written on your bedroom wall // minbin (minho/changbin) // oneshot // hard 18+
❄ part of yuki’s favourites! ❄
pairing: lee minho x seo changbin
rating: explicit! 18+
warnings/tags: pxrn with plot, established relationship, first time, trans male character, trans Lee Minho | Lee Know, idiots in love, gender dysphoria (only a little bit of dysphoria), holding hands, pegging, oral sex, awkward sexual humour, tongue piercings .
word count: 5,2k
also on AO3!
originally posted: 21 november 2022
It had been weeks, if not months, that Minho spent preparing everything down to the last detail. Tonight was the first time he was going to completely bare himself to his long-term boyfriend, Changbin.
Tonight was the first time that Minho was going to fuck like a man, as long as his nerves didn't get the better of him.
disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.
Minho paced the bedroom floor as he waited for his boyfriend to finish showering. His nerves made his palms sweat, and he was running out of fingernails to anxiously chew off. He had already spent the past few hours making sure he was groomed and the toys he wanted to use were cleaned and immaculately laid out on the desk.
This was the first time he had slept with anyone since he’d started hormone therapy, and he was nervous that Changbin was going to be turned off as soon as he was between his legs. “God,” Minho exhaled forcefully and stopped in front of his desk, staring down at the harness he never thought he would finally use. He chewed on his bottom lip while he ran his fingers over the collection of realistic silicone dildos that he hoped wouldn’t scare Changbin off. There was his favourite purple one, too, in case the other ones looked too “real” for someone who had never slept with a man before.
A man.
Minho rolled his eyes at himself, trying to ignore the wash of dysphoria bubbling up underneath his skin. He let a scoff escape his lips and he leaned onto the desk, overwhelmed with how nervous he was. They had planned tonight out a couple weeks in advance, talking through every potential action they were and weren’t interested in — just in case, of course.
“Babe?” Changbin’s voice was soft, almost as soft as the hand placed on the small of Minho’s back. “You sure you’re up for this?”
A squeaky, weak affirmation rumbled in Minho’s throat and he shakily nodded his head. He leaned back into Changbin’s touch, thankful that the lights were low so the uneasy look on his face was concealed. Minho tucked his chin into his chest as he took in a deep breath. He threw his head back against Changbin’s shoulder and sighed, reaching his hands around to grab his boyfriend’s hands and brought them around his waist.
“I’ll be okay,” Minho licked his lips as he looked up at Changbin, “I just don’t want you to be weirded out by any of this.”
Changbin’s lips curled up and he chuckled to himself, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to Minho’s forehead. He interlaced his fingers with Minho’s and hummed pleasantly. “I trust you with your collection, so if you trust me with going down on you, I think we’ll be okay.”
Minho pressed his thighs together on impulse, his stomach burning at the thought of seeing Changbin between his legs, sucking him off with his eager mouth. “It’s gonna be different than—”
“Minho, babe,” Changbin cut him off, pulling his head back with a grin on his face, “you’ve told me. I’m ready to do whatever you want me to, like, you should feel how excited I am to get my tongue on your dick.”
The little affirmation to Minho’s ego made him swallow hard. He arched his back and pressed his ass right up into Changbin’s crotch, grinning as he felt the length against him. “You’re awfully excited for someone that’s never sucked a single cock in your life.”
“It’s you, though.” Changbin giggled and leaned forward to nibble at Minho’s neck. He swiped his tongue up the side of his neck, the ball of his tongue piercing against his flesh made him gasp. “I’ll do anything to make you happy, babe. I’m gonna make sure that happens when I’m between those nice thick legs of yours.”
Minho leaned forward and grabbed a bottle of lube off of the desk and presented it in front of Changbin, nibbling at his bottom lip while he waited for the right words to surface. He tipped his head down, nervously looking up to his boyfriend. “I think I’m ready.”
The grin on Changbin’s face grew wider, and he grabbed Minho by the hips. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Minho flatly stated with a nod and stepped back. He grabbed Changbin’s hand and walked them around to the edge of their shared bed. With a shaky breath, he sat down on the bed and looked up at Changbin, his hands moved down past the hem of his oversized hoodie to the waistband of his joggers. “Do you want me to take this off or do you want—”
Changbin eagerly nodded and dropped to his knees in front of Minho on the floor. “Can I? Pretty please?”
A blush crept up on Minho’ face at the sight, unaware of how much he liked seeing Changbin this excited to drop to his knees to please him. “Y-yeah,” he sighed and dropped to his elbows, relaxing just enough to see Changbin strip him, “I trust you.”
Changbin was quick to tug at the strings of Minho’s sweatpants, even faster to pull them off by the waistband. The moment Minho’s flesh was exposed to the cool air, he pressed his thighs together and screwed his eyelids shut in embarrassment. Insecure thoughts bubbled up, knowing that Changbin could see the one thing that he hadn’t been comfortable with until years of testosterone had made him look a little more masculine. Even though they had been together for over a year at this point, Minho still couldn’t bring himself to ever let his boyfriend see what was his biggest fear.
The silence made the anxiety inside of Minho swell. He could feel Changbin’s eyes on his skin, his boyfriend’s hands gingerly reaching up his thighs, crawling up them to the trimmed tuft of hair between his legs. Minho couldn’t stop running his teeth over his bottom lip, willing himself to relax his muscles to part his legs.
“Minho,” Changbin practically whined, “I wanna get in between your legs, wanna suck you off so bad.” He grabbed Minho’s leg and pressed his hips up against it, his erection prominent against the muscle. “Babe, you’re gonna make a mess out of me before you even get inside of me.”
Minho whimpered as he lifted his head, looking down at Changbin. “Too bad I’m not gonna let you come until you’ve earned it.”
The younger man’s eyes went wide, swallowing audibly as he stared up at his boyfriend. “I’ll earn it, hyung, I promise.”
Finally, Minho laid fully back and spread his legs apart, nervously grabbing at the hem of his hoodie. He pulled it up a bit, exposing his toned stomach. “Prove it. Please, please, please get my cock in that pretty little mouth of yours and show me what you can do.”
Changbin wasted no time leaning in. Minho felt the metal rings on either side of his bottom lip rub up against his swollen skin, gasping at the first graze of his boyfriend’s tongue on his dick. The first swipes of his tongue made Minho mewl, each circle making his body twitch. It was a strange, familiar sensation made somehow more intense than he remembered.
“You taste so good, hyung.” In between swipes of his tongue, Changbin desperately panted out eager praise with a weak voice. He growled as he licked and sucked at the tender flesh in front of his face, continuing to eagerly and loudly roll his tongue in circles, the ball of the piercing making his head spin.
The perverse noises made Minho’s stomach flip, and he finally garnered enough courage to peek at Changbin for just a moment. In the split second Minho saw Changbin, the image of his boyfriend losing himself as he ravaged his way between his legs seared into his mind. The sight emboldened Minho enough to watch a bit longer, potential dysphoria be damned.
Changbin swirled his tongue around a few more times, the ball of his tongue ring occasionally brushing up against the sensitive skin in all of the right ways. After the nth swipe, he looked up and stared at Minho, freezing for just a moment. “Are you okay, babe? Need me to stop?”
Minho hissed as he propped himself up on his elbows. He sat partially upright, and reached down to grab Changbin’s hair. “Please,” he quietly groaned, firmly tugging at his boyfriend’s hair, “if you don’t make me come soon, I will ruin you.” Before Changbin could respond, Minho roughly pushed him further in between his legs, causing the younger man to whine and moan against his skin.
Every tongue flick made Minho reel. He kept his hand in Changbin’s hair and was involuntarily rolling his hips into each lick and suck that was impressed into his flesh. “Fucking hell,” he groaned, thankful that their bedroom was a corner unit so their neighbours couldn’t hear the filthy noises they were making, “I can’t believe you’ve never sucked dick, yet you’re working me up like you’re an experienced, cheap whore.”
The insult made Changbin pull away from Minho abruptly with a sharp cry. He looked up at his boyfriend with teary eyes, his face shimmering in saliva. “God, babe,” he whined, “I seriously feel like I’m about to explode.”
Minho cocked his head to the side and let his hand drop down to Changbin’s cheek. “Then take a breath. I told you that I wasn’t gonna let you come for a while, didn’t I?”
Changbin pouted in response, leaning into Minho’s touch. “Am I at least doing okay, hyung?”
“It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” Minho softly smiled, then returned his grasp to Changbin’s hair, guiding him back down between his legs. “Now, back to work with you. I can’t wait to come all over that pretty face of yours and then make your ass mine.”
As soon as Changbin went back to eagerly lapping him up, Minho laid back and wrapped his legs around his boyfriend’s shoulders. In between languid swipes of his tongue, Changbin offered a few nips to Minho’s inner legs, his hands circling around the older man’s fleshy thighs. He pulled back just enough for his warm breath to disappear from Minho’s skin.
“Can I use my fingers inside you or is that too… you know?”
It took a second for Minho to ground himself, the unintentional edging driving him mad. “You wanna fuck me with your fingers?”
Changbin weakly hummed. “If that’s okay.”
Minho lazily pointed towards where he thought Changbin put the lube and nodded. “It’s more than okay, you’re just gonna need some lube.”
The moment Minho heard the cap pop open, his stomach started to knot up. A wave of insecure, dysphoric thoughts tried to creep their way into his thoughts, but they were pushed away as soon as Changbin’s soft, sticky fingers were in between his legs, poking around his entrance.
“Didn’t you say you have a history of making a mess when you come like this?”
”Shit.” Minho flushed immediately, furrowing his brows in frustration as he realised his error of preparing for everything but this. “I didn’t grab a towel.”
A devious giggle came from Changbin as he slid his fingers inside of Minho, quelling the older man’s nervousness. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up, so just let go, hyung.”
Minho expected himself to curl up in embarrassment, but the sensation of having someone else’s fingers inside of him felt so foreign and unpredictable. It was a welcome distraction, enough to make him ignore the definite mess he would make when he came. Of course Changbin would clean it up — he had been looking forward to when Minho was finally going to be comfortable to be intimate, what was a little bit of cum going to do to someone so eager?
After two fingers were inside of Minho, rolling around and repeatedly curling up against the sensitive, firm muscle inside of him, he could feel warm breath on his skin. Changbin was waiting for some sort of approval to move forward, and Minho eagerly nodded, mumbling out some sort of incoherent pleading.
The combination of fingers inside of him with a hot, wet tongue working around his sensitive cock made him audibly gasp. He flexed his thighs together involuntarily, his back arching upward. Every small move that Changbin did brought him so much closer to coming, and the imminent release made Minho unravel further.
One lick, two circles. One suck, a firm come hither motion.
Minho wasn’t sure how it was happening, but his body started to jerk, his toes curling inward, and he was lifting himself off of the bed.
“Fuck,” he gasped, scrambling to grab at Changbin’s hair and failing, only to have his boyfriend’s free hand find him. They locked their fingers between the empty spaces and held on for dear life. “Changbin, fuck, I’m—”
Before Minho could register his orgasm, his body lurched forward and lifted up off of the bed, balancing mostly on Changbin’s shoulders. He could feel his vocal cords tense and vibrate as he shouted, and his legs were suddenly soaked with sweat and cum. It was impossible to steady his breathing for several moments, too taken aback by how much his muscles were aching and how drenched his skin was.
“Minho, babe,” Changbin’s voice was low and gritty, each syllable embraced by little gasps, “you completely soaked me. Look at how much you came.”
The older man was embarrassed before he even opened his eyes. “I’m sorry you’re going to have to shower again.” Minho slowly calmed his breathing, sleepily staring up at the spinning ceiling. “But on the plus side, I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life.”
“Hyung,” Changbin growled and stood up, crawling over Minho atop the bed, “I’m dripping in cum. My shirt is drenched.”
For a split second, Minho felt a little bad for how hard and how much he had came, but the look on Changbin’s face made it all worth it. “Good god,” he purred, “I’m keeping this look of yours locked away in my spank bank for when you’re away.”
Changbin licked his teeth and pulled his shirt off, tossing it over his shoulder. “I’d love to see you jerk off one of these days, you know. Spank bank content for spank bank content and all.”
“You’d think of me when you’re having a wank in the shower? I’m flattered.”
“And now I know what your cum tastes like. I’m going to be even more ravenous for you now than ever before.” Changbin hooked his thumbs into his sweats and pulled down, his cock springing free from the fabric with a thick string of precum rolling down from the head. “Look at what you’ve done to me, hyung. One wrong move and I’m gonna burst.”
Minho stared at the reddened top of Changbin’s cock and licked his lips. “Guess I’ll have to be extra cautious when I take that cherry of yours. I bet you’d look so pretty stuffed with some cock inside of you, hmm?”
The younger man nodded and crawled atop of Minho’s lap, eagerly leaning down to pepper excited kisses on his face. “I’m a little nervous. You’ll be good to me, right?”
A lilted giggle came from Minho as he pushed Changbin back a bit, grabbing fistfuls of his ass. “I’ll take things nice and slow, baby. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours and just relax, okay?” He pressed some deep, hasty kisses against his boyfriend’s lips as he lifted his hips and gently shifted Changbin’s weight to the bed. “Why don’t you work on getting all lubed up while I get ready?”
Changbin pouted while Minho pulled away, his hand earnestly trailing down to the bottle of lube that had found its way next to his thigh. “Hey,” he grabbed Minho's hand before he could totally get off of the bed, “do you want me to, like. look away while you get prepped? I’m not making this weird or anything, am I?”
The tender muscles in Minho’s stomach lit up with nerves, trying to oddly rile him up while still feeling nervous. “It’s not weird,” he bashfully admitted, eyeing the corner of the room as he turned away, “I don’t know if it’s going to be particularly enjoyable to watch, but you can if you wanna.” Why in the world would it be entertaining to watch someone shove a synthetic cock into a harness?
“Well, if you think it’s creepy if I watch or something, just tell me, okay?” Changbin licked his lips, the saliva accentuating the gentle grin he had on his face.
Minho playfully slapped the side of Changbin’s arm and lifted himself off the bed, shimmying over to the desk with his weak, jelly-like legs. “You’re kind of a perv, you know? I don’t think I’ve dated someone that’s this attentive and energetic — and I’ve fucked a lot of straight dudes.” He could feel Changbin staring at him as he grabbed the briefs he’d bought specifically for this occasion. When he stepped into the leg holes and slid them up his legs, his eyes locked onto the average-sized prosthetic he was most familiar with, and he knew that’s the one he would end up using.
The room was quiet while Minho grabbed the toy off of the desk and carefully tucked it into his underwear, right through the tightly stitched ring inside of it. He had practised this many times to feel like a natural at it by the time he and Changbin eventually slept together, but Minho could still feel his blood rushing inside of his head, scared that maybe his boyfriend did find this a little weird after all. Still, the silence continued, shifting from confused to intrigued.
“Can I see it yet?”
It was obvious that Changbin was trying to be patient but was miserably failing. Minho turned his head over his shoulder long enough to see Changbin stare at him. He turned his attention back to the silicone between his legs and deeply inhaled before working up the courage to turn around. This was the first time he was going to be seen as a man with a (mostly) functioning, (mostly) realistic-looking cock (as long as it wasn’t inspected too closely) — to a man born with a functioning, real, skin-and-literal-actual-balls cock, and he was nervous.
“I don’t,” Minho’s voice cracked as an interjection while he anxiously turned around fully, “I dunno if it’s anywhere near what you expected but—”
“That’s going inside of me?” Changbin sputtered out, lube-soaked fingers frozen, plunged halfway inside of his entrance. “Oh my god, that’s going inside of me.”
Minho took a moment to process the words coming from his boyfriend’s mouth. He couldn’t figure out if it was a positive or negative statement, standing in the middle of the floor perhaps a bit dumbly. “Not until you’ve been properly stretched, but yeah,” he nodded, his throat dry as he tried to form a coherent sentence, ”I’d like to fuck you until you go cross-eyed with this, if you’re into it.”
Changbin shifted his weight, scooting down the bed a bit until his head was nicely placed at the middle of his pillow. He shimmied his hips up a bit and nibbled at his lips while his fingers circled around his entrance. “I’m into it,” he nodded, his cock noticeably throbbing and leaking more than before, “I wanna watch you the whole time. How do you want me to lay here?”
For a moment, Minho’s mind went completely blank. When he bottomed with previous partners prior to transitioning, he usually faced away, burying his face as deeply into the pillow as he could stand. Thinking back on it made him realise that the easiest face-to-face interaction would probably require Changbin putting in all of the effort, which Minho didn’t expect. However, the fleeting mental image of watching Changbin lower himself onto his cock made Minho completely breathless.
“I think I want you to ride me?” Minho’s voice squeaked as he ended his statement with an upward inflection, insecurity bleeding into it, making it sound more like a question. “Y-yeah,” he cleared his throat, “I definitely want that, actually.”
Changbin licked his bottom lip and slowly made his way up to his knees, watching Minho curiously. “You’re sure?”
Minho crawled onto the bed, kneeling right in front of Changbin. He nervously reached up to cup his boyfriend’s face before he planted a soft, quick kiss on his lips. “I’m certain, yeah. Are you stretched out enough for me?”
“Mm,” Changbin reached behind him and pulled the bottle of lube out, squeezing a generous amount into his hand, “I’m ready for you. Might take a second to acclimate, but I’ll make sure it’s a good show for you.” A devilish grin crept up the corners of his lips, and he slowly reached his hands down to the synthetic cock awkwardly jutting out of Minho’s harness. “Can I lube you up, baby?”
A lump got caught in Minho’s throat as he watched some lube drip down from Changbin’s hand onto his lap. He awkwardly reached out to grab Changbin’s hips, leading him back a bit so that he could lean against the wall. “Yeah. Is this position gonna be good, or should I move a little more—”
Changbin straddled Minho and cut him off with a deep kiss, swiping his tongue against Minho’s dry bottom lip. He dragged his teeth across the sensitive flesh and nipped firmly enough to make Minho whimper. Changbin pulled back slightly, letting his hands work on getting the dildo slicked up. “You’re doing that thing you do when you overthink. While I think it’s cute, I know that means you’re letting yourself freak out, and I don’t want you to worry.” He slowly lined himself up against the head of the cock and pressed his forehead against Minho’s. “Have a little faith in me, won’t you? It’s my first time doing this, too, and we’re doing pretty well for ourselves. Let me take control for a little bit, baby.”
Minho nervously nodded and awkwardly let his hands hover over Changbin’s hips, swallowing hard as he watched his boyfriend start to take him in. “S-should I, like, where should I put my hands? Do they go on your hips? Do I jerk you off?”
A light chuckle came from Changbin. “Minho, baby,” he whispered, using the back of his free hand to force Minho to meet his eyes, “do whatever’s natural. Stop overthinking and relax a little. It’ll come to you in a sec, ‘kay?”
“W…what?” Minho stuttered, then watched Changbin’s face contort into a bit of pain before he bit back a loud moan. His eyes immediately went wide, and he looked down to his lap.
It was only just the head, but his cock was actually inside of his boyfriend.
“Holy fuck.” Minho’s hands fell to the tops of Changbin’s thighs, almost as if he were helping guide his boyfriend down. He watched Changbin’s cock pulse as he hovered in the same spot, precum slowly spilling down his flesh. “You’re doing so well. I never thought I’d say this, but you look so good riding my dick like this.”
Changbin sharply inhaled through his teeth and looked down at Minho, his free hand pushing his chin up with his thumb, while the rest of his fingers rested at the back of Minho’s neck. “I could say the same about you, how good and eager you look popping my cherry right now.”
A sharp breath escaped Minho’s lips, like he’d been punched in the sternum. Something about the way Changbin phrased his dirty talk made his stomach flip, and he could feel his cock throb, begging for attention. “I haven’t even fucked you yet and I’m already looking forward to round two.”
Changbin softly laughed and continued sinking himself down onto Minho’s lap. “You haven’t even gotten me off yet and you’re already thinking about your needs? Hasn’t anyone ever told you that patience is a virtue, hyung?”
Before Minho could respond, Changbin moaned loudly, his thighs coming into contact with Minho’s. He whimpered as he shakily, desperately kissed his way around Minho’s face until their lips met. They exchanged needy, passionate kisses while Changbin grabbed Minho’s hand and brought it to his dripping cock, silently begging to be touched. “Not too fast,” Changbin whispered at an elevated pitch, “just a little extra attention in a sec. It’s not gonna take long with you inside of me.”
Minho nodded and only slowly circled his thumb at the base of Changbin’s cock. “How’s it feel?” Sure, Minho had experienced the sensations of penetration before, but he was so curious to hear what exactly his boyfriend was feeling, and if it was anything similar to how good it felt for him.
Changbin pressed a quick kiss to Minho’s lips before he placed his hands on the wall, pushing away a bit. His eyes were half-open, full of lust as he stared hungrily down at Minho. “It feels like we should be doing this at least once a week.” He reached one of his hands down to Minho’s hoodie and cocked his head to the side. “You still want this on? I know I’m gonna come all over it.”
“You already have to wash the sheets,” Minho reached down to Changbin’s hand, guiding it up under the fabric, past the scars under his pecs, “what’s a little more laundry for the night?”
The younger man looked surprised as his fingers grazed the soft skin of Minho’s chest. “You’ve never let me touch you here… you sure about this?”
Minho nodded. “It’s a night of firsts, and a lot of euphoria. I trust you, baby.”
A soft, eager smile immediately spread across Changbin’s face, baring his teeth. He giggled and nodded. “I love you, you know?”
“I love you too.” The look on Changbin’s face made Minho feel completely at ease, like tonight was going way better than either of them had anticipated. Minho slowly wrapped his fingers around the base of Changbin’s short and thick cock, careful to avoid the head for now. “C’mon,” he whispered, “fuck yourself on my dick, baby. Show me what those hips of yours can do.”
Changbin shuddered and slowly started to rock his hips, pressing more of his weight against Minho’s chest and the wall behind them. He clamped his eyelids shut as he slowly moved, unintelligible words spilling from his lips. His motions were low and shallow, but whatever he was doing seemed to make him feel good, making his nails dig into Minho’s chest hard enough to leave marks.
“That’s it.” Minho watched Changbin, taking in every small change of expression as he started to work his boyfriend’s flesh in his hand. This moment was something he wanted to bask in for the rest of his life. “How’s it feel to ride your boyfriend’s cock?”
“It’s good,” Changbin gasped, rolling his head to the side, “you’re so thick, Minho. It’s like you were made to be inside of me.”
A deep chuckle came from Minho’s throat. He kept his jerking motions gentle and slow until Changbin started to ride him faster, the harness causing enough friction against his cock to feel like it was really his flesh inside of his boyfriend. “That cute, fucked-out look on your face looks like you were meant to ride me for the rest of your life. You’re about to come, aren’t you?”
A tiny, shaky whimper came from Changbin as he weakly nodded his head. He partially opened his eyes, staring at Minho with a pleading gaze. “So close. Make me come, baby. Need you…”
Minho grabbed Changbin’s hip and dug his heels into the bed, thrusting his hips upward. The motion made Changbin curl inward and moan loudly, gasping out Minho’s name intermingled with broken pleas. For this being his first time taking control and fucking someone else, Minho felt a rush of pride help guide his hips and hand in the right motions. “Look at me, Changbin.”
Between thrusts, Changbin gasped and managed to maintain eye contact with Minho, visibly barely holding on.
“Come for me.”
With one last snap of Minho’s hips, Changbin cried out and fell forward onto his hands. Cum shot up between them, some staining Minho’s hoodie and some landing on both of their faces. As soon as the last dribble of cum spilled from his cock, Changbin collapsed into Minho’s chest, panting hard.
Minho could feel their sweat leach into the sheets, and he enjoyed the way Changbin’s back felt slick with cool sweat on his flushed skin as he rubbed his hands into the flesh. He turned his head and buried his nose into Changbin’s hair, taking in the smell of his conditioner and the smell of sex, feeling so many positive emotions as he did so. “I love you.” Minho whispered, pressing a soft kiss against his boyfriend’s head. “I love you so much.”
Changbin whined and slowly turned his head to face Minho, looking at him for only a moment before letting his eyelids flutter shut again. “I love you too. I’m gonna feel this in the morning, aren’t I?”
The way Changbin flatly delivered his question made Minho cackle. “Oh, baby,” he nudged his head against Changbin’s forehead and trailed his fingers down his back, “you’ve really never taken dick before, have you? You’ll be a little sore, sure, but I bet you’ll still be on cloud nine in the morning.”
Again, Changbin whined, this time a bit more dramatically. He snaked his arms around Minho’s back and groaned, burying his head deep into his boyfriend’s neck. “Sleep sounds good right now. Could get cosy right here and pass out, actually.”
“Oh no,” Minho wrapped his arms around Changbin and slowly forced them both upright, “we are absolutely not sleeping in these nasty sheets and I refuse to have your cum dry on our faces. C’mon,” he poked Changbin in the sides to jolt him upright, “you promised you would clean up the mess you made.”
“Technically,” Changbin grumbled, “you’re the one that made such a mess.” He peeled himself away from Minho’s chest and pouted. “I just happened to make you make said mess.”
Minho rolled his eyes and playfully pushed Changbin onto his back, giggling as he peppered kisses all over his boyfriend’s upper chest. “Okay, Mr Always-Sticks-to-his-Principles,” he quickly suckled a love bite into Changbin’s collarbone before staring down his boyfriend, “you can argue semantics all you want as you load our messy sheets into the laundry, then you can join me in the shower for round two. How’s that sound?”
Changbin’s eyes went wide and his face immediately brightened up. “Y-you’re really gonna let me shower with you? And, just to clarify, you want more sex? In the shower? Are you feeling okay?”
A giggle came from Minho as he propped himself up on his knees. “I’m feeling quite well, actually. I’m just a little insatiable once I get a taste of something I love. Get used to it.” He slowly pulled out of Changbin, enjoying the way his boyfriend’s face contorted in a mixture of pleasure and pain. “I’m going to go hop in the shower, and I expect to see you there soon, pretty boy.”
Without notice, Minho got off of the bed and made his way towards the washroom with vigour in each step, smiling proudly to himself. His biggest fear had been conquered, and he felt warm as he thought about how well his first time with Changbin had gone. There were brief moments of dysphoria, sure, but the constant reassurance from his boyfriend felt natural and made him more comfortable. Maybe all of the panic he had worked himself up over was worth it in the end, and they could slowly work towards more regular physical intimacy.
◦ genre: college!au, best friends to lovers!au; angst, fluff
◦ pairings: reader x minho
◦ word count: 17.4k
◦ description: lee minho crashes at your apartment four out of seven days in a week, but you’re the crashing for him.
◦ warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, suggestive, slow af burn
◦ a/n: hello after 4 months of not writing !!! self-quarantine brings out the best in me (due to lack of responsibilities) & here’s the fic I’ve been working on for the past week; I hope you like it :)
one.
Lee Minho tells you that he drowned his AirPods during that one campfire social by the beach and that he can’t afford to buy a new pair because he’s a dirt poor, money-starved college student who survives solely off of Shin Ramyun and its complementary mushroom flakes.
You know this because 1) he’s mentioned it before during the ten-minute break of your three-hour-long marketing lecture and even got the professor involved in a heated discussion about Apple’s obligation to make all of their product lines waterproof for maximum customer brand loyalty, 2) the past several calls with him have been staticy and demonic sounding, and 3) he actually FaceTimed you during his grocery trip last weekend and asked whether he should buy two five-packs of Shin Ramyun or one. You said one, but you’re pretty sure Minho’s too fucking weak to pass up on that two-for-one deal.
So here you are, grocery shopping on a Friday night (because you’ll never wake up early on a Saturday morning) and listening to your best friend wail about his misfortunes through the phone as you’re slapping every watermelon you come in contact with.
“Can you buy me Girl Scout cookies on your way back?” Minho asks when you’re picking out what flavor of ice cream you’re having next week when you decide to cram for finals. It’s a coping mechanism, you convince yourself.
“No? Can’t you walk down to the market and buy it yourself?” You ask pointedly, creasing your brows disbelief. “That’s not something a broke college student would ask for. Five dollars a box? Please. I could buy two dozen eggs to last me a month.”
“But I want to stay in bed and finish the paper due tonight,” he whines. “How do you sleep going around and crushing little girls’ dreams like that?”
You make a grab for the ice cream sandwiches on the third refrigerator shelf; there are six individual bars in one box—okay, so you’ll have at least some self-control and not devour the entirety in one sitting. “With earplugs and a sign outside my door that writes ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ in a fat, red sharpie,” you tell him. “And don’t act as if you’re not already out of bed. I know Fridays are your barhopping nights with Chan.”
“Can’t anymore. Chan’s got a group project, and his team members can’t meet until 11 PM because this one guy has lacrosse practice until then,” Minho concedes with a sigh. “Oh, and I have a paper due midnight.” He says it like it’s no big deal. Like it’s an afterthought. You’ve taken that class before; that paper is worth twenty-five percent of his grade.
“Who the heck has lacrosse practice at 11 PM? Everyone knows that the university’s too cheap to turn on the stadium lights.”
“Beats me,” he says, and you hear shuffling on his side of the call. “I hate this stupid essay. I could have been at Johnny’s frat party tonight. They even brought a whole rodeo inside the bar!”
You scoff and toss a loaf of wheat bread into your basket. “Right? Too bad you decided to procrastinate and cram your paper on a totally party-able Friday night,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “I need to check out now. Call you back later.”
“Wait!” Minho exclaims, nearly bursting your eardrums. “Aren’t you going to ask if I want anything?”
“What does my grocery shopping have anything to do with you? Do you live with me? Are you a parasite? Because I would lock you in the basement and let you starve to death,” you accuse, lining up in the self-checkout line. Wow, people (you) are so misanthropic these days… the cashiers might lose their jobs.
“Hah! You don’t have a basement,” he counters, “I’m standing outside your apartment complex.”
You let out a deep sigh and step out of the checkout line; now you have to feed him. “What happened to ‘I’m too fucking busy working on my essay’?” you mimic him.
“I brought my laptop.” You can practically see him grinning and bouncing on his toes outside your apartment complex right now. “Plus, everyone knows you’re not doing anything on Friday nights besides watching The Bachelor and crying when your favorites get eliminated.”
“Bro, reality TV… these bitches be throwing each other under the bus,” you mumble as you pick up a frozen pesto pizza for Minho. You never really understood his penchant for frozen pizzas, especially not since you live beside two pizza chains. “I live vicariously through the drama.”
“Yeah, you almost threw hands at your TV when Jillian got eliminated. I swore Jisoo lost ten years of her life when the remote control missed her TV by a hair.” He’s talking about the time where you and your roommates decided to invite a few of the guys over, and you made an executive decision to make everyone watch The Bachelor (Felix high-key loves it). And when Jason decided to Not Give Jillian the rose, you lost all your cool.
