summary: After Hansol has a really hard day, you make everything better in an unexpected way.
word count: 1052
SVT Shorts Series | Masterlist
Hansol is exhausted. He’s just made it through one of the most Monday-ass Wednesdays of his life and the thought of having to do it all again tomorrow is enough to make him want to step into traffic. Instead, he steps onto the train, which is, of course, full.
He finds a section of standing space and raises one hand to cling weakly to the bar as the train slinks forward. Lulled by the swaying of the train, he feels his heavy eyes grow even heavier.
His phone vibrates in his pocket. Tugging it out with his free hand, Hansol smiles when he sees your name.
“Hi, baby.”
“Hi, baby,” you echo back. “Please tell me you’re not working overtime tonight.”
“Nope. Headed home.”
“Rough day?”
“So rough,” he says, trying to be heard over the sound of the train. “I can’t believe it’s only Wednesday.”
“That doesn’t sound good.” He hears you grunt, followed by the sound of something soft hitting the ground. “Well, don’t worry. I’m going to make your entire day better.”
“Oh yeah? How?”
“By being me, of course. But also, it’s a secret.”
Some secret. He’s not sure what you’re up to, but he’s pretty sure it involves sex. Maybe you’ll give him a massage–that’s if he’s really lucky. You sound more energetic tonight than usual, so it seems like a good possibility.
The train jerks, nearly pitching him into the lap of the person in front of him. He mouths an apology and holds onto the bar tighter.
“Baby, I have to let you go. I need both hands.”
“Be quick!” you reply before hanging up. Hansol shakes his head–like he has any control over the speed of the train.
He tucks his phone into his pocket, shifting his weight better onto the balls of his feet.
Your cheery voice gives him the energy to pick up his pace from the station as he heads to the apartment. It’s only a few blocks away, but it may as well be a million miles. He can’t wait to kiss you. Maybe you’ll forgive him if all he does is snuggle with you tonight.
What if you’ve put a lot of effort into it though? The possibilities run through Hansol’s mind as he searches his pockets for his keys. He can’t resist you in lingerie–he’ll find the energy for that.
Except what he finds instead are blankets. Lots of them. And pillows and cushions. You’ve destroyed the sofa, commandeered the dining room chairs, wrangled every bit of movable furniture you can find into making a massive blanket fort. The opening is facing the TV and even though he can’t see inside, he can tell from the soft glow that you’ve strung up lights in there, too.
“Oh, wow.”
You come out of the kitchen dressed in pajamas and holding a huge bowl of popcorn. A wide smile warms your pretty face. “Are you surprised?”
“Yeah. I thought–uh, I thought we were gonna have sex.”
Glancing over at the fort you’ve built, you say, “Oh. If you’d rather do that–”
“No,” he says quickly. “I want to experience this just how you’ve planned it.”
“Okay! Then time for comfy clothes!” You thrust his favorite pajama pants at him, fresh from the dryer judging by the smell, along with an oversized shirt.
Hansol obediently trades his work clothes for house clothes, feeling his stress level drop the moment the softer fabric touches his skin.
“Drinks!” you call out. “Alcoholic or not?”
“It’s a Wednesday,” he replies, feeling like that’s self-explanatory.
“I wasn’t gonna let you get drunk.” You carry two cans of soda over to the fort. “Climb in!”
He does, lowering himself carefully through the opening. Sure enough, you’ve woven some battery-operated fairy lights into the “ceiling”, giving the fort a soothing glow. There’s a tray in the middle of the cushions with all his favorite movie snacks: tteokbokki, kimbap, popcorn, mini cookies, all way more than two people can consume in one evening.
“Babe, you really went all out,” he says as you crawl in beside him.
“Yep! Pick a movie!”
He doesn’t have the brain space for something new so he chooses Everything Everywhere All At Once, a definite favorite between the two of you. His friends give him shit at this point for how many times he’s mentioned it, but as the opening starts and he sinks deeper into the pillows, his tension eases.
Something moves in his line of sight, making him blink. You’re holding a piece of kimbap in front of his mouth.
“You don’t have to f–”
You shove it into his open mouth with a grin. “Less talking, more eating. You gotta eat to feel better.”
Hansol chews, then swallows before saying, “Babe! I can feed myself!”
“Are you sure? I was gonna try to toss the popcorn in one by one.”
“All right,” he says gamely. “Give it your best shot.”
As expected, even at such a close distance, most of the popcorn ends up on the cushions. He plucks the ones that miss and shoves them into his mouth anyway.
After the two of you have finished ravaging the food, you lean out of the fort to place the tray on the ground, then snuggle up under his chin. The movie is somewhere near the midpoint, but all Hansol can focus on is the warmth of you against him, the smell of fabric softener, and how completely at peace he feels now.
“You worked hard on this. Thank you.”
Smiling up at him, you say, “You work hard all the time. I love you, baby.”
He loves you more than he can explain, so he leans down a bit further so he can kiss you instead. What’s meant as a chaste thank you turns into something deeper as you moan softly into his mouth. Like he can ever resist you when you make that sound.
Hansol pins you into cushions, grinning down at you. “Time to test your construction skills.”
“Don’t sue me if the roof collapses.”
“Did you take out homeowner’s insurance?” he jokes.
You giggle back, running your fingers along the band of his slacks. “This is some weird roleplay.”
He agrees, so he settles for kissing you again and again.
Why did he choose an ice rink for a first date? He thought at the time it would be cute, the perfect place during the holiday season to get to know each other romantically outside of campus.
Now, falling on his ass for the fifth time, he wonders what past him was smoking.
You glide back over to Vernon and giggle, your mitted hands reaching out to him to help him back up. "We can call it if you want! I don't mind raiding the hot chocolate stand instead."
Vernon dusts off his jeans and shakes his head, his face a shade of pink from his blushing skin. "No, no, not at all. I'm having fun!"
You jut an eyebrow up. "Are you sure?"
He takes your hand in his and slowly tries to pick up speed again. "I may be bad at this, but that doesn't mean the night hasn't been great so far."
You chuckle again and hold him closer as you both create more distance from Vernon's last spot of defeat. "Maybe it's because I make you nervous."
Vernon ponders the thought as you keep skating around the rink.
Sure, he gets flustered every time you compliment him in art history class, he talks about you to friends like you hang the moon and did so before he ever shot his shot, and now, with your palm squeezing his, he may very well have a coronary.
"You make me nervous, that's true," he admits, "but only because of how much I like you already."
You turn your head so he can't see the reddening of your face. Once you keep your emotions at bay, you grin up at him and kiss his cheek, the action clearly stunning the poor man. "Likewise."
He stands stock still as you keep skating, actually retaining his balance to take in the reality that you just kissed him. "You coming?" You yell from a few feet away, smirking at the kid who's still solid in his position.
The night is still young, he thinks. Maybe I'll graduate to a real kiss before the end of it.
✦ pairing: chwe (vernon) hansol & fem!reader
✦ word count: 0.4k
✦ genre: angst
✦ synopsis: even if you've both moved on from your relationship, is it so bad to hope he doesn't forget about you?
a/n: was heavily listening to perrie edwards's "forget about us" when writing this!
This time when you pass a billboard of Seventeen on your way to work, and your eyes immediately flit to Hansol’s face, your heart doesn’t sink in the same way. Some of your friends would see that as progress, others would say it’s been a long time coming.
Sure, you have a new and steady relationship, one filled with the promises of a future that you could never actualize with Hansol. You’re advancing in your career, starting from the mailroom to sitting in an executive office with an established reputation. And clearly Hansol’s succeeding too. It looks effortless now with his name plastered everywhere, although you know it took many late-night practices and world tours to get there. All the same, you’re proud of him, and from your mutual friends, you hear Hansol expresses the same congratulations.
You’re both moving on and away from the people you used to be, but it doesn’t hurt to reminisce sometimes.
Like a masochist, you open old playlists he curated for you with the excuse of how good his music taste is. It stings to hear the opening lines of certain songs, ones Hansol dedicated to you in the dark of your apartment. “I’ll be as big as them one day,” he’d promise. “And you’ll be right by my side when my dreams come true.”
Admittedly, on a particularly melancholy day, you grab the hoodie you never returned to him from the back of your closet to smell the remaining traces of his cologne. Sometimes it feels like he’s still there next to you when you put your arms through the sleeves. It’s an easy trap to fall into, remembering how he’d wrap his arms around you as you watched movies together on your couch. Or the first time you saw him in it in the convenience store, stealing kisses against your neck while you tried to pay for a pack of beer and Airheads.
And thinking on the present, you wonder what it would be if you were still in each other’s lives in the same capacity as before. Would it be more phone calls from foreign places and apologies for missing date nights? More resentment and eventual heartbreak? Or would things have been different with time? Would you have matured together but remembered how your love could withstand any storm that came over the horizon?
Anyway, you’re over it now. What was in the past's meant to stay buried. But, selfishly, you hope sometimes he thinks of you and your memories too.
pairing: 최한솔 𝓍 femreader
word count: 7.5K
tags: semi-angst, semi-fluff, smut, coworker au, friends to lovers au, semi-unrequited love au, oral, mentions of anxiety, some semblances of emotional cheating per se?
⌗ lexi's notes: holy shit it has been a thousand years since i wrote something? apologies i'm coming out of the woodwork with this one but finally decided to write something just to write and have fun which is awesome??
read more.ᐟ
𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𓇬 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃!
A dream should not have this much power over you.
Running into the studio, rehearsal clothes and all practically spilling out of your bag, you chastise yourself over and over at the scenario that has ran through your head since you woke up abruptly last night. Company personnel and coworkers stare at you while you sprint past them, mumbling yourself at your stupidity. You could barely get an hour of rest after the rude awakening. Every fiber of your being wanted to melt back into the dream. Of course, when you managed to stop tossing and turning, the alarm clock blared to life to remind you to get ready for band practice and head out.
