MIXTAPES.

i don’t smoke (except for when i’m missing you) — taesan

taesan x reader

wc — 2k genre & warnings — angst, situationship, smoking, alcohol consumption, unedited playlist/inspired by — supercut by lorde // i don’t smoke by mitski // focus by niki notes — remember folks! communication is always the key. (that way you can manage your expectations.) if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback! request to be part of the taglist! masterlist

synopsis — a drunken phone call leads you and taesan to unpack what was kept under wraps, and you both don’t know where to stand on your relationship.

there’s a thumping in your ear—maybe it’s from the bass that sounds through the walls or the jumping crowd that shakes the floor. the flashing lights have turned into hazy streaks of red and the smell of sweat seems to stick. yet, despite how uncomfortable the club has gone at this hour, you stay in place, swishing the contents in your cup before downing it.

you let out a quiet exhale, senses numbing and faltering the more you drink. but the thumping remains, and you don’t know where it’s coming from.

“y/n!” your eyes snap towards julie whose eyebrows are scrunched in worry. “are you okay?”

you straighten your back against the wall. “me? yeah.” you lift the cup to her view, giving it a small shake to show it’s empty. “i just finished my drink, so i was letting the alcohol sit.”

julie chuckles before grabbing it from you. “okay, that’s enough drinking. you,” her finger jabs at your chest, “need some water.” despite the groan that leaves you, she latches onto your arm before dragging you away. 

as you make your way back to the booth, the music seems to drown from the volume of your friends. taerae’s laugh overlaps the melody and gunwook’s complaints take over the vocal chops. “oh, there you are!” jaehyun calls out the moment he spots you. “i thought you went to the washroom.” you plop down beside him. “maybe even went for a smoke break.”

“hey, i don’t smoke anymore,” you defend yourself. 

“anymore, you just said.”

you roll your eyes before mumbling. “i don’t even think i’m a smoker.”

before jaehyun can argue, julie leans over towards you two. “i’m going to get you water.” as she’s met jaehyun’s intoxicated grin, she sighs before standing up straight. “maybe i should be getting you some, too.” once julie takes her leave, you both erupt into drunken giggles.

the rest of your friends continue to enjoy the night; some continue to down more shots while others share the latest gossip. you and jaehyun don’t exchange a word, shoulders pressed to each other as you stare off into nowhere. and while you attempt to enjoy the shared silence, the thumping in your ear remains.

“what’s on your mind?”

“nothing.” you look over at jaehyun. “just alcohol.”

he frowns. “you just… i feel like your mind has been going off somewhere this whole night.”

“literally, i’m just spacing out.” you rip your gaze from him before you sink into the seat. “nothing to get too worried about.”

a beat passes.

“are you sure?”

with jaehyun’s persistence, you get off your seat. “i’m going to find julie.” despite his protests, you make your way through the crowd until you find yourself by the bar. you call on the bartender and ask him for another glass of whatever he gave you then. at his nod, you lean on the table as you wait for him to mix up another concoction that would keep your mind busy.

beside you are seats filled with flirting couples, whispering sweet-nothings and getting handsy in public. it seems that more people behind you are having the time of their lives chatting and grooving on the dance floor. yet, here you stand, hoping that the next glass would allow you to give you the enjoyment you’ve been craving this whole night.

you thank the bartender the moment your order is served. before you can drink, someone shoves against you, causing it to spill. “hey, watch where you’re going!” as soon as you catch sight of the person, your stern expression suddenly shifts into shock—because he looks like him.

“sorry about that!” the stranger is quick to apologize, a regretful smile resting on his lips—and it reminds you of his smile, the same one he would shoot at you at every party, every late night out, every time he managed to upset you. the person throws a quick glare at his friend before saying, “i hope i didn’t spill your drink.”

at your silence, the stranger takes it as his sign to continue partying, but you remain frozen, staring at him. the similarities are uncanny; the same cat-like features with the exact fashion style that he has. and suddenly, it’s a supercut in your mind—of every stolen glance, of every hand held, of every lean in as he tries to listen to your whispers, of every short distance and shared silence spent staring into each other’s eyes.

yet, those moments seemed like nothing to taesan.

once you down your drink, you move past the crowd until you finally exit the club. even outside, the thumping in your ear remains. the moment your hand rests on your chest, you feel the pounding in your chest—and you realize that it’s been your heartbeat all along.

you dig through your bag until you manage to fish out an opened pack of cigarettes, and you don’t even think twice about asking a group of strangers smoking to light up your last cigarette.

first drag. you shut your eyes close as you lean against the brick wall.

second drag. your brain has turned cloudy and your heart rate has slowed down.

third drag. you still think of him.

you pull out your phone, greeted by multiple missed calls from jaehyun and julie, but you ignore them as you scroll through your contacts for taesan’s name. as soon as you spot him, your thumb hovers over his phone number.

and the next thing you know it, your phone is pressed against your ear as it rings.

your friends would’ve shouted at you if they knew what you were doing. at first, they seemed to enjoy hearing the first few escapades you would share with him, until they asked you what you two were. they found out you were entangled in a life of mixed-signals, and your distress had only made them beg you to cut him off. you should’ve listened to their advice. after all, they pointed out all his red flags in every problem, every story, you shared.

but you did none of the sorts.

the ringing goes silent. you almost think the call was dropped until you hear him clear his throat from the other line. “hey, how’s my sweetheart?”

you thought it was a common thing taesan did with friends but it came to your surprise that it’s the first time jaehyun has heard him refer to someone with that nickname. you don’t know why he calls you that, and you never complained—until now.

“why do you call me that?”

“sweetheart? because the first time i met you, you were sweet to me. you’ve always been sweet to everyone.”

you shake your head. “no, not that.”

“what?” taesan’s confusion only has your heart rate racing once more. if he couldn’t even understand what you’re referring to, what more did he think about where you two stand?

“why do you call me yours?”

it’s silent for a moment.

wind grazes against your skin as you take another drag. “why do you do that? why do you always reach out for my hand whenever we walk? or always wrap your arm around me?” when he doesn’t say anything, you take that as your sign to continue. “why is it that you always bring me back to your place? why do you tell me to stay for the night? and why do you hold me so close every night?” you exhale. “why do you do all that?”

taesan continues to remain silent. “i just,” you slide down the wall, crouching as you look down, “you say all these things… do all these things, and i get confused. whenever i’m with you, you always seem to get touchy with me, and you don’t care whenever i say that your friends might get the wrong idea.”

it never helped that he boiled your statements into shame—because you could never be embarrassed of him. yet, he could never define what you two were. what didn’t help is that he would always answer jaehyun with, “just friends,” whenever his friend asks about you two.

“and taesan, i was willing to keep up with it until you wanted something more official. but the months kept going, and suddenly i was suffering from every moment you grew distant from me or i saw you getting touchy with someone else.”

you take another drag, and taesan still refuses to say anything.

“everything you do makes me think that there is something going on between us, and maybe i am getting the wrong idea, but i’m begging that you tell me that i’m not just someone you’re just looking to have fun with. i can’t continue with this if we don’t settle on what we are.”

as seconds go by, you almost think that he dropped the call on you. but you know he’s still there. “taesan.”

“yeah?” he finally speaks up.

“i’m only asking you one thing. what are we?”

and when you’re met with silence once more, you realize the answer all by yourself. if you two were something, he would’ve interrupted you as you list down your questions. if you two were something, he would’ve had no problem telling jaehyun what he thought about you. if you two were something, he would’ve been able to answer you in a heartbeat.

“y/n, i enjoy your company. i like having you around and all, and you seem to understand me in a way that my friends don’t.”

despite the seconds of silence that pass, you know there’s another half to the sentence.

“but i’m not looking for anything serious right now. i’m sorry you saw it that way.”

your friends are right. you should’ve known better than to expect something out of this. it was doomed to fail from the start. maybe if you listened to your friends earlier on, you wouldn’t have found yourself in too deep with someone who could never understand the boundaries. 

“maybe it’s best that we don’t see each other anymore,” taesan says.

it pained you to hear him say that because at the start of each day, you would seek him out knowing you’d end it with him. it almost hurts imagining what tomorrow would be like knowing you wouldn’t see him anymore.

but for once, he was doing something right.

you nod before saying, “okay. i’m sorry for thinking that.”

the call drops. he didn’t bother to say goodbye. 

as you take another drag, you stare off into nowhere while you’re left to replay everything that went down between you two. maybe you should’ve done better to uphold those boundaries, ask him earlier on if he was interested in being in a relationship, and you could’ve avoided wasting your months on someone who couldn’t imagine something with you.

you should’ve been mad that this is the outcome.

“there you are!” you whip your head to see jaehyun with a worried expression. “i’ve been looking for you everywhere! you weren’t picking up your phone. what are you doing outside?”

then, jaehyun sees the cigarette in one hand and your phone in the other, and his frustration dissipates. you rip your eyes from him, avoiding eye contact as you recount what went down within those months with taesan. when your friend crouches beside you, you try to keep your feelings at bay. after all, it’s better to keep everything to yourself.

yet, it takes jaehyun’s hand against your back for the tears to finally come out.

you disappointed your friends as you continued to see taesan without their knowledge. you disappointed yourself by thinking something could come out of your months spent with him.

but most of all, you disappointed taesan by becoming another person who caught feelings.

(and what’s worse to say is that you hold out hope that he’d come running back to you. you’d forgive, and forgive, and forgive. you’d accept him back with open arms no matter what.)

(so for now, you’re left looking for anything that could fill the void that he’s left until he comes back.)

networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @blankjournal @onedoornet @kstrucknet

boynextdoor permanent tag list: @bndokidoki @0310s @whyilovewhales-pdf

favourite sight // leehan

When the annual summer class trip means a visit to Busan and staying at Leehan’s family’s hotel, you know that it will be total chaos, you just don’t expect to fall for your arch nemesis, the most popular boy of the year - Leehan himself.

➳ Characters: class vice-president!Leehan x class president!female reader/you

➳ Genre: boarding school au, summer class trip au, enemies to lovers (but not really), rich kids au, fluff, comedy

➳ Words: 6.7k

➳ Warning: mentions of food, reader can't swim and almost drowns in one scene, academic pressure, playful banter between reader and Leehan in which Leehan is called a show off, stupid tall with stupid long eyelashes and stupid long legs (because she's oblivious duh)

➳ A/N: This story is the second installment of my 'love map' multifandom series which features 3 different idols and 3 different stories that take place in 3 different countries. The stories can be read on their own though.❤️

Header taken from this WHY Concept Film

➳ Dedicated to: @dat-town ❤️

➳ Taglist: @s00buwu, @emmylksblog, @0310s, @hansuo

When the annual summer class trip means a visit to Busan and staying at Leehan’s family’s hotel, you know that it will be total chaos, you just don’t expect it to be this chaotic. Alas, you also end up falling for your arch nemesis, the most popular boy of the year - Leehan himself.

You weren’t supposed to stay at the hotel of Leehan’s family. You were supposed to go somewhere else, some place that had nothing to do with him, but the arranged accommodation went back on your request when they decided to take on organising a business event for an international company. Not that you could blame them; they were probably better off serving cocktail after cocktail to rich business people than babysit students who were not allowed to drink alcohol and bring in any either.

Like the show-off he was, Leehan rang his parents the moment your homeroom teacher announced that she would need to look for another accommodation, and asked for your help - you as class president and Leehan as vice-president. The boy was done within a few minutes, and your homeroom teacher looked like she was on the verge of crying when he confirmed that his family’s hotel had enough rooms for their class. She had already been stressed over organising this whole trip to Busan on her own while trying to accommodate all the parents’ requests, she probably already thought that she had to cancel the whole trip because of this.

The only reason you held yourself back from snorting was because of Miss Lee, otherwise, you would have made a comment on how Leehan always ended up playing the hero, and how he knew ‘someone’ wherever he went. Sure, everyone was famous and rich in one way or another at KOZ International High School as it was a private boarding school, the number 1 for university admission rate success in Asia and number 5 worldwide, but he just seemed to be everywhere.

Plus, since you were the class president and he was the vice-president, you just had to put up with it all the time. Even if it meant having to shoo away shrieking girls when they caught sight of him in the library as you two were picking up books for the next class or rolling your eyes when you collected mobile phones at the beginning of the day and yet another girl made a joke about how Leehan could keep their phone if it meant that they could have his heart.

You already knew that this class trip would be about him when Busan came out as the most voted destination in this year’s poll, the first Korean city after the last two years - it was Hanoi the summer after freshman year and Shanghai the summer after sophomore year. You just didn’t expect that it would be about him to this extent.

“Were your rooms really not sold out for that week during summer?” You quirked an eyebrow as you exited the teachers’ room, shooting the boy a glance. He didn’t seem to be offended by the implication behind your words, he merely said:

“The hotel has a separate building for events where mostly weddings take place and wedding guests can sleep, and it was coincidentally not booked yet. Wedding season starts a bit later into summer.”

“Of course,” you mumbled under your nose, not like you knew anything about the hospitality industry. Your parents owned a private clinic, the furthest thing from his family’s line of work.

“I’d say it was supposed to happen this way,” he shrugged his shoulders casually, the tie around his neck a bit looser than usual, and you had this inexplicably annoying urge to reach out and fix it for him. You wanted to save your dignity though, you could already imagine the teasing remarks you would get if you willingly did something like this for him, so no thanks, you would rather jump off a cliff.

“Are you that happy to go to Busan?”

“I mean, there’s the seaside, there’s my parents’ hotel, what’s there not to love?”

Everything, you wanted to say, but when you turned a corner, the hustle-bustle of the corridor filled with the students’ chatting blocked out all of the snarky thoughts in your head, and instead, you saved yourself from another 15 minutes of having to witness the boy’s popularity to yourself, and told him that you would go ahead and set up the Physics lab for next class, he could do it next week.

He didn’t protest, he merely gave you a bob of his head and a lazy half-smirk, something that made girls go crazy over him, except you.

The hotel was enormous, to say the least, and you weren’t even in the main area. You really had a separate building to yourself that had a dining room, a dance room and a karaoke room on the ground floor. You had the feeling that they turned a bar into the latter because there were shelves that seemed similar to shelves that held fancy bottles of alcohol, but nothing seemed out of place. You even had an outside pool and a direct view of the seaside, something that made everyone impressed.

“Dude, why didn’t you tell us about this place in the previous years? We should have come here every summer before,” Yechan exclaimed as he took out his phone and started recording, probably filming a new video for his Youtube channel. It seemed that every mundane person was either too curious or too bored to get a glimpse into a boarding school student’s daily life because his channel had already accumulated 2 million followers, and he had only started last year. Though it definitely helped that he was half Canadian, half Korean, so he could speak both English and Korean and provide subtitles for both languages.

“I thought you said you wanted us to go to your parents’ hotel next time,” Jungwon chirped in, but the Canadian boy shook his head.

“Nah, Toronto is too cold for summer trips.”

“Can we use the pool too, Miss Lee?” Millie inquired after the two boys settled on dismissing Canada as a possible destination for next year’s class trip. Thank God next year’s trip will be the last one, you didn’t know how you would survive these events any longer. Plus, all the money that you spent on this summer trip should have been donated to charity in your opinion, but alas, it was mandatory.

“Of course, but only until 10 PM, and obviously, be responsible. Some of you can’t swim, so no pushing, alright?”

“Who can’t swim?” You heard Gyuvin ask with his jaw comically dropping, but his question was muffled by the cacophony of suitcase spinner wheels, dropped bags and the usual lively chit-chat of soon-to-be senior year students.

“How do you like it?” Leehan asked, leaning closer to you, so you could hear him, but you gave him a death glare for doing so, and stepped backwards. Too bad that a lamp pole was also there, and you almost bumped your head into it if it hadn’t been for Leehan’s hand taking the hit.

For a moment, you just blinked up at him and his stupid height, too embarrassed for your own good. You were the class president, for God’s sake, you were the person of order and responsibility, you couldn't randomly bump into lamp posts!

You could see from the corner of your eyes that Taesan - Leehan’s friend - thought better of waiting for him, and awkwardly turned around to walk towards the hotel, but you didn’t dare look for his full reaction. You were sure that your face was flushed as it was, you didn’t need anyone else’s reaction on top of Leehan’s.

“Are you okay?” The boy asked uncharacteristically gently, his voice void of any playfulness, which was almost a first for him. Why did he even have to have stupid long eyelashes? Ones that fluttered oh so beautifully while he was looking down at you.

“I’m fine. Never been better. You should just… keep your distance from me,” you warned him as you pushed him away, at least enough, so that you could grab your suitcase again and start walking towards the hotel. It didn’t take him long to catch up to you with his stupid long legs.

“I can see that my closeness is having an effect on you even though you clearly claimed in sophomore year that you are immune to boys like me.”

“I am. It’s not my fault that you sneaked up to me like that, and that lamp post was there behind me,” you pointed out defensively, and kept your eyes on the back of the last two students from your class.

Miss Lee got Mr Brown with him - your English teacher -, so that they could supervise your class, but they were at the front, and you and Leehan were always at the back at events like this, so that no one could get lost (like Yuma and Jo on a company visit to Samsung in sophomore year) or hide in a bush ever again (Gyuvin once tried that during a class trip).

“Well, this is my city, and I’m going to make sure everyone has the time of their life, including you,” Leehan announced triumphantly, flashing a smile at you that was akin to the ones he used when he was campaigning to be voted as the vice-president again after last year. No wonder Rei didn’t get the title even though you would have preferred to have her instead of Leehan.

“Sure. Good luck with that,” you wished with an eye roll, and urged Ricky in front of you to keep moving instead of checking his hair in the hotel’s glass door.

If Leehan’s idea of having the time of your life was handing out shark-shaped gummies and bringing giant Sony party speakers to the pool - the ones that even had microphones attached to them, so you could have a karaoke - on the second night, you would have a pretty miserable life.

Nevertheless, you were only there because Miss Lee and Mr Brown were on duty at the entrance, checking if no one tried to sneak alcohol into the hotel, so you didn’t even bother with a swimsuit, you merely wore a flowery summer dress. Much to some girls’ dismay, most of the boys didn’t go shirtless, they had long-sleeved yet tight swimwear and shorts, the ones people used for some water sports. Though since Ricky’s parents owned the brand they wore, you had an idea why.

Anton was on lifeguard duty since he was on the national swimming team, and he would probably rather jump in to save a drowning student than manoeuvre himself around guys playing with plastic water guns and girls chatting in the pool instead of outside of it. You asked him if he needed anything - something to drink or to take a break -, but he said that he was fine, so you didn’t need to worry.

You acknowledged his answer with a bob of your head, and turned around just in time to be splashed by a huge amount of water by Pierre who had just jumped in. You stood there, frozen, your summer dress completely sticking to your body, and you were in the middle of blinking the water out of your eyes when you heard someone yell ‘class president’ and then you were pushed into the water with the kind of force that you could not resist.

It’s not like you couldn’t get any wetter than this, but you couldn’t swim, and your flailing hands didn’t do a thing to keep you up. You were about to throw every kind of rationality out of the window as your basic survival instincts kicked in, but you could feel strong hands pulling you to the surface in no time, Anton’s body emerging from the water beside yours.

“Are you okay?” The boy inquired with big, bright eyes, his damp hair hiding most of his face before he reached out to push his hair back. 

Still struggling to breathe properly, you mumbled something akin to an answer, and blinked rapidly, taking in the silence around you and the concerned or curious eyes of your classmates.

The only one who wasn’t surprised to see you struggling was Anton since he had gotten the names of students who couldn’t swim in case no one else would jump in to save a drowning student - a list you had volunteered to put together and pass onto him. Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought that you would be the first one who had to be rescued by him, and that the whole class would know about the fact that you couldn’t swim already on the second day of the trip.

You, the straight A-student, class president since sophomore year, speaking three languages fluently and playing the violin professionally. You, the daughter of the owners of the most prestigious private clinic in not only Seoul but the whole country. You, who was not supposed to have any weakness or fear.

You could faintly hear someone apologise and Anton asking if you needed him to ask for a medical staff, but you shrugged everyone off. Your flip-flops were probably in the pool somewhere after your fall, and you couldn’t be bothered to go back and fetch them. Instead, you furiously trampled back into the hotel barefoot.

It wasn’t just the dress sticking to you, it was humiliation too, something that you had not experienced on such a wide level after being told in front of the whole class that you had messed up a basic equation during a Maths test. No one would have guessed that you had been ill the whole week before the test because you had not let them know about it.

When you heard footsteps behind you, you already knew who it was before you turned to face him in all your wet glory, pitiful compared to his beautiful shoulder-length hair, softest of the brown of chestnuts and fluffiest of the ruffable kind.

“What do you want? I can go to my room on my own, thank you so much,” you told him off before he could have given you an answer, but then, he draped a towel over your body without saying a word.

You were about to shrug it off, but he pulled it tighter around you, holding the ends of the towel with his fists. You looked up at him, eyes throwing angry daggers, and maybe that was what prompted him to justify his actions.

“Your dress… it’s kind of see-through now,” he blurted out as if it was difficult for him to say something that could have been - under different circumstances - borderline flirty. But this was in no way a time and place where you would have wanted to be told that the white flowery dress of yours that should have not been in contact with any kind of liquid was now showing everyone what was underneath. How stupid of you, how stupid of those stupid boys to still act like dumbass kids and push others into the water.

Even if it was not Leehan who did this to you, his remark set something off within you, like when the countdown is up on a ticking time bomb or the trigger is pulled.

“You see, that’s why I didn’t want to come here. It’s not enough that now the whole class knows that I can’t swim but they also saw my underwear. Great. I’m really having the best time of my life, Leehan,” you spitted out furiously, pushing his hands away before pulling the tower tighter around your body, and walking back to your room, drops of water and mortification following your barefoot steps.

Of course, the news of the incident reached your teachers pretty quickly, and both Miss Lee and Mr Brown were knocking on your door as soon as you managed to get changed and hide the remains of your tears with an embarrassing amount of concealer. You reassured them that you were fine, but they told you to take it easy for the rest of the night, they would ask Anton to look over the students in your place since he was already monitoring the pool either way.

Then, Noah also came by to apologise for pushing you into the water. It wasn’t even the most embarrassing part that he had to come by to do it, the most embarrassing part came when he gave you that pitiful look, that ‘oh, I didn’t know you can’t swim’, something that almost made you curse him out right on the spot. Instead, you told him to keep himself in check for the rest of the trip because you wouldn’t help him out in Biology if you ever heard him joke about this incident. He scurried away like a wounded animal, but at least, he came by.

When the third knock on your room came, you seriously contemplated not opening the door. After all, you could be listening to music with your noise-cancelling headphones on, or you could already be sleeping, or even crying in the bathroom like you had done so an hour ago. In the end, you didn’t want to be a coward, and opened the door, but the last person you wanted to see there was Leehan.

“Look, before you ask what I’m doing here, I want to say that I got some stuff for you from the kitchen because Miss Lee said that you didn’t come down for dinner, and I thought you might be hungry,” he started, holding up his hands in front of his chest as if saying that he knew you were about to ask him these questions. You were, and even if he thought that  you were moping in your room (which you did) because you were still embarrassed about what had just happened (which you were), you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of agreeing to him.

However, he beat you to it, and continued his monologue before you could even open your mouth to protest.