While you’re still at the frozen dinner aisle, you toss in a pack of frozen chicken nuggets for late-night snacking. Who knows what you’ll crave during the middle of next week? “Listen. That woman did not go through The Bachelor and The Bachelorette consecutively to not find love. Homegirl may be married now, but at what cost!”
“You’re so dramatique,” Minho muses, pretending to be his visual arts professor who had a little too much fun during his trip to Paris. You know this because you scrolled through Minho’s Instagram that one time and saw a post of him pretending to be a mime—you’ve never touched his phone since. “Hurry up. I feel like I’m feeding mosquitoes out here.”
“Well, I hope they have a feast tonight!”
“Ooh, so you think that I’m a whole meal?” he gasps loudly. “Ballsy. I like it.”
Minho doesn’t hear what you have to say next because you’ve already hung up.
But on your way out, you see girl scouts doing their little memorized pitch of why you should buy their overpriced (though decently delectable) cookies. Reluctantly, you hand the smiling girl a crisp five-dollar bill and throw a box of Thin Mints into your tote bag.
two.
The first thing Minho does when he enters your apartment is set the oven to preheat at 550 degrees. For his frozen pizza. Because God forbid he starve.
“What’s your paper on again?”
“Surveillance capitalism,” Minho groans and shuffles through your kitchen cabinets for something to place his pizza on. “Why? Do you want to write it for me?”
“You fucking wish,” you dismiss with a chuckle. “I’m not about to make myself sad tonight.”
He grabs a pair of crocodile mitts from your drawers and holds them up to your face, snapping the jaws together like he’s a fucking five-year-old. “Says the one who’s about to cry over a Nicholas Sparks movie. I see your Netflix history,” he supplies unhelpfully. Can you blame yourself for wanting to cry for no apparent reason once (a week) in a while?
“Maybe you should open your own Netflix account then–oh wait, you can’t. Because you’re a parasite,” you say, eyes widening. Okay, you can’t help but reference the Oscar-winning movie when it comes to Minho, even if he was practically dying during that one scene. Everyone and everyone’s parents know about that scene. Longest scene ever.
“But I’m your parasite,” he beams, lips curving up, makes him look like a cat. A very annoyingly cute cat with stupidly good hair.
“I would starve you.”
Minho grabs the bright green box of Thin Mints from your tote and smiles like he’s come home from war; he raises an eyebrow skeptically. “I thought you said Girl Scout cookies were overpriced and would rather buy two cartons of eggs.”
“I have enough eggs?” you shrug, holding your breath at the sight of your empty carton. Shit, you knew you forgot to buy something.
“Thin Mints are my favorite though.”
You clear your throat and proceed to restock your fridge with produce and milk. “You’re not the only one who likes Thin Mints. How narcissistic of you to think that way,” you say primly. The fridge is empty because a few of your roommates went home for the weekend. Not for long though. Jisoo usually comes back with thousands of side dishes and bags of rice cakes that her mom packs for her, so she won’t have to cook a day in her life.
“Wasn’t Narcissus like the most handsome dude in Greece?” He wiggles his brows and adds, “Are you calling me… hot?”
You pretend to not hear him because yes. Yes, he is attractive—hot, if you may. Like when he runs his fingers through his hair, brushing it back to reveal his smooth forehead with perfectly made eyebrows every single time he feels frustrated about homework. Or when he’s feeling philanthropic and decides to help you carry Big and Heavy boxes for your student council meetings (because no one ever shows up on time), completely showing off his gains from gyming with Chan and Changbin. But in no way shape or form will you tell your best friend that he’s hot and send his ego flying off into a parallel universe where Alternative Y/N also has a fat crush on him. Nope. Not in a million years.
“For your information, Narcissus was also the same guy who fell in love with his own reflection and got big sad when he couldn’t be with himself.”
Minho looks not at all sympathetic and says, “Yeah, but could you hand me the pizza?”
“Do you only care about food?” You hand him the box regardless. Your apartment’s so old that you sometimes end up having an irrational fear of the oven and how it might explode when you’re in the kitchen. Jisoo calls you paranoid. Lisa calls you stupid. Minho straight up doesn’t care because he’d rather be blown up than starve himself.
“No,” he says with a huff, wincing when the hot oven heat waves hit his face, “I care about you too.”
You don’t show it, but you think your heart skipped a few beats–
“Because you buy me food,” he finishes, dusts off his hands after he shoves the pizza in the oven.
–in anger.
Minho sets the timer for eight minutes and makes a beeline for your living room, catapults himself onto your leather couch like he’s a grenade, sound effects and all. He takes Lisa’s pillow with a horoscope palm reading stitched onto it and tucks it behind his head, his foot dangling off the side because he’s a few inches too long for your three-seater couch.
“Please tell me you’re not about to take a nap.”
“And miss you sobbing over Dear John? What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t record that and post it on my Snapchat story?” he asks with faux concern. He makes you sound like a sappy romance movie junkie (only on occasion!); you sort of hate him.
“A good best friend,” you deadpan, walking over to where he’s getting cozy on the couch.
Minho drapes an arm over his eyes, finding the lamp too bright for his liking (because he lives in a cave he calls his room). “You know I prefer showing up unannounced at your apartment and surprising you with my holy presence,” he says calmly, voice smooth.
“Wow, I must be so blessed. Aren’t I lucky?” you chide, taking a seat beside him on the carpet, knees pulled tight against your chest.
You will never forget the night he came banging on the door of your shared apartment, batshit drunk, at 2 AM and demanding that you open up and buy him donuts. You only rush to open the door to get him to shut the fuck up—because the neighbors will complain to the landlord about your questionable activities past midnight—and drag him inside by the collar. Drunk Minho ends up eating the last of your toaster strudels thinking that they’re square donuts, and you end up texting Woojin a series of angry texts asking why he couldn’t bother driving an extra three minutes to drop Minho off at his own apartment.
“You are The Lucky One,” he grins smugly.
“Please stop using Nicholas Sparks references on me, I will not hesitate to kick you to the curb.”
three.
“How’s that essay going?”
“Uh huh,” Minho says, dismissing you with a wave of his hand and the other reaching over your lap for another handful of honey mustard pretzels.
Your face makes a scowl when you look over to his laptop, neglected and throw off to the side, to see that he has written his name (not even his full name, just “Minho”), his section number, tomorrow’s due date, and a title that says “tbd :D” in parentheses. “Bitch, you haven’t even started,” you say, pointing at the screen.
“Shh, John’s about to go off to war. What if he never comes back?”
Shutting your eyes, you press your temple against your fingers, kicking yourself for forgetting how crappy of an attention span your best friend has. “I think everyone knows that he comes home from war. All of the movies end happily!”
“But it’s not the same! You know what happened to his father!” Minho exclaims, leaning his head back to shove a handful of pretzels in his mouth, chews obnoxiously like he’s totally pissed at the filmmakers.
“Yet here you are, rewatching the movie instead of working on your paper that is due in three hours,” you say, leaning onto the sofa arm.
“I’m a CS major,” he clarifies knowingly, “This class won’t affect my major GPA. It’s just some elective I need to fulfill a requirement. Who knew there was so much writing involved? Ugh, I should have dropped it during Week 5.”
The battle scene flashes on the television screen and casts an orangey glow on Minho’s face, makes him look like some sort of god. But whatever, it’s not like you’re admiring the bridge of his nose and staring at his long fucking eyelashes or anything. “Why did you take marketing then? CS majors don’t usually have minors,” you ask him.
“Because I get to spend time with my wonderful best friend that is you.” Minho glances over at you and makes brief eye contact.
You want to etch this moment into your brain permanently and slide it into a photo book for you to revisit ten years later when you’re married to someone who isn’t Lee Minho. Even though you shudder at the thought of marriage and commitment, you can’t help but wonder what it feels like to be someone’s and have them be yours.
“Shut up. You just want a GPA booster,” you point out.
“What can I say? C++ takes a toll on your mental health and tanks your GPA. Not everything is as easy as Java,” he sighs.
“Hmm, I love it when you speak Python to me. So sexy, please continue.”
Your best friend scoffs, not having the heart to tell you that all three of the aforementioned are actually different languages. Then, Minho’s phone buzzes in the pocket of his sweatpants, and it’s a Snapchat notification from Chan. You peek over, and it’s an unimpressed selfie of Chan with no filter, eyebags on full display, that reads “walked halfway across campus to find that the taco place is closed… huge L”. You chuckle for good measure, watching as Minho snaps a picture himself stuffing his mouth with a slice of sad, lukewarm pizza.
“Why are they working on a project on a Friday night when there’s the whole weekend?” you wonder.
“His group mates are big lacrosse players. They have a game this weekend, so they want to finish it by tonight.”
“You CS majors are kind of nerdy,” you note. You picture Chan and a couple of buff dudes with gear surrounding a small round table on the first floor of the library, and there’s just a bunch of energy drinks, empty coffee cups, and nutrient bar wrappers littered around them. They’re pulling an all-nighter, coding in complete silence, occasionally nodding off and discussing a few main points here and there. But you know Chan, he always pulls through and gets an A on every project he’s ever worked on; no wonder all the girls (you) have had a crush on him at one point.
Right then, the front door bursts open and an unusually happy-looking Lisa walks in. You know something’s up because she always looks rough after class, and the last time she was this happy was when her professor got food poisoning and all her classes for the next week were canceled. Morbid, but understandable. “Guess what?” She hums, swinging her arm over your shoulder.
“You dropped out of college.”
Lisa sneers and throws a pillow at Minho’s timely comment. “No, fuck you,” she scowls, points a finger at him accusingly. “I’m going on a date tomorrow!”
“You said you were done with dating apps! Remember that time your last Tinder date asked you to pay for his Airbnb because he got kicked out of his apartment. He didn’t even pay back the twenty dollars he owed you for his meal!” You splutter, grabbing her shoulders forcibly. Maybe if you shake her hard enough, she’ll reconsider and raincheck the guy with some lame excuse.
“No, no. This guy’s from my CS class, so why not?” Lisa removes your hands from her shoulders and holds them between her own like she’s about to give the most heartfelt speech of her life. Like it’s she’s getting married and making you her Maid of Honor.
Minho freezes and gasps, “No way. Whose heart are you going to break now?”
“Yours. If you don’t shut up and let me finish my story.”
“Okay, so what happened?” You interrupt before Lisa actually decides that she wants to go to jail and strangles Lee Minho to death. Really, she’d do anything to get out of attending lecture.
“You know we have weekly coding assignments, right?” You nod, and she continues, blatantly ignoring Minho in the background because he’s rolling his eyes to the moon. “I was asking him about my code because I’m a dumb bitch, and then he asked me whether or not I wanted to run his code. I say yes, naturally, since he’s smart. And guess what he did?”
Minho narrows his eyes in disgust and props his chin on your shoulder, glaring your roommate down. “Don’t tell me he added an extra line of prompt asking you to go out with him.”
“Yes! And like, it's a free lunch… so I can’t say no. Plus, he put so much effort into this. I’d actually feel bad if I rejected him,” she explains with steady eye contact. That’s a fat surprise—Lisa might not break his heart this time. You always knew, deep down, she was soft for grand romantic gestures.
“That was the most fucking nerdy thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” you state, “I stand corrected… CS majors are extremely nerdy.”
“But it’s so cute!” Lisa lets out a high pitched squeal and basically collapses on top of you. Then, she sits up straight and remembers that her arch-nemesis, Lee Minho, is also present. “What’s he doing here again?”
You shake your head helplessly. “Being a parasite, as per usual,” you breathe.
“Save that slice of pizza for me and consider tonight’s stay free of charge,” she tells Minho as she stands up from the couch, ready to run into her bedroom and change into jammies.
Minho smiles fakely. “You know, I never liked you.”
“I’ll hook us up with boba orders. Woojin’s closing tonight.”
“Because I love you! More than I love Y/N.” Nice save.
“The fuck?” You say, pretending to be extremely offended, clutching your heart and all. Like it hurts more than one of the top ten anime betrayals. But you know he’s always like this. You’d be like this too. You would drop him in a heartbeat for a jasmine green tea with cheese foam.
four.
The previous night, you texted Jisoo if you could sleep on her bed because your twin size bed is too small to fit both you and Minho’s fat ass. She texted back “knock yourself out”, so it’s fair to say that you have the best roommate ever.
Minho ended up turning his paper in (sans proofreading) at 11:59 PM, one minute before the Turnitin deadline. As a reward for finishing a whole research paper in less than three hours, he decided to gift himself a brand new pair of AirPods to replace the ones that Han Jisung trashed when he tossed him into the ocean. And like the good best friend you are, you even bought him an AirPods case cover; it’s a little lame, but you got him a strawberry milk one to match your banana milk. It’ll arrive in a few days.
Currently, your beauty sleep is rudely interrupted by your alarm that you forgot to turn off the night before, the one at 10 AM for your 12 PM class. You see, that two-hour gap is very much necessary considering you require time to force yourself to wake up, scroll through Twitter and stalk Jungkook (your husband), respond to messages, think about life/have a mid-college crisis in bed, actually manage to get up and change into presentable clothes, wash up, and then rummage through the fridge to see what’s edible before the bus leaves.
But today’s a Saturday, and waking up to the sound of your annoying alarm is not a pleasant one. You crack open one eye to see that the room’s still dark, to see Minho snoring softly on your pillow, your mom’s ugly floral duvet thrown over his head with his feet peeking out the ends of it. You groan, rolling over and swiping randomly on your phone screen to turn off the alarm.
The noise, however, causes Minho to shift in his sleep as he stretches his limbs out like a starfish, a hand punching through the air. He pulls the blanket away from his face and takes a deep breath. He turns to his side and looks up at you, hair disheveled as he squints through layers of sleep.
“Sorry, I forgot to turn my alarm off,” you whisper apologetically. “You can go back to sleep.”
“S’okay. I usually get up around this time to work out before class starts,” he mumbles back. Minho rubs the sleep away from his eyes and sticks his entire leg out. You almost giggle at the sight of his checkered pajama pants and baggy t-shirt combo. The shirt is yours, from that one time Lisa brought you to a strip club, and you managed to win a free t-shirt (and lap dance) during trivia night; you gladly accepted the t-shirt but gave Lisa the honors of experiencing a lap dance. To this day, you still crack up when you listen to Poker Face.
“What a beast,” you waggle your eyebrows tiredly before falling back in bed. “Today, the student council and I have a meeting planned for next Friday’s Yule Ball event. As secretary, I need to have everything arranged by Monday to start setting up on Tuesday.”
Minho nestles his face into your deflated pillow and stares ahead like a confused animal. “So far you have…”
You shut your eyes and mentally run through the spreadsheet you’ve been compiling for three weeks now. “I have 3RACHA for music, Woojin on bartending Harry Potter-themed drinks, and Hyunjin and Felix working on decorations. The president, Seungmin, is managing check-in and social media presence, and other board members like JenLisa are securing the ballroom and helping with decorations. Jeongin is working with me to have all the shit running smoothly and picking up the slack, especially with the university’s dining hall… these workers are so lazy! You’re working on the photobooth with Rosé because she needs help carrying props. Jisoo will help with check-in, but I might need all hands on deck if more than five hundred students decide to attend,” you share, and now Minho looks more lost than ever.
“Ooh, is there Firewhisky?” Minho decides to ask after the massive spiel you delivered. He never quite gets the point, does he?
“No alcohol. It’s an on-campus event,” you comment, rolling your eyes. “If you want alcohol, just raid Woojin’s fridge or something.”
“Damn, that’s so much to do. No wonder Seungmin’s been extra mean this week.”
“Yeah. We’re all meeting for lunch today, but like… there’s still so much to do. And will we even have everything ready to go by Friday? We still have to paint all the house banners and hang the lights. Who said Hogwarts needed to have four houses? Why not just Gryffindor and Slytherin?”
Minho laughs aloud at that and says with a loopy smile, half sitting up and half reclining on your fat Gudetama plush. “You, my friend, are a Ravenclaw,” he feels the need to tell you.
“And I am more than ready to transfer houses and be a Gryffindor,” you say enthusiastically, clapping your hands together.
“So I could be the Draco to your Hermione?” He drawls, a hand coming up behind his head to prop it up. Minho knows about your unhealthy obsession with Dramione fanfiction (best to ever exist by the way). The Romione ship is just… subpar. No offense.
“No,” you snap, “So Chan could be the Draco to my Hermione.”
He sees the wistful smile on your face and nearly throws the Gudetama plush at you. “You still like him? It’s been what? Three years?”
“No! You know everyone has liked Chan at one point! I bet you even liked Chan at one point,” you accuse, crossing your arms in front of you. Jisoo’s bed is too soft, so your back’s all sore now.
“I mean… when he drives me home after our bar hopping dates and buys me carne asada tacos on the way back… let’s elope and move back to Australia,” Minho mumbles dreamily, proving your point. Bang Chan is like everyone’s ideal type, kind of annoying really. You sort of feel sad for whoever has to date CB97 and deal with girls (and boys) throwing themselves at him.
Then again, Minho’s no different. He’s just less outgoing, less engaging in college events, but he still has the occasional admirer who would give up a kidney for him. Too bad your best friend’s the most misanthropic person on earth and doesn’t give two shits about most people outside of his social sphere. Minho’s almost “tsundere” for lack of a better word, and boy do girls dig that.
Sluggishly, you kick off your blankets to head to the kitchen to make two cups of cold brew with soy milk. It’s a routine at this rate. “I hope he feeds you to the man-eating spiders as a late-night snack,” you add before yawning.
“Did you just call me a snacc? Because you know I am, babe.”
“You’re so annoying,” you whine with an exasperated sigh. “Seungmin’s picking me up at 11:30. What are your plans for the day?”
Minho’s scrolling through his phone as he’s still blinking the sleep away, brown hair, soft skin, all bundled up in your bedsheets like he belongs there. He looks decent. More than decent, actually. He’s just an unfairly beautiful piece of shit. “I have dance practice with Hyunjin at noon, and then we’ll swing by to see what you guys need help on?” he says with an eyebrow raise, turning to look at you.
“Well, aren’t you benevolent today?” You snort, walking to your closet to fish out a pair of leggings and one of your many massive hoodies.
“Magnanimous, if I may.”
“Shut up,” you chuckle, “Coffee will be on the counter. Food, wherever. You know my apartment better than I do. Just tell Lisa to lock up before she goes on her date.”
Truthfully, you sort of want to stay in bed with him. Just lounging there without a care in the world. Free of college responsibilities. Knowing Minho, he’ll give you an extensive movie review of Joker or something, and how much Joaquin Phoenix deserved that Oscar for losing that much weight (healthily, of course) to get into character. And maybe you’ll even gather enough courage to wrap your arms around his torso, and maybe he’ll do the same.
Maybe he wants you to be his just as much as you want him to be yours.
five.
Rosé and Seungmin send out at least a thousand university emails. It’s not clout, you swear.
Your infallible marketing strategy targets students who have expressed even the slightest bit of interest in the Harry Potter franchise, and thanks to surveillance capitalism, you’d like to say you’ve narrowed it down to at least a good fraction of the population. The ballroom capacity is only seven hundred, but you think that it’s safer to have more guests than not enough guests; plus, things always come up, especially on a Friday before a long weekend.
“Do we have all the materials yet? We have enough funding for backup?” Seungmin asks as he stretches his arms over his head, leans back in his chair for a well-deserved five seconds. You feel the strain in your back too—it’s been seven hours since your last saw Minho. The lamp fixtures in the boba shop flicker on as the sun sets, golden light streaming through the glass windows. In less than a few minutes, the sky will be dark.
“Four hundred feet of fairy lights just came in. The university’s helping us hang that shit up because they don’t want to be responsible for our deaths. I have poster boards, spray paint, glitter, and other art supplies. Tablecloths, linen, sustainable utensils in the supply closet,” you narrate through your laundry list of things to do. “Blah, blah, blah. The dining hall will have all the food and the drinks for the bar supplied. Also setting up and cleaning up is their responsibility… I think we’re almost good to go.”
“Okay, how many workdays are you thinking? Also, it’s nearing finals week, so be mindful of that,” Rosé reminds you.
You tap your pen on your chin, thinking rather deeply about this. “We’ll work hard on Monday and Tuesday. Rest Wednesday. Finishing touches on Thursday and before the event on Friday. Our schedules all vary, so we’ll just visit the venue and pick up slack whenever we can.”
“Hey, the North Ballroom is close to all our lecture halls too. My classes are easy this semester, so I’ll be there pretty often,” Seungmin proclaims, and it sounds like music to your ears. Ah, as expected of Mr. President.
“Wait.” All your heads turn to Jeongin. “If this is the Yule Ball, are we allowed to go as students from different academies? Is that an option?”
Rosé laughs at the younger boy’s question. “I’m going as Beauxbatons. You’re welcome to join me,” she smiles and finishes up the last of her Hokkaido milk tea. Rosé is such a Beauxbaton, you can totally see it already.
“Um, no thank you,” he wrinkles his nose playfully. “I’m a Ravenclaw.” And this prompts the vice president to make a noise of disapproval. She knows that ninety percent of the attendees will be basic and go as Hogwarts students.
“Ooh, who are you texting?” Seungmin sings in your ear. “Is it a certain boy whose name sounds just like a celebrity’s name?”
“You mean Jeon Jungkook?” You gasp loudly, pretending that he actually found out about your “love affair” with the International Playboy Jeon Jungkook. “I mean, we’re long-distance right now… but yeah. It’s steamy.”
Seungmin looks wholly unimpressed.
“It’s Lisa,” you reply dryly. “She ditched today’s staff meeting for a date with a CS boy. She’s texting me her location in case she gets killed.”
Seungmin doesn’t seem fazed by your morbid answer. It’s because first dates are always risky, especially if you’re not familiar with the other person. That’s why you never go on dates. No, not when you’re sort of in love with your equally dateless best friend.
Speaking of said best friend, you hear the wind chimes at the front entrance, and Lee Minho (and Hyunjin) walks into the boba shop after dance practice just as he had promised.
Breaths fraying.
Sweaty.
You hold your breath when he comes up behind you and lands a hand on the back of your chair, following up on the staff meeting.
“So, I got the Eventbrite app installed on my phone already. I’m ready to scan everyone at lightning speed because it’s all GA. None of that VIP checklist type of special treatment.” Hyunjin takes a grab at Jeongin’s winter melon milk tea and makes a face. “Um, this is not sweet at all? I’m ordering another,” he says on his way to the cashier.
“VIP checklist?” Minho quirks his head, not understanding the lingo.
“All the tickets are general admission this time, so there are no VIP guests. In the last event, we had college deans participating, so some students wanted to pay extra fees to sit in the front row for the panel speakers. It was also a lot more work to execute because VIP guests require wristbands,” you explain, not quite looking him in the eye. “The Yule Ball is just an excuse for students to dress up and have fun, so no VIP!”
Seungmin feels the need to scoot over and show him the number of emails he sent out, and Minho leans down dangerously close to you just to take a better look at the small ass font he has on his spreadsheet. His soft breaths tickle the side of your ear, and you can practically feel him breathing through his lungs. Kim Seungmin, you did this on purpose!
Rosé must have noticed your distressed expression because she kicks you underneath the table and waggles her eyebrows like a complete pest. “What,” you mouth, expression stern. You’re not in the mood to play footsies with her.
She does a silent chef’s kiss and points at Minho, who is very sweaty and very hot.
This reminds you of the time where he randomly picked up an entire box of Sprinkles Cupcakes after a workout (yeah, must have been a tough workout) and asked if you wanted some. You said yes because, duh. It’s free, it’s cupcakes, and it’s Sprinkles Cupcakes—so he drives to your apartment complex and meets you in his car. The only thing you could think of that night was how much you loved banana nut cupcakes and how yummy he looked.
You shudder back to reality when he casually rests his hand on your shoulder while standing back up.
“So I think the meeting has adjourned?” Seungmin suggests, packing up his laptop that is running low on ten percent. “We’ll keep in contact over the weekend to work things out. But get some sleep before we start prepping next week, you’ll need it!”
“I’m riding home with Hyunjin, so I’ll wait for him.” Jeongin fumbles for his belongings and stuffs them in his backpack before giving the rest of the team a small wave. He runs up to Hyunjin, who is waiting impatiently for his order.
“I’m taking Rosé, so Minho and Y/N?”
Lips in a tight line, you can only nod in agreement. “Yeah, sounds good to me,” you manage to say, voice no louder than a squeak.
Rosé swings her purse over her shoulder and blows you a stupid kiss (which you proceed to crush with the palm of your hand, earning a silent gasp from her) before she follows Seungmin to his car. You begin to tidy up your belongings when Minho asks you about your dinner plans.
“What? You want frozen pizza again? Didn’t you have that yesterday?”
“I can’t think of anything else I want to eat!” Minho cries out, lips cracking into a smile because he knows that you’re so fucking done with him. He once had pork belly for five days straight when he sprained his ankle doing a backflip. What a loser. Could have asked you to meal prep for him or something. But he was too damn prideful after you specifically told him not to do acrobatics on a slippery dance floor.
“I’ll make you ram-don and fulfill your dreams of being my parasite,” you tease, nudging his arm. “Your treat though. I already paid for your pizza.”
Minho’s eyes light up like stars. “You’d make that for me?”
“Yeah,” you tell him.
You’ll even get him the moon if he wants.
six.
You and Minho end up raiding the Asian supermarket.
Ram-don only requires three ingredients, but when it comes to splurging on food, neither of you have power over cute packaging and timely BOGO deals. You, a business major, should know better than to succumb to the pressures of monopolistic competition in a capitalistic society. But instead, you toss the last three bags of seaweed chips into your cart, clearing the shelf and getting rid of the store’s inventory. Business is a cycle.
“You love me for my money,” Minho frowns as you’re skipping down the alcohol aisle.
You reach up to grab two bottles of strawberry soju. “Of course. We’re friends with benefits,” you say mindlessly, and you feel dirty looks coming from the lady a few beer cartons away.
“Who would want to be friends with benefits with you? All you do is stay at home and eat,” he snaps back, stifling a laugh.
“Um, that’s sort of the point of friends with benefits in this day and age. Do you know how rare sugar daddies are? What are the chances of me finding a hot, rich CEO at the prime age of twenty-five with a business empire at his feet? I’ll never be able to snatch reservations at a Gordon Ramsay restaurant and be featured on Hell’s Kitchen.”
“Even if you did. What are the chances that he’d pick you over a go-go dancer? What qualities can you offer to the market of potential sugar daddies?”
You hate the fact that Minho is now a declared marketing minor. “I can cook, on good days. I can hold great conversations. Yeah, communication is key in a business partnership,” you insist.
“Wow, what the heck would you need communication for? Are you going to make spreadsheets of the times that you’re going to meet?” Minho questions and decides that two bottles of soju are not enough. He adds a peach flavored one to the cart.
“Yeah! If he’s Jeon Jungkook and tragically busy! I need to make sure that my man has time for me!”
“He’d rather date Jimin than date you.”
You pout. You know he’s right. Even you’d rather date Park Jimin than date yourself.
“I thought you said you were broke,” you say when he adds one of those gigantic packs of rice crackers, the ones the size of a machine gun, to the cart.
“Just got my paycheck,” he shrugs, “It’s not even for me. I don’t eat bland, tasteless shit. Chan wants it because his mom just sent him five jars of peanut butter, and he can’t get rid of it… do you want a jar? I can grab one for you.”
“I think I’m good,” you tell him, chuckling to pretend like you’re okay. Like the fact that he just got his paycheck and offered to buy groceries for his roommate isn’t the cutest, most wholesome shit ever. Like his sudden thoughtfulness doesn’t make your heart stop all at once. Like you’re not mentally combusting at the sight of his stupid attractive face debating on which cut of beef he wants for the ram-don.
Minho ends up picking ribeye (because it’s the cheapest), and soon enough, you’re leaving the supermarket with five bags of unnecessary junk. But what’s college if you haven’t fucked up a few times? If you haven’t drunk until your head is in the toilet. If you haven’t accidentally skipped a lecture (or more) because of a hangover. When would you ever be able to do all of these things if not now?
Like a gentleman, he pops open his trunk for you—when all the groceries are loaded, he starts the car.
You really like his car.
It’s different from Chan’s car, which by the way is a poor excuse for a college student’s car. It’s too pristine, too clean to the point where you feel bad for sitting on the leather seats after a long day of classes and work. You feel like you’d dirty them, and Chan might end up resenting you for hurting his baby.
Minho’s car is familiar. It’s sleek and clean just like Chan’s but not excessively; there’s still leftover straws from his many boba runs and free napkins from Chipotle. If you look hard enough, there are a few cracks on the jade pendant that hangs from his front mirror. His mom says that it will keep him safe, and it’s cute how he keeps it there despite complaining to his mom every single time he goes over a speed bump. When you lean your head back on the passenger seat, there’s the Pusheen headrest you gifted him two years ago for Secret Santa. One look in the backseat and you can still make out the stain from when Changbin spilled a bunch of spicy rice cakes because he sneezed a little too hard (and forgot to ask for a lid). It took Minho a week to get most of the stain out, and to this day, he still doesn’t trust Seo Changbin with anything edible or spillable while being in his car.
“Wait, you still have this?” You hold up a post-it note that reads “buy yourself something nice ;)”. You wrote it the time you went to the ATM by campus to retrieve cash for his broke ass who decided that he wanted another tattoo on Friday the 13th.
“Hmm?” Minho glances over at you as he’s reversing out of the parking lot. “Yeah, why? Do you want it back?” he jokes.
“No. I just thought you would have tossed it by now.”
You think that he’s too focused on driving because he doesn’t respond. Your phone’s Bluetooth automatically connects to his car, and you let your songs shuffle—“Riptide” by Trivecta begins to play.
Maybe it’s not his car that you like. Maybe it’s the memories made in his car. The kind of memories you’ll fondly look back at fifty years from now with a nostalgic smile on your face. With a series of “what if” questions swimming through your mind. With probably two cats by your side.
Actually, maybe it’s not even the memories.
Maybe it’s him that you like.
seven.
"Don’t you think that you’re missing something?”
“Like what?” Chan asks, looking up from his array of Tupperware. He’s meal prepping for the entirety of next week like the epitome of a gym rat.
You cross your legs, sitting on the counter. “So you’re just going to have chicken breast and string beans for the rest of the week? No carbs? Don’t y’all need carbs to function?” you ask, picking up a string bean with a pair of chopsticks from his hot pan. Could use more pepper.
He stares at his half-empty containers for a hot second. “Fuck. I need to cook rice.” Chan rummages through his cabinets for a bucket to rinse his rice in. “Don’t you have anything else better to do besides watch me cook?” he questions.
