pairing: lifeguard!eric x fem!reader!
genre: au, fluff
synopsis: he’s the lifeguard who keeps pretending you’re in danger just to get you to stay and talk to him.
warning/s: none
word count: 2.3k
🤍 masterlist: the library ✨📚
💙 the boyz masterlist
lifeguard on duty: part 1, part 2
It’s been a few weeks since you left the resort, but your mind keeps wandering back to the days by the pool, the sunlight sparkling off the water, and Eric’s easy smile as he teased you from his lifeguard stand. His voice, his laugh, the way he always seemed to find an excuse to talk to you—it all feels like a dream, the kind you wake up from and try desperately to hold on to. You catch yourself scrolling through photos from the trip, hoping to hold onto the warmth of those days a little longer.
The thought of him lingers, bittersweet, and you wonder if you’ve made him up in your mind as something bigger than he was. Maybe he was just a charming lifeguard who knew how to make tourists feel special. But the memory of his grin, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you—it feels like it meant more. You shake your head, trying to focus on anything else.
Then one evening, your phone buzzes with a message from an unknown number.
Unknown Number: Hey. This is Eric, the lifeguard who didn’t fake drowning rescues for attention… except I totally did. Hope you’re doing okay.
Your heart skips. For a moment, all you can do is stare at the screen, your fingers hovering above the keyboard. The sight of his name feels surreal, like a piece of the vacation you thought you’d left behind had followed you home.
Finally, you type back:
You: Eric! Took you long enough to text. I was starting to think you forgot me.
His reply comes almost instantly.
Eric: Forget you? Not a chance. I just didn’t want to come off too strong.
You: Eric, you pretended I was drowning multiple times. We’re past that.
His next message comes with an emoji, a laughing face that feels so him, and somehow, you can hear his laugh in your head. It makes your chest tighten in the best way.
The texts come often after that, almost daily. He’s quick to respond, asking about your work, your favorite shows, and the little details of your day. He claims he’s “compiling a guide for when he visits someday,” and the idea sends a quiet thrill through you. You tell yourself to play it cool, but your heart races every time your phone lights up with his name.
One evening, as you’re curled up in bed scrolling through photos of the trip, a video call notification pops up. Eric. Your stomach flips. You hesitate for a moment, then press accept, and his face fills the screen—messy hair, that lopsided grin you’ve been replaying in your head, and those mischievous eyes that seem to see right through you.
“Hey.” He says, his voice as warm and familiar as the sunlit afternoons by the pool. “Figured texting wasn’t cutting it anymore.”
“Eric,” You reply, struggling to keep your grin at bay. “Do you call all the tourists you flirt with?”
“Only the ones I can’t stop thinking about.” He shoots back without missing a beat, but there’s something in his voice—sincerity laced through the playfulness—that makes your breath catch.
“Smooth…” You say, shaking your head, but you can’t fight the warmth spreading through you.
The conversation flows like it always did, easy and natural. He tells you about the resort and how quiet it’s become now that the summer rush is over. You tell him about how life has fallen back into its usual rhythm, though it feels a little emptier than before.
“I miss sitting by the pool and annoying you.” He admits, his tone softening as his gaze lingers on the screen.
You laugh lightly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Annoying me was the best part of your day?”
“Absolutely.” He leans closer to the camera, his grin fading just slightly as his eyes take on a more serious edge. “It was more than that, though. I just… liked being around you.”
The words are simple, but they hit you like a wave, pulling you under in the best way. You glance away, trying to find your footing. “I liked being around you too.” You admit, your voice quieter than you intended.
His face lights up, and it’s like seeing the sun break through clouds. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
For a moment, neither of you speaks, but the silence feels full, like an unspoken agreement.
“Listen,” He says finally, his voice steady but his fingers fidgeting in the frame. “What if I came to visit? I mean, not right away—I don’t want to freak you out—but… soon?”
You bite your lip, unable to hide your smile. “I think I’d like that.”
“Good,” he says, his grin widening. “Because I already Googled the best coffee shops near you.”
You laugh, shaking your head at his audacity, but your heart feels lighter than it has in weeks. As the call continues, you realize that what you felt at the resort wasn’t just a fleeting vacation crush. It was real, and it’s still there, growing stronger with every word, every smile, and every promise of what’s to come.
Weeks pass, and though you settle back into your routine, the texts and video calls from Eric become a bright spot in your days. His humor, his warmth—they were like little doses of sunlight breaking through the monotony. You talked about everything and nothing—how his lifeguard duties now include chasing seagulls away from unattended snacks, how you’ve been revisiting your favorite books, and the story behind why he became a lifeguard in the first place.
“I liked the idea of saving people,” He says one night during a call, the screen lighting up his features in the dim glow of your room. “Even if now it’s mostly reminding kids not to run or fishing sunglasses out of the pool.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “Sounds glamorous.”
“Oh totally. But hey, it got me here, didn’t it? Talking to you?” He smirks, but there’s something earnest in his tone that makes your heart flutter.
He makes you laugh harder than anyone has in a long time, his quick wit and playful charm effortlessly disarming. But some nights, the distance between you feels heavier, an ache that no amount of texts or video calls can soothe.
That evening, after a particularly long day, you find yourself staring at the screen, his face pixelated but familiar, like a beacon of comfort. “Sometimes it’s hard, you know?” You admit softly, twisting the edge of your blanket in your hand. “Knowing you’re all the way over there.”
He doesn’t answer right away. His face softens, his brow furrowing slightly as he leans closer to the camera. “I know,” He says finally, his voice steady. “But I’m not giving up, okay? I’ll figure something out. I promise.”
You nod, his words offering a flicker of hope, but there’s still a quiet uncertainty lingering in your chest. “Okay.” You reply, managing a small smile.
“I mean it,” He insists, his eyes holding yours through the screen. “I don’t care how far apart we are. You’re worth it.”
The sincerity in his voice sends a warmth through you, a fragile but growing belief that maybe, just maybe, this could work.
Three weeks later, you’re startled by a knock on your apartment door. It’s early evening, and you weren’t expecting anyone. Setting down your mug of tea, you cross the room and open the door, only to freeze in disbelief.
Eric stands there, a backpack slung over one shoulder, his hair slightly tousled and his familiar grin bright enough to light the entire hallway.
“Surprise!” He says casually, shrugging like he hasn’t just turned your world upside down.
Your jaw drops, and for a moment, you can’t find your voice. “Eric? What are you doing here?”
“I told you I’d figure something out.” He replies, stepping forward, his grin widening. “I missed you, so I booked a flight. Simple as that.”
Your heart races as his words sink in, the sheer boldness of it leaving you stunned. “You’re… you’re insane.” You manage, but your voice wavers with disbelief and something far softer.
“Insane about you, maybe.” He says, his tone playful but his eyes steady, holding yours like they’re trying to tell you something he hasn’t quite put into words yet.
Before you can overthink it, you close the space between you, pulling him into a hug. His arms wrap around you tightly, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.
“You’re seriously crazy.” You whisper against his shoulder, but you can’t stop smiling.
“Just crazy about you,” He murmurs back, his voice low and warm, sending a shiver down your spine.
You pull back just enough to look at him, your face still alight with a mixture of disbelief and joy. “You really came all this way?”
“Of course,” He says simply, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you were worth it.”
The words make your breath hitch, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, your chest tight with a mix of emotions you’re still untangling. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across your face.
“Well,” You say, stepping back to let him inside, “I hope you’re ready for the best coffee in the city because I’m holding onto that list you made.”
“Of course.” He says, his grin matching yours. As he steps inside, you realize that the ache of missing him is finally gone, replaced by the overwhelming certainty that maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something worth holding onto.
The next few days feel like a dream—a whirlwind of laughter and unexpected moments that settle warmly in your memory. Eric is still a bit of a mystery, but in the best way—charming, easygoing, and effortlessly magnetic. He has a knack for turning even the most mundane moments into something special, leaving you wondering how someone like him ended up here, walking through your world as though he’s always belonged.
He insists on seeing everything. His face lights up when you take him to your favorite coffee shop, teasing you relentlessly when you point out the cozy corner where the sunlight hits just right. “So this is the infamous spot,” He says with a playful smirk, leaning back in his chair, his hand brushing against yours as if by accident. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a creature of habit, but now I’m convinced you’ve got secret routines everywhere. Guess I’ll have to uncover them all.”
You roll your eyes, laughing, but there’s a warmth in his tone that makes your chest tighten. It’s effortless being with him, as though the spaces between you were meant to be filled by his presence. And sometimes, when he’s distracted, you steal a glance at him, marveling at how this unexpected connection found its way into your life.
On the third day, you bring him to the park. The late summer sun drapes the afternoon in a golden glow, casting long shadows across the grass. The air feels still, suspended like the world is holding its breath for this moment. You walk side by side along the winding path, fingers brushing now and then, his subtle touches sending sparks that you try yet fail to ignore.
Eric seems particularly mischievous, his mood light and playful. He nudges your shoulder, pretends to swipe your sunglasses when you aren’t looking, and makes overly dramatic remarks about the squirrels darting through the trees. “Look at them! Heroes of the park.” He says, clapping in mock appreciation.
“Stop.” You laugh, swatting his arm, but his antics draw you in like always, leaving you grinning even when you’re trying to act annoyed.
As you cross the small bridge overlooking the pond, Eric suddenly slows, his hand tightening around yours. You stop in sync, turning to face him, your heart skipping a beat at the seriousness in his expression.
“Hey…” He says, his voice softer now, carrying a weight that wasn’t there a moment ago. His thumb brushes absentmindedly against your palm as he meets your gaze, the humor in his eyes replaced with something earnest. “I need to tell you something.”
Your pulse quickens, a knot of nervous anticipation forming in your chest. “What is it?” You ask, your voice quieter than you’d intended.
He hesitates, his brows furrowing slightly as he gathers his thoughts. “I—” He exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head as if trying to work up his courage. “I didn’t pull you aside just to mess around or crack another joke. I wanted to talk to you because…” His gaze falters briefly, his vulnerability laid bare, and then he looks back at you, steady and sure. “Because I like you. I’ve liked you for a while. And being here, with you—it’s made me realize how much I want to be a part of your world.”
The confession lands softly, but it ripples through you, filling the quiet space between you both. His tone is devoid of pretense, just raw honesty that makes your heartache in the best way.
You blink, momentarily speechless, the warmth in his words catching you off guard. Finally, a small, shy smile tugs at your lips. “I like you too,” You admit, the words tumbling out before you can overthink them. “And not just now—I think I always have.”
Eric’s grin breaks wide and genuine, his boyish charm returning as he steps closer. His hand moves to cup your cheek, his touch warm and grounding. “Yeah?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper, as though he needs the confirmation.
“Yeah,” You breathe, your heart racing as he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that feels like every unsaid thing between you, every missed opportunity finally finding its place.
It’s not perfect—there are still questions and uncertainties, still miles to navigate between you. But at this moment, as he holds you close and the golden light wraps around you both, it feels like the start of something real. Something worth fighting for.
And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this is where you’re meant to be.
find me on:
🧡 wp: goldenrai ✏️📖
🩵 tiktok: raixyne 🎥🎶
a/n: this actually has an alternate ending where it was just really angsty and part 2 ended with him being someone you meet in vacation but i had to feed my delusions for this one lmaoo
what goes on in neverland. ⇝ ch. 6: aftercare, aftershocks, and the aftermath
word count: 8.9k
pairings: transmasc!reader x Everyone, everyone x everyone (its literally too convoluted for me to try type them out here anymore just see the masterlist for full pairings LOL)
genre: e2l, f2l, smut, fluff and lots of assorted shenanigans. hijinks, if you will
au: battle of the bands!au but make it gay and horny
warnings: nothing really? discussions of top surgery scars and gender identity?
a/n: noticed a lot of chan likers after the last chapter... yall gonna love this one :)
tags: @honeybyunnies @syunderful @absentcaryatid @mingirn (lmk if you want to be added/removed!)
