Pairing(s): Reader & Daeyeol, as well as Reader & Sungyoon (Golden Child)
Words: 2.0k
Warnings: blood, angst (yes that's a warning)
From the universe of Hold Me; Heal Me
In a world where a soulmate’s touch can heal any wound, Daeyeol knows his own soulmate can only heal so much.
•
Daeyeol used to wish for little.
He has an okay apartment -- not luxurious by any means, but comfortable and in a relatively safe neighbourhood. He has a steady job -- journalism isn't exactly revered, especially in these times, but he likes what he does. He didn't mind not having met his soulmate nearing his late twenties -- most people never meet their soulmate, if they have one, and even then, it's not like everyone meets The One in high school or college. Life is never like the movies.
Shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, Daeyeol hovers his hand over the number pad next to the apartment building's gate. He can't just stand here for much longer when it's already dark out; he'll look like a creep. The numbers past his fingers look so intimidating, though. He remembers which ones he needs to press, (he has since the first time,) he just can't bring himself to... press them.
But he does, because he can't bring himself to not, either.
Daeyeol presses his pinky knuckle into the number pad so he doesn't smear his own blood on it. Your voice comes crackly and broken through the speaker indented in the pylon next to the gate.
"Did you forget your key again?" you ask teasingly -- not for him.
Daeyeol simply says, "It's me."
"Oh." Something rustles through the speaker, and your voice grows concerned. "Are you okay? Hold on, I'm buzzing you in."
The lock on the gate clicks open, and a low beep sounds when the connection up to your apartment cuts off. Daeyeol, sighs, uses his shoulder to push the gate open, and heads towards the staircase. Even though his sore muscles protest the extra exercise, his mind automatically chooses the stairs over the elevator. That would bring him to you faster. He doesn't want that.
Or, he doesn't want to want that.
He's tired, though, when he reaches your floor, too exhausted to remember what he wants and doesn't want when he raps his knuckles on your door. You open up immediately, a concerned frown marring your face as your eyes look Daeyeol up and down.
"Cripes, Daeyeol, what'd you do?"
His right cheek is all scraped up, still caked with a thin layer of blood and gravel from when he tumbled to the ground just an hour ago. His hands suffered a similar fate along with his right elbow, which he sacrificed to save his precious camera.
He shows you a weak smile. "I almost got them this time."
The tension in your shoulders deflates at his albeit misplaced nonchalance, and you roll your eyes, your signature smile returning to your lips. "Seriously? You're still trying to catch Red?"
"Not catch." Daeyeol lifts his camera in one hand, snapping a candid picture of you. "Capture."
"Daeyeol!" you whine, putting a hand up in front of your face much too late for it to matter. "Just get in here, you nerd." Putting your hand on his arm, you pull Daeyeol into your apartment and shut the door behind him. He feels the connection wash over him immediately. It flows to his hands, then his elbow, then his cheek, an indescribable warmth that begins to make him feel dizzy. Or maybe that's just the effect you have on him. "Take a seat, take a seat. You look seriously banged up."
A groan slips out of him as he sits down on a chair you pulled out from where it was tucked under the kitchen table. "This is nothing. I'm pretty sure Red got shot tonight."
"Whoa." You sit across from him, your brows furrowing, which Daeyeol doesn't pay as much attention to as the way you keep holding his hand on top of the table. You must feel the connection too, right? "You weren't all up in that action, were you?"
"Don't worry." Please keep worrying. "This all happened when I was trying to catch up to them after it all went down." Daeyeol puts his camera down on the table and removes the lanyard from around his neck, gesturing at himself with his newly freed hand. "Stumbled over my own feet like usual."
You snort. "You couldn't catch up to Red even though they were shot? You never cease to amaze me, Daeyeol."
"In a good way, right?"
"Believe what you want to believe," you tease, shrugging cartoonishly. The way your thumb rubs the back of Daeyeol's hand has to be subconscious. He knows you would stop if you were aware. "I don't know if I've ever met someone as clumsy--"
The door to your apartment opens.
"Babe, you'll never believe what Jangjun--" Sungyoon's voice cuts off as soon as his eyes land on Daeyeol, his hand still on the doorknob. He immediately takes in the sight; the dirt and dust on Daeyeol's shins, the scratches all over Daeyeol's face, the way his hand is held lightly in yours. He sighs. Closing the door, he slips his bag off his shoulder and toes off his shoes. He walks over the table without a word, puts one hand lightly on your wrist and the other on Daeyeol's, then pulls you two apart. Daeyeol feels the loss of the soulmate connection like a splash of cold water, like all the oxygen has been sucked out of him in a millisecond, but he doesn't react -- tries not to, at least. You look up at Sungyoon, about to say something when he sighs again. "What'd we say about healing before cleaning?"
