FEVER

naked cuddles w jake ( fluff )

because of jake's type of lifestyle, he tends to fall asleep right when he comes homes. he likes short showers and then be asleep within seconds his head fell on his pillow.

but since you came in his life, he would add you to his routine. he likes having you waiting from him in his dorms but he likes it more going to ur place. he would knock your front door softly, his head hanging low, exhausting taking his whole body. once you appear in front of his eyes, he automatically feels better. he is few minutes away from ur warmth under ur covers. so his head automatically highs up and tiredly smiles at you. he would always gives u the tightest hug, his head in your neck, kissing you and smelling you deeply. i've missed you baby, he murmured. you know, he would never let you go, so you always have to walk backwards n until your in your place, him using his foot to shut the door. the worst moment of his day is to let u out of his arms but he knows it's for the better, so thats what he would always do in order to take off his outside clothes n his shoes. but he would never forget to take ur cheeks in his hands first n kiss you softly.

the routine is always the same, you both would talk on the couch, legs tangles together, eating the meal you made him. he would still be whispering still clinging on you like a koala. he always help you w the dishes. or more like you clean them n he would be back hugging you. than you for the meal, baby. it was delicious, he softly says while his arm around u hugs u tighter. can we take a shower together now, please ? and how can you say no to him.

so per usual, you would find urself under the stream of hot water, jake still all over you but this time he is actually helping you. helping you with shampoing your hair or brushing them, help you wash ur back and arms. while doing so, he would kiss whatever skin he has in front of him along with soft whispers my soft baby , youre so pretty, i love you's. and as munch as jake is tired, he never stop cherishing you first, loving you first, helping you first. but you'd obviously do the same for him. kissing his barefaced softly, thanking him for everything he does for you, washing his hair w nothing but pure love ...

he is a gentleman, so he would always helps you step out of the shower, him following you close. and you already know what he is going to do, he is going to stop you and ask you if u guys can sleep naked together. so you don't bother trying to dry him w his towel but just drag him into your bedroom, making him smile. it was weird for you at first to just stay naked around him, but jake never stares at you weirdly his eyes always on yours or your face, specially when he is tired like this, he just want you in his arms. skin to skin. the closest he can to his angel. jake would always lead you under your covers, not caring about skin care nor hair care nor drying your or his hair, his wants is too strong now.

jake prefers big spooning you so he can sleep peacefully knowing that you are protected. but when he is like this, he prefers seeing your face, between his chest and his arms. you don't kno why but it's because he can have an easier access to to kiss you. so once comfortable, his top leg on top of both of yours, arms circling the top of your body n his head on your, fully caging you, he can finally and fully let go. and so do you, his body warmth engulfing his whole body, his soft pattern made by his hand on your hair, his body smell right under ur nose, his slowing heartbeat,, everything is making you falling asleep. but tho him it's not the end yet. he been waiting his whole day to have you like this in his arms, so as munch as he is tired, he would always fall asleep after you. he always fails tho, ur presence making him too munch at ease, so within minutes he is also in dreamland. but he fights back. he would kiss your face. soft kisses are felt in your hair, along with hums, feather like kisses on your forehead, pecks on your nose. his arms would move from time to time, lingering fingers mindlessly groping or drawing patterns on ur figures.

jake would sometimes be strong enough to let out a sleep well angel, but most of the time he is already with you, in the arms of morpheus.

notes : here is my first fic t__t i didn't kno how to end it but i do hope its readable n made u feel as fizzy as i did while writing it. lemme kno what you think about it <3

@imaluckygirl @luvj4key @heeseungswifefr @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby @jaeyunpinkyring

this man has my heart and soul.

just for you (p.js)

"i wanna get married." you say as you drown in the warmth of your boyfriend's embrace. the tv played soft noises in the background, as it's light illuminated his face, changing hues from time to time.

jay perks up at your statement.

"to whom?"

you laugh at his question. "who else? to my oh so loving boyfriend." you say as you eye him dreamily.

it was the absolute truth and you swore it came from the bottom of your heart. everything about jay was so dear to you. the way he looked at you, the way he held your hand oh so gently, the way he cooked your meals for you, pouring all his love into it. the way he spoke to you, the way he held you against his chest like you were everything to him. the way he would surprise you with little gifts at random times. "it's the little things that count, sweetheart." he would say.

the thought of spending your whole lifetime with such a perfect man by your side, giving you all the love in the world. it made you feel dizzy with happiness. there was nothing you wanted more than this.

"i think that's quite a huge long term plan, sweetheart." he spoke with a slight giggle.

"yes it is." you said, the smile on your face getting ever so bright. "but i think it's the only long term plan i have for my life."

jay's heart swelled. he utterly adored the way you said it. the smile on your face gave away all of your thoughts. he could read you clearly. he knew all about your silly thoughts of running away with him and living in a cottage in a little village. you've talked about it before.

and oh yes he remembers. he remembers every little thing you talk about and every tiny detail about you. it's his way of showing love. showing that you're being noticed, showing that you're being looked after, showing that he took interest in you, showing that he cared.

thinking about it, jay wanted to spend the rest of his life with you too. he loved you despite your imperfections. hell, he thought you were perfect. he loved how you always showed concern towards him. he loved how you appreciated the effort he puts into everything he does. he loves how you sense it when he's feeling down, and pull him into one of the softest hugs ever. "i will take away all of your worries baby" you'd say.

"does this mean i have to buy you a ring?" he says playfully and you narrow your eyes at him.

"is that what you inferred from what i've said?" you say pouting at him.

"i mean yes, but that also means i wanna get married to you too. so badly actually." he pressed his lips against yours, leaving a lingering peck, dripping with love.

moments like this, made you feel that this man was made just for you and you wouldn't trade him for the world.

🧡_🧡

NEW BEGINNINGS —l.heeseung

PAIRING: dad!heeseung x fem!reader GENRES: fluff, humor, a pinch of angst WC: 8.7k+

WARNINGS: mention of unwanted pregnancy, turbulent relationship, drinking, some swearing. let me know if i've forgotten anything too.

NOTES: i think this turned out a lot cuter than i intended. initially it was going to be very short, but i wanted to add a bit of plot and maybe add a one chapter or two to it to give more attention to yn with the little one and the development of her relationship with heeseung. i hope you like it!

masterlist

Studying abroad for your university degree was a dream. Spending two years in Barcelona seemed like such a distant dream, but in the blink of an eye, you were already on Spanish soil. And as if that were fast enough, those years passed so quickly that before you knew it, you were back in the apartment you shared with your younger brother.

Sighing, you threw yourself on the sofa and let the tiredness of the trip take over. Smelling the familiar scent of Jay's cologne that hadn't completely disappeared.

Being back was incredible. Now, finally, you could work in your field and be close to your family too. It hadn't been that long, but you still felt sad not just because you missed them, but because you had missed important moments with each of your family members.

Like, for example, when your parents bought their dream house. Lots of rooms to welcome their children and anyone else who wanted to sleep over. A backyard so big that it had room for your father's gardening, a swimming pool, and a small hut where your mother made a studio for whatever artistic thing she was obsessed with at the moment.

You also missed out when Jay started dating her in his final year at university. The girl was simply incredible and you got to know her over a video call, but it still wasn't the same. It was different from his older sister's attitude – even if it was a year apart – where his girlfriend would come over to your parent's house, you'd make a huge fuss and a fake scene of jealousy.

Not that you weren't jealous of Jay, but Heejin was so sweet and loving that all you could do was sigh and smile at her as she introduced herself on her cell phone screen and told you that she was looking forward to meeting you in person.

And Heejin threw such a big party as soon as you arrived. She was in charge of making the snacks and taking them to your mother's house, telling you so much about her that you were dizzy, smiling from ear to ear at the girl's excitement. Jay watched in the background, laughing now and then when you looked at him, silently congratulating you on having found someone as nice as her.

