#yangyang angst

[withlovemark]

“NO ONE BUT YOU”

pairing: childhood bff! liu yangyang x secretly in love bff! reader | genre: rom-com | words: 38k+

synopsis -> after his girlfriend left him for his bestfriend, liu yangyang’s favorite coping mechanism is running to you for emotional support. every damn time he bumped into them on campus, he wore that perfect mask, pretending he was completely fine. only to end the night crying on your shoulder, falling apart. and every single damn time — you were there. handing him tissues, listening to the same rants on repeat, cracking sarcastic jokes until he laughed through his tears…all while pretending your own heart wasn’t breaking. why couldn’t he see that the person who always understood him best had been here all along?

warnings -> guaranteeing the cutest best friends to lover trope in the loverboy series (at least i think it is!!), pet name unlocked: teddy, yangyang is so fucking oblivious it hurts, reader please get up!, jealousy, insecurities, possessiveness, +18, crude humor, language, parties, drinking, more than one party game, masturbation (m), fingering, blowjob, face riding, yangyang is a munchhh and loves/gets off eating pussy, he also has a big dick! sexual activities while intoxicated, unprotected sex in the hot tub!, and on the couch! he cums inside oops, lots of banter during sex, mentions of: fuck-buddy, audio porn.

an -> the first of the wayv loverboy is sweetly yours! i decided to do this spin off after listening to taylor swift’s, you belong with me hehe. this takes place right after renjun’s story or i hate fruits. you do not need to read the loverboy series (dream ver) to understand this story. what you need to know will be explained here. but if you want the full details, i do recommend reading renjun’s story! have fun reading! please let me know what you think!! - with love, c.

🧸 SEPTEMBER 11 - FRIDAY - MY EMOTIONAL SUPPORT TEDDY BEAR.

it was nearly midnight when the door to your apartment door swung right open, making you jump so hard your heart practically tried to escape your chest. for one terrifying second, you imagined every possible crime scene headline involving you, a slippery bathroom floor and a damp towel as your only defense.

“it’s just not fair!”

the shout echoed in your living room before you even spotted him. you could recognize that voice even in your sleep. and there he was — liu yangyang, your childhood best friend, the boy you’ve been harboring secret feelings for the last five years, storming in with wild eyes and a kind of frustration that clung to him like static, restless and loud.

you clutched your towel tighter around your body, still dripping wet from the shower, “dude! i know i gave you my code but that doesn’t mean you can just walk in here with no warning!”

yangyang’s eyes flicked over to you, unimpressed. he didn’t even flinch at your half-naked state — too consumed in his own misery to care. he just groaned and collapsed dramatically onto your couch, burying his face into a throw pillow like he’d been waiting all day for this exact moment, “put on some clothes so i can die in your arms in peace, please,” he mumbled, his voice muffled, pout obvious even without seeing his face.

you exhaled, long and patient, already used to this. already too soft on him for your own good, “fine. but just so you know, i’m out of ice cream.”

“ughhhh, i hate my lifeee,” he whined, dragging the pillow closer like it could protect him from reality. you shook your head and padded toward your bedroom, trailing little wet footprints behind you.

this was his routine now — crashing into your space, sometimes drunk, sometimes stone sober, always wearing that perfect mask on the outside until it shattered behind your door. he’d been like this ever since the two of you got back from your internship in germany and found out that his best friend, renjun, and his girlfriend, now ex-girlfriend, love, had somehow fell in love with each other in the strangest, most heartbreaking way. a box dropping on her head. temporary amnesia. the illness between memories blurred until she didn’t know who was who. by the time the fog cleared, it was already too late, she’d fallen in love with the wrong boy (or the right one) depending on whose story you hear. yangyang had been stuck in the middle of that impossible truth ever since. he played the part so well, too — polite smiles, easy words about being “happy for them” when people asked. but the cracks always showed when the day ended, when he needed someone who wouldn’t call his bluff. so he came here. to you. and through it all — the late night breakdowns, the way he cycled through the same rants until even his tears felt rehearsed, the quiet collapses on your couch — you never once left his side. not when his voice broke. not when his walls crumbled. not even when your own heart kept breaking quietly in the background, knowing he’d never look at you the way he looked at her.

you pulled on a hoodie and your pajama shorts before returning to the living room. yangyang was still sprawled out into the cushions like he owned them, his head tipped back against the armrest, staring at your ceiling like it might offer him a divine answer. you grabbed the remote, flipped on the t.v. for background noise and nudged his leg with your knee, “scoot over,” you ordered.

he grumbled something incoherent but still obeyed, pulling his legs up and folding into a lazy criss-cross on your couch. you dropped beside him, close enough that your knees brushed, mirroring the way he sat. it had always been like this between you two — automatic, instinctive, like your bodies remembered how to fit together in any space.

from this close, you caught the faint tang of alcohol on his breath. your eyes narrowed immediately, “you went to the dream party, didn’t you?”

yangyang shifted uncomfortably, gaze darting anywhere but you. he tugged at a loose thread on the pillow, shoulders stiff, clearly guilty, “uhhh…”

you tilted your head, raising a brow, “now, why the hell would you do that?”

he let out a long, shaky sigh, finally dragging his eyes back to yours. the vulnerability there made your chest ache, “i-i don’t know! i-i just wanted to see her.”

the words hung heavy in the air. you bit the inside of your cheek, bracing yourself. “and?” you prompted, voice harsher than you meant it to be.

yangyang leaned back, hands fidgeting in his lap, like if he didn’t start talking he might actually combust, “and you would not believe what happened—” he said, launching into the story of what went down at the party.

*flashback to earlier today at the dream fraternity*

the music thumped in his chest, laughter spilling in the air, a red solo cup in his hand as he listened to whatever xiaojun and hendery was talking about, plastering on the same easy grin he’d worn all week, the one that said i’m fine. i’m happy. inside, though, every second felt like his ribs were caving in.

he saw them way before they saw him. their matching color palettes weren’t hard to miss — renjun and love wrapped up in pink. side by side. brushing like magnets, smiles soft and too tender for anyone else to miss. he swallowed down the lump in his throat and took another sip, pretending the burn was enough to numb it.

when renjun finally spotted him and made his way over, yangyang braced himself, smile sharpening onto something lopsided, practiced, “dude,” he said, gaze flicking over, “the pink?”

renjun blinked, caught off guard. “what?”

yangyang tilted his head, grin widening just enough to look genuine and pointed at his best friend’s new hair, “it suits you. makes you look… weirdly happy.”

renjun’s shoulders relaxed a little, mouth tugging into a shy smile. “yeah, well. she picked it.”

“of course she did,” yangyang let out a soft laugh. amused. or at least, pretending to be.

a cautious silence threaded between them like they were both balancing glass in their hands. then renjun’s voice dropped quieter, “can we talk?”yangyang didn’t even sigh. he just nodded and stepped off to the side with him.

renjun began, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, eyes darting everywhere but yangyang’s, “i should’ve told you sooner. but it all happened so fast and next thing i know–”

“you love her,” yangyang said simply. his tone was light, steady, betraying nothing. but inside, it was a knife twisting right in his chest. “i know. i saw it all that night we took her to the hospital.”

renjun’s throat bobbed, “yeah.”

“i already forgave you,” yangyang went on, managing a small, resigned smile, “i just needed a couple days to process and the let the sting wear off. besides, you were right. i wasn’t there. i should’ve seen it coming, really. it just makes sense that the two people i love most would fall in love with each other,” he concludes. not entirely sure if he was trying to convince the boy in front of him or himself.

renjun swallowed hard, “it wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

“yeah,” yangyang said softly, “but it did. and maybe it was supposed to happen exactly like this.” there was a pause, full of memory, affection, and things left unsaid. yangyang took a sip from his cup, “anyway. the internship called me. i got the job.”

renjun’s eyes widened. “you’re kidding—?”

yangyang grinned, this time genuinely. “nope. full-time offer. i leave right after graduation next year…so really,” he went on, nudging renjun’s shoulder lightly, “it worked out for everyone. i got my future, and you got her. she was always yours, anyway. i was just keeping her heart warm till you were ready.”

“what do you mean?,” renjun asks, curious.

yangyang forced out a grin, pretending every word he uttered wasn't crushing his own heart, “you’ll have to ask her about it.”

renjun’s throat went tight. “yang…”

“don’t get sappy on me now, loverboy,” he warned, letting out a laugh that covered the crack in his chest. he didn’t want his pity. “go. be gross together. and tell her i said thanks for finally getting you to change your hair. i’ve been begging for color since sophomore year.”

renjun snorted, “thanks.” then, after a beat, quieter, sincere, “we’re still best friends, right?”

yangyang nodded once, smile beaming, even though his brain was still screaming a million curse words. “as long as you don’t mess this up.” yangyang says like some sort of wise man. literally, fuck him and his own savior complex. he should be screaming. he should be trashing this place. instead, he’s sporting a beaming smile all for the sake of other people’s happiness.

renjun met his eyes, “i won’t,” he promised. “i’d rather die.”

yangyang let the silence stretch, just long enough for the promise to settle between them. then he nodded once, smile still beaming like it didn’t cost him anything at all. he gave renjun one last look before clapping a hand to his back and heading into the house. the music swallowed him up again, laughter bubbling all around him. the party’s pulse thrummed against his ribs as he moved through the crowd. then he felt the weight of eyes on him. his own gaze flicked up and there she was – love. his ex-girlfriend. renjun’s girl now. for a second, the noise around them dimmed. she didn’t look away, didn’t flinch. just held his gaze across the room, her expression caught between guilt and gentleness, the kind that held both apology and acceptance. yangyang’s chest twisted but he forced his mouth into a small smile. quiet. understanding. and she returned it — a tiny curve of her lips, a silent acknowledgement of everything they had been and everything they no longer were.

*end of flashback*

yangyang’s voice trailed off, the party fading from his memory as reality came crashing back into your small living room. the background noise of your t.v. hummed low, mixing with the sound of his uneven breathing. he looked smaller than usual, hunched forward like the weight of his words was still pressing on him.

“you told him you forgive him?” you asked, incredulous, turning to face him fully, “but….you don’t.” you point out the obvious.

yangyang groaned, dragging both hands down his face before flopping back dramatically against the couch cushions, "i didn’t know what else to say!,” his voice cracked somewhere between exasperation and despair, “what? am i supposed to keep playing the villain and not let them be happy!?”

you stared at him, heart aching and pressed your lips into a thin line, “you’re not the villain, yang.” he tilted his head toward you, eyes glassy and vulnerable in a way he only ever let you see, “—you don’t have to forgive them if you’re not ready,” you added softly.

yangyang sniffled, reaching blindly for a tissue on your coffee table, “i hate this,” he muttered, voice muffled into the tissue as he wiped his nose, “i hate that i don’t even hate them. like…isn’t that what i’m supposed to do? get angry? yell? throw a drink in someone’s face?”

“you?” you snorted, “please. you’d apologize to the person you threw it at for wasting their drink.”

that earned you the tiniest huff of laughter, just enough to soften the tight line of his mouth. you leaned your head against the back of the couch, watching him. he sat criss-cross again, knee brushing yours, hair sticking up from where he’d been raking his hands through it. his chest still rose and fell unevenly, but at least he was breathing easier now.

“you’re allowed to be hurt, you know. you’re allowed to let the world know how you truly feel.” you said quietly.

yangyang stuffed another tissue into his fist like he could bury all his pain in paper instead. “yeah, well,” he mumbled, forcing his voice into something lighter, “lucky for me, i don’t need the world. i’ve got you. free therapist, 24/7, no copay.”

you rolled your eyes, even as warmth bloomed unsteadily in your chest, “don’t flatter yourself. you’re paying me in pizza next time.”

“deal,” he whispered, smiling weakly. then he let out a long, dramatic sigh, suddenly shifting and tossing the crumpled tissue onto your coffee table. before you could ask what he was doing, his arms reached out and hooked around you, tugging you straight into his chest.

“come here,” he murmured, already nuzzling his chin on top of your head like it was second nature.

you groaned, squirming in protest, “yang, no! you reek of alcohol and i literally just showered!”

“don’t care,” he mumbled stubbornly, holding on tighter, “i need my emotional support teddy bear.”

you shoved lightly at his chest, wrinkling your nose, “you’re gross. you smell like cheap beer and regret.”

he tilted his head down to grin at you, eyes glinting, “you love it.”

“i absolutely do not!,” you shot back, though your voice wavered with a laugh.

“yes, you do,” he said, sing-song, tightening his arms until you gave up fighting, “you’re addicted to me. admit it.”

“addicted? please.” you rolled your eyes, but you didn’t try to move away again, “you’re lucky i’m too tired to throw you off my couch right now.”

yangyang chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest against your cheek, “so basically…you like me enough to suffer through the smell. that’s real love, right there.”

you smacked his arm without much force, “don’t push it.” but your body betrayed you anyway. relaxing. softening. your head finding its place against his chest like it belonged there. his hand absently traced circles against your back, slow and soothing, the kind of touch that wasn’t meant to mean anything but still felt like everything.

the t.v. murmured on in the background, the glow painting soft shadows across the room as the two of you sank deeper into the couch. yangyang’s heartbeat was too steady, too familiar, it lulled you, each breath syncing with his. the silence between you wasn’t empty. it was lived in — a silence that had grown up with the two of you, evolving from playground whispers to late-night facetimes, from library study sessions to these countless evenings on your couch. it wasn’t awkward, never had been. it was a blanket you’d both wrapped yourselves in a thousand times before, stitched together with years of knowing each other’s rhythms, moods and unspoken words. and just when you thought he’d drifted off, his voice came low and quiet, threaded with a kind of sincerity he rarely let anyone hear —

“thanks for always listening to me, teddy.”

the nickname hit like it always did – tugging at the memory of a third grade classroom where it all began. to your favorite teddy bear lying on the floor, head ripped clean off from a game that got too rowdy, to your little hands clutching the broken stuffed toy, tears blurring your vision and yangyang’s panicked face staring at you like he’d ruined the world, crying with you. the very next day, he showed up to class with a brand new teddy bear in his arms — softer, cuddlier, shinier. he’d shoved it into your chest, muttering rushed apologies and awkward promise after awkward promise that he’d never hurt you again. and you, still sniffling, had promised him something too — that you’d be his best friend for as long as that teddy bear stayed with you. and it had. it still did. the years had worn it down, the fur dulled, one ear a little loose but it sat tucked safely in your bedroom. proof of a promise that hadn’t been broken.

you closed your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat, breathing him in despite the faint edge of alcohol clinging to him. this time, you didn’t protest, didn’t tease him, didn’t make a joke to deflect the way your chest ached. you just let the words settle over you, warm and heavy. and like so many nights before, you drifted into sleep tangled up on the couch together. two best friends, bound by years and promises, still holding onto each other like that was enough.

🧸 SEPTEMBER 15 - TUESDAY - PAINTING II.

out of every day of the week. yangyang has grown to hate tuesdays the most. he didn’t even understand why he needed this class — he was set after graduation, internship locked in, his future lined up in neat little rows. but a degree was a degree and this class was just another box to check off. — painting ii. should’ve been a class he enjoyed. he loved making things, experimenting with brushes and color, letting his hands move faster than his thoughts. now it just felt suffocating because, of course, renjun and love were in this class too. they came in together. side by side. her arm brushing his. renjun leaning close to whisper something that made her laugh effortlessly. yangyang’s jaw tightened but by the time they were in his line of vision, the mask was already back on. that same carefully constructed, almost-too-bright-i’m-fine smile.

“hey,” renjun greeted, his voice careful, still carrying the weight of friday’s conversation.

yangyang just grinned, like it was nothing, “what’s up?” – easy. effortless. like he hadn’t spend the entire weekend sprawled on your couch with romcoms on autoplay.

love gave him a small nod, polite, almost…grateful. like she knew he was sparing them. like she was silently thanking him for playing along.

but where yangyang’s mask held steady, yours did not — from your seat next to him, you glared daggers so sharp they could’ve cut through steel. your sketchbook was open, pencil poised, but your entire focus was pinned on the couple like you were trying to set them on fire with sheer willpower. yangyang nudged your knee under the shared easel, subtle but firm, a small warning, “stop it,” he whispered, voice low enough that only you could hear. your eyes didn’t move, “they don’t deserve your smile.”

he forced a quiet laugh, leaning back on his stool, the sound too casual, “and what? you’re gonna fight them with paintbrushes in the middle of class?”

“if i have to,” you muttered, jaw tight. he couldn’t help it — despite everything, a smirk tugged at his lips. that was the thing about you. he could be unraveling and somehow, you still made him laugh.

“play nice,” he murmured, shaking his head. you rolled your eyes, finally dragging your gaze back to the page.

right then, professor yuta strode to the front of the studio, clapping his hands once to get everyone’s attention. his black hair was tied back loosely, smudges of paint already dotting his arms like he’d been working before class. “alright, everyone,” professor yuta began, his smile sharp, “today, you’re working in groups of four. you’ll be sketching a concept for the university’s cafe logo — nothing final, just ideas. think simple, think clear and most importantly–,” his gaze swept the room, landing on a few nervous students, “-think something i won’t throw in the trash immediately.” a wave of laughter and a few groans echoed throughout the room along with chairs scraping and stools shifting.

you and yangyang didn’t even need to look at each other. it was automatic — you were a package deal. he angled himself towards you, already doodling a goofy smiley face in the corner like he owned the space.

“guess it’s us,” he said, teasing.

“like it was ever going to be anyone else,” you shot back, leaning over to draw another smiley beside his. he snorted softly, the tension in his shoulders easing for the first time that morning. but before he could completely fall into it, shadows fell across your table.

“hey guys,” a familiar voice said. you froze mid-scribble. renjun stood there, love right beside him, her hand brushing his sleeve like it always seemed to do these days. both of them were looking at you and yangyang with polite expressions as if this made perfect sense, as if nothing happened and everything was completely like the way it was before.

“looks like everyone else is already grouped up,” renjun explained, careful, almost apologetic, “mind if we join?”

yangyang’s smile flickered for half a second, the mask threatening to slip, but he caught it just in time. by the time he looked up, it was firmly in place again, “sure,” he said lightly, with a shrug that cost him more than he’d admit. you, however, weren’t nearly as composed. your pencil pressed hard enough against the page it nearly snapped. you forced your lips into a thin line, offering a curt nod that was more grit than grace.

renjun slid into the seat across from yangyang, love sat beside him, right across from you, her gaze flickering to yangyang for a fleeting second, soft and unreadable, before she looked away. yangyang leaned back in his chair, drumming his pen against his notebook like it was just another tuesday. but you knew better.

renjun set his sketchpad down, pencil already moving with the quiet focus he always had. beside him, love leaned over to peek at his lines, her laugh spilling soft and easy when he drew a messy curve. she nudged his elbow, teasing and he caught her wrist in that causal, familiar way. the kind that made yangyang’s stomach twist even if his smile didn’t falter. you had gone still, brush in hand, staring at the blank paper in front of you. yangyang nudged you lightly with his knee again, a silent reminder. play nice. you forced yourself to dip into the paint, sketching out rough shapes.

“so,” love said, tone bright, “maybe something with a coffee cup? simple lines, but kind of cozy?”

renjun nodded immediately, “yeah, and maybe we add steam that curls into letters — N C T U. what do you guys think?”

yangyang tapped his pencil against his page, pretending to consider it, “not bad,” he said lightly, “cozy but still sharp. professor yuta might actually not throw it away.”

renjun laughed under his breath, love’s shoulder brushing his as she leaned closer. the sound of it — soft, unguarded, theirs — filled the small silence that fell over your half of the table. you clenched your jaw. picked up your brush. painted one hard, deliberate line that nearly split the page. and before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out—

“god, could you two just…not? we get it. you’re in love. rub it in, why don’t you.”

the brush clattered a little too loudly against the jar of water when you dropped it. silence. renjun froze, pencil hovering midair, his shoulders going rigid. his eyes darted up to you, almost guilty, then quickly away, jaw tightening like he didn’t trust himself to respond. love blinked, caught between shock and guilt, her hand pausing on the page as though she’d forgotten what she was supposed to be doing.

the air went brittle — and then yangyang burst out an awkward laugh, too quick, too loud, too bright. it cracked through the silence like a sparkle burning too hot. “HAHAHA–” he drawled, arm swinging up and draping across your shoulder, pulling you into the curve of his space like it was all just a joke, “she’s kidding guys. don’t mind her. sarcasm’s practically her love language.” his grin was wide, practiced. the kind of grin that screamed easygoing, no harm done, let’s move on. but the weight of his arm pressed heavier than usual and when he turned his head to look at you, the smile didn’t reach his eyes. that pointed look said it all. and you understood what he was trying to say without even saying anything at all — cut it out. stop. please.

you let out a cough, “yeah, kidding,” you murmured, forcing out a fake chuckle. the word tasted bitter but you swallowed it down anyway, for his sake.

the next forty minutes dragged on like hours. renjun kept his comments short, never quite meeting your eyes. love spoke in measured bursts, careful and polite, her laughter gone. you stuck to clipped answers and yangyang….yangyang was everywhere. he cracked dumb jokes, nudged renjun into laughing once or twice, redirected love’s feedback to you with a soft, “hear that? she likes your idea.” every time the tension threatened to snap, he was already there, smiling over the cracks.

by the time professor yuta strolled past to glance at your group’s progress, it looked decent enough — a cozy coffee cup, steam curling into the letters NCTU, framed with warm tones and textured brushstrokes. he hummed approvingly, lingering for a second, “looks good, you four work well together.”

your laugh almost bubbled up at the irony but yangyang beat you to it, “thanks professor,” he said smoothly. perfect smile, perfect tone, like nothing was wrong.

finally, professor yuta clapped his hands together at the front of the room, “time’s up, brushes down. we’ll review the final drafts next class.” the usual post-class chatter buzzed low around the studio. you shoved your brushes into the case a little too hard, movements sharp, clipped. beside you, yangyang was quieter than usual, his tiredness bleeding through. you caught renjun and love laughing softly at something as they packed up. the sound was small, barely there but it crawled under your skin like barbed wire. you could practically feel your blood boil. yangyang noticed them. he always did. and this time, instead of nudging your knee or shooting you that warning look, he just stood — bag slung over his shoulder, eyes forward. he didn’t say goodbye. he just jerked his chin toward the door, a silent let’s go, and slipped out the classroom. you followed, trying to keep up with his pace. but the moment you were far away enough from the art room, he snapped.

“why did you have to act like that?!” yangyang’s voice was sharp, he whirled on you, brows knit tight, anger crackling off him like static, “you couldn’t just let it go for once?!”

you blinked at him, incredulous, heat rushing to your cheeks, “let it go? yang, are you serious right now?” your own voice shot back, louder than you meant, “—i’m sick of them acting like they can just waltz back into your life like nothing happened. like they didn’t—” you stopped, chest heaving, words catching, “—like they didn't rip your heart out!”

his jaw clenched, “you think i don’t know that?”

“then why are you letting them sit across from you like it’s fine?!,” you threw your hands up, protective instinct spilling over into rage, “you’re the one who’s been breaking on my couch for days, yang! and i’m supposed to just…sit there and watch you smile at them like they deserve it?”

“because its not about you!” he snapped back, louder this time. heads turned from students lingering down the hall, the echo of his voice bouncing off the walls. his own voice cracked on the edges, fraying, “it’s my mess. my pain. not yours to fight for!”

the words hit harder than you expected, cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. you were a package deal. you take one, you take the other. you hurt one, you hurt the other. apparently…not — you stood there in the hallway, silence ringing in your ears, chest tight, fists curled at your sides. yangyang dragged a hand through his hair, pacing two steps away like he needed the space to breathe. his shoulders heaved, every inch of him vibrating with that mix of rage and hurt he usually hid under jokes and easy smiles.

and now, he wasn’t just upset with them. he was upset with you.

“not mine to fight for?” you repeated, your voice low now, shaking with the effort of holding yourself together, “don’t you get it? every time you’re hurting, i’m hurting, too,” you stopped, chest heaving, like the words themselves were choking you.

yangyang’s laugh was hollow, ugly, a sound that wasn’t really a laugh at all. “you don’t get it. i don’t need a bodyguard, okay!? i don’t need you storming in like you’re gonna save me. i just need–” he cut himself off, teeth gritted, fists clenching tight, “i just need you to let me handle it.”

your throat burned, “handle it?! yang, all you do is pretend. pretend you’re fine, pretend you’re over it, pretend their smiles don’t cut you in half. you call that handling it?”

he turned on you, eyes blazing, “because if i stop pretending, i’ll fall apart! and i can’t–” his voice cracked, raw and sharp, before he swallowed it down, "i can't be that pathetic.”

the words slammed into you, heavy and unyielding. you wanted to reach for him. to tell him he wasn’t pathetic. to remind him you’d hold every broken piece if he let you — but he was already pulling back, shaking his head like your closeness was the last thing he could stand.

“just…stop.” his voice was quieter now, but it cut all the same, “stop fighting battles that aren’t yours. stop making it harder.”

you stood there, nails biting into your palms, your heart a mess of fury and ache. for a second, you thought about pushing further, about forcing him to see that you weren’t just some bystander in his wreckage. but the way he looked at you — pleading, furious, exhausted — froze you in place. so instead, you let out a bitter laugh, “fine.” the word cracked like glass. “if that’s what you want, then handle it. alone.”

his jaw flexed like he wanted to take it back, like something inside him was tearing. but he didn’t. he just nodded once, curt and turned on his heel. the two of you walked in opposite directions down the hall, footsteps echoing, backs stiff. neither of you looked back. and for the first time since the third grade, yangyang has consciously broken his promise.

🧸 SEPTEMBER 18 - FRIDAY - MR. BEAR

three days. it had been three days since that fight in the hallway. three days since the last time yangyang has spoken to you. three days of passing each other on campus like strangers, of him veering left when you went right, of group chats where his replies skipped right over you like you weren’t even there.

thirteen years of friendship, and never — never — had it gone this long. you’d shared lunch tables, secrets, and late-night video calls. you’d cheered each other through every minor victory, every heartbreak. you’d even applied to the same internship, bending and shifting your choices to make sure you were in each other’s orbit. there was no version of your life in which he wasn’t there. no version where the silence between you stretched out like this. and yet here you were, trapped in a version you hadn’t chosen. like he’d built a wall and left you on the other side.

your apartment felt smaller than ever. you sat cross-legged on your bed, your textbooks splayed open but ignored. no matter how many times you read the same line, your brain refuses to absorb it. all you could think about was yangyang.

the brown, worn-down teddy bear sat propped up against your pillow, it’s button eyes staring. you reached for it, clutching it to your chest, your frustration boiling over “can you believe him, mr. bear?” your voice cracked through the silence, sharp and small all at once. you jabbed a finger at the bear’s stitched face, “he’s actually mad at me? out of all people?!” you pulled the bear back to glare at its faded smile, your voice rising, “i’m the one who’s been there through everything. i’m the one who picked him up when he couldn’t even get out of bed. i’m the one who stayed when she left! and he’s mad at me?” the bear’s head lolled to the side, its seams sagging, like it was tired of listening to all of your secrets. you laughed bitterly, shaking your head, “it’s like–what? he’d rather i sit there quietly while he smiles through the pain? am i supposed to just watch that?!” your throat burned, your eyes stinging. you hugged the bear close, pressing your face into its worn fur, your words muffled against it. “he says it’s not my fight,” you whispered, raw and hoarse, “but if i don’t fight for him, then who will?”

the silence stretched, heavy and unyielding. the old bear didn’t answer. it never did. you glared at it’s worn down eyes, “you’ve seen everything, you know? every meltdown, every dumb heartbreak, every midnight pizza run. and now the silent treatment! he’s so—UGH!”

you didn’t hear the door creak. didn’t notice the smell of pepperoni hit the air, “wow,” came a voice you’d know from anywhere, dripping with mock astonishment, “three days of silence and you’ve officially lost it. yelling at mr. bear? should i be worried?”

your head snapped up. yangyang stood in your bedroom’s doorway, pizza box balanced on one hand, his expression somewhere between smug and fond. your heart lurched so hard you almost dropped the bear, “what the hell are you doing here?”

he stepped inside your bedroom like he owned the place. “fulfilling my promise, i owe you pizza remember,” he waved the box, “figured three days was long enough for you to stop being mad.”

you sat up straighter, arms crossing tight over your chest, heat prickling your cheeks, “i wasn’t talking to mr. bear.”

he smirked, setting the box down on your desk, “yeah, okay, teddy…next thing i know you’ll be asking it for relationship advice.”

“don’t call me that.” you muttered, your pout deepening even as your chest pinched the way it always did when he said it. yangyang just grinned wider, like he’d been waiting to use it again. he dragged your desk chair over, spun it around, and straddled it backward — his usual move when he wanted to make himself comfortable. his eyes flicked from the bear to you, amusement softening into something quieter.

“look,” he started, voice lower now, “i know i was an ass. i shouldn’t have snapped at you in the hall. i just—” he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more, “—i don’t want them to know i’m falling apart…it’s…sad and pathetic. not everyone has to see that side of me.”

your heart thudded painfully against your ribs at the honesty in his tone. “you’re not pathetic,” you whispered, “but you’re human, yang…not a fucking robot. so stop acting like one.”

yangyang tilted his head, that crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lips upon hearing his nickname, “so…truce? or do i need to get mr. bear’s approval too?”

you rolled your eyes, lips pursed in a stubborn line, “three days of silence and you just show up with pizza like nothing happened? like that fixes everything?”

yangyang raised his brows, completely unfazed, he rolled the chair closer until your knees brushed, “i mean…yeah? pizza fixes most things. don’t act like it hasn’t worked the last fifty times we’ve fought.”

“that was different,” you huffed, turning your face away, nose wrinkled, “this was the worst fight we’ve ever had. you were an asshole.”

he smirked, tapping his fingers against your chair, “i was. and you’re still sulking about it like a five year old so i guess we’re even.”

you whipped your head back toward him, glaring, “i am not sulking.”

“oh, no?” he leaned forward, tapping a finger against your pout, then gestured at mr. bear, “so you weren’t just yelling at a stuffed toy when i walked in?”

your cheeks heat instantly, but you cross your arms tighter, chin jutting out, “that’s different. he understands me better than you do right now.”

that got him — yangyang laughed, loud and unrestrained, tipping his head back until the chair wobbled dangerously, “wow. replaced by a bear i bought. didn’t see that one coming.”

you refused to smile, even though the corners of your mouth betrayed you by twitching, “you don’t get to joke your way out of this.”

he leaned closer, grin softening but still teasing, “you’re pouting so hard right now i’m shocked your face isn’t stuck like that...c’mon teddy, just admit you missed me.”

your heart pounded again, the proximity dizzying. you swallowed hard, “i didn’t.”

his eyes glinted, unaware of his effect towards you, voice dropping, “you so did.” you groaned, throwing a pillow at him, which he caught one-handed, still laughing.

“— and i missed you too, you know?,” his voice slipped quieter, softer, the grin fading into something that made your heart skip a beat.

you blinked, your pout faltering, “well, you sure had a funny way of showing it. three days, yang. three.”

he winced dramatically, hand over his heart, “trust me, i felt every second. do you know how boring life is without you? i had to actually…listen to hendery’s girl problems.”

a reluctant snort escaped you, but it melted quickly into a sigh, “you deserve worse than that.”

“yeah,” he said quietly, eyes finding yours, the teasing fading into honesty, “i know. and i’m sorry, teddy. for snapping at you. for acting like i didn’t need you. because i do.”

your throat went tight, the stubborn wall you’d been holding up all week cracking in two, “yang—”

“no, let me say it,” his voice broke slightly, softer than you’d heard it in weeks, “you’re the only one who’s been on my side through all of this. and i…i took it out on you. that was messed up. you didn’t deserve that.”

you swallowed hard, “i only snapped because i care,” you say, voice shaky but firm, “seeing you pretend like you’re fine when i know you’re not—it drives me crazy. i can’t just sit back and watch them hurt you. i’m not as nice as you are.”

yangyang moved onto the bed, even closer now, his usual cocky grin nowhere in sight. just him, raw and open, “i know. and i’m sorry for making you feel like it wasn’t your place. it is. you’ve always been my place.”

your heart slammed against your ribs so hard it hurt. he didn’t mean it the way you wanted him to. you knew that. but the words still stole your breath.

