SYNOPSIS. When the world falls asleep, a certain radio broadcast goes live—one hosted by none other than you and your best friend Wen Junhui. The two of you host an anonymous love confession segment, where listeners submit their deepest feelings, secrets, and late-night loves they can’t say aloud for you to unravel live on air. However, when a recurring submission starts to feel too familiar, a certain someone finds themselves wondering how long they can stay anonymous… before they are finally heard.
PAIRING. radio host!wen junhui x radio host!fem!reader (ft. soonyoung as a comedic device)
GENRE. fluff, best friends to lovers, crack/humour, comfort, slight angst, smut (minors dni 🔞)
WARNINGS. cursing, mentions of toxic situations in relationships (situationships, cheating, love bombing), yn and jun are dumb asffff no wonder they're besties, jun feeling a lil insecure :(, lots of playful bickering and bullying, terms of endearment, kissing, grinding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, they bully each other even while doing the deed 😭
WORD COUNT. 11.3k
notes: hellooo everyoneee, this is my fic for the @studiosvt First Time Caller collab! please don't forget to support all the amazing authors in the collab!! unfort this was so rushed and lowkey not proud of it SDFDS i completely forgot how to write while writing this since it was all during the stress of finals szn and other matters LMAO, but i love writing abt two stupid oblivious idiot besties who are secretly in love with each other 😔 not rlly proofread so i'm sorry for any mistakes !! there is also a skye @etherealyoungk cameo in here hehe
“No, no, no𑁋Wen Junhui, you’re being way too nice about this!” You exclaim mid-laugh, shaking your head as you lean in towards the mic. “If someone’s been stringing you along for six months with nothing but ‘I’m not ready for a relationship yet’ texts, then that’s just straight up terrorism. Not even a situationship, at this point.”
Jun lets out a laugh of his own and throws his head back, almost making his headphones nearly fall off his head. He readjusts quickly, dark hair messily falling over his forehead. The neon red of the bright ON LIVE sign on the wall behind his head casts an almost villain-like glow across his features, sharpening the curve of his already amused smile.
“Terrorism? Wow, tell us how you really feel, Y/N,” Jun retorts playfully. “But fine. Anon, if they’ve been feeding you breadcrumbs for half a year, that’s basically emotional warfare. Please save yourself and block them on everything𑁋and yes, that includes on Spotify.”
You snort at that, tapping your pen against your script notes that you’ve been barely following anyway. The show had practically devolved from advice to whatever banter you and Jun had cooked up on the spot. “Exactly. Listeners, if your situationship has an expiration date longer than expired milk, it’s time to toss it. Jun is too sweet to say it, so I’ll do it. Run.”
“I𑁋’too sweet’?!” A dramatic gasp tumbles out of Jun as he spins his chair toward you. “I was the one who told last week’s caller to roast her boyfriend’s dick like a marshmallow because he kept forgetting her birthday!”
“But you said it with, like, the sweetest voice ever!”
“That man deserved to get emotionally blue-balled! How can you forget your girlfriend’s own birthday for a second year in a row?”
You roll your eyes so hard it’s basically audible over the mic. “God, Junhui, you have the emotional range of a raccoon.”
“I’ll take it.” Jun grins at that, thrusting his shoulders back as if he’s trying to appear bigger and more intimidating. “At least raccoons are cute, right?”
On your laptop, the chat is going crazy.
user: here we go again with their flirty banter 🙄
user: JUST GET MARRIED ALREADY YOU TWO!!!!!!!!!
user: i swear this radio show is hosted by 2 delusional idiots
user: i think they should kiss idk
“No, we shouldn’t!” You exclaim at the chat like you’re scolding a bunch of twelve-year olds.
Jun nearly hops out of his seat. “Wait, I agree!”
“Wen Junhui!”
“What? I was agreeing with you!”
“That was not you agreeing with me,” You groan. “You agreed to kissing me.”
“Well, the chat started it, so don’t put all the blame on me,” Jun says with a pout, folding his arms together. “Plus, it would be good for research purposes, wouldn’t it?”
Your eyes bulge out of your skull, your mind and face flaming up. “You’re such a𑁋we host a radio show, not a damn lab!”
“Chemistry is still relevant! And chemistry is needed for relationships!”
“We are not in a relationship, oh my, God.”
“Hypothetically, Y/N. Think hypotheticals.” Jun clicks his tongue, letting out playful tsk-tsk-tsk. “I’m telling you our ratings would absolutely skyrocket.”
You fight back the smile threatening to split your face in half, but there’s no point in trying to battle it. After being best friends with Jun for most of your life and witnessing pretty much all the stupid shit he has ever said or done, you’ve long accepted that his brand of chaos is the only thing in this world that can make your chest too tight and too warm at the same time. Especially if it involves the playful flirting you’ve been bouncing on for years.
“Whatever, to answer your question𑁋raccoons are cute, but they’re also known for making stupid life decisions,” You point out with a victorious smirk. “So, maybe not the best comparison to make. It’s accurate, regardless.”
“Harsh,” he whines, but his eyes𑁋those stupid, unfairly expressive eyes of his𑁋sparkle with teasing delight. “Alright, onto the final submission of the night. Anonymous says…”
Dear Y/N and Jun of Love On Air,
I’ve been supporting the show since the very beginning, and now, I think I’m in trouble enough to make a submission.
I’m in love with my best friend. I have been for years and it struck me pretty hard this morning. Is it weird to say when I first met them it felt like love at first sight? We talk every day to the point that everyone assumes we’re together, but we’re not. They’re kind, funny, and sometimes I think they deserve someone better than me. But is it selfish of me to say that I want to keep them in my life forever? Even if that line isn’t crossed?
What should I do???
🐱
The studio falls silent for a few moments after Jun finishes reading. The shift in the air is immediately noticeable, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. When Jun picks his head back up to look at you after reading the confession, his usual smirk is still in place, but fades just a tad when he catches the contemplative expression on your face.
“Hello? Earth to Y/N?”
“Huh?” You blink back up at him. “Oh, shit. Right, uh…”
You can’t tell if it’s the late night hour getting to you or something else entirely. You’ve received so many similar confessions before𑁋a best friend falling in love with their other half, the slow and torturous ache of unspoken feelings, the fear of messing up something that’s already so beautiful itself. And ultimately, your advice has always stayed the same.
But when you meet eyes with Jun, it’s as if the words have completely cut your tongue off. You finally clear your throat.
“First of all, welcome cat anon to the club of people who are all vicariously and collectively screwed together,” You say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And I wish we hadn’t read yours at the very last minute since we’re about in end in five𑁋”
Jun lifts a brow. “Wait, we have about fifteen𑁋”
“𑁋but I’ll just say that you aren’t selfish for wanting to keep them in your life. But you are doing a disservice keeping it locked away forever. This kind of love doesn’t come around twice. So tell them, even if it scares you. What’s the worst that could happen, you know?”
You can feel Jun’s heavy gaze linger on the side of your face.
“Exactly, anon,” he jumps in like the professional he is. “Ripping the band-aid off would only hurt temporarily, right? And if it doesn’t work out, we’ll be here next week with some ice cream recommendations to help you cope.”
“Keep in mind what Jun said, guys,” You say, forcing a small laugh. “Thank you all for turning into Love On Air. Stay honest, stay unhinged, and send that one person a risky text. If you want to submit a confession, please send one to our email. We are live every Saturday on FM 98.7! Goodnight, everyone!”
You kill your microphone first as the ON LIVE sign on the wall blinks out with a soft click. Jun switches off his microphone right after, and the silence that washes over the studio is louder than anything else.
For a moment, neither of you moves.
You still feel the ghost of Jun’s gaze warm on your cheek from when you were giving advice just a minute ago. It’s silly, really𑁋how one singular anonymous confession is enough to make you think and contemplate so hard. You’ve given advice to more people than you can count on your hands and toes, but this specific one feels as if it grew limbs, crawled out of the screen, and sat itself between you and him.
“You rushed that ending,” Jun interrupts your thoughts as he swings his coat over his shoulders.
You scoff lightly. “I did not.”
“Did too.”
“I literally answered the question,” You shoot back, narrowing your eyes at him. “That’s our job.”
“Exactly,” he hums in response, leaning his elbow on the desk and resting his chin lazily in his palm. “You answered it like it was your first time ever hearing it.”
A pause.
“When it’s not.”
It’s not. But why𑁋out of all goddamn times you’ve read the same exact fear𑁋did this one feel like someone jabbed a finger at your chest and said: here, this is yours?
You force a laugh at that, letting out a deprecating shrug. “Maybe I’m just getting sentimental at my big age.”
“You’re literally younger than me.”
“Only by a few months. Your argument is irrelevant, grandpa.”
Jun tilts his head at your words, pushing himself off the table and invading your personal space as always. He stands only a step away from you, observing the way you’re speedily packing your belongings like some kind of punishment. When you face back up at him, he gives a light flick to your forehead. His touch lingers for a few seconds, before he brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. It’s playful and casual, but the way your skin tingles after isn’t.
Your heart does a stupid little flip in your chest.
“Come on, youngling, I’ll drive you home,” he says with a cheesy smile, dangling his car keys off his finger.
A groan leaves you as you allow him to drag you by the wrist and out of the studio.
To be honest, the radio show started off as one big fat joke.
It started in sophomore year of college, where you and Jun were nothing but a pair of dumb, broke college kids. Then you both decided to sign a quick gig for the campus radio station because you thought it would look good on your resumes. The two of you were supposed to do the boring music hour𑁋basically play whatever indie crap the station manager liked and read weather updates every morning.
But that didn’t exactly go as planned, as the majority of those sessions were spent with you both roasting each other’s music tastes live on air, and for some reason, the listeners seemed to eat that dynamic up.
In one particular session, Jun opened up the radio station email box live on air. You both expected for another complaint, which wasn’t uncommon knowing how immature the two of you act sometimes. However, it wasn’t a complaint this time.
It was a confession.
A girl had written about how she’d been in love with her roommate for the past two years and didn’t know how to voice it without ruining their lease together. Jun read it when his microphone was supposed to be switched off, and something in the studio shifted that night.
“Do… we answer it?” Jun had asked you warily.
You had hesitated for once, before a sudden surge of determination filled you. Perhaps it’s the delirium of two idiots who believed they could wing it, or the thought that a random person decided to reach out to both of you𑁋out of anyone else𑁋was the reason for the determination. Either way, you looked across at Jun that night and said, “Yeah. Let’s answer it.”
And that was that.
The rest of the semester became an absolute rollercoaster of love confessions, messy breakups, love bombers, situationships that made you want to pull your hair out, and the two of you slowly carving a name for yourselves as the unfiltered chaotic duo who gave sarcastic advice that came straight from the heart. The campus station extended their time slot, then the local radio station in the city picked the two of you up.
Somewhere along the way, and four years later, Love On Air stopped being a joke and became a real thing you and Jun committed together every Saturday at midnight𑁋your own little pocket of chaos in an otherwise normal adult life. For the most part, at least, because pining for your best friend is totally counted as normal.
Wen Junhui came into your life like a stray cat who decided that your doorstep looked comfortable enough to stay forever. Uninvited and unpredictable, way too pretty for his own good, yet somehow always exactly where you needed him to be. He randomly plopped down right next to you during freshman orientation, snatched the last macaron on your plate, and gave you a look that said you’d be fun to annoy for the next four years before introducing his name.
You’d never admit how absolutely starstruck you were the first time he smiled at you. Or laughed. You told yourself you were just sleep deprived and lonely being in the city all by yourself, but deep down, the voice in your head at that moment said that you wanted to keep him.
You should have been annoyed. But instead you laughed and nearly choked on your water, and that was it. Game over. And you became each other’s favourite person without either of you having to put a label on it. Best friend felt too small, and soulmate felt too big and scary for two broke college kids who couldn’t dedicate themselves to a single major.
So you just… existed together. Thrived together. Grew together through the most stupidest decisions known to mankind.
And at some point down the road, that stray cat curled up into your chest and refused to leave.
“Listeners, let’s give a full round of applause to user derangedcarat for cutting off their cheating ex-partner,” You announce into the microphone, clapping your hands like a proud mom at a recital. The chat explodes immediately.
user: 👏👏👏👏
user: FINALLY i’m so proud of u user derangedcarat queen
user: anyone who cheats on their partner needs to be put on death row
user: ^^^ preach!!!
“And you did the hard part, user derangedcarat,” Jun adds in. “We love growth in this household. Maybe email us a screenshot of the block so we can frame it in the studio here.”
“Exactly, and please don’t forget to take care of yourself,” You reassure into the microphone. “Block, delete, go touch some grass if you need to. You deserve someone who actually respects you.”
The next confessions run by in a blur over the next hour. Someone sends in a confession asking if it’s weird to still be hung on their high school ex, another person confesses that they’ve been naming their house plants after people who ghosted them, which the two of you undoubtedly praise for creativity.
To top off the chaos, there’s one submission an anonymous user submits with screenshots of cringe-worthy flirty text messages from a man they’re talking to, with the sender begging for the two of you to rate the messages on a scale of “smooth operator” to “immediate block”.
Jun narrows his eyes toward the screen. “Y/N, listen to this: ‘hey babygirl, how’s your night been? mine was spent thinking about u 😏’. Sent at 2:19 in the morning, left on read for three days.”
You burst out laughing, cheeks puffing out to the point it hurts. “Oh, my God. Solid negative five. That’s a biohazard right there.”
“That’s way too generous,” Jun snorts while spinning in his chair. “Anon, this man is serving nothing but expired milk. Please save yourself a headache and block his number.”
Heartbreak, confessions, and ridiculous stories𑁋you and Jun tag-team them over the next hour like strong duo you are, with the chatting eating up every particularly brutal line that leaves either of your mouths. This is what seems to happen when you give two nocturnal people a cup of bitter tar coffee and the free will to say whatever they please.
By the time the final minutes of the session comes, you and Jun decide to read out one last confession.
“...Cat anon is back with a follow-up confession.”
You perk up curiously at that. “Really? What does it say?”
Jun hesitates briefly, before clearing his throat.
Dear Y/N and Jun of Love On Air,
Hi, it’s me again. The one who wrote the other week. Thank you both so much for responding to me. I listened to every word you guys said, and I think you’re right. I was almost brave the other night𑁋had this whole stupid mental speech planned to tell them when we were hanging out together. But I… chickened out. Again. Really dumb of me, I know.
And I know that I look like a coward who needs a weekly pep talk, but this show feels like the only safe space I’m able to confess this. I do have a question for the two of you to answer and discuss.
Do you think there’s such a thing as ‘perfect love’?
I think that’s my dilemma right now. I want to be perfect for them. I want to give them that perfect love that they deserve. But how can I do that, knowing who I am?
🐱
The studio falls into a gentle kind of quiet after Jun finishes reading. The words are still processing deeply through your mind when he warily lifts his eyes back up at you, lingering on your concentrated expression. Then his heart stutters in his chest when you meet his eyes as if he got caught doing something wrong.
“Jun, why don’t you answer it first?”
Jun blinks, before shaking his head like he’s trying to clear away fog. He leans back in his chair and stretches his long arms up with a thoughtful sigh, enough for his hoodie to ride up just slightly for you to catch a sliver of skin. You try (and fail) not to notice, muting your microphone briefly to let out a cough into your hand.
“I mean, ‘perfect’ love is that type of stuff you read about in books or watch in movies, right?” He shrugs, letting his arms fall back down as his chair creaks softly beneath him. “Like no miscommunication, no timing issues, no one being stupid… which already disqualifies most of humanity, honestly.”
You lean back in to unmute your microphone. “Are you saying you’re part of that disqualification?”
“Absolutely, I’m the poster child for it,” he claims with that mischievous glint in his eyes. “I constantly forget shit, I’m nocturnal as hell, and sometimes I make objectively terrible decisions. Who would want to date me?”
The question lands a little too easily, maybe even familiar, sending an uncomfortable ripple you feel all the way down to your toes. Something about the way it left his mouth without any hesitation sends a painful grip to your heartstrings. Jun has always had this kind of self-deprecating humour, tossing it out like it was nothing at times. It makes you want to one: shake reality into him, or two: kiss him to prove him wrong.
You force out an awkward laugh, higher than it needs to be.
“Someone with terrible taste, clearly,” You answer, keeping your voice teasing despite the heaviness in your chest. “But luckily for you, the world is full of people with terrible taste.”
Jun chuckles, spinning his chair so he could study you properly.
“Yeah?” He tilts his head. “You think so?”
The chat is moving so fast now it’s basically a complete blur.
user: bro really asked who would date him while staring at his wife
user: why is he so boyfriend coded still tho
user: y/n should answer the question too!!!
user: PERFECT LOVE IS WHEN YOU LOOK AT EACH OTHER STOPPP RNN
“Chat is right,” Jun quips. “What’s your answer to the question too, Y/N?”
The second the question leaves him, you can feel every pair of invisible eyes staring at you through the screen and your pulse kicking up loudly in your ears. Jun is still leaning back in his chair, relaxed as ever, his curious gaze fixed solely on you.
Finally, you clear your throat.
“Well, I’ve seen couples break up because their relationship isn’t ‘perfect’,” You begin. “But the ones that last? They’re the ones where both sides are a little flawed, a little messy, and a little scared, but they choose each other anyway. That’s what you would call an imperfect love, and… I think that’s the most beautiful kind of love that can exist.”
Suddenly, the tiny studio feels almost suffocating to sit in. Your eyes flick up to Jun. He isn’t laughing anymore, or even smiling. He’s just staring at you with an expression so open𑁋almost surprised, like he didn’t expect you to be so serious𑁋it steals the rest of your answer out of your throat.
You refuse to look at the chat; you already know what they’re saying.
“You really thought about it a lot, huh?” Jun asks, scratching at the back of his neck.
You could only manage a small, somewhat self-conscious nod, bringing your eyes down to the ground. “Yeah. Guess I have.”
A wave of silence washes over the studio for a minute.
“...it’s a really good answer,” he murmurs.
A pleased smile crosses over your face. “Well, I am kinda a professional at this.”
“Mm,” he hums absentmindedly in response.
You pretend to busy yourself with your laptop, trying to read over the chat that has now morphed into just meaningless spams of screaming text and heart emojis. Your cursor lingers over nothing, while your heartbeat is running a full blown marathon of panic.
But when you glance back at Jun, the panic seems to strengthen even more.
“Cat anon, we really appreciate your trust in us,” You finish softly. “And I really hope that our advice tonight resonates with you. At the end of day, we’re all just a bunch of flawed humans looking for love, right? Don’t drive yourself to be perfect, because you’re already perfectly imperfect just as you are. And if your best friend reciprocates these feelings…”
Your eyes flit back up to Jun.
“...then take the leap, because they’re probably already waiting for you.”
After a pause, you lightly kick Jun’s foot underneath the table. He jolts in his seat like you shocked him, before recovering with a nervous, boyish chuckle, sounding not even close to his usual, bright and effortless laugh. For once, he appears almost rattled, with his pupils wide and his ears pink that even the dim studio lights can hardly hide.
On the wall, the ON LIVE sign flickers in and out of its glow.
“She’s, um… Y/N is right, cat anon,” Jun agrees quietly. “You don’t have to become someone else to prove yourself worthy for someone. If they’re your person, then… who you are already is why they stayed this long.”
From that, the chat practically combusts.
user: WEN JUNHUI???? IS THERE SOMETHING U WANNA SHARE W THE CLASS???
user: why did this suddenly get so intense lmao is it hot in here or is it just me?
user: i’ve been on this ship since the beginning of the show!!!!
“Alright, that’s all the time we have for tonight,” You interrupt quickly, instinctively switching back to host mode. “Thank you to everyone who sent in your confessions tonight. Stay safe, stay honest, and please don’t respond to someone who sends you a babygirl text at ungodly hours.”
Jun reaches for the switch. “Goodnight, everyone!”
Click. The ON LIVE sign dies.
Jun slides the headphones off his head and shuts down his laptop. You do the same. The two of you pack up belongings in that familiar and companionable silence that always spills into the room after a session. When you swing your bag over your shoulder, Jun glances up in your direction worriedly.
“You okay?” he asks.
You nod, offering him a small, sleepy smile. “Take me home?”
Jun swallows down the lump in his throat.
“Yeah.” He’s already opening the door for you. “Always.”
Jun remembers one of the first discussions the two of you had on the show together.
Love at first sight.
Back then, the studio was smaller, scrappier, and the chairs squeaked each time either of you moved even a centimetre. The world had fallen asleep long enough that honesty slipped through the cracks of your voices so easily. You both were running on nothing but instant noodles and caffeine, way different than the semi-functional adult routine you have established now.
He remembers the beautiful laugh that left you when the question came in halfway through a song neither of you remembered choosing.
He laughed with you too. Rolled his eyes and called it nonsense, all while pretending to not notice how your smile had gone a little soft when you answered it with that amused lilt to your voice.
“I think it exists,” You had said. “Not like movie magic, though. But… you just meet someone and your brain clicks into place, you know? Like it says, ‘Oh. It’s you.’”
“That sounds like you’re trying to make shit up to justify bad decisions,” Jun argued back with a smirk.
You gasped at that and slapped his wrist, causing him to laugh. “Excuse me? That was uncalled for.”
And the segment moved on after that.
But Jun continues to carry that sentence with him like a permanent scar.
Oh. It’s you.
“What are the chances that a confession we’ve read out is from someone we know?” Jun asks while plopping a chip in his mouth, adjusting his body from where he had been sprawled across your couch for the past few hours.
You don’t bother to spare a glance up from your laptop, but a grin crosses your features. “Pretty high, to be honest. Soonyoung once told me he submitted something to the show one time.”
Jun nearly chokes on the chip scratching at his throat. “Soonyoung? As in Kwon Soonyoung? Never shuts up, Soonyoung?” He sits up so fast he accidentally knicks his socked foot under the coffee table. “Ow! I𑁋What the hell did he confess? Was it about that girl in his dance class that was drooling over him?”
You finally look over at him, chuckling at the way his eyes have grown comically wide. “He didn’t say. Just that he sent it under a funny username and almost died when we read it out. Apparently, we just straight up told him to stop being a coward and talk to her. They went on one date together. He found out she was allergic to cats and broke her heart by saying they were incompatible. End of story.”
Jun stares at you for a full blown three seconds, before he throws his head back into the couch with a laugh so genuine you would think his soul left his body completely.
“That’s insane,” he says breathlessly. “Literally the most Soonyoung thing to do. No wonder he’s still single.”
“Actually, he’s not,” You chime back in. “I think he’s dating this new girl named… Skye, I think?”
“Sky?”
“Skye, but with an e at the end.”
“Wow,” Jun mutters, crunching down on another chip and sarcastically adds, “Character development. We love to see it.”
You roll your eyes, shutting down your laptop with a click and leaning back into the couch with Jun right next to you. You curl your knees up to your chest. “People change, Jun. Miracles happen.”
Jun offers you the bag of chips. You take one, crunching absentmindedly as your gaze travels somewhere past the TV, past the wall, past everything. He notices. Of course he does. A nudge to your leg awakens you quickly.
“Where’d you go just now?” he asks.
“Nowhere.”
Jun huffs. “Liar.”
You flick a crumb at him. “Shut up.”
“Make me,” he retorts with a lazy grin, sticking his tongue out.
You shoot a glare at him and snatch the bag of chips from his hand before he can react. A scandalised look splits his face as he lunges to grab it back from your grasp, but you manage to twist your body away and dodge his reach.
“Hey!” he exclaims, attempting to grab the back once more but you clutch it tightly to your chest. “Give that back to me!”
You yelp and scramble further into the arm of the couch, shoulders shaking with laughter as you hug the back tight enough to crush some of the chips inside. “You stole this from my pantry!”
When his fingers brush the corner of the bag, you only yank it away again. Jun narrows his eyes at you, lips twitching upwards like he’s trying not to laugh.
“Y/N.”
“No.”
“Y/N.”
“Junhui.”
“You’re being annoying on purpose.”
“And you love me for it,” You remark, sticking your tongue at him back mockingly.
That does it.
As he makes a dive for it again, you twist a little too far. The next thing you know, you’re collapsing back against the couch cushions with a soft oof, and Jun is falling down with you. Very much ungracefully.
Because one second he’s reaching, the next he finds himself tumbling down over you in a tangle of limbs and laughter, somehow managing to catch himself just beside your head before he can actually crush you into the couch. And he’s way too close.
His knee presses into the cushion in between your legs, while his hand is planted by the side of your head. His dark hair has fallen slightly into his eyes, and his breath comes out unevenly from the laughing.
Your own breathing isn’t exactly steady either.
Jun looks down at you. You look back up at him. Your apartment suddenly feels fifty times smaller, and the laughter dies instantly, replaced by a familiar heaviness in the air whenever the two of you are alone together. His eyes drop down to your lips for a singular second before flicking back up to your face, and you catch the way his ears redden in slight guilt.
You swallow down a lump in your throat. “Jun…”
And from that split second of vulnerability, he uses that opportunity to snatch the bag of chips right off your hands, catching you completely off-guard. The warmth in the air still lingers even as he pulls away from you and flops back down on the couch.
“Aha!” he exclaims triumphantly. “Victory is mine!”
You stare at him in disbelief before letting out the loudest, most offended noise imaginable as you smack his shoulder.
“Wen Junhui!”
“Hm? Sorry, I can’t hear you over the savoury taste of victory,” he quips with a grin, face beaming with pride.
“You’re such a little thief𑁋”
“You hesitated!” he argues smugly. “So that’s on you!”
“Because you were staring at me all weird!”
That makes him shut up, the smugness fading off his face so abruptly as if you accidentally powered something in his system off. The apartment goes quiet enough for you to only hear the soft buzz of the refrigerator and the honk of a car outside. You didn’t mean to say it out loud. Or maybe you did, you don’t know.
“I…” You utter weakly, trying to brush it away with a nervous chuckle. “Can we just pretend I spontaneously combusted instead?”
A soft, disbelieving laugh leaves him. “I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“For… looking at you all weird.”
“Jun𑁋”
“I think I’ll get going. It’s getting late,” he mutters, immediately standing up a little too fast. He grabs the bag of chips instinctively, realises it’s still in his hands, and sets it back down on your coffee table awkwardly.
He doesn’t look at you as he grabs his hoodie and keys, moving with a surprising speed that even your own brain can barely process what to say. When he’s scrambling to the door, you move before you think, and you grab him by the wrist before he can unlock your door.
Jun feels his pulse jump harder under your fingertips. Twisting himself back around, he’s met with your soft yet worried gaze, before flicking down to where your hand is still wrapped around his wrist. You release him immediately like you accidentally touched fire.
“Sorry,” You murmur, taking a small step back. “Just… text me when you get home, okay?”
He nods solemnly. “Yeah. Of course.” A sheepish smile graces his lips for a moment. “Goodnight, Y/N.”
“Goodnight, Jun.”
You close the door with a quiet click that somehow is louder than it should be. Now, you’re all alone in your apartment, yet the warmth of his presence still lingers through every part of your place. He’s been in here a thousand times𑁋hell, you both have slept in the same bed together a plentiful amount during all the times he’s trespassed in your space𑁋but tonight it feels like there’s a literal dent in the air itself.
The two of you have shared many awkward moments together. He’s accidentally walked in on you changing a few times; you’ve seen him stress-eat an entire family-sized bag of shrimp chips at four in the morning. You both have seen each other at some of your lowest points, but why, out of all nights, does it hit harder than anything else?
You sink back into the couch with a groan. Your phone burns a hole in your pocket. Ten minutes pass. Then fifteen. Then𑁋
Buzz.
[12:55am | menace (affectionate)]
i just got home
you okay?
You stare at his message for a long moment.
[12:57am | y/n]
good
and yeah, i’m fine. you?
[12:58am | menace (affectionate)]
splendid! and … tired
[12:58am | y/n]
go sleep then dumbass
[12:59am | menace (affectionate)]
alright mother calm down i’m brushing my teeth
A low giggle leaves you at his response. A few minutes pass before a new text from him lights up your phone.
[01:05am | menace (affectionate)]
can i ask you something really random?
[01:05am | y/n]
of course
The typing bubble appears, disappears, then reappears again.
[01:07am | menace (affectionate)]
do you think cat anon is okay?
A sinking feeling opens a pit in your stomach, thumb frozen over your keyboard. You stare at the screen until the words begin to blur. God, of all the questions he had to ask tonight…
[01:10am | y/n]
i don’t know
i hope so
and that they learn it’s okay to be brave
[01:12am | menace (affectionate)]
yeah. me too
You’re hardly able to think when his next text comes in quicker than you expected.
[01:12am | menace (affectionate)]
goodnight y/n
don’t overthink in your sleep
You smile faintly.
[01:13am | y/n]
no promises
goodnight jun
You lock your phone after that with a tired sigh, tossing it onto the couch cushion besides you like it might bite you back if you hold it for too long. And somewhere on the other side of the city, another phone is tossed away like a shameful piece of evidence.
As you stare blankly at your dark television and feel the exhaustion of the day weighing between your bones, you know that sleep won’t come easy tonight. It becomes even more challenging even after you brush your teeth, wash your face, doomscroll on your phone for a while, and face plant onto the bed like you just came home from a wounded battle.
“Pathetic,” You mumble into your pillow to absolutely nobody. “I’m so pathetic.”
On the other hand, Jun is… doing the exact same thing.
His ceiling fan spins lazily overhead while his phone screen dims beside him. The last text message you sent to him spirals through the air around him. He doesn’t even know what to do but let out a muffled incredulous laugh into his pillow, sighs, before abruptly sitting up in bed and realising how much of a loser he’s acting right now.
“I should’ve…” Jun groans, running a hand over his face. “I should’ve just told her… I’m such a coward.”
Because the thing about running a late-night show where love is the main topic and advice is given, is that it’s painfully easy to tell strangers to be brave when your own heart isn’t on the line, when you’re not the aforementioned person in the story who is being pined over. It’s easy to take the leap when you aren’t standing at the edge yourself. Yet for some reason, it’s only harder to take the leap when you don’t even follow the advice you give to others.
The irony is quite laughable, to be honest.
Jun grabs his laptop and forces it open, the bright screen nearly blinding him in the darkness of his bedroom, but he doesn’t care. He finds himself navigating to his email, switching to his second account, and gets greeted by a particular message that had already been forwarded to the radio show. A message that had already been read, answered, and sent under a certain pseudonym.
Dear Y/N and Jun of Love On Air…
Biting down on his bottom lip, he opens up a fresh draft and begins typing.
“Take the leap, cat anon,” he repeats to himself over and over again. “Take the leap, Wen Junhui.”
Jun texted you two hours before the show that he was sick along with a selfie of him buried in a hoodie he threw on, somehow contracting a stomach bug which he blamed on some expired convenience store gimbap. He insisted that he could still come in, yet you reassured him with a string of sobbing emojis that it’s probably in his best interest to stay home to rest, and that you could handle hosting the show on your own, even if… you’ve never really done it before.
The show must go on, after all.
So when you find yourself sitting alone within the quiet studio just mere minutes from going live, you definitely sense both the physical and mental emptiness of his presence in the room a little too sharply. His headphones are still left the way he always leaves them, and his chair is facing the wrong wrong because he spins in it so much that he never bothers to put it back properly.
A small, fond chuckle leaves you at the thought of him, and you have to chase those thoughts away the second the clock strikes midnight. From there, you roll your shoulders back to shake away any residual nerves, clear your throat, and reach over to the switch.
Taking one last deep breath, you flip it on. The ON LIVE sign sparks to life on the wall.
“Good evening to all our fellow lonely and emotionally volatile listeners,” You greet warmly into the microphone. “Welcome back to everyone’s favourite unhinged radio show, Love On Air, live at midnight every Saturday on FM 98.7.”
Your eyes can barely keep track of the live chat box being spammed with incoming messages. You read a couple of messages out of people describing their day, but it isn’t long until the elephant in the room is acknowledged.
You snort lightly. “I regret to inform you all that Jun has passed away due to… alleged food poisoning.” Some comments following your words make you laugh. “Yes, yes, you’re all invited to the funeral, don’t worry.”
user: i commence a ritual to bring him back or we riot 🙏🙏
user: bro probably slept through his alarm honestly
user: WAIT BUT THIS FEELS SO WRONG W/O HIM 😭😭
user: rip… guess no husband and wife arguments for now… 😔
“He offered to join while sick, by the way,” You add in quickly. “But I personally vetoed it. I’m not letting a man who ate expired gimbap shit his way into a session. He’s probably listening in right now, so hi, Jun. Hope you’re still intact, buddy.”
After a few minutes of more interactions, you finally pull up the radio show’s inbox and begin to organise through the confessions that were received recently. That weird feeling creeps back up your spine once again as you scroll𑁋not about the confessions specifically, just the thought about doing this alone. Your eyes flick to the empty chair right next to you once more.
You read a few confessions and answer two callers𑁋there’s one from someone who felt bad for ghosting someone they actually liked, another person confesses they’re having a hard time with their partner wanting to open up their relationship, and one with expressing their fears of having their first time with the wrong person. You offer your own thoughtful answers and advice as best as you can, yet it feels so lackluster and flat without Jun’s playful interjections whenever you get too sappy on air.
“Your first time should be with someone who makes you feel safe, not just wanted,” You say gently into the microphone. “You deserve that. Don’t settle for anything less. It’s okay to wait until that safety feels undeniable.”
The chat floods with hearts and supportive messages. A few people send their thank yous for the advice. Some latecomers ask questions about Jun’s whereabouts.You smile gratefully, but it feels a little fragile tonight, not quite reaching up to your eyes.
As the final music break of the session ends, you unmute your microphone to speak.
“Alright, listeners, we’ve reached the final thirty minutes of tonight’s session. I want to thank you as always for staying up and listening into the show,” You announce confidently. “We’ve got time for… maybe a few more confessions and a possible lucky caller, so let’s see what we have left.”
Scrolling silently through the inbox, it isn’t long until your cursor hovers a familiar username once again. Your heart spikes at the sight, hesitating for a slow second.”
“Everyone, let’s welcome cat anon back to the stage with another follow-up confession.” You click the confession, take in a deep breath you’re sure the viewers can hear, and start to read it aloud.
Dear Y/N of Love On Air…
Hi, it’s me again. To be honest, I don’t really know why I keep sending these, but somehow I always end up back here again. You truly have a way of words, and I really want to thank you for that.
I thought about what you said about imperfect love. I used to think that if I fix every flaw about myself, then maybe I’ll be worthy of them, but now I know that love is someone seeing every fractured version of you, and staying anyway.
There’s something else I want to confess too. I think I’ve been waiting so long for the “perfect” moment that I accidentally passed a thousand “imperfect” ones. It makes me terrified that they’ll meet someone more braver than me, so I’ll use this chance now to be brave for once.
I’ll be ready on the line for this session and use this chance to finally face whatever happens next. I hope you’re able to answer my call whenever that may be. I have an important message to send.
🐱
Your voice comes out almost too quiet by the end you finish reading. You flit a quick glance to the ever-exploding live chat box.
user: HOLY SHITTT CAT ANON VOICE REVEAL???
user: answer the call! answer the call!
user: IM GONNA THROW UP WHY AM I SO NERVOUS
user: we’re witnessing a cinematic moment in history wtff
Suddenly, the blink of the call line makes your throat tighten. Your fingers hover over the console as if it might suddenly jump out and bite you. God, you don’t understand why you’re unexpectedly so nervous𑁋you’ve talked to many callers, and yet, speaking with cat anon has you on complete edge.
“Okay,” You stammer shakily into the microphone, covering up your nerves with a faint smile. “Let’s… let’s take this final call of the night, everyone.”
When you answer the line, it’s as if the world goes entirely mute, except for the intense pounding your chest. Nothing but static fills your headphones as the line struggles to connect for a few torturous moments.
Then, a quiet breath reverberates into your ears. The kind of breath that sounded like it had to claw its way out of someone’s chest.
“...hello?”
The voice is slightly distorted through the line, unmistakably low𑁋clearly a male voice𑁋and trembling slightly around the edges. It’s more of a whisper, if anything. Perhaps he’s just as nervous as you.
“Hi,” You greet warmly, slipping back into your professional radio voice. “You’re live on air with Love On Air. Is this… the one and only cat anon?”
A small, embarrassed huff of air crosses the line. He sounds a bit closer this time as he replies, “...yeah, it’s me.”
“Well, I’m giving you the floor now,” You assure firmly. “Whatever you need to say… we’re listening.”
Another shaky breath crackles through the line. You can practically touch the contemplation that’s buzzing through the call with your fingertips if that’s even possible, and even within the studio itself.
When the seconds of silence turn into a full-blown minute of consideration, the line crackles once more.
“I’m in love with you, Y/N.”
Your heart stops. Your mind draws a complete and utter blank. The abrupt clarity of his voice cuts through any lingering distortion and static and hits you like a wave. The world itself feels as if it’s tilted on its axis.
“Jun𑁋?”
“I love you,” he repeats more firmly this time, voice raw and full of everything he’s been holding back. “and I told you I was sick tonight because I couldn’t sit right next to you while you gave advice I was too scared to take. I just𑁋holy shit, I love you…”
Your mouth parts open in shock, then closes. The chat is going absolutely feral right now and you can barely read through all the comments without having this unusual urge to just slam your hand onto the console and pretend that you’re suffering from pure delirium.