"Do you like chicken? I learned how to make this chicken paste last week and Jay loved it, I think you'll like it too" she said shyly, handing over one of the snacks she'd brought.

And she got it right. You loved it so much that you even asked Heejin to make it the next time you two met. Which never took long because she was always at her apartment with Jay or her parents' house. It seemed that as well as being a sister-in-law, you had found a very good friend.

"I'm home" Jay announced loudly as soon as he walked through the living room door, making you abandon your thoughts completely as you jumped onto the sofa "Did I scare you?" he laughed as he looked at you, messing up your hair before walking past you and straight into the kitchen.

You stood up, walked over to where he was, and leaned against the doorframe to watch your brother get a bottle of water from the fridge.

"So" Jay turned to you, his breathing a little labored and you noticed that he was completely sweaty "I came running because it's going to rain, don't think nonsense" he warned you, noticing that your expression began to change as soon as you saw his state.

Your laughter filled the kitchen along with Jay's, and he walked over to the worktop and sat down on it.

"I didn't think anything" you held up your hands to defend yourself, biting your lower lip to hold back another laugh "I got home from mom's a while ago, I was lying there thinking about so many things."

"About what, for example?" Jay came around the counter and sat on the stool behind you. This forced you to get down and turn around to face him, watching your brother still enjoying his cold bottle of water.

"About how, even though I love Barcelona, I've missed out on a lot with you all here."

"Come on, y/n. We've already had this conversation" Jay warned.

And it was true. He knew how much you wanted to complete your fashion course abroad, but at the same time, you didn't want to leave your parents. Jay chose to stay, earning well-deserved recognition at the gastronomy school in the city itself while supporting you every second.

"I know, but I can't get this weight off of me" you pursed your lips, forming a pout that he grimaced at.

"How about we go out so you can forget about it?" Jay proposed, seeing you try to hide a smile as he leaned over the counter and took your hand "Come on, I still have some friends you know who are dying to meet you again."

"Who, for example?" you asked.

Jay seemed to think for a moment, remembering all the people from his college that you knew. Even though you only studied with Jay for a short time, it wasn't enough to get to know all his friends or maintain a lasting friendship with them. Since your brother was well known, you were afraid that he would approach you just to get to him.

"Sailor will be there" Jay shrugged, knowing that she was the first girl you'd made friends with on the design course, "and that insufferable Jake."

"Oh, my little brother will be there?" you smiled dreamily, seeing Jay roll his eyes.

"Little brother? That son of a bitch is just my childhood best friend, not your little brother, y/n."

You laughed so loudly that you saw Jay shrug his shoulders as he did so. Going around the counter, you hugged your brother and laid your head on his shoulder, sighing a little lighter after talking to Jay. It always calmed you down.

"I'm going to love hanging out with them, and especially with you."

Jay kissed the top of your head and you could feel him smile with his lips up there after he returned your embrace. His fingers were cold from the bottle he was holding, now gripping your body as he got up from the bench to stand next to you.

"So get ready, because we have this program every Friday. And you're part of it from now on" he said, pulling away from you and telling you that he was going to take a shower because it was too sticky.

You just agreed, thinking of preparing something to eat with your brother after he got out of the shower. And you started to get a little more excited until Friday arrived to meet up with some friends again, and finally go out with your brother after so long.

"Why do you spray so much perfume?" you almost shouted from your room as Jay passed you in the hallway of the apartment, stopping walking and heading straight for your door.

"I sprayed it a couple of times" he said "Okay, four" he corrected after noticing your serious countenance looking at him "I get nervous every time I go to meet Heejin, so…"

"That's cute" your lip formed into a pout, beckoning him into your room while you finished getting ready "But I don't think she'll care how smelly you are or not. Considering we're going to a nightclub."

"You're right" Jay tried to relax, throwing himself onto your bed in a lazy way. "It's just that I never stop thinking about how much I can impress her since we started dating, you know? It's so different."

"How different?"

Having these conversations with Jay was something you loved, mainly because it felt like he was older and not you. So listening to him ramble on about something or even vent about anything made the two of you feel even closer to each other.

Hearing how in love your brother was made you so happy and smiley, even more so because every time he mentioned Heejin, or even you said her name or said you were talking to her, Jay sighed. A complete fool in love, you joked.

He never denied it because he really was. And it was clear every time you saw the two of them together since you arrived. Holding hands, caresses and hugs, declarations and compliments. Something so loving that there wasn't even room to tease your brother about how sweet he was being.

"We can go now" you said after a while when Jay again told you how he felt about Heejin. And how he was afraid of losing her.

Your role as older sister was to make sure that your younger brother was doing a great job and that he was an amazing guy. Not to mention that the two of them got along very well and had your approval, so that was enough.

Jay left that apartment so happy that he was smiling to the parking lot, then with you to the club to meet the rest of his friends. He didn't even notice the smile, only when he arrived and felt his jaw aching after talking to you so much.

"Hold my hand so you don't get lost until we find the guys, okay?" you just agreed as you headed for the entrance to the club and Jay gave you the names for access.

Entering the venue, you and your brother had to dodge a few – a lot – of people dancing back and forth, others trying to make conversation with both you and him, but backing away when they saw you holding hands. You caught a scream in your throat and then laughed along with him, people probably thought you and Jay were a couple because you were holding hands. Ew.

"Finally!" the voice shouted from ahead and you looked over Jay's shoulder.

With his free hand, your brother nodded and then continued to approach until you were close enough to let go of your hand.

"I thought you weren't coming" Jake ruffled Jay's hair as he approached the group, hearing the boy's curses before turning his eyes to you "Little sister!"

"Little brother!" you replied with the same excitement, only for both of you to tease Jay, who was cursing at both of you. Jake was quick to run towards you and hug you.

"Don't ever travel that long again, I've missed you so much" he whispered while still hugging you.

"I promise I'll take you with me next time" his smile widened so much that you swore his cheeks were sore from smiling so much.

Saying hello to Sailor, your only friend from university, was something you were looking forward to. She had been one of the only people at the beginning of your school year before you moved to another country, who came to talk to you without any interest in your brother. Sailor was so nice, communicative, and giggly. The two of you got on so well that even when you moved to Barcelona, contact wasn't lost. Your happiness was undeniable when Jay told you that she was still in the group of friends, now as Jake's girlfriend.

Sunghoon was another friend of the boys that you got to know as well, arriving close to high school where he was drafted onto the soccer team that Jay and Jake played on. Of course, the three of them would become friends. He introduced you to his girlfriend. Joan, it wasn't someone you knew, but she seemed nice because she complimented you a lot and even asked how you were able to put up with a bunch of boys without slapping any of them.

Maybe I slapped you here or there, but I swear I could have done more. Joan's laugh was cute, and Sunghoon's small eyes when he smiled as he listened indicated that this man had been completely snared.

"Hi, y/n. I'm so glad you came" Heejin, your sister-in-law. So beautiful, with a comforting hug and very caring. You remember that, ever since you arrived, she asked Jay if you were all right every day.

"I guess you'll all have to get used to someone else in the group" you told her as you hugged her, tightening your arms around Heejin. She kissed your cheek and then pulled away from your face a little.

"Oh, this is going to be amazing. This way my brother won't feel so lonely" she whispered because she was too close to your face, so her voice wouldn't be hard to hear. You frowned at that, what do you mean her brother?

You hadn't paid attention to the people around you unless they came to greet you. Or you hadn't taken the time to notice who was with your group until your eyes shifted from Heejin's face to focus on the male figure next to the three boys.

Of course, you'd heard about Heejin's brother and even seen some pictures of him with Jay on social media. But you were so focused on your studies or even on finding out how your brother was doing that you didn't even have the luxury – or the time – to go and find out who Jay's new friends were, apart from the ones you already knew.

Heejin gradually moved away from you and, at the same moment, the only boy who hadn't said hello was waving to the boys and heading towards you and your sister-in-law. He couldn't take his eyes off you and you couldn't take your eyes off him, it was as if neither of you wanted to miss each other's next move.