It almost felt like reality was hidden in between your sheets, and the outside world was nothing but a false fantasy. And what was the best way for the world to remind you your dream was a figment of your imagination? Running into the subject of the imagery.
“Hey, watch out!” It takes little effort to be knocked back onto your ass. Your duffel bag explodes across the company building tile. You watch your belongings fall around you; clothing, sheet music paper, and emergency makeup flits in all directions. As an excuse to avoid looking directly up at him, you scramble to pick up everything. But all it takes to stop your frantic hands is Vernon’s voice speaking your name.
“What’s the rush,” Vernon says, a smirk on his face and a handful of your items in his palm. His sleeveless tank drapes across his chest, tucked into the waistband of his sweatpants. The top of his head is hidden in a one of his signature beanies, despite your warnings of his ridiculous head hair. “Cloud 9 can take a second for their keyboardist to make it.”
You hear some of the guys behind him laughing but continuing on their way, and you remind yourself to smack Mingyu upside the head the next time you see him. He may be stronger than you, but he deserves it. “Sorry, just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,” you respond.
“Too long on the keys again? Jihoon needs to set a limit for late sessions, I swear,” he jokes.
“Nah, just had a weird dream,” you confess. What the fuck is wrong with you? You practically feel yourself smack your hand to your forehead. Vernon helps you up once all of your belongings are back in your bag. He places both hands on your shoulders, and the close-lipped smile on his face almost knocks you backwards.
“Just relax, practice is practice,” he reminds you, and you nod with a reciprocal grin.
You should not be thinking about him like this. And not when that someone is dating your best friend.
“Can you give this to Mina for me? She forgot to grab them from my room.” He hands you her keys once he swipes them from his pocket. The pink plush rabbit’s foot you bought her years ago that sits on her key-chain practically burns the words TRAITOR into your hand.
“Glad you thought to give them to her. She said this thing is the key to us getting good news today,” you say.
He sighs. “At least I remember things right?” Mingyu and Wonwoo almost out of view, Vernon motions to leave.
“See you later. Knock the big man dead!” He ruffles your hair before running after the boys, leaving you with a kaleidoscope of thoughts.
──────
“Help me find a lifeline, in this heartbroken sea of mine,” Mina sings into the microphone. The words echo off the walls of the studio. Mr. Park keeps his focused gaze on the band until you play the last chords of the song. Unbeknownst to Vernon, your anxiety had nothing to do with Cloud 9’s evaluation. You could play the song and your entire album tracklist blindfolded. But now, seeing Mr. Park give nothing away makes your stomach turn.
Then, his face erupts in a smile as he claps his hands together hard. “Wonderful, girls. Absolutely wonderful!”
Mina and the rest of you breathe a heavy sigh of relief. Even Jeonghi, who’s perpetually stonefaced, displays a small smile.
“So we’re performance ready for the gala?” Mina asks for all of you, the thought on every bandmember’s mind.
“I believe so.” Mr. Park practically laughs as he says it. Everyone smiles wider and Jana, your lead guitarist, squeals in glee. Naejin, your new bassist, pats a hand on your back.
The Pledis Gala not only hosted the investors and higher-ups for the night, but the talent of the year were expected to have a performance during the party’s intermission. It was up to a couple groups and bands, but Mr. Park heavily endorsed Cloud 9 for the ticket. In spite of the first album not being scheduled for release for another three months, this would be the first time the band would perform and have live feedback.
It wouldn’t just be feedback on Cloud 9, but on all the songs you wrote. Mina would say it was 95% you and 5% her adding a lyric or two. You both created the band together, so you let her get away with the comment. And neither of you would discount each other’s hard work and influence on the group, anyway.
“Keep this fire for the next two weeks, and it won’t just be me who’s in love with you. Trust me ladies, I can feel it in my bones!” Mr. Park raises his hands in the air, almost to prove to himself he wasn’t wrong in where he placed his faith. He walks out of the studio, leaving all five of you to celebrate.
“Thank fucking god.” Jeonghi huffs before sticking her drumsticks in her back pocket.
“Not so fast, Heehee,” Mina retorts. “Like Park said, this does not mean the next two weeks are for slacking off.”
“Min, we got the gig. Breathe for a second.” You shake her, hoping you can force her out of performance mode. “We deserve to relax. And maybe buy a round of shots.”
“I second that,” Naejin says.
“I vote for that also.” Jana adds. “And maybe some food to go with that? You guys know I can’t drink on an empty stomach.” Her response makes all the girls laugh, including Jeonghi.
The studio door opens without warning. Vernon walks in with a tentative smile. “I see happy faces. Either that means you’re playing the gala or you’re all being very upbeat about not playing the gala.”
Jeonghi scoffs. “We got it, asshat. “
“We definitely did,” Mina yells out in glee. Mina runs towards Vernon and wraps her arms around him, an audibly happy sigh leaving her
A year in, Mina still loves to give Vernon physical affection, witnesses or not. She even confessed once that she believed Naejin had a crush on him and, according to her, “marking her territory” was only a bonus to PDA. If only she knew.
It takes Vernon a minute to react to her embrace, but he wraps his arms around her nonetheless. He kisses the top of her head when she lets him go. “Great job babe,” he says to Mina.
He turns his attention to you a second later, his eyes lighting up. “And how did they like the last song? I know you were messing with it for weeks.”
“Nothing a good brainstorm with you and Jihoon didn’t fix.” You nudge him in the hip with yours. His subsequent laugh on a normal day wouldn’t make you think twice, but now, the smallest hint of a chuckle kicks you in the ribs.
It’s a wonder how feelings can spring up without an iota of effort. It’s Vernon! The guy wears hats year-round. He stuffs his face with Oreos before offering any to anyone. The Saw franchise still scares the shit out of him, no matter how many times he’s seen them. And he’s Mina’s boyfriend. How could this person you have known for so long somehow worm his way into your subconscious like this?
The term “crush” has always bugged you. It’s more of a bug, honestly. A gnat that keeps reminding you of its presence and imperviousness to swatting.
The pestering feeling grows with the contact of your body and his. It even made your heart skip a beat if you were being honest with yourself.
“Congratulations, really. You guys deserve it,” Vernon says the words to all of you, but his eyes are focused on you alone. You brush it off with a polite smile, hoping somewill will take his attention away so you can focus on breathing again.
“Alright, back to the original subject,” Mina says, silently answering your prayer. “Drinks! As the oldest, Naejin should handle the tab.”
──────
Jihoon was the only person you trusted with new material. Mina and the others usually saw your work after many rounds of edits between yourself and your songwriting partner. As you both put a lot of effort into your respective bands’ work, it only made sense for him to be your official sounding board. The other units kept their contributions locked tight from anyone outside of the group. Except for Vernon, but it was rare for you to swap material directly.
That being said, Jihoon would lose his built-up credit if he continued to emit grunts and humphs instead of feedback on your work.
“If I hear another ‘huh’ come from your mouth, I will chuck my shoe at you,” you warn, still playing the keys of Elton John’s “I’m Still Standing” on the piano.
“It’s just interesting, that’s all,” Jihoon says.
That word cuts your piano playing short. “You don’t usually use that vocabulary when describing my lyrics.”
“When did you write this?” He asks. He grabs some copies from his backpack, assorting them in a pile.
“The night before yesterday.” It had been a long night of witnessing Mina’s extremely public displays of affections and drinking too many tequila shots. When you were walking home with the girls, a melody suddenly sprang in your heard. You mulled over it for hours with your buzz until you opened Garageband and wrote some lyrics to go with it. It was nothing more than a few lines, but you wanted Jihoon to see if the idea had any potential. “Why?”
“Help me find a lifeline, in this heartbroken sea of mine,” He recites the lyrics to “SOS” from one of the papers he collected from his backpack. He pulls another one from the pile. “You see the shadow of my thoughts, if only you recognized the workings of my heart.” Jihoon looks up at you. “Not trying to be too deep, but I think I can smell a thematic coincidence.”
“Jihoon, stop it.”
“Ah! And here’s the pattern, folks.” He clears his throat before reading the scrap of paper you gave him this afternoon. “She may be the piece that fits you, but I can be the puzzle that undoes you?”
You rest your elbows on the keys, head in your hands as the instrument screeches in protest. You feel the cushion next to you sink with the weight of Jihoon’s body, and you turn to him. Eyes welling up with tears, you say, “It’s that obvious is it?”
“Based on this material, yeah.” He scoffs, a pout on his face. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know! One day I’m fine, sitting with Jana as Vernon is making jokes and the next I’m dreaming-“
“Wait,” Jihoon interrupts you. “Vernon as in Mina’s Vernon?” You nod, to which Jihoon huffs out a breath. “Now this makes a lot of sense.”
“I don’t want to feel this way, Hoonie. I don’t. And I’m not going to be the person who takes a person from someone else,” you assure him.
“And you said ‘dreaming’? About what?” The curious look on Jihoon’s face makes you feel even worse. But, you let yourself pretend that telling one person about your dream will make it easier to lay your crush to rest. So you do, but not in so much detail…
You sit side by side as you play the final string of keys for Vernon, mouth a hard line from your anxiety. The silence sits between you once the song is over, and you clear your throat after singing the lyrics you came up with.
“It’s obviously touch-and-go, but I wanted to know what you think.” You tuck a hair behind your ear, shy at this crumb of an idea being the first thing Vernon has ever heard of yours before anyone else. You usually hammer at it until it’s close to perfect, but in this most vulnerable stage of the process, you’re worried he’ll judge it harsher than ever before.
“I think it’s amazing.” He smiles. His response makes you smile in turn, but it quickly fades once he places a hand on yours. He guides it to the keys, his fingers lingering over your skin. “But what if you changed the minor chord to a major? The song sounds like it could be hopeful rather than sad.”
“Major and minor? Jihoon is teeaching you well,” you tease.
“Fuck you.” He bumps your shoulder with his. “I’m being serious though.”