On the wall, the ON AIR still glows stubbornly.
user: I FREAKING KNEW THAT CAT ANON WAS JUN
user: may i find this kind of love one day what the helly 🙏
user: Y/N ARE YOU BREATHING RIGHT NOW ????
user: our stupid oblivious hosts are in love. I CALLED it
You feel as if you almost have to squeeze your voice just to get it out. “Jun…”
On the other hand, he inhales sharply.
“...yeah?”
“You’re such an idiot,” You sputter out. “Do you have any idea how… how insane this is? Confessing on our show… using a pseudonym I gave advice to𑁋”
“I know.”
“𑁋after lying about being sick𑁋”
“I know.”
“𑁋and letting me sit here and talk about love like you weren’t the one I was talking to the whole time?” You ramble on out of a sheer mix of pure disbelief and relief, tightening your grip on the microphone. “Like all the advice I said wasn’t about… us?”
You hear some rapid shuffling on the other side, and you could almost imagine Jun sitting up in bed as if he’s received the most shocking news of his entire life. Then you hear his dazed laugh flowing into your ears.
“Yeah,” he admits quietly. “It was.”
Your breath catches embarrassingly hard and your face is completely on fire. The chat combusts once again, and you have to keep mentally reminding yourself that this entire interaction is live and half the city is probably listening in at this very second.
“From the first moment I saw you back in college,” Jun continues softly. “My heart and brain did the thing, you know? That you said before𑁋where you meet someone and all you can think is: Oh, it’s you. The second I saw you, I just… I knew I wanted to keep seeing you.”
You feel your eyes start to burn.
“I should’ve said it years ago, but I’m… I’m a coward. I know I am,” he mutters helplessly. “I know it’s stupid pretending to be cat anon because it was safer than telling my best friend I’m in love with her. Stupid that I… used to remind myself that I never deserved someone as bright as you. But anytime you told someone to suck it up and take the leap, I had to do it now or else I’d lose the chance and probably explode.”
He lets out a soft, breathless, disbelieving laugh of relief at the very end. Tears are streaming down your face at this point, but you don’t care.
user: IM PASSING TISSUES DOES ANYONE ELSE NEED ONE???
user: jun confessing his undying devoted love to y/n life is worth living again!!!!
user: i feel like a successful marriage counselor WTF
user: the solomon paradox is REAL
“Gosh, you’re…” You wipe a tear from your eye, murmuring weakly, “Your timing really needs to be studied, Jun.”
“Wait, wait, are you crying?” Jun asks worriedly in a fit of panic. “I didn’t mean to make you cry on air𑁋oh, my God, I can take it back, I can𑁋”
“You cannot ‘take this back’, you idiot!” You cut in immediately. “I’m crying because I’m in love with your stupid ass too! And if you don’t get here and finish the show with me, I’m absolutely going to lose the rest of my dignity.”
There’s a very long, suspicious beat of silence that passes. It’s enough to have you feel like you’re going through all the stages of grief in just a matter of seconds. And you swear on Jun’s life that if he doesn’t say something in the next minute, you might actually crash out and let the world witness your breakdown.
But reality snaps back in when you hear the sound of him nearly tripping on the other end of the line.
“I’m coming,” he reassures you. “I’m sprinting as fast as I can. Stay there for me, okay? Don’t finish the show without me.”
The line goes dead.
The night is quietly young as you and Jun step back into your apartment, the door clicking shut behind to finally cut out the rest of the world.
You still can barely process what just happened. First, Jun had texted you that he was quite literally shitting bricks for the entire day (which was a lie, thank goodness), then you somehow managed to host an entire segment all on your own without losing your sanity, and now the man you’ve been secretly in love for years had confessed to you𑁋live on air, alongside an entire audience of fellow love drunk listeners𑁋and is currently standing directly in front of you, wearing a hoodie he probably put on right before sprinting to the studio and a pair of pyjama sweatpants.
Jun doesn’t waste a single second. He steps up close to you and carefully wraps his long arms around you, the comforting scent of him quickly filling all your senses. He lets his forehead rest against yours, the two of you shutting your eyes together as you simply bask in each other’s presence.
“You’re real,” he murmurs, his hands trembling where they rest on your back. “I swear I thought I hallucinated the entire night. I need someone to pinch me if𑁋hey!”
You giggle at the way his face dramatically contorts with a pout, soothing his side with a gentle squeeze. You tilt your head enough to brush your nose against his.
“Then kiss me like I’m real, you idiot.”
For a moment, he just blinks like you spoke complete gibberish. Then he cups your face and presses his lips to yours, sending immediate shivers that make your knees weak. You let out a soft sigh into his mouth as the kiss deepens ever so slightly, your hands slowly sliding up his chest. You feel him chuckle against your lips.
As you kiss, you find yourself backing up in the direction of the couch. Jun follows without breaking contact with your mouth. When the backs of his knees hit the cushions, you both tumble down together in a clumsy, giggly heap with you on top of him, straddling him.
You brace your hands on his shoulders, and Jun’s arms lock around your waist instantly, holding you flush against him. And for a second, you both just… stare at each other.
Jun is the first to break, his eyes flitting back and forth between your eyes and lips as he doesn’t know where to look. “What?”
You bite your lip to keep from smiling too wide at how ridiculously cute and disheveled he looks right now, tilting your head at him like you’re pretending to study him. You lean in a little just to tease, and instinctively, he puckers his lips together, chasing after yours when you pull back away.
“I can’t believe how stupid we are,” You whisper, brushing his lips briefly in a feather-light peck. “Giving advice to everyone but ourselves. We wasted literal years.”
Jun chases after your mouth again, capturing it properly this time and pulling away with a satisfied hum. “Mhm. Absolute morons.” His hands find their way under your shirt, tenderly mapping the bare skin of your waist. “But I’m done wasting time now.”
You chuckle into the next kiss, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably as he tries to deepen it. God, his lips are so eagerly soft, but he’s smiling so hard you momentarily knock your teeth against his.
“Mm, wait,” You mumble against his mouth as you draw back to readjust your position, causing him to suck in a breath. “Are you trying to eat my face? Where’s the technique?”
He blinks up at you dazedly, mouth parted in playful offense. His hands tighten around your waist. “I𑁋excuse me?”
“Zero finesse. One star. I expected more from cat anon.”
Jun sits up suddenly so that you’re basically pressed chest-to-chest with each other.
“You’re too cute, that’s the problem,” he says, voice deep yet still a little rough around the edges. “How am I supposed to kiss you if I short-circuit and all I could think, holy shit, she’s mine?”
Your heart does a stupid little flip from his words. “Flattery won’t save your shitty technique.”
“Oh, yeah?” He cups your face with both hands, thumbs caressing your cheeks. “Watch this.”
The next kiss is messier𑁋heated, giggly, and clumsy because you both can’t stop smiling. You feel your toes curl as he nips lightly at your bottom lip. You sigh into it, threading your hands through his hair, the heat of it enough to make you rock your hips against his growing hardness.
You feel the heat dancing up your skin and pooling into your belly as you continue your lazy grinding against him, swallowing down the broken sigh and groans that fall out of his mouth. When his mouth begins its descent down your jaw and to a particular sensitive spot behind your ear, he smirks against your warm skin.
“Fuck𑁋you like that?” he breathes out, his fingertips brushing the underside of your breast underneath your shirt.
A shaky laugh leaves you, but it melts quickly into a soft moan when his thumb brushes your already-hardened nipple. “Don’t get cocky. Still𑁋mmh𑁋mediocre at best.”
Jun lifts his brow, mouth curved into a stupidly fond grin. “Mediocrity, huh?” He pinches your nipple gently, causing you to jerk your hips into his. “Your body is saying something different, baby.”
“Ignore her. She’s… a traitor,” You croak out, grinding against the hard line of his cock through his sweatpants.
Jun merely chuckles, tugging your shirt up enough to expose your chest. He unclips your bra without any hesitation, pushing the straps off your shoulders then letting it fall uselessly to the floor. His eyes widen as he takes a few seconds to drink you in completely.
“God, you’re so beautiful…”
Then his mouth is back on you. He sucks one nipple between his lips while his hand affectionately palms the other. A crude moan slips out of you this time; it heightens his confidence even more.
As his mouth lavishes attention to your other breast, he drags his hand down your side, teasingly sliding under the waistband of your pants to cup you over your pants. He can feel how warm you are already.
“Rating?” he requests with a firm suck.
“Like a solid𑁋shit𑁋two-point-five out of five…”
Jun pulls off your breast with a wet pop, grin turning wicked. “But you’re soaked, and you’re still calling me below average? I think your pussy disagrees.”
You open your mouth to retort, but then he slides his hand into your panties, fingers circling over your slick folds, and nothing but a breathy gasp escapes you. Your hips roll down to meet his hand as he inserts a finger inside of you, curling into that spot that makes your back arch and he has to use his other hand to hold you in place.
“What’s the rating now?” he asks, watching the way your face is beautifully twisting with pleasure as a second finger slides inside.
You shoot him a death glare as you clench around his hand. “Three𑁋fuck, right there𑁋three-point-eight𑁋”
“Getting better already,” he hums in approval, leaning back down to worship your breasts once more. The dual sensation has your head falling down into the crook of his neck, your moans caressing his skin.
“Four𑁋Jun, you asshole𑁋four-point-five𑁋”
He pulls his fingers out of you unexpectedly, making you whine at the loss. Before you can complain, you find yourself being flipped on the couch as he settles in between your thighs, looking up at you with that mischievous, hungry, adoring look. He gives another tug to the waistband of your pants.
“Final rating before I eat you out?”
Your chest heaves, though you try to keep your tone light and teasing. “Four-point-seven. Don’t get lazy down there or I’m docking points, smartass.”
Jun’s eyes sparkle with challenge as he helps you out of the rest of your clothes. When you’re fully bare in front of him, he spreads your thighs even further, letting his mouth hover tantalisingly where you need him most.
“Four-point-seven,” he repeats to himself, pressing a trail of kisses to your inner thigh. “I can work with that. Watch me get that perfect five.”
Then he leans in and drags his tongue up your soaked pussy in one long stripe, a groan leaving him as he tastes you for the first time. Your hips jolt against his face, a sharp moan tumbling out of you and bouncing off the walls of your quiet apartment.
“Oh𑁋Jun𑁋”
“Hmm?” He circles your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking it gently into his mouth, eyes flicking up to watch your face. Two fingers slide back inside of you, curling into that spot that makes your vision glassy. “God, you taste even better than I imagined…”
You slap a hand over your mouth as the pleasure starts to bloom its way out of you, but he reaches up and pulls it away, lacing your fingers together.
“Don’t do that, please,” he murmurs against your pussy. “Let me hear you, baby…”
The way he eats you out has your head spinning. It’s dizzying, a little messy, and entirely devoted to you. The wet sounds of his mouth and fingers echo and your moans and gasps travel throughout the room, only making him double down even harder to bring you over the edge.
“Five𑁋five stars𑁋ah, please𑁋”
You cum with a cry of his name, the pleasure crashing into you in waves. He continues to lazily lap at you before you start trying to push his head away, the two of you giggling breathlessly in the aftermath.
When he pulls away, his lips are shiny and he looks foolishly pleased with himself. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and crawls his way back up your body, meeting you for a deep kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, and the thought that this absolute klutz of a man just gave you the best orgasm of your life sends another shaky giggle rolling out of you.
“You okay?” he breathes against your mouth, chuckling softly of you barely controlling your laughter.
You run a hand over down your warm face. “I… what the hell just happened?”
“That was me letting go after holding back for years,” he answers without diffidence, tracing soothing circles over your bare thigh. “Do I get a final rating now?”
“Hmm, solid five-point-five. An extra half point for your enthusiasm and those cute noises you made down there.” You run your fingers through his messy hair, making him lean into your touch like a baby kitten. “But I’ll let you try for a six if you fuck me right now.”
Jun’s eyes darken instantly. “Say less.”
The two of you battle over taking off the rest of his clothes. Jun attempts to smoothly yank his hoodie off in one go, but it gets snug on something, causing him to laugh when it gets caught on his shoulders.
“Oh, my God𑁋stay still so I can take it off, you dummy!” You exclaim in frustration.
“Help me then, smartass!” His laughter is muffled into the fabric.
When you finally unsnag the hoodie and toss it somewhere on the floor, you both immediately reach for his pants at the same time, elbows bumping into each other. Rolling your eyes, you lightly smack his hand away so you can push it down his hips with borderline desperation. He kicks it off the rest of the way, his boxers following quickly.
The second he’s fully bare in front of you for the first time, he cages you into the couch right above you, littering soft kisses over your flushed cheeks. His cock rests heavily against your stomach as he stares down at you, chest rising and falling heavily.
“Hi,” he whispers stupidly, like he’s just remembered how to speak.
“Hi,” You reply with a bashful smile, reaching up to cradle his face, pinching his cheeks together. “Still waiting for my six-star performance.”
“Give me a break, I’m nervous!” he gasps defensively, grinding the underside of his dick along your slickness unconsciously. “I’ve only pictured this every single night for, like, the past four years!”
“Poor baby,” You coo impishly, reaching down to stroke him softly. “You’ve been jerking off to the thought of me for four years?”
Jun whines needily, burying his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. “Stop bullying me when I’m trying hard not to embarrass myself right now.”
“Then embarrass yourself. I’ve waited just as long, you idiot,” You urge, bringing him closer until there’s physically no more space between your bodies.
With a sly smirk, he reaches down, lines himself up with you, and slowly pushes inside. He groans lowly as he sinks inside you until his hips are pressed against yours. For a second, he doesn’t move at all, only trembling with his forehead leaning onto yours.
“Oh fuck𑁋I think I died a little,” he grunts pitifully into your neck. “You’re so warm. And tight. Think I-I short-circuited again.”
You give his shoulder a tight squeeze. “Move, Jun. Please.”
He obeys right away, thrusting into you experimentally and drawing a collective moan out from both of you. When he snaps himself into you again, again, and again, he sets a slow, deep rhythm that has the couch creaking softly beneath you.
“Shit, Jun𑁋” Your nails rake down his back as he hits that spot perfectly inside you again and again, wrapping your legs around his waist. “You… You feel so good.”
“Yeah? You look so pretty falling apart on my cock, baby,” he praises heavily, voice sounding absolutely wrecked. “Still rating me? Am I passing?”
Your laugh dissolves into a moan when a particular thrust punches the air out of your lungs.
“You’re at…” You bite down harshly on your bottom lip, glancing down to where you’re joined together. “Five-point… seven𑁋shit, keep going like that, I’m so close…”
“I’m so close too, not gonna last,” he pants, his breath molten on your neck. “God, I love you, I love you, I love you…”
You grab him by the nape of his neck to collapse his mouth back onto yours, swallowing all his desperate little grunts and sighs as the kiss turns heated fast. His rhythm stutters for the briefest second before he regains himself swiftly, the wet slap of your bodies meeting over and over again flooding the room, with your own hips rolling to meet with each of his thrusts.
The heat of it all invades through all your nerves, that familiar coil tightening in your belly. The rating game is completely out of the window now. There’s only nothing but the drag of his cock kissing your walls and this thumb dipping in between your legs to caress your clit, encouraging you to let go.
When your orgasm finally crashes, it’s much more intense than the last. Your nails imprint sharp crescents down his back as one final broken cry rips out from your throat, stars bursting behind your ears. Your walls squeeze around him so tightly he curses, the drive of his hips faltering sloppily.
“Baby, I can’t𑁋I’m gonna𑁋where𑁋?”
“Inside,” You beg gravelly, wrapping your arms around him even tighter. “Lose yourself in me, Jun, please.”
That’s all it takes for his own orgasm to hit him. With one final thrust, he spills inside of you with a deep, guttural groan. His face drops into the crook of your sweaty neck as shaky little whimpers continue to leave him𑁋your name, I love you, fuck I love you𑁋repeatedly until he’s completely spent and melted into your arms.
For a few moments of stillness, the only sounds travelling throughout the room is your ragged breathing and the sudden hum of your refrigerator. Eventually, Jun lifts his head from where it’s been resting comfortably on your chest. His dark hair is sticking out in all sorts of places, a few strands even matted to his forehead. And his eyes are half-lidded, yet so soft and full of love that you almost want to sob.
“So…” he starts hoarsely, kissing the tip of your nose. “Final rating?”
You let out a tired, contented laugh, brushing damp strands of his hair off his face.
“Mmmh… six-point-five,” You decide sleepily, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.
A bright, boyish grin unleashes across his face. “I’ll take it. Room for improvement for the next round.”
“I𑁋next round?!”
“I aim to achieve ten stars. Or maybe more than that.”
“God, you’re so insatiable,” You groan, shaking your head despite the smile breaking through your expression. “Later on, maybe… for now, I just want to hold you.”
Jun swears he feels himself literally melt into a puddle at that, because how could he ever deny a request like that from you? Despite the little space on your creaky couch, he pulls out of you with a wince, grabs the throw blanket that has unknowingly dropped to the floor before shifting himself more deeper into your arms. The soft fabric wraps around your bare bodies together in a warm, messy nest, one of his legs slotting in between your legs.
“Better?” he mumbles hopefully, letting his eyes fall to a close so he could listen to your heartbeat.
“Mhm. Much,” You hum in response, nosing through his hair. “I love you, you menace.”
You feel his lips meet the soft skin above your breast, right over your heartbeat.
“I love you too, dummy.”
Remember that stray cat that landed on your doorstep at the very beginning and refused to leave?
genre: take text, smau, nonlidols, family au, fluff, oneshot!au
warnings: gen neutral (pregnancy is mentioned but there is no gender), cursing, mentions of food, suggestive jokes (yn going crazy over blonde jun), Imk if i missed anything else!
: ̗̀➛ synopsis: Jun has been your best friend for years but you never knew that he’s actually been obsessed with you this whole time. Until he sends you a sudden nude whilst away in China which changes the dynamic.
You have always been lucky. You might not be crazy rich, or strikingly pretty, but you truly have the best friend in the world. Wen Junhui.
It's the times when you have him blowing up your phone when you don't reply, cooking chinese food when your stomach rumbles and the pair of pink slippers nustled into his hallway designated for you that make you realise that no man will ever live up to him.
He has been exceeding your expectations since the night you met him. The night your friend ditched you at the club for some dick, leaving you, in flawless makeup and an outfit you had been planning for days somehow contemplating going home.
Purse in hand, you caught sight of a him cutting through the crowd —suspiciously good looking and his smile reeking of "Are you open-minded?". You gripped the strap tighter, breath stalling, but instead of trying to get you drunk or onto the dance floor, he stayed beside you all night.
Since then, Jun had been at every birthday party, been through every breakup and been by your side through every moment you needed him — he's your constant. The one who will always stay.
Never once has a single hint of hesitation hit you when telling him all your worries. All the times you used to be crying on your bed, gut clenched at the realisation you had no one to talk to now couldn't feel like a more distant memory.
Chest tightening, you remind yourself not to take him for granted. Although, he certainly likes to make it difficult when he abandons everything for your needs. Like that time he skipped dance practice so you could have a sleepover the night your ex broke up with you.
Looking around at your empty room, you tuck away your pink slippers into your highest cupboard. They look far too lonely when they aren't in his apartment, accompanied by his grey pair. You yank at your charger, expecting a reply, only to be left with another painful reminder of his busy schedule.
Three months into his filming in China, and you're certain you are one minor inconvenience away from insanity.
You’d be lying if you said you didn't have moments — close calls. His hands brushing yours. Lingering looks. Him wiping your tears with his shirt sleeve.
But you would never dare to cross the line.
You couldn't. He’s your best friend. Always has been. What would you do if it fucks things up?
However, Jun percieves you differently.
After years of being friends, it became impossible for him to keep seeing you not getting treated how you deserved. You'd be happier with him. How could you not see this?
Every time he comforts you, every sleepover you have, every tear he wipes from your cheek, the urge swells. At first it was his desire to comfort you— to love you. But it's rotted into something darker, something dirtier gnawing at him from the inside.
It's a quiet obsession that he isn't exactly proud of, yet he can't deny it. He especially can't deny it at times when you're curled up on his lap wearing his hoodie with those tiny fucking shorts you love. His dick pressing against his zipper as he excuses himself to the bathroom to take care of it.
But the last thing he wants is to make you feel uncomfortable or to push your boundaries and lose you forever.
So every memory becomes a part of his private folder. He saves voicenotes of you saying his name, photos of you sleeping beside him, even screenshots of times you were being accidentally flirty over text.
He reassures himself that it's just a way to keep himself controlled, that he needs an output for his desires, but even he is aware of how much he's slipping into his fantasy rather than the reality that could shatter if he moves too fast.
And now that he hasn't seen you in three months, he's spiralling. He thinks about you constantly, reading your texts over and over whilst he's on set. He thinks about how soft your skin must be, his cock getting harder from just imagining the feel of you in his arms again.
He predicted this might be the case when he left for China so he did something new. It was always a fantasy he dared not to admit. But he had no choice when he stayed round yours for the final sleepover. Each deep, rhythmic breath of yours coaxing his eyes to your underwear drawer.
Jun now laid on his bed. His figure adorned only his grey sweatpants and a pair of your white lace panties in his grasp.
You, however, were at Mingyu and Wonwoo's place. They were two friends Jun introduced you to recently as he instructed them to look after you whilst he was gone.
You were now curled up on their couch, phone balancing on your stomach, half-waiting for Jun to reply to your last message.
The three of you had fallen into a routine by now: Mingyu cooking too much, Wonwoo gaming on call, and you sneaking photos to send to Jun like you were documenting your survival.
It wasn’t the same without him. Mingyu and Wonwoo were sweet, loud, and distracting — but they weren’t Jun.
With the silence from your phone beginning to get nauseatingly loud, you snap a quick selfie to Jun, silently hoping it will prompt a faster response.
It's a simple photo — you, Jun's hoodie pooling at your waist, watching tv with Mingyu on their couch.
Grinning to yourself, you caption the selfie, 'bet you miss me more than i miss you' and hit send.
Jun didn’t mean to open it while he was half-hard, shirtless and lazy on his bed… but now he couldn’t stop staring.
Grip tightening on his phone, he looks back to your panties laced within his hand, mentally piecing the sight together with your selfie — the formed image driving himself insane. His hand instinctively reaches for his cock, carelessly pulling it out of his sweats as if it was routine.
He knew it was wrong but he couldn't help himself when he was this hard. He zoomed in on your neck, mind wandering to how soft your skin is there. Thinking about how much he wants to grab it and hold you down. Letting his hand trail over his sensitive tip, he hums in pleasure as he lets his head roll back.
Fueled by his ache, he lets the soft, pure fabric meet his dick, wiping his precum, not realising how far this would lead him. The contact with his cock and your panties made him twitch, imagining how you'd look in them— how you'd look in them beneath him.
Jaw tightening and head spiralling, the realisation that he can't escape this situation hits him. Yet, he doesn't fight it. He knows better than to fight it when he can feel his hunger surging with every bead of sweat accumulating on his forehead.
His cock twitches further into your panties and before he can process his actions, he's got them wrapped around the base.
The hotel room is cold, nothing like the view on his bed. His abs gleam with a thin sheen of sweat, sweatpants sitting low enough to reveal the girth of his cock, partially veiled by your damp underwear.
He's far too deep in the fantasy, far too deep for any critical thinking, his mind only containing you and his need for you to finally acknowledge him in the way he craves.
Pulling out his phone, with his brain barely present, Jun snaps a photo as a response to yours. The only difference being that his photo back contains his dick wrapped up in your panties.
It comes with no warning. The innocent notification buzzing against your stomach like a hug, fooling you into a sense of comfort.
You opened the message expecting a selfie. Instead, it was him. Hard. With panties—your panties, looped around the base.
Oh my god. That’s yours — that’s your underwear wrapped around his cock like some kind of trophy.
And he knows. He fucking knows you’re looking at it. He wants you to look at it. Wants you to see how hard he is for you, even when he’s not here. You can’t breathe.
Now you’re in Mingyu’s bathroom, phone shaking in your hands, thighs pressed tight together like that’ll help anything. What the fuck does this mean?
You build up the courage and face the image again, drinking in the view. His dick— your best friend Junhui's dick. You couldn't help but notice every detail.
Your phone showed every vein, it showed just how hard he was.. for you. And without warning, it was now seared into your memory.
Yet you didn't mind it.
You didn't mind the thought of Jun, thick, flushed and twitching into your panties that he must have stolen from you.
And the thought of what is happening outside the image, him in that hotel room with his hand wrapped around himself, panting your name whilst jerking his cock into your underwear.
Palms sweating, you notice the slight v-lines visible in the corner of the image causing your to almost choke on your saliva.
This only lead you to imagine his face— fuck, that pretty face. Probably just as flushed as his tip.
You catch a quick glimpse of your reflection in the bathroom mirror, your state mirroring your imagination of Jun in this current moment.
Your face flushed a bright rosy shade and the stark light above you making you feel far too exposed, yet also lighting up the image on your phone as if it's going to burn through your retinas— or maybe that's just due to your staring.
Around you, you can still hear the muffled sound of Mingyu and Wonwoo discussing the TV, yet with every beat of your heart increasing in volume, and your breath slowly getting heavier, it became much easier to ignore.
Was it a mistake? But fuck, what if it wasn't?
Either way, you can't deny the fact that it's your panties he stole. And it's your panties he's jerking off with.
That thought alone makes your breath shallow, hitched and humiliatingly loud.
With your hands tightening around your phone screen, you open your messages, yet you can't manage to type. Your trembling fingers hover over the keyboard as if they are haunting it.
Looking down, you view the picture again, heat Instantly spreading through your chest, the sensation travelling down your stomach.. and lower.
You couldn't stop staring, thoughtlessly imagining the heat spreading through your body was his touch. That his long, slender fingers were the ones carresing your inner thighs and the dizziness you felt was from him yanking your head back.
You had to collect your thoughts — your emotions.
Finally, you typed
You: 'Did you mean to send that to me?'
Every second that passes feels like torture. Your body and mind unable to cope with the perverse thoughts of what could be taking him so long.
Jun is lying in his hotel bed, half watching some random chinese tv show. His free hand tracing a lazy trail down his stomach, fingers slipping just under his waistband. He isn't exactly paying much attention to any of it though. In his eyes, you are the only thing that matters. The phone buzzes and he leans up, seeing your response. Jun pauses, considering his response.
Buzz
Jun's name lights up your screen. You don't touch it right away. Your chest tight, breath stalling as you almost drop your phone when you scramble to read his reply.
Jun: 'Yes.'
That's it? What's up with him.? You bring your knees up onto the closed toilet lid where you are sitting, your mind completely blank yet still full of questions. But aside your curiousity, your stomach stirs and your thighs rub together.
You are left with only one word as your solution.
You: 'Why?'
Jun shifts, pulling his hand from his waist. He sits up, the blanket bunching at his hips. He types, licking his bottom lip, considering his response. How was he supposed to tell you the truth? That he was obsessed?
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
His response was faster this time.
Jun: 'Was thinking about you'
'Wanted you to see it'
'To see how much I miss you'
Your knees weaken. Your breath gets heavier. Is this really happening? You don't even think before replying.
You: 'You're insane. I'm at Mingyu and Wonwoo's!'
Jun chuckles, shifting to lay back against the headboard, resting the phone against his chest.
Jun: 'Then be quiet for me.'
You stare at the message for a moment. Your skin tingling with heat as you subconsciously fan yourself. Biting your lip, you look back at the photo he sent before responding.
You: 'In the photo.. is that mine?'
A smirk curves Jun's lips as he reads your reply. His thumb tracing along the bare skin of his hip.
Jun: 'You're smart enough to figure that out'
'I bet they look better on you'
Your stomach flips at his words. It's a tone you've never heard from him before and it feels as though every thing he says sends a signal straight through your body.
You: 'What were you thinking!?'
His reply is instant.
Jun: 'Are you really that desperate to know what I was thinking about with your panties wrapped around my hard dick, hm?'
'Isn't it obvious?'
Jun pauses to think about what was on his mind. The image of you in those exact panties had been burned behind his eyelids. He'd been thinking about it nonstop for days at this point. He couldn't get you out of his system.
Jun: 'I've been thinking about you'
'About what I'd do if you were here'
Your thumb hovers over the keyboard. You type something back but delete it. Your heart beat becoming the only distinguishable sound over the hesitant tap of your typing.
You: 'Tell me'
Again, he replies almost instantly. As if he'd ridden this train of thought a hundred times before.
Jun:'I’d have you on your knees right now'
'I’d pull your hair back so I could see your face'
Jun's hand curls around his length, squeezing. It's a poor, poor replacement for what he really wants. He closes his eyes, his mind already creating a picture, just picturing you there with him, all to himself.
Jun: 'I'd make you open your mouth for me.'
'I wouldn’t stop until you were a mess.'
'Then I’d use my tongue, my fingers, my dick. I'd make you feel so good.'
You close your eyes and picture it. Your legs feel restless. You rub your thighs together desperately in a pathetic attempt to ease your need for any kind of friction.
Steps faltering, you stumble your way to unlocking the bathroom door. Relief floods you, both Mingyu and Wonwoo are asleep in their rooms — unaware.
As if he could sense your movements, your phone starts ringing. Sharp against the counter, sudden enough to make your heart skip.
It’s him.
Your fingers hover over the screen. Breath catches. A pulse races through your chest, slowing only when you finally swipe to answer.
“Hey,” his voice hums through the line, low and deliberate, like he’s already inside your head.
His voice sounds soft and deep, that tone which you have been missing. It had been far too long since you have heard it.
In any other scenario, your body would instinctively relax upon hearing this voice, however when surrounded by the fluorescent confines of this bathroom, with your underwear soaked and mind blank, your body can't help but tense.
You manage to catch your pacing breath and choke out a weak, "Hi.." into the phone. Your voice sounding much weaker and inferior against the weight of his baritone.
"Are you alone?" His voice trembled slightly, like he was holding back.
Your thighs clench at the sound. Too shy to respond, you nod in response before remembering he can't see you. "I am.."
There’s a pause, and it’s like you can feel him leaning closer, teasingly close.
"Good. Sounds like your still in the bathroom. How about you make your way to their guest room, hm?"
Your skin prickles as if he was really next to you, as if he's in your ear, breath sliding down your throat. Without thinking, you follow his command, allowing the sound of your footsteps to act a signal of your obedience to him.
"I'm laying in the bed now.."
Jun brought your soft lace towards his face and breathed in your scent, although he's been doing it for so long it's started to fade. That doesn't stop him from pulling out his aching cock again, still wet with precum.
"Following my orders, already? How about a second one?"
"What is it?
He is fully fisting his cock now, aware that the sounds must be escaping into your phone speaker yet unable to stop himself upon hearing your voice.
"You're okay with this, right?" "Fuck, please say you are."
You can practically hear his brows knitting together through his voice. God, you wish you could see him pleading for you like this.
"I promise, what's the second order?"
Jun then slides your panties to his lower face and licks a determined stripe along the fabric, letting out a disgusting whine before speaking.
"Be good and let me hear how wet you are."
Your fingers teased with the hem of your panties, as your grinded up into the fabric. That wasn't enough — so you let the pad of your finger slide down the length of your wet cunt.
Jun’s breath hitched, a sharp groan slipping out as he bucked his hips up into his fist, ruined already by the slick sounds you were making for him.
"Does it scare you how much you want this?" Jun's voice is low, strained but authentic.
"It scares me just as much as it excites me." Your words are promptly silenced by a moan as you let a single finger slip past your folds.
Jun takes your panties and threads them back around his cock, fucking the fabric with deep thrusts, his mind only centered around how much better you'd feel.
You can hear the sound of his slick fist through the speaker, wet and obscene, mixing with his low groans. Your back arches instinctively against the hard mattress, your legs spreading wider as you circle your clit with trembling fingers.
“Jun-” you gasp his name, your voice high and shaky.
He groans at the sound, almost guttural. “Fuck, say it again. Say my name like that.”
You do, over and over, until you’re whining it like a chant. No longer giving a fuck if Mingyu or Wonwoo hear.
“I want to be inside you so bad,” he mutters, voice strained and heavy with lust. “I want to feel you clench around me. I bet you’d be so tight—so wet. You’d take me so good, baby.”
Your body reacts before your brain catches up, your fingers pushing inside yourself. The sharp stretch makes you cry out.
Jun hisses. “Fuck, are you touching yourself for me? Are you fucking yourself while I’m not there?”
“Yes. Yes, Jun,” you admit, your voice breaking on his name.
The sound he makes in return is dangerous, deep and ruined. “Good girl. That’s my good girl. Pretend it’s me. Pretend it’s my cock stretching you open.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, doing exactly that. Pretending it’s him. Pretending his weight is pinning you down. Pretending his voice is spilling into your ear instead of through your phone.
“I’d make you beg for it,” Jun growls. “I’d make you beg for my cock before I even let you have it.”
Your thighs shake at his words. You fuck your fingers into yourself harder, sloppier, chasing the sensation.
“Jun please,” you whimper, not even sure what you’re asking for.
He chuckles, dark and dirty. “That’s it. Keep begging. You sound so sweet when you’re desperate for me.”
The noises on his end get faster, more frantic, the sound of his hand gliding over his cock sharp in your ear. You can picture him perfectly. His head tilted back, face flushed, his pretty mouth parted as he ruins himself with your underwear.
“I’m close,” you whisper, your voice nearly breaking.
His reply is instant. “Cum for me. Cum with me. Need to hear how good my voice makes you feel.”
Your climax hits you hard, blinding, as your back arches off the bed. You’re gasping his name like a prayer, holding the phone tight against your ear as if that’ll make him closer.
Jun follows seconds later. His breath stutters, a low moan spilling out of him as he finishes into your panties, his voice so raw and disgusting you know you’ll never forget it.
There’s silence afterward, save for both of you catching your breath.
Finally, his voice cuts through the silence, soft and shaky: “...fuck. I wish you were here.”
IN A UNIVERSE filled with soulmates, you never wanted one, never wanting to be tied down to a stranger for the rest of your life. However, fate always seems to work against you and gives you the worst soul mark you could ever have: a soulmate who seems to have a taste for spicy foods, something that you have a distaste for.
PAIRING: idol!jun x food journalist!fem!reader
GENRE: Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut (in Part Two), Enemies to Lovers (One Sided), Romance
AU: Soulmates
TOTAL PT 1 WC: 26.2k
WARNINGS: mentions of food and eating, profanities, self-doubt, periods, anxiety, stress
PLAYLIST: songs for red, love jun
LIV'S NOTES... firstly: HAPPY CARAT DAY to everyone who celebrates <3 this fic is genuinely a love letter to all my friends who have heard stories of red and jun!
due to some unforseen circumstances, the fic is out a little later than i intended it to be but it's out!
the fic also turned out to be slightly longer than i intended which means that it's split into two parts! part two will be out on the 21st of February 2026.
official masterlist for the universe will be out then as well hehe! so, please enjoy the first part of the first installation of Soulmate Series: Written in the Stars.
BIG THANK YOU to my love @mellowgyu for helping me to beta-read this monster, be a constant support in my corner and fix mistakes with me <3 i love you so much
PART TWO (WC: 26K)
WRITTEN IN THE STARS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | NAVI
THE SWEET LINGERING OF 2014
When Jun turned eighteen, he celebrated it in the practice room surrounded by his twelve brothers who were undoubtedly more excited than he was. Being the fourth oldest in the group, it was almost like there was a routine now when their members were about to have their soulmark coming of age. He doesn’t quite remember how they established the tradition but it was probably something that Seungcheol, Soonyoung and Jihoon had done – as the overall leaders.
He remembered when Seungcheol had turned eighteen and Jun felt overwhelmed for him; it wasn’t the easiest being the oldest of the group and being the person that everyone looked up to. Turning eighteen was sort of a milestone for them, to know what to expect when they too turned eighteen someday.
He remembered how Seungcheol had blown out the candles on top of the cake set out for him by the staff and looked around as twelve pairs of eyes stared at him.
“Do you feel anything, hyung?” He remembered Seungkwan, who was normally scared of the older boy asking, making Seungcheol shake his head before he paused mid-shake.
Seungcheol's brows furrowed as he let out a groan, holding his head in his hands as the members scrambled around him, asking him what was wrong. “I just got a sudden headache.” Seungcheol managed to mutter out before Jun saw the staff noting it down onto their tablet.
That was the start of the routine: with Seungcheol getting the Pain Soulmark, Jeonghan celebrating next and getting a number written on his wrist and Joshua who thought he was markless, had shrieked in the toilet finding a faint silhouette of a handprint on his chest.
Jun fiddled with his fingers as they wrapped up practice in the green room, looking at the cake that the staff had prepared as the rest of the members were buzzing with anticipation, more specifically Soonyoung.
“Jun!” Soonyoung exclaimed, making the former jump in surprise as the energetic boy grabbed both his shoulders. “Are you excited?”
Jun opened his mouth to respond but Soonyoung had already breezed past. “I can’t believe you’re getting your mark today and I’ll be getting mine in 5 days time!”
Jun blinked as Soonyoung continued to ramble on and on about how excited he was for the mark and how he couldn’t wait to meet his other half. He managed to tune the boy out as he glanced towards Chan and Minghao at the side who were staring at the older boy with amusement and unamusement respectively. The latter glanced at Jun, raising an eyebrow, silently asking if the older boy was okay. Jun let out a tentative smile and nod, not wanting to alert the younger boy of his nerves.