“It’s not because I think you wouldn’t come down after what happened, but if you’re worried about the others, don’t worry. There is already bigger news such as Kit confessing to Millie and Gyuvin stepping on a bee and getting stung, so everyone’s already over what happened with you. Maybe except Anton who kept asking if you were alright, but that boy is too kind-hearted not to do so,” he said so in such a conversational manner that someone walking by might have thought that you were talking about the weather.

Maybe it was the drowning experience getting to you or the genuine consideration in his words and actions, but you found yourself smiling, and before you could hide it, Leehan also noticed it.

“Oh great, you’re smiling! Now, eat your dinner or you won’t get tall,” he teased you as he reached out the plate of food he brought. There was a sandwich, some veggies, crisps and a napkin on it, plus a bottle of smoothie in his other hand.

“Yah, I take after my mother in terms of height. She would be sad if she heard you criticising my height,” you pointed out, puffing your chest out like you wanted to take pride in your frame. Not everyone could be so stupidly tall as him (and many other boys in the class, by the way).

“Alright, alright, I’ll take it back.”

“Well, thank you,” you retorted a bit playfully before looking down at the plate in your hand. “And for the food, too,” you added a bit more seriously while you looked back at him. He just kept staring at you, the ends of his lips curling upwards in somewhat of an affectionate gesture, and it was so unlike the Leehan that you knew that you found it difficult to form coherent words.

“And the towel, too,” you found yourself admitting, a bit struck by that never-seen-before smile of his. Even his dimples popped off when the smile reached a certain height, and suddenly, you had no idea what to say.

“Well then, I guess my duty’s done for today. Good night, Y/N!” Leehan broke the silence first, breaking the serene moment, but you were actually thankful for him. For a second, you were scared that if you saw more of this side of him, you would start falling for him, and you couldn’t allow yourself to.

“Good night, Leehan!” You wished with a smile that you would not take responsibility for, before closing the door on him.

It’s not that you and Leehan were enemies as per se. It’s more like you were usually of a different opinion, and as class president and vice-president who had to work together pretty much all the time, it was quite bothersome to put up with it. Not to mention the crowd of fangirls following him everywhere.

At first, you thought that he was just a pretty face, joyfully swimming in his glory, but from time to time, you could catch a glimpse into how taxing it was to act like he did so on the daily - reacting to girls with a kind smile no matter what they said, playing along with their flirty remarks and always trying to say the right words to avoid getting into trouble. When some students’ inquiries were far too personal or pushy, you tried to step in, and made excuses for you two, so that you could leave the scene, and far too often, Leehan thanked you for it. He didn’t have to know that you didn’t do it for yourself (which you claimed that you did) but for him.

However, after the events on the second day, you didn’t know what to do with yourself when you were around him. After all, he had no reason to pay you a visit and to bring you dinner. He didn’t even have to confirm it with Miss Lee that you hadn’t come down to get dinner. So why was he going the extra mile? Your first thought was that he wanted something from you, but when the next day passed by without any favours, just a day of going to the aquarium, walking along the seaside and a moderate pool party at night, you grew suspicious.

On the fourth day, when you were done with sightseeing for the day, the teachers gave you three hours of free time to look around by yourselves, and it was the perfect chance to ask the boy about it while the students around you were busy deciding on their activity.

“Do you want something from me?” You posed the question at Leehan straight-forwardly, and the boy furrowed his eyebrows in question, appearing perplexed.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean… you’re awfully kind to me these days. Perhaps… did you do something to my locker before we left for the trip?” You guessed suspiciously, suddenly being reminded of the time he put a heart-shaped sticker on your locker with the words ‘class president’ written with ink in the middle of it. It was after you were selected class president for the second consecutive year, and it was his first time being the vice president beside you. Needless to say, it was impossible to remove that sticker no matter how hard you tried, you could only manage to wash off the ink, and now it seemed even more embarrassing to have a random heart-shaped ticker on your locker from no other than Leehan.

The boy must have found it extremely amusing to see you suspecting him like that because he let out that endearing giggle of his that was both boyish and innocent.

“Now that you mention it, maybe I should have…” He teased you with a lopsided grin, and you were about to smack him in the side when Gyuvin, Ricky and Taesan came up to you to ask where you were thinking of going in your free time. You heard Millie, Liv and Selina say that they would go shopping, and Leo said something about wanting to try fishing (though you had no idea if it was allowed at this part of the seaside), you didn’t know about others’ plans.

Truth to be told, you had no idea about yours either, you would probably just find yourself a cosy little café and take a breather because it was hot and stuffy out here, but you didn’t want anyone else to follow suit, so you didn’t say a word.

“Taesan, you know that place that I’ve told you about? You should go ahead with the guys, we need to discuss something with Y/N about tomorrow’s activities,” Leehan answered first, and you gave him a side eye. What more did you need to discuss with him other than the ones you already did?

Taesan seemed somewhat perplexed for a moment, but then, his features smoothened, and he coolly told the others to follow him. Even though Gyuvin suggested that they could wait for you, Ricky patted his shoulder and dragged the lanky boy with him, so it was just you and Leehan again.

“What more do we need to discuss?”

“I want to show you something,” he announced, scratching the back of his neck a bit shyly. Since you were awful at reacting normally to surprises, you merely said:

“Is this the part where you will take me to an abandoned warehouse and leave me there, so that you can be the class president next year?”

Leehan let out a deep, joyous laughter hearing your question, and reassured you that no, he wouldn’t want to run for class president because that was your title, and no, he wouldn’t take you to an abandoned warehouse. He explained that the guys might not enjoy what he was about to show you, but if he remembered correctly, you would do so.

You eyed him for a good thirty seconds before letting him take you where he wanted. After all, it was his city, he knew his way around, so you followed him, and soon enough, you found yourself in the Busan Arboretum with one of the prettiest glasshouses you had ever seen in real life.

You were waiting for the boy to crack a joke or say something teasing, but instead, he merely declared:

“I remembered you making a presentation about the functionality of glasshouses and ending it with different glasshouses in the country, and I don’t know if you remember, but this was one of them.”

“I do, but how do you remember that?” You turned the tables, turning to look at him, to look him in the eyes because you didn’t get it. How did he remember such an insignificant detail from a presentation you had given years ago?

Leehan smiled at you gently as if he was looking at a child, ready to say something, but then, he decided otherwise and averted his eyes to the plants in front of him. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat and asked if you wanted to take pictures. So you let him take a few shots of you in exchange for doing the same for him, and it was all fun and games, acting silly and joking about pushing the other into a cactus when a sudden realisation hit you like lighting:

Were you falling for Leehan?

On the fifth day, you went to the Gamcheon Culture Village with its picturesque murals and quaint alleys, soaking up a mixture of art and history while listening to the tour guide who was assigned to your group. There were many pretty stairs, vibrant art installations and even a statue of the Little Prince and its Fox looking over the houses that were clumped together as if they were meant to be. The tour was supposed to last 4 hours, but it was close to 5 hours by the time everyone stopped posing for pictures and halting at every possible corner.

You must have been visibly in awe because Leehan joked that you should close your mouth, but when you admitted that you didn’t expect Busan to be this diverse, you caught sight of a proud smile stretching across his lips. He reminded you that he told you that he would make sure everyone has the time of their life, but you rebutted by stating that the itinerary was mainly Miss Lee’s work, not his. To that, he didn’t say anything, just kept smiling to himself like a fool, giving yet another reason for Taesan to give him a side eye.

After finishing the tour with a lunch break in between, you picked up some ice cream before the tour bus picked you up and took you back to the hotel. That night was BBQ-themed and there was also a campfire, something so movie-like and childish, yet it had a special feel to it because most of you had never had a campfire. Your families weren’t the typical families that took you camping for vacation. Most of you flew to other countries to visit a store from your parents’ chain or to accompany your relatives to important events. Having a BBQ where you could take part in grilling the meat, preparing the veggies and side dishes, and singing songs around the campfire weren’t exactly the kind of activities that you were used to, but no one complained. Not even Ricky who ate his hamburger with a knife and a fork because he hated getting his hands dirty.

It was also fun listening to all the different songs your classmates sang in all the different languages - from French to Spanish, Vietnamese to Korean -, how different they sounded, yet how much you enjoyed them all despite not understanding the words. One thing that you liked about your school - and your class - was that it was so diverse, you never had to worry that you would stand out because of your skin colour or hair, everyone was welcome. Whilst that didn’t lift the weight off your shoulders that the academic pressure put on, you were grateful that you had the chance to be exposed to such a supportive learning environment.

“Wanna play Truth or Dare?” Zack asked enthusiastically after it seemed like everyone was out of songs, and even Miss Lee dared to sit beside Mr Brown, reassured that no one would set the grill on fire (though Leo was close to it at one point).

“Really? We are almost seniors, that’s for kids,” Yechan refuted with a huff, rolling his eyes in a sassy way.

“Does that mean you have something to hide?” Wonyoung asked with a playful grin, and that was all it took for Yechan to give in and join the game. You passed on it, not wanting to be the victim of any of the ‘dares’ which - based on last years’ games - always included doing aegyo, a popular girl group dance (for both boys and girls), reenacting drama scenes, doing 50 pushups, chugging down Coke within 1 minute or kissing someone. You didn’t want to be a victim of any of it.

The others only protested for like a minute before they forgot about it, and let you walk away from the circle of students sitting around the campfire. You walked up to the edge of the property, leaning against the railing and taking in the scenery. You were so used to the huge skyscrapers in the capital city and the magnificent walls of your boarding school that times like this reminded you that there was a world outside of the little bubble you existed in for most part of the year, or at least the school year.

“Guests always get surprised when they see this view because they initially think our description of a beautiful view of the sea is an overstatement,” Leehan remarked in a conversational manner while he was walking up to you, and halted beside you, only an arm's length away. His hair was seemingly freshly washed, some unruly locks escaping his earlobe and falling into his eyes instead. Even though he did tuck them behind his ears dutifully, you were itching to do the same for him.

Gosh, you were really going insane, weren’t you? And yet… falling for him never seemed so thrilling.

“There are a lot of scams nowadays,” you hummed, pointing out that a lot of accommodations did indeed lie about beautiful views and such, so that people would choose them. His family didn’t lie though. “It’s so pretty,” you admitted quietly, watching as the setting sun painted different streaks onto the surface of the water, colours ranging from grape purple to princeton orange. You usually didn’t notice the sunrise or the sunset when you were scooped up in your room or the library, so having to witness such beautiful installations in the sky for the past week was kind of moving.

“You are prettier.”

When the words rolled off Leehan’s tongue, you snapped your head back to look at him, but just like his tone, his expression was gentle, too. He appeared so soft, so dreamy in that moment with the sunset painting colours onto the canvas of his skin, that for the first time in a while, you were completely speechless beside him. As if you were enchanted or starstruck. Both of which could actually be true.

Leehan though, he took note of your silence, too.

“I don’t even get an “oh, that’s too cheesy, stop it”?” He asked, now with a lopsided grin, and you let out a light-hearted giggle in return. Something weightless bubbled up inside of you when you simply stated:

“I would tell you that if I didn’t know that you like me.”

The boy’s eyes widened to almost twice their size, his lips slightly parting. He looked so baffled, almost as if you had told him that you wouldn’t run for class president next year - something that everyone took for granted after your first year together.

“Y-you know?”

“I mean, I had a feeling after the second day when you checked up on me and brought me dinner, but I became certain after the arboretum visit,” you confessed, somewhat easier now that you saw his reaction, and he didn’t deny it. Maybe the only one who needed convincing about one’s feelings was you about your own. “You didn’t even tell me why you remembered that glasshouse presentation of mine, so after I did some analysing and calculating of our three years together, that’s the conclusion I reached.”

Despite your voice not wavering, your heart was going wild, thumping against your ribcage. You didn’t know why because you knew he liked you, and you liked him too, but still… You could barely process your own feelings, let alone his feelings towards you, and now you saw all the little interactions you had with him before in a whole new light.

“And is that a satisfactory conclusion for you?” He quirked an eyebrow, both amused and uncertain, and the way he played along was all there was to say about your dynamics.

“Yes, because I feel the same way.”

“What kind of same way?” Leehan teased as he took a step closer to you, purposefully making you say it out loud. You heaved a sigh, looking away from his gorgeous face to be able to pull yourself together before you looked back and said:

“You know… I like you, too,” you blurted out as fast as you could, and you were awarded with his cutest toothy smile, dimples popping out, eyes turning into little crescents. Something that you had not seen him display around any girl before, and the fact that it was for you made you feel a bit emotional.

“Of course,” he mused as he reached out, and his fingers started playing with yours resting on the railing, testing the waters. Maybe a few days ago you would have said that you were unable to move because it was so sudden, so unexpected, but now you knew that it was because it was him, and because one touch of his electrified you from head to toe. “I knew you weren’t immune to me either,” he added playfully, and you were about to smack him in the chest, but he caught your hand, and intertwined your fingers instead.

And you let him tease you as much as he wanted, at least for now.

Next day rolled by quickly, and it was already time to leave. You couldn’t deny that you came here, hating even the idea of being in this city, let alone Leehan’s family’s hotel, but now, you were reluctant to leave because leaving meant leaving him behind.

“It’s just for the summer, Leehan,” you reminded him when he was sulking to you in the hotel lobby, but it seemed like he wasn’t convinced. He tried to make you stay for at least a few more days because he wouldn’t go back with the rest of you to Seoul, but you told him that you were invited to a few events with your family in the next week, so you had to go back. Plus, you were volunteering during the summer at the children’s ward in a local hospital, but you reassured him that you could squeeze some time in to come back to Busan.

“But still… we’ve only just begun,” he whimpered like a child, his fingers playing with yours as you were standing face-to-face. Even yesterday, he could barely let go of you when he walked you back to your room, and today, he was being clingy, too. No wonder the whole class knew by now that you two were together.

“You know, there’s this thing called technology. We can text, videochat, whatever you want.”

“But it won’t be the same as seeing my pretty girlfriend in person,” he protested with an all too cute pout, and even though you should have been prepared for compliments like this from him, you weren’t.

Yechan walked by you with an audible cough, followed by Ricky and Gyuvin. Gyuvin’s eyes widened comically when he saw Leehan’s fingers holding onto yours, and he turned to his friends, asking since when you two were a thing.

“Dude… you’re like three years behind,” Yechan snickered into his hands, watching Gyuvin’s meme-like surprised face with amusement. Ricky just looked at him, probably wondering how they ended up becoming friends.

“Wait! Have they been together all these years?”

You couldn’t help a laughter bubbling up in your chest as the three of them walked out of the hotel. There were a few girls afterwards who giggled when they saw you two so close to each other, but no one said anything hurtful. Maybe they indeed knew all along.

“I really gotta go now. You know, since my vice-president won’t be with me, I’ll have to do the attendance check alone.”

“Since when was I ‘your’ vice-president, hmm?” Leehan asked with a smirk, leaning closer to you to watch your face crumble from up-close, then flush, dressing your cheeks in a ruby-red cover.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, you did.”

“I didn’t, you heard it wrong.”

“I heard it very clearly, you called me your vice-president, and I-”

Whatever Leehan was about to say was muffled by the kiss you planted on his left cheek in an attempt to shut him up and leave the topic as it is. However, the boy completely froze, and he only managed to pull himself together when you eventually walked away from him to get on the tour bus.

Then, he was in full-on puppy mode, waving at the bus with his toothy smile, his eyes turning to little crescents again. Your favourite sight, you decided right then and there.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think!

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Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

[from the start] taesan x f!reader | 4.0k words college au, classmates to lovers, making out, alc consumption ++ terrible drunk decisions lmao, angst kinda, misunderstanding, mutual pining, fear of physical touch at first, everyone is just a little confused note. sorry this took literally so long to finish, i kept changing my mind on how i wanted it to go. fun fact the original idea for this fic was based on my real life situationship. hope u guys enjoy <3

you shouldn't be here. you should be sleeping off the alcohol flowing through you in your own bed, at your place. you shouldn't be here, pressed against taesan's chest, your mouth molded against his.

up until a few hours ago, han taesan was nothing but a fleeting memory. just someone your friends brought up once in a while to watch the way your cheeks flared up in embarrassment. he was part of the past, an unfortunate moment during your freshman year in university. your friends didn't know about the guilt that ate away at you every time the boy's name crossed your mind.

the two of you had met in english, deskmates who bonded over the frustrations that came with your shitty professor and endless essays. complaining about class turned into hushed whispers while the professor wasn't looking, adding each other on socials and snapping silly pictures back and forth, walking back to the dorms together. because... why not? taesan was cute and you couldn't help but chase the feeling that came with every interaction you two shared.

you never thought it would turn into anything, until your friends pointed out the obvious: he liked you. taesan liked you. the way your hair flowed so prettily, the way you smiled at all of his stupid pictures and the way your eyebrows furrowed at the professors nasally voice.

the two of you had an undeniable connection, and it ended with the two of you sitting on his bed watching a movie together on his roommate, sungho's, tv.

flirty glances and brushing hands turned into his hands running up your arms, breath hot on your neck as you tangled your fingers in his dark hair. having him like this should've felt like heaven, but instead your chest tightened and your body tensed, to the point where taesan pulled away from you, looking into your eyes and softly asking if this was okay, if you were okay.

you should've told him the truth, you were just scared. you hadn't done this before, not with someone who you felt so deeply for. you just wanted to slow down a bit. but instead you faked a smile and just said that you remembered something your friend had asked you to do, ignoring the stab in your chest as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you pulled away uncomfortably quick and left without another word. that was months ago.

the last you'd heard from him was hours after you left; he'd apologized profusely, saying he'd misread things and you tried and tried to reassure him that he did nothing wrong. you wished he could read your mind so you didn't have to face the fact that you were a coward and you'd hurt him in the process.

taesan thought that night would be the last time he'd see you. he could tell something was wrong, and he'd figured that you'd never want to see him again. but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to blame you, hate you, nothing.

...

"seriously? you're not mad.... at all?" sungho sat up in his bed, staring at his roommate in disbelief. "dude, she literally led you on and ghosted you." jaehyun chimed in, shaking his head at the younger boy. taesan shrugged and went back to tuning his guitar, covering up the sounds of his friends' scoffs with the vibrations of the strings he plucked. they thought he was hopeless, and secretly, he agreed.

...

after months of radio silence, it was safe to say that taesan was not expecting his phone to ping with a message from you.

you tried to move on from things with the music major, joking away your pain with your friends and going on dates with other guys. it worked for a few months, but eventually thoughts of han taesan caught up to you. they plagued your mind for days on end.

late at night, lying in your bed and staring at the ceiling, you wondered how things could've been different if you'd just told taesan the truth. you thought it was easier to just run away and pretend nothing happened between the two of you, that you'd be at peace if you just went back to before you knew he liked you, before you knew you liked him too. in the end, it just left you feeling empty.

you hadn’t ever met anyone like him, something you hadn’t ever admitted out loud. you couldn't go back to the way things were before, he'd left an imprint on your mind like no one else.

the thoughts you tried to smother finally came up to surface on a breezy saturday night as you were celebrating your friend, yunjin's, 21st birthday party at her apartment. after more than a few shots and the truly you split with yeri, you felt like you were on another planet. you stumbled over to the living room, falling onto the couch and leaning your head back and closing your eyes.

after a few minutes of sitting with your intoxicated state, you lazily unlocked your phone, scrolling through your instagram timeline, attention focusing in and out. that was until you came across a certain set of pictures. you squinted, reading the caption.

tae23san take my tears @psungho @myungj4e

pictured was none other than taesan, sitting on top of a car with his head tilted back to look at the sky.

sitting up slightly, you carefully scrolled through the dump of photos taesan had posted: him posing in the booth of a recording studio, he, sungho, and jaehyun in a photobooth, a candid of him playing the guitar, a mirror selfie with sungho, and a solo shot of him.

the last picture almost took your breath away; he posed with a hand ruffling his own hair as he pouted his lips.

all at once, you felt every emotion you fought so hard to drown explode in your heart. you missed him. so much. your head spun with sadness, guilt, and longing. you wanted to- no, you needed to see him.

it wasn't long before the thoughts popped in your head.

why don't i just text him?

whats the worst that could happen?

it was bad idea, a terrible idea truly. but you couldn't help yourself, you opened your contacts and found your chat with him faster than you could blink. you fumbled with the screen, trying to type out a cohesive message to the boy you so desperately wanted to see.

[1:53 a.m.]

y/n: taesnjsnnnnn

y/n: i miss you

y/n: i'm soryry

y/n: can i swee yuo? please

...

taesan was hoping to have a peaceful smoke with his friends. he, sungho, and jaehyun had spent the day working on a project for their advanced music production class, and were now sitting on the couch passing a blunt around, some rnb songs floating softly through the air.

taesan breathed in slowly, sucking in the laced smoke and exhaling it softly, humming at the warm feeling in his limbs. he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, laughing at the feeling of the vibrations against his thigh.

"this is done for." jaehyun mumbled before flicking off the ash and placing the end on the side table. taesan watched him with hooded eyes as he stood up to stretch out his limbs, making sungho and taesan giggle.

"i'm going to my room." sungho stood as well, murmuring a similar quip before meandering over to his door. "don't forget to turn off the lights, san."

taesan groaned in acknowledgement, letting his head fall back onto the couch. not really wanting to sleep, he wondered if he should watch a movie or make some food.

the boy sighed in boredom, pulling his phone out of his pocket languidly and swiping through his notifications.

his already blown out pupils grew even bigger at the sight of your name in his notifications. he'd never gotten around to deleting your number -- he figured there was no point.

his eyes focused on the words next to your name. 4 unopened messages. he rubbed his eyes slowly.

was he really that high right now? or did you really message him. taesan's gaze jumped over to the timestamp.

10 minutes ago.

he hurriedly clicked the notification, tapping his thigh with his fingers as the screen expanded to display your texts. you were clearly a bit out of it, taesan smiled at your typos. his vision seemed to laser focus on the one text you didn't misspell.

i miss you.

taesan couldn't say he didn't feel the same way. despite sungho and jaehyun's relentless nags, he thought about you more often than he'd like to admit.

somehow, he knew something was up the fateful night the two of you had hung out. that wasn't you, he just knew it. or so he told himself. he didn't want to be mad at you, he didn't want to hate you. he had hoped for this day so many times. the day you'd tell him you didn't mean it.

taesan's fingers moved across the screen slowly.

[2:08 a.m.]

han taesan: hey

han taesan: where are you?

...

from the moment you hit send, you had suddenly been more alert, thoughts racing a million miles a minute.

what do i do if he responds? is he even awake? he just posted, he has to be. god, i hope this works.

you'd taken the leap, there wasn't any going back.

you begrudgingly lifted yourself from the couch you were sitting on, looking for your friends so you could take your mind off of the messages you'd just sent.

walking over to the fridge, you grabbed a water bottle to help you sober up a bit.

eunchae and chaewon did a great job at keeping you from checking your phone every thirty seconds. you laughed at their horrific job at playing pictionary against two guys yunjin knew, anton and sohee.

your two friends were losing bad, and you smiled watching anton and chaewon bicker, anton giggled at chaewon's reddened face. you hoped you'd remember to tease her about it later.

your phone buzzed twice in your pocket and you held your breath as you fished it out and tapped the screen. face to face with taesan's messages, nearly shrieking, you quickly typed a response.

you paused for a second, calculating your next move. you really wanted to see him, praying to god that he was free and willing.