Eyes widening, you look at Daeyeol's cheek, where his skin had started healing with bits of dirt and gravel still digging into the open wound. "Oh shit." You put both your hands up in the air even though you'd already stopped healing Daeyeol with your touch, then turn back to Sungyoon with a sad pout. "How do I always manage to forget?"
With a little chuckle, Sungyoon smiles endearingly down at you and lightly flicks your forehead. "It's empty up here sometimes."
You scowl and shoo away his hand, pouting further at the way Sungyoon laughs louder. It's so effortless for him. Daeyeol already knew this.
Sungyoon flicks your forehead again, not nearly hard enough to warrant the way you rub where he hit and the glare you shoot into the back of his head as he turns to address Daeyeol. "Let's get you cleaned up, bud," he says casually with a nod towards the kitchen sink.
Daeyeol follows him without saying anything. Pulling out the well-used first aid kit from under the sink, Sungyoon goes through the motions with practised efficiency. As a pediatric nurse, and the partner to a very clumsy you, Sungyoon hasn't flinched at the sight of blood in many years. He picks out the gravel from Daeyeol's cheek and hands, cleans his wounds with a damp cloth, and leaves the bandages in the kit. They aren't necessary for Daeyeol with you around.
As Sungyoon starts putting everything left unused back into the kit, he smiles at Daeyeol and gestures back to you at the table. Daeyeol doesn't let himself resent the way he knows that smile is genuine. He returns to you at the table, sitting down in the same chair and watching you purse your lips out and pick at the skin around your fingernails.
"Sorry for being dumb..." you mutter.
"It's okay." Please reach out first. "I forgot too."
Huffing out a sigh, you meet his eyes and show off a cute, close-lipped smile. "Yeah, well... still sorry. Can I...?"
You reach both your hands across the table, palms up, and Daeyeol feels the soulmate connection even before he places his hands on yours. It washes over him like ripples of flowing, sinking sand.
Daeyeol lets himself get lost in the feeling only until Sungyoon returns from the kitchen counter and sits next to you, scooting his chair closer to yours and slinging an arm over your shoulders. You turn your head his way and smile, muttering quietly, "Thanks for making up for my dumbness." Just as you finish speaking, you press a small, sweet kiss against Sungyoon's lips.
Daeyeol's hands stay still in yours.
Sungyoon smiles as soon as you pull away from each other, his eyes filled with something Daeyeol has only ever observed. "Always," he whispers.
Daeyeol swallows the feelings that threaten to rise up his throat like bile. He simply looks down at your joined hands, feeling guilty for being here during this moment between you and Sungyoon -- two people so... comfortable together. And when even just looking at your hands becomes too much, Daeyeol focuses his eyes on the table between his elbows, counting the striations in the wood.
The connection works quickly on such superficial wounds.
It's a testament to the...
Daeyeol shuts his eyes and opens them again.
...love shared between you and Sungyoon that even with Daeyeol, your irrefutably proven soulmate, in your apartment, Sungyoon doesn't act the slightest bit jealous, the slightest bit threatened. He doesn't question you letting Daeyeol in while he wasn't home; he doesn't ask why Daeyeol felt the need to come to you for something as small as a few cuts and scrapes and bruises. Why he keeps coming back. He holds you close as you heal Daeyeol with your touch, letting you lean your head in the crook between his shoulder and neck, and smiles over at Daeyeol.
Genuinely.
"Feeling better?" he asks without a drip of malice in his voice.
Daeyeol nods. Physically, it's the truth. In his heart, though, he knows he feels much, much worse than when he arrived.
You manoeuvre your hands to flip his over, a satisfied smile spreading over your lips when you see them perfectly healed, as if he never fell in the first place. "Would you look at that!" You lean forward off Sungyoon's shoulder and lift Daeyeol's hands to show them off. "Looks like you're not the only doctor in this house."
Sungyoon scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Yeah, if only you could heal yourself every time you get scraped up, you klutz."
Daeyeol could heal you every time. He says nothing.
You bump Sungyoon's shoulder with yours, laughing along with him.
Unable to bear you letting go first, Daeyeol stands and slips his hands out of yours. The soulmate connection fades away like the trill of a faraway train. He thanks you both with a small bow and an awkward smile, distracting his hands by hanging his camera back around his neck, then walks towards the door even though his heart screams at him to stay.
You follow him to the door like the good host you always strive to be, and as he steps out and pulls on his shoes, you stand in the open doorway, Sungyoon directly behind you with his arms wrapped around your middle and his chin propped on your shoulder. It's too cute to look at.
