs San on his way out the kitchen.
Now that you two are alone, you suddenly want to run and join Seonghwa. You were doing so, so well.
Avoiding San like the plague it's much easier when you're safe hiding behind your two best friends.
Ignoring his stare would be much easier if you weren't stuck into place.
“I—”
“You—”
You both speak over each other and you force out an uncomfortable laugh that he doesn't return. Instead, he motions you to go first while he occupies the space in front of the sink, turning the faucet on. In doing so, he has to grab your waist and move you out of the way which makes you short circuit for a second “I was going to help you with that.” You finally stammer out.
He lets out what you take as an annoyed chuckle.
“You seemed busy, I don't know how you would've done it.”
Ouch.
Why do you allow his words to cut so deep when you stopped caring about what he does a long time ago?
The band aid rips, the stitches come undone and all it took him were five seconds to melt your resolve away like it was never there in the first place.
“I'll… I go get Gyuri so we can leave Woo and you to get to it, then.”
“Bathroom.” You hear him mutter under his breath as you are taking the final step to leave.
“Huh?”
“She's in the bathroom, probably puking her breakfast out,” he looks up at you to give you a tiny smile “You left her alone with Jongho and Woo for five minutes so she got ahold of another drink.”
“God damnit.”
Rushing out, you run into everyone else at the door and Mingi has to let go of his very intoxicated girlfriend when she reaches you to give you a hug “Don't be a stranger, Y/N! It was lovely to be around you, hm?”
The sudden physical contact almost makes you gasp but you cover it up with a shy giggle “O-oh. Yeah, um, lovely to meet you too. All of you.”
“Sorry about that,” her boyfriend grabs her arms and breaks the hug “She's right, though. Don't be a stranger.”
You nod once, smiling a little more sincerely now and everyone says bye to you, including Seonghwa, who grabs your hand one last time and gives it a squeeze before closing the front door of the apartment.
You think you feel your heart skip a tiny bit under all the shit San’s words pulled up to the surface a minute ago. But there's no time to dwell in that: you hear Gyuri opening up the bathroom door before gagging and closing it again with a slam.
Jesus Christ.
You two are really getting old. You stopped drinking like an hour ago, when you were starting to feel tipsy after your second beer, and you know she didn't drink as much as she used to maybe four years ago, but the visage that welcomes you when you open the door and find her crouched down in front of the toilet certainly brings back memories of those times.
“I left you alone for like… five minutes.” Sighing, you lean in to hold her flimsy ponytail and pat her back.
“I'm good,” she gags again and then holds up her hand to stop you from saying anything else “I'm fine.”
Smiling, you help her up and she grabs the counter as she's washing away the taste of whatever she ate earlier today and alcohol “Me when I lie…”
“Y/N!” she hits your arm but the movement somehow almost makes her trip.
“You want to lay down?”
“Is she okay?” Woo’s head peaks into the bathroom and when he sees his ex, he makes a face.
“Does she look like she's okay?” you help her out of the bathroom and start heading for Wooyoung's room.
“Wow, wow— Where do you think you're taking her?”
“To your room, dumbass!”
“Why mine? San's is literally right there.” He whines, pointing at the door you pass by without a second thought. You don't want to know where his room is or what it looks like at all.
“Yeah, well, did San get her this drunk?”
“How was I supposed to know that she was at her almost black-out phase? She never drinks that much in front of me!” he complains again but you're already tugging Gyuri in, who mumbles something incoherent and then flips Wooyoung off “Na Gyuri if you puke on my bed I swear to God!”
If you didn't know Wooyoung so much, the whining and the attitude would probably make you think he didn't care for her at all. But he's brushing her hair out of her forehead, securing the blanket around her and moving to take her socks off when you reach the door.
“I'm guessing you're okay with her staying the night?”
“Of course you guys can stay the night, Y/N.” He says and he stumbles a little to get to you, so you smile and shake your head, about to let him know that you're not staying anywhere near his roommate when he continues “You can come over whenever you like. You know that, right?”
“I know, Woo.”
“I barely even see you these days, I… Oh! I forgot!” he points to the end of the hall, towards the kitchen “You guys don't really like each other so maybe don't come over when he's here because I don't want to see you sad!”
“Lower your voice,” you whisper to him, bringing a hand to his face and patting his cheek a few times to wake him up “Did the alcohol suddenly hit you or something?” you sigh for the umpteenth time “Anyways, you should lay down and I'll get going. I'll come pick her up tomorrow and—”
“That's such a great idea! Oh, I'm a genius.”
“You didn't come up with it, Wooyoung.”
“San!” he calls all of the sudden and you wish he was sober enough to read the panic on your features. He seems much, much sober when his best friend starts walking down the hall and stops right beside you “Take Y/N home, please, she's going to give you a bag that you must protect with your life.”
Said best friend looks at you, his eyebrow arched in a silent question “Gyuri’s stuff.”
“Ah.”
“Go, go. It's getting late, I'll just… I'll cuddle with my ex until you get home.”
And she has the nerve to say he doesn't want her back.
When the door to Wooyoung's room closes and you're left with San on the poorly lit hallway, you make a mental note to never step foot on this place or allow your friends to drink ever again.
You don't even look at the guy before practically running down the hallway and reaching for your bag. You make sure your phone is secured in your pocket as you slip your shoes on and soon you're grabbing the front door knob and twisting it.
Keys jingle next to you but, again, you don't spare San a glance.
“So—”
“I'll get out of your hair, you don't have to… walk me home or whatever he said.”
“Y/N, it's late.”
Turning to him, your smile is as fake as the ones you've been giving him the past couple of years “And I'm a grown up, San, I can walk myself home.”
“What about Gyuri’s stuff?”
“She can wear Wooyoung's clothes, it's not like they never shared before. Anyway… Thank you for having me, it was nice to see you. Goodnight.” Your response comes out fast and it sounds as planned out as it actually is, kinda robotic and devoid of actual emotion.