Jun watched as Minghao’s eyebrows furrow, seemingly not believing him but lets the topic drop as the staff gathered the boys, placing the cake in front of Jun. Jun glanced at the cake, nerves pricking the edges of his skin before he felt someone brush up against his side. He turned to see Minghao sitting to his right, placing a hand on his with a reassuring smile, stopping the unconscious fiddling of fingers that Jun was doing.
“Don’t be nervous.” Minghao whispered to him in their native tongue. “You’ve been waiting for this day for ages.”
He was right.
To say that Jun was excited to get his mark, would be an understatement. Ironic, he thinks, even as he grew up in a slightly broken home where his parents had gotten divorced when he was two years old. His father and mother got married knowing that they weren’t soulmates, almost as if they were trying to game the system. His mother told him that they were happily married for a while before his father had found his actual soulmate and that was the end of their marriage. He remembered her comparing it to a ticking timebomb. They loved each other but they didn't complete each others' souls.
He remembered how much pain she was holding even as she decided to raise him on her own, challenging every social norm as a single mother before fate finally brought her soulmate to her. Bumping into each other at a supermarket that was actually out of the way from where his mother normally goes, a true meet cute if you asked him.
Fast forward many years later, they’re happily married and Jun has never felt more loved.
He snapped out of his thoughts as the members began to sing happy birthday, making him give a small smile as he made a wish and blew out the candles right as the clock struck twelve.
“Do you feel anything?” Soonyoung burst out before yelping as Jihoon smacked the back of his head, hissing at him to calm down. Jun began to search his limbs for marks, words or anything that would be an indication that he has a soulmate. Coming back blank made his heart sink. He couldn’t be markless, could he?
He felt Minghao press more into his right side, a hug it seems as he watched the members quieten down upon seeing his reaction.
He takes a sharp inhale. “I don’t feel anything.” he softly said as he fiddled with his fingers, silently cursing himself.
He wanted to be strong for his younger members, especially because he knew that the thought of being markless scared the maknaes more than they’d like to admit, especially Chan.
He plastered on a fake smile, swallowing his emotions before taking the plastic knife and cutting into the cake in front of him. “It’s fine,” he muttered out. “It might be something that can’t be seen or felt… I think I just need to be patient.”
The tension in the room was palpable. The members glanced at each other as Jun pretended not to notice, his heart wrenching slightly as he wished that he could cut the tension with the knife in his hand.
Jun felt himself going on autopilot, continuing to cut the cake as his head swirled with doubts. Why didn’t he get a soulmark? Was he just not fated to have a soulmate? Was there something wrong with him?
He felt his spiral halt when he felt arms drape around his shoulders, as someone leaned on him. He peered up to see Seungkwan hanging off him, almost nonchalantly. Seungkwan raised an eyebrow at Jun’s staring before nudging him, urging him to continue to cut the cake.
Before he could, the knife was plucked out of his hand making Jun peer up to see Seungcheol, who nudged Jun out of the way to sit in front of the cake.
“Move.” Seungcheol said, nudging Jun away again as he continued cutting from where Jun left off.
Jun blinked at the older boy before a plate was shoved into his hands. “Eat your birthday cake Jun!” Jeonghan singsonged, sticking a fork into the cake. “You know it’s bad luck if the birthday boy doesn’t eat his own cake first?”
Jun managed a weak smile at the older boy before he noticed words appear on Jeonghan’s arm: a sign from his soulmate. Jeonghan glanced at it, a small smile on his lips before placing his arm behind his back, away from prying eyes.
“Oops, made the missus mad.”
“You shouldn’t even be lying so much in the first place.” Minghao muttered, bringing a piece of the cake to his mouth. “The poor girl probably has so many numbers and words staining her skin everyday.” Jeonghan flicked his forehead, making the younger boy yelp before turning back to Jun.
“Better eat up, otherwise the lie would be for nothing.” Jeonghan said pointedly, but Jun could hear the faint fondness in his tone that could've been missed if they hadn’t spent the past two years training with each other.
Jeonghan took a plate before skipping towards the other end of the room, no doubt to tease (read, infuriate) his soulmate by lying so that he can talk to her. Jun peered at the cake in his hands before looking around the room to where all his members sat.
Seungcheol, who was cutting the cake while talking to Joshua, who was helping him to plate them whilst nodding, invested in their conversation as he passed the plate to Jihoon without even looking at him. Jihoon then passed it to Mingyu and Chan, who were sitting in the corner eating the cake with Vernon and Soonyoung. Mingyu, Chan and Soonyoung were talking animatedly while Vernon watched them, smiling at their comments.
He peered to the other corner of the room where Jeonghan, Wonwoo and Seokmin were, cracking jokes before his eyes ended up at Minghao who was leaning against him and Seungkwan who was hanging off of him. He watched as Minghao fed Seungkwan a piece of cake before feeding himself some and Jun smiled fondly as his thoughts calmed down.
Maybe he wasn't destined to have a soulmate but fate was kind enough to send him something else, something better. It sent him twelve brothers who really knew him in their heart and they really knew his soul. He felt the lingering of something on his tongue, some sweet thing that he couldn't name as he felt his heart swell at the information that he had just digested which made his smile grow even wider and softer.
Minghao nudged him. "Are you okay?" he asked softly in their native tongue as Seungkwan turned towards him as well. Jun nodded, using his fork to cut through the cake and placed it into his mouth tasting the sweet cream of the cake before turning to the two younger boys and giving them a smile.
"Never better."
However, even as the taste of the cake faded, Jun remained oblivious to the sweet taste on the tip of his tongue.
THE ACCOSTED MALA TASTEBUDS OF 2016
The moment the clock struck midnight on your eighteenth birthday, you swore your soulmate hated his tastebuds.
To your parents, turning eighteen was on par or even more important than turning twenty-one. Soulmates was all your parents ever talked about, how they were friends turned lovers when they both had turned eighteen. Their only wish was that you and your siblings could experience the same. So, when you were on the cusp of turning eighteen, they pulled out all the stops.
“Mum,” you started, staring at the wall of decorations and table filled with presents that looked like it was one more present away from collapsing on the floor. “I think you might have gone a tad bit o–” Your older brother immediately covered your mouth before you could finish your sentence. “—outdone! She meant outdone mum! It looks amazing!” Your brother finished for you, giving you a side-eye that said ‘proceed with caution’ which made you roll your eyes at the older boy.
Your mum breezed at your brother's comment. “Thank you dear! Just trying to make sure your sister gets the same party that we did for you last year!” She exclaimed as she made her way to the storeroom to possibly get more streamers.
You silently mourned all the lost trees before turning to your brother, crossing your arms. “You didn’t need to step in Chris.”
“And let you ruin mum and dad’s best day ever?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes at you. “Yeah right.”
“You do know it’s my birthday right?”
“Yeah but you don’t care as much about this as them, so let them have it.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Unlike your parents, eighteen really didn’t mean that much to you, you were going to be bound to a stranger for the rest of your life which meant that the next few years of your life would be going on dates, questioning if this was the right person or if the soulmarks match up and if they didn’t, it was inevitable that there's either no second date, or a break-up.
You practically didn’t really believe in soulmates either. Why did the universe have to decide who was the best person for you to match with? Why couldn’t you make the decision yourself?
“Besides,” Chris continued, taking a seat on the streamer draped couch. “You are their one shot right now at proving their stories are true.”
“You’re talking as if you aren’t turning nineteen and that Hannah and Lucas are not going to have the same celebration when they turn eighteen.”
“But,” Chris pointed at you to emphasize his point. “You’re their only shot right now.”
You narrowed your eyes at your brother. "And whose fault is that huh?"
Chris feigned an offended look and exasperatedly gasped as you plopped down onto the couch next to him. “What?!”
You smacked his shoulder as he let out a yelp. “Don’t ‘what’ me,” you said, continuing to hit him despite his protests. “If you didn’t decide to join the label, you’d probably have found your soulmate by now!”
Your older brother Chris was also known as Bang Chan to the rest of the world. Having been musically talented since young, it was almost inevitable that he would end up becoming an idol in Korea. That meant crushing your parents' dream of him finding his soulmate early as he was still a trainee and that meant that dating was a huge no-no.
You were happy for him, you truly were. Being his younger sister, you had first dibs on listening to all his garage or attic produced music and you couldn’t be more proud of what your brother has achieved, especially with his upcoming debut.
What you weren’t happy with was the fact that while your parents were struggling with the news, Chris had the awesome idea to throw you under the bus in his stead. He stated that it was the reason you were born a year after him, making you the perfect candidate to live out their stories which turned their attention onto you.
You felt like throwing him under an actual bus as soon as he had suggested that.
“I’m sor- ow - sorry, can we plea– OW, stop assaulting me with the pillow!” Chris yelped out as you kept hitting him with the pillow. “I should be using things other than pillows for the pressure you put me under, its too much!” You spat out, hitting him a few more times before he caught the pillow and ripped it out of your grasp.
“Okay! Okay! I get it.” Chris said, dodging your movement of getting the pillow back. “I’m sorry for putting you under this much pressure but,” He shot you a look. “Aren’t you even a little bit curious as to what your soulmark is.”
“You know about my thoughts on soulmates Chris.” You said softly, sinking back into the couch as you eyed the decorations sprinkled across the family living room. “I just hate that my life feels like it's predetermined just because of this person that I am supposed to spend the rest of my life with.”
You couldn’t bear to look at your brother although you could already feel his eyes on you as silence enveloped the living room. “Maybe you aren’t scared of the person,” Chris started slowly, making you raise your head to meet his eyes, “but more of the uncertainity that comes with it.”
His tone was soft but his words were firm and hit harder than you thought it would. He had a point, he always did. “Don’t be scared, the universe decided them for you, whoever it is, they are meant to be half of your own soul. I was scared when I got my soulmark too.” Chris said softly, his fingers tracing the half tattoo on his forearm. “But they will love you for who you are, and what you will become. You’re amazing and they will definitely see all those trademarks too.”
Your nerves dissipated little by little as your brother's words sunk in. “Thank you Channie.” you breathe out as you give your brother a side hug. He gave you a side smile, hugging you back as he used his other hand to ruffle your hair.
“Can’t wait to see who will actually match this gremlin energy of yours.” He joked which made you let out a scoff, playfully giving him a small smack on his side as he continued to laugh before he abruptly quietened.
You peered up at him and your heart sank a little as you watched him stare at the half tattoo, his eyes filled with hope and longing. You felt a little guilty for chastising your brother so much, unlike you, he didn’t have a choice of taking steps to finding his soulmate unless he meets her at the label or through shoots. He would need to actually wait for fate to take the reign and bring her to him.
You reached out and grasped his hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “You know,” you started slowly, giving him the time to lock eyes with you. “I read somewhere that if you trace the soulmark, your soulmate can feel that you're thinking about them.”
Chris stared at you, his eyes widening slightly. “Did you just quote a soulmate myth?”
You felt your cheeks heat up slightly as you attempted to glare at your brother. “Don’t push it.”
His face broke out into a mischievous grin. “Look at you, Miss I-Don’t-Believe-In-Soulmates.”
You groaned at his words as you gave him a shove. “Shut up!”
He chuckled a little more before looking straight at you, his grin softening into a soft smile. “You really think she can feel it?”
You mirrored his soft smile. “I’m sure she can Channie. I’m sure you’ll feel it when she does it too.”
Chris gives you a smile back before bumping your shoulder. "So, tell me about the internship!"
Your grin got wider at that, making you sit up straighter, fully facing your older brother.
Ever since you could remember, food had been a big part of your life, almost like how music was apart of your big brothers. Like how producing and music came easy to him, baking came easy to you.
Baking had been your safe space for as long as you could remember. When you were younger, your mother had been trying to bake a red velvet cake for Chris's seventh birthday. Being six and looking up to your mother, you wanted to try it as well. Your mother relented after you had begged her multiple times and was shocked when you were a whiz in the kitchen.
You could crack eggs, take measurements as if it was written in your blood and mix with the hands of a master baker. You were a natural and that was where you fell in love with it.
From that experience, was where you earned the nickname, Red. Part of it was because you were a whiz in the kitchen, but the main reason was because your parents had caught you, dead in the night, the day after your brother's birthday, stuffing your face with the remaining cake. With all the frosting all over your mouth and having eaten almost half of the remainder, it was endearing to say the least.
As you grew older, you opened a food blog, upon Chris's request as a way for him to keep tabs on your food journey even when he was in Korea doing his music. You learned how to take proper pictures, what were the right words to use for describing the food you were making, how to hook people to the blog as well as how to put a touch of yourself in all the baked crafts that you created.
Which lead you to this exact moment.
Two months ago, Gourmet Traveler posted that they were looking for an intern for the summer break that was willing to learn all that they had to offer. Being a huge fan since you were young, you spent many late nights perfecting your CV, perfecting every blog post that you had as well as preparing a video to state why you were the perfect fit for the role.
You spent the better half of your exam period, checking your emails for a response and upon seeing the ad receive almost over 2000 applicants, you were almost sure that you didn't get it. You were a bit upset at first, it was definitely your dream to get in but Chris called you, gave you a pep talk about how they didn't know what they were missing and it made you feel a lot better.
However, when you were lazing around on call with Chris, animatedly talking about the plans you guys had when he came back for your birthday, a 'ping' was heard from your laptop. You lazily walked over to it, clicking as you hummed, listening to Chris talk about how you guys should go get frozen yogurt when he was back. You giggled and was about to agree until your eyes landed on the new email that just came in titled 'Congratulations' which was from the magazine company in-charge of Gourmet Traveler.
Your eyes widened as you open the email, screening through the email before letting out a squeal, startling your brother who dropped the phone on his face with a 'thud'. You heard him let out a muffled curse as he was about to start scolding you, but you immediately turned the camera around to the acceptance letter making his own eyes widen as you both started shouting together.
Which lead you to this moment.
"It's so fun!" You squealed out to your brother, squeezing his hand tighter. "They brought me along to interview one of the new home bakers the other day and let me put in some of the questions that I thought we should ask!" You say, recalling the look on your managers face when he had approved the ideas. "I also got to write my own mini-section for the article coming out this weekend!"
Your brothers eyes widen at that. "Red!" He shouts out, "That's amazing!" He nudges you with his shoulder. "I guess we know what we're doing this weekend!" His eyes sparkle, full of pride, as he pulls his hand away from yours, starting to count.
"We need one for each of us as a keepsake, we also need to buy one extra for us to keep in a frame." He rambles, listing it off on his fingers. "OH! I'm sure Dad, Mum, Hannah and Lucas would also like a copy! And the guys! They were so happy when you got the internship so that's," His eyes widen, "Fourteen copies!"
You laugh, choking slightly on your own saliva from laughing so hard as you shove your brother.
"You're such a dumbass!"
Chris lets out an exasperated gasp. "How can you say that?!" He shoves you back, "Is it wrong for me to be proud of my baby sister?"
You roll your eyes, the smile never leaving your face as he grabs your hand again with a sincere smile on his face.
"Seriously though," He starts, looking at you, his eyes shining with pride, "I'm really proud of you Red."
Your heart swells, squeezing your joint hands before the lights turn off making you jump with a small yelp. You turn towards the kitchen to see your parents bring out a cake with the candles already lit, slowly singing happy birthday. A smile made its way onto your way as you glanced at the clock.
23:58pm
You took a deep breath as your parents put the cake in front of you, your brother's hand anchoring you as he gave it yet another squeeze before letting go for you to have your moment. Your heart thundered in your chest as you looked at the beautiful homemade red velvet cake in front of you that makes a smile appear on your face.
“Make a wish darling!” Your mum exclaimed, snapping you out of your thoughts as she clapped her hands together.
You glanced at Chris who had a reassuring smile on his face before glancing back at the cake and closing your eyes, briefly making a wish before you opened them and blew out the candle right as your house was filled with a ding.
Your parents looked at you expectantly, eyes wide as you shifted nervously under their intense gazes.
“Do you feel anything Red?” Your dad asked, shifting excitedly on his feet. You nervously checked the underside of your arms before moving to your legs and shaking your head.
“I don’t–”
As soon as you said that, your face started burning up as a sharp burning numbing sensation hit your tongue making you gasp out. You immediately shot out of your seat as the sensation took over your tongue, making tears start to well up in your eyes. Chris was out of his seat, eyeing you, his face filled with shock.
“Red?! Are you alright?”
You wanted to scream at him, saying that of course you weren’t alright but sarcasm was definitely not the right approach while you were midway dying from the burning sensation.
“Water!” You managed to choke out, urgently gesturing to the water jar sitting on the family table. Chris immediately grabbed a glass, pouring like his life dependent on it, turning around to pass it to you. You grabbed it out of his hand and inhaled the water, feeling the burning sensation start to subside with each gulp you took.
Chris had given you a few more glasses before the spice fully subsided as you collapsed back on the couch, your eyes slightly rimmed with tears and slightly red. You watched your parents nervously glance at each other as Chris passed you a tissue paper to wipe the stray tears from your eyes.
Your tongue felt numb from the spice that had overtaken all your senses as a sourish aftertaste soon followed making you smack your lips as your face scrunched up slightly in disgust of the aftertaste. Swirling more water in your mouth in hopes to get rid of the taste, you turned to your parents.
“What was that?” you croaked out to them as they were shifting slightly uncomfortably from where they’re standing.
Your mum cleared her throat. “Well, sweetheart,” she started, as you watched her brain slowly piece the words together, “it seems like you have a taste soul mark.”
You froze, your hand stopping from dabbing at your eyes, looking between your parents for confirmation as to whether either of them were joking. When all you were met with was seriousness, you felt a heavy sigh flow up from your throat as you frowned.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me–”
“LANGUAGE!”
THE RED OF RED VELVET OF 2016
Jun felt himself collapse on the floor as soon as the video stopped recording. Catching his breath, he jumped slightly, hearing a soft 'thud' beside him before chuckling to himself at the view of his starfished team leader.
Minghao walked over to the two and sits down opposite Jun, an unamused expression on his face as he shakes his head at Soonyoung's antics.
"One of these days," Minghao muttered out, "You're going to hurt yourself really bad by collapsing like that." Soonyoung, who was still starfished on the floor, lets out a grunt in acknowledgment at Minghao's words but makes no further comment.
Chan who was the only one left standing after the intense practice, ran a hand through his hair as he kept slowly rehearsing the moves, slowly correcting himself, little by little. Jun watched in adoration, as their maknae continued to nail the choreography with ease.
Being in the performance unit was definitely something he was meant for but it didn't make the extra dance practices or intense choreography easier to get the hang off. Sometimes he was envious of the other two units, the hiphop unit just needed to look like they were having fun on stage and the vocal unit just needed to look ethereal. Them, on the other hand, needed their choreography to look flawless which meant extra practices and extra dances to remember.
Chan continued to hum the beat of 'Highlight' before walking over to his three hyungs, plopping down in between Jun and Minghao. "I think we're almost ready for the music video recording." Chan chirped up making Jun smile, despite still catching his breath. He was always envious at how much energy their maknae had, even after all those extra steps, Chan looked like he wasn't even panting.
Soonyoung sat up slowly. "Yeah and then tomorrow we need to figure out how to do the 13 member version for the concerts."
Minghao lets out a low groan. "You couldn't wait to drop that news tomorrow or something?" Minghao chastises lightly. "Couldn't just let us have the peace for the night?"
Soonyoung clicks his tongue. "As performance leader," he gives Minghao a cheeky grin, "I cannot."
Minghao rolls his eyes at the older boys antics. "Can't believe you're older than me." He muttered. Soonyoung lets out a scoff, about to retort when Minghao notices Soonyoung's eyes sparkle a little before changing, the dark brown slowly turning to a maroon red.
"Your eyes changed colour again." Minghao nonchalantly points out, gesturing towards his eyes making Soonyoung's eyes widen, any remarks dying, as he whips out his phone to document the change.
"Are you any closer to figuring out what it means?" Chan asked Soonyoung, who was still typing ferociously onto his phone. Soonyoung absentmindedly shook his head.
"No," He muttered out, still engrossed as he scrolled through his notes. "It's driving me insane! Like I can't believe I have a soulmate and I can't even communicate with them like Minghao can, all I have is the darned colour changes. Its almost as if the universe just doesn't want me to find—"
Minghao slaps the back of Soonyoung's head before he has the chance to continue making the older boy yelp in pain. Soonyoung shoots glares at Minghao, "What the hell was that for—"
Minghao raises a finger, silencing the boy before gesturing to Jun who was sitting there, quietly with his legs crossed. Soonyoung's eyes widen in understanding, gnawing on his bottom lip. "Sorry Jun." he mutters out making Jun glance up and shake his head slowly, a weak smile on his face.
"It's alright." Jun said softly, shrugging a little, "I'm used to it."
Even after two years, Jun was still the only one unsure if he had a soulmate or not, everyone else had gotten something on their 18th birthday except Chan whose birthday hasn't passed yet and was just a few months away. With every new soul mark that the group celebrated, Jun's hopes dimmed more and more.
After being told to not give up two years ago, Jun had done everything in his power to figure out what soul mark he had. He went onto his ipad in between practice sessions, just to read up on published articles of late blooming soul marks. He picked up some books in the library about the different types of soul marks that have been documented so far, each more unique than the last. Hell, he even tried to force the soul mark to happen by pinching himself after seeing Seungcheol's soul mark or even doodling on himself after seeing Seungkwan's but drew blanks everytime.
Maybe he was really unlucky and he really was going to be the only one without a soulmate.
He was so deep in thought that he didn't notice the three younger boys share a glance, a silent conversation between them before shooting to their feet, shocking him.
"I think we're done with practice today." Soonyoung states, stretching a little before holding out a hand for Jun to grab. Jun stares at the hand, side glancing to the two other younger boys before looking at Soonyoung, his eyebrows furrowing. "Don't we have another hour of practice today?"
It was true, the staff had booked the the practice room for eight hours today and left them around two hours ago, trusting that they would practice till the time was up. Soonyoung was normally the one in charge of the timings, being the performance leader and never let the group end earlier for any circumstance even with Chan's constant whines of wanting to end.
Soonyoung raised an eyebrow. "Well," he clicked his tongue, "I was being nice and offering but if you're that concerned," his eyes twinkled with a mischievous sparkle, "You can stay and practice by yourself."
Soonyoung starts to slowly pull his hand back, making Jun's eyes widen, grabbing onto it and pulling himself up. "No thanks." Jun chirped out making Soonyoung roll his eyes, a small smirk making it's way onto his face.
"C'mon." Soonyoung said, putting an arm around Jun's shoulder before glancing at his other two members, a smile on his face. "Let's go to get some food."
The four of them walked out of the practice room, up the stairs and onto the street which was buzzing with ambient noises. They talked about everything under the sun, random little tidbits and inside jokes filled the moments until they stopped at a familiar neon signage.
Jun blinked, not even realizing they had ended up outside his favourite Chinese restaurant. His eyebrows furrow before looking towards the other three boys, one eyebrow raising in question. "I thought you guys wanted to try the new Korean jeon place that was having that one for one deal?"
Soonyoung simply shrugged. "We changed our mind." Jun stared at him in disbelief, clearly not believing his answer but was pushed through the doors of the restaurant by the tiger boy before he could press even further.
"Good evening— Oh! It's you four!" The owner of the restaurant greets them, with a warm smile on her face as the four boys bowed, mirroring her expression. "Where are the other noisy nine that are normally with you all?" She teased, as the boys took their seats at one of the tables near the window of the store.
"Are the four of us not enough aunty?" Soonyoung whines out, making the old lady laugh as Minghao and Chan roll their eyes at their older hyung while Jun just shakes his head, a little embarrassed at their leader's antics. She pat Soonyoung's head. "Enough, enough," She says, soothing the boy. "It's just livelier when all thirteen of you are around."
Mrs Yang, as she told the boys to call her, was a lady in her sixties who had opened this restaurant after she moved from China twenty-odd years ago. Mrs Yang had opened the restaurant with her husband after they had been unable to find jobs in the corporate world and opted for their restaurants to be a 24/7 shop for those who just needed the comfort of a hot bowl of food.
The boys has stumbled across the restaurant before their debut, looking for food at the weird hours of the morning. She had welcomed them with open arms and for Jun, this place was like home far away from home.
Jun enjoyed the food so much that he found himself coming back to the restaurant whenever he felt down or just needed a hot meal that wasn't out of his budget. When Mrs Yang had learned about their debut, she purposely made a special menu for them that cost less than what other patrons paid.
Seungcheol and Jeonghan tried to argue with her about it but she was stubborn to say the least as she threatened them with the idea of lowering the prices for the thirteen of them even more.
She rounded the table to Jun and Minghao's side. "How are my two favourite boys?" She asked, in their native tongue making the two look at each other, a knowing smile on their faces.
"We're good." Minghao replied in Chinese before gesturing towards Jun, "Jun here really wanted to eat your food today."
Mrs Yang looks right at Jun, meeting his gaze before analyzing him.
"Thinking about her?"
Jun gave her a weak smile before looking back at the menu, analyzing it as if he didn't already know what he wanted. The night of his eighteenth Birthday, Jun sneaked out of the shared dormitories, needing to clear his head from the day. Having had practice the whole day, Jun didn't really have time to dwell on the fact of his soulmate and threw himself into the practice, making sure his moves were perfect and didn't really rest the whole day.
The other boys were worried, for sure. He saw the small glances that they gave each other when he was the first back on his feet after the breaks, they saw how he sweat a little harder than the rest of them and how he was unusually quiet, not a single mischievous comment coming out from his mouth.
Minghao and Seungkwan didn't leave his side for majority of the day and when Minghao had appeared in their shared room in his sleepwear with Chan no where to be seen, he knew that the members had a small meeting about him.
That's how he found himself back at the restaurant, drinking a hearty bowl of beef noodle soup, sitting opposite Mrs Yang. The restaurant was always quiet in the dead of the night. Mr Yang working hard to prepare the next set of ingredients needed for the wave of 5am customers who typically worked the night shift while Mrs Yang minced chili for their special chili oil, cut spring onions for garnish or plucked the heads off of bean sprouts.
Tonight she was doing the latter, slowly making her way through mountain in the left while she disposed the headless ones on her right, the heads throwing them into the plastic bag beside her.
She hummed along to an old Chinese song that flowed through the speakers of the restaurant that Jun recognized. It was one of his grandmother's favourite songs that used to play in the house when he was younger. It was at times like this that he missed his home in China and the food only amplified it more. He swallowed his emotions as he downed the last bit of his noodles, placing the bowl on the table with a soft 'thud' alerting Mrs Yang.
She gave him an easy smile, peering into the bowl, "Wahh," She said, the smile on her face growing bigger, "I guess we don't need to run the bowl through the dishwasher with how clean your bowl is."
Jun let out a weak laugh at the joke, sparing her a glance before going back to stare outside the window as he watched one or two cars whizz by.
Mrs Yang's eyes soften watching the forlorn boy who looked like he was close to breaking. She looked towards the kitchen where Mr Yang was standing, glancing between the two of them with a curious look twinkling in his eyes before gesturing towards her making her nod.
Jun was brought out of his thoughts when Mr Yang placed a small serving of a dessert that Jun wasn't expecting to see was placed in-front of him. His eyes widened, before looking between the older couple, his jaw dropping, "Nian Gao?" Jun sputtered out, making the older couple's eyes twinkle with delight.
"Happy birthday my dear boy." Mrs Yang said softly as Mr Yang placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Didn't think we would forget your birthday did you?" Mr Yang asked, his eyebrow raising, "We're old but not that old." Jun immediately shook his head, panicking slightly making Mr Yang let out a hearty laugh as Mrs Yang tsked at her husband, hitting his hand lightly.
"Don't disturb the poor boy like this on his birthday." She chastised her husband but there was no malice in her tone making Mr Yang laugh harder. Jun stared at the couple, longing in his veins, smiling a little sadly at the sight before looking down at the sticky cake in front of him.
The couple shared another glance at Jun's silence before Mrs Yang reached over the table and grabbed his hand that was resting there. "Want to talk about it?" She asked softly.
Jun swallowed. "I don't think I have a soulmate." He lowly admitted, his heart clenching slightly. The older couple were quiet for a beat at the confession before Mrs Yang's eyes hardened slightly on the boy. "That's nonsense."
Jun blinked at her stern words, "Everyone has a soulmate boy." She said, sternly locking eyes with Jun, "The minute you stop believing in that is when your soul doesn't long for them anymore or it feels complete without them next to you."
She raised an eyebrow at the young boy, "Do you truly feel like that?"
The question knocks the wind out of Jun's lung as he finds himself staring at her, his mouth open and closing like a fish before he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. He really thought about it, her words striking him hard.
"I don't," He manages to answer making Mrs Yang nod her head. "Then she's still out there, longing for you as well."
It's crazy how those few simple words made Jun's doubts all disappear but she was right. If he didn't have a soulmate, he wouldn't feel this upset about not having something he didn't have in the first place. He wouldn't feel like something is missing from his life.
Mrs Yang gave Jun's hand a small squeeze. "Blow your candle already my dear boy." She said, pulling her hand back, "Make a good wish."
Jun smiled at the older couple who stared at him, their eyes filled with adoration and pride before he made a wish. He wished upon every single star in the sky that he would find her.
That's how they ended up here, the Yangs' had been helping Jun out by giving him hope and also checking with all their soulmate doctors that they knew. They always had something new to give Jun but with the search getting harder and harder each day, they were coming up short during his last recent visits.
"I always am." He answered, a reply to Mrs Yang's question, "I don't think she ever leaves my mind."
Mrs Yang gives the boy a sympathetic smile, reaching down and giving his hand a squeeze, "Good, as long as you don't give up on her." She says, her words a little fierce before turning to the younger Chinese boy.
"And you?" Mrs Yang asked. "Has she communicated with you?"
Minghao gave her a small smile. "We're trying," He mutters back softly, tugging at his sleeves to show the dark words of his soulmates thoughts on his arm, "Hard with the time difference and the language barrier but Shua hyung and Vernon have been helping me."
Mrs Yang gives the boy a toothy smile at that. "Good boys." She says, her smile widening at the thought of Joshua and Vernon. "I'll pack some extra food later for you to bring to them." The two boys give her an appreciative smile and thank her in Chinese before Mrs Yang clapped her hands.
"Right!" She said in Korean, getting the rest of the boys attentions, "I got a treat for you boys tonight." She gave them a wink with a promise to be right back before disappearing behind into the kitchen where she talked in fast Cantonese with her husband.
The four boys glance at each other before laughing to themselves as the couple loudly talked to each other. Not even twenty minutes later, the table was filled with various different dishes that the older couple whipped up making the four boys salivate.
"Dig in!" Mrs Yang said, clapping her hands as the boys eagerly began to dig in. "Woah!" Soonyoung gasped out after taking a spoonful of soup, "This is so good." Mrs Yang nods, her smile filled with pride, "It's Mala Tang," She said proudly, "Mr Yang and I thought it would be good for us to add it to the menu since Minghao and Jun mentioned liking it."
Jun took a sip of the soup and let out a sigh of contentment. "Really tastes like home Mrs Yang."
"I'm glad." She says, giving him a huge smile and patting his head gently.
They share stories with Mrs Yang about their recent practice and their upcoming concerts, Soonyoung sometimes getting out of his seat to dance the dance for her making Minghao shake his head at his antics as Jun and Chan laughed at their leader.
She clapped her hands as Soonyoung finished his one man show of 'Highlight'. "Bravo!" She cheered as Soonyoung took an exaggerated bow making Chan laugh as Minghao sighed and Jun smiled in between bites.
He quietly listened to Soonyoung animatedly tell Mrs Yang about his ideas for the thirteen member version of the song, placing more chili oil in his mala tang spoon as the clock struck 10pm. He took a sip of the soup, loving the spice and numbness on his tongue before it totally dulled in record speed, replaced by the strong taste of water.
Jun jumped in surprise, confusion flooding his features as he stared at the spoon as if it had offended him, which it did. "What in the world?" Jun wondered aloud before placing more chili oil into the soup before taking another spoonful of the soup and put it into his mouth.
Minghao who heard his murmurs, glanced at him, his eyebrow raised. Jun felt the numbness and the spice hit his tongue again before it was once again doused with taste of water.
"Not spicy enough for you?" Minghao asks teasingly as Jun frowned at the bowl getting the attention of the other three people at the table.
"No," Jun started, confusion still etched into his features, "I keep tasting water for some reason after drinking the soup."
Minghao's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What?" He asked. Jun shrugged, "The mala taste of numbness and spice is there for like a second but then it gets overwhelmed by a really strong water taste." Jun said, taking another sip of the soup. He scrunches his nose in confusion as he tasted more water, the more he clicked his tongue.
Soonyoung at the other end of the table made a face before his eyes widened in realization as he turned to Mrs Yang who smiled as the gears turned in her head at Jun's words.
"Look's like your soulmate has finally found you." Mrs Yang said, making Jun tilt his head in confusion before it hit him. Chan and Minghao let out gasps as it hit them as well. Jun felt his heart thunder in his ribcage as his eyes widened.
Soonyoung rushed out of his seat, rounded the table and hugged the boy, squeezing him tightly as Minghao reached over to grab Jun's hand, "I told you so." Minghao said, in their native tongue, squeezing the boys hand.
Jun felt tears swarm his vision as his taste buds came to life, tasting the sweet taste of cream cheese frosting and chocolate cake on his tongue.
Red Velvet Cake.
He had finally found you.
10 YEARS LATER
"Fuck." You curse under your breath, running through the city in your heels was surely not the way you wanted to start your morning. It wasn't like you meant to sleep through all three of your alarms, you had stayed up to the early hours of the morning, working on your newest article for the magazine.
After you had graduated from high school, your old manager during your internship had called and offered you a position with the magazine after loving your work so much. Hence, you were known as the culinary and food expert at the Gourmet Magazine.
"Hey Mina," You greet as you brisk walked through the company glass doors. Mina, the receptionist looks up from her computer before giving you a bright smile, greeting you with your name as you gave her your card to scan you in.
"Long night?" She asks, glancing at the time on her computer making you give her a weak smile as you shrug, "You know how it is when we're wrapping up articles." You answered tiredly, making her nod her head sympathetically.
Mina had been the receptionist at the company since you started working full-time here. She was always around and she somehow always had the brightest smile on her face. She was also one of your closer friends in the company, always having an extra coffee for you whenever you were working late and always brought you donuts or other forms or sweet treats. She was quite literally your life saver.
"I hope the article goes well," She says softly, passing you back your card as you give her a warm smile, thanking her before she open the gantries for you. Your heels click on the marble floor as you press the button for the elevator, taking it up to the fifth floor.
You briskly walked in, dumping your stuff on top of the table of your cubicle before sinking into your chair, letting out a sigh of relief as you check the clock. Five minutes to spare, you roll your shoulders, finally catching your breath before a head peaked over your cubicle divider.
"There you are," Nari teased making you roll your eyes, a smile on your face as you came face to face with your cubicle sharer. "Was wondering if you were going to make it for the special meeting today or not."
You huff out a scoff, "And risk getting my ass handed to me by Minho?" You mutter back, shaking your head, "He would kill me if I missed the meeting."
Nari rolled her eyes at that, "As if." She scoffed, "You're literally his favourite journalist in the field. I think he would rather choke on his own guts before chewing yours out." You scrunched your nose at the image, "Gross." You said making Nari laugh.
Nari had joined the same time as you as a fellow intern for the food magazine. The two of you had solid portfolios and because management couldn't choose, they decided to offer both of you the spots. You and Nari became friends pretty quickly even though she was a year older than you were and the two of you chatted about everything under the sun. After the internship was over and the two of you finished high school, you were both on boarded together and have been working as cubicle besties since then.
Your phone buzzed making you glance at it before fishing through your bag for your laptop and the hard copy of your article and column for the week. "C'mon, you menace." You called to Nari, "Let's go see what Park wants before he hands us something bad for being late."
Nari appears beside you in record speed with her own laptop and hard copies in her hand, "He loves us too much to actually do that." She says, a mischievous grin on her face making you roll your eyes. "Well, let's not actually give him a reason then."
The two of you continue to chat as you made your way into the meeting room, where your magazine manager, Park Minho already stood. Beside him, sat his personal assistant, Lina who had a frown on her face as she was typing up a storm on her laptop in front of her, her fingers flying across the keyboard at record speed.
As you and Nari pushed open the glass door, Minho looked up before grinning at the sight of you two, "There are my two favourite food journalists!" He announced, doing an exaggerated arm opening movement making both you and Nari roll your eyes at his antics.
"Don't let Terry hear you say that," Nari teased, as she took a seat at his other side. You flashed Lina a grin who flashes you one back, tiredness etched into it before she went back to typing on her computer.
"Well, if Terry's articles and food columns actually hit 1500 views over the weekend," Minho began, eyeing the two of you with an easy grin on his face, "He shall get that spot then."
Your eyes widened as you looked at Nari who had a similar look on her face before looking back at your manager, "We hit 1.5k views?" You asked in disbelief making Minho nod as he flashed you both grins of pride, "Yep! Just over the weekend!"
You and Nari high-five each other, the smiles on your faces not dimming, "Was this what this meeting is for?" Nari asked, her eyes still sparkling making Minho shake his head, "Firstly," He pointed towards the papers on yours and Nari's computers, "I need to collect your columns and articles for this week."
The two of you share a look before passing them to him, he flipped through them briefly before passing them to Lina who tucks them into her file beside her. "Secondly," He starts before gesturing towards the projector screen, "The higher ups have been super impressed with the work that you both have been putting in and they recently wanted to offer you an assignment that is specially catered to the two of you."