“I mean, I would make myself a banana smoothie. Too bad Changbin broke your blender,” you tell him casually. “How long does it take Minho to shower? At this rate, we might as well just UberEats something.”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you join him to kill time?” The corner of his lips raise as he’s washing his brown rice like a nuisance—you hope he forgets to press cook and leaves his grains of rice sitting at “warm”.
“Haha, very funny,” you respond sarcastically. It’s not as if Chan doesn’t know about your humongous crush on Minho anyway. “As if your tiny shower could fit two people.”
Chan takes the pair of chopsticks from your hand, preventing you from taking more of his string beans and chicken. “You should try it out and tell me,” he teases, sending a greasy smile your way, because he knows you’re thinking about it now. Chan’s proud of planting that seed in your brain.
You want to fucking uproot that seed and leave it out to die in the sun.
“I hate you.”
“Because your heart’s too busy loving Minho.”
And you can’t even fight back because he’s right. Bang Chan’s always right about everything. Unfair.
Minho’s phone buzzes on the counter, and out of pure boredom and aggravation, you decide to check it because it’s probably an email from the university reminding everyone to pay tuition and burn more money–oh, it’s just Han Jisung.
(8:37 PM)
jisung bb: yo, hyunjin’s bday coming up
jisung bb: wtf do I get him?
(8:38 PM)
lino: you should get him the penis plush with a bowtie on it
lino: bc he has bde
jisung bb: LMAO BRO
jisung bb: AIGHT that’s sick
jisung bb: what are you getting him then?
lino: the nerdy self-development book he’s been wanting
lino: oh, this is y/n btw
(8:39 PM)
jisung bb: um, am I interrupting something ???
lino: he’s showering so I’m just waiting for him to finish
jisung bb: join him and kill two birds with one stone ;)
lino: bitch you DO realize that he’ll see this chat right?
jisung bb: no, you would delete it
lino: TRU lol
(8:40 PM)
lino: shit, I think he just finished… imma go delete
jisung bb: TTYL, BE SAFE :)
lino: STFU
“My phone’s filled with cat pics, if you’re wondering,” Minho says when he walks into the kitchen, a towel draped over his neck, droplets of water falling from his hair onto his white t-shirt. He looks so effortlessly radiant in this mess of a kitchen with only one light bulb that works. This should be illegal. He should be arrested.
You’re just about finished deleting the messages when you answer, “Oh, I know. You only send me pictures of your cats and use them as really bad reaction memes. I was just stalling time to keep my mind off the fact that I’m starving and pissed at Chan.”
“What did Chan do to piss you off?” Minho chuckles, coming up beside you. He’s about eye-level, now that you’re sitting on the counter. When he laughs, his eyes crinkle into crescents—your heart goes haywire.
“His entire existence pisses me off,” you snarl, flashing the boy a glare.
“Did you break Y/N’s heart?”
Chan scoffs rather loudly, too loud for your liking. “Me? As if. Whoever has Y/N’s heart must be a total hunk,” he says, and you hope he stops talking right there.
“I thought you said you were going to cook me ram-don?” Minho asks with a jut of his lower lip. He plants his hands on either side of you and leans forward, trapping you against the counter. This happens and you get a splendid, 1080p vantage of his Face and long fucking eyelashes. As a result, you’re trying to keep a straight face as you control your heart rate. As a result, you are also trying to moderate the heat rising to your cheeks, like you’re working in the engine room of the Titanic and throwing ice cubes into the chambers to prevent steam (doesn’t work btw). And as a result, Chan is having the time of his life chopping up overcooked chicken breasts, pleasantly enjoying your misery.
“Can’t cook if you don’t move,” you mention, sounding less confident than you would have liked. He takes a step back, and you immediately hop off, making a grab for the spare chopping board and slab of ribeye steak. “Help boil water or something.”
Chan ends up slicing the meat because you don’t trust yourself with a knife after what Minho did.
eight.
Turns out Lisa’s date didn’t meet up to her expectations.
The guy’s great, apparently. He planned the entire day: from sushi, to cat cafe, to movies, etc. The conversations were courteous, none of that “how much do you make?” or “do you want to come to my place after?”—it's safe to say that it was a pretty decent date.
“So what’s wrong?” you ask her over the phone. You’re lying facedown on Minho’s full-size bed, propping your chin up with the back of your palm.
“He’s too nice,” she sighs, the sound of the apartment door unlocking on the other end. “He responds to my text in seconds and seems really keen to set up another date. He even suggested rock climbing. I don’t rock climb!”
“Maybe you should give him a chance. He did put a lot of effort into this date,” you mumble. You see Minho shaking his head on the bed, drinking soju through one of Changbin’s metal straws. He’s watching Love is Blind on Netflix, but you have a feeling that he’s enjoying your phone conversation more.
Lisa gives an exasperated sigh this time. “I know… but you know my type. I just don’t want to lead him on. He’s a good guy… just not my guy.”
“Let him down easily, and thank him for the date! At least, he wasn’t the guy who made you pay for his lunch and asked you to book an Airbnb for him and his dogs.”
“Right? I just met you, and it’s not my fault that you forgot to pay rent. I’m still waiting for that Venmo.”
You giggle when you remember that incident—it was during Valentine’s Day when she called. You were sitting on your dining room table and watching something on Disney+ (your friends back home have come to a consolidated consensus that it’s a crucial asset to a college student’s survival kit). And when Lisa called, you almost spat out the entirety of your dinner on your laptop screen, right on top of your Mushu icon. “That was an eventful Valentine’s Day,” you snicker, rolling over onto your backside. You hear Minho take a sharp intake of breath when you almost knock over his bowl of barbeque chips.
“Fuck you, bro. I called you because I was scared for my life! I don’t want the police coming up to our apartment doorstep and asking you for a testimony because I’m dead and found in the bushes,” she exclaims on the phone. You wince when she raises her voice.
“No more Tinder, Bumble, Coffee Meets Bagel, East Meets East…”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I deleted all of them already.”
Your eyes widen. “And?”
“And I’ll thank him for the date but won’t agree to a second one,” Lisa mumbles; she sounds like a child after being scolded by her parents for accidentally painting the apartment wall or something.
“Good girl.”
“Where are you? Snapchat says that you’re not home. Are you dating someone behind my back?” She bombards you with a series of questions—you really need to turn off your Snapchat location. If she looks hard enough, she’ll see your Bitmoji chilling with Minho’s Bitmoji… wait, she’s friends with him too. Great, you’ll never hear the end of it now.
You sit up and clear your throat. “No. I’m with Minho. We’re watching Love is Blind on Netflix,” you tell her responsibly. Like you’re afraid to get caught. Though you shouldn’t be. It’s not like Minho’s your dirty little secret or anything.
“Hoho, love is indeed blind,” she snorts, “You’re not coming home tonight?” You can practically see her wiggling her perfectly arched brows in glee.
“Maybe… stop making it sound so bad!” You retort, bouncing on the bed for added emphasis. Minho looks as if he’s about to kill you because you almost knocked over his soju bottle. It’s his fault, only rookies drink alcohol in bed.
“I’m not! I think Woojin got off work. I’m going to ask him to buy me cheese corn dogs now. Bye!” And the phone conversation ends there because she hangs up for food.
Your best friend looks over at you, bored. “Did she break someone’s heart again?” Minho asks.
“Yeah. Poor kid.”
“Would you ever go on a dating app?”
You scoff in response, a dismissive wave of your hand. As if you could ever sell your information to the dark web and give creepy stalkers the opportunity to track you down via satellite signals. “No. I would prefer not to die. Isn’t it so much more wholesome to fall in love in person? People are so manipulative online these days. Online dating only works for a selected group of people. That’s why there’s such a bad reputation around it,” you say calmly, hand reaching for his bottle of peach soju.
Minho tilts his head and takes the soju bottle away; you narrow your eyes at him. He asks again, “Then why haven’t you fallen in love with anyone in person yet? You have a bunch of eligible bachelors surrounding you. Example one–Seo Changbin.”
That’s because I’m in love with you, stupid. But you don’t tell him that.
“Changbin’s too chonky for me,” you lie. Changbin’s fine and a great friend. Maximum boyfriend material. But he’s not Lee Minho. There’s a chance that you might fall for Changbin in an alternative universe where Minho doesn’t exist, but sadly, it’s not this universe.
“Han Jisung.”
“The same guy buying Hyunjin a penis plushie for his birthday? No, thank you,” you chuckle for good measure. You didn’t think Jisung would take it seriously... but the more you learn. “I’m okay with being single. Too busy with my studies to fall in love.”
There’s an unreadable expression on Minho’s face, one that seems almost lost. Like if you were to look into his eyes, you’d see a large expanse of dark matter. Just dust particles floating listlessly in nothingness.
“Plus, I’m too busy taking care of my parasite that is you.”
Minho cracks a close-lipped smile and rolls his eyes; you like it when he smiles. “Look who’s the parasite now,” he says, fixing his gaze on your reclined figure that is sipping soju through a fucking metal straw.
“I mean… I can sleep on the couch if you want. And big spoon Felix if Changbin brings him home tonight,” you offer, resting your chin on your hand. Changbin always brings Felix to his apartment (he practically lives here) because Felix makes it known to the world that he hates dorming.
“No. My bed is big enough for the two of us.”
Okay, this is normal.
Breathing is optional.
nine.
You’re in charge of the Ravenclaw banner with Jeongin, a fellow Ravenclaw, when Jisung marches in the North Ballroom and shouts, “Guess who bombed his ochem midterm!”
Nobody guesses. In fact, Rosé shakes her head and focuses even harder on calligraphy-ing numbers for the table placards. And Seungmin looks like he’s about to toss a sock at him—that would be bad. Not for Han Jisung but for the underpaid university worker hanging lights on top of the ladder that Seungmin is securing.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” you chide as he saunters up beside you. “Though, Kim’s TA probably had the easiest time grading your exam.” You dip your paintbrush into a tub of dark blue paint, preparing to trace over the sketch of the Ravenclaw banner you referenced off Google Images.
Jisung takes off his backpack and hops onto the stage ledge, grabs a spare brush to begin tracing the raven in the center. “Nah, she was entertained. Look! I even played a game of Hangman for her,” he announces, flipping to page three just to show you a stick figure missing an eye.
“How thoughtful of you,” you say with the most sarcasm. “What were you trying to spell?”
“Here’s your chance to give the class a fat curve.”
He makes you speechless sometimes… but never in a good way. You quickly change the topic to prevent yourself from losing brain cells. “So why aren’t you with the other Gryffindors?”
Jisung looks over to the other side of the stage where Changbin is sprawled on top of a giant piece of poster paper and attempting to sketch a lion onto the canvas; he’s looking hard at his Samsung but not making much progress because Gryffindor’s have the most intricate design. Hyunjin is there too. But he’s being useless and looking at shades of red and yellow despite the fact that you’ve already picked up the tubs of paint from the craft store. “I think they have enough hands,” he mentions casually, earning a glare from Jeongin.
“Go,” the younger boy bosses.
Your friend points a brush at Jeongin, threatening him. “If Changbin kicks my ass for messing with his design, which you know for a fact that I will because he’s not very gifted at drawing, I am going to hurt you,” Jisung announces. He doesn’t sound very confident, however. He mumbles something about wishing he was a Slytherin before he drags himself towards the challenged artist.
“I think we’ll have all the banners finished by tonight.” You can say this confidently because Woojin and Felix are nearly done with Hufflepuff’s.
“Yeah. Centerpieces will be done by tomorrow, and if not, we’ll just pick up on Wednesday. Right on schedule,” Jeongin tells you, one hand steadily tracing the banner. You want your kids to be just like him when they grow up. If you ever were to have kids that is.
“I love you, did you know that?”
He smiles sheepishly. “Not as much as you love Minho,” he chimes in. Miraculously, it’s like everyone knows about your crush on Lee Minho but Lee Minho himself.
You press your lips together, crossing your arms. Minho’s so ugh. He’s not even painting the Slytherin banner right, but you know for a fact that they’ll be okay because Chan’s always out to save his ass. Minho’s just smiling and saying “oops” in a stupid cute voice when he intentionally paints green onto all of Chan’s fingers. Such a nuisance. Ugh.
“Y/N! You’re getting blue on the raven!” Jeongin accuses and stands up to make a big scene out of it. God, why did he have to take that drama course? Why is visual arts a GE requirement for a biology major like him?
“Calm down… I’ll just paint black over it,” you explain, hoping he’d shut up. Everyone (and Minho) is looking in your direction; you feel your cheeks grow warm.
“What a rookie move, Y/N!” Minho shouts from the Slytherin work area like an actual Slytherin. One more word and you’ll sock his face like what Hermione did with Draco. “You literally have one of the easiest banners!”
The truth is—you’re not a terrible artist—you’re just distracted. And you shouldn’t be because you see Minho’s face every single day. If anything, you should be accustomed to it by now. Inured. But why does your heart have to beat that much faster when he’s nearby? Not to mention that he’s already walking towards you to mock your mediocre craftsmanship.
“I’ll fix it, you fool. Focus on your own banner,” you respond harshly.
“We’re practically done,” he laughs, and Chan gives him a thumbs up.
“Go help Jennie with the tables.”
Minho looks sort of hesitant. “Um… Jennie flipped me off earlier because she asked if her new cardigan looked good on her, and I said no.” This prompts you to look over at Jennie, who is securing tablecloths onto every single university-branded round table with Jisoo. He’s right—she could do so much better.
“Take five. When Seungmin’s done with the lights, you can help him decorate the bar,” you tell him, trying your very best to paint the banner and not fuck up (because Jeongin might start yodeling or something).
“Hey, I want to ask you someth–”
“Y/N! Emergency! We forgot to buy glitter!” Rosé calls from across the ballroom as she holds up two readily Mod Podge-d placards in the air.
You shove your paintbrush into Minho’s hand. “Crap. Here, paint this. I need to run to the craft store,” you say, hopping off the ledge of the stage to save your vice president.
ten.
Thursday evening rolls along, and the university’s North Ballroom has officially transformed into the Yule Ball at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It’s nowhere near winter (or Christmas), but Jisung has somehow managed to convince his ochem professor to let him borrow three Christmas trees for the stage backdrop. You’re not sure what the trade-offs are for his final grade if he damages them, but he seems pretty okay with a solid C. This addition ties the entire venue together, in your opinion. String lights and LED icicles hanging from the ceiling, intricate centerpieces on every table, bar and DJ equipment all set up and ready to go. You think your gang of cranky, sleep-deprived friends did a pretty solid job on this venue.
“Alright, team. The tech people will set up the picture booth and dance floor tomorrow, so we’re done for the night,” Seungmin tells everyone. “Please go home and get some rest!”
Rosé adds before everyone starts to peel themselves off the unfinished dance floor. “And make sure to have a good night’s sleep so you’ll look hot at the ball tomorrow!”
At this rate, everyone’s just exhausted and wants to sleep. The past few days consisted of ASB members running in and out of the ballroom, 3RACHA frantically hooking up all their equipment while trying to maneuver wires around ladders, and a lot of (alcohol-free) cocktail testing because who the heck knows what Gillywater tastes like.
Jeongin leans his back again yours, and his hair tickles the crown of your head. “This dance floor will literally light up tomorrow. It’s going to be so cool,” you comment, patting your hand on the floor. Despite being beat after hours of running across the ballroom and tending to details, you think that it’s worth it. College is sometimes worth it.
“I mean, I guess,” Jeongin groans, attempting to scoot himself away from Changbin, who is trying to suffocate him in a hug. “Ew, gross. There’s glitter all over your hands!” And that’s the last time you see Jeongin (on Thursday) because he sprints back to his dorm, turning back to throw a peace sign back at Changbin.
“Please don’t try to hug me,” you say to him.
“Excuse me? I’m not trying to get my balls cut off by hitting on Minho’s girl.”
In less than a quick second, you punch his shoulder, earning a groan from him. “Don’t say that! He could have heard you,” you whisper threateningly. God, if he weren’t preoccupied with Woojin and Lisa nagging his ear off about some CS project, he could have overheard Seo Changbin’s loud ass voice.
“But it’s fucking true,” Changbin laughs in disbelief.
“No, it’s not!”
“Then why are you getting mad at me?”
“I’m not fucking mad at you!” You cry, standing up to pick up your backpack. “It’s just… don’t say shit when it’s not true. Don’t try to get my hopes up when I’m already confused.”
Changbin scoffs as if it’s a knee-jerk reaction, no sympathy whatsoever. Some friend you have. “I don’t really think that you’re confused,” he says.
“What?”
“I think you know exactly how you feel about Minho. But you’re just too scared and stubborn to confront him because you’re afraid of losing what you already have. So you’d rather live like this and micromanage yourself to prevent your feelings from showing,” he tells you, motioning his head towards Minho, who’s laughing along with your housemate. “I know you want validation. Maybe that’s what he needs too.”
“Can you stop doing that?” You ask bitterly. It feels as if he took your diary (imaginary, because you don’t have the time to write) and flipped to the page with all your qualms about Lee Minho. Narrates the list like he’s giving a product pitch for Apple.
Changbin laughs aloud this time, his head thrown back dramatically. He tosses his car keys in Chan’s direction before he responds, “You mean being a good friend? Who genuinely cares about your love life? And taking time out of my busy day to talk to you?”
“As if. You just don’t want Lee Minho to cut your balls off.” You turn to him as you glare into his deep brown eyes. Hostility aside, most of the gang has left, and it’s mainly just your housemates and Changbin’s.
“Because I need them?”
“Wow, that’s good to know.”
Lisa clicks her tongue in your direction and turns off the lights in the North Ballroom. “Alright, time to say bye to Bin. We’re gonna head back now,” she calls out, bumping fists with Chan and Minho on her way out. Jisoo’s probably napping in the car already; it’s going to be such a hassle to wake her up.
“I hope you become broke after renting your tuxedo,” you say in lieu of goodbye.
Changbin just pats your shoulder. “I hope you trip over your dress and fall on top of a certain dude whose name rhymes with Pee Winho.”
“Splendid,” you deadpan.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Chan smiles when he gives you a side hug. “Get some sleep and stop watching sad pet videos at night. It’s all over my Instagram feed.”
Chan’s the only nice one in your friend group. And you don’t mean “nice” in a bad way either; he’s anything but boring. He’s just a genuinely interesting person to be around, knows how to hold meaningful conversations, isn’t afraid to stick up for his friends. He’s great—it’d be so nice if you could fall for him again.
“I’ll try, buddy. Get those eyebags taken care of,” you tease, nudging his side.
Minho is right next to him, standing there with an oversized university hoodie that covers his mid-thigh and his Adidas joggers that he solemnly swears by. He carries his backpack on one shoulder, defeated and tired, like any junior year college student who can’t remember his carefree high school days and can’t look forward to graduating because he still has another year to worry about.
He is beautiful.
eleven.
“Damn! Who is she?” You holler from your bed when Jisoo struts out of the walk-in closet in a full-length, pastel yellow gown trimmed with lace and florals. She gives it a twirl and fluffs up layers of tulle. She looks like Belle. Stunning.
“Wait, why are you sitting down?” Jisoo scolds you immediately. “You’re going to wrinkle the tulle, you dumbass.”
You stand up, narrowing your eyes at her and straightening your gown. “Wow, I compliment my roommate for being hot stuff, and this is how I’m being treated in return?” you inquire, feigning a hurt expression.
“Your roommate also spent an hour last night steaming your dress and avoiding all the polyester stars because they will burn!” Jisoo reminds you, referring to the embroidered stars on top of your sheer black tulle.
For a person who’s not very dressy, you sure are picky about this particular dress. Your housemates have all purchased their dresses weeks prior to the ball, and yours barely arrived at your doorstep two days ago. But you tell yourself that the stress was worth it. By no means are you a fashion major, but it makes it seem like you can fucking dress yourself. It’s this gown with two layers: the top is sheer tulle with capped sleeves and patterned with gold stars and moons, and the bottom is a strapless, midnight blue dress made with silk; the waist is cinched with a gold ribbon. How very Ravenclaw of you.
Fondness bleeds into your expression. “I would die for you, Jisoo. I really would,” you tell her seriously before cracking a shit-eating grin.
“Yeah, yeah. Save it for Minho.”
“I would not die for him!” You declare with the passion of Kim Woojin, first in line at the new fried chicken place on campus. “I would die with him, bro.”
“Whipped,” she says, fixing up her gloss in the mirror. “Are you ready to go? Minho says he’s picking us up at five.”
You tilt your head, furrowing your brows. “Minho? I thought Woojin was picking us up.”
“I mean, he was supposed to be our ride. But Seungmin needed him to run some errands because we ran out of soda. So he’s most likely at the market right now cruising the soft drink aisle in a pricey tux,” Jisoo casually mentions. Like it’s no Big Deal. Like that fact that Lee Minho is driving you to the ball is no biggie.
Truth is, you’re not ready to see him. And you are most definitely not ready for him to see you.
“Um… can Lisa drive me instead?” you ask nervously, chewing your bottom lip. This isn’t even prom, you shouldn’t be this nervous. You also shouldn’t be picking at your dress because the metallic thread is delicate and expensive.
“No, she left with Woojin already. He’s her date, remember? He asked her on Wednesday.”
“What? Why is Woojin her date?”
Jisoo widens her doe-like eyes and looks at you concerningly. “Y/N, it’s the Yule Ball. It’s a ball! And you didn’t think to ask anyone to be your date? You’re the fucking secretary! Who are you going to dance with during the staff dance?”
You’re panicking at this rate. Not because you don’t have a date but because you’ve never seen Jisoo lash out like this until today. You must be an idiot. “I forgot! I was too focused on getting stuff together and actually planning the ball! Um… I’ll ask Seungmin? He’s the president, he won’t say no to me,” you blurt, distressed.
“Hello? President and Vice President are the first dance? Pick someone else.”
You search through a mental list of the eligible bachelors that you know. Chan is too busy DJ-ing (sorry ladies and gentlemen). Changbin has managed to find a date who can deal with his whiny ass. Woojin, Seungmin, Hyunjin, and Jeongin also have dates. Jisung and Felix like to keep their options open like the tryhard playboys they are.
There’s no hope now.
“I’ll just pretend to use the restroom or something. University food usually gives you food poisoning,” you decide, dodging her stare.
“Are you sure that everyone you know has a date? Like everyone you know.”
“Mhmm,” you drawl, furrowing your brows. “Do you want to dance with me? You don’t have a date.”
Jisoo deadpans. “I have a boyfriend, Y/N. He doesn’t need to ask me to be his date.”
“Can he not share?”
“You’re being ridiculous right now,” she informs you as she packs her belongings into a small clutch—you stand and watch her.
Just because you’re dateless, just because your options ultimately boil down to Minho, just because you’re desperate and he’s your best friend, doesn’t mean that you’ll ask him to be your date. It’s too risky. What if he already has a date? What if he has someone he wants to ask to the dance? You have no right to depend on him to be your date. It’s not like that. It’s not like with Jisoo and her boyfriend where it's an unspoken rule. With you and Minho, there are no rules. No rules that are meant to be broken.
“I’m not,” you state. “I’m going to pay Jisung five bucks to dance with me.”
“And that’s not ridiculous?”
“At least I’m not the one, posting a selfie of myself on Twitter, and asking Jeon Jungkook to fly his ass over here to ask me to the Yule Ball!”
Jisoo crinkles her nose, she looks disgusted. “Oh my god. She really did that?”
“Yup. Tagged the band’s Twitter handle and all.”
“Aren’t you jealous?”
Of course not. Jeon Jungkook would never ask a fan to the Yule Ball. Or any ball. It’s unrealistic. You’ve never been jealous because of him. You don’t know him as a person nor do you care for him deeply like the way you care about Jisoo or your other friends.
The only time you’ve been jealous was during your sophomore year. Minho offered to study with you at the library (you ordered Chinese takeout and all) but canceled last minute because something “urgent” came up with his dance partner, a pretty senior girl. That night was lonely; you ate all that orange chicken by yourself on the fifth floor. You didn’t respond to Minho’s texts for an entire day until Chan mentioned that his dance partner had sprained her ankle during rehearsal and needed a ride to the hospital. And he was also kind enough to mention that she’s in a very committed relationship with the captain of the football team. You ended up doing the Walk of Shame to Minho’s shared apartment with a burrito bowl and ice cream—you never want to experience jealousy again.
Ugh. But what if Minho already has a date? You don’t want him to hold her hand and put an arm around her waist? Jealousy stinks.
“Very,” you say.
twelve.
“Hello ladies,” Minho greets, rolling down the windows as soon as you exit the apartment complex. He wiggles his dark brows. “My name is Lee Minho, not the actor, and I am at your service.”
“You’re not even going to open the door for us?” Jisoo snorts and gets into the backseat, leaving the passenger seat open for yours truly.
“It’s because we’re not paying him,” you tell your roommate. “And we shouldn’t even need to. He eats and sleeps at our apartment for free half the time.”
Minho fixes his collar in the rearview mirror. As if it were crooked to begin with. “I pay you with my company and clean your fridge for free. That yogurt was going to expire, Jisoo. Aren’t you glad I finished it for you?” He questions her, referring to the time where Jisoo’s dad bought her a pack of vanilla-flavored Yoplait, and she got so sick of it to the point where she was offering it to students during ASB tabling.
“So very thoughtful of you,” she chides.
You have to force yourself to enter the car (and stop drooling). You’re not used to seeing Minho without some baggy sweater over his Adidas sweatpants and his worn-out pair of indoor slides that he likes to wear everywhere. Instead, he’s wearing a black dress shirt with a forest green tie, silver rings lining his fingers and hair tousled in that wet, effortlessly-styled kind of way. His blazer is on the armrest, and it’s black with matching forest green lapels; how very Slytherin of him. He looks very couture vogue, like that suit was tailored to fit every inch of his body. He looks rich, expensive. He looks like the fucking love of your life.
“You clean up nicely,” you say to him. Greatest understatement of the year.
“Of course. I can’t have my best friend outshine me during the Yule Ball,” he explains, giving you a lopsided smile. “You look nice tonight–”
“Save the compliments for later! Seungmin’s spamming the group chat because the turnout rate is insane. There’s a line that wraps around the fountain and down the stairs!” Jisoo urges Minho to floor it, which you’re a little grateful for.
At least this way, Minho doesn’t have to see you mentally combust.
His Spotify playlist goes on shuffle— “These Nights” by 88rising begins to play.
thirteen.
The North Ballroom looks so magical that it almost seems surreal. Like you’re half-expecting to see Sir Nicholas’ ghost float by and show you his decapitated head. Seems like the university knew that this was going to be the Event of the Year because they even provided a complimentary chocolate fountain for the guests to enjoy— this is what your tuition goes towards. Plus, you’re very grateful that most of the attendees actually made an effort to dress up extravagantly, dresses and suits and all. They all look like Triwizard champions.
“I’m glad I sold my soul to make this event come to life. Especially during my last year,” Jennie says, finally taking a seat beside you and slipping her heels off. “Best idea ASB ever came up with.”
“I know! Aren’t you sad to leave college?”
“If you put it like that, then yes?” Then, she runs her hand through her curls and makes an unpleasant face as if to say “then again”. “But you know how I’m the TA for the class on the internet industry, right? For the video projects, one group’s film had a bong in the corner of the room. Like, what am I supposed to do with that information?”
College is the best and worst four years of your life, they say. “Though you are severely underpaid, you should grade on the contents of the video and not let extraneous factors affect you.” You’re never going to be a TA; you might cry if anyone decides to roast you on Piazza, even if the kid were a freshman. Big stress.
“Ugh. You sound just like Professor Bae. I’m getting food. Any recommendations?” she asks. Jennie’s been working check-in with Hyunjin ever since the event started two hours ago. You’re not sure if the light snacks will fill her.
“Everything is… dining hall food but on silver platters. I can ask Rosé to order something more substantial. That’s what club funds are for, and we really racked up this year.”
Jennie shakes her head, chuckling. “Rosé is too busy running her ass around and making sure everyone is recycling. I’ll just go stuff myself with chocolate before the staff dance.”
“Don’t get chocolate on your dress though!” You shout through the music, and she’s already halfway to the buffet table, tiptoeing barefoot across the carpet with a lump of dark green fabric in one hand. Jennie gives you a thumbs up.
Hyunjin appears beside you with a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries and s’mores. “Want some?” he asks over a mouthful of fruit and chocolate, no manners whatsoever.
You grab a skewer and begin to eat obligingly. It’s not every day that Hwang Hyunjin brings you food. “Check-in was that bad, huh,” you say, eyeing his plate filled with desserts. He usually complains too much about getting bloated to reward himself like this.
“Sho bad,” he emphasizes while chewing, eyes rolled back as he heaves a sigh. Hyunjin picks up Jennie’s heels and sets it to the side, sitting down on the staff table. “Students and faculty get in for free, but outside guests need to pay. You think I don’t recognize a fake ID? Do they think I was born yesterday or something?”
“Fake student ID? I’m dead,” you snicker. “This isn’t even a nightclub… this boosts my ego as secretary so much. Don’t tell Seungmin. He might just faint.”
“Since you’re secretary, why are you sitting here like a loner and not out there doing something?” Hyunjin says it like it’s a bad thing. It’s not your fault you can’t DJ like Chan, bartend like Woojin, or take pictures as well as Seungmin. Plus, you’re still stressing over not having a date for the first dance. “And why do you look so bothered?” he adds, dunking his marshmallow in more chocolate.
You frown particularly at the way he worded that. “I fucked up and forgot to ask someone to the first dance. And none of you even bothered to remind me? Or even ask me? Didn’t you ask Jennie, like, yesterday night?”
“Hey! Half of us would have probably asked you… but like… you’re kind of off-limits.”
“What? What do you mean ‘I’m off-limits’?” you ask, scandalized; your heart pounces a little.
Hyunjin’s first order of business is to set his food down and clasp his hands together like he’s a business professional and about to give you a daily report on the stock market. Not a pleasant way to start the morning, by the way. “It’s an unsaid agreement. Minho is legally your single, bachelor best friend. Therefore, he’s obligated to ask you. I don’t want to mess with that agreement and have to deal with the consequences of my head getting bitten off,” he tells you honestly.
You would rather listen to him give you a report on the crashing stock market. Because your heart’s the one crashing now. Because, fuck the legal agreement, Minho hasn’t even asked you to the first dance! “Hyunjin! He hasn’t even asked me! He probably asked someone else, like that girl he’s talking to right now,” you hiss, pointing across the room to where the photo booth is.
“That’s your marketing professor, Y/N.”
“Oh, that actually explains a lot. McGonagall's costume and all.”
