you hadn't spoken to yangyang in a week. you'd ignored his calls and texts, thrown yourself into work, and pretended you didn't see the concern clear as day on your friends' faces. you were more than willing to admit that the silent treatment was immature, but the longer it went on, the more your initial anger morphed into shame, and now you just didn't know how to face him. the two of you had only been dating for three months and were honestly still getting to know each other. you liked him, though. you really liked him, which is why his words stung so much.
you hadn't spoken to yangyang in a week, and you'd just left your office building after doing overtime for the second night in a row, and it was dark outside. on your way to the underground, it started drizzling, and you swore under your breath when you realized you'd forgotten your umbrella.
you hadn't spoken to yangyang in a week, and you were soaking wet by the time you reached your apartment building, and his car was parked outside. through his rain-spotted window, the two of you locked eyes, and you saw his widen as he took in your soaked frame, throwing open his door and rushing out to meet you.
"... hey," he said, unprepared. ever a boy.
"... hey," you replied. the rain intensified. "you'll catch a cold out here."
he shook his head, chuckling but for a second. "you're one to talk." brown eyes met yours. "wanna dry off in my car?"
you looked up to your apartment's window, shades drawn tightly shut. "okay."
...
his car was warmer than you'd expected, and you shed your water-laded jacket as he cranked up the heat, engine running idle.
you ducked your head to fiddle with the jacket now in your lap. "thank you."
tapping on the steering wheel, he nodded.
"um." you sighed quietly. "i'm sorry, yangyang." it felt like a weight off your chest, so you kept talking. "to be honest, what you said really hurt me, but the silent treatment was unfair. i just felt so ashamed for being immature and ignoring you that i didn't know how to fix it and i... i'm sorry. and thank you for stopping by. and it's okay if you don't forgive me, i..."
yangyang took your hand in his, and the warmth caused you to trail off, looking up at him. he was avoiding eye contact, ruffling his hair with the hand that wasn't holding yours, clearly uncomfortable, but speaking anyway. "you're already forgiven. just... don't ghost me like that again, yeah? i'm sorry too. would have apologized sooner if you'd let me." and here he looks at you out of the corner of his eye, smirk ghosting his lips.
you can't help it. you lean in and kiss it off.
the way he hums in reply, tilting his head to be closer, has your heart pounding, and you cup his face in your hands, running your thumb down his jawline to feel the tiny pricks of stubble.
his hand reaches across the center console to grasp your waist, and his touch warms you further, heating up your face. you try more than once to pull away, but he's magnetic, and you end up pecking his lips over and over, the two of you inevitably erupting into laughter.
you giggle into the space where his shoulder meets his neck, and when you pull yourself back up, his eyes are shining. you know what he won't say aloud, so you whisper it.
i am officially opening requests and wanted to post my guidelines here :)
1. i reserve the right to refuse anything that i feel uncomfortable writing- if you request anonymously, i'll just have to delete it, but if you don't, i'll message you to let you know that i can't do it!
2. everything i write is sfw! i am fine with suggestive content, but will not be writing explicit material ♡
3. i write for all current members of nct
4. i do not write heavy angst and tend to avoid potentially triggering topics. if you are unsure if your request qualifies as heavy angst, just send it in and i'll let you know if i'm okay with writing it :)
5. as a default, i use gender-neutral language, but if you would like a specific gender used, let me know!
6. i am in uni and working part time! this means that your request might take some time or be shorter than you would like- i'm sorry about that, but it will get done!
7. feel free to tell me the level of suggestiveness you're comfortable with! if you don't specify, i'll keep it super ultra clean.
8. when writing, i default to prose, but if you prefer to read bullet-point scenarios, let me know in your request.
9. when requesting, be as specific or vague as you would like! however, keep in mind that being super vague may mean that you don't get quite what you were imagining.
examples:
halloween with jaehyun (this is very vague, but that's fine with me! that gives me lots of room to have fun with it.)
halloween costume party with jaehyun and a male reader dressed as vampires. established relationship, suggestive, include doyoung as a friend, and keep the mood upbeat and happy. (this one is good too!)
best friend!johnny teaches you to skateboard (great)
best friend!johnny teaches you to skateboard, but you fall over 3 times and he buys you strawberry ice cream to make up for it. 100% platonic. (also great)
like i said before, if you're not sure, just request and i'll let you know ♡
lastly, if you decide that you would like to tip me, just message me and i'll send you my ko-fi link. absolutely no pressure ☆
thanks so much for all your support, i can't wait to see what you'll send in!!