"Hi" what a voice that is, my God. You wanted to shout to yourself "I'm Heeseung."

Heeseung, of course. The name wasn't strange. Considering how many stories Jay posted with Heeseung, who was always at parties with your brother.

"Hi, I'm y/n" even if he knew her name, it wouldn't hurt to introduce yourself, right?

By now Heejin had already stepped aside and let you talk to Heeseung, but you hadn't even bothered.

"Now I have someone to keep me company," Heeseung smiled and you swore you let out a loud sigh, but because of the volume of the music he hadn't heard. Good!

"Why? Are they that bad?" you asked Heeseung.

He leaned a little towards you, his hands in the front pockets of his jeans as he shrugged in the process. Heeseung's breath smelled of strawberries, so maybe he'd had a drink before you arrived.

"Wait until everyone's drunk" he whispered, "You can bet on which couple gets the hottest out of all of them."

"Can we bet money? Me and you?" your eyes lit up at the word bet, looking like a child who had just heard the most magnificent thing in the world.

Heeseung wanted to ignore the way he was smiling so much, feeling his heart skip a beat with your smile and your gaze so close to him. Even though he had leaned towards you just to talk. He wanted to think so, after all, you were all out clubbing, and if he wanted to have a conversation with you, he'd have to get closer.

And because you were so beautiful and smelled so good, he was simply attracted.

"I didn't bring that much money today" Heeseung pursed his lips "But we can bet drinks at the bar, what do you say?"

"Will you buy me one?"

"Now? Of course" of course, he had to stop this "I need to show you the best drink in this place before you get hooked."

"Do the honors, then" you smiled back at him, almost shouting when Heeseung's hand gently touched your back. Even though no skin was exposed because your shirt covered most of it, his fingers seemed to have shocked the spot.

Heeseung felt a warmth emanating from his fingertips and wondered if he had overstepped any boundaries since he had touched – even on your back – without your permission. But as soon as you started walking, being guided by him, the boy saw no problem in following you with his hand still touching you.

"Hey, Mingi" Heeseung waved to the bartender as soon as you and he arrived at the bar. From the intimacy, the place seemed to be frequented quite often by him and your brother's friends. The man behind the bar waved cheerfully.

"The usual?"

"Actually, I'll have a Rum Punch" Heeseung's slurred accent almost made you sigh again, but you held back only because he held your gaze even though he was talking to the bartender in front of you "For this young lady here."

"Oh, new here?" Mingi began to prepare the drink, showing off his skills with the utensils and how to stir that metal glass that you didn't even know didn't spill a drop.

"I've been away for two years" your voice came out a little louder than you would have liked, but Mingi smiled and shook his head "I'm Jay's sister."

"No kidding!" he seemed shocked by the information and you almost asked if it was bad to be Jay's sister or something "Jongseong, that ugly guy, has such a beautiful sister?"

Shit, your cheeks started to heat up. But you couldn't tell if it was because of Mingi's compliment or because Heeseung's hand slid from your back to your waist. He was still touching you, and it didn't seem to bother him or you.

"Here, Miss Park" he smiled after placing the glass on the counter, "enjoy the best of our bar."

You thanked him and took the glass, turning to face Heeseung.

"I hope you like it because, honestly, it would suck to say this is the best drink and have you hate it" he pressed his lips together, looking a little apprehensive about your reaction. You laughed at how cute he looked, agreeing with a little nod.

Touching your lips to the glass, you took a small sip just to test it out. As Heeseung said, it would be a shame for you to hate something that he advertised so much. But no, you loved it! And your murmur of approval only made his smile grow even wider, so you took another long sip before offering it to him.

"Come on, have some since you introduced me to it" you smiled at him as you tilted the glass for Heeseung to take. But he seemed too busy still holding your waist, with both hands this time. One on either side of you, making you want to scream and at the same time take a step forward and stand so close to him.

That drink wasn't taking effect that quickly, but it was Heeseung's fingers on your body that were making you like this.

So you held your breath a little when he leaned over, touching his lips to the glass and looking at you. A silent request for you to turn the contents just right because he wanted to drink from your hand. Heeseung wanted you to give him the drink.

And you did.

You carefully turned that glass until he had a good sip and then turned away to wipe his lips with the tip of his tongue and moan in satisfaction at the liquid going down his throat.

"Like I said, y/n" he said, his eyes wandering around the club and then finding you again. Heeseung leaned close enough so that his face was close to yours – for the second time that night – and his gaze quickly fell to your mouth "This is the best drink in the bar, and the night is going to be so long that we can try as many as you want" why had he whispered that part? Why was Heeseung whispering while staring at your lips?

You just nodded, sipping some more of that good, newfound liquid, as you felt him pull you into the middle of the dance floor.

The boy was right, it was going to be a long night.

You didn't know that your sister-in-law was a graduate in the same field as you at university in Barcelona. You also didn't know that you would receive an offer from the studio where she worked and, a few days later, be hired.

You also didn't know that your relationship with Heeseung had become pure flirtation, smiles in each other's direction and gentle touches on the hands, waist, and even long hugs when he went to pick up Heejin and ended up giving you a lift too. Or when he went to visit Jay to play video games in his living room. You also didn't know that you would let Heeseung lean his head on your shoulder and fall asleep so deeply on the first night of movies in your shared apartment with your brother after Sunghoon said he didn't want to go clubbing that day.

Everything was going so differently from what you had envisioned for your return to the city, but no way could describe the way you felt with Heeseung. Because it was different, wasn't it? You felt that way.

Because you didn't feel a chill in your stomach when Jake laid his head on your lap after coming home from work, or you didn't feel your face heat up after Sunghoon kissed the top of your head when you all decided to meet up for dinner. So why did you feel those things with Heeseung? He also lay on your lap, he also kissed the top of your head. But only he was able to take away your sleep some nights, resulting in you being almost late for work and hearing Heejin ask if everything was okay.

"Jongseong was playing late again?" she asked angrily, making you laugh.

Thinking about your brother, you wanted to answer but settled for pressing your lips together to avoid smiling.

"I've just had a bad night" your lips quickly curled into a pout and she imitated you.

"I know someone who can help you with that" Heejin hummed, picking up her cell phone and typing a few things as she watched you go to your desk.

Trying to stop her from talking to Heeseung was practically impossible, as she and Jay did a great job of making you feel awkward in front of him. But not in a bad way, not at all. The two of them only managed to make you shyer and shyer every time something happened.

Do you need help with the popcorn in the kitchen? Heeseung, help y/n. I'm watching the movie with your sister.

Are you going out for dinner? Heeseung and y/n sit next to each other, their seats already assigned.

When you all decided to go to the amusement park together and he wasn't too keen on entering the castle of horrors? My sister will hold your hand and, if the fear goes away, you can kiss her as a reward. Jay's sentence could have been a whisper only to him and Heeseung, but because you were so close, it was sure to have been heard.

"Y/n, I… I'm sorry—" you took his hand, entwining your fingers in Heeseung's as you smiled at the boy.

"You heard my brother, right?" now Heeseung felt even more courageous with your words. So he could kiss you after everyone had passed through that castle of horrors? Surely he wouldn't miss it.

But he did.

As soon as you all left, Heeseung received a call that he urgently needed to go home. You didn't object and the others seemed to understand perfectly when the boy said goodbye, you being the only one who received a quick kiss on the cheek before he ran out of the park.

"I wonder what happened?" Sailor asked as you all started walking to the park's next attraction.

"Maybe it's because of Aimi, he said he'd be alert in case he needed to go home" Jake intertwined his fingers with Sailor's and walked beside her.

Just then, you stopped. Wait, Aimi? Heeseung had someone else? No, it couldn't be.

All that time you two were exchanging, you were being part of a betrayal? Holy shit. It couldn't be possible.