“I just feel like it would change everything about it.” You blush, taking your hand back. The room suddenly feels too small, the space between the two of you crossing and invisible barrier. You should tell him to scoot farther away from you on the bench, keeping a friendly and professional level of distance. But you don’t. This is the first time you’ve ever been this close when being alone together. A part of you wants to cherish it.
“What’s wrong with change,” he asks, staring at you with a curious but heady expression that makes your breath hitch. Your faces are a foot away but you remind yourself nothing will come from the close contact. Neither of you would ever, even if you wanted to.
“The entire song would have to be rewritten. And maybe it’s fine the way it is,” you respond.
“What if that’s just what you think, but it would be better to give it a try?” You get a feeling he isn’t talking about the song anymore. But it’s foolish to think that way. He’s not yours, and you don’t expect him to ever be. So why are his eyes flickering with a challenge, his lips parted, his expression daring you to choose the words you can’t speak out loud?
“Then try.” The thought leaves your mouth before you’re aware of its existence. And without preparation, Vernon’s lips are on yours.
You’ve kissed boys plenty of times before, but this kiss is an electric current charging every nerve in your body. It wakes you up and reminds you this is real, he is here and kissing you like he couldn’t hold himself back for another second.
You blame the universe for how good it feels to run your hands across his shoulders and neck, the vibration of his moans against your lips only swaying you to explore further. Every instinct may be screaming at you for how wrong this situation is and how you shouldn’t take what isn’t yours. But if this is the only chance you have, the memories of it have to last a lifetime.
His tongue enters your mouth and you can’t help but moan, the feeling like honey gliding on your skin. He smirks and takes your bottom lip between his teeth. “We have to be quiet,” he whispers. The practice room may be soundproof to an extent, but you gasp at the thought of someone walking in.
“Can you be quiet for me?” Vernon asks, his hands roaming down to the hem of your graphic tee, raising it with his fingers to touch the skin underneath. The feeling makes you grab his mouth in a kiss to swallow the moan that threatens to leave yours.
You realize how good it feels to have all of him with reach. Not just the words, the laughter, the stolen glances. He’s less than a second away, and if he leaves now, it may just kill you.
Vernon’s fingers stop roaming once they sit on the waistband of your shorts. He looks deeply at you in a way that you realize is to confirm you want this as much as he does. You’ve already passed the point of holding back. What more could you lose by asking for more?
Soon enough, his fingers draw figure eights against the fabric of your underwear, teasing you with no intention of stopping. With your back pressed against the piano you bite hard on your lip to suppress your moans. Vernon kisses your neck as he keeps a steady rhythm, frustrating you in a way you’re not used to. Finding purchase on a nearby surface does nothing to help. One of your hands presses down on a scramble of piano keys that break the symphony of heavy breathing and whispered whimpers. And you feel the devilish grin on Vernon’s face, loving the writhing of your body and delicious frustration he’s putting you through.
The last thing you feel is a finger slipping inside of you before you find yourself awake in the middle of the night. You’re unsure whether it was the city below or a random sound in your room that pulled you from your dream, but you try your best for the rest of the night to steady your pounding heart.
“Dude that’s so gross. I did not need to know that!” Jihoon mimics vomiting on the laminate floor, and you chuckle in the midst of your tears.
“Shut up, man. I can’t control my dreams. And that was just the cliffnotes!”
“Dreams are one thing. Sounds like a soft core porn happening in your head to me,” he says. He gets up from the stool and shakes off his disgust. “And it was probably in one of our studios, you horndog.”
“I work here, so it may be gross but not unrealistic.” You sigh and close the lid of the piano, too deflated to play anything else. “So that’s that. I have a crush on Vernon that I did not ask for and it’s invading my entire thought process, even my fucking songwriting.”
“You know what this means right?” Jihoon smirks.
“If this means you think you can set me up on another blind date, you’re sadly mistaken.” You point your index finger at him as a visual cue to not push you further. “Not after the last date tried to explain to me the benefits of Scientology!”
“Okay, maybe that was a bust, but come on!”
You sigh, grabbing your belongings. What could it hurt to try again? Maybe the key to expelling your feelings was finding someone new. “As long as this one doesn’t try to convert me.”
──────
Sunghoon turns out to be a complete gentleman, it makes you forget why you brushed off Jihoon’s suggestion a week ago. He opens the door to the restaurant and pulls out your chair. He talks about his love for playing professional baseball and remains engaged in everything you say about the music industry. On paper, it’s a perfect date with a man wrapped in green flags. But it isn’t with Vernon, and that gnat-like thought keeps pestering you, even as Sunghoon offers to walk you home.
Hand in hand, Sunghoon continues on his diatribe regarding American versus European football, a practically one-sided conversation that makes you laugh. “And why would they call it football anyway, am I right,” Sunghoon says. “Where in the game do they ever make contact with the ball by using their foot?”
“You sound like a comedian trying to come up with a skit,” you joke.
“I could see that…maybe if my day job fails. I promise to thank you when I blow up.” Sunghoon winks. He is all kinds of attractive, as Mina would say to you, wavy hair and a strong build to reflect his profession. He is perfect for you. So why don’t you feel a flutter in your chest when he squeezes your hand or any heat in your cheeks when he makes a flirty comment?
The answer comes in someone’s voice screaming your name into the night. You turn your head to find Vernon running down the street, a bag from 7-Eleven in his grasp and flying around in the air.
“Who’s this guy,” Vernon says when he finally catches up to you. His brows are furrowed and his chest is rising and falling quickly, but you blame the latter on his lack of exercise outside of practice. That and the thick material of his matching hoodie and sweatpants.
Sunghoon sharply lets go of your hand, a blush erupting on his face. “I’m so sorry, man. I didn’t know she had a-“
“No, she doesn’t.” You glare at Vernon. “This is a friend of mine. We work at the same company.”
Sunghoon breathes a sigh of relief, but Vernon remains indifferent as they shake hands and exchange greetings. “Glad to know I didn’t go on a date with someone already spoken for!”
You and Vernon look at Sunghoon in confusion. The speckle of interest you had in Sunghoon immediately sours, but only Vernon voices his disapproval. “This isn’t the 50s. She can speak for herself, man,” Vernon replies. His face turns from confusion to annoyance.
“And she thinks she can walk home alone. Thank you for the dinner, Sunghoon. You have my number.” You ignore the frown on Sunghoon’s face and turn to Vernon. “As for you, I’ll see you at work.”
You leave the two of them as you continue your walk home, but Vernon quickly catches up. “He seemed like a gem, huh?”
You scoff. “You didn’t really present yourself as a prize either, Vernon.”
“Do you blame me? The guy was a total neanderthal!”
“Maybe I like neanderthals. From experience, they seem to have great senses of humor. Especially in the misogyny department.” You crack a smile as he chuckles, but you try to hold onto your anger a smidgen longer. “You didn’t have to be so rude.”
“My rudeness was based on my intuition. And I was right, so you’re welcome.” Vernon ruffles through the bag and hands you a packet of sour Skittles. “And can you be mad at someone who got you your favorite candy?”
“How did you know you would even see me tonight to give me this?”
“I would’ve just saved them until the next time I saw you. You said sour Skittles always make your day better,” he says.
“Like three years ago,” you mumble, a gnawing pain suddenly within your chest.
“Well, as far as I could tell your candy preferences haven’t changed.” Vernon is blissfully unaware of how much his memory and the measly bag of candy splits your heart in two.
You look away from him to wipe a tear from your eye, but for the first time, he can tell something in your demeanor has shifted. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He puts both hands on either side of your face, his face suddenly becoming angry, a side he rarely shows. “Did that guy do something before I-“
You shake your head suddenly. “I’ve just been having a weird couple weeks. Just a lot of feelings before the gala, I guess.” You swallow and stare down at your feet, letting the lie seep in.
“I know you. This isn’t pre-show jitters,” he responds. His hands still sit comfortably on your cheeks. Despite the October chill, you wonder if he feels how hot your face has become since he;s touched it.
For the first time in a while, you look up at him and hold his gaze. You ask yourself a million questions as he stares back and the silence envelops you both. You hope they’re loud enough to reach him, to know if he shares the thoughts that have plagued your mind day after day. Do you know how easy it is to fall for you? Why do you make it so hard to deny this fucking feeling?
Someone calling both of your names pierces the quiet. Vernon immediately lets go of you and you step further away from him. You don’t realize you’ve made it to the company apartments until Mina steps out of the darkness, an accusatory glance in your direction. “What are you guys doing out this late?”
“Snack run,” Vernon answers immediately, pointing to the bag in his hand.
“Just coming back from a date,” you say quickly after Vernon.
Mina raises her eyebrows and gives a small smile. “Think he’ll be your date to the gala?”
“Time will tell,” you say in a clipped tone. You begin walking up the cobblestone pathway to the apartment entrance. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”
You don’t bother looking back at Vernon or Mina. You are sure if you do, every secret in your heart will reveal itself and the thought of losing both of them at once is more than you can take. Falling into a listless sleep, you do not know if there are any winners in this kind of fight.
──────
The vibe as soon as you enter the studio is tense. The girls sit in a huddle around Mina, the subject of the attention bawling on Jana’s shoulder. You immediately run up to her, but Jeonghi stops you short. “I wouldn’t, kid.”
“What the hell happened,” you ask, concern flooding you.
“Like you don’t know.” Mina sniffles, dabbing at her eyes.
“What does it take for you to answer your phone,” Naejin says. She grabs a box of tissues to hand Mina.
Suddenly, you notice the girls’ accusatory glances and your concern nosedives into defense. “My phone was dead after I got back from my date. And I forgot to charge it before coming here so-“
“Convenient,” Jana responds.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You ask.