“god, you’re such a dummy,” you whispered, rolling your eyes playfully to hide the blush that was forming on the apple of your cheeks.

he smiled faintly, hand reaching out to nudge the bear against your arm, “yeah, but i’m your dummy, right?”

you let out a shaky laugh, finally leaning into him, into that familiar warmth you’d missed so much, “yeah. you are.” and when his arm curled around you, pulling you against his chest, your pulse went wild. to him, it was comfort. to you, it was everything.

“i’m sorry, too,” you murmured into his shirt, the words muffled but certain.

“don’t worry about it,” he whispered back, pressing his cheek into your hair, “no more silent treatments. ever.”

you hummed, forcing yourself to sound steady even as your heart thudded erratically. “agreed. now let’s eat the pizza before it gets cold,” you finally pried open the pizza box, the smell of melted cheese filling the room, sharp and comforting all at once. yangyang reached over immediately, snatching the biggest slice like it belonged to him by right.

“hey!” you protested, swatting at his wrist.

he smirked around a mouthful of cheese, “what? you need to be faster next time.” rolling your eyes, you grabbed your own slice, too hungry to argue properly. the only sounds were chewing and the occasional crunch of crust, the tension finally bleeding out of the room. when the last of the pizza was gone, you leaned back against the headboard, full and sleepy, mr. bear perched loyally at your side. yangyang stretched out with a groan, flopping back across your bed like he owned the whole thing.

“ugh, i swear, no one makes better pizza than that place,” he said, one hand resting over his stomach, eyes drifting shut.

you gave him a look, “you’re literally about to pass out, aren’t you?”

he cracked one eye open, a lazy grin tugging at his lips, “maybe. this bed’s comfier than mine anyway.”

your heart gave that stupid lurch again. “you can’t just fall asleep here,” you muttered, though your voice lacked conviction.

“why not?” he asked, already burrowing into your blanket like a cat, “we used to do this all the time. remember middle school? after movie marathons? or those all nighters we pulled in senior year?”

of course you remembered. you remembered every one. the sleepovers only stopped when you had your first boyfriend in first year. then was put on hold again when yangyang was dating love. you hesitated, then sighed, scooting down beside him, “fine. but you’re on blanket-sharing probation. you hog it every time.”

“pfft,” he scoffed, already tugging the comforter toward himself, “you’re just bad at blanket defense.”

you rolled your eyes again but didn’t argue, curling up with mr. bear clutched against you. a quiet settled over the room, not the brittle, painful silence of the past three days, but the warm, comfortable kind that wrapped around like the blanket you were reluctantly sharing. your pulse thrummed as yangyang shifted closer, his arm draping over your stomach in that absent, thoughtless way he always did when sleep tugged at him. your body tensed instantly, your heart hammering loud enough you were sure he could hear it. but he didn’t. of course he didn’t. yangyang’s breathing evened out within minutes, his forehead brushing the side of your hair as he slipped under, blissfully unaware of the way every inch of you was burning at the contact. you stared at the wall, hugging mr. bear tighter, trying to steady your racing heartbeat. eventually, exhaustion pulled at your own limbs and you let your eyes close, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him. the last thing you heard before sleep claimed you was his soft, steady breathing — familiar, safe, home. and just like that, the old routine returned. the fight, the silence, the ache — it all melted into the simple truth of where you belonged — pressed against him, even if he’d never know what it truly meant for you.

🧸 SEPTEMBER 20 - SUNDAY - SHOTARO.

sunday evening. 6PM. you needed a release — some way to get yangyang out of your head because the last week had been chaotic. the endless rants, the cuddling, the hallway fight, the silent treatment. you couldn’t even sit through a single class without thinking about him. your frustration needed an outlet, and you knew exactly where to turn. you grabbed your phone, texting the one person that was easy. no pleasantries. no teasing. just a blunt:

y/n: u busy?

shotaro: be there in 5

shotaro arrived just like that. the one person who never asked for explanations. no cuddling afterward, no holding, no lingering — just pure release. as soon as the door shut behind him, your hands were on him, pulling him into your bedroom. clothes became a nuisance, tossed carelessly to your bedroom floor. he was underneath you in seconds, hands and lips working in tandem. you straddled him, letting the heat build, letting the frustration and longing you’d been bottling for yangyang spill out.

“god, is this about yangyang again?” shotaro murmured against your skin, teasing in that familiar, knowing way.

“don’t say his name.” you sneered, as you grabbed a condom from your night stand and handed it to him. he wrapped his member with ease, smirking up at you with a teasing grin. you groaned, eyes squeezing shut, “don’t look at me like that…just…fuck me.”

his grin widened, sharp and wicked, before he grabbed your hips and sunk you down. the stretch burned, the ache was sharp but it was exactly what you needed. you rode him, let the world shrink down to skin, heat and sweat. no words, no names, just sex. he whispered little taunts under his breath, teasing you for your obvious crush, obvious to everyone except your best friend himself, but it only made you grind harder, your mind too scattered, too desperate to focus on anything else.

“fuck,” shotaro groaned, his hands gripping your thighs, watching the way your body moved against him, “you’re always so tight when you’re wound up like this.” you didn’t answer, just rode him harder, chasing the friction, chasing the distraction. your hair fell into your face, your chest heaving, nails biting into his shoulders as you moved. shotaro chuckled, low and teasing, “why don’t you just tell him? save yourself the—agh—trouble of coming to me every time you get worked up over your best friend.”

“shut up,” you moaned, slamming down harder on him, chasing the sharp crack of pleasure, “i didn’t call you here for advice, i called you here for dick.”

he laughed amusedly, “say less.” and in one quick motion, he flipped you onto your back, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand, driving into you deep, fast, relentless. the shift knocked the breath out of you, a cry tearing from your throat. “this what you needed?” shotaro’s voice was ragged now, his mouth brushing your ear as he thrust harder, rougher, "something to get him out of your head?”

“fuck—fuck, just like that—fuck me—just fuck me—” you arched beneath him, words breaking into high-pitched moans, nails dragging down his back. the rhythm was sharp, unforgiving, each thrust grounding you in the heat of now, pulling you further and further from the ache that had been gnawing at you all week.

•ᴥ•

yangyang let himself into your apartment, unannounced, like he had been doing for the past month, ever since you gave him the code to your door. it was supposed to be like always — raid your fridge, sprawl on your couch, crash out about the same things over and over again until he gets tired enough and falls asleep. but halfway to your bedroom, he froze. the sound hit him like a slap — your voice, high and breathless, tangled in sharp moans. the wet rhythm of skin slapping against skin, faster, harder. the kind of noises he shouldn’t be hearing coming out from you.

“…fuck me—just fuck me—”

his stomach dropped. his brain short-circuited. he should leave. god, he should leave. but his feet stayed rooted, his chest tight, his throat dry. he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop hearing you. the words punched through him and then the answering growl from a man he didn’t recognize. deep. smug. taking you apart. he staggered back, heart racing, palms sweaty. he couldn’t go closer. but he also couldn’t bring himself to walk out. so he dropped into your couch instead, head in his hands, staring blankly at the dark t.v. screen. the sounds from your room carried — every moan, every gasp, every filthy slap of skin against skin. they painted pictures in his head he’d never once let himself imagine. pictures that had his cock twitching, heat pooling low in his gut before he even realized it.

“shit,” he whispered under his breath, shifting uncomfortably. but nothing helped. every noise made it worse — you’d always been his best friend. his constant. he’d never thought about you like this, not once. and now all he could think about was what your face looked like when you cried out, what your body looked like under someone else’s hands. he sat there, trapped, every muscle locked tight, his heart thundering out of control. listening as another man fucked you in a room he’d wandered into a thousand times before.

•ᴥ•

you came undone with a gasp, fingers digging into shotaro’s shoulders as his hips snapped up one last time. he groaned, body tensing before spilling into the condom, the both of you collapsing into the sheets at the same time. for a moment, the only sound was heavy breathing. then, as always, the spell broke. no kisses. no cuddles. no gentle aftermath. just silence and the faint, sweat-slick smell of sex. you pulled the hem of your oversized t-shirt, you’re sure is yangyang’s, letting it fall just enough to cover your thighs, “get out,” you muttered, already reaching for the water bottle by your nightstand.

shotaro just laughed, eyes crinkling with that easy expression he always had, “efficient as ever,” he rolled out of bed, tugging his cargo pants up without a care, “but damn…worth it.”

a few minutes later, shotaro padded out of your bedroom, running a hand through his already misheveled hair. you didn’t bother walking him out the door, staying rooted at the ede of your bed. but the second he stepped into your living room, he froze.

“uh…hi,” yangyang blurted, voice loud enough to snap you right back into your body.

“yang?” you stumbled out of your bedroom and into the living room, in nothing but your best friend's shirt and your blue underwear, heart leaping into your throat, “what are you doing here?”

he stuttered immediately, eyes wide, trying to ignore the fact that you’re wearing his shirt, “i—i just got here, i’ll just, uhm go—“

shotaro, completely unfazed and clearly enjoying the tension, cut in smoothly as he headed towards your door, “no worries, man. i was already on my way out.”

the casual tone, the little smirk on his face, the way yangyang’s ears burned bright red made the air between you sharp, electric, almost unbearable. and then the door clicked shut behind your fuck buddy.

for a second, the apartment was too quiet. just you. just yangyang. just the faint scent of sex lingering and his oversized t-shirt clinging to your skin. yangyang leaned back into your couch cushions, smirking like he had the upper hand, though his posture screamed otherwise. you could tell he was trying to look casual but the way he shifted, one of your throw pillows clutched across his lap, gave him away.

“so…” he drawled, lips twitching, “you and shotaro, huh?”

“shut up,” you shot him a glare but he only laughed.

you marched past him toward the kitchen, snatching up the abandoned empty pizza box you still needed to throw out, just to have something to do with your hands, “we just fuck sometimes. that’s it. don’t make it a big deal.”

yangyang let out a low whistle, rocking forward on the couch, “damn. my best friend’s got a whole secret sex life i didn’t know about.” his eyes sparkled with mischief, “kinda proud, teddy. lowkey impressed you snatched mr. dancing machine.”

you shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass, “i should’ve never given you the code to my door. you muttered, tossing the crumpled pizza box into the trash with a little too much force.

when you turned back, you caught him shifting uncomfortably, one of your throw pillows suddenly clutched across his lap. he tries to play it off, “what? no way. best gift you ever gave me. unlimited therapy session. plus i get to waltz in whenever i want. it’s like—“ he made a sweeping gesture, pillow still in place, “a VIP membership to your life.”

“yeah, a VIP membership to walk in on things you really shouldn’t,” you shot back, raising a brow.

he groaned, tipping his head back against the couch dramatically, “okay fair, but how was i supposed to know you’d be…you know…” he waved vaguely in the direction of your bedroom, like he could erase the memory with a gesture.

you crossed your arms, trying not to grin too much, “that’s why next time, maybe text first?”

you couldn’t help but notice how tightly he was clutching your throw pillow, fingers digging in like he was holding on for dear life. the fabric stretched under his knuckles and the way his arm trembled slightly didn’t escape your attention. “yang…” you said, tilting your head, voice playful but pointed, “why are you gripping my pillow like that?

he froze instantly, the pillow almost molded to the shape of his hand and a faint flush crept up his neck, “i-i’m not…” his voice trailed off and he shifted awkwardly on the couch, trying to loosen his grip without actually letting go.

“mhmm,” you crossed your arms, smirking despite your own heart hammering in your chest as you stepped closer, “—that’s a very relaxed way to hold a pillow, don’t you think?”

his jaw tightened, eyes darting away, but the tension radiating off him was impossible to ignore, “i-it’s just comfortable,” he muttered, still holding the pillow like it was shielding him from the world.

you laughed softly, crossing your arms, pretending to inspect him critically, “i see everything, you know. every little thing you try to hide,” you said, voice teasing, eyes sparkling as you let your words hang in the air.

his ears burned bright red, a mix of exasperation and embarrassment in his expression, “shut up,” he muttered. you walked over and with one swift motion, you yanked the pillow out of his grip before he could stop you. the second it left his hands, you caught the undeniable confirmation — the hard outline pressed against his sweats. your jaw dropped, then you burst into uncontrollable laughter, clutching your stomach, “you did not seriously get a boner over that. are you a teenager?!,” you gasped between laughter, pointing at him.

yangyang’s face blazed, “can you really blame me? that was like…audio porn!”

you laughed even harder, slapping your knees, unable to believe what you were seeing. he scowled for a moment, then suddenly lunged at you, toppling you backward onto the couch, “okay, you asked for this!,” he declared. the tickle fight that followed left you squealing, squirming beneath him, his hands grabbing at your sides and ribs, laughter spilling out of both of you. but as your bodies pressed together in the struggle, you felt it — the hard, unmistakable heat of him pressing right against the thin cotton of your panties.

yangyang froze for a split second, his eyes wide as he realized you might feel it too. the laughter caught in your throat, replaced by a sharp inhale. both of you were suddenly hyper-aware of just how wrong it was to be half-naked and ridiculously turned on while pretending to have a childish tickle fight. the room feeling heavy and charged —playfulness collapsing into something dangerous.

yangyang cleared his throat and rolled off you like the couch had burned him. you scrambled upright, tugging the hem of his shirt lower, refusing to meet his eyes. the silence was unbearable. so you reached for the remote and flicked the t.v. on. you curled up at the far end of the couch, he leaned against the opposite armrest, still flushed, the pillow back on his lap, pretending to look interested in whatever nonsense flashed on screen. but you could feel the weight of him. the silence between you wasn’t just awkward, it was suffocating. finally, desperate to cut through it, you risked a sideways glance at him and muttered, “...do you, uh…need help with that?”

yangyang’s head whipped towards you, eyes blown wide, like you’d just detonated a bomb in the middle of the room. his lips parted, no words at first. color rushed up his neck, burning his ears. he scoffed weakly, shaking his head, “you’re joking.”

were you? you weren’t even sure. you’d do anything for him if he asked. but of course, he didn’t need to know that.

“of course, i’m joking,” you forced out a teasing grin, leaning back against the cushions, “go to my bathroom and take care of it.”

he groaned, rolling his eyes and threw the pillow at you, “shut up. let’s just…talk about something else and it’ll go away.”

you tossed the pillow aside, smirking, “okay, what do you want to talk about?”

he cleared his throat, clearly grateful for the subject change, though his voice was still rough at the edges. his mind wandered back to the real reason he’d come over in the first place. “i saw them again today,” he started, eyes fixed on the t.v. though he wasn’t really watching. you sighed, sinking back into your side of the couch, already bracing yourself for another one of his renjun and love venting sessions.

•ᴥ•

later that evening, when yangyang shut the door to his room and collapsed onto his bed, it all came rushing back — the sound of your moans, the sight of you in his shirt, the feel of your body warm beneath his. and then your voice, low and teasing, brushing the edges of something dangerous.

“...do you, uh…need help with that?”

what if he’d said yes? would you really have done it? would you have dropped to your knees for him, lips wrapping around his cock, swallowing every ragged sound he’d make? the thought made his whole body tense, his cock throbbing so hard it hurt. a groan tore out of his chest as his hand slipped beneath his waistband, wrapping around himself. he was already leaking, already too far gone from hours of being so fucking hard. his strokes were rough, fast, chasing that impossible image of you — your mouth stretched around him, eyes flicking up, smug and playful even as you hollowed your cheeks. the more he pictured it, the more unbearable it became, until his hips were snapping into his fist, muscles drawn tight as wire. heat coiled sharp and low before it snapped all at once, spilling across his stomach in thick, messy ropes. his head tipped back against the pillow with a guttural curse, relief hitting so hard his thighs trembled.

all he could do was breathe. and when his chest finally slowed, as the sweat cooled on his skin, the guilt crept in — he stared at the ceiling, jaw tight, trying to shove the images away, trying to convince himself it didn’t matter. that it didn’t mean anything. that he was just pent up, just needed a release. that it wasn’t about you.

he wiped his hand on a tissue, tossing it blindly toward the trash and dragged both palms over his face. never again. he told himself. this can’t happen again. because you were his best friend. the one person he could be stupid with, unfiltered with. the one person he trusted more than anyone. he couldn’t let a few reckless urges ruin thirteen years of friendship. he wouldn’t. he swore it to himself, jaw set tight in the dark. she’s my best friend, he thought. that’s all she is. that’s all she can be. but even as the words repeated in his head, he felt how flimsy they were. like paper trying to hold back a flood. because even as exhaustion pulled him under, the realization hit him hard. for the first time in weeks, the thought of you had replaced the thought of her.

not his ex. not the best friend who broke his heart.

just you.

and somehow, that terrified him more than anything else.

🧸 SEPTEMBER 22 - TUESDAY - JEALOUSY.

it had only been a week since the four of you last sat in this class together. a week wasn’t long. the classroom hadn’t changed. the paint-splattered stools, the faint smell of paint, the hum of pencils scratching against sketchbooks.

but yangyang felt completely different.

a week ago, all he could see was them – renjun and love. sitting just a few feet away, whispering into each other’s ears, trading smiles so soft they might as well have been knives. watching them had been torture. watching them had cracked him open, ripped at his scars until they burned fresh again.

but now…now all he could think about was you.

you, sitting right beside him, bent over your sketchpad as you finalized the outlines for the cafe’s logo. the brush of your arm against his, the warmth of your thigh grazing his under the table — it was all suddenly unbearable. at one point you leaned just slightly closer to point out something on your paper and yangyang swore he forgot how to breathe. a week ago, this wouldn’t have registered. he would've been too wrapped up in heartbreak, in hating how much renjun and love looked like the perfect pair. but today, his focus had shifted. things he never noticed before, things he brushed off as meaningless, now had his pulse stuttering in his veins. every laugh you let slip, every time you slapped his thigh when the laughter was too much to hold in, every absentminded brush of your fingers against his, every small, careless detail of your presence, every innocent point of contact — felt like a jolt to his system.

renjun slid his sketchpad forward, tapping his pencil against the rim of the drawn coffee cup, “i added a little more detail to the cup,” he explained, casual but confident, “just to highlight the main focus.”

you leaned in to look, lips curling into something polite and careful, “that’s actually really nice,” you said, your tone smooth, deliberate, “the way you shaded the curve makes it look sharper. good detail.”

you were playing nice. yangyang knew it. he was the one who begged you to not make things harder and you were just doing exactly what he wished for. but now — all yangyang heard was the softness in your voice when you praised renjun, all he saw was the way you leaned in to look closer. his hand froze mid-stroke, pencil hovering above his page. his thoughts consuming him. why do you have to lean in like that? why do you sound so impressed when you talk to him? jealousy burned in his gut, hot and sour. his ex-girlfriend had already chosen renjun over him. would you, too?

renjun looked between the two of you, then casually asked, “what do you think, yang? too much shading?”

yangyang blinked, yanked back to the conversation. “yeah. probably. it’s a little overdone.” his voice was sharper than he meant it to be, his pencil pressing too hard against his own page.

renjun frowned, looking at his sketch. “i was just trying to—”

“—make it perfect, i know,” yangyang cut in quickly, forcing a laugh that didn’t land, “classic renjun, mr. detail.”

you shifted slightly, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. not a word — just a look he understood immediately. the one that asked, what’s wrong with you?

then you looked at renjun, muttering out an encouraging, “i like it. don’t listen to yangyang.” before redirecting your gaze back to your best friend, searching for answers. finally, he shook his head, sharp and small, and when he didn’t elaborate, you exhaled softly and turned back to the page.

yangyang forced his pencil back to the paper but the jealousy didn’t fade. class went on. renjun and love whispered to each other across from him, trading notes and soft smiles, while yangyang continued to sit stiff beside you, pretending to sketch. every time you leaned forward to ask renjun a question or murmured something polite, his chest tightened, green burning under his ribs. he didn’t say a word though. just let it fester, chewing on the inside of his cheek until class finally ended.

the four of you packed up. renjun and love left first. you slung your bag over your shoulder, waiting for yangyang to grab his things. it wasn’t until you stepped out into the hallway, the classroom door swinging shut behind you, that he finally spoke, “you were being awfully nice,” he said, low, almost casual but not really.

you blinked, glancing sideways at him, “huh?”

he shrugged, eyes fixed forward, like it was no big deal, “to them. to renjun.”

your brow furrowed, piecing the pieces together, “okay, wait—” you stopped walking, forcing him to stop too, “so, let me get this straight. last week you literally ignored me for being mean to them and now you’re mad that i’m nice?”

yangyang’s jaw clenched. he didn’t have a good answer and he knew it, “i’m not mad.”

you scoffed, “you sound mad.”

“i’m not,” he insisted, sharper this time. but his voice cracked halfway through, betraying him.

your eyes narrowed, “then what is it?”

his jaw tightened, “nothing.”

you folded your arms, not letting him off that easy, “bullshit. you’ve been sulking since renjun showed his sketch. so go on…say it. what’s actually bothering you?”

yangyang looked at you then, finally meeting your eyes and for a split second something raw flickered there. but just as quickly, he shoved it down. “it’s just—” he faltered, then forced a laugh. “you don’t have to praise him like he’s picasso, okay? it’s just a coffee cup.”

you stared at him, incredulous, “that’s what this is about? you’re jealous over…shading?”

his ears went red, “i’m not jealous.”

you raised a brow, “right. whatever you say.”

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face, “god, you’re impossible.”

“and you’re ridiculous!” you shot back, but softer now, playful. you sighed, letting your arms drop, “i was just trying to do what you asked me to do. be nice. keep the peace.”

that silenced him. his throat bobbed as he swallowed, guilt flashing across his expression before he shoved it away again. for a moment, neither of you said anything. the hallway buzzed faintly with other students passing by but between you two, the tension pressed thick and heavy.

yangyang finally muttered, barely audible, “yeah…i know. i just…don’t like it.”

you blinked at him, then let out a short laugh before a smirk took over your face, casual, easy, “relax. i’m not about to run off and join their little lovefest. you’re stuck with me, dummy.”

that tugged a reluctant chuckled out of him, low and quiet, but enough to soften the edges of his jealousy. the two of you walked on, the tension easing into something familiar again – banter layered over the unsaid, like always.

🧸 SEPTEMBER 25 - FRIDAY - SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN.

the bass downstairs rattles the floorboards, the whole riize frat house alive with drunk laughter and chants. someone’s passed you a red solo cup that’s been refilled too many times already and your head is pleasantly fuzzy, heart beating too fast in your chest. you hadn’t planned to be here. you only came because yangyang dragged you, promising “just one beer, chill night, we’ll leave early.” but somehow just one beer became just one shot and then just one more until you were giggling against the upstairs hallway wall, watching couples stumble into a closet as the next victims of seven minutes in heaven.

you’d been content to watch — until shotaro, grinning at you like the devil he is, suddenly points right at you, “yo, i nominate them,” he says, voice carrying over the cheers, “our favorite besties! yangyang and y/n!” he smirks, saying your name with way too much glee. the crowd roars. your stomach drops. and if looks could kill, shotaro would be five feet under while you fake cry with a bouquet in your hand.

yangyang laughs it off at first, waving them away, “nah, nah, pick someone else—”

but his refusal only made the chants louder, “YANGYANG! Y/N! YANYANG! Y/N!”

then shotaro delivers the killing blow, “if they don’t at least make out, they gotta streak from this room all the way to pool. naked. right now.” yeah, you were about ready to book his funeral date.

the crowd erupts even louder. someone pounds on the closet door for emphasis. you glance at yangyang, mortified. his cheeks are already pink from the alcohol but the flush deepens as his eyes meet yours. yanyang lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of hic neck, “guess we’re screwed, huh?”

before you can argue, hands are on your backs, shoving you both into the closet. the door slams and the lock clicks. the crowd outside starts a countdown, muffled through the wood but relentless, “SEVEN! MINUTES! IN! HEAVEN!”

the closet is pitch dark, the smell of coats and cologne hanging in the air. yangyang stumbles into you, shoulder knocking yours, both of you giggling awkwardly. the sound dies fast. something about being trapped in this tiny closet, being this close, hits you hard. he exhales, voice low, trying to keep it light, “okay, so…either we streak naked in front of like, half the frat…” his pause is long, deliberate, “or…we make out.”

your heart lurches, all those times you’ve been at your best behavior, trying not to ruin your friendship, trying to keep your feelings at bay, just for it to crumble down over a silly little party game. you scoff, trying to keep his light tone, “i’m never letting you drag me into a party again.”

outside, someone yells, “WE’RE LISTENING!," followed by laughter.

yangyang curses under his breath, hiding his own nerves under a giggle. then, after a beat, he adds, softer, almost testing, “honestly? i’d rather kiss you than have our nudes all over social media.” you couldn’t argue with that. plus you had more to lose than he did. the seconds stretch, your pulse thundering in your ears. and then yangyang moves, slowly, his hand brushing your wrist like he’s asking permission.

“you cool with it?”

“yeah,” you whispered, hoping he doesn’t catch the way your voice shook or the way your heart is pounding so loud you could barely hear the roar of cheers outside.

and before you could even register what was happening, he softly tilted you towards him, a finger under your chin — lips on yours in a soft, slow kiss, tasting faintly of beer and hesitation. it lasted five total seconds before you pulled back an inch, breathless. he did too. for a suspended moment, it was just the sound of your heavy breathing. then, as if drawn by the same thought — you both leaned in again. at the same time. firmer this time. mouths slotting together in a rush that felt inevitable. the longer it lasts, the less funny it becomes. his hand slides to your waist, tugging you closer in the tight space. your fingers fisted in the front of his shirt. the kiss grew hungrier, teeth clashing a little, tongues tangling in a way that made your knees week and a whine slip from your lips.

“OH THEY’RE DEFINITELY DOING SOMETHING!,” someone yelled from outside.

yangyang chuckled against your mouth, lips trailing dangerously close to your ear. his breath was hot, his whisper meant only for you, “guess we should give them what they want, huh?” he kissed down your jaw, lingering at your neck until a moan slipped out of you before you could control it. the crowd howled like they’d just won a prize. minutes blurred, heat and alcohol tangling until you weren’t sure where your laughter ended and your moans began. the world outside blurred into static as your world narrows to yangyang’s lips moving hungrily against yours, body flushed, fingers digging into his hair like you've been waiting years for this. which, technically, you have.

by the time someone outside banged on the door and shouted, “TIME’S UP!” you were both panting, clothes rumpled, lips swollen.

yangyang leaned his head back against the wall, laughing breathlessly, eyes gleaming even in the dark, “think we bought ourselves out of streaking duty?”

you couldn’t even answer, too busy catching your breath. his thumb brushed your lower lip, almost absent-mindedly, wiping away your smudged lipstick, like now that he’s touched you like this he could no longer stop.

the lock clicked, the door swung open, and the roar of the party came crashing in. everyone’s faces lit up at the sight of you two flushed and disheveled, shotaro looking prouder than usual. someone even shouted, “DAMN, THEY WENT IN ON EACH OTHER!”

your face burned. yangyang just slung an arm around your shoulders, calm and collected, like nothing happened, grinning lazily, “relax,” he murmured in your ear, sensing your embarrassment as if you weren’t both flushed and rumpled, “we just won the game.” you rolled your eyes, forcing a laugh but your pulse was still racing. the crowd quickly lost interest, moving on to drag their next victims towards the closet while you and yangyang slipped back into the swarm of bodies downstairs. the bass was heavier here, lights flashing orange and white across sweaty faces. yangyang steered you toward the kitchen, “shots?”

you looked at the alcohol like it hasn’t already gotten you in enough trouble for the night, “definitely.” the two of you lined up side by side at the counter, tossing them back one after the other. the tequila burned but it was better than the heat still lingering on your lips. better than the way your chest tightened every time you remembered how’d he pressed you against the closet wall.

you both laughed too loudly, moved too quickly, like if you just kept pouring and swallowing, you could wash away the last seven minutes. back in the living room, ningning pulled you onto the dance floor. yangyang followed instantly, a goofy grin plastered on his face, body moving to the beat with exaggerated moves. you bumped shoulders, trying so hard to act like it was just another party. just another night with your best friend. but every time his hand brushed your waist in the chaos, the memory of his mouth on yours came roaring back. so you drowned it in another shot. and another. and another.

yangyang mirrored you drink for drink, laughing, joking, throwing his head back like nothing in the world had changed. you didn’t notice the way his smile would falter in the moments between — how his gaze would drop to your lips before he tore it away, burying it in the crowd, the music, the liquor.

neither of you could stop drinking, like the burn in your throats was easier to handle than the fire that had just set between you.

•ᴥ•

the party was still raging when you and yangyang finally slipped out, laughter ringing behind you, the smell of alcohol clinging to your clothes. the cool night air hit your cheeks, the two of you stumbling down the sidewalk, drunk giggles bubbling between hiccups of silence.

“my feef hu-urrgh,” you muttered, tripping over a curb.

yangyang caught your elbow, though his own balance was barely steady, “what?” he laughed, blinking hard like it would steady the street spinning under his feet.

“my. feet. hurt.” you repeated slower, enunciating each word like it took every ounce of concentration.

that only made him double over with laughter, his arm looping around your shoulders just to keep the both of you upright. you clung to him, laughing so hard your ribs ached. every step was a stumble, every laugh another collapsed into each other’s sides, until the two of you were gasping for air like idiots. by the time you made it up the stairs to your apartment, your faces ache from laughing. at what? neither of you even knew anymore. yangyang nearly fell against the keypad, both of you struggling to remember the code while giggling like kids sneaking out past curfew. somehow, you got it in, and the door slammed behind you with a heavy thud. shoes kicked off somewhere near the entryway while you stumbled in tandem through the dark before collapsing in a tangled heap onto your bed, too drunk to care about the lights or the mess. the mattress groaned under the weight, the room spinning in dizzy circles, “a-are we spinning?” you giggled into your pillow.

“yeahhh,” yangyang slurred, rolling onto his back beside you, the mattress dipped, his arm brushing yours, his knee bumping your thigh. neither of you moved away. you turned your head, ready to tease him — only he was right there. closer than you expected. close enough to see the glassy gleam in his eyes, close enough to feel the heat of tequila on his breath. and just like that, the air shifted. the laughter died, choked out by the thud of your heart pounding too fast in your chest. his eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your gaze, lazy but sharp, like he was fighting to decide if he’d imagined what happened earlier.

for one suspended second, you swore the room stopped spinning.

then his lips were on yours again — this time sloppy, desperate, all the tension from the night finally slipping over. the second his hand slid to the back of your head like he’d been starving for this, your body gave in. you gasped into his mouth, the sound swallowed whole as the kiss turned hotter, hungrier, tongues tangling, teeth clashing, both of you desperate enough that precision didn’t matter. his body heat drowned out everything, pulling you in until you were chest to chest. his hands slid under your shirt, fumbling, tugging you on top of him with a growl muffled against your mouth. you straddled him without hesitation, knees sinking into the mattress, fingers fisting the fabric of his hoodie.

somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you were crossing a line. but with yangyang’s lips moving against yours, breath ragged, hips pressing up into yours — there was no stopping it now.

“fuck,” he groaned, teeth grazing your jaw as his head tipped back, “we shouldn’t—”

“then stop,” you whispered back, dragging your mouth down his throat.

he didn’t. he couldn’t. his hands drag over your waist, clumsy but hungry, pulling your shirt off and tossing it to the side. every brush of his fingers made the blood roar in your ears, making the world tilt. clothes fell away in pieces — his hoodie yanked off, your jeans kicked off the bed. every barrier stripped felt less like a choice and more like inevitability. like this had always been where you were headed. by the time you were both bare, your skin slick against his in the dark — the air was thick with heat and alcohol. and when his hips bucked, the hard press of him against you made your stomach clench. your lips trailed lower, tasting the salt of his skin, kissing down the hard lines of his chest, your hands roaming, desperate to touch everything you’d never let yourself have before tonight. his breath hitched, hips jerking when your lips reached his stomach. and when you finally wrapped your hand around him, hard and heavy against your palm, yangyang’s head tipped back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut, a hoarse curse tumbling out of his lips, “shit—” he groaned, hips bucking up helplessly. his knuckles went white, twisting in the sheets, his head thrown back, hair sticking damp to his forehead. the first slick drag of your tongue had him gasping, the second had him choking on a broken moan that sounded nothing like the playful, smug best friend you knew.