The whole situation put a lump in your throat and your stomach began to churn. You walked with your friends out of sheer habit, seeing that they were all in the queue for the rollercoaster. By instinct, Jay looked in your direction and saw how scattered you were, walking over to stand next to you.

"It's just a rollercoaster, you know? You don't have to be scared" he joked, laughing a little as he put his arm around your shoulders.

Trying to be gentle, you pushed his arm away, starting to feel a weight on your chest that you didn't even know existed.

"I… I'm going home" your voice came out shaky. Shit, don't do that, y/n!

"What? Y/n, is everything all right?" Jay looked at you now rather worriedly, holding you by the shoulders and, once again, feeling your hands drop as you walked away.

Your brain didn't process the fact that your legs were quickly pulling you out of there, walking away from the roller coaster queue while you listened to the boys calling you. You ignored it completely and walked to the parking lot where you tried to look for your brother's car since Heeseung had left and you had gone with him to the park.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit" the curses were starting to flood out of you as your eyes stung, but you weren't going to cry. Not because of that.

For God's sake, the two of you hadn't even kissed, why feel so stupid?

"Y/n, I found you!" Jay was panting behind you, having stopped running and feeling his heartbeat speed up even more from the little exercise he'd done to find you.

He then walked towards you very slowly, trying to catch his breath and testing whether he could do it since you had pushed him away twice in less than a minute.

"Hey, are you all right?" he asked "It was the rollercoaster game—"

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" you interrupted him.

Jay frowned in response, glancing at you as soon as you stopped right in front of him and caught a glimpse of your face in the dim light of the amusement park parking lot. He saw your watery eyes and knew you could cry at any moment.

"What about?" he asked you again, and you realized that it couldn't be that he knew either since, in your brother's mind, you were like that for the roller coaster. But wasn't it obvious that it was for Heeseung? It didn't make sense.

Your chest ached a little more when you remembered his static face when you left quickly and how your friends commented on the girl so naturally that it was as if you weren't there.

You opened and closed your mouth, tried to say something and nothing came out the way you wanted it to. It sucked that everything was like that. When you finally plucked up the courage to talk to your brother, your phone rang, startling you both.

The handset came out of your back pocket and Heeseung's name flashed up on the screen. You didn't realize the grimace you were making until you looked at Jay and saw that he was waiting for you to pick up, but you didn't. You simply hung up. You simply hung up.

"What's going on?" he kept looking at you.

"Nothing" another ring from Heeseung and you would have hung up if Jay hadn't been quicker and answered on the second ring.

"Hey dude, it's Jay" you could hear Heeseung's voice in the background, but you couldn't understand much of what he was saying. Something seemed to touch the back of your brother's mind because he laughed deeply as he looked at you.

What's funny, asshole? You hissed while he still had your phone to his ear and was talking to Heeseung.

"Maybe that's why, but I'm not the one who's going to explain it to her" your brother's gaze was mixed as Heeseung said a few more words and the two finally hung up.

"What the fuck was that, Jay?"

"Heeseung called me… I mean, he called you to explain why he'd left so quickly" he told you.

"I think Jake already did that" you shrugged, showing how encouraging the conversation was because your sarcastic smile said it all.

"Listen, sis. It's not that—"

"Jay, please don't" you whimpered "I'm feeling terrible because all this time no one told me that Heeseung had someone else and we were acting like…"

"A couple, I know" you really hated it when Jay was able to complete his sentences more directly because maybe you would only respond like two people with more touches "That's exactly why he needs to explain it to you, not me."

"I don't want to listen, thank you."

"But you kind of will" he pursed his lips and put his hands in his trouser pockets, running his tongue over lower lip to suppress a smile "Because every two weeks Heejin and I go to Mom's for lunch, and this time since you're here, I'm going to make a point of calling Heeseung too."

"You wouldn't do that…"

"Oh, I would" Jay smiled this time.

And you knew for sure that your dear brother would be able to do it.

You felt like jumping over the kitchen counter and lunging at Jay, but you were left to stir the chocolate in the pan to make a ganache for dessert. Your brother, smiling even too much, put the tomato slices in the glass dish while looking at you now and then and holding back a laugh.

"Cancel it with him, please" you almost cried, almost got down on your knees to Jay begging him not to come.

"Nope" he hummed, excitedly, "I like having my brother-in-law here. Besides, Mom loves it when he brings Aimi along."

"You're a motherfucker—"

"Hey, why am I being cursed at?" your mother chimed in. Jay burst into laughter and you just rolled your eyes, choosing to forget the conversation.

But your brother seemed to have plans to annoy you all weekend, and it was only Saturday. You wouldn't be able to stand it without hitting him once.

"I was telling y/n about Aimi" Jay said.

"Oh, I miss her so much" your mother said with such love that you rolled your eyes at the melted chocolate just so you wouldn't have to face the two of them who were heaping praise on Aimi.

For God's sake, did they have to do that in front of you? Maybe your mother didn't know what had happened between you and Heeseung, so the poor thing wouldn't be punished by your eyes almost shooting her. But your brother would. That asshole was going to pay dearly for every mention of Aimi's name and the way he openly smiled at you after saying it.

It didn't make sense for Jay to tease you about it, it didn't make sense for any of your friends to be into that sort of thing. Everyone there was dating, so why did things have to go that way with Heeseung?

Had Jay already cheated on Heejin, so he was an accomplice? Or had Jake and Sunghoon also been unfaithful, hence the partnership?

It wasn't easy to get into your head and you spent almost the whole week mulling it over, as well as running away from all Heejin's questions and why you were ignoring her brother.

"I just… I don't know, Heejin" you replied.

But she knew, of course, she knew. The only way to understand what was going on was to ask Jay, and like a good gossip, he would tell his girlfriend. Heejin even thought about clearing up the misunderstanding, but as her boyfriend had said, Heeseung was the one to do it.

So it was easy to convince him to go to lunch at your mother's house. You wanted to think it was because of the pool out back or her food, not because he had to explain something to you because you didn't want to hear it.

You refused to fall for his charms while he explained why he had cheated on you for a long time – totaling a month and a half, unfortunately, you counted – only for you to discover that there was another woman. And it wasn't even Heeseung who told you, it came out of Jake's mouth.

If your friend hadn't said anything at the amusement park, would you have known about her? Or would you continue to be fooled until you kissed Heeseung, fell even more in love and then he left you?

"Shit" you cursed quietly when the doorbell snapped you out of your thoughts.

All the food had been ready for a long time and you and your brother had decided to wait, sipping a glass of wine that your mother always left out for you to enjoy while they cooked.

It had to be the Lee siblings, so you decided to fill your glass and lean on the kitchen counter, not having the courage to move your feet as your brother walked past you and smiled with his mouth against the glass he was drinking.

"My love" Jay called out, and you knew it was Heejin he was greeting.

"Heeseung, Aimi!" that was your mother, and your stomach immediately churned at the mention of her name "Y/n, come over here."

I don't want to.

You should answer, that's what you had to do.

But contrary to your thoughts, your feet betrayed you and made you walk to the kitchen door so slowly that you were almost dragging yourself. Perhaps the glass of wine could have helped and stopped you from hugging them both, it would have been a perfect excuse while you just greeted everyone and went back to the kitchen.

As soon as you arrived, your eyes went straight to Heeseung and… A child? Heeseung was holding a little girl in his arms and she was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

Dark hair, curious eyes, and flushed cheeks. She closed her little eyes as she smiled when Jay approached to take her in his arms, hearing the most delightful giggle you could ever remember a child having.

"Hey" Heejin greeted you before anyone could say anything. The two boys were very entertained by the little girl, who was mumbling a few things and talking to them, while your mother was already looking for a cartoon channel for her to watch "Are you okay?" your sister-in-law toasted with her full glass, and it was then that you noticed that she was holding Jay's glass.

Your head just nodded, saying nothing until Heeseung's eyes landed on you. He frowned when he saw how much wine was in your glass and you couldn't hide it since, as it was full, any sudden movement to place it behind your body could cause it to tip over.