“It means that my boyfriend—oh sorry, I should say ex-boyfriend now.” Mina says, standing up from her spot on the couch with Jana to tread closer to you. “My ex decides to tell me he has feelings for someone else right after I see the two of you last night way too close for comfort? You’re right Jana, that’s pretty fucking convenient.” Mina’s tone cuts you deep. Despite the pain and fear inside of you, all you can think about is how profoundly inconvenient it was of you to go wireless for 12 hours.
“One, even if you don’t believe me, I did not think I would see Vernon last night let alone you.” Mina scoffs at the response, but you continue anyway. “Second, I have no idea who he could possibly have feelings for other than you, Min. And that’s the truth.”
“You’re telling me you absolutely have no feelings for him?” Mina asks you, her bottom lip trembling. Up to this point, her voice has been clipped and angry, but the last words break by the end. You thought last night broke your heart, but this is true heartbreak.
You never intended to hurt her, not after all the work you both put into succeeding together. Music and the people you love mean everything to you, but how can both be so inextricably intertwined in this horrible predicament?
The silence screams louder than either of you ever could, and something in Mina’s face shatters. Your friendship? Her trust? You aren’t sure.
“You know what? Let’s just cool off until the gala this weekend,” Naejin says.
“We’re supposed to practice today,” you mutter. A tear escapes your eye, and Mina lets out a breath of disbelief.
“I get broken up with and you have the balls to cry right now?”
“Mina, lay off for a second,” Jeonghi interjects.
“We’ll deal with Park. Just, maybe lay low until then,” Naejin responds to you. She gives a parting nod. Jana barely looks at you as you leave, and Jeonghi says goodbye in her usual apathetic tone.
Only as you walk down the hallway and to the glass doors of the entrance do you allow yourself to sob. If only feelings could remain buried if you simply wished for them to. It would make the pain much easier to swallow if you never let them come up to the surface at all.
You think about how a nap may do you some good until you run into Vernon. He says your name, a breathless plea, but you shut him down immediately. “I can’t do this right now.”
“I was worried when you weren’t answering your phone,” he says. He walks forwards with his hands outstretched, visibly concerned about the tears falling down your face. But you refuse. You back away every time he tries to move closer. “Can we talk, please? It doesn’t have to be now, but—“
“Hansol,” you beg, the use of his given name startling him. “When I tell you I can’t, I mean it.”
He swallows. His head turns downward, recognizing he won’t get the outcome he wants. The push and pull between your feelings about the argument with Mina and wanting to tell him you want more than anything to talk to him—do nothing with him, even—makes your stomach turn. “I get it. Just please charge your phone.”
He walks away and in the direction of the Pledis building. It would be so easy to run after him, but the frailty of your strength forces you to walk forward. There is no timing worse than right now to discuss what’s happened in the last 24 hours.
And still, the feelings in his heart could be reserved for someone else anyway. The stupidity you’d feel would grow tenfold if this situation ended with him actually not wanting you at all.
When you crack open your apartment door, you see the Skittles bag strewn on your coffee table. The makeshift bandages you used to mend your heart on your walk home in silence rip off. I fucked this up so perfectly didn’t I runs through your head on loop, the perfect lyric to describe your pain. The laminate wood flooring’s warmth welcomes you as you fall apart.
──────
The ballroom stage is cluttered with instruments. From your vantage point backstage, you see numerous suit and ties in the crowd at their assigned tables waiting patiently as well as the young trainees. You even see all of the guys at their own table from this distance, cracking jokes and whispering quietly. Except for Vernon, his expression unreadable. He’s never been too much of an expressive guy, even less so at events. But seeing him indifferent to the people around him forces you to close the curtain.
“Mina can’t just be AWOL right now,” Jeonghi says, yanking at the strings of her dress. “God, why did they have to make us wear these poofy babydoll dresses? I feel like a baby.”
The outfit doesn’t thrill you either, but it was nice the wardrobe team dressed you all in the same white attire. Save for Mina, who’s supposed to be in a blue version of the outfit due to her title as the lead singer.
“You look great. And I think the word you’re looking for is a cherub,” Jana says.
“Babies and cherubs aren’t mutually exclusive, J,” Jeonghi bites back.
“Anyway!” Naejin cuts in. “Let’s just focus on the positives. Mina still has ten minutes. She’s probably getting final touches on makeup.”
You nod, sitting on a stool an acceptable distance away. It’s bad enough you haven’t seen any of them since that day in the studio. It was another thing if Mina did not show up on purpose. You wouldn’t blame her, though.
The only people who tried to fix your self-isolation were Jihoon and Mingyu . And 90% of their discussions with you were about how much of a wreck Vernon was. You realized it was better to avoid talking altogether. No one could pick apart your thoughts or words in solitude.
Naejin sits next to you when she grabs a spare stool. “Can I just ask a question?” You turn your head in response. “Did you really not know?”
“Naejin-“
“I mean, it seemed a bit obvious to me they wouldn’t last.”
“Nae! That’s really fucked up to say.” Jana casts judgemental eyes at the both of you.
Naejin shrugs in response. “It’s not my fault if I noticed the kid’s eyes were elsewhere.”
“For your information, guys, no,” you interject. “No, I did not know that they’d break up. As for Vernon, he’s an oaf. He could like the checkout girl at the fish market for all we know.” Naejin shakes her head, a smug smile on her face. “What?”
“Nothing, just…it’s one thing to be oblivious. It’s another to willfully hide how you feel.”
Jana stops pacing and turns to you. “Do you actually like him? Like for real?”
You look down at your hands, trying to compose the right response. “I think I always have.”
The breath that leaves you once you confess feels like the lightest air you’ve ever inhaled and exhaled. It’s the first one in a while that comes out with ease. In the next second, feeling freer, all the words come out in a rush. “But I didn’t think I could act on it with the other stuff in the way. The band, the company, all that shit. Then it was him and Mina, and she was so happy. It seemed like a sign. Like there would always be other factors involved. But, I realized it was just an excuse to pretend I didn’t feel the way I did. It made it easier, until it wasn’t.”
“Why didn’t you say anything to me back then?” Mina’s voice makes you turn your head, and the tears immediately pool in your eyes. She looks beautiful, her makeup and hair in perfect precision. But the frown on her face tells you she feels anything but. You wish the source of this fracture between the two of you didn’t stem from you to begin with.
“Don’t ruin your makeup!” Jana screams.
“So not important right now,” Jeonghi says.
Mina lovingly huffs at them before turning back to you. “I never would’ve went out with him if I knew you were feeling like this.”
“I swear to you I didn’t realize all of this until a few weeks ago.” You stand up. “I’m a dumbass with timing, I guess.”
“You are,” she agrees. Her own tears begin to turn her eyes glassy. “But I’m one too, for not realizing you hid all of this.” She sighs. “I’m not saying I’m happy right now, but you’re not the only one who kept secrets.”
“I would’ve kept them forever if I could’ve. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you.”
Neither of you know what to do in that moment. Friendships have survived much worse. At least, you hope so.
Of course Mr. Park decides now is the time to run backstage. “You’re on in a minute beauties!” He wipes the sweat from his forehead and runs back in the direction he came.
The other girls get on the stage to start prepping. You hold out your hand to Mina, a silent request to work on your relationship. Mina immediately laces her fingers through yours. In that moment, you’re ready to see your shared dream come true.
──────
As predicted, the performance went without a hitch. Mina, in spite of her obvious nerves, wowed the crowd with her stage presence. The instrumental sounded perfect, to the point executives commented on the smallest details. Each one you were introduced to was excited to see Cloud 9’s impending success. Some of the boys congratulated you when you made it off the stage as well. Even Jihoon had a tear in his eye. But the one you wanted and dreaded to see was evidently missing.
You saw him during the set, but Vernon’s absence is partially a blessing in disguise. You don’t want to talk to him here in a crowded room of people you barely know. And not with Mina in close proximity either, despite the tentative peace treaty you’ve both made.
You walk out of the ballroom, unnoticed. In the familiar hallways, you find yourself heading to the studio. Maybe the piano will have some answers for you.
Of course, Vernon is sitting at the piano waiting for you.
“Not surprised you’d come here.” Vernon chuckles to himself, He swipes his brown bangs from his eyes before standing to face you.
“You know I hate crowds.” You cross your arms. Even in one of your safe space, you feel unarmed.
“How’s it feel to be on the fast-track to fame?”
You take a deep breath, a smile lingering on your lips. “Like the hard work’s just begun.”
His grin is the only spotlight you want on you after the haze of pyrotechnics and shuttering cameras. And it feels good to see it after witnessing his somber mood earlier.
“Can I just say,” he starts, “you look beautiful.”
You put your hands in front of your face. A laugh bubbles up from deep in your stomach. “You can’t just say stuff like that to me, Vernon.”
“I’ve been wanting to since that night last week,” he confesses. “So I thought I’d start with that, seeing as the first time we’ve talked in forever.”
Willing yourself to still your frantic pulse, you say, “Well you still can’t say that shit without consequences, you know.”
“And what would those be?” The curiosity in his eyes and close-mouthed grin jumpstarts your heart yet again. How was there ever a chance you could bury your feelings when he looked at you like that?
Inside this room, in the setting of the dream that jumpstarted all of this, you take the chance to finally let the floodgates open.
“Because I’ll have no choice but to kiss you. And then tell you I’ve liked you since the second you taught me to tie shoelaces one-handed because you thought it was the coolest thing you’ve ever learned. And how I admire how much you care about others before yourself. And how effortless you are at performing even though when anyone tells you that you think they’re a big fat liar. And then I’ll say maybe after realizing all of this and saying it out loud that maybe I lo-“
You don’t know what you feel first: the pressing of Vernon’s palms to your cheeks or his lips against yours. But you’re sure the feeling of his touch in reality blows both your expectations and fantasies out of the water. If the kiss in your dream felt like the fire of electricity, this one is the calmest pool you’ve ever swam in. It mends all of your anxieties, quiets all of your fears. It could make any skeptic believe that the world’s greatest power is in two mouths crashing into each other.