[2:09 a.m.]

y/n: yunjins place. in source complex

taesan: oh

taesan: what room

y/n: 204

taesan: im 3 floors up

taesan: in 511

y/n: can i come up

taesan: yeah of course

while you were definitely a little more sober than 15 minutes ago, you still fought to not squeal into your hand. looking around, you searched for yunjin so you could bid her goodbye.

...

mellow music still floating in the air of the living room, taesan dropped his phone in his lap. he let out a shaky sigh.

whether it was the weed or the fact that he was about to see you after what felt like forever, taesan was suddenly very nervous, wiping his hands on his pants and slowly standing from the couch.

rubbing his arms, he looked around the apartment, unsure of what to do until you got there. he assumed you'd take a bit to leave your friends apartment and make your way up to his. taesan hoped you'd make it okay; he wanted to come get you but was honestly way too fucking high to leave his apartment.

"i guess i'll go brush my teeth or something." the boy mumbled to himself, walking over to the bathroom to fix his hair and make sure he smelled okay.

...

stepping into the elevator, you looked at your reflection as the doors closed, almost forgetting to hit the button for the fifth floor in the midst of smoothing your hair down and fixing your slightly smeared eyeliner with your thumb.

closing your eyes, you lightly rubbed your temples in a sore attempt to bring yourself back to reality, and to emotionally prepare yourself.

you were seeing taesan again, finally.

you hid your blush from literally no one and smiled slightly into your hand as the elevator doors opened.

...

standing in front of the boy's door, the weight of the situation at hand truly hit you.

what exactly did you want from this?

what did you want from him?

if you ended up hurting him again you wouldn't be able to forgive yourself. huffing slightly, you brought a hand up to your neck to fiddle with your necklace and think.

your dazed yet racing thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the front door to taesan's apartment, door swinging back to reveal none other than the music major himself.

"hi" you smiled and spoke quietly.

even though he knew you were coming, the boy somehow still couldn't believe the sight in front of him. it was really you.

you looked as breathtaking as ever in his eyes, your hair a bit shorter than the last time he saw you. taesan caught himself and chuckled slightly, moving out of the way to make room for you.

"come in."

you blushed as you stepped into the apartment awkwardly, not sure what to do with yourself. the alcohol was still making your head spin, eyes adjusting slowly to the sight of taesan's living space. you slipped your shoes off quietly and followed the boy as he walked into the kitchen.

"do you want some water? or snacks? we have chips and fruit, unless sungho ate them all. i think we have some juice too...." taesan's high had clearly not worn off in the slightest, and the boy winced after realizing he rambled on about the contents of his pantry for a full 30 seconds.

you couldn't have cared less, eyes focused on how pretty his hair looked brushed down in his face. making eye contact with him, you noticed the red tint to them, giggling quietly.

"we also have -- are you even listening?" taesan smiled at your starry eyes as you shook your head and laughed.

"god y/n- okay let's just go sit down." he watched you eagerly turn around and nearly skip towards his living room couch, settling right in the middle of the sofa.

the couch cushions were soft as they rubbed slightly against the exposed skin of your legs. shivering slightly, you wished you'd worn a bit more than just a crop top and denim shorts.

your gaze traced the lines of the wood on his coffee table, thoughts lost and scattered. you were just as blown away at the sight of him as he was of you. you recalled the sight of his larger hands shoved in the pockets of his zip up, wondering what it would feel like to have them wrapped around your own.

you wriggled your socked toes to a beat only you could hear, trying to take your mind off of the nervousness flowing through your veins.

"here." you looked up quickly to see taesan standing in front of you, about an arms length away. "i brought you some water."

taesan bit his lip to keep himself from smiling at the sight of you on the sofa. he looked around awkwardly for a second, not sure where to sit -- you were in the middle of the couch and choosing either side of the sofa would leave him sitting directly next to you.

"why are you still standing? come sit." you tilted your head at him and patted the spot to your right softly, smiling up at the nervous boy.

sighing out in relief, taesan plopped down next to you and settled into the corner of the sofa. you turned slightly so you could face him as he spoke, glass of water abandoned on the coffee table.

"do you wanna watch a movie?" he asked.

"is it okay to turn on the tv this late?" you shyly responded

taesan's ears turned slightly red in embarrassment. he 100% forgot about his two other roommates sleeping soundly in their own rooms.

while they probably wouldn't mind the noise, taesan didn't want to have to explain why you of all people were in their living room at this very moment.

"if you're okay with it, we can watch something in my room, i can play it on my laptop." taesan spoke.

your cheeks burned slightly at the idea of seeing the boy's room but you hummed in agreement, standing up quickly. the sudden movement caused you to stumble a bit. taesan stood up after you, wrapping a hand around your arm in an attempt to steady you.

"are you okay?" he turned you to face him fully, hands resting lightly on your shoulders as he looked at you worriedly.

your breath hitched at the mere inches of space between the two of you. taesan's gaze left you speechless, and your eyes searched his face before landing on his lips.

for every minute that had passed since you sent that first fateful text message, the anticipation had been eating you alive. deciding you couldn't take it anymore, you pulled yourself up by the collar of the boy's hoodie and pressed your lips against his.

his mouth was plush and unmoving against yours and you let yourself close your eyes and savor the feeling for a moment before lowering yourself back onto your heels.

opening your eyes, you mentally geared yourself for the awkward conversation you feared was about to ensue. taesan, on the other hand, barely gave you a moment to breathe, chasing your lips the second they detached from his. slipping a hand behind your neck, he tilted his face down and sealed his lips over yours once again.

taesan's mind raced as he bit your bottom lip, wondering what this was going to lead to and if he'd regret it. he decided he couldn't care less when he felt you tilt your head to the side and push your tongue in his mouth.

you craned your face upward and grabbed the sides of his sweatshirt tightly, like he might disappear if you let go of him. you needed more of him.

you broke your lips from his for a split second to ask where his room was. taesan mumbled something you couldn't hear before pulling you by your shoulders. the boy's mouth didn't leave yours for a second, only pulling away to push his door open.

you opened your eyes slowly, looking up to meet the taller boy's hooded gaze. you turned around and took in the sight in front of you. taesan's bed was in the corner of the room, posters hung above a small desk. you smiled at the tangles of wires on the floor, leading to a small speaker system and bass guitar.

"gonna go turn off the lights and check the door." taesan's voice rasped. you hummed in acknowledgement and stepped forward into the room slowly.

you walked over and climbed onto the boy's bed, bringing your legs up so you could hug your knees. staring at your socked feet, your mind was completely blank. when taesan came back you were absentmindedly fixing your hair and shirt, not even noticing the boy's return.

"are you okay?" taesan asked softly.

you looked up to see his eyes on you, smiling at the way hands were politely tucked behind his back. he was nervous, hoping he didn't overstep or make you uncomfortable. taesan didn't think he could handle watching you run out his door a second time.

"okay?" you tilted your head in confusion.

"with this... being here with me." your heart panged with sadness, feeling so guilty for how you made him feel before. you wanted to make it up to him.

"i am. i want this. i promise, taesan." you watched taesan slowly process your words though his wavering high, smile forming on his face. his hands came up to push your legs down, and you scooted towards him, giggling and wrapping your legs are his standing figure.

taesan had abandoned his hoodie in the living room, now in a loose t-shirt. your hands scrunched the fabric of the graphic tee as you pulled the boy towards you again. taesan complied without a word, bending down to meet your awaiting lips. you moved your lips against his languidly, savoring each swipe of his tongue against yours.

taesan pushed your body backwards so he could climb on the bed with you. you scooted back until you were pressed against the headboard, only staying there for a second before taesan pulled you onto his lap.

his lips went to your neck, pressing soft kisses and grazing his teeth against the sensitive skin. with each kiss, bite, and swipe of his tongue against you, taesan could feel you practically melting into his lap. eyes screwed shut, your head leaned back to further expose your neck and your fingers tugged at the boy's hair.

you slightly pulled taesan's face away from you, bringing your hands to gingerly cup his face. his eyes were slightly glossed over as you placed a wet kiss on his lips.

the last traces of your sobriety were thrown out the window, both of you drunk off each other. taesan thought you looked like an angel, bringing a hand up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. your eyes formed crescents as you smiled at the boy, and he swore he almost stopped breathing.

your hand came up to rest over his that was still cupping your face, intertwining your fingers. bringing them closer to your face, you opened taesan's and placed a featherlight kiss in the center of his palm.

"what was that for?" taesan mumbled in between giggles as he watched you continue to play with his fingers.

"thank you." your voice wavered slightly, eyes looking up to meet his nervously. you laughed at the puzzled look on his face before continuing.

"for giving me a second chance and letting me come over." you sighed shakily under taesan's gaze. "i missed you, a lot."

"probably not as much as i missed you." taesan replied softly, squeezing your hands and tilting your chin up to meet your wide eyes.

the moment that passed between the two of you was long and drawn out, you savored the feeling of weight being lifted off your chest. trapped in his eyes and tucked in his arms, you couldn't fathom missing the chance to have han taesan like this.

as the thick silence dissolved and taesan's aching lips found yours again, the two of you knew staying away from each other was ill-fated from the start.

[bonus — 10:54 AM]

blinking the sleep from your eyes, you lazily searched taesan's fridge for a water bottle. as you shut the door, a loud crash abruptly pulled you out of your sleepy daze. coming face to face with myung jaehyun, you let out a yelp of surprise.

"no fucking way." he spoke. a bowl of dry cereal lay at his feet, contents now strewn across the kitchen tiles.

ears turning red, you realized how insane you must look: your hair was untied and messily brushed down and you were wearing nothing but an old tshirt and some boxers taesan had given you.

"what happe- oh god." taesan said from behind jaehyun, having rushed over to the kitchen to check on you. it was safe to say the last thing he expected was to see you and his roommate staring open mouthed at each other. flustered, taesan opened his mouth to explain, but jaehyun interrupted him with a loud sigh.

"fuck you tae, now i owe woonhak 20 bucks."

...

taglist: @iweirdthingsblog @yjwkisser @sulkygyu @enhyven

♱ — STUDYING WITH ALBEDO — NSFW

+. NOTES — this is a slightly longer than anticipated drabble about your perverted classmate albedo who’s top of his class. he’s been eyeing you for some time and unnoticed by him, you might share those same feelings for him…!

+. WARNINGS — nsfw + mdni + blowjob + virgin bedo + college au + voyerism + exhibitionism + slight hair pulling + shy!virigin!bedo x dominate!experienced!reader !

albedo had a similar routine of study sessions he held for those who asked for help from him. it was few, but in those times, he enjoyed it. often being so quiet and kept to himself, getting to not only talk to others but it being about something he really enjoys? it brings out the absolute best in him! that’s not to say when he found out you wanted to have a study session with him, he practically stuttered over his words and face turned red. having such a cute girl like you wanting to spend time with him was making albedo hot in the face. even if it was just studying. you seemed so sweet, gentle even with a calming energy that matched his own. even then, albedo has little to no experience talking with girls. he often found his eyes wandering and heart pumping so fast he couldn’t hear anything except it. how pathetic he was, overthinking every little detail even though all you probably wanted was some quick studying in.

“albedo?”

you said a little louder to get his attention. he’s been spacing out for some time now and it was starting to worry you. his eyes finally darting everywhere as he regains his focus.

“i-i’m um—“

he stutters over his words which you found adorable.

trying your best to hold back a smirk as you give him a small smile.

“my apologies, start over again with what you were saying”.

so sweet of him.

though, it was a good cover up for how he really was. you’d follow where his pretty blue eyes wandered and sometimes could even make out a faint outline of his bulge in his pants. how cute. he could barley keep it together around you. you started over from where you were as albedo continued your study session. he was surprisingly a good instructor when he got into topics he enjoyed. his otherwise quiet and cold demeanor was soon pushed away. but before you could get too distracted, you asked him a question while he began to pack things up.

“why not let me treat you! it’s well deserved after all”

albedo scratched the side of his face in thought. he didn’t know the next time he’d have a chance like this but what if you weren’t even into him at all? he mentally sighed as he knew he shouldn’t even be thinking of asking you of anything. if anything, you probably just felt bad for him right?

“there’s no need please, im more than happy just to help you with class work”

you sighed a little at his response but also wanted to smile at how respectful he came off.

“how about…i help you out with something else?”

“something else?”

“someone’s gonna see, someone’s gonna- ah-!”

albedo covered his mouth as quickly as he let that pathetic whine out. taking a good look around to make sure no one else was there to witness what was going down. how could you get both of you in such a risky situation? you only continued on your reward for albedo as you tugged at his waist band. he pushed up his glasses up as he tried to regain some control of the situation. your pretty hands teasing their way along albedos rather warm skin. his eyes shut at your touch, being so nervous and going solely based off his bodies reactions.

it felt so foreign yet so heavenly for albedo it was hard to contain any sort of composure. finally pulling down his pants enough to release him, he felt the cold air touch his hot to the touch skin. seething slightly at the feeling, albedo lowly groaned, a hand soon coming to cover his mouth and avoid any unwanted attention or getting caught. letting his cock release from the constriction of his pants as his aching hard cock bobbed under its own weight. from someone of albedos stature, it was a pretty impressive size. such a pretty color and shape too. the soft outline of his v-line tempted you go hard to continue teasing but thought it best to get down to it straight away to save him the build up.

always having a feeling these kinda boys were hiding something. the thickness made you drool at the thought of how nice he would feel stretching you out, but that would have to be saved for another time <3. this only urging yourself to wrap your fingers around him and gently pump his aching cock up and down in rhythmic motions. you looked up to albedo, watching his pretty features become distorted with this overwhelming pleasure.

“f-fuck that feels good”

he couldn’t even hold back his own thoughts anymore. best part was, you hadn’t even gotten to the actual reward.

“you can’t deny me now can you bedo?” you teasingly joked with him as he shifted his hips in his seat to look more natural.

“hah..i guess..”

you giggled at his attempt to keep a cool face and quiet voice even though his heart was racing. as you continued stroking him, you’d watched him become more relaxed, taking this as a sign to move on. you moved your face closer to his swelled tip before looking up to him once more. feeling your breath on his skin was such a heavenly feeling in itself. still keeping that eye contact, you began to give his neglected tip gentle licks and kisses. as you did so you pulled back for a moment to ask albedo a question.

“have you ever gotten a blowjob albedo?” already knowing the answer but still wanting to hear what he had to say.

“n-no..”

you could tell he was embarrassed and you loved hearing that in his voice. smiling, you let your spit begin to drip down one of his many thick, pulsing veins as you once again stroked his now slicked cock. the lewd sounds of albedos cock being pumped while you continued to kiss and lick his tip were already getting you needy.

“guess i’ll be your first then hm?” albedos cheeks where flushed along with his mouth being slightly parted. he looked so pretty all messy for you. he nodded awkwardly but that didn’t last for long as you soon took albedo inside your tight, hot mouth. albedos back practically arched at the feeling. as his hand, out of some sort of instinct, made its way to your hair. you looked up to him while stilling him inside your mouth. he’s so fucking cute you can’t wait to show him what else you can make him feel. starting to bob your head gently up and down albedo still had to get used to the feeling of your mouth.

he’d seen this in porn he’s watched many times before but never would he have imagined it feeling so damn good. his pretty blue eyes becoming half lidded because of the immense pleasure. focusing on your mouth, you moved your hands up to rest of his thigh.

taking glances up to see if albedo was enjoying his first ever blowjob and yet, you could tell he was still so stressed and worried about getting caught. even while knowing there was no one else in the library at that time. squeezing at his thigh and rubbing your thumb into the soft flesh to help him relax and soothe his beating heart. he did appreciate it even while he couldn’t help his body.

“i-i’m so sorry i meant to warn you but-“

albedo cut himself off short when he saw you swallow his cum and lick your lips after. being so in awe of how sensual you were, his pretty class mate licking up his cum in the library after a study session sounded nothing more than a dream after all. putting your hands on his thighs again, you gave him a small smile.

“nothing to be sorry about bedo, you taste nice anyway”

his face was distorted with some sort of rather shocked yet pleased feeling. he pushed up his glasses awkwardly but so cutely after receiving something you’re sure will cloud his mind for weeks. so in awe of how nice you were towards someone like him.

“let’s do this again sometime bedo, next time we can take it to my dorm”

“may i ask— why did you do this for me?”

you smiled gently at his question.

“to thank you for helping me out, it’s only fair right?”

albedo thought about your response momentarily before you leaned in closer to his body.

“also, because i think you’re cute silly”

leaving a small kiss on his thigh, he tensed up but never once denied you of anything. having albedo wrapped around your finger was such an easy task that had been earned <3.

albedo was still twitching slightly from his orgasm, especially his sensitive little thighs, so you took his silence as a compliment. who knew treating that cute, nerdy boy would be such a reward.

“see you next study session yeah?”

the very first night.

summary. the search for a new place to live takes a turn for the worse when the only person willing to split rent with you is your ex-boyfriend.

pairing. lee heeseung x fem!reader genres. romance, angst, smut; exes to lovers!au, roommates!au word count. 19.7k

warnings. explicit sexual content (oral sex, protected sex), alcohol consumption, profanity a/n. this was originally written for a different group but i decided to repost it here! title is from the very first night by taylor swift. thanks for reading! :)

ONE

You think that all the decisions you’ve made in your life so far have all boiled down to this one moment.

Karmic retribution, if you will.

Despite the six months for which you and your ex-boyfriend have been separated, Lee Heeseung looks the same. The same floppy hair that never quite sits flat on his head—though he’s let it grow a tiny bit, and now it curls behind his ears—and the same tight-fitting black shirt you swear you tried stealing from him once. Wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and warm brown eyes that peer back at you. Pink lips which beckon you with a small, yet welcoming smile.

“Hey.” The word drags from his mouth, and he extends the last syllable for a second longer than necessary. “You’re here early.”

Shit. Even his voice sounds the same.

You heft your suitcase and place it by your feet just so you can avoid eye contact. Under different circumstances, Heeseung probably wouldn’t have let you carry your suitcase all the way up the stairs to the third floor—the elevator has been out of commission since before you even met him, and that doesn’t appear to change anytime soon. He probably would have lugged the whole thing upstairs, despite your protests and claims that you’re strong enough to do it on your own. But now, you can only sense his gaze on your figure as you place it securely on the floor.

When you straighten up, he’s still looking at you. He has an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed over his chest, but his eyes are clouded, almost as if he’s built some kind of impenetrable fortress against you. You have your walls up, too—in the slight clench of your jaw and defiant raise of your chin—and it’s something someone else wouldn’t be able to notice, but you’re sure Lee Heeseung has.

“Yeah. Um.” You attempt to smile, pray it doesn’t visibly appear as a grimace, and gesture behind you with your thumb. “The packers and movers came by pretty early, so everything ended up moving faster.”

“I see.” He purses his lips, evidently running out of things to say. (Good for you, really, because there’s nothing for you to say either.)

You take the chance to glance behind him—a feat in itself, considering how broad his shoulders are—and observe the interiors of what is going to be your home for the next year. Beige walls, the ratty sofa he bought off a garage sale, the television set he originally used to play video games on but ended up using it to watch shows instead—and a potted succulent placed in the corner. That wasn’t there before.

Before you allow your lips to tug up amusedly, Heeseung speaks again. “Is that all? When’s the rest of your stuff coming in?”

“The movers said they’d have everything ready within two days. It might take me longer to get everything sorted out, though,” you reply, aiming your gaze downwards at your suitcase.

It’s an old thing, with fraying fabric and rusty wheels, but it currently contains a fraction of your belongings: Clothes, toiletry, a small pouch where you keep items that have a special significance to you. Only the bare essentials, really. Heeseung had assured you that the room was furnished, with a bed, closet and desk. His old roommate, Beomgyu, had moved out but left the furniture behind because he had no reason to take them with him—not when he moved in with his girlfriend in her own apartment. All that’s left for the movers to bring over is your bookshelf, your book collection, the rest of your clothes, the Ikea drawer you and your best friend, Kim Minjeong, built together, and other smaller items like your desk lamp and office chair.

“That’s okay,” Heeseung says. “Take as long as you need.”

You nod, mumbling a “thank you”, then bend down to pick up your suitcase.

Heeseung moves aside, granting you enough space to roll it across the floor and head over to the side that leads to the Beomgyu’s old room. Right opposite you is the doorway that leads to Heeseung’s bedroom, and further to the side is the corridor that opens into the kitchen, the small space where he keeps a dining table, and the bathroom.

In a way, you’re glad your room is situated further away from those places. Ghosts of memories linger there, ones that you can’t bear to revisit.

No, it’s better this way; you’re away from everything that you used to consider a second home. Maybe if you close the door behind you, you can pretend like you’re in some kind of void where the only things that exist are you and the bed.

“Wait, Y/N.”

You pause, feeling… something. The way he says your name, so casually, as if it’s second nature to him (it used to be) and nothing has changed at all, has you on edge—not in the good way, but not in the bad way either. 

You turn around. “Yeah?”

“Um.” Your ex-boyfriend hesitates for a second. “I’m… going out for dinner with Beomgyu and some others, is that okay? It might be late by the time I come back.”

“Okay.” Then, feeling the need to clarify something, you say, “You—you don’t have to tell me that. We don’t… owe each other an explanation for where the other is.”

Heeseung stays quiet, and you look away, teeth worrying your bottom lip. You wonder if he’s going to say anything—or even show any kind of reaction at all. 

“Right. We don’t.” His voice is toned down with a kind of uneasiness that you don’t blame him for. Heck, even you feel a twinge of hurt rise up your throat at your own words. “I’ll… let you get some rest.” He nods once, places his hands in his pockets, and walks back to his room.

Your grip on the suitcase handle tightens. Once you enter your room, you let out a pained sigh. You shut the door and turn your back to the wooden blockade that separates you from the rest of the apartment.

This is not going the way you expected—but then again, what had you expected? That everything between you and Heeseung would just vanish and you could talk to him normally without feeling that tiny pinprick of bitterness stab your chest every time you address him? You and Heeseung have a history, filled with good times and bad times, and six months spent away from each other will do nothing to erase that. 

You think of what your old roommate, Minjeong, would’ve said. He’s just a boy, Y/N. Make him clean the toilet all the time so he’ll automatically get sick of you.

You smile to yourself, unlocking your phone. Minjeong is probably too busy settling down in her new home in the city she moved to, so she can’t pick up your call. You decide to send her a text message instead.

You switch to the food app, order your favourite dishes from the Indian place a couple of streets away, and toss your phone onto the bed. Kneeling, you unzip your suitcase and unpack the few items you have with you. As you move around, you can already imagine how to decorate the place, how to make it feel more like a home and less like you’re an intruder. The closet is just enough for all the clothes you own—the ones you’ve packed and the ones stored in cardboard boxes yet to arrive. The desk placed opposite to the bed is perfect for when you have to work on your laptop late at night; if you place your lamp on it, you might even forget that you’re not in your old apartment. The bed already has a mattress with clean linen on the bedspread. You place your old Looney Tunes duvet on it.

Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rings. You pause your unpacking to get the door and thank the delivery guy for the food. Heeseung has already left, judging by the lack of noise in the rest of the apartment. You just hope he doesn’t come back home drunk and shit-faced—that would definitely ruin the rest of your night, and the much-needed sleep you require. 

You decide not to use the kitchen table, instead opting to take the food containers into your room, where you can eat and watch a show at the same time. It’s lonely, but at least you can have your meal somewhere comfortable.

Your phone rings with notifications. You pick it up, carefully balancing the bowl of curry on your knee. 