San can't see through you the way you see through him. It's okay, he won't mind it.
He probably won't mind that you close his own door on his face either.
If that door is what you hear when you're making your way down the stairs in order to make a fast escape, you choose to ignore it.
You have to stop mid-way to compose yourself. You don't know why you feel like crying or why your heart is beating so fast.
You knew going in that there was a possibility of seeing him tonight. You know how San affects you, so effortless and seemingly like no time has passed at all in between senior year and present day.
You know all of this already, it's an endless loop that will keep repeating until you either move away or decide to stop agreeing to Wooyoung's plans all together.
So why is your chest heaving with emotion? Why is nostalgia playing mind tricks with you? Why do you want to turn back and hug him and beg him to turn back time so you can do it all differently now that you know how to look like and what to say to make him love you back?
Ah, you're definitely not sleeping tonight. So you start distracting yourself while walking down the stairs again. You remind yourself to tell a much sober Wooyoung how proud you are of him. You think about Seonghwa, about his kind eyes and the way he grabbed your hand to dance with him just half an hour ago. You wonder how long it will take you to get home if you jog all the way there. You—
Why the fuck is San outside when you get there?
In a comedic way, you can see your attempt to distract your mind off of him slipping through your fingers and evaporating in the warm summer night breeze.
In a realistic way, you're fucking pissed at him for taking the opportunity of a good night sleep away from you.
You pass him and start jogging like you planned a minute ago. Footsteps follow you until his arm brushes yours and you take a step to the side to stop it from happening again.
“Go home, Choi San.”
“Stop fighting it, Y/N. I'm walking you home.”
“It's a twenty minute walk—”
“Drop it.”
You do. And for the first ten minutes, no one utters a word even if the tension feels electric and the street is so quiet so you can hear when his breath accelerates when he jogs to catch up to you whenever you try to leave him behind.
Isn't that ironic. He was the one who left you behind all those years ago.
“I didn't know that you danced.”
He breaks the uncomfortable but safe silence to say that?
“Well, you saw me dance so I clearly dance when I want to.”
“You never danced with me.”
“You never asked me to.”
He laughs “I'm pretty sure I did on several occasions, Y/N.”
“Well, you're wrong,” you're getting annoyed. How dare he think he remembers better than you? “It doesn't matter anyway, what's past is past and—”
“You also gave Hwa your number,” he interrupts, his long legs taking two strides to get in front of you, still walking, facing your direction with his hands on his pockets.
It's dangerous and stupid, even if the streets are practically empty and the sidewalk barely has any bumps.
You hope he falls on his pretty face.
“I did.*
“I don't have your number.”
“Well, I changed it and you never asked for it, so…”
“You could've called me or texted me to let me know you did it.”
He's getting on your nerves.
“San,” you start, taking in a deep breath you hope calms you down “We don't even text anymore, why would you want my number?”
“Do you like him?”
“Seonghwa?” you ask, frowning and he nods “Like… As a person?”
“As a potential love interest.” He clarifies matter-of-factly and you roll your eyes.
“I met him today, San. Why do you want my number?”
“Because we're friends?” he offers after a second, shifting so he's walking by your side again.
“Are we?” you ask, laughing bitterly at that “Because we haven't spoken a word to each other in years.”
“That's not true.”
“It is, San.”
“You… You don't speak to me anymore, so…”
“Well your girlfriend at the time told me she didn't feel comfortable with me speaking to you anymore,” you sigh “so I didn't and you didn't try to talk to me either.”
“Well, I want to talk to you now.”
“And is your new girlfriend aware of that? Is she comfortable with that? Because I don't want anyone telling me what to do anymore and—”
“Why wouldn't she be comfortable? We're friends, Y/N.”
“Are we?” you insist, petty, bitter and overall very, very hurt.
He looks offended at that “I assumed we were?”
He's getting on your fucking nerves.
“We stopped being friends the second Minseo asked me to stay away from you because she didn't like me, San.”
“She’s not in my life anymore—”
The words are coming out of your mouth without even thinking it through. His demeanor, the way he's somehow reproaching you for whatever he saw between you and his friend, the way he pretends nothing happened between you and him, thinking that you two are still friends.
“We stopped being friends when you pulled away from me, saw me do the same and did nothing to stop it from happening, San.”
He stops in his tracks at that. You don't, pushing forward and quickening your step even if your calves burn.
“Either way,” you speak up “Make sure you tell your girlfriend about wanting my number and then you can ask Seonghwa for it if you want—”
“She's not my girlfriend anymore!”
Now that stops you, just a few buildings down from yours, you turn around just to find San closer that you thought he'll be.
“O-oh. I… I didn't know that. I'm sorry.”
“You didn't do anything to be sorry for.”
“Still, it must suck so I'm sorry you're going through that.”
“We didn't want the same things and so we ended it. It is what it is.”
You nod.
He walks the few steps separating you and you have to raise your chin a little to look him in the eye for the first time since you left his apartment “I wanted to tell you.”
“That you broke up with your girlfriend?”
“Yeah, I don't know why. It happened when I broke up with Minseo too, I just… You're the first person that I thought of calling when it happened. I texted you, too, but the messages didn't go through.”
You hum at that.
Why would he even say that?
You resume your step, not really knowing what to say until you reach the stairs that lead to your building’s entrance.
“And you didn't ask Woo for my number?”
He follows you up.
“I don't think he would've given it to me if I asked.”
That sounds like an excuse, so you don't let it slide as you enter the code to your building and let yourself inside, San holding the door so he can get in as well “Why would he do that?”
“Because he…” San sighs, pressing the elevator button “Nevermind. He just wouldn't.”
Frowning, you turn to him “No, now you have to tell me.”
“It doesn't matter, really—”
“Tell me, San.”
He stares for a second and then looks away, like a child, vulnerable and you can't help but soften at that “He didn't like the way I treated you.”
Eating your words from before, you shake your head “You didn't treat me like anything.”