When you separate, your mouths still inches away from each other’s, Vernon says, “Maybe I love you too.” In a millisecond he presses his lips back to yours.
You always wondered what it would feel like to touch him in this way, and now that you can, you’re a mess. You pull him as close as you can by the lapels of his suit-jacket before he rips off the article of clothing altogether.
“They’re gonna realize the both of us are missing,” you whisper, hands still roaming from his chest to the nape of his neck.
“It’s a big party. What are the odds they notice before we come back,” he teases. If the boy could bring you any closer, you’re hard-pressed into believing he would. You giggle into his mouth and motion towards the door.
“Just let me lock it. Or put a chair in front of it, at least?” He groans in protest but steps away from you to oblige your request. He ensures the door is inaccessible with the turn of the lock and jiggles the doorknob to prove it. “Thank you,” you say.
He stalks back towards you and hungrily pulls you in. He bites your lip as you clutch onto his neck tie. “You really want to see me shirtless, don’t you?
“Fuck you,” you joke. He instinctively roams his lips down to your neck, sucking the sensitive spot of your collarbone. You moan in response.
“Planning on it.”
Vernon guides the two of you to the grey leather armchair parallel to the grand piano. You wonder if he can feel the jackhammer replacing your heart as he kisses the top of your cleavage. The skin feels on fire in the wake of his fingers and mouth touching you.
He gently pushes you into a sitting position on the chair, but when you reach for the buckle of his belt, he stops you with his hand. “Not here.” A question marks your expression, but he chuckles. “Don’t worry. One of us is going to get off tonight.”
Sinking to his knees, he rests his hands on the outsides of your thighs. He kisses your skin softly, helping you relax. He travels further up your leg, his head centimeters from between your legs. The moment seems unreal, the boy you love seconds away from going down on you in the studio where anyone could pass by and hear the sounds coming from the room.
Not long ago, this was only the stuff of your fantasies. And you almost kick yourself for asking, but the words come out nonetheless. “Tell me this is real.”
He chuckles, lips still pressed to the inside of your thigh. “It’s real.” He looks up, part of his jaw obscured by the fabric of your dress. “And if it isn’t, I don’t want to wake up.”
With ease, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and slides them off. He presses a tender, slow kiss to your clit. You moan, immediately grabbing onto his hair when he started weaving circles around your center with his tongue, the pace both too perfect and not enough. You wanted to feel him inside of you, but you knew as well as he did you didn’t want your first time in the company building.
But still, you mewl and raise your hips up to meet his face, loving the sensation of his lips bringing you closer. “You like that,” he asks, gently prodding your entrance with his index finger. “D’you want more, baby?”
You nod vigorously, yanking tighter to the ends of his brown hair. “Fuck yes, please and thank you.”
His laugh reverberates against your pussy, the feeling outmatched by the sudden press of his finger inside of you. You let out a breathless gasp, your head falling back into the fabric of the armchair. Fuck he’s too good at this.
If only you had confessed the way you felt to him earlier than now. Maybe then you would have known how good this feeling, both lust and love interwoven, could be. But that didn’t matter, did it? Now, you had this boy who said he thought the world of you appreciating you in the most carnal way possible.
“You’re incredible,” he grunts, adding a second finger. You let out a long moan in response. “I can’t wait to be inside of you.”
“Fuck, Hansol,” You cry out, his pace suddenly increasing as his tongue makes slow laps at your clit. “I want to come.”
“You will, I promise.” He suddenly works overtime on you, his fingers curling just enough. With the depth and speed alone, you feel your orgasm within arm’s reach.
When he tells you how beautiful you are again and with the fast flick of his tongue and pressing of his fingers, you unravel. In a sense of irony, it feels better than Cloud 9. He sees you through it beautifully, only taking his mouth away from you when you stop bucking into his touch.
Vernon pulls you into his lap, both of his lips glistening. He quickly wipes his mouth before kissing you gingerly. The look of shy glee on his face makes your heart swell. If only they made that smile for purchase, the universe would be a much happier place.
“Hi,” he says. He wipes at the sweat building up on your brow, looking at you with all the love a person can have for another person.
You giggle. “You eat me out and the first thing you say is ‘Hi’?”
“I couldn’t think of anything else, to be honest.” You both share a joyous laugh at his ridiculousness.
“Hi to you too.”
You barely remember the beginning of the day and all the emotions you harbored before walking into the studio, or all the frustration pent up inside of you from the past few weeks. The only important thing had his arms wrapped around you and all his attention on you, determined to conquer whatever happened next together.
♢ genre: fluff, bits of angst and crack(?)
♢ word count: 4k
♢ summary: it may sound crazy, but you have good reason to believe your best friend may have a crush on your mom.
read on ao3!
The first inkling of suspicion began with a bouquet of flowers.
Driving home, you had expected your mother to be in her rose garden by the time you arrived. She often spent the afternoons tending to the flowers in the backyard. Whether it was clipping leaves from the stems or simply soaking in the summer sun, she enjoyed her hobby. Likewise, you liked that she had something to take comfort in while your father was at the office until the late afternoon and you and your younger brother were off with friends or in class.
What you didn’t expect was Hansol’s car to be parked in the driveway. You could recognize his beat-up Volkswagen anywhere, never mind by the house where it was stationed countless times before today. He had morning classes before yours, so it was common you’d come home to find his car parked on the grass near the street and him inside with his feet up on the family couch, headphones in and head bopping back and forth. However, this time, that wasn’t the case. You checked the garage and kitchen, but neither his bag, his headphones, nor the man himself were anywhere to be found.
Fed up with the busy day you had, you walked through the living room and towards the glass door leading out to the yard. You stopped dead in your tracks though once you saw your friend and your mother in deep conversation. Your mother was in her usual gardening gear: a blue gingham apron tied to her waist and her old visor sitting atop her head. Hansol was wearing a Metal Gear Solid t-shirt and cargo shorts, not a speck of dirt on him compared to your mother who had soil-stained hands.
With your palm still on the door handle, your eyes darted to the bouquet of flowers in Hansol’s, wondering if you had to blink twice to see the scene in front of you clearer.
“Hansol, I can’t believe it,” your mother spoke, eyes alight. Her words were breathless but loud enough for you to hear through the door.
“I know. It took me long enough right?” Hansol laughed. His smile was usually bright, brighter than it should’ve been allowed to be, but his voice was shaking and the curves of his body fidgeting in a way you had never seen before.
A blush sprang up on both of their cheeks, and you felt bile in the back of your throat. Your whole life, the only man capable of making your mother blush was your father, whether by making an inside joke or kissing her without warning.
She took the flowers from him, inspecting each one with only the knowledge of someone with a green thumb. The entire time, she beamed. “They’re perfect.”
“I know it’s sudden—“
“You don’t have to explain it to me. I understand.” She placed her hand on his forearm, squeezing it with either motherly reassurance or something else entirely. “Don’t worry, honey. Our secret’s safe with me.” Your mom winked.
You backed away, tiptoeing until you made it to the stairs and ran up to your room. More than a dozen questions ran through your head once you sat down on your bed. Why was he giving Mom flowers? Why were they acting so weird about it? Where did he even find flowers? How did he pay for them? He just got fired from Prince’s Pretzels.
The thoughts swam on, circling and burrowing in your mind. Then, a theory broke through and made you freeze in your spot. He has a crush on her?
No fucking way.
Hansol never gave you a reason to suspect such a thing. He didn’t joke with Seungkwan or Doyoung about it, at least not to your knowledge. Of course, he never would tell you if he did, but you were certain he respected you and your family more than enough not to.
Still, you knew he had dated some junior cheerleader his freshman year of high school. Guys were known for finding older women attractive, but could that mean that attraction, particularly Hansol’s, could extend to your mother?
“That’s ridiculous,” you whispered out loud to yourself, pushing the speculation out of your mind to stop yourself from feeling nauseous. There was no way on the planet one of your best friends would be into your mom. And even if he did, he definitely wouldn’t act out on those feelings and expect you to be okay with it, right?
Your door opened out of nowhere. Before whoever was on the other side suspected you were acting abnormal, you grabbed the novel on your nightstand and flipped it open to a random page. You pretended to read as Hansol strolled in with a bag of chips in his hand and no bouquet in sight.
“I didn’t realize you were back. Did Professor Lee let you out that early,” Hansol asked, hopping into bed next to you. He reached his hand into the bag of chips, putting a good amount of them into his mouth. You set your book down in disbelief, the guy outside shaking like a leaf so foreign compared to your best friend stuffing his face next to you. How could he be so nonchalant?
“Y-Yeah,” you stammered, “Lee’s kid had some sort of issue at daycare so he ran out half an hour before we could do lab-work.”
“Sweet. Time for Hulu.“ He turned to you, his face looking at yours with a tinge of confusion. “Are you alright?”
Besides the fact that I think you’re into my mom?
“Yeah, everything’s great.” You stuck your own hand into the bag, feigning a smile as you popped a chip in your mouth. He smiled back at you with joy, believing your guise, and grabbed the TV remote. His shoulder brushed yours as he reached over, and you felt the static of his shirt cling to your sweater. Something akin to a spark lit inside of your chest, but before you could ruminate on it further, you stamped it out.
Hansol flickered through the show and film previews with blissful ignorance of how unsettled you were by what you knew and what feelings it brought to the surface.
You couldn’t help but speculate more after Sunday dinner, three days after the bouquet episode.
Hansol and Joshua in tow, they had spent a good portion of the night discussing FIFA and current music releases with your brother. He was only a few years younger than you and your friends, but he got along with them so well it was like you rarely needed to be there for them to hang out. Your parents had been deep in their own conversations all night, mostly about your father’s new business lead and your mother’s visit to see her sister on Friday.
They had touched hands throughout, happy to be in each other’s presence when they didn’t have time during the week. You could tell on your mom’s face. And Hansol looked like he always did—ridiculously chipper and goofy. There was no way two individuals would ruin such happy lives for some irrational and pointless affair.