"Try not to get hurt out there again, Daeyeol," you say with a smile. Sungyoon nods beside you. "I know you've gotta do what you gotta do to get pictures of Red, but you're no vigilante."
"I know." Daeyeol puts both his hands in his pockets. They can't reach for you from in there. He turns his feet to point down the hallway to the elevator. "Goodnight." Please linger. "Sungyoon." He nods at the man clinging onto you like a koala.
"G'night, Daeyeol." You stay where you are in the doorway, one hand holding Sungyoon's over your stomach, the other waving at Daeyeol.
Is it better that you linger or does it only hurt him more?
He presses the 'down' button on the wall, and only seconds pass before the elevator arrives and opens. He enters, takes a breath, and turns around to face the hallway.
Daeyeol didn't used to wish for much.
He had a nice place. He had a nice job. He didn't know if he had a soulmate or not.
You linger in the doorway. In Sungyoon's arms.
You wave again as the elevator door closes.
Daeyeol makes many requests of the universe now. Please keep worrying. Please reach out first. Please don't let go.
He doesn't wish he'd never met his soulmate. He can't bring himself to wish that.
But it's impossible not to wonder what his life would be like if he met you when you weren't already in love with someone else.
When you decide to pay a visit to the newly opened ice cream shop, you don’t expect to have such a fun conversation with the employee and see his cute, bunny smile so many times.
♦ Characters: ice cream shop employee!Sungyoon x customer!you/reader
♦ Genre: fluff, comedy, slice of life
♦ Words: 1.2k
♦ Warning: -
♦ A/N: Dedicated to the lovely @dat-town because she deserves to have a Sungyoon story! 💖💖💖
You were over the moon when it was announced that there would be a Baskin Robbins on the corner of your apartment.
Baskin Robbins was the best thing to ever happen in Seoul after not having proper ice cream shops and they did deliveries, too, and since deliveries were incredibly fast within the country, you’ve always opted for them if you were craving some ice cream, their range was huge, the price-value ratio was also reasonable, not to mention that moving out to get your hands on ice cream usually took long enough for the ice cream to start melting by the time you would get home and dig into it, hopping onto your couch and cozily starting a movie.
So having one just a few metres from your flat meant that you could safely buy ice cream without worrying that it would melt, and it would be faster than deliveries too, so you couldn’t help but visit the newly opened shop on your birthday.
It was the day after the shop had opened and you felt like it was the universe’s way of celebrating your birthday because this was something you had been secretly hoping for, and it happened just in time for your birthday. How amazing!
That’s why you were so pumped up to walk into the shop and give your order by the counter after waiting for a few minutes in the line.
“Hey!” You greeted the raven-haired employee behind the counter with a wide smile.
“Hi! What can I get for you?” he inquired kindly, his lips displaying a polite and friendly smile, his bunny teeth showing. You definitely found this feature cute on him, but you wouldn’t say so out loud, let alone his cute mole on his neck.
“I’d like cherry, cotton candy, shooting star, rainbow sherbet in one large tub and blue monster, mint choco chip, banana n’ strawberry and almond bonbon in another large tub for takeaway,” you listed slowly to not miss out on any of the flavours your friends liked and also for him to keep up with your list of orders.
When the boy jotted down your wishes, he looked up, a few of his dark locks falling into his mesmerizing, pitch-black orbs, stars literally shining in them. There was a lopsided smile hiding in the corner of his lips, and it was partly his fault that your skin was already dressed in goosebumps, but the air-con inside was also pretty cold, so you felt like you should have brought something to cover your bare arms.
“Okay, noted. Are you having a party?” He raised an amused eyebrow in question while he was scooping the said ice cream flavours into the first tub, his eyes darting between your face and the sweets he was currently taking care of.
You let out a semi-awkward chuckle. Not that it wasn’t an unexpected question since probably not a lot of people came in for two large tubs of ice cream with eight flavours, especially not on his second day of work, but you found his casual yet friendly questioning quite cute.
“Yeah, actually. I have my birthday today, thus I’ve invited my friends over, and I’ve said ice cream is on me,” you explained with a half-smile, remembering back to that long group chat conversation about everyone voting for the best ice cream combinations and settling on the final eight choices. Since such tubs came with ice creams up to 4 flavours, you needed to minimize your friends’ huge list.
However, you definitely didn’t expect the raven-haired boy to ask another question while he was working on the ice cream.
“What year?”
“95,” you admitted with a raised eyebrow, not ashamed of your age (why would you, you are only 25 for god’s sake!). Yet, you were curious why it would matter to someone like him, but you didn’t even need to wait too long to get your answer.
“Then, that means I’m exactly four days older than you,” he responded, a knowing smile making its way onto his mellow lips, and it took you a few seconds to calculate that it meant that his birthday was on 31th July and he was a 95-liner just like you were.