“you’re—shit—you’re bigger than you look,” you giggled before your lips sucked around his tip, collecting his leaking pre-cum.

he let out a strangled sound, a mix between laughter and a groan, his hips jerking helplessly, “don’t—f-fuck—don’t say that,” his voice cracked, raw and desperate, “god, teddy—shit, don’t stop, please don’t stop—”

the nickname nearly undid you. you sank your lips further down his length, the weight of him hot and heavy on your tongue, until your throat burned and your eyes watered, but you didn’t care. the more you took, the more you wanted. you were dizzy on the taste of him, the way he was begging, the way his thighs trembled around you, the way his hand clutched your hair like it was the only thing tethering him to reality. yangyang’s voice cracked again, hoarse and pleading, “please—please, more—,” his hips jerked like he was trying to fuck your throat, “you’re so—shit—you’re so good at this.”you choked around him and he nearly fell apart, the sound vibrating throughout his body, his voice breaking into a strangled cry as his cock twitched on your tongue, hips jerking harder.

“f-fuck, i’m gonna—,” his voice pitched high, desperate, like he didn’t even want it to end. his free hand fisted in the sheets, pulling them tight. his eyes rolled back, sweat beading at his temple, voice cracking on your name as he broke off in a long, drawn-out whimper, spilling hot into your mouth. you hollowed your cheeks and swallowed him down, drunk off of the way he fell apart for you, whiny and ruined and begging like he’d never known how to beg before.

you were still catching your breath, lips wet and swollen, when yangyang suddenly surged up, his hand gripping your waist. in a messy blur, he flipped you onto your back. your mind way too drunk to catch up, “yang—,” you gasped as his lips closed around your nipple, teeth grazing, tongue dragging clumsy but desperate.

“shut up,” he mumbled against your skin, breath hot, laugh muffled, “y-you think i’m letting you be the only one? fuck no.”

he was sill so drunk. both of you were. but the hunger in the way he mouthed at you didn’t feel dulled — it felt sharpened, frantic. his mouth blazed down your body, leaving sloppy kisses and bite marks until he shoved his shoulders between your knees. the first drag of his tongue had you gasping, head feeling back against the pillow. the second had you crying out, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“yang—ahh—,” the ceiling tilting above you. there was nothing polished about the way he ate you — just raw hunger. he groaned at the taste, pressing deeper, tongue messy, unrestrained, loud slurps, wet sounds, shameless moans that made your whole body shudder, his face buried deep like he couldn’t get close enough.

“holy shitt—you taste—,” his words slurred into nonsense, “—so fucking good—been wanting—god, i’m so—,” he cut himself off with a groan, nose pressing against you as his tongue worked deeper, sloppy and desperate. your thighs trembled, your hips rolling helplessly into his mouth. his grip only tightened, pinning you down, making you take everything he gave you. his hair was damp with sweat under your finger, his own moans muffled against you as he devoured you like he was starving.

“yang—fuck—fuck—,” your back arched, toes curling, the heat in your stomach bulding as his tongue dragged over that perfect spot again and again. you pulled at his hair, desperate for something to anchor yourself to and that only made him shove deeper, his nose bumping your clit as he tongue-fucked you. then two fingers pressed inside you without hesitation, the stretch clumsy but so, so deep, curling until your cry broke sharp and high. every noise he pulled out of you made him groan louder, rutting into the mattress below him. the bed creaked with his pace, each thrust of his fingers matched by his frantic grinding. his cock rock-hard again and leaking all over the sheets but he was too wrecked to care about the mess he was making. not when you were writhing underneath him.

“god, teddy—,” he whined shamelessly, his rhythm stuttering as your walls fluttered around his fingers, he curled them harder, faster, desperate to hear more of your noises, “you’re so hot like this. fuck–please—”

you sobbed out a whine, back arching, nails scraping his scalp and the noise he made was downright wrecked. his hips snapped against the bed, chasing friction, chasing relief. every time you moaned, he whimpered, rutting harder against your bed, smearing precum over your sheets without shame.

“please—please—,” the word tumbled from his lips, incoherent, half begging you to come, half begging himself not to finish again. his tongue lapped around your clit, “you sound so good—taste so good—god, i could—shit—i could do this for hours.

“yangyang—” your voice broke, shivering as his fingers curled impossibly deeper, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.

“say it again,” he gasped against you, tongue moving messier, wetter, more frantic, “please—please say my name—” you screamed it this time, back arching off the mattress — and he broke with it. he moaned loud into you, his release spilling against the sheets as he came undone a second time, grinding into the bed like he couldn’t stop. and he didn’t stop. even as he shuddered, even as his cock twitched against the bed, he kept his fingers pumping, his tongue pressing until your climax hit hard — violent, wracking, tearing a broken cry from your throat as yangyang’s tongue and fingers pushed you over the edge. your whole body arched off the mattress, thighs clamping around his head as you came.

“yang—fuck—i’m—” your voice broke, the rest swallowed in a silent moan as you pulsed around his fingers. heat flooded every nerve, your vision going white at the edges. he drew every last shudder from you, swallowing down your release. when you finally sagged back into bed, chest heaving, your vision swam in dizzy stars. yangyang collapsed against your thigh, face sticky, lips slick with you, hair damp with sweat. his cock softening against the ruined sheets but his body still trembled faintly, spent from his own release.

netiher of you spoke. neither of you could. the alcohol, the mess, the sheer exhaustion weighed down your limbs. you reached blindly for him and he came up without hesitation, dragging himself up onto the bed beside you. the sheets were ruined, sticky with sweat and sex, but neither of you could care. you were too drunk, too spent, too wrapped up in the haze of each other’s bodies. you curled into each other automatically, his arm slung heavy around your waist, your forehead pressed against his chest. and just like that, tangled in the wreckage of your choices, you both slipped under.

🧸 SEPTEMBER 26 - SATURDAY - A MISTAKE.

sunlight cut across your room far too bright for your pounding head. the dryness in your mouth hit first, then the throb behind your eyes and then the heat pressed against you.

you weren’t alone.

the realization landed the same second yangyang stirred. his arm was around your waist. your bare chest flush to his. the sheets clung to your legs, tangled between your bodies. you blinked hard, vision swimming, just as his lashes fluttered open. the moment your eyes locked, sober clarity snapped like a rubber band pulled too tight.

“oh—fuck,” yangyang rasped, voice hoarse, eyes wide as he jerked back, only to freeze when he realized he was still naked under your sheets. your stomach plummeted. the pounding in your head drowned out by a harder, colder pulse of panic. you scrambled upright, dragging the blanket against your chest like it could erase the way his skin had been on yours just seconds ago. the silence was deafening. both of you breathing too fast, too shallow. both of you remembering at the same time — the shots, the laughter, the way you’d stumbled into bed together, into each other. the way you’d stripped and kissed each other down.

neither of you could take it back.

yangyang shoved a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath, his voice cracked around the word, “shit. shit. we—”

you cut in, voice sharper than you meant, “yeah, i know what we did.”

the air between you was heavy, thick, everything unsaid pressing down until it felt suffocating. he looked away first, jaw tight, muttering, “we were drunk. it…it didn’t mean anything.”

your chest constricted like he’d punched straight through it. a wake up call. a reminder of the thing you already knew deep down — the boy you’re in love with will never love you back. not in the way you want him to. that last night, to him, was nothing but a blurred mistake in a series of poor decisions. your pulse roared in your ears, but you forced your face blank, forced the words out even though they scraped your throat raw, “right,” you said quickly, too quickly, “it doesn’t mean anything. we were drunk.” you repeat his words, your laugh coming out hollow, brittle, a poor imitation of casual. you clutched the blanket tighter around yourself as if it could hold together the pieces of you splintering from the inside out.

yangyang let out a shaky exhale, his shoulders dropping, some flicker of relief passing across his features, “yeah. exactly. just…a mistake. we’ll forget it.”

a mistake. the word lodged in your chest like glass, sharp and cruel. you nodded anyway because what else could you do? admit you’re in love with him? admit that last night hadn’t felt like a mistake at all? that even drunk, it was the only thing that ever felt real? no. you couldn’t ruin thirteen years of friendship for something he wanted to forget. so you swallowed it down.

the burn of tequila was nothing compared to the ache of swallowing this truth.

“yeah,” you whispered, eyes fixed anywhere but him, “forget it.”

the silence stretched, unbearable, until it felt like the walls were closing in. he moved first, movements hurried, clumsy, as he shoved one leg into his jeans, then the other. his hands shook as he yanked the zipper, as he searched your floor for his hoodie. you sat frozen on the bed, nails digging crescents into your palm beneath the blanket. your body screamed to move, to say something, anything, but you stayed still like a statue.

he didn't look at you when he finally muttered, voice low, “i’ll see you later.” the door clicked shut behind him. and only then, when you were finally alone, did the first crack in your facade give way. your shoulders sagged. the tears you’d been biting back stung hot at the corners of your eyes, spilling silently down your cheeks as your curled into yourself on the bed that still smelled like the remnants of last night. the sheets clung damp to your skin. his warmth lingered like a ghost in the mattress. you pressed your face into the pillow, muffling the sob that tore its way out. the taste of last night still lingering on your tongue.

🧸 SEPTEMBER 28 - MONDAY - THE OBVIOUS.

yangyang couldn’t stop replaying it. the taste of your lips, the heat of your body, the way your laughter had broken into a moan in the dark. images of you flashing and consuming every waking thought he had. and then — yesterday. the look in your eyes. the word mistake. he told himself it was fine. you were fine. best friends go through shit and move on. but every time he tried to focus, the memory pressed harder, suffocating, until he felt like he was choking on the silence he brought upon himself. and the worst part? he couldn’t even talk to you about it. the one person he usually ran to when shit like this happens.

so he ended up standing outside the dream fraternity house, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket, debating whether this was the dumbest idea of his life. the door creaked open before he could knock. jeno gave him a curious once-over, one eyebrow arched, before jerking his head inside, “renjun’s upstairs.” yangyang muttered a thanks, his throat dry — he found renjun hunched over his desk, sketchbook open, pencil tapping. the same renjun he’d been avoiding for weeks. the same renjun who had once been closer than a brother before everything fell apart. now here he was. because despite it all, renjun was the next person who would understand him.

renjun’s gaze lifted, sharp, unreadable at first, then softening into a flicker of shock. “hey…everything okay?”

yangyang leaned against the doorframe, suddenly aware of how stupid this is. he exhaled, running a hand through his hair, “i, uh…i need,” he clears his throat, exhaling, running a hand through his hair, “i need to talk to someone.”

renjun set his pencil down, leaning back in his chair, inviting him to come in, “you know i’m always all ears.” something in his tone — calm, patient, not holding the past against him, was enough to crack yangyang’s defenses, a nervous grin tugged on his lips as he stepped inside slowly before taking a seat at the edge of his friend’s bed.

“i–,” he hesitated, then the words tumbled out, low and rough, “i hooked up with y/n.”

the silence hit first. then renjun’s brows rose, not in shock exactly, more like confirmation, “hooked up as in—?”

yangyang groaned, dragging his hands down his face, “as in we were drunk and got to second base.”

renjun whistled under his breath, but his expression stayed calm, almost knowing, “well,” he said, leaning back further in his chair, “took you long enough.”

yangyang’s had snapped up, “the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

renjun tilted his head, studying him with that infuriating but familiar precision, no judgment in it, just quiet truth, “i always knew there was something else there.”

yangyang blinked. the words didn’t compute, “what? no way. we’ve always just been best friends.”

“sure,” renjun said evenly, “best friends who look at each other like the rest of the world disappears. best friends who packed their bags and flew all the way to germany for an internship because it was the only one the both of you got into—”

“what are you trying to say?” yangyang cut in, pulse stuttering, a little annoyed now, defensive because he didn’t know what else to be.

renjun’s gaze softened. his voice was steady, kind in a way yangyang wasn’t prepared for, “you can lie to yourself all you want, yang, but it doesn’t change what’s obvious to literally everyone else,” renjun paused, eyes searching his, “maybe to you, you’ve just been best friends. but y/n? she looks at you the same way i look at love.”

yangyang let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, shaking his head hard enough to make his messy hair fall into his eyes. “no jun, come on. if that was true, if there was anything like that, don’t you think it would’ve happened by now? we’ve had years of being alone together. sleepovers, drunk nights, heartbreaks, traveling halfway across the world together, even staying at the same shitty hostel in germany. and nothing. not once. until last night, when we were drunk out of our minds. that doesn’t scream fate, that screams…accident. that’s it.”

renjun just leaned back further in his chair, crossing his arms like he had all the time in the world. his silence pressed harder than words, like he was waiting for yangyang to trip over his own defenses.

yangyang’s pulse spiked under it, so he filled it, his words tripping over each other, “and don’t start with the whole ‘but look at how she looks at you’ thing. she has a fuck buddy, jun. a fuck buddy. not me. if she really wanted me, why would she need someone else for that?”

“maybe because it’s easy,” renjun replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “because it’s just sex. no strings. no danger of her heart being broken. sometimes a placeholder is easier than the one thing that actually scares the shit out of you.”

yangyang dragged his hands down his face, “that’s…that’s a stretch. you don’t just wake up and suddenly realize you’re in love with your best friend. that’s not how it works.”

renjun tilted his head, gaze steady, “or maybe that’s exactly how it works. maybe she woke up one night and realized that love is the comfort and safety you bring her. and now she’s too scared to ruin the one thing that’s always been safe. people don’t throw grenades into the only home they have unless they’re desperate. and you’d rather pretend it’s not there than risk losing her.”

that hit closer than yangyang thought it would. his throat went dry, “god, listen to how stupid this sounds. you’re making it into something it’s not. i just got out of a relationship…with your girlfriend, if you’ve forgotten. i’m barely keeping my head above water as it is. and now you’re trying to tell me what–,” his head snapped up, frustration and panic bleeding together, “that my best friend’s been secretly in love with me this whole time? that i’m too blind to see it?”

renjun shrugged, calm, unflinching, “not blind, yang. maybe you were just too scared to acknowledge the obvious.”

yangyang’s laugh turned sharp, almost bitter, “you hear yourself right now? you sound insane, jun,” yangyang’s chest rose and fell too fast, words spilling out like he couldn’t stop them if he tried, “you think you know everything huh? newsflash— you don’t. you weren’t there.”

renjun leaned forward, elbows on his knees, tone maddeningly calm, “then tell me what it was, yang. if it wasn’t what i’m saying, then what was it?”

yangyang shot to his feet like the mattress burned him, “it was a mistake! that’s all! two drunk idiots doing something they shouldn’t have. nothing more. nothing–” he broke off, fists clenching at his sides.

renjun stood slowly, not in challenge but in quiet steadiness, like he knew raising his voice would only make yangyang spiral more, “you keep saying nothing but your whole body’s screaming the opposite.”

yangyang let out a bitter laugh, shoving past him toward the door, needing air, needing escape, he had no idea why he thought coming here would help him, “you don’t know shit, jun. you don’t know me anymore.” his hand tightened around the doorknob, ready to twist, to bolt, to drown himself in anything but this conversation. but then renjun’s voice came, lower this time, not calm in that detached way, but warm, gentle, almost like before everything between them went to shit.

“yang,” he said quietly, “i’m not saying this to fuck with you. i’m saying it because i care. and you can keep yelling, keep pretending it was just some drunk mistake but i know you. and i know the way you’re looking at me right now — like you’re terrified i might be right.”

yangyang froze. his throat worked, but no sound came out.

renjun’s steps were slow, careful, until he was standing just a few feet behind him, “i’m not trying to corner you, yang. i just…don’t want you to ruin something good because you’re too scared to call it what it is. you don’t have to figure it out tonight. but the first step is being honest with yourself. don’t run from it.” the words sank deep. yangyang swallowed hard, staring at the wood grain of the door like it could give him an answer. his grip on the knob loosened, fingers slipping away until his hand fell uselessly to his side. shoulders heavy, he let out a ragged breath, eyes burning with a frustration that wasn’t just aimed at renjun anymore.

“i don’t…” his voice cracked, softer now, breaking under its own weight, “i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing.”

renjun’s expression softened even further, almost brotherly. “that’s okay. you don’t have to know yet. just… stop pretending you feel nothing. that’s the only mistake here.”

yangyang shut his eyes, leaning his forehead briefly against the door, caught between every instinct to run and the quiet relief of not holding it all in alone anymore. slowly, almost reluctantly, he turned and came back. his legs carried him on instinct more than choice and he dropped back onto the bed. when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, raw around the edges, “is this how scared you felt with love too?”

renjun exhaled, his chest deflating, “yeah, i was terrified. scared and guilty. every second i was with her, i knew i was hurting you. knew i was lying to myself, to you, to her. and the worst part? i couldn’t stop. i thought if i buried it deep enough, it would go away.”

yangyang swallowed, the knot in his throat tightening. he hadn’t expected renjun to answer like that — to sound so unguarded, so wrecked. he always thought he had the worst pain of the two.

“and it obviously didn’t,” he says, softer now.

renjun shook his head slowly, “no. it only got worse. until i couldn’t run from it anymore.”

for the first time that night, yangyang didn’t have a sharp comeback waiting. he just sat there, silent, the weight of renjun’s words pressing down on the panic he’d been trying to outrun. slowly, he let his hands drop, fingers flexing uselessly against his knees. his throat bobbed once, twice, before he finally muttered, almost to himself, “...thanks.”

renjun blinked, surprised. “for what?”

yangyang’s lips twisted, like the word itself was foreign to him. “for not bullshitting me. for saying it straight. i needed that.”

•ᴥ•

meanwhile in your apartment, you called the one person you were angry at. he showed up fast, still in sweats, hair messy like he’d just rolled off his couch. when you opened the door, he gave you a half smile, “texting me, already?”

you cut him off, stepping aside, “this isn’t that. sit down.”

shotaro’s brows furrowed, but he obeyed, dropping onto your couch. you stayed standing, arms crossed tight.

“why the hell did you do it?” you snapped.

“do what?”

“seven minutes in heaven! you’re the one who shoved that game on everyone, right? you’re the reason i–” your throat closed for a second, you forced the words out anyway, “the reason i messed up with yangyang!”

shotaro blinked, taken aback. “wait. messed up how—”

“it doesn’t matter!” you said quickly, cutting him off before the shame could choke you out, “what matters is you set it up like it was some kind of joke, and now everything’s fucked!” your voice cracked, fury fraying into panic, “do you get it? you ruined everything! you dick!”

shotaro leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes flicking up to you with something sharper than usual, “okay, first of all, don’t put this all on me,” he said, voice firmer than you’d expected, “you think i could control how you two were gonna act?”

your jaw tightened. “you put us in that position.”

“and you’re acting like you didn’t want it,” shotaro shot back, “c’mon, y/n. you and yangyang have been dancing around each other for years. everyone sees it. i thought maybe—” he stopped himself, shaking his head with a humorless laugh. “i thought maybe you two needed the push.”

your stomach dropped. “a push? you think what happened was some kind of—of fate!? that you did us a favor!?”

“i think,” shotaro said carefully, “that it’s about time you admit you’re in love with him. how long are you gonna keep this charade up for? are you going to be one of those sad best friends standing at his wedding acting like you’re fine? or what, when he has a wife and still runs to you when they have problems? are you gonna sit there and take it like you do now? how far in the future will you keep playing this up?”

shotaro’s words hung in the air. your hands flew up to cover your face, but it was useless — the sob slipped out anyway, sharp and raw. shotaro blinked when you suddenly broke, tears spilling hot and unrestrained down your cheeks. you shoved the heel of your palm against your eyes, but it only made it worse.

“y/n…” he murmured, caught between surprise and worry.

you shook your head hard, voice cracking. “he—he called it a mistake.”

shotaro straightened, frowning. “what was?”

your throat bobbed as you nodded, the words tumbling out messy, jagged, “we—we hooked up. and for one second i thought…i thought maybe i wasn’t insane for feeling the way i do. but then he—” your chest heaved, and you squeezed your eyes shut, “—he said it was a mistake, like it didn’t mean anything. like i don’t mean anything.”

shotaro’s mouth opened, then closed again, as if he wasn’t sure what to say. he only knew the edges of the truth — that you’d been crushing on yangyang for ages. that yangyang looked at you like you held the world in his hands but had no clue. that from the outside perspective, the two of you just made sense.

“y/n,” he said softly, “i don’t think that’s what he meant.”

a bitter laugh broke from you, watery and sharp, “you weren’t there.”

“no,” he agreed, voice gentle, “but i’ve seen the way he looks at you sometimes when he thinks no one notices. he wouldn’t mean it in that way.”

you shook your head, shoulders trembling, “you don’t get it. i’m just his best friend! he made it very clear by walking out and leaving me here. and i—i ruined everything!”

shotaro hesitated, then shifted closer, pulling you into him. it wasn’t romantic, not even close — it was messy, awkward, your tears dampening his shirt, his hand rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades.

“you didn’t ruin anything,” he murmured, “he’s scared. or confused. or both. but you? you’re not wrong for feeling what you feel.”

your fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline, “it hurts so much.”

“i know,” he whispered, pressing his chin lightly against the top of your head, “cry it out. i’ve got you.” and so you did, not because shotaro could fix it, not because he was the one you wanted, but because right then, he was the only one who wouldn’t call you a mistake. your sobs had quieted into hiccups, your face pressed into shotaro’s chest, when he finally leaned back enough to look at you. his thumb brushed under your eye, catching the stray tear you missed.

“hey,” he said softly, his smile crooked, “you want me to fuck the pain away?”

you let out a choked laugh despite yourself, smacking his chest weakly. “shotaro—”

“what?” he grinned, holding his hands up in mock innocence. “it’s my only real skill set here. shoulder to cry on, dick to distract you. comes in a package deal.”

you groaned, dragging your sleeve across your eyes, “god, you’re annoying.”

“but,” he leaned in, lowering his voice, “you’re laughing.” you bit down on your lip, shaking your head — but yeah, a small laugh did slip out. a real one, even if it was laced with ache.

shotaro leaned back against the couch, satisfied, and slung an arm lazily around your shoulders, “see? don’t underestimate the healing power of bad humor and good dick. it’s science.” you exhaled, the laugh dying down into something quieter, smaller. for a moment you just stared at your knees, twisting the hem of your sleeve between your fingers. the ache swelled again in your chest — not as sharp, but heavy.

“shotaro?” you asked softly.

“yeah?”

your voice cracked a little. “can you just…hold me? for a while?”

his teasing expression melted instantly. no hesitation, no jokes this time. “yeah. of course.” he shifted, tugging you gently into his chest again, this time lying back into the couch cushions so you could curl into him properly. his arm tightened around your waist, the other hand threading through your hair in slow, absent strokes. neither of you spoke after that. the last thing you felt was the steady rise and fall of his chest under your cheek before sleep pulled you under.

•ᴥ•

yangyang stood outside your apartment door, knuckles pressed to the wood, rehearsing the words in his head. this is what you did. this is what you’d always done — you talked. about everything. about bad grades and breakups, about internships and homesickness. if the world felt like it was falling apart, somehow you always put it back together again, piece by piece.

so why should this be different?

he swallowed hard, finally twisting the knob and stepping inside. the lights were dim, your living room quiet. he opened his mouth, ready to call your name. and then he froze — you were curled up on the couch. not alone. shotaro’s arm was draped over you, your face tucked into his chest, his hand still resting protectively on your waist.

yangyang’s chest tightened, heat and cold colliding at once. how could you? how could you kiss him one night, strip away years of boundaries, make his heart pound so hard he thought it’d crack open… make him question everything he thought he knew….and then just… have another man in your arms?

jealousy flared sharp, ugly in his chest, tangling with something deeper he refused to name. possessiveness. hurt. and stupid, stupid him — for even letting renjun’s words take root earlier. because this? this was proof he was an idiot. an idiot who overthinks everything when it was all really just a mistake on your end too.

he lingered a second too long, his jaw tight, breath heavy in the silence of your apartment. then, he turned on his heel and let himself out. the door clicked softly behind him. and it was like he’d never been there at all. he didn’t get far after leaving your apartment. just down the block, just far enough that your building wasn’t in sight anymore, before the weight of what he’d seen stopped him cold. his heart was still pounding, not with the same anger as before, no, this was worse — jagged and hollow at once, like his chest was caving in from the inside.

you were his best friend. his safe place. the one person he thought he didn’t have to question. and yet seeing you in someone else’s arms had gutted him in a way he couldn’t explain. you’d had boyfriends before and it never affected him like this. so it shouldn’t matter. it doesn’t matter. you weren’t his. he was the one who called what happened between you a mistake. he was the one who said it didn’t mean anything. but why did it feel like the ground had been ripped out from under him?

he shoved his hands into his pockets, pacing under the yellow streetlight, muttering under his breath, “fuck, why does this— why do i care?” the answer pressed against his ribs, sharp and undeniable. he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else touching you, holding you, making you laugh when you cried.renjun’s voice echoed in his head, steady and infuriatingly right: you’d rather pretend it’s not there than risk losing her. yangyang laughed once, harsh and humorless, dragging his hands over his face.

“goddamn it.”

🧸 SEPTEMBER 29 - TUESDAY - PRETENDING.

you slid into your usual seat, dropping your bag with a practiced little thud. same class, same canvas, same setup as every other tuesday morning. nothing had changed — at least, that’s what you told yourself as you pasted on that easy smile, greeting the professor, nodding at classmates, settling in like you weren’t suffocating behind the mask.

yangyang was already there, hunched forward, brush spinning idly between his fingers. the second you sat down beside him, the air shifted. a crackle. a hum in your chest. too much silence where there should’ve been jokes, shoulder nudges, shared smiles. it’s the first time you’re seeing him since that mistake.

“morning,” you manage to force out, light and casual.

he glanced up, eyes shadowed, lips pressing into something that wasn’t quite a smile, “morning,” his voice was low, hoarse, like he hadn’t used it all day.

you busied yourself with your palette, clinking glass jars, swirling water, anything to fill the silence. normally this was when yangyang would lean into your space, make some dumb comment about your color choices or brush his knee against yours without noticing. but today? he sat stiff, shoulders square, every moment careful like even breathing too close to you would give him away.

from across the table, renjun’s sharp gaze flicked between the two of you. he clocked the half-inch of space between your chairs that felt like a canyon. the way your laugh at someone else’s joke rang a little too bright, a little too forced. the way yangyang kept staring at his canvas but hadn’t laid down a single stroke of paint. at one point, yangyang risked a glance at you, just a quick flicker, like he couldn’t help himself, and renjun caught it. their eyes locked across the table. renjun tilted his head, gaze steady, saying without words— you see it now, don’t you?

yangyang’s jaw tensed. he shook his head almost imperceptibly, mouthing a tight “shut up.”

you heard him. of course you did. even when you were pretending not to pay attention to him, you were. you turned your head, “what?”

renjun arched a brow, lips curving. yangyang tore his eyes away from him, looking straight at you for the first time since that night, “n-nothing, i didn’t say anything.” you nod, not having the energy to push further, before busying yourself with your sketchpad. beside him, you kept painting, keeping your mask intact. pretending this was just another tuesday. pretending you didn’t feel your pulse spike every time his knee shifted under the desk. pretending his silence didn’t ache more than words ever could. and yangyang — stiff in his chair, heart hammering against his ribs, was the only one who can tell you weren’t fine.

class went on with the two of you dancing around each other, pretending everything was still the same. pretending you haven’t crossed a line. pretending the mistake was clearly just a mistake. until the clatter of chairs and zip of bags signaled the end of class. everyone filtered out, voices rising as plans for lunch and errands filled the air. you slipped into rhythm, packing up calmly, masking every motion as ordinary. yangyang moved slower. he lingered, dragging out the task of rinsing his brushes, watching the water swirl down the jar until it was nearly clear. he told himself he wasn’t waiting. that it didn’t matter. that he didn’t care if you left first. but when you stood, slinging your bag over your shoulder and offering him the same easy smile you gave everyone else, his chest tightened.

“see you later,” you said lightly, voice steady. too steady. he didn’t like it. his tongue pressed against the back of his teeth, words gathering, hot and restless — don’t leave like that. don’t act like nothing happened.

but what right did he have to say that? when he was the one who walked out of your bedroom? when he was the one who left you alone?

your back was already half-turned toward the door when his hand twitched against his side. just one word and you’d stop. he hesitated. and then you were gone. your laughter echoed down the hallway as you joined a group of classmates, the sound bright and hollow in yangyang’s ears. he stood frozen, breath shallow, watching the doorway long after you’d disappeared. his chest ached with something he didn’t want to name. but the truth had already lodged itself in his ribs, sharp and undeniable — he didn’t want to be the guy who shrugged it off as a mistake anymore.

🧸 SEPTEMBER 30 - WEDNESDAY - WE’RE OKAY, RIGHT?

at this point it had been three days of quiet war, not exactly the silent treatment but somehow worse it was smiling too bright and saying nothing at all.

you heard the code of your door being entered from where you sat on your couch reading a book and knew that it was only ever going to be yangyang. he stumbled inside like the floor might fall out from under him if he didn’t move fast enough. his eyes were wild, glassy with something that looked dangerously close to panic.

“dude, are you okay?,” you asked automatically, because that’s what you always did, check in, make the space softer. your book stayed open on your knee, pages unread.

“don’t—” his voice came out raw, cracked, a different timbre than you’d heard from him in a while. he pointed, unsteady, as if directing the whole world at you. “don’t act like this. not with me.”

you blinked, “what are you talking about?” you tried to keep it light, because light was your defense and you’d worn it like armor for years.

“that mask!” he ran a hand through his hair so hard it tugged at his scalp. frustration and something else, fear, maybe, flickered across his face. “the smile. the pretending everything’s fine. it’s annoying. i can see it. if you’re mad at me, then yell at me. say it.”

your throat went tight. the words caught somewhere between your lungs and lips. you wanted to ask him what right he had — what right he had to notice, when he never did before? but he was still talking, unraveling, in a way that left him exposed.

“you think i dont know you?” his chest rose and fell fast, his voice raw, “i know when you’re hurting. i can hear it when you laugh too loud. i can see it in your eyes when you won’t look at me for more than two seconds. don’t pull that shit with me, okay? not with me.” he looked wrecked standing there in your living room. like every piece of him was strung too tight.

your mouth opened but only a weak laugh came out, shaky at the edges. you weren’t ready for this. “you’re being dramatic. i’m fine, yangyang, really.”you crossed your arms because you didn’t know what else to do. the shrug felt automatic, the same little lie that had kept you safe for years, “it’s not that deep. like you said, it was just a mistake.”

his eyes didn’t move. they searched yours like he’d been practicing for this moment and somehow never learned restraint. and then, giving up whatever defense he’d planned, he exhaled like someone letting go of a boulder.

“i don’t want to lose you!” he said, the words tumbling out all at once. “not over something as stupid as this. not over one drunk night. you’re—” his breath hitched, his voice thinned to a fragile thread, “you’re my best friend. the only one that’s ever…felt like home. i can’t lose that. i can’t lose you.” the sentence landed like thunder. you felt it in your ribs, in the place that had been hollow for what felt like forever. it cracked something inside you. something older than the night before, older than the mask. you didn’t plan your next move — your arms slid around him before thought could get in the way, fingers folding against the fabric of his hoodie. he went rigid, like you’d startled a wild animal, then softened and wrapped himself around you as fiercely as you held him.

if there was one thing you hated more than being miserable, it was watching your best friend hurt.

you buried your face into his shoulder, breath hitching, “who said anything about losing me?” you whispered, the lie catching on the edges, “i told you—you’re stuck with me, dummy.”

yangyang shook his head, as if to dislodge the panic. his grip tightened so hard your hoodie scrunched under his fingers, “—but we were so awkward yesterday. i hated that.” the simple confession sounded like guilt and regret all mixed together.

you tried to bring the air back to something familiar. “i mean, i did see your dick for the first time, of course it’s awkward,” you teased, voice laced in the old, easy banter you’d always used to glue things back together.

that broke through his storm for just a beat. yangyang choked on a cough, half-scandalized, half trying not to laugh. his ears went a little red. “wow,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to look at you, “out of all the things you could say to lighten the mood, you went with my dick? that’s your angle?”

you grinned, relieved by the flicker of normalcy, “well, it was… memorable.”

“memorable?” his brows shot up, eyes narrowing with mock offense. “that’s it? not impressive? not life-altering? just memorable?”

you let out a snort, pushing his shoulder, “don’t get cocky.”

“too late,” he shot back without missing a beat, smirk tugging at his lips. “you literally just admitted you can’t forget it.”

your jaw dropped in mock horror, a laugh bubbling up despite yourself, “that’s not what i said!”