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Waking up in the bed of your biggest competitive rival is definitely, to say the least, sobering.
You’re not surprised to find the bed empty next to you, but you are more surprised to find yourself still there. Staying the night was never on the agenda, but neither was really submitting to him, so you suppose compromises were made. The memories flood you with the uncomfortable kind of heat now that the lustful haze has faded, and you are left with nothing but the searing humiliation at how easily you played into his hands.
Who really won there? You really thought you had him for a moment back there, pressed against the wall and shutting you up in the exact way you wanted him to. It was all going so damn well. He seemed so close to breaking then, you saw his subtle blush and the hitches in his breath, the way he leaned into your touch rather than away from it, the way he had to kiss you to shut you up because he knew you were right. He was enjoying you playing with him, he was excited at the prospect of you having a go at him, what fucking happened to all of that?
Was that an act? Letting you have your moment so it can be even more satisfying when he gets to shut it down? Did he find you cute then, too? Or was it that goddamn golden boy, did he want to seem nicer in front of him still? Did he not want poor little freckles to see him be mean?
Illuminated by only the dim coloured light atop Chan’s bed – a warm yellow-orange, now – you wince as you roll over and check the time. 1:47am, your phone says, which isn’t that long after you would’ve finished, considering the time when you arrived there already. God, he really did take his time with edging you – but before you could wonder where exactly he went, he comes back in with a bottle of something in hand and all his make-up washed off.
“Ah, you’re awake.”
“Were you about to do something to me while I was–?!“
“Shh,” he whispers, putting a finger to his lips, “You’ll wake up the rachas if you start yelling. They’re deep sleepers, but not that deep.”
He seems far too calm for someone who could have been caught doing something dastardly or nefarious, so your mouth falls shut, and he opens the bottle and pours some oil on his fingers. You notice the label on the bottle then, soothing massage oil – and after warming it up in his palms, he gestures for you to turn over.
“What?”
“Turn around. On your stomach if you want, but you can also stay sitting up.”
“Why?”
He snorts, nodding at your wrists. “You were bound for a long time. Are you not sore?”
When he says it out loud, you are no longer able to ignore the aching pain in your shoulders, wrists, and your back as well, from being stuck in such a position for so long. While you’re no stranger to aches and pains, whether it be for BDSM related reasons or pole dancing, it definitely doesn’t make sleep any easier, and probably what woke you up.
“Well, now that you mention it…”
“Come on then. Turn around.” His voice doesn’t carry any sternness, nor does it even hold much impatience, simply just having a task he plans on accomplishing and getting straight to the point. You comply.
His hands on you are gentle, but firm, pressing down at the tightness in your back with enough pressure to make you moan softly, but he doesn’t so much as make a snarky comment about it. He’s surprisingly silent as he works, focused on the task at hand, and you wouldn’t mind the change of pace if not for how hyperaware it makes you of every sound you make.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs softly, “you don’t need to hold back that much. The walls are thick enough.”
“It’s not the rachas I’m worried about,” you mutter, uncharacteristically self-conscious despite not even facing him, but you can’t deny his massage feels good. When his skilled ministrations slow down to a halt, you cast a glance at him over your shoulder.
He’s smiling at you.
“What, worried ‘bout little ol’ me?”
You whip back around with such ferocity your neck audibly cracks. “Asshole.”
He chuckles lightly, then gets back to massaging your shoulders, a little gentler this time. “I’m not big enough of an asshole to tease you during aftercare, tough guy. You can relax.”
Aftercare? It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, having done similar acts of aftercare yourself and having received it more times than you can count, but something about receiving it from Chan of all people is puzzling. Last time you checked, you were having hate sex. Not that you hate him, really, that would be a pretty strong sentiment you currently only really hold for Felix by merit of him being Eric’s flaky ex-boyfriend, but you don’t exactly like him, either. Well, you like pissing him off, and you like competing with him, and you like getting reactions out of him, and maybe you like his artistry as well, but that’s about as far as it goes.
Oh, and you like his body, too, that’s a big one. The way his hands work the tension out of your shoulders is positively divine. Suppose he’s a pretty face, too. All up until he opens that big mouth of his.
“You say that, then you teasingly call me tough guy again. All men do is lie, huh?”
“Tch, you’re one to talk,” he scoffs, pressing harder with his massage, but not too hard, so it’s welcomed. “Besides, I wasn’t teasing. You’re tough.”
You wait for him to elaborate on that, but after a long moment of silence staring at the figurines on his headboard and the flickering triangular lights above it, you realise that was where his comment ended.
“…Thanks?”
“You’re welcome,” he hums simply, definitively, then shifts you on the bed to turn back around and face him again so he can take your wrists and begin massaging the oil into them too. He doesn’t even so much as spare your face a glance, but it’s not avoidant. It’s focused, and just a little bit tired, too, you realise, noticing the crease in his brow.
You frown. Something about the silence feels so damn intimate – even more so than the actions itself, which you suppose are just him going on automatic after dominating someone. After all, giving aftercare is often the aftercare in itself for dominants, too, so maybe he’s doing this for himself as well.
He pauses to look up at you. “Got something on my face?”
As intimate as the silence felt, getting caught staring is far, far worse.
“Yeah,” you snort, throwing up snark as a reflex, “Ugly.”
It’s a bit harsh, you think, and the way he cocks his head makes you think he’s disguising a wince, but he looks back down at your wrists as he continues to massage them anyway.
“You wouldn’t be in my bed right now if you really thought I was ugly.”
He’s right.
“You’re right,” you echo, not really wanting that to be the hill you die on anyway when you both know its not true. That isn’t a good look on you, either. “It was a joke. I don’t sleep with ugly guys.”
“I know.”
He wraps up and pulls away, and you find yourself missing his touch as soon as it leaves you. Which is odd, because once again, you don’t even particularly like him, nor were you even expecting aftercare, and he’s already doing more for you than you would’ve bothered doing for him.
Or that you did for Felix.
The silence stretches on, and that thought grows louder. Is that what this is? Considering how Lino obviously told Felix what you messaged him, you wouldn’t be surprised if Felix told everyone else about your night at the Prism in excruciating detail, too. Based on how Chan acted with you tonight, it seemed far too deliberate for that to not have been the case. The look he gave Eric while kissing up on your neck? Hell, he had to have seen that. That’s right, he was there, he must have seen it and–
“Feeling a bit better? Want me to massage anywhere some more?”
His face is as open as you’ve ever seen it, expecting to hear a genuine response. There’s no more attitude, no more competition, no more sexual tension – despite the fact that you’re both still half naked, you in only the unbuttoned shirt you didn’t take off before he bound your wrists, and him still gloriously shirtless, just sitting in his underwear. He looks a lot less intimidating without his make-up on anymore, either, the softness of his features really bleeding through, and without such a cocky expression either, he looks like a whole different person.
The lingering soreness is more of the pleasant kind, now that he’s worked his magic, but you nod anyway. Just so you don’t have to look at him again. You shift back around. “My back’s still pretty sore, actually.”
You feel the bed shift behind you as he shuffles onto his knees, and presses a hand between your shoulder blades to push you down, and you lie onto your stomach without a word.
“Does that hurt?”
“What?” He already lifted his hand, he can’t possibly think he shoved you too hard. Is your back supposed to hurt while lying on your stomach after being bound like that? “Um, yeah. Kinda.”
“Your scar, I mean,” he says plainly, blinking at you dumbly when you peer over your shoulder again to look at him. “I mean I know it’s healed, at least, it looks healed enough, but still, pressure on such a large wound…”
“Oh, that- that’s fine,” you reassure him, plopping your head back down on the mattress and letting your eyes fall shut. “Bed’s soft. Didn’t even think about it.”
“Alright.” He throws a leg over you to straddle your hips, this time massaging your lower back as well, and while you asked him to continue mostly just because it felt nice, you now realise how much tension you had down there, too. “Can I ask how you got it?”
“My scar?”
“Yeah. I mean, I know what top surgery scars look like, but that looks a bit more violent. Makes me wonder if it was something else.”
“Ah.” You fall quiet, not really sure what to say. That you asked for it to be that way? Doesn’t really sound all that impressive when you put it like that. He’d probably ask why, too, and you aren’t sure how you would explain that to him, either.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he says, stopping only to crack his knuckles and pour more massage oil onto his palms before resuming the massage, “Was just curious.”
“You said it was pretty,” you breathe out, not daring to open your eyes and look at him. “Guess you’re not bad at dirty talk, huh. Suppose it is pretty violent looking in reality. I like it that way, though.”
He pauses – his words, not his hands – for a short beat before responding. “Pretty and violent aren’t mutually exclusive, you know. There can be beauty in violence, sometimes.”
“Yeah?” you huff. “Sounds like something a pretty violent person would say.”
He presses down extra hard on your shoulder and you grunt, knowing it was entirely on purpose. “Says you, tough guy. You’re a little menace.”
“Who you calling little? First freckles, now you – you guys sure do like pulling the height card for a bunch of garden gnomes. Glad to have someone shorter than you for a change? Congrats, he’s not even a cis man.”
“What do you identify as, by the way? Do you consider yourself a man, or...?” Chan asks genuinely, once again dodging your attempts at provocation. He’s getting quite good at this, and that bothers you, because provoking him was the entire fun of him, but you suppose now is too nice of a moment to really push it.
“Man enough. Man sometimes. On Tuesdays, maybe. On Wednesdays I’m just a gendery enigma.”
He chuckles. “What about Thursdays?”
“Hmm. Guy, but in the same way you call an animal friend you find on the street a little guy, y’know? Just a dude.”
His signature giggles are back, and you find yourself smiling and cracking your eyes back open before you even realise it, hazy. You can’t remember the last time you felt this relaxed since the whole competition started.
“And on Fridays?”
You yawn loudly, letting your eyes flutter shut again as sleep threatens to tug away at you once again, but you know you won’t fall properly asleep while he’s still touching you. “Gender on Fridays… that’s between me and God.”
He laughs properly at that, catching himself quickly and keeping it quiet as to not disturb his roommates, but you feel an oddly swelling sense of pride at being able to make him laugh like that. Maybe he won this game of wits you played in bed, but he can’t deny you’re at least funny.
“Alright, I’m getting tired,” he yawns as well, rolling off you and flopping back onto the bed next to you. It’s only then when you notice the bright red lines adorning his back, and gasp at the sight.
“Holy shit, Chan, your back.”
“Yeah?” He looks over his shoulder at you with a simultaneously sheepish and smug grin. “Suppose you didn’t get a good view before, huh?”
“No, I’m not— okay, I am appreciating the view, but dude, I basically mauled your back, does that not sting?”
He wrinkles his nose, twisting his torso this way and that experimentally. “A bit. It’s not bad, though.”
After he took care of you so gently, you find yourself wanting to take care of him at least just a little – just to even the playing field, so he can’t chastise you for not knowing safe kink practices, or otherwise flip it on you somehow. At least, that’s what you tell yourself when you get up and ask him if he has any ointment for it.
“Ointment?”
“Yeah, like an antibiotic cream, or something. I broke skin, Chan. There’s a bit of blood. The least you should do is get it cleaned so it doesn’t get infected, especially if you’re gonna sleep without a shirt.”
He yawns again, stretching out and then wincing slightly, no doubt at the fresh scars adorning his back now. “Get it cleaned, huh? I don’t suppose you’ll do it for me?”
You bite at the inside of your cheek. “Is this a test?”
“A test? No, it’s a question. Do I have to get up and do it myself or can I stay here?”