Jay still had the little one on his lap and held her hand as he turned to you. She smiled in your direction and you tried to smile back, begging the heavens you hadn't made a face to scare the poor thing.

"Hi, y/n" Heeseung said directly to you as soon as you arrived at your mother's house. You shook your head at him, a silent way of saying hello. Your voice would waver if you said anything since it was the first time you'd seen him since the day at the amusement park, so you couldn't risk having a shaky, slurred, or harsh voice. So just a nod would be fine.

"You can choose any cartoon that uncle Jay will watch with you before lunch" Jay raised his hand and the little girl clapped it, making an animated hi-five as you watched your brother walk over to the sofa with her.

Your eyes lingered too long on the two of them animatedly chatting about the colorful cartoon characters that you didn't notice that Heejin had gone to talk to his mother and Heeseung was standing in front of you.

Hands in his pants pockets, hair slightly mussed, and biting his lower lip. He looked a little apprehensive for his taste.

"Y/n…"

"Bathroom" the little girl announced before Heeseung could even finish his sentence. He quickly looked over to where she was sitting and excused himself as he picked her up.

"Ready to use the bathroom?" he had such a beautiful smile when he talked to her that it seemed too encouraging, you almost forgot that you were angry with him "I'll be right back" Heeseung said before disappearing down the corridor in search of the downstairs bathroom.

That's how long it took you to stare at Jay and take a long sip of your wine before you saw him return with the little girl still on his lap.

"I did it, uncle Jay" she celebrated and Jay got up from the sofa, picking her up again.

"You were amazing, you know that? Your dad and I are so proud of you," he said.

Dad?

You bit your tongue to keep from screaming at that moment. The only thought running through your mind when Heeseung was still in the middle of the room but with his gaze fully on you.

"Y/n, that's Aimi" he pointed to the little girl who, as soon as she heard her name called, turned towards him "My daughter. And sweetie, this is y/n, uncle Jay's sister."

"Fuck" you whispered so quietly, not out of indignation, but because there was a child and you couldn't swear at her.

So your only reaction – apart from widening your eyes – was to gulp down all the wine and feel it burn your throat as you ran to the kitchen.

Your luck was that Aimi only nodded for a few seconds before turning her attention back to the drawing she was watching with Jay, so your state of panic hadn't had much effect on her. Unlike Heeseung, who walked in quick, hurried steps to the kitchen to chase after you.

The search for the wine was tireless. That bottle had run out a while ago and all you had to do was find another that your mother kept right there, but no. Those hands stopped you from opening it. Those hands stopped you from opening the mini cellar under the counter and made you turn to him.

"Wine won't help you much" Heeseung whispered to you.

"I just need to… I…"

"You need to sober up because I think we need to talk, don't you?"

Why did he have to whisper everything? And why did Heeseung have a relentless habit of leaning towards you every time he stood in front of you to say something?

"It's okay" was the only thing you managed to say because the next second his lips were on yours. Briefly, a kiss so quick that you couldn't even process the softness of Heeseung's mouth against yours.

"Great choice of wine, by the way" he licked his lips before leaving the kitchen, just as quickly as he came in after you.

Heeseung was right, you two needed to talk. You were just putting it off all day because you felt like a complete idiot, thinking all sorts of bad things about him and your friends when, in fact, Aimi was just a child. And Heeseung's daughter.

All right, he also felt stupid for never mentioning it since the first time you and he started to get even closer, but the real thing was that he was afraid. He didn't want it to always be the same.

You swore that every moment at your parents' house would lead to a conversation with Heeseung because he never took his eyes off you, only to look in on Aimi or help her with something when no adult was doing so. He was such a helpful father and that only made your heart swell even more for that man.

Your mind just didn't process the fact that little Aimi would be clinging to you the moment everyone sat down to lunch.

"Sweetie, let y/n eat…"

"Dad" she pouted as she sat on your lap, smoothing her long hair so that it didn't fall on the plate in front of her.

"It's okay, I think I can help you, can't I, Aimi?"

"Yes" she turned her head to look at you, and that smile like her father's made you smile too.

Aimi was polite, only asked for your help to cut things she had difficulty with, and ate her vegetables without complaining while Heeseung just watched until she finished eating so she could get off your lap. So you could eat right then.

You noticed that Aimi sulked throughout lunch while the others ate until they finished their meal and she held out her arms to you.

"I thought we were going to watch a cartoon" Jay pouted when he saw that Aimi hadn't gone to sit on his lap.

"Actually, uncle Jay thought he'd get away with doing the dishes" you pretended to whisper to Aimi, hearing her giggle immediately afterward "But I think she'd rather stay with auntie y/n now, wouldn't you?"

When she nodded, it was enough for Jay to make a scene in which Aimi laughed even more.

Spending the afternoon with that child was the most incredible thing that could have happened to you over the last few days.

Watching cartoons with Aimi, hearing about colors and how she could count to forty. Or how she knew about animals because uncle Jay had given her a book that made sounds with a magic pen. And he bragged about the compliments in the present.

You felt your heart warm even more when everyone decided to spend time in the back garden, your lap serving as comfort for Aimi who played with the end of your hair until Heeseung signaled that she had fallen asleep on your lap. You didn't mind. She didn't weigh anything, she was cuddling you so comfortably and her little body was sleeping so nonchalantly that you just held her there and paid attention to Heejin's words, who was telling you about something at work.

Your eyes caught Heeseung's from time to time, and he couldn't help smiling as he looked at you and then at Aimi. Your daughter had liked you and that made Heeseung feel better, maybe the fear had passed and he could talk to you.

"Hey, y/n" Heeseung whispered close to your ear. You did everything you could not to move abruptly and not wake Aimi on your lap, so you just looked at him, noticing that his attention was everywhere but on what was happening in front of him.

Now it was your father who was talking about something you and your brother had done during a family vacation. Heejin laughed, asking something and you simply decided to pay attention to the man next to you.

"I can take her inside, I think I'll put her on the sofa because it's getting cold and her arms will go numb afterward" he kept whispering, making you laugh.

"I'll help you" you also whispered, settling Aimi in your arms and getting up with her still on your lap.

This was quite common, considering that Jay was always the one to take Aimi when Heeseung went to family lunches. But now you were there, placing Aimi on the three-seater sofa, wrapping her in cushions, and taking the blanket from Heeseung's hands to cover her carefully.

"She's beautiful" your voice came out so low, the compliment was so natural that you only noticed when Heeseung leaned his shoulder against yours and let out a low laugh.

"I think I did a good job" you laughed along with him, looking away from the little girl to the boy next to you "Do you have some time for me now?"

"Of course."

It couldn't be put off any longer, you knew he wanted to talk too so maybe it was time since everyone was talking outside and Aimi had gone to sleep. It was just you and Heeseung on the other side of the room so as not to wake the little one.

Being on the smaller sofa had never been a problem, but the proximity to him was what was making you apprehensive. Their legs touching each other, Heeseung's hands searching for something to hold, opting to leave it on his knees as he looked across the room. He looked at his daughter.

"It happened in the famous cliché of the first one-night stand in university" he moistened his lips and laughed humorlessly, then looked at you and bit his lower lip "Aimi's mother didn't want to keep her."

"What?" your eyes widened at that. You noticed that he sighed, perhaps he was about to tell you something difficult, so your instinct was to take one of his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers and showing that you were right there. Next to him, listening very carefully.

He sighed, taking a little more courage.

Heeseung and Jay had met and it wasn't by chance, they had been assigned roommates in university as soon as Heeseung had been admitted to his course. He and the boys have been inseparable ever since.

Like any university party, which you knew your brother was part of, Heeseung also liked to have fun like any other adult who had just been admitted and wanted to enjoy his youth. But irresponsibility got to him.

Unprotected and fruitless sex only happened in the movies his sister watched, because it wasn't like that with him. Months later, the news that the girl was pregnant devastated him and he wasn't sure what to do, but he thought that they could take care of the baby and that he would be there to help her.