“close enough.” he leaned back, smugness flickering in his expression for the first time in days, like he’d been starving for this push-pull rhythm. his smirk softened into something gentler, tentative. “so…we’re okay?…right?”

you inhaled, wrapping your arms around him again, “yeah. we’re okay.” the words felt both true and dangerously partial. you nodded harder against him, because movement made the pretense feel more real.

neither of you moved to let go. the hug stretched, elastic and fragile, holding whatever fragile normalcy you could manufacture. you both clung like people who’d decided, with your last breath, to keep pretending a little longer — because the alternative was saying things that might not be fixable. when you finally pulled back, you practiced a small, careful smile, one with cracks patched over. yangyang mirrored it, softer, equally false. nothing more was said. nothing more was allowed to slip. the moment sealed itself — not healed, not whole, but held. for now, that would have to be enough.

🧸 OCTOBER 2 - FRIDAY - WHY DON’T YOU EVER SEE ME?

yangyang let himself in like he always did, the soft click of your door sounding too familiar. you two were okay now, the loose, careful kind of okay you’ve both been practicing, and he’d told himself he couldn’t ask for anything more. that thinking didn’t survive the second he stepped into your apartment — you appeared in the hallway, towel wrapped loosely around your body, wet hair dripping down your shoulders. droplets clung at the hollow of your throat and mapped a glittering path across your collarbone before escaping down the slope of your chest. he felt his breath hitch so hard it hurt.

“god,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you padded back towards your bedroom, “i really need to change my code.”

he forced a laugh, leaning against the arm of the couch and pretending his throat wasn’t suddenly dry. maybe he shouldn’t keep coming in like this without knocking. maybe he needed to stop walking into moments that felt like traps. he told himself all of it while watching you move, trying to be reasonable in the face of the unreasonable. he dropped onto the couch and tried to make himself small, bouncing one leg restlessly, telling himself it was nothing. you’d just showered. he’d seen you in less and been fine before. he could be fine now. he’s not a kid. then he heard the closet door murmur, the zip of fabric, and your bedroom door creak — you stepped out and he swore he forgot how to breathe.

you were in the dress you’d found in that online shop you’d texted him about last month — red. the exact shade that made everything else mute by comparison. the fabric hugged the small of your back, smoothed over the slope of your hips, outlined the line of your thighs where it hugged just so. you turned, bare back exposed, the zipper dangling like an invitation, “can you zip me up?” you asked, voice casual as if you were asking the time.

he moved before he thought. his fingers brushed the metal at the base of your spine, and a small, private electricity sparked between them. for a beat his world narrowed to the warmth of your skin, the soft damp left by your shower, the tiny pulse at the base of your neck. he pulled the zipper up carefully, his hand pausing on the small of your back, thumb resting on the curve of your waist as if he could steady both the zipper and himself at once. it clicked to the top. he stayed there, fingers pressed to the red material, as if reluctant to let go. “there,” he said too softly.

“thanks,” you whispered, turning slightly to face him, practicing that easy smile he’d seen a thousand times.

“where the hell are you going like that?” he asked before he could stop himself. his voice came out sharper than he intended, half-joking, half-accusatory, and he immediately cursed at the tone.

you raised a brow, grabbing your tiny gold hoop earrings from the coffee table, “out.”

“out,” he repeated, like the word tasted wrong in his mouth, “out where?”

you smiled, too casually, too practiced, as you fastened the earrings, “on a date.”

the answer landed like a stone on his chest, heavy and unmovable. his jaw flexed but he leaned back on the couch, feigning disinterest with a lazy shrug, “cool.”

you bent toward the mirror in the middle of your bedroom and bathroom door, sliding lipstick over your mouth. yangyang’s eyes followed the motion like he had no control over them, heat crawling up his neck, “seriously,” he muttered, picking at a loose thread on his hoodie sleeve to hide his nerves, “you’re just gonna walk out looking like that?”

“like what?” you asked, tone light, almost mocking.

“like–,” his throat closed on the words — like you belong to somebody else. like you’re about to go love someone that isn’t him. like you’re about to ruin me. — “like you’re trying too hard.”

you shot him a sidelong glance, “that’s kind of the point, yang. it’s a date, not game night.”

he scoffed, leaning further back into the couch, arms crossed like a shield, “just saying, you don’t need to go all out. if the guy’s worth anything, he’d like you without,” he gestured vaguely at your dress, your hair, your lipstick and hated how bitter it came out, “...all that.”

you rolled your eyes, walking back into your bathroom to dry your hair, “gee, thanks, dad.”

and when you moved, he couldn’t help it — his gaze followed. the curve of your waist as you bent, the soft skin of your shoulders where the dress stopped, the soft throat where your pulse beat — felt suddenly like an unfair claim he’d had no right to know was there. you were slipping further away from him with every step. and he hated how much it bothered him.

you were in the bathroom, halfway through smoothing the last of your hair when he stepped up to lean on the doorway, watching you with something that tried to be casual and failed, “so,” he said, voice taut, “who’s this guy anyway?”

you didn’t look up from the mirror, “shotaro.”

the name cracked him open. yangyang straightened like he’d been struck. “shotaro?” he repeated, disbelief sharp in his tone. “i thought you two were just fucking.”

you finally turned, one brow arched, “we are. doesn’t mean we can’t go out for drinks.”

his laugh died in his throat, replaced by something heavier, “right. just drinks.” he muttered, every word wrapped in a film of something that could’ve been hurt if you looked close enough.

you brushed past him, grabbing your heels and bending over to buckle your heel, “why do you care so much?”

“i don’t.” the answer was too quick, too defensive. his arms crossed tighter over his chest, but his jaw was locked, breath shallow, “it’s just—you don’t go on dates with fuck buddies, that complicates things.”

you gave him a dry smile as you reached for your bag, “not everyone overcomplicates things the way you do, yang.” you slung your bag over your shoulder, gave your reflection one last glance and headed for the door. yangyang hadn’t moved from the wall, though every line of his body was wound tight like a coiled spring. your hand hovered on the doorknob, “you’re welcome to stay, lock up if you leave.”

he didn’t answer. just watched you with something unreadable burning in his eyes. you forced a little smile, as if this was normal, as if you weren’t both suffocating under everything unsaid and then you slipped out into the hall. he watched you go. the door clicked shut. the apartment slipped into silence.

yangyang stared at the empty space you’d just left behind, abruptly pacing, running hand through his hair over and over like it could scrape out the image of you in that dress. his chest ached, sharp and unfamiliar. jealousy bloomed — ugly, raw, gnawing with a possessiveness he had no right to feel.

“god, get a grip, she’s just your best friend,” he muttered, but his reflection in the darkened t.v. screen looked back at him with wide, haunted eyes. because now he knew. now he knew exactly what renjun meant. and it terrified him. he paced another circle through your apartment before his steps slowed outside your bedroom door. the air felt heavier in here, familiar in a way that made his chest ache. the last time he was in here you were doing things best friends definitely weren’t supposed to be doing. looking at your bed made the memory flash so hard he had to look away. his gaze landed instead on the stuffed bear propped up against your pillows.

yangyang let out shaky laugh, dragging a hand over his face as he sat on the edge of your bed, he picked up the bear, holding it loosely in his lap, “hey, mr. bear,” he muttered, voice low, rough, half a joke and half not, “long time no talk.” the bear’s stitched smile was the stupidest comfort — unchanging, honest in a way people weren’t. he turned the plush in his hands, felt the seam under his thumbs. he pressed the fur to his cheek because it smelled faintly of you, laundry detergent and something softer he’d never been able to name, and it made his throat close. “—a date,” he said to the bear, and the words went sour in his mouth. “can you believe her?…shotaro.” the name tasted like something he’d swallowed and couldn’t cough up. he pictured you across a table, your mouth moving, your laugh, that ridiculous lipstick. his stomach clenched. his grip tightened on the bear’s paw. “renjun’s wrong, you know. he has to be. because if he’s right, then…” his words faltered, throat burning. “then i’m in trouble.”

silence. the bear didn’t argue. yangyang shook his head, forcing a laugh that cracked halfway, “i can’t lose her, not over something as easily changeable as feelings.”

still no answer. just the bear’s stitched grin. yangyang slumped back against your pillows, hugging it to his chest like it could keep the truth out, “don’t look at me like that,” he muttered. “i don’t… i don’t love her…not like that.”

the sentence felt thin in his mouth. he ran his thumb along the bear’s paw, counting excuses. maybe it was the way you’d always been close. maybe boundaries blurred in late-night conversations, in shared hostels and stupid internships. people get attached, that didn’t mean they were in love. people mixed up comfort for something else all the time. but an inconvenient thought slid in and refused to leave. when had he last wanted someone else to hold you? when had the idea of another person making you laugh not made his stomach drop?

he’d made a habit of noticing you — cataloguing little things like a map. the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were thinking, the exact tilt of your smile. the way your breathing is naturally synchronized with his when he has you wrapped in his arms.

knowing, he kept telling himself, didn’t mean anything. it was just being close, like knowing the fastest routes across campus, harmless — but even he didn’t believe that. because the more he came up with excuses, the more he realizes he doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince.

his throat tightened until it hurt, and the laugh that clawed out of him was broken, shaky. “fuck,” he whispered, pressing the bear tighter against his chest, forehead dropping against its soft head, “fuck, i think i’m in trouble.”

the words sat there, heavy and terrifying. his heart thudded so loud it almost drowned them out, but not enough to erase them. he let out a breath that trembled all the way through him, closing his eyes, clutching mr. bear like the plush might hold him together, “you always were horrible at giving advice,” he told him, half-smiling despite the ache ripping through his chest, “but you keep secrets. you listen when no one else will.”

•ᴥ•

the bar was loud, packed with music and chatter, but you couldn’t shake the itch of yangyang’s voice still stuck in your head from earlier. you sat across from shotaro at a little round table tucked into the corner. he looked smugly perfect in his button-up and blazer, his easy smile drawing attention from every direction. but the truth was, this wasn’t a date. not really.

“thanks for coming,” he said, leaning closer so you could hear him over the noise, “i just…didn’t want to show up solo, like a loser, you know?”

you arched a brow, sipping your drink, “well, i do owe you one for letting me cry in your arms.”

he grinned, unbothered, “you look hot by the way.”you laughed, rolling your eyes. you weren’t here to play pretend with shotaro. you weren’t even here because you wanted to be. you were here because you couldn’t stand the thought of sitting at home, replaying the feel of yangyang’s hands, yangyang’s words, yangyang’s silence.

shotaro leaned back in his chair, studying you for a beat, “you’re somewhere else,” he said finally, soft but true.

your throat tightened, you forced a smile, swirling the liquid in your glass, “i’m here. with you.” but even as you said it, you both knew it wasn’t true.

the drinks kept coming. one minute it was a whiskey sour, the next a round of tequila shots someone ordered for the whole table, and before you knew it, your head was warm and spinning, your laughter bubbling too easily. shotaro leaned in, whispering in your ear, “you’re a lightweight, admit it.”

you squintied at him through the rim of your glass, nose scrunching, "i'm not–,” you hiccuped mid-sentence and slapped your hand over your mouth, “okay. maybe a little.”

he cracked up that bright, boyish laugh of his, drawing a few curious stares, “you’re adorable when you’re tipsy. don’t tell anyone i said that.”

“too late,” you pointed at him dramatically, though your finger wobbled with your balance, “i’m telling everyone. yangyang will—” you cut yourself off too quickly. the name had slipped out before you could stop it. your stomach dipped. shotaro tilted his head, teasing, but didn’t press. instead, he lifted his glass, saving you from your own slip, “to bad ideas,” he said.

you clunked clumsily against his, “to bad ideas.”from there, the night blurred into easy laughter and stupid dares. you convinced shotaro to try and balance on the barstool and he nearly toppled straight into the ground. he got revenge by dragging you onto the dance floor, where your limbs were looser than your coordination, the both of you laughing so hard you could barely keep upright. somewhere in the haze, the ache in your chest dulled. shotaro was fun. simple. no feelings involved. the more you drank, the easier it was to forget why you were here in the first place. the easier it was to pretend the image of yangyang in your apartment, jaw clenched and eyes dark, wasn’t still burned into the back of your mind. by the time the night wound down, you were clinging into shotaro’s arm, giggling as he half-carried, half-guided you out of the bar.

“you’re a mess,” he teased, shaking his head, “let’s get you home.”

•ᴥ•

shotaro steadied you against the doorframe, your fingers fumbling uselessly against the keypad. every time you punched in the numbers, it beeped angrily, red light flashing. you groaned, pressing your forehead to the cold metal, “why won’t it love meee?” you slurred, giggling.

“maybe because you put 1-0-1-0 three times,” shotaro deadpanned, biting back a grin.

you swayed towards him, whispering conspiratorially, “that’s yangyang’s birthday,” then you laughed like it was the funniest secret in the world. before shotaro could respond, the door snapped open from the inside. yangyang stood framed in the doorway, hair mussed like he’d run his hands through it a hundred times, hoodie hanging loose on his frame. his eyes flicked from your drunken smile straight to shotaro’s steady hand on your arm.

you lit up instantly, arms flying around his neck, “YANG!” you sang, voice too loud, too bright, too happy. you pressed your cheek against his shoulder, giggling like a child. yangyang froze under your touch, breath hitching as your perfume and the warmth of your damp skin from earlier hit him all at once. his arms stayed stiff at his sides for a beat too long before one slid around your waist to steady you before you collapsed. he lifted his gaze over your head, locking on shotaro. his voice was low, sharp, even though he tried to keep it casual, “i got it from here.”

shotaro looked at the two of you — your arms wrapped around yangayng, his hand gripping your waist, and shrugged, unbothered as ever, “yeah, yeah,” he smirked, stepping back with a wave, “goodnight.”

yangyang didn’t wait for shotaro to disappear fully down the hall before tugging you gently inside. he shut the door behind you with a click that sounded too loud in the quiet apartment. you clung tighter around his neck, giggling as he carried you toward your bedroom. he got you into your room and sat you down on the edge of your bed, crouching in front of you to unbuckle your heels as he slid the straps off and tugged the shoes away.

“you’re a mess,” he muttered, but his voice was softer than the words.

you leaned forward until your forehead rest against his shoulder, giggling, “but i’m your mess.”

his chest tightened but he ignored it, tugging gently at your wrist, “come on, teddy. let’s get you out of this thing.” he reached for the zipper at your back, careful, slow, trying not to notice the way the red fabric peeled away from your skin under his fingers. you tilted your head toward him, “yangyang,” you whispered, playful but dreamy, “you’re undressing me.”

his hands froze, “don’t say it like that,” he muttered, trying not to combust, “im just—helping.” you hummed, unconvinced, swaying closer as he eased the dressed down your body. he kept his eyes anywhere but your bare skin, swallowing hard as the fabric slipped lower until it pooled on the floor, leaving you in your underwear. he didn’t linger, he grabbed one of your oversized t-shirts from your dresser, which looked a lot like the t-shirt he’s been missing for weeks, and gently pulled it over your head.

“there. done.” he exhaled like he’d just run a marathon. he guided you to lie back against the pillows, tucking the blanket over your legs. when he sat at the edge, reaching for the makeup wipes on your vanity, you squinted up at him through heavy lashes.

“stay still.” he instructed. you wriggled anyway, just to be difficult, lips curling into a mischievous grin. but the second his hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing softly as he wiped away your lipstick, you went quiet, melting into the warmth of his touch.

the silence stretched until his voice came, quieter this time, careful, “so…how was your date?”

you smiled, eyes closing as you leaned into his palm, “it was soooo fun,” you sighed, cheeks flushed, “shotaro’s funny. he made me laugh a lot.”

the words scraped against his chest but he swallowed them down, “yeah?”

“mmhm, but…,” your lashes fluttered as you peeked up at him, tipsy and unfiltered, “i wish you were there.”

his hand stilled mid-wipe. for a second, all he could do was stare at you — at the way your drunken pout tugged at his heart, at the little hiccup that slipped through your words, at the way your hand wrapped softly around his wrist. his throat went dry. he could feel the words crawling up the back of his tongue, the things he shouldn’t say, things he wasn’t even sure of yet, but all that came out was a rough, “you’re drunk.” he forced his hand to move again, swiping gently at your eyeliner, pretending he didn’t feel your confession sinking into his chest like a hook.

“why don’t you ever see me?”

the words slipped out slurred and soft, dangerous in their honesty. you blinked up at him from under heavy lashes, a little tipsy smile tugging at your lips like you hadn’t even realized what you’d said. yangyang’s head snapped up so fast the motion jolted him. for a beat he simply stared at you, breath gone, “see you?” his voice came out quieter than he wanted, “what the hell does that mean? i see you every day.”

you let out a tiny hiccup that dissolved into sad, hiccupy laugh, “not like that,” you mumbled, eyes glassy, “you just—” your brow furrowed, the words slipping, stalling, before alcohol gave you a shove, “you only ever see your best friend. never me.”

the apartment folded into silence. the fan hummed somewhere, the fridge buzzed. everything felt too loud and too small at once. your lips wobbled into another hiccupy laugh, but this one was sharp with the sting of unshed tears, “why’d you call me a mistake?”

the question hung there, fragile and heavy all at once. you didn’t throw it like an accusation, didn’t spit it out with anger. you said it like an ache you hadn’t been able to bury, like a wound that had festered quietly in the dark until it spilled over.

yangyang’s chest seized so tight it hurt to breathe. he shook his head fast, desperate, like maybe if he shook hard enough the regret would come loose, “i–,” his voice cracked on the first breath, a broken sound that burned his throat, “god, i didn’t mean-”but you were already slipping, lashes sinking, your body curling inward under the blanket as if retreating into yourself. the alcohol had won, pulling you under just as the words had escaped.

and maybe that was the cruellest part — that your truth had finally spilled out when you were too drunk to hold it, and he was left with his regret alone. yangyang sank down onto the floor beside your bed, elbows digging into his knees, hands clasped so tight his knuckles went white. he stared at you through the dim light, your breathing uneven but soft, the blanket rising and falling gently with each inhale.

“i didn’t mean it,” he whispered, words caught in the quiet hum of the room. his voice broke on the edges, too fragile to hold, “i never meant it.”

🧸 OCTOBER 3 - SATURDAY - HAS IT ALWAYS BEEN LIKE THIS?

you woke up with your skull pounding, only to find a glass of water and a pack of pain relievers on your nightstand. suspicious. very suspicious. dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffled out of your bedroom, following the faint sound of pots clinking. when you peeked into your kitchen, yangyang was hunched over the stove, stirring something with more concentration than he’d ever given any of his classes.

“what did you break?” you croaked from the doorway.

he was startled so hard the ladle nearly flew out of his hand, “huh? i didn’t break anything,” he said, a little confused by your question.

you narrowed your eyes and walked up behind him, slipping your arms around his waist in a lazy back hug, chin landing on his shoulder, “then why are you acting like a househusband right now?”

usually, he would’ve shot back with something dumb but this time he just froze. because your body was warm against his back, your breath brushing his neck and suddenly his pulse was thunderous. he gripped the ladle tighter like it could anchor him. “uh…,” he said brilliantly, staring very hard at the ramen, “because…i’m nice?”

you snorted against his shoulder, voice muffled, “liar. you’re only nice when you want something or when you did something. did you clog the toilet? spill on the couch? scratch my switch again?”

“that was one time!,” he protested, voice cracking, “and i told you…your joy con was already peeling.”you squeezed him tighter, laughing, which only made his heart beat harder. usually hugs between you two were nothing — habit, background noise in your friendship. but now it felt like he was hyper-aware of everything. the way your fingers fidgeted against his hoodie, the weight of your chin on his shoulder, the soft sway of your body pressed to his. desperate to distract himself, he tapped the spoon against the pot, “don’t distract the chef, i’m doing very important work here.”

you hummed, still clinging to him, “pretty sure boiling instant ramen isn’t a michelin star situation.”

“how dare you?’ he teased though his ears were burning. after a couple more minutes, yangyang plopped the steaming bowls onto the table with an exaggerated flourish, “breakfast is served. please, try not to cry from how amazing it is.”

you looked up from your chair and gave him a skeptical look, “wow. gordon ramsay better watch his back.”

“exactly,” he said with a grin, sliding into the chair right next to you instead of across like he normally did, “you get it.” you snorted into your noodles. it was definitely the best hungover remedy. and when you slurped too fast and ended up coughing, he was already sliding the glass of water toward you, murmuring, “slow down, teddy,” with a softness that made your chest squeeze.

you nudged his shoulder with yours, “you’re being weirdly sweet today.”

“weirdly?” he raised a brow, “i’m always sweet.” you laughed, shaking your head and for a second his gaze lingered on you too long, his grin softening into something he quickly masked by shoving a mouthful of noodles into his face.

after a stretch of comfortable slurping silence, you set your chopsticks down and tilted your head at him, “by the way, your birthday’s in like, seven days, what do you want to do?”

he chewed slowly, stalling, before mumbling, “i don’t know, maybe we could just rent an airbnb and celebrate like we do every year.”

you paused, blinking, “uh…we usually do that with renjun and them.”

yangyang nodded, sipping his broth, “yeah, so?”

you leaned back, eyeing him, “so…are you okay with inviting renjun this year?”

“yeah, we’re okay now,” he said simply, chopsticks tapping against the edge of his bowl.

your brow arched, “since when?”

he froze mid-slurp, eyes darting anywhere but you, “...since recently.”

“uh-huh, that’s specific,” you teased, leaning in, clearly not letting him off that easy.

his lips twitched, fighting a smile, “drop it. eat your noodles before they get soggy.” but his ears were pink and you knew you’d hit something he wasn’t ready to explain yet.

•ᴥ•

the ramen was gone, the bowls stacked in the sink and the two of you ended up exactly where you always did — sprawled on the couch. your legs tangled, his arm thrown lazily around you, your head pillowed against his chest. it was nothing new. this was normal. routine. but yangyang couldn’t stop noticing how right it felt. the weight of you against him. the way your hair tickled his chin when you shifted. the soft, unconscious hum you let out when you finally settled, like his arms were the only place you could relax. he stared at the t.v. playing teen wolf but he wasn’t absorbing any of it. his focus was on the way his arm curved so easily around your shoulders like it was molded for you. the way his hand rested against your side like it had always belonged there — had it always been like this? had you always fit this perfectly against him? how is it that he was just now realizing it?

your hand absently toyed with the hem of his hoodie, fingers brushing the fabric and he swore his heart stuttered. you let out a soft laugh at some random line stiles stilinski blurted out, your body shaking lightly against him and yangyang’s chest tightened all over again. he didn’t move. didn’t dare. he just held you a little closer, silently wondering when the ordinary started to feel extraordinary.

your phone buzzed from your coffee table. you shifted just enough to reach it, screen lighting up with shotaro’s name. yangyang’s arm tightened instinctively around you before he could stop himself. his eyes dropped, catching the stupid little smile tugging at your lips as you unlocked the screen.

“what’s so funny?,” he asked, casual on the surface but his voice had a sharper edge than usual. you tilted your head toward him, showing him the message without thinking:

shotaro: did you recover from last night?

shotaro: or should i fall off another bar stool to make you feel better?

you giggled, typing something back, “he’s so funny,” you mumbled, thumb flying across the screen. yangyang’s jaw clenched so tight it ached. funny. right. so nice he makes you laugh like that. his chest burned with it, a jealousy that felt too raw to admit out loud. he forced a laugh, nudging you lightly in the side, “wow, look at you, miss popular. am i supposed to get in line behind shotaro now?”

you snorted, tossing your phone back on the coffee table and leaning your weight into him again, oblivious to the storm brewing in his chest, “don’t be dramatic. you’re first in line. always.”

that should have soothed him. should have. but the words only lodged deeper, because at the end of the day he knew shotaro could hold you in ways he couldn’t. could touch you in ways best friends shouldn’t. and yangyang hated how much the word best friend was starting to sound like a prison.

eventually, your weight softened against him, breath evening out as you drifted off to sleep. he felt the exact moment your lashes fluttered closed and your body surrendered fully into his chest. yangyang stared at the ceiling, trying to quiet the noise in his head. but it was impossible with your cheek pressed over his heartbeat, with your hand curled loosely against his hoodie like you had been doing it forever, which you have. he told himself it was just comfort. that this was what best friends did. you fell asleep on him all the time after late-night movies or long days. but something about tonight…about the way shotaro’s name lit up your phone, about how he’d felt a sharp, irrational sting in his chest just seeing it — made everything sharper. he exhaled slowly, his fingers absently brushing along your arm, realizing how silence felt less like emptiness and more like home with you filling it. the thought scared him. because if he let himself believe, it, he wasn’t sure he could ever go back. so he lay there, still and quiet, letting you sleep while his mind circled the same truth he wasn’t ready to admit even to himself.

🧸 OCTOBER 4-9 - SUNDAY-FRIDAY - REALIZATIONS.

the next day, you both swore off productivity, ordering greasy takeout and eating cross-legged on the living room floor because it was way more comfortable than your table. you told some ridiculous story — hands waving, face animated. yangyang laughed so hard he nearly choked on his fried rice. then he noticed how easily the sleeves of his hoodie swallowed your hands, how you leaned across the cartons to swat his chopsticks away from stealing another bite. the moment stretched too long. his chest tightened.

on monday, you dragged him for ice cream at the convenience store right after class. you bickered about flavors, your hand brushing his when you both reached for the same one. he laughed it off like always but his skin buzzed where your fingered grazed. later, when you leaned against his shoulder on the way back, arm linked around, spooning bites from your cup into his mouth without think, he had to swallow twice — once for the ice cream, once for the realization that he wanted this forever.

on tuesday in painting ii. you took your usual seats. you dipped your brush, tongue poking at the corner of your lips as you concentrated. yangyang tried to focus on his own canvas but every few minutes he caught himself staring instead — at the slope of your nose, the way your hair slipped loose and you absentmindedly tucking it behind your ear. you had called him out on it with a simple, “why are you staring at me?” his ears burned, he covered it with a scoff, dragging his brush harder than necessary, “please, i’m just laughing at how seriously you’re taking this.” but when you leaned over suddenly to dab a streak of blue onto his canvas, laughing when he gasped, yangyang swore your laughter made his heart stop.

on wednesday, you spent the evening sprawled in your living room, controllers in hand, locked in a mario kart bottle, “stop pushing me off the track!” you yelped, shoving his shoulder. yangyang grinned, not taking his eyes off the screen, “it’s called strategy, teddy.” the nickname he used all the came out sweeter, softer. you groaned dramatically as his kart sped past yours on the final lap, “you cheated!” he laughed but when you pouted, he wondered why winning a mario kart game suddenly felt like a loss.

on thursday, you were stretched out on your bed when he walked in, laptop open, calendar pulled up. he tossed himself onto the bed behind you, phone in hand, mr. bear in the other.

without looking up, you said casually, “i booked the airbnb for your birthday weekend.”

his head popped up “already?”

you hummed, still typing, “yeah, same spot as last year. i figured it’d be easier to just stick with what we know.” you glanced back at him with a small smile, “i invited our usual crew — xiaojun, hendery, ningning, renjun and…uh…the new addition, love,” you said her name carefully, like testing the weight of it. he used to flinch at the mention or brush it off too quickly like he didn’t want to deal with it. but tonight, yangyang just blinked, nodding.

“yeah, cool,” he said. no hesitation. no shift in his expression. just easy, even.

you narrowed your eyes, turning fully to face him, “wait, that’s it? no sarcastic comments, no sighing, no complaints?”

yangyang smirked, shrugging lazily, “what do you want me to say? i’m over it.”

“over it?” you echoed, skeptical.

“over it.” he repeated, getting more comfortable in your pillows. you stared at him for a moment, like you were trying to read between his words. he only stretched out more, feigning nonchalance. but inside, yangyang was reeling — not because of love. but because of how…nothing it felt. the name that used to twist his stomach now barely registered, as if the tether had been cut without him noticing. the only thing tugging at him now was you, sitting cross-legged on your bed in another one of his oversized t-shirts, hair falling into your eyes as you frowned at your laptop. and he was sure — he didn’t care who else came to his birthday. as long as you were there.

by the time friday night settled in, everything felt quieter, softer. the apartment lights were dim, the only glow coming from the t.v. screen where another episode of teen wolf played. you were curled up against him the way you always where. this was what you did every week, every day practically. but just like last week, yangyang couldn’t focus on the screen. his eyes traced the crown of your head, the curve of your cheek pressed against him, the way you unconsciously shifted closer like your body had long decided he was home. his arm curved around you tighter. he couldn’t stop replaying your drunk words in his head, the way you’d whispered, “why don’t you ever see me?” because god, he did. he saw you everywhere now. in the way you looked after him, in the way you teased him, in the way your laugh made something catch in his chest. he saw you in everything. the realization sank into him heavy, immovable, inescapable — he was in love with you. it had slipped in quietly, disguised as years of friendship and routines until suddenly it was all he could feel. he was in love with his best friend.

🧸 OCTOBER 10 - SATURDAY - TRUTH OR DARE?

the eight-seater car was cramped and noisy, hendery and xiaojun in the front arguing over directions, ningning on the aux cord singing at the top of her lungs, love laughing at renjun’s terrible jokes in the back. but for yangyang, the entire drive felt muted. his focus kept pulling back to you, sitting right next to him, in the middle of all the chaos. the way you leaned your head against his shoulder, tapping absentmindedly at your phone. the way your laugh rose above the noise like it was the only sound that mattered. it was his birthday, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything except the fact that you were there, pressed against him, fitting like you belonged in that spot. and when you reached for the water bottle in the cupholder by his side, hand brushing his thigh by accident. he didn’t flinch. didn’t move. he just swallowed, eyes fixed forward, like he could will his heartbeat to steady.

it took a total of two hours to finally arrive at the airbnb where chaos amplified as everyone claimed rooms, bickering about unpacking and setting up the food/supplies that you guys brought. you tugged yangyang along by the wrist, insisting he help you set up the decorations you hid in your bag.

“surprise,” you grinned, throwing up string lights across the living room, “thought we could make it more festive.”

he stared at the lights, then at you, then back again, “shouldn’t you have set it up first and then said surprise,” he teases, trying to ignore the soft pull in his chest.

“you really think i have time to sneak away and set this up without you catching me?,” you giggled, handing him the opposite end of the string light as the two of you decorated the living room together.

the rest of the day unfolded in a blur of noise — hendery grilling, ningning forcing everyone into drinking games, renjun rolling his eyes so hard they almost got stuck, xiaojun turning up his birthday party playlist, laughter and music filling the house. as night fell, everyone was in there swimwears, lounging in the airbnb’s hot tub, steaming under the night sky, stars hazy overhead, bottles clinking against the rim as everyone crammed in shoulder to shoulder. ningning was the mastermind, of course — three beers in and declaring that the only logical next step was truth or dare.

yangyang had been fine all day, riding the edge between best friend comfort and the dizzy new weight of knowing he was in love with you. but now, with you pressed against his side in the crowded tub, legs brushing underwater, hair damp with steam and stray pieces sticking to your cheeks — he felt wrecked.

“okay, okay,” ningning grinned, pointing the empty bottle at him first, “birthday boy starts. truth or dare?”

“truth.”

“boo, boring,” ningning pouted, then leaned in, eyes glinting with mischief, “fine. who here would you most want to kiss?”

the group whooped immediately. renjun looked a little nervous. while xiaojun and hendery banged on the sides of the tub like a drumroll. yangyang’s throat closed. his eyes flickered sideways before he could stop himself — landing on you. you were laughing, shaking your head, splashing ningning in mock protest.

“pass,” yangyang muttered, heat rushing up to his neck.

“no passes on your birthday!,” ningning sang, a smug smile on her face.

yangyang only took another sip, stubbornly silent until henderey hollered, “coward!” and the group dissolved into laughter. the game spiraled from there. dares to shotgun beers, truths about old crushes, ningning trying to get hendery to admit he had feelings for someone. you were glowing from it all, laughter spilling free, leaning heavier into yangyang’s side with every drink. everyone was loose, loud, shoulders bumping and splashing. ningning, of course, was thriving, eyes glittering as she scanned the circle fo her next victim.

“alright, y/n,” she grinned, pointing the empty bottle at you, “truth or dare?”

you thought about it for a second or two, the past two turns you’ve picked truth and now you were drunk enough for something bolder — “dare.”

ningning smirked like she’d just thought of the juiciest thing in the world, “i dare you to—” her eyes flicked between you and yangyang, lingering on the way you were half draped against his side without ever realizing it, “—kiss the person you’d most want to take home tonight.”

the tub erupted in hoots, xiaojun’s obnoxious “ooooOooOoohhHHh,” hendery splashing water everywhere, love grinning from ear to ear, renjun smirked at yangyang with an eyebrow raised like he already knew your answer and was waiting for you to confirm it. your stomach dropped but your grin stayed, drunk and playful. you turned your face toward yangyang, meaning to laugh it off, to share the mortified joke with your best friend. but he was already looking at you. already too close. his eyes unreadable in the dim of the hot tub’s light.

the air shifted. everyone else was still howling, waiting, chanting, KISS, KISS, KISS.

you leaned in just the tiniest bit — maybe to play along, maybe because the alcohol made it too easy, maybe because you wanted to kiss him. then your lips brushed his cheek. quick. harmless. but his hand clenched under the water, near your thigh, and you swore you felt the way his breath caught.