You and Nari glanced at each other before looking back at the screen as Minho changed it to the next slide. Upon reading the words etched onto the slide, you felt your blood run cold.
"Food for the Soul: A Soulmate Assignment?" Nari asked, her tone ecstatic as you just stared at it with your mouth open. Minho nodded his head eagerly, seeming not to notice both your expressions as he continued, "Since both of you have a soul mark related to food cravings or taste, the higher ups thought that they wanted to create a series where you look for your soulmates through the foods and see if you can find them."
He flips to the next slide, "Of course, the trip is also fully-paid, you just need to inform Lina and I of the location you think your soulmate is in and we will get you the accommodations as well as give you money for you to spend to write the series."
Minho finally turns to you and Nari who have different expressions etched onto your faces as you just stared blankly at the projection screens, "Of course, we have to work out a timeline, what your series will actually entail but this is the basics of the assignment." Minho finishes, with a satisfied grin on his face as he takes a seat back into the rolling chair of the meeting room.
"Any questions?" He asks making Nari shake her head with a huge smile on her face before he turned to look at you who still stared at the board, a million thoughts running through your head. You felt faint.
After the incident of your eighteenth birthday, you held a huge dislike for your soulmate and his taste buds. You were aware that you and your soulmate definitely didn't live in the same country with the amount of times you would wake up with the taste of Americano on your taste buds before you even had your first cup of coffee and the amount of times you would eat your late dinner with the taste of toothpaste on your tongue.
At the start of your journalism journey, it was difficult to say the least. For every single assignment, you had to work around the times when your soul mate was having his meals so as to not have it clash with the food that you were writing your reviews for.
You had learned that the hard way when you were tasting the cakes of the newest rising bakery in town, only to almost spit out the delicious creamy cakes when you taste the sour and spicy taste of some fish dish that your soul mate was having. Safe to say, you worked your absolute hardest to give the bakery the best review it could ever get and business was still booming to this day.
You had tried to make a schedule for when your soul mate eats his meals and he was consistent for a while but within a month or so, that schedule will change sporadically throughout the month leaving you to just shred the schedule and go "fuck it", to try to find other workarounds. Which of course, there weren't.
This lead to your certain distaste for him and his taste buds as he never really had anything sweet and opted for every single spicy or sour food he could find his hands on. However, as much as you didn't like him or the idea of him, he was… sweet sometimes.
He must've gotten a schedule down for you, because unlike his outrageously sporadic schedule, you kept your meal times to a certain range in the day and it only strayed sometimes when you were in the middle of assignments or on work trips.
Because for the week during your periods, he ate milder stuff and kept to a proper schedule like it was clockwork. More sweet stuff than spicy or sour and sometimes he would sneak a chocolate during the middle of your day which made you smile as you taste the creaminess on your tongue.
You would be nice as well and eat something spicy during the week after, during one of your meals as a quiet 'thank you' to which he always replied with either another sweet chocolate or something sweeter. Still, that didn't mean you were okay with having a soul mate, he was normally a blip in your imagination until your tongue tastes something unfamiliar which makes you frown and curse him out even more.
Now you were expected to make a series to force yourself to find him? The biggest assignment of your career where you get to travel for 3 to 4 months and it was all to find someone that you didn't want in the first place.
You gnawed on your bottom lip before feeling Nari nudge you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You eyed her before realizing that all three of the people in the room were staring at you. You cleared your throat before straightening up, flashing Minho a weak smile.
"Sorry, spaced out there for a moment." you say, looking between him and Lina, "What did I miss?"
Minho gives you a curious look before clearing his throat as he gestures back to the presentation, "Well, I was just saying that you and Nari have a week, you can brainstorm with each other or separately and decide what your game plan is and where you think your soulmate is."
He peers at his watch before tapping it with his fingers, "Right, Lina and I need to run for a meeting with the Chief." He said, standing before pushing his chair and shooting the two of you a bright white smile, buttoning his suit jacket. "If you two have any questions, just shoot them into my inbox!" He says cheerily as Lina stood by his side, her signature frown still on her face as she gripped her laptop and files like they were her lifeline, which they probably were.
With that, he gives the two of you a wave before stepping out of the room. Nari turns to you as soon, her excitement radiating off of her. "I can't believe this!" She all but squeals as she grips your hands in hers, her eyes twinkling.
"A paid assignment to go find our soulmate!" She said, her tone dreamy as her eyes glazed over a little, "It's almost like a dream come through!"
You manage to give her a weak smile. "Yeah." You mutter out, your eyes moving downwards to stare at the scratch marks on the wooden table as the faint taste of kimchi fills your tastebuds.
"A dream come true, alright…"
You stare at blinking cursor on your screen, the blank document reflecting the opposite of every single thought in your brain before you groan out in frustration. You push your laptop off of your lap and onto your bed as you sink further into the pillows.
It had been almost a week since you had your meeting with Minho and you were nowhere close to drafting up that working plan for him about finding your soulmate. You felt like a zombie the past few days, sure you were present in the meetings, there for your discussion sessions with Nari but it felt as if you were on autopilot for all of them.
You half-heatedly listened to Nari as she explained to you her idea. Nari, like you, had a food related soul mark but for her, it was related to what her soul mate was craving at different times. They didn't taste each others food, but whatever her soul mate was craving, Nari found herself craving the same thing. It didn't matter who craved it first, the two of them ended up having the same meals anyway.
If you had gotten that soulmark instead, you felt that it wouldn't make a difference because he would've craved an immense amount of spicy and sour food and you weren't sure that your tastebuds could handle more than one meal of spice or sour foods a day. It just wasn't in your system to have it.
As she animatedly told you her plan, how she thought that her soulmate was situated in Italy, he always had a certain craving for different Italian foods such as pizzas and pastas and how he seemed to also crave a certain Italian wine.
You envied her a little bit, she had a plan and she wanted to meet the man that was part of her soul. You on the other hand, felt a pit in your stomach whenever you felt someone ask you about your soulmate.
You had been on a few dates here and there, with people who hadn't found their soulmate yet either but nothing ever truly stuck. You were committed to your work and you definitely didn't stand in the other persons way when the date eventually went eastward when they found their respective one.
"Don't worry," They used to assure you as they paid for your drink. "I'm sure he's out there looking for you as well."
You weren't sure about that. As much as you haven't been trying to find your mysterious man, he also wasn't making it easy to pinpoint where he was on the map. Your parents had given you a journal for your birthday, something cheesy with stars on it and titled it 'Your Soulmate Journal' for you to document everything related to your soulmate for you to find them. They had also given one to your brother for him to document the certain feelings he felt when he touched the mark or whether it glowed brighter and in which direction.
You used it to document the food he ate instead. Sometimes if you wanted to wing the assignments, you used the food journal of his tastes to get ahead, to get the variety that you normally wouldn't eat yourself. It worked for a while but at the end of the day, you felt guilty for your soulmate. You didn't want anything to do with him but you were using him to get ahead, so you stopped and just documented what he ate, trying to find a pattern, just to satisfy your parents every time you saw them for Sunday dinners, just to say you were trying.
You glance at the journal on your desk and sighed, getting up to take it before flipping through it.
18/9/2017
Loser boy ate the spicy numbing food again. Been talking to Minho and Nari about what the foods were to try and get more info. Admittedly, maybe he has taken the hint from the amount of water I keep dousing my tongue in after he eats the food, but he's been getting a milder one.
Either that or I'm getting better at eating his god-awful spicy food.
25/12/2018
Found out what the hell that spicy food is. Nari came into work and brought an extra portion of lunch for me today. It smelled good but as soon as I tasted it, it felt like my tastebuds were tasting him. She told me its something called Mala tang, something she had discovered in the city and it was to die for.
I agree with her on that considering I nearly died from it during my birthday but I didn't mention that to her. I thanked her as my stomach did flip flops as I ate quietly.
The food wasn't bad but considering my low spice tolerance, I definitely can't eat this everyday.
My question to my loser boy, why the hell do you?
You grimace as you recalled the last memory before flipping a few more pages.
10/6/2019
Is today his birthday?
It could be a coincidence but he had cake just now. Not that he hasn't had cake before. But it's always on this specific day. I flipped through the last three years of entries and I think it is.
He had three different kinds today… Chocolate, Vanilla and Strawberry, all filled with cream. It felt like he ate a lot more sweet stuff today than normal. Maybe he was trying to communicate with me?
18/10/2021
I fucking hate him.
I thought I had his schedule down, but I somehow woke up at 4am in the goddamn morning, because he decided to eat Mala Tang again. He put extra spice this time though.
Is he doing it on purpose?
I would normally only taste mint now but I'm tasting so much food, its annoying.
I've tasted Mala Tang, some kind of sweet and sour pork and some kind of black pepper beef.
I fucking hate him.
I hate that he made me hungry at 4am in the morning.
29/6/2022
God, hes been eating at weird timings again. The last time it was like this, it lasted for a few months where I'd wake up with different food tastes in my mouth.
What does he work as?
A food taster? Some moonlighter? Why does his food schedule go haywire every few months?
The only conclusion I can come up with is that he travels a lot. There's no other explanation.
Unless he hates me which I can't blame him because I hate his tastebuds.
You flipped through it more until you came to the most recent one which was a tally.
Tallied results:
Korean food - 6890 times
Chinese food - 3568 times
You internally groan, just looking at the first two. You weren't stupid. He was definitely in Korea from the amount of times he had eaten Korean food over the last few years that you had documented. But he seemed to take a liking to Chinese food, considering that he eats Mala at least twice a week from your count.
You glance towards the framed polaroid on your desk and frown a little more. The picture of you and your older brother Chris, stares back at you making you sigh. You had an inkling for years that your soulmate was in Korea, which was why you never really traveled there with a fear of running into him on the street, breaking this little bubble that you were keen to keep.
You knew that Chris was disappointed. Your parents traveled there to visit him as least once every quarter with your siblings but you never went. It started with small excuses at first, like you can't take leave from work, you needed to finish the article, you were traveling for a work trip, et cetera.
Chris also hummed in understanding but you could see the look in his eyes that he knew you were lying to him and that you were keeping something from him. He just didn't press you enough to figure out what you were hiding from him.
You stared at the polaroid for a beat longer before sighing and pulling out your phone. Checking the time and doing the mental math, you went into facetime and hovered over the call button on his contact. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth before deciding 'fuck it' and hitting the button.
His ringtone rang once. Twice. Thrice.
As you started to second guess yourself and hovered over the disconnect button, the ringing stopped and changed to 'connecting'.
Your eyes widened but before you could calm your nerves, Chris appeared on your screen with makeup on with a concerned expression on his face.
"Hi-" You managed to say before Chris interrupted you.
"Are you hurt?" He asked, urgently making you stop and frown, "What—"
"Is something the matter?" He asked again, before rattling even more. "Did something happen with mum and dad? Wait- no then you would've called an ambulance first. Is it Hannah? Or Lucas?"
"Chris—"
His eyes widened, "Oh my god! Did you just get fired?? Is that why you look so worried?? Do you need money??"
"Chris." You called, getting a little more frustrated but he payed you no mind as he continues on rambling.
"Well, we didn't plan for this but we can go to Plan Contingency B! Where you move to Korea with me and then we can figure out the rest of the stuff. Let me call my manager and then we can have you situated her—"
"Christopher Chahn Bahng!" You exclaimed, making him pause at the mention of his full government name, looking at you as his face pales even more.
"Oh god! Is it worst than that?" You wanted to slam your head into the wall at your brothers expression.
Before he could launch into another spiral of rants, you spit out, "Chris, I need to talk to you about my soulmate."
At that, he freezes, his jaw dropping open.
You never talk about your soulmate willingly since your eighteenth birthday. Your parents or siblings always had to pull it out of you whenever you met up with them for dinners or on calls. You never brought it up first, considering it to just be a small blip in your life, much to your parent's disdain.
You stayed silent, letting the initial shock sink in as well as letting his brain process.
"Chris?" You call out softly after counting to hundred in your head, "Can I continue?"
Chris closes his mouth, taking a swallow before nodding, "Er, yeah." He clears his throat as he sat up straighter, "Sorry, I wasn't expecting that."
"Neither did I when you started your full rant about contingency plans." You quipped back making a small flush appear on his cheeks, "When you call me in the middle of the night after my concert —which you normally never do, a brother can worry."
Your eyes widen at that, "Oh shit!" You mutter out. He shakes his head and holds up his free hand before you could even begin to apologize, "You can apologize by telling me what's got you awake at 1am in the morning when you have work tomorrow."
You took a deep breath before you told him about everything, the assignment, how you thought your soulmate was in Korea and how conflicted you were about everything. Chris just listened, never interrupting you as he shuffled around his hotel room, dressing down for the night after the concert. The only times he spoke was to ask a few questions here and there, just to clarify and piece the story together better.
"So," You breathe out, finally catching him up on everything, "What do you think?"
Chris was quiet for a moment, his makeup now fully removed as he sunk lower into his bed, "Is that why you haven't wanted to visit me the last few years?" He asks, softly. Your heart drops at the question before you give a small nod, "I knew the chances of me bumping into him were small but," You shook your head, "I just didn't know if I wanted to meet him yet." You hesitate a little before admitting, "Or if I was even ready to meet him."
Silence enveloped the room as the two of you digested everything that you had talked about before Chris sighs over the phone and runs a hand through his hair.
"I understand." He finally says, giving you a small smile and a shrug, "It was your anti-soulmate defense system talking," he says, a slight tease in his tone before it drops, "But this might be a good thing you know?" He says gently, "You were going to have to face him eventually and meeting him might give you a better piece of mind Red. You need to give him a chance."
You nod, rubbing your eyes, "I know," you mutter out, "I just didn't think it was going to happen so soon."
Chris nodded, empathetically, "I know Red," he whispers out, "But running away from him isn't going to work forever. I think this might be the universes way of telling you to face your fears."
You heave out a sigh before rolling over onto your back, your hand reaching out to grab your pillow before cuddling it, "I didn't think that my biggest assignment of my career was going to revolve around him Channie." You softly admit making him frown as he stared at you through the phone.
"I'm sorry Red."
You shake your head as you feign a brave smile, "It's okay." Your voice wavering slightly as you try to reassure him (and yourself). "I need to finish typing up my game plan."
Chris visibly hesitates and opens his mouth to say something but rethinks it and just nods.
You bid him goodnight and was about to hang up when he calls out to you.
"Red?"
You raise an eyebrow, "Yeah?"
He chews his bottom lip, "Would you like to stay with me when you come?" Your eyebrows furrow at the suggestion, "Is that even allowed?" You ask making him shrug, "I probably need to talk to my manager about it but Jeong-in probably won't mind if you bunk with me plus…" He trails off, hesitating slightly making you raise an eyebrow, "Plus?"
"It'll be nice to live in the same house again, that's all." Chris softly says making your heart clench slightly at the tone of his voice making you relent, "Alright." You relent, giving him a small smile. "Check with your manager and we can plan from there."
Saying that the next few weeks felt like a fever dream would be the understatement of the century.
If you weren't at home, you were at work pulling different all-nighters to wrap up the remaining projects, interviews and articles you were assigned to write before this assignment. If you weren't at work, you were at your parents house having family dinner where they would ask you countless amount of questions about your proposal which you always answered halfheartedly or with an awkward edge in your tone.
If you weren't at your parents house, you were at home, writing and rewriting your soulmate assignment proposal as if it was the last thing you will ever work on— which it might be if Minho kept asking you to rearrange or add more things to give your assignment a little more pizzaz.
As if it wasn't bad enough, the icing on the cake was that your soulmate's eating schedule had changed for the umpteenth time, which caused you to have zero appetite to eat upon tasting whatever spicy or sour poison your soulmate had chosen to have right before you woke up.
You know you shouldn't be blaming your soulmate who was none the wiser about the situation that you found yourself in but you couldn't help it. Not when suddenly, your whole life just revolved around him.
Your work, your family dinners, hell, even your sleep schedule dependent on him. So, by some act of pettiness (and sleep deprivation), you decided to fight back with an ample amount of sweet things whenever the first drop of spice or sourness hit your tastebuds.
You retaliated with that for a few days until it seemed that he picked up that you were angry with him which he answered by eating cleaner food, food that didn't linger in your mouth which made your heart clench slightly, feeling guilty that you had taken your angst and frustration out on him.
So when Nari's jaw drops open upon seeing what you were eating during a normal Tuesday lunch, a week before you fly off, you sort of feel the urge to crawl into a hole and rethink your lunch option.
"Are you eating Mala?" Nari asks, her eyes fixated on the instant noodles you were about to shove into your mouth. You stare at her, your mouth agape, the food about to enter as you peer down at your lunch option before looking back up at her and shrug, using the chopsticks to put the food into your mouth.
"Wanted to see what the hype was about." You state as nonchalantly as you could even though you could feel your cheeks burn, as if you were caught doing something forbidden. "Plus, he was nice during hell week for me."
Nari stares at you as if you had grown a second head, "Did your period come early?" She finally asks, making you choke on your food as you stare at her, absolutely flabbergasted by her comment.
"No—" You choke out, taking a few sips of water to calm yourself down before continuing, "You can't ask me that in the middle of work! What the hell Nari?"
"Well!" Nari sputters out dropping her lunch on the table as she takes her seat opposite you, "I have the right to question if you're acting strange!"
You roll your eyes at her dramatics, picking up one of the ingredients with your chopsticks, "You're crazy." You mutter out, eating the ingredient making her narrow her eyes at you. Knowing that she heard you, you return it with a teasing smile making her scoff at your antics.
"Are you ready for next week?" Nari asks, opening up her lunch, a stir-friend special from the Chinese place down the road. You swallow your food before nodding as you take a sip of your water, "Yeah, just wrapping up the article on 'Milan's Bistro' and the special column on my take of 'Charles Boyle's Pizza Ratings' for the Writer's Takes, which should be published this Friday if Minho gives me the green light." You say making Nari chuckle slightly at your column for the 'Writer's Take'.
"Did you start rating some pizza places out of twelve then?" She asks making you give her a mischievous smile, "Of course," You exaggerate, "What kind of connoisseur would I be if I didn't use his famous metric system as a fellow food enthusiast?"
Nari laughs at your words making you laugh along with her before the two of you converse about her columns and articles she has left.
"Did Minho finally agree with your proposal?" She asks you towards the end of your meal. You hummed out a 'yes' making her let out a sigh of relief, "I thought he would never accept it." She states, recycling her takeout container as you let out a tense exhale.
"I didn't think he would either." You mutter out, turning to the water cooler to refill your bottle. "Can't blame him though, this proposal was definitely the worst one I've written by far for all the assignments that I've done."
Nari frowns at your words, "Don't say that." She sternly says making you shrug, unapologetic, "It's fine Nari, really." You assure her as you plaster on a small smile, locking eyes with her concerned gaze, "My heart just isn't into this assignment as much as it should be and he knows that, which is why he was pushing me to give it my all."
"Still," She argues, her frown deepening making you shake your head, "It's something to not want to find your soulmate but being forced to find them for the sake of your job." She shakes her head. "I'm sorry that you have to go through that."
You felt guilt sink in a little at her words.
You had shared your experience with Nari around your fourth brainstorm session when she was concerned about why your document was still semi-blank. You had hesitated to share with her but after taking a glance at her concerned face, you told her everything.
Still, after everything that had been going on, you realized that you weren't as against meeting your soulmate as you thought you would be. How he was thoughtful when he shouldn't be. How he always knows when you were heading to bed by eating a little sweet treat before you brushed your teeth to give you just that little burst of serotonin. How he always knew when you were having a hard day by the amount of coffee that you drank and would pop a mint before you did because he noticed that you did that everytime you had finished your coffee, not liking the lingering taste in your mouth.
It almost felt like he was apologizing for all the times he knew you were pissed off at him because of his irregular eating schedule. However, you were still a woman of your word and having to dedicate your life to someone who was written for you in the stars, just didn't sit right with you.
So you just gave Nari a shrug. "It's alright." You mutter out, grabbing your water bottle before walking with her out of the break room. "Who knows," You start, a joking tone in your words as you try to break the tension, "Maybe he's right and I will believe in soulmates after this."
As soon as Chris whips the door open for you, you collapse into his open arms, not caring whether it came off as clingy as you breath in your brothers comforting scent.
He jumped at first but slowly relaxed into your arms as you feel him let out a chuckle as he wraps his arms around you. "Long flight?" Chris asks lowly making you nod into his chest.
"Forgot how long it takes to get to Seoul from Brisbane."
He chuckles at that as you pull away, making him step aside to let you step into his shared apartment. You walk in and sigh, feeling the days weight lift off your shoulders as your brother carries your luggage in, before shutting the door close with a soft thud.
You take in your surroundings noticing how homely the apartment felt despite not having a lot of memorabilia around the living room area.
"Nice place." You call out as Chris made his way back into the shared area, right after dropping off your luggage in his room.
He shrugs, almost nonchalantly before he walks into the kitchen. "We try," He says simply as he whips the fridge open. "Want something to eat?" He asks, looking straight at you making you nod.
He pulls some stuff out of the fridge as you slide into a chair at their kitchen island.
"Where's Jeong-in?" You ask, noticing that his door was open and his lights were off.
"He's at the recording studio tonight." Chris says, ripping a packet of ramyeon open. "He wanted to get a bit of recording done for the new album."
You let out a hum of acknowledgment before you unlock your phone, answering a few messages from your parents as well as Nari and Minho who asked if you had landed. You continue to scroll, opting to answer a few work emails that were not as pressing, leaving the pressing ones for tomorrow instead.
"Checking your new article statistics?" Chris asks as he places a bowl of freshly made raymeon in-front of you making your stomach growl. Your mouth waters slightly as you nod, taking the chopsticks from him after placing your phone facedown on the counter.
"The article has 859 views concurrently and counting." You chirp happily, taking a bite of the noodles and humming contentedly. Chris watches you with slight amusement on his face as he leans against the counter. "Wouldn't have expected anything less from you Red." He says, his voice full of pride making you give him a sweet smile before continuing to scarf down your food.
The two of you indulge in small talk as you finish your food, him talking a little about his new album and giving you a few sneak peeks.
Him asking how the flight was, while you complain about the amount of non-direct flights from Brisbane to Seoul.
"It's a little insane." You say, placing your chopsticks on the rim of the bowl before pushing it to the side. "You would think that there would be more direct flights."
He chuckles, picking up your dish to rinse it off before placing it into the dishwasher. "Now you know how I feel." He teases lightly, wiping his hands on the cloth next to the sink. "You can't tease me anymore for how dead I look after every flight when I come visit now."
You roll your eyes at his words. "Fine fine." You relent, slipping out of the chair as you grimace slightly, feeling icky from the amount of traveling you had done. "I really need a shower."
Chris nods. "Your towel is on the blow up mattress in the room." He starts as he gestures to your room for the next few months. "After you shower, we can discuss about your plans for the week and how to get there."
You give him a quick hum in acknowledgement before skipping towards his room to wash the airport smell off of you. Twenty minutes later, you hum one of his songs under your breath before drying your hair as Chris scrolls through the places you had listed for your soulmate assignment.
You shut the hair dryer off before collapsing on his bed as he continues to analyze your itinerary. "So," You begin, stretching a little, "How's the itinerary?"
Chris nods, giving you a smile. "It's good but that's a lot of places to get through this week." He gives you a small look. "Are you sure you're going to be able to get through all that food tomorrow?"
You let out a sigh, trying to collapse further into the pillows. "I'm only allowed to be here for three to four months Chris." You shake your head. "I just want to narrow the places first so that I will have an easier time with the article."
"But this looks like a food suicide mission Red." Chris lets out, pointing towards the places that was listed on your spreadsheet. "You wrote that you have to get through nine restaurants tomorrow and it's definitely not cheap."
"This coming from the ever loving leader of Stray Kids, a premier fourth-generation Kpop phenomenon." You mutter out making your brother scoff as he pushes the laptop off of his lap. "I'm serious Red, don't you want to space it out a little more or remove some of the items on your list at least?"
You shake your head. "Again, I can't do that Chris." You say, feeling a little more frustrated by the second, "The timeline is already unbelievably short. Not to mention I need to write an article that means something to my soulmate. Which means I need to find the guy, and go, 'Hey, I don't quite want a soulmate but for the sake of my job, I need you to spend the day with me so that you can tell me about your favourite food and then we can go our separate ways.'" You rant as your brother watches you with an unreadable look on his face.
"How am I meant to do all that in four months if I take my time?"
Chris watches you for a beat, analyzing you as you go through your spiral before sighing and pulling you into his embrace. "Sorry." He mutters out as he wraps you slightly tighter in his arms. "Forgot how much pressure you're under to do this."
You let yourself breath a little, feeling his words hit home as you relax into his embrace. "It's okay." You finally let yourself say, slightly muffled due to his clothes, "I'll figure it out."
"You always do." Chris mutters out as you nod into his chest. "Wanna watch a movie?" He asks softly making you nod.
"Breakfast Club?" You ask, pulling your head away from his chest as he frowns.
"Again?" He groans out, as you give him a small frown in return. "What's wrong with the breakfast club?" You whine out as he shakes his head.
"I swear we've watched that movie at least once whenever we see each other." Chris quips back. "Are you not sick of the movie?"
"It's a classic."
"Deadpools a classic, but you don't see me asking to watch it whenever you bring up movie night."
You snort. "As if! I've seen you watch that at least twice whenever you're back home with us." You wave your hand a little animatedly, "Plus how is Deadpool a classic? It's a superhero movie."
"Superhero movies can be considered a classic."
"It's not old enough to be considered a classic you buffoon, although you could be from how old you are."
"How dare you?! I'm only a year older than you."
"A year closer to death you mean."
"I'll show you death."
THE BEEF NOODLES OF FATE - Week 1 out of 16
When Chris suggested that you should have a driver with you today, you had refused and told him that you wanted to explore Seoul independently and away from the spotlight which might be hard if you went in a JYP issued car.
The two times you had come with your family to see your brother's concerts, you realized how many of them knew when you would be arriving due to the cars that were sent to pick you up from the hotel. It gave you the shock of your life, seeing the amount of people waiting for you outside your hotel, wanting to get a glimspe of your brother.
Due to the fact that you were working on an assignment that caused you more migraines than any other ones, you knew that you needed a quiet day.
Now, however, you were regretting not taking up his offer.
You had forgotten to charge your phone when you had arrived home yesterday and left the apartment with low battery, only realizing after you had gotten onto the train which had been a hard walk already.
You tried to minimize your use of your phone as much as you could but by the 7th location, your phone had inevitably died.
Which leads you to where you are now.
You let out a small groan as you continue to walk down the street, looking for any signs or indicators that could get you out of your predicament. Chris mentioned that he was going to be working late at JYP and wouldn't be home till the early hours of the morning.
You had asked the lady at the restaurant for directions but unfortunately, due to your minimal sense of direction, you had gotten lost somewhere.
Judging from the clock at the 7th place you went to, you would guess that it was roughly around 10pm. Meaning that if Chris were to save you, he would only be able to in three to four hours depending on what time he gets home and realizes that you aren't there.
You hope that it was the former rather than the latter.
"At least it can't get worst than this." You mutter out to yourself before feeling something prick the edge of your skin making you look up to see that it is starting to drizzle. You let out a huff as you felt the rain pelt against your hoodie, dampening it. "Just my luck." You sarcastically mumble to yourself before you sprint down the street.
It starts to rain heavier as you try to look for a restaurant or shop that's open this late at night before you spot one in the distance. The neon sign of the restaurant acting like a beacon as you run towards it, feeling the rain soak you a little more.
A bell chimes as you enter the shop, a gust of warm air hitting you making you shiver slightly as the glass door shuts with a soft clang behind you.
You huff out a sigh as you take in your appearance, seeing the rain had drenched you from top to bottom. You were glad that you had decided to wear darker colours today before you left Chris and Jeong-In's dormitory. The smell of delicious Chinese food fills your nose as you look around the restaurant, your eyes widening at how cozy the interior looks despite it looking slightly run down.
"Oh hello!" A voice chirps out beside you making you turn to see an elderly Chinese lady with a warm smile on her face. You give her a sheepish smile as you watch her take in your appearance as a frown overtakes the smile on her face.
"Goodness!" She yells out, looking at you with wide eyes. "You're drenched dear."
You feel a small flush rise to your cheeks, opening your mouth to speak but are interrupted by her dragging you deeper into the restaurant. She makes you sit at one of the tables before disappearing behind the counter and speaking some fast Mandarin— or was it Cantonese, to the person in the kitchen before returning with a set of fresh clothes and a towel.
Your eyes widen as you stand up, sticking your arms up to try to stop her when she shoots you a stern look. "Don't argue with me on this." She says with a hard look making you shudder before taking the clothes from her with a soft 'thank you'.
She waves her hand as if it wasn't a big deal before pointing towards the kitchen doors. "There's a small bathroom just through there and up the stairs." She says, her warm smile back on her face. "If you get lost, just call for Mr Yang."
You give her a curt nod before awkwardly walking towards the kitchen through the hanging curtain. You see an older man, sitting on the stool there who shoots you a warm smile and points you towards the way you need to go making you bow before sprinting towards the tiny bathroom.
You change and dry your hair in a couple of minutes, looking at the fresh set of clothes which appear to be a K-pop groups merch, noticing the logo as you inspected it before putting it on. They must be real big fans of Seventeen to be having a hoodie and sweatpants of the group.
You walk out of the kitchen to see Mrs Yang already seated at the table you were at, a bowl of steaming hot soup in front of her. She notices you and gives you a warm smile. "Sit." She simply says. "A hot bowl of soup would be good for you, to make sure that you don't fall sick."
You feel your cheeks heat up slightly in embarrassment as you awkwardly take the seat opposite her as she takes the clothes from your hands. "I'll put these in the dryer for you so that you can rewear them before you leave dear." She says and was off behind the kitchen curtain before you could even protest.
You stare at the delicious food before tentatively digging in. Through your experience with your soulmate, Chinese food was a big staple of what you tasted almost weekly so this food should give that familiar taste.
You blew on the soup before taking a sip making your eyes widen at how amazing it was, feeling yourself get almost hungrier from just that sip. You immediately dig into the food, feeling the amazing flavours hit your tongue as you began to scoop more noodles and beef slices into your spoon.
You think you finish the food in record time as Mrs Yang appears again, a proud satisfied smile on her face as she looks at the clean bowl.
"Wow!" She exclaims as you place the bowl down with a small thud. "You remind me of a boy I know, he really loves our beef noodle soup as well!"
You give her a warm smile, feeling the soup nourish and warm you up. "I can see why, it's really good." You say softly. "Please let me know how much it is later."
She shakes her head and gives you a small wave of her hand before she takes a seat opposite you. "There's no need." She says, her warm smile never fading. "We just wanted to warm you up because you were absolutely drenched by the rain. Plus, seeing the way you enjoyed eating our food is enough payment for us."
You blush a little at her words before you take in more of the restaurant, the soft accompaniment of the raindrops hitting the pavement and the soft melody of the old Mandarin song accompanying your little analysis.
Mrs Yang abruptly stands up, startling you slightly as you watch her waddle her way over to the front door. She flips the sign to 'close' making your eyes widen as you scramble to stand up. You pause when you hear her let out a really hearty laugh, turning to fix her with a face of confusion.
"Where are you running off to dear?" She asks, a teasing smile on her face as you feel your cheeks slightly warm at that. "Erm," You point towards the sign, "Aren't you closing?"
She laughs again, waving her arms as she gestures for you to sit. "The dryer hasn't finished it cycle yet." She points out. "Are you planning to leave without your clothes?"
Your eyes widen in realization, your jaw dropping slightly as your brain races for an excuse, an explanation, particularly anything at this point. However, before you could embarrass yourself even further in-front of the old lady, she speaks again.
"Plus, Mr Yang and I don't get many customers when it rains." She says softly, reaching you to push you gently back into your chair. "We used to get these four rowdy boys coming in whenever it rains but they're too busy with their music or whatever."
You smile a little at her nostalgic tone. "Do they live in the neighbourhood?" You ask making her smile larger, her eyes wrinkling with the smile crinkles as she nods. "Something like that."
You glance at the corner of the room where the digital clock was and deflate slightly. It was only 11:45pm, which meant that Chris would probably only be home in an hour or two before realizing that you aren't there and would only roughly pick you up in three hours.
"Why the face dear?" You hear Mrs Yang asking as you meet her gaze, a frown on her face. "Well…" You trail off slightly, contemplating how to put your predicament into words without embarrassing yourself even more as you glance towards your dead phone on the table.
Mrs Yang notices your glance and makes a sound of understanding. "Ah!" She exclaims making your gaze land on the older woman. "Do you need to charge your phone dear?" She asks making you hesitate slightly before nodding slowly.
She waddles over to you with her arm stretched making you tentatively put the phone into her wrinkly hands. She calls for her husband in Mandarin making the man peer his head out through the kitchen curtain with his head tilted.
She says a few words to him in Cantonese making him gives her a firm nod, an easy smile on his face before disappearing through the curtain again. In less than five minutes, he reappears with a tea pot and two tea cups that he places on your table. The smell of the tea makes you feel slightly warmer inside as you watch Mr Yang pluck the phone from his wife's hands and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek before taking your phone to the cashier counter to charge it.
You smile a little to yourself at the fond interaction as Mrs Yang takes her seat opposite you again. Mrs Yang pulls the teacups in front of the two of you before pouring the tea slowly. She places one in-front of you making you thank her quietly as you take a sip, the warm liquid filling you up as you feel warmth spread throughout your chest.
The Mandarin song changes to a slower one that has Mrs Yang humming along to it, sipping the tea with absolute delight on her face as the two of you sit in a comfortable silence. You let your eyes flit across the room once more, seeing all the different types of memorabilia dotting the walls making a small smile appear on your face.
"I really love the interior of the place." You note out simply. "Feels very much like home."
Her grin widens even more at your words as she eyes the place that she and Mr Yang built up.
"When Mr Yang and I came here thirty years ago, we felt a little homesick while looking for a job." She says, her eyes slightly glazing over as she eyes a picture behind you of a younger version of the two of them, standing in-front of the restaurant on opening day.
"After we had given up, we decided to open this restaurant instead." Her expression morphs into a wistful as she retells her story. "So when we were constructing this place, we took inspiration from our old house back in Chengdu. A few of the pieces on the walls are some of the items we brought along with us."
She points to a beautiful cyan bamboo weaved hat that was hung near the entrance of the restaurant, that looks slightly vintage but had multiple beautiful roses on them. A bunch at the side was blue, the opposite side was red while there was one giant one painted in multiple shades of purple.
"That was the first craft that Mr Yang and I made together." She says, her smile wide as she recounts the memory. Your mouth drops open slightly as you stare at the work, slightly in awe. "It's really beautiful," You say, admiring the line work of the art a little more. "I really love the roses."
If possible, her smile widens even more at your words as she nods with a slight bit of pride on her features. "Mr Yang and I spent hours hand-painting them after our wedding. He wanted the two of us to work on something together that represents the two of us."
She pulls up her long sleeves. turning her arm closer to you for you to see. You lean in closer, squinting slightly before your eyes widen in realization as you stare at the rose tattoo etched onto her arm.
The rose was almost a splitting image of the ones painted on the bamboo craft, the only difference being that it was a singular rose and the rose was split into half, one half a crimson maroon whereas the other side was a vibrant blue. You let your eyes trail along the line work of the ink, noticing that the colours diverged seamlessly together almost as if it was intentional, leaving in its trail a beautiful shade of purple.
You meet Mrs Yang's gaze, a little more starstruck as she gives you a prideful smile.
"It's beautiful." You whisper out, taking one last glance at the tattoo before leaning back against your chair. Mrs Yang stares at the tattoo for another beat before rolling her sleeves down and looking back at the bamboo craft on the wall.
"It was one of the only things we brought along with us from our house in Chengdu." Mrs Yang says, her tone full of nostalgia. "We brought a lot of other stuff as well but," She shakes her head slowly, "It's one of the only things that represent the both of us as soulmates."
You quiet down at her words, your heart clenching slightly as you digest her words. She turns to you, her expression morphing into one of curiosity. "How about you my dear?" She asks softly, her eyes glinting a little. "Do you have a soulmate?"
You feel your heart rate pick up slightly at the question, unsure of how much you wanted to share with this lady that you just met. However, upon looking at the steaming cup of tea in front of you as well as the empty bowl beside it, you realize that a little truth never hurt anyone.
"I haven't met him yet." You say softly, after swallowing your nerves and wiping your sweaty palms against the borrowed sweatpants. Her features soften at your confession as she reaches out to tug your hand into hers, giving it a firm squeeze, shocking you slightly.
"I'm sure he's out there, yearning and longing for you as well my dear." She says softly.
Her words make your mouth go try and your heart thud faster against your chest making you give her a nervous laugh. "I don't know." You say, slightly awkward as you glance towards your joint hands. "I think we're a bit too different for each other to be each others halves."
You feel Mrs Yang stiffen slightly at your words making you glance up to meet her eyes, an unreadable expression on her face as she takes you in, her eyes scanning your facial features. You feel slightly uncomfortable at her calculating gaze but as soon as you want to mention it, her expression drops to something softer as she gives your hand a squeeze again.