That's not what happened. Heeseung lived on threats all that time.

I don't want to keep this baby unless you stay with me.

It was cruel, she was cruel to Heeseung. But what could he do? That woman was carrying his baby and he could only try to do everything to please her until the child was born. Aimi was beautiful from the first minutes of her life and was the joy of the Lee family.

"I think we should break up" that sentence made Heeseung sigh with relief, he knew it wouldn't last in a relationship that he had sustained only for the sake of the child.

Agreeing was the only right thing to do. But he also didn't know that she would give up any contact with the little girl, literally taking away any responsibility, walking out and never getting involved in the little girl's life since birth.

"The guardianship is completely yours, and she will never go near my niece again" Heejin had done everything since the second she found out she was going to be an aunt, and she had done everything could to make sure that woman would never go near Aimi.

Almost three years passed and he thought it would be difficult, but no. Heeseung was a father – solo – but he had such an immense support network, like his friends, his family, and Jay's family. Aimi didn't miss a mother figure in the slightest because she was surrounded by the love he always knew she never lacked.

Heeseung's fear revolved around any relationship that wouldn't accept his daughter, or that the child's mother would somehow resurface trying to give up something she never had a right to just because he was moving on with his life.

"I don't think you need to worry about that" you said in a low tone, letting him breathe a little after telling most – or almost all – of the story, "Heejin made it very clear and you know how much weight her words carry."

Heeseung laughed.

He clasped his hands even tighter in yours, tilting his head to rest his forehead against yours too.

"Believe me, over the years I've tried to get into relationships and one of them said that I spent more time with Aimi than with her."

"What—" you moved away for a few seconds, just long enough to face Heeseung, and then returned to your starting position, leaning your forehead against his "I think the danger now is that I'll be spending more time with her than with you."

"Will I be double-changed?" false indignation in his voice and Heeseung's hands loosened from his for a brief moment. You would have protested at the loss of contact if it hadn't been for his fingers slowly trailing up your cheek "If that's the case, I'll take it just fine."

"Then start thinking about it, Lee Heeseung."

"I'm thinking, Park Y/n" and then his lips met yours halfway.

A slow kiss and the perfect movement of each other's lips in such calm synchronicity. It was as if they both needed it as their tongues moved slowly, tasting the drink from hours ago and how Heeseung's warm muscle curled into yours. Your hands met his on his face, deepening the kiss even more and letting out a sigh when he slid down the sofa to be even closer to you.

That kiss was on another level, you felt like you were in paradise while Heeseung's lips were still on yours.

He slid his mouth along your jaw and down to your neck, small kisses left on your skin making you shiver completely until they were interrupted by a whimper.

You and Heeseung separated very slowly, both of you looking at the other sofa and noticing that Aimi was starting to cry quietly as she stood up, scratching at her eyes and with her hair completely messed up.

Heeseung got up from the sofa where the two of you were, walked over to his daughter, and bent down in front of her.

"Hi my love, did you have a bad dream?" he asked her, the little girl's eyes going to her father and they were completely watery. She held out her arms for him to take her, and so Heeseung did. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked back, with no reply. Aimi still had a pout on her lips and her eyes were almost streaming with the tears she was holding back.

That was enough for you to pout at the scene in front of you, holding back a scream as Aimi looked at you and her eyes lit up.

Her little arms went out towards you so excitedly that she almost threw herself off Heeseung's lap. You quickly got up from the sofa and picked her up, kissing her on the top of the head before making her lie on your shoulder.

"Sweetie?" Heeseung called out after she had snuggled into your lap.

"I want y/n" she said sleepily, yawning as she lay on your shoulder and practically falling back asleep within seconds.

You and Heeseung looked at each other, holding back a laugh as the little one went back to dreamland after being snuggled in your arms. He approached the two of you, kissing Aimi's cheek and then kissing your forehead before placing his own against it. Faces close together.

"I think I'm getting your daughter for myself" you hummed, kissing his lips in the process.

Heeseung laughed, nodding in denial as you moved away to go to the larger sofa in the living room.

He wanted to deny it and play with you, but seeing Aimi on your lap and that scene in front of him, all the fear Heeseung had was gone for sure.

© ikeuverse, 2024. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

you and me, religiously ; miya atsumu x f!reader

˚₊ ⸝⸝ ⟶ summary: you were never good at saying how you felt—and neither was atsumu. but the love was always there, quiet and aching, in the way you almost reached for each other but never quite did.

˚₊ ⸝⸝ ⟶ tags: bestfriend!atsumu, childhood friends-to-lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, soft angst

˚₊ ⸝⸝ ⟶ word count: 4k+

˚₊ ⸝⸝ ⟶ notes: just me writing about my fave boy and my fave trope again.

──────── · · · ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* · · · ────────

“you think coach’ll still let me start if i show up late?” suna asked you, monotone, eyes fixed ahead.

you snorted. “not if he finds out you stopped for vending machine snacks again.”

he gave a noncommittal shrug, tapping the volleyball against his hip. “cut me some slack. i just turned eighteen. feels like i should get a pass or something.”

you rolled your eyes. “yeah, happy birthday, grandpa. we're all eighteen this year. it's not that deep.”

he huffed a quiet laugh, gaze still on the hallway ahead. “last year of high school, and we’re still running late to practice.”

you grinned teasingly, “just you, sunarin.”

the gym wasn’t far now, the sound of drills and shouting teammates already bleeding into the hallway. then, without looking at you, he said it—casually, like it was just another update from class.

"atsumu’s transferring back here.”

you stopped walking mid-step, shoes skidding slightly against the hallway floor. “what?” you asked, turning your head so quickly toward suna it made your hair shift over your shoulder.

but he didn’t repeat it right away. just kept casually spinning the volleyball in his hands like he hadn’t just dropped the most shocking news you’d heard in years.

“no—wait,” you said again, voice a little breathless now. “are you serious?”

you searched his face for any sign that he was joking. a smirk. a twitch in his eye. something. but there was nothing—just suna, as unreadable as ever, giving a lazy shrug like it wasn’t the one name you never thought you’d hear again.

your heart was pounding. loud, quick, all-consuming.

atsumu was a memory you’d tucked away so deeply you thought it couldn’t reach you anymore. a name that still made something shift in your chest. and now—he was coming back?

he tossed the volleyball up once, caught it again. “yeah. thought it was already going around. he's starting next week.”

it had been years since you last saw him—back when you were both barely fifteen in the middle of junior high. he said goodbye outside your house, late in the evening. the streets were quiet, just the faint humming of the air. you still remembered the way he stood there under the dim porch light, his bag slung over one shoulder, eyes avoiding yours.

atsumu's voice had barely held steady when he said it, like each word scraped its way out of his throat. his fingers curled tightly into the hem of his hoodie, knuckles pale, like he was holding himself together with the smallest thread.

his eyes never really met yours—not for long. they kept flicking to the side, then back again, like he couldn’t decide whether looking at you made it harder to leave or easier to pretend he could.

the streetlight outside your house flickered gently overhead, casting his face in dim amber. he looked older in that moment. not because of time, but because of everything he wasn’t saying.

his heart was thudding too loud in his chest. he wanted to tell you it wasn’t his choice. that he hated the idea of leaving. that every time he packed a bag or thought about his flight, it felt like he was leaving a piece of himself behind.

“i didn’t wanna leave,” he said quietly, almost like it was a secret. “it was just… my mom’s job. she had to move to tokyo, so I had to go too.”

and then he smiled—tight, fleeting. not bright or cocky like usual, but small, like he was afraid that if he smiled any wider, it’d shatter.

“i’ll see ya, ‘kay?” he said, voice barely steady. “promise I won’t forget, y/n. not ever.”

he hesitated for just a second before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around you—tight, like he didn’t want to let go. his chin brushed your shoulder, and you could feel the way he held his breath.