“Alright, good to know,” you hummed to yourself, not quite sure that you would need this information in the future, but you weren’t sure that you wouldn’t need it either. He seemed like a friendly guy, and having a Baskin Robbins in your street was a huge thing anyway. You were pretty sure that you would come back in the future no matter how this conversation would end.
As he started scooping ice cream into the second tub, you felt a cold shiver run down your spine, and you looked around on instinct, checking out the air-con machines in the place.
“Aren’t you cold though?”
You couldn’t help but blurt out since he was wearing sleeveless shirts under his labelled apron that were given to employees, and even though you didn’t see if he wore jeans or shorts, but you were already freezing in your own sleeveless blouse and you had only been there for a few minutes.
“Maybe I’m too hot for this,” the boy mentioned casually, shrugging his shoulders, but when he didn’t get a reply for a few seconds, he looked up and laughed at your perplexed expression. “Sorry, that was a bad joke,” he apologized with a toothy smile, and you swore it was contagious because you immediately found yourself smiling with him despite your previous shocked state.
“No. It was actually good…” You mused out loud, reassuring him that he hadn’t crossed the line. “Just unexpected,” you confessed, letting out a giggle by the end, and you were sure your cheeks were tinted burgundy, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. He gave you a grateful smile in return and finished the second tub diligently.
You dealt with the payment after, the customer behind you already fuming a bit under his breath, but you didn’t want to leave so abruptly, and you felt like it wouldn’t be too much if you asked something more, so you spoke up before leaving:
“By any chance, do you always work at this hour?”
The raven-haired boy seemed genuinely surprised at first, but his O-shaped mouth slowly dissolved into a wide smile, accompanied by a nod.
“Yes, during weekdays, I have the afternoon shift,” he explained almost as shyly yet proudly as you were looking at him, and you took this information with you alongside the two tubs of ice cream, smiling to yourself as you exited the place.
Needless to say, you came back time and time again, getting to know this boy bit by bit while he was getting to know your most beloved flavours one by one, and after a while, the sleeveless guy from the newly opened ice cream shop with his cute bunny teeth and raven hair turned out to be so much more, and you were never as happy that a Baskin Robbins opened in your street than when you could get to know Sungyoon because of it.
[subjectification]“Can it hear us?” CEO Jeon asks the head scientist, head tilted to get a better look at the man in the cage.
“He can,” the head scientist answers. You think his name might be Choi — it’s in your notes somewhere, but you’ve taken so many in the last 48 hours…
“Bring it over here.”
Choi nods his head and takes a step closer to the cage. Jeon follows, sidling up next to him, while you stay a step behind them both, your eyes focused on your notes.
“Y,” Choi orders in an even tone. “Come greet your benefactor.”
You look up from the tip of your pen now, only catching sight of the man in the cage from between your two superiors’ shoulders. He stands up from the chair he was sitting in — the only piece of furniture in the cage at all — and starts walking towards the men, but when he raises his head, his eyes are on you.
Everything in your body seems to pause.
He stares into your eyes through his eyelashes, through his unruly long hair. Something about him makes the breath in your lungs freeze. The mask over the bottom half of his face is made of studded leather, you assume in some sort of fashionable attempt at making it not look like what it is — a muzzle. A part of you, though you don’t know where it came from, wants to reach through to him and take it off his face. You feel hypnotized. Soon, though, as he approaches the solid metal bars that separate him from the rest of the world, his eyes move to meet CEO Jeon’s, and he bows his head slightly, then keeps it there. You breathe again.
Nobody notices. You hope.
“And it’s as strong as you’ve been telling me?”
Choi nods again. “Getting stronger every day.”
Jeon turns to his business partner, so you see the cynical raise of his eyebrow. “How will you ensure its strength is not misdirected?”
The same question permeates itself in your mind, though you doubt for the same reasons Jeon is asking it.
“Subject Y operates on three principles,” Choi begins to explain. “One: he may not harm a good person, or by inaction allow a good person to come to harm. Two: he must obey orders given to him by a good person, unless that conflicts with principle one. And three: he will protect himself, unless that conflicts with principles one or two.”
You can’t stop yourself from whispering, “Asimov’s three laws of robotics…”
Both men turn their upper bodies to look at you in confusion, while the man in the cage doesn’t move a muscle. CEO Jeon looks like he’s just remembered you’re here at all, and Choi seems like he didn’t know you were even in the room.
“That’s right,” Choi says, his brows still furrowed. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“How does he know who’s a ‘good person’?”
“He is told—” Choi crosses his arms. “Who are you, exactly?”
Your boss clicks his tongue and walks over to you, putting his hand on your shoulder in nothing close to a comforting gesture. His thumb digs into the base of your neck, and you shut your mouth.