"Soulmates aren't meant to be similar to you dear." She says softly. "They are meant to be the one that completes your soul, fill in the gaps so that the two of you feel complete when you are together. Independently, you both will survive without each other but being together," She pauses, glancing towards the bamboo craft hanging near the door making her smile, "makes everything feel as if it was meant to be, as if it was written in the stars."
You feel your breath hitch at her words as she stares softly at you, her wistful smile never wavering as you feel your heart beat slightly harder in your chest. She pauses, as if she was waiting for your response making you swallow hard as you open your mouth to try and sputter a response together.
Before you could, Mr Yang's footsteps interrupt you and his wife making the two of you turn towards the older man who has your phone in his hand. He reaches your table in two big strides, a small smile on his face.
"Sorry to interrupt." He says, glancing towards your joint hands making your cheeks heat up slightly as you gently pull your hand away from his wife's grasps. He clears his throat before sliding your phone across the table, speaking as you pick it up to turn it on.
"You were getting a call from someone named Chris a couple of minutes ago." He says, resting a hand on his wife's shoulder as your eyes widen before glancing towards the time on your device, noticing that only an hour had passed.
You open your phone quickly to see a bunch of missed calls and text messages from your older brother as well as a few from his roommate making you let out a sigh, knowing you were going to get an earful from the older one as soon as you got home.
As if Chris could read your thoughts, your phone immediately rings, a picture of you and him appearing on the lock screen. You hesitate for a beat before sliding your thumb across the screen and putting the phone to your ear.
"Hell—"
"WHERE ARE YOU?!"
You flinch slightly at his sudden outburst, pulling the phone away from your ear as his voice booms out through the phone as if you had him on speaker. You glance in disdain at your phone as he continues his rant about safety and how he was about to lose his mind before you give Mr and Mrs Yang a sheepish smile.
"Sorry." You mumble out making Mrs Yang lets out a small laugh, waving her hand. "It's no problem dear." She says, glancing at the phone as your brothers voice continues to flow through it. "Family member?"
"Older brother." You say, a slight bit of disdain in your voice as Chris continues to rant, not knowing that you were only picking up on every fifth word of every sentence he was spouting.
You give them one more smile, gesturing for a second before standing and walking towards the door of the restaurant. You compose yourself a little before putting your phone back to your ear.
"— and I can't believe you didn't even think to bring the powerbank that I got for you for your birthday! Do those presents mean nothing to you, I swear to GOD—"
"CHRIS!" You yell into the phone, making him pause mid-rant as you inhale slowly. "I'm sorry for not picking up the phone or bringing that brick of a power bank that you got for me for my birthday." You apologize, gnawing on your bottom lip.
"I'm safe and would really love a pickup please." You say slightly softer this time. Chris was silent for a moment before a loud groan fills your ears. "I'm five minutes away Red." He says, his tone still slightly tense.
You blink at that. "What?" You say, a little taken aback by his statement. He scoffs and you imagine him rolling his eyes as he mutters something to himself.
"You forget that I have your location on my phone huh?" He says as you hear the buzzing of the car in the background, not knowing how you didn't notice it before. "I checked your location when I was in the office, realized that you weren't home so I left early to come get you after I couldn't reach you."
You felt guilt creep into your veins as you process his words and let out a small sigh, knowing how much you worried him. "I'm sorry." You say again, softly and more sincere this time. Chris lets out a sigh on the other end. "You're safe." He says, repeating your words from earlier, "I'll be there in three minutes, just wait outside for me."
The two of you hang up after you agree before you turn back to the elderly couple. Mr and Mrs Yang stand near you with your bag and another in their hands making you blink as Mr Yang passes you your bag while Mrs Yang passes you a large paper one.
You take it from her slightly tentative as you peer inside to see your clothes plus a couple of takeaway boxes making your eyes widen. You whip your head up to meet their gazes, your jaw dropped open as you try to sputter for a way to say that you didn't need this much food.
Mrs Yang halts you by raising her hand and giving you a stern look.
"Don't worry about it dear," She says, "We made too much food and from your phone call with your hyung, it seems like he might be hungry as well, so share the food with him."
"But the clothes—"
She waves you off again. "Please keep them!" She says before muttering a little lower, "Lord knows we have too many." She has a small knowing smile on her face as she glances up at her husband who laughs, sharing an inside joke from what you could tell.
"Are you two big fans of Seventeen?" You ask, not being able to help yourself as you glance between the two of them. The elderly couple let out another laugh at your confusion before Mrs Yang waves her hand. "Something like that." She says, a similar tone used when she said those same words just an hour before.
A horn outside the shop breaks the warm atmosphere making you look outside to see Chris's car. You turn back to the elderly couple.
"Thank you so much for everything." You thank making the couple give you a warm look as Mrs Yang steps forward to grab your hands into hers.
"I hope you come back soon dear." She says, her eyes glinting with sincerity as she gives your hands a squeeze. "We would love to feed you again and learn more about you."
You feel your chest warm slightly at her words before giving her a small nod as a smile crosses your face. "I will." You whisper out, giving her a small nod before she lets your hands go. You walk out of the restaurant and head to Chris's car but not before giving the elderly couple another wave.
Chris's cologne immediately fills your nose as soon as you shut the door before turning to your older brother who looked slightly more disheveled compared to when you left this morning.
Before he could open his mouth to chastise or fuss over you, you beat him to it.
"Thank you for picking me up and I'm sorry, I should listen to you next time and take the car and I will bring out the pink energy brick out with me tomorrow as well."
Chris blinks at your apology before a huff escapes him, he shakes his head and places his hands on the wheel again.
"You're so lucky that I'm more relieved than mad." He says, his tone still slightly tense with an undertone of tiredness. You give him a small smile before turning to place your bags in the backseat.
"We should come back to this restaurant sometime." You say as Chris puts the car into drive and slowly pulls away from the restaurant. "I think you would like their beef noodle soup."
You see Chris sneak a glance at you, a glint of confusion in them. "I thought you didn't like Chinese food?"
You shrug, looking out the window as the streets whizzed past. "Maybe I was too quick to judge." The double meaning in your sentence wasn't lost on you. Mrs Yang's words lingering in your thoughts as they play over and again.
Were you really too quick to dismiss this person who is meant to be your other half?
In the midst of her cleaning, Mrs Yang's eyebrows furrow as she hears the bell chime again, signaling that a customer has just arrived. She glances towards the door, her expression never changing until she spots the four that she has been feeding religiously for the last ten years.
"Aigooo." She coos out as soon as the tallest of them comes closer to her, dressed in a black hoodie with a luggage behind him. "I thought you all were only going to be back the day after tomorrow?"
Jun lets out a laugh as the elderly woman pulls him into a hug, accepting it by wrapping his arms around her tightly and giving her a shining smile. "Our schedule ended early." He cheekily says, his grin never wavering. "We were craving some food that tastes like home so we asked the driver to bring us here instead of back to our homes."
Soonyoung, Chan and Minghao stand behind him, with matching grins on their faces as Mrs Yang pulls each of them into a hug. Mr Yang, hearing the commotion steps out of the kitchen, his eyes and smile widening as he sees the four familiar boys.
"Wow!" He exclaims, bringing each of them in for a hug. "You boys look like the airport didn't even affect the four of you."
The four give him a sheepish smile before the elderly couple shoos them into the center table, eager to feed them.
"What can I get for you boys today?" Mrs Yang asks, her eyes glinting as she looks between the four boys. Soonyoung, Chan and Minghao share a teasing glance, before Chan turns to Mrs Yang.
"Mrs Yang," he singsongs out, "I hope you have your amazing beef noodle soup today!" He ends his sentence with a glance towards Jun, a smug grin on his face as the other shrinks slightly, a little flushed.
Mrs Yang glances between the two of them before turning her gaze to the tallest one.
"Did you miss our food so much that you brought the three boys along with you again?" She questions, a teasing smile on her face.
Jun flushes slightly at the accusation, lifting up both his hands to wave them as he lets out a sheepish laugh. "No no." He says, trying to defend himself through his laughs.
The other three collectively roll their eyes before Soonyoung turns to Mrs Yang, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Jun's soulmate was actually the ones who brought us here."
Mrs Yang's eyes widen as her hand flies to cover her open mouth before she turns to Jun. "Oh my gosh!" She exclaims. "You met her already?"
Jun shakes his head, scratching his nape as he fixes her with a semi lovesick grin. "She was having some Chinese food earlier." He says, his grin turning more lovesick by the second. "I tasted it when she was eating and it felt like she was enjoying it. It tasted almost like your beef noodle soup."
Mrs Yang freezes at that, but Jun doesn't notice as he keeps rambling on. "So, I thought that she was trying to tell me that maybe she was thinking about me or something." He says, the tips of his ears turning pink. "I thought maybe if I have it here, we would end up having the same dinner so that she knows that I'm thinking about her as well."
Jun locks eyes with the older lady who immediately composes herself, a small grin appearing on her face that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Well." She starts, clearing her throat as she glances at the four of them. "You've come right on time! Mr Yang just made a new batch of beef soup with amazing tender slices."
She claps her hands. "I'll bring them out for you four!"
With that, she scurries into the kitchen, her heart racing as she runs through the words that Jun has just relayed to her.
It could just be a coincidence right?
She leans against the metal counter, processing the information when her husband glances over at her. He frowns, noticing her spacey look.
"Lo-po?" He asks, the endearing name rolling off of his tongue as he steps closer to his wife, intertwining their hands together. "Are you alright?"
Mrs Yang looks up and gazes into her husbands eyes, hesitating slightly before nodding slowly.
She feigns a small smile. "I'm alright lo-gong." He analyzes her face, frowning slightly.
"Are you sure?" He asks, bringing his wife closer. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Mrs Yang nods her head as she squeezes his hands in reassurance. "I'm fine dear." She glances through the kitchen curtain, looking at the tall boy who was laughing at something his members said, his grin bigger than it had been in months.
"I just hope that fate brings the two of them together."
THE SCALLION NOODLE MEETING - Week 3 out of 16
Two weeks later, you find yourself back in front of the glowing neon sign. You didn't know how or why but you felt a pull to this place that you couldn't explain.
You had tried to keep yourself busy the past two weeks. You visited almost all the different places on your list, eating tons of delicious food that tasted vaguely familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Most of the time, you went by yourself during the non-peak hours, favouring the smaller crowds so that you could have some time to yourself and be able to document the flavour profiles correctly. Other times at night, you went with Chris who was determined to stick by your side as much as possible.
Today, however, you ended up cancelling all the restaurants on your agenda and you just unconsciously made your way here.
For two weeks, her words had been playing on repeat in your head. You found yourself thinking about the person who she meant, the person who was connected to your very soul. Somehow, you had started to yearn for him as well but you were stubborn, you wouldn't allow yourself to.
You continue to stare at the neon sign, unsure of whether you should go in when a voice interrupts your inner monologue.
"Are you going to stand there the whole day?"
You jump at the sound of the man's voice, whipping around to see a guy in a black hoodie, wearing a mask that obscures his face, the only thing visible being his eyes.
"God." You mutter out, glaring slightly at the man. "Do you normally sneak up on strangers and scare the daylights out of them?"
The man blinks at you before letting out a small laugh.
"Only when they're standing in-front of a Chinese restaurant, contemplating every single life choice they've ever made."
His sarcasm makes you roll your eyes. "Gee, thanks."
He gives you a shrug, his eyes glinting playfully. "You're welcome." If you could see under his mask, you were sure that he would be smirking at you. "So," The man says, glancing between the neon sign of the restaurant and you. "Why are you standing outside the restaurant as if you're contemplating life choices?"
You let out a huff, crossing your arms. "And why would I tell you, a complete stranger that?"
He shrugs. "Maybe you need someone to work through those life choices with."
You let out a huff, about to retort when the bell on the door rings and a bunch of different conversations flow out of the restaurant. You turn to see Mrs Yang, wide eyed as she stares at the two of you. You feel your face flush slightly, as if you've been caught red-handed but you hadn't done anything wrong.
"Why are the two of you standing outside and arguing?" She asks, apprehension in her voice making you give her a sheepish smile as the guy scratches his nape.
"We weren't arguing Mrs Yang." The man says, glancing in your direction before looking back at her. "We were just… talking."
He glances at you, hoping that you would catch on. You turn to Mrs Yang, nodding with an awkward smile on your face. "Yeah, just talking."
Mrs Yang glances between the two of you, entirely not believing a single word the two of you says but she nods anyway.
"Well, come in." She says, sternly as she opens the glass door wider, ushering the two of you in. "It's way too cold to be talking outside."
You and the man scurry into the restaurant, which was packed like sardines. "I'm sorry but it seems like we only have one table left." She says, apologetically as she gathers the menus for you and the man. "Mr Lim and his family are having a gathering today at the further side of the restaurant which means that we had to close off a certain section."
She glances between the two of you, clutching the menus in her hand. "Would the two of you be okay with sharing a table?"
You visibly freeze at the suggestion, eyes wide as you blink at the woman. She wants you to share a table with the insufferable man who made fun of you, five minutes ago? You didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the suggestion.
"I'm okay with it as long as she is." The man says, eyes locking with yours making your heart nearly bounce into your throat. You want to protest, to say anything against this suggestion but as you lock eyes with Mrs Yang again, the words die on your tongue.
You analyze her for a beat, taking in her dark rings under her eyes, how frazzled her hair looks compared to the first time you met her and felt a pit of guilt at the bottom of your stomach. You internally sigh, composing yourself and hoping that you will not kill this man with your chopsticks as you share a table with him before giving her a nod and the best smile that you can muster.
"Sure." You breathe out, glancing at the man again with a few daggers in your eyes as you give him a sickly sweet smile. "Let's share a table."
That's how you find yourself in a secluded corner of the restaurant, awkwardly sitting across the man, a menu in hand as you try your hardest to not accidentally kick the stranger in his legs. When you came the first time, you didn't notice how small the table was until this lanky man sits across from you.
You drag your eyes down the menu, contemplating what to order as you try to ignore the burning sensation at the left side of your head. The stranger had been staring at you since Mrs Yang had shown both of you the table before leaving, slightly frazzled as she went to attend to the Lim's gathering.
When you couldn't take it anymore, you let your eyes whip towards the stranger who jumps slightly as you abruptly lock eyes with him, a fiery intensity in them. "Why are you staring at me?" You hiss out making the stranger blink as he leans back against his chair.
"Trying to see if you made your decision yet." He says, fiddling with his mask. "It's going to be rush hour soon so we would have to wait a lot longer if you haven't."
You feel your eye twitch slightly at the admission. "Well, I'm sorry." You mutter out, eyes turning back to the menu, "it's only my second time here so I'm a little unsure of what to get."
You feel the man tug your menu down from your face, making you lock eyes with him again. "Want a suggestion?" He offers, making your eyes flit from one of his to the other, trying to gauge if he was joking. When it's clear that he isn't, you sigh, a little tired from the interaction before nodding.
"Sure." You say, placing the menu on the table and crossing your arms. "What could go wrong?"
A lot actually.
You find yourself thinking as Mrs Yang places a bowl of fried chicken in front of you seasoned with more red peppers than you have ever seen in your life. You feel your hands start to clam up and become sweaty as you inhale the spices through your nose.
"Dear." Mrs Yang tentatively says, seeing your face. "Is everything alright?"
You try to compose yourself as you wipe your hands on your jeans before locking eyes with her and giving her a weak smile.
"Yeah," You mumble out as you quick glance at the food again, "I'm alright."
If Mrs Yang weren't convinced, she doesn't say anything and just leaves you to stare at your food as your tablemate analyzes your reaction.
"You look like you've seen a ghost." He bluntly states making you whip your head up to lock eyes with him.
"The food looks spicy."
"I would hope so, it's spicy chicken."
You frown at that and stare at the amount of peppers on your food again, wondering if you could will them to disappear the longer you stare at them.
"You can't handle spice." He states, the cogs in his brain turning as he watches you gnaw on your bottom lip, looking at the food apprehensively. "You should've told me that you can't handle spice."
"Well, I didn't expect to be accosted by your recommendation." You bite back, giving him a small glare even though you know it's not his fault. The stranger however, doesn't take it to heart as his eye lines crinkle at your words, a sign that he's smiling under his mask.
"Are you too scared to try it?"
You frown at his words, feeling your eye twitch as he eggs you on, his eyes glinting with mischief.
"It's hard to take you seriously when you're still wearing your mask." You say, hoping to change the topic as you cross your arms. "Why are you even wearing that anyway? Are you a celebrity or something."
He hums at your question before tugging his hood downwards, covering a little bit more of his forehead. "Something like that." He says making you stare at him, quizzically.
"What does that even mean?"
He sighs before locking eyes with you. "How about we make a deal."
You squint at him. "You're just trying to change the topic."
"You did that too a moment ago."
He got you there.
You sigh, unfolding your arms as you lean against the table. "I'm listening."
"I'll order us something different and pay for our meal if you promise to not tell anyone that you saw me here."
You raise an eyebrow at that. "What's stopping me from ordering what I want anyway and letting you starve because you refuse to take off your mask?"
He's silent for a beat as he blinks at you.
"You have a point."
You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the stranger, who leans back in his chair.
"But," He starts, crossing his arms, "I think you're smart enough to not pass up a free meal."
You contemplate his words for a second. You know he's egging you on, he's done nothing but be playful and egg you on since the moment he scared you outside the restaurant. By right, you should refuse, let the insufferable stranger suffer while you eat the Yangs' tasty food in front of him.
Which is why, it surprises you and him when the words that follow after was, "Fine, I'll bite."
His eye lines crinkle again before he waves Mrs Yang over and says something to her in Chinese. The elderly lady looks between the two of you, an unreadable glint in her eyes before she nods at the lanky stranger and takes the two plates of spicy chicken away.
"You speak Chinese?" You can't help but ask, making him nod.
"I'm Chinese." He says simply reaching to the side to get the jug of water that Mrs Yang brought earlier.
"Oh." You mutter out, feeling slightly embarrassed as he pours the water into your empty glasses. "I couldn't tell."
He waves you off. "It's alright, you can't really see my face and I gave you no indication whatsoever so," he shrugs, "it's not a big deal."
You feel slightly better, relaxing a little as you watch him tug his hood down again.
He cautiously looks around making a frown appear on your face. "You don't have to tell me who you are if you're uncomfortable by the way." You say making the stranger lock eyes with you as you feel a small pit in your stomach at the way his eyes keep glancing around. "I could always request for another table if you're uncomfortable."
He hesitates for a second before shaking his head. "No, a deal is a deal."
You open your mouth to retort but he moves before you can, looking downwards before bringing his fingers to his ears and plucking off the mask as if it was second nature.
When he looks up, your eyes widen as you immediately register who he was.
"You're Jun from Seventeen." You state, looking at his features as he gives you a sheepish smile.
"Surprise?" He mutters, a weak laugh escaping his lips. You stare at him for a little longer, watching his confident facade shatter slowly as he looks at you with a little more apprehension after he realizes that you knew who he was.
"It all makes sense now." You say as everything clicks in your head.
The man in-front of you frowns in confusion. "What?"
"I came here two weeks ago, drenched in the rain and Mrs Yang gave me a hoodie and sweatpants from your group to change into." You say, as your eyes flit around his face, taking in his features. "I thought they were big fans of your group but you probably gave it to them."
He stares at you for a minute. "Are you a detective or something?"
You let out a snort, as you try to keep your growing smile off of your face. "I'm just observant."
"A little too observant."
"Well, sue me then."
You roll your eyes as Jun gives you a mischievous grin.
Mrs Yang appears at the corner of your eye making you turn towards the elderly lady as she places two new bowls in-front of you two. She eyes the two of you, noticing the lack of Jun's mask before a knowing smile creeps onto her face.
Your eyebrow raises at her expression but before you can ask, she bids the two of you a good meal before rushing back to the Lim gathering.
You look down at the bowl, noticing the lack of any red peppers or flakes making you smile as you notice the bowl only had what looks like tossed noodles with a sauce, topped off with spring onions and a fried egg. The smell of the spring onions floods your nose making your mouth water slightly.
"Scallion oil noodles." Jun says as he passes you a chopstick from the side box. "Mr Yang cooks them really authentically, it's one of my favourite dishes from here."
"And here I was thinking that you like to put your own taste buds through hell for fun." You mutter out making Jun roll his eyes. You use your chopsticks to place the food into your mouth as you take tentative bites.
The immediate flavour explosion in your mouth makes your eyes widen as you taste every single ingredient on your taste buds. You stare at the noodles, a little shell shock before you shove a few more bites into your mouth.
You can't fathom how you've never eaten anything like this in your few years of being a food journalist. You've definitely tasted this flavour profile before, no doubt from your soulmate but eating it and tasting it is definitely two different things
Jun who has also eaten the noodles, gives you a smile as he chews, watching as you happily slurp up the noodles, satisfaction written all over his face.
"So," He starts, taking a sip of his water, "Since you know who I am, I think it's only fair that I know your name right?"
You give him a side-glance, in between your bites before your eyes narrow slightly as you swallow your food. "I think there's a certain irony to your statement with you being a very famous idol."
Jun gives you a small pout. "C'mon." He says, the pout deepening. "I'm already paying for your meal, the least you could do is give me your name."
You want to retort that the meal was the expense of keeping his secret but as you watch his pout deepen a little more, you internally curse before giving him your name.
He repeats your name with ease as you feel your heart skip a beat upon him pronouncing your name. You furrow your eyebrows at the pinch in your chest before shrugging it off as just a weird prickle, maybe from the amount of oil in the noodles.
"Do you like the noodles?" Jun asks, gesturing to your bowl that is already half empty.
You nod, taking a few more bites of the springy noodles, humming contently. "I don't really like Chinese food but this is really good."
The idol freezes at your words, his chopsticks halfway to his mouth as he looks at you, his eyes wide, noodles forgotten. "You don't like Chinese food?" He asks, a little baffled as he just continues to stare at you as if you just said something really incriminating.
You shrug, swallowing the noodles before taking a sip of your water. "Just had some bad experiences with Chinese food." All because of your soulmate but you left that part out, not wanting to divulge in that with a complete stranger, even if he was famous and known for being kind-hearted and a good person.
Jun eyes you for another second, a gentle curiosity swirling in his eyes. "Then why did you come here? They only serve Chinese food here."
You hesitate a little at his question. You knew it was coming but you couldn't tell the idol that you came here because of an unexplainable pull, you would sound a little strange and kind of crazy. So, you settle for half of the truth.
"I wanted to come back and repay Mr and Mrs Yang for their kindness. I was going to actually pay them the money for the meal that they gave me last week."
Jun fixes you with a look of amusement and a slight smirk before shaking his head.
"You clearly haven't seen Mrs Yang's stubborn side if you think you can just repay her back."
You frown at his statement. "What makes you think she won't accept the money?"
Jun fixes you a look as his eyebrows raise. "Did you offer her money two weeks ago after she fed you?"
"Yeah but—"
"Did she accept the payment or did she fix you with one of her motherly stares that got you to shut up?"
Your silence answers him, making him laugh as he shakes his head. "Trust me." He says, using his chopsticks to cut the fried egg into smaller pieces. "Pigs will fly before she accepts your money."
You roll your eyes at his words, a small smile on your lips as you shake your head before continuing to eat your food. The two of you eat in silence, occasionally making small talk about the food as Jun shares with you a few small anecdotes about how Mrs Yang and her husband was a few years ago. The stories make you laugh as he recounts them with an exaggerated passion, his hands moving around animatedly here and there.
"So what do you do?" He asks, polishing off his food as he grabs a tissue paper from the container at the side. "Other than stand outside Chinese restaurants and contemplate your life decisions."
You scoff before taking a sip of your water to cleanse your palette. "I'm a food journalist."
His eyes widen. "Wow! That's really cool!"
Your brows furrow. "Says the guy who is apart of one of the biggest boygroups on the planet." You say, animatedly moving your arms. "Plus, aren't you also an actor?"
He chuckles, shaking his head. "I mean it, you must be a really good food journalist if you got sent here for an assignment."
Your eyebrows furrow even more as you stare at the man, shock running through your veins. "What? How did you know that?"
He gestures to your handbag. "You still have the tag from the airport hanging off the third zipper."
You turn and internally curse as you see the white string and tag from the airport. You feel your cheeks heat up as you rush to rip it off, crumple it and place it into your bag to try to save yourself from a little embarrassment. You clear your throat before looking back at the idol who was trying very hard not to laugh, even with his hand over his mouth.
You send him a narrow glare (or at least try to) as you point at him. "Don't laugh."
"I'm not! You can't even see my mouth!"
"Your eye lines tell me otherwise!"
That makes the idol crack up, his eye lines crinkling more which makes you freeze, realizing just how pretty he is.
You weren't blind by any means, the minute he took off his mask, you could tell that he was good-looking even without the full-face of makeup. With your brother in the industry, you had watched every MAMAs award show that he had been apart of and with Seventeen up there as one of the bigger boy groups, you've definitely thought that they were good-looking, especially Jun who always looked like he belonged on the stage.
The idol finally calms down, his smile not leaving his face as you shake yourself out of your thoughts. "So, what's your assignment about?"
You freeze at the question, gnawing lightly on your lip as you give him a once over, wondering if you should be honest or not. He notices the look on your face, his eyes softening. "If it's too personal, you don't need to tell me." He says, his voice reassuring as he gives you a soft smile. "I just think it's really cool that you get to travel and just eat food, I think one of my bandmates would kill to do that."
You feel a small smile creep onto your lips as you relax slightly, hearing the awe in his words. "Let me guess, DK?"
He laughs, nodding. "Or maybe Hoshi." He says, leaning his elbows on the table, his posture relaxing as he realizes that you were more comfortable now as you let out a laugh.
"Sounds like him."
His smile widens "So, I assume you're somewhat familiar with my group then, if you're able to make associations like that."
You feel a bit of warmth on your cheeks as you clear your throat. "Well, my brother's involved in the industry as well, so after a while, you kind of have to know who is who after watching all the different concerts and award shows."
His head tilts at that, a look of curiosity flashing across his face. "Oh!" He says with a slight understanding, "Is your brother an idol too?"
You nod, a small sense of pride settling in your chest as you pick up your phone before turning it to face him, a picture of you and Chris as your lock screen.
His eyes widen in realization. "You're Bang Chan's sister?" He asks, gawking a little as you nod.
"Wow, I've only ever heard about your younger sister, Hannah." He says, his smile widening a little more. "What a small world, Vernon, Mingyu and Minghao always talk about how cool your brother is."
You smile a little more, thinking about your brother who was probably working his ass off in the studio right now and having the best time. "Yeah, he's the coolest."
His smile widens, grabbing the water jug to refill his empty cup, leaving you with your thoughts. You think back to his previous question, wondering if you should answer it or not. Jun has been nothing but honest with you since the start of your meal, even honouring his side of the deal even if he didn't need to. You would've stuck by your words if he had decided to not shown you and asked Mrs Yang for another table instead.
Your mouth made the decision for you before you could even comprehend it.
"I'm doing a soulmark assignment."
Jun freezes mid-pour as he turns to you, his eyes wide. "Oh, that's pretty cool." He says, nodding slightly. "Have you already met him?"
You shake your head, using your chopsticks to move your food around, letting it sop up the scallion oil. "The assignment was about to write about the places that we think our soulmate has been to based on the soulmark we're given."
His eyebrows furrow. "That's pretty vague."
You let out a snort. "You're telling me."
"Is the goal for you to find them at the end of it?"
You shrug. "All I know is that I'm here for four months, a tight schedule for sure to figure out which restaurant means the most to my soulmate." You say, the tone of your voice turning slightly bitter towards the end as you say 'soulmate'.
Jun notices, fixing you with a small curious grin. "I take it you're not the biggest fan of your soulmate?"
You slouch slightly, letting out a sigh. "Let's just say that our flavour preferences make us very very different people."
"You have something against his food preferences?"
"I have something against the fact that he's trying to kill my tastebuds in the process."
"Is he the reason why you have a grudge against Chinese food?"
You lift up your hand in mock defense. "Hey, I don't have a grudge against Chinese food." You point out, making Jun's expression morph into one of amusement. "I just have a grudge against my soulmate who puts chili oil on almost everything, as if the food needs that extra bit of spice."
Jun lets out a laugh before shrugging. "Can't say I fault him for it, chili oil is definitely one of the best things ever."
You snort, placing your last bit of noodles into your mouth, chewing then swallowing as you polish off your food. "I'm sure the two of you would get along great." You sarcastically remark making Jun laugh again.
"So, what are you a fan of?"
You ponder for a moment. "I'm a big fan of sweet stuff like cake, ice-cream, macaroons. Oh! Affogato as well." You watch Jun make a face as a shudder goes through his body making you raise an eyebrow at the man. "Not the biggest fan of sweet stuff?"
Jun immediately shakes his head. "Can't say that I am. Sugar makes me feel really ill sometimes, especially if there's too much of it. My soulmate is the biggest cake fan though, she really loves eating it."
You smile at that. "Sounds like we would get along great as well."
Jun laughs, smiling at the implication of the two of you meeting each others' soulmate when his phone rings. He glances at it before his face pales and his eyes widen.
"Shit." He mutters, staring at his phone for another beat before wiping his mouth quickly and slipping his mask on in record speed. The actions make you jolt as you blink at the idol who was moving at the speed of light, shoving his wallet and phone into his pockets.
"What?" You ask, finding your voice as he reverts himself to his pre-meal mode. He looks at you, his eyes softening a little from the panic that was in them moments ago as he pulls down his mask.
"I forgot I have practice in half an hour, so I need to get going now." A small frown appears on his face as he finishes his sentence, looking a little crestfallen that your time together was coming to an end. You blink at him, before glancing at the time, your eyes widening as well as you realize that you and Jun had been eating and talking for almost two hours.
"That makes two of us then." You say, a laugh bubbling in your throat as you pack up your stuff. "I forgot that I got an interview with the owner of a restaurant for my assignment in half an hour as well."
Jun lets out a laugh at the realization as he stands, towering over you slightly as he fixes you with a cheery smile. "Guess we aren't so different after all."
You roll your eyes as he pulls his mask back up before gesturing for you to move first. "After you."
You give him a polite 'thank you' before the two of you head to the front counter where the cash register was. Mrs Yang's eyes flit between the two of you, the same knowing smile on her face.
"How was the food my dears?" Jun's eye lines crinkle again. "Amazing as always Mrs Yang." He says before gesturing to you. "I think our food journalist will definitely be putting it in her article."
You let out a small scoff, giving him a quick side-eye before looking at Mrs Yang, your expression changing to one of adoration. "The food was lovely Mrs Yang. Please help me thank Mr Yang for the food as well."
She waves you off, a wide smile on her face despite how tired she looked from the chaos of the rush hour. "It was our pleasure to feed you." Her eyes flit between the two of you again. "Both of you."
You think back to your words to Jun a while ago and take out your purse from the depths of your handbag. "Before I forget, please take this Mrs Yang." You say, producing a few bills. The older woman fixes you with a stern look as she shakes her head.
"Dear, I already insisted the last time that you don't need to pay me." You open your mouth to protest but she holds up her hand again, her eyes narrowing slightly as her
Your mouth snaps shut at that as you slowly put the bills back into your wallet making Mrs Yang's stern expression instantly drop, replacing it with a prideful one, knowing that she has successfully won the argument again.
Mrs Yang - 2, You - 0
You glance at Jun who fixes you with a look, his eyes glinting as if to tell you 'I told you so' making you roll your eyes as Jun passes a few bills to Mrs Yang, paying for your meal and his. Mrs Yang hands him the receipt before reaching to the counter behind her and taking the plastic bag that was seated on it.
"Before I forget," She starts, giving the big white plastic bag to Jun, "I packed a few things for you and the boys to enjoy."
Jun's eyes widen as he takes the bag from her with zero protest, almost as if Mrs Yang trained him to just accept everything she gives to him — which she probably did, considering how long they've known each other.
"Thank you so much!" Jun says as he peers into the bag, his eyes flitting from one box to another. "You really didn't have to."
Mrs Yang waves him off. "Nonsense." She states. "If I don't feed you guys, God knows that you all will starve by how much dancing you all do."
Her comments make you let out a laugh which you try to cover up as a cough as Jun gives you a side-glance. He looks back at her, his eyes softening more. "Thank you."
She gives him a smile of adoration before turning to the back counter once more and producing a smaller white plastic bag which she holds out for you. Your eyes widen, about to protest again but falter as soon as you see the expression on her face.
You sheepishly take the bag from her, peering inside to see a few food containers filled with some scallion oil noodles, a few servings of spring rolls, a meat dish as well as a box of stir-fried vegetables.
"For you and your brother."
Your heart squeezes at her words, feeling warmth spread through your chest as you try to swallow your emotions. You look up, giving her a soft smile. "Thank you so much."
She mirrors your smile. "It's no problem at all my dear, I hope we see you again soon."
You nod, your grin growing wider. "I'll bring my brother with me next time." You reassure her. "He was raving about how good the beef noodles were, made a lot of his friends jealous."
She laughs as you recount the video Jeong-In had sent to you when your brother brought Mrs Yang's beef noodles to work and was just making a show out of it in-front of his members. They looked like they were seconds away from chasing your brother down the hallways of JYP if he made a single new sound and talked about how good it was and that he wasn't sharing.
"I guess I'll see the two of you soon then." Mrs Yang says as she walks to open the door for the two of you. "I hope you two enjoyed each others companies."
You and Jun glance at each other before you turn back to Mrs Yang. "It was definitely an experience."
Jun narrows his eyes at your words. "But I was an angel."
You scoff. "And I'm a multi-billionaire." You say, the sarcasm just rolling off your tongue making Jun shake his head and walk through the door.
The two of you bid Mrs Yang goodbye once more before she closes the restaurant door behind her. You turn to Jun, a little awkwardly as you shuffle your handbag onto your shoulder.
"Well, it was nice meeting you." You say, giving him a smile. "I hope you don't sneak up on me the next time we cross paths again."
Jun laughs, shaking his head a little before locking eyes with you and giving you a wink. "It'll only happen if you contemplate life outside a Chinese restaurant again."
You roll your eyes, not bothering to keep your smile off your face this time as you give him a wave before making your way to the right of the restaurant. You scroll to your itinerary when Jun calls out your name, making you turn to face him.
Your eyebrow raises as he looks at you, blinking as if he didn't realize that he called out your name, until it rolled off of his tongue. Before you could question further, Jun jogs over to you and hands you his phone. You take it before your eyes widen at the 'new contact' page staring right at you.
You blink before looking up at him, your eyes still wide as saucers as you fix him with a look of confusion. "What?" You ask as you stare at him, completely dumbfounded by his actions.
He shrugs, using his free hand to scratch the back of his neck. "I had a lot of fun talking to you today and," he hesitates slightly, "I want to try to change your mind about Chinese food before you meet your soulmate."
You narrow your eyes at him. "What's the catch?"
His eyes widen as he lifts both arms in surrender, the big plastic bag rustling as he does so. "No strings attached, I promise." He says, absolute assurance in his voice. "I just know what it's like to be on the receiving end of the taste mark and my soulmate has been quite pleasant with their food preferences so…" He shrugs. "Let me at least try to convince you that your soulmate isn't all that bad."
You blink at him again, slowly digesting his words before looking down to peer at the cursor, pulsing as it awaits an input.
"You don't need to!" Jun suddenly exclaims, his free hand starting to wave animatedly as he starts to ramble. "I just thought that I should introduce you to better Chinese foods that will give you a better impression of the person before you meet them and brush them off completely. I mean, as someone with a taste mark as well, I also know that food sometimes doesn't taste as it seems and—"
You interrupt him, mid-ramble by grabbing his free hand and placing his phone back into it. Jun blinks before looking at his phone to see that you sent a message to yourself after inputting your contact into it.
He turns back to you as you give him a small smile. "I'm in if it's more free food."
He blinks before huffing out a laugh, shaking his head. "Don't think that was part of the deal." He ends the sentence with a teasing chastise tone of your name making you shrug.
"Too bad, it was." You cheekily reply before adding. "Also call me Red."
Jun tilts his head to the side. "Red?" He repeats, the word rolling nicely off of his tongue. "Why Red?"
"I'll tell you when we meet the next time but, I figure it easier to call me that than my actual name, lesser syllables."
Jun eye lines crinkle, a sigh that he's smiling under his mask before nodding. He glances towards his phone before taking a few steps backwards. "I guess I'll see you soon Red."
You nod, flashing him a smile. "See you soon Jun."
things seventeen take pride in doing for their partners
pairing: seventeen x gender neutral reader
genre: fluff, established relationship
word count: 2.2k
warnings: mentions of food, some kissing
author note: hello! i’m alive!! thank you anon for requesting this, and i’m so sorry it took…literally 5 months to write this 😭 i hope you enjoy it though! thank you to my awesome friends who helped me write this <3 (honestly i have no idea where so much for chan came from but extra chan love!!)
masterlist
seungcheol (s.coups) - buying you groceries
⟢ seungcheol is a provider, and he’d love to be the one getting you things, especially if it was something as important as groceries.
⟢ he’d totally just text you for a list, and expect you to just tell him exactly what you wanted—plus later, you’d get a bunch of pictures asking which brand or version you wanted of something to make sure he doesn’t get the wrong thing.
⟢ he’d want to pay for most, if not all of it—but he wants you to be comfortable with what he does, so you could both figure out who’s paying for it (though he’d definitely make sure to pay for the small things at least).