(19:47) Minjeong: hows the apartment??? did u make Heeseung clean the toilet yet?

(19:47) Heeseung: hey, i’m at a thai place. do you want anything to eat at home? i could get something packaged.

You smile at the first text, tense up at the second one, and place your phone down next to you. Not replying to either of their messages might be a bad idea, but right now, all you want is to have your spicy curry and naan in peace—your best friend and ex-boyfriend be damned.

TWO

It’s only after you move in with Heeseung that your separation from Minjeong truly sinks in. Now, there’s no one you can wake up at two in the morning because your period started and you ran out of pads, or gossip about that one campus couple who broke up in public at your favourite boba place.

Not to mention the fact that living with your ex-boyfriend is mildly awkward at best and stupidly melancholic at worst.

It’s been a week, but you and Heeseung seem to have figured out a way to work in tandem. It appears as though neither of you want to see the other—just yet, at least. He goes for a morning jog at six; your alarm rings at six. He comes back reeking of sweat at seven in the morning; you’re getting ready to leave for work by then. You do the dishes on the days he vacuums the apartment and vice versa. It leaves no room for conversation, other than the occasional greetings and small talk when you happen to cross paths.

In fact, ever since you purposefully ignored Heeseung’s text asking if you wanted anything from the Thai restaurant, he’s made a conscious effort at avoiding you.

You nearly jump out of your seat when someone taps your shoulder. “Hey.”

You turn around and meet your co-worker, Jung Sungchan’s eyes. He smiles at you, eyes curving into little crescents.

“Hi,” you say, smiling back automatically.

If there’s one person you can count on to bring a smile to your lips, even if it’s eight o’clock in the morning—at work, no less—it’s Jung Sungchan. His cheerful nature and lively personality is infectious. His happiness radiates outwards in waves that everyone gets swept up on. You might even consider yourself envious of how easily he sways everyone, with that exuberant smile and those good-natured compliments he doles out to everyone like they cost him nothing. (Which they don’t, you suppose.)

“Something on your mind?”

Your smile turns into a grimace. “You could tell?”

He gives you a little half-shrug, still smiling. “You had a weird, serious, think-y face. And before you come at me for think-y not being a real word—I’m very aware of that, thank you—it’s the best way I can describe you.”

“You chose think-y—” you bite back a chuckle— “as the best word to describe me? Come on, Sungchan, you can do better than that.”

“I can,” he agrees, “but only when the situation is appropriate.” His face turns grave, and he continues, “But seriously, Y/N. Did you have a rough night?”

His eyes roam over your face, evident concern shown in the curve of his lips and the slight dip of his eyebrows. You control your wince, wondering if the swollen bags underneath your eyes aren’t as concealed by your makeup as you thought. 

Rough week, more like. But you don’t say that to him. “Something like that,” you say.

“You moved out a while back, right? How’s the new place?”

“It’s… good. Close to the supermarket and all that. Everything is within, like, a ten-metre radius, so I don’t have to go very far to get things.”

“That’s nice to hear,” Sungchan says, and you can tell he really means it. “I bet you’re tired, though, with all that packing and unpacking and moving around.”

He bends closer, the front of his loosely tucked shirt just barely touching the back of your chair. This close, you can smell the faint scent of Sungchan’s deodorant and fabric softener. He taps his finger on the arm of your chair. “Do you want to get some coffee with me?”

“Um.” You look back at your laptop and the pile of binders next to it. Sungchan seems to know what you’re thinking, because he huffs and says, “C’mon, I’m sure Seungcheol wouldn’t mind if you took a coffee break.”

“I guess,” you return, flashing him a smile when he rolls your chair backwards to give you space to stand up.

Getting up, both of you weave your way to the third floor, where the only functioning coffee maker is housed. The elevator is too crowded and busy for you to use to get down from your position on the seventh floor, so you settle for using the stairs. Throughout the ten-minute walk (which effectively turns into a fifteen-minute one, thanks to him), Sungchan waves and greets every single fellow office worker you pass by. By name.

You roll your eyes and bite your lip to hold back your laugh when a young, female intern—probably still in college by the looks of it—flushes bright red because Sungchan complimented her barrette.

He catches your eye and grins. “What’s so funny?”

You shake your head good-naturedly. “It’s nothing. Carry on with whatever you were doing.”

“What was I doing?”

“Oh, you know,” you say airily, “making everyone fall head over heels for you because you’re just so nice.”

His grin only widens. “You make it sound as though being nice is a bad thing.”

“That’s not what I meant at all,” you protest. “I’m just— Greeting every single person you see? By name? How do you even know everyone in the building?”

“I just check their ID card,” he explains, shrugging slightly. “I read this WikiHow article that said if you speak to people using their name, it creates a good impression and makes you appear more confident than you really are.”

“Really?”

Humming, Sungchan nods, before adding slyly, “I’m not sure what you mean by making everyone fall in love with me, though.”

“Please,” you snort. “You’re way too charming for your own good—and I don’t mean that in a bad way.”

“You think so?” 

You can hear the smugness in his tone and you roll your eyes again. “Yes, I think so.”

“Then…” He trails off, gazing at the handrail.

Sungchan’s voice turns softer, more serious. Contemplation bleeds into his features, and when he speaks again, he lacks the bravado he had with all the other people he spoke to on your way down.

“Guess I better work on charming the right people, huh?” 

You blink, but before you can digest Sungchan’s words, he gives you another bright grin before rounding the corner and striding towards the coffee machine. You follow, the need for caffeine in your system overriding your instinct to mull over what your co-worker said. Unfortunately, it seems you and Sungchan aren’t the only ones who want coffee; a long queue runs ahead of you. Your coffee break might end up taking longer than you thought.

“So,” Sungchan casually drawls, one hand in his pocket and the other fiddling with his ID card’s lanyard. “Do you want to talk about your rough night?”

“I…” You pause and consider. 

Should you tell Sungchan? You trust him enough—you’ve known him for as long as you’ve been working in this company—and he’s always been friendly to you, offering you a ride home when both of you work overtime and paying for your food on the occasional visits to a café or a coffee shop. Besides, he’s the closest person you have to a friend, now that Minjeong lives in a different city and you can’t call her up whenever you feel like it. You decide to tread the waters first, only telling him the bare minimum.

“Hypothetically speaking,” you begin, “if you move in with someone you don’t like but have known for years, what would you do?”

“That’s a tough one.” He scratches his chin, pretending to think. “I guess it depends on the kind of past you share, y’know? But either way, I would try to… make peace with them, I guess. Like a ceasefire. Offer them an olive branch. Hypothetically speaking, of course.” He grins knowingly at the last bit and you shove his shoulder.

What Sungchan said makes sense. You and Heeseung are living together; your past relationship shouldn’t come in the way of talking to each other. But it does, so much more than it should. Try as hard as you might, every time you think of Lee Heeseung, the first thing that comes to your mind is all the kisses you’ve shared, the way his arms feel around you, how both of you broke the promises you made to each other—all because you were too proud and he was too stubborn. 

You still are proud. For all you know, Heeseung might still be stubborn. 

What a pair, you think drily.

You and Sungchan shuffle forwards. He stays silent, allowing you to process your thoughts and wonder how, exactly, you’re going to get over Heeseung and talk to him without feeling like your stomach is twisting into a million knots. 

Once you reach the coffee machine, Sungchan hands you a cup. “It’s hot,” he warns, before carefully handing you the styrofoam cup filled to the brim with the bitter brew. You cautiously take a sip, wincing when you almost burn your tongue and make a face at your co-worker when he chimes, “I told you.”

The walk back to your floor doesn’t take as long as the walk down. Before you part ways, Sungchan offers you a small smile and a pat on your shoulder.

“If you’re wondering how to approach your roommate,” he says, lowering his voice, “maybe start off by offering them food. Works like a charm every time.”

Food. Yeah, you can manage that. Dinner with your ex-boyfriend.

Should be a piece of cake.

THREE

Asking Heeseung if he would like to have dinner with you is decidedly not a piece of cake.

When he comes back home from work, Heeseung has only one trajectory: Travel in a straight line from the door to his bedroom, offering you a tight smile if he sees you along the way. His bag is always slung across one shoulder and his shirt is always untucked and his hair is always a wild mess. If his appearance wasn’t achingly familiar, you would probably laugh every time you see his unruly figure.

It takes a week for you to muster up the nerve to look Heeseung in the eye, after your conversation with Sungchan. He’s been pestering you incessantly, almost exactly like Minjeong. When you told her about Sungchan’s suggestion, she had been nothing short of enthusiastic. Your phone has been blowing up constantly with texts from her, egging you on and on and on to make a move first and raise the (hypothetical) white flag. 

“If you keep putting it off, you’re going to be very miserable for the rest of your immediate future,” was her reasoning when you called and spoke to her on the phone three days ago. “But also if you don’t fucking ask him to have a meal with you within the next week, I will fly over and have you both sit in a room, alone, and force you to talk.”

Both the options are pretty much the same. You didn’t have the energy to tell Minjeong that.

It’s on a Monday evening that you catch Heeseung and pop the question. A Monday evening that’s insignificant, really. Almost laughable at how normal the evening is. Heeseung unlocks the door, closes it while toeing his shoes off, and gives you the same tight smile—one where it doesn’t reach his eyes, his jaw is slightly clenched, and his lips thin into almost straight lines. 

“Heeseung.” Your voice comes out breathless, like you’ve been jogging for miles before coming to a stop in front of him. He pauses, wind-ruffled hair framing his face in cloudy wisps.

“Yeah?” 

“I—uh—” you force the words to tumble out of your lips, before you can overthink— “I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me?”

Heeseung purses his lips, looking at you warily. He’s careful, cautious, when he asks, “Is… there any special reason?”

You swallow. “No,” you say honestly, not allowing your eyes to tear away from his. “There isn’t. But I tried making lasagne today, and I would like to share it with someone.”

For a minute, he doesn’t say anything, only lets his bag fall into the crook of his arm. “Okay,” he says finally. “Let me just change and wash up.”

You nod, making your way to the kitchen to bring out the casserole. You’re not usually one for cooking—you prefer ordering takeout because it’s easier and they make the food better than you, anyway—but simply ordering food didn’t sit right with you. Lasagne is a dish you’ve made a few times before, and you would rather make something you’re familiar with instead of trying to whip up something new.

When you go back into the kitchen, you find Heeseung already there, bent over an open cupboard’s door as he fishes out some plates and cutlery. He’s wearing a loose white shirt and grey sweatpants, fringe falling freely over his forehead and obscuring his eyes. 

“Are our regular plates okay or do we need the china ones?” he asks, still bent over.

“Why do we need china plates? Wait, why do you even have china plates with you in the first place?”

He looks over at you and shrugs. “Dunno. Beomgyu had a china cutlery phase, I think.”

That does sound like a phase Xu Beomgyu would have.

“The regular ones are fine.” You don’t want to risk breaking Beomgyu’s precious cutlery.

While Heeseung wipes the plates with a dishcloth, you grab two mugs and pour orange juice from the fridge into them. You take one in each hand and follow Heeseung to the kitchen table, placing both of them on either side.

“Orange juice?” Heeseung’s eyebrows are raised.

“Yeah. So?” you challenge him, raising your eyebrows as well.

But he doesn’t say anything against your choice of beverage, only shrugs and mumbles, “We should really stock up on alcohol.”

Your lips twitch. You don’t allow yourself to smile.

Instead, you pull your chair back and sit down, steepling your fingers in front of you. Heeseung piles some food onto his plate. For some reason, you feel weirdly nervous. What if it’s not as good as you think? What if he doesn’t like it?

You shake those thoughts away. This is Lee Heeseung. Even if the food was bad, he wouldn’t tell you; he would only grin, compliment your culinary skills, and continue to eat despite everything.

“Is it… good?” you ask tentatively, after he takes a forkful into his mouth and chews deliberately.

He waits until he’s swallowed before answering. “It’s great. Really good,” he affirms, and you can hear in his voice that he means it.

Well, almost.

It’s the slight dip and intonation of his tone, but it’s one you’re familiar with. You narrow your eyes at him. Heeseung continues eating, oblivious to your glare. In fact, he shovels more lasagne onto his dish and eats with more gusto, pausing every now and then to gulp down some orange juice.

“Really?” you say casually. “I’m glad. Maybe I should try some too.”

Heeseung’s reaction is so instantaneous, it’s almost comical. His eyes widen by a fraction, and he immediately reaches for the casserole. “You should definitely try some,” he says. “But it’s so good, I wanna have some more.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching Heeseung stuff more food into his mouth before deciding to put him out of his misery.

“Heeseung. Tell me the truth. How’s the food?”

He pauses, swallowing the food in his mouth and answering with a subdued, sheepish smile:

“It’s too salty.”

FOUR

“Why are you leaving so early?” Minjeong’s voice crackles through your phone placed on your bed.

“Sungchan said he wanted to try out the croissants at the new bakery that opened nearby,” you reply, fiddling with the buttons of your shirt. “He also said he wanted to buy a baguette so that he could whack his roommate with it. Something about going all the way to Paris to buy it but his roommate used it to hammer a nail into the wall and broke it.”

A pause, and then, “Is his roommate okay in the head?”

“Good question.” You grin at your reflection in the mirror, pat down the hair at the back of your neck, and grab your phone. “I’m heading out now. I’ll text you later.”

“’kay,” your best friend says. “Tell Heeseung I said hi.”

“I will,” you say, but you already know you’re not going to greet him on behalf of her.

Things between you and Heeseung are… still pretty much the same, honestly. After that dinner fiasco, you’ve been too embarrassed to properly address him, and he’s not made much of an effort on his part. Or maybe you’ve been consciously avoiding him so much that he doesn’t get a chance to put his foot forward. Either way, your cheeks still burn up whenever you think of that night’s dinner, so for now, hiding in your room is quite possibly the only way you can prevent yourself from catching fire completely.

Stupid logic. You’re a grown adult, with the ability to make good judgements and make decisions. Unfortunately, your decisions are mostly borderline idiotic.

Shouldering your bag, you leave your room and head to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. There’s a Post-It note stuck on the refrigerator. Peeling it off the fridge’s door, you read it curiously.

Got some cookies from Beomgyu’s friend’s bakery. I’ve kept them in the pantry. Enjoy! :) 

Heeseung’s familiar scrawl is branded into your head, and seeing the yellow square of paper makes nostalgia bubble inside your chest like a bath bomb dropped into a bathtub filled with water. You pocket the note, and smile so widely, your cheeks hurt.

Maybe he’s put his foot forward, after all.

Sungchan is already waiting for you outside your apartment building by the time you go out. He grins at you, his eyes crinkling in the corners and teeth flashing happily. 

“Hi,” you greet him. “Did you wait long?”

“No.” Your co-worker shakes his head, still smiling. “I just got here, actually.”

“I’m glad.” You return his smile. “Should we head out?”

Sungchan nods. “Of course,” he says, and you fall into step with him. 

He has a never-ending list of topics to talk to you about—and for the most part, you’re glad that he’s so outgoing. In twenty minutes, you’ve learnt almost everything there is to know about his roommate, Jeonghan, his older sister, his fear of ladybugs (you snort out loud at that particular anecdote), and his favourite anime (Haikyu!! and One Piece). In return, you tell him about that time you and Minjeong accidentally walked into the wrong restroom at a bar, and how you got dumped by your high school crush because he thought you were better than him at playing basketball.

It’s comfortable. Talking to Sungchan always is. 

But you still don’t talk about Heeseung. You try hard to stop thinking of him, but he’s always there at the back of your mind, an unopened gift that you don’t unwrap. 

Finally, you and Sungchan round a corner and find yourselves standing in front of the just-opened bakery. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafts through the open door. An array of different types of breads and other desserts is placed carefully on a display at the counter, and the owner greets you with a welcoming smile.

“What do you want to have?” Sungchan asks, holding your elbow and leading you in.

You eye the basket of croissants. The buttery confection looks delicious, but so does the tray of muffins placed next to it. And the bagels placed beside the muffins. “I can’t decide.”

“How about one of everything?”

You glance at him to see if he’s joking, but Sungchan looks completely serious. “You’re kidding, right?” you say, grabbing his arm. “There’s no way I’m going to let you buy one of everything in this store!”

“I would,” Sungchan admits, a flush creeping up his neck, “if you asked me to.”

You groan. “Sungchan. Please don’t.”

“Alright, alright.” He raises his hands in defeat. “I’m just saying, if you wanted me to—”

“One croissant, please,” you interrupt, addressing the owner. “To go. And he will have…”

“Make that two croissants,” Sungchan finishes. “I’ll have whatever the lady’s having.”

“How gentlemanly of you.”

“I know.”

Sungchan pays for his croissant, and you pay for yours. The owner wraps them up and hands them to you, asking you to visit again. Once you exit, you unwrap yours and take a small bite. The bread is soft and melts in your mouth, leaving a sweet aftertaste. You take another bite, and it’s only then that you notice Sungchan looking at you, a corner of his lips turned upwards in a crooked smile and one hand in his pocket.

“What?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious. “Do I have crumbs on my face?”

“No,” he replies. “I just… I would really love to do this again, Y/N.”

Oh.

Sungchan looks at you so hopefully. Like he’s been waiting for this opportunity for a long time. Like he needs to get something off his chest. Like he never wants this moment to end.

“...I’d like that, too,” you say.

Somehow, the words leave a bitter taste in your mouth, one that even another mouthful of the sweet snack can’t erase.

FIVE

It’s getting late, and yet Lee Heeseung is hellbent on getting you to keep him company. The worst part is that it’s working—though you would never admit that to him.

Being friends with your ex isn’t that uncommon. You and Heeseung can be friends. But how long are you willing to put up with this ruse before it all blows up in your faces? Friendship between two people who used to date isn’t that much of a big deal—but that’s just it, isn’t it? You and Heeseung weren’t just two people who used to date.

How did you even let him talk you into spending time with him? Or maybe that’s all on you; you’ve never been able to say no to him. One minute you’re looking at his face and remembering the lasagne gone wrong, the next he’s asking if you want to watch a movie with him. Except neither of you have updated your Netflix subscription, so this was a bad idea all along.

Maybe talking to Heeseung is a bad idea. 

Maybe you should go back to your old ways, locking yourself up in your room and only acknowledging his presence when you happen to cross paths. 

But the socialite in you nags, what if he thinks you’re some kind of hermit who only comes out to eat and drink? Besides, he’s here now, right next to you on the sofa—keeping a respectable distance between your bodies—as he watches a rerun of America’s Next Top Model because it was the least shitty thing playing on all the channels you scrounged through fifteen minutes ago. 

Normally, you would be elated at the idea of poking fun at random reality shows, expressing your exasperation at the poorly-written scripted drama and the even worse acting. But even if the showoff between two aspiring models both named Jessica and sporting the same colour of fake tan and bleached blonde hair was somewhat interesting, you find your gaze keeps wandering to your ex-boyfriend.

You trace the contours of his face with your eyes—the cheekbones that jut out only slightly, the furrow created on his forehead as his eyebrows kiss, the way his honey-brown eyes stare at the screen in front of him with a focused intensity. Even the way his lips curve ever-so slightly upwards, despite him pressing them together, has you recalling just how soft they felt against your own. 

His warm, soft skin. The prominent collarbone that you used to press small kisses to whenever you wanted to get his attention. The moles scattered all over his body, creating a canvas for you to paint on by tracing them with your fingers. The flex of his fingers as he bunches them into a loose fist.

Everything about him is so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time.

Even this semblance of friendship that has bridged the drawn-out distance between you both feels strange—as though somewhere in the back of your subconscious, you recognise that this camaraderie is either a really good thing or could go extremely wrong. You’re in the middle of that bridge, trying your best not to lean too much to the right or to the left, but even a slight misstep could lead to everything going downhill.

“Are you rooting for Jessice H. or Jessica C.?”

“Huh?” You blink, escaping your haze of thoughts. “I’m sorry—which one is which?”

Heeseung glances at you with a deadpan expression. “We’ve been watching them trying to one up each other for the past ten minutes.”

“Sorry.” You smile sheepishly. “Both of them look the same to me.”

“Fair enough,” he acquiesces, before returning his focus to the show. “It’s the fake tan, isn’t it? Although the hair is similar too… No wonder they’ve been arguing about who put on their mascara better—it looks identical.” 

You play along. “Or maybe it’s the supposed Gucci belts. I had no idea Gucci made handbags with fake crocodile skin.”

“The more you know…”

You laugh at that, and Heeseung looks at you—really looks, the same way he used to when you made a bad joke and giggled at it yourself. He looks at you with adoration written all over his face, in the upward twist of his lips and the crinkling in the corners of his eyes.

You clamp your mouth shut immediately, feeling a sense of nostalgia, longing and wistfulness seep into your skin, through your flesh and settle deep into your bones. 

Too much. It’s too much, and it’s way too early, and you don’t want to dwell on anything at the moment. So you do what you do best: You hide.

You tear your gaze off him and rub your palms on your old jeans. You hear Heeseung’s sharp intake of breath, but you force yourself not to look, not to think about him. 

“Hey, uh—I was supposed to call Minjeong right now,” you lie, and even you think it sounds lame coming out of your mouth, so there’s no way Heeseung can’t see through it.

“Y/N,” is all he says. 

You hate the way your chest clenches—just because he said your name—but what can you do? Escape the situation and never bring up the obvious elephant in the room?

Yeah. That’s exactly what you do. Making decisions isn’t your forte, but you’ll deal with the consequences of your actions later. Much, much later, if you can avoid it for as long as you’re living here.

You get up and make a beeline for your room, and Lee Heeseung doesn’t say anything to make you stop.

SIX

Whenever you faltered, Minjeong was your voice of reason. She would help you back to your feet, give you a solid nudge on your shoulder and list out the pros and cons of everything, allowing you to formulate your own opinion and come to a decision.

She isn’t being very helpful right now.

“Think about it,” she reasons. “Before, he was your ex. Now, he’s the guy you live with. You have to talk to him, no matter what.”

She’s right. She knows you know she’s right. You still refuse to acknowledge it, because pride comes before a fall, but you haven’t fallen yet. It’s more like you’re dangling off the precipice.

“How’s Yeonjun?” you say instead, referring to the guy she’s been crushing on ever since she moved to the new city.

Minjeong lets out an unimpressed sigh, the grainy image of her face on your phone screen contorting slightly. “Don’t think you’re being super smart by changing the topic, Y/N. And he’s fine. We went out for boba the other day.”

“Yeah?” You play with the fraying edge of the duvet thrown over your body. “That’s nice.”

Minjeong hums, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “And then he asked if we could hook up.”

You guffaw. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She nods vigorously, affirming her statement. “I said no, obviously.”

“Why? Afraid he’s too much to handle?”

“Please,” your best friend snorts. “Have you seen him? I think I’m too much for him to handle. He couldn’t even pay for the boba without tearing his pocket because he was too enthusiastic in getting his wallet out.”

You smile thinly. Minjeong might be poking fun at the man, but you can tell from the twinkle in her eyes and the way her voice is filled with infectious joy that she’s enamoured by him. You wish you could meet him in person. Instead, you have to settle for checking out his Instagram profile.

“Anyway,” she continues, stifling a yawn, “it’s late and I have to head out tomorrow. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” you say. “Good night. Don’t dream of Yeonjun.”

She flips her middle finger at you and you roll your eyes, pressing the end button. Just when you’re about to fluff your pillow so you can lie down, you hear a knock on your door.