“They’re my new assistant,” he tells Choi through clenched teeth, then faces you. “But perhaps they won’t be for long if they keep speaking out of turn.”
At Jeon’s threat, you nod your head quickly. “Yes, sir.”
He doesn’t acknowledge your immediate cowardice further than another hard glare before he turns back to the cage and addresses Choi again, his message clear:
You are not part of this conversation.
Though, as the two business men focus on each other, they don’t see the way the man in the cage slightly raises his head, or the way he meets your eyes. They don’t see the look on his face that you do.
The one that sets your lips in a firm line, and your decision in stone.
This place is all sorts of fucked up, but you’ll have to stick around for a while if you’re going to set him free.
genres and warnings: mystery au, ghost au. multiple mentions of death and blood
[save me, save you] It's just after three o'clock on a Thursday when you fall to your death.
Of course, you don't know it as it happens. All you hear is the raucous laughter of some boys rough-housing in the crowded train station, and the tell-tale rumble which means the train is bound to arrive at any second. All you feel is the sudden shove at your back. All you see are the train tracks becoming much closer than they should be.
All you know is fear.
But a hand grabs your arm to yank you back onto the platform, and you tumble to the concrete with closed eyes and a pounding heart. You wrap your arms around the person who pulled you, fell with you, desperate to hold onto something — anything. Tears fall before you even understand what for.
"I told you not to come here," the person says as he puts his hands on both your arms. You don't recognize his voice. He sits you up with him slowly, and he pulls your face away from his chest to brush a tear off your cheek. "What the hell were you thinking? And since when can other people touch you?"
None of his words make sense to you. He told you not to come here? When? You've never spoken to him before. And about other people touching you... what on earth was that supposed to mean?
You furrow your brows at him, trying to get your breathing in order before you speak.
"Who..." Confusion flashes in his eyes. He's a handsome guy, in that pretty sort of way. You're a little distracted to pay attention to that, though. "Who are you?"
"...You don't remember me?" he asks, his voice low like he can't believe the words he just uttered.
"No... Do you know me?"
"I—"
"Sungyoon!"
You both freeze.
Him, because his eyes glaze over with a faraway look.
You, because your focus rises to the person who just appeared from the crowd, behind him and right before your eyes.
It's you.
You wearing the exact same clothes you have on now, the same bag slung over your shoulder, the same shoes you spent way too much money on.
Only, you're you.
And the person in front of you (who looks just like you) is transparent. And their clothes are splattered with blood.
...Your blood?
The gruesome reflection of yourself gasps as they meet your eyes, and you can't help but mirror them. They step forward, but a shiver shakes through them, and they freeze.
And then they're gone.
It's like they disappeared with your blink — your very breath.
You return your gaze to the man in front of you, whose eyes are still distant.
"Who are you?"
He blinks and shakes his head, returning to reality, it seems. Sungyoon, was it? He looks at you with a frown, one of his hands still on your arms.
Ever thought about what it would be like if Golden Child asked/were asked to just mack it up? Well it's all I've been thinking about for three and a half days so here we go.
warnings: alcohol
Daeyeol - is our relationship close to the line or far from it
Turns out that binging a trashy Netflix show that neither you nor Daeyeol really care about isn't the best, most exciting way to spend a Friday night, but neither is the dumb party Jangjun invited you to, so here you are.
Since you ran out of tolerance for the main characters not even halfway into episode one, you have no idea what business you have still watching it now, on episode nine.
You turn to Daeyeol, who sits next to you on his bed with a glazed-over look in his eyes, leaned back against the headboard. He lazily follows the plot of the show, though you have no idea how he manages that considering the absurdity of it all.
"Hey," you say quietly. He turns his head slightly to meet your eyes. "Wanna make out?"
Your words take ten too many seconds to sink in, but when they do, Daeyeol effectively snaps out of his daze.
"Wanna— I," he stutters. "Do I want to— make... What?!"
You shrug. "I'm bored."
"I hate how calm you are about this."
You shrug again, trying not to smirk at his flustered expression. The show drones on, and you focus your eyes back on it. "We don't have to, if you don't—"
Daeyeol snaps his laptop shut and picks it up to place it on his bedside table, reaching over you to do so. Normally he'd pull away from you as soon as possible like you're made of nuclear waste, but this time, he stays leaned on one elbow, hovering over you.
"No..." he says under his breath, searching your eyes for any sign that you were bluffing. "It's... cool. That show was boring anyways."
You let yourself smile now and bring a hand up to the back of his neck, your fingers slightly threading into his hair. “Couldn’t agree more.”
Sungyoon - let me introduce you to some new things
Sungyoon doesn't know why he's at this party.