Once you had cleared the table, you strolled over to your mother at the kitchen sink, eager to help her. “You don’t need to do this, I got it.” Your mom shooed you off. She loved doing chores on her own for some ungodly reason, but you tried all the time to be included to ease the burden. Your father, brother, and the guys all wandered off, and you wanted to help even if your mother didn’t ask for it.
“Can you let me help you just this once,” you replied, a pout on your lips.
“How about this? Go grab your brother’s hamper from his room. That way after I wash his clothes he’ll actually have something to wear to school on Monday.”
You laughed and kissed your mom on the cheek before walking away. Your brother’s bedroom was right across from yours upstairs, so you took the usual trek to pester him and complete your mother’s request all at once.
A step away from the door, you could make out the rumbling sounds of a video game and your brother’s voice. “Dude, are you sure about this? I mean, I know it’s how you feel, but is it worth fucking things up?”
Your eyes widened.
“He wouldn’t be asking you if it wasn’t, dumbass,” Joshua chimed in. The night’s dinner almost made its way back up your throat, knowing the “he” in question was neither your brother nor Joshua. “But he’s got a point, Han. You’ve had more than enough time to spit it out.”
Finally, you heard Hansol speak up. “I know, okay? It seems like the worst timing, but I really care about her. I may even— Look, I know I should consider all the complicated shit in the middle. But I have to give it a shot.”
“Well, I can’t stop you, man. Just do it before you chicken out,” your brother responded.
You can stop him, you fucking idiot.
You stepped into the room, and the boys were surprised to see you there as though you had entered private territory. “What are you guys chatting about,” you asked outright, fed up with speculating.
“None of your business,” your brother replied, never looking away from the television.
“Don’t forget who helped change your diapers, asshole.”
“It was nothing, honestly,” Hansol interrupted, flinging the controller at Joshua. “Take my place. I was dying out there, anyway.”
Hansol looked at you with his typical warmth and concern, but that fresh, foreign spark rose up inside of you. This week had been an amalgamation of oddities. Why did now have to be the time for your feelings to be so tangled up? Especially when he looked at you the way he did so easily without noticing its effect on you?
Or could it be that you finally noticed it and that newfound clarity scared the shit out of you?
“What’d you need,” he asked.
“I was grabbing the asshole’s hamper. Mom asked for it.” Your brother stuck his tongue out at you in response, and you kindly sent the same expression his way with the addition of your middle finger.
Hansol laughed. “I can help.” He took it from your hands and made his way to the door. When you didn’t move, he turned his head and smiled. “You coming?”
With a nod, you remained silent as you both exited your brother’s bedroom.
You hated that you were questioning the simple act of him helping you do an uncomplicated task for your mother. You hated how Hansol seemed unbothered by what he had been hiding from you, all while you both walked down the stairs and handed over the hamper to your mother, the two none the wiser to the fact that you were questioning them. You hated a lot of things in the moment, the biggest one being the jumble of questions in your brain that got bigger with every suspicious moment you caught Hansol in. And when the night came to a close, you knew all the aching feelings inside of you weren’t going away until you got to the bottom of the situation.
“You can’t be serious!” Rin cackled, almost doubling over and running into a random stranger. The mall was quiet on a Monday at 12 o’clock, a few mall-crawlers and the occasional mom-with-a-stroller passing the both of you. Professor Lee had to run out for another parental emergency, so you appreciated the free impromptu day off from class. It allowed for you to deal with your issues head-on, especially with the advice of a friend. Typically, you would run to Hansol with a problem this big, but seeing as he was part of the problem itself, it hurt even more that you couldn’t confide in him.
Abnormal was the only word to describe how it felt dodging his phone calls and text messages, only replying once or twice in the past few days. You gave him enough so he wouldn’t notice anything weird but without any of the typical humor you both exchanged. How could you tell your best friend that you were thinking such things about him, only made worse by the feelings budding underneath the surface of those thoughts?
“You sound like a goddamn crazy person,” Rin said. Her bags bounced off of her hips as she walked, but she didn’t notice. She just looked at you like a you were the funniest and most insane woman on the planet. To her credit, you didn’t blame her.
“I know, okay,” you whined, “I know it sounds nuts, but you haven’t seen what I’ve seen this past week and a half. He’s been so weird around me, and then when I see him and her together…” You blanched, horrified that you made your mother sound like the other woman in this fucked-up equation. “Anyway, I just needed to ask you what you would do in this kind of situation.”
Rin scoffed. “Well, I would first not expect my best friend to want to bang my mom, that’s for sure.”
“What the fuck, Rin?”
“Okay, too far,” She admitted with a smile. “What I mean is you have to think about how realistic you’re being here. Like come on, don’t you think he would’ve shown some signs a lot earlier if he was really into your mom? I know we’re not teenagers anymore, but Hansol has never been the type to hide his feelings.”
“I get it, okay Rin? But how do you rationalize any guy your age and—“ You stopped yourself when you noticed Rin’s smile fade slowly, eyes alight with surprise and confusion until they widened completely. “What?”
You turned in the direction of her gaze. The sight of your mother and your best friend walking towards a jewelry store was one that stung to the bone. Your mother dragged Hansol to the entrance. His eyes were skeptical but the two of them shared knowing, humorous glances. They vanished into the store hand in hand. You felt the pit you had been making a home for in your stomach for the past week expand like a balloon. The weight of it became so heavy you couldn’t feel anything besides it, its mass too agonizing to bear any more today.
“I gotta go home,” you croaked, turning back in the direction of the main entrance.
“Hey, wait a second! Maybe it’s not what you—“ Rin tried to put a reassuring hand on your shoulder but you brushed her off.
“Rin, I just need to go home.”
The house was still vacant by the time you arrived home. You sank into the living room couch, clutching onto a frilly throw pillow for support. Not only was the predicament getting ridiculous, but so unnecessarily painful. If they could just prove your suspicions either wrong or right, you could move on and forget the whole thing ever happened.
After another twenty minutes of contemplating, the front door opened. Your mother had no shopping bag in her hand or any outward evidence she had been at the mall, only her satchel strapped across her chest and a Lowe’s bag filled with what you assumed was more flower seeds. “Hey kiddo. Didn’t think you’d be home so early! Was class rescheduled again,” Your mother asked.
The carefree tone of her voice spiked a nerve, and before you could contain yourself, you said, “Why do you care? Worried I’ll find out something you don’t want me to?”
Your mother’s face contorted into surprised confusion with a twinge of hurt in her eyes. How could she pretend for this long with this much effort?
“Forget it, I’m going upstairs,” you said before she could respond. Your shoulder almost knocked into hers as you passed her to make it to your room. You were grateful you didn’t get closer, otherwise you would’ve broken down or screamed and it would’ve made it worse. All you wanted to do was lay down and forget for a minute.
The pillow was soft under your head as you tossed and turned, your desire to take a nap outweighed by your stubbornness to know what was going on. After a minute of struggling under the covers, you pressed your back flat against the mattress and splayed out like a starfish, listening to the cars pass on your street and eyes boring into the popcorn ceiling.
I can’t do this anymore.
With a deep sigh, you promised yourself the next time you saw Hansol, you would ask him to tell you the truth. And whatever the truth was, you would be grateful for the burden being lifted off of your shoulders, even if it hurt.
One dull Psychology lesson later, Wednesday was shaping up to be one of the better days of the last two weeks. You had spent all of yesterday hanging out with Rin and your mother, Rin biting her tongue for a majority of the time and your mother showing you the newest garden catalog she got in the mail.
You had been taken aback by the fact your mother so easily forgot your outburst the day prior, but you were grateful to pretend for one day that things weren’t in silent disarray. Maybe you could fake it too for a little longer, just until the next time you saw Hansol and then everything would be out in the open, and that was what you were afraid of most.
Arriving home, you mother and father were in the kitchen, the aroma of pasta and garlic bread wafting into the hallway for you to smell immediately as you closed the door.
“Hey! Good to see you before five, stranger.” Your dad was wearing his “Kiss the Cook” apron that your mother bought for him a Christmas ago, even though she was the best cook of the two of them.
“What are you doing home so early,” you asked, beaming.
“I closed another account with one of the firm’s head honchos, so they gave me the rest of the week off as a thank-you,” he responded.
“And thank you, indeed.” Your mom winked, mixing the sauce and pasta shells together. “Since this is the last time I can think of that your dad has had time away, we’re going to stay in the city for a few days to celebrate.”
“Perfect time too. Your mother’s been raving about that botanical showcase for a month now.”
“You remembered!” Your mother grinned.
“Of course. How could I forget,” your dad asked, coming up behind her and giving her a kiss on the back of the head.
What. The. Fuck?
Did you imagine the past few days in your mind? It couldn’t be that easy for things to go back to normal.
“Honey, I forgot to bring in my gardening gloves. Can you get them for me,” your mother asked you with a smile.
“Sure, no problem,” you replied. Dropping your bag near the kitchen island, you walked towards the glass patio door that led to the backyard. Maybe things were that simple and it could be like the worry and hurt had never existed. It was all in your head, you assured yourself.
Then, surprisingly, you came face to face with Hansol in the backyard, a bouquet of flowers in his hands.
He was wearing his favorite plaid blue button-up with a wife-beater peeking out underneath, a pair of denim jeans to match. The flowers were identical to the ones you had seen Hansol give your mother a week ago. The most you had ever seen Hansol style his hair was by putting a thick comb through it, but it was obvious he primped himself up.
Your chest sank, perplexed as to why he was at your house and if this had to do with what had been going on recently. Despite the realization you couldn’t shrug off those events, you were happy to finally be alone with him after what felt like eons ago.
What were you doing with my mom?
Why is everything so confusing?
Do you know that I’ve missed you?