Hyunjin crosses his arms proudly. “See. I know Minho, he doesn’t have an interest in other people. He’s practically stalling just for you to ask him because Slytherins are cowards. Who the heck talks to their professor during an event?”
“Lee Minho does. Product positioning is his kink.”
“I have no interest in what his kinks are, unlike you! Shut up and go ask him already! The dance is about to happen,” Hyunjin says, standing up to scan the ballroom for his date. “Where’s Jennie? She needs shoes to dance.”
“You’re so unromantic,” you scoff. Of course, dancers. “She’s stuffing her face at the chocolate bar. If you drag her away right now, she might hurt you.”
Hyunjin grabs her heels and takes the chance; he’d rather get a fistful of marshmallows thrown to his face than miss the first dance. You, on the other hand, would rather miss the first dance.
The lights begin to dim.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s give a special thanks to the ASB Student Council for making this magical night happen! Grab your partners to the middle of the dance floor and pull them close for this song, you know who you are!” Chan announces from the stage.
You feel called out, like he’s directly staring at you and telling you to step up your game.
Taking a deep breath, you stand up and grip the sides of your dress, half-walking and half-searching the dark ballroom for your best friend before Chan starts the song. You swear Minho was just there a few minutes ago–
“–Hi, Y/N. Jisoo told me you didn’t have a date,” Jungwoo says, interrupting your train of thought. You remember that he’s from your film class; you sort of don’t recognize him without his satchel and hipster, Urban Outfitters-esque outfits. Jungwoo looks even better tonight; very Hufflepuff of him to wear a mustard yellow scarf with a suit. “Um, so I was wondering if you’d like to dance with me?”
You gape, eyes wide open. You don’t know how to respond… but the dance is going to start any second now. “I, um, I alread–”
“–Hey! There you are!” Minho greets and wraps an arm around your waist. “Sorry, Y/N. There was a line in the men’s restroom because one stall didn’t work properly. The janitors don’t get paid enough, do they?”
“Oh! I didn’t realize Minho had asked you already!” Jungwoo exclaims, chuckling at his own mistake.
Yeah, you didn’t realize either.
fourteen.
The acoustic version of “First Time” by Seven Lions and SLANDER begins to play. It’s a terribly soft song—you hate Chan for playing it.
You don’t even have a second to apologize to Jungwoo and remind him about the film discussion meeting next Thursday before Minho is grabbing your hand with his own and pulling you close to him. He holds one of your hands out and places his other on your waist, resting it comfortably on your dress. As naturally as you can, you rest your hand on his shoulder.
“Men’s restroom? Bullshit,” you whisper playfully to get rid of the nerves. “I saw you talking to Park beforehand. Were you kissing up to her?”
“You already know,” Minho says, swaying you against the soft piano acoustics. Everything’s perfect. How the light shining on the hanging icicles make Minho look like he’s glistening, how he’s holding you close like you’re all he has, how his palm is warm against the small of your back. It must be because he’s a dancer—it feels just right.
So don't stop now
I'm falling for you, I can't lie
I wanted you to stay…
“I thought you were going to ask someone else to the dance,” you tell him, eyes cast down at your heels.
“Well, I didn’t.”
His words tug at your heartstrings, and when he pulls you closer at the bridge of the song, everyone on the dance floor disappears until it’s only you and him. You can’t seem to focus on anything but him. Everything is so potently him — you can even smell his Dior cologne he tried way too hard to buy during Black Friday (not that you’re complaining). And his eyes? Cosmic. If you looked close enough, you think you can see all the galaxies in his starry eyes.
Oh, feels like we're falling for the first time
Oh, this is exactly what it feels like
You shift nervously against him; Minho’s face is dangerously close to yours. “You know I wouldn’t have said yes, right? I was looking for you,” you confess. “It just didn’t feel right to dance with anyone but you.”
“Sure, liar. You were going to pay Han,” he responds with a straight face despite the amusing glint in his eye.
“He was my safety backup… because I was scared to ask you,” you confess, “You know I wouldn’t have paid him! I love money too much.”
“I guess.”
I, I knew that you were worth it
I, don't know if I deserve this
You, have given me a purpose
You, yeah you were always worth it
Minho leans a little closer, locking eyes with you. “Why were you scared?”
“Because it’s not like Jisoo and her boyfriend,” you say, and he cocks his head in confusion. “Just because you’re my best friend, doesn’t mean that you have to ask me to the dance. There’s no legal or ethical agreement binding you to me. You could have asked someone else… because you have no obligation towards me. So yeah, I didn’t want to ask you and crush your dreams of asking someone else. Because I know you’ll say yes to me. Because you’re my best friend.”
Your heart becomes all erratic at the confession. Sure, it’s not even a full-fledged, flower-bearing, tear-jerking confession, but it’s enough to strangle the life out of you. He makes you feel like the female character of a trashy, high school teenage romance novel published in sans serif font (which lacks even more qualification), and you hate it, you really do. But if it’s with Minho, then being irrational and dramatic is fine.
“Is that it?”
“Yes? That’s why I was scared.”
He moves both of your hands to his shoulder and wraps his arms around your torso, clasping his hands on the back of your waist. The sound of your thumping heart drowns the chorus. “No. I meant, am I only just your best friend?” he clarifies.
“W-What else would you be?” you stutter, puzzled at his response.
“Does this mean nothing to you?”
“Minho, what–”
Wordlessly, Minho leans down and presses his lips against your parted ones—you gasp into the kiss. The feeling of his mouth on top of yours sends your head and your heart pounding, hands clenching the fabric of his tuxedo. You seize up at the kiss at first, almost stiff, before you cave into him and draw him closer with a hand on the nape of his neck. You can feel his lips captivating yours, feel his breath mixing in with your own, feel his heartbeat racing against your palm. Minho tilts his head and kisses you fervently, swallowing each and every one of your qualms away, like he’s been waiting to do that all night. He holds you close like you’re his. And you hold him close like he’s yours.
Feels like we're falling for the first time
The first time...
fifteen.
If there’s one thing you are especially horrible at, it would be dealing with your feelings, namely your feeling towards Lee Minho. Because you can’t seem to face him or give him a proper response after the kiss.
“Minho!”
“Wha-where?” You blurt, snapping out of your trance and looking around the room frantically only to realize that there’s no one in the coffee shop but a few office workers. No one’s ever awake this early on a Saturday. Not even you. But you haven’t slept a wink since last night.
“In your dreams, dumbass,” Woojin snorts, rolling his eyes. “I’ve called your name three times already. You’re so fucking whipped for him.”
If it weren’t for the fact that he bought you this very Vietnamese coffee that you are drinking right now, you’d tell him off. Instead, you resort to burying your face in your palms, a deep sigh emitting from your lips. “I haven’t slept since last night, Woojin,” you tell him, “I’m just… I don’t know what to do.”
“Do you know how much I want to sleep?”
“It’s not my fault that you’re taking the opening shift.” If anything, he should be thanking you for spending time with him during his fifteen-minute break.
“You want to date Minho,” Woojin states matter-of-factly.
You feel uncomfortable at the mention of Minho’s name. At the way Woojin reads you like you’re an open book. Like you’re transparent and made of glass and he can see into your heart and the depths of your soul. Like he knows how stupidly feeble your heart is and how your best friend means everything to you, more than anything this fucked up world has to offer. Not to be dramatic, but yeah, that’s Kim Woojin.
“So? But to risk everything? You know nothing will ever be the same if we break up, right?” you say back, feeling your voice crack at the thought of losing Minho entirely.
“And you think ignoring him after the kiss isn’t a stab to the heart?” Woojin acts as if you said “I don’t” and left him at the altar. “How would you even know if you didn’t try? How much longer are you going to tiptoe around him and act as if you don’t see him as anything more than a friend? It’s 2020, Y/N. Maybe it’s time to stop neglecting your feelings,” he finishes.
You tense up instantly and a deafening silence descends.
It’s not as if you and Minho had been best friends since the womb; frankly, you lived a solid eighteen years of your life prior to knowing him. You got into college with the mindset that it would be the best and worst four years of your life, and eighteen-year-old Y/N was right. It’s a fucking shitfest of exams and debt, but free alcohol and good company make up for it.
You met Minho on the first day of orientation when you asked him where the check-in was. He took an immediate interest in your fat cat plush after you’ve expressed that you couldn’t sleep without it, even if orientation was just one night away from home. Minho looks kind of different from before, better if you had to choose. When you first met him, he looked lost, hands stuffed into his gray hoodie as he dragged himself along with a massive Nike duffel bag. Three years later, you don’t recognize that kid anymore. Minho grew into his features as he started making use of the “free” gym that the campus demands you to pay a recreational fee for, he no longer gives two fucks about people who waste his time, and he radiates confidence in himself and his endeavors.
The best part was, you got to see that transformation.
Since orientation, he has planted himself in your life (like a true parasite), woven himself deep into the crevices of your heart and bones. It’s seamless, it’s effortless. It’s as if your lives were meant to collide and intermingle like all the stars have miraculously aligned for you to find him on this lonely college campus where people barely converse with one another. Minho has become a part of you unknowingly, and you wouldn’t know what to do if one day, you wake up, and he’s gone. Truly, it would be a Black Mirror type of universe if he disappears; you’ll be on your phone, wondering how life would be like in a world where he isn’t a clever simulation of your brain.
The human brain is capable of many things: Einstein and the Theory of Relativity, Newton and the Three Laws of Motion, and whoever invented french fries in Belgium… geniuses. But even if you used up your last standing brain cell to simulate Minho’s smile—his lips that have a crooked curve and his eyes that light up softly like waltzing stars—it wouldn’t work. Nothing is as devastatingly beautiful as the actual thing.
Your heart is so screaming loudly for him, but what’s holding you back?
“You know, you can’t give everything an outcome before it even starts,” Woojin tells you, “If that were the case, I would have dropped out of college.”
Woojin’s right, as he usually is.
He was actually on the fence of dropping out of university to enroll in a community college and pursue a minimum wage job to pay back his student debt. However, due to several dreadful days of locking himself in his room and drowning his sorrows in Hot Pockets, he decided to stay and give college a second chance. Now, Woojin is one of the selected few to participate in a paid music production internship all the way in Hollywood. What a star!
“But you didn’t. You’re basically ballin’,” you smile, feeling like the bits and pieces of your heart and coming together.
Your friend laughs bitterly, throwing his hands in the air. “I work two jobs, Y/N.”
“If I bought an expensive car, you best bet I would become a stripper.”
Woojin scowls (because he’s not a stripper but a barista), and his coworker tells him that his break is over. “So, if I want something, like a car, I’ll work hard until I can get it. Relationships aren’t all that different,” he replies. “You already have his heart, just make it last.”
That’s a good piece of advice.
Minho wasn’t your first (you don’t remember his name), but you want to love him like he’s your last. He’s worth it, you decide, and life’s too short to miss opportunities. You want him to crawl up to your apartment past midnight demanding square donuts. You want him to confide in you and trust that you’ll be there for him even if you’re cramming for a final and running on five Monster drinks. You want him to hug you so tightly until there’s a trail of cat fur on your leggings. You want to make him smile because he only deserves happiness and nothing short of it.
“Okay, I’ll pay Lee Minho to become my stripper,” you declare with the willpower of a soldier fighting for independence.
Woojin raises his eyebrows at your confession. “He might willingly do it for free. If he’s in the mood for it.”
“I love free,” you say wistfully, earning a flick on the forehead from your barista friend.
sixteen.
You know you’re nervous when you’re pacing like a crackhead at the front gate of Minho’s apartment complex at 10 AM in the goddamn morning. The neighbors walking their dogs must think that you’re crazy—well, maybe you are kind of crazy for this guy.
Minho’s apartment is so stinking old that it still has an intercom system; you feel like you’re paying your grandparents a visit. With shaky hands, you punch in the numbers 3-2-5 and an excruciating noise follows. Seconds later, there’s a groggy “what” on the other end of the line. It sounds like a hungover Changbin.
“Hey, dude. Can you get Minho to come down? I need to give him something–”
“Bitch, get up! Y/N says she needs to give you something! Maybe some cake or her virginity!” Changbin bellows on the other end. The line falls flat and so does your heart rate.
You are speechless. Flabbergasted. Appalled. You are this close to sprinting home.
Cake? That’s okay. Cake is yummy and can be bought. Virginity? Tempting… but that’s later on in the story... if everything works out. You really should have known better than to trust boys. There’s no telling what a smelly, hungover Seo Changbin can say or do. Either way, you’re ruined. Minho will see you as a creep and regret kissing you and never set foot in your apartment again… you want to turn back time and redo this.
You’re about to beat yourself (and Changbin) up and consider banging your head against the brick wall to end your misery when Lee Minho steps out of his apartment, walking down the stairs with a bedhead and slippers. Even in a big hoodie and fuzzy pajama pants, he is perfect.
Your heart gnaws at the sight of him, and it hurts more when you see how sleepless he’s been. How his eyebags are almost as prominent as Chan’s. There’s a fading imprint on his face; you think he’s been tossing and turning all night and fell asleep on his headphones.
“Hey,” you breathe out, taking small steps towards him when he opens the massive gate, iron rails scraping against each other.
Minho stops walking and stuffs his hands in his pocket, stares at you with forlorn eyes. He watches you stop when you’re standing right in front of him. “What?” he asks coldly with an indifferent expression. If he notices the nervous flicker in your eyes, he doesn’t comment on it and you’re grateful for that.
“I’m… uh, I don’t have cake,” you mention, voice quivering. There’s an apology lingering at the tip of your tongue, but the embarrassment and impending fear run rampant in your mind. Catches the breath in your throat. Locks your jaw.
“Okay,” he says, and silence comes crashing in. You feel like you’re sitting in the dilapidated ruins of a city, post-earthquake, and waiting in agony for the aftershock. It’s so deadly silent that you can’t focus on your thoughts through the thundering of your heart.
Minho looks tired. His eyes are more glossy than usual, probably from yawning due to lack of sleep. His jaw is defensively tight and that doesn’t sit well with you, because you don’t remember the last time he’s been ticked off like this. He looks regretful. For a moment, you feel a little pathetic for approaching him.
“That’s not what I came here to say,” you mumble quietly, “I’m… um…”
Without warning, you go on your toes and reach for his lips, hands resting softly on the sides of his face. At the kiss, you feel Minho’s body stiffen in surprise. To your relief, he then softens and surrenders to your touch. A weight lifts off your chest.
You are breathless when you pull back, dizzy.
“I’m sorry for ignoring you yesterday,” you tell him, and you can tell that he’s listening because he’s looking at you ardently. “I just needed some time to gather my thoughts. That kiss meant everything to me. Because you sort of mean everything to me.”
“Since when?” Minho tilts his head, lips arching—he’s testing you.
You think hard about this. “Since freshman year? When I discovered a corpse in my dorm and had to evacuate for a day until my roommates came back from spring break,” you reply thoughtfully, searching his gaze with keen eyes.
Minho’s hands find your face, and he cradles your cheeks before squishing them together. “It was a dead cockroach,” he corrects.
“Yeah. A big corpse,” you feel the need to inform. “Are you pissed off at me?”
Minho gives you a little smile, that signature raise of his lips, before leaning down and closing his eyes until they disappear in the shadows of his full lashes; you guess that’s his way of saying it’s okay. Minho holds you close with fingers entangled in your hair, controlling the kiss, his other hand gravitating towards the tapers of your waist. He kisses you because he can, and it makes you feel all weak in the knees as he tries to steal the breath from your lungs. There’s something about kissing Minho, the familiarity of having his chest pressed against yours and his arms wrapped around you that feels normal and right. Like that one term you learned in lecture: infrastructure. Like wifi and coffee. Something that is so prevalent and taken for granted that you don’t realize it until it breaks down—then your life is in shambles.
If there’s one thing you know (and will finally admit to), it’s that you have always wanted to kiss Lee Minho. From that very day since the cockroach passed away in your dormitory and you slept on his Twin XL top bunk. And if there’s one thing you wished you knew earlier, it’s that the same boy will always kiss you back.
Woojin is right, you are so whipped for him. And he might be too. He just hides it better like the true Scorpio he is.
He presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth before trailing his lips to the shell of your ear and whispers, “What did you want to give me again?”
“Cake?” you suggest, feeling goosebumps forming on your skin.
“The other one.”
“Only if you pay me.”
Minho brushes it off with a chuckle; you think your heart just did a massive cartwheel at the sound of his laugh. “Cash or card,” he replies, tucking your hair behind your ear, his fingertips tickling your skin.
Without hesitation, you tell him, “Cash.”
“Oh my God. You’re dirty.”
Only then, he seems to notice the shopping bag you’ve been holding onto since the crack of dawn. Minho gasps out loud dramatically. “You bought me two boxes of Thin Mints? That’s ten dollars. It could buy you two months worth of eggs!”
“I hate how I throw away money for you,” you mutter under your breath. “So annoying.”
“Five bucks if you give me another kiss.”
You jump on that offer.
When Minho smiles into the kiss and the sunlight catches the flecks of gold in his brilliant brown eyes, you know that no amount of money in the world could buy the time you have with him. Life is short. Politics is a messy hellhole. The world might end because of global warming and sea-level rising. You are just a negligible being floating in the expanse of the ever so powerful cosmos with no legacy. But with Minho, standing right beside you, right in this very moment, you feel invincible because he loves you wholly and fiercely and loudly. You love how his heart loves you more than there are stars in the galaxies and will love you until the final demise of the universe. Until the waves come crashing into skyscrapers and fire sweeps the plains.
Even if the sky falls and the earth crumbles, you think you will be okay if Minho is by your side.
ps: if you’ve made it to the end, thank you so much for reading & don’t forget to like + reblog :D this fic is lazily proofread, so excuse any mistakes; happy 2020 & stay safe + healthy !!! see you in the next fic ^.^
Letters burned the scroll in your hand, reassuring words etched on them, scorching their presences into it.
“The city is great, they greeted me with much fanfare, and I’ve been having fun with Hyunjin and the others, like old times.
I feel more like myself than ever. Don't worry about me, mom and dad, I'm fine. I feel like I'm truly, finally healing.”
A pang of guilt surged through you, but you shoved it away, ignoring its lingering presence. Sealing the envelope, you gave it to the man standing impatiently next to you.
“The fire nation, I’m assuming?” He sighed, Referring to all the past letters you have sent.
“Wouldn’t bet otherwise.”
You were healing, perhaps not the same way you had mentioned in all of your letters, filled with nothing but the pure lies, but you were searching for a way- a way to forget, forgive, and move past what was done to you.
Forgiveness never came easy to you. Everyone around you pestered you into accepting the situation that you may never be the same avatar you used to be. But they had no idea what you were going through; no one did- after all, you were the only avatar alive.
It was humiliating how every day, you got up to move only for your legs to fail you despite daily visits to the most skilled healers.
At one point, you had hope, you could feel your legs again, and day by day, you were getting better until eventually, you learned how to walk again, but it all crashed once you tried combating and could barely throw a punch without images flashing, looming shadows engulfing your vision, sending you straight back square one, flashbacks so strikingly vivid it made you quiver down in terror. You were so ashamed, felt so weak and... helpless. How the once-great avatar’s mind turned against her becoming her gravest nightmare.
But You’ve had enough of wallowing in self-pity. You left your parent’s home, leaving the fire nation to sail to republic city, the city where your nightmare was born, the city where your friends reside, in hopes of confronting your fears and healing. And that was truly your plan, but it went astray.
“The match starts in five minutes, move to the ring,” the announcer reminded you.
You pulled yourself out of your head, wrapping the bandages tighter on your hands. Getting ready for your next match. You can feel the ground shake. The roars of the people at the stands pump your blood.
Today’s opponent was a new one. Never heard of it before; fresh meat. New to the game, alas, putting you at a disadvantage as you knew nothing of them or their bending element. Hopefully, it's not another lava bender. Those injuries of that fight alone had another nightmare simmering in the process.
And although you've mastered all four elements, you choose to fight with the one you were naturally born with-fire.
You stood behind the metal door, secluding you from the ring, hands going up to position, feet grounded, breathing in, then out. It wasn’t your first match, but it always feels like it is, no matter how many times you tried to nerve up.
As soon as the bell sounded, the doors slid open you shot a belt of fire to where you knew your opponent stood. Hoping to catch them by surprise.
Your opponent, on the other hand, skillfully blocked your advances while remaining idle in his place, silky red hood up- the signature of the fire nation, hair covering his eyes, shadowes concealing most of his face.
“What's wrong pretty boy? Afraid to fight?” You baited. The crowd's yelling got louder. They loved it when opponents ridicule each other. You surged another blast of fire their way, but they, once again, blocked it as if they already knew your next move.
“Come on, you know you gotta use your hands to fight, right?”
Nothing.
“Here, let me help” you looped a hoop of fire around their hands - or at least tried to before they counterfeited the attack and sent you flying. Body slamming the jagged wall with a thack that pales compared to thunder. But you were used to it by now.
“Alright, now you want to play, pretty boy? "
Using the tiniest amount of airforce, you air bended your way to them faster than they could blink and attacked. But all you were met with was hands blocking your every move.
Their movements were so familiar to you, you obstructed all of their attacks just as well as they blocked yours. It was more of a dance than a fight at this point, every move mirroring the others.
There was only one person that knew you that well. and oh god, did you wish you were wrong about this.
The red streak you glimpsed on his cheek supported your thoughts even more. There was only one person you knew that had that scar. A harsh exhale - laced with a little bit of airbending- blew his hood off, revealing what you wished was not true.
The tiny breeze blew his dark locks out of his face. Giving you a glimpse of his face.
No.
No. No way.
You knew those dark locks. You've run your hands through them enough times to know how they feel even without touching them.
"Hello Y/N"
“Hyunjin...? what are u doing here?!” You knew someday you might run into one of the figures of your past. It was inevitable after all, but not this soon and definitely not him.
“Why, when I heard the avatars look-alike was fighting in underground battles of the lower rinks of basingse I just had to come and get a glimpse myself!” Mockery slid fluidly through his sly smile, “and would you look at that? You do look like her! If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought it was you.”
He was furious, you could tell, even though he masked it with amusement in his voice. To the average eyes, it looked like nothing other than two old friends reconciling. But to you, you knew his blood was boiling by the crinkles of his eyes, the air so thick between you that even airbending it wouldn't help,
Hyunjin was your childhood best friend, and your firebending mentor's son.... and boyfriend. Well, technically, your ex-boyfriend now, seeing as you disappeared on him after the incident, didn't write any letters back for the past year letting him knew you were still breathing.
“Get out of here, I'm not going to fight you” you let your arms rest, blood running cold, fire distinguishing from you. Back turned, you head back outside the arena. You can faintly hear the crowds gasp in shock over the thoughts running in your head. Speaking of your head, it almost got completely scorched with a blast of fire sent your way had you not sensed it early enough and twisted on your hands to get out of its reach.
“Oh no, you don’t. You don’t get to run away. Not again ” He was heaving. He hadn’t moved a step, but he was seething. Another burst after burst was shot at you. “I waited a year y/n! " Oh, how you longed to hear him call your name for so long, but not when he was saying it out of resentment "a whole year just to hear something- anything from you! “
“Hyunjin- stop. I'm not going to fight yo-“
“I. spent. Two. Months. Searching. For .you” fire punctuating every word.
“ Hyunjin i-"
“I thought you were dead !” He punctuated with a blast. This one was charged with so much grievance that the fire was a searing blue. You were not as lucky as before at dodging it, mind catching on to the malice dripping from his voice. Had you not been burned, you would have noticed the tears welling up his eyes.
“Ah,” you hissed in pain.
“You never wrote me back!! But you wrote to Felix?!”
Felix was a mutual friend of yours. A non-bender that you’ve always been very fond of. A younger brother you never had.
“I didn’t know what to say!” You fired back this time, making it his turn to dodge, body ablaze with so much heat you felt it coming out of every limb.
“A simple ‘ hey I'm still alive, by the way, I want to break up with you’ would’ve done!”
“That's the avatar?” “ no way” “ they have a bounty for her head” the mob outside the arena started to murmur, but none of it registered with you.
“ i - I couldn't.....” your resolve faltered, arms dropping. Forgetting completely about the stupid match and the bystanders.
“But you could ghost me for A YEAR and three months?” He scoffed, “ not that I was counting or anything.” He added sneeringly.
“Ever thought I didn’t want to be found?” You snapped back. You had no right to at all. But it just... everything made you snap after the incident. Blame it on insomnia or the delusion or whatever, be it. It drove you crazy. Everything irked you, the sounds of footsteps, the numb feeling you would get in your legs sometimes, the breathing of the person standing next to you- everything aggravated you, you felt your resolve holding on to a thin thread.
Hyunjin, filled with so much fury, lashed on you once again. This time you blocked it, but it drove you roughly back into the unpolished wall. A rock that was jutted out of the wall struck you exactly where you were terribly injured in the attack that incapacitated you. A jolt of electricity crept through your body.
Pictures, more vivid than ever played before your eyes, legs feeling numb, horror swimming in your blood next to the burn of lighting that struck you. Body lying limp, you felt soft hands reach for your face.
“Y/N!” It was the same.
All the same.
You pushed Hyunjin out of shot, and it struck you midair.
The same face that found you after being utterly destroyed, peering over you, with terror and tears etched so deeply in his scarred face.
“ I'm sorry. I’m sorry,” he kept repeating like a mantra, hugging your figure closer, face resting in your neck.
“Please,” he sobbed, “ come back to me.”
Everything was foggy. Was it your eyes or the arena? You had no clue over the video looping in your head.
Lighting, as beautiful as it was, struck you so hard, slipping so gracefully out of your opponent’s fingers, dancing in your nerves, jolting your heart to a stop.
" I'm here." A soft voice pierced through the fog, glints of black and red becoming clearer the more the voice spoke. "I'm always here."
Hyunjin’s pained scream filled your ear” No, No, Chan- please do something! Heal her !”
“I can't lose you again, Y/N.”
Deep brown eyes broke through the fog, followed slowly by the rest of his figure. Hyunjin. That was hyunjin talking to you. The boy you were madly in love with. The boy that never gave up on you. Your eyes welled up seeing him so close- feeling him up so close again.
Fingers softly held your cheeks, your own clenching onto his silky red robe. He didn’t have to speak; his eyes spoke a thousand words. You hid from them in his neck.
"I didn't want you to see me like this," you mumbled into him, tears spilling.
His arms wrapped tighter around you, afraid you’d slip right through if he loosened an inch.
“Let’s go home.”
He didn't need to take you anywhere because right now, you felt more at home than ever.
desc: you couldn’t stand Hyunjin. the boy would flirt with anyone and everyone but for some reason, he’d especially bother you. Upon finding him broken, you discover parts of his life that he keeps hidden under his confident facade. what will happen when the new side to the cocky boy is revealed?
warnings: mentions of divorce, hyunjin being flirty, mentions of parents fighting, themes of loneliness/neglect, a few swear words (maybe like 2 or 3), pet names, crying.
wc + genre: slight angst, fluff if you squint. 2.9k.
a/n: will be at the end! enjoy chapter 1 of my new fic Hidden!
Hidden masterlist || next
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“Piss off, Hwang,” you roll your eyes. Hwang Hyunjin simply sends a wink in your direction when you make eye contact.
“Why? Don’t you like it, princess?” He replies, a smirk appearing on his plump lips. You hate to admit that you blushed slightly at the pet name.
“Y/n, Hyunjin, I know it’s the end of the day but please don’t disrupt the class,” your teacher scolds you.
You mutter a “sorry ms” before turning away from the blonde boy beside you.
Hwang Hyunjin is cocky, arrogant and shameless. He flirts with everyone and anyone, boys, girls, juniors and seniors. And people usually flirt right back, hoping that the innocent smiles might become something more.
You never flirt back, nor hope for anything more from him so why does he pester you so much? Usually, Hyunjin will wink at someone and pretend nothing happened, never sparing his victim a second glance. Apparently, for reasons unknown to you, you're different. The blonde boy just has to throw a wink, pet name or pick up line your way at every chance he gets.
You can’t see why Hyunjin can’t just be like his best friend Lee Minho. Minho is quiet, easy-going and nice to talk to. You could say you’re mutual friends with Minho as he’s pretty close with your two best friends Lee Felix and Han Jisung and the two of you sometimes find yourselves in a friendly conversation.
For the rest of the class, you keep your head down to avoid another encounter with Hyunjin. The lesson drags on until finally, the long-awaited bell rings through the room to signal the end of classes for the day.
You quickly get up from your seat only to collide with a firm chest, the impact causing you to lose balance and fall over.
“Falling for me already, princess?” Hyunjin’s voice rings out from above you. You can practically hear the smirk in it.
He offers his hand to help you up but you ignore it, pushing yourself up from the ground. You quickly walk out of the door and try to find Jisung and Felix.
“Y/n!” you hear a voice call from somewhere to your right. You snap your head towards the sound and see a brown mop of hair running through the crowd of students towards you with a freckled blonde boy following not far behind.
“Sungie, Lixie! I feel like I haven’t seen you two all day!” you smile as you hug both boys.
“Yeah, I wish we all had more classes together,” Felix mumbles as he and Jisung hug you back.
“Y/n, you know how you and Lix are coming over to my place tomorrow?” he squirrel-like boy says, reminding you of the playdate (as Jisung likes to call it) that you, himself and Felix had planned for the weekend.
“Yeah, what about it?” you ask.
“Well I hope you don’t mind but I’ve asked Minho if he wanted to come over too,” a pretty shade of red tints Jisung’s cheeks when he mentions the brunette boy.
“Ooh, Jisung~” you and Felix smirk, teasing the small boy about his little crush.
“Yeah, that’s fine though ‘Sung,” you answer his question.
“Okay cool... but I should warn you, Hyunjin’s going to be there too.”
Fuck.
Jisung doesn’t meet your eyes. He knows you aren’t too fond of Hyunjin but you’ll have Felix, Minho and himself there to distract you.
You’ll put up with the irritating blonde for a few hours if it makes your friend happy. Who are you to decide who goes to Jisung’s house, anyway?
“Okay, what time did you want us there?” you ask, steering the conversation away from Hyunjin.
“Around 12, now let’s get out of here before the school gates close,” Jisung says as he drags you and Felix away from the building you’d been in all day.
You and Felix parted ways with Jisung as you walked home. You and Felix only lived a few houses apart so you always walked home together whereas Jisung lives a few blocks away.
“Want me to pick you up tomorrow, y/n?” Felix turns his head towards you as he breaks the silence.
“Yeah, that’ll be good. Thanks, Lix,” you answer, meeting his gaze.
“What’s on your mind?” he asks. Your best friend knows you way too well.
“Nothing,” you lie but Felix can tell. He decides to drop it for now.