Okay, wait, that's a lie. He does know why he's here — Jangjun invited him. What he doesn't know is what he's still doing here when he hasn't known how to act for the last hour. People keep coming and going, and he smiles at them over his drink, maybe says a few short nothings, then they move along. Sungyoon's basically been standing against this wall doing nothing but be awkward for an entire hour.
Why can't life advice ever ask extroverts to go into their shells for once? He doesn't feel like breaking out of his.
Sungyoon's eyes roam over Jangjun's apartment, and relief flows through him when he sees no one on the tiny balcony attached to it. He makes his way over, weaving through the crowd with little apologies and niceties. Cool air greets him when he slides open the glass door. Stepping onto the balcony, Sungyoon feels like he can finally breathe again — who knew parties could get so stuffy?
"Too suffocating?"
Sungyoon jumps at the sound of your voice, and he turns to see you tucked away in a corner of the balcony where it extends past the glass door, hidden from sight to anyone inside. Stupidly, he looks around for anyone else you could've been speaking to even though he's the only other person there.
“Uh...”
He notices now that you’re sitting there on the balcony floor with a Nintendo 3DS in hand, a smile — the kind used on strangers — on your lips. “Well tough luck,” you say. “This is my hiding spot.”
Not knowing how to respond, Sungyoon turns to open the glass door again, and he only pauses when you laugh. He looks at you again.
You hide your smile behind your DS, but your eyes give you away. “I’m kidding. Come, sit.”
Sungyoon glances at your hand, which pats the floor next to you. Normally, he wouldn’t sit so close to a stranger so quickly, but there’s something about you.
“Not much of a party person?” you ask while he squeezes himself between you and the balcony railing.
He looks at you, slightly nervous with how close your face is.
“Not really... You?”
“Normally I like them,” you say. Jerking your thumb towards the apartment, you let out a little laugh. “Exceptions apply, of course, when they’re held at my place without telling me ahead of time.”
Sungyoon’s eyes widen a fraction. “You live here?”
Your hand comes up in front of you, held out for him to shake. “You’re Jangjun’s friend, right? I’m his roommate.”
In the back of his mind, Sungyoon remembers Jangjun talking about his new roommate, freshly moved in just three weeks ago or so. He said something about how he was surprised they weren’t scared away yet. Go figure.
He shakes your hand, awfully aware of how clammy he gets. “Why aren’t you, um.” He clears his throat. “Why aren’t you hiding out in your room?”
You sigh. “Too late for that, I’m afraid. Some unholy shit is definitely going on in there.” Your DS snaps shut as you shift fully into the conversation. “Normal party stuff; I just wish Jangjun warned me.”
“Normal?”
“Sure.” You shrug. “Happens every time. Two people meet. They hit it off. Boom.”
“I’ve never...” Sungyoon doesn’t know why he feels compelled to tell you anything. Still, he continues. “I’ve never done anything like that. At a party.”
You meet his eyes, voice low. “Yeah?”
“...Yeah.”
“Wanna try?”
Sungyoon’s breath hitches. The moonlight bounces off you in rays that sear right through his skin. “Try what?”
“Do you want to kiss me?”
He nods.
Jangjun - you’re sexy I’m sexy
Jangjun has two drinks in his hands, straight from the DIY minibar filled with the essentials — kool-aid, two total limes that guests can slice themselves if they want, and vodka — so he can’t really do anything when you wrap your arms around his neck.
(Not that he would do anything, though.)
“Hey, Jangjun.”
He’s not surprised that you know his name. You’ve shared a class or five over the years, and he’s always the loudest one in the room. It’s just a little jarring since you’ve never talked one on one before.
(Not that he didn’t want to, he just never got the opportunity.)
“Hey,” he returns. Behind your back, he puts one drink on the counter, then transfers the second drink into his free hand and puts that one down as well. “What’s, uh...”
He gestures his hands at your arms around his neck.
“My ex is here and I thought this would be the best way to avoid him.”
Jangjun didn’t even know you had a boyfriend, but that doesn’t really matter. The keyword here is had. He smiles.
“That’s so cliché.”
You roll your eyes. “Just act natural, please.”
(Gladly.)
Jangjun puts his arms around you, carefully gauging your reaction so he doesn’t cross any boundaries. Since you don’t seem to react, eyes just flitting around the room, he relaxes. He sways to the beat of the music and leans in to whisper, “Which one is he?”
You return your gaze to Jangjun for a moment and jerk your head towards the crowd. “The only asshole wearing sunglasses inside.”
Jangjun snorts. “You really know how to pick ‘em.”
“Shut up.” You give him a look. “No matter what that guy says, it was not a serious relationship.”