“Y/N?” Heeseung sounds remarkably active, considering the fact that it’s currently fifteen minutes past midnight. “Are you awake?”

Curiosity compels you to answer honestly, “Yeah. Is everything okay?” 

You tread over to the door, swinging it open. Heeseung is in his sweatpants—a pair you know he only wears for bed—and a loose graphic T-shirt. You’re wearing pretty much the same attire, except your shirt is an old one, worn-out from your high school days, and it doesn't fit you that well anymore. You tug the hem over your hips consciously.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Yeah, everything’s okay. I was just…” He pauses, raising a hand and ruffling his hair. “Do you wanna get some ice cream?”

Of all possible things you expected Heeseung to ask you, this certainly wasn’t one of them. You blink, bemused. 

“Or—or we don’t have to,” he backtracks, when you don’t say anything immediately. “I was just craving something sweet, that’s all—”

“Okay,” you say, surprising yourself with your answer. Heeseung is trying to extend the olive branch you placed in between you both, and you have to appreciate that. Regardless of your personal feelings. Besides, Minjeong was right—he’s the guy you live with, and you need to be able to spend time with him. As friends. Nothing more.

“Okay.” He exhales, relieved. “It’s right across the street.”

“I think I know the one you’re talking about.”

The ice cream parlour is a ten-minute walk from your apartment, but walking with Heeseung makes time fly. He says something about mint chocolate being an underrated flavour, and you insinuate that it deserves to be, and just like that, conversation flows between you both as though your past is some kind of a fever dream.

Where Sungchan is a bright ray of sunshine lighting up your way on a cloudy day, Heeseung is moonlight, skittering over your figure and providing solace in the dark. Sungchan is infectious laughter and gleeful smiles; Heeseung is whispered jokes and shared silence.

Perhaps it’s those very qualities that made you fall so hard for the man next to you. You know for sure it’s those very qualities that still have you in his grip, even though he doesn’t know it. Maybe that’s why talking to him is awkward—because how do you move on from someone who captured your heart and kept it for safe-keeping but know that there’s one big, gaping hole in your chest where his heart is supposed to be? Even now, a small part of you belongs to Heeseung, like a little token which he’s kept locked up and hidden the key.

Six months is a long time, but neither you nor Heeseung seems to be able to bring up what happened. Maybe it’s for the best, you think. You would rather have a small bit of this domesticity that feels familiar than have everything blow up in your face because of the harsh words you exchanged.

You ignore the tightening in your chest and focus on the warmth pooling in your stomach when Heeseung grins and offers you a chance to redeem yourself when it comes to good ice cream flavours. You say mint chocolate is tolerable, but only because Heeseung likes it.

SEVEN

Sungchan drops by your cubicle almost every day now. He offers to drop you back home, too.

Each time, you smile but decline politely. You still feel guilty about saying that you would like to spend more time with him as well—but in your defence, you didn’t really lie; you do want to spend more time with him, but only as a friend. Sungchan didn’t specify how exactly he wants to go out with you.

It’s getting harder to say no, however. Sungchan is everything if not persistent, and his determination to take you out has you crumbling under his forlorn gaze and pleading words.

He doesn’t make your heart beat faster, or make butterflies erupt inside your belly. Being with Sungchan doesn’t come with bright fireworks or flashy songs. It’s finding the extraordinary in the mundane, and laughing yourselves silly over jokes that aren’t even that funny.

So. It’s not Heeseung, but Sungchan is nice and friendly and stable, and you think you can fall for him. You and Heeseung aren’t going to cross the threshold of friends ever again, anyway. There’s nothing stopping you from going out with Sungchan.

“Okay,” you say when he asks you again, a half-resigned look on his face when he assumes you’ll just say no again. 

The way his expression morphs to elation is worth it, you think. He surges forward, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers into your ear, and the joy he feels is infectious—as most good things with Sungchan are—so it’s no surprise that your cheeks are already hurting from smiling too hard.

When you update Minjeong about the latest turn of events, she tuts disapprovingly and says, “Have you told Heeseung?”

“No,” you say, feeling defensive. “I don’t have to tell him, do I?”

Your best friend waits for a beat. “You don’t, I guess.”

Heeseung interrupts your call then, and you quickly tell Minjeong you’ll text her later. He stands in the living room, holding up a pair of button down shirts, one in each hand, forehead creased and mouth downturned.

You lean against your doorway, amused. “You called?”

His face clears as he looks at you, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “I have this work event I need to attend tomorrow, but I don’t know what to wear.”

You observe the shirts he’s holding up. One is cream in colour, long-sleeved and ironed neatly. The other is black, with a thin white stripe along the collar and sleeves.

“The black one,” you say immediately. And then feel your cheeks heat up with your quick answer. In your defence, Lee Heeseung has always looked alarmingly handsome in black. Objectively speaking.

“I haven’t worn this one in a long time.” He brings it close to his face, squinting at it. “It probably stinks.”

“Smell it, then,” you say, chuckling at the mortified look on Heeseung’s face. “What? You’re telling me you’ve never worn your underwear inside out because you forgot to do the laundry? This isn’t that different.”

“I have never done anything of the sort.” He sniffs petulantly at you, before his eyes narrow. “Wait. Does that mean you’ve worn your underwear inside out?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Gross. I thought you knew me better than that.”

Heeseung tenses up at your offhand comment, and you look down, wondering why that even slipped out of your mouth in the first place. Of course you screw everything up just when things are going decently well. 

“I do,” he mumbles. “I do know you better than that.” When you look at him, he has a wan smile on his lips. “Which is why I’m going to trust your judgement and wear the black shirt. Even if it’s musty from sitting in the back of my closet for so long.”

“Oh, shut up,” you huff, walking over to him and grabbing the cloth out of his hand. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He only raises a single eyebrow at you.

That’s what prompts you to sniff at it. At his goddamn shirt. Like you’re one of those police dogs they use to find missing people.

It… doesn’t smell unpleasant. A little bit musty, like Heeseung said, but that can be attributed to him not wearing it often. Mostly, it smells of faint fabric softener and deodorant—and underneath it all, a scent that is solely Heeseung’s. (Pine and citrus and lavender, all mixed together, in a way that only Heeseung can pull off.)

“It smells fine,” you say, shoving it into Heeseung’s chest. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m not the one who grabbed it and shoved my face into it,” he says, “so who’s the real dramatic one here?”

“I didn’t shove my face into it!” You swat at his shoulder, but he laughs and dodges, eyes twinkling with playfulness.

“If you say so,” he returns, still chuckling to himself.

“When is this event?” 

“Tomorrow evening,” he answers.

“Both of us won’t be at home then,” you say, and he raises an eyebrow. “I… have a date tomorrow,” you explain, and regret it almost instantly. Why are you even telling him that? He doesn’t need to know.

“Oh,” is all he says, followed by a quieter, “Have fun.”

EIGHT

Sungchan picks you up at exactly six o’clock, wearing a loose button down shirt and slacks, and his hair styled carefully. He perks up as soon as you wave at him, jogging over to you with a smile.

“Hey,” he greets you. “You look good.”

You return his smile, tugging at the edge of your blouse and smoothing out your skirt. “Thank you. So do you.”

Sungchan’s grin brightens, which you didn’t even think was possible. “Thanks,” he says, and then gently takes hold of your elbow. “So… the plan for today is to take you out for dinner, and then a movie. How does that sound?”

“It sounds… good,” you say, letting him lead the way. It’s basic, yes, but you’re a firm believer in clichés—there’s a reason they become popular, after all.

He doesn’t stop talking, and neither do you. Throughout the entire half an hour dinner in some hole-in-the-wall diner that Sungchan discovered a month ago and serves the best blue lemonade mojitos you’ve ever tasted, and the entire two hour movie that’s way too boring for you to focus on the screen anyway, you and your co-worker keep up an endless stream of banter and silly anecdotes and you find yourself enjoying it more than you thought you would.

It’s refreshing, and when you and Sungchan finally make the walk back to your apartment, you find it difficult to let go of his hand. He pulls you to a stop in front of the building, rubbing his thumb gently across the back of your hand. 

His smile is as bright as ever, albeit tinged with slight disappointment. “So. I’ll see you on Monday, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, nodding. “Thank you for today, Sungchan. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” he returns. “Listen, I—”

He’s interrupted by someone stumbling across the sidewalk—not someone, you realise. It’s two people, tightly coiled around each other in a manner that is entirely indecent for the public eye. But as they trip around one another—still holding each other tightly—your heart sinks deep into the pit of your stomach.

One of them is Heeseung.

The other person is some girl, hair falling loosely across her face, Heeseung’s fingers tangled into her tresses, while his other hand bunches up the material of her dress at her waist. They kiss and kiss and kiss, and you don’t tear your eyes away until Sungchan makes a noise of disgust.

He turns around, blocking your view of them and takes both your hands in his. “I… I’ll call you. Okay?”

You nod numbly. “Okay.”

Sungchan leaves with a bright smile and a lingering kiss on your cheek. You plaster a smile onto your lips until he moves out of your line of sight, after which you begin the arduous trek back to your—Heeseung’s—apartment. Normally, the three floors you climb aren’t much of a strenuous task; tonight, however, every step you take makes you feel like your legs are made of lead. 

You fumble in your purse for your key, the image of Heeseung kissing that girl not leaving your mind. It’s not supposed to hurt, you’re not supposed to be bothered by it. But it stings, like the biting cold on a freezing winter morning, making your fingers stiff and your ears chilly.

You hear footsteps right when you twist the key into the lock.

The last thing you see before you enter the apartment is Heeseung clambering up the staircase, clearly drunk but surprisingly upright. He has a lipstick stain leading from the corner of his mouth to his cheek, his hair is tousled—no doubt from someone running their hands through his silky locks—and his shirt is untucked and wrinkled.

He opens his mouth to say something, but you grab the door handle and step inside, because the last thing you want to confront is the fact that your feelings for Lee Heeseung might not be as forgotten as you believe.

Which is fine, all things considered, except Lee Heeseung doesn’t give a damn.

You let the door slam shut behind you before Heeseung can get in. Technically, it’s his house. Technically, he’s the one who has the right to lock you out.

Technically, you’re acting like a child throwing a tantrum, and technically, Heeseung is allowed to kiss whomever the fuck he wants. 

You wish Minjeong was here. She would ground you, make you see everything calmly and rationally. But she’s been having boy problems of her own (Choi Yeonjun, who is decidedly not as romantic as Minjeong was led to believe), and the last thing you want is to dump your boy problems on her.

Besides, it’s no big deal. Right?

Heeseung lives here. He should have his own copy of the keys. He’s also drunk. (Drunk and half-laid, your mind helpfully reminds.)

Before you start overthinking about letting the door close behind you, you decide that what you really need is a warm shower. So you let your feet lead you to the bathroom directly, and don’t allow thoughts of ex-boyfriends and overly friendly co-workers to enter your brain.

You don’t hear the sound of keys turning in the lock the entire night, but you shove down the guilt that bubbles up your throat. It’s Heeseung’s fault for not carrying them with him wherever he goes; you’re not his caretaker, anyway. 

Your phone pings with a text message from Sungchan, and you pick it up.

(19:47) Sungchan: I had a great time today. Thanks for coming with me :) 

Despite the fact that you only have a towel wrapped around your body, and the fact that your hair is dripping wet, you feel a tingling warmth creep up your chest. 

NINE

Monday is a horrible day.

You woke up half an hour later than usual, which led to you rushing through your morning routine. Your clothes aren’t ironed, which is fine usually, but the shirt you pick doesn’t tuck in quite right and you don’t have the time to change it. You almost tripped over the curb in your rush to get to work and nearly spilled a cup of coffee—which is far too sweet for your liking, due to the dollop of sugar you added by accident—all over yourself. Your manager, Choi Seungcheol, doesn’t approve of the project portfolio you compiled, and the deadline is fast approaching, which means more late nights for you.

And to top it all off, your car engine won’t fucking start.

You’re really not in the mood for Sungchan and his exuberant enthusiasm, which is something he probably catches onto, considering the fact that he stands silently next to you, waiting for you to finish cursing the piece of metal you call a car. Once you’re done resisting the urge to burn down the automobile, Sungchan places a placating hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, training a concerned gaze over your figure. “I can drop you back home.”

“No, it’s fine,” you mutter sullenly. “I’ll just call a cab or something.”

“Y/N, please. It’s no trouble.” He pauses, and you glance at him, at the sympathetic crease of his forehead and the genuinity reflected in his eyes. It’s touching, and Sungchan flashes you a small smile. “I was gonna head over that way anyway—I wanted to get some stuff from that bakery we went to.”

“I—” You hesitate, and he takes the chance to slide in.

“You call the mechanic. I’ll wait for you in my car, okay?”

He scurries away, leaving you biting your lip and staring at your phone. You should probably call Heeseung; he can help. Knowing him, he would probably want to help, regardless of who was asking him. Instead, you search up the nearest mechanic shop and dial in their number, giving them the details of where you are. They arrive a couple of minutes later, and you watch as they hook your car onto their big tow truck and drive away.

Sungchan waves you over to his car, a sleek Hyundai that's probably a few years old but still looks brand new. He opens the door to the passenger seat with a smile before grabbing the stack of folders you had kept clutched to your chest. You let him take them. You’re far too tired to argue.

Briefly, your mind wanders to Heeseung—what he would do if you had told him. Probably run all the way here, your brain supplies, prompting a wry smile to form on your lips. You press them together when you think of Heeseung with that girl immediately afterwards.

The drive to your house is silent, only the rumble of Sungchan’s car and the soft noise of some interview playing on the radio filling the silence. He pulls to a stop near your apartment, bundles up your work folders in his arms and gestures for you to lead the way to your flat. 

The door swings open before you get the chance to pull out your key. Heeseung stands opposite you, dishevelled—just woken up from a nap, it seems. His mouth parts when he sees Sungchan standing behind you.

“Who’s this?” he asks by way of greeting.

You shift uncomfortably, wanting to say something, but the words stick to your throat like you’ve swallowed chewing gum. Sungchan reaches out from next to you, and you don’t need to see him to know he’s positively beaming.

“Hi, I’m Sungchan,” he says. “I work with Y/N.”

Heeseung shakes his hand, eyes roaming quizzically between you and Sungchan. “Nice to meet you,” he says distractedly. “I’m Heeseung, Y/N’s… roommate. And ex—”

“Come on in, Sungchan.” You glare at Heeseung. He only raises an eyebrow in retaliation. Sungchan coughs slightly, blows out a puff of air, and follows you inside.

“You can just…” You wave your hand around vaguely. Gritting your teeth does nothing to bring you out of your haze. It only exacerbates it.

“Did something happen?” Heeseung moves aside, but you feel his eyes on the back of your neck.

“Y/N’s car broke down,” Sungchan supplies. “It’s at the mechanic’s right now, so I offered to drop her back home.”

“I see.” His next statement is directed at you. “You could’ve called me. I would have come.”

It’s only then that you turn around and face him. He doesn’t move, gaze locked unwaveringly on your hunched-over figure. It’s almost like he’s challenging you to say something.

“I know that,” is all you say, voice low.

Heeseung nods. “Good.”

You avert your attention to Sungchan. He appears lost, gaping at both of you as though he can’t quite catch onto what’s going on. “Let’s go to my room, Sungchan. You can leave my stuff there.”

“Okay.” Sungchan nods, giving Heeseung a hesitant smile. “It was nice meeting you, Heeseung.”

“You too.”

It’s a tiny exchange, but it’s enough to cause a fissure inside your heart. Sungchan is always so nice. He gives out niceness like he’s handing out free candy to toddlers. The only time you’ve ever seen him get remotely angry was when another co-worker of yours forgot a pen drive containing a crucial presentation to an important client—even then, all he did was level a glare at her before calmly asking for a backup drive to be brought.

Heeseung, on the other hand, is like a burning ember. Calm one minute, and angry the next—and it’s the reason you love him, but it’s also the reason you broke things off. You and Heeseung are far too similar, hot-headed and careless to a fault, like two candle flames competing to see who can burn their wick the fastest. You didn’t burn the wick. You ended up burning each other instead. Let it not be said that playing with fire isn’t one of your specialties.

Sungchan lets out a breath that sounds like a huff and a sigh simultaneously as soon as he enters your room. “You can leave the stuff here,” you say, pointing at your desk.

He obliges, carefully placing the stack on the table. “That’s your roommate, huh? Y’know, when you said that you were living with someone you didn’t like, I didn’t think you meant your ex-boyfriend.”

You look away, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s… difficult. I needed a place to live and he was the only person who offered on short notice. It just happened.”

Sungchan nods understandingly, lips pursed in thought. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is,” you agree. “One of the nicest people I know.”

“Yeah?” Your co-worker lifts one corner of his lips in an amused half-smile. “What does that make me?”

The answer is on the tip of your tongue. You know Sungchan is expecting it. Hell, you’re expecting the words to just come out. The nicest guy of them all. That’s all you have to say.

“You’re… Jung Sungchan.” 

The words are flat on your tongue. Sungchan’s expression falls—just the tiniest bit, a crack in the foundation—but you feel a terrible weight in your stomach, pulling you down, down, down until your head sinks below the surface of the metaphorical waves and the water erases your existence. 

Sungchan is a nice guy—you know that, and you’ve reiterated it so many times. The only thing stopping you from being in a proper relationship with him is your ex-boyfriend, only separated from you by a wooden door and cement walls. Heeseung doesn’t like you anymore, not in the way he used to, and it’s clearly time for you to stop dwelling on what you had.

You swallow, looking at Sungchan directly. “And…” You take a step closer to him. “I consider myself lucky to have met you.”

Sungchan looks at you, his gaze unsteady, but he takes one of your hands in his. “Yeah?” His throat bobs when he speaks, and that’s how you know he’s nervous.

“Yeah,” you confirm, letting his fingers slip in between yours. 

He shuffles closer to you, and you can smell his woody cologne intermingled with sweat. You can count the moles on his face, see your reflection in his pupils. 

“Y/N, I really want to kiss—”

There’s a knock on your door, and you and Sungchan jump away from each other like a pair of schoolchildren getting caught doing something you’re not supposed to. Sungchan looks down at his feet; you clear your throat before letting out a hoarse, “Yes?”

“You left your phone outside,” Heeseung calls. “The mechanic just called.”

“Oh, um. I’ll be right there.” You turn back to Sungchan, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Of all possible times for Heeseung to be a cockblocker, why now? “S-sorry about that.”

“No, it’s—you’re fine,” he stammers out, clearly as out of it as you are. “I should probably leave too, I still need to stop by the bakery.”

“Oh, yeah!” you say. “I forgot. Do you want me to come with you?”

“It’s alright,” he says. “It’s getting dark outside and you need to get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you murmur. “Thank you for today, Sungchan. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Cursed your car to oblivion, probably,” he teases.

You flush, heat creeping up the back of your neck and ears. “That—you didn’t have to see that.”

“I thought it was cute,” he returns easily, corners of his lips twitching. 

Against your will, your lips twitch upwards too. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

Sungchan opens your door, and you follow him out of your room. He gives Heeseung a grin, says, “See you around,” and lets you close the door behind him. 

Heeseung crosses his arms over his chest. You glance at him. His eyebrows are knotted together, lips pressed into a stoic line. You bite the inside of your cheek, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Hey,” he begins, voice soft, “is that… your boyfriend?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Does it matter?”

He huffs, shifting from one foot to the other. “Yes—no. No, it doesn’t matter. I was just curious, okay?”

You open your mouth, then close it, at a loss for words. Are you and Sungchan together? Not really. Both of you haven’t done or said anything to define your relationship—if there is one in the romantic sense, at least. Sungchan wanted to kiss you, but Heeseung interrupted before anything could even happen—it’s your irritation at the day being shitty, and Heeseung being an asshole after everything he did that makes you roll your eyes at him and snap at him. “It’s none of your business.”

Heeseung’s face turns stony, a hardness to his features that you’ve only seen a few times before—it was directed at you the last time, too. “Okay. Fine. Sorry I asked.”

“Are you?” you retort, and before he can say anything to retaliate, you storm back into your room and lock the door.

Your heart feels like it’s been split into two, one half yearning for the comfort and familiarity that comes with still liking Heeseung, and the other excited to explore what Sungchan could offer you—and what he already has offered. But for now, you decide to get some sleep. Your heart can wait.

TEN 

Minjeong is back.

Minjeong is fucking back, and she’s standing in your—Heeseung’s—living room, arms wide open and a grin on her lips so wide, her eyes crinkle in the corners. It takes all of your willpower not to launch yourself into her arms. Instead, you slow down, toe your shoes off, let your bag drop to the floor, and then launch yourself into her arms.

She laughs at your overzealous demeanour, and you giggle into her hair. God, you’d missed her. Texting every day and video calling every weekend can only do so much, and it’s nothing compared to seeing her in person.

“Hi,” she says, pulling back enough to escape your cage-like hold around her body.

“Hi,” you greet back, smiling so wide and so hard, you can feel your ears pop. “You’re back.”

“I’m back.” She confirms your statement by nodding. “Only for a week, though.”

“Ah.”

Your best friend lets out a sheepish chuckle, and you take a step back. Her suitcase is on the floor next to her, and she’s kept her backpack on the sofa. “Are you gonna stay here?” you ask.

She winces. “No, there isn’t much space here. I booked a room at a hotel nearby. It’s, like, ten minutes by walk from here and it’s not very expensive either,” she assures.

“Okay,” you say, a little deflated. If Minjeong stayed with you, at least the awkwardness between you and Heeseung might be reduced by a small fraction. Her overbearing nature and ability to make conversation with literally anyone would be a lifesaver, given the situation you’ve dug yourself into.

A situation that she knows nothing about.

You haven’t had the time to keep Minjeong updated about the latest turn of events—not when she was busy juggling a relationship with her sort-of boyfriend, Choi Yeonjun. She doesn’t know about Sungchan, and she doesn’t know about your lingering feelings for Heeseung.

“Hey, you’re back already.”

Speak of the devil. 

You turn around and find Heeseung leaning against the doorway, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. You feel your breath hitch. He continues, “I guess Minjeong already beat me to it, huh?”

“You knew she was coming?” you ask him, almost accusatory. 

“You didn’t tell her?” Minjeong echos, a curious tinge to her tone.

He lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug, lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile. “Wanted to surprise you, that’s all.”

Against your will, you find yourself grinning at him. Heeseung dissolves in the slightest—a small hint of surprise—before he grins back at you, teeth flashing and eyes crinkling. Minjeong lets out a small huff from next to you, but you know nothing can put a damper on your mood right now. Not even your resurfaced feelings for Heeseung, nor your newfound ones for Sungchan.

Your best friend squeezes your arm. “I have some time before I need to check in at the hotel. Do you wanna check out our old place?”

You turn to her and nod. The prospect of going back to the place where you created cherished memories with someone so dear to you is enticing; then you remember your car is still at the mechanic’s. “My car is out of commission.”

Minjeong only turns and stares at Heeseung. He sighs resignedly, pushing himself off the doorway and heading inside his room. “Let me grab my keys.”

“Might as well stop for ice cream along the way,” Minjeong calls out gleefully to his retreating back. 