The elevator dings and you get inside.
San follows you.
“Exactly,” he says, resting his shoulder on the metal “Like you said I just did nothing and—”
“Well, sometimes that's just what happens,” you want to end this. You want to pack Gyuri’s bag, give it to him and never see him again.
This conversation hurts, it reopens barely closed wounds and it creates new ones you don't really need when it comes to whatever happened between you two.
There's only so much a person can handle and it really doesn't help that you're a fool for San. He takes advantage of it, of the fact you can't really push him away at this point and the fact that he wants to have this conversation now instead of four and half years ago?
Mean.
He's mean. He's evil. He's… He's staring at you with a spark in his eyes that you recognize too well.
Hope.
When you get to your floor, you try to wipe the image away while busying yourself with your keys. Your hands tremble a little but you're able to open the door of your apartment and get in without inviting him.
He gets in anyway. You take off your shoes as he closes the front door.
He stays silent as he follows you around the apartment and you don't worry about turning the lights on. You get into Gyuri’s room and start picking out a comfy hangover outfit for your friend. Some clean underwear, sweatpants, two shirts and socks.
When you drop to the floor, in front of the closet, to look for a bag to stash all of it in, San silently clutches beside you.
“It shouldn't have happened to us. Never us.”
You can't take it anymore.
“San, what is this? What are you doing? I mean, why are we—”
“I know.”
“It's been years…”
“I miss you.”
He's so mean. But the softness in his tone resembles the one he used all the way back in highschool, when he told you that not being friends with you didn't feel right and you want to cave in right there and then.
Your heart screams at you to do it, your reason warns you that you both have been through this before and it never ends right.
You simply can't stay friends with Choi San.
Your love for him must run too deep, your resentment claws at it and tries to hurt it but it's an immovable force that won't budge even if you try to bury it under the years that have passed, the things he has done.
Tears gather in your eyes and you try to blink them away as you stare at your best friend's clothes on your lap and try to come up with something to close this path up again, reconstruct the picket fence you built around it the second he broke your heart for the first time.
“Yeah,” you whisper back, letting the walls fall a little “I miss you too but I don't think I miss whatever version of you you are right now, San.”
“W-what?”
His shaky voice makes the walls crumble and crash.
Turning to him, your hand shakes as you place it on top of his “And you don't miss the version of me I am right now. You miss what I was back then, the comfort and the shoulder to cry on I offered you when Arin and you broke up. You miss my availability and the way I didn't press my feelings on you because it didn't matter if I liked you or not, you were my friend first and the guy that I had a crush second but—” you choke up, tears falling down your cheeks even if you don't want them to “I can't do it anymore. I'm not that girl anymore and I won't be there for you now that you and Kyungmi broke up because I can't handle it. I can't, I'm sorry.”
He doesn't deny any of it.
He stares at you, tears wetting his cheeks as well and it hurts even more this way. You wish you had the strength to hold it together, to treat him like you did on the street a few minutes ago, but you can't.
There's no way you could ever hate him like you want to.
“You know…” he starts in a whisper, letting out a humorless chuckle “That's what I used to tell myself too.”
“Hm?”
“That you were my friend first and the girl that I had a crush on second.”
How dare he mutter the words you always wanted to hear, the ones you picture being said in a different setting, the ones that haunted your every waking thought that period of time you doubted your friends, your mom, yourself for even believing Choi San could ever have a crush on you.
He doesn't get to say them. You want to tell him but the words die on your throat and form a lump that you can't swallow down.
You don't get to say that. You don't get to say that.
Your hand drops from his and you look away again only to grab the first bag you find on the closet floor and shove Gyuri’s stuff in it.
If the lack of response it's what prompts the hurt in his voice the next time he speaks, you don't want to think about it.
“I wish I didn't. Now it's too late to do something about it, huh?”
This time the rage comes back with a mask on. Feing settlement for all the what if’s covers you like a blanket on a really hot summer night: unwanted, unnecessary.
But you can't sleep without it, so you do nothing to push it away.
“I guess it is.”
You get up from the floor, leaving the room and wiping your face with bitterness coating your movements as you wait by the door for him to get out.
When he does and he steps in front of you, you extend the bag and he takes it without missing a beat.
Voice robotic and words premeditated, you open the front door for him “Thanks for walking me home and taking this back.”
He leans a little into your space and you don't move away. But just as he did in highschool, he takes in your hitched breath and does nothing more.
“Thanks for letting me talk to you.”
He didn't give you much of a choice there but it's okay. This is closure, this is the end of your story with Choi San and you convince yourself you're glad that it is.
“Sure,” you whisper back and he steps outside, turning around to watch you slowly close the door “goodnight, San.”
He doesn't say it back.
When the darkness of your apartment engulfs you, that's when you let yourself breakdown. Covering your mouth with your palm, you descend until your knees are against the wood on the floor and closing your eyes you make it a point to let it all out.
You'll let it all out, drink some water, text Wooyoung and Gyuri to let them know you're safe and go to bed.
And tomorrow you'll begin your day with the freedom of finally knowing what would've happened if you or San ever took the next step.
This is fine. This is moving on. This is—
The doorbell rings.
Opening the door again, you crease your eyebrows in a silent question that San doesn't care to answer, so you look around the floor in case he forgot something you're missing. You wipe your cheeks and under your eyes as you turn to him again “Did you—”
Time slows down when he makes it past the threshold and you can't move an inch, gaping at who you once thought was the love of your life “What are you doing, San?”
“Something about it.”
“What?”
“Forgive me,” he asks, breathless and in a murmur, fueling your confusion. And then he's closing the distance, dropping Gyuri’s bag and cupping your face so gently that it hurts “but I'm doing something about it.”
You stopped dreaming about the possibility of San kissing you that one time you two were on your bed and, another time, you told yourself that, if it ever happened, you wouldn't kiss him back.
It's too late to kiss him back.