Hopefully you don’t notice how much wider Jangjun’s smile gets at that. He makes a show of looking around — not that he really cares if you see through it or not. “Damn, my ex is here too.”
(That’s a blatant lie.)
One of your eyebrows rises. “You invited your ex to your own party?”
“Things get out of hand sometimes,” he says with a shrug. Before you can argue against that, he twists around so his back faces the crowd and bobs his head to block you from looking at anything but himself. “You know what we should do?”
Your hands shift behind his neck. “What?”
“Make them jealous.”
You scoff, a sarcastic smile rising on your lips. “Now who’s being cliché?”
“I never said I don’t like clichés,” Jangjun clarifies. “In fact, I encourage them.”
“So, what? You’re saying we should kiss or something?”
“I’m asking if you wanna make out.”
You smile. “Only if you’re up to it, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Great.”
“Great.”
There’s a small pause where Jangjun just smiles at you, because while you’ve agreed more readily than he expected, you hesitate. He twists slightly and glances to the crowd, where an asshole wearing sunglasses is making his way over. “Your ex found you.”
“Oh, fuck’s sake.”
You put your hands on Jangjun’s cheeks and pull him in.
Youngtaek - can you tell me how to love
“No!”
“Oh, come on, Youngtaek.” You cross your arms. “I’m not asking for much.”
He frowns. “Seriously?!”
“Yes, seriously! All I’m asking is for you to make out with me a little,” you explain for the second time. “You don’t even have to use tongue.”
“Tongue—” Youngtaek lets out a laugh of disbelief. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Youngtaek can’t believe this is happening. Certainly, when he agreed to hang out at your place for the night, he wasn’t expecting you to ask him to kiss you.
“I’m your best friend.” (He tries not to let those words sting.) “Best friends don’t just...”
He can’t say make out. It’s not as easy as you make it seem.
“Best friends help each other,” you argue. “How am I supposed to go on this Tinder date if I don’t even know how to mack?”
Youngtaek splutters. “Tinder? Since when do you have Tinder?”
“Since Jangjun told me I’m going to die alone. Now will you teach me how to kiss or not?”
Youngtaek will get Jangjun back for that later.
“No.”
You groan. “God, what’s it gonna take!”
He hates how much you want this.
This. Not him.
“Money?” you continue. “Food? I can do your homework if you want. I mean, I don’t know shit about art history, but if it comes down to it—”
Youngtaek reaches you in two strides, and your words cut off when he puts his hands on your cheeks. He’s so close to you that he can hear the way your breath hitches.
“If I kiss you,” he says quietly, “it won’t be meaningless. I won’t... I won’t teach you how to kiss just to lose you.”
His heartbeat picks up when he realizes the weight of his words, but he doesn’t let go.
You breathe out.
“Then kiss me.”
Seungmin - I like it better after midnight
Seungmin opens his door with a smile, but you're definitely not in the mood to give him one in return.
"I can't believe you forgot about a test tomorrow," you say as you brush past him into his dorm room. "I don't even know how much I can help you when it's—" You check your phone. "—one fifteen in the morning."
Chuckling under his breath, Seungmin shuts the door and walks over to where you're already setting up study materials on his desk, his hands in his pockets.
"I can't believe you answered my texts so late."
You roll your eyes. "Trust me, it's not like I want to be awake right now. My neighbor keeps playing goddamn first person shooters until ass o'clock every night."
"No headphones?" Seungmin finds that hard to believe.
"Oh, he has headphones. You know what he doesn't have?"
He shakes his head.
“The ability to shut his mouth.”
While Seungmin laughs quietly at your misfortune, you pull out the chair at his desk and point at it, silently asking him to sit. “You’re lucky. Not everyone’s tutor has asshole neighbours keeping them up all night.”
He takes his seat, not really interested in the material in front of him with you standing right there. “I’ll count you as a blessing, then.”
At that, you roll your eyes. Ever since you started tutoring Seungmin, he’s been flirting in that sort of unashamed, non-subtle way handsome guys who know they’re handsome do. You don’t really mind. By now, you’re used to it from him.
“Yeah, yeah. Now do you want help studying for this test, or not?”
He does — this isn’t his strongest subject, and having a test in less than twelve hours isn’t ideal. Seungmin works diligently while you guide him over his shoulder. Eventually you end up sitting on his desk, too tired to stand next to him anymore. It’s a bit uncomfortable to twist your upper body, but Seungmin silently pushes stuff out of the way to let you sit cross-legged, so you don’t have to worry about that for long.
After a while of silence where Seungmin is supposed to be figuring out a specific concept, you feel a tap at your knee. You look up from your phone to see Seungmin’s pen resting against your leg, his eyes focused on that rather than on you.