“...Where’s the ointment? Or should I just use water?”
“Bathroom’s around the left corner, in the cabinet behind the mirror.”
It’s exactly where he said it was, so you return with a damp cloth and ointment in hand, and seat yourself behind him on the bed. This is certainly not your first time tending to your own scratch marks – or claw marks, as Kevin likes to call them, joking that the band are your scratching posts – so you fall into the process rather quickly. A gentle wipe-down before applying the cream, that’s all it is, you could do it in your sleep.
Your heart is beating out of your chest like it’s about to erupt.
You know why. It’s not a Chan thing, you know that for sure – it’s the same when taking care of your bandmates, too, as there is something so sacred about the whole process that’s almost tender. It’s the vulnerability of it all, and you’ve since gotten more adjusted to it with the others, but without any trust built between you and Chan, it feels significantly more potent than usual. Risky, almost.
Maybe it is a Chan thing.
Silence drags on and neither you nor Chan do anything about it. Out of tiredness, probably. You wouldn’t call it entirely comfortable silence, though; for some reason, tending to him feels even more vulnerable than him giving you the massage. You suppose you can’t really keep pretending like you hate him while you’re treating the wounds on his back that you inflicted, and you’re not sure what this means, anymore. You don’t know what any of this means, or how you’re supposed to be feeling about this.
“There,” you finish, closing the cap on the cream shut. “All done.”
“Thanks,” he mumbles, shifting around on the bed to get a better look at you, and you find yourself unable to hold his gaze. He shrugs and simply flops down onto the bed. “’Think I’m gonna go sleep now… oh wait, did you want like, undies or something–“
You snort. Undies. “You’re not kicking me out?”
He tilts his head up just enough to drowsily stare at you in confusion. “No? Not when you look like you’re about to melt right into my mattress. But hey, if you wanna uber home or something, go for it. I’m not keeping you here.”
He rolls over, slipping under the blankets and curling himself around a large pillow. Cute, you think. He looks even smaller like this. You wonder how you must look for him to make such a comment, how much of the number he did on you is visible, but you know you won’t get any sleep tonight if you stop to check in the mirror now.
“Yeah, I’ll take you up on the undies.”
“Aight.” He yawns again, stretches, clearly falling asleep already as he grabs you a spare pair of boxer briefs and tosses them at you as he slides back into bed. Once your shirt is on the floor and you are under the blankets with him, you find yourself subconsciously gravitating towards his side of the bed for warmth, to which he responds by turning over and draping himself over you instead of the pillow. It reminds you so much of sleeping with Sunwoo, Eric or Mingi that you find yourself lulled right back to sleep at a record speed.
If waking up in the bed of your rival was sobering, waking up in the arms of your rival is like a bucket of cold water to the face.
What is worse is that it takes you far too long to realise it, at first. Sleeping with strong arms around you is your norm, so you don’t really question it as your sleep-fogged brain slowly starts turning its gears, and you practically jolt when you pull your head back and realise you’re snuggled up to the one and only Bang Chan and pointedly not one of your bandmates.
“You’re not Sunwoo,” you blubber out, sliding away from him on the bed, and Chan just drearily groans and rolls over, pulling your half of the blanket with him.
“No. M’not.”
He stays still there, so you suppose this is your cue to get out, make your walk of shame, et cetera. Not that it was ever really a shameful walk for you, it being more like a walk in pride at the accomplishment of the notches in your belt, but Chan being who he is and his roommates being who they are make you finally understand why they called it the walk of shame in the first place.
“Where y’goin?” he mumbles, peeking out at you over his blanket as you start picking your clothes back up and getting dressed – still in his underwear with yours discarded on the floor somewhere, but at this point you consider leaving it behind as a prize, just so you can get out of there quicker.
“Where do you think? Home. Unless you’re up for round two? I’m warning you, I won’t go easy on you this time.”
Chan laughs out loud, wide and bright and fucking humiliating. You threatened him and he’s laughing at you. You scramble to get your things quicker. You need to leave, and you need to leave now, before you can dig your own grave even deeper.
“Have brekkie before you leave, at least!”
You pause to gawk at him, curly hair now free from its chemical restraints and sticking out in every which direction, his softer face illuminated by the morning sun. Who is this man?
“Breakfast? Seriously?”
He stares back at you like you are the one out of your mind.
“Yes? Do you not usually have breakfast? It’s the most important meal of the day, you know.”
“I pissed you off, tossed you around, let you bring me home and fuck my brains out, and now you’re making me breakfast? Chan, do you like me or something?” you guffaw, the only reasonable conclusion you can come up with using the limited brainpower you have access to before noon. Seriously, who the fuck does mornings these days? It was either that, or he’s trying to kill you with kindness and make you feel bad. Ha. Like he could ever.
Chan furrows his brow, recoiling in mild disgust and confusion. “No? God, is that what you think? I’m literally just being a good host. You stayed the night, I had my way with you, now I take care of you. It’s not rocket science, y’know.”
It’s not rocket science, he says, but trying to make sense of him is looking more and more like a complicated algebra equation you failed in math before dropping out. Why does he feel the need to take care of you? You’re not his responsibility. He doesn’t owe you anything. You were mean to him on purpose and he knows it, so he might as well have tossed you out on the curb as soon as he got off. Maybe called you an Uber if he wanted to be a gentleman. But this?
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why? I just said why! Have you never had someone be nice to you before, or something?”
“Wh– of course I’ve had people be nice to me before, I’m not that pathetic,” you scoff, folding your arms. “Just not after I’ve gone out of my way to aggravate them on purpose.”
Chan just snorts. “Maybe you should stop aggravating me on purpose, then.”
“So that’s what this is!” The final piece of the puzzle clicks into place, and you stare him down intently – or maybe that’s just the morning glare in your eyes. “You’re trying to kill me with kindness, aren’t you? Think being a good host will make me go easy on you? Smart, but I have less of a conscience than you seem to think I do–“
“God, a man can dream, I guess! No,” he sighs your name in the most exasperated tone you’ve ever heard from him, “this isn’t some evil plan to take you down as a competitor, I’m literally just being nice. Because I like being nice to people. Is that really so hard to believe?”
“You don’t have a reason to be nice to me. I sure as hell ain’t nice to you! Every time I think you’ve grown some backbone you–“
“Oh please, that is not what you were saying last night,” he interrupts, finally starting to lose his cool. Good. You hate fighting him when he’s so clear-headed. “You wanna be so tough and scary so bad, but you insisted on cleaning my wounds before bed–“
“Oh my god, you are in love with me, aren’t you?”
Whether you actually think Chan harbours any sort of romantic feelings for you leans heavy towards no, but the accusation is one you can think of very few people who wouldn’t get a rise out of. Not to mention how funny it is to see them flounder to prove themselves just for you to twist everything they say against them.
“In love with you? Are you seriously that self-obsessed? No, no– I’m not falling for that, you know I’m already–“ he cuts himself off this time, realising the hole he just dug, but it’s too late.
“So you are in love with Felix, you admit it!” you cackle victoriously, clapping like a seal. “You’re right, we already knew, but I sure wonder if Felix does. What was his Instagram tag again? Lix something?”
“Sure, go ahead and tell him, like he’d believe you,” Chan huffs, “You’re not subtle either, tough guy! ‘You’re not Sunwoo!’ Hm, I wonder why you’re thinking about waking up in his arms.”
“We sleep together, genius,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes, “the entire band, we all sleep together, I did not think any of us were subtle about that.”
“I know that, but why is it Sunwoo’s name specifically you think of first thing in the morning, huh?”
Fuck. Why is it Sunwoo? As soon as you ask yourself that, your recent conversations flash through your mind, and you sure as hell are not about to let Chan of all people know about that.
“Because your arms felt like his, it’s not that deep!”
“I don’t mean this in a body-shaming way, but his arms are like half the size of mine. I’m not exactly convinced.”
“Then don’t be! I have nothing to prove to you.”
“You really don’t! So why do you keep acting like you do have something to prove to me every time we meet?”
His words slice through you like a hot knife through butter, and it takes a second too long to come up with a response. He’s right. You fucking hate when he’s right, and you would sooner edit a Wikipedia article to win an argument against someone when you’re in the wrong than admit it to him.
He sighs. “I don’t get why you have such a raging hate boner towards us. I know Eric has beef with Felix and we’re neck and neck in the Battle of the Bands, and you get your kicks out of provoking people, but you seem to think that I – or the other guys too, for that matter – would act against you if you slipped up enough to give us a chance to. But we’re not like that.”
We’re not like you, is the unspoken message there, but you hear it loud and clear. “Why wouldn’t you? Felix still has something to prove, that much I can tell for certain. Lino was quick to spill my secrets as soon as he had them. Hell, Changbin threw me over a table for something entirely consensual and even went as far as to slut-shame all of us. Like, riddled with diseases? Really? You’re no better than we are just because we actually own up to being assholes, you just lack the self awareness.”
Chan tilts a brow up at you, then it furrows into a puzzled expression. “This is what I mean about you bringing out the worst in people. Lino went for it because he knew you’d definitely do the same, and Changbin... he doesn’t start fights as often as you’d think he does based off of your experiences with him. They’re usually justified. Though I will admit the slut-shaming wasn’t, he was just trying to get some sort of edge over you since he didn’t know you knew about Hyunjin’s career. He’s actually done sex work in the past too, got his fair share of STI’s, it’s not an insult that comes from a place of actual prejudice.”
“Oh, so its all blatant hypocrisy then! Wow, that’s sooo much better, you guys are such morally-correct heroes.”
He rolls his eyes so hard you think he got a glimpse of his brain, then pinches the bridge of his nose in barely concealed frustration. “Okay, yes, sure, he’s a hypocrite! I’ll admit to that! But you’ve had something to prove since before any of that happened, so I’m just wondering why exactly you expected us – why you expected me – to be some sort of villain from the get-go! Why do you want me to be the bad guy so bad when I’m just trying to be nice to you and make you some goddamn breakfast?!”
You see he has reached his wits end, and it’s no longer a noble attempt to defend his team but a cry for help to save himself. You knew your verbal spars had more behind them than he tries to act, but now he can’t pretend like he’s their infallible shield anymore. Nor can he pretend his little posse are all virtuous saints. In a way, you finally won, you made him crack.
So why does it feel so much like losing?
“Because I just don’t get why you don’t,” you confess in an aggravated sigh, “Other people would! I’d argue that you should, given it all! It feels— it feels wrong to have you just, clean me up and make me breakfast when we’re not even friends! We don’t even like each other! Like, this goes above and beyond even for just a Tinder hookup!”
Chan barks out a dry laugh. “It’s like you really can’t comprehend the concept of someone being nice to you. Have you never had someone properly take care of you before?”
“I have! My band take care of me better than I could even ask for. But that’s the difference, they’re mine. They’re my band, I mean, we have a bond even deeper than family, we take care of each other because we love each other. What reason do you have to take care of me of all people? I haven’t given you a single reason to and yet, you do anyway.”
“You think people need a hard-earned reason to be nice to you?” Chan remarks back at you, and it shocks something deep inside you with an ice-cold chill. Yes? Maybe? That would sound stupid if you say it out loud. Would it? It makes so much sense to you, though. People can be nice without reason sometimes, but not to people who don’t deserve it.
Not to people like you.
“I... I’m not saying people can only be nice to people once they’ve done something to earn it, I just mean that people aren’t usually nice to people who have given them a reason – or in my case, multiple reasons – not to be. If someone hurts the people I love, I’m not making them breakfast, I’m kicking them to the curb when I’m done.”