You’re so grateful for Lee Felix. Even though sometimes it may not seem like it, you’re thankful that he can tell when something’s wrong. You and Felix share a strong bond. You’re able to read each other like an open book. He’s able to cheer you up and make you forget about whatever’s worrying you just with his dimpled smile. You sometimes think you’re like a sunflower and Felix is your sun as you turn towards him, his presence cheering you up and making your days brighter.
Soon enough, you and Felix reach your house and you say a quick “goodbye” before walking inside.
You drop your school bag onto the couch before making your way into your bedroom. A tired sigh leaves your lips as your exhausted body is welcomed by the comfort of your bed. Tomorrow, you only have to put up with Hyunjin for a few hours. It’s okay. You have Felix, Jisung and Minho with you, too. Everything’s going to be fine.
beep beep beep
Your phone alarm wakes you up 11:00 am.
You slowly make your way out of bed and hop into the shower, letting the warm water run over your body as you relax into it, calming your racing mind. You stay that way, letting the water run over you as you wake up and mentally prepare yourself for the day ahead.
Your thoughts decide to wander to Hyunjin. Jisung wants Minho to come over and Hyunjin’s just part of that. If Minho comes, Hyunjin comes and if it makes your friend happy, you’ll deal with it.
As you’re turning the water off, you look at the phone that’s sitting on the bathroom counter beside you.
Shit, it’s already 11:30. You only have 30 minutes to eat breakfast and get ready to go to your friend’s house. Calm down, y/n. 30 minutes is plenty of time.
Turns out, it really isn’t.
By the time you’ve decided on what to wear (because you couldn’t make up your mind), got dressed and eaten breakfast, there are only 10 minutes until Felix is due to pick you up.
You head to the bathroom to clean your teeth and brush through your hair. That takes about two minutes. You’ve now got 8 minutes to do your makeup and get everything that you’re taking (which isn’t much, just some money, your phone, charger and hairbrush) and put it into a purse.
There’s not much time to do makeup so you decide to just conceal a few blemishes, touch up your eyebrows, apply a small amount of mascara and add a touch of lip balm to your dry lips. You figure you don’t need a full face of makeup anyway. You aren’t there to impress anyone, after all. It’s just a hang out with friends.
Felix arrives right on time and the two of you head off to Jisung’s house.
When the pair of you arrive, you find Minho and Hyunjin already inside. Minho and Jisung are sitting beside each other talking (and blushing from both sides, you notice) while Hyunjin sits on the couch opposite them as he scrolls through his phone.
“We’re here!” Felix announces your arrival.
As you walk into the house, Jisung quickly hugs you and Felix before returning to his conversation with Minho, who utters a quick “hello”.
You glance towards Hyunjin and you’re surprised that he’s already looking at you. He smirks at you and winks as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. As usual, you turn away from his gaze as a slight pink hue adorns your cheeks.
You look up at Felix who seemed to witness the interaction. You swear you see a hint of sadness in his features... no that’s not it. Something similar to sadness and anger but not quite either of those. The freckled boy quickly covers up whatever emotion was on his face and smirks at you, nudging you lightly in a teasing manner.
The first hour or two was pretty fun. The five of you talked about everything and nothing, relaxed for a while and somewhere in that time, Hyunjin had wandered off to who knows where.
Speaking of Hyunjin, he’s being pretty quiet today. Not like his usual confident self at all. Maybe the confidence is all an act? Maybe he’s hiding something beneath the cockiness? Nah, he's probably just bored, you think. The thoughts are just that; thoughts. But you don’t realize just how close to the truth those thoughts are.
As you’re talking to Felix, you feel a sudden urge to pee.
“I’ve got to go to the bathroom,” you say to the boy and get up, walking towards the guest bathroom.
You do your business and head back but as you’re walking towards the living room, you hear a muffled angry “fuck” coming from Jisung’s guest bedroom.
You go closer to the bedroom, wondering what’s going on and why the person inside sounds to upset.
As you get closer, you can make out the sound of... crying? Standing on the other side of the door, you debate going inside.
“Please. Please be joking,” you hear the voice cry, pain evident in the tone.
You decide to see if everything’s okay so you knock gently on the door before pushing it open slightly.
“Hyunjin?” the once flirtatious, cocky boy is sitting in front of you, now reduced to an emotional wreck.
“Who’s there?” he mumbles, refusing to turn towards the intruder.
“It’s me. A-are you okay?” you take a small step inside the room before closing the door.
“Y/n? Why would you care? Don’t you hate me?” Hyunjin mutters with his head hanging low and shoulders drooped. Do you hate him? Do you care? You might not like him some times but you couldn’t truly say you hated him.
“Hyunjin I- I can leave if you want-”
“Stay. Please.” he cuts you off, slowly lifting his head as red puffy eyes meet yours.
You’ve never seen him like this. You don’t exactly know what to do but something inside you makes you stay.
“Okay,” you say and Hyunjin moves aside on the bed, making room for you and patting the space. You usually try to stay as far away from Hyunjin as possible but a part of you wants nothing more than to comfort him and make sure he’s okay.
You take the seat beside him and sit there as he cries. Hyunjin aka the arrogant boy you actively tried to avoid now sits beside you as streams of tears flow from his usually bright eyes and down the smooth skin of his cheeks.
You don't know what makes you do it, but you gently push Hyunjin’s long hair away from his face and tie it up with one of your spare hair ties before softly rubbing circles into the boy’s back in an attempt to comfort him.
Hyunjin looks up at you, surprised by your actions. You yourself are surprised but it seems to be helping him so you continue to do what you’re doing.
“Thank you,” Hyunjin says, voice barely above a whisper. He sounds broken. Like all hope has been lost. Like his world, hopes and dreams have just been shattered. Like his heart’s been torn into two.
“I’m here if you want to talk, ‘Jin,” you’re taken aback when the nickname, although never used before by you, comes out of your mouth almost as if you said it every day.
“Thank you, y/n. It’s just my family. I’m sorry for always being annoying. At home, m-my parents are always fighting and it feels like they never notice me. It feels like they don’t love me anymore. I love both of them so much and I can’t stand to see them fight,” Hyunjin’s breathing becomes more uneven as he tries to hold back a new wave of tears.
“I-I guess being cocky and flirty is h-how I deal with it. If I can make someone’s heartbeat a bit faster, even for a second, and they flirt back with me, I guess I feel like I’m worth something. People actually notice me this way, unlike at home. I feel less... lonely. S-so I put up a confident and flirty act t-to hide my insecurities and w-what goes on beneath. I-I keep the real me hidden,” Hyunjin stutters as a fresh wave of tears hits him.
You don’t know what to say. Hyunjin’s always acted so confident and now he’s crumbling right in front of you.
“I-I’m sorry. My parents’ fighting has gotten worse and worse lately a-and now I’ve just f-found out they’re getting a d-divorce,” The blonde boy, once full of playful smirks and flirty winks now sits beside you, sickly pale with red puffy eyes and dried tears covering every inch of his cheeks.
“Hyunjin, it’s okay. Breathe, it’s okay, ‘Jin,” you attempt to calm Hyunjin down. The hand that was rubbing circles on Hyunjin’s back is now pushing stray hairs out of his face and behind his ears as you crouch in front of him and gently wipe his cheeks with tissues from the box that had been sitting on the end of the bed.
“I-I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, y/n,” he says as his breaths slowly become steadier.
“It’s okay, Hyunjin. You probably needed to tell someone. Do you feel better now that you’ve talked about it?” you ask. You remember how your parents used to say things like this to you and it helped calm you down.
“Y-yeah I do feel a bit better. Thank you, y/n.” he smiles sadly at you. Your heart’s breaking for the boy in front of you. Hyunjin’s parents are getting a divorce and his confidence and flirty persona is all a cover to hide how broken he is inside.
You give Hyunjin a small smile as you meet his eyes. Hyunjin’s eyes are beautiful and you’ve never really noticed until now. They hold so many emotions, memories and thoughts within them. His eyes seem to hold a universe of stars inside them, shining delicately and brightly.
Instead of verbally answering to Hyunjin’s “thank you” you nod your head slightly, never breaking eye contact.
The broken boy in front of you gently grabs your hand as he furrows his eyebrows, asking if the action’s okay. You nod with a small smile and he intertwines your fingers together, holding your hand softly as if you would shatter at any second, but with urgency, almost as if the contact is the only thing keeping him safe from crumbling completely.
You’re the first one to break eye contact as you ask Hyunjin if he wants to get some water and wash his face.
The boy nods and the two of you slowly stand up, hands locked together.
You show Hyunjin where the bathroom is as you quickly go to Jisung’s kitchen to get a glass of water for each of you.
knock knock knock
“Who’s there?” Hyunjin calls from inside the guest bathroom.
“Just me, Hyunjin,” you reply. Hyunjin opens the door and you walk in, placing the cups of water on the sink.
You can see he’s still very upset over his parents’ divorcing but he’s trying his best to hide it.
Hyunjin’s always known that something like this was bound to happen one day. He just wasn’t ready yet. He hates the fact that the two people he loves most in the world hate each other, but he can’t help that.
At this moment, the blonde boy is so thankful for you. Although you don’t know each other very well, you helped him at his lowest moment.
He thought you hated him but here you are now, wiping his tears away, helping him to wash his face, combing gently through his long hair and tying it up.
Maybe this would be the start of some kind of friendship between the two of you? At least, Hyunjin hoped it is. You’re the only other person besides Minho that he’s ever opened up to about himself.
“Y/n, please don’t tell anyone. I’m not sure what made me tell you this but I’ve never been this open with anyone besides Minho. I don’t regret it, though,” Hyunjin says as he faces you, his brown eyes finding your own.
“I would never tell anyone, Hyunjin. I promise,” you reply.
Seeing Hyunjin trusting you and opening up to you makes your heart swell a bit. You’re glad you can be here for him.
“Thank you. Really, y/n. I know you may hate me but I’m really grateful that you’re here right now.” the boy says, splashing his face with water once more and drying it with a face towel.
“I don’t hate you, Hyunjin. Not at all. And I’m here for you if you ever need someone to talk to,” you quietly say as you put the face towel on top of the pile of other dirty towels and pick up the now empty glasses.
You move to open the door but Hyunjin stops you, holding your hand once again.
“Can I?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
You nod in response and squeeze Hyunjin’s hand lightly.
Together, you walk into the living room.
There’s something inside you that wants nothing more than to help put the broken boy back together, so that’s exactly what you’re going to do. Help him fix the parts of himself that are hidden from the rest of the world.
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a/n: thank you for reading part 1 to this fic. the plot/ideas are all mine. you may like, comment, recommend to a friend, reblog and of course read my work! you may not translate, copy, claim, repost (on tumblr not other sites), base work off this etc (pretty much anything that wasn’t in the “you may” section).
I hope you enjoyed reading this!! I love you have a good day/night <3
A/N: inspired by the song “Vibe So Hot,” Priscilla Ahn
ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ
-〤〤〤-
There were times when you weren’t really sure about Han Jisung.
The day you moved from your parent’s house into your new home, life was a dream. A delight. A living fantasy. You and your closest friend of twenty-odd years had been visualizing it for ages- a home for just the two of you, where you could make and break all the rules you wanted, eat dinner out of the cookie jar, throw paint and crayon all over the walls, and dump all the grease, homework, and leftover brussel sprouts down the garbage disposal that you wanted. It would be your kingdom with the two of you at equal pedestal on the throne, and no one could say or do anything about it.
While your visuals and ideals did change over time, what with hormones and taxes and a general understanding of how the world worked, you and F/n never stopped dreaming of the day you each held one half of the kingdom between your fingers. One half of freedom. It was a blissful, beautiful Tuesday morning. Exactly five months ago. Birds chirping in the small tulip trees. The sweet spring breeze ruffling the surrounding azaleas. The simple but water-efficient sprinkler system the two of you had worked a summer job to afford that was...spraying…...coke…
...Yes, it had been a beautiful Tuesday morning. And also the arrival of hell next door.
“HAN JISUNG!” you yelled, banging on your neighbor’s front door. “Han Jisung, I know you’re home!” You stamped your foot. “Open this door right now!”
It was now five months later. Five months since you’d moved into your dream home, something small and sweet and affordable that you and your friend worked hard for years to achieve. Just something small to start the two of you out, while you finished up school and figured out what the heck the two of you wanted to do with the rest of your lives.
It had easily become five months of back-and-forth hell. “HAN JISUNG!!!”
Click. The door slowly creaked open. It was dark inside, far too dark for 2 pm, like something out of a horror movie.
Oh, but you weren’t falling for another one of his tricks. Not this time. “Han Jisung, I know you’re there…” You called...weakly. “C-Come out this instant. I know it was you who stuffed cereal into the birdfeeder and left glue on the door handles. I was almost late for work this morning and F/n is stuck on the back porch.”
There was no response. You agitatedly sighed, running a hand through your hair and taking a handful of strands with you thanks to the faint remainder of krazy glue that simply wouldn’t come off.
“Han,” you called, poking your head inside. “Han? Han Jisun-”
The moment you stepped inside, a loud whrr! resounded, your body hoisting upwards. You spun around in the flimsily thin netting, falling into a fetal position backwards.
Han and a few of his cronies came out cackling at your expense, watching you gently spin and sway in their ridiculous trap. “I caught Y/n!” one of them cheered. “That’s 1,000 points.”
Another scoffed. “You didn’t do anything,” he said, blowing long blonde locks out of his face. “The points go to me for setting up the...project.”
“Shouldn’t they go to Han?” Yet another asked. “It’s his house.”
You rolled your eyes, attempting to adjust. Han tromped over proudly and swung his arm around the boy. “Exactly!” he cheered, pinching his cheek. “I’m glad you see it my way.”
The kid squinted his fox-like features in disgust, shoving the ringleader away from him. Han merely laughed, smirking up at you next. He sent a flirtatious wink your way. You scoffed.
“S’up, gorgeous?”
“Drop dead.”
“Ouch,” he playfully winced, pretending to take literal damage. “Didn’t like the glue, or the cereal? I told Hyunjin no one wanted his bland raisin garbage. But,” He shrugged. “He insisted it was good for the birds. The raisins, anyway-”
“Screw you,” Goldilocks groaned. “Shove off, I never said I ate the stuff. I just said it was better than wasting Lucky Charms or something actually good.”
“...Yeah, so there’s that.” He spared a passing eye roll before putting back on his deceitfully charming smile. Disgusting. “What brought you to swing by? Just dropping in?”
The other boys laughed again, causing you to turn an annoying shade of pinkish-red, some cross between coral and rouge. “I don’t have to tell you anything!” you snapped in your anger.
Unfortunately, Han Jisung needed to know the facts. “Then...how am I supposed to help you? Oh, oh! Hold on a minute.” He simpered. “Are you maybe trying to tell me that you came by unannounced because...you wanted to get caught up in my web?”
Han’s crew all made catcalls and whistles along with nervous smiles and suggestive expressions. The nerve of him. You fought yourself into an upright position, clawing angrily at the seams. “I meant you already know what you did wrong! Get me out of this stupid thing and get over to my house so you can fix it.”
“Oooo,” A freckled-faced boy you recognized as Felix cooed. He’d often been a leading officer in many of Han’s classic pranks and schemes. “I think she wants you bro.”
The heat on your face was intensifying, whether from rage or embarrassment, you didn’t care. Your prison shook. “That’s not what I-”
“Well then,” Han (classically) interrupted. “Guess I better get over there and fix it.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a salacious manner, padding around the clamour of boys and taking the stairs three at a time like a gazelle. When he reached the top, he revealed a rope from around the corner, lowering you gently...at first.
After three careful tugs, he dropped the rope entirely. Your eyes went wide, screaming as you fell--
...Right into Han Jisung’s arms. The boy glided down the stair rail and caught you at the last possible second. “Plenty of time to spare,” he insisted, showing you his teeth.
You slapped them away, wrestling your way back to your feet. “...You’re such an asshole, Han Jisung,” You dusted yourself off, smoothing out your attire single handedly. “I--”
...You yanked your hand down. Away from his face. Hard. Harder.
It was stuck. Your hand was stuck to his cheek. Krazy glue.
“OW! Ow ow ow okay! That hurts! Sh*t!” He cursed. You rolled your eyes, kicking his leg.
“That’s what you get for gluing my door! Now come on!”
To make things less awkward, you gripped his left ear, yanking him like a mother would a misbehaving child. The others crowded around and followed, laughing as—
The door slammed in their face. “OW!” You heard Hyunjin yelp. His watered-down image through the distorted window showed him covering his nose, the other two goons frantically asking if he was okay.
...Well, Felix did, anyway. Fox-face merely stared and shook his head a little. “Let’s go. You’re cleaning the glue off both doors and changing out the birdfeeder. If you screw it up, you’re buying me a new one.” A harsh gaze fell over your shoulder. “After you unstick F/n!”
Han grunted, his groans and whines a feeble echo of white noise along with the ridiculous passes he occasionally made on the way over.
-〤〤〤-
After spending an hour and a half watching Han unstick glue from around your house (after unsticking your hand from his face) and taking a trip down to the hardware store for a new birdfeeder that 100% came out of his pocket, you sighed, trudging yourself through the front door and collapsing onto the nearest sofa by a front-facing window. You leered, observing Han shuffle up his own walkway and exchange harsh words with his friends before they all piled inside.
That bastard. He was always coming after you, ever since you first moved into the neighborhood. After the first week of assaults (from moving day) you’d asked the other neighbors if any of them had any bad experiences from house 117, but they all gave a generally same response: “Who, Han Jisung? Oh, heavens no! He’s such a nice boy! A little quirky, sure, but such a nice boy! ...Are you sure it wasn’t a raccoon or a stray cat?”
Heh, yeah. Like a stray cat was capable of impersonating your friend to have the locks on your house changed. Didn’t they have to do security checks for that stuff?!
Speaking of locks, the sound of keys ricocheted from your left, and you turned your head to see F/n enter...very strangely. They looked spooked, their eyes wide as they turned their head this way and that, creeping into the house like an Egyptian wall painting.
“Is the cost clear?” they asked. “Is he gone? Nothing’s missing? Nothing’s amiss?”
“Relax, F/n,” you said, scratching your head. You desperately needed a shower, but that had been rather hard with the pipes spewing nothing but Mr. Pibb for the past three days. It’d apparently be a fourth until they cleared out. “The menace is gone, back to his evil layer. I made sure he cleaned up his mess and got him to replace your grandmother’s birdfeeder.”
F/n scowled, back to normal as they tromped into the room, throwing their bags down. “She made that birdfeeder from scratch, Y/n. With her own two arthritis riddled hands, that birdfeeder may as well have been an ancient relic. It was one of a kind.”
“I know, I know,” you insisted, peacefully trying to calm them down. “Just relax. I got it under control and taken care of.”
“You said that last time. Now look at the place.”
You looked around. “...It looks spotless. Han actually did a really nice job with that extra work he put in.”
“Well it wasn’t before! ...Wait, you let him into the house?!”
Whoops. “Only to do some extra chores. To make up for outside. And many other times he’s screwed us over.”
Your friend grabbed the sides of their hair, practically seething. They regarded you like you’d gone insane, and they were just on the brink. “Y/n have you lost your mind? Are you stupid? I thought you were smart! What was that 3.5 GPA for?!”
“Hey, GPA isn’t everything. It’s just a matter of getting on a teacher’s good side and paying attention. Also, I’m aware that...that may have not been the best move. But it’s fine!” you insisted, now following your friend into the kitchen. “I was watching him the whole time. He didn’t leave my line of sight once!”
F/n opened the fridge, glaring perplexedly. “...Not once?”
“......”
You thought. Oh wait...well…
You smiled sheepishly. “...Actually...ahaha...he may have asked to go to the bathroom once…”
F/n’s jaw dropped. “And you let him?!”
Your hands found their way into the air. “What was I supposed to do, F/n? Follow him into the bathroom? That’s creepy and gross and uncalled for.”
Your friend grabbed a beer from the fridge, slamming the door shut after. “No, Y/n. You tell him to go next door and use his bathroom.”
“But what if it was an emergency?”
“I think he can hold it.”
“But what if he couldn’t?”
They paused just beside you, giving you a harsh glare. “After all he’s done? I’d say that’s a real shame and another mess he’d have to clean up.”
“F/n--!”
“NO, Y/N,” Your friend of twenty-odd years turned to you, making it halfway back to the front door. “You don’t get it! It has been five years--”
“Five months.”
“...It has felt like I have had my guard up for five years. I can’t relax in my own home. I can’t relax at work, I can’t relax at school-- I can’t relax anywhere!” They polished off the beer, crumbling the can and tossing it aimlessly into the kitchen. You ducked, the can soaring over your left ear and colliding with a kitchen cabinet. “URGH!”
They grabbed their bags, beginning to march out. You were faster, sliding on sock-clad feet across Han-polished floors to beat them to it, blocking the exit. “F/n, listen. Please. I agree it’s bad, but I think you’re overreacting just a little.”
“Overreacting?! …” S/he crossed his/her arms, glaring at you skeptically and in disbelief. “Okay, fine. Which bathroom did he use?”
“Huh?”
“Which bathroom?”
You swallowed, thinking again. “...Uh...the upstairs one.”
F/n deadpanned. Cold and hard. “Great. Thank you for that. All my school supplies are up there. My office and workspace is up there. That’s where I sleep, Y/n.” You blinked.
“You sleep in your office?”
“URGH!”
They pushed you aside, storming into the wide, open world. Hysterically you followed, snagging your keys off the side table by the front door and making sure to lock up behind you. “F/n- ...F/n wait…! Ah, stupid locks…!”
“Don’t follow me, Y/n!”
“WAIT!”
“I SAID DON’T FOLLOW ME!”
From the corner of your eye, a silhouette of dark brown hair and overly-white teeth made its way toward your property line. “Hello F/n, Y/n.” The careful fall breeze blew the shade from his eyes, where evil and mischief still resided. “Having a little back and forth banter, are we? A disagreement, perhaps?”
Han-bleeping-Jisung. Your vision narrowed, a scowl aimed directly at him. When he was around, it’s all you could focus on. Your senses heightened, and not in a good way. He couldn’t be trusted.
You shouldn’t have let him into your house. Your sensors were picking up on something. He seemed too happy for someone that was just forced into doing chores in a house that wasn’t their own. And willing so…
A hot vibe was residing along the back of your neck, between your shoulder blades. A sinking, sensationally bad feeling. “What can we help you with, Han?”
“Oh,” he piped, brows raised. “We’re on a single name basis now. That’s rare.”
F/n cast him a dark look and continued down the sidewalk to their car. You sighed, trying to relax and having little success; F/n was right, it was hard to remain calm with a hellion next door. “What do you need?”
Han Jisung shoved his hands in his pockets. “Need is a strong word. I need a lot of things. Food, water, air--”
A groan escaped your lips. “Fine. Forgive me. What do you want?”
“Hmmm…” He smirked, listing his head. “I want a lot of things, princess. Depends what you’re referring to.”
You’re pretty sure you could hear the gag coming from F/n’s car as they started the engine, shifting into reverse. Han chuckled, letting you know he heard it too.
“Alright, fine.” He held his hands up in surrender. “You caught me. I came to warn you.”
“Warn me about what?”
“......” He pursed his lips. “...I may have gotten a bit carried away and...well, I couldn’t resist, really. But I was thinking and, maybe it was in bad taste. Since Hyunjin did break your grandmother’s bird-thing.”
A rustling came from the bushes. “That wasn’t me! That was you!”
Han cringed, turning over his right shoulder. “Shhh!”
You faltered, zoning in on Han’s shrubbery. “Who is that? Is that Hyunjin hiding in your flowers?”
Han rolled his eyes, tossing...some junk from his pockets. A coin or something. “I told you not to say a word!”
Blonde hair revealed itself from the viburnum bushes on Han’s property. “Cattywampus.”
“I SAID TO SHHH!”
Hyunjin scoffed. “Oh, so when we’re playing Scrabble, it’s not a word. But now that we’re probing Y/n for information, all of a sudden, it’s a word!”
The air left your lungs, quite dramatically, and you took a step back farther into the safety of your porch. “...What is he talking about? What information?”
Tensions spiked like never before. Han simply groaned. “Dammit...thanks a lot, Hyunjin.” He turned to you with a sour face. “Yeah, okay, whatever, just...I wanted to know when your birthday was.”
He shrugged, trying to pull off the most innocent, blow-it-off look possible. You weren’t buying it. “What were you saying before? What did you do to my house?”
“Oh yeah,” He clasped his hands behind his back, sending another classic trademarked wink your way. Hyunjin freed himself from the viburnum flowers, along with Fox-face, who’d gotten himself tangled up in the next-door rose bush; he tripped over an illy placed hoolahoop and ran into Hyunjin, the two of them taking turns removing literal thorns from their sides. “I left you a present inside.”
I left you a present inside.
I left you a present inside.
He left you a present inside your house. A surprise. A bad one. You had invited him into your living space, your relaxation hub where relaxation was scarce, and gave him just enough alone time to leave something behind.
Something terrible. Something rotten.
Han Jisung was no longer looking like Han Jisung to you; what you saw before you was his true form: a plotting, overzealous, sadistic little impish demon of a man, no...a demon pretending to be a man. Someone like Han Jisung couldn’t possibly be human. There was no love at all in his heart.
“F/N!” You yelled, chasing after them as they drove down the street. “F/N, WAIT! STOP THE CAR! PLEASE!!!”
You could feel Han Jisung’s eyes as he trailed you all the way down Maple Street, his friends watching as F/n hit the brakes a hundred feet shy of the stop sign and let you clamber in the back.
“Step on it.”
S/he nodded, slamming the accelerator and getting the two of you safely out of Dodge. “I’m going to a friend’s house. I have to return a few things I borrowed before Han Hellion ruins them,” They looked over their shoulder. “Where are you headed?”
Your eyes glared proudly through the rearview mirror. F/n drew back, nervously looking between you and the road unassured.
But there was nothing for it. They could yell and pitch a fit at you later. Today, this very moment, everything was going to end.
“The craft store,” you said. “And you’re coming with me.”
“What?”
“We’re taking our house back.”
“......”
The car rolled to a stop at the cross section of Water and Runway Boulevard. If it was the friend you were thinking of, F/n would have to make a right here. Your local craft store was the opposite direction.
With a unanimous nod through the rearview, the two of you made a left down Water Street.
-〤〤〤-
Hobby Lobby had to be your favorite store, next to Fye’s Music Records where you occasionally went for your music collection and your favorite restaurant. ...Though a store wasn’t really a restaurant, and vice-versa.
You and F/n scoured the many aisles of arts and crafts, decor and gifts, candles and knick-knacks, searching high and low for everything on a messy-scribbled list the two of you put together in the parking lot. Revenge was going to be so sweet. Total bliss.
“Buckets?” A young employee repeated back to you. “Yes, let’s see, they should be near the back of the store, on the right-hand side. If you pass the glitter and pipecleaners, you’ve gone too far. I believe they’re on Aisle 13.”
“Thanks,” F/n said, grabbing your wrist and dragging you behind them. They almost seemed more excited about this whole revenge-war than you did. “Aisle 10...Aisle 11...Aisle--”
S/he stopped, pale-stricken. “What is it?” You tried peering around the corner. “What’s wrong? Are they sold out or somethi--”
Your heart nearly stopped. There, in the middle of the aisle, stood Lee Felix, perusing a wide selection of glitter glue. A bucket (not a basket) hung from slack fingers, carrying a barrage of other craft equipment as well as a plastic bag from the Home Depot next door.
Some kind of rage was flooding through your system. You could sense it in F/n as well. The two of you were in sync, fed up with the Hellion Clan’s crazy antics and batsh*t ideas that only brought you pain and suffering. Enough was enough.
You practically shoved your friend aside. “LEE FELIX!”
Felix jumped, startled, frantic, eyes zooming in on you like a deer in headlights.
Then, unlike a deer in headlights, he ran.
“AFTER HIM!” F/n cried, shoving the list in their pocket. S/he ran farther towards the front of the store to block the entrance, while you followed in hot pursuit of the freckled boy’s trail.
Your phone buzzed as you ran, and without taking your eyes off your target you shuffled it out of your purse, slamming the receive button a little too hard. “What?!”
“He’s going towards the back of the store! He’s heading for the emergency exit!”
You gave a quizzical look toward your friend’s voice coming out of your phone, then back at your target’s backside. “What? How do you know that? Where are you?!”
“Look up. Aisle 1. Holiday crafts.”
Carefully your eyes scanned the tops of the shelves near the entrance, and after doing a double take on a statue you found F/n squatting among some Santa Claus and Christmas angels, a pair of high-grade binoculars in their mits.
You had no idea when they’d gotten those. “Where did you get those from?! How the heck did you get up there?”
“That’s not important right now! Just SEIZE HIM! He’s getting away, run faster!”
With an aggravated grunt you hung up, shoving your phone away and pushing your legs to hit the tile twice as hard. Some twenty feet in front of you Felix squeaked, making a surprise turn down Aisle 2 and knocking over a stack of decorative boxes. You cursed, calling forth your skills from high school gym to hurdle yourself over the monstrosity and skid to a temporary halt before barreling down the half-storage half-Christmas decor aisle.
“He’s getting away!” F/n yelled. “Move!!!”
“Why don’t you help me?!” You called back. Felix made a 90 degree turn, charging farther back into the store in the opposite way you were anticipating; unless…
A store manager suddenly appeared at the end of the aisle, holding her hand out to stop you. “Excuse me, I don’t think so; there’s no horseplay allowed in the store.”
Though she tried to grab you, you dodged like a badass, perrying right, then left, then spiraling after a mop of retreating orange hair down Aisle 7. “Can’t! Sorry! I’ll pay for this later!”
“I’m sorry?!”
“Hold that thought!”
The sound of static and muffled voices crackled behind you as the manager called for backup, but you didn’t care. This would all be over once the little coral pipsqueak was in your grasp; you’d make sure to make him sing everything that was going on.
“LEE FELIIIIIX!”
Somewhere on the opposite side Felix squealed, either running into something or barricading another path to ensure his freedom. You slid to another halt, straining your ears to pick up on the sound.
Maybe you could sneak up on him. You were getting pretty tired, and running all over the store wasn’t a very good strategy for either side. Tiptoeing down Aisle 6, buttons and sewing equipment, you held your breath, carefully peering down both directions of the aisle.
Empty, minus a mom and her kid. You dropped down on all fours, crawling to the next aisle-- except--
“Ow!” you hissed, pricking yourself on something sharp. It was a discarded sewing needle.
It gave you an idea. After sucking on the injury a moment, you snagged the discarded object, pinning it to the side of your bag.