⟢ he has his card (and wads of cash) and he’s not afraid to spend it on you—in fact, he prefers it that way.
⟢ it’s even better when you’re with him, since you can spend time together and do something essential (and perhaps it gives him a glimpse of what’ll come down the line, once you’re both older).
jeonghan - getting you the hot gossip from work
⟢ jeonghan is…honestly, he’d make sure he picks up all the gossip for himself—and for you both to discuss later.
⟢ he wouldn’t be nosy per say…he’d just keep his ears open when there were people around talking, okay? it’s not his fault they’re so loud.
⟢ and of course, he’d retell it to you in such a way that you couldn’t help but be completely immersed in the drama because his manager is dating who?
⟢ there’s multiple lines of gossip that you both follow based on who you’re talking about, and each week there’s at least one debrief session where the two of you sit down on the couch and you just absorb the information he gives you.
⟢ he’s glad to see the different expressions you make, and it makes him happy to see you so interested in something he’s telling you about, even if it’s something horrendous about his co-worker—and then when you snuggle up next to him, ready to fall asleep he gives you a small smile and pats your head in contentment.
jisoo (joshua) - buying you flowers or little trinkets
⟢ i think that while joshua’s love language is more like quality time, he seems like the type of person to also buy you flowers every few weeks—or whenever the flowers he previously got you wilt.
⟢ he’d totally get a bouquet for you and a flower for himself to make sure he knew exactly when to get you some new ones.
⟢ obviously, it’ll be your favourite flowers! or just ones that remind him of you, depending on the week.
⟢ if you’re allergic to flowers, he’d get you chocolate or something else you really like—it doesn’t have to be exclusively flowers :>
⟢ he’d see little deer characters and think it would remind you of him, so he would drop them over at your place so you’d always have a way to remember him! (you’d definitely have a little deer and cinnamoroll collection at home somewhere).
junhui (jun) - cooking for you
⟢ even though jun is busy, he knows you are too, so he makes sure to make dinner for you when you get home.
⟢ he immediately rushes you out of the kitchen when you try to help and shushes your protests.
⟢ he’d beg you to just let him cook for you—unless you really wanted to cook yourself. at that point, he would make sure to be the trustiest assistant chef you’ve ever had, just to make it a little easier.
⟢ he just enjoys seeing you have something he made for you and the smile you give him afterwards always makes it worth it.
⟢ if he’s not there for dinner, he makes sure to leave a packaged meal for you in the fridge, complete with a sweet sticky note telling you to eat well and text him a cat meme when you see it.
⟢ he’d make sure to note down your favourite foods, and try to remake some of the things you’ve liked when you both go out on dates to make you happy—because it makes him happy too.
soonyoung (hoshi) - bringing you snacks when you’re busy
⟢ if soonyoung noticed you hadn’t gotten up to get food or drink water in a while, he would come in himself, giving you a plate of fruit or whichever snack you liked the most with a water bottle to keep by your side as you worked.
⟢ he’d do this even in the late hours, when you were studying for an exam or an important report for work, and give you something sweet as a treat—and a reminder that no matter what happens, he cares.
⟢ if you didn’t mind, he’d just sit with you in the same room and do something else to pass the time so you wouldn’t feel alone.
⟢ if he couldn’t be with you but knew you were working or studying long hours, he’d get food delivered to you—or deliver it to you himself again, showing up on your doorstep later at night, hoping a hug and a good meal will energize you.
wonwoo - fixing all your tech issues
⟢ honestly, this is something he’d be really good at.
⟢ like yes, he’s good at so many other things but as soon as you run into any problem whatsoever, he’d know how to help—even if he did have to watch a youtube tutorial or read a guide for your tv.
⟢ he’d fix his glasses right after he managed to fix that weird glitch where your google results were all in a different language or your phone would keep shutting down on you.
⟢ would definitely guide you through fixing anything if he couldn’t be there, and wake up sleepily to facetime so he could see the problem—his glasses askew and his bed hair on full display.
⟢ wonwoo would be proud to call himself your tech guy, especially if it made you smile—and besides, he’s happy he can help you with any challenges, even if it’s something simple.
jihoon (woozi) - planning surprise dates
⟢ jihoon, honestly, spends a lot of time on his own in the studio, and while you visit, he really knows he needs to get out of his second home sometimes—and a date with you is a good way to do that.
⟢ he’d do it shyly, calling you up to first ask if you were busy, and then ask if you could come meet him at the studio (he…can’t drive, otherwise he would pick you up.)
⟢ it’d be nothing much in his eyes: a stroll at a park nearby, learning something new, going out for dinner—simple things that were better when he did them with you.
⟢ sometimes he’d just show up at your home with flowers, his face red, since he’d been encouraged by soonyoung to do so and be “more romantic for once!” (or at least, that’s how soonyoung saw it. he didn’t really know about the archive of songs that jihoon had written inspired by you, and you had only seen a few of them anyway.)
⟢ he’d always make sure to look into places where you would be interested so you could go together, and he could watch you be entertained by something you wanted to do—even if it wasn’t something he would do himself.
seokmin (dokyeom) - notes of encouragement
⟢ seokmin’s the type of person to send long, long texts about how much he loves you and how proud he is of you every so often, especially if you’re busy and he can’t see you as much as he wants to!
⟢ he’d leave little notes around the kitchen after weekly movie night, so that when you wake up the next morning, he can see your reaction when you see his shameless puns on the colourful paper—which are all definitely related to whatever you watched. or you know, dad jokes. one of the two.
⟢ if he ever brought you lunch while you were out, he’d leave a little note telling you to eat well and message him so he knows you’re doing okay!
⟢ he wants to make sure you know you’re loved and when you write your own notes for him, he just about melts, giving you a gentle peck on the forehead and a long hug until you both end up giggling.
mingyu - fixing things around the house
⟢ yes, he may be clumsy but mingyu is always volunteering to build you new furniture or fix things you (or he) has broken.
⟢ every so often, he’ll just scan through the entire house under the pretense of cleaning for you when you’re busy, and creates a mental list of what to do. it’s like he’s trying to sneak around but it doesn’t really work because it’s so obvious where his gaze is.
⟢ he also loves to help you rearrange furniture too! like your own little interior design helper except you only pay him in cuddles on the couch…wherever you two put it.
⟢ would totally text you pictures of furniture if he goes to ikea and asks if you want them so he can just buy them for you (and so you can have a little date at home building whatever it is).
minghao (the8) - watering your plants / taking care of your pets
⟢ he would show up early at your door, ready to help out if he was available—and something he would always do is take care of your babies (plants and/or pets!)
⟢ he’d water your plants for you, leaving a note to remind you to not do the same later, and hum to them to help them grow faster and stay healthy.
⟢ he’d also make sure to help out with grooming or feeding a pet—whatever you needed so you could focus on yourself first.
⟢ if you don’t have either, well he’d take care of the sleepy you by making sure you get through your morning swiftly and happily.
⟢ he’d be proud of making sure you were alright in the mornings, despite how hard it could be some days.
seungkwan - making sure you’re active
⟢ seungkwan loves to do sports and go on hikes and the such, and i think that he would want you to be with him!
⟢ obviously, he wouldn’t force you to but hey, you do need to stay active, and it’s better if it’s with him than on your own—plus, it’s more fun by his side.
⟢ he would totally buy you matching jackets to go hiking in, and always pick activities that you’re comfortable with doing.
⟢ he lights up every time you would say you’re having fun and would run over and give you a quick kiss before continuing your badminton match.
⟢ once you’re both tired out, it’s time for cuddles on the couch…and maybe a quick cheesy rom-com where you can both make fun of the protagonists.
⟢ eventually, he can see the difference in your strength and stamina, and it reminds him to keep working hard too, because you do the same for him.
hansol (vernon) - remembering you
⟢ hansol is a bit of a forgetful guy but he would never forget you (well, for the most part at least; he still has his moments).
⟢ you’re brought up casually in most conversations he has simply because you’re so important to him that you can be brought up anytime.
⟢ everything and anything ends up reminding him of you, even if it’s not meant to. he’d tell you about most of them because he loves getting a text back full of love, or a smile on your face as a reply.
⟢ even if you’re not present, he’s always hyping you up without realizing.
⟢ with you, he’s always sending you cat memes and posts in general saying “us” or “u n me fr”
⟢ he takes pride in simply knowing you, and having the ability to be around you so much :)
chan (dino) - driving you around
⟢ we’ve all seen the dingo video where chan drives a fan somewhere, right? yeah that’s him on the daily with you.
⟢ you’re his passenger princess !! (gender neutral <3) and he makes sure you know it, always offering you a ride no matter where you need to go!
⟢ the grocery store? your friend’s house? the optometrist? [insert any ridiculous place he doesn’t need to accompany you to]? he’s already waiting for you outside.
⟢ this goes even if you’re fully capable of driving yourself because he knows it can be tiring getting on the road some days, but he’ll always brave the bad traffic if it’s for you.
⟢ knight in shining armour? no, he’s your knight in a really nice car, one that, in his mind, has your name all over the passenger seat.
⟢ other than that though, he would offer to take you for a late night drive often, with your choice of music on the aux as he drives you over to a spot he researched about weeks ago because it was the perfect couple spot (at least, that’s what it is according to google).
⟢ he’d have a huge smile on his face every time you waved at him before opening the door and plopping in right next to his side, where he could sneak glances at you while waiting for the light to turn green.
♡ Author’s Note: Hi! English isn’t my first language, so sorry for any mistakes. This story is purely fictional. Thanks a lot for reading! If you liked it, comments or feedback would mean the world to me ♡♡♡
♡ Content: romance, Jun x reader, idol x reader, secret relationship, fluff, comedy, 14th member of Seventeen, mention of alcohol, Chinese endearments (宝贝 = bǎobèi = “baby”/”darling”)
It was one of those rare days when you were miraculously free.
Being a member of Seventeen came with a lot of responsibility and pressure, not to mention the discipline needed to stick to a strict daily routine.
That’s why having a day just for yourself—to relax and disconnect a little from work—was a real gift.
You’d decided to enjoy a slow, quiet morning. After sleeping in without any alarms, you began preparing breakfast in your cozy kitchen, bathed in just the right amount of sunlight to make everything feel even warmer.
While you were mixing the pancake batter—the ones you made from time to time and that always turned out delicious—you suddenly felt arms wrap around your waist from behind. Lips pressed a trail of soft kisses along your neck.
You smiled instantly and melted into the hug, until the person behind you murmured a sleepy greeting:
“Good morning, 宝贝 (bǎobèi)” he whispered, his face still buried in your neck.
You ran a gentle hand through his hair in response.
“Good morning, Jun. You could’ve stayed in bed a bit longer, you know? Breakfast’s not ready yet,” you whispered, still stirring the mixture.
“I just wanted to be near my girl,” he replied softly. “It’s not every day I get to have a peaceful morning like this with you.”
“I know, love. We do the same job… I know exactly how hard it gets,” you said, chuckling as you started pouring the batter into the pan.
He laughed too, then began telling you about a strange dream he’d had the night before, his eyes never straying too far from you as you flipped the pancakes like a pro.
It was mornings like this that made everything worth it.
This was why you worked so hard. And you knew Jun felt exactly the same.
After two years together, you knew each other so well that one glance was enough to understand how the other felt. It had been a beautiful two years—though not always easy.
The truth was, the little universe you’d built together wasn’t known by many. For obvious reasons.
In the beginning, those same reasons had nearly kept you apart. The fear of what people might say, of the consequences, of what might happen… it was always there.
But once you both took the leap, you agreed to keep it a secret and stay as discreet as possible.
Dating Jun wasn’t something you had imagined when you debuted as the 14th member of Seventeen.
You still remembered the first time you met him: he was a bit shy and quiet, but you’d always found him charming… and absolutely gorgeous.
You weren’t sure if you liked him from the start, but you couldn’t deny there was something about him that pulled you in—something you’d never felt for anyone else.
With time, you became inseparable. Still, nothing seemed out of the ordinary—you were just friends, teammates.
But as you matured, both as an artist and as a person, you started to realize something had changed:
You liked him. Truly liked him.
And that, for you, was a problem. Especially since you were convinced the feeling wasn’t mutual.
You were wrong.
Jun felt the same way about you.
The best part? There was no dramatic confession, no intense buildup. It just happened—naturally.
You came together without forcing anything, like two puzzle pieces falling into place.
From that moment on, one thing was clear: neither of you was willing to let go of each other.
And that’s how a beautiful—if slightly unconventional—secret began.
-
And yes, at first it was a secret just between the two of you.
A small weight you carried, in exchange for the joy of loving each other like teenagers sneaking their first kiss.
During those early weeks, you lived inside your own little bubble.
Your eyes constantly found each other, full of silent glances and subtle smiles whenever you were close.
You’d come up with the lamest excuses just to sneak into another room—to share a kiss or a quick hug without anyone around.
That secret—yours and yours alone—wrapped around you like a soft haze, making you a little too relaxed.
And that’s when your behavior started to raise suspicions.
Reality hit sooner than expected.
Barely a month into the relationship, Minghao decided to speak up.
It was during one of Seventeen’s annual group dinners.
Naturally, you and Jun were seated next to each other, and next to him was Hao.
Everything was going smoothly. The night was full of laughter, food, and playful teasing. One of those nights to remember.
To this day, you’re still not sure why you let your guard down that evening.
Maybe it was the alcohol.
Maybe it was just that overwhelming urge to be close to each other.
Whatever it was, you two couldn’t stop touching.
You passed things hand-to-hand when you didn’t need to, touched his shoulders like you were dusting off invisible lint, and under the table, Jun casually rested his hand on your thigh for long seconds—like it was nothing.
It wasn’t obvious to everyone, but it was far from subtle.
Minghao, who had been quietly observing you both from time to time, quickly caught on: Jun’s hand on your leg. Your complete lack of reaction.
Something was definitely different.
When you got up for a moment, Minghao saw his chance.
“Come outside with me for a sec,” he said to Jun, gesturing toward the door. “Need to talk.”
Jun followed, completely unaware of what was coming.
“What’s up?” he asked casually.
“Are you dating Y/N?” Minghao asked bluntly.
Jun froze.
The dreamy bubble you’d built around yourselves popped in an instant.
He was speechless for a moment. But why lie?
Even though it had only been a month, Jun already knew: this wasn’t some fleeting fling. What you had was real.
“…Yeah,” he admitted, firm and honest.
Minghao smiled, letting out a quiet laugh at the confirmation.
“I figured. You two actually make a really cute couple. Does anyone else know?”
“No. Just you. It’s only been a month. We haven’t even told our families yet. But Hao… please keep it to yourself.”
“Relax, hyung. I won’t say a thing,” he replied, more serious now. “But you really need to be more careful.”
Jun raised an eyebrow.
“Y/N was all over you every five seconds, and you were caressing her like a lovesick boyfriend. You guys seriously need to tone it down.”
Jun chuckled, imagining how obvious it must’ve looked to Hao—like you two were newlyweds.
He’d have to tell you you’d been caught red-handed…
But at least it was just Hao.
All things considered… it could’ve been worse.
-
From that moment on, you felt comfortable around Minghao.
Whenever the three of you were together, there was no need to hide anymore. Over time, even he got used to your relationship.
Still, he occasionally scolded you both—claiming he felt like a third wheel or an intruder every time you met up. He’d often send you warning looks or cut your displays of affection short.
“All right, lovebirds,” he once said, dead serious. “I agreed to watch a movie with you today, but only on one condition—I sit in the middle. I don’t want to hear you making out during the film. Save that for later, okay?”
You rolled your eyes, amused.
“But hyung… I thought you were past this phase. If you want, you can still have your Jun for a little while,” you teased.
Jun immediately joined in, flashing a playful smile.
“Yeah, I can give you some love too. I’m generous.”
“What you need,” The8 snapped back, “is to learn how to control yourselves when someone else is in the room. Or have you already forgotten the rehearsal room incident? I had to come up with an excuse on the spot just so you wouldn’t get caught! I swear, I should start charging you for this.”
And he wasn’t exaggerating.
Minghao had covered for you so many times over the last two years that he’d even created a note on his phone titled Jun-Y/N Crisis. It included every excuse he’d used, ranked by urgency, plus a ready-to-use list of backup lies in case of future emergencies.
He completely understood why you were keeping the relationship secret.
What he didn’t understand was how you could be so reckless sometimes.
The most recent time he had to save you was during group practice.
That day, you and Jun arrived first—since you’d spent the night together and left at the same time.
Finding the practice room empty, you thought it would be a good idea to… share a little affection.
Well.
“A little” might be putting it mildly.
Without going into details, Jun’s pants and your shirt ended up on the floor during a moment of passionate weakness.
You were still on top of him—bodies tangled—when suddenly, the door opened.
There stood Minghao.
Horrified.
“What the hell are you doing?!” he shouted, covering his face with both hands. “I told you a thousand times! Not at work! Are you trying to get caught?!”
You screamed in surprise, and Jun threw himself over you to cover you as best he could.
“Sorry…” you mumbled, still lying on the floor.
Minghao was about to scold you further—when he heard Mingyu calling him from the hallway.
All three of you froze.
There was no time to think.
You scrambled to grab your shirt from the floor and Jun’s hand, then bolted out the back door of the room—into a small storage space occasionally used for presentations.
It all happened in seconds.
Yes, you could have just gotten dressed.
Yes, that would’ve solved the problem.
But your brain short-circuited from the panic and went with the only thought it could process: run!
Just as Mingyu entered the room, he spotted The8 standing awkwardly, back turned, and something on the floor caught his eye.
“Hey, Hao,” he greeted, then frowned. “Wait… are those Jun’s pants? They look really familiar…”
“No way. They’re mine,” Minghao replied quickly.
“Then… why are they just lying there?”
“I… tore them. Was about to change. You startled me, and they flew off instinctively,” he muttered, mentally facepalming at the terrible excuse.
“What? Where did they rip? I don’t see anything…”
“In the crotch,” he said flatly. “Yeah. There.”
“…Really?”
“Yes. Now leave. I need to change.”
“Then go to the bathroom. This is a dance studio, not a fitting room,” Mingyu replied, confused.
“I don’t care. Don’t make me mad—just go,” he barked, pushing Mingyu toward the door.
Once he finally managed to get him out, Minghao leaned against the wall with a long sigh and muttered:
“I definitely need to get paid for this.”
If anyone deserved financial compensation for covering your tracks, it was The8.
-
That evening, a few of the members had come over to your apartment for a dinner you were hosting.
You were in the kitchen with Mingyu and Joshua, preparing the food, while the others were scattered around the living room—drinking something cold, playing games, or chatting.
Seungkwan, who always loved to snoop around, wandered through the space, checking out all the new things you’d added: he noticed the new lamp, the fresh flowers, your growing collection of figures… and, of course, the bookshelf that stood out among it all.
That shelf was one Jun had helped you install.
In addition to books and albums, it displayed a few framed photos—some with the members, some group shots… and a few more personal ones with Jun.
You’d actually taken down the more intimate pictures for tonight’s visit.
Still, you’d left other items that, in hindsight, were a bit too telling.
One of your favorite hobbies was taking pictures of everything that made you happy—moments, landscapes, people…
You’d then print them out and organize them carefully into albums.
By now, you had dozens, filled with memories from your childhood up to your current life.
Seungkwan, always curious, picked up the first album in the stack.
It was the most recent one—photos from the past year.
He smiled at first, flipping through snapshots of you with your family. One photo in particular showed you hugging your parents’ dog with so much love that it made him chuckle.
But then, he turned the page.
And froze.
Like he’d seen a ghost.
There were two pictures with Jun.
One was just the two of you together.
The other… was of you kissing.
Seungkwan recognized Jun instantly—of course he did—and there was no doubt about what he was seeing.
Minghao, who had been quietly watching from a corner, noticed Seungkwan’s stunned expression and walked over.
No questions were needed.
One glance at the open album and Hao understood immediately.
Once again, you and Jun had left too obvious a trail.
Without saying a word, Minghao snatched the album from Seungkwan’s hands and shut it quickly.
Seungkwan, still pale and wide-eyed, didn’t even react until Hao grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into a nearby room—far from any listening ears.
“That… that was Jun hyung and Y/N, right?” Seungkwan asked, breathless. “You don’t even have to say it—I’m sure. They’re dating, aren’t they?!”
“Lower your voice or they’ll hear you,” Minghao whispered urgently, gesturing with his hands to keep quiet.
“What?! How can you be so calm about this?! You knew? You knew they kiss when they’re alone? You knew they were together?!”
Minghao sighed deeply, already regretting not hiding the album himself.
“Yes. They’re dating.”
“What?! And you’re just telling me like it’s nothing?!”
He stared at Hao like he’d revealed the world’s biggest betrayal.
“But they seemed like just friends!”
“Just friends?” The8 raised an eyebrow. “Well, your definition of friendship is… something else. I figured it out ages ago.”
“I’m freaking out!” Seungkwan cried, clutching his head with both hands.
“Listen,” Minghao said, suddenly serious. “You’re going to keep this secret just like I have for the past two years. Got it?”
“And then, after dinner, if you really want to lose your mind, you can go ask them all the questions you want.”
“Two years?!”
“Yep. Welcome to the secret club whose mission is to make sure no one finds out Jun and Y/N are a thing. Good luck.”
And with that, Minghao turned and walked out, leaving Seungkwan behind, spiraling into a full-blown existential crisis—hyperventilating as he mentally replayed every moment he’d ever seen between you and Jun…
moments that, suddenly, made a lot more sense.
-
The dinner went on as if nothing had happened—
Even though Seungkwan looked completely out of it, occasionally staring directly at you for uncomfortably long seconds.
On the surface, everything seemed perfectly normal.
Minghao had already decided he would tell you about Seungkwan’s “little discovery” after dinner. He didn’t want to alert you now and make things awkward.
The food had been a hit—at least according to everyone—and cold drinks were flowing. Nothing too crazy, just enough to complement the hot dishes you’d worked hard to prepare.
The group chatted about recent updates in their lives as they savored the dessert Mingyu had made.
“I’m actually super excited,” you said at one point. “One of my childhood friends is getting married soon, and she invited me to the wedding.”
“Really? Is it the girl who cried when you debuted?” Jeonghan asked, reminiscing.
“Yep, that’s her. She asked me to sing at the ceremony, and I said yes right away… but I still haven’t decided what song to perform.”
“Do you have to bring a date?” Seungkwan asked, sipping another glass of alcohol.
“Mmm, actually, yes. I hadn’t really thought about who to invite yet, but yeah… I guess I should figure that out,” you answered casually.
Seungkwan gave you a curious look, then downed more of his drink.
“Really? I figured you’d already have that sorted… considering your situation,” he mumbled as he poured himself another glass.
Seungkwan wasn’t drunk.
But it seemed like he’d completely forgotten the very clear instructions he’d received.
“What do you mean by ‘my situation’? I don’t have a date yet... Unless you want me to bring you?” you joked, still clueless about where this was going.
That response surprised Seungkwan even more.
In his mind, he was already shouting: What do you mean you haven’t invited Jun? He’s your boyfriend! You kiss him! You’re in love!
“But… why don’t you just take Jun?” he asked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Jun? Well… he’s my friend, and if he wants to come, he can. But I hadn’t really thought about it,” you lied smoothly.
Of course you were going to ask Jun to come with you.
“But… isn’t he your boyfriend?”
The question left his mouth—
And suddenly, everyone who had been looking anywhere but at you… turned to stare at your table.
You froze.
So did Jun, who barely managed an awkward “…what?”
Minghao covered his face with both hands and let out a loud groan.
He knew Seungkwan wouldn’t last.
“What did you just say?” asked S.Coups, eyebrows raised.
“Boyfriend?” echoed DK, visibly confused.
You looked at Jun in pure panic, silently begging for help.
“Well… yeah. We’re together,” Jun said, reaching out to hold your hand under the table.
For the first time, there was no need to hide.
He looked at you with the same certainty he had when it all began.
“Y/N and I have been dating for two years,” he said with a calm smile. “And we’re doing great. Really great.”
You were doing great.
Two years had flown by, and not once had you regretted choosing Jun.
If anything, it was clearer than ever that you wanted to keep choosing him—again and again.
“Two years…” Hoshi muttered, stunned, repeating it like he was still buffering.
“We were planning to tell you eventually… but I guess Seungkwan beat us to it,” you said, trying to laugh it off.
Then you turned to the culprit.
“By the way… how do you know?”
Seungkwan didn’t even try to lie.
He pointed straight at Minghao.
“Oh, come on!” Hao exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “Don’t you dare blame this on me. I’ve been holding this secret in for two years. To sum it up: yes, they love each other. Yes, they’re a great couple. And yes, I can confirm it, because I’ve had to endure them all this time.”
“You knew?” asked Mingyu, offended.
“Of course I knew! Unlike you, I actually notice things. It wasn’t that hard, genius.”
“Huh?! For real?!”
“All right, calm down,” S.Coups cut in. “I’m fine with you two dating, but we will have to talk about a few things later, okay?”
“Okay, hyung,” you said quickly.
Although Seungcheol had asked for calm, it lasted all of two seconds—because immediately, the floodgates opened.
Questions began flying from every corner of the table.
Minghao, at last, looked more relaxed.
And you and Jun—despite the endless interrogation—felt the same.
The bubble had finally burst.
But you weren’t afraid anymore.
Because, in the end, you were still together.
And best of all—you had twelve boys who would always have your back.
Pairing: son of Athena!Junhui x daughter of Ares!reader
Percy Jackson AU, slow burn rivals, enemies to lovers, fluff, smut
Wc:~9.8k
Part of the Cabin Hearts series ! Masterlist
Summary: She’s a warrior, he’s a strategist. She calls him a nerd, he calls her reckless. But battles have a way of proving that brains and brawn are stronger side by side.
Warnings: blood, injury, fights, mention of death (no major character death), smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex (they could get caught), fingering
The horn blared across the strawberry fields, sharp and insistent, signaling the start of Capture the Flag. Camp Half-Blood erupted into motion. Demigods in Greek armor sprinted toward their zones, weapons flashing under the late-afternoon sun. Shouts, laughter, and the metallic clang of practice swords filled the air like a war drum.
You rolled your shoulders, feeling the familiar weight of your bronze breastplate settle into place. The Ares cabin banner: a snarling boar on blood-red fabric, fluttered from the spear slung across your back. Your team was already massing near the jagged boulders that marked the edge of your territory. Soonyoung stood at the front, electric spear in hand, barking orders with the kind of enthusiasm that made lesser campers flinch.
"Front line, on me!" you shouted, voice cutting through the noise. "We hit hard, we hit fast. No overthinking, just steel and guts!"
Roars answered you. Your siblings grinned, feral and ready. This was home. No strategy meetings, no endless debates. Just the clean burn of adrenaline, the promise of contact, the satisfaction of bodies hitting the ground.
Across the creek, deep in the woods Athena had claimed, Junhui stood apart from the bustle. His dark hair was pulled back neatly, exposing the clean line of his jaw. He wore the standard orange camp T-shirt beneath light leather armor, simple, functional, no unnecessary flair. In his right hand rested a plain xiphos; his left was empty. He didn’t need props. His real weapon had always been the quiet machinery behind his eyes.
He scanned the field in one long, deliberate sweep: the depth of the creek at three different crossing points, the density of underbrush along the left flank, the precise angle of sunlight slicing through the canopy. Every variable filed away. His siblings waited in neat ranks, already divided into squads per the plan he’d drawn on birch bark the night before.
One of his sibilings leaned in from his left. "Ares is going straight for the shallows again. Same as last time."
Junhui’s mouth curved, just the ghost of a smile. "Perfect."
He lifted two fingers. Archers slipped into the trees without a sound. Illusionists moved to their marks. The trap squad vanished like shadows. Everything locked into place.
The game began. You led the charge. Feet pounding dirt, heart slamming, you vaulted the first fallen log and plunged into the creek. Cold water exploded around your greaves, soaking your legs to the thighs. Behind you, twenty Ares campers surged forward in a roaring tide, spears leveled, shields locked, a moving wall of bronze and fury. The plan (if anyone could call it that) was brutally simple: overwhelm. Smash whatever defenses Athena thought they’d built and seize their flag before they could blink.
A flight of arrows hissed overhead. Blunted tips, red paint for scoring hits, but they still stung like wasps if they landed. You raised your shield on instinct; crimson splattered across the bronze in ugly streaks.
"Keep pushing!" you bellowed. "They’re already running!"
Another volley came, tighter, more precise. One grazed your shoulder guard, the impact jarring bone. You snarled and drove forward.
The far bank loomed ahead: steep, muddy, a natural choke point. You grinned wide. They’d funneled you exactly where brute force thrived, close quarters, no room to maneuver, perfect for breaking lines.
Then the world tilted. The bank simply collapsed beneath the front rank. You felt the ground give, heard the startled yells as your siblings dropped into a wide, concealed pit lined with soft earth and illusion-draped branches. You twisted mid-stride, boots skidding on slick roots, trying to leap clear, but momentum betrayed you. Something caught your spear (thin wire?) and yanked. A net snapped shut around your legs like a steel trap.
You hit the dirt hard, rolling once before the webbing pinned you facedown. Paint arrows rained from the canopy above, marking "kills" on anyone still twitching. Your team was unraveling fast, some snared in secondary traps, others pinned by Athena’s flanking squads who appeared from nowhere, moving like they’d rehearsed every step.
A hush fell over the creek, broken only by distant cheers from safe zones and the occasional groan of defeat.
You thrashed, testing the net. It held, tight, professional, no give. Your spear lay tangled just out of reach.
Boots crunched softly on the bank above. You twisted your neck enough to glare up. Junhui stood there, arms loosely crossed, expression calm. Almost detached. His dark eyes swept over you once, assessing damage, position, remaining threat, then locked on yours.
"Reckless" he said, voice low and even, carrying that faint, clipped precision he never quite shook. "Predictable. That’s why you’ll never win."
Fury flooded your face, hot, immediate, humiliating. The sting of truth made it worse.
You bared your teeth. "Keep hiding behind your little diagrams, brainiac. Real warriors don’t need to cheat."
He tilted his head, studying you the way someone might study a battle map that refused to behave.
"I don’t cheat" he replied. "I calculate. There’s a difference."
One of his siblings tossed him their flag, blue silk embroidered with a silver owl. He caught it one-handed without breaking eye contact.
The conch sounded three long blasts. Game over. Athena victorious.
Junhui gave the net a small, almost casual tug; it loosened just enough for you to sit up. He didn’t offer a hand. Didn’t need to. The victory was already written in every clean line of his posture.
You shoved upright anyway, ripping the last strands free, ignoring the dull ache blooming across your ribs from the fall. Paint streaked your arms, your chest, bright red proof of failure.
Your siblings were dragging themselves out of pits and snares, cursing viciously. One caught your eye across the water; she looked ready to set the entire forest on fire. Probably starting with you for not spotting the trap.
Junhui turned to leave.
"Hey" you called.
He paused, half-turning.
"This isn’t over" you said, voice rough.
His mouth quirked, not quite a smile, more acknowledgment than anything else.
"I know."
Then he walked away, blue banner over his shoulder, leaving you standing in the mud with your pride shredded and something unfamiliar twisting under your ribs. Not respect. Definitely not.
Just… irritation. Definitely irritation.
The rest of the afternoon blurred into cleanup and post-game noise. Athena cabin stayed quiet, smug in that infuriating, understated way only planners who’d accounted for every variable could manage. Ares cabin was loud, furious, already plotting next month’s revenge with increasingly creative threats.
You skipped the dining pavilion. Instead you ended up at the edge of the beach, sitting on a salt-bleached log, running a whetstone along your spear blade with more force than necessary. The sun dipped low, painting the water in molten copper.
Footsteps behind you, light, deliberate. You didn’t turn.
"Still brooding?" Junhui’s voice, closer now.
You snorted. "Hardly. Just making sure this spear’s sharp enough to carve through your next master plan."
He stopped a few feet away. Didn’t sit. Just stood, hands in his pockets, watching the water ripple.
"You charged exactly where I expected" he said after a moment. "Same crossing point as last summer. Same speed. Same tight formation."
You stiffened. "So?"
"So maybe change it next time."
You whipped around, eyes blazing. "Don’t lecture me, son of Athena. I don’t need your pointers."
He met your glare without flinching. "It wasn’t a lecture. It was an observation."
Silence stretched, taut, crackling. Then he added, quieter "You almost broke the line anyway. If Soonyoung had shifted left instead of right at the second volley…"
You blinked. Was that… praise? He seemed to catch himself. His expression shuttered instantly. "Forget it" he muttered.
He started to walk away.
"Wait."
He stopped again. You stood, spear still gripped tight. "Why’d you come down here?"
A long beat.
"I don’t know" he admitted. For the first time all day, he sounded almost… human. Uncertain.
You stared, really looked. The dying light caught the sharp edges of his face, the faint scar above his left brow from some old monster scrape, the way his shoulders stayed squared even when exhaustion tugged at the corners of his eyes.
Something shifted in your chest. Annoyance, sure. But underneath it, curiosity. Dangerous, unwelcome curiosity.
"Then figure it out" you said, turning back to the water. "And stay out of my way next time."
He didn’t answer immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was so low the waves almost swallowed it.
"I will."
But the way he said it didn’t sound like retreat. It sounded like the opening move of something much longer.
A week after the Capture the Flag disaster, the camp still hummed with the aftermath. Ares cabin ate louder, trained harder and glared across the pavilion at Athena’s table like they could set it on fire with looks alone. You threw yourself into sparring sessions until your muscles screamed, trying to burn away the memory of that net snapping shut and Junhui’s calm voice calling you predictable.
It almost worked.
Then Chiron summoned you both to the Big House porch at dawn.
The centaur stood tall, tail swishing slowly, his expression grave in the pale morning light. Mr. D lounged in a deck chair nearby, nursing a Diet Coke and looking bored enough to die.
"You two" Chiron began without preamble, "have been selected for a retrieval quest."
You blinked. Junhui, standing a careful three steps to your right, went very still.
"An ancient bronze diadem, once worn by a minor sea nymph, was stolen from the camp borders three nights ago. Satyrs tracked the thief to an old cyclops forge hidden in the pine woods north of here. One cyclops, possibly with a few guards. The artifact is minor, but its theft is a deliberate provocation. We need it back before word spreads."
You felt a grin tug at your mouth. Finally, real action. No games, no paint arrows. Just monsters and steel.
Junhui spoke first, voice measured. "Why us specifically?"
Chiron’s eyes flicked between you. "Strength and strategy. The forge is trapped, mechanical, precise. Raw power alone will trigger every trap. Calculation alone will be too slow when the cyclops wakes. Together…" He let the word hang.
You crossed your arms. "I don’t do together. Especially not with him."
"Exactly why you’re perfect" Chiron said dryly. "You’ll balance each other. Or kill each other trying. Either way, the diadem returns by sunset tomorrow."
Mr. D snorted. "Try not to die. Paperwork’s a nightmare."
Dismissed.
Outside, you rounded on Junhui before he could open his mouth.
"I lead. You follow. No arguments."
He raised one dark brow. "You’ll walk straight into every pressure plate and tripwire."
"And you’ll sit there analyzing shadows until the cyclops uses your skull as a hammer."
He exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh, but too controlled. "We leave at dusk. Meet me at the armory in two hours. I need to see your gear."
"My gear’s fine."
"It’s not about fine. It’s about compatibility."
You stared. "You’re unbelievable."
"So I’ve been told."
He walked away first this time, leaving you fuming on the steps. Two hours later, the armory smelled of oil, leather and heated bronze. You arrived early, already strapped into your favorite kit: greaves, vambraces, breastplate and the heavy spear that had tasted more monster than you could count. A short sword hung at your hip for close work.
Junhui entered quietly, carrying a small pack and wearing light reinforced leather: dark, flexible, designed for movement over brute protection. No helmet. His hair was combed back again, exposing the sharp lines of his face.
He looked you over once, clinical.
"Too heavy" he said immediately. "You’ll sink in the soft ground near the forge. Ditch the breastplate."
You laughed, short, sharp. "And get skewered by a cyclops spike? No thanks."
"The cyclops won’t get close enough to skewer you if we do this right." He pulled a folded parchment from his pack, hand-drawn map, annotations in neat Greek script. "Entry from the east ridge. Narrow path, single-file. I go first to mark traps. You cover rear. Once inside, I disable mechanisms; you handle the guardian."
You snatched the map. It was annoyingly detailed: elevation marks, probable trap locations marked with tiny Xs, wind direction arrows. "You spent all day on this?"
"Three hours. Sleep is overrated."
You rolled your eyes but kept the map. "Fine. But if your fancy plan fails, I’m charging anyway."
"Noted."
Dusk came fast. You slipped past the border, pine needles muffling your steps. The forest thickened quickly, old growth, twisted roots, the faint metallic tang of forge smoke on the wind. Junhui moved ahead like a shadow, pausing every few meters to study the ground, then marking safe paths with small white stones from his pocket.
You followed, spear low but ready, irritation simmering. Every time he stopped, you had to stop. Every time he murmured "wait" your fingers tightened on the haft.
After twenty minutes of silent trekking, he crouched beside a fallen log and beckoned you down.
"Tripwire" he whispered, pointing to a thin bronze filament stretched ankle-high across the path. Moonlight caught it in a faint gleam. "Pressure plate three meters ahead. Probably drops boulders."
You squinted. Barely visible. "How’d you even see that?"
"Practice."