But sparks fly when he crushes you against the wall and takes in a breath before slothing his mouth against yours like he's been waiting to do this every single day for the past nine years you've known each other.
There's nothing you can do to conceal the way yearning takes over you, pours out of you, making you breathe into his open mouth and kiss him back like you always wanted to.
You already know it is a mistake by the time you grab his shirt to keep him in place but does it really matter when this is all you ever wanted?
Feeling warmth leave your face, you notice the way he desperately crowds your space as his chest bumps into yours, leg claiming its place in between yours, the palm that leaves you pressing against the wall, next to your head.
The kiss is filled with emotion, with longing and desire and it steals the air out of your lungs tragically and beautifully at the same time. Before, you used to dream about his lips making everything feel right, making you fit in in a world you didn't feel like you belonged to.
But this kiss drops you into uncharted territory, drags you into the depths of something that should be buried by now, after all this time. It brings the flame back to life and it's dangerous.
The fact that it feels this way, both marvelous and catastrophic at the same time, makes you so sad.
Sorrow descends down your face until your mouth is picking it up and your tongue is mixing it with whatever emotion is cruising through San right now.
You have to know.
He spent your entire youth and early adulthood keeping it to himself, knowing when to show his true colors and when to hide them, choosing who to do it with and you realize the San that lives in your head is nothing but a figment of what you wanted him to be.
Because him holding to your waist like it's his only lifeline doesn't fit the San you remember, him telling you he liked you back then doesn't fit the guy who was just your best friend.
You need to know.
“San,” brokenly, you speak into his mouth and he pulls away just enough to see your face. Your eyes remain closed, your chest heaving and your lips trembling “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I want you, Y/N.”
You push him away, weakly, almost like you don't really mean it because deep down you don't but he steps away like you're asking to.
Because, of course, your mind scraps the bottom of your resentment to give his words a completely new meaning.
“You can find another girl to fuck and be your rebound, San,” more tears spill down and you wipe them away in anger but more threat to fall down so you cover your face with your hands and groan, desperate “I can't do this, especially not when I know that you know how bad I wanted you. Y-you know what you do to me San so stop—”
“I want you in my life. I don't— What? I don't want you like a rebound, I… Can we sit down and turn on a light so I can look at you when I say this?”
His words should be reassuring but they're not, the way you tend to feel unlovable around him coming up to the surface, preventing you from thinking clearly.
You can also feel his lips on yours still. It's dizzying but you manage to push yourself off the wall and pad around until you hit the switch of the warm light lamp near the couch and the apartment comes to life just like that.
He takes in the space he's never seen before, walking slowly towards the living room and looking over the bookshelf that screams your name all over it. He smiles a bit as he looks over the book titles and you look away before your heart starts acting up again.
You can't stay mad at him for long if he's looking through something so personal to you and smiling that fondly at it. It feels even more intimate than the kiss you two just shared.
Wiping your cheeks once more, you are sure you look a mess but he doesn't seem to mind it once he comes into your point of view, sitting down on the couch, in front of your standing form. He grabs you by your hands until you're sitting next to him, close to him, cologne intoxicating your senses.
“I told you I liked you when we were in highschool, right?”
You nod.
“You seemed surprised but it was dark so I'm not really sure. I thought you knew, everyone knew.”
Oh, he's a comedian.
“How would I have known, San? I… Yeri told me you liked me one time, in senior year, but I denied it. Then, my mom told me you seemed to want me in a non-platonic way and I dismissed her as well,” you take in a deep, shaky breath “For me, the thought of you liking me just didn't make sense. You loved Arin and she's… She doesn't look or act like I did back then at all, so how would I have known?”
You didn't need clues and puzzles and what if’s, you needed words and actions that weren't confusing. You needed him to tell you back then, because telling you right now and kissing you senseless after he broke up with a girl he supposedly was very in love with means nothing but pain.
“I didn't realize you liked me too,” you make a face, about to tell him off, but he interrupts “I didn't! I thought you liked Yeri and I thought you saw me as the annoying guy who wouldn't leave you alone. I only just realized it a couple years ago, because Woo told me.”
You raise your eyebrows and mutter under your breath “I'm murdering him tomorrow.”
The corner of his lips twitch before he shakes his head in dismissal of what you said “I liked you. I really, really liked you and never told a soul because… Well, it's scary when you fall in love, right?”
“San, you had no problem telling Arin, Minseo or Kyungmi that you liked them.”
He looks down to the floor, lost in thought and you want to open your mouth to take what you just said into a new direction, but you don't “Maybe that's because I didn't love them the way I love you.”
Oh.
Love you? As in… He loves you right now too?
No way.
“You didn't love me, San. You don't love me right now either, you… Maybe we both were in love with the idea of love? Maybe that's what happened and—”
“Quit telling me what I'm feeling, Y/N. You always do that, you always assume you know what I'm feeling but you don't!”
Raising your voice a little more, you try to get your point across in the worst way possible: by being stubborn “You don't know me! How can you possibly—”
“I knew you back then, Y/N! And I loved you back then, too!” He looks like wants to say something more but he doesn't, instead, he takes a calming breath and then leans into your space for the third time tonight “And I might not know you now but I want to. That's what I meant when I said that I want you. I want you in my life, I want to know the person you became when we stopped talking, I want to talk to you every single day and I want to hold you and kiss you and be by your side however you want me to, I just… I can't lose you again.”
His confession renders you speechless and you notice his chest is heaving, going up and down in sync with yours.
But the way he pulled away from you senior year still hurts, it paints a picture of what's going to happen if you accept this.
You can't believe his words.
He must feel lonely and confused, like he did when Arin broke up with him. He must be looking for a shelter you can't provide.
“And when you find another girl that's more to your liking? What then, San?”
“There's no one that I love more than you, Y/N and I'm sorry I was shit at proving it back then and I'm sorry that it took so many years for me to come to my senses.”
He's tearing up and your heart pangs absurdly loud at that.