“I know,” Chan deadpans, no doubt thinking about Felix too. “That’s where we differ then, I guess. I don’t filter who I’m nice to based off of some invisible tally of who deserves it or who doesn’t. I choose to be kind because it’s how I want to be, not because it’s what someone does or doesn’t deserve. I’d like to say that all people deserve kindness, but even I cave and deliberately deny people of that sometimes. I’m only human, yeah? We all are. Even you. So I’m not sure why you’ve convinced yourself you’re so unworthy of my kindness that you lash out at me for it. Have you been wronged that much?”
He says it so casually and gets up to wash his face in the connected bathroom like he didn’t just cover you in paper cuts then drop you in a pool of lemonade and salt. Have you been wronged that much? Hell, have you been wronged by that many? You think back to your family, then your former friends, their friends, your peers. You think about your band, all runaways or renegades from similar surroundings, and the safety you found in them being like-minded individuals. How you all met because you were all so scorned taking the road not taken, so driven yet so lost.
Society has a way of chewing you up and spitting you back out into more pieces than you started off in, then expecting you to pick them up and glue them back together yourself, as if you are the one who did it. That’s just how life is; there is no childhood without hardship, no adult without trauma, despite the best efforts of many and the lack of effort of many more. Everyone has their own demons to fight, all while fighting for their lives in the blender that is late-stage capitalism and man-made prejudice.
You know all this. Yet when Chan asks, ‘Have you been wronged that much?’ Part of you thinks that all of that is bullshit and somehow you and your band have ended up being through hell and back for no other damn reason than drawing the short straw in the hand dealt to the rest of the world.
“I don’t... I...”
You struggle to find words for the emotions you are feeling – rage, grief, sadness, bitterness, envy, but there’s something else in the muddled pit of them all that doesn’t quite fit with the others. Hope, maybe? That’s a dangerous emotion, but that’s rarely stopped you before. You wouldn’t be where you are today without it. Fear? Closer, but what for? Relief? At what?
Chan walks back out of the bathroom with a hand towel around his neck, then right past you towards the kitchen.
“Come on. I’m making pancakes.”
Feeling like you don’t have much of a choice not to – or a reason not to, for that matter – you follow him, plopping yourself wordlessly down on a stool on the outer side of the counter.
He doesn’t say more as he takes out the ingredients and gets to work, a simple recipe but nonetheless homemade compared to the pre-made pancake mixes you use back home. You take the chance to observe your surroundings, spacious yet rather cluttered with the various belongings of the multiple men in the household, and that is when you remember you two are not the only occupants currently home.
“Are the others still asleep?” you ask, and he just shrugs while pouring batter onto a fry pan.
“Probably. We’re not usually up before noon, but I’ll make some for them to have for lunch.”
“Did I wake you, then?”
“Yeah. But it’s fine. I got more sleep last night than usual, honestly.”
It will never not be jarring to you, the difference in the kind of conversations you have with Chan. You’re either arguing with blades drawn, or you’re laid completely bare with nothing but an emergency razor blade hidden under a band-aid on you, conversing like you actually know each other. Like there’s any sort of closeness or trust between you. You don’t know if that is just because you’re more used to fighting him than not, or because something about Chan with his guard down makes you feel even more exposed than ever, or if it’s the things he’s done and said in the past twelve or so hours that changed the air between you. There’s discomfort in how comfortable it is, a juxtaposition you have no idea how you got to.
“Don’t get much sleep, huh?”
He nods, scarred back still facing you as he cooks. “Not usually. I tend to stay up late until I’m exhausted enough to maybe catch some sleep when I finally go to bed, then try to sleep on and off until it gets too hot at noon and I just give up. Well, not all the time, I do get uninterrupted sleep some nights, but the staying up super late and getting up late is pretty consistent. So yesterday I went to bed kinda early.”
“2am kinda early, huh?” you snort, and he chuckles.
“Yeah. Earlier than five, at least.”
The relatively comfortable silence from last night returns, and you find you don’t hate it as much this time. It’s still rather foreign, but not as deeply unsettling as it was before, so you are content to just take in the view of his half-naked form cooking a gigantic stack of pancakes until he finally plates and serves.
“Eat up, then.”
You do.
You have been dreading returning home since the moment Eric threw his little fit last night, so you are already bracing yourself for metaphorical impact – the impact being rancid vibes more than anything else – from the very moment you open the front door to your apartment.
What you find instead, is a messy-haired Han with the buttons on his shirt done up one buttonhole too low, skewing the whole symmetry of the shirt sideways. If the bruises on his jaw and neck are any indicator, you’d guess this is Sunwoo, Wooyoung, or maybe San’s handiwork, but given that it’s your apartment he’s coming out of, you put your money on Sunwoo.
“Damn. You too huh—”
“I was just leaving!” he blurts out, shoving past you and speed-walking away while still putting on his layered jackets, and you snort and close the door behind you.
“Let me guess, that was the work of one man starting with a ‘Sun’ and ending with a ‘woo.’”
“You know it!”
He calls back at you from the kitchen, and you realise the mop of dark hair you spotted on the couch is not him and his permed curls, but simply Wooyoung’s atrocious bed hair. Or maybe sex hair. Could be either or, with him. Walking into better view, you notice the whole band is here already, seemingly waiting for you with Eric standing between the two couches expectantly.
“Ah good, you’re finally here!”
He sounds less than thrilled, and the rest of the band don’t seem all that excited either, barring Sunwoo’s aura of smugness at having his plaything leave moments prior. The tension in the room is palpable, like mugginess on a humid day, except the windows are wide open and the constant drone of the fan on in the background makes the would-be silence even louder somehow.
“Oh boy,” you groan, “if you’re going to grill us all on sleeping with the enemy, frankly I do not want to hear it.”
“You think I wanted to hear Jisung screaming out Sunwoo’s name repeatedly last night and calling him oppa?” Eric guffaws, as if that’s somehow your fault. You take a quick glance at the man in question, who only looks even more proud of himself, so you snicker at him.
“Wow, nice.”
“No, not nice, what the fuck you guys! Is there anyone here who didn’t fuck a stray kid last night?!”
“Huh?”
You look around the room at the others, only thinking you and Sunwoo did, but the only one who cautiously raises his hand is Kevin. You figure Wooyoung and Mingi probably got Changbin to crack with the added influence of Lino, but your eyes widen at San.
“Whaaat? That Hyunjin kid was testing my patience. Though I can’t say I wasn’t curious after his stream—”
“Seriously guys, did everything they said just evade you? They dissed our music, our message, Wooyoung and I’s dancing, our sex lives— and you’re going on and fucking them instead of fucking them over? What the fuck you guys!”
Wooyoung just shrugged. “I sure fucked him over his boyfriend, I think he appreciated the view—”
“You’re not even taking me seriously at all!” Eric roars, eyes flaring, but he’s right. You aren’t. You don’t think anyone else in the room even is.
“It’s hard to take you seriously when you’re trying to come at us for who we choose to sleep with. Like, I thought we agreed that what we do with other people is none of each other’s business, and it’s extra hypocritical when you were the first to do so this time. Last year we literally fucked a homophobe from the rival band to humiliate him and now you’re drawing the line? Just say you’re upset about Felix still and be done with it,” you tell him with scalding bluntness, and you can see the hurt visible all over his face. It does make you feel partly guilty, but you meant every word you said. Suppose you didn’t hear everything the others said once you were preoccupied with Felix and Chan, but you don’t think it would have changed your path of action regardless.
“Fine then,” Eric hisses, bitter and thoroughly done. “Fine! Fuck them all if you want, have one big fat orgy in our living room for all I care, but don’t expect to touch my ass once you’re done with them. Kevin, you’re the only one left with hole privileges.”
Kevin wrinkles his nose and raises a brow, puzzled. “But I’m a bottom?”
“Good! Then don’t use them! An extra fuck you to the rest of them!”
He storms off after that, slamming the door to his room behind him, and you all take a collective sigh at his little temper tantrum. They aren’t anything new, but he usually isn’t this unreasonable, but you all know why. Felix. It always comes back down to Felix, the first love who broke his heart into so many pieces he is still trying to glue them back together. You feel sorry for what he is going through, you really do, but that doesn’t mean you are going to let him walk all over you and lash out like that.
“So. Movie night?” San suggests to break the tension, and the others are quick to nod and mutter in agreement.
“Definitely not here, though,” you pitch in, Eric’s loud trap music blasting from his speakers through the closed door, right on cue. “Let’s give him some space to cool down.”
“I’ll stay here,” Sunwoo suggests, “Just in case he needs to talk it out while we’re still gone.”
“Let me,” you offer, “I’m not huge on movies anyway—”
“Respectfully, I think he’d rather talk to anyone but you,” Kevin interrupts with an apologetic frown. “You did kind of fuck around with his ex without him. I don’t think he wants to confront how jealous that made him. He still misses him so much.”
“I know,” you sigh, sinking down into the couch, wedged between him and Mingi. At this point you have already accepted movie night is not going to happen until you have talked this all out with the others. “I think it’s more than that, though. When I was talking to him about it while training him on pole, he said the rest of the kids made him jealous, too. Because those are all effectively, and I’m paraphrasing this bluntly, mind you, but they’re basically his replacements. His and the rest of their dance crew that he left. He wanted me to fuck Felix with him to prove that he too had moved on and met cooler, hotter and more talented friends to make music with, so he could feel in control again. But I think it backfired on him as soon as they started winning and rubbing it in our faces. At least, based on his outburst just then, that’s my guess. Still needa ask him directly, preferably once he’s let off some steam.”
Mingi plays with your hand as you talk, his large ones easily encasing yours and tracing patterns along your skin. “Sounds about right. Maybe we should stop sleeping around with them, then. It’s not like we’d have much of a dry spell without them, as hot as it is I don’t know if it’s worth making Eric upset.”
“That’s treating the symptoms, not the root of the problem,” you point out, noticing the way he stays fixated on your hand, not looking at you, but more so, not looking at Wooyoung. “That’s the thing I don’t get about monogamy. People will go to such lengths to make sure their partners don’t get jealous, instead of trying to unpack why they feel so bad about seeing someone else with them. Like, clearly he has a lot of insecurity about being replaced, or other people being better than him. I get that. So we just need to show him how much we value him, and how irreplaceable he is to us. How fucking with other guys doesn’t change that.”
That seems to stir something within Mingi, gears turning in his head visible on his face. You hope that it’s the realization you think it is, because while Mingi has never been the overly jealous type like Eric is, you know from many late nights drinking hot chocolate on his shoddy balcony that his insecurities are just as loud and all-consuming sometimes. You haven’t had the chance to properly check in on him since his fight with Wooyoung in front of you, but you hope he can read between the lines nonetheless.
“Huh. And how do we do that?”
“We put him in control again,” you say decidedly, nodding. “A position of power, of some sort. Make him the star of our next stage, build it all around it. Let him run it, even. And of course, him permitting, suck his dick till he’s shooting blanks.”
A unanimous chuckle ripples through the room at the last part, knowing full well how the combined effort of the six of you could make that a very easy feat.
“He did call us here to talk about our next stage,” Wooyoung hums thoughtfully, “I think he wants to do another special stage like we do at those dance clubs, with you taking over drums and Sunwoo on bass so he and Mingi can dance with me, if I were to guess. He seemed particularly torn up about their comments on dance specifically, which makes sense given how that’s how Felix left him.”
“What did they even say about your dancing, anyway? I didn’t catch that, was too busy arguing with—”
“Sneaking off to suck Felix’s dick in a hallway, we know,” Wooyoung snorts, shifting himself into his usual seat, that being Mingi’s lap, and leaning against his chest. “They said I danced like my sex appeal could make up for a lack of talent. Which is whatever, honestly, I just used that to make Changbin admit he still found me hot and eventually lead to bringing him home – amazing ass, mind you, he wanted to top so bad and I damn near let him but—”
“Okay, okay, details later, what else did they say about us?” Knowing each other inside out means that the tendency to cut each other off is never taken too personally, given how much you all have the tendency to ramble. You’re grateful for it, because at times like this, you need to get straight to the point. “Did they insult Eric’s dancing too?”