You gulp. This… might not be a good idea. If Heeseung tags along with you, this would be the first time since last week where you’re speaking to him normally, making conversation that isn’t just along the lines of “Did you do the laundry?” or “I bought some vegetables”. Of course, if you told Minjeong what happened, she would immediately make sure Heeseung doesn’t come. You chew on your bottom lip, but before you can come to a decision, Heeseung emerges from his bedroom, car keys dangling off his fingers.

“Ready?” he asks.

Minjeong grabs onto your arm, excitement so visible on her face that it prompts the tension in your own features to melt away. You let yourself get carried away by her giddiness, not noticing the fond glances the only male in the group keeps giving you whenever he’s sure you’re not looking. If you’d met his eyes once throughout the drive to your old place, you’d see the way his eyes still twinkle at you with the same intensity as they did months ago, but you’re too busy catching up with Minjeong to notice.

Heeseung pulls to a stop in front of your old apartment building—a dilapidated structure that’s not half as modern as the current building you stay in. At least the elevator is still functioning; you purse your lips to contain your laugh when Heeseung looks at it, eyebrows raised in visible astonishment. Minjeong grips your hand tightly when you reach your floor. You tighten your hold on her hand as well, feeling a sudden burst of emotion erupt inside your chest like lava escaping from a volcano.

You and Minjeong round the corner to the apartment that used to be yours, Heeseung following closely. The door is the same dull brown it was back then as well, but someone has put in the effort to redo the varnish. There’s a potted fern next to it as well. 

You let out a shuddering breath. Minjeong wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close; you aren’t sure if it’s just the wind rattling through the open window, but you hear something like a sniffle.

This is the place you lived in when you had your first boyfriend, when you had your first heartbreak, when you cried your lungs out at some stupid TV show that you were invested in at the time but can’t possibly remember the name of now. This is the place where you and Minjeong bonded over crappy supermarket deals and made a mess of the kitchen whenever you tried to learn how to cook something new.

This is the place where you first met Lee Heeseung.

You tilt your head at him, watch as he stares resolutely ahead of him, like if glares at it strongly enough, he can bore two holes straight through the wood. Eventually, his eyes land on yours.

His lips part but no words come out. He offers you a small smile instead, one so tender and heart-warming and achingly familiar. You blink, and the moment is gone. You’re left with the same sense of wistfulness and longing that you always feel around him. 

Minjeong squeezes your shoulder, eyes shining. “Should we ring the bell?” she asks, and then presses the doorbell before you can respond.

A muffled “Coming!” from inside, and the latch is pulled open to reveal a college student—a few years younger than you, perhaps, with sleep bags underneath his eyes and a cup of coffee clutched to his chest. He looks confused—as anyone would be, you suppose, when you see a random bunch of strangers standing on your doorstep—but his expression clears when Minjeong explains who you are and why you’re here.

He says he’s living here with his boyfriend and their pet cat—a beautiful Siberian who coils itself around his legs, tail upturned—and you feel your heart swell with the knowledge that your old haven is being taken care of well. Minjeong consistently badgers him with questions and he answers each one patiently, to his credit. 

A flicker of uncertainty crosses your mind, however. Does Heeseung not remember this? He was looking for apartments in this building, too, when you met him. Doesn’t he remember the old landlady conversing with you? Doesn’t he remember the way people constantly asked if you two were together, which is what even prompted him to ask for your number in the first place? 

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when you feel a slight pressure on your shoulder. Heeseung’s hand is on your shoulder. Your gaze flits over to him. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, ducking his head. “There was a mosquito.”

He’s lying. 

He remembers. 

ELEVEN

“Spill.”

“The… tea?” you ask cautiously, looking at Minjeong. She’s holding a steaming mug of tea in her hand.

“You think you’re so funny.” She rolls her eyes.

“I know I am,” you quip, and she rolls her eyes again, taking a sip of the beverage.

“You’ve been distracted since yesterday,” she states matter-of-factly. “Since we went to our old place.” Her voice quietens, “Is it Heeseung? Did he do something?”

You eye her warily, sitting down on the plush armchair opposite her. “No,” you say.

“Then what is it? Did—did you not want me here?”

“No.” You’re quick to alleviate her concerns. “Of fucking course I wanted you here. I missed you. So much.”

Your best friend smiles at that, swirling the tea in the mug. “But something’s bothering you.”

“...Yes.” You admit it slowly, playing with your fingers splayed out on your lap. “It’s not important. You’re here only for a few days, we should do something fun.”

“Y/N,” Minjeong says slowly, enunciating every syllable of your name like she’s speaking to a troublesome child, “if you’re worried about me feeling bad or anything, please don’t. I want to help you.”

You wave her away. “You have your own shit to deal with.”

“What, you mean Yeonjun?” She snorts. “I’m over him. I was over him ages ago.”

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Just.” You look down at your feet. “You really liked him, didn’t you?”

Minjeong cocks her head to the side, studying you carefully. “Yes. I did. What about it?”

Your shoulder slump, dejectedness seeping into your figure. “How… did you do it?” You glance up at her, note the way she observes you carefully. Your voice is almost pleading when you continue, “How did you get over him?”

Your best friend’s expression clears, comprehension dawning on her face. She places her mug down, leaning forward and clasping your hand with hers. “It’s Heeseung, isn’t it?”

You shake your head miserably. “Not just him.”

“There’s someone else?” She doesn’t sound surprised, only intrigued and concerned.

You take a deep breath, lock gazes with her—and everything comes spilling out of your mouth like the tide receding into the ocean. You tell her everything, about Heeseung and Sungchan and how conflicted they make you feel; how one is like the living personification of sunlight on a gloomy day, and the other reminds you of clouds providing shade on a hot afternoon. You tell her about how guilty you feel, as though you’re leading Sungchan to believe that you’re ready for a committed relationship when a part of your heart still belongs to Heeseung. You speak until the words end up garbled and slurred, and your breathing turns heavy and salt water streaks across your cheeks, your best friend rubbing them away with the pad of her thumb.

When you don’t know what to say, Minjeong pulls you into a hug—it’s an awkward position, your elbows locked around her arms while your neck is bent at an odd angle, but it’s comforting, and you let your eyes close tiredly. 

“Y/N,” she says, rubbing her thumb on your shoulder soothingly. “I know it’s hard for you to decide, but you have to know: What do you want?”

The question makes you contemplate. What do you want? 

“I don’t know,” is all you can get out, slumping further into her arms.

She hums softly. “But you’ll figure it out. I know you will.”

Will you? You’re not so sure. Maybe when the time is right. But for now, you rest your chin on your best friend’s shoulder and let her rub circles onto your skin.

You pull back when the position becomes too uncomfortable—you can already feel a crick in your neck—and Minjeong wraps her fingers around her discarded mug. She raises it in a half-hearted toast. “To sexy girls who don’t need men in their lives.”

You giggle, rubbing your eyes. “Men are pieces of shit, anyway.”

“Damn right they are,” she croons, falling dramatically back onto the couch. “We should just get married instead.”

“If you propose to me the right way, maybe I’ll consider it.”

Minjeong grins at you, and it’s infectious enough to make you grin back at her. “Consider it done,” she says. “I have a ring in my nightstand drawer with your name written on it.”

“If it’s not pure diamond, I won’t accept.”

“Tsk. So greedy.”

TWELVE

Introducing Sungchan to Minjeong was not a part of your agenda for the week.

But it’s Sungchan and it’s Minjeong, so really, what else did you expect? Both of them integrated themselves seamlessly into your life, and they have no plans of leaving anytime soon. Might as well get the introductions over with.

Ironically, it happens when you go to collect your car from the mechanic’s, and once they’ve exchanged names and small talk, Minjeong and Sungchan are inseparable. The former regals him with tales of your college shenanigans, while the latter listens enthusiastically, eyes flitting between you both amusedly.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you hurriedly interrupt the conversation, right before Minjeong can go into the messy details of how you wanted to marry the toilet when you were drunk once and Heeseung had to physically carry you out of the house because you were convinced the white ceramic was proposing to you.

“You and Heeseung were together for a long time, huh?” Sungchan asks you quietly, once Minjeong is finished with her sulking at you interrupting her story. She’s at the side, conversing with someone on the phone, leaving you and your co-worker alone in front of your car.

You’re so startled by the question, you nearly drop your keys. “I—why do you ask?” 

Sungchan licks his lips, a seriousness to his figure that you haven’t witnessed many times before. “Just… curious, I suppose.”

You look down once, see how he’s twisted his fingers together—even the Jung Sungchan gets nervous, after all—and look back up at him. “Yes,” you admit softly, voice hitching slightly, “we were. We… were in love, I guess you could say.”

He’s silent for a minute, tongue darting out to lick his lips again. “And now?”

“I don’t know, Sungchan,” you answer him honestly. Your heart flutters inside your chest, while your stomach twists into tight knots—two reactions you didn’t think would go hand-in-hand, yet here you are, leaving your heart bare for Sungchan to take while gatekeeping a part of it to yourself.

He raises his head, warm eyes capturing yours. You see the smallest flicker of hope and sadness, two thin wisps of emotion dancing in his eyes—but even then, his lips are turned upwards, because it’s Jung Sungchan. 

“But you could try?” he asks, so softly you can barely catch the words.

You push down the emotions that threaten to swallow you whole, swirling around your entire body like the blood that flows through your veins. “I don’t know,” you say again, no less honest than the first time.

He opens his mouth, but Minjeong walks back to you both, mouth downturned. “My company said they need me back as soon as possible.” She says it calmly, but disappointment and bitterness seep into her voice.

For a moment, you freeze, and then ask, “When do you need to leave?”

“Tomorrow,” she answers with an apologetic shrug of her shoulders. “They’ve already booked the flight.”

“Okay.” You nod. “I’ll drop you to the airport.”

“I’ll come with,” Sungchan chimes in, and adds, in true Sungchan fashion, “Make sure Y/N doesn’t drive us all into a ditch or something.”

You shove his shoulder, muttering an “asshole” under your breath, and his smile only widens. Minjeong glances in between you both, lower lip caught between her teeth, before she sucks in a breath and smiles. “Good to know my best friend is in good hands.”

“The best hands, actually,” Sungchan teasingly corrects. 

You roll your eyes at the two of them. “Can we go home now, or not?”

“Home it is,” Minjeong agrees, “but first, I demand Taco Bell.”

“Fine,” you concede, letting her grab the keys from your outstretched palm. 

Sungchan grabs your hand once she clambers into your fixed car. His palm is broad, skin warm, and his fingers wrap around yours with ease. He squeezes your hand once, gently, and it feels like a promise and a farewell at the same time.

Sungchan asks you out again three days after Minjeong leaves. 

This time, he takes you out to an Italian restaurant. He’s dressed up in a suit and a bowtie—and actual blue velvet bowtie that sits snugly at the hollow of his neck—and he’s the perfect gentleman, pulling your chair out for you and pouring champagne into your glass like a professional. (When you compliment him on his drink-pouring skills, he just mutters bashfully about how his dad taught him that to please a lady, you need to be good at pouring drinks; it does nothing to ease the quickening pace of your heart.)

Jung Sungchan compliments your dress, says that that specific shade of pink looks beautiful on you. He recommends you try out their vegetable lasagne, says it’s one of the dishes the restaurant is famous for. He laughs about his favourite show, tells you he would love to rewatch it with you someday. He asks if you like gardens because his neighbour is trying to convince him to grow a rosebush outside his house, but he can’t look after plants even if his life depended on it. He wants to go out for ice cream afterwards, but the night is too chilly for the cold dessert so you opt against it.

Throughout, you play someone who’s on her first date, who thinks this is all there is and everything she’s been dreaming of has come true.

You would like to think you’re a good actor.

Lee Heeseung has seen you in nothing but sweatpants and old t-shirts and he used to whisper praises against your skin, flushed with sweat and sweet words. He ate the shitty lasagne you made without complaining, no matter how bad it tasted. He watched whatever was playing on television with you, just because he enjoyed your company and wanted to be wherever you were. He’s not particularly good with plants, but he has a little succulent named Spurt, making sure it gets enough sunlight and water. He likes mint chocolate ice cream, and would defend the flavour with his life.

Lee Heeseung and Jung Sungchan: Two sides of the same coin.

Minjeong’s question resonates in your mind as you and Sungchan walk back to your car.

What do you want?

As you near your vehicle, Sungchan puts a gentle hand on your arm. “Y/N,” is all he says, and you hate the way your chest clenches at that—just because he said your name.

“Did you have fun today?” he continues, eyes roaming over your features like he’s committing you to memory. Like a soldier leaving his wife before he heads out to the frontlines.

“I did, Sungchan. I really did.” You place your hand over his, tracing the veins on the back of his hand, pressing lightly on his knuckles; you need him to know that you truly enjoyed today—desperate for him to know, because it’s the least you can do for him after everything he’s done for you.

“Good,” he says. “I—I had fun today with you, too. I always have fun when I’m with you, Y/N.”

He bends down. You can feel his breath fan out on the shell of your ear and it makes you shiver. He turns his head, and his lips brush against your cheek. A small, soft farewell. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t—” you begin, feeling your voice begin to wobble.

“Don’t be sorry,” Sungchan whispers, but he sounds firm. “We’re still friends.”

Your heart plummets deep, deep down, a free fall that isn’t orchestrated by gravity. You think you know the answer to Minjeong’s question now.

“Thank you,” you whisper back to Sungchan.

THIRTEEN

The light is on when you enter the apartment. Heeseung’s figure lies hunched on the sofa, head in his hands, a half-empty beer can next to him. You quickly shuck off your heels and drop your purse onto the shoe rack.

Your ex-boyfriend looks at you when pad over to the living room. “You’re back.” He sounds hoarse, tired. 

“Have you been drinking?” you say in return, raising an eyebrow. 

Heeseung glances at the can in his hand then back at you. “Yeah. Long day.”

“Me too,” you admit quietly.

Perhaps it’s the quiet ambience of your shared home—silent, despite the noise of the city outside—that compels him; or maybe it’s the idea of coming home to someone you think you know better than the back of your own hand. Either way, when Heeseung pats the cushion beside him, your feet move automatically and you sit down, letting out a weary sigh.

It’s quiet, but not in the awkward sense. Not like back then, when Heeseung thought you and Sungchan were dating. Not even when you visited your old apartment. Exhaustion makes its home in your bones, and you suspect it’s taken over Heeseung too; there’s no way this shared piece of night can be so comfortable otherwise.

“Want some?” he asks after a few minutes.

“No thanks.”

Heeseung shrugs and puts the can down on the coffee table. “Wanna talk about it?” He leans back against the sofa, arms crossed behind his head.

“No,” you answer, and then, “Do you?”

“No.” He clears his throat, glancing sideways at you. “Were you with… Sungchan?”

“...Yes.”

You don’t have to look at Heeseung to know he’s clenching his jaw. It’s a pure rush of adrenaline that makes you ask, “Why does it bother you so much whenever I’m with him?”

Silence.

You turn your head, cheek brushing against the back of the sofa. Heeseung’s eyes are closed, hair falling in loose strands around his forehead and neck. You wonder what he’s thinking.

His answer excites you—in the rawest form possible. Anticipation builds up in your chest, threatens to explode through your windpipe. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but when he opens his eyes and meets your gaze, there is nothing you can do to stop your heart from rabbiting inside your rib cage.

“It doesn’t,” he says finally, an air of decisiveness about him.

For the second time that night, your heart plummets, and you tear your eyes off him. “Okay,” you say. “That is, um, good information to have.”

“Isn’t he your boyfriend?” 

“How does it matter to you?”

Heeseung crosses and uncrosses his ankles, this time staring resolutely at the floor. “I don’t know. It just does.”

You purse your lips. He isn’t being fair to you. “What about you?” you demand. “What about that girl you almost brought back home, huh?”

His mouth twitches. “You saw that.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“I’m not blind, Heeseung,” you retort.

Your roommate lets out a sardonic chuckle at that, slowly dragging his eyes up. “I highly doubt that.”

“What do you mean?” You scowl at him, feeling your chest begin to heave. “You—you’re like some kind of a riddle, Heeseung. I can never tell what you mean by anything, and it’s even worse now that you’re drunk and—”

“I’m not drunk, Y/N,” he interrupts. 

“I don’t care if you’re drunk or not—” you don’t realise your voice is caving in, growing softer and softer by the second— “stop saying things you don’t mean.”

“I want to kiss you,” he says finally. “I want to kiss you and I may be slightly drunk, but I don’t fucking care. And I mean it.”

You swallow, blood pounding through your veins. “Say that again.”

“What?” he says, sounding genuinely confused. His gaze never leaves your face, every ounce of earnestness and honesty written plainly on his features.

“Say it again,” you repeat.

“I want—”

You surge forward, capturing his lips with yours, pressing them firmly against his even when he lets out a muffled gasp. He doesn’t kiss back immediately, but his hands find their way to your waist, gripping tightly and crumpling the flimsy material of your dress. He kisses you back then, mouth jutting insistently into yours, tongue sliding against your lower lip. You arch your back, scramble to find some balance in this precarious position, and your hands end up tangled in his hair. He tastes like beer and aftershave and something that’s so distinctly Heeseung, you want more.

You pull away when air becomes a necessity, blinking even as Heeseung’s arms pull you closer to him.

“This isn’t over,” you manage to get out in between huffed breaths.

“Tomorrow,” he promises, but his eyes are glazed. He looks at you like a man starved, and tilts his head and kisses you again, kisses you like he might never see you again. 

You let him. It’s Lee Heeseung, after all, and you’ve always been a little weak for him.

You don’t think of Sungchan; don’t let him come out of the tiny pocket you’ve preserved in your heart just for him. Instead, you wrap your arms around your ex-boyfriend’s neck, leaning into his chest and kissing him back with equal fervour, letting him know that you need him as much as he needs you.

God, you’d missed him. Way more than you thought. You’ve memorised his touch, branded it into your mind, but it still feels new. Like the first time you were with him, kissing like two teenagers with reckless abandon. 

His cold fingers find their way underneath your waist, hitching up the loose material of your dress around your thighs. You kneel on the couch cushions in front of him, almost straddling his lap but not quite. His fingers brush against your sides in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

He nips at your lip, asking for entrance to your mouth to which you accept, parting your lips enough for him to get a taste. As he moves his tongue around yours, exploring your mouth in every way possible, you can’t contain the slight whimper that escapes your throat. 

Heeseung groans, leaning his weight onto you as you both start moving together until you’re laid flat against the couch. He’s impatient, you can tell; his fingers dig into your skin, and he groans again when you bite down gently on his lower lip. He pulls back and moves downwards, kissing your jaw and behind your ear, suckling gently on a sensitive bit of skin with expertise. “Tell me to stop,” he says, whispering the words against your skin.

All you do is moan in response, rubbing your thighs together to get some friction with the way he’s moving his mouth against your skin. 

“Tell me to stop,” he says again, more firmly this time.

“Shut the fuck up, Hee,” is all you reply with, the nickname falling out of your lips with familiarity. 

Maybe it’s the use of something that used to be your thing—something the two of you shared, the shortened version of his name—but hearing it come out of your lips again does things to Heeseung that he isn’t sure he’d ever be able to put into words for you. Trailing his movements down to your neck, he stops at your chest, a small smile spreading on his face. “Forgot how much I loved it when you called me that.”

Looking down at him, you hadn’t realised he’s moved further down your body and his fingers trace the edges of your underwear. Your dress is bunched up above your thighs, skin exposed to the cool air. “Gonna make you feel so good,” he mumbles, pressing a tiny kiss to the inside of your thighs. He toys with the elastic of the waistband, chuckling when you shoot him an irritated glare.

He stares down at your clothed core, mouth watering while his hands move faster than you can comprehend. It takes him two seconds to hook his slender fingers underneath the waistband of your panties before he pulls them down to your ankles and tosses them onto the coffee table. 

You feel a wave of shyness overcome you—with the way he’s looking at you, desperate for your taste—and you try to close your legs, before his hands land on your thighs, halting your actions. “So pretty,” he murmurs. “I want to see all of you.”

Heat burns your cheeks and flows through your body. You turn your head to avoid his burning gaze as you feel him part your legs. He readjusts himself, laying as flat and comfortably as he can with what little space he has on the couch until he’s face-to-face with where you need him most. He tests the waters, leaning in with his tongue out, letting it graze your clit. You stifle a moan, biting your lip so hard, you think it might bleed.

He smiles, loving how you’re holding back. “So quiet, baby. Wanna remember how I used to make you feel.” Laying his tongue flat against your clit, he gives you slow and soft strokes—so gentle that it drives you insane. 

“You’re such—such a tease,” you gasp out, right when he swirls his tongue around the nub.

Heeseung only raises an eyebrow at that. “You haven’t changed.” But all the same, any plans he had to be patient with you go straight out the window; he wraps his arms around your thighs to pull you down further to his face. The sudden pull surprises you, and you gasp a little while searching for something to grab onto. He indulges in your pussy, tongue exploring your pulsating hole that clenches around everything and nothing all at once. He relishes in the way you feel on his tongue, groaning against your folds while bringing a hand up and rubbing his thumb on your neglected clit. 

You’re a mess under his touch, squirming on the sofa, loud groans and soft mewls escaping your lips wantonly. Your fingers find their way into his soft locks, pulling gently on his hair and scratching against his scalp. He lets out a moan against your pussy, lapping at your juices as if you’re his last source of water. “F-fuck, Hee, ‘m gonna—” a gasp— “‘m gonna cum.”

This only encourages him to work his mouth harder, wanting to watch you fall apart just by his mouth alone. You tug harder at his hair, moans growing louder and more desperate by the second, and your thighs shudder around his head, feeling the rush of your high come so close, you aren’t prepared for it.

With two final sucks to your clit, you come undone on his tongue followed by a string of moans with broken pieces of his name somewhere in between. Heeseung looks up at you with bright eyes and a satisfied grin, as if he didn’t just eat out your pussy like he would never get the chance to again. The mixture of saliva and your juices dripping down his chin makes your eyes widen even as you squint down at him. 

With careful, deliberate motions, he moves away from you, the grin on his face replaced by a more serious expression. You sit up, leaning on your elbows. The aftermath of your passionate actions catches up to you; reaching over, you snatch your panties from the coffee table and swing your legs over. Throughout, Heeseung doesn’t say anything. He only watches, in that quiet, observant way of his, swiping at his mouth and chin with a tissue he grabbed from the tissue box next to the couch.

You glance at him. Is he going to say something? Or is he going to let you walk away again, with all the words you want to say to him lying on the tip of your tongue, always there but never released?

“Y/N.” He scrambles to his feet when you stand up, clutching your underwear in one hand and adjusting your dress with the other. He sounds… uncertain. Completely unlike the Heeseung who cockily asked you if Sungchan was your boyfriend, or who joked around with Minjeong like it was second nature to him.

You bite your lip. “Yes?”

“Do you… do you want anything? Water?” 

You melt a little at his words like an ice cream left out for too long. Lee Heeseung, always so kind, always so caring—you know that better than anyone. 

He can be cruel too, in the way he chips away at your already broken heart. He doesn’t know it but he does—lift your hopes only to let it all crumble down. Like how he broke the promises you made to each other, and how you broke the words you’d sworn to say to him alone.

It hits you again, how you and Heeseung were meant to be, and how lonely it was when he left. You wonder if he feels the same way—did he spend sleepless nights in bed, thinking of you? Did he ever think that if he could travel back in time, he’d do it all over again?

You shake your head no at him. He doesn’t say anything after that, but his lips part slightly. He watches you as you walk over to grab your purse and head inside your room.