“i'll text you. or, like… send pictures or somethin’. i dunno.” he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes earnest. “i'll keep in touch. i mean it.”

and then he let go—too soon—and took a step back, like staying any longer would make it even harder to leave.

he was gone. and at first, he tried—texts here and there, blurry pictures from tokyo, the occasional call late at night when he couldn’t sleep. you clung to those moments, tucked them away like little keepsakes.

but the messages grew farther apart. the calls stopped. life got louder. you were both just kids, and maybe that’s what growing up does—it pulls people in different directions before they even realize it.

until one day, there was nothing. no calls. no letters. just silence. and with time, you started to believe that maybe he was never coming back.

and then, like a breath you didn’t know you were holding—he was there. a week later, just like suna had said, as if he’d never really left.

it was early. the quiet hum of spring had just begun to slip in through the open windows, the scent of cherry blossoms faint in the breeze. your shoes tapped softly against the floor as you stepped inside, half-lost in thought. you enter the room without hesitation, making your way to your usual seat by the window.

as you settle in, you notice that suna isn’t in his seat beside yours. irritated, you grab your phone and quickly type—where the hell are you? i thought we were supposed to come early, then sit back, waiting for his reply.

the room is quiet until a gentle laugh cuts through the silence.

it was the laugh you’d known since you were little, in sun-warmed days playing tag in the park, scraped knees and shared popsicles, pinky promises made on random lazy summer afternoons. the same one that used to pull you by the wrist across the playground, that whispered you’re my favorite in a boy’s clumsy way—through laughter, and shared snacks, and sheltering you from the rain with a too-small umbrella.

you look up, startled, and there he is, already watching you from across the room.

miya atsumu

he looked the same. and he didn’t. he was taller now, with broader shoulders. his blonde hair still framed his face, and his uniform was worn in that casual, half-cared-for way. but it was his eyes that drew you in—something heavier, something older. they held a quiet intensity.

but the way he looked at you—gentle, surprised, as if he was seeing you for the first time—made his breath hitch for a moment. his eyes, focused and soft, took in every detail of how different you looked now. he noticed the way your hair now fell in waves, catching the light just so, and how your eyes looked like it could light up the entire world.

in that split second, atsumu thought none of the girls in tokyo, none of them, could come close, his lips parted, just slightly. he looked like he might say something.

“....y/n?” he called softly, uncertainty tinting his voice as if he weren’t sure the years had changed you both.

he took a step toward you. then another. and you thought you’d forgotten the sound of his voice, but now that it filled the room—low, a little raspier, softer than it used to be—you knew you hadn’t.

not really.

“'tsumu?” you said, your voice soft—like it might disappear if you spoke any louder.

“god,” he said, “you’re really here.”

the silence between you stretched, but not awkwardly. he looked at you like he was still piecing you back together from memory, and you looked at him like you were afraid to blink in case he disappeared again.

“you’ve…changed,” you murmured, eyes tracing the slope of his jaw, the line of his mouth.

he shrugged, then rubbed the back of his neck—boyish, sheepish, but his eyes never left yours. “you haven’t. not really.”

you smiled, and it hit him all at once—how much he missed that smile, how many nights he’d spent regretting the space that had grown between you. guilt settled quiet in his chest, and he wondered if you were angry with him. if he even had the right to miss you this much. and for a brief second, he found himself thinking if the two of you could ever find your way back to how it used to be—before the distance, before he left.

but whatever he was about to say got lost the moment another voice chimed in behind you.

“there you are!” osamu popped in first, eyes lighting up the second he saw you. “holy shit, i knew it! it was you!” he grinned, barely giving you time to react before he threw an arm around your shoulders, hugging you tight like you were still in junior high. “you haven’t changed one bit,” he laughed, pulling back just enough to look at you.

“speak for yourself,” you teased, smiling up at him.

then came suna, hands in his pockets. “you look the same, but less angry,” he said casually, lips twitching in the closest thing to a smile.

you gave him a look. “this why you ignored my text?”

he shrugged, sliding into the seat beside you. “figured you’d find me eventually.”

“yeah? next time we make a plan, i’m ditching you first,” you muttered, nudging him lightly with your foot under the desk.

osamu chuckled as he leaned against your desk. “some things never change.”

“like you being late?” you shot back.

“hey, at least i brought onigiris this time.”

atsumu hadn’t said a word, but somewhere in between the teasing, he’d moved closer. now, he stood just beside you—quiet, lingering—like something in him had been pulled there before he could think twice. it had been years, but standing next to you again made it feel like no time had passed at all. like if he reached out just a little, you might lean into him the way you used to.

he didn’t, though. instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets, let his arms barely brush your shoulder, and said, “jeez, you’re still short. thought you would’ve grown a little by now.”

he let out a soft chuckle, eyes flicking down to you. you could tell he was trying—softening the edges, reaching out in his own awkward way—and so you tried too.

you glanced up at him, eyebrows raised. “you’re just freakishly tall 'tsumu,” you said. “it’s not my fault you hit a second growth spurt or whatever.” the words came easier than you thought they would. like muscle memory. like maybe this didn’t have to be as hard as you feared.

atsumu's shoulders eased, just a bit. he thought maybe you weren’t mad after all. maybe this could still be okay. and when you let out a small laugh—barely more than a breath, but real—and flashed him that same smile he used to see after long practices and stupid jokes, it hit him, soft and sudden—this was home. it always had been. wherever you were.

then, in between moments, the bell rang sharp, but not enough to break the feeling entirely. footsteps echoed into the room as more students trickled in, voices rising, chairs scraping against the floor. the teacher entered not long after, calling for everyone to return to their seats.

atsumu lingered for a second longer, then nudged your head gently with his elbow. “see ya later,” he said, tone light, almost too casual.

osamu gave suna a small nod. “don’t fall asleep in the first ten minutes.”

they both turned—and while osamu crossed the room, atsumu circled behind you.

you didn’t turn to look, but you felt it anyway—the way the air shifted as he sat in his chair just behind yours, of course he did. that was always his seat. still is. and somehow, that small familiarity felt louder now than it used to.

you pressed your pen to the page a little harder than necessary. he was right there. this was going to be distracting. you weren’t even sure why it got to you—just that it did. that he was close enough for you to hear the way he exhaled, the soft scrape of his chair against the floor. that if you leaned back even slightly, you might hear him humming under his breath like he used to.

time blurred after that. one class bled into the next—notes scribbled half-heartedly, lessons that barely registered. your pen hovered over your notebook, unmoving, eyes flicking toward the window, and then back—because you could feel it. that quiet, burning stare.

he was seated just behind you. too close. or maybe not close enough. his presence folded into the edge of your awareness like static, never fully gone. always there.

atsumu stretched once, and the motion behind you was slow, languid. a little exaggerated, a little too casual. you felt the back of his shoe nudge the leg of your chair when he settled again, not hard, just enough to make you glance over your shoulder. you didn’t. but he knew you felt it.

the teacher’s voice faded in and out, words smearing into the background. when he answered a question, his voice came from just behind your ear—low, raspy, but quite soft, like sleep hadn’t left it yet. you didn’t mean to notice it. didn’t want to. but it slipped in anyway, warm and steady. it didn’t matter what he said. it was the sound of it. the way it got to you.

you kept your eyes on the board, but the paper beneath your hand stayed mostly blank. a few scattered notes. a sketch in the margin you didn’t remember starting. you were half-listening, half-drifting, when you felt him lean forward.

“what was the thing the teacher said earlier? somethin’ about that definition?”

you blinked down at your notes. “which one?”

“dunno. you wrote it down, right?”

You hesitated, glancing toward the half-finished sentence on your page. the question wasn’t real—not really. he wasn’t looking for an answer. he was looking for a reason.

“you could just listen for once."

you dipped your head slightly, lips tugging into a smile before you could stop it.