You hopped to your feet and gathered the strongest thread and yarn you could. After diving into a pile of fabrics when a few security guards walked by, you got back to work setting up your ingenious idea. A little thread here. Some fabric there. A weight right here…
You quickly sewed (loosely) a few strips of fabric together, finally finishing your creation. “Sorry, this aisle is closed right now,” you said to a few customers, spreading slime over each end of the hall. It was showtime. “I’m ready,” you told F/n, uttering the words through your phone.
F/n had done well to keep their disguise as an oddly-put Santa, peering through their binoculars when no one was looking. “Okay. I sort of lost him after the cops started lurking by here. Let’s see…”
Another curse left your lips. “He didn’t leave, did he?”
“No, I didn’t hear the doors open or close. He’s gotta still be here somewhere…..aha!” Their cry made you jump. “Found him!”
“Where?!”
“Opposite side. Aisle 18. He’s hiding around the picture frames.”
“Dang it,” you groaned, “I need him over here!” You looked around hesitantly. “Can you get him over to this side? I’m on Aisle 7. Additional Sewing and Craft Supplies. Fabrics, yarn, etc.”
“I’m scared to leave my post, but…” F/n sighed. “...I guess if you have a plan, I can chase him that way.”
“Great, okay. Hurry.”
“Roger.”
You hung up, taking another deep breath. Waiting. Ducking when the cops circled back around.
Suddenly, you heard a familiar battle cry from the other side of the store, followed by a man’s scream. The security guards and management started racing that way, but by the time they’d get there the source would be long gone…
Because he was headed straight for your trap. You scaled to the top of the aisle, keeping low with a blanket of fabric over your head as you watched Lee Felix weave in and out of craft stands and passing customers, buzzing toward Aisle 7 like a bee to a honey hive.
“RwARGH!” F/n cried, their Santa disguise flying with a full-powered shove. Felix went plunging for the nearest aisle, your aisle, and the moment his sneakers hit Elmer’s Color Slime Kit, he slipped, spinning out of control right into the giant DIY net you created. Yes! Score!
“HIYAH!” You screamed, jumping off the aisle shelf and tackling him. Gave over. You’d won.
Felix squirmed and fought with all the strength he had left in him, his abs, his arms, his quads, but alas, twice his body weight from you and your friend combined was more than enough to stop him. He gave out with a long sigh just as an employee rounded the corner, crying for assistance.
You were out of time. Tying his hands behind his back and bundling the rest of the fabric around him, your friend threw a couple twenties from their pocket at the young man before the two of you slipped out the emergency exit.
“You’re going to tell us everything!” You demanded, carrying his torso. Felix scowled, rolling his eyes. Despite his obvious anger, he was sweating bullets and looked rather afraid.
“I’m not telling you anything. You made me drop my stuff.”
“You can go back for it later. F/n, open the door.”
F/n shook their head, placing your captive’s feet down and unlocking the back of their car. “Nuh-uh. He’s riding back here.”
“In the trunk?!” The boy cried.
“In the trunk.”
F/n was dead serious. You stifled a laugh, even if it was kind of mean. Felix whined and bowed his head as the two of you placed him inside, F/n smacking a bow on his head that’d stuck to them during the chase.
“Okay. Let’s get out of here.”
The two of you slammed the door shut.
-〤〤〤-
The moment light hit your captive’s eyes, he squinted, groaning from the bumpy ride (as F/n insisted on hitting every speed bump and pothole). Lifting the boy on the count of three, he made sure to cry out for help- “HAN!!! HYUNJIN!!! JEONGIN!!! I’M OVER HERE!!!”- but, as it was expected, F/n simply dropped the boy on the driveway and threatened to stomp over a...delicate area...before smirking at his wide-eyed response and stuffing the bow in his mouth.
“Um, F/n…” You muttered, hoisting your prize up the porch steps, “don’t you think maybe you’re being too-”
“Don’t,” they warned, casting you a glare. “I’m not being too anything. These jerks deserve way worse.” They shifted Felix’s weight in order to allow you room to open the door. “Besides, it’s not like we’re gonna torture him or anything. Just ask a few questions.”
Felix gave a sigh of relief.
“...We can figure out what to do with him after that.”
...He took a sharp breath, beginning to sweat.
Inside the house the two of you tossed Felix onto the couch, running around the lower level to gather equipment before shifting him to a dining room chair. You were adjusting his bindings when the phone rang, F/n scampering off to answer it after sharing a look.
They smirked at the familiar caller I.D. “Y/n and F/n residence,” S/he answered in an overly-pleasant tone. “How may I help you?” Quickly they pulled the phone away, placing it down on speaker. The two of you, and Felix, glared at the voice coming out from the other side.
“We know you have him,” Han’s voice echoed throughout the living room. He sounded serious, demanding almost, sending a shiver down your spine. That was new. “What do you want?”
“Oh, what do we want?” F/n asked. They scoffed, peering out the blinds on the opposite side of the fireplace, just next to the kitchen. Directly at Han’s estate. “That’s something you don’t hear everyday.”
Han huffed, sounding disgusted. Suddenly, Felix erupted, spitting out the bow you’d forgotten to secure. “HAN! HAN I’M OKAY!!! BUT I LOST THE STUFF AT--”
Frantically you pounced, stuffing a fistful of Kleenex in his mouth. A chorus of anxious whispers filled the other line from Jisung and his goons, before Han silenced them and got back to business.
“Felix, if you can hear me, it’s okay. I need you to take one for the team right now until I come up with something.”
Ironically and unneeded, Felix nodded, as if Han could see him. You and F/n rolled your eyes.
Suddenly, a loud splat! sent them squealing backwards.
Your jaw dropped, watching rotten egg dribble and creep down your immaculately-just-cleaned window. Felix chuckled, falling on a sour note after you elbowed him. When two more assaults hit, you ducked for unnecessary cover behind Felix, F/n plastering themselves against the fireplace.
“What do we do?!” you whispered, cringing every time an egg bomb made contact with the glass. What if by some crazy law of nature those things actually broke the window and leaked into the house?! It could take days to get the smell out. Heck, given that it was right next to the fireplace, and you had yet to test the installation of the seams...it’d likely start leaking into the house within the coming hours.
The pelts were slowly getting louder, rising in a horrifically drawn-out crescendo. “GIVE HIM BACK! GIVE HIM BACK!” you heard the goons chanting.
Were they on the roof?! You couldn’t bear this much longer. Your house was being eggified. Sullied. Disgraced. Finally cracking under the pressure, you flew some hand signals F/n’s direction that didn’t really mean anything and army-crawled to a yet-to-be-ambushed window, examining the battle situation outside before rolling back to your feet and sprinting for a backroom.
“Where are you going?!” F/n whispered harshly. S/he and Han bantered back and forth a bit, his demands of Felix’s release rattling the warfront before you returned with exactly what you’d been looking for: a megaphone. Ah, camp counselor days.
F/n saw what you were doing and instantly, wildly, vehemently shook their head no. But you were taking matters into your own hands now.
“Han Jisung,” you stated, loudly enough so your voice could travel over the massive egg-pelting outside. “Hold your fire and I’ll bring Felix outside.”
You waited a few seconds, and the firing stopped. Han’s voice practically purred over the speaker. Very disgusting. “You’re starting to see things my way. That’s good.”
“Oh yes. I’m most certainly starting to see things your way.” The phone lifted between your fingers. “We’ll meet on the roofs in five minutes. If I hear or see one more egg on my property, the meeting is off.”
“......” There was an uncomfortable silence on the other line.
You tilted your head. “Han Jisung? No deal?”
Felix whined a few feet behind you. Han sighed, clearly hearing it. “...Fine. We’ll meet you there.” Click.
You tossed the phone to F/n, who scarcely caught it, juggling it a few times on nervous butterfingers. “Alright, look,” s/he said, pacing across the room and slamming it down on the receiver. “I don’t know what kind of cockameme scheme you have planned, but…”
You smiled. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”
They sighed exasperatingly. “I’m sure you told yourself that when you let him into the house earlier, too.”
“......” You faltered, crossing your arms. “Touche. But this time, I really know what I’m doing.” With the utmost confidence and summoned strength you tilted Felix’s chair back, causing him to panic. “C’mon. Help me get this up through the attic.”
-〤〤〤-
Glitter glue. Hair dye. A bucket.
Truth be told, you actually did manage to go back and secure Felix’s belongings. It was around some point during the creation of the gigantic net at Hobby Lobby: F/n had seen them while running around, snagged it, and stashed the goods in the car without telling you.
Now, you were going to use them against the enemy. If only you knew what the wrench from Home Depot was for… “Okay, listen up,” you stated, standing proudly on your roof. F/n stood at your side, Felix in between you two, still strapped to the dining room chair. Though the Kleenex were now gone, his pie hole remained shut...with Puffs. Not the good brand, F/n had said. “We have your friend, and as you can clearly see, he’s fine. We haven’t done anything to him.”
“Yet,” Hyunjin sneered, standing atop Han’s roof. He crossed his arms at Han’s right, Fox-face (Jeongin) on the left. “I fail to see how tying him up and stuffing his mouth shut equates to not doing anything.”
“Hyunjin, enough big words,” Han moaned. “We get it, you’re good at Scrabble, and you should have won. Lay off already.”
Hyunjin growled, making a face. From the opposing roof, you lowered your mic, extending your hand left. F/n glanced sideways, placing the box of hair dye in your hand. The situation on the other side swiftly grew stiff, everyone’s eyes watching you expectantly.
“Y-Y/n...what are you doing?”
It came out as more of a statement than a question. A fretful smirk played on the corner of your lips. “Oh my, what am I doing? …”
Yours fingers got right to work tearing open the packaging. Felix turned his head as far as his binding would let him, his eyes widening and brows sinking beneath his coral-colored bangs the moment he recognized the object...and the word permanent etched within a warning sign. “Mmm! Mm-mm mmm! MMM!”
“Wait, Y/n,” F/n said, reaching out. They suddenly looked hesitant, unsure. “We never questioned him first. Shouldn’t we…”
You paused, tossing the box and plastic wrap over your shoulder. With any luck, it’d blow into Han Jisung’s yard; if not, you could just pick it up later. “What, now you’re getting cold feet?” You huffed. “You’re the one that was getting carried away before. I thought you were sick of all this crap.”
“I am...I am. I’m just saying, maybe we should have pressed him for answers before running up here.”
“After they started egging our house?! What, was I supposed to wait for toilet paper to fly through the trees and spray paint to stain our front door?!”
“No, I’m just saying—”
“I’m done talking!” Your eyes narrowed, focusing on Han’s. He was staring right back at you, an intense look residing. “I want revenge. I want action. This ends today.”
You popped the cap off the bottle of murky green liquid, Hyunjin and Jeongin both seeming to lose their posture as the cap flipped through the air, bouncing to the ground below. They started to squirm, much to your delight; though perhaps a little overdramatic; but it was about time the other side felt the same pain and turmoil you had. It’d been far too long an unjust imbalance.
But Han held his hands at peace, calming his soldiers and taking a step forward; sending the imbalance back where it was, in his favor. He cupped his hands around that loud mouth of his. “Y/n!!! Listen to me, you don’t wanna do this! ...I-I don’t think, anyway!”
He seemed nervous. Flustered. You actually had Han Jisung, Hellion of 117 Maple Street, in a nervous fluster.
The moment was sweet, rich, decadent and savory. In the air, a cool breeze blew by.
“I’m sorry? What was that?” You lifted the bottle over Felix’s head. His whole body tensed, slightly leaning away like a magnet that didn’t attract.
Han bit his lip, gaze flitting between your hand and the boy below. Behind him, Hyunjin and Jeongin watched with battered breath, biting their nails and covering the lower half of their faces. Han sighed, suddenly waving his hand behind him. “Jeongin, you shouldn’t see this. Cover your eyes. I don’t know if I can stop her.”
The boy frowned, shakily turning from Han’s voice back to you. “I-I can’t, Han...it’s too horrible, but I can’t look away.”
“Then get back inside. I’m sure Y/n will at least allow that much.”
Raising his brow at you in question, you carefully gave a single nod, watching the young fox-face go. Jeongin had never done anything to you, except for maybe participate in the egg-throwing debacle eight minutes ago. Otherwise, as far as you could tell, he was clean, just a bystander in Han’s antics.
As the roof door shut above Jeongin’s head, F/n gave you a worried look. “Y/n…” s/he said, turning to you sideways. “...Something’s not—”
“Shhh!” You spat. Your hand holding the bottle teetered towards a horizontal slant. “Not now. This makes things easier. One less groupie to worry about.”
“But Y/n—”
Felix could practically sense your movements, starting to squeal. “HAN! Please! I have an interview tomorrow and I don’t think they allow unnatural hair!!!”
F/n grunted, crossing their arms at being ignored. You listed your head to match the angle of the bottle. Revenge was so sweet. “Well, Han?”
It felt like an eternity went by. Everything was still, calm, the only noise to be heard the rustling of the trees. A distant clicking that was probably just the other neighbor’s cat. You felt like you were in a Shonen anime, where the characters face off for episodes at a time with nothing but empty heated stares and uselessly repeated banter (usually flashbacks).
“......” Han Jisung swallowed. “Okay, Y/n, stop.” He sighed. “...You win.”
A heaviness released from your chest. You...won? That was it? Was he really just surrendering right now? No surprise counterattack? No negotiations?
Instead, Han Jisung and his last remaining sidekick glared pitifully in your direction, like all hope had fleeted from their grasp. Meaning…
You won. You actually won...
The biggest smile took over the lower half of your face, so happy you could have cheered, overjoyedly so, kissing your friend’s cheek. You squealed in delight, tossing the bottle in the air and not really caring where it landed, so excited, so stoked, so—
“Ow!” a young man’s voice said.
Gasp. What was that?! That didn’t sound like Felix or...your friend...that was...wasn’t...
“Y/n!!!”
You whirled around, just in time to see Jeongin standing at the height of your roof, stuffing your friend down the ladder. He paused, similar to how Felix had in Hobby Lobby; that deer in the headlights look; and with terrified effort kicked F/n down the attic, hopping in and letting the door drop after him.
Laughter could be heard bellowing along the wind, a hurricane billowing your direction. You whirled around, flabbergasted, horrified to see Han Jisung with that coy smirk on his face, that evil glint in his eye, the long-legged Hyunjin doing a memey sort of dance, as the two of them laughing it up at your expense. Even Felix, still bound to the chair, was…
...Well, actually, he looked rather annoyed and a little pissed. “HEY!” he griped, stamping his feet. “What happened to releasing me first?! I thought that was part of the plan!”
Plan…? ……
“You mean…” You glared expressionless. “This was all setup...from the beginning? Even Hobby Lobby?”
“Duh,” Hyunjin piped, giving you an incredulous look. “We saw you and F/n heading that way, so I called Felix while Han coached Jeongin on the art of...sneaking onto other's property. We knew the two of you were probably at your breaking point, given how you were screaming all the way down the street…” He shrugged. “We figured you’d try to retaliate. It was too good to pass up.”
“......”
Anger wasn’t enough anymore. You were downright enraged, seething...and also, a bit heartbroken. A lot heartbroken. It was all planned. Your revenge was just another part of their game. They anticipated it, adjusted to it, even arranged it. It was all for not...and, what’s more…
Now they had F/n. The Fox-faced demon would be scampering out of your house and into the devil’s layer at any minute.
But he’d made a fatal mistake. You still had one of their own in your grasp.
With the utmost vexation and irritability you screamed, grabbing the bottle of hair dye from where it got caught between two shilling panels and tore the whole lid off, dumping the entire bottle into Felix’s hair. Han and Hyunjin froze in the middle of their victorious dance ritual to watch in horror as Felix screeched, trying to shake the substance out and make any feeble attempt he could to get away. You ripped open the glitter glue next, aiming it right at his scalp.
“Give F/n back right now or I’m adding glitter. Lots of it.”
“......”
Han Jisung and Hwang Hyunjin just continued to stare at you dumbfounded. Because they didn’t respond, you emptied the entire container, not caring if it seeped into the boy’s eyes as you dropped everything else for the attic door.
“OH SH*T! MY EYES! MY FACE! YOU GUYS SUCK! AHH—”
The roof latch clicked behind you.
Flying down the ladder and around the hall you ran with all your might for the front door. Surprisingly enough, however, Jeongin was having a tough time getting there himself, wrestling with F/n for a position that allowed him to keep them quiet while having the freedom to move quickly. Unfortunately for him, F/n wasn’t going down without a fight.
“Let...go…! Get…off…...ahh! Y/n!!!”
They were wrestling at the end of the hall, just above the stairs. You pushed yourself harder, faster, ready to pulverize this kid you once found cute and adorable.
Something was off, though. You noticed as you got closer. The way they fought— it was almost too carefully, like they were trying to avoid hitting something.
You found out too little too late. F/n’s eyes widened.
“Y/n, no, look out—!”
Fwoosh!
Your foot tripped over a wire, and the three of you went tumbling upwards.
You couldn’t believe you fell for the same trick twice.
-〤〤〤-
“Hold still,” Hyunjin groaned, clawing at Felix’s bindings. The boy practically refused, squirming with all his might.
“I’m holding still! I can’t see!”
“What does that have to do with being still?!”
Felix fumed.
Han Jisung made his way to the top of the ladder, rolling onto his back to catch his breath. It wasn’t like he wanted to drive Y/n to do this. Rather, he was just having a little fun, passing time, and essentially, getting to know her.
She was the girl he thought about spending quite a bit of his life with, after all.
He turned his head sideways, taking in the view of the mountains, the small forestry area, the big city on the other side. Dang it, he knew Y/n’s roof had a better view of the area. “Both of you...quit whining...for a sec…”
He fought to catch his breath. Normally he thought himself to be in pretty good shape, but maybe eating a whole cheesecake and slacking off last week for that Netflix marathon put him back a few steps. Diagonally above him, Hyunjin sighed, removing the last of Felix’s restraints. “Okay, there. You’re free now.”
Felix stood, immediately rubbing his shirt over his face and stretching his arms out wide, then his legs. He looked around.
“Something wrong?” Hyun asked. Felix began to sweat, visible from a mile away.
“Oh, gosh, you guys. I still can’t see. I think I’m legally blonde.”
“......” Hyunjin blinked. “You mean legally blind? Legally Blonde is a movie.” He glanced up at his sparkling dishwater-green hair. “Also, your hair’s green now. An ugly green. And shiny. Too shiny—”
“Both of you shhh,” Han griped, sitting up sideways. He pushed himself up all the way, stumbling diagonally as he hiked up toward the other side of the roof. “Has Jeongin come out yet? Where’s Y/n?”
“I don’t know,” Felix spoke, swatting at his surroundings. “I can’t see anything.”
“He obviously wasn’t talking to you,” Hyunjin piped. He leaned over the edge, examining the front porch, then the lawn. “...I don’t know either. I didn’t hear the front door but, then again, I couldn’t hear anything with Whines-A-Lot back here blubbering so loud.”
“Why are you in such a bad mood today? Normally you’re really sweet and chill. And why is everyone attacking me all of a sudden?! I’m the one that agreed to be the bait of this operation! Me!”
“Okay, okay,” Han waved his hands. He really hated being the responsible one, but with these two at each other's throats and Jeongin nowhere to be found, he really had no other choice. “Felix, go inside and see if you can find Jeongin. Or Y/n. Anyone.”
Felix scoffed, throwing his hands in the air like a tossed salad. “Oh, yeah. Send the blind guy in. That plan always works. Makes total sense!”
“Oh, right...uhh, Hyunjin?”
Hyunjin scrunched up his face. “No way. I’m not going in there. Breaking and entering is not going on my personal record. Pranks are fine, but I’m not violating the law. That’s your department, Mr. Fifteen-Unpaid-Speeding-Tickets.”
“......” Groaning, Han made his way to the top of the roof, kneeling just short of the peak to pull the lever. However, the door wouldn’t budge. “...It’s locked.”
“Locked?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. Locked.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Shoot, why would she stop to lock the door? Now wh—”
“HAN JISUNG!!!”
All three college boys froze. Crouching, they whipped their heads around wildly. Even Felix. “What was that?!” He asked. “Was that Y/n?!”
“HAN!!!” Another called. Smaller, lighter, yet contradictingly more masculine. Hyunjin gasped.
“That sounded like Jeongin!”
Then, suddenly, all three missing voices meshed together, the chorus dark and booming: “LET US OUT! LET US OUT LET US OUT LET US OUT!!!”
Hyunjin jumped to his feet, kicking and pounding at the door. “Quick, open the door! We have to rescue Jeongin!”
Han’s jaw fell a little. “What about Y/n?”
“What about her?!” He grunted, hitting the door harder. “Jeongin is our first priority!”
“I thought you didn’t like breaking and entering,” Felix sneered from the back, still waving at the air like a recently-blind person would. His elder tsked, scowling.
“It’s not breaking and entering if someone’s life is in danger! Han, what the hell kind of trap did you put in there?!”
Han blinked, trying to process. Everything had gone South so quickly, curved in a direction he wasn’t expecting— he couldn’t think. His mind drew up blanks. Never in his thirteen years of pranking history had he ever not been in control of his own crafty work.
Now his work was playing a joke on him. “Han! Hello?! Earth to Jisung?”
“...I…”
“What did you do in there?!”
“......” He swallowed, barely regaining his composure. “I set up another net. Just a quick one, like the one from earlier today.”
“What?!” Hyunjin roared. “But that took me all morning! How did you do it in five minutes?!”
“I didn’t,” he replied. “I did it in four.”
Hyunjin deadpanned, smacking a hand over his face. “‘Kay…how did you manage to pull that off?”
His superior in the art of mischief fell back on his behind, staring out seamlessly at nothing in particular. Obnoxiously calm for the circumstances. “I’ve been sneaking into her house every now and then when she left the back door open. I’d set up a small part here, or a spring wire there, just small stuff out of the way that no one’d notice. They’ve hardly been home with midterms going around.”
“......” Hyunjin shook his head in disbelief. “Han, there’s no way they wouldn’t notice or not accidentally set something like that off until now.”
Han turned back to him in earnest. “I just set the final wire down this afternoon. The activation one. One of them— probably Y/n— tripped over it.”
“...If that’s true, then…”
Another sonorous from down below reached the canopies above: “LET US OUT!!!”
Hyunjin dropped back on all fours. “LET US IN!!!” he cried, pounding on the hardwood door. “Jeongin, buddy, it’s going to be oka—”
“Come on!” Han said, leaping to his feet. He grabbed Felix by the wrist, tugging the two along behind him before making a crash landing for the bushes. No time to waste now. He needed to get his act together, take a leap of faith that, maybe, if he played his cards right, Y/n could see him in a whole new light.
It would be a long shot. If he remembered to jump from the right spot, anyway. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” Both boys screamed, clinging to each other’s sides. They hit the shrubs, bouncing forward and rolling into Y/n’s front yard.
“...Was that a trampoline???” Felix asked. Han scoffed, shoving the two off of him.
“I planted an emergency escape device in her bushes last week, just in case.” He dusted himself off, screwing his head on straight while jogging to the front porch. “What do I look like, stupid or something?”
“......” Hyunjin watched him cross to the front door, lying upside down. “Do you want us to answer that?”
“...No.”
Han rang the doorbell. Stamped his foot. Remembered all house guests and tenants were currently tied up at the moment, slapped himself, panicked. He banged his fist against the door.
“Y/n?! It’s okay! Daddy’s going to fix this!”
Hyunjin made a noise (he was full of noises), tromping up the steps while Felix rolled himself around in the yard, trying to figure out which way was up and what he should do with himself. “Did you just call yourself—”
“Yes, now shut up.” Han dug around in his pocket, pulling out a key. “Heh heh heh…”
He jimmied the lock, twisting and turning the key this way and that. But the door wouldn’t budge, not even an inch.
“Sh*t!” He grabbed his hair. “Why isn’t this working?! I made copies of her keys three weeks ago!”
Hyunjin glared sideways. “You changed out her locks two weeks ago.”
Shoot, that was right. Han kicked the door, fuming. “Dang it! ...Ow!”
He was spent. Gone. Energy depleting. And now, his foot hurt. Spinning around he banged his head against the door, sliding down to sulk on his backside.
He hadn’t meant for things to go awry. He’d just wanted to mess with Y/n, see what made her tick, have some fun. Find out what she liked, what she didn’t like, maybe get up the nerve to ask her what she was doing for dinner next Saturday so he could mess with the food at her favorite restaurant and force her to come to a candle-lit dinner in his backyard instead, where he’d have her second-favorite takeout waiting on plates of gold he’d “borrowed” from Hyunjin’s aunt.
If only things would have worked out that way. “LET US OUT LET US OUT LET US OUT!!!” the house called.
Hyun and Han shared a pitiful look, plastering themselves to the walls and door. They had no choice. There was nothing left. “LET US IN LET US IN LET US IN!!!”
“HAN JISU— …”
Quiet. That was strange. What was it quiet?! What happened?! What could have—
...Oh no. What if…!
“DON’T HURT JEONGIN!” Han screamed, pressing his nose to the glass. “PLEASE! Y/N F/N PLEASE HYUNJIN WILL KILL ME IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO HIM!!!”
“WHAT?!” Hyunjin yelled, pressing against the glass as well. “Move over, I can’t see! WHAT ARE YOU FIENDISH PEOPLE DOING TO HIM?!”
There was no response. Han began sweating profusely, feeling his heart ready to burst in a bad way. This was it. It was over. He’d have to call the cops to have them released, and then Han would probably go to jail for twenty-seven misdemeanors and a couple felony charges. Not to mention those unpaid speeding tickets.
Chink. Clunk. Creek.
A force against him gave way, the front door magically opening. As Han and Hyunjin fell forward, a blind, sparkling, green-haired man smiled down at them, standing at the other side.
-〤〤〤-
The clamouring coming from your front door set you on edge, wiggling and slashing at the ties that bound you. And F/n. And Jeongin.
The three of you piled on top of each other in an awkward heap, you being fortunate enough to have flipped on top. “Ow! Y/n, get your foot out of my eye!” F/n cried.
Apologetically, you shifted your weight, trying to give them room in the small net. Jeongin huffed as you did, making the most cumberous and uncomfortable face as you shifted your bottom over his backside, close to his head. “This is your fault for sneaking in here and trying to kidnap F/n,” you scolded, only feeling a little sorry given the circumstances.
He blushed, perplexingly so, carefully trying to claw his way to a corner that didn’t exist. “I, um...I’m sorry…”
Like that was enough to get the three of you out of this arrangement. Rolling your eyes, you focused your attention on the front door you could just barely see, tuning your ears to adjust and pick up on anything.
“What are they saying?” F/n asked. You shrugged, huffing and puffing disorderly.
“I don’t know. I can barely hear anything. They’re whispering. They keep looking over here, though.”
“Who opened the door?! How did they get in here???”
F/n was currently squished with their head facing the opposite direction, explaining their heighted insecurity and naggingness. You sighed, squinting and rocking your weight in order to make the small flexible cage sway to better see around the corner. “I think...Felix let them in. He must have used the back door or something.”
“Son of a b*tch, Y/n!!!” F/n quietly fumed. “This is why I always tell you to make sure both doors are locked! You never think to check the back door and it drives me crazy!!!”
“HAN!!!” Jeongin suddenly screamed. “FELIX! GET ME OUT OF THIS THING!!!”
Both you and F/n panicked. “SHHHHHHHH!!!”
He regarded the two of you like you were crazy. “Just five minutes ago you were screaming too!”
F/n hissed. “Yeah, well that was five minutes ago, and this is now!”
Jeongin sighed. “Listen, this is really uncomfortable for me, especially because you’re sitting...entirely too close to me,” he spoke, “so how about I make a deal with you two?”
“No way. I don’t make deals with demons. Or vipers, or monsters, or Fox-faced devils that sneak into our house and try to kidnap me!!!”
Jeongin sighed again, letting out a slight hiss of annoyance at the end. At the base of the stairs, Han and Hyunjin started making their ascent, Felix stumbling around a bit with a bandana now over his eyes before following after them.
“Oh shoot,” you whispered. “Here they come.”
Making his way around the net once, Han paused right square before you; and there it was, that evil flirtatious wink, tongue sweeping over his lips scarcely so. “S’up, gorgeous?”
Shoot me. I want to die.
Han poked your nose, making a little annoying sound effect and laughing when you teetered backwards, swatting away at the germs he left on your face. “Aww, I think someone doesn’t like their situation very much.”
“Lay off. Get us out of this stupid thing and then get the hell out. If you don’t, I’m calling the cops.”
Han chuckled and slapped his leg like you were just the cutest little thing to him. “Oh, alright, calm down princess. You’re just sour over falling for the same trick twice.”
It burned you how much truth there was to those words. You would have spit at him if F/n wasn’t at risk of being in the line of fire. “Just shut up and get us out of here. Take your friend with you.”
Tangled up behind you, Jeongin sputtered; you could feel him roll his eyes. “Gladly,” he muttered.
After admiring your pissed-off look for a few seconds, and Han taking a few selfies for his own selfish gain, Han and Hyunjin got right to work, snipping wires here, tugging at rope there. Eventually, after a few moments of unblissful trepidation and embarrassment, the net lowered gently, falling lifelessly about a foot above ground.
The three of you groaned, F/n having the wind knocked out of them for a second. Scampering and shoving off of each other, you turned away the moment you found your legs, brushing yourself off and walking down the hall a few paces. Your feet prickled with numbness, then faded and blood rushed through.
When you turned around to check on F/n and kick everyone else out, Han Jisung had already found his way to your face. “Hey there, gorgeous. All better?”
You scowled most irately, placing your hands on his chest to push him off and startling yourself when he wouldn’t budge, and your hands just...stayed there. “Get out of here. You got us out, now you’re no longer welcome.”
“Oh, was that all you needed from me?” He smiled. Almost tenderly. Or maybe it was, you didn’t know. “I’m hurt, Y/n. I thought maybe we could...talk more. Get to know one another.”
“What?!” You tried to see around him, but he mirrored your every step and movement. When you pulled your hands away, he latched onto your wrists, placing them back. His fingers smoothed over the backs of your hands, intertwining with yours. You gulped, a feeling in your gut exploding.
“This is nice,” he said softly, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. “Isn’t it?”
It most certainly was not nice. Not nice at all! ...Yet, you were having quite a bit of trouble telling him that. His hands were so soft and...rigid...even the small calluses that sprouted along his palms and outline were somehow oddly alluring, inviting you to stay.
You shivered, bristling all over. No, no. Get ahold of yourself Y/n. This can’t happen. I can’t go down like this.
Shaking your head you shoved yourself back instead, running two steps to the right...and slamming gently into the adjacent wall. Gently. Softly. Softly slamming.