“Do you have a question?” you ask, voice quieter now knowing how late it is.
Seungmin taps his pen on you again, and he leans back in his chair, a lazy smile on his face.
“Why haven’t you fallen for me yet?”
You scoff. “What? You want me to?”
“I was hoping you’d notice on your own,” he says. “But now I can blame my impatience on late-night delirium.”
“So all those cheesy lines... you were serious?” The thought of it brings bubbling laughter to your lips.
Seungmin sits up and leans closer. “You think I tell those to just anyone?”
“That was my line of thought, yes.”
“How do I prove you wrong?”
Letting a smile spread across your face, you prop your elbow on your knee and your chin in your palm. Your face is awfully close to his now. “Depends. Do you kiss just anyone with those lips?”
His nose brushes yours.
“Not just anyone,” he whispers. You can feel the words on your skin.
“I’ll worry about proving that later.” You’re starting to feel pins and needles in your leg. “For now, just kiss me.”
You wake up on a couch, which, to say in the most sunshiny way you can, is not super comfortable.
What is really nice about waking up this morning is that it’s to Sungyoon’s absent-minded singing from his kitchen, which you can hear because he’s no mumbler. When Sungyoon first told you he likes to sing in the shower or hum the occasional melody while working, you weren’t expecting him to have pipes. The man can sing, and even though you’ve only been dating for three weeks, you never shy away from complimenting his beautiful voice. (Plus, his adorable shy laughter is a total bonus on your end.)
You must’ve fallen asleep last night during your attempted buzzfeed unsolved binge with Sungyoon, who, if memory serves, fell asleep first with his head in your lap after only five of the longer episodes. Of course, him being as goddamn adorable as he is, you didn’t have the heart to wake him and send him off to his bed so you could go home for the night (at least without taking a few pictures first). Really, you weren’t planning to stay the night, but waking up to Sungyoon’s voice is... nice. You wouldn’t mind doing it again.
Yawning, you right yourself on the couch and slip the throw blanket off your legs before standing up. Sungyoon is focused on throwing breakfast together, so he doesn’t notice you even when you’re right behind him. You hold back a giggle and tap his shoulder.
“Whoa!” he whips around, his song cut off by the sudden exclamation, but he doesn’t seem to mind. A wide smile spreads across his lips at the sight of you, and you can’t help mirroring it. “You woke up?” he whines. “I was hoping to surprise you with breakfast.”
You laugh. “Wanted to wake me up with a refreshing splash of orange juice or something?”
Sungyoon sighs, the bright smile still on his face as he tilts his head to the side. “I’m never living any of that down, am I?”
“You spilled the popcorn last night!”
The small kitchen fills with a mixture of your and Sungyoon’s laughter.
Yeah. You wouldn’t mind more of these mornings.
“Oh!” Sungyoon turns around for a moment before returning with a mug that he holds out for you. “I made you some coffee.”
You purse your lips, stifling a laugh. No way you haven’t told him until now. Right? Filing through the last few weeks in your mind, it gets harder and harder to hold back knowing that yes, somehow, you managed to forget to tell the most coffee-crazed man in the world that you’re horribly allergic to the stuff.
“That’s really nice of you, Sungyoon, but...” He frowns slightly when you place the mug back on the counter. “I can’t drink it. I’m allergic.”
For a moment, he just looks at you with wide eyes, but then he groans and hangs his head. That’s when you let the light chuckles slip out.
“Well hey now, I’m sure we can put that coffee to good use. We can--”
“I’ve flirted with you since last month and we’ve dated for three weeks and I didn’t know you’re allergic to coffee?” he interrupts, meeting your eyes.
You snort. “It’s not like a wear it on a t-shirt. ‘Ask me about my coffee allergy.’”
“Oh my god.” Sungyoon brings his hands up to cover his face. “I asked you out for coffee for our first date!”
“It’s a good thing you didn’t show up, then.”
His hands drop to his side, and you see his lips painted over with pout. He takes both your hands and brings them up between you, folding his interlocked fingers over your palms . You do the same. “I’m still sorry about that.”
“Hmm.” You pretend to consider his apology. “I think I’ll forgive you if you give me kiss.”
A smile breaks out across his face. He leans in, but just before your lips can touch, he pulls back.
“I just drank coffee. Will you be okay?”
You roll your eyes. “I think I’ll live. Now get back here and kiss me, you klutz.”
•
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There’s nothing more cliché than working as a barista to make your way through university, but what’s with the guy who keeps spilling everything he touches?
There’s nothing more cliché than working as a barista to make your way through university, but what’s with the guy who keeps spilling everything he touches?
There’s nothing more cliché than working as a barista to make your way through university, but what’s with the guy who keeps spilling everything he touches?