haechan tugs on your shirt. it's a habit he's had for years, the way he'll gently (or not so gently, when he's teasing) pull on your sleeve, or hoodie strings, or hem. sometimes, he's just being bratty for the fun of it, trying to get a rise out of you and make you furrow your brows in annoyance. other times, you've been staring at your phone for a few minutes too long, and he needs you to listen to his latest mark-targeted joke. you've always found it cute, especially when you give in and look at him, and he rewards you with a little smile or a pout you can't help but heal with a kiss.
today, you're both sitting on your couch, gently curled into each other's space as an old drama plays. it's cheesy, but making fun of it with your boyfriend beside you, easily trading jokes and making you shake with laughter, is easily one of your favorite activities.
gradually, as the episode ends, the jokes slow down, and your conversation grows into a comfortable lull. haechan tugs on the sleeve covering your forearm.
"hm?" you adjust your head so you can focus on him.
"... i like your shirt."
"oh!" you smiled, looking down at it, pulling the sleeves so they cover your hands again. "thanks, baby. my favorite person did give it to me," you winked.
he winked back. "they have good taste. you look," and here he paused, averting his eyes, cheeks a little pink, "pretty."
giggling, you pressed closer to him, his arm instinctually moving to your waist. you delicately pressed your hand to his jaw, leaning in and kissing his lips. he held you there, on the couch in front of the forgotten tv now playing commercials.
when you finally pulled away, he gazed at you with shining eyes and a smirk. haechan tugged on the hem of your shirt. "kiss me again?"
every summer, you traveled to the coast, where your grandparents' sweets shop sat pristinely in a colorful beach town awash with tourists and money that burned holes in their pockets. they were generous with tips and that, along with the kindness of your family members and the gorgeous sunsets that reflected red and orange on the ocean, made for some perfect summer memories.
you'd spent all semester looking forward to this trip, burning through your finals in a caffeinated, yet exhausted rage that left you spinning when it was over. the very next day, you hopped on the train with a single suitcase and prepared for the long trip to the sea. you watched through the window as city buildings melted into long grassy plains into palm trees, the music in your earbuds growing more upbeat. it was finally time for your summer to begin.
your grandmother greeted you at the tiny station, pinching your cheeks and grinning wide. she wrapped you in a warm embrace, rambling about the renovations they'd just completed and how gorgeous you would find the shop.
"i won rock-paper-scissors, so i get to pick you up while he manages the homefront," she said with a wink, and you chuckled in response, climbing into her little red four-door sedan. it was only late afternoon, sun and sky bright, but your trip had worn you out and you fought the urge to drift into sleep. instead, the two of you spent the drive catching up as you filled her in on your classes and friends and she updated you on your favorite locals.
"oh," she said, "it was so sad to see the songs move out, but a new family bought their place fast! i swear, it felt like a matter of days before they were all settled in. they have this adorable puppy, and a boy your age!"
"wow, for real?" it was rare to see people your own age there, as most, like yourself, went to the colleges in the northern cities. "where's he working?"
"that art store mr. liu runs- he says the kid's doing a good job."
"huh. i'm glad he finally gave in and hired some help."
she snorted. "tell me about it, kiddo. i've known that geezer my whole life and that damned stubbornness never changes. renjun's a real persuasive character, i'll tell you that. not to mention one hell of an artist! if you stop in, i'm sure you can see some of his stuff."
renjun, huh...
-
when you finally reached the candy shop, you jumped out of the car, bouncing with childish excitement to see your grandfather again. fondly, your grandmother chuckled.
“c’mon kiddo, help me carry in your bags. my arms are old and frail, y’know!”
“oh!” you quickly grabbed your biggest suitcase. “sorry, ma!”
she just laughed once more, waving you inside and upstairs to the living area. “put your stuff down, then change into uniform!”
your grandmother put you straight to work every summer, but you still played along, whining. “but i just got hereeeeee...”
patting your head, she mimicked your tone. “but i have arthritisssssss...”
you cracked up. “ma, my first boyfriend thought you were my aunt.”
“and now look at me! an old hag.”
“fine, baba yaga, i’ll get changed.”
“baba yaga!?” fake-offended, she pinched your cheek and waltzed out. “this witch is off to nap! wake me up when we’ve closed for the day!”
grin plastered on your face, you pulled a vintage red-and-white pinstripe apron from the closet, your shiny nametag still pinned on from last summer. it was time to get to work.