Wooyoung grimaces, lips pursing into a line, and that is enough to confirm your suspicions. “...yeah. To be fair, Eric did bring it up first. He was taunting them about their dancing and how they should go compete in dance competitions instead like they used to in Force – but oh, that’s right! Felix left Force, and for this, and he implied it was because he knew that they’d never make it in an actual dance competition without Force. So they dragged him and the rest of Force through the mud, saying maybe the reason they disbanded as soon as Felix left was because they knew he carried the team and they were nothing without him. You can imagine how hard that would have hit.”
You poke your tongue at the inside of your cheek. Can’t exactly say their response was entirely uncalled for, then, but at the same time, Eric made a solid point. Why didn’t they just enter dance tournaments instead? You remember Eric going to compete in a whole ton of them between Force and Triple Z, the dance crews he was in with Felix and Wooyoung and Mingi respectively.
Force since disbanded with Felix’s departure since he acted as the glue that held the crew together, the other members closer with him than each other, while Triple Z still meets up sometimes, but a lot more casually than they used to now that most of them aren’t studying anymore, and have a lot less free time working to pay rent. Especially with the Battle of the Bands coming up, you don’t expect they will be doing anything big for a while now. At least that meant Eric finally stopped overworking himself between all his commitments.
You think about the week prior he spent learning a whole new medium of dance just to prove a point, and you quickly retract that thought.
“I think I know just what he needs,” you speak up, the puzzle clicking together in your head one piece at a time. “Not just what he needs, what this competition needs. An even match.”
“An even match?” San echoes, and you nod, noting the way he looks slightly disheartened, but you continue before he can think that the band isn’t a worthy competitor to the current reigning group.
“An even playing field, I mean. They’re doing something completely different to everyone else; that’s why they’re winning, because they can’t be compared to anyone else. We just need to give them something to compare to. Another dance group. Four of us are already some form of dancer, and the rest of you are fit and fast learners. If we spend the next week on the grind, we can make a dance performance out of one of the old tracks Kevin or Mingi produced for Force or Triple Z that never got used– and if we let Eric run this little boot camp, he hopefully will feel like he’s in control of the situation again and that we still value his opinions and role on the team.”
“So... your vote is basically plagiarism then,” Wooyoung snorts, crossing one leg over the other with a playful flourish, almost kicking you in the face in the process. “I’m interested. In fact, if we want to really boot camp this, we should all take the week off work. I think I can help cover the costs that may arise from that one.”
“No way!” San gasps, eyes quickly widening while the rest of you glance around at each other, not getting the memo. “Don’t tell me that sugar daddy you were talking to is actually legit...?”
“More than legit,” Wooyoung preens, evidently rather proud of himself. “I found out how to squeeze even more dough out of him. He loves seeing me in fancy designer brands, he has no idea I just stole half of it and have been using the generous allowance he gave me to spoil Mingi instead and buy other sorts of useless shit and necessities. So I just pretend I’m this fashionista diva who only wants to wear the most exclusive of designer, and even with all the money he’s giving me, it doesn’t give me the connections to get limited edition pieces from exclusive collections... and he gets them for me, of course, and do you have any idea how much those kinds of things sell for?”
If there was one thing you always admired about Wooyoung, it was how clever that sly fox could be when it came to things like this. Trust Jung Wooyoung to milk rich old men for all they’re worth, but still not consider that microwaving rice three times would make it into a solid brick. The duality of man.
“Why haven’t you told us earlier?!” San seems almost offended, lips falling into a pout. “That’s huge! You’re basically rich now!”
“Ew, gross,” Wooyoung wrinkles his nose, “I’m not rich, I’m exploiting the rich. Big difference. Don’t lump me in with those bastards! I didn’t tell you all yet because I didn’t want to get my hopes up in case it was a scam or he ended up being dangerous, but... I think we’re in the clear now. I’m still going to pole dance because I love it and I don’t want my only source of income to be reliant on some old rich man’s whims, but I can afford to take a week off and pitch in for you guys too. I might have to leave periodically if he calls, though, but luckily I already know how to dance. I’ll catch up quick.”
“It’s a plan, then,” Kevin speaks up, and the relief it fills you with is immense; you were the most concerned about his reaction to the idea, as he was the least inclined to heavy physical activity out of all of you, but you figure you must have been underestimating him – he may be no dancer yet, but Gaga nights at the gay club have him vogueing like he is one. “We make our next stage a dance stage to rival theirs, and Eric gets to put us all through dance hell? Good thing I started working out…”
You look around the room for any signs of protest, but luckily enough, everyone seems to be on the same page. You see a particular spark in Wooyoung and Mingi’s eyes – for completely different reasons – that make you think this really is the right path to take.
“Going once, going twice… agreed, then!” You clasp your hands together, determined. “Someone pick a movie, and we can tell Eric when he feels like speaking with us calmly again.”
a/n: not gonna lie this might be one of my favourite chapters so far hehe those chan scenes were extremely fun to write. anyway if you havent already, let me know your thoughts thru this google form or even through an ask, either or can be anonymous if you want (tho if you want me to reply to your form responses, pls do sign off w ur @!) as always reblogs are always appreciated and im always down to talk in depth abt these characters if any questions or brainrot arises. LOL
Summary: how college bf!Eric ends up moving into your apartment :]
genre: fluff! complete fluff :]
word count: idk but short T.T <1k ?
[a/n]: IM DOWN FOR ERIC SO BAD PLEASE HELP ME mom i have a crush on him <3
Eric pushed you into your bedroom, as if it was his own house. no, it was yours, yet he still acted like he owned the place.
giggles escaped both of your mouths as he pushed you again, onto the bed, mumbling something about how it's time you pay attention to him instead of the book you were reading.
he hops onto your bed after you, placing the back of his head on your stomach and closing his eyes, already having memorized your habit of running your fingers through his hair whenever he lays his head on you.
he hums as you massage his scalp and gently stroke his hair.
"what did you want to tell me, bub?" you ask Eric, whose eyes light up.
"right! so i've discovered a new hobby recently, and it's so fun. you should try it too! you.."
his precious voice continues on and his hands lift into the air, making dramatic motions while he speaks. it looks like he's mapping out the stars for you.
cute, you think, gently taking hold of one of his hands and bringing the back of it to your lips. he doesn't realize that your lips are glued to his hand until moments later when he stops talking mid-sentence and whines.
"[y/n]! [y/n], what are you doing?!"
you reply by kissing his hand again, which he pulls away and uses to turn himself onto his stomach and lift himself up. he hovers over you, his face just above yours as you laugh.
"what are you doing, huh [y/n]? making my heart beat so wildly!"
"i-"
he kisses you without warning, deeply and full of love. you're filled with butterflies, wondering how Eric's lips fit on yours so perfectly every time.
when he pulls away, he looks down at you with pride and satisfaction, as if you're a masterpiece (cause you are <3). his eyes take in every inch of your face before he leans in to kiss your forehead gently this time.
"[y/n], i think i'm in love with you," he said, smiling slightly with his lips parted.
"uh i think we've established that?" you say.
he shakes his head, his hair flowing from side to side.
"no, i mean truly in love. you make me want to... drop everything for you like i could just... move away with you and we could live together away from everyone and everything and..."
"Eric that's such a lie. i know you can't live without your roommates."
Eric laughs in agreement nodding.
"okay, you got me there!" he says.
"but seriously.. come here," he growls, laying back on the bed and pulling you onto his chest with his arms wrapped so tightly around you that you loudly squeal.
he kisses your shoulder, bare from your oversized shirt sliding down, then your neck, then your cheek.
"god i'm so in love! just marry me already dammit!" he huffs, burying his head into your neck.
"i will in the future, if we're still together and the time is right," you say, smiling at the thought.
"i'll treat you so well..." Eric mumbles.
"you already do!" you say, laughing.
he nods in agreement even though you can't see him with the way you're positioned.
"but [y/n], i was thinking... how about i move in?" Eric asks, slowly and shyly. you can feel his heart racing against your back.
you turn around to face him, and he's blushing ever so slightly.
"have your roommates finally pushed you to your limit?" you ask him.
he shakes his head, no. then laughs when you raise your eyebrows at him with suspicion.
"i swear, no! you know how much i love sharing a house with them... it just drives me crazy that we're both on opposite sides of campus and can barely meet cause our schedules conflict, with all our classes and stuff... imagine how nice it would be to at least wake up... next to each other and fall asleep side-by-side, too," Eric explains, and your heart melts more with every word he speaks.
"Eric..." is all you can say.
"it's okay, babe, take all the time you need to think about it," he says, hugging you more tightly.
it only takes a whole month later until Eric steps into your apartment with a suitcase and a few boxes. two toothbrushes in the bathroom, two mugs by the water filter, two pairs of shoes by the door. it makes your heart soar.
although you and Eric have slept over at each other's places before, this time, knowing that you'll get to do it for months and months to come makes your heart race as Eric stretches out his arms while laying beside you. you shuffle into his embrace and he buries his head into your neck.
"i'm so happy..." you say, almost tearing up.
"me too," Eric says, pulling back to gently kiss your forehead.
when Eric's alarm goes off in the morning and he doesn't wake up, you shower his face with kisses and whisper into his ear, tickling him until he finally opens his eyes. when he does, he hugs you tightly.
"are you sure you're okay with being my morning alarm? you know normal alarms don't work one me..." Eric says.
"i knew what i was signing up for when i let you live with me," you say, kissing his cheek.
"i know you don't have class until 2pm, but-" Eric starts.
"i'll come to campus with you to study. ah, hold on! i can make some breakfast for you now while you get ready," you say, getting up and shuffling to the kitchen.
"[y/n], i could cry!" Eric calls out after you, dramatically.
once he's finally dressed, he approaches you from behind as you stand in front of the stove, giving you a warm back hug.
"don't expect this every morning. i just feel nice today," you say, jokingly.
"i'll wash the dishes~" Eric sings, kissing the top of your head.
after eating together and laughing at a youtube video you both watched, you head out. the two pairs of shoes by the door disappear onto your feet as you run down the stairs to make it to the bus.
packed with people, Eric lets you sit as he stands right beside you, making sure no weird people fall on top of you. he hands you one of his earbuds and you both listen to your shared playlist of favourite songs. as you turn to look out the window, Eric takes a photo of you. he knows you'll scold him for taking it, but will probably end up uploading it on sns, and the thought makes him smile.
holding hands while exiting the bus and walking around campus to Eric's class, having to let go of his hand is sad even though you know you'll see him later today.
"study hard!" Eric tells you.
"you too, pay attention in class!" you tell Eric, who smiles before running to his lecture hall.
you look down at the shoes on your feet. just like you, they once sat alone at home. but now, both of you have someone to end the long day with, side-by-side.
haii! can i please request for the drabble game eric tbz + mafia au? thank you, by the way HAPPY 5 ANNIVERSARY!!
hey anon!! thanks so much for the request, I hope you enjoy my take on it!
5 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/TXT/Golden Child/Ateez/The Boyz member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!
(been bingeing Vincenzo recently so. thank you anon for providing an outlet for some of my newfound mafia au ideas)
REQUESTS OPEN!!
~
Title: Web of Lies
Pairing: Eric x gender neutral!reader
Word count: 1.5k
Warnings: mentions of death, cursing
~
Eric opens his door at precisely 4:39 AM to a face he never thought he’d see again.
You push past him into his apartment, shutting the door with a neat click behind you. “Good morning, Eric.”
He gapes. Stares. Vaguely he’s aware of the very unflattering condition you’ve found him in - his hair mussed from sleep, eyebags dark with exhaustion, pajamas rumpled from a restless night - but he can’t seem to process anything beyond your face in his apartment.