“I saw you with Seonghwa earlier today, laughing and dancing and flirting and I thought: Oh, maybe if I didn't waste that much time pretending I'm someone I'm not, that would be me.”
You stare for a second, you watch a single tear drop down his cheek and then look away.
“Is that what you were doing? Is that why you pulled away?”
“Maybe?” he offers and you turn to him again. Is not enough and maybe he can see it in your expression, because he goes on “I mean, I… I thought I wanted Arin. I thought I wanted Minseo. I had people in my life who were really happy to see me with them and I just…”
“Wanted to keep them happy,” you nod, understanding. He doesn't have to say his mothers name for you to know he's referring to her and maybe his other highschool friends outside of Wooyoung “Were you pretending with me as well?”
“No,” he answers right away “You and Woo were the only ones who saw me for who I really was back then.”
“And why do you think you love me now, San?” you ask, deflating against the couch and ignoring the way your heart soars at his quick response.
“Because I never stopped,” he stammers out and then clears his throat “Because I looked for you in Minseo and Kyungmi and I wondered for years why they couldn't make me feel the same way. And I told myself I didn't need to feel the same way and that I deserved to wonder for the rest of my days but seeing you tonight? I can't.”
Straightening your spine, the pained look you sent in his direction is not intentional but it prompts him to lean closer and closer until he's cupping your cheek again.
“I can't keep wondering.” His voice is a sweet whisper, a siren song that draws you in until your forehead is resting against his.
All these years, you were so self-focused on changing to a better version of who he used to know, learning from your mistakes and closing off to the opportunity of letting him prove himself a better man, you forgot that time passed for him too. He’s telling you he changed, too.
Imagination is a safe space. Is where you hide, where desire can take its wings and fly high without hurting you too much. Make belief has rescued you before but this? The way his nose nuzzles softly into yours and your breaths tangle? This is very real. And reality is prone to hurt you.
But the want you feel is undeniable. The way your entire being wants to cave in and give him an opportunity is suffocating, it makes you choke out a sob that he follows with one of his own.
You kiss him, softly at the beginning, but his hands on you tighten and you let yourself get lost in the way they go down your neck and your arms, caressing you softly until they reach your waist and pull you into his lap.
Pulling away, you grab his chin with two fingers and force his teary eyes to snap open, searching for an answer on yours.
“If you hurt me,” you start, breathless “If you're mocking me, if you're using me to get over Kyungmi, if you are pulling me back in to break my heart again, Choi San, I swear to God I will kill you.”
“I won't do that to you ever again, Y/N,” he returns softly “I love you, I'm sorry if I ever hurt you but I love you.”
Others would argue that it is pathetic how quickly you forgive him. But then again, you could never be mad at San.
You were only mad at yourself for how everything turned out.
“I love you too, Sannie.”
Saying something never felt so freeing before.
“Oh, Y/N…” you can see the way relief washes his worries away “Y/N…” he starts to say but then leans in to kiss you again and never finishes his words.
You don't mind it.
Pouring out all the pent up affection you pretended to bury for years, you explore his mouth and carve into your memory the way he feels. The way he sighs into it when your tongue brushes his, the way he pulls you in closer when your fingers reach the nape of his neck and pull on his hair there, hands splayed on your back so he can keep you in place as he leans down and places you against the worn out couch.
He maps you out, hands going down your waist in a familiar feeling that brings back that memory of you two laying down on your bed. Only this time, he's actually touching you with a purpose. This time, you two have made up your minds and your limbs are tangled in a way you can feel all of him pressing up against you.
It starts to get stuffy, the space on the couch not nearly enough to have him the way you want to. Soon, you're both standing up, mouths still moving against each other and hands roaming everywhere until you're undoing the buttons on his shirt.
He pulls away to fully take it off, eyes never leaving yours, dropping the shirt to the ground, next to the couch and then he's on you again, making your back crash into the wall as he works the knots keeping your blouse together.
He walks you through the hall, stopping only to take your top off and then he's walking you to a room that has a familiar scent that doesn't belong to you.
“Wrong room, wrong room,” you say into his lips and he laughs, looking to your surroundings “Mine’s over there.” you point to the other end of the hall, taking his hand and pulling him towards it.
You don't make it far before he's yanking you towards him again. He looks down, taking your body in and you do the same, his firm and defined stomach a sight you never thought you would be able to see.
“You're so beautiful,” he whispers, backing you against the wall again and kissing your cheek “So, so beautiful.”
Turning your head to chase his mouth, he lets out a heavy sigh when his lips trail a path to your neck and murmurs against the skin there “I never told you how beautiful I found you before but you're so perfect, baby.”
“I always thought I wasn't your type, San,” you let out a noise when he grabs your hips and pulls you forward, crashing his into yours “Fuck.”
“And I always thought you were too much for me, too smart,” he kisses his way back up, focusing on your jaw and chin until he's kissing your cheek again “too pretty,” he moves to your ear, pecking right under it and you hold him closer “too good for me.”
It doesn't really matter that this is all new to you, the way he's speaking, the tenor of his voice, the things he's saying… It sparks something familiar in you. You're pulling his hair back to make him look at you, a moan slipping out of his lips at that.
You want to hear it again.
He's smiling at your reaction, hand tightening on his locks.
However, that smile drops when he seems to recognize the gleam in your eyes.
You gather up courage, feeling empowered by the way his hooded eyes darken but wait patiently for you to speak your mind.
“Maybe I'm too good for you now, too,” you lean in, your lips softly tracing his “Maybe you should prove to me that you deserve me, San.”
It's a dare. One that he seems to like a lot because his eyes sparkle with the same fire they used to back in the day.
“Oh, I'll prove it to you, alright.” He whispers, panting when you let go of his hair and he leans into you to kiss your lips briefly before pulling away again.
His hand tilts your head back and you rest it against the cold wall, his fingers touch your bottom lip before going down and down and down until they rest against the seam of your pants, unbuttoning them in one swift movement.