What the hell, why was everything with Han Jisung so soft all of a sudden?! You bore your eyes up at him, seeing as he was now just...inches away from you...again...g-getting closer…
His nose brushed right up against yours. A breath caught in your throat, begging to scream. Everything else in your body was. He had slithered himself to press up against you.
You’re pretty sure, even if you couldn’t feel it, your face was the darkest shade of red right now. Han undoubtedly noticed too, simpering just a fraction from your lips. “What should we do now, princess? Should we…” He inched your waist forward. “...go next door?”
Next door. Next door, where the hellhole of disasters had started.
...Something about that line just didn’t sit right with you. Feeling as if the whole moment had been ruined (and good gravy you had to get out of this), you shimmied yourself a bit of wiggle room and shot your knee skyward, wincing as a howl of pain rang out in your ear. You kicked Han back, making a run for F/n…
...Who was again, gone. Everyone was gone.
Turning around, Han gave you a childish salute, that flirtatious wink following him all the way out the front door. You couldn’t do anything. Just observe him leave in shock.
Until you heard a thump from downstairs, and raced to find Felix feeling his way around the kitchen.
“Now, I know there’s a backdoor somewhere...it was in here when I came in…”
You bore your eyes into him. Smirked.
Five minutes later, his whines echoed all through the house and down the porch steps.
-〤〤〤-
It may not have been high noon, but that didn’t stop Hyunjin and Fox-face Jeongin from turning on an old western showdown score.
You stood on your side of the property line, Felix rebound though now standing at your side. If he was miffed about his hair and the overzealous glitter drawing attention to it, he didn’t say anything. Possibly because being temporarily blind was pulling all his attention away.
On the other side, about ten or twelve meters from the line, stood Han Jisung, in all his hellion, dark-profiled glory. F/n was bound and gagged beside him, looking like a tick about to pop. You’d never seen that vein before, throbbing above their forehead. Hyunjin and Jeongin observed from afar, amongst the safety of shade and porch railing.
You lifted the megaphone you’d brought back with you from the roof. “On the count of three,” you instructed, gripping Felix’s sleeve tight.
Han Jisung cackled, or his eyes did anyway, a sparkle of humor at play. “Alright. Hostage exchange on three.”
“Okay…”
You both paced exactly twenty-something steps until you were only two feet from the line.
“One…”
“Two…”
“...Thre—”
“Wait.”
Your mind did a little flip, attention spiraling upward. “What?”
The hellion next door smirked. “I have one condition.”
“Oh?” You sputtered. “So do I.”
“Ladies first.”
You deadpanned. “Stop intervening and disturbing my life and F/n’s sanity and I won’t call the cops.”
He laughed, a very hearty, joyful sound. It sort of...made your heart spin. “That’s fair. I can agree to those terms...if you agree to mine.” You scoffed.
“And what would that be?”
Han Jisung smiled. Brighter than the sun. For once, it was almost as if he was revealing a side of his persona to you he’d kept locked away all this time; he suddenly appeared to be genuine, sincere, and oh-so benevolent. Not to mention handsome. “Go on a date with me. Saturday, at five.”
“What?!”
The world came to a crash. Everything just seemed to stop, the birds even dropping like flies to gawk at the enigma that was Han Jisung. Behind him and to the left, Jeongin and Hyunjin stared at each other in bewilderment. Felix muttered some kind of disbelief beneath his breath. F/n looked like s/he really would pop.
“Mmm?!” They shrieked. Han chuckled, ruffling his hair away from his face and casting squinted eyes out over the neighborhood.
“Yeah, uh...I’ll pick you up at five, if you like. I mean, you have to, because this is a condition. My deal. Where we’re going is a surprise, but I can give you a hint.” He leaned forward, twitching his nose a bit. “There’s a lot of action going on in the color department, and it usually gives me an allergy attack. But, I figured you may enjoy watching my face fall apart.”
“.........”
Slowly, you adjusted your gaze over to F/n. They were shaking their head wildly, though limitedly, so as not to tip off anyone.
“.........” You turned your face back to Han Jisung. “...Make it five-thirty. I have an errand to run that day.”
He bit his lower lip to keep from smiling too much. “Deal. Okay, on three. One…”
“Two…”
“Three.”
You each pushed your captives over at the same time, Felix and F/n stumbling forward over the property line. Hyunjin and Jeongin raced down into the lawn while you quickly got to work untying and freeing your housemate.
S/he turned and looked to you with the utmost confusion and disappointment in their eyes. You smiled, sadly, and turning away watched as three of the four boys embraced and spat at each other, Hyunjin and Jeongin poking and teasing Felix about his hair, and Han Jisung watching you back with stars in his eyes. Once a hellion, it was as if a great fog had lifted over the valley, and now you could see he was both day and night. A myriad of sunlight, and a mischievous moon.
“You’re not really going on a date with him,” F/n scolded, walking in sync with you up the porch steps and in through the front door. You waited until they were safely inside and halfway to the kitchen for another drink, waving and even winking in Han Jisung’s direction. It caught him off guard, and you snickered at his confused stare.
“We’ll see,” is all you said, shutting the door behind you.
-〤〤〤-
Saturday, 5:25 p.m.
Your house mysteriously felt like the Island of the Lost.
“F/n! Have you seen my hairbrush?!”
Running back and forth in front of the TV, up and down the stairs, rummaging through both bathrooms, F/n sighed, annoyed at having their early-evening talk show interrupted. They set the TV on mute. “What are you looking for? Your hairbrush?”
You nodded, heading back towards the upstairs bath. F/n jumped up from a commercial break, following you.
“How did you manage to lose your hairbrush? Sheesh, Y/n, you’ve been forgetful all day.”
You turned toward the mirror, staring worrisome eyes at the curlers in your hair, the sloppily-applied two minute makeup job on your face. F/n noticed as well, giving a small pout as s/he crossed their arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Where are you going, anyway?”
Uh-oh. “Hmm...?”
You pretended not to hear that. F/n blinked, their face falling to an unimpressed state. “I asked, where are you going?”
“......”
“......”
Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Crap. It wasn’t five-thirty yet!
F/n turned toward the sound, their brows lifting in minor surprise. “Who could that be? Are you expecting a package or anything?”
They began wandering in the direction of the staircase, but you cringed, throwing yourself as a blockade. “Ahahahahahahaha! …” Sweat. “...I-I’ll get it. You should get back to your show!”
F/n gasped, pushing past you and gracefully making a sharp left just a few feet from the door. Phew.
You peered around the corner, trying to make out the silhouette through the foggy glass.
Tall-ish. A bit on the short side. Skinny? Seemingly masculine.
It had to be him. Panic struck you like a bat out of hell, scrambling to the bathroom and ripping the curlers out of your hair. You fought through three bottles of creams and mascara while juggling your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth, rinsing, spitting, and finally flipping your hair down, shaking it loose and flipping back over.
Oh yeah. Messy-chic look. Perfect. With a touch of gloss (or lipstick) you smoothed out your casual-dressy outfit before skipping downstairs and slipping on your favorite dress shoes at the door, purse slung over your bodice.
This was it. You discreetly shifted your eyes to the left. F/n was still inthralld in their talk show. Now was your chance for a clean getaway without any awkward accusations or encounters.
Taking a deep, measured breath, you gingerly opened the door, blowing it out on the exhale. Han Jisung stood in all his new-lighted glory, his back turned to you as he examined the neighborhood, waiting.
You gave a small cough, stepping out and locking up behind you. Han turned around, his eyes widening when he saw you. “Whoa...uh…”
“Yes?” Your gaze traveled down to the flowers in his hand. “Are those for me, or an apology to F/n?”
You both laughed, Han thrusting them forward a bit forcefully. An awkward color painted a ring around his face, across his ears and along the curves of his cheeks. “Uh, b-both, I guess. ...But, mainly for you.”
He was nervous. For real this time. You smiled, taking the small bouquet and burying your face into the petals. You inhaled deeply. “...Mmm...they smell really nice!”
You beamed. For maybe five seconds. After that, a spout of water soaked your forehead.
Han Jisung pressed his lips together, trying his darndest not to laugh. His eyes avoided you entirely, observing everything but your face. A moment later, he bolted, signalling for his groupies to turn on the sprinklers. Coffee rained down on both of your lawns, dyeing both sides murky Vanilla Latte.
You chased him down the porch steps, through the caffeinated shower, laughing.
-〤〤〤-
“...And that about wraps up our show for today!”
F/n flipped the TV off, turning their gaze to the window. Is it raining already?
As they approached the window, their jaw fell. They opened the window. “Y/N!!! HAN JISUNG!!!”
...It was no use.
Pulling up a chair, they fell to their knees, observing the bizarre weather in a moment of acceptance. They extended their mug over the windowsill, sighing as the caffeinated shower refilled their morning latte.
A/N: Hello Anon :) I hope you like it!! Im not too familiar with writing Hybrid/Shifter aus so I hope I did well enough :,)
Stray Kids and ATEEZ Requests are open!
Late Nights at Home
You had just arrived back at your apartment complex, a yawn bubbling up your throat as you pressed your floor’s button. You were promoted as an assistant to your boss a few days ago, which made work especially long and tiresome. Your body hadn’t adjusted to the extra hours, and you ran out of your morning coffee a while ago.
The high pitched ding of the elevator alerted your senses to exit. The doors slowly slid back to reveal the empty hallway. Your footsteps echoed softly behind you as you approached your room. Just as you were about to grab your key the door swung open, revealing your loving roomate, also known as your loving semi-animal companion.
He wore an expression that some may mistake as pouty or cute, but to you, he was most certainly annoyed. His auburn ears were flattened against his hair, and twitched when his eyes met your form. You opened your mouth to give an excuse but nothing came out as his hand latched around your wrist, dragging you inside. He shut the door behind you, hand still connected to your arm.
“You’re late. Again.” I.N huffed, brows knit together as his eyes glanced over your face. You gnawed on your lower lip, guilt clawing up your spine.
“I know, I’m sorry.” You groaned, bending down to drop your work bag off your shoulder. When you looked back up his face was right in front of yours. So close, in fact, that you could feel his breath fan against your cheeks.
He squinted his eyes at you, shooting you one last irritated look before he shifted into his fox form. He ran around you in a few circles before scurrying off toward the couch in the apartment. He leapt up into the cushion and sat down, looking ar you expectantly.
Your lips curled into a soft smile, shaking your head softly at his antics before standing up straight. As soon as you sat down onto the couch next to him he snuggled himself in your lap, wrapping his tail around the side of your waist.
“You’re clingy, you know that?” You looked down at the red fox curled into your lap. He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours mischeviously. He places his black tipped paws on the fronts of your shoulders, lifting his body upright and rubs his wet nose against yours.
You scrunch up your nose, attempting to lean away from him as your smile grew bigger. “You’re annoying,” you poke his side.
He doesn’t seem pleased with your comment, and quickly shifts back to his human form. Your eyes widen to the size of saucers, taken aback by his sudden action. “I.N—!” You managed to choke out before he shoots you a grin, pushing your back down into the sofa cushions.
“Even though I’m annoying, you still love me.” He hums, looking down at you.
“Yeah yeah,” you roll your eyes, cheeks flushing at his proximity.
He leans down and presses a few kisses to your cheek, slowly making his way to your lips. His lips are soft against yours, and you find yourself melting into him, your hands traveling up his shoulders to wrap around his neck.
I.N hums softly, resting his hands beside your head. He pulls away to take a breath, a grin gracing his lips when his eyes fluttered open to meet yours.
✦ genre: friends to lovers au, college au, fluff, slight angst
✦ description: minho’s ideas were dangerous but of course, as his best friend, you went along with them all. this one, however, could be dangerous for you. specifically your heart
✦ pairings: lee minho x reader
✦ word count: 11.5k
✦ warnings: mild language, slightly suggestive at points
✦ a/n: i decided i wanted to get back into writing fics and here is my first fic in three years! i’m a little bit rusty but i hope you all like it ♡
i.
“Ta-da! All done.” You smiled, taking a step back to admire the work you’d done. Small picture frames littered the walls of your new bedroom, stereotypical fairy lights decorating the empty space around it. It wasn’t night just yet, but you were excited to be able to lay down and see a recreation of the night sky on your ceiling.
However, as soon as you stopped hanging everything up, a sharp pain shot through your back. A shockwave of small pricks traveling from your lower back to above your shoulder blades. Suddenly everything seemed too much, the pain making you lightheaded.
Turning on your heels, you slowly walked out to your living room, plopping down on the couch and bringing both of your hands to your back. As much as you tried to massage out the pain, there was only so much your own reach could do.
Great, first day of college and you get hurt, you thought.
Just as you were about to text your best friend, Minho, to see if he had gotten settled in, you heard a knock at your door. Before you could ask who it is, the person at the other side sighed, “Don’t keep me waiting all day!” Speak of the devil, you thought as you continued the assault on your taut muscles.
“Door’s open!” You shout, maybe too loud, at Minho, watching as he flung open the door and looked around the room, eyes settling on you wincing in pain.
“First of all, lock your door! You don’t know what kind of creep can just walk in.”
Before he could continue you interrupted, “Like you just did?”
Minho raised his eyebrows almost to his hairline, “You’re the one that let me in!” There’s a slight pause before he continued on, his face now shifted to one of concern, “What happened to you?”
Leaning back so your head rested on the wall behind you, you groaned again, “I was hanging up picture frames in my bedroom and I must have pulled a muscle.” You winced as you sat up, hands continuing to massage your lower back. “Or multiple muscles.”
Sitting up caused you to get a full look at what Minho was wearing. A pair of black basketball shorts along with an old Metallica shirt that was a little too big on him settled on his frame. It was big enough to dip down in the front, showing his collarbones and the silver chain necklace that always hung around his neck. You knew these were his relaxed, “i-look-bad-but-i-don't-care” clothes, but why did he look so good?!
You found yourself staring at him and you tried to shake off the thoughts of finding your best friend that attractive but no one could deny that Lee Minho had always been one of the most attractive guys in your class.
Said man seemed to notice your eyes glazed over, because he suddenly appeared right in front of you, hand waving furiously across your face, “Hello? Earth to Y/N? Anyone in there?” He raised a hand, presumably to hit you on the head, but then quickly retracted it.
“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry I was just thinking about classes starting tomorrow.” You chuckled, wincing slightly as a shock ran up your back. Surely these thoughts would pass, they always did.
Minho moved around to sit next to you, smiling as he bounced up and down on your couch. “I’m so excited! My first class is choreography 101 and I heard the instructor made dances for all the big pop stars!” He leaned into you, looking up at the empty space. “Think of it. Taylor Swift, Harry Styles, Beyonce, I could be one of those people to make dances for them!” His arms outstretched before he whipped around to face you.
Suddenly you realized just how close you were, and you’ve been this close before but now you focused on how his eyes sparkled when he talked about the one thing he loved. You shook those thoughts away, seeing his bright smile and immediately countering with your own.
“That sounds great, Min! I’m sure you’ll be one of the best choreographers in the world.” Again, you shook off the intense beating of your heart and forced yourself not to let your eyes wander down to Minho’s lips. No matter how much it tempted you, you would resist.
“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend, you're required to say it.” He nudged your side, standing up and looking around once. “Your dorm is actually really cool, and you're lucky you don’t have a roommate.” Pausing, he looked at you, wiggling his eyebrows in a very mischievous and very Minho-like way. “You can bring guys over and not worry about thin walls.”
He knew you had never dated anyone before, much less had to worry about ‘thin walls’, yet he always used it tease you lightly. You had thought about dating before, but as you always countered back at him, you weren’t sure how it was supposed to work. Sure, people meet and they get together, but what happens after that? It was like some sort of mystery that you were way too skeptical to jump into.
“Maybe you’ll meet someone in your geeky science classes! You know, a cute chemist that can woo you with a love potion.” Minho waved his hand around as if he was holding a wand.
You rolled your eyes as his suggestion, yet the idea didn’t seem that bad. Maybe you could get your mind off of your newfound feelings for Minho (that were probably always there yet you refused to believe) and score yourself your first relationship.
“I guess that doesn’t sound that bad.” You said, standing up from the couch and stretching. The pain in your back had diminished somewhat, and you found yourself feeling somewhat liberated from the worries of freshman year.
“What are your classes tomorrow?” Minho backed up into the doorframe, waving hello to some of the people passing by.
“Uh, Chemistry Lab and English Lit.” You replied.
“Are we still going to have our monthly movie nights?” His voice sounded hopeful and you smiled gently at him.
You walked up to him in the doorway, reaching one hand up and ruffling his already tousled hair. “Of course, Min. You’re only a building away now so we can watch even more movies.”
“Awesome, I can’t wait.” Minho leaned forward, moving one hand from the doorframe and resting his hand on your head, repeating the same motion you did to him.
He ran away laughing before you could do anything about it, but you got one good, “asshole!” in before he rounded the corner, out of your sight and hopefully out of your mind.
ii.
Walking into your first class of your new college life was nerve wracking, to say the least, and you hadn’t started off the day too well either. First, you woke up to a loud argument from the room next to you. It’s the first day and there’s already yelling?! Then, you almost forgot your student ID, effectively locking you out of the classroom buildings. And finally, the icing on the cake, you almost burst into a class in the middle of a test because you thought it was yours and you knew you would be dreaming about that horrifically embarrassing moment for years to come.
Luckily, none of that happened, and you passed through your English Lit class with just a large book and thick packet the teacher deemed as the syllabus. Next was Chemistry and as you looked around the room, there were only two empty seats. One of them being right in front of the teacher’s desk and the other being next to a guy already messing with the beakers sat in front of each table. Since it was your very first day of class, you decided against sitting right in front of the teacher, opting to slowly approach the man that was really engrossed in whatever he was doing.
“Hello?” You asked, speaking loud enough to be heard amongst the pre-class chatter throughout the room. “Can I sit here?”
When he turned around, you took notice of his soft brown eyes. He seemed surprised, mouth hung open as he looked to the beaker in his hand and then at the empty seat next to you.
“Oh, yeah! Of course.” He answered, sliding over slightly to make room for you. “My name is Chan.”
“Nice to meet you, my name is Y/N.” You took out a pen, eyes drifting to his hands holding the beaker. Chan went back to looking at it suspiciously, eyebrows furrowed in a tight line. “Um, can I ask what you’re doing?” You asked. You didn’t know where this confidence came from, you would normally never interact with classmates unless instructed to, but you already found yourself somewhat comfortable around Chan.
He chuckled, and your eyes were drawn to his big smile and the one dimple poking at his right cheek. “I was just checking to make sure there wasn’t any extra residue from past classes left in here. I wouldn’t want any extra cesium or germane left in here and then we all go boom!”
You were impressed by his knowledge, nodding your head and waiting for class to start. Tapping your pen, you looked around at the other students. They all seemed engulfed in the beakers in front of them. Some turned on the burners while others went to the front where small bags were arranged in groups.
“Are we supposed to be starting an experiment?” You looked around the room again, and then to the paper at the front of your desk. Picking it up, you noticed Chan coming closer to you, head peering over at the paper.
“Pick up the bags of chemicals on the table up front.” Chan read aloud, “Then test each chemical, recording your findings on each one. This assignment is a team assignment. Work with your partner next to you. Good luck!”
Immediately he went to grab the bags and you couldn’t help but look him up and down. His shoulders were very wide, the hint of two earrings poking out from behind his curly hair and there were three rings all on his right hand. You weren’t sure why you were checking him out this much, but he held a dorky and interesting aura that made you want to find out more.
As he was walking back, he held up the bags, all with various different colors, and said in an all too cheery but very sweet voice, “Ready to do this, partner?”
You mimicked his smile, “Let’s go, partner.”
iii.
After your second chemistry class, Chan had asked for your number and feeling that this was an opportunity to try and banish your feelings for Minho and possibly get yourself your first boyfriend, you agreed. Honestly you weren’t sure if Chan thought of you in the same way, but the image of his smile clouded your judgement so you agreed.
For the past two days you had been texting him and asking about the countless textbook pages that you were assigned as homework. Of course no one in the class wanted to do them, but you figured having someone to motivate you by saying he’s already finished the pages could be of some help.
Now it was Saturday and you could feel the relaxation taking over as you got back from the library, checking out books on the various chemical reactions that water could have to prepare for a quiz next week. As soon as you walked through your door you ran into your room, changing into a soft baggy shirt and shorts. The weather hadn’t changed from warm to cold yet, so you knew you had a few more weeks until you could dodge shaving for a day or two in favor of wearing jeans.
You’re snapped back to reality as you heard someone knock on the door, immediately remembering that this was your monthly movie night with Minho. You two had been doing this since the beginning of high school and very rarely had you missed a month, and those had been because of severe stomach flu and a date Minho had that he swore he couldn’t pass up even though they broke up two weeks later.
You ran to the door after the knocking turned into more of a drum beat. “Okay, okay I’m coming. Calm your ass.”
“I wasn’t the one that said 5 PM on the dot. You’re the one that’s late.” Minho walked through the door with a stack of movies in his arms and all of a sudden you were reminded of your annoying feelings for this man.
“I figured we could start with one or two and if it’s too late we could hit the hay and leave the rest here for next month.” He turned around and you noticed the small dark bags under his eyes. You hadn’t texted him much if at all this week, too focused on the start of all your classes this semester but you knew he must be exhausted from all the dance classes he took. It was his major but there was only so much your legs could move before they gave out.
“You look tired.” You remarked, walking over to the couch and motioning for him to sit next to you.
He obliged, sitting down with a thump and resting his head just as you had done the weekend before. “I practiced late last night finishing this short dance piece for class. It’s nothing,” Minho picked his head up and shot you a smile, “I’ll be fine.”
You eyed him suspiciously, not fully believing him, but instead nodding. “Okay.” Then you turned your head to the stack of movies, flipping through them and settling on a scary one you didn’t think you had seen before. “I haven’t seen this one, have you?” Minho shook his head. “Great, let’s start.”
You stood up to put the movie in the DVD player before settling back onto the couch in the most comfortable position. Your feet were resting in Minho’s lap, his hands softly tapping a beat onto your shins. You noticed he was wearing a similar outfit to the last time you saw him, this time with a brightly tie dyed Nirvana shirt.
Before your mind could wander, you heard the loud screams from the screen and you snapped your attention back to the movie. You didn’t want to think about how much you wanted to be wrapped in his arms or how much you craved his fingers dancing down your arms or face before he kissed you. You didn’t want to think about it, so you forced yourself to watch the already cheesy thrasher movie playing in front of you.
You noticed Minho’s hands would squeeze your leg when a jumpscare popped up, the slight pressure causing you to look up at him. His eyes were squinted, lips set in a straight line as he cocked his head to the side. It seemed he thought this movie was bad, and you definitely couldn't disagree with that sentiment.
Suddenly Minho leaned forward and paused the movie, hand flinging up towards the screen. “Look at that! This relationship is not realistic.” You shrugged, not knowing exactly what a realistic relationship would look like, yet letting him go on. “It’s so obvious that the guy is gonna die and she’s going to be the only one left at the end.” Something close to a scowl crept up on his face.
“I agree this movie is trash, but I want to see the end.” You sat up and shrugged again. “Besides, I don’t know what a realistic relationship looks like so I thought they looked cute.” You chuckled, turning around when you heard your phone beep.
It was Chan, texting you a joke about the chemicals you were learning about and you found yourself laughing softly at it. Minho leaned forward, peering over your shoulder, a sound of surprise coming from him as he sat back, “Did you find someone? He better be good if he’s interrupting our monthly movie night.” His voice sounded hopeful, yet you thought there was a hint of disappointment. Maybe that was just your own brain hoping, so you brushed past it.
“I don’t know, maybe? His name is Chan and he’s my lab partner for chemistry.” You looked up from your phone, a small frown on your face. “You know I’m not good with relationships, Min. I’m worried I’ll mess something up.”
Minho nodded along, one side of his mouth tilted up as if he was deep in thought. “I have an idea.” He finally spit out after sitting there for a minute.
Normally when Minho said he had an idea, you were terrified, to say the least, since those ideas usually consisted of something dangerous or potentially trouble-causing. But of course, you were his best friend, so you almost always went along with whatever plan he had. You signaled for him to say it, but you were not expecting what came out of his mouth.
“Well, you’ve never been in a relationship. And I don’t want inexperience to get in between you and a good guy, so why don’t I show you how you should be treated in a relationship?” His tone was nonchalant but you saw a nervousness behind his eyes. And at that moment you knew that this idea of his was dangerous. It was dangerous for your heart.
Yet you still nodded. What could go wrong? You thought as you clarified, “so you mean like pretending to date?”
Minho shrugged, “I guess? I didn’t think past this point.” He sat up, grabbing both of your hands. He was warm, and the thought of those hands cupping your face made your heart speed up. “I want you to have some experience before you find someone. I don’t want you to be an awkward mess.” He chuckled and you found yourself relaxing and laughing back. “I just thought we could do some couple things, I could show you the ropes, and when you feel like you're ready, you can go after this Chan guy with all the knowledge you gained from me. It’s like best friends with romantic benefits.”
The thought of experiencing anything close to romantic with Minho made your heart almost explode out of your chest, yet you thought that maybe if you did this it would somehow satisfy your feelings for him and you could move on.
So you nodded again. “Sure,” you said, smiling, “let’s do it.”
“Cool. Now come here.” Minho sat back, motioning for you to come closer so you did. Your knees moved against the plush couch and as soon as you were close enough, Minho’s arm wrapped around your shoulders. You let out a soft sound of surprise as your head was met with his chest.
You had cuddled with Minho before, after a sad movie when you just needed a shoulder to cry on, after getting accepted to college and you fell asleep on him that night talking about how excited you were to be going to the same school.
But this was different. This was Minho moving one hand to start the movie again. This was Minho resting one hand on your arm, fingers going back to tapping a soft rhythm. This was Minho and his scent invading your nose. This was your best friend softly holding you as you relaxed into his touch.
“I know it’s trash but how about we have a bad movie night?” He didn’t need to raise his voice much, your ear pressed against his chest. You could practically hear the rumble in his chest as he spoke. You had expected it to become awkward, but after a breath, you relaxed into his arms, one of your own hesitantly resting on his stomach.
“Is this right?” You asked, wanting to get as much information as you could. If this was supposed to be a learning experience you were going to make the most of it.
Minho chuckled and you felt the vibrations through your whole body. “Yea, that’s good, but you can move your head to wherever you feel comfortable.”
Your back was starting to ache from this position, so you listened to Minho’s words, adjusting yourself so that your forehead was against his neck. Your hand that was previously on his stomach went to wrap around his torso.
On an instinct that only comes with a lot of experience, Minho’s hand went to your back, his palm moving slowly up and down your spine. You felt a shiver run through you which made no sense because Minho was really warm and that warmth spread from head to toe.
You thought about just how many people Minho had done this with. You knew just how many significant others he’d had, and the thought of anyone else doing this with him stung just a little bit.
It also stung to know that eventually you would go back to best friends and he would likely forget this ever happened. As much as you wanted to push back the feelings, you felt a small spark in your stomach and you knew if you let this go on for a while it would only cause you pain.
Minho must have sensed your tense shoulders because the hand that was on your back moved to your hair. His fingertips danced across your scalp. “You okay Y/N?” His voice was soft, head tilting down and you could feel his lips inches away from your forehead. The way he said your voice could only be described as delicate. It was a soft whisper said into thin air and if you hadn’t been pressed right up against him you were sure you wouldn't have heard it.
“Yeah, I’m okay, just cold.” Your voice mimicked his own, your breath fanning out against his shirt. Though you knew it would hurt, you decided that you would throw caution into the wind and just enjoy the now.
As you continued on with the movie, you took notice of Minho’s hand. One rested on the side of the couch, ready to turn off the movie if it got too bad, while the other alternated from resting on your arm to rubbing soothing circles into your back.
Everything overwhelmed your senses. His hand felt soft on your back, touching you as if you were porcelain. His shirt smelled of laundry detergent but with your nose pressed into his neck you caught a scent that was obviously very Minho. You couldn’t put your finger on it particularly, but it was a smell that you didn't think you could ever identify except by one name, Minho. His heart thumped against your ear, and it reminded you of just how real this was and how his heartbeat was oddly fast.
A sense of comfort washed over you, and you realized you were subconsciously drawing circles into Minho’s stomach with your right hand. His shirt was soft and you had the overwhelming urge to slip under his shirt and find out if his skin was just as plush.
Suddenly all of the exhaustion you had pushed off from the week caught up to you. Your eyelids drooped down halfway, and you felt Minho move his head, peering down at you. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.” He chuckled.
He had called you countless nicknames before, some jokingly vulgar and others only someone who you were close with could use, but sweetheart was different. It made you smile and oblige his words, letting yourself fall into a slumber with a smile stuck on your face.
iv.
A soft swaying woke you from your dream. You hadn’t even remembered exactly what the dream was about, but you knew that Minho was there and you thought it must have been a good thing you didn’t remember.
Air sweeped below you and you realized that you weren’t standing nor sitting, you were being carried, albeit very carefully. You felt the tentative steps of the person carrying you and you could only assume it was Minho.
His arms were holding you gently, so much so that you could barely feel his fingers touching your shoulders and legs. You knew he was strong, but he moved with such light steps that it seemed as though he had no trouble in transporting you to your bedroom.
It was only another moment before you felt your body on the mattress and you decided to act as if you were still sleeping. You let your body naturally curl onto your side and it was then you remembered that it was probably late. You weren’t sure how long you slept but it was still too late for Minho to walk to his dorm.
You thought about waking up and asking him if he wanted to sleep on the couch or with you, but you were stopped by the feeling of a warm body pulling you softly against him. When your back hit something hard, you almost gave yourself away, gasping as an arm settled onto your waist.
This wasn’t the first time you found yourself in this position with Minho. Hell, you had known each other for nearly 10 years of your life, there wasn’t much you had kept private from Minho and vice versa. But this part, this vulnerable and far too touch deprived side of you, had never been shown to anyone and it was terrifying.
The tendrils of sleep were just about to overcome you when you remembered something that made your stomach flip and your heart start racing. Minho didn’t know you were awake. Why would he do these things if he knew you wouldn’t know?
Surely it was for when you woke up. Surely it wasn’t your mind running a mile a minute. You couldn't help but hold a small bit of hope, however, as you finally drifted off into sleep.
v.
It had been three days since your agreement with Minho and you were met with radio silence. It’s not like you’re dating you thought to yourself as you walked back to your dorm from your final lecture of the day.
However as soon as you set your books down, your phone rang, the familiar contact name of ‘my favorite asshole’ popping up on the screen. It had been Minho who had changed his contact name, claiming it was “way too basic for your best friend.”