You wanted to snap something sarcastic, but the truth was, you hadn’t seen it. At all.
He stepped over the wire with careful grace, then waited for you. You followed, feeling oversized and clumsy next to his precision.
Another hundred meters. The smoke thickened, carrying the clang of distant hammers: cyclops working late. Junhui froze mid-step.
"Movement" he breathed.
You heard it a second later, heavy footfalls, then a low growl that vibrated through your boots. Hellhound. Two, maybe three.
Junhui’s hand shot out, pressing flat against your chest to stop you. The touch was brief, firm (pure reflex) but it sent a jolt through you anyway. You shoved his hand away.
"I can handle dogs" you hissed.
"Not quietly."
He pulled a small bronze disk from his pack: Athena’s gift, illusion rune. He crushed it between his fingers; faint mist rolled out, cloaking you both in a shimmer that bent light. Not invisibility, more like a suggestion to look elsewhere.
The hellhounds passed within ten meters, noses twitching, but they kept moving toward some distant scent. You exhaled slowly.
Junhui met your eyes. "See? Brains."
"Shut up" you muttered, but there was no heat in it.
The forge appeared through the trees: a cavern mouth braced with iron beams, glowing orange from within. Anvils rang sporadically. One cyclops: massive, one-eyed, skin like cracked granite, hammered at something on a workbench. The diadem sat on a stone pedestal nearby, bronze gleaming.
Junhui crouched behind a boulder, sketching quick lines in the dirt: entry vector, cyclops position, trap indicators.
You leaned in despite yourself. "How do we get past the big guy?"
"Distraction on the left flank, loose rockfall. He turns. You slip in from right, grab it. I cover exit with smoke bombs."
You studied the sketch. It was solid. Annoyingly solid.
"Fine" you said. "But if he charges you-"
"I won’t let him."
You snorted. "Big talk."
He looked at you then, really looked. Something flickered in his dark eyes. Not fear. Not arrogance. Just… focus. "Let’s move."
You took the right approach while he circled left. Heart pounding, not from nerves, but anticipation. This was what you lived for.
Junhui triggered the rockfall with a precise throw of a weighted sling stone. Boulders rumbled down the slope. The cyclops roared, lumbering toward the noise, hammer raised.
You sprinted. The cavern mouth swallowed you. Heat blasted your face. The diadem was heavier than it looked: solid bronze, etched with wave patterns. You snatched it, tucked it into your belt pouch. Behind you, the cyclops turned back too fast. It saw you. Roared. Charged.
You drew your spear, grinning wide. "Come on, ugly!"
It swung the hammer in a wide arc. You ducked, rolled, came up slashing at its thigh. Bronze bit deep; ichor sprayed. The cyclops bellowed, staggering.
Then the ground shook, not from the fight. A massive boulder (part of the ceiling?) detached and plummeted straight toward Junhui’s position outside. He was still marking the exit path, back turned. You didn’t think. You sprinted.
The cyclop lunged after you; you ignored it. You reached Junhui just as the boulder dropped, slamming your shoulder into his side. You both hit the dirt hard, rolling down the slope as stone crashed where he’d stood seconds earlier.
Dust choked the air. Pain bloomed across your ribs: bruised, maybe cracked, but you were alive.
Junhui coughed, pushed up on one elbow. His eyes were wide, genuine shock. "You-"
"Shut up" you growled, shoving to your feet. The cyclops was recovering, roaring fury.
Junhui scrambled up, grabbed your arm. "Run."
You ran. Through trees, leaping roots, the diadem banging against your hip. Hellhounds howled behind, drawn by the noise. Junhui tossed another illusion disk; mist bloomed, confusing their pursuit.
You burst past the camp border as the moon hit zenith. Safe.
You both collapsed against a pine trunk, chests heaving. Silence, except for ragged breathing. You pulled the diadem free, tossed it into his lap without looking. "There. Your stupid plan worked."
He caught it, fingers brushing yours for half a second. "You improvised."
"Had to. Boulder wasn’t in your diagram."
He huffed, almost a laugh. "No. It wasn’t."
You glanced sideways. Sweat streaked his face, hair coming loose from its tie. A thin cut above his eyebrow leaked blood, probably from the fall.
He noticed you staring. "What?"
"You almost died."
"So did you."
"Yeah, well." You shrugged, wincing at the pull in your ribs. "Brains need brawn sometimes."
He looked at you, long, searching. Then, quietly: "And sometimes brawn needs brains."
You held his gaze. Something shifted again, heavier this time. Not quite respect. Not yet. But close.
He stood first, offering the diadem back. "Chiron will want this."
You took it, fingers lingering on his. "Don’t get used to me saving your ass, nerd."
"Don’t get used to me needing it, warrior."
But as you walked back toward the Big House, side by side, not quite touching, the space between you felt smaller than it had an hour ago. And neither of you moved to widen it.
Weeks blurred into the familiar rhythm of camp life after the cyclops quest. Mornings meant archery drills or horse grooming. Afternoons brought sword practice, wall climbs and the endless cycle of bragging, bruises, and ambrosia squares. You threw yourself into it all harder than usual, as if extra sweat could erase the memory of tackling Junhui out of a falling boulder’s path or the way his fingers had brushed yours when you handed back the diadem.
It didn’t.
The whispers started small. A Hermes kid snickering during dinner about how "the Ares psycho and the Athena robot almost looked like they cared about each other out there." One of your sisters overheard, slammed her fist on the table hard enough to crack the wood and declared loudly that anyone spreading that garbage would eat their own spear. The rumors didn’t die, they just went quieter, more amused.
Then Chiron changed the training rotation. Joint cabin drills. Every third day, Ares paired with Athena for partnered sparring, strategy simulations and combined obstacle courses. No opting out. No substitutions. Chiron’s exact words: "Rivalry sharpens both blade and mind. Learn to use each other’s strengths instead of pretending they don’t exist."
You wanted to argue. You didn’t.
First session was brutal. The arena floor had been raked smooth, weapons racks gleaming under floodlights as the sun dipped. Ares campers lined up on one side in full gear: spears, shields, war whoops already building. Athena’s side stood opposite: lighter armor, precise stances, eyes scanning opponents like equations to solve.
Chiron paired names. Of course your name landed right next to Junhui’s.
You stepped into the marked circle together. He wore his usual dark leather reinforced with bronze scales at vital points: minimal, efficient. His xiphos hung at his hip; no shield. You carried spear and hoplon shield, the weight grounding you.
"Rules" Chiron called. "No maiming. No killing intent. First to three solid touches or disarm wins the round. Begin on my mark."
You twirled your spear once, loosening your wrists. "Don’t hold back, brainiac. I won’t."
Junhui’s mouth curved, just the tiniest fraction. "I never do."
Chiron’s whistle shrilled. You lunged first, standard Ares opener: fast thrust aimed at center mass to force a dodge and create opening. Junhui sidestepped smoothly, not retreating, just shifting angle. His blade flashed up in a parry that rang against your spear shaft, the vibration traveling up your arms.
You pressed, sweeping low. He jumped the arc, countered with a quick downward slash toward your shoulder guard. You blocked with the shield rim, shoved forward hard enough to make him stagger a step.
He recovered instantly, too instantly. Pivoted, used your momentum against you, hooked your spear with his xiphos and twisted.
You let go before he could fully disarm you, rolling sideways and coming up with shield raised. He didn’t pursue aggressively; he circled instead, studying.
"Stop dancing" you growled. "Fight."
"I am fighting" he replied, calm. "You’re just louder about it."
You charged again, feint high, drop low, spear thrusting for his thigh. He anticipated, stepped inside your reach, forearm blocking the haft while his free hand snapped out in a palm strike to your chest plate. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to jolt you back.
Score one for him.
You snarled, reset stance. "Cheap."
"Effective."
Next exchange was faster. You hammered shield against shield (he’d grabbed one from the rack mid-fight, smart bastard), then spun out and cracked the butt of your spear against his ribs. Solid contact. Point for you.
He exhaled sharply but didn’t complain. Just nodded once, acknowledgment.
By the third touch: his blade tapping your throat guard after a slick disarm, you were both breathing hard, sweat darkening hair and leather. The round ended in a tie. Chiron called time.
You lowered weapons. He did the same.
"Not bad" you said grudgingly.
"You almost had me on the second disarm" he replied. "If you’d committed to the feint instead of hesitating."
You snorted. "Don’t critique my form while I’m still holding a spear."
He almost smiled. Almost.
The sessions repeated every few days. Sometimes you won. Sometimes he did. Most times it ended in draws that left you both bruised, frustrated and strangely energized.
One evening after a particularly grueling drill, the arena emptied slowly. Most campers headed to the campfire or showers. You stayed behind, methodically wiping down your spear with an oiled rag. The floodlights buzzed overhead; crickets sang in the darkening woods.
Footsteps approached, light, familiar. Junhui stopped at the edge of the circle, arms crossed loosely. He hadn’t changed out of his training gear yet; a faint sheen of sweat still clung to his collarbones.
"You’re doing that wrong" he said.
You glanced up. "Excuse me?"
"Your grip on the haft. Too tight at the base. Limits wrist rotation." He stepped closer, voice dropping to demonstration level. "Here."
Before you could protest, he reached out, slow enough to give you time to pull away if you wanted. You didn’t. His fingers closed over yours on the spear shaft, adjusting position with careful pressure. Thumb here. Fingers looser there. The correction was precise, clinical. But his skin was warm against yours, calluses matching in places where sword and spear had worn matching grooves.
You felt your pulse kick up, annoyingly loud in your ears.
"Try it" he said, stepping back.
You did. A practice thrust. The motion felt… smoother. More control without losing power.
You hated that he was right.
"Better" he said quietly.
You lowered the spear. "Why are you still here?"
He shrugged one shoulder. "Same reason you are. Cooling down."
You studied him in the artificial light. Sweat-damp hair falling across his forehead. The faint scar above his brow more visible now. The way his chest rose and fell in measured rhythm, never quite frantic even after an hour of combat.
Something tightened in your stomach, hot, unfamiliar, unwelcome.
"You stare a lot for someone who claims not to care" you said, aiming for mockery.
His eyes met yours. Steady. Unreadable for a second. "I’m observing" he corrected. "There’s a difference."
"Right. Athena thing." You turned away, setting the spear in the rack with more force than necessary. "Always analyzing."
He didn’t answer immediately. When he spoke again, his voice was lower. "You changed your footwork last week. Wider stance on defense. It’s working."
You froze mid-motion. "You noticed that?"
"I notice everything."
The words hung between you, simple, factual, but weighted somehow.
You turned back slowly. He hadn’t moved closer, but the space felt smaller.
"Then notice this" you said, stepping into his space until only a hand’s width separated you. "I don’t need your pointers. I don’t need your observations. And I definitely don’t need you looking at me like I’m some puzzle you’re trying to solve."
His gaze dropped to your mouth for half a heartbeat, barely long enough to register, then flicked back up.
"Maybe you are" he said quietly.
Your breath caught. For one stupid, suspended second, neither of you moved. Then you laughed, short, rough, breaking the tension like glass. "Keep dreaming, nerd."
You shouldered past him, deliberately brushing his arm. The contact sparked, electric, irritating. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t follow. But as you walked toward the cabins, you felt his eyes on your back the entire way.
The whispers grew bolder after that.
"They’re always the last ones out of the arena."
"Did you see how close they got during that last spar? Looked like they were about to-"
"Shut up before they hear you."
You pretended not to hear. Junhui probably did the same.
Another week passed. Another joint session. This time the exercise was different: blindfolded paired combat. Trust exercise, Chiron called it. One partner blindfolded, the other giving verbal directions to navigate an obstacle course filled with moving dummies and low swinging pendulums.
You drew the short straw. Blindfold first. Black cloth tied snug over your eyes. World reduced to sound, vibration, smell. Junhui’s voice came from your left, low, steady.
"Step forward. Three paces. Stop."
You obeyed, grudgingly. Boots scuffed dirt.
"Right. Pivot forty-five degrees. Forward five steps, slow. Pendulum at head height in three… two… duck now."
You dropped instinctively. Air whooshed overhead.
"Good" he said. Something almost warm in the word.
You hated how much you liked hearing it.
Next obstacle: narrow beam over a shallow pit of mud. "Left foot first. Balance. I’ll count cadence."
You moved, slow, deliberate. His instructions were precise: "Shift weight center… good… right foot now… hold…"
Halfway across, a dummy lunged from the side: mechanical, spring-loaded.
You swung your practice sword on reflex. Wood cracked against wood. Dummy staggered.
"Finish it. Right cross."
You did. The dummy toppled.
"Clear" he said.
You reached the end of the beam, heart pounding from more than exertion.
He untied the blindfold himself, fingers brushing your temples as he pulled the cloth free. You blinked against sudden light.
His face was close, closer than necessary.
"You trusted me" he said. Not a question.
You swallowed. "Had to."
A beat. Then, quieter he says "I won’t let you fall."
The words landed heavier than they should have.
You stepped back, too fast. "Don’t get sentimental on me."
His mouth quirked. "Wouldn’t dream of it."
But as he turned to take his turn on the course, you caught the way his shoulders relaxed, just a fraction, like something had settled inside him.
That night you lay awake in the Ares cabin, listening to snores and the distant hoot of owls. The memory of his fingers near your face replayed on loop. The calm certainty in his voice when he said he wouldn’t let you fall.
You rolled over, punched your pillow. Stupid. He was still a nerd. Still insufferable. Still the guy who’d called you predictable. But the irritation didn’t burn quite as hot anymore. It felt… different. Warmer. Dangerous.
Across camp, in the Athena cabin, Junhui sat at his desk with a half-finished strategy scroll in front of him. He hadn’t written a single new line in twenty minutes. Instead he stared at the empty space where your silhouette had been during the blindfolded drill: shoulders squared, blind but fearless, trusting his voice to guide you through chaos. He exhaled slowly. Recalculating.
The border alarm shattered the quiet just past midnight. Three long, bone-deep blasts from the conch horn: emergency, not drill. Camp Half-Blood jolted awake. Cabins emptied in seconds: demigods spilling onto the green in hastily buckled armor, weapons already drawn, eyes wide and bright with the kind of adrenaline that only came from real monsters at the edge of the magical barrier.
You were out of the Ares cabin before the third blast faded, spear in hand, breastplate half-strapped. Your sibilings were right behind you, electric spear crackling blue-white in the dark. "Dracaenae" one snarled, already tasting the fight. "Satyrs spotted a raiding party crossing the western tree line. They’re testing the border, hard."
You didn’t waste breath on questions. You ran. The woods west of the cabins were thickest: old pines, tangled underbrush, perfect cover for serpentine bodies slithering through shadows. The barrier shimmered faintly ahead, a golden veil stretched between ancient trunks. Beyond it, movement: hisses, scales scraping bark, the wet slap of tails.
Chiron galloped up as you reached the front line, bow already nocked. "Hold the perimeter" he ordered. "They can’t cross unless the barrier fails. Push them back before they find a weak point."
Athena cabin arrived seconds later, Junhui at the front, moving with that same quiet purpose he always had. No panic. No shouting. Just eyes scanning the treeline, calculating angles, numbers, vectors of attack. He carried his xiphos and a small round shield; behind him, younger siblings fanned out with bows and javelins, already taking elevated positions in the branches.
Your eyes met his across the chaos for half a second. No words. Just a nod, sharp, mutual. We’ve got this.
Then the dracaenae hit. They burst from the undergrowth in a wave, dozens, maybe more. Upper bodies humanoid, women with copper skin and venom-green eyes; lower halves massive serpent coils that propelled them forward faster than any horse. Spears tipped with jagged coral, whips crackling with Stygian ice. They hissed war cries in ancient Greek, voices overlapping like a nest of vipers.
The barrier flared as the first wave slammed into it, golden light rippling, holding, but straining. Arrows from the trees answered immediately: Athena’s archers, precise, dropping three dracaenae before they could regroup.
You charged the breach point where the barrier flickered weakest.
"Front line, with me!" you called.
Ares campers surged forward in a wedge. You led, spear leveled, shield up. The first dracaena met you head-on, whip cracking toward your face. You ducked, thrust low, bronze punching through scaled midsection. She shrieked, dissolving into golden dust. Another lunged from the side; you spun, cracked your shield rim into her jaw, then finished with an upward stab.
Around you the fight exploded: younger Ares kids holding formation with grim determination, Athena strategists calling targets "Left flank, three incoming, archers now!" and the border itself groaning under repeated impacts.
Junhui stayed back at first, directing, repositioning. "Archers, concentrate fire on the whip-wielders! Swords, plug the gaps on the right!" His voice cut clean through the noise, calm anchor in the storm.
You caught glimpses between kills: him sliding between two dracaenae, xiphos flashing in tight, economical arcs; him shoving a younger camper out of a whip’s path; him scanning the entire line like it was a living chessboard.
Then everything went wrong. A larger dracaena (leader, maybe) broke through a thin spot in the barrier. Eight feet of coiled muscle, coral spear longer than you were tall. She hissed triumph, eyes locking on the cluster of unarmored Athena kids still scrambling into position. Junhui was closest, back turned for a split second, shouting orders over his shoulder.
She lunged.
Time slowed.
You saw the spear rise, saw the killing arc descending toward his unprotected back.
You didn’t think. You ran. Feet pounding dirt, spear forgotten in favor of raw speed. You slammed into Junhui from the side, full tackle, shoulder driving into his ribs. You both went down hard, rolling across pine needles and roots. The coral spear whistled through the space where his heart had been, embedding in the earth with a thud that vibrated up your spine.
Pain exploded across your side: hot, wet. The dracaena hadn’t missed entirely. Her spear had raked a deep gash along your ribs as you shoved him clear. Blood soaked your shirt instantly, warm and sticky.
Junhui hit the ground beneath you, breath punched out of him. His eyes: wide, stunned, locked on yours.
For half a heartbeat, neither moved. Then reality crashed back. The dracaena reared, hissing fury. You rolled off him, staggering upright despite the fire in your side. Spear still in hand (somehow) you thrust blindly. Bronze met scale; she recoiled with a scream.
Junhui was up in the next second, faster than you’d ever seen him move. He grabbed your arm, dragged you behind the thick trunk of an oak. "Cover" he barked, voice cracking on the word.
You leaned against bark, breathing shallow. Blood dripped steadily onto the forest floor. "I’m fine" you lied through gritted teeth.
"You’re bleeding out" he snapped, actual anger in his tone, rare and sharp.
He tore a strip from the bottom of his camp shirt, pressed it hard against the wound. His hands were steady, clinical, but his face was pale, jaw locked so tight you thought it might crack.
"Hold this" he ordered.
You did. He stepped out from cover, shield raised, xiphos ready. "Stay down."
"Like Hades" you growled, shoving upright despite the dizziness.
He shot you a look, pure exasperation mixed with something rawer. "Don’t you dare die on me, reckless idiot."
The words landed like a punch. You stared.
He didn’t wait for a reply. He charged back into the fray, covering the retreat of the younger campers, drawing the leader dracaena’s attention. His movements were tighter now, angrier. Every strike precise and vicious. He disarmed her spear, slashed across her coils, forced her back step by step until an arrow from above finished her, golden dust exploding in a glittering cloud.
The rest of the raiding party faltered. Without their leader, coordination broke. Athena archers picked them off; Ares front-liners mopped up the stragglers. Within minutes the woods fell quiet again, save for the crackle of dissipating monster essence and the groans of the wounded.
Chiron’s voice boomed across the line. "Secure the perimeter! Healers to the front!"
Junhui appeared at your side again, breathing hard, ichor streaking his arms, a shallow cut above his eyebrow leaking blood into his lashes. He didn’t speak. Just hooked your arm over his shoulders and half-carried you toward the clearing where the Apollo kids were already setting up triage.
You tried to pull away. "I can walk."
"You can’t" he said flatly. "Shut up and let me."
You were too dizzy to argue. By the time you reached the infirmary tent, the adrenaline crash had hit full force. The world tilted; pain throbbed in time with your heartbeat. Apollo campers swarmed: nectar, gauze, hymns that glowed faintly gold.
Junhui stayed. He didn’t hover, didn’t pace. Just sat on a stool beside your cot, elbows on knees, hands clasped so tight his knuckles whitened. He watched every stitch, every application of salve, like he was memorizing the procedure in case he had to do it himself later.
When the head healer finally stepped back "She’ll be fine. Deep cut, but no organ damage. Rest, ambrosia, no training for a week" Junhui exhaled like he’d been holding the breath since the border.
The tent emptied slowly. Moonlight filtered through canvas, turning everything silver-blue. You shifted on the cot, wincing. "You gonna sit there brooding all night?"
He looked up. Eyes shadowed. "I’m not brooding."
"You’re doing a pretty good impression."
Silence stretched. Then, quietly "You didn’t have to do that."
You snorted, regretted it instantly as pain flared. "Yeah, well. Couldn’t let the camp’s favorite strategist get skewered. Who’d make all the annoying plans then?"
He didn’t smile. "You could have died."
"So could you."
"That’s different."
"How?"
He leaned forward, forearms on thighs. "Because I-" He stopped. Swallowed. Tried again. "I had the position. I should have seen the angle. The spear trajectory was obvious if I’d just-"
"Stop." You reached out, slow, careful and grabbed the front of his ruined shirt. "You were busy saving everyone else. That’s your thing. Mine’s the charging-in-like-an-idiot part."
His gaze dropped to where your fingers curled fabric. Then back to your face. Something flickered there, something unguarded, unguarded in a way you’d never seen from him.
"I hated it" he said, voice rough. "Watching that spear come down. Knowing I wouldn’t make it in time."
Your throat tightened. "Yeah. Well. I hated watching it too."
Another beat. He reached up, hesitant and covered your hand with his. Warm. Steady. Thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.
"You scared me" he admitted, so soft you almost missed it.
You stared. Heart slamming against bruised ribs. Then, because words failed, you tugged him closer. He came without resistance. Foreheads touched, careful, mindful of wounds. Breathing mingled. His hand slid to the nape of your neck, fingers threading gently into sweat-damp hair.
"I’m sorry" he whispered.
"For what?"
"For not seeing it sooner."
You huffed a small laugh. "Took you long enough, brainiac."
He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "I see it now."
The tent flap rustled, someone checking on patients. Junhui straightened, but he didn’t let go of your hand. Not yet.
"Rest" he said. "I’ll be here when you wake up."
You wanted to argue, habit, but exhaustion pulled too hard.
"Fine" you muttered. "But if you start debriefing me in my sleep, I’ll haunt you."
A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. "Deal."
You drifted off with his hand still wrapped around yours, warm anchor in the dark.
Hours later, deep night, camp finally quiet, Junhui still sat there. He didn’t sleep. He watched the slow rise and fall of your chest, counted every breath like it was proof of something fragile and vital.
And for the first time in years, the relentless machinery of his mind went quiet. No calculations. No contingencies. Just you, alive, stubborn, impossible and the bone-deep certainty that he would burn every strategy he’d ever written if it meant keeping you that way.
The infirmary cot felt too small after that night at the border. The gash along your ribs healed faster than it had any right to, thank Apollo kids and a steady drip of nectar, but the scar it left was angry, pink and raised. Every time you twisted wrong in training or reached too far, it pulled, a sharp reminder of coral spear and the split-second decision that had put you between Junhui and death.
You avoided the arena for the mandated week. Chiron’s orders. Instead you haunted the edges of camp: the beach at dawn, the strawberry fields at dusk, the climbing wall when no one was looking. Anywhere that didn’t smell like pine needles and blood and the faint, clean scent of whatever soap Junhui used.
He didn’t crowd you. Didn’t hover. But he was there. A water bottle left on the porch railing of Cabin 5 when you came back sweaty from a solo run. A fresh roll of bandages slipped onto your bunk without comment. Once, you found a small jar of salve: Athena’s own recipe, handwritten label in his precise script, tucked under your pillow. "For scar tissue" the note read. Nothing else. No signature. Didn’t need one.
You hated how much it steadied you. The mandatory week ended on a Thursday. You were back in the arena by sunrise Friday, spear in hand, testing the limits of the new scar. It hurt, good hurt, the kind that reminded you you were still here, still fighting. You ran through forms alone until the sun climbed high and sweat soaked through your shirt.
Footsteps on the sand. You didn’t turn. "Thought you’d be here" Junhui said from the entrance arch.
You kept moving: thrust, parry, pivot. "Stalking me now?"
"Observing." Same old line. But his voice was quieter today. Less guarded.
You finally stopped, spear tip resting in the dirt. Turned.
He stood just inside the shadow of the colonnade, arms loose at his sides. No armor. Just camp shirt, dark shorts, hair slightly messy from whatever he’d been doing before this. The cut above his eyebrow had healed to a thin silver line. It suited him, made him look less like a statue and more like someone who bled the same as everyone else.
"You’re supposed to be resting" he said.
"I rested. Now I’m training."
He stepped forward, slow, deliberate. "You’re favoring your left side. The scar’s pulling."
You rolled your eyes. "I’m fine."
"You’re not."
The words weren’t accusatory. Just fact. Something in his tone made your stomach flip. You planted the spear butt harder. "What do you want, Junhui?"
He stopped a few feet away. Close enough that you could see the way his throat moved when he swallowed. "I want to spar."
You laughed, short, disbelieving. "You want to fight me? Now?"
"Not fight." He met your eyes. Steady. "Train. Properly. No holding back. No blindfolds. Just us."
Your pulse kicked up. "Why?"
"Because we’ve been dancing around this for months." His voice dropped. "And I’m tired of it."
The arena suddenly felt too quiet. No wind. No distant shouts from the beach. Just the two of you and the weight of everything unsaid.
You studied him, really studied. The faint tension in his shoulders. The way his fingers flexed once, then stilled. The look in his eyes that wasn’t calculation anymore. It was hunger.
"Fine" you said. Voice rougher than you meant. "But if I pin you, you admit I’m better."
His mouth curved, just a flicker. "And if I pin you?"
You stepped closer. "You won’t."
He exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh. You both moved to the center circle. No shields this time. Just spear against xiphos. Bare feet on warm sand. The sun beat down, turning everything gold and sharp-edged.
You circled first, slow, testing. He mirrored you. No rush. No feints yet. Just eyes locked, breathing synced without meaning to. You struck first. Spear thrust, fast, aimed at his shoulder to force a dodge. He twisted inside your reach, xiphos flashing up to parry. Metal sang. You spun out, reversed the haft, cracked it toward his ribs. He blocked, barely, staggered half a step. Recovered instantly. Countered with a low slash that forced you to leap back.
"Sloppy" he said. Breath even.
"Shut up."
You went harder. Thrust-parry-thrust-feint-high-low. He read every move half a second before you finished it, dodging, deflecting, never quite retreating. You pushed him toward the edge of the circle. He let you. Then, sudden pivot, he hooked your spear haft with his blade, yanked, used your forward momentum to spin you. Your back hit his chest. His arm banded across your waist, tight, unyielding. The spear clattered to the sand. Pinned. Breath exploded out of you.
His mouth was at your ear. "Yield?"
You twisted, hard, elbow driving back toward his ribs. He anticipated, shifted, took the blow on his forearm instead. Didn’t let go. You stomped his instep. He grunted, pain, not surprise, but his grip only tightened.
"Yield" he repeated. Voice low. Rough.
You stopped struggling. Not surrender. Just… stillness. Your back pressed to his front. His heartbeat hammered against your spine, fast, unsteady. His breath stirred the hair at your nape.
"No" you whispered.
He turned you, slow, careful. Hands sliding to your hips. You let him. Faces inches apart. Sweat beaded on his temple. A drop slid down the side of his jaw. You reached up, slow, thumb brushing it away. His eyes darkened.
Then he kissed you. Not gentle. Not tentative. Desperate. Like he’d been holding the strategy back for too long and the entire plan had just collapsed. You kissed him harder, teeth, tongue, all the frustration and want and fear that had been building since the cyclops forge, since the border, since every single time he’d looked at you like you were the one variable he couldn’t solve.
Hands everywhere. Yours fisted in his shirt, yanking him closer. His slid under yours, palms hot against the small of your back, careful of the scar but not shying away. You bit his lower lip, sharp enough to make him groan into your mouth.
Clothes came off in pieces. Shirt, yanked over his head, tossed. Yours followed, careful around the ribs, but fast. Sand stuck to sweat-slick skin. You shoved him backward until his shoulders hit one of the wooden support posts.
He reversed, pinned you instead. Back to the post. Hands braced on either side of your head.
He pulled back just enough to look. Eyes searching yours, asking without words. You answered by dragging him back in. The kiss turned slower, deeper. His mouth moved to your jaw, your throat. You tipped your head back, fingers threading into his hair, tugging when he found the spot below your ear that made your knees weak.
He dropped to one knee, slow, eyes never leaving yours. Mouth trailing down sternum, ribs, pausing at the new scar. He pressed a kiss there, soft, reverent. Then another. And another.
You swallowed hard. "Junhui-"
He looked up. "I hated how close I came to losing this."
The words cracked something open inside you. You pulled him up, urgent, kissed him again. Hands roaming. His skin was fever-hot. You traced every line of muscle, every old scar, memorizing the way he shivered when your nails dragged lightly down his back.
He lifted you, effortless, your legs wrapping around his waist. Post at your back, his body pinning you there. The friction made you both gasp.
"Tell me to stop" he murmured against your lips.
"Don’t you dare."
He didn’t. He reached between you, slow, careful, checking. You nodded. He pushed in, slow at first, giving you time to adjust. The stretch burned sweet. You bit his shoulder to muffle the sound.
He groaned, low, wrecked. Then he moved. Steady rhythm at first, controlled, like everything he did. But you met him thrust for thrust, harder, hungrier. Nails digging into his shoulders. Legs tightening. His control frayed fast.
"Fuck" he breathed, rare curse, raw. "You’re-"
You cut him off with a kiss. Rolled your hips. Took him deeper. He lost the rhythm, became desperate. Faster. Harder. The post creaked behind you. Sand shifted under his feet.
You felt it building, tight coil low in your belly. His hand slid between you, fingers finding exactly where you needed. Precise. Perfect.
You shattered first, back arching, name tearing from your throat in a broken gasp.
He followed seconds later, burying his face in your neck, shuddering, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you.
For a long moment neither moved. Just breathing. Hearts slamming against each other. Sweat cooling on skin.
He eased you down slowly, careful, until your feet touched sand again. Didn’t let go. Forehead to yours.
You laughed, shaky. "We just..."
"Yeah."
You both exhaled at the same time. He kissed you again, soft this time. Slow. Like he was memorizing the taste.
When you finally pulled apart, you rested your head against his shoulder.
"I still think you’re a nerd" you muttered.
He huffed a quiet laugh. "And you’re still reckless."
You tilted your head back. "But you like it."
His thumb brushed your cheek. "More than like."
The admission hung there, simple. Heavy.
You swallowed. "Me too."
He smiled, small, real, unguarded.
You stayed like that until the sun dipped lower, tangled, sandy, bruised in the best ways.
Eventually you separated enough to gather scattered clothes. Dressed slowly. Shared glances. Small touches, a hand on his wrist, his fingers brushing your scar.
As you walked out of the arena together, shoulders brushing, the camp lights were just flickering on. Distant laughter from the pavilion. Normal sounds.
But nothing felt normal anymore.
At the fork in the path: one way to Ares cabin, one to Athena, he stopped. You turned. He looked at you, long, searching.
"Tomorrow?" he asked. Quiet.
You stepped closer. Kissed him once, brief, promising.
"Tomorrow" you said.
He nodded. You walked separate ways. But the space between didn’t feel empty. It felt like anticipation. Like the moment before a perfect strategy clicked into place.
The final Capture the Flag of the summer arrived on the last Saturday before most campers shipped back to mortal schools or whatever fragile normalcy waited beyond the border. The air smelled of pine, sea salt and anticipation thick enough to choke on. Chiron had announced the teams at breakfast that morning with his usual calm gravitas: "For this game, the blue team will be led jointly by Athena and Ares cabins. One strategy, one assault force. Work as one, or lose as two."
Groans had rippled through the pavilion. Traditionalists from both sides muttered about "mixing oil and water" but no one argued with Chiron. Not out loud.
You stood at the edge of the forest as the sun climbed, armor gleaming, spear balanced across your shoulders. The red boar banner still flew over Ares territory, but today it shared space with Athena’s silver owl stitched onto blue silk. A compromise. Junhui had suggested it the night before, quietly, over stolen kisses behind the armory.
"Symbols matter" he’d said against your mouth. "Let them see we’re not pretending anymore."
You’d rolled your eyes. "You and your metaphors."
He’d smiled, small, private. "You love them."
You hadn’t denied it. Now he stood beside you in full gear: dark leather reinforced with bronze at the shoulders and chest, xiphos at his hip, no shield. His hair was tied back, exposing the sharp line of his jaw and the faint scar above his brow. He looked calm. Focused. Like always. Except when his eyes met yours.
Then something warmer flickered there, something that made your pulse kick despite the weight of bronze on your shoulders.
"Ready?" he asked.
You twirled the spear once. "Born ready. You?"
He nodded once. "Plan’s locked. You remember your part?"
"Charge where you point. Improvise when I feel like it."
His mouth quirked. "Try to stick to the plan."
"No promises, brainiac."
He didn’t argue. Just brushed his knuckles against yours, brief, hidden by the angle of your bodies, before stepping forward to address the combined force.
Blue team gathered in a loose semicircle: Athena kids with bows, maps, and illusion runes; Ares siblings with spears, shields, and barely restrained grins. They watched Junhui with wary respect and you with familiar hunger for violence. The mix still felt strange, like handing a wolf a chess set, but no one questioned it. Not after the border fight. Not after the whispers had turned into open bets on whether you two would kill each other or end up sharing a bunk.
Junhui spoke first, voice carrying without shouting.
"Red team: Hephaestus, Hermes, Apollo, has the creek as their primary crossing. They’ll feint north with Hermes speed, then push hard south with Hephaestus traps. We let them think we’re defending the shallows like last time."
Murmurs. He raised a hand. "We’re not."
He knelt, traced lines in the dirt with his dagger, quick, precise.
"Archers and illusionists take the high ridge here. Create false movement, make them believe the north flank is weak. When they commit, we collapse the trap: Ares hits the south crossing in full force, funneled exactly where we want them. I’ll coordinate from the center ridge with signal flares. No deviations unless I call it."
Eyes turned to you. You stepped forward. "My job’s simple. We hit hard, we hit fast. Shields lock, spears low. No one breaks formation until we have their flag or they’re dust. If they scatter, we chase. If they trap us, we break through. Clear?"
Nods. Feral grins from your siblings.
Junhui met your gaze. "We move on the horn. Stay sharp."
The conch sounded. Game on. You led the Ares contingent south through the underbrush, silent at first, then building to the low thunder of boots and clanking bronze. Junhui’s signal flare arced overhead, green smoke, the go code. You broke cover at a dead run.
The south crossing was chaos exactly as planned. Hermes kids sprinted ahead, thinking they’d caught the flank open. Hephaestus traps: spiked pits, tripwires, waited in neat rows. But Athena archers had already marked them; blue flares burst above each one, warning your line.
You yelled "Shields!"
The front rank locked, bronze wall moving as one. You were at the center, spear thrusting through gaps, driving forward. A Hermes kid appeared on your left, dagger flashing. You bashed him with your shield rim, sent him sprawling. Behind the line, Junhui’s voice carried over the din, calm, precise. "Left shift, two degrees! Archers, suppress the ridge!"
Arrows hissed overhead. Red team faltered.
You pushed harder. The creek appeared, shallow here, rocks slick. Red team’s flag waved from a fallen log on the far bank, guarded by a knot of Hephaestus heavies in makeshift armor.
You grinned. "There it is."
Junhui appeared at your side, sudden, silent. He’d left the ridge, moving with the front line now. No hesitation.
"Flank left" he said low. "I’ll draw the center."
You nodded. No argument.
He broke right, fast, drawing attention. Red team pivoted toward him. You swung left with half your squad, splashing through the creek, using the distraction to close the distance.
Junhui fought clean: parry, dodge, strike, never wasting motion. A Hephaestus kid swung a hammer; Junhui ducked, hit tendons behind the knee, dropped him without killing intent. Another charged; Junhui sidestepped, used momentum to throw him into the creek.
You reached the log first. The flag guard, a burly Hephaestus girl with a massive shield, met you head-on. You slammed shield against shield, sparks flying. She pushed; you held. Then shoved hard. She staggered. You spun the spear haft, cracked it across her wrist. The shield dropped. You lunged, spear tip tapping her chest plate. "Out."
She cursed, stepped aside. Your hand closed on blue silk. Victory horn blasted, three long notes.
Blue team erupted. You raised the flag high, cheering with your siblings. Across the field, Athena kids whooped, quietly, but real. Junhui jogged up, breathing hard, ichor and sweat streaking his face.
You tossed him the flag. He caught it one-handed. Didn’t smile, just looked at you like you’d solved the last equation he’d never quite cracked.
Then he stepped forward, hooked a finger in your breastplate strap, and pulled you in.
Right there, in the middle of the creek, surrounded by cheering demigods and settling dust, he kissed you. Slow. Deep. Unhurried.
One hand cupped the back of your neck; the other stayed fisted in your armor. You kissed back, fierce, possessive, fingers threading into his damp hair.
The noise around you swelled: cheers, wolf-whistles, a few theatrical groans from the traditionalists. Someone's laugh boomed over everything: "About damn time!"