Going back up, his nails softly dig into your skin and you preen, taking the soft sting of his ministrations like you two have done this a million times before.
His mouth is on yours again, his hands are pulling you off the wall and into your room until you two land on your mattress, a moan spilling out of your lips when he sloths his knee in between your legs and pulls them apart with expertise.
You don't have the mind to break down what that means.
Opening your eyes when he kisses down your neck again, you notice your room is barely lit by the street lights outside, curtains pulled open and windows closed but, this way, you can see the way San kisses between your breasts and your belly, catching his eyes when he looks up to measure your reaction.
You sigh, already feeling some sort of build up going on down there and he hasn't even touched you properly yet.
You don't even want to think about how wet you actually are.
He leans back, open palms going down your legs slowly until they reach your feet. It tickles and you can't help but let out a giggle that he joins short after, his gaze never losing the edge because of it, though.
“San…”
He guides your hips up so he can take off your pants and you sigh when his hands return, raising your leg up “I missed your laugh,” he says low, attaching his lips to your calf “I miss being the one making you laugh too.”
You feel like crying again but then he's letting your leg down and grabbing the other one to give it the same treatment, so your tears can wait.
This time, he moves upwards till his mouth nears your clothed center and your breath hitches.
Yeah, you can definitely cry later.
“You want me to prove to you how much I want you, Y/N?” he murmurs, his lips ghosting your mound now “How much I love you?”
“San, p-please…”
“Fuck, look at you.” He sounds like he's too lost in the heat of the moment and you're kind of grateful, because the moan you let out when his fingers hook on your underwear and pull them to the side to expose your pussy to his hungry eyes is loud.
When he kisses you right where you need him, you let out another moan. And when he parts your folds to lick a stripe up to your clit, you curse him under your breath until he's laughing against you softly, the vibrations accumulating heat on your belly.
He doesn't tease you much longer and you look down at him just to catch the moment his self control slips, eating you out like a man starved while his hand stays on your hip to hold you down and keep you underwear from interrupting his feast.
“This is like,” he dives in again for a few seconds and you grab the sheets beneath you “All my fantasies coming to life but better.”
He's so chatty during this and the only thing you can do is stammer a yeah? and pray for it to reach his ears.
“Mhm,” He circles your clit with the tip of his tongue and your legs shake “It tastes even better than what I dreamed, too.”
The heat of his mouth leaves you, lips spreading your wetness through your stomach until he fully reaches your face, your eyes closed and lips already waiting for him.
Tongue caressing yours, your hands trail down his torso and focus on getting his pants off. You're shaking with excitement so it proves to be more difficult than you imagined at first but he helps you in unbuckling his belt.
Once the piece of clothing is on the floor (or the bed, you're not really paying attention to where it lands), you don't waste time in feeling him up through his boxers.
The hiss you get in return makes you smile.
Bringing your lips to his neck, you suckle on this pulse point and gain another pleased noise before grazing your teeth against skin and moving to his collarbone next.
In a way, you get what he means. If he truly was pining over you the way you were pining over him, the thought of exploring his tan skin and making him moan feels like a dream.
So you kiss him again in order to make it all last longer.
The minutes pass between the both of you, softly making out and figuring out what gets both of you going, discarding your underwear in the process.
You realize your moans make San’s cock twitch against your leg and he seems to notice the way your hips buck up everytime his hands handle you more roughly.
After a few minutes of just this, you feel his hand making its way down again and the pads of his fingers circle your clit until you're grasping the sheets again. He gathers your arousal and then enters one finger slowly and when it slides in and out with ease, he enters the next one.
There's really not much prepping he needs to do, already soft and compliant under him, you relax into his comfortable touch before you're aching for something else. And your mouth is preoccupied with his, so you do something else to catch his attention.
Hands caressing his back, you let them drop to his ass with a soft smack that wins you a soft huff on amusement and then a whine when you move his hips towards yours.
“Condom?”
You shake your head “I'm clean and I have an implant.”
“Oh?” he smirks, about to tease you but you squeeze his butt again and he moans “Fuck. I'm clean too.”
“Good,” you whisper against his cheek, laughing as he arranges his position.
And he might've been touching you all this time, kissing you until your mind emptied and your lips are all swollen up, but the look on his eyes when he slowly enters you is what might drive you over the edge.
Grabbing your hands, he pins them on the side of your head as he moves, dropping his head down with a groan as you take him in, nose touching yours and moth whispering sweet things you can't quite pick up.
He feels so good.
This all feels way too good to be real.
In the cloud you're at, you allow yourself to dream a little more before the reality of what your confessions mean dawns on you.
For now, you allow San to make love to you. Sweetly, slowly and with a passion you never were lucky enough to encounter before.
Maybe it's because your previous lovers didn't have your heart the way San does.
He rams his hips into yours hard, closing his eyes and resting his warm cheek against yours, kissing your face inch by inch when you accompany his movements with your own.
When his pace picks up, you hug him close and secure your legs around his hips as you moan.
“Y-yes, fuck.”
“Like that?” he repeats the movement from before, pulling out and then in with such force it rocks the entire bed.
“Just like that, baby, fuck.”
“God, you sound so good,” you smile a little, forehead resting on his shoulder before your head falls down against your pillow again “I love you,” he repeats against your lips, letting your hands go to cup your face with both of his again “I love you so much.”
Teetering over the edge, you feel happy tears stinging in your eyes. Though closed, you can feel San’s stare on you, on your face, on the way you react to his sweet words and relentless pace.
You say it back in a whisper and he repeats it again and again and again until you're both coming and tears are spilling down your cheeks.
He kisses them away.
You wipe his with trembling fingers as you come down, having trouble breathing from everything that just happened.
You don't feel suffocated anymore, you feel like you've been freed. Like this was supposed to happen at some point and you two finally got around to it.
“I love you,” he says once more before slipping out of you with a parting kiss.
Holy shit.