“This is a dream,” he finally mutters, rubbing his eyes. “God, what the fuck -”
Quick as a flash, you pinch his upper arm. He yelps.
“Not a dream,” you snap, pulling your hand away. “You need to come with me.”
Those are the words that finally snap Eric out of his haze, his eyes narrowing as he takes a step back. “What do you mean, come with you?” he asks. “Everything is over. You made that clear as hell last time.”
Your lips thin. If Eric hadn’t known you were such an adept liar, he might actually believe the shadow that passes through your eyes, your tiny flinch as his words strike your face.
“I thought it was over,” you say roughly, turning to his window. With two sharp swipes, you’ve shut the blinds. For a moment, Eric’s heart seizes - you’ve done this before, he’s watched you do this, it’s what you do when things need to be hidden - usually bodies -
You wouldn’t kill him. Eric tries to breathe. You wouldn’t kill him - that’s the one thing he can still trust you with. You wouldn’t.
“People know about you.” You’ve turned back around and for the first time since you barged into his apartment, Eric realizes how tense you look, every muscle in your body poised to spring. “I don’t know how - I’m still figuring it out - but you’re in trouble, and you no longer have the protection of information that you had before to keep you alive.”
He snorts. “It’s not as if that information kept me safe from anything.”
“No, but it kept you a hell of a lot safer than you would have been otherwise.” You take a deep breath. “Look, I know you don’t trust me -”
A laugh bursts from Eric’s lips, loud, disbelieving, not an ounce of humor in the sound. “Trust you?” he asks, shaking his head. “Yeah, you’re damn right I don’t trust you. How many lies did you tell me back then, huh? You, your friends, the other members of the mafia - you made me trust you and then systematically made sure every single fucking word of yours was suspect to the point that I couldn’t tell jack shit -”
“Eric -”
“And how many times did I nearly die because of that?” he yells. “How many times did you ditch the plan without telling me, then just fucking pray that things would turn out all right? How many times did you lie to me - for my safety, or whatever bullshit you believe - you knew I trusted no one but you, and how many times did you exploit that for yourself?”
For a long moment, neither of you speaks. Eric crosses his arms over his chest, resolutely looking anywhere but at you.
“You’re right,” you finally say, quiet, low. Against his will, he meets your eyes. “You’re right. I exploited your trust for my gain, for the mafia’s gain. I’ve told you too many lies to count, woven them into truth to the point that it would take a miracle for you to fully trust me again. I know.” You take a deep breath, setting your jaw. “But when I left you last, I didn’t intend to come back, ever. You wanted your life. I wanted you to have it, too.”
You take a step forward. Rooted in place by your stare, Eric can’t find it in himself to step back.
"I didn’t return without a reason,” you state. “You’re in danger again. Even if you don’t believe me, I know it’s true, and I’m not going to leave until you believe me.” Out of the corner of his eye, Eric watches your hands clench once, then release. “I’d rather that come sooner rather than later, when it’s possibly too late.”
Eric stares. Breathes. Tries to read your face even though he knows he can’t - that no matter how good he is at picking out the tells and tics of his opponents in court, he’ll never be able to see past that perfect mask of yours. It hurt then and it still hurts now, knowing he’ll never be able to know the real you, no matter how much he ever wanted to.
Not for the first time, he wonders how he could’ve fallen in love with someone he’d never truly know.
Shut the fuck up. His own fingers clench, nails biting into his palms. Love has no meaning - not here, not now. What he needs to focus on is the truth.
You wouldn’t have returned without a reason. Of that much, Eric is sure. He made it abundantly clear he never wanted to see you again, and you’d stayed absent from his life for several years and counting. But still, he doesn’t understand why you’re here. Why does it matter that he’s in danger? Wouldn’t it be easier for you to just ignore him, let him die at whoever’s hands he ends up in?
“Say I believe you.” Eric unclenches his hands with effort. “Say I’m actually in danger like you say. Why do you care? What does it matter to you?”
You raise an eyebrow. “So are you going to come with me?”
“Answer my questions first.”
“No.” You cross your own arms, leveling him with that stare that still intimidates and awes him all at once. “I could just as easily knock you out and take you with me that way.”
Eric scoffs. “What, now you’re threatening me?”
“You either come with me willingly and get answers, or you get a nasty lump on your head and come with me anyway,” you say, an empty smirk on your lips. “Trust me, with the mess we’re probably going to face outside, I think it would be easier for both of us if you were alert.”
He pinches his lips together. You wouldn’t have come here without a reason, and you really seem to believe that he’s in danger. You’ve also carried out every threat you leveled, so he has no doubt you’ll actually knock him out if he doesn’t agree. “Fine. I’ll come with you.”
“Fantastic. Now give me your hand.”
“Do you know what happens when people like you say give me your hand -”
You reach out and drag him forward, splaying his hand in front of him as he stumbles into your space. “You still remember how to shoot a gun, don’t you?” You put a pistol into his waiting palm, eyes questioning.
Wordlessly, he nods.
“Good. That’s yours.” You nod at the pistol. “I’m hoping you won’t need it, but hope is for weaklings. Let’s go.”
Eric stares at the gun, fighting the urge to vomit. He remembers you teaching him to shoot, your hands steadying his as you leveled the weapon at the target. He remembers the kickback, the sharp bang, the hundreds of times he shot and missed before he finally hit the target’s center.
He remembers killing a man for the first time, and the nausea he felt as he saw his pursuant fall to the ground, blood seeping from a hole in his head.
“Why are you doing this?” Eric whispers, unable to tear his eyes from the gun. “I - why -”
One warm hand covers his. Dumbly, Eric realizes it’s yours.
“I know I’ve told you many lies,” you say quietly. “But there is one truth I will never betray.”
Slowly, he looks up to see you staring back at him, solid, steady.
“I told you once that I wouldn’t let you die.”
He remembers that. A panic attack, his heart beating faster than he thought it could, panting breaths that just couldn’t get enough air, the bang of a gunshot echoing in his ears. You, holding his hands as he came back to earth, eyes trained on his.
Eric, I am not going to let you die.
“That wasn’t a lie. It still isn’t.” You fold his fingers around the pistol handle, force his uncooperating arm to shove it in his pocket. Your eyes bore into his, and Eric remembers once again why he fell in love with you, despite all the lies.
“I am not going to let you die.” Your grip tightens on his wrist. “I promise.”
hello bubble may i request what the boyz would call their s/o's thank u so much love u youre the best absolutely amazing 💕✨
hello my most beloveth, yes of course you can, everything and more for you. I hope u like it bub ~♥︎
What the tbz would call their s/o
warnings: none.
none of the gifs belong to me, I found them on Pinterest and I tagged/linked the creator if I found them! >♥︎ I also forgot about tumblrs stupid picture-limit so...I’m sorry Eric ㅠ.ㅠ Next Time i do 2 parts.
[♥︎] sangyeon
Instead of really going for petnames , Sangyeon likes to just put a “my“ in front of your name. Not because he’s possessive, and if you don’t like it he would definitely stop doing it, but rather because...aren’t you a bit his (independent) love of his life? Well of course you are.
[♥︎] jacob
Angel! Because there’s no other expression Jacob knows of that is more descriptive of what he thinks of you and how highly he thinks of you. You’re his own personally heaven sent blessing, his Angel.
[♥︎] younghoon
A simple “love” does the absolute best job in his opinion. He too likes to add a “my love”, but he would go out of his way to call you baby. He’s just thinks calling someone the epitome of how the other one felt about them - love - was the sweetest thing. Okay?
[♥︎] hyunjae
Because Hyunjae oozes class, it’s only natural for him to be calling you darling. Well, it’s also his new favourite word since Jacob and Kevin had learned him how to correctly pronounce it and now he just. wouldn’t. stop.
[♥︎] kevin
Babe. At this point be ready to never hear your actual name from this mans mouth again. It just fits you well (his words) and it’s short and sweet. Big fan of that one. You are babe and he will die on that hill.
[♥︎] juyeon
You’re his baby and he’d go the extra mile for you always so he naturally also calls you that: baby. His baby if he’s having a moment. Would maybe sometimes also go for something softer like “love” or “princess” but behold if Sunwoo ever hears that. He’d never let him live it down.
[♥︎] chanhee
Chanhee somehow settled on calling you princess and when he says it, suddenly it’s the most normal thing ever. You’d think it’s too cheesy but when Chanhee says it, in the most loving way there is, it’s the most wonderful thing.
[♥︎] changmin
So first of all, he’s a bit shy when it comes to petnames and all that cutes-y stuff. But he would still whisper a bunch of sweet nothings, and for some reason he really often uses “honey”. It’s really adorable, especially because he gets shy after calling you this.
[♥︎] juhaknyeon
Since Juhaknyeon really often fails to just simply care, he’d flat out call you babygirl and if it’s in the most inappropriate times to do so. Because you’re his babygirl when you’re alone and you’re still his babygirl in front of everyone including our local 00 line, which will - naturally - have field day whenever that happens. Prepare to revive an unhealthy amount of winks.
[♥︎] sunwoo
Will call you every name from the book at the same time if there’s anything he wants. And if there’s nothing he currently has to whine his lips off...oh he‘ll just go with the flow. Theres a lot of baby and babe, pretty sure he throws in a cheeky babygirl once in a while, just because he can.
[♥︎] eric
Originally it’s babe. Or, it was babe, but because of his stupid Justin Bieber obsession (no shade) he now calls you peaches. And you’re allowed to hit him for it but at the same time, it’s kinda....endearing? And he really only does it to get a raise out of you.
It’s your first time celebrating your boyfriend’s birthday and you’re determined to make it special.
Word Count: 379
Genre: Eric x reader, fluff
Warnings: none
Author: IM AT A HOTEL AND THE WIFI SUCKS SO MUCH I WAS SCARED I WOULDNT BE ABLE TO GET THIS UP 😭😭😭 also thank you @luvshota and @fullsunfluff for beta reading :D
The minutes slowly ticked by on the clock's face. As midnight drew closer you waited with baited breath in the doorway. Lying in silence on the other side was your, rather unsuspecting, boyfriend fast asleep. He certainly wouldn’t entirely appreciate the sudden surprise you planned to deliver but that was a risk you were willing to take. It was the first time you two would celebrate his birthday together and you wanted to make it count. In the past year, this boy had already given you so much to love. Every waking day you were only falling for him more and more. He knew just the right ways to make you laugh and smile, and all you wanted to do was make sure he knew how happy he made you. What better way to enlighten him than to make sure his day started off just right.
The moment your eyes caught on the large zero’s now displayed across the clock, you sprung into action.
You busted open the door to be greeted with a pitch black void fighting the hallway lights now spilling in. It wouldn’t be this way for long though as your voice filled the room.
“Happy Birthday, Eric!”
He suddenly shot up at the loud intrusion on his sleep. Eyes drooped and hair messy, he looked like a zombie.
Soft groans fell from his lips, “What?”
“It’s your birthday, stupid.” You moved to his side, “See, I got you a cake!”
The candles flickered in his eyes, tiny lights swimming in the pools of golden-brown. Awareness slowly filtered back into him, recognition passing over and leaning to turn on the bedside lamp.
“Oh. Thank you, babe, but what time even is it?”
“Midnight.”
“Ah.” He dragged a hand down his face.
“I…I wanted to be the first to say happy birthday to you.” A timid smile wormed onto your cheeks along with a blush.
His eyes met yours, creasing up in a sweet grin, “Seriously, thank you, baby. I love you.”
Eric’s hand brushed your cheek, rubbing it gently. You lean into the comforting presence, smiling right back at him.