-
your grandfather pulled you into a tight hug as soon as you appeared behind the counter. “there’s my favorite part-timer!”
“and favorite grandkid!” you exclaimed, hugging him back just as tight.
he shushed you, eyes bright. “can’t let the others find out.”
hand on your hips, you surveyed the shop. at the moment, there were six or so people milling about, all in various kinds of beachwear. the wooden shelves, all built by your grandfather himself, were stacked with candies. while they sold some name brand candies, most were made by your grandmother and other locals with time on their hands. you’d tried it a handful of times and, while far more difficult than you’d expected, the feeling of making a great batch was rewarding beyond belief. then to see little kids running around enjoying your handmade candy? the most fulfilling feeling in the world.
the shop itself was small, with natural wood and sea glass decorations accentuated by sky blue walls. it always smelled like the beach, since you were right on the boardwalk, and while that meant that it often got crowded in the little building, it also meant that your grandparents weren’t suffering from a lack of business, which gave you and your parents a great sense of relief. your favorite part of the shop, though, was the old fashioned bronze bell, which rang every time the door-
ring!
in walked a middle-aged man you’d never seen before.
“mr. huang!” your grandfather said. “good to see you stop in.”
the man smiled politely. “good to see you too. it’s a lovely day out.”
“isn’t it just! mr. huang, this is the grandkid i was telling you all about.” he turned to you. “this is mr. huang, his family bought the songs’ old place.”
you reached out to shake his hand, excited and a little nervous. “it’s nice to meet you! my grandmother just told me that your son is working for mr. liu now, right?”
he shook your hand firmly. “why, yes he is. a bright kid, that boy, if i may brag.”
laughing, you were about to continue the conversation when a family approached the register, and you rushed to check them out. they had a small mountain of items, and your grandparents were committed to the vintage aesthetic, so by the time you finished handwriting their receipt and checking off their purchases in the store’s book, mr. huang had selected a bag of chocolates and two caramel bars.
shortly after handing you the exact change, he took the chocolates in hand and pushed the caramel bars to you. “would you take one of those to my son for me, please? i’m afraid he doesn’t get off work until half past eight. the other one is payment, if you don’t mind.”
your grandfather popped his head up from where he’d been fixing the candies at the front of the counter. “go ahead, kid. it’s an awful short walk and the breeze is perfect right now.”
smiling, you couldn’t help but agree, especially if you’d get caramel out of it. “of course! thank you, mr. huang.”
“thank you. i’m so sorry i must rush off, but have a nice day.”
he was out the door in a flash, and your grandfather straightened up with a smirk. “now, if i didn’t know any better, i’d say he was trying to set you two up.”
“pa!”
belly-laughing, he shrugged. “i dunno, kid, your last boyfriend was an artist too.”
you scoffed and grabbed the two bars from the countertop, stuffing them into the front pocket of your apron. “i’m going to deliver these in record time.”
“now, now, take it slow! have a nice conversation! not too nice, though, if you-”
you were definitely out the door in record time.
-
admittedly, your grandfather was right about the breeze. it tousled your hair without whipping it into a frenzy and cut down on the heat significantly. yet, the sun beat down and you found yourself weaving under storefronts for some shade, waving at the shopkeepers you’d known your whole life. the atmosphere here was so warm and friendly that you always missed it when autumn hit.
it took a mere five minutes to reach mr. liu’s art shop, tucked away in a back alley, slightly distanced from the rush of the boardwalk. it was quieter here, and you inhaled deeply before entering, no bell on the door to announce your arrival. when you were younger, you stopped by somewhat often, but as you got older and busier, you came in less and less, occupied by your studies and your grandparents’ store. the inside of the shop was as beautiful as ever, though. paintings and sketches covered the walls, making it near impossible to see the original paint. while the few windows were small, mr. liu used an assortment of small lamps rather than fluorescent lights, making the shop feel warm and cozy. in the back, a line of easels showed off painting after painting of the same dishware set, most likely from his tuesday art classes. you stepped closer, trying to get a better look. you had a habit of trying to pick your favorite every time they were on display, and you were in the midst of analyzing them when a boy exited the back room.
he blinked a couple times, then put on a polite, customer-service smile. “hello! let me know if you need help finding anything.”
pausing, you took a moment to process his two-toned hair, blond on the bottom and black on top, big brown eyes, and collared black shirt. his face was a little delicate... pretty. the way it contrasted with his sharp jaw and deep voice had you feeling knocked off-kilter. “um...” his nametag read renjun. “yeah, actually.”
renjun nodded, focused on you.