“Hey, what’s up?” You tried not to sound too upset at the lack of communication but you knew Minho like the back of your hand and you also knew that Minho knew you like the back of his hand.
“Practicing for an exam coming up next week.” His voice echoed and you were about to try and distract him with questions but he beat you to it. “Are you okay? You sound weird.”
“I’m just tired as fuck. Two tests and a lab experiment has been kicking my ass.” You replied and you weren’t lying, your back was starting to ache again from the constant moving around in Chemistry and you could feel a headache coming on.
There was a pause on the other line as Minho seemed to contemplate something. “Do you just wanna rest then?”
“I don’t know, I have some homework I should finish before I even think about a nap.” As soon as you replied, you followed up with a very curious, “Why? What’s up?”
Minho’s voice quieted for the moment, like someone was next to him and he didn’t want them to hear what he was saying. “I was just wondering if you wanted to come over and watch me practice. It’s been a while since we hung out and I miss my best friend.” There it was, best friend. It's exactly what you were, except you couldn’t help but feel a small pang in your chest. His voice dropped even quieter this time. “But you have to be sneaky, my dance teacher is strict about not letting dance students in the practice rooms.”
“Yea, sure. That sounds fun.” You grabbed your books, thinking you could get some work in. “I miss my best friend too.” You smiled. “Even if you’re an asshole sometimes.”
The giggle on the other side of the phone caused you to feel that warmth that you did three days ago. “But I’m you’re favorite asshole.” Minho countered.
He hung up before you could reply, so you gathered your things and headed to the dance studio.
The walk to the studio didn’t take long, in fact it was only two buildings over, so you got there rather quickly. After texting Minho you were there, you heard the door unlock and a fluffy haired Minho poke his head out.
“Come on in.” He held the door open for you, the hand that wasn’t gripped onto the door coming to rest on your lower back. It was surprising but you willed yourself not to get too taken aback. This was all part of the agreement.
It felt nice to be treated like that, however. How am I gonna find someone like Minho after this deal is over? You thought to yourself as said man steered you towards his practice room. The hand on your back was light but you definitely felt his presence there. His voice could be heard over the multitude of ‘what if’s flying around your head, but you had no idea what he was saying.
“You’re not listening to me.” He chuckled and opened the door for you, stepping in behind you while you looked around. The floor was shiny, all leading up to mirrors on three of the walls. It was weird seeing yourself from all different angles and you had to admit you looked tired.
“To be fair I never listen to you.” You countered against him, a smirk playing on your face as you walked towards the middle of the room. Your appearance stuck out in each of the mirror walls you looked at. There were deep bags under your eyes and you noticed a sense of fatigue hiding behind them.
“I look like shit.” You laughed, but you weren’t joking. Classes were draining and you could barely recognize yourself in the mirror.
“You look fine, sweetheart.” Minho laughed breathy and exhausted.
You saw Minho in the mirror walk up behind you, his hands rested on your shoulders. Instead of looking him in the eyes through the mirror, you opted to stare at his hands. His fingers dug into your shoulders, thumbs pressing just between your shoulder blades and an immense feeling of relief shot through you.
“Does that help?” He asked, fingers working deeper into your muscles.
It was as if all the stress and fatigue was slowly being lifted off of you as Minho’s hands worked magic. Instead of answering his question, you let out a soft sign followed by a groan, hoping that was an acceptable answer.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Minho laughed and continued like that for a minute. Small groans and sighs of relief were the only thing echoing off the walls. Although it had been more than a minute, it felt like just one second as he slowly stopped massaging you. “I don’t want to overdo it. You should sit down.” He motioned over to the bench in the corner.
As you walked over you took out your Chemistry textbook, “I’m gonna just get some reading done if you don’t mind.”
“Of course. Just having you here makes me feel better.” Minho smiled at you through the mirror. “I hope the music won’t distract you though.”
You shook your head, smiling back at the man in front of you. “No, I should be fine. Go ahead and practice.”
As soon as he turned to the audio machine, busy looking through the computer to find the song, you observed his outfit. He was wearing the baggy black sweatpants tucked into sneakers. Then you noticed his shirt. He was wearing a tank top, the straps resting on his shoulders but were so thin they threatened to slip off.
Music blasted through the studio and you recognized the smooth beats that washed over you. Soft drums hit your ears and you couldn't help but nod your head along as you read your textbook. It was only ten more pages you had to read and then you could curl up in bed and sleep.
You tried to finish reading the page on various chemical reactions but your temptation got the better of you and snuck a glance up at Minho and wow. The dance seemed to edge on the sensual side and you were surprised they weren’t assigned a partner for this. His hips rocked perfectly to the rhythm and you didn’t dare look at his eyes. You had seen him dance before and the look in his eyes when he danced could make any person melt from the sheer passion and determination.
You weren't sure exactly when he had gotten so muscular but you assumed him dedicating his life to dancing helped build them. He wasn’t ripped, per say, but he had just the right amount of muscle to prevent you from teasing him with string bean comments. Not to mention his thighs. The majority of his power resided in his thighs and you knew if you kept thinking about him you would dig yourself a deeper hole.
Somewhere in the trenches of you damn near drooling over Minho, you were startled by the door to the practice room being flung open. A woman dressed in workout shorts and a baggy crop top walks in, eyes following Minho’s movements before landing on you sitting in the far corner of the room.
“I thought I told you only dance students in this building.” The woman raised her voice over the music before finally going and turning it off. “Who is this?” She pointed towards you and you ducked your eyes down in embarrassment.
Minho paused for a moment, thinking of what to say before he finally blurts out, “They’re my significant other.” If you had been eating or drinking anything you’re sure you would have choked, but you tried to keep your composure as he continued, “They were going to work on homework but the library was closed and I offered to let them work here. I’m sorry Mrs. Lee.”
The dance teacher looked between you and Minho, and you decided to try and help the situation. “I’m so sorry. Don’t blame Minho, blame me. I wanted to spend some time with him but we were both busy with homework and I figured this would work. Again, I’m sorry. I won’t come back.” Your voice remained steady as you tried to play into the perception that you and Minho were actually dating. Although with the feelings blooming in you recently it wasn’t hard to act as though you wanted to spend time with him.
A loud sigh escaped her, her face softening slightly. “Ah, young love. I was there once.” You felt your face heat up. “Minho,” she directed her attention towards him, leaving you to observe, “You’re one of the best students in this class. Perhaps I can let this pass, as long as your choreography assignment is up to my expectations.”
“It is!” You smiled up at Mrs. Lee. “I haven’t seen it all but he’s one of the best dancers I know and you won’t be disappointed.”
She nodded curtly, turning around on her heels and making a swift exit.
As soon as she left, you felt Minho’s eyes on you. You avoided it for as long as you could before you heard Minho say your name. “Yeah?” You replied, looking up at him.
“I hope you're okay with me saying that to Mrs. Lee. If you want I can go tell her we aren’t-”
“No!” You cut him off maybe too quickly. “I mean, I don’t mind it. It’s helping me get experience isn’t it? Being introduced as someone’s significant other.” You didn’t add how much hearing it come from Minho’s mouth made a million sparklers go off in your stomach, nor did you add that now you’ve heard him say it, you never wanted him to stop saying it.
“Okay.” Was all Minho said before motioning towards the computer, the song he was dancing too that was paused by Mrs. Lee waiting to be started again. “I’m gonna practice again.”
You nodded. “Of course. I’m going to try and finish this chapter and then I might head home and hit the hay early.” As you looked into his eyes, you saw the deep bags that mirrored your own. “You should get some sleep too, Min. You look exhausted.”
Minho hesitated, shrugging his shoulders slowly. You could almost see his muscles working overtime just to keep him upright. “I should be fine, sweetheart. Don't worry about me.” He turned around so you could no longer see his face, not even in the mirror in front of you. “Maybe you should just head out and get some sleep. I don't want you to fall asleep in Chemistry tomorrow.”
Confusion flashed across your features as you stood up. You put your textbook in your bag, walking up to Minho and resting your hand on his shoulder. “No.” You spoke sternly, set on making him listen to you. “I refuse to leave unless you’re leaving with me. I don’t like seeing you like this, Min. It hurts me as much as it hurts you.”
Minho knew you like the back of his hand, and he knew you were firm in your statement. You really wouldn't leave until he did. A long sigh escaped his lips, air cascading into the already stuffy dance room.
Instinctively, your other hand raised to his other shoulder, pulling him closer to you. Minho’s muscles relaxed as he loosely wrapped his arms around your waist. His thumbs pressed lightly into your spine and that familiar wave of electricity surged from your head to your toes.
Hot breath fanned across your neck as Minho nuzzled his head there. It was weird having someone that close to you and it reminded you of just how vulnerable you were. You ran your fingers around his neck to the nape of his head, playing with the small hairs that tickled you.
Sure, you had hugged Minho before, but nothing like this. This was holding someone in one of their darkest moments. This was fearing to speak in fear of reality coming crashing back to you. This was letting your existence speak for itself. This was your soul latching itself onto Minho’s. This was the moment you finally had to admit to yourself.
I am hopelessly and madly in love with you, Lee Minho.
After what felt like an eternity you separated yourself from him, but only enough to be able to see his face. “How about we go back to my room and sleep?” You weren’t sure what prompted you to ask that, but right now you didn’t want to be alone.
The corners of Minho’s mouth drooped as he nodded his head yes. In the span of ten minutes he had lost all his energy and you could tell he had been living off energy drinks and coffee. You knew it was hard for you, but you couldn’t imagine what it was like for Minho. Classes where you danced for an hour straight with no breaks, countless hours in the practice rooms forcing your limbs to move in this exact pattern or your whole assignment was ruined. You hated seeing him like this and hoped he would be better at taking care of himself eventually.
“Good. You can worry about your assignment tomorrow, but you need sleep, Min.” You smoothed one side of his messy hair down, heart clenching when Minho leans his head into your hand.
“Okay. Let’s go.” Minho trudged over to the computer, turning it off and unplugging his phone from the USB port. He grabbed his bag off the floor and looked to you sleepily. A hand was extended towards you and you had held hands with Minho before, but this, as did everything else that had happened recently, made you even more vulnerable.
Yet you reached out, your palm meeting Minho’s and your fingers locking together like a zipper. You hadn’t thought about just how well your hands fit with his until a silence washed over you and you were left to your own devices. Maybe your hands were always meant to find each other. Maybe this was fate saying that if the pieces fit together, it was meant to be.
The walk to your room was shrouded in silence, but you couldn’t say that you minded it. There wasn't always a need for words between you and Minho. It was like your minds connected in a way that you've never experienced with anyone else. You always joked you should never play poker together because you could tell when he was lying.
Minho held you close, except when you walked up to your dorm building, when he detached your hand from his and moved to open the door for you. Even now he was treating you like royalty. A small “thank you” left your lips as you entered the chilly front room.
You waited for Minho to walk through the door before you silently grasped his hand again, leading him towards the elevator doors. The woman at the desk watched you two, “You are just the cutest couple!” She whispered to you.
The pang in your chest was back, but you put on a smile and replied. “Thank you so much.”
In the elevator, Minho leaned more into your side. His eyes were open, but you knew he wasn’t fully coherent. He looked drained of all energy and you were scared that you might have to carry him to your room.
“Just a little bit more Min and you can sleep.” You ran your thumb over his hand lightly, smiling when Minho just tightened the grip he had.
As soon as you were in front of your room, you used the hand that wasn’t interlocked with Minho’s to get your keys out of your pocket, unlocking the door and stepping inside. You locked the door behind you, setting the keys on the table next to the door and throwing your bag in front of the couch.
You pried your hand from Minho’s only to be met with a sound of disapproval. Pulling the bag off of Minho’s shoulder, you gave him his wish and reconnected your hands, leading him to your room.
It was dark outside, so you turned on the lamp beside your bed, watching as Minho stripped himself of his shirt and looked up at you from beneath his eyelashes. “Did you happen to save any of the clothes I've left at your house back home?”
Digging through your drawer, you're met with a sound of surprise because you knew you kept some of the clothes he’s left over the years, but you didn’t know you had packed them and brought them here when you came to college. You pulled out a pair of shorts that looked like his, holding them up, “Are these okay?”
Minho nods, grabbing the shorts and walking over to the other side of the bed. He doesn't bother telling you to turn around, you're best friends, you've almost seen worse from him.
You didn't think anything of it when he immediately striped himself of his sweatpants, quickly slipping on the pants that were a little bit loose but you knew he was going to fall asleep in a snap so you didn't say anything. You also didn't think anything of it when you pulled out sleep clothes for yourself and began to strip as well. The air conditioning in your room was on full blast and you shivered slightly at the cold air against your skin. You could feel the goosebumps on your skin as you pulled your shirt and pants on, turning around to face the bed once more.
The covers were already pulled back and Minho was sitting up in your bed. His hands were resting on his stomach, fingers interlaced and thumbs tapping another rhythm. He always had that habit, always getting yelled at by teachers for tapping on the desks during tests, always having music in his head that no one else could hear.
You took a moment to admire him before smiling at him, Minho immediately mirroring that smile back to you. He opened his arms, waving both of them as if to beckon you towards him. And it always worked, you knew it would always work because you couldn’t just say no to his tired face and hopeful grin.
Climbing into bed, you moved closer to Minho, hands instinctively going around his waist. It was as if whatever deity was up above heard your thoughts, because now there was no fabric barrier between you and Minho’s torso. Your thumb pressed lightly into his side, massaging circles into whatever skin you could reach.
One of Minho’s hands went to your back and the other one rested on your arm. Sleep immediately started to creep up on you but you snapped out of it when you heard Minho utter a soft apology to you.
You sat up, body feeling cold after moving away from him. “What are you sorry for?” You asked, one of your hands not moving from rubbing circles into his side.
There was a heavy silence in the room and you were scared of what would come next. What if he wants to stop this, whatever this is. What if something is wrong?
“I’m sorry I haven't been able to treat you how you should be treated, I just wanted to show you what it was like to be treated right.” Minho’s eyes bore into your own and although you saw fatigue, you also saw a sense of sadness.
“Don’t apologize, Min. Everything you do tells me how I should be treated. You don’t have to be there for me 24/7 for me to know you are an amazing person.” You leaned forward, moving your hands to cup his cheeks. They were cold and you felt goosebumps rise on your arms. Your thumbs moved across his cheekbones and you watched as Minho closed his eyes. “Anyone would be lucky to have you as their boyfriend.”
You pulled the covers up, grabbing Minho by the shoulders and urging him to move down. “I know that once you get some sleep, you’ll feel better in the morning, okay?” You didn’t wait for him to confirm your statement and that was the last you saw of his face, because you opted for cuddling closer to him. The hand that was previously on his waist returned, your head finding purchase as it did before.
Your nose pressed into the junction of his shoulder and neck, the scent that could only be described by the name Minho much stronger now that there wasn’t any fabric in the way. “I like you just the way you are. And what you are is the best best friend I could ever ask for.”
The last thing you remember before sleep overcame you was a soft pressure on your forehead in what you could only guess was Minho’s lips, followed by him whispering. “Goodnight sweetheart.”
vi.
Since that night two weeks ago, Minho had taken to sleeping over every night.
Not that you were complaining, no, you could never complain about having your best friend and newly discovered crush (was it just a crush at this point, though?) holding you like you were fine china every night. In fact, you would rather have him there with you as opposed to waking up every morning to cold air and an empty kitchen.
Now, waking up to an empty bed was unusual. So when you opened your eyes and found your arms clutching empty air you were confused.
Checking your clock on the bedside table you saw you had an hour until Chemistry (getting the email yesterday that your English Lit class was canceled for today was a blessing) and while you debated going back to sleep wishing Minho was with you, you also were curious if he was still here.
By now you had memorized his schedule, knowing he didn't have class until later in the afternoon, so the only explanation was that he had gone to the practice room. You didn’t blame him, since that night Minho had made it his mission to walk you back to your dorm after your last class of each day. Sometimes he would go back to practice and sometimes he would just gently guide you to bed, tracing patterns on your back until you fell asleep.
You knew you were in deep and you knew it would hurt when all of this eventually stopped but for now you wanted to enjoy the way Minho said your name paired with “sweetheart”, or the way he would hold you tight but not enough to hurt you.
The smell of something cooking snapped you out of your thoughts and you pulled the covers back, feet softly sliding across the carpeted floor. You silently stood in the doorway and watched as the small stove burner was bright red. A pan sat on the burner with a pale yellow scrambled egg in it.
From this angle you could only see Minho’s back and the way his shoulder muscles rippled under his skin as he messed with the pans and plates in front of him. He looked handsome. But not in the handsome that everyone else saw. Everyone saw the dancer, the student, the friend, the guy that walked into a room and just his presence drew attention. Yes, you saw that as well, but you also saw the vulnerability, the chivalry, the deepest parts of Lee Minho that he never showed to anyone else.
That made you fall even more in love with him.
Just as you were about to interrupt the silence, Minho turned around, breaking the silence on his own. “Hey.” He said, holding up the newly made plate of eggs and bacon.
“Goodmorning, Min.” You smiled, walking towards the small table and sitting down.
“I made breakfast. I figured you could eat and then I could walk you to class.” Minho explained as he set the plate down, putting another plate in front of himself as he sat opposite to you.
“Yeah, that sounds good.” You replied, already starting to eat.
You both sat in a comfortable silence until you both had finished, leaving you to get ready for class while Minho got ready to walk you there.
As soon as you had finished getting ready you grabbed your bag and checked your phone. Ten minutes. You had ten minutes to get to class and you knew it would be busy as a lot of classes started and stopped around this time.
“Shit, we gotta go, Min. I don’t want to be late.” You grabbed your keys, quickly locking your door and grabbing Minho’s hand. At this point it was by impulse that you grabbed it and you were glad that he didn’t mind.
Before you could walk far, Minho stopped in the hall, making you turn around and face him. He grabbed your bag, slinging it over his own shoulder and smiling at you as he started walking again.
The walk there seemed like an eternity but that was only because you felt the weight of Minho’s hand in yours. In a particularly large crowd of people, Minho opted for a hand resting on your lower back so he didn’t lose you and could stay close, but when your hand was in his, you felt like you were in your own bubble. It was like nothing could affect you when you were next to him.
As you approached your classroom, you saw Chan standing at the doorway. It was weird, he never did that, opting instead to start on whatever experiment you had for the day.
His eyes caught yours in the crowd of people and they lit up. He lifted his hand to wave but his eyes wandered down to your hand that was clasped in Minho’s and his large smile lowered slightly.
“Shit.” You said, looking over at Minho who had a frown on his face.
Before you could say anything else, Minho released your hand, your bag sliding off his shoulder and finding your arms. “I’m gonna go to class. Have a good day, Y/N.” There was a melancholy tone to his voice that made you want to say something but before you knew it you had lost him in the crowd of people.
“Hey.” You said softly to Chan as you stood in front of him.
He smiled at you but you could tell it wasn’t as wide as it normally was. “Hey!”
You followed him into the room, looking at the front table where the ingredients for the days lab would be but instead seeing the teacher sitting there. On the board behind him were the big words NO LAB. LECTURE DAY.
“Oh great.” You groaned, setting your textbook down at your table and sitting down.
Chan sat next to you, his hands clasped in his lap as he stared down at his book. “So who was that?”
You knew he was referring to Minho, and you were thinking of exactly what you should say. If you said he was your boyfriend, you might not get the opportunity to date Chan but if you said he was your best friend, you could still have a chance. Through the last month, you knew just where your feelings were and you didn’t hesitate to answer him.
“That’s my boyfriend.”
His face registered shock and what you could only pinpoint as disappointed. You wished you could lie and say you wanted to be with Chan but for the second time in that month you had to admit it to yourself. You loved Minho.
“Oh, okay.” Chan nodded, looking up at the whiteboard. There was a moment of silence before he seemed to snap back to his normal cheery self. “Lecture days were specifically made by the devil himself.”
At that comment, you were back to clutching your stomach and doubling over in laughter. You quickly agreed, looking to the front of the room and seeing the teacher giving you a disapproving look. Not realizing class had started, you made a motion of zipping your mouth shut, turning to Chan and seeing him do the same.
As the lecture went on, you scribbled notes down and found yourself thinking about Minho. Yeah, Chan made you laugh and he was a dorky type of handsome that made you want to sit down and listen to his lame jokes all day long.
But Minho.. Lee Minho. He was the guy who watched you embarrass yourself in front of the whole school accepting an award in high school. He was the guy who held you tight when you cried about getting rejected by your first crush. He was the guy that told you you could do anything and everything that came to your mind. He was the guy who promised he would always be by your side through anything.
“Let’s talk about the chemistry of love.” The teacher’s voice faded back into your head, and you were intrigued to know more. “Most people don’t know that love is a chemical equation. I will go into more detail in a later lesson but the basic combination is dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin.”
You found yourself furiously scribbling everything down, hanging off his every word and worrying you were missing something. To your right, you felt Chan’s eyes focused on your face and you wanted to turn to him but you were too busy fixating on what the teacher was saying.
“Dopamine is released in the process of picking a mate and following the release of dopamine comes oxytocin, also known as the cuddle hormone. Just the simple gesture of holding someone’s hand releases oxytocin and causes a sense of attraction and what chemists then call ‘love’. Eventually, once the honeymoon phase is over chemically, meaning your body develops a tolerance to these chemicals, endorphins are released.” The teacher had his back turned, quickly writing down the full chemical compositions of these chemicals, but when he finished his sentence he slowly faced the class.
“Endorphins cause a feeling of comfort. It’s the feeling of being safe in someone’s presence, like you know they would do anything for you and vice versa.” He sat his uncapped marker on the lab table and proceeded to walk around the class, looking at every student he passed. He was silent, watching everyone (including you) try and write everything he said down.
As soon as he made his way back to his table, he began to speak again. “That, my wonderful students, is love.” There was a moment of silence before he smiled. “I will see you next week.”
You didn’t say goodbye to Chan when you left the classroom, knowing that seeing his face anymore would only make your chest ache.
Walking back to your dorm felt empty without Minho by your side. You wondered if he was busy with homework or class, deciding not to worry too much and instead thinking back to the lecture you just sat through.
The way Minho treated you for the past month had butterflies erupting in your stomach from holding your hand, carrying your books, the constant touches and the way he would follow every other sentence with “sweetheart”. You found yourself melting and constantly telling him that whomever he dated must feel like royalty.
But you also knew that even before this deal, the way Minho hugged you didn’t make you feel nervous or sweaty palmed, it made you feel safe. Whenever Minho walked into a room you felt your shoulders untense and a smile slip its way onto your face.
To you, Minho was home. He was the one you would go to with anything. He was the one that came to you with anything. You've helped him with relationship problems despite your lack of experience. He’s helped you with gym class and the history lessons you couldn’t seem to grasp.
You had been in love with Minho for a long time, yet you only seemed to notice it now.
Through your thinking you found your way to your room, unlocking it and slipping in. You went through the normal routine of setting your bag down in front of the couch, grabbing a water bottle and taking out your notebook.
Looking around, however, you noticed the surprising lack of clothes. Minho was a mess sometimes, leaving his shirts or socks on the floor, but there was not one trace of his clothes in sight. Everything looked sparkly clean, in fact, and there wasn’t any trace of Minho ever having been there.
You knew he had a spare key to your dorm and figured he just cleaned up a bit but the feeling of everything being a bit too clean couldn't be erased from your mind.
Deciding to call him to make sure everything was okay, you grabbed your phone. You saw Minho’s smiling face staring back as you tried to unlock your phone. Minho had taken a selfie and set it as your lock screen, and you made no protest, happy to be able to see his smiling face every time you wanted to unlock your phone.
He answered on the fifth ring. “Hey.” He said quietly and you were confused at his severe lack of energy.
“Are you okay, Min?” You asked him, hearing shuffling on the other side along with loud chatter of what you could only assume was students.
“Yeah, I’m fine, just on my way to class.” Minho’s voice sounded more than tired, it sounded sad.
“No, you’re not fine. I can tell.” When Minho didn’t answer you, you continued talking. “Whatever it is, you should talk about it. How about after your class? Come by my dorm, okay?”
There was a long sigh on the other line and you were worried he would decline your request but relief washed over you when he said, “Okay. I’ll see you then. Bye, Y/N.”
When you hung up, you decided to bury yourself in reading pages, trying not to think about the fact that he called you by your name, something he hadn’t done much if at all in the last month.
vii.
A knock at your door startled you off your textbook, realizing that you fell asleep with your face resting on it. You wondered who it was, knowing Minho had a key and could just let himself in.
So you were surprised to open up the door and see Minho standing there. He was wearing what he normally did after a shower, baggy sweatpants and a tank top, his hair still slightly damp and shining. For two weeks he had opted for taking a shower at your place, so why didn’t he do it now?
“Hey. Why didn’t you let yourself in?” You asked him, walking back towards the couch and closing your textbook, trying not to think of the small drool patch staining the periodic table.
Minho shrugged, his head dipping and eyes trailing on the ground. As he walked in he made sure to close and lock your door, knowing how paranoid you got. He didn’t look at you and you felt an empty feeling when he sat opposite to you on the couch, the farthest he could be.
“What’s wrong, Min? You’re worrying me.” You tried to move closer to him, putting a hand on top of his but he just pulled back, clasping his hands in his lap.
“I’m sorry.” Minho looked at you for the first time that night and you didn’t feel the warmth you normally did. There weren’t any bags under his eyes. Rather, it was like a dark cloud over his head. Before you could say anything, he interjected. “So how is Chan? Did he ask about me?”
Your stomach turned and you weren’t sure how to tell Minho you called him your boyfriend. Instead, you opted for a silent nod.
“What did you say?” Minho asked and you knew there was no way getting out of it.
“I, uh, I said you were my boyfriend.”
Silence. You felt like you wanted the couch to swallow you up.
“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have done this.” Minho shakes his head, eyes falling back down to his clasped hands.
Your stomach sunk, not knowing how to respond. At this point, you just wanted to save your friendship because you knew you couldn’t take Minho no longer speaking to you. You tried to stutter out a response but all you got out was a mixture of “Um”s and “Uh”s.
“I’m sorry.” Minho apologized again and you stopped him before he said anything else.
“No. Don't apologize. I don’t feel that way about Chan anymore.” Although it felt like a dagger to your heart, you leaned back, farther away from Minho. “It’s not your fault Minho. If anything it’s mine.”
“Don’t say that Y/N.” Minho shook his head. “It’s my fault for letting my feelings cloud my judgement. I know it would hurt me more than help, but I wanted to express to you just how much I love you.”
Silence again, but this time you felt a spark in your stomach, warmth spread to the tips of your toes and fingers. I love you. Did he mean it like you did?
“I love you too.” You weren’t sure if you meant to say it or if your heart had a mind of its own. “I mean, I have for a long time but I think it took me a while to admit it.”
Minho looked up at you again, eyebrows disappearing behind his long fringe. His mouth hung open. “Really?”
You nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t think you felt the same but I wanted to be selfish and feel what everyone else that dated you felt. I wanted to feel loved that way.” Pausing, you asked a question that had you curious. “But if you weren’t sure I felt the same way why did you propose this idea anyways?”
“I’ve always loved you that way.” Minho moved closer to you and you felt the warmth slowly overtake your senses. “I wanted to be selfish too. I wanted to hold you like a boyfriend would and treat you like how you deserved. I just wanted to help you find someone, whether that be me or not was up to you.”
As soon as you got close enough, you reached out and cupped his cheeks with both your hands. His skin wasn’t so cold anymore, it made warmth radiate from your fingertips. “I would always choose you, Min. Always.”
Your knees knocked into Minho’s as he moved closer, and you were forced to remove your hands from his face. His nose almost touched yours and you swore you could see the entire galaxy in his eyes.
You smiled, a genuine eye-crinkling smile and Minho’s face mirrored your own. You weren't sure how his hands ended up on your waist, but you welcomed them there. His eyes searched yours, occasionally flicking to your lips. You moved your hands to his shoulders, thumbs running along his collarbones.
It seemed like an eternity before he asked you the one question you had been hoping to hear since the beginning of this idea of his.
“Can I kiss you?”
You did nothing but nod, closing your eyes and gasping when his lips finally met yours. They were slightly cold but you didn’t mind. Your hands raised to his neck, pulling him closer. Your knees hit together again but you couldn’t care less when Minho was kissing you like you were going to slip away.
Your lips moved together lightly, only leaving enough space for your breaths to mingle together in the air between you. Minho’s hand slowly traveled up your torso, stopping at your neck for him to run his thumbs along your jaw. Everything was so intimate and although you’ve only had few people to compare it to, Minho was the best kisser you had ever known.
Time seemed to halt when Minho’s hands finally settled on your cheeks and it felt like he was trying to pull you closer and if you had gotten any closer the line between you and Minho would blur. You wanted to be as close as you could to him, feel the heat from your head to your toes but right now all you felt was Minho’s soft lips moving softly against your own.
When Minho moved his lips again, tilting his head even more and letting you find a more comfortable rhythm, you smiled into the kiss. He tasted like peppermint and everything you ever could have imagined. You felt him smile against your lips as well and were forced to pull away.
“I could spend forever kissing you, sweetheart.” Minho smiled, the familiar feeling of his fingers tapping a rhythm on your waist making the warmth in you heighten.
You were breathless, but you mirrored his sentiment with a whispered. “Me too.”
There were a few beats of silence in which you threaded your fingers into his still dewy hair. Under his stare you felt nothing but comfort and love for your best friend sitting before you.
His eyes lit up even more. “I have an idea.”
You raised your eyebrows, ready to hear just exactly what he had in mind.
“Well, you’ve never been in a relationship. So why don’t I change that?” Minho’s cheeks were tinted red and he took his bottom lip in his teeth.
“You mean like real dating?” You were reminded of a month ago when he had asked you if you wanted to try out that little idea of his. But now you get the real thing.
“I guess? I didn’t think this far.” His smirk told you everything and you felt your face heat up. You chuckled, fingers carding through his hair before resting back onto his shoulders.
You didn’t need another moment to think of your answer.
“Sure. Let’s do it.”
viii.
Perhaps your Chemistry teacher was right, there was an equation for love going on in your brain as you laid in Minho's arms in your bed. He had already fallen asleep but you found yourself unable to stop smiling against his bare neck. His scent flooded your nose and you decided on another name for it. Home.
You felt safe. You felt like you could conquer the world as long as Minho was by your side. You knew no one would be able to make you feel the way Minho did as you felt his fingers slowly tapping against your waist. Soft snores came from above your head and you found your eyelids drooping. Minho’s heartbeat was the best lullaby as you drifted off to sleep.
Everyone had their own love equation and you knew yours.
seratonin + dopamine + oxytocin + endorphins = Lee Minho.