“lammmeee!,” hendery groaned. renjun, though, was smirking like he’d seen something the others hadn’t.

the dares heightened after that. more splashing, more laughter, someone daring xiaojun to stay underwater for two minutes or post an ugly selfie on his instagram story. but then renjun, grinning wickedly, fixed his eyes on yangyang, daring — “truth or dare, yang.”

yangyang swiped his wet hair back, rolling his eyes, “fine. dare.”

his grin widened, “i dare you to let the person of your choice sit on your lap for the next three rounds.”

the group cheered, ningning literally cackling, renjun’s teasing smile burning into his mind because they both knew there was only one person he would choose. yangyang froze before playing it off, like it didn’t have any effect on him at all. he smirked faintly, masking the way his pulse spiked before turning to you and patting his thigh under the bubbling water, “come on, teddy…don’t keep them waiting.”

you punched him playfully on the shoulder, giggling, before taking your seat anyway. and yangyang swore the heat of the hot tub can’t even compare to the heat of your skin against his.

the game went on, laughter and half-slurred joked spilled into the night. everyone was a little loose, a little unguarded, the alcohol smoothing edges that usually stayed sharp. until you were sitting back against the hot tub wall, cheeks flushed from both the heat and the drink. yangyang sat beside you once again, thigh brushing yours underwater in that way that felt accidental but wasn’t.

“okay, back to you,” ningning said, pointing at you, “truth or dare?”

you groaned dramatically, already feeling like the game has been dragging on, “truth.”

renjun smirked like a cat who’d just spotted a cornered mouse, “have you ever had a crush on anyone in this circle?”

yangyang stiffened beside you so suddenly you could feel the ripple of tension run through him. your mouth opened, then closed. you knew it was supposed to be fun and harmless but the way everyone was leaning in made your heart thud in your chest.

“uh–,” you cleared your throat, fumbling, “...maybe,” you admitted, forcing a smile like you weren’t two seconds away from boiling alive. ningning clutched xiaojun’s arm, demanding names, hendery started throwing out wild guesses, starting with himself, and renjun looked smug as hell, satisfied with the chaos he’d caused.

before it could escalate, love, seemed to sense your discomfort. she shoots you a small smile before tugging on her boyfriend’s arm, laughing as she said, “okay, i think we’ve had our fun, come on junie, let’s go,” and when renjun protested, complaining about how the fun just started, love whispered something in his ear and not even a second after, they slipped out of the water together, exchanging a glance that was not so subtle about where they were headed. definitely not just to sleep. ningning yawned next, waving a lazy hand, “yeah, okay you can keep your secret, i’m too sleepy for this,” she padded off toward her room, towel wrapped around her shoulders. xiaojun and hendery weren’t far behind, drunkenly bickering about who had been the worst at the dares. their voices faded as they disappeared down the hall, leaving the night suddenly quiet except for the gentle hum of the hot hub.

it was just you and yangyang now.

the air felt different, heavier, the stars above wide and indifferent to the way your pulse quickened.

yangyang leaned back against the tub wall, tilting his head toward you with that lazy grin that always made him look like he knew too much, “so…,” he drawled, eyes gleaming the low light, “you’ve had a crush on someone here, huh?” his tone was teasingly playful, voice slurring ever so slightly with the beer in his system, but underneath it something flickered sharper like he wanted the answer more than he’d admit, “why’d you never tell me?”

you tipped your head, water glinting off your shoulders as you gave him a sly grin, “that’s not the question renjun asked.”

he let out a low laugh, shaking his head, hair damp against his forehead, “you’re annoying.”

the two of you sat there in silence for a while, the tension coiling tight as the bubbles hummed around you.

“alright,” you said suddenly, breaking the silence with a mischievous lilt, “truth or dare?”

he didn’t even hesitate, “truth.”

you leaned in just a little, eyes dancing, “what’s your birthday wish?”

his lips curved, but this time it wasn’t the usual playful smirk. it was softer, more dangerous, “my wish,” he said, voice low, “is for you to say dare.”

your chest tightened. the steam, the closeness, the weight of his gaze — it all pressed down at once but you nodded, pretending not to notice the way your pulse jumped. “fine. dare.”

his smirk returned but it didn’t reach his eyes. they stayed locked on you, unwavering, “i dare you…to kiss your crush.”

you barked out a laugh, shaking your head, “you realize how ridiculous that sounds? there’s only two of us left here.”

“i know,” yangyang said, serious now, the playfulness stripped away. his hand shifted under the water, brushing against your thigh, grounding and dangerous all at once, “that’s the point. i can’t watch you kiss anyone else.”

your pulse thundered in your ears. the weight of his confession hung between you, heavier than the steam, heavier then the alcohol in your veins.

you swallowed hard, your laugh breaking somewhere in your throat, “what?...” but he was already leaning closer. not enough to touch, not enough to cross the line just yet, but close enough that you felt the heat of his breath on your lips. his eyes flicked down, just once, before snapping back up to yours like was daring you to stop him. you didn’t. instead, your hand, like it had a mind of its own, reached up and curled into the damp hair at the back of his neck, tugging him down that last inch.

the kiss was clumsy at first, a brush of lips softened by too many beers but the second it landed, everything tilted. his mouth slanted over yours with a hunger that startled you both, like he’d been holding back for years without even realizing it. his hand found your waist, gripping tight, pulling you flush against him until you were straddling him, water sloshing over the edge of the hot tub. the taste of beer, the faint sting of chlorine, the low groan rumbling from his chest when you kissed him harder — it all blurred into something dizzying, something that felt far too good to be just a dare.

he pulled back just enough to breathe, lips dragging along your jaw before he caught your mouth again. between kisses, his voice rumbled low, teasing but raw around the edges.

“truth or dare?”

you laughed into his mouth, breathless, trying to kiss him again, “yang, seriously?”

“answer the question,” he murmured, lips still grazing yours like he couldn’t stay away.

“truth,” you murmured, too far gone to even think of anything else.

he stilled for half a beat, eyes burning into yours. then, softer than the steam curling around you, he asked, “do you still have a crush on me now?”

you didn’t bother answering his question with words. you leaned in, kissing him harder, pouring everything you didn’t dare say for the past five years into the press of your mouth. he melted into the kiss instantly, pulling you closer like he couldn’t get close enough.

when you finally pulled back for air, your lips brushed against his, whispering, “truth or dare?”

his chest rose against yours, heartbeat erratic beneath your palm, his voice came out rough, almost broken, “dare.”

your mouth curled into a small mischievous smile, though your pulse was thrumming so loud it was deafening, “i dare you…to take off my top.”

the words hung between you, heavy and dangerous. you both froze for a heartbeat, aware of exactly what you were doing. aware of the line being crossed, again, only deeper this time. yangyang’s eyes locked onto yours, molten and unflinching. his hands, still braced at your waist, slid upward, hesitating. and then, right before his fingers reached the tie of your bikini top, he stilled.

“teddy,” he said, voice low but certain, “this is not a mistake.”

you were breathing hard, your heart pounding erratically in your chest at the words you’ve been wanting to hear. your answer came without hesitation, raw and true, “good,” you whispered, leaning closer until your nose brushed his, “i never wanted it to be.”

your words seem to undo him. whatever hesitation that lingered in his chest cracked open, spilling into the space between you. his hand rose, fingers brushing against your damp skin, following the string at the nape of your neck. his gaze never left yours. not once. even as his thumb toyed with the knot of your bikini top, he held your eyes like he needed your permission written there. you nodded once, barely, but it was enough. with a slow tug, the knot gave, the strings loosening under his fingers. your heart pounded so loud you swore he could hear it, feel it. his hand slid down your back to find the second tie, undoing it with the same deliberate care. the fabric slackened, floating away between you until your chest pressed against his. his breath hitched, sharp and reverent, and he immediately pulled you closer, shielding you with his body, as if even the night air wasn’t worthy of seeing you.

“fuck,” he muttered under his breath, voice wrecked, forehead pressing against yours, “you’re gonna kill me.”

you let out a shaky laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling the heat of his skin against yours, “that’s dramatic.”

he laughed before his mouth claimed yours again and you felt the unmistakable press of him through his soaked shorts, spurring you on, hips moving on instinct, grinding down slowly, his low groan vibrating against your lips.

“shit, teddy–” his hands gripped your hips, fingers digging in like he was trying to anchor you. the scrape of his teeth caught your bottom lip before his mouth trailed lower. the kisses down your throat, over your collarbone, made you shiver even in the hot water. and then he found your breast, lips closing over your nipple, hot and wet and desperate. you gasped, clutching at his hair, arching against him as this tongue swirled over you.

“yangyang—” you whimpered, rocking against him harder, his groan rumbling against your chest, sending sparks straight to your core as his tongue flicked and sucked, the sensation making your head spin.

“fuck,” he rasped against your skin, pulling back just enough to look up at you, water dripping from his hair, eyes darker than you’d ever seen them, “you feel so good. you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

but you did know. you could feel him straining against his shorts with every grind of your hips. you could feel the heat in your stomach curling so hard, begging for release — your body continued rolling against him, nipples swollen from his mouth. the thin barrier of his shorts wasn’t enough anymore. and you know he’s thinking the same thing.

yangyang broke from your chest, breath ragged, voice cracking as he rasped, “teddy, i-i need to feel you….please.”

you pulled back just enough to look at him, your lips parted, your chest heaving. the sight of him — pupils blown wide, hair plastered to his forehead, jaw clenched like holding himself back was killing him, made you smirk through your own heavy breathing.

“no one’s stopping you.”

the words were a fuse. his hands shoved his shorts down beneath the water, the movement frantic, desperate. you pushed your bikini bottoms to the side, heat flooding every nerve as the head of his cock brushed against you.

you both gasped at the contact. he was thick, hot, even through the water pressing insistently against your entrance. for a second, yangyang’s hands froze on your hips, like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

“fuck, teddy—” he groaned as you took charge, lining him up, the initial intrusion causing his forehead to drop against your shoulder, voice shaking. “you’re so tight, i—” his voice broke off as you sank down onto him slowly, inch by inch, his cock stretching you open in a way that felt impossible.

“y-yeah? well–” you shuddered out a shaky laugh that melted into a whimper, nails digging into his shoulders, your body trembling, water sloshing gently against your back as you clung to him, he was so big you swore your breath caught in your throat, “you’re— fuck— you’re huge.”

the moment you were fully seated on him, both of you froze. it was too much. too good. nothing has ever felt so right before. your walls fluttered around him, greedy and unrelenting, and yangyang swore under his breath, a sound wrecked and reverent all at once.

“you feel—fuck—you feel unreal,” he panted, lifting his head just to kiss you — not rushed, not messy, but slow and deep. his tongue with yours, his lips moving in perfect rhythm, like he needed to savor the feel of you wrapped around him as much as he needed the air in his lungs.

you rolled your hips tentatively, a grinding movement that had the head of his cock dragging against every tender spot inside you, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths, the sound swallowed in the kiss.

“holy shit,” he breathed against your lips, his grip tightening when you did it again, slower this time, testing just how much of him you could take. the water shifted with every grind, bubbles brushing your bare chest as his mouth dropped back to your nipple, sucking softly, as if the added pleasure would distract him from how close he already felt.

your fingers tangled in his damp hair, tugging gently, “yangyang—oh my god—you feel so good” you cut yourself off with another whimper, grinding down harder. every grind sent sparks shooting up your spine, left your lips parting against his in a helpless moan. yangyang was shaking under you, every muscle pulled tight like he was trying to hold himself back.

but restraint couldn’t last.

you rocked against him harder, deeper, chasing that spot inside you that made your thighs tremble. his grip on your waist turned desperate, nails digging into your damp skin as though anchoring himself from falling apart too fast. the water sloshed around you, hot and slick, bubbling higher with each movement.

“f-fuck, teddy—” his voice cracked on your nickname, raw and reverent all at once. “i can’t—god, you’re so perfect.”

you moaned into his mouth, biting at his bottom lip as you rolled your hips again. your nails clawed down his back, urging him closer, deeper, “don’t hold back,” you whispered, breathless, half a plea and half a dare.

that undid him. his hands slid from your waist to your ass, hauling you down with every thrust of his hips. the rhythm shifted — messy, uneven, full of wet slaps and broken moans. every push of him inside you had you gasping into his neck, your body quivering against his. the hot tub water splashed against the sides, the whole night echoing with the sound of skin against skin and the helpless noises spilling out of your throats.

yangyang’s mouth was everywhere — your jaw, your throat, your nipple caught between his teeth before he soothed the sting with his tongue. each kiss felt like him branding you, marking you as his.

“teddy, i—shit—” his words tumbled out between gasps, his forehead pressing against yours again, sweat and water dripping down his temples, “i need more, i need all of you—”

before you could even respond, his arms slid beneath you, hoisting you up effortlessly. a squeak tore from your throat as your body hit the cool night air, suddenly perched on the slick edge of the hot tub. goosebumps prickled your skin, but then he surged forward, slipping back inside you in one deep thrust — your body yielding around him like it had been made for him all along.

it was overwhelming. without the drag of the water, yangyang had total control now, and every snap of his hips hit so much harder. your thighs trembled as you clung to his shoulders, meeting every desperate grind, every bruising thrust. the rhythm turned frantic — like all those years of buried tension had come bursting out at once, and now you both couldn’t stop even if you wanted to.

“yangyang—oh my god—” you cried, head falling back, nails leaving red trails down his slick shoulders.

“i’ve got you,” he groaned against your chest, voice ragged and low, before his mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking hungrily. his hips never faltered, each thrust driving you further against the edge, the sound of wet skin slapping echoing sharp against the bubbling water behind him.

pressure coiled unbearably hot and tight in your belly. your fingers tangled in his hair, yanking his mouth up to yours in a messy, desperate kiss. you moaned into him as you ground down harder, and then it broke — your body seized, thighs locking around his waist as pleasure crashed over you in waves, his name tearing from your throat in sobbed cries.

yangyang lost it the second he felt you tighten. his hips jerked erratically, a guttural groan ripped from deep in his chest. “fuck—teddy, i’m coming—oh, fuck—” he buried himself deep, spilling inside you, heat flooding you as his release poured out in thick pulses, making you clench tighter around him. neither of you cared that he came inside. you both kept grinding, chasing every last ounce of it, until the tremors finally slowed. he slumped against you, chest heaving, lips brushing your temple, cock still throbbing inside you, the connection grounding you as the steam rose around your trembling bodies.

you shut your eyes, resting your cheek against his damp hair, listening to the frantic rhythm of his heart, catching your breath. when you finally opened them, his gaze was already fixed on you, dark and unreadable, like he was holding something back. instead of words, he kissed you—slow and soft, a promise tucked inside the gentleness. a way to show that this wasn’t just a one time thing.

silence fell again, heavy with steam and the sound of water bubbling. after a long moment, you whispered, voice raspy, “let’s go to bed, yang.”

his arms tightened around your waist like he didn’t want to let go, then finally loosened. “yeah. okay.”

you slid off his lap carefully, tugging your bikini into place as your shared juices dripped down your thighs and into the water, body still buzzing from him. yangyang climbed out after you, quieter than usual, grabbing a towel—his eyes flicking toward you, then away, like he wasn’t ready to break the spell just yet.

🧸 OCTOBER 11 - SUNDAY - ONE MORE TRUTH.

the two of you split off into separate bathrooms, water running in unison. under the spray, you pressed your palms to the tiled wall, letting it scald your shoulders. the memory of his hands on your body replayed relentlessly — the way he’d held you so tightly in the water, like he was afraid you’d disappear. it hadn’t just been sex. that much you couldn’t lie about, not even to yourself.

yangyang was telling himself the same thing in his shower, he leaned against the wall, eyes shut, trying to steady the rush still coursing through him. he could still feel the shape of you around him, still hear the way you’d said his name, soft and broken. he wanted to call it heat, or alcohol, or just a dare gone too far. but none of that explained the way his chest had clenched when you looked at him, like you were his before either of you said a word.

you move slower than you mean to — careful, deliberate steps as if the floorboards might betray you. your hair is still damp, the oversized shirt clinging to your shoulders, the cotton cool against your skin. when you padded into the bedroom, he was already there. propped against the headboard, scrolling half-heartedly through his phone. he glanced up the second the door clicked, and his mouth tugged into a soft, almost shy smile. he patted the space beside him, “come here.”

the invitation is ordinary, an old habit. you hesitate only because there’s a seam of something new under it, the after of what you did in the water, the newness of the words neither of you have fully confessed yet. you matched his smile and climbed onto the bed.

the awkwardness buzzed faintly between you. the sheet is warm where you settle, his arm wraps around you without thinking. it’s automatic and it’s everything. for a long beat you let the familiar do the work — his chin resting softy on top of your head, the slow, steady cadence of his breath, the way his chest feels against your back, his arms wrapping around your middle. your breaths begin to line up, one inhale, one exhale, a private metronome.

the words that have been circling your chest all night press at the edges again. “what happens now?” you murmured, barely above a whisper.

he doesn’t answer right away, but you feel he pause in his steady heartbeat, “can i tell you another truth?” he asks, voice small in a way you’ve never heard from him before. you twist in his arms, turning so your face is level with his. the lamp casts half his features in soft glow. for a second, the room shrinks to the space between your chests, your foreheads almost touching. when you’re this close your heart does that thing it always does — it remembers every stupid, tender moment you’ve ever shared.

“what’s your truth?” you whisper.

he swallows nervously. his thumb softly swiping over the back of your hand, finding that spot he always does when he’s trying to steady himself–

“teddy—” he takes a deep breath, his gaze solely focused on yours, “i’m in love with you.”

it lands softer than you expected, quiet and seismic all at once. for a beat you only hear the blood in your ears and the faint rasp of his breath. his confession sits on the air between you, vulnerable and impossible. you’ve imagined this. rehearsed it in the quiet parts of late nights for years. but you always thought it would come from your lips, not his.

your mouth quirked before your brain caught up. small at first but honest, “about time,” you breathed, and the laugh that followed was wet and relieved, breaking out of you like a release valve.

he blinked, a strangled laugh tumbling from him out of sheer surprise, then a tiny, disbelieving smile split his face wide, “about time?” he echoed, like it was the most ridiculous and wonderful thing he’d ever heard.

you reach up and press your palm to his cheek, grounding the both of you, “yeah…i’ve been in love with you for a long time,” you admitted, softer than you meant, confession spilling out now because the shape of him in the dark makes honesty easier than pretending, “you just… finally caught up.”

his eyes widened, awe bleeding into guilt, like he couldn’t believe what he just heard, like he couldn’t imagine why he never noticed it before, “but,” he mumbled, voice tightening, “but what about shotaro?”

you giggled, the sound soft but sure, “i told you,” you said, “we just fuck sometimes.” his fingers clamped possessively at your waist without thinking, grip tightening in a way that made your breath catch. the thought of you with another man had a new jagged edge to it now. he didn’t even want to picture it.

“he knows,” you went on gently, eyes searching his, “…about me being in love with you. that’s why it’s easy with him. there’s no feelings involved,” your voice dropped smaller, more vulnerable. “there never were.”

yangyang’s face lifted, a slow, unreadable expression dawning across his features. he couldn’t believe his ears. none of it made sense — how you could have been in love with him all this time and he never noticed? he tries coming up with another excuse.

“but i saw you two cuddling on the couch…after we–” he confessed, faltering on purpose, “then you guys went on a date–”

you shook your head firmly, voice steady, “he was at my place because i cussed him out for initiating the whole seven minutes game,” you said, the memory of that party still sharp, “i got mad at him because i thought our friendship was ruined — and that wasn’t a date. it was a favor. nothing more.” you tucked your hand behind his neck, fingers threading into his hair, and the nervousness in his shoulders began to unravel as he leaned into your touch.

“god, i’m such an idiot,” he laughed, brittle around the edges.

“you always were the slower one,” you tease, thumb stroking the curve of his cheek. the old banter folds in around the new truths like a familiar blanket, “i was always the smarter one between the two of us.”

he snorts, that almost annoyed noise that used to end argument when you were kids. but it’s softer now, threading through with something like wonder, “how long have you been in love with me?”

you smiled shyly, eyes dropping before you forced them back up to his, “like…five years.”

“teddy—” he groaned, burying his face in your shoulder for a second before pulling back with wide, disbelieving eyes. “you kept a secret from me for five years?!”

“hey! you can’t blame me!,” you pouted, “how was i supposed to tell you i was in love with you when you had girl after girl…and then you fell in love and it all just felt…too late. plus i’d rather be your friend forever than lose you.”

yangyang looked at you with something between amusement and heartbreak at your outburst, his lips twitching into a helpless smile, “well…i can’t be just friends anymore,” he said finally, certain in a way that left no space for argument. your chest ached, the good kind, the kind that made everything inside you expand all at once. you cupped his jaw, tilting your face up before your courage could falter. and then you kissed him. it wasn’t like the hot tub or that drunken night. that had been fevered, messy, reckless with want. this — this was slow. careful. the kind of reverence that made your pulse stumble, his hand cradling the back of your neck as if you were something fragile.

but then, right as his thumb traced the corner of your jaw, right as you felt him about to tilt you back into the mattress — you broke into a laugh against his lips. yangyang pulled back, frowning, breath warm against your cheek, “why are you laughing?”

you covered your mouth, still giggling helplessly, “i just—,” your shoulders shook as the absurdity of it all rushed through you, “i can’t believe i’m making out with my best friend.”

his brows furrowed, feeling offended, though his eyes betrayed the smile fighting to break through. he leaned back just enough to glare at you playfully, “correction. you’re making out with your boyfriend.”

the word hit your ears like a spark, and your laugh turned into a grin you couldn’t contain, “boyfriend, huh?” you teased, eyes glinting.

“yeah,” he tugged you back into him with a cocky little tilt of his head, lips brushing yours again, “better get used to it, teddy. i’m not letting you downgrade me to ‘best friend’ ever again.”

but then he tilted his head down, catching the way you were staring at him with an amused expression. “what now?” he asked, suspicious.

you smirked, “just trying to process that my best friend is suddenly my boyfriend.”

he groaned, tossing his head back dramatically against the pillows, “well…process it faster.”

you giggled, nudging his ribs with your elbow. “fine, fine. you’re my boyfriend. happy?”

he angled his gaze back down at you, eyes gleaming, “say it again.”

you rolled your eyes, grinning, “pushy. typical boyfriend behavior already.”

“better than being your dumb, oblivious best friend you secretly loved for five years,” he shot back, pinching your side until you squealed. the room filled with your laughter, tangled together in that familiar, easy way that had always belonged to you.

but when the laughter quieted, his hand didn’t move from your waist. instead, his thumb brushed over your hipbone slowly, thoughtful, like he was weighing something in his head. his voice dropped lower, softer, “you know…i need to make up for that night.”

“yangyang—” you started, nerves and anticipation colliding.

but he was already shifting, pressing his lips to your temple, then your cheek, then the line of your jaw. each kiss deliberate, unhurried, “that night was sloppy. messy. we were too drunk to know what we were doing,” his fingers skimmed under the hem of your shirt, teasing bare skin as his mouth trailed down your throat, “you deserve better than that. you deserve me… taking my time.” heat flushed through you as he rolled you gently onto your back, his body hovering above yours. the lamp light traced the sharp edges of his features, the tenderness in his eyes. slowly, carefully, he pushed your shirt up, enough to cup your breasts in his hands, pressing kisses on each one, then lower to the curve of your stomach. each one softer than the last, reverent in a way that made your pulse stutter.

when his fingers reached the waistband of your shorts, he glanced up at you, pausing just long enough to let you breathe him in, “let me make it up to you,” he murmured, voice wrecked and earnest. his words settled over you like a vow. you nodded, breath shaky, and his lips curved into something soft before he dipped back down, resuming his trail of kisses. every inch of you got his attention like he was memorizing it. he tugged your shorts down slowly, as if he wanted you to feel the air, the anticipation, the way his fingers brushed your thighs when he peeled the fabric away.

your pulse was erratic, your skin buzzing. he kissed down the inside of your thigh with the same patience he’d shown everywhere else, alternating between soft presses and teasing grazes that had your legs twitching. two of his fingers pressed down on your clit, rubbing slow circles, and your breath hitched causing him to look up at you through his lashes, hair falling into his eyes. the sight alone nearly unraveled you.

“you okay?” he asked, voice low, thumb brushing circles on your hip.

“yeah,” you whispered, your throat tight, “better than okay.”

his smile was quick, almost boyish, before his mouth took over, kissing your clit. then he swiped his tongue, slow and deliberate, through your folds. you gasped, back arching at the contact and he hummed against you, pleased, doing it again — unhurried, savoring the taste of you like it was something he’d been starving for.

“god, teddy…” he murmured between licks, his breath hot against your skin, “you taste so much better when i’m not drunk out of my mind.” your laugh came out strangled, breaking on a moan when his tongue circled your clit with devastating precision. he licked you slowly, thoroughly, like he was relearning you sober — mapping every reaction, every breathless sound you made. his hands pinned your thighs gently apart, thumbs stroking comfort into your skin as his mouth worked lower, then back up again, dragging out your pleasure.

you tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging when the intensity built, but he only groaned into you and pressed closer, like he wanted you to fall apart. right there. every flick of his tongue was patient, teasing, until he found the rhythm that made you cry out his name. he pulled back just slightly, lips shiny, eyes blown wide with heat as he looked up at you, “this pussy’s mine now. you know that, right?”

the dirty talk had you reeling. you nodded desperately, words falling apart in your throat, “y-yeah—yang, please, don’t stop.”

he smirked, dipping his head again, his tongue flattening against you in a long, devastating drag, “didn’t plan on it.” and then he devoured you properly — no rush, no hesitation, just steady, reverent focus, kissing and licking you like he was worshipping every inch of you. the slow build had you trembling, the coil in your stomach winding tighter with every deliberate movement until all you could do was gasp his name and hold on. yangyang didn’t let up. every kiss, every slow flick of his tongue was intentional, drawing you higher and higher until you were trembling under him. he alternated between teasing circles and deeper, more insistent strokes, pulling soft whimpers and gasps from your throat that you couldn’t bite back, each one turning into a loud moan, unfiltered.

“teddy,” he murmured against you, voice wrecked, “you’re shaking.”

you tried to reply, but the words dissolved into a moan as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, slow and steady, until your back arched off the mattress — the pleasure coiling so tightly it felt like your body couldn’t contain it. when you finally broke, it was sharp and overwhelming, your fingers pulling helplessly at his hair as waves of heat rolled through you. he held you down through it, tongue softening but never leaving you, coaxing every aftershock until you were pushing him away. only when your thighs stopped trembling did he finally ease back, pressing one last kiss against your sensitive skin before lifting his head. his lips glistened, his hair was a mess, and his smile was small but devastatingly fond.

“that’s how it should’ve been,” he said, voice hoarse, as he climbed up and pressed a tongue filled kiss on your lips, letting you taste yourself on him, as he pulled your shirt back down, carefully covering you.

you let out a weak laugh, body so relaxed you almost slipped into darkness. when his weight settled against your side, you curled into him, face pressing into his shoulder. there was only the sound of your breath evening out, the warmth of him grounding. but then you shifted, reaching for the waistband of his sweats with fumbling fingers, “your turn,” you whispered, trying to push past your sleepiness.

he caught your wrist easily, chuckling, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “you can barely keep your eyes open, teddy,” he teased softly, brushing damp strands of hair from your forehead.

“i can do it,” you argued weakly, though your body betrayed you with a sleepy yawn.

yangyang laughed again, low and gentle, kissing the crown of your head as he tucked you closer into his chest, “we have all the time in the world for that next time,” he murmured, then his grin turned playful, “but i can’t believe i fucked you out just from that, look at me already being the best boyfriend.”

that earned a weak swat against his chest, “you’re so full of yourself…it’s the beer’s fault, not you.”

he ignores that with a playful eye roll, “and you,” he leaned down to murmur against your temple, “are so loud. i swear, everyone in this house knows what we just did.”

your cheeks burned as you smacked him again, though it lacked any heat, “shut up.”

yangyang laughed, that low, husky sound that made your stomach flip, “i’m not complaining, it was really hot…but i’m just saying, teddy, if you wanted to announce we’re official, there were easier ways.”

you buried your face deeper into his chest, muttering, “i hate you.”

his arms tightened around you instantly, the teasing giving way to something softer, “no, you don’t.”

he kissed your hair, then added with a smile you could hear in his voice, “but i love you.” you pulled him tighter, too sleepy for anything else, earning a chuckle from him again, as he pulled the blanket up around both of you, tucking it securely like he never wanted to let you go.

•ᴥ•

the morning light filtered pale and soft through the curtains when you blinked awake. yangyang was still out cold beside you, one arm draped heavy over your waist, hair sticking up in every possible direction. his lips were parted, breathing slow and even, his face so boyish in sleep. you smile, brushing a stray bang from his forehead. you lay there, soaking in the impossible reality that this was real now — your best friend. your boyfriend.

carefully, you slipped out from under his arm, pulling the blanket back over him when he shifted but didn’t wake. one last glance, one last smile at his messy hair and you padded out of the room.

the kitchen was already buzzing when you joined. love was flipping pancakes while renjun brewed coffee. xiaojun and hendery were arguing over whether eggs needed more salt. ningning sat cross-legged on the counter, scrolling through her phone.

“morning,” you greeted, slipping in to help set plates and pour juice like nothing monumental had happened last night.

“morning,” came the chorus back, everyone too groggy and hungover to notice the spring in your step.

it wasn’t until the smell of coffee filled the air and laughter started to break through the collective hangover fog that footsteps sounded down the hall. yangyang stumbled out, hair still wild, shirt hanging crooked. he rubbed at his eyes, yawning so wide it made ningning snort. and then he saw you — without hesitation, without even remembering himself, he crossed the room, slid behind you, and wrapped his arms around your waist. his chin hooked over your shoulder, his voice still thick with sleep as he mumbled, “why’d you leave me, teddy?”

before you could answer, he pressed a lazy kiss to your temple. then another to your cheek. and then, without any warning, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he turned your face toward his and kissed you full on the mouth.

the kitchen froze. you felt your stomach drop at the exact second the room exploded.

“FINALLY!!!” ningning practically shrieked, nearly dropping her phone she slammed it down dramatically, “i told you guys! i told you!”

“YES!,” xiaojun cheered, throwing his arms up in celebration, “hendery, you owe me fifty bucks.”

“wait, what?!” you and yangyang whirled on the two boys, “you placed bets?!” yangyang asked, bewildered.

renjun smiled into his coffee, amused and smug, “called it,” he muttered, loud enough for yangyang to hear.

love was quieter than the rest — her pancakes cooked to perfection. she stared at the two of you for a beat, then let out a soft laugh that carried more relief than surprise, “i always knew there was… more,” she admitted, shaking her head. “guess i wasn’t crazy after all,” she glanced at renjun, who returns her smile.

yangyang tightened his grip, looking around in surprise, “what? it wasn't that obvious??”

“it literally was!” you hissed, elbowing him in the ribs, which only made them laugh louder. the kitchen filling with overlapping voices, mock cheers, and clattering dishes.

🧸 OCTOBER 12 - MONDAY - BUSY.

the evening settled lazy and quiet in your apartment, the glow of teen wolf flickering across the living room. you and yangyang were tangled up on the couch. the world outside didn’t exist — it was just you, him, and the muffled sound of werewolves snarling on screen. everything was normal. yet everything felt different. every so often he’d murmur commentary, usually something dumb like, “i could totally fight that guy if i had claws” or “why is derek always brooding, like calm down dude.” you’d swat him half-heartedly, but your cheek would hurt from smiling.

your phone buzzed where it rested on the coffee table. yangyang, closest, picked it up without thinking — the way best friends always did. but his entire body went rigid when he saw the name.

shotaro. his eyes flicked to you, then back to the glowing screen. the message was simple, casual.

shotaro: u busy?

you felt your stomach dip. you both knew what that meant. a code for hooking up. you opened your mouth, to grab the phone, to explain, you weren’t sure, but yangyang beat you to it. with a calmness that didn’t match the sharp edge in his jaw, he typed back:

y/n: she is busy. this is yangyang. her boyfriend.

you blinked, “yangyang—”

“he can’t keep texting you this,” he said, trying to conceal the jealousy in his tone. your heart hammered in your chest, torn between exasperation and the giddy flutter of seeing him like this, finding it amusing.