“uh, well, your dad stopped by the candy store and asked me to deliver this to you.” you pulled out one of the caramel bars and passed it to him. his hands had specks of dried green paint on them.
“he...” renjun reached up to rub his forehead, visibly embarrassed but smiling genuinely now. “i’m so sorry, i can tip-”
“oh, don’t worry!” you cut him off, rushing to explain. “he got me one too!” grinning sheepishly, you pulled yours out of your pocket.
the boy was speechless, but sighed. “still... here, come up front.”
gingerly, you followed him to the counter. “i really didn’t mind, it’s nice out. plus it meant i got a bonus break.”
he laughed a little at that, then started flipping through a black sketchbook left on the counter, stopping near the end to gently pull out a page. “if you like it, you can keep it.” he shifted a little, nervous.
you looked down at a gorgeous painting of the night sky. the silhouette of a tree took center stage, branches bending and reaching up. brilliant blues and purples framed bright white stars. it was breathtaking.
“this is... beautiful.” you tore your eyes up, gazing into renjun’s. “that was a two dollar candy bar.”
his shoulders shook with giggles, and, just like the painting, you found it far too hard to look away. “it’s okay. it’s an apology for the inconvenience.” now that he’d gathered himself, you couldn’t help but find his posture regal. there was something prince-like about the way he held his head, polite and self-assured. “my dad... he’s a little worried about the lack of people my age here. so he’s going overboard.”
you shook you head emphatically. “not at all! i mean, i’m glad he came in.” oh no, that sounded so weird. “i rarely visit the art shop these last few years, so yeah...”
renjun nodded along. “i understand.”
awkward silence filled the space between you. shifting, you took a step back.
“well, i have to head back to work... i’ll come by again, though, if that’s okay!”
the boy smiled, teasing. “i can’t exactly stop you.”
-
the next day was a saturday, meaning that the shop was packed. you helped your grandparents from sunrise to sundown, and your feet ached by the end. wrapping you in a hug, your grandmother thanked you and, as per usual, pinched your cheeks hard enough to sting.
“you are an angel, kiddo. i’ll make your favorite for dinner.”
“see, that’s why i visit!”
she flicked your ear, yet chuckled, and slowly made her way up the stairs to start cooking. your grandfather went to help her, but paused in his tracks.
“my gosh, i forgot to check the mail. would you be able to do that for me real quick? i swear the rest of the night is yours!”
you agreed easily, making your way to the metal box mounted on the outside wall. opening it, you pulled out a stack of papers: two magazines, a couple bills, and one envelope with... only your name on it. puzzled, you headed upstairs and showed your grandparents.
“well,” your grandfather said, “open it up! maybe you’ve got a secret admirer,” he winked.
you and your grandmother scoffed in unison.
“if it’s anyone giving you trouble, you’d better pray for them,” she said, tapping her wooden spoon to her hand threateningly.
finally, you opened the envelope, and pulled out a small watercolor painting. it was abstract, but incredibly pretty, with pinks, blues, and yellows blending together in a soft, simple design.
“wow...” you whispered, reverent.
your grandfather leaned closer to appraise it. “now ain’t that something. dear, come take a look.”
sighing, your grandmother abandoned her food prep, but smiled when she saw it. “wonder who that could be from,” she grinned.
you couldn’t help but blush, and your grandfather guffawed.
“might i suggest another candy delivery to a certain art shop?”
“pa!” you ducked your head, but... “yeah.” a soft smile overtook your face. “maybe i’ll make the bar myself this time.”
-
this year, when summer ended, it was with lips on yours and yet another painting slipped into your back pocket.
a painting with a phone number written in the bottom left corner.
(Note: The italicized portions are quotes from the sonnets I reference! It may take you out of the moment a bit, but I wanted it to be clear to everyone which parts are references to the sonnets and which parts aren’t, so you don’t have to google them in another tab or anything :))
-
The wooden floorboards creak with each step as you enter the bookshop, finally sheltered from October’s chill. You pause in the cramped doorway, gazing into the one-room shop with unfiltered curiosity. It’s like a movie set, you think, the way books are artfully piled, the perfect balance of aesthetic disorganization. An antique rug covers the floor and silences your footsteps as you walk further.