“Hey loser,” you replied, knowing what came out didn’t convey everything that was on your mind. And while you tried to sound lighthearted, the words were flat as they left your lips. Nevertheless, Hansol replied with his boyish smile.
He stepped closer to you, but you held a hand up to stop him. “Before you say whatever you’re about to say to me, I need to say something first,” you interrupted him, feeling a sudden cord around your throat.
“I know what’s been going on… between you and my mom.” Tears welled in the back of your throat as Hansol looked at you with a gaped mouth and wide eyes, speechless. “And I may not understand it, but I do know my mom is an amazing person and it’s not crazy to imagine she was a catch in her day, weird as that sounds,” you said, holding back a flinch.
“That being said,” you continued, “you’re my best friend, Han. And I—“ No matter how hard you tried to or how many times you had said those three words to him in the past, they struck differently now. The realization had been there for awhile, planted somewhere down the line and in the smallest of ways, but it had grown and sprouted like the flowers in his hands until you couldn’t hide it anymore. But now because of this predicament, you wondered if you would ever be able to say you loved him the way you yearned to.
“—I just want you to be happy,” you whispered, tears falling slowly down your face. “And while this may make you happy, I don’t know if I can accept it, and if that means that we can’t be friends anymore, then—“
As quickly as you had said the words, Hansol dropped the bouquet of flowers and strode forward, pressing his palms to either side of your face and kissing you hard.
You stood there for a moment, stunned it was happening and instantly, extremely shaken by how wrong all of the signs had been. “Idiot” was too easy of a word to describe how you felt and how you had been acting, coming to such a ludicrous conclusion before you had all the facts in front of you. But it didn’t completely explain what Hansol had been doing all those times you caught him in less-than-stellar acts. The answers could wait until later, though.
Shifting your focus back on your best friend, you kissed Hansol back and grabbed onto the front of his white tank peaking out of his plaid blue shirt. You both stood there clung tight to one another until you heard a whistle come from the window that looked into the kitchen. “I know you’re in love and all but quit making out, you two. You’re still my daughter,” Your dad yelled.
You both separated immediately, tiny but meaningful blushes on both of your faces.
“Why now,” you asked.
Hansol shrugged, breathless. “I don’t know, I just— I just remember walking to the cafe one morning and wanting to show these new lyrics I had written the night before. And then when I was waiting in line I wanted to buy you a cold brew because I know without one before your morning World Lit class you go ballistic,” he said, a laugh erupting from both of your throats. Your eyes became watery again as he spoke. “I woke up wanting to do a lot of things with you, and for you, and I guess I knew after I realized that that I wanted nothing more than to just be with you, whether you wanted that too or not.”
You wrapped your arms around him in a hug when he finished his speech, thinking about how ridiculous he was for believing somewhere inside of him you wouldn’t want everything he wanted and more. Even if that meant watching dumb falling compilations with him on Youtube or listening to his mixtapes that he would never finish, you would do it for him.
“Now, what the hell were you saying about me liking your mom?” You could hear your dad’s chuckle and your mother gasp in the kitchen, the two clearly eavesdropping on your conversation.
“It’s a long story,” you replied, “but I had seen you bring my mom flowers—“
“Which I was asking her about because I know she would know what you’d like,” he interrupted. “Oh!” He turned and quickly picked the bouquet back up, dusting off the wrapping paper that held the flowers in place. “For you.”
You laughed and took the flowers with a smile. “And I heard you and my brother talking last time you and Josh came over for dinner.”
“And we were obviously…“ He had a playful look in his eyes, waiting for you to finish the sentence as a way of teasing you.
“About me, jerk, I get it.” You scoffed. “But then why were you at the mall with my mom a few days ago?”
“What, were you spying on me?!”
“It was an honest coincidence!”
Hansol rolled his eyes and placed his hands in his pocket. “Well, I was gonna wait until after our date to give this to you, but fuck it.” A box inside of his palm caught your attention. When he opened it, a pair of golden teardrop earrings glistened in the afternoon sunlight. You gawked, but Hansol stopped you, knowing where your thoughts were going. “They were within my budget, so don’t tell me to take them back. All those tips I saved from Prince’s paid off, even if I could’ve done better.”
“Shut up, they’re beautiful.” They were textured but a simple yellow-gold color.
“You always said necklaces made your neck itchy,” he said.
You beamed ear to ear and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. This was more than you could have imagined. At the beginning of last week, you wouldn’t have predicted a bouquet of flowers you believed were for someone else would lead to such a surprisingly beautiful conclusion. And there was still more to come, but hopefully what was waiting for the both you involved less bizarre antics and misunderstandings.
“I love you, loser.”
author’s note: I’m back!! After a million years!! I am so glad to be back on here and writing again. I missed you guys and i missed this, just writing for the hell of it and not worrying about all the stuff that kept me away for so long. I hope you all love this story as much as I do and I can’t wait for you to read what else I have coming! x
Synopsis: In which the pizza isn’t the only thing keeping you going back for more.
Genre: Slice-of-PizzaLife, a hint of comedy, and very light rom-com romance
Character(s): Pizza boy!Vernon x Reader, mentions of other members
Words: 1.4k
a/n: long time no see, guys! I’ve finally finished all my exams so I guess I’m back to writing! this one has been in my draft for quite a while and I’m so glad to finally publish it. i’m really sorry if this one isn’t as long as some of my other fics! it’s kind of a warm up for me but i did really enjoy writing this one so i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i do writing it!
“This is the fourth pizza you’ve had this week.”
You could hear people shouting and laughing next door, the sound of the Mario-Kart and consoles clicking the only clue to what what was happening inside. A couple of girls passed by your door and they giggled as they saw the boy in his pizza shop polo.
You leaned on your door frame, a small smile on your face. “Nice to see you, too.”
“You’re gonna die.”
“Do I look like the kind of woman who dies?” You went to grab the pizza in his clutch only to have him hover it above his head. Above your reach.
“Vernon, give me my pizza! I paid for it!” You stood on your tiptoes as you struggled to reach the pizza box held above your head only to have the taller boy step aside.
“As your pizza delivery guy, I have the moral obligation to remind you to take care of your health.”
You let out a huff. “Wow, I’m unaware pizza deliveries come with health check-ups, too now.”
Most people would find it funny—borderline cute—for you to call your pizza boy on a first name basis but honestly, it’s exactly Vernon’s main source of worry.
Nobody should be calling their pizza guy by his first name.
If you do, there is something very wrong with you.
He had lost count over the times you rang up the shop for pizza deliveries and went to deliver to your doorstep so many times that you both built a friendship over the basis of him worrying over you constantly. It was ironic, really, when Vernon should’ve been happy that the business run by his friends is thriving thanks to you. Everytime Wonwoo rings up your order (“Pepperoni. Extra cheese.”), he can’t help but do a head count of how many times you’ve ordered within the week. He would often scold you over your lack of mind over your health but it was rather understandable as you like to call yourself a “broke college student.“
“One pizza a day keeps the doctor away.”
If you’re dead, they do. Vernon can already feel the firsts of his greying hair.
Sure, he’s a mess of his own and he’d probably have the same mindset as you if he were to be in your situation but that won’t stop him from feeling like he’s got a moral responsibility to look after you. One of you had to put on the adult shoes and he figured it had to be him.
And that’s how he found himself that Friday. In front of your dorm, holding the warm, delicious box of pizza above your head. You tried jumping several times but to no avail.
“You have to take care of yourself.” He chided as he tried to pull his best disappointed face (that he learned from Woozi when they boys aren’t paying attention to Seungcheol at meetings). “You have to start ordering less pizza. It’s not healthy for you.”
“So is school,” you retorted. He gave you an unimpressed look. He handed you the box reluctantly and you sent him a winning smile.
“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be glad you’ve got a loyal customer?” You opened the pizza box, sighing externally as the warm steam greeted your face. It took everything in you not to dive right in right there and then.
You might be hungry but you’re not a barbarian.
At least not in front of the cute guy.
How you first met him was kind of a funny story, actually.
You’ve just had the most awful week and you were hungry but didn’t have the energy to go out and eat at the cafetaria. You remember your friend Seungkwan who recommended you the new pizza place that just opened near the campus. He’d told you they’ve got amazing pizza but taste was the last thing you had in mind at that time. You just don’t want to go to sleep starving. You decided to give the shop a call to order.
“Pottee Pottee Pizza, how can I help you?” A deep voice greeted you then.
“Yes, can I order one medium pep, please?”
“One medium pepperoni pizza. Anything else?”
You chewed the insides of your mouth as you mulled over the possibilities. Should you order a portion of breadsticks? Or perhaps add some mushrooms to your pizza? A cheeky thought entered your mind. “Send your cutest pizza boy.”
You could’ve sworn the person from the other line had snorted but he quickly covered it with a cough. “Will do. That’ll be $11.99. Your pizza will be sent in about half an hour. Thank you for ordering.”
True to their words, the pizza came half an hour later and true to their words, they really did send their cutest pizza boy along with the pizza like you had requested. You were greeted with honey-glzed eyes when you first opened your door, the dark trendils of his hair partially covered under a dark green beanie. It had been raining and while the neon-colored windbreaker he doned was only partially wet, the red Jordans he was wearing was soaked and you can hear it squelch every time he shifted on his feet.
You tried to hide the embarrassment on your face as you opened your door because clearly—clearly—this guy knew that you specifically ordered for someone cute to deliver your pizza.
“Is this room 17?”
“Yes.” You said the first thing on your mind. “You’re the cutest pizza boy they have?”
“Ma’am,” he started, clearly caught off-guard as you caught his redening ears. “I’m the only pizza boy.”
You didn’t know how to feel. You’re partly offended he just called you “ma’am” when you’re obviously around his age but the other part of you almost swooned over the boyish lilt in his voice.
Unable to contain your embarrassment, you quickly took the outstretched pizza from his hand and promptly closed the door. You almost heaved a sigh of relief when you heard tentative knocks from your door. Groaning silently, you opened your door in a fraction and blushed when you caught the barely-contained smile on his face.