When San gets up from the bed and you point him to the bathroom, down the hallway, you're left with a sticky mess in between your legs and a lot to think about but you settle on four things.
San just made love to you. There's no way that was just sex.
There's also no way you're coming back from this.
Gyuri is probably going to kill you.
And that, obviously, your feelings for San never left. You feel the familiar warmth of them spreading through your post-orgasmic state. They're there, mocking you, asking you who the fuck you thought you were for pushing them away.
He returns, toilet paper in his hands before leaning in and cleaning you up, lips immediately finding home on your skin as he does.
You both giggle at that.
You probably need to shower but you've been crying and there's no way you're leaving this bed tonight. He throws the paper away on your bedroom’s trashcan and then crashes into the bed next to you, still naked, still looking at you with so much love you're wondering what stopped you from seeing it was there before.
Taking his hand, you bring it to his lip and give his knuckles a peck “That was really good.”
“It was.”
“I can't believe we actually just did that…”
He smiles and what he says next shocks you even more than his confession “I want to take you out.”
“San… You just came inside me not even ten minutes ago.”
“And?” you laugh and he shakes his head, leaning into your space again “I spent many years doing everything wrong, let me do it the right way.”
“Making love to me one time and then taking me out on a date is not the right way, sir.”
He nuzzles your cheek with his nose and you let out a pleased sigh “Who said it was just one time, huh?” Attacking your neck with his lips again, you push him away with a laugh.
“Oh, come on!”
He laughs as well “Give me ten minutes and I'll make it two!”
San makes love to you two more times. And by four in the morning, you're snuggled into his arms and sleeping soundly.
When you wake up and find the space next to you empty, you think it was all a dream. Your naked form begs to differ and you quickly put the t-shirt you usually wear to bed on and your panties underneath it to go out and face the feelings of your actions fighting with the blender in the kitchen.
“How do you two live with this stupid thing?”
“We don't,” you answer, startling him “We don't use it. What are you trying to make?”
San’s shirtless, wearing his pants and his hair messy. Looking back at the living room clock, you see it's just five past ten.
Smiling as he approaches you, you forget you must look a mess too when he pecks your lips and barely pulls away “Good morning, beautiful.”
You pretend to cringe at that, pulling away “Oh, God. Morning, dumbass.”
“You like it, you're blushing,” he points out and the pink on your cheek deepens as he's going back to the blender “Does anything work here?”
“The microwave,” you shrug “And the stove. Were you trying to make yourself a…” you look over the ingredients he has pulled out of your fridge “Green juice?”
“I was trying to make both of us a green juice,” he corrects and your heart skips at the immediate domestic attitude he has with you “But now I can tell neither of you drink anything like it, hm? I'm buying you a blender.”
“Please don't.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think that one is broken?”
He hums, huffing out a laugh seconds later and you walk over to him, unsure on how to approach him even though what you did yesterday night and earlier this morning didn't allow your shyness to step in.
Now you're feeling it.
He can tell, because he stops fighting with the steel appliances to grab your waist and pull you close “I wanted to make you breakfast.”
“We can make breakfast together and I can order your green juice,” you compromise and he nods, but he doesn't let you go “And later we can go out on that date you promised me yesterday and we can go over what we're going to tell the two idiots.”
His smile drops.
“Oh, fuck.”
Grimacing, you nod “It was the second thing I thought about after waking up.”
“What was the first?”
“Oh, I was trying to remember if you ever asked me to dance before,” he nods with a smile “Guess what? You didn't.”
He fake gasps at that “I did!”
“No, you didn't!”
“Babe, yes I did,” he insists and you laugh, which prompts him to wrap his hands around you tighter when you try to get away from him “It was when—”
“Oh. My. God. I'm going to be sick again.”
Now when the fuck did Gyuri come back.
And why is Wooyoung with her too, jaw slack as he watches both of you pull away from each other and create a safe distance that doesn't help whatever your best friends just saw.
“It worked?” he asks and you can barely hear him until he hollers like a crazy person “Oh, it worked! I am a genius!”
“Wooyoung, hold me! I'm going to kill them!” Gyuri looks like she's about to launch towards you at any second now, so you close your eyes and accept your fate. But nothing happens “Wait— What worked?”
When you open them again, San is hiding behind you and Gyuri’s back is to both of you as she looks at Wooyoung with, what you assume, murderous intentions.
“Gyuri, let's talk about this,” the black haired guy puts his hands up “You were too drunk to discuss it so I made the choice of— Gyuri, no!”
You burst into laughter when she starts chasing him around the apartment and San giggles as well, only more nervous than delighted by their little cat and mouse game.
He's probably sensing he's next on her hit list.
As if you would let anything happen to him in the first place.
“Stop, stop! I'm sorry, please leave me alone!” you hear Wooyoung’s voice echoing through your hall and in a second he's entering the kitchen, rounding you and San “I'm so happy for you guys, really, this was meant to happ— Stop!” He cries when Gyur catches onto him and yanks his hair to stop him from running.
“Y/N,” she starts, chest heaving and you take a step back, crashing into San’s chest. He holds onto you only to push you a little and protect himself from the fury of your best friend “When I told you fuck him I didn't meant this!”
“I know.”
Wooyoung whines but he can't get away from her grasp so he just accepts it and pouts like a child.
“A-and you!” She points towards the guy resting his chin on your shoulder “How dare you! If this is something casual for you then—”
“I love her.” He defends himself quickly and your heart all but stops at that.
“You do?” Wooyoung coos, amazed at his best friend’s confession.
Gyuri's anger falters at that.
“You… You do?”
“And I love him,” you let out in a shy whisper, smiling a bit “But you already knew that.”
“Of course I already knew that, bitch, I am your other half,” she makes a point to stare at San as she says it, letting Wooyoung go and he massages the part of his scalp that was targeted by his ex “Don't forget that.”
“Y-yes ma'am.”
You laugh again and Woo joins the embrace, eyeing you both expectantly and rolling his eyes when neither of you say anything to him “Well, you are so welcome guys. What are we having for breakfast?”