That night, you don’t sleep at all—despite wrapping yourself up in your Looney Tunes comforter and the comforting weight of your pillow beneath your head that usually puts you to sleep instantly. 

Instead, it feels like the very first night you and Heeseung broke up all over again.

SIXTEEN

You don’t tell anyone about what transpired between you and Heeseung. It remains hidden between you both, a secret neither of you are willing to bring up.

Minjeong is back to work at her new city, now completely devoid of boy problems of any sort, since Choi Yeonjun has shifted his affections to another co-worker. (“It’s better this way,” she tells you, “he didn’t want a committed relationship, anyway.” You can tell she’s truly not bothered by it, so you grin and agree.)

Sungchan doesn’t come around to your cubicle the way he used to earlier, either. Your days at the office are dreary and boring, now that your co-worker’s sunshine smile isn’t there to keep you company. In fact, the only person who still talks to you voluntarily at work is your boss, Seunghcheol, but even then it’s mostly just a sympathetic smile he offers you followed by a new deadline or a project.

You and Heeseung are back to whatever it was you had when you first moved in, before the lasagne fiasco. Not talking to each other, but not not talking to each other either. You swerve around each other in tandem, finding more and more excuses to avoid whatever happened in between you both. He lied when he said he would talk to you about it the next day, after he ate you out on the couch.

You can’t blame him completely; you’ve made no effort to reach out to him, either.

Weariness seeps into your skin with every passing second. You rub at your already half-closed eyes and hide a yawn behind a closed fist. The letters on your laptop screen swim in front of you. The stack of folders next to it drags a tired sigh out of your lips.

You’re so tired. Not just physically, but emotionally you’re drained out, all the liveliness sucked out of you like someone vacuumed up the inside of your heart. The lack of sleep is getting to you; the lack of someone to brighten up your days is getting to you more.

If you and Sungchan were still on a talking basis, he would have sauntered over to your desk by now, hands in his pockets and the same question on his lips: “Coffee break?”

He’s not here now, probably tucked into his corner of the floor. Maybe his smile is directed at someone else. Maybe he’s taking someone else on the daily ritual that you used to consider yours. Maybe it’s time you get out of your fucking swivel chair and get some coffee.

You’re not doing it alone, of course. No, coffee at the office—no matter how shitty the machine is and how long the line for the coveted caffeine is—is yours and Sungchan’s thing. Besides, he said you’re still friends; it’s time for you to step up.

Stifling another yawn, you blink slowly before pushing yourself off your chair. It occurs to you that you don’t know exactly where Sungchan’s cubicle is—he’d mentioned it was by Seungcheol’s room once. You decide to start there.

It doesn’t take you long to find Sungchan. You walk into him—literally walk into him. A startled gasp leaves your lips when you collide into someone’s chest, an apology already on the tip of your tongue.

“Are you okay?”

You blink once. The voice is familiar. You direct your gaze at the person you bumped into. 

“Sungchan,” you breathe out weakly.

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “The one and only.”

“I-I’m sorry I bumped into you,” you quickly apologise. “I was on my—”

“It’s okay, don’t apologise,” he interrupts. “I should’ve looked at where I was going too.”

“How… have you been?” The question spills out before you notice, and you realise that you’re genuinely concerned about his wellbeing. You’ve missed him, missed his companionship. 

Sungchan looks briefly surprised that you’ve asked him. He clears his throat, once. “Oh, um. I’ve been fine—y’know, the usual. Work, home, sleep and then repeat. How—how about you?”

“I’ve been better,” you admit. “You look tired, though.”

He lifts his hand and rubs his cheek with an accompanying embarrassed chuckle. “You could tell?”

He has bags underneath his eyes. His shoulders sag ever-so slightly. His usually perfectly styled hair isn’t as neat as it used to be. You nod. “You look exhausted.”

“Ah.” Another embarrassed chuckle; you can tell he doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“Coffee break?” you offer, a small, lopsided smile gracing your lips.

This time, the smile Jung Sungchan gives you lights up his eyes.

SEVENTEEN

“This is ridiculous!” you call out for the nth time, glaring at the door with as much intensity as you can muster.

“Minjeong’s orders!” Sungchan calls back, from outside the room. “I have proof that she asked me to lock you two up in order for you to talk it out.”

Heeseung huffs out a breathless laugh from behind you. He’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, sheets crumpled and pillow on his lap. You turn around to level your glare at him.

“Give it up,” he advises.

“Don’t even.” You pinch the bride of your nose, closing your eyes in exasperation. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault? No one told you to tell Sungchan everything!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know he would go and tell Minjeong?” you splutter out, opening your eyes and bringing your hand down. “I didn’t even know they’d exchanged numbers!”

“Might as well get it over with,” Sungchan’s voice travels through the barricade once more. “The sooner the better.”

“I didn’t ask you, Sungchan,” you mutter.

“He’s right, you know.” Heeseung pats the space next to him, inviting you to sit down. “If Minjeong hadn’t forced him to do it, I would have found some way to do it myself.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” you retort. “You’ve been avoiding me since the day we—since the day we kissed.”

“I would have tried,” he reasons. “But since you’re here now, can you at least please listen to what I have to say?”

“Oh, so now you have things you want to say,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. Regardless, you sit down next to him. You’re curious, you will admit. This conversation could potentially break your heart, or it could also change the trajectory of your relationship with Heeseung.

Your ex-boyfriend takes a deep breath before beginning.

“The other day, when I said I wanted to kiss you—I wasn’t lying, Y/N. I truly meant it. I’ve wanted to kiss you the minute I laid eyes on you again. I wanted to hold your hand, to take you places around the neighbourhood, to come back home to you.

“I thought we were making progress. I thought we were friends again, and I could somehow win your heart back.” A wry smile crosses his lips. “But then Sungchan came by, and you both just seemed so close. He—he brought back this life in you; your eyes sparkled whenever he was around, and you were always smiling when you were with him. I never saw that after we… after you moved in. You were always so jittery with me—understandably so—and I… I let my jealousy of seeing you with Sungchan get the better of me.

“That day, when I—” he pauses, glancing at you; his eyes are imploring, and you sense that he’s laying himself bare for you— “when you saw me kissing that girl, I did it on purpose. To make you jealous. And then I saw the look on your face, and even when I was drunk, I knew I’d fucked up. So I left her, and I followed you back inside—you closed the door just as I caught up with you. I called up Beomgyu, spent the night at his place. I think that’s when I realised completely that I—that I still love you.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. Your heart is hammering inside your chest. You can’t believe you’re actually hearing these words.

Heeseung swallows. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. Even after we broke up, even after all the things we said to each other—some part of me knew that I shouldn’t give up on you. I have loved you throughout. I will continue to love you throughout.”

He looks down, staring at his hands. In that instant, he looks so small. Vulnerable. As if giving his entire heart to you on a silver platter isn’t enough. As if he’s giving all of himself to you, mind, body and soul.

You need to tell him that your mind, body and soul have always been his.

“Heeseung,” you begin, watching as his eyes travel over to yours uncertainly, “you absolute fucking idiot.”

His lips twitch up briefly. “Wha—”

“I love you, too, idiot.” The words rush out breathlessly. “I never stopped.”

Heeseung’s eyes widen and his mouth opens imperceptibly. You continue, “I knew this would happen. The minute I stepped foot into your house, I knew I would fall for you all over again.”

You reach out and grip his hand, needing something to tether you against him. “And I did.” A watery laugh escapes your mouth. “I fell in love with you all over again.”

A pause, and then Heeseung’s free hand cups your cheek, skin warm against yours. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Heeseung smiles at your confession—a full smile, with his eyes crinkling in the corners and his lips turning upwards. He leans forward. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

You beat him to it, covering the distance between you both with one swift swoop. You capture his lower lip in between yours, hands resting on his shoulders to steady yourself. He kisses you back with equal fervour, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you impossibly closer. You close your eyes and slide your tongue across the seam of his lips, smiling when he lets out a silent groan. 

He only pulls away once he needs air, but even then he doesn’t let you go. He pulls you forward, making you straddle his lap as he kisses your cheeks, your nose, the column of your throat. You relish in his touches, tangling your hands in his hair and tugging gently at the silky strands.

“We should probably stop,” you whisper, when a particularly sharp nip at your neck elicits a soft moan from you. “Sungchan’s standing outside.”

“Fuck him,” Heeseung says. He presses another kiss on your jaw, looking up at you like you’ve hung up all the stars in the universe.

You roll your eyes affectionately at him. “C’mon. I don’t want to scar him for life.”

“Who cares?”

“I care,” you say, slowly getting off his lap. Already you can feel the absence of his warmth. 

“Fine,” he agrees, once you stand up fully and brush yourself off. “I love you.”

Warmth shoots up your chest and onto your cheeks and neck. Your heart swells, and you find yourself grinning involuntarily. “I love you, too.”

“Good.” Heeseung stands up and pecks your cheek. “Now let’s go save Sungchan from his misery.”

(Later, if you find Sungchan with bright pink ears as he pointedly avoids yours and Heeseung’s gaze, that’s no one’s business but his.)

EIGHTEEN

Heeseung sucks on a sweet spot right underneath your ear and you can practically hear his smirk when you let out a whine. You fist your hand in the sheets, feeling the soft material crinkle underneath your fingertips. 

“Such a tease,” you whisper out.

He lowers his head, nips at your neck and then runs his tongue over the spot, soothing it. “So you’ve mentioned.”

Your retort dies on your lips when he moves lower and lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your collarbones and shoulders. You whine again when his fingers find your nipple, pinching the bud lightly in between his thumb and forefingers. He moves lower, breath ghosting over your abdomen and belly button, until he finally comes face to face with your clothed pussy.

He hooks his finger into the waistband of your panties, nails scraping against your skin. You squirm under his touch, lifting your hips to help him pull the flimsy garment down your legs and toss it to the side. Heeseung sucks in a breath sharply when he sees your exposed cunt—despite already having seen it before, and you feel a rush of pride at the fact that you still have this effect on him. “So pretty,” he murmurs, eyeing your folds hungrily. 

Heeseung works on your clit expertly, thumb rubbing against the nub, eliciting a loud moan from you. He licks a stripe up your folds, grinning when your hand automatically finds itself in his hair again. When he finds you’re wet enough, he slides a finger in. You inhale sharply, hole clenching around the digit. He circles his thumb around your clit once more, before sliding another finger in.

You gasp at that, tightening the hand in his hair. Heeseung leans forward, swiping at your clit with his tongue one more time and pulling both his fingers out at the same time. He relishes in the sounds coming out of your mouth, feeling proud that you’re not trying to hide anything from him. You’re completely under his mercy, as is he when it comes to you.

He slides both the fingers back in, hissing when your walls contract against them, pumping the digits in and out a few more times. The way you moan—because of him—makes him finger your hole faster, enjoying the way your moans increase in pitch. When he sees your eyes beginning to cloud over, Heeseung quickly withdraws his fingers. You whimper at the loss of his touch and he chuckles. “Patience, baby. Don’t want you to cum just yet.”

Your head falls back on the pillow and you mutter a string of incoherent words under your breath. “Look at me,” Heeseung tuts.

You lift up your neck curiously. Heeseung waits for your eyes to land on his lips before he slowly, deliberately puts his two fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits and licking your juices off. He doesn’t fail to notice the way you bite your lip at the sight.

Once he pulls his fingers out, Heeseung bends down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Are you even gonna fuck me, Hee?” you grit out, and his eyes widen.

“Call me that again,” he orders. 

“Fuck me, Hee.” Your voice is borderline a whimper, and, well—who is Heeseung to prevent you from getting what you desire? After all, he’s always been a little weak when it comes to you.

He gets on his knees, holding his throbbing cock in his hand. He pumps it a few times, groaning softly, before positioning himself at your entrance. “You’re on the pill?”

“Yes.” You nod almost desperately, waiting for him to slide it all the way in.

Heeseung enters you slowly—the pace is almost unbearable—but he shudders when he feels your walls against his dick. You grab onto his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh. A loud moan escapes your lips when he jerks his hips forward, his cock pressing into your cervix. Your eyes screw shut, and Heeseung grunts, pulling out and thrusting back inside with more force. Almost unconsciously, you wrap your legs around his hips, granting him more access to your hole and allowing him to push himself deeper inside you.

He leans down and captures a nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue around the pebbled bud. You gasp out moans wantonly, and it spurs him to thrust faster and faster inside you. He watches you fall apart on him, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips when your moans become interspersed with chants of his name. 

Your grip on his shoulders tighten and the muscles flex under your hold. Your cries reach a crescendo with one particularly sharp thrust; Heeseung can tell your climax is approaching.

He speeds up, pumping into you with as much strength as he can muster. Your nails leave white-hot trails along his back, his shoulders—you try to hold onto him as best as you can. You cry for more, beg him to keep going. A bit redundant, in his opinion—he has no plans of stopping until you’ve orgasmed. 

Heeseung thrusts into you one last time, throwing you over the edge. Your walls clench around his cock tightly, black stars floating in your vision as you cry out his name. He pumps into you weakly, letting you ride out your orgasm while chasing his own high. He buries his face in your neck, breathing heavily, and when your walls tighten around him, he comes inside you, his movements coming to a pause. 

You stroke his sweaty bangs away from his forehead, both of you catching your breaths. He remains sheathed in you, even as he pulls you onto your side so both your chests are touching. 

“Feel good?” he asks, one hand carding through your hair gently.

You let out a tired, but satisfied hum, smiling softly at Heeseung. 

You spend the night curled up in his arms. He sleeps soundly next to you, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks and hands wrapped protectively around your figure. The steady thrum of his heartbeat sounds against your ear, and you smile, even in your sleep.

NINETEEN

“You have your thinking face on.” Your boyfriend saunters into the kitchen, a knowing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes at him. 

“You can’t tell me you don’t see it too,” you say pointedly, waving your wooden spatula at him.

Heeseung chuckles, moving over and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. He presses a sweet kiss to your shoulder. “What, that Sungchan and Minjeong are meant to be? That smells amazing, by the way, love.”

“Yes,” you huff out, stirring the soup inside the pot boiling on the stove. “And thank you.”

From the living room, you can hear your two friends laughing over something you couldn’t possibly begin to comprehend. Minjeong still lives in another city, but she comes over to visit whenever she can. You and Sungchan remain friends, and he often comes over whenever you, Heeseung and Minjeong decide to hang out—though, you suspect his enthusiasm to join you three has more to do with one particular person rather than the entire group.

“If you say so,” Heeseung agrees. “I think they’re just friends.”

“Friends don’t look at each other that way,” you say matter-of-factly.

“Really? I seem to recall him looking at you the exact same way not too long ago.”

“That’s different, Hee. Here, can you taste some? I don’t want it to be too salty.” Grabbing a large spoon, you dip it in the pot and offer it to Heeseung.

He obliges, letting you shove the spoonful into his mouth—and yelps almost immediately. “Ouch! You didn’t tell me it was hot.”

You only raise an eyebrow at him, but a small hint of amusement dances in your eyes. “How does it taste?”

Heeseung rolls his eyes at you but rests his chin on your shoulder; his hair tickles your ear. “It tastes amazing as always, love.”

“You’re sure? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”

“I’m offended you think I would lie to you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you deadpan, and it makes Heeseung giggle.

“I’m serious, it tastes good.” He smiles at you, peeling himself away from you. “Let’s go join the other two.”

“Coming.” You put the stove on simmer and grab Heeseung’s extended hand. His fingers slot in between yours easily. Your lips curl upwards on their own accord, and your heart feels so full, it’s close to bursting.

You’re there, in a room with all your favourite people, and it’s perfect.

The very first night you and Heeseung broke up is pushed to the back of your mind, never to slip out of the corner you’ve tucked it into. The nights after made up for it, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. You rebuild the promises you made and make new ones along the way.

You’d write it in the sky if you could, but you and Heeseung don’t need that. 

STAR-SHAPED BRUISES ✦ he who once felt the cold touch of death before, so why did it matter if he risked it again? Only that it did matter, to you, and your yearnings for him felt so warm it almost made him want to be selfish.

anaxagoras x gn!reader. angst? & fluff! content. hurt with comfort (?) tensions and arguments. yearning and hidden pining. cerces playing matchmaker. might be ooc + anaxa character study. written before 3.2 and spoilers for the 3.1 story! [2.4k wc]

tagging @rainswept @eterjie @kazucee !!

“You seem troubled today, more than usual.”

The thin-layer of soundlessness is quickly replaced by the tamed billow of Anaxa’s tone, one that seems like he’s questioning for the sake of curiosity and not because of empathy. Looking up at how busy he looked, his eyes maintained upon his alembic that bubbled a violent cyan-gold hue, any second and you’re sure it’s gonna fulminate from the vessel.

You shift from your seat, feigning skittish. “Did my morose pique the curiosity of the grand performer? Or are you simply worried?”

“Neither.”

“What a benumbed reaction, Anaxa—“

“—goras.” He finishes for you. Usually, whenever he’d add on your behalf, you’d combat it with a snide but today, he’s left with nothing but silence. This made him look up from his instruments and papers, your lack of reactions made him forgo his current experiment.

It made him almost worry, almost.

He sighs instead. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing is the matter.”

“You’re quick to lie to me,” Anaxagoras is now facing you, laying a hand on his hip. “That seems like something.”

The way he conducts his questions is making you want to be defensive with your petulant behavior. “Even if something is on my mind, I don’t see why I should be telling you about it.”

“Maybe you should, because if I can find some way to help, your mood would lift, no?”

“Since when have you cared about my moods?”

Silence then.

“Are you aware of what the principle of correspondence is?” Anaxa mutters out and you have the urge to exhale.

“Please spare me a lecture…”

“As above, so below, as within so without.” The professor starts nonetheless. “Everything around us is a mirror that reflects a projection on both our inner and outer manners, think of the relationships as interconnected roots of trees or simply dendrites. It’s the simple work of magic tricks—human behaviors more so than divinity at play.” Anaxagoras approaches you, the chains of his eyepatch filling the slowness of the room.

He levels his face with yours and from your position, you can clearly anatomize the fullness of his eye from here—the hollow of mint with a cut of boysenberry in the center, glowing beneath long lashes.

He continues, “even if I’m half-dead as what that titan said, I can still feel your vibrations and stress, an internal conflict, it’s making shoddy trembles of my glass flasks on that desk.”

“How does that even—“

“Your feet.” Anaxa finally says. “You were unconsciously tapping your feet.”

Oh.

You lay your palms flat on your knees, an unconscious manner.

“I apologize.”

“So you have the decency to apologize and yet not speak your mind further?”

The silence is indefinite yet present. It shallows over at every retort that spills in between both your stubborn tongues.

You shake your head. “You’re difficult.”

His eyes narrow. “You are the one being difficult, actually. I offered help, you refused, I asked about your well-being, you dismissed me.”

“You should consider how your candidness makes it exceptionally hard for me to be open to you, maybe think about that.” You bite back at him, the tension threatening to spill over. “You’re the last person I’d want to go to whenever I have worries, so just simply drop it for today. I’d have to apologize for my lackings, I'll provide you with better companionship and arguments when I’m feeling well.”

“…Truly, I didn’t mean to come off as heartless—“ but you’d already brush past his shoulder before he can fully explain himself like he’d always have, leaving Anaxa to his bubbling vessels, untidy scrolls and a heavy sigh.

Much to his dismay instead of the privacy that he wishes after that argument, Cerces appears just as you vanish from his sight, a liquidy chuckle slipping past their lips. “Sometimes, I even wonder if your heart died along with you, child of humanity.”

“I’d rather you keep silent while I work.” Anaxagoras distastefully returns back to his apparatuses, more quiet and solemn than before.

“You should give chase.” Cerces suggested instead. “That child was simply worried.”

“Worried?” He finds the titan’s words as credulous. “Did you not see the flush of anger directed at me? Besides, I’m preoccupied right now.”

“You say you’re preoccupied and yet it’s you who seem quite distracted. Are you curious about their source of trouble?”

“It’s nothing new, arguments like that. We’ve known each other long before you ever knew me on my deathbed so back off.”

When he’d state his intentions clear, the Titan of Reason—unfazed in their countenance—leaves the professor to his own bearings and he finally has room to breathe.

Your relationship with him has always been rocky. Arguments and walking outs weren’t new, you used to debate about claims and theories a multitude of times back in the Grove, it was part of your dynamic, but every time he realizes belatedly how his string of words had cut you deep beyond the usual shallow jabs thrown on a daily, Anaxagoras cannot help but feel like his hollow chest is being twisted upside down.

In some way, maybe it mattered because despite the clashes and quarrels, you’d stay. You’ve stayed by him for years even after he was ridiculed as a blasphemous fool or a heretic—you’d stay even longer, waiting for him to finish lectern speeches or classes without so much as an ounce of complaint. A simple gesture that he’d been grateful of and even he admits to himself that seeing you being upset with him and his words were the least satisfying things to behold.

It did bother him but admitting that aloud to that titan was the last thing he’d want.

So after an hour or two after he knew you’d calm down, the professor drops his vials and walks down the distasteful and boisterous streets of Okhema in search of you—or more specifically, cruising over to Hyacine and asking for your whereabouts to save him the trouble of turning the Holy City upside down.

It was tempting, for the sake of bringing an irate reaction out of that woman and her golden threads, but his sick body and rational mind stopped him so.

“You are here.”

Anaxagoras has finally found you in some remote corner of the city, you were sitting shiftless above limestone, carving names upon ordinary stones. There was a spare moment in which his dull eyes sought down to you—he’d noticed how your hair is wind-swept and how strands of it stick to your forehead and the skin of your neck. The leaves of your collar are strewn as well, showing the barest hint of collarbones and almost immediately Anaxa shifts his eyes away, he’d asked what you were doing to distract himself from his own keen observations.

“Nobody will remember each scholar that perished fighting the Black tide. I’m merely writing companions I remember that I used to do thesis with, those that don’t have families here in Okhema to remember them…”

Anaxa observes you again, then after a long silence you feel him approaching closer, his shadow stretching before you. Your mind stirs in alertness, noticing what he’s up to—but Anaxa is always two steps ahead of you, before you can cease the pen laid by your side, he has already swiped it. You tried your best to wrestle it from him but Anaxa held it out of reach from you, causing you to sneer.

“Give that back. I forbid you to write your own epitaph!”

“And why not? I’ve done it once in the Grove—“

“Well, this isn’t the Grove—!“ You've paused quickly, noticing that you interrupted him. You waited for an ire to come throttling down at you but when you gaze back at him, Anaxagoras merely raises a brow at you, a faint sheet of amusement in his expression.

“Give me a stone.” He’d ask.

“No—“

“Stone.”

Your shoulders deflate at his tight tone, accepting defeat with petulance and a huff.

Stubborn man, you curse in your head. Stubborn and hard-headed and mean…You digress, ending up giving him one, laying the stone harsher onto his open palm than you intended but his expression remained amused.

When a balance of tamed silence settles, Anaxagoras is the first to speak again after writing an elegy onto the stone, changing the subject with ease.

“It's getting late, you should retire for today.”

And in response, you turn away with a quiet huff of breath. “I‘m…still not used to the Holy City's constant daylights, and I should be saying that to you, the moment you were given apparatuses to quell your complaints, you’ve been doing nothing but your experiments since you’ve arrived from your fight in Castrum Kremnos.”

“Well, thanks to your concern this ill-stricken body has been recovering. Besides, I have nothing much to do, especially when that woman’s threads are all over the place.”