“you’re cute when you’re jealous,” you point out, a tiny smirk on your lips.

“i’m not jealous,” he retorts but the pout on his lips says otherwise.

you kissed it away quickly, making him chase your lips in the process before your giggle snaps his eyes open, “yang, you have nothing to worry about, mu heart is yours and yours only, everyone knows that,” you reassure him, a soft smile on your lips. before he could reply, your phone buzzed, shotaro’s message coming in.

shotaro: 😂😂😂😂😂

shotaro: finally dude, took you long enough!

shotaro: congrats lovebirds ☺️

you couldn’t help it — laughter burst out of you, bubbling until your cheeks hurt, “told you so.”

he shot you a look, somewhere between sulking and pouting, and rolled his eyes hard enough you thought they might get stuck, “this is embarrassing. you’re never letting me live this down, are you?” he muttered.

“not a chance.” you grinned, tucking your face into his shoulder, still giggling. you glanced at him through your lashes, biting back a grin, “well,” you murmured, voice lilting with a mix of tease and challenge, “now that you told him i’m busy, you gotta actually keep me busy.”

yangyang’s smirk was immediate, lazy and smug as he shifted to face you fully, “is that your way of saying you want to have sex with me?”

your cheeks burned instantly, “god, do you have to say it like that?”

yangyang leaned in until the space between you shrank, his hand curling gently around your thigh, “so… should i take that as a yes?” his voice dipped lower, teasing but not careless, like he wanted to hear it from you.

your heart gave a traitorous skip, and you rolled your eyes to cover it up, “just kiss me, dummy.” his grin softened into something quieter, sweeter, and he obeyed without another word. the kiss started light — his lips just brushing yours, testing, as though reminding both of you that this wasn’t like all the half-drunk makeouts of the past. he lingered there, pressing his mouth to yours until your hand came up on instinct to curl in his hoodie, pulling him closer. he tugged your shorts down with ease, hand sliding down your ass, cupping and squeezing like he couldn’t help himself.

by the time you pulled back, your breathing was already uneven. “yang…”

“ride my face,” he murmured, tugging your panties off, the suggestion making you clench on instinct.

“wait, what—”

he hushed you with another kiss, murmuring a “please,” against your mouth before he pulled away. yangyang leaned back on the couch, hair already messy from your tugging fingers, lips pink and swollen from kissing.

“yang—are you sure?”

“come here,” he said, voice low, guiding you until you were hovering above his head.

your palms flattened against the armrest for support, the position leaving you open, trembling. “yangyang, this is—”

“exactly what i want,” he cut in, his breath hot against you. his hands clamped onto your thighs, pulling you down until you were seated fully on his mouth. his nose brushed you, tongue working slow and firm, and you couldn’t stop the sound that ripped from your throat.

“yang—oh, my god—”

he groaned at your taste, the vibrations shooting straight through you. his eyes fluttered shut, messy blond hair fanning out over the cushions, hips twitching helplessly.

“fuck, you’re soaked,” he mumbled against you, his voice muffled and wrecked, “taste so sweet—you’re gonna make me cum in my pants.”

the filthy admission sent heat ripping through you. your nails dug into the armrest, your hips grinding down carefully, whines of desperation slipping from your lips, each second feeling better and better.

“take what you want teddy, c’mon, don’t be shy,” his grip tightened, holding you in place as he guided you to rock against him faster.

no longer able to control yourself, you chased the pleasure, faster and faster, eyes rolling back. the sound of your own wetness mixing with his low groans spurring you on even more. each time you ground down, he moaned like he was being fed something he’d craved for years. his chin and jaw were slick, shining with you, his tongue never faltering.

“feels so—” your voice broke, your thighs trembling harder, “so good, yangyang—”

he pulled back just enough to gasp in a breath, voice hoarse and wrecked, “yeah? then ride my face, teddy. just like that. don’t stop for me.”

the filthy words shattered the last bit of control you had. your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging hard, your thighs squeezing tighter around his head as you used him. his tongue met every desperate grind, licking broad and greedy, then flicking sharp and precise right where you needed him. you couldn’t hold back the sounds tearing out of you — half-moan, half-whimper.

yangyang’s eyes were glazed over, pupils blown wide as he looked up at you from between your thighs, sweat-damp hair plastered to his forehead. his jaw flexed as he pushed his tongue deeper, then dragged it up, slow and heavy, sucking your clit into his mouth until your hips bucked.

“fucking love this,” he groaned into you, the words muffled but hot against your skin, “love the way you use me.” he was so turned on, so wrecked from eating you out, that he was leaking through the fabric of his sweats without even touching himself.

you fisted his hair tighter, gasping, “yangyang—i’m gonna—”

his tongue flicked rapid and merciless now, sucking at your clit with each drag, matching the frantic way your hips were moving. he growled low, the vibration shaking through you, and it was too much. your climax ripped through you, sharp and blinding, thighs clamping down around his head as you cried out, grinding hard against his face. he moaned into you like he’d just been given everything he ever wanted, holding you down, tongue working you through every wave until your body shuddered and went slack. you slumped against the armrest, chest heaving, sweat slick on your skin.

below you, yangyang looked utterly ruined — mouth and chin drenched with you, lips swollen, pupils blown. he licked one last lazy stripe up your folds before pressing a wet kiss to your inner thigh, his breathing as ragged as yours.

“prettiest sight i’ve ever seen,” he murmured, voice hoarse, his cock straining visibly under the damp patch of his sweats, “you falling apart on me like that.”

your thighs were still trembling when you finally shifted off his face, sinking down onto the couch beside him. yangyang’s chest was heaving, lips red and swollen, chin slick with you. he looked so dazed that for a second you forgot how to breathe — then you leaned in and kissed him, tasting yourself on his mouth.

when you settled against him, your eyes dropped lower — that’s when you saw it. the front of his grey sweats was completely soaked through, darkened with a wet patch that left nothing to the imagination. he was painfully hard, twitching under the damp fabric, leaking without ever laying a hand on himself. you leaned in closer, lips brushing his jaw.

“that turned you on that bad? just me riding your face?” your hand slipped down, palming him through the damp fabric in awe, feeling the heat and the twitch of his cock straining against the thin material.

he groaned, head dropping back against the couch, “teddy—don’t—”

“don’t what?” you teased, giggling, palm pressing firmer against him, slow circles over the soaked outline, “thought you liked being used.”

his hips bucked up against your hand, giving him away, “you’re evil,” he groaned, voice tight, eyes screwing shut, “making fun of me when i’ve been leaking for you this whole time.”

you grinned, dragging your palm over him again, deliberate and slow, “you leaking for me, huh? that’s cute.”

“cute?” he cracked one eye open to glare at you, but his voice cracked halfway through.

you bit back a laugh, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth while your hand kept working him through the damp sweats. “yeah. cute. my big…” you squeezed his cock, making him whimper, “—needy boyfriend can’t even keep it together.”

his groan turned into a laugh, but he can’t hind the blush creeping up his ears, breathless and wrecked, “you’re gonna regret teasing me when i’m inside you.”

your teasing hand finally slipped past the waistband of his sweats — fingers wrapping around the hot, heavy length of him. you pumped him once, twice, slow but firm, and he shuddered under your touch, small whimpers slipping from his lips. the sheer weight of him in your hand, the way he throbbed against your palm, the noises he made, all made your stomach flip.

“god, yang—” you breathed, squeezing him just enough to make his hips jerk. “you’re so hard. already leaking everywhere for me.”

his breath hitched, hips bucking into your hand. his fingers clenched at your thigh like he was holding himself back, “teddy—stop—”

you tilted your head, pretending innocence, “stop?”

he pushed your hand away, chest rising and falling unevenly, “i’m not—” he groaned, frustrated with himself, “i’m not cumming in your hand. not tonight.”

you blinked, a little dazed, your hand still tingling from the heat of him, “then what—”

but before you could finish, he leaned forward, catching your mouth in a rough kiss, all tongue and teeth and pent-up hunger. his hands were already at your shirt, finally tugging it over your head, leaving you completely bare for him.

when you gasped against his mouth, he muttered against your lips, “if i’m gonna cum, it’s gonna be inside you.” your breath caught at the blunt honesty, your body arching into his touch as he pulled his own shirt off completely and pushed his sweats down. he guided you back onto the couch cushions, hovering over you with a look that made your pulse skip.

the kisses had deepened, slower but heavier, with his hands skimming up your sides like he was learning a new map. you shifted nervously against him, letting out a tiny laugh that broke the kiss.

“this is still so weird,” you whispered, in between giggles and kisses.

yangyang laughed too, the sound vibrating through his chest where you pressed against him, tilting your chin back up so he could kiss the corner of your jaw, “it’s weird that it took us thirteen years.”

you gave him a playful glare, but your lips betrayed you by curving up into a smile, “and who set that system up?”

he laughed, kissing you again. he took his time with each inch of skin revealed, drawing tiny shivers out of you that you tried and failed to hide.

“stop smiling,” you muttered breathlessly as he pressed another kiss just below your jaw.

“can’t help it,” he said, voice muffled against your skin, “you’re so beautiful, i should be allowed to gawk.”

“you’re annoying.”

“you love me.”

“i love you.”

he pulled you into another kiss, deeper this time, as he lined himself up against your entrance. when yangyang finally pressed into you, the air punched right out of your lungs. slow, steady, deliberate — like he was trying to memorize the exact moment you fit around him. your fingers dug into his shoulders, nails leaving tiny crescents in his skin as you gasped, “jesus, yang—”

he stilled immediately, eyes wide, chest heaving, “too much?”

you shook your head quickly, breathless laughter breaking out of you even as you squirmed around the thick, heavy stretch, “no — just… how are you this big?”

yangyang groaned, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder, “don’t say that right now.”

“why not?” you teased, threading your fingers through his messy hair, tugging just enough to make him lift his head again.

“because—” he grit out, rolling his hips an inch deeper just to prove a point, “—if you keep saying that, i’m gonna embarrass myself and cum before i even get started.”

you burst into a giggle, though the way your body fluttered around him betrayed just how much the words got to you, “oh my god, are you seriously admitting that?”

he scowled at you, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward, “we’ve been best friends for thirteen years. i don’t get to lie anymore.”

“you never could lie,” you shot back, kissing his jaw in between your laughs, “you get this stupid vein in your forehead—”

“stop—” he groaned again, cutting you off with a kiss, sloppy and urgent, like he had to shut you up before you completely ruined him.

but you were still grinning into it, tugging him closer, whispering against his lips, “biggest i’ve ever had, by the way.”

he made a strangled noise, hips jerking forward before he forced himself to stop, “okay — no. if you don’t want this to end in sixty seconds, shut up.”

you smirked wickedly, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, “fine. but only because i want to enjoy it.” his eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he pushed in the rest of the way, every inch making you gasp and cling to him harder. the stretch burned, but it was the good kind—the kind that had your toes curling and your chest arching up against his.

yangyang groaned, forehead pressed to yours, his breath shaky, “god, you feel… so fucking good.”

“yeah?” you whispered, brushing your lips against his, your grin still lingering despite how wrecked you already felt.

“yeah,” he rasped, kissing you again, slower this time, his hips finally beginning to move. you clung tighter, every roll dragging a breathy sound from your throat you couldn’t bite back.

you clenched around him and he broke the kiss with a shaky laugh, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “you’re seriously trying to kill me, huh?”

you managed a grin between gasps, “pretty sure you’re the one doing the damage.”

“not my fault you’re…” he trailed off with a groan as your nails raked lightly down his back, “…tight as hell.”

you giggled, half-wrecked already. “not my fault you fill me up so well.”

his head dropped to your shoulder again, muffling a desperate laugh-groan into your skin, “shut up,” he whined, voice cracking adorably. but the way his hips snapped a little deeper, a little harder, told you he liked it—liked your teasing, liked the way you couldn’t keep quiet with him inside you.

when you hooked your ankles at his lower back to drag him closer, he hissed and shifted, suddenly lifting one of your legs up, then the other, until both were resting against his shoulders. the new angle made you gasp so sharply it turned into a moan, “y-yang—holy shit—”

he froze, smirking down at you even as sweat dripped at his temple, “that good?”

you shot him a dazed glare, though your hips rolled up to meet his without thought, “don’t… act smug—”

he pushed in deep, bottoming out so hard you saw stars. your words broke off into a strangled cry, and yangyang groaned low, burying his face in your neck, “fuck—you’re squeezing me.”

“i can’t help it,” you gasped, grabbing at the back of his neck, pulling him up for another messy kiss, “you’re—god—you’re so—”

“don’t say it,” he cut in quickly, panting against your mouth, “don’t say it or i’m done for.” you bit back your laugh, kissing him harder just to swallow the desperate sound you made when he hit that spot again. the pace stayed slow but deep, each thrust driving impossibly far with your legs curled over his shoulders. his hands gripped your thighs tight, fingers flexing like he needed to hold on or he’d lose it.

you moaned his name, breathless, tugging at his hair, “yangyang—”

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his face twisted in concentration, lips red and swollen, “yeah, teddy?”

“i love you,” you whispered, voice breaking, laughter tangled up with need.

he kissed you again, deeper this time, whispering against your lips, “i love you, too.”

his rhythm stayed deep and unhurried, every thrust dragging a sharp cry from you that melted into laughter, into gasps, into his name spilling again and again. then his hand slipped between the two of you, thumb rubbing harsh, precise circles on your clit, pushing you over the edge. your nails scratched at his back, tugged at his hair, every nerve in your body sparking, “y-yang… i’m gonna—,”

“i know, teddy, i know,” he murmured, voice breaking as he kissed your cheek, your mouth, the corner of your jaw, “come all over me, please.”

that was all it took. your body clenched tight around him, and the climax crashed through you, head tipping back against the couch cushion as you moaned his name. he kissed you through it, swallowing every sound, hips stuttering at the way you squeezed around him dragging him to his own climax, “fuck—gripping me so tight—i’m gonna come.”

your body was still fluttering around him when you gasped out, broken and breathless, “inside—please, yang, i want it inside—”

for a moment, he froze, eyes going wide like you’d just asked him to set the world on fire, “are—” his voice cracked, hips faltering, “are you sure?”

you tugged him down, kissing him hard, desperate, your voice wrecked against his lips, “please—please, yang,” you whined.

something in him snapped at that. his groan was raw, guttural, as he buried himself to the hilt, grinding deep enough to steal your breath. his forehead pressed against yours, sweat dripping at his temple as he muttered, “fuck—gonna cum—inside you, teddy—,”

your nails dug into his back, pulling him closer, “do it, yang. want it—want you.”

he bit back a curse, thrusts turning frantic but still deep, controlled. his hands held your thighs so tight they’d bruise, his voice low and breaking, “mine—fuck—you’re mine.” you whimpered his name, clinging to him as his rhythm broke apart. then with a strangled groan, he slammed in one last time and spilled into you, hot and endless, the force of it pulling a sob out of his throat.

the aftershocks tore through both of you, your body clutching around him, milking every drop. his chest collapsed against yours, lips brushing over your temple, your cheek, your mouth, like he couldn’t stop. when yangyang finally pulled out, his breath hitched, chest rising and falling fast as he watched his release spilling out of you, shining down your skin in little streaks.

“fuck…” he groaned, voice dropping rough and reverent, “that’s so hot…look at you, teddy, can’t even hold me in.” you whined, trying to close your legs, but he pressed them apart again, eyes dark and fixated. he dragged two fingers through the mess, slow and deliberate, and brought it up between you.

“suck.” his tone was low but coaxing, like he already knew you’d obey. your lips parted, and he slipped his finger past them, watching intently as you closed around him, sucking the mix of both of you clean. his jaw clenched, hips twitching like he could feel it himself.

“god—” he rasped, barely holding back a shudder, “you drive me crazy.” you hummed around his finger, eyes locking with his as you licked him clean, letting the lewd wet sound fill the room. he cursed again, pulling his hand free only to grip your jaw and kiss you deep, messy, desperate, like he needed to taste it on your tongue too.

“so…” yangyang murmured, grin tugging at his lips. “think that’s busy enough, or should we get busier?”

you smacked his chest weakly, too boneless to put any force behind it, “you’re ridiculous.”

“ridiculous,” he echoed, pretending to think. he kissed your nose, playful and soft, “nah. just making up for lost time.”

🧸 OCTOBER 16 - FRIDAY - CRISIS AVERTED.

yangyang let himself in like always, already calling out a lazy, “teddy, i’m here. did you eat yet? i brought—”

then he froze. the sound hit him before anything else — muffled crying, sharp enough to shoot panic through his chest. he tossed the pizza box on the counter with a thud as his pulse kicked up, “y/n!?” he called, voice already breaking with fear. he sprinted towards your bedroom, every worst-case scenario clawing at his brain, you hurt, you sick, you— but when he burst into your room, what he found was you, sitting on the floor, tear-streaked cheeks, clutching something in your lap.

“shit—hey, hey,” he rushed to you immediately, dropping to his knees, “what happened? are you hurt? talk to me.”

you turned toward him, lower lip wobbling, and in your hands… mr. bear. his worn out brown fur and now — his leg dangling, the seam ripped wide.

“i—i was cleaning my bed,” you hiccuped, voice breaking, “and i must’ve pulled too hard or something and—he just—yangyang, i broke him.”

yangyang blinked. his panic collided with relief so hard he had to sit back on his heels. his heart was still racing, but now he could finally see the whole picture — not a tragedy, but the most you kind of meltdown. and he knew exactly the reason. the promise attached to that bear — the one you’d made all those years ago — it all suddenly made sense of why you were crying so hard.

“oh, teddy…” his voice softened immediately as he reached out, brushing your wet cheeks with his thumbs, “you scared the hell out of me. i thought—” he stopped himself, swallowing down the lump in his throat, and nodded toward the bear, “he’s just a little injured. not gone. okay?”

your hands shook as you held the bear up between you, like proof of your failure, “but my promise… i said as long as mr. bear’s okay, we’re okay. and now he’s hurt.”

yangyang’s chest tightened, but not with fear this time. with something achingly tender. he took the bear gently from your hands, setting him carefully on the bed like he was still sacred, then cupped your face, “listen to me,” he said firmly, eyes locking on yours. “mr. bear can lose both legs, his stuffing, his head—and we’ll still be okay. i’ll still be yours. that promise was real, but it wasn’t about a toy. it was about you and me. got it?”

your sniffle cracked into a laugh-sob, shaky and small, “you sound so sure.”

“because you’re crying over a bear, teddy,” he wiped under your eyes again, softer this time, “and because i love you, and i’m never letting some third-grade bear decide that for us.”

you shoved at his chest weakly, embarrassed now, “don’t make fun of me.”

he caught your wrist, grinning, and leaned in to press his forehead to yours, “only sometimes,” he grinned, “but also? you’re lucky i’m amazing with a needle. mr. bear’s about to get the glow-up of his life.” your laugh finally came out properly then, tears still spilling on your cheeks. yangyang felt the knot in his chest finally loosen. he kissed your damp cheek once, then held you against him, rocking you gently on the floor.

“see?” he murmured into your hair, “crisis averted. we’re still best friends. still together. forever’s intact.”

🧸 OCTOBER 18 - SUNDAY - STUCK WITH ME.

two days later, mr. bear was back to his rightful throne at the top of your bed, one leg stitched up neatly with even and earnest thread. yangyang had insisted on doing it himself, tongue poking out in concentration while you teased him for looking like a “mad scientist surgeon.”

now, the two of you were in your kitchen — the apartment smelled like garlic and soy sauce, the pan sizzling as you stirred noodles with a little too much force. yangyang was leaning against the counter beside you, pretending to help but mostly just sneaking bites of the vegetables you’d chopped earlier.

“yang, if you eat one more carrot stick, i’m cutting your fingers off,” you warned, swatting at his hand with the wooden spoon.

he grinned, chomping it anyway, “i’d like to see you try.”

you rolled your eyes, fighting a smile. he always had that smug look when he knew he was getting away with something. but then, instead of reaching for another bite, he slipped a hand into his pocket, “actually… i’ve got something for you.”

you glanced at him suspiciously, stirring slower, “what?”

he pulled out a tiny box, holding it out like it was nothing, though his ears were already turning pink, “here.”

your brow furrowed, “yangyang… if this is a prank and a cockroach jumps out—”

“it’s not a prank!” he laughed, shoving it gently against your chest until you took it, “just open it, teddy.”

you wiped your hand on a towel and popped the lid open. your breath caught. inside sat a delicate gold chain with a tiny gold teddy bear charm dangling from it.

“oh my god…” you whispered, smiling instantly.

yangyang rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting away like he was suddenly fascinated by the ceiling, “you, uh… freaked out pretty bad when mr. bear almost lost his leg the other day. so i figured… this way you’ve got one you can’t break.”

you turned to face him fully, holding the necklace between your fingers like it was made of glass, “yang, i love it, i—”

“turn around,” he cut in quickly, a little shy. you turned around, holding your hair to the side. his fingers brushed against your nape as he clasped the necklace, lingering there like he couldn’t let go. when he was done, he didn’t pull back. instead, he bent to press a kiss against your neck. then another. and another.

“yangyang—” your voice cracked on his name, heat rising in your cheeks. he rested his chin on your shoulder, eyes catching the charm against your collarbone.

“perfect,” he murmured, voice low and sure.

you laughed softly, leaning back into him, “you know this is kinda unfair, right? you keep one-upping yourself.”

“that’s the point,” he hummed against your skin, lips curving into a smile as he trailed lower toward your shoulder, “i’ve got thirteen years to make up for,” he murmured, kissing your shoulder softer this time, like a promise.

your smiles, “that’s… a long time.”

“good,” he said easily, mouth brushing the edge of your jaw now, “means you’re stuck with me for a while.” you laughed, turning to swat at his chest but only managing to catch his hoodie. he kissed you properly this time, slow and sweet, before leaning back just enough to steal another carrot stick with his free hand.

“there he is,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “the real yangyang.”

“mhm,” he said around the bite, grinning. “still the one you fell for though.”

you rolled your eyes, necklace glinting in the kitchen light as you stirred the noodles again. yangyang didn’t even pretend to help after that. he just hovered, brushing past you every chance he got, sneaking more vegetables, dropping lazy kisses on your neck or shoulder until you smacked at him with the spoon. by the time dinner was plated, you were laughing too hard to stay annoyed. you both ate slowly, the easy chatter filling the quiet of the apartment. he told you about the new song stuck in his head, you complained about an assignment your professor gave, he teased you about how messy you were with noodles.

it was the same rhythm you’d always had — best friends, trading jokes and stories, no one but him. no one but you — except now there was something new threading between it all. a warmth. a weight. his foot brushing yours under the table. his smile lingering longer than it used to. his lips wandering in between stories, a kiss to your temple, a peck on your cheek when you smiled, a soft press to your knuckles as if reminding you, over and over, that he was yours now.

ᥫ᭡ the end.

—

18+ only | watch at your own risk | contains mature content

yangyang x teddy coded links: #1. #2. #3. #4. #5. #6. #7. #8. #9. #10. #11.

—

an: and the first of the wayv trio is done!!!! this was kinda tough you guys, i didn’t want to do another fake dating trope so i really had to think about how i wanted yangyang to realize he’s in love with teddy. i hope you liked the nickname!!! i think it’s so cute. i gotta delete the teddy bear emoji for haechan and princess because that belongs to yangyang and teddy now lmfao. also how are we feeling with the yangyang and renjun reconciliation? and love always kinda knowing??? hehe i never planned this but im declaring its canon now that it took her so long to say yes to yangyang because of teddy 😝

last thing: im sorry to say this but the wayv boys will not be getting bonus scenes >.< im lowkey already struggling with the dream ones lol. BUT i hope you enjoyed this!!! and i hope you like the links ;););) #5 is my favorite hehe. as always, thank you so so much for reading!

ᥫ᭡ likes, reblogs and comments are not required but is very appreciated.

ᥫ᭡ if you enjoy this series and would like to show extra love and support. my ko-fi is open <3

ᥫ᭡ love tags: @mangoescrazy @bamjjwi @jungwooie @erireadsstuff @rjreins @poemzcheng @jungwooismysavior @alexameliamg @neo-moa @dkkyeom @leleszn @rex-ie @generalpuppycloud @mots7g @chenleverse @kj0ne @ninety-nite-99 @xxxnrigi @idkwiexist @pankuya @amazinggraxia @jaeminiwrld @ni-ki-starnetwork @drunkhee @severeanxietyissues @peonyjoo @multifandom2515 @yeosayang @dongyoungknows @aegryo @malaysianctfan @booskies @ingridbirdman @vantxx95 @andluv @fancypeacepersona @heartsforsunwoo @222low @9yuldaengi @cowboyuyu @zarastrawberry @boxofinvisiblethoughts @jwikyo @horanghyuck @combinatoright-blog @emmy-l-r @karleereadssmut @asahisimpnation @httpsxnox

TAGLIST: CLOSED.

[neowinestainedress]

© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

LONG FICS

into the woods ; 11k — inferno event | werewolves (feat johnny, kun, jaehyun, jeno) [s]  — ‘don’t go in the woods, past the first two rows of trees.’ It’s a simple rule, planted in every kid’s mind in the village since they are born. Nobody knows why, but nobody dares to question why. But pride leads to do dangerous things and what’s supposed to be a silly bet to prove something, gets you lost a bit too far into the scary forest. And those who seem to be polite strangers turn out to be something they’re not.

do you want to play a game, detective? ; 10k — ghostface/scream!au [s] — in these past months your only goal is to find the killer that is terrorizing the town of Woodsboro, but when you get close to him and feel like you finally have the upper hand, Ghostface turns the game around again. Or, Ghostface wants to play with you but not like he does with his victims, and you let him.

SERIES

₊‧.°.⋆˚₊‧⋆. fireplace ashes ₊‧.°.⋆˚₊‧⋆.

DRABBLES

₊‧.°.⋆˚₊‧⋆. fireplace ashes ₊‧.°.⋆˚₊‧⋆.

BLURBS / HARD HOURS

₊‧.°.⋆˚₊‧⋆. fireplace ashes ₊‧.°.⋆˚₊‧⋆.

[glitxhwayventeen]

The Half-Blooded One

Yangyang

Characters: Yangyang x female reader

Warnings: complaining, pain/soreness/injuries, mentions of crying, mentions of war, hints of depression, implications of being a soldier, car accident scene, plane crash scene, mentions of death, mentions of blood, family/sibling issues/ten being a bad brother, some swearing/cursing. I think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything pls!

Author’s Note: Ahhh this took me forever to finish I’m sorry. I know there wasn’t much of Yangyang with the main character but believe me when i say there’s more in store for these two🤐

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Watch It All Burn Masterlist

The Half-Blooded One: Part 1

Bold- Dialogue Italics- Thoughts Pink- Foreign Language Use

🥀 with a little ☁️ at the end

Surprisingly, Ten wasn’t really all that mad at at Yangyang imprinting on you. Which was a huge shock to him. The pup figured he’d have to run away and hide for a few days until the Thai boy’s anger subsided. But Ten didn’t even seem to flinch at the thought of the two of you one day being together once he got past the initial shock of finding out the two of you were mates.

In fact, he seemed to be rather… sad that Yangyang was gonna end up going through what he’d have to go through to be with you. If he’d even get to be with you that is.

It had been two days since you showed up all but bleeding out on their doorstep. Those two days had been some of the best, yet worst, days of Yangyang’s life.

On one hand, he was unbelievably happy to know that he had actually found his mate, that he was now able to hear, smell, and feel you nearby. But on the other, hearing your deafening screams of agony as his packmates did their best to keep you alive and close your wounds when you were so close to death crushed him.

He knew virtually nothing about you and, if your body gave out, he may never find out more. With you passed out, the only person he’d have to get any answers about you out of was your brother.

But Ten was remaining tight lipped and almost unbearably silent, two ways no one in their right mind would’ve ever thought to describe him previously as the older boy was known to cause havoc and mischief wherever he went.

The only other person in the pack who seemed to know even a little bit about you and your situation was Kun, but he didn’t seem too keen on sharing information about your private life without your permission.

So Yangyang had no real way of getting anymore details on you until you woke up. If you woke up that was.

Though he was trying his best not to think of the worst case scenario as according to the resident doctor and nurse of the pack, he thought it was possible that you could wake rather soon. He just wasn’t too sure how coherent you’d be when you did.

“I think you need to accompany us,” Sicheng commented to your brother, thinking that any time now you could actually rise to some level of consciousness based on how you reacted to them changing your dressings the previous night, “It’ll be easier with you there.”

Yangyang watched the older boy shake his head quickly with a gulp as everyone in the living room stared at him for an answer, “Believe me, I’m probably the last person she’d want to see right now. You’re better off going without me.”

While the question of why your brother seemed to have thought you hated him so much was on everyone’s mind, no one thought it was the appropriate time to bring it up into conversation. Though it was easy to tell that he was a nervous wreck who spent all his time worrying about you.

Sure everyone could tell he never tried to go near you in your current state if he could help it, but that didn’t mean he still didn’t continuously ask the couple nursing you back to health about your condition and if there was anything he could do to help you.

He was your family after all. And he may very well have been your only family still left as far as anyone knew.

“If you say so,” Daiyu shrugged, getting ready to pull herself off the leather loveseat she was sitting on to stand on her swollen feet.

She was close to nine months pregnant now and looked as if her water could break at any moment, though that didn’t stop her from doing what she could to help the newest addition to the pack, “But for the record, I think you’re making a big mistake. If I was gonna wake up in a foreign country with a bunch of strangers picking at my exposed nerves, I’d want whatever family I had there holding my hand. Regardless of what could’ve happened in the past.”

And with that, Yangyang witnessed as the pair made their way down the hall to your new resting place, with Sicheng letting his mate hold onto his elongated arm for support as she walked beside him, in their latest attempt at changing your bandages.

——

It wasn’t long before they all once again heard your ear curdling wails emit themselves from Yangyang’s bedroom door.

Even though he had tried to distract himself by helping braid Yueguang’s hair, he still couldn’t help the small whimper that bubbled out from the back of his throat at listening to your pain. And it was only just beginning.

But instead of hearing your normally high pitched scream become a series of begging and pleading that no doubt came with tears, they heard multiple thuds, bumps, and a small yelp before the ever so loving couple made their way back out of the makeshift hospital room towards the living room.

Sicheng stumbled out holding the side of his face while Daiyu stormed out in a steam of anger beside him, never letting her menacing frown falter.

“W-what happened?” Yangyang stuttered out, doing his best to maintain some semblance of composure to save his own image.

Though everyone already had correctly guessed you being in such a vulnerable state was beginning to take a heavy toll on the pup’s mental state and physical well being.

The pregnant girl plopped herself down on her original loveseat spitefully, “She fucking punched him!”

Yangyang gulped, “W-wait so- you meant she actually-”

“Punched him?” The mate seethed, “Yes! Can you believe it?!?”

Suddenly, a hearty laugh began exuding itself from Ten’s lungs while he crumbled over in amusement, “Of course she did,” he airily replied as he wiped the thick tears that had started to pool under his eyes from his heavy chuckling episode.

“You knew she’d do that?!?” Daiyu expressed in fury, pushing herself to get in a pouncing position to attack the older male as her eyes widened in disbelief.

“I mean….” your brother scratched the back of his head with a snicker, “She’s hit before for a lot less. So I kinda figured some strange dude she’s never met suddenly poking and prodding at her still open wounds was bound to gain some sort of volatile reaction from her.”

Yangyang saw nearly his entire pack gawk in shock at Ten’s words. But he understood. You were probably scared out of your mind. You were in a foreign land around foreign people feeling a newly ridiculous amount of pain. Of course you reacted badly. Your mate reasoned that any rational person would’ve freaked out in a similar manner if they were in your shoes. He couldn’t blame you for hitting his packmate.

But who was he kidding? There was no way he could blame you even if you didn’t have a good reason to throw a punch anyways. You were still the love of his life, even if he didn’t know anything about who you were or what you’d been through.

“You’re insane! She’s insane!” The pregnant girl now completely stood from her position as if she was ready to lunge on the boy before her mate quickly pulled her back.

“Dai my love calm down,” Sicheng rubbed her stiff shoulder in an attempt to ease her, seemingly forgetting about the pain he felt in his cheek, “It’s okay.”

Before, Yangyang would’ve fake gagged at whatever coupley things his brothers and sisters did with each other. Now he could only hope that one day he’d be able to do such cutesy things with you.