You see no one at the desk in the back, so you begin rifling through the shelf closest to you. The books are all secondhand, bindings worn just enough to make that fact obvious. When you open one that’s particularly old, a yellowed page flutters to the ground and you quickly bend to pick it up, then stop. Sonnet 65.
Then, a voice behind you. “Oh, so you’re a romantic one.”
You can’t help but jolt, then laugh, alight with nerves. “It fell out of the book... but it is a favorite.” When you turn, you’re drawn into dark brown eyes and suddenly brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea could stop the pounding of your heart.
The man smiles and steps back. “Sorry for the scare.”
Standing, you brush off your pants. “No, it’s... it’s fine!” You’re shaky, but you want to know more. “Then what’s your favorite?”
“Hm, I wonder... what would you guess?” His eyes and the curl of his smirk hold mystery and you’re hopelessly drawn in. Your mind is full of rocks impregnable and gates of steel, strong hands and spoils of beauty. But you stop yourself. You’ll joke; it’s safer.
“Sonnet 18, obviously.”
He snickers. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”
Grinning, you lean in, just a smidge. “Thou art more lovely and more temperate.”
“Please.” The man rolls his eyes. “Try again, will you?”
“75.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“So are you to my thoughts as food to life, Or as sweet-season’d showers are to the ground.”
“... And for the peace of you I hold such strife, As ‘twixt a miser and his wealth is found.”
With a smile, you say, “Exactly.”
His eyes take you in once more and you find yourself aching to be seen. So, when he tells you to try once more, you truly think. You gaze across the bookstore, his plain clothes, his still stance and drumming fingers. Then, you speak.
“Let those who are in favour with their stars, Of public honour and proud titles boast, Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars, Unlook’d for joy in that I honour most.”
Slowly, he takes in a breath, then, like a prayer, whispers, “Then happy I, that love and am beloved, Where I may not remove nor be removed.”
You look at each other. When he walks to the back, your heart drops, but he stops, so you see only his profile in the dimming light.
“My name’s Doyoung. Come by again sometime.” His eyes meet yours. “Oh, and keep the book.”
it's just past midnight and you're curled up next to mark, head in his lap. his fingers comb delicately through your hair and you can feel how hard he's trying to be gentle. it's beyond endearing.
in all honesty, the sound of his phone buzzing and his quick reach to silence it awoke you a few minutes ago. then, as if to make up for it, he began running his fingers through your hair. there was no way you'd pass this up, so now you lay quietly on his lap, savoring this moment.
a kiss is pressed to your forehead and your eyes flutter open. even in the darkness, you sense his eyes shining.
"knew you were awake. sorry about that."
you readjust yourself, yawning. "nah. keep petting me and we're good."
your temples hurt and your eyes are dry. it feels as though your spine will never straighten from its position hunched over your desk. rubbing your forehead, you close your eyes for a blissful second and reopen them to your laptop's glaring screen.
in short, you are exhausted, overworked, sleep-deprived, and miserable.
when your phone rings, you feel your bad mood dissapate the slightest bit. you've been waiting for his evening call.
picking up, you whine into the receiver, "dejunnnn..."
a crackling chuckle echoes from the other line. "baby, good to hear your voice."
you curl up in your deeply uncomfortable wooden chair and hum in agreement. "yours too."
"wanna tell me what's wrong?"
"ah..." in the face of his kindness, you feel immature. "it's nothing big, all this work is just... really frustrating. i'm so tired," you laugh self-deprecatingly.
"hey, you're allowed to feel tired. it's okay. you'll get it done."
for this moment, you voice your insecurities. "... it won't be good."
"that's okay too. listen to me, baby: you are going to accomplish great things. this is just one small piece of that. i promise you, you'll be just fine."
it's difficult to believe.
"i love you."
but that isn't.
you take a deep breath. "... love you too, dejun."