“You forgot to pay.”
Your internally cursed. Your hands flew into the pockets of your jacket as you fished for cash, highly aware of the hardly-contained grin that made its home on the guy’s face. You hastily pushed the money into his awaiting fingers with burning cheeks.
He was turning on his heels when he stopped. “One question.”
‘Oh my God, why can’t he just leave already?’ you internally fumed. Any more second spent with him is just another second to the embarrassment that you’re swimming in. You sent him a tight-lipped smile to continue.
“Am I cute enough for your standards?”
You let out an indignant huff, your face a picture of disbelief as you slammed your door closed, your face tomato red now as you tried to tune away the sound of his muffled laughter.
“There’s no point of being a loyal customer if you die,” he joked, eyes dancing in mirth but caught you pouting at the box of pizza. His smile deflated.
He knew he wasn’t supposed to do it but the expression on his face reminded him of his cats when they don’t get fed on time. It was cute and the words came out of his mouth before he even realize what he was doing. “You know what? How about I take you out to dinner? I’m sure Seungcheol wouldn’t mind me borrowing the shop’s scooter for a bit.”
You quirked an eyebrow at his sudden invitation.
You smirked as you leaned on your doorframe. “Are you asking me out on a date? You could’ve done so without using my health as an excuse.”
“No! I—That’s not what I meant—” the dirty blond spluttered, ears turning red as he struggled to explain. His frown ceased as a teasing smile stretched over your face. He gave you a blank look. “Oh. Ha ha. Very funny. So are you coming or not?”
“Who can say no to free food?” you replied as you shrugged on your jacket and put on your shoes. “Am I crazy if I tell you I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out for so long?”
“Wait, really?” The surprise on his face was obvious but you didn’t give him a chance to compute what you just implied when you grabbed him by the sleeve of his jacket.
“Let’s go get something nice. I’m tired of eating pizza.
He gave you an offended look. “I thought you like our pizza!”
You gave him a meaningful smile. “Maybe I like it for a whole different reason.”
Summary: university!AU, “I accidentally flooded the laundry room and you really need to do laundry.”
It was well late into the night, as she passed every floor with the halls being dead quiet. Students were pulling all nighters and it was quiet hours, so it was almost creepy having the only sound being furious laptop typing and violent pencil scratching. She made her way to the laundry room as fast as possible, her basket tucked in one arm and a textbook in the other. At the very least, she could kill two birds by studying while she waited.
The laundry room was closed shut, but light seeped through. Not only light seeped through, but soap, as she opened the door and took two steps in.
Squish, squish.
She frowned, looking down at her half damp sneaker. The entire laundry room was flooded. There were bubbles everywhere, even up in those weird corner shelves that the janitors never bothered to fix. The further she walked in, the deeper the water got, like she was just walking into a fat puddle. Her eyes searching for the exploding washing machine, she found the culprit, who was frantically trying to turn the water off. Realizing he was no longer the only one in the room, his head snapped to hers.
“Don’t panic.” Chwe Hansol said with wide mahogany brown eyes, although it looked like he was trying to calm himself down more than her.
Hansol lived on the floor below her. They never really hung out, but they had mutual friends and often times she found him in the common room giggling like an idiot. Other times they’d look at each other from across the room and make awkward eye contact, the awkward part initiated by none other than Hansol himself.
“What the hell happened?” she put her basket and book on an elevated chair.
He turned to fully face her, his jersey dripping wet. “I broke the washer.” he said guiltily.
“I know that. I meant how.”
“Y’know those detergent pods you just pop in the washer? My laundry was really, really dirty. So I may have put in another.”
“Only another one?”
“Another… four.” he winced, scratching his head.
“You know that we’re not supposed to use detergent pods, right? They’re not compatible with the washers, it said so in the manual.”
“Psh.” he scoffed, trying to save face. “Who reads the manual?”
“Clearly everyone else in this dorm. Otherwise the laundry room would’ve been flooded ages ago.”
He frowned at the jab, “But they’re so convenient.”
She broke into an impulsive laugh, absorbing the absurdity of the situation. Reaching onto one of the high shelves with the stool, she pulled out a large laundry bag. She walked up to Hansol, who was watching her inquisitively, thick eyebrows going up as she opened the washer that was slowly turning into a typhoon. At the very least, it was in the basement of the building, so there would be no leaking through the floors. “Why didn’t you press the emergency stop button?” she asked incredulously, dipping her hand in the open washer, smacking the button with her palm.
His eyes bugged out, and he gaped. “That exists!?”
“It’s in red, and it literally says ‘emergency stop’—”
“Okay, okay!” he waved his arms around, his face glowing pink. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Don’t remind me how much of an idiot I am.”
The washing machine finally lulled to a stop, and the roaring ceased. She peered in the hood, and she frowned when she saw how the dark clothing looked damp and thick, like seaweed soup. “Alright,” she opened the laundry bag fully, “Help me put your clothes in, and we can go use the washing machines upstairs. You’re lucky the elevator is down the hall.”
“You don’t have to do this.” he mumbled, but went ahead anyway to put the soping contents in the bag. There was no use to argue, he knew, but it didn’t make it any less unbearable. “Of all the ways we could have our first conversation,” he muttered under his breath, causing her lips to twitch in amusement. “Could’ve been normal, like at a party, or us studying in the common room, literally anything would’ve been better than this.”
She snorted, tying off the bag once it was full. She grabbed a handful of bubbles, smacking him in the side. “You know it can’t get any better than this.” she teased, and left to pick up her own basket of laundry.
“Shut up.” he groaned, dragging the bag down the laundry room, like he was trying to tug a boat through windless water.
It seemed like hours watching him trudge that thing into the elevator, because she was pretty sure she was pressing the elevator button a mile a minute, probably holding up the elevator for other students who were waiting upstairs. Hansol finally pushed the wet laundry inside, and she quickly followed, smacking the ‘close’ button.
The metal doors took its sweet time to fully shut, and she got a great view of their reflection in the meantime. Her pyjamas were damp and ice cold from the knees down, the thin material clinging to her legs, her sleeves dripping. Her hair was pulled out of the way into a half-tied bun, wet hair poking out from the sides. Hansol looked exactly like a puppy kicked out in the rain, his pink lips jutted out and his entire body looking like he walked into a swimming pool. His copper hair clung to his face, and he ran a hand to push them away.
“We look so stupid.” he said pathetically.
“We do.” she nodded, “But do you feel stupid?”
“Yes,” he sighed dramatically with his head bowed, punching his heart like it was his last breath, “Yes I do.”
The elevator dinged open and they started the routine again, her holding the elevator while Hansol dragged it to the thankfully unflooded laundry room. One of their boardmates passed by them with a clean load of clothes, staring at them questionably as they pushed in the wet pile in the dry room.
Once they were alone, Hansol couldn’t help but giggle. “That guy was judgin’ us real hard.”
“Trust me, I was doing the same thing when I saw you. You looked ridiculous.” she opened the biggest washer, the one that could hold multiple loads, and she put Hansol’s wet clothes in. Grabbing her hamper, she made a move to put in hers as well. “It doesn’t make sense for you to spend more money doing another load, do you mind if we just share?”
He shrugged, rubbing his neck. “I mean, I guess? Is it okay if your uh, items, are touching my items?”
Her eyes slowly settled on the top item in her pile, which was a pretty lilac lace bra. “Yes, are you okay with your items touching my items?”
“Uh, def.”
So she threw everything in, put her school ID to charge it, and watched it spin. She smacked her lips together, sighing happily. “And see, no flooding!” she walked over to the telephone in the room. “Now, I’m going to call building services, and tell them that the washer had a malfunction and flooded downstairs. There’s no cameras there, so no one’s going to make you pay for damage.”
“You really think it’s going to work?” he asked, unconvinced as he shifted from foot to foot.
“Yeah, they don’t really maintain the washers as well as they do up here.” she tapped her fingers on the table, waiting for the line to pick up. After a quick answering machine reply, it asked her to leave a message, all while Hansol was staring at her. Turning her head a fraction, she relayed her floor number and ID, explaining the situation. After a good thirty seconds, she hung up, smiling brightly. “There, it’s as if it never happened.”
“Thank you, really.” he said honestly, looking bashful. “If you didn’t show up, I’d probably still be panicking downstairs, and I’d really be in trouble.”
“Good thing I did, then.” she replied carefully, watching a smile slowly appear on his lips. Wow, he was really adorable when he was all worked up and nervous like that.
“So uh, it was nice meeting you.” he started tapping his foot, making squeaks against the linoleum.
“Same here, it’s better than just seeing you in the common room.”
“Wait, you notice me?” he double-taked, tilting his head to the side.
“Of course I do. You laugh the hardest, it’d be a crime not to notice you.”
“Oh, sorry.” he flushed.
“Don’t, it’s cute.” she insisted, watching his face go through a whole range of emotions. It looked like he was torn between arguing about his cuteness, or downright hiding away for being talked about so easily. “It’ll take awhile for the clothes to finish. Do you wanna watch a movie in the common room or something?” she suggested, hoping the offer wasn’t too forward.
“I’d love to, but,” ignoring the strange pang in her stomach, she watched Hansol’s eyes drift uneasily to their spinning laundry. “I’m kinda traumatized right now, I don’t feel safe leaving the clothes alone.”
“Ah, I get it.”
“But, it’d be awesome if you wanted to stay with me and just, talk?” he suggested, pulling up two chairs for the both of them.
“And watch our laundry?” she asked playfully.
“Best seats in the house.” he grinned shyly.
And for some reason she didn’t mind that one bit. Adjusting their seats, they stood in front of their washer, watching the clothes spin and bubble in a whirlpool of colors. After a few minutes of silence, she decided to open the conversation. Slowly, she pointed to a particular piece of clothing that had been spinning in the front window for a good thirty seconds.