“I love you, too, Birthday boy. Now blow out the candles so I can put this away and we can go back to sleep.”
hi dana.. if it’s possible can i request some angsty wangsty based on niki la la lost you with eric🥺 and ughh i really love your writing like crazyyyyy
♥ title: la la lost you in april [also part of @sunlightwoo ‘s 12 Months I Loved You collaboration project]
♥ member: tbz eric
♥ genre: f2l, ex! eric x fem! reader, model! eric [SFW!]
♥ warnings: swearing, some mentions of sex [like, once i think]
♥ wc: 3.4k
♥ a/n: sis when i first heard the song I absolutely loved how you used 'angsty wangsty' so I hope this one does it for you the way you imagined it <3 [fyi i wrote it in like, a camcorder recording audio format which is something i’m trying out so please hmu on whether it’s difficult to read/understand!]
[REC: APRIL 2, 2019 - 6:39PM] SOLO LOG #1
Are you seeing this? This is the most beautiful sunset I’ve seen. I gotta get a shot of this-
Hey! Hey! I could help you take a picture with the sunset if you want to!
Oh! Would- Would you? That’d be great!
Of course!
...
Here. Is it alright?
Yeah, yeah, it’s cool! Thank you so much!
Are you recording something? Is it a- Are you vlogging? Are you a vlogger?
Yeah, no... I’m actually on a solo trip for a bit.
Oh, where are you from?
Just the next state.
Ah! You’re taking a break off... life then? I assume? Sorry if that came out weird.
No! No no! It’s alright! Yeah, I just needed a short break from... y’know, school and everything. My semester ended pretty early on so I took the chance to come out here and... see some new sights, meet some new people.
I get that. Well, for a start, what’s your name?
Oh, I’m y/n. Nice to meet you! And you?
I’m Eric.
[REC: APRIL 4, 2019 - 10:34PM] SOLO LOG #2
It is the 4th of April, 2019. I know, I know, I’m meant to do a daily vlog for all the 50 days I’m here but... it’s been... wow. Um... so I met Eric, the first day I touched down. The beach is just, about a 10 minute walk down and the sunsets are absolutely gorgeous. But uh... call me a fool and say that I’m living in the clouds but- what are the chances?
He’s funny, he’s such a great person to be around with y’know? Never a moment of like, awkwardness or stress and my God, look at me talking about a boy like that, though I met him 2 days ago.
...
Um, he’s a freelance model. For those freelance shoots by UNIQLO or Target or something and he complains about the pay sometimes, but he looks good infront of a camera, so he’s... actually the one who won at life, really.
I’m not seeing him soon because he’s got a shoot out of town and he’ll be back next week. But I did get his number and he’s been texting me since.
...
Wouldn’t it be funny if we end up together and then I have this whackass of a reel to show him? Jesus... I need to stop getting ahead of myself here. Freakin’ living in the clouds, aren’t I?
...
Anyway, I’m gonna go and see if I can get my weird projector shit up and working. See you.
[REC: APRIL 7, 2019 - 5:14AM] SOLO LOG #3
It is... 5am... uh, April 7th- and I was just binging FRIENDS through the night, waiting for the sunrise before I get some shut eye and then... Eric just asked me out. Oh my God! Um, he’s coming back this Thursday and I’ll go see him at the airport before we go get dinner.
It was really funny ‘cause he had to wake up early for a shoot today and so his day has just begun but mine’s coming to an end and I just- I’m rambling so much, it’s kinda- it’s kinda sad, isn’t it?
I think I’m too happy to sleep right now so I’m just gonna text him some more before the sun rises- oh! He replied!
...
Anyway, I’m gonna go and finish up this last episode before sleeping. Hopeful I can sleep. Bye!
[REC: APRIL 11, 2019 - 4:28PM] SOLO LOG #4
I am on my way out right now to go meet Eric at the airport, and I’m... it’d be an understatement to say that I’m excited. I know I’ve only known him for like, 2 days before he left but... I miss him. Is that possible? Missing someone despite knowing them for 2 days?
Anyway, I gotta go. Don’t wanna be late to see him.
[REC: APRIL 13, 2019 - 10:23AM] SOLO LOG #5
Oh! Is that what you had-
Yeah! It’s the same camera!
What are you vlogging for, actually? Like-
Nothing, really. It’s just for my own usage-
Wait, you didn’t like set that up last night while we-
Oh, God, no! Who do you think I am?
I don’t know, I mean, we’ve known each other for... is it two weeks-
Just under two weeks-
Jeez-
I know, I know, oh my God.
...
I don’t regret it though. Yeah, like- I don’t really go down to the beach that often in the first place and it just- it just so happened that you were there that day and I saw you struggling with this old thing-
I was not struggling!
Yeah you were!
I wasn’t-
I’m kidding! Gosh, you’re so cute.
...
Are you gonna have the camera recording while this carries on?
I forgot it was on-
One day we’re gonna accidentally make a sex tape-
Eric!
[REC: APRIL 17, 2019 - 1:15AM] SOLO LOG #6
-ould you pass me the hot water?
Mm? What?
The kettle over on the counter. Careful, it’s hot. Yeah, thanks.
Do you need help with-
It’s just instant noodles, sweet. Doubt I need a diploma for this. You’re recording again?
Yeah, does it bother you?
No, no, ‘course not. Though that means I can’t really do whatever I want to now.
What does that mea-
...
I can... still taste that bit of milk tea you had just now-
Could you tell it’s zero sugar?
I don’t think that matters, it’s still sweet and not great for your health to have that so much.
Aw, and yet you’re the one who suggested noodles at this timing, yeah?
You were hungry too!
...
Here, it’s done. Help me get the bowls?
Did you even wash these?
Yeah, I did. If you don’t trust me, you can run them under the water for a bit.
Mhm. Here.
If it’s not enough, we can call for Macs.
Y’know, I’ve never had Macs past midnight back at home.
What? Really? Well, when you get back in May, would you try?
Yeah, why not? Maybe I’ll do that when I’m back in school.
...
What date is it today?
April... hold on, um, 17. Careful, that’s hot.
...
When are you leaving again?
May 22.
Are you planning on coming back anytime soon after?
I don’t know. I have school to worry about and the only other time I can come back’s probably during winter break in November.
...
I won’t be around in November.
Mm? Why not?
I’m moving.
To where?
I’m not sure yet, but I need to move depending on whether I get it and where the shoot’s at.
Shoot? It’s a big project, huh?
Yeah, it’s- it’s a pretty big deal.
...
I’ll- Let me just go and...
[REC: APRIL 20, 2019 - 7:49PM] SOLO LOG #7
-idn’t have to!
No, c’mon! It’s such a great time to get this on camera! Come on, tell us what just happened!
Well, I just scored a huge model contract with Calvin Klein - in Manhattan.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I’m so fucking proud of you, oh my God! Can you believe it-
No, fuck off, I can’t either!
Oh! Calvin Klein!
...
I swear, you’re an angel sent to me-
Fuck off!
I’m serious! it’s so timely- I just can’t- I’m just so happy to have met you.
...
Well, you heard it first here, ladies and gentlemen. Eric Sohn is a new model for Calvin Klein - Manhattan.
[REC: APRIL 21, 2019 - 12:40PM] SOLO LOG #8
It is 12.40pm... April 21st, 2019. I’m finally back in my apartment after crashing at Eric’s for the last... 10 days? I think it was 10 days. My clothes were running out and I didn’t want to hike up his water bills so I just came back and- y’know did my own laundry.
...
Well, it’s- it’s been an absolute dream. The last thing I expected to... have, or meet? Here, is Eric. Um, but I know I’m probably going to regret this. Especially when May 22 comes. Uh... this is... it’s real bad. I mean, we’re great, y’know? But... it’s bad, because I know it’ll hurt. Like a bitch. When my time here is up, and I gotta go back to my reality, and Eric’s gotta stick to his.
We haven’t really talked about it. May. I don’t think he wants to, and I don’t think I want to either. 50 days is too short. Either that, or I shouldn’t have come here in the first place. I shouldn’t have gone to the beach that day, in that hour.
...
I just wish we had more time. I wish 24 hours were... maybe about 100 seconds more per minute. Does that make sense? 160 seconds per minute. Then again, I don’t think that’d solve my problem. I’ll still be on a ticking... time bomb.
...
I know I shouldn’t say this. I know I can’t. I know I can’t afford to. But... I... I love him. I love Eric. With every... bit of me. It’s so... disgustingly cliché, but I feel so... comfortable with him. There’s really nothing we’d fight about, and even if we disagreed on something, we’d play it off like a debate, then forget about it the next day.
...
I love him. I do. And I’m going to regret this later. Without a doubt.
...
[REC: APRIL 27, 2019 - 2:02AM] SOLO LOG #9
-ou can see the stars?
I don’t know, that’s why I’m trying, sweet.
...
Can you see them?
Yeah, maybe if I just turn this ISO- Oh! I can kinda see the North Star-
Oh! Yeah, you can! It’s really feint though.
Right.
It’s okay, we can just lay it down here-
On the grass? Will your camera be fine?
Yeah, yeah, or else you can just put in on top of my bag- here.
...
Here, can you see me? Am I in frame?
Yeah, you’re in frame.
Okay, great. Now get over here!
...
I can taste the smoothie you had just now.
Too sweet?
A little.
...
Oh my God! Put me down! Oh- not there! It’s ticklish- AHHHHH!
...
y/n, I have something to tell you.
Mm? What is it?
...
Hello? Earth to Eric?
I... I love you. So much... and I can’t bear to see you go in May.
Oh, Eric...
No, I- I don’t want you to stay- or even think about it, ‘cause, you have your priorities and I have mine y’know...
Mhm.
I just... I just wished we had more time.
I do too. I really do.
...
Eric?
Hm?
I love you too.
...
...
...
[REC: MAY 1, 2019 - 4:23AM] SOLO LOG #10
1st May. 4...30? Am? I believe. Um, Eric’s sound asleep in his bed and I couldn’t sleep so I decided to do a log.
...
I have... 3 weeks left. 4 weeks have gone past just like that, and I don’t know what to think about it. I came for a 50-day retreat. No stress, just myself and peace and quiet and tranquility and yet-
...
I- I don’t know if I can do this.
...
[REC: MAY 7, 2019 - 3:58PM] SOLO LOG #11
So, Eric’s in shoot right now and I’m on the way into the studio with some donuts and coffee to surprise him. I called his manager and asked if it was okay so- I’m pretty psyched to see his workspace.
...
Hi, I’m y/n, I’m here to visit Eric?
Ah, okay! Hold on, let me just get you signed in with the pass-
Count me in!
You sure? This Saturday at the prep-party?
Yeah- Oh!
Eric!
y/n! What are you doing here?
I wanted to surprise you. Am I... interrupting anything?
Oh, not at all!
You must be y/n! Eric’s told me so much about you!
Did he? And you are...?
I’m Chelsea! I’ve been attached to the same Calvin Klein contract he recently got, so you could say we’re colleagues!
Well, nice to meet you! Oh, right, these donuts and coffee are meant for you guys actually!
Oh! You’re too kind! Eric, you’re such a lucky man.
I know, she’s just... everything.
Anyway, thank you so much for these. I’ll bring them back down to the studio for the crew to share. But Eric’s pretty much done for the day actually, so you guys can leave if you want to!
Are you sure? Don’t you need help downstairs with the equipment?
No, no! It’s fine, there’re more than enough people downstairs. Go have your date, and maybe you can bring her along with you for the prep-party this weekend!
What’s the prep-party... preparing for?
Oh, you’re so adorable! It’s a prep-party for the end-of-May shoot we’re gonna have. it’s a collab with DAZED so it’s a pretty big project.
You never told me you were involved in a collab with DAZED.
I was gonna tell you today.