"i believe in you. finish soon and get some rest."
you sat across from a napping young man and tried not to gaze at his eyelashes for too long. then, a ray of sun burst through the forest and you could no longer hold back from staring. his cupid’s bow was prominent, eyebrows relaxed. his strong nose and cheekbones gave him a handsome, masculine air.
the train hit a bump and your eyes went back to the window. your throat was dry. never before had you seen a person this enticing.
the label on his luggage read dong sicheng. it was unfair, you thought, drumming your fingers on your thigh, that even his name rolled off your tongue.
rattling and clanking, the drink cart woke him up. in a voice much deeper than you’d expected, he ordered a hot cinnamon tea.
you asked for the same, and when his eyes met yours over the brim of his cup, you burned your tongue.
the cottage you lived in was surrounded by pine trees and berry bushes. on early spring mornings, you and jungwoo awoke to deer by the salt lick.
you dried herbs for tea in the evening and french pressed two cups of coffee. delicately, you poured cream in a heart-shaped pattern on top and set one mug in front of him, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.
the windows were large and the sun shone bright on the old wooden floorboards.
at the sight of a fawn, you grasped your lover's hand and a smile enveloped his face. his fingers stayed intertwined with yours as you watched it prance with its mother, clumsily and with boundless enthusiasm. only when the deer wandered off did jungwoo stand.
"my turn to make breakfast," he reminded, eyes bright with mischief.
"i'm trusting you with my life here, honey."
he laughed, gently leaned in to kiss your neck, and disappeared to the kitchen.
after a moment, you heard the crackling of eggs on the stovetop, and took this time to breathe deeply.
the heat of the coffee and light of the sun invigorated you as the smell of breakfast filled you with anticipation. soon, you knew, you'd have to feed the livestock and weed the garden. then, a trip to town for new fabrics and an afternoon of mending while jungwoo dusted and swept.
the two of you always made and ate dinner together while your puppy watched in facination, weaving between your legs, tail wagging with excitement. you'd tease jungwoo over the way he cut vegetables and hug his back while he stirred, then peck his nose when he turned around. both of you fought hard not to slip the puppy food while you ate, yet gave in half the time. you would clean the dishes imperfectly, jungwoo's pout working wonders to drag you under the blankets with him.
you would curl around him while he regaled you with the tales that mark, the carpenter's son, told him that week. together, you exchanged gossip and giggled over yuta's escapades. you'd bet on which goat would give birth first and brainstorm names for the billy.
just before drifting off, he'd hold your hand. "let's visit the lake tomorrow."
and, like always, you'd nod. "let's."
but all that came later.
in that moment, waiting for breakfast on a weekday morning, sipping on a warm drink while the forest stirred, you felt fufilled. complete.
it was pouring. in the distance, you heard shouts of thunder echo through the hiss of rain hitting pavement. standing alone under the shelter of the library’s entrance, you pulled down your sleeves, weighing your options. you’d spent all day researching for your senior thesis, forgetting to check the weather as you’d rushed out the door that morning. full of regret, you shifted your weight between your feet. the chill was already getting to you.
then, hearing heavy splashing coming towards you, you looked left and a laugh burst out of you. a boy with rain-soaked clothing dashed through the downpour, heavy backpack bouncing as he clutched two massive textbooks to his chest. you would have felt guilty for laughing at his predicament, but the embarrassed grin he shot you as he jogged past proved he knew just how ridiculous he looked.
suddenly, this situation didn’t seem half as bad, and you steeled yourself before sprinting out of your shelter. his head swiveled at the pounding of your feet and when he caught sight of you behind him, he cracked up. you couldn’t help but laugh again, hand reaching up to cover your mouth while your shoulders shook in amusement. still, like a scene out of a bad rom-com, when his bright eyes caught yours, you barely stopped a gasp. how the hell were you meant to strike up a conversation in a rainstorm while sprinting with a man this gorgeous?
and yet, as you instinctively grasped his elbow when he slipped, as he mouthed thank you with wide eyes, you knew the two of you had an alliance.
finally, you reached the dining hall and threw the glass door open, pushing the boy in before you. both of you ignored the glances and giggles, sitting down and the closest table and sighing heavily.
“oh... my god,” you exhaled, dissolving into laughter for the third time since seeing the mess of a human across from you.
he scrunched up his nose, giggling, and pushed down his hood to ruffle his hair. “that came out of nowhere, for real.”
shit, he was cute. you took in his deep brown eyes, flushed cheeks, and open grin, feeling your heart skip a beat and basking in the feeling.