You broke apart only when air became necessary. Junhui rested his forehead against yours. "Told you brains and brawn work better together."
You huffed a laugh. "Took you long enough to admit it, nerd."
He smiled, small, real, unguarded. "Worth the wait."
Later, after the gear was stripped, wounds patched, and the pavilion rang with post-game stories, you found him by the lake.
Moonlight silvered the water. He sat on the same salt-bleached log where you’d once sharpened your spear and tried to hate him. Now he looked up as you approached and the look in his eyes was softer than you’d ever seen.
You sat beside him. Shoulders brushing.
"Some game" you said.
"Some team."
Silence stretched, comfortable. You nudged him. "You know they’re already making bets on how long before we kill each other."
"Let them bet." His fingers found yours, lacing together. "We’ve got better odds."
You snorted. "Optimist."
"Realist."
You leaned your head on his shoulder. He rested his cheek against your hair. The lake lapped quietly. Somewhere distant, the campfire crackled and campers sang off-key. Normal camp sounds.
But nothing felt normal anymore. It felt better.
"Next summer" he murmured, "we run the whole thing together again."
You tilted your head. "You asking me to co-captain?"
"I’m telling you we’re co-captains." A pause. "Unless you’d rather keep calling me predictable."
You laughed, quiet, warm. "Nah. I like keeping you on your toes."
He turned, kissed your temple. "Good. Because I like watching you charge in and ruin every perfect plan I make."
"Admit it, you love the chaos."
"I love you" he said simply.
The words landed soft. Certain.
You swallowed. Turned to face him fully.
"Love you too, brainiac."
He smiled, slow, devastating. Then he pulled you in again, kissing you under the stars, lake at your feet, camp at your back.
synopsis: everything with junhui has been a step towards something, but neither of you are very clear on what when it comes to the other.
genre: co-workers to lovers ; angst, fluff.
pairing: office worker!wen junhui x fem!reader
word count: 7.9k
rating: 18+. minors do not interact.
warnings: it's stupidly vague and i'm sorry for that. minimal swearing, i guess? mentions of eating and food. they're just stupid
what to listen to: starstarstar - dosii ; take me - miso ; say yes - seventeen ; heart burn - sunmi ; i was made for lovin' you - kiss.
author's note: i'm going to be honest, i've been having a really hard time with life and i just wanted to write something regardless of deadlines and expectations. i also don't care if it makes sense, i just wanna write. i love my collabs, though, and they will get done. i just want to be vague and mysterious and stupid for a moment in time and not worry. welcome our beloved junhui to the haologram blog <3 i've missed him so dearly. [star dividers] by @/saradika-graphics here on tumblr, and thank you to cam for the bar name! enjoy!
HE SMELLS LIKE LUMBER SOMETIMES.
He smells like the tree trunks he chops for firewood at his cabin on the weekends, and he picks up pinecones. He dusts them off and examines them, and the best one is always promptly delivered to your desk by lunchtime on Monday afternoons.
That was the extent of your relationship with him, and really, any of your co-workers. He’d never spoken a word to you (not that you could remember, anyway) but has somehow figured out that you like pinecones. Particularly not ones that smell like cardboard boxes from the home section at Marshall’s.
No one speaks to you unless they need something, and rarely does someone need something from you as a person.
No invitations to drinks after work – you see them enough as it is. You hang up on remote meetings without saying much of anything, and you’re usually the first to leave the call without so much as a goodbye. Your emails and short and dry, signed off with only your name. You avoid the catered lunches provided by whatever restaurant your company paid out and stick to wedging yourself into the sixth-floor storage room with your package of fruit snacks and a sad turkey sandwich. There was a pink chair in the corner that you liked and tried multiple times to convince Mike (the janitor) to let you have but he refused.
You do not make eye contact during breaks, and you don’t stop by the break room for coffee or complimentary muffins. You lied about why once, when you were asked by a coworker – and absently claimed a gluten allergy, only to be seen eating bread a few hours later. That coworker hasn’t spoken to you since, and you don’t think she plans to.
But him?
He started talking about two years ago, a year after you joined the company. He started talking too much, you could argue, but he would say it’s just enough.
He’s too friendly, you thought. He dropped by your desk with a warm cup of tea every morning, if not your precious Monday morning pinecone. He slid a soft, lemon-blueberry muffin under your nose with a soft smile every once in a while. He asked you to lunch, to drinks, and he always sent you a separate follow-up email after remote meetings when he could very well just add your tasks to the bottom of the mass list he always sends in the group mail.
He was just above you on the corporate ladder, but you felt no pressure to answer him in terms of social interaction. He didn’t make it a point, either – he just existed in your vicinity, and only came into your space when you allowed. Quite like a cat, you are.
He told you about his life, quietly, calmly. He told you about how he learned wushu growing up, and how he played piano. He told you about how he got the cabin as a gift from a friend who was moving abroad, unlikely to return and much less spend time in the quiet woods surrounding your town. He told you about his late-night snacking habit, about his cat, Luna. He told you about his best friend, Minghao, and how he was the best man at his wedding a few years ago.
But above all?
He listened to you.
He looked at you like every word from your mouth held weight, carefully nodding along to your mumbled stories of troubled childhood. He listened to you talk about your favorite dish, your favorite color, even your theories about how middle children suffer the most. He laughed at your wry jokes, the dry humor – though he would bite it back at the deadpan comments you’d make during department meetings.
He always sat next to you in those department meetings. His knee was always just barely brushing yours, the soft material of his slacks making your skin prickle as it touched your bare thigh. He’d pass you doodled notes on his pink stationery with My Melody on the edges. He always adjusted the hem of your skirt down subtly when you stood up and pushed your chair in after you skirted around it. He waited until you’d gathered all your materials to leave, walking alongside you back to your desk even if his was across the office.
And it made people wonder what about you had his attention so deeply.
You’re not interesting to any of them, you never had been. You’re a liar (about a gluten allergy, of all things) and the kind of quiet that made them feel stupid if you looked at them for too long. They felt like you were judging them, when really – you were hoping they’d speed up their long-winded questions to end the painfully awkward social aspect of you fixing their problems.
Sometimes, he’d send you home early to help you escape their judging eyes.
He’d send you an email – the subject line usually only taken up by “🏠?” The body usually contained nothing more than a new picture of Luna, but you always appreciated it.
He’d be looking over the edge of his monitor to watch you hear the dreaded Outlook ding, your eyes slightly lighting up at the sound before really brightening the moment you saw it was him. You’d look over the edge of your monitor, raising a brow that didn’t hide your shy smile as you sent him an email back before quietly packing your bag and slipping out of the office.
It was always just a meme you’d found during your lunchtime Pinterest scroll – one you’re sure he’d seen you add to your shared board.
Because, of all things, he’d chosen to first share his Pinterest with you. You saw his dream home, vintage cars, cool jewelry and the stupid memes he liked you send you in the middle of the night when he was thinking of you.
You still reread that text, he sent it over a year ago.
MESSAGE FROM: Wen Junhui ♡
[2:32AM] of course i think about you.
[2:33AM] i think about you all the time. after breakfast, when you try to sneak out of the office to hide in that storage room upstairs. even outside of work, sometimes i see things i think you’d like. but i mostly think about you now.
[2:34AM] i think it’s a comfort that you pass my mind before i go to bed. or maybe just an association i've made with the fact that i check our board every night to see if you’ve added anything.
[2:35AM] but...i prefer the former, honestly. goodnight, y/n. sleep well. ♡
You added the little heart to his contact name that same night.
Granted, things between you and him never went further. He talked to you, he walked with you around the office, he gave you many ways to contact him outside of work even if you never texted him first. He shared moments of his day with you if you missed work or worked from home – which was rare and always worried him. He would send pictures of a lone pinecone sitting on your mousepad if you weren’t there when he delivered it, followed by whatever random emoji he felt fit the mood. Sometimes it was a hazelnut, sometimes it was a cat.
Sometimes, it was the heart wrapped in a bandage.
You tried not to overthink it.
But it was hard not to notice the whispers about him.
How a lot of your coworkers talked about him, and how cute he is. How sweet, smart, gentle. How he’s soft-spoken until he’s around his friends, even though you knew that his best friend was just as soft spoken. He worked two floors down, Xu Minghao.
You met Minghao and his wife (and the rest of their shared friends) the first time you were ever invited out for drinks – and the first time you ever hesitated to say no.
Junhui managed to get you right in the nick of time, too – right as the clock struck five. You hadn’t even gotten a chance to log out of your programs when he leaned over the wall of your cubicle with a twinkle in his eye that made your chest ache.
“Have a drink with me. My friends are coming, too, but you know. I’ll be there.”
And you had more than a drink – you had a good time. You had three blood orange margaritas and a sip of his beer, but it was like you were shining brighter than a million suns. You let yourself sink into the soft vinyl of the booth, surrounded by him and his scent and his friends. You let yourself talk, out loud and with gusto about everything. You were uninhibited, and you remember how they all warmly smiled as Junhui pushed your hair out of your eyes as you talked about how there was no way the megalodon shark was extinct.
He walked you home that night, the two of you a little too tipsy to navigate the train or drive. He walked on the sidewalk closest to the street and held your pinchy heels in his fingers, letting you skip around and complain about the humidity. He only smiled, his hip bumping yours every once in a while, when you swayed a bit too far.
When you got back to your apartment, he waited against the railing in front of your doorstep to watch you step inside. You remember hesitating before asking him if he wanted to come in for a nightcap.
His eyes widened, and for a moment – he considered it. You saw how his eyes flickered to your lips, before he cleared his throat.
“Maybe another night. Thank you for coming out with me tonight, I hope it wasn’t too overwhelming.”
It hadn’t been, but his soft rejection was certainly disappointing. You shook your head then, staring at him for a split second more before speaking.
“It was nice. I’d...I’d like to do it again, sometime. Just us.”
You smiled softly, before giving him a curt nod and slipping into your apartment before he could respond. You leaned against the door, sliding down the cool wood before hearing him utter a soft goodnight.
Since then, the two of you had gone for drinks over and over again – just the two of you, and with his friends. When it was just you, he’d talk about everything and anything under the sun. But when it was with his friends?
They really liked you, enjoying the excitement that they never saw in the office. One of them, Kwon Soonyoung in finance, offhandedly mentioned that they hadn’t known you and Junhui were friends until he started mentioning you at random moments. Your face had felt hot as the rest of them giggled and agreed, with Minghao’s wife letting it slip that ‘random moments’ meant any time he could.
“Yeah, he brings you up a lot. Oh, Y/N likes this. Y/N would love that. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. It’s so cute.”
You don’t remember Junhui refuting it, but you remember the flustered blush that settled in his cheeks after that. Things between you and him didn’t change, though.
Until they did – one month, three days later, Junhui got a girlfriend.
It was like he had vanished entirely – gone were the warm cups of tea on your desk, the muffins, the pinecones. No more invites to lunch or drinks with him or his friends. No longer did you receive emails asking if you wanted to go home early, no more pictures of Luna, no more separate follow-up emails outlining your tasks after remote meetings.
None of it really bothered you, until you realized that your shared board hadn’t been updated by him in a while. Then, you noticed it, truly – he'd unfollowed you. Pinterest, Instagram, even Spotify. Spotify!
He didn’t sit next to you at department meetings, either. No more passed notes, no more pushing your chair in. And he rushed out right after, not bothering to even speak to you.
And people noticed.
You hadn’t realized that by allowing yourself to associate with Junhui and his friends, you became more than a blip on people’s radar. People knew your name; they knew your face. The girls gossiped about what he could possibly see in you, unaware that you were reapplying deodorant in one of the stalls. Men speculated about your relationship status, wondering amongst themselves if you were open-minded – while they stood outside for a smoke, making you scrunch your nose in disgust at them for more reasons than one.
People knew you – his friends, still said hello in the hallways. Minghao, gave you warm smiles and extended invites to drinks that you’d swiftly decline – with excuses of working late, of being tired, or whispering that time of the month. He always nodded, smiled...but you knew he didn’t believe you.
Once you realized Junhui was avoiding you for what you believed was a girlfriend, it took you less than twelve hours to get back to your reserved demeanor. As long as you didn’t make noise in your cubicle, no one came around – and people realized then that your gaze wasn’t mean to intimidate or judge, but to time. You didn’t want to talk to anyone you didn’t have to, more than you needed to – and that was bothersome to most of them.
Of course it was; in their minds, they’re great.
They’re a catch, they’re fun to be around.
But they’re not him.
They’ve never cared to ask you a single thing about yourself beyond your relationship status and where you got your shoes. You always just stared until they left or mumbled something about the local department stores.
Things with him never returned to the easy friendship you thought was starting to form, even as you rung in the new year at the company party. It made you sad.
Maybe because you had a bit of a crush on him, actually.
You thought a little too hard about the meanings behind his messages, the pictures of his weekend retreats to his cabin that he insisted you were always welcome at, especially if his friends were there. You missed the shared memes, the shared playlists, the way he’d sometimes find you inside the sixth-floor storage room, sitting on the dusty pink chair that always made him smile a little too fondly.
You liked Junhui, more than just a cubicle crush that you could discuss with your girlfriends that you didn’t have.
But he had one. One that meant more to him than you ever would, even with the way he opened his heart to you.
You thought about what he shared with you – videos of him playing the piano at Minghao’s wedding for his first dance with his wife. He shared his presence and comfort, often walking you home and your hands always brushed. You felt like a schoolgirl every time you’d tuck your hand into your pocket. You once got caught in the rain together and stood under the bus stop before he fished his headphones out of his pocket and gave you one.
He played starstarstar by Dosii as he pulled you out from under the safety of the bus stop, and the two of you walked to your apartment instead. Hand-in-hand, soaked to the bone, with the string of his headphones forcing even more proximity that made your cheeks heat.
You don’t remember who interlaced your fingers. If it was you...you’re still happy. It means he was okay with it, maybe he wanted to.
If it was him?
He definitely wanted to.
However, it’s all filed in your memories now – because you look over your monitor to see his brows fixed in concentration as he types across his keyboard, with you not even a blip on his radar. You watch carefully as he reads his own words over and over, before his eyes flicker up and meet yours.
You’re not surprised when his shoulders sag for the umpteenth time, and he looks away.
Like he wants to say something. Like he wants to talk to you, but the words get caught in his throat and he can’t seem to get them out. It’s been a year since you’ve spoken, and you would’ve forgotten the sound of his voice if he wasn’t your co-worker – but you never forget that night last spring, drenched in the rain.
You would’ve kissed him; you could have kissed him.
It’s spring, again.
You walk to the train station after work in silence, with nothing playing in your headphones for the first time. You sit in between an elderly couple and a lone high school girl absently staring at a long thread of messages on her phone. They’re all left unanswered, and she repeatedly fills the text box with words before deleting them and starting over.
You feel like that girl – except she’s brave enough to ask for answers and you’re gripping your purse in a claustrophobic panic.
It’s a Wednesday in summer when you finally get tired of waiting for answers. Almost a year to the date when he first asked you to get drinks with him, you get an idea.
Have a drink with me tonight.
That's all it says.
You stand over the copy machine, the sticky note you scribbled on moments earlier folded neatly in your hand. You wrote and rewrote it at your desk, your hands trembling and smearing the ink. You had to walk past his desk to submit the paperwork you were making copies of, and you planned to slip it onto his mousepad on the way back to your own.
You don’t get a chance to do that, though.
Your eyes are closed when you hear the copy room door open, but you don’t bother to look up as that same woodsy smell fills your nostrils.
He doesn’t speak, but you know it’s him.
You know, from the smell of lumber and the click of his shoes and the tension that makes you feel suffocated as you peer over your shoulder. He’s silent, thumbing at his own paperwork. He only glances up when he feels your eyes on him, but this time, you don’t look away.
His jacket is gone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and tie slightly loosened. You’d stare if it wasn’t against girl code to ogle someone else’s man.
You turn, fully facing him as your last copy gets stapled by the machine and slides out. You gather them in your arms, before holding them to your chest and holding the sticky note out to him between two fingers. He glances at the hot pink paper, swallowing carefully before reaching for it.
You give him a soft smile, before spinning on your heel and heading out of the room without a word.
You’re moving at lightning speed to get out of the office before he can get a chance to catch up with you – shoving your copies into your manager’s hands with a rushed run-down of the day’s events and outages. You thank her with a bow, before beelining for your desk and yanking your purse out of the bottom drawer.
You make it to the elevator without him noticing you, your eyes catching a flash of his white shirt and the hot pink paper unfolded in his hand.
You feel your phone buzz in your hand as you reach the lobby.
It’s nearing seven when he finally has the courage to get out of his car.
He’s been sitting in front of the bar for ten minutes, hoping to see you walk by. If you’re late, you won’t notice that he is.
Message From: Y/N ♡
[5:35PM] at dizzy’s
[5:35PM] 6:30?
He waits another three minutes, watching the corner before his hand finally grabs the door handle and pulls.
He sees you almost instantly, sitting quietly at a booth in the back. You’re not in your work clothes anymore, instead wearing a soft red dress and your hair is pinned back. You’re smiling at the waiter, who seems to be really interested in talking to you as he slides a margarita on the table. He holds the menu out, only for you to shake your head.
He watches your glossed lips shape around the words: I’m waiting for someone.
Him. He’s the someone.
He wants to be the only one. Ever.
He tongues his cheek as the waiter nods, patting the vinyl of the booth above your head. You lean your head back slightly, closing your eyes as your forefinger picks at your thumb’s cuticle. A nervous habit of yours, one he’d picked up on the first time he spoke to you.
About pinecones, actually – but you don’t remember that at all. He doesn’t know what possessed him to bring them up – but he learned, through your hushed whisper in the elevator that morning – that you liked them. You like pinecones, because they are so diverse while all still being the same thing.
He hadn’t understood it then, but he did now – albeit differently.
He was like the pinecones, because he tried to show you that he liked you in so many ways...through the invites to drinks, the lunch, the shared memes.
The pinecones.
Sliding warm tea on your desk and lemon-blueberry muffins, to cracking jokes and passing notes to you on his pink My Melody stationery. To pulling your hair out and brushing your hair out of your face, to letting his friends embarrass him by practically outing his interest in you every time they got together with you and him for drinks at this very bar.
To walking you home, even in the rain, just to spend a little more time with you.
Only to realize that it was futile, because you didn’t see him that way.
You didn’t see him as more than a friend, but he’s not brave enough to tell you why you should.
“Hi.”
Your voice is smooth as he finally slides into the booth opposite you, his skin warming at the sound of it. He clears his throat, giving you a curt nod as he adjusts himself in his seat. He shrugs off his jacket, tossing it to the side before feeling guilt begin to settle in his stomach.
“Sorry. I was...”
He gives up on coming up with an excuse, only running his hand through his hair as you nod. Your manicured fingers stir your straw in figure eights, the flash of an heirloom ring you never take off catching his eye. “I’m sorry.”
“For?” Your eyes are curious, before tilting your head. “Being late? It happens.”
He shakes his head like he doesn’t know, before clearing his throat again when the waiter swoops in to save the day. He internally thanks whatever God is out there as he asks for a beer, earning a scrunch of your nose as the waiter nods and leaves once more.
You don’t say anything as he shifts, only stare. Maybe through him, maybe into him.
He doesn’t mind the warmth of your gaze. He never has.
“I didn’t know getting a girlfriend meant you’d treat me like I never existed.” You start softly, his eyes widening as you purse your lips. “I understand creating distance, because there is someone new. Someone who could perceive you and I as something more, when it’s not.”
“I...I don’t know what to say.” He admits lamely, the shock of you thinking he has a girlfriend not yet settling into his bones. “Who told you I have a girlfriend?”
You only shrug, taking a quick sip of your drink before shaking your head.
“Does it matter?”
He blinks, when the waiter slides the beer bottle on the table as he passes by. He touches it, the glass cold as he tongues his cheek.
If this is a way to get over you, by getting you believe there is someone else when there isn’t -- he’ll take it. He’ll take it because then it means he never has to tell you how he feels, and he’ll never have to face the way you reject him so kindly.
“I guess not.”
“Mmh.”
You trace circles into the side of your glass with your thumb, before another smile graces your lips.
“Are you happy?”
How could you ask him that?
Of course he’s not happy.
He hasn’t had a proper conversation with you in an entire year, and he’s been too much of a coward to admit that he wants more. He wants to kiss you in the elevator, in the break room, in the storage room on the sixth floor during your lunch break. He wants to hold your hand on the way to department meetings, under the table at drinks with your friends, on the walk to your apartment before you pull him in for a good night kiss. He wants to come into your apartment for a fucking nightcap without knowing he’ll say too much and lose any chance of ever being more to you.
So instead, he pulls away.
He stops talking to you, he removes you off every social media platform he can think of, so he doesn’t have the urge to peek at your dream home board on Pinterest, or the way your dream wedding is so similar to his. So he doesn’t have to be subjected to the cute outfits you post on your Instagram story before you leave your apartment for work, even though he’ll just see it when you arrive and he’ll have to take a deep breath so he doesn’t scream about how nice you look.
So he doesn’t have to know that you’re listening to the playlist he made for you to stay calm in the packed morning train on the way to work.
On the way to him.
“No.”
Your eyes soften, your brows scrunching in that same worried way they do when you’re listening to someone explain their problems to you at work. You nod, that comforting look of understanding glazing over your eyes.
“Can I ask why?”
He doesn’t bother responding, his mind racing as he thinks about all the pinecones sitting in his car, the ones that he’s deemed perfect enough to place on your desk but hasn’t been able to. He thinks about the way you slip out of the office and how your heels sound as you sneak upstairs to the sixth floor during lunch. He thinks about when Mike caught him off-guard by coming down to his desk and saying that you liked a pink chair that was in the storage room and kept asking about it.
A pink chair that used to belong to him, when he first got the company a few months before you did.
He sighs, fishing his wallet out of his pocket and sliding two twenties on the table.
“No. It’s better if you don’t.”
He doesn’t allow himself to look at you as he slides out of the booth, his hand gripping his suit jacket much too tightly for it to go unnoticed. You don’t stand, only nod as you take another sip of your drink.
“I hope it gets better. Have a good night, Junhui.”
He fights back tears as he makes his way out of the bar, your understanding look stuck in his mind as he drives home. He doesn’t bother looking at the pinecones in his backseat or changing the playlist that blares through his speakers when he connects his phone – a playlist you made for him, for his long drive home from work.
You’re in everything he holds dear to him. The music, the cabin – even if you’ve never been there. You know him, everything about him that is worth knowing in his eyes.
Except the fact that he’s in love with you, and that he’s a liar.
JUNHUI ISN'T AT HIS DESK ON THURSDAY. OR FRIDAY.
The whispering starts on Monday, with lots of wayward glances towards you and you almost want to go down to Minghao’s desk and ask if Junhui is okay.
But you don’t -- you glue yourself to your chair until lunch time, only to see that the pink chair you loved is no longer in the storage room. Mike tells you that the original owner took it out on Wednesday night and offers a soft apology. You shake your head and say it’s okay, before turning around and going back to your desk.
You arrive at your desk on Tuesday morning to your desk chair missing. There is a warm cup of tea on a coaster, and a cranberry orange muffin in front of your keyboard – but none of it distracts from the sudden pop of color next to your mousepad.
A plastic pink storage box.
You don’t bother to put your purse down as you crack the corner up, and your eyes widen as you realize it’s full of pinecones. There’s an envelope attached to the underside of the lid, and you pluck it off carefully before leaning against your desk. You peel it open gently, only to see the familiar pink My Melody stationery.
Junhui.
You ignore the urge to look up at his desk to see if he’s watching you over his monitor, feeling eyes from your co-workers trickling in as they spot the pink box. His handwriting is scrawled in purple ink across the stationery, and your heart sinks as you take in the slightly smudged words.
My Y/N,
I’m sorry about Wednesday. In fact, I’m sorry about the past year that I’ve gone without speaking to you. I have no excuse, only an explanation that probably won’t make things any better but will certainly give you some clarity.
I pulled away because I knew things would get too much for me. I’ve got a weak heart, and I can’t take rejection well – so I figured I’d cut ties first. It never worked, cutting contact with you; I found myself constantly missing the sound of your voice. I wanted so badly for you to reach out first, but I should’ve known better than to expect that when I was the one who wedged my way into your life. Our friendship was fun, and I miss listening to playlists with you during the walks to your apartment, but it simply can’t be anymore.
I like you so much, it’s painful to be around you and know you don’t feel the same.
I wanted to kiss you that night last spring. The rain and everything, it felt like a movie. Maybe that’s corny, and maybe it’s too forward but it doesn’t matter anyway because nothing will come of this. I’m sorry, for being too much of a coward to ever explain this to you in person. And for telling you now, through a letter written on stationery.
With this, I’ve got to admit something; finding out that you think I have a girlfriend when you’re all I’ve been able to think about since that first day we spoke is insane to me. Where do you get your gossip from? Is it a subscription? Unsubscribe effective immediately.
Speaking of effective immediately, I’ve taken a new position at a new company. So not only am I a coward for confessing this way, but also because I’m running away from it all. I don’t think I could handle not going home to you, even after seeing you all day. I’m not equipped for the agony of a silent, one-sided office romance that you read about in books.
I recommended you for my position. Don’t worry, people won’t talk to you nearly as much as they do now; but still...have fun, yeah?
I hope you enjoy these pinecones, for whatever you might end up using them for – and the pink chair. Funny, it belonged to me when I first got to the company. That’s why Mike never gave it up, but he told me you liked it so I figured you should have it.
Now it belongs to you! Quite like my heart.
Have a good day, Y/N. I’ll miss you.
Always and forever yours,
Junhui ♡
Your chest aches as you realize all the opportunities have slipped through your fingers.
“Miss Y/N, Mr. Wen said he’d like for you to have this.”
Mike startles you as you see the pink chair being rolled behind your desk, the fabric pristine and the small stain from spilled coffee at the edge is gone. Your fingers flit across the headrest, before you look at him with tears in your eyes.
“Guess he changed his mind, huh?”
He only smiles, nodding his head before turning on his heel and leaving.
You look at the cup of tea. It’s still hot, so it must’ve been placed recently. You glance over at his desk; how vacant it looked. Almost like how your chest feels after having your heart ripped out.
You don’t really notice that you’re moving until you’re in the elevator, nervously nibbling on your lip as you frantically press on Minghao’s floor number while balancing the box of pinecones on your hip. It feels like an eternity as the damn thing jostles, and you nearly trip as it finally opens on the third floor. You beeline for Minghao’s desk in the back, only to see him quietly arriving with his headphones slid over his ears and his wife’s lipstick still stamped on his cheek.
He glances up as he feels your presence behind him, his eyes widening before a smile graces his lips.
“Y/N! What brings you down here?”
“Where is he?” You blurt, your hand still holding the note. He raises a brow, sliding his headphones off and onto the desk as he takes a seat in his desk chair.
“Where is who, sweetheart?”
“Junhui.”
His lips form an o-shape, making him nod before he shrugs.
“Why should I tell you?”
You gape at him, almost losing your grip on the box on your hip.
“Because you obviously know, and if you care about me–”
“Tell me why I should tell you, Y/N.”
You huff, your cheeks hot as you tap your foot. He tilts his head, an expectant look in his eyes before he speaks again.
“I do have work to do, you know.”
“Because I need to tell him that I...” You choke on your words, scoffing out a humorless laugh as you feel your eyes sting with tears. “Because I need to tell him that he’s an idiot.”
“You can text him that, you know.”
“I’d rather die than text him how I feel.”
“So, you admit you feel some type of way about him.”
He grins, slim fingers typing his password into his computer. You scowl.
“I never said anything of the sort.” You argue, and Minghao gives you a look that says, really bitch?
“You like him. It’s obvious to all of us, everyone in this office.” He reaches for his water bottle, his fingers aptly flicking the cap open. “So, admit it. Admit you have feelings for Wen Junhui, and I’ll give you the information you want.”
You look at the crumpled stationery in your hand, your heart swelling slightly at his handwriting.
My Y/N.
Always and forever yours,
Junhui ♡
“I love him.” You mumble softly as you stare at the paper, not catching how Minghao’s eyes widen. “I’m in love with him, Hao.”
A single tear rolls down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away, before looking up to see Minghao looking at you with a soft glaze over his eyes.
“I expect you and your boyfriend to get drinks with my wife and I this weekend in exchange for this.” His tone is warning as he reaches for a pen, his hand swiping a sticky note off the pad. You nod, ignoring the way your cheeks heat at the idea of Junhui being your boyfriend as he holds out the green paper. “Here, leave that. I’ll keep it safe, so you don’t have to lug it around.”
He holds his hands out for the box, and you hesitate before carefully placing it down. You open the corner, taking one of the pinecones out with a wince as he raises a brow before you shove it in your purse.
“I can explain.”
“Over drinks this weekend. I’ll work out your attendance with your department manager.”
You smile gently, glancing down at the sticky note. It’s an address to an apartment building.
“Thank you, Minghao.”
“Go, sweetheart. You’ll get caught in the rain if you stay any longer.”
And you go.
You don’t bother waiting for the elevator, practically flying down three flights of stairs. You sprint out of the lobby, nearly slamming into yet another of Junhui’s friends, Joshua, before yelling an apology over your shoulder. You make it outside, holding both pieces of paper in one of your shaking hands while the other fishes your phone out of your purse.
A fat raindrop falls on the screen as you map out how far the address is, and you almost welcome the cool water falling onto your cheeks as you run to the train station.
NEW! Message From: Hao
[8:02AM] day 1 of my best friend being a traitor. how is working from home, you bitch?
Junhui snorts as the message comes in, settling carefully in his desk chair. He feels a bit alone as he texts back a simple, I’m sorry; the usual soft chatter of the office replaced by the sound of his aircon blasting. Everything feels too casual – his white t-shirt tucked into his blue jeans, the softness of his house slippers instead of his usual heavy dress shoes. He feels like he’s waiting for a lunch date with one of his friends, rather than signing into work for the day.
He looks over the edge of his monitor, no longer seeing your warm eyes looking back at him; but a cat calendar flipped to July. He rolls his shoulders back, sighing inwardly when his phone buzzes incessantly on the desk.
Your contact photo fills the screen.
INCOMING CALL FROM: Y/N [PLEDIS]
He feels the entire world stop. His breath is caught in his throat, and he suddenly can’t feel his limbs. He watches the phone ring until the call fails, nearly falling out of his chair as he stands up and grabs it. His hands are shaking too hard for him to press the missed call notification, only for you to call back again.
His chest is tight as he shakily breathes out, his thumb swiping across the screen to answer it.
“Hello?”
“I wanted to kiss you that night, too. I have never once though back to that night and didn’t feel regret knowing I didn’t kiss you.”
You sound slightly out of breath, and the sound of rain is loud in the background. He feels his stomach drop to his ass; feet rooted to his spot in his office.
“Y/N, I–”
“You don’t have to say anything. Just come outside.”
He blinks as the call ends, staring at his reflection in the dark screen.
You’re outside.
“Shit.”
He nearly stumbles as he darts out of his office, beelining for his coat closet and shoving his feet into a pair of sneakers. He grabs the umbrella that leans against the frame of his front door, not bothering to grab his keys as he fumbles with the lock and throws the door open. A rumble of thunder startles him as he quickly shuts the door behind him, his fingers trying to fiddle with the umbrella when he hears your voice echo through the complex.
“Junhui!”
He glances over the railing, his eyes darting all over the courtyard before spotting you a few feet from the stairs. You’re wearing the black dress you wore the first time he’d spoken to you, and the attempt to wear open-toed shoes was ruined by the rain.
“Wen Junhui! Get down here!”
He feels laughter bubble up in his chest as he realizes you’re completely drenched, your hair is stuck to your face and your dress is practically dripping like the clouds above.
“You come up! It’s pouring out here!”
“No, you have to come down here! I came all this way, it’s only fair!”
He can’t really see your smile from where you are, but he can hear it. He can hear it and it’s like the rain doesn’t matter. It’s like this very moment proves he was an idiot not to overthink all those intimate moments between the two of you – the way your eyes would light up at his stupid emails, the way you’d let his hands linger on your neck or ears after brushing your hair out of your eyes. All the playlists, all the similarities down to the fact that you both want marigolds for your dream weddings.
The way you interlaced your fingers that night last spring, and he’s so glad you did.
“Junhui!”
He shakes his head, dropping the umbrella on his doormat before sprinting to the staircase, hearing his heart pounding in his ears as he barrels down the stone steps.
“What...what are you doing here? You’re going to get sick, I...”
He trails off as he realizes you’re staring at him with a sparkle in your eye he can’t swallow. Your smile is all teeth, and he feels his chest ache as you shrug innocently. You take a step closer, tilting your head.
“I thought you wanted to kiss me.”
He feels his cheeks hot, and he absently runs a hand through his hair.
“You’re drenched, Y/N.”
“I was that night, too. We both were.”
You shrug again, before stepping out from under the stairwell back into the rain. You hold your hand out, the rain pelting it as he hesitates to take it. You wiggle your fingers, making him tongue his cheek as he takes it, letting you pull him out into the rain. You hand slides up his arm and cradles his jaw gently, and he fights himself not to lean into it but ultimately fails.
“I told Minghao I’d tell you you’re an idiot.”
He snorts, “Is that on his behalf or yours?”
“Mostly mine, but I’m sure he has his own things to say about the matter. A year, Junhui? A whole year.” Your lip is jutted in a pout, and he sighs as the rain starts to soak in through his shirt. His hair is starting to stick on his forehead, and your hand swipes it back.
“I’m sorry. I know that it’ll never be enough to say it, but I truly mean it.” He gently touches his forehead to yours, his heart warming at the way you peer up at him through wet lashes. “I don’t blame you if you don’t forgive me, either. It was a shitty thing to do.”
He hates how your eyes soften, because he feels his knees grow weak as your other arm loops around his neck. He tentatively wraps his own around your waist, pulling you closer and he swears he sees your smile grow shy.
“I wouldn’t have come all this way if I didn’t think hearing you out would be worth it.” You say softly, and a rumble of thunder makes you both flinch. A laugh escapes you, before your thumb strokes his cheek gently.
“Is this still like last spring?”
He smiles softly, “No.”
“Did you ever think this would be the first time you get to kiss me? Like this?”
He laughs, “No.”
“Is it better, though?”
“Considering I’d hoped we would’ve gone on a date—”
“Say yes before I regret coming all this way.”
“Yes.”
Neither of you move, but he feels it. He feels the same feeling of want he did that night, the same feeling of yearning that floated off you without a single word. You tilt your head up, your nose brushing his lightly .
“I’m really cold.”
“I told you to come up.”
“This is more romantic.”
“I hope you know ‘romantic’ can also cost you three sick days at work.”
“You’re worth all my sick days, Wen Junhui.” You mutter, pressing your lips to his. He can’t help but smile into it, his arm tightening around your waist as his other hand cups your face softly.
All the warmth from your eyes, the bashfulness of your smiles, the kindness of your heart is too much for his heart to handle. He can’t believe you’re really here, in his arms...your lips so, so soft and eager against his.
“We have to go inside. You’re going to get sick.” He forces himself to pull away, his heart melting at the way you chase his lips slightly. You frown, and he can’t help but press a chaste kiss to your pouted lip. “We can kiss all you want inside the apartment, I promise.”
You don’t seem embarrassed at all as you smile at the mention of it, even if he feels his own cheeks grow hot as you nod. He feels his entire chest swell slightly as you interlace your fingers with his and pull him towards the stairwell, biting back his giddy smile.
YOU SMELL LIKE LUMBER SOMETIMES.
You smell like the tree trunks he chops for firewood at his cabin on the weekends, and you roast his marshmallow for him – despite Minghao’s teasing.
He still picks up pinecones. He dusts them off and examines them, and the best one is always promptly delivered to you at lunchtime as he drops by the company to whisk you away. The lunch invitations that once meant you’d be holed away in the storage room with a less-sad turkey sandwich from the deli down the block, now meant you’re getting bombarded with kisses before he finally lets you get out of his car with your to-go cup of iced tea.
That wasn’t nearly the extent of your relationship with him. Now, he has a photo of you on his desk at home – and you have one of the two of you together on yours. Your pink chair is complimented often by your coworkers, and you’ve apologized to Diane for lying about a gluten allergy.
Though you’re back to being under the radar, people notice the changes. They notice that Junhui, who no longer works alongside them, is still frequently in the lobby – but he’s picking you up. He’s kissing you; he’s spinning you around and calling you, my love.
No one speaks to you unless they need something, and rarely does someone need something from you.
But Junhui?
He can’t help but need you every single day. He slips his pink stationery love letters into your purse before you leave his apartment on Sunday nights, even if he’s begged you to stay the night just one more time. He accepts invites to anything that means he can bring you with him -- drinks with Minghao, lunch with his mother, even a weekend trip that was meant to be strictly business, but he spent most of the time that he wasn’t presenting glued to you in the hotel room.
Junhui doesn’t let you take the train anymore. Junhui takes your shy offers for a nightcap that usually end up with you kissing him breathless on your couch off two glasses of wine. Junhui, of all things, holds your hand on the table at drinks with his friends that are now yours, too.
Junhui listens – to your complaints about work; to your theories about birthstones and how whoever chose them was clearly biased for September to have the sapphire; to your sweet whispers as you slip your hand down his shorts late at night, and the whiny moans of his name that slip from your throat when he’s pinned you against his mattress.