“It is absolutely 100 flavors of not okay! She hit you!” She fumed, “You got hit! You’re hurt!” She turned to face the pointy eared boy with watery eyes.

Yangyang watched as the monotoned boy kissed her on the forehead for the first time in front of nearly the whole pack, “No I’m not,” He insisted, “She’s just a wounded kid in an unknown place with excruciating injuries,” The pack’s resident doctor reasoned softly, “She did what any of us would’ve done. Not out of malice but out of pure instinct. It’s not her fault,” He finished by sweetly stroking the side of her cheek, “I’m just glad you weren’t the one in the line of fire.”

The girl that all but had steam coming out of her ears moments ago seemed to relax herself after a few moments and then buried her face in her mate’s chest. It did take the pack back a bit as the couple usually wasn’t so touchy. Though Yangyang took note that, even though it was a new experience for them all, no one seemed to mind.

“But that situation is exactly why I wanted you to go with us to see her.” Sicheng rolled his eyes, his arms wrapping themselves around the tiny girl in front of him to comfort her.

Ten sighed as he spoke to his younger brother, “If i went with you-” He started, noticeably biting his bottom lip, “She would’ve most likely jumped at me and hurt herself even more. And it probably would have made you have to work twice as hard to fix her. I did you a favor.”

And it was those exact words that seemed to reignite the coal inside the smaller Cantonese girl.

Daiyu quickly spun herself around and out of her mate’s loving arms to face your brother, “You call this-“ Dai gestured to the small welt beginning to form on the tall wolf’s face, “a favor?!? She hit him so hard he’ll probably have a bruise. Do you know how hard someone’s gotta hit you assholes to actually LEAVE a bruise!?!?”

The room watched as Ten began to laugh to himself once more, “The bruise is nothing Dai,” He brushed her off, “Just be grateful it’s her left hand that’s wounded and not her right. If she had her dominant hand and had used her full strength, she would’ve knocked his ass out!” Your brother snorted.

While the living room sprouted to life in debate over whether the second oldest had truly done anyone a favor with his sly maneuvering, Yangyang couldn’t help but smile softly to himself.

You were left handed. At least the conversation had given him one thing he now knew for sure about you. That was something. That was progress.

——

You woke from your tiring slumber from a sharp pain running down your arm. It felt as though hot knives had suddenly dug themselves into your skin and had begun peeling each layer away.

You felt your heartbeat pick up and your breathing begin to accelerate to an alarming point. It stung like a bitch.

So you soon found yourself popping your eyes open in surprise, quickly feeling tears brimming the waterlines as your body seethed in its place.

Once you managed to steady your pain by breathing deeply in and out, you blinked back your tears of agony to get a better look at your surroundings.

That’s when the florescent lights above you began to burn into your corneas. And, since you weren’t an idiot and knew that looking at such a powerful light would only made things worse, you decided to feel out the environment around you instead of staring at the vibrant color directly in front of you.

As your eyes tuned in and out of focus while they readjusted, you could make out what was a poster of some sort on the wall below you by your feet of what looked like a rock band of some kind.

That was weird. The barracks didn’t even have walls for posters to hang. You must’ve been moved. But to where?

Shifting your gaze away from the wall, you looked looked to your right for a possible weapon or escape as it was what you were trained to do if you woke up in unfamiliar territory. You were met with what you could only assume was a gaming table with many different electronic devices and screens scattered about it. The rainbow lights it admitted from beneath it’s flat surface made your eyes strain.

A house. You were in a house. But not just any house. A house that had the luxury of having overhead lighting and enough of an internet connection to power small personal electronic devices. You Definitely were not back home.

“Oh… you’re awake.” A deeper male voice spoke from your left, making you jump in place and sending another shooting pain through your body, this time down your side and upper thigh.

Because of how sudden the jolt was and how unprepared you were for it, you couldn’t stop the small hiss that vocalized itself from the back of your throat as your body tensed.

“Sorry!” The guy said as he tried to stabilize your now contracting and wincing torso, “I thought you knew I was here.” He reasoned in very strangely accented mandarin, calmly taking his hands off your middle and placing them back to their original place as he cut off a final piece of gauze to lay on your arm.

The guy must’ve been changing the dressing on your forearm. So the pain you felt made somewhat sense. But who was he? And why was he speaking to you in mandarin?

As the man was a literal stranger to you and you couldn’t get away even if you tried, you figured your best defense was to do what you were taught to do in similar situations: stay quiet and say nothing. So that’s exactly what you did. Nothing.

Seemingly sensing that you were remaining guarded because you didn’t know him, he decided to introduce himself, “I’m Sicheng. I dont know if you remember or can even understand me, but your fist and my face got very well acquainted the other day.” He tried to ease the tension in the air with a joke.

Your mind flashed back to a very hazy memory of another time you felt such seething throbbing.

You weren’t sure what was happening or why you were having such a hard time seeing or opening your eyes at the time, but you knew you smelt something foreign and primal. Something that smelt just shy enough of… someone you once knew’s scent to be familiar, but just unknown enough to send your instincts on high alert.

You even barely remembered your free arm flying up and punching the nearest intruder closest to you. Well, you actually thought you hadn’t really done it since the image had such a dream like rose colored appearance to it. But you quickly realized it wasn’t something your mind made up because the person on the receiving end of the assault was speaking to you.

“Oh… yeah r-right…” You let out hoarsely in your second language, due to what you figured was only a day or two of not speaking, much to the older boys surprise, “I understand you. S-Sorry for clocking you dude,” You stated informally, all honorifics and proper speech going out of your mind because of the blinding burning sensation you felt in half your body, “It wasn’t intended.” You continued honestly, doing your best to brush off any of the embarrassment you had felt for making such a mistake, “I don’t know where I am or who anyone around me is and y-you were just the closest target.”

The boy, Sicheng, gave you a kind lazy smile and nodded in understanding, seemingly shocked you spoke to him in mandarin as he tied off the final bandage on your arm, “It’s alright. Worse has happened to me, trust me,” He gave a small chuckle, “You’re in an unfamiliar environment with unfamiliar people and when you realized that you reacted out of instinct. I would’ve done the same thing if i was you,” He forgave you, way easier than you would’ve had you been the one hit.

“Though do me a favor,” He continued, giving you a look as he moved down your body to your leg to ask for your approval, something you gave without even thinking, “Next time you feel the need to go all punch happy,” He smirked as he peeled back the old wrap on your cut up leg, causing you to wince due to the wound being sensitive to the open air, “Give a guy a heads up so the next one’s directed at your brother yeah?”

Your brother. You remembered now. You hadn’t been very conscious the last few days, but that didn’t mean your ears and other senses hadn’t picked up what was going on around you without you consciously knowing it.

Canton, your best friend since you were babies and one of the only friends you had left, stepped out of the barracks tent to make a phone call after he had received another tip stating that there would be another raid the next day. The next thing you knew, you had a needle shoved into your neck and you were seated on a very uncomfortable plane. But it wasn’t the kind you were used to.

It was a commercial flight, one destined to land in Korea apparently. Even injured, you would’ve smacked him for bringing you to a new country when your own was in shambles, but you were too drugged and out of it to keep your eyes open let alone protest to what was happening.

When you had landed and Canton had finished carrying you out of the plane and airport, you heard a familiar voice that you hadn’t heard since you were a little girl.

It was one of your brothers. In all your confusion and blood loss you had forgotten that he had moved to Korea for university. It made you want to burst out in tears knowing you were in the same place as him after being apart for so long, but again, you were too fucked up to do much of anything other than sleep.

You realized once you had been put in a car that you were being taken to his house, well his and his pack’s house, even though you had never met any of them before.

Though you were pretty positive that, if it were up to your brother, you wouldn’t have heard about his pack before if it weren’t for your shared Chinese grandparents who constantly tried to update you on your elder brother’s life. But you assumed it was to try to convince you to come stay with them because your remaining family on your mom’s side didn’t want to see you die. Which you more than likely would have if you stayed back in your home country since the medical care available to people was all but obsolete now.

Korea had more to offer you in terms of having a better life. If it had been up to you though, you would’ve chosen the fate of staying and perishing with your father’s side rather than leaving and living with your mother’s side.

You loved your people and you were determined to fight, even at the cost of your own life, to help take back the land that was stolen from them. But you couldn’t protest, you couldn’t even speak or stay fully awake. You were stuck and you were dying.

Though just because you were stuck and dying didn’t mean that your once cold and distant brother would suddenly turn into the loving and caring brother you had once known decades ago.

That’s why you weren’t shocked when you realized you hadn’t sensed him near you since the day you arrived. And that’s how you knew that, even in the present time, your brother would positively be no where to be seen nor had any plans of coming to you. Not that you could blame him.

“Yeah well,” you cleared your throat with a hiss when Sicheng began applying some weird ointment that burned to your leg, “I’ve been here I’m guessing nearly a week now and he hasn’t visited me even once. So that’s not too feasible.”

Your words caused the tall wolf to cease his healing tactics in total confusion, “Wait, H-How do you know Ten hyung hasn’t visited you?”

Ten hyung? That must be been a nickname of your brother’s. You had almost forgotten that his pack didn’t know you. Your brother didn’t want them to. They must not have had a clue who you really were or how you worked. Great.

“I- I just do.” You stuttered from the bitter taste the thought left in your mouth, turning your head to the opposite side so the boy wouldn’t see the water building up in your eyes as he continued the torturous task of applying the firey ointment.

——

“How’s she doing?” Yangyang impatiently bombarded his older packmate as he made his way into the common area.

He was eager to see how long it would be before he could actually try to see you in person. He wondered if you knew what was going on or what had happened. He questioned whether you even knew about wolves in the first place or what mates were. But mostly, he was worried for your health and well-being.

“You know you can just go ask her yourself right?” Sicheng questioned with a raised brow as he exhaustedly plopped himself down on the living room couch.

As much as he loved the thought of being able to go to you and just start the rest of your lives together, even Yangyang wasn’t that naive. There were a great number of steps he had to take before he could just start showing deep concern and love for you to your face. And he knew that he would never be able to hide his obvious feelings for you if he saw you face to face, he had no poker face.

So he had to be more thorough. He had to be patient and plan it through. He just hoped you lived long enough for him to get the chance.

“She doesn’t even know who I am,” The pink haired boy reminded his gege with a sigh, “How could i possibly do something like that without seeming super weird and stalkerish to her?”

“Well,” Dejun snorted, “If she didn’t want to be around someone super weird, the universe sure as shit fucked her over by giving her you for a mate!”

“Oh haha. Very funny.” Yangyang rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in the direction of the usually quiet one of their family, “And what about ‘what’s her face’ huh? You think she really got the best deal ever getting stuck with you as a mate?!”

The day after you were brought to their house, Dejun finally worked up the nerve to tell the pack about a girl from one of his classes. He figured it was a good time to confess to everyone where he had been and explained that he, like the pup of the pack, had imprinted on a… less than easy person to be with. Now, it was being thrown back in his face and he didn’t seem to be loving the situation.

“She’s none of your business jackass!” He seethed, failing miserably as he tried his best to not let his anger get the best of him, “At least I have a shot with my mate, there’s a chance yours won’t even live to see next week!”

Yangyang couldn’t help the sudden urge to leap up from his spot and snarl at his brother for saying such cruel things about you.

Did Yangyang already know that there was still a chance you might not have a chance? Of course he did. Contrary to what everyone believed, he wasn’t that stupid or naive. He knew how badly you were hurt and know that such serious injuries could kill even a werewolf. But that didn’t mean he wanted to have the thought voiced out loud. And it sure as shit wasn’t Dejun’s place to be the one to say it.

Just as the two young wolves looked as if they were about to start a bloody fight, the eldest decided it was probably best he speak up before things got out of hand, “All right all right enough you two!” He waved, placing himself between the angsty young boys, “Let’s put our claws in and settle down before we say more things we’ll all regret tomorrow yeah?”

The older of the two mumbled something in what Yangyang recognized as cantonese before he huffed and threw himself back down to where he was previously sitting with a smirk, knowing full well he visibly got under the pups skin with his last comment. It wasn’t that he had anything against you or Yangyang imprinting per say, he just didn’t like it when people said anything about his own complicated mate. So he just had to push the younger one’s buttons right back. It was just how werewolf instincts worked when it came to mating. He couldn’t help it.

It took a moment, but after a few deep breaths to cool himself, Yangyang finally backed down and sat himself on the chair opposite to where Dejun situated himself in the hopes that the distance would make him want to punch the smug asshole less. Surprise surprise, it didn’t.

Once he noticed that the children of the group settled, Kun turned his attention towards the healer to focus on a more important topic: you, “How is she really doing Sicheng?”

“Well, Daiyu and I changed her dressings again which was a challenge in itself since she’s still pretty in and out, but a good majority of her wounds still aren’t even trying to close up.” The pointy eared boy replied, also wanting the attention to be put back on you, “Even though a portion of them are actually relatively shallow. I think she’s got some debris still embedded in the tissue that’s not letting her heal properly and it’s gonna need to be taken out.”

Yangyang felt his heart all but fall to his stomach in guilt. While he was busy arguing with his packmate, he lost touch with what really mattered: You weren’t getting any better.

Why weren’t you getting better? Were they just not trying their best to save you? Could you just be so bad off that the power couple couldn’t help you? What on earth was he gonna do if they couldn’t get you better? How could he help you get better if your own body didn’t feel up to the task?

“It’ll need to be soon.” Sicheng interrupted the pink haired boy’s thoughts, “The longer we wait, the more likely there’ll be some serious infection we won’t be able to get rid of that could...” He drifted off his sentence, even though everyone knew where it was going.

They didn’t know you, but you were still their brother’s little sister. Most of them hadn’t ever spoken to you, but you were still their packmate’s mate. No one wanted to think of the possibility of you not making it. It would be a devastating reality to their small pack that they just weren’t prepared to face. Your brother would be crushed and would blame himself for the rest of his life. And Yangyang would be absolutely devastated and would probably find a way to join you in the afterlife.

So everyone in the room went silent. Everyone stopped what they were doing, almost out of respect for your situation. Everyone was too anxious and too terrified to continue on with their current activities they were working on.

In an effort to break the pin dropping quietness that was seemingly so thick you could cut it with a knife, the alpha tilted his head towards your brother, “Ten, are you sure we can’t just take her to the hospital?” The eldest quizzed, doing what he could to stay within his bounds as someone who wasn’t related to you while also trying to keep his dominance as head of the pack, “You heard Sicheng, she’s only gonna get worse and, even though he’s the closest thing we’ve got to one, he’s still not technically a doctor.”

It took less than a second for the devilish boy to reply to his alpha solemnly, “No. She can’t go.”

A rather annoyed groan came from the heavily pregnant girl who had been helping you and had been witnessing your sharp decline the past few days, “Okay seriously I get that you guys have some unresolved issues and all,” She declared, “But is this really the time for you to be taking whatever it is that’s wrong with you out on your sister? This is literally life and death Ten hyung. She could really-” Dai paused and looked over apologetically at Yangyang for a second before she finished her sentence in the hopes that he could see she was only stating a fact, no something she wanted to happen, “Die. She could really die.”

Sure she was upset with you for punching her mate in the face out of no where and scaring the shit out of her personally. But just because she didn’t particularly like you at the moment didn’t mean that she didn’t want you to survive the brutality you’ve had to face. She used to be in a similar boat and the pack still did all they could to save her. So how could she not do the exact same to help you? Especially when it wasn’t just your life hanging in the balance.

“Yeah Ten, last time i checked on her she didn’t look so good,” Yueguang interrupted, trying her best to shake the thought of your scorching fevered skin from her mind, “Maybe it’s best if we just-”

“You guys don’t get it!” Chittaphon cut them all off loudly, “This isn’t about some siblings rivalry thing or whatever it is you guys think you know about my sister and I’s relationship. She physically cannot go to see a medical professional here. No matter her state of health. That’s just the way it is.”

It seemed like once again the whole room had paused to give him their whole attention. You were human and you were hurt. So why couldn’t you just go to the doctor like a normal person would when they were injured? If you could, maybe you’d live.

“Well Why not?” Daiyu questioned, beginning to get pissed off at her brother for being so difficult for seemingly no reason.

“For the same reason you haven’t gone for your unborn baby,” He rolled his eyes as if the answer was so obvious and pointed at her growing belly, causing Sicheng to try and suppress a snarl at the thought of his baby being mentioned in a conversation about death, “Or why we didn’t go the time Hendery accidentally pushed Dejun off the roof and collapsed his lung. Or why none of us go when we get a pretty gruesome injury,” Ten continued, “She can’t go for the same reason the rest of us can’t: if they run any test on her, any test AT ALL, they’ll find out her secret- OUR secret! And we’ll all be fucked!”

But that didn’t make sense. Sure you didn’t necessarily smell the most human, but the pack attributed that to the fact that you weren’t doing so hot health wise at the moment and the fact that you seemingly grew up around wolves.

According to Sicheng, you also didn’t have any fangs when you were screaming in pain as they changed your bandages. Your eyes didn’t change color when you nearly knocked him on his ass when you first woke up and felt threatened.

You didn’t phase or even partially phase the same way they did when emotional stuff occurred. You clearly weren’t a wolf by any normal standard. So why would they be able to find out the secret everyone worked so hard to keep.

“But you said she’s not-” Yangyang tried to point out, doing his best to poke holes in your brother’s logic so he could get you the best care available.

But it seemed that no matter what anyone said or would do, the nimble wolf wouldn’t back down on you not going to the doctor, “I know what I said!” Ten blurted, aggravated at the situation entirely.

His brother’s sudden outburst scared the pink haired boy more than it probably should’ve. He understood that your brother was just doing what he could to protect everyone as that was part of his job as second in command. But Yangyang couldn’t help but fight the thought of you not being able to go to the hospital. You were his mate. How could he not at least try to give you your best shot at living?

“Look kid, I get why you’re worried, I do. She’s my sister and I…” Ten’s voice began to tremble and become unsteady, “Care a great deal for her too. More than any of you could ever know,” The sadness in his eyes started to form once he saw the panic and pain on the pup’s face build, “But just because she doesn’t shift, doesn’t mean she’s human. Whatever she is- whatever’s pumping through her veins- IS NOT gonna turn out normal on a blood test. Trust me.”

“Just cause she smells kind of like a werewolf, doesn’t mean that if she goes to the hospital they’ll figure it out. She could just smell like that from being around them so much. She’s probably just a normal human.” Yueguang rationed, thinking that it was worth the risk since they weren’t 100% sure you’d make it with just the power couple’s help.

“Yeah we can probably take her and she’d be fine.” Chimed Dejun in agreement, honestly just wanting the conversation about your health to be over already.

Everyone was thinking that their arguements were pretty valid and that your own brother was bound to listen to logic since he should’ve wanted to do everything possible to keep you alive. But before Dejun could even fully finish speaking, Ten broke out in anger once more, “You guys don’t fucking understand!”

Chittaphon was always known as the cool headed one, the jokester of the pack that only ever messed with the people around him lovingly. So seeing him bust into a sudden fit sent a small shiver even down your own mate’s spine, someone who your brother secretly treasured to no end.

“What is it that we don’t understand?” Kun quizzed, “You said it yourself, it’s not like she can shift. So what’s the harm in taking her to get patched up at an actual medical facility?”

“That’s not what I meant! Did you not even hear the part where I said ‘she’s not normal?’!?!” Ten aggressively snarled to his pack, though more so towards his alpha, “When i say she’s not human either, I fucking mean she’d be no better off than the rest of us if we went!”

Yue pinched the bridge of her nose in agitation, “Ten, you’re being ridiculous! Her injuries are seriously life threatening.”

At that point, everyone was beginning to think he was being pretty unreasonable. Sure Ten had a reputation of being a head strong asshole when he wanted to be, but how could he just dismiss the possibility of your getting critical life saving care without at least taking the time to consider what it meant to forgo said care?

“If Sicheng said she’s gonna just get worse, we need to just take her to the hospital for her own sake.” Kun flatlined, instinctively going over to put himself between his mate and the now fuming wolf.

“I dont know Kun ge.” Sicheng interrupted the eldest boy and his mate to put his two cents in for the first time since the conversing started, “As much as I hate to admit it, I think Ten Hyung might be right.”

Did Yangyang hear that right…? Did the wolf that said you’d all but be dead without proper medical care really say that your brother had a point? Was he being serious? Was he just still pissed at you for punching him or something and this was his cruel way of getting back at you?

“What do you mean he might be right?” Yangyang whispered just loud enough for all those in the room to hear.

Truthfully, he was scared about what the observant wolf would say about you. And He wasn’t sure which to hope for at that point, he just knew he didn’t want you to die. He couldn’t let you die.

“I mean I’m pretty sure normal humans don’t need to have their bones rebroken because they healed too quickly days after what should’ve been a fatal accident like her,” Sicheng reasoned with a shrug, “Not to mention the fact that she even survived such a horrific trauma like that when no one else survived, she’s definitely something that wouldn’t be considered human. Even if she’s not a wolf like us and can’t phase, I’d say she’s at least has more than a few of our genes. Genes that would, like Ten said, show up on hospital tests. It’s the only thing that really makes sense.”

The solemn male did have a point. Yangyang wasn’t exactly sure on what had happened to you still, but he knew based on what everyone said that it should’ve killed you immediately. The fact that your heart was still beating was kind of damning evidence that there was something different about you than the average human. But if you weren’t human, what were you? And how would they keep you alive if they couldn’t take you to a hospital?

“And I’m pretty sure the skin surrounding her injuries shows signs of cauterization.” Daiyu added, trying to back up her mate and your brother’s case of your origin with facts.

Considering how fast his sister was to continue Sicheng’s point, Yangyang began to wonder if the mated couple had actually spoken about the topic of your species before.

“Exactly. I think when I get close enough to her, I’m about 90% positive I smell freshly burnt silver. I think that’s why she’s getting sicker. I think she’s allergic to the silver like us and it’s still stuck inside her.” The tall wolf tailed, “Even if we don’t know for sure what’s going on with her gene pool, I’m certain if we took her to an ER, we’d all end up on some scientists metal slab getting tests ran on us once they saw that bit.” Sicheng finished with his head looking down at his feet.

Everyone could tell that even their healer knew keeping you away from the hospital could be deadly based on his reaction to his own words. But if he thought that it was a good idea to keep you home to prevent you from becoming a human Guinea pig, how could they fight that? And it wasn’t just for your own good. It was for everyone’s own good.

Not that knowing that stopped an unsettling pit from forming in the pups stomach. Because to him, deep down it felt like they were all choosing to sacrifice you for the good of the pack. And while Yangyang understood it from a fellow wolf’s perspective. He wasn’t sure he could ever come to terms with that from your mate’s perspective.

“So… she stays…?” Yangyang hesitantly let out into the air, part of him wishing he didn’t have to think about what it meant to keep you back home.

Ten nodded his head at the maknae in confirmation, “She stays.”

Once your brother declared his decision out loud, there was another question at hand that needed to be discussed. One Yangyang knew would make him sick because he couldn’t stand to hear you in anymore pain. But he knew if the answer was yes, that’s what would be coming.

“Do you think you can get all the silver out?” Yueguang wondered to your current caretakers.

It wasn’t that anyone really questioned the couples ability to care for you the way you needed. It was just that you were truly that bad off and no one was sure if anyone, let alone people who weren’t actual medical professionals yet, could fix you.

“We can try.” Daiyu determined, using whatever courage she could muster to give the youngest wolf a sad smile of reassurance to ease him.

But nothing could help him. Because they weren’t even sure if anything could help you. They couldn’t even confidently tell him that you would make it through the removal process alive. Without you, he didn’t even want to live.

That’s why, despite his older sister’s best attempt to soothe his aching heart, Yangyang couldn’t help but let a small whimper radiate in his chest and the tear that had begun to bubble through his vision at the skeptical words fall down his cheek.

“I’ll do my very best.” Sicheng affirmed his mate’s hope as they started their way towards your room again.

But just after Dai went through the door and before the third oldest could do the same, he turned and fixed his eyes to meet the pink haired boy, “Just stay close in case she works the same way we do and having her mate around does help her heal and I’m sure she’ll be just fine.”

And with that, the couple once again went to your room to try and save your life for what seemed like the hundredth time that week.

——

“Fuck!” You hissed in pain as Sicheng pulled yet another large shard out of your leg.

He gave you an apologetic smile to compensate for his harsh actions, “Sorry. You’ll get used to it after a while and then it won’t hurt so badly.” The monotoned elder boy spoke softly.

Though you couldn’t tell if he was trying to comfort you with that fact or if he was indeed just stating a fact to you. Either way, it still stung like a bitch.

“Is that supposed to like- help me feel better- or something?” You questioned, doing your very best to distract yourself from Sicheng’s ever digging tweezers searching through your damaged skin.

“Uh-“ He withdrew his actions at your comment and thought for a moment.

Everyone knew you weren’t doing that great. And he knew that nothing he could ever say or do would ever be able to make up for the fact that you’d more than likely never have the full use of your leg again. But, what else could he really have said? “Y-Yeah. I suppose it is.”

Thankfully, you didn’t have nearly as much shrapnel left as he originally thought. Unfortunately however, the pieces you did have left were relatively bigger pieces. Which was why it hurt you so badly every time one of them touched you or tried to take them out. They were like little icebergs, when they thought they found a little chunk of one, it actually ended up being a substantial section the size of a grown man’s finger.

As he finally sat the final piece of what he could see onto the tray beside him, he let out a sigh of relief, “Alright. That’s the last of it. For now at least. You should rest. You’ll need your strength. We both know this won’t be the last time this has to be done, and I’ll need you to be as strong as you can be to be sure you’ll survive it next time too.” Sicheng gave you a look of what you could only describe as torment and pity.

Then again, you knew if you saw any of the others that they’d most likely hold similar emotions in their eyes…

“Yeah…” You tearfully accepted his words through a harsh swallow.

By the time Sicheng was done, you were evidently exhausted and ready to pass out. The shooting pains radiating around your body also had you feeling lonely and like you wanted to grab a teddy bear you didn’t have and curl up into a ball as you begged for your dearly departed mother or like you wanted to cry yourself to sleep. Since you couldn’t do either of those things because one, your mother was dead and two, crying that hard for that long would only make your suffering worse later, you settled for the next best thing.

“Y-Yeah okay. But before you go- C-Can you… can you just hand me my jacket please?” You asked him with as best a smile as you could muster up in hopes of easing some of the guilt you could tell he felt for foraging through your skin for the past hour and a half.

To say your jacket was special to you was a bit of an understatement. Not only was it one of the few items you actually had with you from your homeland still, but it also contained memories of your family. The jacket itself was something that your grandfather had passed to your father, and when your father died he passed it to your eldest brother. One by one it was passed through your huge lot of siblings when the previous had fallen. And after all the others were gone, it eventually landed with you.

When you were younger, you used to hate it because it meant someone else had to go to fight a fight that wasn’t theirs to fight. But once you gained possession over it, you realized it wasn’t a symbol of war. It was a symbol of family. And now it truly was all you had left of yours. It was safe. It made you feel like you had them with you even though they’d never be with you again.

“Of course.” Sicheng smiled, quickly moving from your side to fetch the jacket that had been sat on a gaming chair when you had first arrived from a cross the room.

“Here you go!” He beamed, happy he could at least do something that wouldn’t hurt you before handing it to your still useable hand, “Do you need anything else before we let you sleep for a while?”

You shook your head weakly, “Mmm mmh. I’ll be alright. But thanks.” You lied and rolled over onto your good side, trying hard to pretend that you were going to go to sleep as you knew as soon as he was out of ear shot you’d most likely let the ever bugging tears stream down your face.

With a quick nod and a small bow of his head, he began to gather up all the used medical supplies he had brought with him and shut off the lights so that your tired self could ‘rest.’

Though just as he had finally gotten out of the door and was preparing to shut it behind him, he could’ve swore he saw you pull something out of one of your jacket pockets and slip it under your pillow. But he didn’t question it or call you out on it. If it was important or something concerning, he’d just deal with it another time when you weren’t in need of some serious understanding.

——

“H-How is s-she?” Yangyang asked his brother in what seemed like less than a second after he fully closed your bedroom door.

You had just gone through yet another gruesome debridement session, but if Sicheng hadn’t known better, one would’ve though the pup of the pack was the one he had been poking and prodding all day.

His once lively and bright smiley face was now streaked with dried up salty streams of despair and misery. His eyes looked as if they were sunken deeper into their sockets because of the ever darkening bags under them. Even his originally olive toned color had all but been drained from his body, leaving behind a cold grayed shell of his former self.

He looked terrible. He looked miserable. Then again if the roles were reversed and he had been the one to sit outside the door while he listened to his mate scream and cry for hours, he was certain he’d look just as bad if not worse than his poor didi.

In the hopes of lessening the boy’s worry of you, he decided to hide the amount of metal shards he had taken from your body and focus on the positive, “I gave her something for the pain. She’s asleep now.” Sicheng got down to his brother’s level and patted him on the back in comfort.

“S-so she’s… she’s still alive..?” Yangyang asked as he stuttered and wiped away some new tears that had begun to form.

He didn’t really sleep anymore. He stayed up most nights to be sure he’d be there in case your heart stopped beating. He didn’t go to school anymore. He switched to online courses for the time being so he could always be home and close by your room so you’d have a better chance of healing. He didn’t really even speak anymore either, except to ask about how you were or what your condition was.

Hell, the only reason why he even ate a little bit of food now and then was because he knew your chances of survival were higher if your mate was alive and healthy.

“Yes Yangyang, she’s alive. Just resting so her body can try to jump start her healing again.”

The second the words left his packmate’s mouth, Yangyang started bawling. He knew he could still hear your very faint heart beat, but when he actually heard from another person that you’d made it through yet again, he couldn’t help but start crying. And it wasn’t just the usual hot tears rolling down his face either. It was hard thick gasping sobs that shook his whole body.

He wasn’t even sure if part of it was because he was so weak from the lack of care to his person or if part of it may have been because he didn’t have to be tortured with your cries anymore. None of it mattered because you were still breathing and were now resting comfortably in the sanctity of his bed behind the wall he was now using for support. And for that, he couldn’t thank whatever being that was out there that kept the universe afloat enough. You were still alive.

“I- T-Thank you gege.” He managed to quietly express once he calmed himself down and began to breathe properly again.

“Any time little brother.” Sicheng chuckled to the younger boy as he rubbed up and down his arm to relax his shaking, “Now come on. Let’s get you something to eat. It isn’t healthy for a growing boy like yourself to go so long with nothing in their stomach. And you both need for you to stay strong.” He hoisted the both of them to their feet and navigated their way to the kitchen.

——

You woke to a dulled throbbing sensation that almost felt like it had your left arm melting. The pain came to you so quickly and was so different than any pain you had felt so far, you couldn’t help but to jet your eyes open wide and growl out a loud “holy shit” at the harsh new feeling.

“Oh goodness, You’re awake!” A girl kneeling beside you squealed in Cantonese urgently as she retreated her hands from your body in surprise, causing what you eventually made out to be a male from the corner of your eye to come darting to her aid.

Once you realized the new boy was forcefully nudging the sweet sounding girl out of the way thinking you were going to do something rash, you rolled your eyes in annoyance. She must’ve been one of the mates in your brother’s pack and the guy must’ve sensed his love in danger. He was being stupid in your eyes though. As if you could really harm anyone in your current state.

You shook your head gently, letting any and all air escape from your freshly healed lungs out with a shakey puff of hesitation as you replied to her in the same language she used to speak to you, “yeah. I wish I wasn’t.”

The only time you ever got any peace or calmness was when you were asleep. Sure you still had the nightmares, but you didn’t feel any of the shooting jolts you did as when you were awake unless you tried to move a lot. But at that point, you had all but trained your body to stay as still as it could while you were resting to save yourself the trouble.

“You speak Cantonese? I didn’t know you could do that! But I’m Sorry for disturbing you!” The high pitch voiced girl declared, seemingly showing a layer of watery gloss in her eyes.

You figured she must have genuinely felt bad that she had woken you doing… whatever it was she was doing so close to you, “H-How do you feel?” She stuttered to change the subject in Mandarin. Or maybe just to get your mind off the now seething pain you felt.

“Is that a trick question?”

You could tell the girl next to you wasn’t much of a threat. Her Bambi like eyes and rounded Mochi cheeks told you that. Some small part of you even remembered hearing her talking kindly to some of the others downstairs during some of your more conscious moments.