“so,” he said, brushing water off his books, “i’m yangyang.”
and, while you introduced yourself in turn, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you two were meant to meet.
chenle has always been skilled at taking your breath away, but this is something else entirely.
you're childhood best friends, neighbors, classmates- every stereotype in one. and, as you've grown older, the two of you have only gotten closer.
it's customary now, to go on long walks on the weekends. even in the frigid winter, you're shoulder to shoulder, only separating to run a couple meters forward and pack together a snowball. you'd attack with a grin and laugh at the betrayal bright in his eyes.
it'd take at least an hour to get back home.
he's your energy, your motivation, your best friend.
and now, after a lifetime of stealing your air through tickle fights, bad jokes, and spur of the moment races down the sidewalk, your lungs empty for an unpresidented reason.
because, on a long, lazy summer day, sitting in the grass together as the sun sets, his lips find yours.
mark giggles as you throw your arms around him in the doorway of your new home together. when you pull away, eyes sparkling, you can’t help but brush your lips against his cheek in a rose petal kiss. then you take his hand and pull him inside, reaching to close the door behind him.
“welcome home,” you say, shifting your feet nervously.
his bright brown eyes only widen as he takes in your living room, paused with only one shoe off. “you unpacked this much? that’s...” quickly taking off his other shoe and jacket, he walks to the other side of the room and admires your work.
“i mean, i couldn’t set that much up because i wanted to ask you about your thoughts, but-”
“this is amazing.” mark cups your face in his hands and kisses your forehead, putting your worries at ease. “you’re incredible.”
laughing, you bury your head in his shoulder. “sure, mark.”
“really. thank you.” he wraps his arms around you and you hold him back, full of appreciation for this man.
together, the two of you stand in your half-finished home, surrounded by possibilities, sparking with opportunity, and glowing with love.
at least until the day he showed up in the nurse's office with skinned, gravel-spotted knuckles.
you were resting on the cot due to a head cold. you couldn't focus on anything, head spinning, waiting for the bell to ring so you could take the train home. if it hadn't been a monday, you would have called your sister, but you knew she worked longer shifts that day.
the nurse hurried out a minute ago to get lunch, leaving you alone in the sterile room. that is, until dejun pushed the door open and slid inside, wincing as he cautiously pulled it shut behind him with a click.
when he looked around the room his eyes lit upon you and he put a finger to his lips. you just nodded, putting a hand on your forehead when the motion made your blood rush. you were far too exhausted to care how and why he snuck in.
watching through half-lidded eyes, you observed his search. it was only after a full two minutes that you grew frustrated enough to croak, "what exactly are you scavanging for?"
he didn't look up, rifling through the drawers. "tweezers. got gravel in my knuckles."
wincing, you sniffled, "well you won't find them there. try the middle left drawer- in the back."
"middle left?" he muttered.
you were too sleepy to explain, eyelids putting forth the utmost effort to flutter shut. finally, you gave in, only jolted back to the world of the living when you heard dejun exclaim, "found them!"
now he was sitting in the nurse's desk chair and digging at his hands. the sight made you cringe.
"alcohol is... to your right. bandages bottom left. tape's next to them."
"oh. thank you."
you hummed but couldn't drift off again. you now felt the need to keep an eye on him, for one reason or another.
passively watching clearly wasn't enough, though, as you looked on in horror while he poured half the alcohol bottle over his wounds, hissing through the pain.
"what... dejun, what?" you felt your headache get worse. "just come over here."
glancing up, his eyebrows furrowed. "no, you're sick. just rest."
"too late." patting the spot next to you, you said, "roll over here, nerd."
he chuckled. "me, the nerd." still, he scooted over, medical supplies piled on his lap. "do your worst."
delicately, you cradled his alcohol-soaked hand in yours and moved up slowly to a sitting position, propped up by the wall. "tweezers please."
dejun passed them to you and you set to work. you felt a sense of calm, focused energy pass through you as you worked from left to right.
between picking out the rocks, you began to pat off the blood with your jacket.
quickly, he grabbed your hand. "what are you doing? that's white, it'll stain."
you only shrugged. "bleach exists."
he sighed, but with a light grin. "here." dejun passed you his flannel and reached up to tuck your jacket around your shoulders. "stay warm, little rebel."
you shake your head. "just give me your hands back."
the dimpled boy bent over his rose bushes, cautiously trimming off the dead buds. light beat down on his sunscreen-coated skin, shimmering in a strangely captivating manner. slowly, he began to water the roses; red then pink, yellow then white. droplets stuck to his fingertips and he patted them off on his light t-shirt.
in the shade of a willow tree, book open on your lap, you watched his delicate, graceful care. the breeze shifted to your direction and your senses were filled with the scent of roses. a warm, lilting memory.