“You almost died.” Your statement held more bite than necessary. For you it showed him your true feelings and for Anaxa—the answer to today’s dismay.

A laugh breaks from his lips.

“Is this why you’re upset?” There’s a hint of mirth in his tone. “You’re upset that I got hurt back at the Grove.”

You rise from your seat, meeting him tooth for tooth, jab for jab. “Is it truly hard for you to comprehend that there are people that care whether or not you’re doing well—?”

Despite your anger, Anaxa is distracted for a moment, watching the sneer on your lips shaping vowels and long consonants, almost as if you're baring his teeth at him. The sudden urge to lean down, kiss you quiet and taste those angry syllables on his teeth stirs in his mind.

The Nousporist sage is anything but a romantic, but temptation truly is a humanistic sin, what is he to be shameful for such selfishness?

“It’s not that.” He answers your spite with dullness. “My field of study has made it easy to forget about one's well-being. You of all people know that very well.”

“Anaxagoras, you could’ve died again and—“

He never wanted for you to concern yourself with him like this. Anaxagoras knew he was risking himself, the nuances of alchemy and the splitting of his soul. So how come—observing the way your expression creases with a certain type of pain that makes it seem like you were the one that felt it, not him.

“If you continue like this, I would go through the same grief of losing you like I did the first time around.”

“Don’t say that, as a Chrysos heir it’s bound to—“ Anaxa is surprised when you reach out to touch him, to dare touch him so freely and yet rebuttals fall flat on his heavy tongue. The warmth of your fingertips that brush over the coolness of his own palm, you bring his hand up to cradle your cheek with utter delicacy like you’re holding glass, it makes his mind go numb.

He is aware of the way his skin dances with the plush warmth of your cheek, strands of your hair he wishes to tangle between his long fingers—to give into temptation and drag his hand slowly down your jaw, the expanse of your neck, down your arms…

“You really should start taking care of yourself more.” Your lips murmur onto his open palm. “Maybe not for yourself, but for me and Hyacine.”

He swallows. ”…I cannot keep promises.”

And you’d feel a faint tug on his end—and that fissures the tension. You let go and he quickly lets his own arm fall back to his side immediately. There’s a part of you that was terrified at the thought of offending him, you never got into Anaxagoras’ bubble without permission, your relationship stayed at a mere arm’s length. Only quirked lips with tongues of appraisals and maybe the occasional longing stares from across large rooms were exchanged between the two of you, no shoulder brushing, hand-holding, breaths upon goosebumped necks—this was your first time ever touching him, his numbed, cold skin against your own.

Maybe your sudden approach shocked him from his nonchalance and arrogance, you’d know because for the first time since you’ve known him, Anaxagoras’ frown is an inch too deep and there’s a concerned fold on his brow.

He clears his throat, his eye looking anywhere but at you. “I need to go, I have to meet with the other Chrysos heirs at the baths today.”

Anaxa looked quite adamant to join the meeting, despite his distaste of the baths and Chrysos heir meetings.

He spares you one last look, “after you’re done with your business, you really should try to rest.”

You frown at his dismissive behavior, nodding your head nonetheless. “Alright, best of luck then.”

He’d merely nod stiffly at your reply and quickly turn on his heel. You would have let out a heavy exhale and scold yourself for touching him without prior permission—if it weren't for a certain titan that appeared before you, their brown curls turning gold under Kephale’s dawn.

“He’s quite provocative, that Nousporist sage, don't you think so too?” Cerces spares you conversation, their voice honeyed with light teasing.

“Anaxagoras’ probably born to be spiteful, so I cannot fault him for such a character flaw, we all have one.”

“You’re fond of him, aren’t you?” Cerces states and heat furnaces upon your cheek at their bold claim. Before you can find some excuse to defend yourself, they spoke again.

“So is he to you. I’ve noticed that whenever you’re around, he’s reduced to a passive child. His tongue is barely glib when you try to put him in his place and the way those sharp eyes soften, oh it reminds me of my lover all too much. It’s an endearing exchange.”

Cerces spoke their affections and you could do nothing but listen to them with a credulous expression. Anaxagoras being endeared by you? You’d try to wrack your mind of instances where you capture such a manner, but all you can remember of him was his sassiness, his dullness, his casual dismissiveness. There was no softness, endearments, fondness.

Despite being called the Titan of reason, you find their reasoning hard to comprehend.

You wouldn’t have believed them, that is until you gaze back at Anaxagoras’ retreating form in the distance and watch him closely, and closely you watch when you catch him moving his hand that you held so closely,

Observing how he flexes his fingers by his side.

sometimes a girl just gotta lay down in a dark room and play the same 8 mitski songs over and over

x : MY DILUC, MY EVERYTHING :*+ﾟ

in which: you tell diluc that klee finds him 'too boring' to be your boyfriend. he can't help but feel like she's right.

warnings: 1.3k words, insecure diluc who needs a little reassurance, mostly dialogue, klee being cute but also a menace, so much fluff with a dash of angst.

a/n: i have not posted anything in so long, but i wanted this to be my first fic of 2024 because i love diluc <3 i hope you all enjoy this little fic!

“What do you mean Mr Diluc is your boyfriend?” Klee asks, tilting her head to the side with an inquisitive look in her eyes as you bend down to her height.

“I mean that Mr Diluc is my boyfriend. My partner. We’ve been together for years now.” 

“You mean that Mr Diluc, right?” She raises a tiny hand in the direction where the red-haired in question stands. He’s immersed in conversation with Kaeya and Jean, but from one glance you can tell the estranged brothers are up to no good. Or rather, that Kaeya is having the time of his life provoking your partner.

“That’s the one. I think he’s the only one, Klee.”

Her pointer finger then comes up to her chin in contemplation, and her breath of contemplation materialises as a small cloud, condensating in the winter chill. “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Why is he your boyfriend?”

“Well, why wouldn’t he be?”

“No offence to Mr Diluc, but he’s so cold and boring!” She cries, clenching her fists to her chest, as if being ‘boring’ was a crime to humanity. “And he never smiles. He should smile more but I would find him scarier like that… so maybe he should stay the way he is: a total gloomy bum bum!”

You can’t help but laugh at her honest statement, muffling the noise with your hand. She blinks at you and wonders what she said that made you laugh, but you simply tell her that it’s nothing.

“Maybe, but I love that ‘gloomy bum bum’ just the way he is.”

“But… why? Y/n is so kind and knows how to smile! Mr Diluc is too sad and boring for you.”

Over the course of your relationship with the wine monopolist, you were met with resistance from various people who believed they wanted ‘the best’ for him. These were including, butand not limited to, businessmen, his admirers, and old aristocrats with wealth on the brink of collapsing. You never let their passive aggressiveness get to you, their comments burned to ashes by the way Diluc lights the way for you with his undying flames. 

Yet hearing a child, who has no real grip of the world beyond explosions and how not to blow up Monstadt, explain that Diluc shouldn’t be with you because he doesn’t know how to smile is… unbelievable. Her intentions are nothing but pure for her knowledge of the world has not yet been tainted by the nuance of human behaviour. As refreshing as it feels to have her support, any insults you hear about Diluc are unpleasant to hear. Though she may not hold any malice, perhaps her judge of character needs to be deepened.

“Sometimes, the coldest people are really the warmest,” you begin, gently wrapping her scarf around her neck. “Mr Diluc is one of those people.”

“Really?”

“Warmer than a fireplace, or a Pyro Crystalfly, or Jumpty Dumpty.”

Her eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yes, but please don’t go blowing one up just to see how warm it can be. Jean already told you about the animals hibernating during winter, you shouldn’t go disturbing them.”

She tucks her hands behind her back, eyes downcast and ears flopped.

“Do you remember when Albedo took you to Dragonspine and when you melted a chunk of ice, crystalflies flew out of it?”

“They were so pretty and became super warm! I wish I caught one of them, but they flew away too quickly.”

“Mr Diluc is just like that ice with the fireflies. You just need to warm up to him and when you do, he can be one of the best people you’ll ever meet.”

“Will he fly away too?”

“You could keep an eye on him and find out.”

She nods, determination alighting in her eyes with the new task you assign her. Although you’re pretty positive she won’t ever succeed with it, you’re just happy you’ve found a way to show Klee that your lover isn’t as terrible as she deems. A flash of familiar red hair appears in your periphery.

“Dear?” He calls, capturing your attention. “Shall we head into the tavern now? It’s too cold to stay out here.”

Sparing one last glance at Klee who regards your partner with fire in her eyes, you can’t help but smile at the pure innocence in her heart. With a ruffle of her hair as goodbye, you take Diluc’s hand and stand, waving goodbye to the rest of the group before heading in the direction of Angel’s Share. Shuddering, you sink deeper into the wool of your coat and the warmth of his Pyro Vision, a perfect combat to the winter frost that’s covered Monstadt.

“You know,” you begin when both of you have arrived at the empty tavern and the red-haired has a fire started in the corner. He urges you to continue with a soft ‘hum’. “The conversation I had with Klee just won’t leave my head.”

“Oh? What’d she say?”

Sitting down on a cold stool, you keep your gaze on him as he walks behind the counter. It seems like he’s preparing drinks and snacks for you: some cheese, crackers, and grapes.

“First of all, she only found out today that I was dating you.”

“Oh? Jean or Albedo haven’t told her before?”

“I guess neither of us appear that much in conversation together. But she refused to believe it at first, being like ‘you mean that Mr Diluc?’, ‘why is he your boyfriend?’,” you laugh. “She thought that you were too gloomy to be with me and that I should be with someone who knows how to smile.”

His cheese knife halts, the sound of metal meeting wood slicing through the atmosphere. However, you’re too engrossed in retelling the story to notice the way he freezes.

“How silly. Kids really have the wildest presumptions and thoughts to match.”

Diluc continues preparing the food, stiff hands moving along the counter. You don’t say more than that, saving further conversation for when he’s done. As he sets the arrangement of crackers, cheese, and grapes down, it’s accompanied by a heavy sigh.

“What if… she’s right?” Asks the winery owner, voice no louder than a whisper.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I did, but I don’t understand why you think that way too.”

“Well, smiling isn’t my strong suit anymore and I’ve been told by the knights that the children find my expression too scary.”

“You know anyone can smile, right?” You ask jovially. “It’s not like a statistical impossibility-“

“It’s not just that,” he interjects sharply. Your smile fades, acknowledging Diluc’s sombre expression that clarified he wasn’t joking around like you thought. However, seeing the change in your attitude sobered him and that sharp glance fades, turning into something remorseful and softer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap like that.”

“No no, it’s my fault for not taking you seriously. Please, go on.”

“I’m quite boring, you know.” He fiddles with the ends of his leather gloves. “Did you never think that maybe what Klee said could be correct?”

“Never because she’s not correct. Honestly, Diluc, after all these years of being together and hearing what some people have to say about us, I never thought you’d think like this.” 

He casts his gaze downwards. “Because those people don’t know me like you do.” 

Two hands come up to cup his cheeks, gently directing him to look up at you and meet your kind expression. All inhibitions he had melt away at the sight of your smile.

“I can only hope they never do,” you reply simply, confidence lacing your words. 

Being with him is not easy. He is a busy man, one who manages the entirety of Monstadt’s wine business during the day and takes to the shadows to look after your beloved city at night. Yet, despite working with the sun and moon, he still gives all of him to you. For as long as Diluc will allow it, you hope to be the only person he’ll pick baskets of grapes with, play slow games of chess with, and freely lay out his convictions to. 

You’ll be damned to give up your spot beside him without a fight.

Diluc doesn’t believe he deserves the same. “You’re too patient with me. I’ve let you down too much for you to be this forgiving,” he grabs your wrists and gently knocks his forehead against yours. “I can’t give you everything you want.”

“You’re my Diluc, you already are everything.”

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

forget me not

(kaeya x reader)

he promises to take you out to dinner, but he never shows.

“Would you like to place an order now hon?” The waitress asks softly, making you look from your empty wine glass up to her soft eyes.

“Ah, if I can order another glass of wine that would be nice! I’m still waiting,” you look outside the big window next to you, seeing the sky much darker than when you first sat. “I’m sure he’ll arrive soon.” You turn back to her smiling, repeating the same thing for the fourth time for the past two hours trying to convince yourself more than her that he’ll show up. He always does.

“Of course, I’ll be back with the bottle in just a minute.” She nods, turning to get you more of what you requested.

You don’t remember the last time you drank, heck you don’t even drink much to begin with but it’s all you can do to kill time. You don’t want to eat without him and spoil your appetite, he will show up soon.

You know he’s busy, he’s the Captain of the Knights so it’s expected. When he proposes the idea of going out you couldn’t hide your excitement. Anything to do with Kaeya was your favorite.

You arrived at the restaurant the time he told you to be there, at 7pm. The clock reads 9:30 now but it’s ok, it’s understandable. He’s the captain of the Knights after all.

The lights surrounding the small restaurant eliminates the busy nightlife in Mondstadt. You eye the people who are passing by, smiling at the elderly people who walk with their significant others, the parents holding their children’s hands as their laughter fills the air. But your eye catches something from afar.

The familiar head of blue hair among the people walking by. Your stomach erupts with butterflies seeing him finally. Walking down the stairs to the main shopping area in Mondstadt. But as he inches closer you see he isn’t alone. He’s walking with someone, no. He’s holding onto someone who’s leaning on him.

Your eyes squint a bit, trying to see if what you’re seeing is correct. But you see him smiling with the woman next to him mixed in with everything else and your heart goes heavy.

You see his smile much clearer now that they both are closer, he has his arm hooked around hers, almost as if he is holding her upright to keep her from stumbling and she’s giggling at him, eyes wide looking up at him leaning into him as much as she can.

The two walk past the restaurant and down towards Diluc’s tavern, Kaeya didn’t even glance at the restaurant you were currently sitting in waiting for him. Not once, he kept his eyes on the girl the whole time.

You reach for your pocket watch with a heavy hand and flip it open, seeing the time 9:45 pm. Almost three hours, three whole hours and he’s with someone else. He forgot.

You quickly finish the last of your wine and blink. Did he actually forget?

You wave your waitress down when she passes you, making her stop.

“Actually, can I purchase a whole bottle of wine please?” You ask her and she nods, her smile falling a bit at your expression. Your eyes look glossy.

He promised you a night out after so long. You’ve both been so busy with work this sounded so nice but it was too much to ask for apparently. He had more important matters.

Diluc makes his way down the street to his tavern and spots you sitting alone in the restaurant. Glass of wine in hand and solemn look on your face.

His eyebrows furrow. “Why are they out alone right now?” He thinks.

Part of him wants to stop and check in, but part of him knows to not get into people's business. He doesn’t want to sadden you further by making you talk about it. But if he makes another run in a while and still sees you in there, he'll stop by.

Diluc pushes the door to his tavern open, his eyes fall on Kaeya and Amber helping a woman who is belching into a bag, Amber is rubbing her back and Kaeya is holding napkins for her. This makes Dilucs mouth from the line. ”What's going on?” he thinks.

“I got her from here. I’ll take them Barbara just in case.” Amber helps the woman up to her feet and walks to the door, Diluc holds it open for them.

“Thank you, I'll make sure to check in with Albedo and Jean tomorrow.” Kayea waves her off, eye falling on an unamused looking Diluc.

“Your plus one got sick?” Diluc speaks up, making Kaeya’s smile drop.

“Not my plus one, a subordinate.” Kaeya answers flatly, not even laughing at such a dumb joke.

“Why bring one of your knights here?” Diluc asks, taking his coat off, rolling up his sleeves.

“They were exposed to a potion in Albedo’s lab, he suggested bringing them here. He said grape juice might help sober them up, where else would I go to get it when you sell the best.” Kaeya shrugs, making Diluc hum.

“You’re not drinking?” Diluc raises a brow at Kaeya when he realizes there’s no alcohol in front of the captain.

“Nope, I already feel like I’m forgetting something, if I drink I really won’t remember. I’d rather not.” Kaeya sighs, a looking out the window.

“I saw y/n on the way here.” Diluc brings you up, at the sound of your name Kaeya looks at Diluc again his eye brightens. His focus now is on what Diluc has to say.

“My darling? Did you talk to them? What are they doing out this late?” Kaeya smiles, though he’s confused. You’re never out this late.

“They were in the new restaurant down the street, they were drinking.” Diluc clears his throat at the last part.

Kaeya tilts his head. “Alone? What do you mean by drinking?” Kaeya asks

“They had a glass of wine in their hand, they were sitting alone at-

Kaeya tries to think of why you’d be out so late, you don’t have any appointments this late. You didn't tell him you were meeting anyone. His eye catches the calendar behind Diluc and feels his heart drop when he notices the date.

“What time is it?” Kaeya cuts Diluc off.

Diluc pulls out his pocket watch and sighs. “Just hit 10pm” he shows Kaeya and sees the color drain from his face.

“Oh no.” Kaeya stands up in a flash. Before Diluc can question him he’s out the door.

His legs don’t stop. It’s so dark out and you’re alone. How long have you been waiting?

Kaeya sees the restaurant come into view and sprints faster, throwing the door open the instant his hand makes contact with the knob.

The restaurant goes quiet, the few customers and waiters in there stare at the Captain who seems to be out of breath.

He ignores the stares, his eye scanning the vicinity for one person and one person only.

But it's strange, you're not here. He walks further to the back and sees an empty table with a coat that looks familiar.

He sees a waitress clearing empty wine bottles from it, quickly making his way to your coat.

“Excuse me,” Kaeya greets the older waitress and she smiles at him.

“Hell- Captain Kaeya hello! What brings you here?” the waitress smiles.

“I'm looking for someone. Do you know if the person that was sitting here left?” He asks, seeing the waitress’ smile drop a bit.

“Why yes. They were here for a while but they left not too long ago. They had drank a lot of wine and ordered no food. I offered to walk them home since they seemed a bit off balance but they said it was ok. I realized they left their coat a bit too late. I had gone out to tell them but they were already gone.” She explains, feeling sorry for you.

Kaeya feels his chest tighten.

“Thank you. If you don't mind, can I take the coat with me? I'd like to give it to them myself.” Kaeya asks.

“Why of course how sweet of you.” the waitress nods her head, gesturing with her hands for him to take it.

“Thank you.” He quickly thanks the waitress before turning around.

“Wait.” She calls out, making him turn around.

“If I can bother you to check on them right now, I'm worried. If you do stop over there please take this.” she walks past him to the front counter, grabbing a bag.

“I had intended to give this to them since they didn't eat the whole time. They refused, however.” The waitress hands Kaeya the bag of food and he nods.

“Of course, I was planning on stopping by. Thank you for your concern."He thanks her, turning to leave the restaurant. The waitress can see how uneasy Kaeya was from his face, she knows that you were waiting for him all along. When you got up to leave, in your drunken state you told her to tell Kaeya you went home and not to worry.

Kaeya steps out and the cold night air hits him. Did you walk home without your coat? It's freezing. Kayea feels even worse.

His legs walk at such a fast pace, not daring to slow down.

Did you make it home safe? Are you ok? Why did you leave alone?

He starts to run, almost sprint. His mind is racing with the worst.

He turns the corner to your house and stops in his tracks. He sees you. However, you’re not inside the house. You're sitting on the porch leaning on the wall. It's freezing.

His legs move fast again. He drops to his knees when he makes it to you. Grabbing hold of your arms to wake you.

You're freezing to the touch.

“Darling? Hey.” he shakes you a bit and you stir from your sleep, blinking your eyes.

“-ts so cold.” you whisper.

In seconds you feel a coat draping over your shoulders, then a soft fabric around your neck.

Your vision clears and your eyes make out who's in front of you.

Your eyes immediately begin to burn.

“Hey hey, love I’m so sorry please don't cry. I promise I didn’t mean to forget my love, things just happened and it slipped my mind.” He pulls you in when he sees your eyes glossy. His own eyes start to burn.

“Archons, why are you sleeping outside? Do you understand how dangerous that is?” He questions, pulling back a bit seeing you now refusing to look at him.

“I-it was so embarrassing. I sat there while so many people walked in and out. I saw you with someone else and it looked like you were having fun. I was a-alone for hours. I left the restaurant and I left my k-key in the coat of my jacket.” You feel your lip tremble a bit, you’re trying your absolute hardest to not cry but he’s standing right in front of you looking so guilty it hurts.

“That person you saw with me was a subordinate, I wasn’t doing anything else with them while I was out. I was ordered to take them to the tavern to get grape juice to get rid of the effects from a potion they had gotten exposed to. Love, please.” He explains, tone serious as his hands run up and down your shoulders, making you feel warm again.

“It wasn’t my intention.” His whispers, hand coming up under your chin making you look at him.

“Never ever walk home alone again. Not in this state.” He pleads, face full of concern, his eye scanning you making your own eyes burn more.

You notice his white scarf is gone then look down, realizing that’s what he put around you when he found you here.

“I just wanted to s-spend time with you.” You hiccup tears now freely falling down.

He leans in, kissing your cheek, then your other one, up to your forehead, your nose, your chin and stops in front of your lips. You feel his warm breath fan over you and you relax at his simple touch.

“My love, please don’t cry.” His eyes close and he takes a deep breath. He was so worried but you're in front of him, you’re safe with him.

“You have me, I’ll spend as much time as you want until my time is due I promise.” He leans back abit, opening his eye taking you in.

You look tired, you drank and you never do. He put you in this state and it pains him.

“You promise? You promise me i-I’m not thinking the worst, that you still want me and you’ll stay with me?” You ask.

Kaeya doesn’t respond, he leans in, placing a soft kiss on your lips. Hands holding you softly as he gives you another one, and another and another until you're out of breath.

“I swear to the archons above that I want nothing more than to call you mine alway and forever if you’ll allow me.” He pulls back, thumbs wiping any remaining tears that threaten to spill from your eyes.

And they do, more spill out. Having your doubts and feeling insecure gets to you often but Kaeya is so patient, so understanding. Him assuring you, being here right now, apologizing proves he meant no wrong. And you believe him, you trust him. You know he wouldn’t do that now, him being here proves so.

“Darling, let’s get you inside, it's freezing.” He stands, holding his hand out to help you to your feet. Placing his hand on the small of your back when you wobble.

“I’ll explain everything better, in full detail of what happened today once you're inside, once you eat, I promise love.” He assures you still holding onto you, not wanting to let go just yet. You nod, holding his hand abit tighter as he unlocks the door to your shared house, ushering you to walk in first. Seeing him this worried, him running here when he realized he forgot. He found you and immediately checked on you. You have doubts often, but seeing him right here cleared any doubts about today. You will listen to what he has to say and believe him because he’s here that’s all that matters right now. Kaeya is here, he’s yours and you won’t doubt him. Not when he looks at you with such loving eyes and holds you so gently, not when he cares so much. He’s here and that’s all that matters now, but most importantly Kaeya didn’t forget.

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author’s note: hiiii lovelies!!! :D it’s been ages since I’ve posted UGH IVE MISSED WRITING SM! :( I’m sorry for the small hiatus. I wasn’t ok but it’s better now, I notice when I feel the most hurt or pain I write the most it helps me convey what I feel and I love writing, you all giving feedback and enjoying them makes me love writing too! I hope you enjoy, I hope you’re taking care and all in good health MWAHHHH IVE MISSES YOU ALL SO MUCH!^~^<33! (ALSO THIS ISNT EDITED so sorry for any errors!)