You and San don't get to go out on that date.
But when you do, he asks you to be his girlfriend the next day.
And when you say yes he almost breaks down in excited tears.
Eventually, even Gyuri comes around and threatens him into treating you right, which means he earned her seal of approval.
You delete the document on your laptop when you find it a month into being his girlfriend and, instead, start drafting your new beginning on it, in first person this time because the story doesn't feel like it belongs to someone else now.
The first line read as it follows:
How did I ever think San and I could be just friends?
If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!
trope/au » established relationship au, non-idol au
genre » very fluffy, falling asleep during studying and boyfriend san who is worried for you because you don't take the greatest care of yourself, (it really was supposed to be fluff all through the end) turns suggestive towards the last quarter of the story, reader is a bit playful, san is very in love with you, of course you are super in love with him too
word count; estimated reading time » 1032; ~4 mins
warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » quite suggestive at the end, indeed...a suggestive sentence at the very end, san lifts the reader up, reader wears glasses, reader implied to be smaller than san, san restrains reader's hands, pet names (bubs, baby girl)
navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist 🤍 the boyz lee juyeon ver.
my ateez debut! here it is @jaehunnyy !! i really wanted to post smth for your bday so please take this as a late bday present 😭 thanks for proofreading a bit of this one and finding the pictures for the banners 🥰 you saved me a bunch of tears fr 😀 have fun with the second one (even though it's the same...😭)
It’s not an unusual occurrence for you to be staying up late at night and for San to find you draped over your books and worksheets when he gets home. In fact, it’s becoming such a usual occurrence that San is making it a habit to open the front door with such gentleness that the click of the door opening would be too loud for his liking. In reality, your study desk at your shared apartment is quite a distance from the entrance of the apartment, so if San wanted to, he could enter in the same way as if you were awake.
But he didn’t want to.
In the rare case that you decide to snooze off on the couch, he doesn’t want to be the one to ruin your precious, peaceful sleeping time. Unfortunately for him, he would still be needing to do it one way or another if he ever finds you asleep on the couch or anywhere but your shared bed. The victorious smile from closing the front door quietly soon turns upside down, frowning at the sight of your head lying on your stack of handouts in the study room. The stack acted as your pillow, your arms around the rectangular pile. You look like you have been resting your body for some time now, given that San’s soft head pat didn’t faze you at all. With a slightly heavy sigh, San makes his way to the other side of the desk to get a better look at your face. He kneels on the floor, content with being more at eye level with you.
He’s surprised to see that you must’ve been so exhausted that taking your glasses off might have been too much effort for you. The side frame completely rests on the paper, the nose pad of the glasses no longer resting properly on your nose. San hisses at how the hard plastic pushes against your nose, already imagining the pain when you wake up and realise tomorrow.
“Bubs,” he tests your consciousness with a whisper. “Your whole body is going to hurt when you wake up, you know?” Your breathing is still as even as before, and the no response from you deepens his frown. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to move you, okay?”
San rises to his feet once again, grabbing the blanket drapped on your study desk that he has prepared. He’s told you multiple times to at least cover your body if you don’t plan to take a nap on the bed, but he should have known that when tiredness kicks in, all a person wants to do is to close their eyes. San spreads the light cotton across your back, kissing the side of your head and humming sweet melodies to avoid surprising you too much with his movement.
“San?” You slur sleepily, still unable to fully wake up. San clicks your desk light off and soon sees your content smile at his little gesture. “When did you get home?”
“Just a few seconds ago. When did you fall asleep?”
“Just a few minutes ago.” A raised eyebrow from your boyfriend is what prompts you to tell him the truth. “A little longer than that.”
San tuts disapprovingly, “You can’t keep slouching off on the table. It’s not good for your body. And this,” he takes your glasses off by the hinges, “it’s not comfortable for you.”
You hum at his loving lecture for you, beginning to straighten your back from the long nap. Truthfully, if San weren’t beside you right now, you would be sending complaints to your past self for dozing off at the table, your back cramping and sore. But Choi San knows you too well, and the creases between your eyebrows tell him everything.
“See?” He reprimands.
You’re not given another chance to rebut when he swivels the chair around for you to face him. In a second, you’re in his arms, the back of your knee and back supported securely with his arms, and your shoulder pressed against his chest. San looks down at you, pressing a quick kiss on your forehead that you respond to by pressing yours along his jawline. Along the short walk to the adjacent room, you plant kisses all over his face, giggling at the way his cheeks grow red with every second.
Just a few seconds before San would rest you gently on the mattress, you steal a kiss from his plump lips, arms wrapped around his nape and threading your fingers into the strands of his hair. San almost stumbles but soon regains balance when he registers the way you delicately take his lips. Along with the giggles and fabric rustling against each other in the small room, it’s not long until your head properly lays on a pillow. San doesn’t let you breathe after, climbing on top of your figure with his palms beside your head to support himself. His knees sink to the mattress beside your thighs, and you’re left breathless with the man before you. The remnants of his cologne are clearer now, and the proximity leaves you curling up a side of your lips.
Your boyfriend knows the meaning of your expression well from experience. “Don’t rile me up, baby girl…”
Just like he did a second ago, your eyebrow rises. Your pointer traces along the center of his exposed neck, feeling the gulp and his intense stare on you. You glide across his skin, tracing along his collarbones slowly, making sure that your touch lingers on his skin. When your finger slides down to the neckline of his fabric, it curls around his shirt to pull his tense expression closer to you. A quick touch of your lips is all you spare him before regaining eye contact with him.
“And if I do?”
Those words are enough for San to lose control, pulling the sheets to his palms as he fists them tightly. One hand leaves the bed, restraining both your wrists under his hold above your head. He dives closer to the crook of your neck, ragged breathing and warm breath against your skin.
“I’ll make sure you’ll sleep peacefully for days.”
navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist 🤍 the boyz lee juyeon ver.