But you couldn’t stop your sharp tongue from slicing through. It was a running joke between you and your friends that you had been born as sarcastic as you were unlucky. So it was a bit fruitless for you to act like something you weren’t. You figured it was best you let everyone in the house catch a glimpse of your true personality now rather than later anyways, for their own sakes.

“Well… um-no…” She thought carefully, doing her best to pull who you could now only assume was her mate to her side so she could hold a proper conversation with you, “I just- well I wasn’t sure what else to say.” She answered honestly.

She was really just shocked you woke up at all. But now you were having a full on conversation with her in two different languages she wasn’t sure five minutes ago you even spoke. She was trying to absorb it all.

While the girl’s red eyed nostril flaring guard dog made the hair stand up on the back of your neck, you found yourself oddly endeared to the female.

She was dressed rather too brightly for your own taste, wearing a pleated pink skirt with a white lantern sleeved shirt and cutesy little barrettes in her medium length dark brown hair. She looked like the little china dolls your mom used to bring you after she got back from her trips back home, though you could tell based on her more solidified features that she was probably older than you. You decided to forgo your previous decision to keep your snarky wits about you and went for a slightly calmer demeanor than you normally would’ve.

“…How about an introduction…?”

“Of course!” The girl beamed with a giggle, “Sorry! I forgot that you haven’t met most of us yet. My name’s Yueguang! This here-” She gestured to the older male still glued to her side in protection, “-This is my mate Kun. Oh wait- do you even know what mates are…?” She wondered out loud with a head tilt, hoping she didn’t just royally screw something up.

You couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle. Now was THAT supposed to be a trick question?

“Yes. Yes I know what mates are trust me.” You replied, letting an amused smile settle on you face after a moment, “It’s nice to meet you both I suppose…”

It wasn’t that you minded meeting the rest of the pack. It’s just you didn’t like that the wolf, Kun, still had his defenses up against you. It made you feel the instinctual need to do the same.

But you had already mentally agreed with yourself to try to be nice to the girl taking care of you. She didn’t have to do whatever it was she was doing for you after all. None of them did. They were just doing it because you were their packmate’s kid sister. They weren’t obligated to help you and since you weren’t able to do much for yourself at the moment, you thought it was best to play as civil as you could. Even if it was only to the select few you found sincerely innocent in character or caring for you.

“The pleasure’s all ours!” The girl, Yueguang exclaimed, giving you a smile as she asked you with her eyes if she could continue with what it was she was doing to do before you woke up.

Since you figured whatever she was doing was necessary for you to get better, you gave her a tiny polite nod and she began to dab some rancid smelling rag against the burns on your arm. Even though it still stung, you found that if you were watching what they were doing to fix you whenever they did it that it wasn’t so bad. So that’s what you did. You stared at the cloth as it pressed against your scattered tattooed skin and started taking mental guesses as to what it was she had been tasked to do to you this time.

Within a minute or two, the stalking wolf broke through the comfortable silence with an uncomfortable question, “What’s your name?”

It was bad enough he caught you off guard with actually speaking for the first time, but the question wasn’t one you really wanted to answer.

“My what?” You played dumb, trying to express confusion while internally feeling your heart beat faster for some reason.

It shouldn’t have been a hard question. And you guessed for most people it really wasn’t. But to you, someone surrounded by a bunch of people who assumed you’d give them your Chinese name because they at least knew you were half Chinese, it was.

Yueguang sent a glare of warning over at her mate. You guessed it was probably because he spoke so suddenly and because the question no doubt caused a physical reaction that showed your discomfort, “Your name sweetheart. We just wanna know what to call you. I mean, we know Ten’s mentioned your name was Minnie, but we figured that was a nickname and not your real name, like Ten’s own name.”

So your brother had really brought you to his pack’s home in the dead of night, had them care for you and patch you up with no reward or familial obligation in sight, only to have left them completely in the dark with something even as simple as to your actual name? Yeah, that seemed like something he would do.

“Y-yeah it’s a- it’s a nickname only he calls me,” You didn’t see any point of lying about it.

It was true, only he called you that. He had since you were kids. One would’ve assumed that after everything that… happened, he would’ve reverted to calling you one of your more formal names. But even in your severely fractured siblingship he still used it.

“That’s so sweet!” It was more strange of him to do if anything. Maybe even a bit morbid of him in some twisted ‘it’s all your fault now here’s a daily reminder’ sort of way. “So you probably want us calling you something different huh?” She supposed.

“Probably, yeah.”

Part of you wondered if the paired couple could tell you were purposely being as vague and as blunt as you could. But another part of you, the part of you focused on saving yourself because you were so used to it, refused to care because they said nothing further about it in the moment if they DID notice something was up.

“So what’s your given name then?” Yueguang pressed, finally letting the evil rag fall to the ground as she started the long and grueling process of reapplying the dressing for your wounds.

“Well, I doubt you could pronounce that name.” You joked, soon realizing they wouldn’t be able to articulate it as soon as you realized the two people in your room were fully Chinese, “And my Chinese name is- well… it’s a bit embarrassing and I don’t like going by it.”

Once again, you were just stating a fact. Your name you usually went by back home was far too complex in tone for even native speakers of your language to pronounce right.

And your Chinese name was beyond stupid in your eyes. By the time you were born, your mother had long decided that your name would rival your brother’s name, thinking it would ideally cause the two of you to become closer having names that complimented one another. Boy, was she wrong.

“Alright. So what would you LIKE us to call you?” The stuck up boy raised his brow to you.

As much as you wanted to wipe the growing soured frown off his face, you knew you had to give everyone in the pack SOMETHING to call you. So you settled on one that was familiar enough for you to recognize if called by it, yet easy enough for it to flow off a Chinese speakers tongue as it was technically a Chinese word.

“___.”

Yueguang couldn’t help but tilt her head to the side in curiosity, “___? Is that like a shortened name of your original name?”

“Not exactly…”

“Then why that?” Kun questioned with a scrunched nose, making you wish you had forgone your previous decision to not punch him in the face.

“It’s… it’s what my other brothers and friends used to call me. Because my skin’s always been so much lighter than theirs on account of me being half chinese.”

You didn’t see a point in lying behind the origin of your name, they’d see your dark humor eventually. If the reason you had the nickname upset them, so be it.

The innocent looking girl took a noticeable pause to respond to you, “Well that’s… certainly a bit… different…”

“Yeah.”

Well, you had been fully conscious and aware of your surroundings for less than two days and had already gotten some of the pack to dislike you. That’s a new record.

“Kind of a warped sense of humor no?” Kun raised his brow at you as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Warped sense of humor? Me? Sounds about right.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle a short little laugh out. They clearly didn’t know a single thing about you. Chitta had really fucked them over in having them help you when they didn’t know a thing about how you acted.

Yue cocked her head to the side almost childishly, “What do you mean?”

You calmed your giggling session so you could answer her seriously and respectfully, “Oh nothing. I’ve just- I’ve always just had a bit of a dark and twisty personality I guess.”

“Well alright then dark and twisty girl ___-” The male wolf gave you a discrete eye roll probably not wanting to alert his mate to his annoyance, and went on, “Since you seem to be in more of a coherent state today, you mind giving us a bit of background on what happened to you? Your brother’s been-”

“Half brother.”

You couldn’t help but correct him. You knew your brother would. He always did. He seemed to hate the idea of people thinking you were full siblings. You always figured it was because in his eyes full siblings were real siblings that you had to love and half siblings were fake and could be hated when it was convenient.

After a deafening silence, the boy spoke again, “Right… Your HALF brother’s been literally zero help up until this point. So it’s been a serious case of the blind leading the blinder here.” Kun explained the situation as he ran his hand through his hair.

Was that why he seemed to naturally dislike and distrust you so much? Or could it have been because your brother let you stay with them and didn’t tell him or give him a choice?

“It all’s just… been coming back in pieces.” You answered him honestly, still not completely sure of the whole situation yourself, “I don’t remember a lot… and what I do remember doesn’t- doesn’t always make sense.”

That’s another reason why you preferred to stay asleep. The longer you slept, the more your brain seemed to want to try to put together some of the scene that had cost you a good portion of your body’s function.

The girl beside you seemed to pick up on the fact that you were having trouble understanding it all yourself and opened her mouth to speak with a kind smile, “We’ll take just about anything or any information you’d be willing to share with us at this point. Even if it’s just where you’re from ___.”

You found yourself liking Yueguang the more she spoke. She seemed like she really thought about how to word things well before she said them aloud and she gave off the sense that she cared about you. Based on how uncertainly she talked about the subject, you could tell she knew the situation was something you were still struggling to come to terms with yourself.

“Okay well- um…” You sighed lightly as you tried to explain the earliest memory from the day you got hurt, “I-I remember sitting in my Forger above the clouds. But I don’t really remember the original reason we were sent out, probably because our scouts spotted some bandits… but who knows?”

Yue chimed in quickly after you finished your last sentence, “Forger? What’s a Forger?”

“O-Oh,” You gulped, completely forgetting that you were in a new land that probably didn’t speak the same lingo you did, “I-it’s- um it’s a type of aircraft that-” You attempted to inform her, only to have her cut you off before you could continue.

“Aircraft?!? Like the kind that goes in the air and that they use to drop bombs and stuff!?!” She quizzed with widened doe eyes, much to your confusion.

Next to her, you noticed even Kun had a surprised look on his previously serious resting face.

“Uh…” You deadpanned with a bit of amusement behind your voice as you looked between them, “Yeah. S-Something like that I guess. Anyways- why do you- why do you sound so shocked?”

You didn’t get it, did they not have to do the same thing? Weren’t they all from China? Didn’t they have to deal with the war too?

The older girl’s face was still plastered with bewilderment as she put reason behind her concern, “It’s just- I mean- you’re so- you’re so young. I just didn’t think you’d be doing stuff like that is all.”

Young? Did they consider you… young? But you weren’t young. At least, back home you wouldn’t be considered young. Maybe in Korea you wouldn’t have been…?

“I-I started out doing that stuff pretty late compared to everyone else where I’m from actually…”

You really weren’t sure of your theory, you didn’t know the customs of your refugeed land or even of your Chinese heritage for that matter. When your mom died, you were raised by your father and ten went with his. You never really got to learn things from her because you were so little and didn’t have much of a comprehension back then. Maybe that’s why they were being weird. Maybe they considered what your people do strange for their people.

“And where’s that exactly?” Kun added, or rather jumped, in.

“Where’s what?”

He exhausted a tired sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Where you are from.”

Oh yeah. You forgot your brother was a jackass and didn’t tell them a thing about you for a second as you reminisced about your culture.

“Somewhere you’ve probably never heard of because it’s been under Russian rule for forever.”

An awkward tension filled the air, whether it was because their country was allied with Russia instead of fighting them now or because they didn’t know Russia had started another war to begin with, you weren’t sure. But it got so still around you could’ve sworn someone with normal hearing unlike you could’ve heard a pin drop.

To break the uncomfortableness, Yue decided to reroute the subject to something that could end with a better outcome, “So you fly planes?”

“I fly-” You stopped yourself, remembering that that was in your old life. You wouldn’t ever have that life again, “I- I mean I used to fly jets.”

You hated that you had to correct yourself. You hated that you weren’t back home helping. You hated that you were now laying on… someone’s bed instead of sitting in your usual cockpit fending off the invaders who were doing all they could to annihilate your people and the others like your people. It left a bitter taste in your mouth you weren’t certain you’d ever be able to shake.

Noticing the water forming in your eyes, Kun tried to stay on subject hoping it would keep you from crying and making your injuries hurt worse, “If the country you’re from is so unheard of, how did you manage to get your hands on a fighter jet from the Soviet era?” He broke you from your thoughts.

Fighter jet? Soviet era? You didn’t say either of those things exactly to the couple, though they were both true. You were just curious as to how he knew they were true…

“H-How’d you know that-”

Yueguang interrupted you before you could ask what you wanted to ask, “Kun’s got a thing for planes. Knows everything there is to know about them really. He even just got his pilots license!” She beamed a proud smile as she looked up at her mate with love, who in turn softened his face and gave a small grin back.

“Uh huh. Well- uh-” You cleared your throat due to the shock of someone actually knowing what you were speaking on in the country and because you weren’t really used to seeing such public displays of… whatever the hell it was that those two had going on. “T-The soviets left us their old scraps when they got their newer toys, probably thinking we were too primal in nature to even know what they were.” But you were wondering why your heart ached with a small hitch when you saw their eyes meeting with such emotion towards each other, almost as if they missed or wanted the same feeling with someone you loved. Almost. “But my father revamped their original outdated designs to a more modernized efficient form. He practically had us strip them down to their skeletons and, in doing so, gave us a militia capable of defending and taking back our lands.”

The incredulity was evident on Yueguang’s face as she spoke through your words, “Your dad managed that? He must be pretty smart!”

Your dad made inventions so out there and creative, he would’ve had any inventor of previous “technology” roll around in their graves. Yet he never let all the masterminding and working get in between his time with his kids.

Hell, sometimes he’d even bring you with him to his shop and explain how everything worked saying that you’d ‘need to know it all one day’ to continue his legacy anyways. He always called you his little protégée princess and had you helping him make his latest designs to showcase to the others in your village or unit. Though many knew him as a man that prided himself on his brain, family was what he truly treasured.

After your mom died, he always made sure to spend extra time with you so you’d know you still had a parental figure who was there for you. Hed take time out of his busy schedule to help you with your homework or listen to you spout off about some crazy idea that had accumulated in your head. He never raised his voice, even when times were tough and he got frustrated. He was the world’s biggest goofball who loved playing pranks between projects and was always looking for new ways to put a smile on your face.

You loved your dad with all your heart. He was just the best dad a girl could ask for.

Was the best dad a girl could ask for…

“Yeah. Yeah h-he was. But even the biggest brain in the world couldn’t stop a Uragan.”

You let your voice fall as you remembered him and what happened. It was unfair. He was brilliant and they took him away from not just you, but from your people who depended on his craft to survive. They robbed your country of the light at the end of the tunnel they so desperately needed. You hated them.

Tears began to spill out of the outer corners of your eyes and slid to the curves of your ears just as Kun tried to ask “What’s a Ura-”

If you explained anything any further, you’d cry. You’d never stop crying. The only thing that ever helped was when you were fighting to get back at the monsters that killed him. But you couldn’t do that anymore, you weren’t even in the same country anymore. Even if you managed to find your way back, you’d never be the same. You blinked away the heated water and tried to regain your composure.

You had to be strong. He’d want you to be be strong. You had to hold it together. For him.

“Annnywaaays, back to what happened” You broke his sentence apart before he could piece it together and shatter your already unevenly beating heart, “I was in my jet and then there was someone on my tail. I knew I had to lose him, but i realized my guns weren’t functioning and could see that everything below me was lighting up.”

You did your best to tell the story you saw every night in your dreams to them in a way they would understand. You remembered flying and seeing gunfire glisten against your crafts glass windows. You remembered gripping your steering with all your might and trying to fire to not avail. You remembered your pulse going through the roof and that your time was running out. You remembered being scared for the first time since your mother died. You remembered feeling trapped.

“So what’d you do?” Yueguang wondered out loud as she listened in horror.

“I did all I could do: I went higher.” You could still see the nose of the Forger going up as you did all you could to keep steady when the cockpit began to shake, “I went higher than I should’ve, I think I capped at 30,000 ft but i dont know for sure. Everything started to get… blurry pretty quickly after that.”

The girl next to you, who looked as if she was listening to some sort of action movie about to hit its climax, suddenly changed her expression to one of curiosity as she listened to you tell your tale, “But Why did everything go blurry?” She probed, obviously trying her best to tread as lightly as possible into the subject out of respect.

You couldn’t blame her for questioning everything. You realized neither of the two Chinese people next to you probably had to deal with war the way you did.

But you didn’t have a choice but to join the resistance. Once the grown adults of your nation began to fall too fast to even bury, the government had no other option but to send out the next set of individuals capable of shooting a gun with little recoil. And that group just so happened to include you, your brothers, your cousins, and your friends.

“G-Loc, right?” Kun affirmed with you with an unreadable expression. You assumed he was attempting not to show you he was just as immersed in the whole thing as his mate was.

“Alpha boy’s probably got it.” You confirmed with the smallest of nods, “Gravity’s a real bitch.”

You still felt the shift of pressure in your head. That, topped with your heart still thinking it needed to speed up to compensate with the trauma you were going through (at least that’s what you chalked it up to), made you start to feel more nauseous than you should’ve, “I tried to descend as fast as i could. But I must’ve been losing consciousness because I started falling. And i must’ve fallen hard based on the silver shards stuck in my crushed side too.”

“How does silver have anything to do w-” You couldn’t help but cut Yueguang off because she asked what you considered to be a dumb question.

You didn’t want to be mean, but you also didn’t want to tell the story forever. As you started saying it all out loud you soon realized that it was only gonna make you feel like shit. You just hoped you could tell it the one time and that they’d tell the others (or that the others could hear for themselves if they were home) and you’d be done having to tell it. You just wanted it over with already.

“It’s what the outer shell was made of. The inner cockpit was specifically designed with copper to be sure it wouldn’t kill half my squad on impact if we crash landed. It was no secret over half of them were shifters so we had to watch the materials we used to forge our gear,” You illuminated what you meant to the mated pair, “Based on the simple fact that silver has a higher density and would’ve only crushed in on a heavy impact once molded and alloyed with a heavy duty metal like platinum or titanium, and that taking into account that my skin literally burns like I’m being scorched with a branding iron just sitting down-” You hissed through your teeth as you tried to reposition yourself slightly, only to have Kun and Yueguang help maneuver you more to your liking so you wouldn’t hurt yourself more or reopen your injuries, “-It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that the fragments still lodged in my body probably happened because my seat didn’t punch out like I was meant to. Which would’ve only happened if i hit the ground too hard in too much of a hurry.” You finished, waiting for anymore questions to appear out of either of their mouths so you could answer them swiftly.

When you received none, you took that as the go ahead to add the last remaining parts to what happened, “Next thing I knew, I was looking up at the night’s sky through some of the rock and sheet metal, trapped, doing what I could to concentrate on the stars above to stay awake until help arrived. But it eventually all went black too.”

After a beat of silence, and after giving each other concerning looks, Yueguang spoke just above a whisper, “…That’s just-”

“Awful.” Kun alleviated her words with sorrow dripping through his voice.

If you weren’t so strangely made genetically, you honestly wouldn’t have even heard him. He spoke in what you could call a hardly audible whimper. Once you looked up to see his face, the only thing you could see was hurt. His heart hurt for you.

When you looked over at Yueguang, you saw just how shiny her previously joy filled eyes had become. They both felt bad for you.

Yue instinctually sat her hand to rest on your lowered forearm in comfort as she sat next to you sniffling back a sob.

You didn’t want either to feel so bad over something that wasn’t their fault, so you gave a weak smile, “It’s not all bad-” You lightheartedly chuckled to show them you were alright, “I do remember taking at least one of them in my fall zone down with me.”

You could tell that, while you comment seemed to snap the alpha back into his defensive reality of you, Yueguang was unconvinced.

“So it sounds like you’ve killed before then?” The older boy sneered with snap. But you couldn’t tell if he was being serious or if he was wanting to play his feelings off with a dark joke you were well affiliated with.

Instead of smacking him like he half expected you to, you laughed at him. It was a genuine laugh that you hadn’t expressed in the time you had been with them too.

Kun wasn’t even sure what to think of someone that would respond to an insinuation the way you had. Most people would be offended, but you just laughed. You laughed like you had heard the funniest joke of your entire life despite your wounds that no doubt must’ve been aching at you to stop. But he wasn’t getting the joke, “What’s so funny?”

“A killer judging a killer. That’s a little hypocritical dont you think?” You breathed with a sigh, wiping away tears of hilarity that had trickled their way down your eyes with your less dominate, uninjured hand.

Kun narrowed his golden eyes at you in suspicion as he looked you over. And, one again, you couldn’t tell if he was just trying to find a way out of the situation or if he was genuinely ready to pounce on you.

But through gritted teeth, he growled out “Touché” before his eyes began to spot back to the crimson color they had when you first woke up and scared his mate.

Noting the change in her mate’s attitude, Yueguang seemed to make it her mission to get him leave the room to cool down and used the excuse of you being broken to accomplish her quest, “OKAY! How about you got make her a little something to eat so she can attempt to get her strength back up baby?”

“…Alright,” Kun eventually agreed with a huff, “Call me if you need me then my love.”

With that, he pushed himself up to stand and walked out your bedroom door, closing it a bit harder than he probably should’ve given your state.

“Sorry about him.” Yueguang apologized for her mate’s attitude, “He doesn’t mean to pry or seem so…” She trailed, searching for a word in mandarin to explain what she meant and failing miserably.

So you decided to give her one you thought worked best instead, “Fucked?” You snorted as you rolled your eyes.

“Language!” She squawked in a scolding tone, only making you feel more pride in your choice of words, “But… yeah i guess. He’s just concerned is all. We all are. This whole situation was completely unexpected. I mean we didn’t even-”

“Know I existed?”

The fact that you already knew where she was going with her sentence seemed to puzzle her, but she still answered you nonetheless, “Um… y-yeah. We only-”

“Knew about Tern?”

Now you could see the wheels turning in her head, trying to figure out why it was you seemed to just know you brother wouldn’t even tell his own pack about you, “Y-Yeah.”

“Yeah. That’s about right too. My brother never tells people he has another sister. He hates me.”

“B-But why?” The girl stuttered, her eyes starting to get noticeably glossy again.

You figured she must’ve been a very sensitive person. Or maybe you had just numbed yourself to the whole situation with your brother either way, you saw no harm in being honest with her. She just seemed worried for you.

“Because he blames me for our mom’s death.”

This time, she gave you a reaction that bordered disbelief, “W-Why would he do that? That’s out there even for him.” She declared with a scoff.

“Because… it is my fault that she died.”

——

Yangyang had been sitting outside your door all day. His ass was practically glued to the same wood floor slot he always sat on at that point. He stayed by in case it could help you feel better. But staying close by you didn’t necessarily make him feel better.

At least, not while he listened to you and his sister having the conversation you were having anyways.

“What did you mean by it was your fault your mom died last time we talked ___?” Yangyang heard Yue quiz you from behind the wood door of his/your bedroom.

Yangyang was there for that conversation too, you just didn’t know, he didn’t think you knew anyways. He heard you explain what happened to his alpha and his mate. He listened as you explained the situation in your home country. He cried silently as your pained voice explained how you nearly died. He knew about it all.

He just couldn’t tell you he knew or help cuddle your sadness away because as far as he knew you didn’t even know he existed. The whole situation both confused and aggravated him to know end. But he couldn’t do much about it so long as you were still unable to leave the room he had given you. So he just sat and tried to absorb as much knowledge about you as he could in the hopes that it would help him get to know you as a person.

“I meant exactly what was said.” You informed her easily.

That was one thing he had learned about you from staying so close: you were very honest. Probably too honest. You didn’t seem to care what others thought nor did you care if the truth hurt someone’s feelings. In a way, Yangyang admired you for that. He’d never have the courage to do even half of what you’d said or done that he knew of.

He already knew that Yue was staring at you stunned as he listened to your skin sizzling quietly under whatever antiseptic they had been trying to cleanse your wounds with recently, “But how can that be? I don’t understand.” She stated as she pouted more of the liquid.

Yeah, he didn’t either. Then again, with how you spoke about your brother in the select few days you had been awake, he wasn’t too shocked to hear it anymore. You acted as if he wished you dead. Like he hated the very idea that you even drew the same air as him to breathe.

But as Yangyang could practically feel your heart beating next to his own, he knew how much it pained you to say such things out loud. He knew you loved Ten and cared for him more than you did yourself. Even if he didn’t love you back the way you wished he would.

“W-well… I-It was my fifth birthday. My party had just finished and I- I didn’t feel very good. I was having trouble breathing,” You spoke just above a whine, “It was late and everyone was tired, including my mom. But she was worried for me because I was getting worse.”

Before you came around, the pack had all thought that Ten’s stepmom was his mom. It wasn’t until you told everyone just how it was you two came to be related that they knew you shared the same mom. He never spoke of her and flatly refused to. But Yangyang realized the only family member you were usually comfortable speaking about for more than a second was your mother.

He wasn’t sure why that was. Speaking of your dad and other brothers or family was never your favorite thing to do. The nerves would always skyrocket inside Yangyang’s chest whenever they were brought up to you, signaling to him that the reaction he was feeling was probably being mirrored from you. Based on how you spoke of your mother though, she passed when you were little. Really little. So he figured maybe a decent amount of time had passed for you to have mourned her properly, making you capable of remembering her fondly instead of sadly.

When you brought her up into conversation, you typically had a stable heart rate and your mate couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face. But when you started speaking of her now, it felt like someone was jabbing a knife straight through his rib cage. It hurt you. Of course it did. You were talking about how you believed you caused her death.

“I didn’t want to go.” Yangyang heard you stifle a sniffle as your voice cracked in an almost pleading tone, making him want to burst through the door and throw his arms around you. But he couldn’t. He had to both hear and feel your heart break and was unable to do anything about it.

You let out a sad dry laugh to obviously cope with the pain behind the story you were telling, “Even when I was little I-I knew that I would probably stop breathing if I didn’t go to the hospital within a short window of time. It was getting so hard to breathe. But I tried my best not to care about it or let it show.” You emphasized nonchalantly, “Because I had a bad feeling.”

“A bad feeling?” Yue questioned through your story.

“Yeah. Kind of like how some people’s bones ache before a storm hits. I just had a bad feeling if we went something bad would happen,” You answered her, “So I really didn’t want to go. But my mom insisted. She always worried herself sick over us, that time was no exception.”

Yangyang knew that too. You made it seem like both of your parents would’ve rather have died than let anything happen to you or your brothers, he gathered you had more than just a couple. He knew if he were ever lucky enough to be a parent, he’d probably feel the same way. So he could sort of understand why your mom wouldn’t listen to your begging to stay home.

“So she put me in the car and drove towards the hospital. But-” You choked, clearly catching your throat on the cries you were holding back as you remembered what had happened, “But just as the light turned green signaling her to drive forward, a-another car came a-and T-Boned her side of the car.”

“Oh no.” Yueguang exclaimed in horror at the same time as Yangyang let out a defeated, “Oh fuck.”

You were in the car with her when it happened, presumably alone. You were just a scared little sick kid who didn’t even want to go to the hospital. The more Yangyang learned of you, the more he wanted to hold you and never let go of you to protect you from having to deal with anything bad ever again.

“We flipped. A lot. In the end we were upside down. Somehow I managed to get my car seat undone and made my way towards the front of the car towards my mom b-because I was s-scared.”

You were a toddler who wanted her mother in a terrifying situation so bad you actually pulled yourself out of your car seat while upside down and did everything you could to reach her. He couldn’t even imagine what that must’ve been like for you.

“But when i found her, s-she was losing blood. Too much blood.”

If you were gonna say what he was praying you weren’t gonna say, he would lose it. No child should ever have to go through that. No adult should ever have to go through that.

“I tried to stop it. B-but I-I just couldn’t.” Yangyang listened as you worked your best to hide your stuttering, but he could hear how close you were to just giving in to your sorrows and bursting into tears, “My hands were just t-too little and she was too hurt.”

You weren’t even trying to hold back your tears now. Yangyang thought it was because you hadn’t actually told the story in full like that in a long time, maybe ever.

“By the time the ambulance came, she was gone.”

Then he heard Yueguang let out a whimper from deep within her chest, much like he figured she would as the most emotional one in the pack, “Oh honey.”

As much as it pained Yangyang to not be there to hold your hand through your pain, he was glad you at least had one of his sisters with you to comfort you the way he knew she was doing in that moment.

“I didn’t even get to go to the funeral. Turns out I had double pneumonia. If i hadn’t gone to the hospital when I had, the doctors say i would’ve probably died. But instead, m-my mom did,” He didn’t like what you were insinuating with that comment, “I traded my mom’s life for my own.”

Your mate’s heart ached for you. You were just a baby. You couldn’t help what had happened. And for your brother to blame you for something like that, for you to blame yourself for something like that, was beyond fucked up.

“But that’s not true ___.” Yangyang listened as Yue began lecturing you on why you couldn’t have stopped what had happened.

Then you said something that made even the sweet girl in the room with you’s blood boil, “It is to my brother.”

And just like that, Yangyang went from being heartbroken to being pissed. What kind of brother would ever let their baby sister who had just watched their mother die feel like it’s her fault? The world’s biggest jackass, that’s who. The angry growl that pushed past his lips wasn’t one that he could have controlled even if he wanted to.

“Well he’s wrong!” Yueguang declared with the stomp of her shoe that vibrated the floor boards to the wolf sitting on them with superhearing.

“None of it matters anymore. What’s done is done. The past is the past,” You brushed off the older girl’s annoyance and your willingness to comply with your usual sad giggle that Yangyang determined you must’ve always done when you found a situation hopeless, “I’d rather just talk about something else.”

“O-Okay. Like what?” The hesitation in his sister’s voice about changing the subject was obvious but she went with it because it’s what you wanted. Not that the pup could blame her, he would’ve done the exact same thing. In fact, he was 99.99999% positive he’d do just about anything you wanted him to if it made you happy.

“Has that pink haired boy been sitting outside my door the whole time I’ve been here?”

Yangyang all but shit himself when you acknowledged his existence so easily. Here he had been jumping through hoops to keep you from finding out he was your mate before you were ready. But you already figured out he was staying outside your door the whole time you had been staying with the pack.

The started Yueguang probably wanted to lie to protect him, but in the end, the only thing she could muster out was, “Um… just about yes…”

“And why has he been doing that exactly?”

“Well… uh- Because he’s just… a very empathetic boy and he’s very concerned for you.” As Yangyang listened to his sister spout off a sorry excuse for a coverup, he couldn’t help but mentally face palm himself.

“Uh huh,” You continued, increasingly unimpressed with the taller girl’s answers, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bad liar? Do you guys seriously think I dont know what’s been going on?”

You knew about wolves. Of course you’d put two and two together, you were super smart after all. Yangyang just wished he hadn’t spent all that time away from you when he could’ve been by your side holding you hand instead.

“Okay maybe I’m not the best liar…,” Yueguang defended herself, “But it was at least half true! He really is very concerned for you!”

Yangyang should’ve probably felt more embarrassed at the whole situation, but in the end, all he could do was laugh. He definitely had his work cut out for him having you as his mate.

“Yeah yeah whatever. Can you just tell him to get in here so i can meet him already? At this point, it’s gonna end up just being plain weird if i don’t talk to him soon.”

So, as per your request, he lifted himself off the spot he had become so well acquainted with over the time you had come to live with them, dusted off his pants, turned the knob and opened his bedroom door.

“Hi…” Yangyang said with a shy smile as he met your icy gaze for the first time.

You let out something that resembled a school girl giggle as you felt the familiar feeling of your heart pounding in your chest, “Um… Hi there!”

(Last Updated 7/11/2025)

[gureumcityrecs]

liu yangyang

wayv masterlist

| ☁ personal fav |

| ♤ oneshot | ♧ smau | | ♡ chapter fics | ♢ headcannons | | ✿ angst | ❅ smut | ✥ fluff |

--- nothing yet! ---

[theficblog]

Prompts 25, 9 and 31 with yangyang pls :) yk something like when yangs and reader have an argument but make up in the end :DDD

“When was the last time we had a real conversation.”

“Being in love with you is scary… not that you’re scary, of course, but that I’d fuck this thing up,”

“If this is your way of flirting, you’re doing a terrible job at it.”

OHH YES I'M GONNA LOVE THIS ONE! ARGUMENT AND THEN A HAPPY ENDING! :D (the fact that :D always reminds me of his gummy smile)

Thank you so much for this request! Stay tuned for the fic! <3

[yutaabyss]

I’ve written and rewritten the yangyang enemies to lovers 300 times it feels like.... send help 🙃😬

[wayv2728]

How would Yangyang care for his crush who's had a rough ex relationship?

One thing that comes to mind would be him trying to get you to not hide your emotions. He doesn’t care how vulnerable you feel, he wants to stick with you through it all. He wants you to allow yourself to feel angry and sad about it, and will help you access these emotions. The type to be like “here, punch this pillow & pretend it’s your ex”. Would be terrified to make a move cause he doesn’t to take advantage of how vulnerable you are.

[yutaabyss]

Teehee I saw ur taking last minute requests and I hope I'm not too late, but can I have yangyang and enemies to lovers ? With some smut ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) thank u hehe

yangyang is my weakness i swear. this is probably my favorite request