He has been pretty busy recently, maybe slipped his mind. Anyway, thank you so much for the donuts and I’ll hope to see you at the pier this Saturday, mm?
Yeah, sure. Thanks Chels.
No problem! It was so nice to meet you, y/n, I’ll see you Saturday!
Okay, bye!
Bye, Chelsea! It was nice to meet you!
Bye!
...
Sweet, why didn’t you tell me you were coming?
I wanted it to be a surprise. I thought you said you’d end pretty late?
The filming was cut short because the shots were better than expected so we ended early.
Oh, I wanted to film you while you were at work.
You have that on?
Yeah- why?
No, just wondering.
Are you uncomfortable?
No, no, it’s just... I really didn’t expect you to come to the studio.
...
[REC: MAY 11, 2019 - 11:12PM] SOLO LOG #12
It’s 11:12pm, 11th May, 2019. 11 days to departure.
...
I... saw... Chelsea and Eric... um, out by the garage-
...
Well, I guess... it looked like they were just... having a really good talk. Or something.
...
I left. I couldn’t watch it. So, I left without telling Eric. I did tell his boss that I wasn’t feeling well and I had to leave first.
...
I guess this is the part where I regret it, isn’t it? Um... I don’t know... how... I’m gonna explain this to him when I see him again. Which is supposed to be- um- the rest of the night. I was supposed to go back to his place with him and I’ll stay for the weekend before I come back to pack my things, so-
...
y/n, are you home?
...
shit.
y/n, I know you’re home. I heard you talking. Open the door, I need to talk to you.
...
[REC: MAY 12, 2019 - 2:00AM] SOLO LOG #13
...
I look like shit, don’t I? God, my eyes hurt like a bitch.
...
I don’t think I need to say what just happened for you to guess what just happened, right? This... says it all.
...
Fuck.
...
I shouldn’t have come here. How did- How did my retreat turn out- turn out like this?
...
This is- This is too much. Too much in too short... of a time.
...
I don’t think... I don’t think I can do it. Not anymore.
...
[REC: MAY 19, 2019 - 9:59AM] SOLO LOG #14
It’s May 19th, 2019, almost 10am. I just came back from a morning walk by the beach just to... reminisce a little before I leave on Wednesday.
...
I... haven’t seen Eric since the prep-party. I blocked him and I told him not to come over, though I think he has, like, a few times. I thought I heard someone come up to my door, but he never knocked.
...
So, this is how it ends, huh? A 50-day romance cut short like that. Into about, 40?
...
It’s crazy to think that I had... the experience of a whole relationship in 40 days. I definitely did not sign up for that when I booked this 50-day retreat.
...
It was fun while it lasted, though. It was. I don’t think I’d find anybody else like Eric, and I guess it just sucks that it had to end like that. Things happen, right? That aren’t... in our control.
...
...
...
[REC: MAY 21, 2019 - 8:07PM] SOLO LOG #15
May 21st. About 8pm. I leave in about 15 hours.
...
All my stuff’s packed. Definitely more things to bring home than I brought here. Half of these things were bought by Eric and given to me. I’m... actually not sure if I should bring them back.
...
I don’t- I just don’t think I’d have the heart to throw them away.
...
Nor look at them when I’m home.
...
Should I even bring this camera home? Maybe I should wipe your memory before I bring you home, hmm?
...
It feels like a dream, doesn’t it? Everything that’s happened. It feels like a fever dream. Maybe when I’m finally home, I’d wake up and it’d be the day I come here.
...
Maybe.
...
[REC: MAY 22, 2019 - 10:03AM] SOLO LOG #16
-ny more luggage?
Nope.
Alright then, I think you’re all set. You still have about an hour’s time before the gates are open so you can get a cup of coffee or something, yeah?
Okay, thank you!
Have a nice flight ma’am.
Thanks.
...
Good evening ma’am, can I check your boarding pass?
Yeah, sure.
...
Okay, you’re good to go. Have a safe flight.
Thank you!
...
[REC: MAY 22, 2019 - 11:34AM] SOLO LOG #17
It is about 11.30am and I’m on the flight, and here’s the view outside. Sky’s pretty clear and this thing says that the weather’s great so, it should be a smooth flight without turbulence.
...
This is it. This is really it.
...
...
...
Um-
Hi, ma’am, I’m gonna need you to keep your camcorder.
Oh! Yeah, sure, sure, sorry!
[REC: APRIL 2, 2020 - 12:48AM] ERIC LOG #1
Wow, this is... weird. How did you do this last year?
...
Um, hi. y/n. If you’re watching this then I’ve somehow managed to get this synced into your camera by some weird... bluetooth, iCloud shit that Felix helped me figure out.
...
It’s been a year. And... I just thought you should... see this, or hear me out, at least. I know we didn’t end on the best terms... and I’m sorry. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have yelled at you for being unreasonable for something that was... suspicious. I should’ve understood.
...
I should’ve been there. To see you off. And I’m sorry I didn’t. I... was scared, that I wouldn’t be able to let you go if I went to send you off. I was a coward. I still am.
...
But I do want you to know that... those 50 days were the best days of my life. Albeit it ended horribly, but nothing could... nothing- nothing will ever replace what happened last April.
...
I said I love you and... I still do. Every day I think about you and your smile and your voice and- and I cry to sleep... worrying that I’d forget how you sound like, or how you laugh and how... how you smell like. My bed smelt like you even after you left.
...
I just- I love you. And I miss you. And I’d do anything to go back to what we had. I’d do anything to get- to get you back.
...
I’m sorry.
...
the clip comes to an automatic stop. the white triangle slapped onto the screen, begging you to play it again. you look up from the screen, watching the famous calvin klein ad that hasn’t stopped playing in the last month.
he hasn’t changed one bit. not his hair, not his smile, not his voice.
it’s a bittersweet pot of memory stashed in the back of your head when the memories flood back. looking back down at the camera, you count back the days - it was synced just last night.
the pile of tissues by your thighs are carelessly huddled into the bin next to your feet, mentally berating yourself for going through the memory instead of formatting it.
you stand, fingers shutting the screen back onto its body with a soft click. the tv blacks out when you press the red button on its remote.
you’re halfway into your kitchen when there’s a knock at your door, and you immediately gasp, blinking rapidly.
“oh, it’s my fucking projector!”
rushing to the door, you don’t hesitate to get the door open.
and yet, like the heavens were providing you with all the light to stop you from doubting yourself, your lungs empty themselves like vacuums.
That last song was a new personal favourite here at Tangerine Radio -- Day6 Even of Day’s Right Through Me. On a much lighter note, I’m pumped to introduce our first guest featured in our new “With Love” series! I’ll introduce him soon, and remember, you can find transcripts of the “With Love” series and other special segments on our Tangerine Radio website, which was lovingly put together by my favourite tech guy, Sunwoo. In the transcripts, I’m in bold, and guests are just plain text unless there are two, which is when we bust out the italics... at least I’m pretty sure that’s it. I guess we’ll see, huh? I’m not really supposed to talk much in this series, but who knows. Let’s welcome our guest before I ramble on any more.
Uh, hi... listeners? I’m Eric.
Wait. Listeners? Is that what I call them?
Sure.
Okay. Uh. Hi.
...I’m Eric.
You said that already!
I don’t know... What if some people just tuned in?
Between the first and second time you said your name?
...It could happen.
Relax, Eric. Just talk like your roommate is the only one listening. You prepared something, right?
Yeah.
Hoo... okay.
Um. Hey. It’s Eric.
I said that already... but it’s in my notes, so I said it again. Who knows, maybe someone tuned in just in time to hear it...
Sorry, this is a bit awkward. It’s kind of nerve-racking to know that you’re listening right now when I can’t see you. Haknyeon, you get what I’m saying, right?
Ah, sorry. My letter. Got it.
I’ll stay on track.
Don’t look at me like that! I will, I promise.
Um...
Dear you.
I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to say your name for everyone to hear, so I won’t. I guess I could’ve asked you, but then this wouldn’t be as much of a surprise, would it?
Anyways, I came on hear to say,
I miss you.
I know it’s only been like, a week, but that’s a whole week without you, so... I stand by it. Yeah.
I miss you a lot. It’s weird, but sometimes when I wake up, I look around the flat and go huh? Just because you’re not there. I feel like this is the first time in a long time that we’ve been apart -- really apart. Even back in our home town, our parent’s houses are like ten minutes away.
If we hated each other, we’d be in a real pickle, huh?
I could never hate you though.
I like to think you could never hate me either, but there was that one time I stole your fancy restaurant leftovers, so I guess that’s still on the table.
...Unlike your leftovers, hah!
Sorry, wow, that was awful. You loved it though, I bet. Wherever you are.
I can’t believe you got invited to a destination wedding, by the way. And you didn’t take me as a plus one? Rude.
Not that-- not that we’re--
Um.
I was just joking, haha... I know we’re not dating or anything. And I know you said you’d bring me if you could, but you already RSVP’d as one guest. I was kidding...
Not that I wouldn’t date you! Just, uh--
I know this is a whole “With Love,” thing, but Haknyeon told me love is platonic too! And I... love you, uh, platonically--
Ow!
Haknyeon just kicked me! Do you see what happens when you leave me alone?
This is abuse, is what this is.
I know I said love is also platonic, and it is, but Eric, are you really that oblivious?
Huh? What do you mean?
Oh, come on. You have to know that you like them--
Haknyeon!
So you do know?
I-- Dude-- Why did...
Ugh.
Even if I do, why would you just blurt that on live radio! They could be listening!
Isn’t that what this is for? And besides, you said they’d be sleeping in their timezone.
Okay, and what about your other hundreds of listeners? Ughhh this is so embarrassing...
...
Shut up Sunwoo. They can’t even hear you.
You’re cute when you’re all grumbly.
You just love this, don’t you?
I don’t hate it.
This sucks. I can’t believe I let you guys rope me into this just for twenty bucks.
Hey, whoa, you volunteered to be on With Love, Eric. Hear that listeners? You, too, can sign up for With Love, on our website, where you’ll also find the transcripts from previous episodes just like this one--
You sound like an idiot.
Someone’s salty. And pouty.
I’m not pouting!
Tell your face that.
...
Sunwoo I am going to kill you.
No I don’t want to keep going!
I mean... they don’t have to see this, right?
Did you already tell them you were coming on the show?
Yeah...
And they know about our website?
Yeah...
You might want to continue, then. Confessing and running isn’t going to look great.
I could just tell them not to read the transcript... right?
But knowing them, they’d want to even more...
Ugh.
Did you guys plan this?
...
No way! Did you guys lure me in with twenty dollars just so I’d confess the crush I’ve had for years?!
Oh shit.
Okay, that one was all you. I didn’t even prompt you this time.
Oh my god.
Oh my god!
Whoa, man! I know the table isn’t oak, but you can’t just slam your head on it like that.
Ow...
Do you want some ice?
No...
You’re pouting again.
Shut up.
It’s a radio show, Eric. If no one’s talking, it’s literally nothing.
Fine then. I’ll talk.
Screw the stupid letter if this was your plan all along, anyways.
...
Dear you.
I like you.
I like you a lot. I’ve liked you for years. Is that what everyone wants to hear?
When you beat all the other boys at Beyblade in elementary, I liked you. When you made me a valentine’s day card in seventh grade because I was sad nobody sent me any, I liked you. When you held my hand and dragged me out of school to skip a day because I was feeling down about university applications, I liked you.
The other day, when we ate ice cream on your bed and talked about aliens, I liked you.
I like you. And I miss you. And I want to say this all in person but you’re thousands of kilometers away and I’m on this dumb radio show, speaking into this dumb microphone, and Haknyeon’s looking at me with this dumb smile on his face and I like you! Okay?!
I like you.
...
...
What?
You’re so cute.
Shut up!
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