“yeah, but then i wouldn’t get to bother ya.”

he let out a faint sound, something like a breath of amusement, like he was smiling into his hand. you didn’t look back, but you could feel it—his grin, lazy and crooked and far too pleased with himself.

you didn’t turn, just kept your eyes on your notebook. “you gonna keep staring while you do it?”

there was a soft shift behind you—the creak of his chair, the faint rustle of fabric as he leaned forward just enough for his presence to press closer.

“can't help it,” he murmured, and you swore you could feel the curve of a smile in his voice—quiet, a little tired, like it slipped out without thinking.

you told yourself not to read into it. it was just a line. just him being him. still, your grip on your pen tightened, and you had to blink down at your page like it could ground you. first day back and he was already getting to you.

then the final bell dragged itself through the halls like a tired breath. you packed your things slowly, letting the weight of the afternoon settle into your shoulders.

beside you, suna stretched in his seat, back cracking faintly as he let out a quiet sigh. the scrape of a chair. the rustle of bags.

osamu wandered over, dropping his bag beside suna’s desk with a thud. “coach’s gonna go hard today, huh.”

suna snorted. “yeah, well, it’s your fault for skipping practice for three years.”

“not my fault we had that whole tokyo thing,” osamu muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“you and atsumu both,” suna said. “hope you like serving drills. you’re gonna be doing them for the rest of the week.”

atsumu leaned back in his chair behind you, legs stretched out, arms crossed over his chest like he had something to prove. “try me, i’ll still ace every serve,” he said, all confidence, even if it wavered just a little.

osamu gave him a look. “you were complaining about it all lunch.”

“yeah, well. not in front of suna.”

suna rolled his eyes, and you kept your head down, slipping your notebooks into your bag. quiet, careful, like you weren’t listening—but you were.

you were halfway through packing your things, slipping your notebook into your bag while the boys were still talking—half banter, half complaint. suna said something under his breath that made osamu scoff, and atsumu laughed a little too loud, the sound stretching into the space behind you.

you didn’t look back, but you could feel him glance your way. once. then again. like he was waiting for something—or maybe just working up to it.

“you comin’ to watch practice?”

you blinked, unsure if he was talking to you. your hands hovered over your bag, halfway zipped. the question hung there for a moment, light but deliberate. you glanced over your shoulder.

he was looking at you now—eyes steady, a little too focused for something that was supposed to be casual. and so were suna and osamu—conversations fading, the room dipping into a pause. all three of them watching, like the question needed an answer.

you didn’t say anything at first. just nodded to yourself a little, like you were still thinking about it.

“…dunno,” you said eventually, softer than you meant to.

“she never misses,” suna said, deadpan, already slinging his bag over his shoulder.

you shook your head, smile tugging at your lips. “do you memorize everyone’s schedule or just mine?”

suna didn’t miss a beat. “just yours,” he said flatly, nudging your desk lightly with his foot as he stood. “gotta keep an eye on our number one fan.”

osamu snorted as he got to his feet, and atsumu was rubbing the back of his neck, trying (and failing) to hide a grin.

atsumu huffed. “we’re headin’ now. you should come.”

you hesitated. “i gotta drop something off with the teacher.”

he gave a small nod, like he didn’t want to make a thing of it. “alright. see ya there, then.”

they left together, voices fading into the hallway.

once they were gone, the room felt quieter somehow. still full of leftover noise—chairs askew, papers rustling—but without them, it settled into something gentler. something easier to breathe in.

you took your time packing the last of your things, then made your way to the front to drop off a paper with the teacher. your footsteps were unhurried, almost quiet. no real reason to rush.

instead of heading straight to the gym, you circled around the courtyard, taking the long way on purpose. the breeze brushed your face, the late afternoon sun soft against your skin. it wasn’t about avoiding them, not exactly—it was just… everything had felt a little too much all at once.

you lingered at the hallway corner, just outside the gym doors, fingers curled loosely around the strap of your bag. there were voices inside already—shoes squeaking on the polished floor, a whistle cutting through the air.

and then you stepped in.

the sharp thud of volleyballs hitting the court greets you first, followed by the low calls of names, the rhythm of feet against wood. they’re already warming up—spikes on one side, serves on the other. your eyes instinctively search for suna, and you find him crouched near the net, focused and loose-limbed, his movements precise.

but it’s the opposite end of the court that holds you still.

atsumu stands at the service line, a ball in hand, his body already in motion. you catch the fluid arc of his arm, the way his form slices through the air with such practiced grace that it almost looks like muscle memory brought to life.

then the ball sails.

it spins—fast, controlled, almost cruel in the way it dips just before the line. a perfect serve.

you don’t realize you’ve stopped walking until he’s already lining up another.

he looks up. his gaze catches yours.

and it’s… steady. not surprised, not sharp like before, but something softer—open, maybe. the edges of him aren’t as guarded now. he holds your gaze even as he tosses the next ball, his eyes never wavering until the last second, when instinct takes over and he strikes.

this one lands just inside the corner, making even osamu whistle low from the sidelines.

you shift your weight, unsure of what to do with the heat blooming behind your chest.

suna glances over and gives you a slight nod, as if to say you saw that too, huh? you manage a small smile, one that falters when you look back at atsumu—who’s still watching you, even as osamu tosses him another ball.

there’s something unreadable in his expression. not arrogance, not pride. just a quiet hope.

you sit where you usually do, just beside the gym wall. a little removed, a little safe. suna jogs over on a water break and tosses you a bottle he probably stole from someone’s bag.

“you made it,” he says, voice low and dry.

you nod. “long practice?”

“coach is squeezing blood out of us before prelims.” he leans against the wall, brushing sweat from his temple. “he’s serious about nationals this year.”

you hum in response, eyes drifting back toward the court.

atsumu’s still at the service line, though this time, it’s osamu who steps beside him, saying something only the two of them can hear. atsumu’s mouth pulls into a crooked grin before he sends another serve flying.

when it hits the court, it echoes.

a few minutes pass, filled with the steady rhythm of shoes squeaking and balls thudding against the court. The gym hums with effort, voices rising and falling as drills wind down. when the whistle blows for a break, the players scatter—some toward their water bottles, others to the benches lined along the wall.

atsumu makes his way toward you, towel slung around his neck, sweat glinting at his temples. you don’t look up right away, too focused on the notebook in your lap, the corners curled from how tightly you’ve been holding it. it's only when his shadow stretches over the page that you glance up.

“oh,” you say, blinking. “didn't realize your stuff was here.”

he doesn’t answer right away, just drops down beside you with a soft exhale, the kind that comes after a training that steals breath but feels good in the chest.

you give him a sidelong look, then smile a little.

“you're serving really well today, 'tsumu.”

he pauses, mid-reach for his water bottle, and for a second, something flickers behind his eyes. he masks it quickly—tilting his head, smirking like it’s nothing—but inside, the words ring louder than the ball had when it smacked the court earlier.

“yeah?” he says, casual, wiping his neck with the towel.

you hum in agreement, eyes already drifting back to the court, unaware of how the praise has settled in him.

he chuckles, quiet but real, gaze still lingering on you.

“guess it’s ‘cause you’re watchin’.”

the words come softer than his usual teasing—lighter, but not a joke. and for once, he doesn’t try to cover it up.

you glance at him, but he’s already looking away, pretending to be more focused on the court than he is. but you can see it—the way his mouth almost twitches into a smile, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

there’s a beat of quiet, stretched just long enough to feel like it matters.

“that place we used to go to after practice,” he says, voice casual, like it’s nothing. “it still around?”

you nod slowly, zipping up your jacket halfway. “yeah. still there.”

he reaches for his water bottle, then turns back to you with a look that doesn’t quite match the lightness in his tone—something steadier, warmer, a little more certain than before.

“wanna go after this?”

you pause, caught off guard in that quiet, fluttering kind of way. it’s not a big moment. he’s not making it one. and maybe that’s what makes it feel like one anyway.

you smile—soft, barely there, but genuine. “yeah. sure.”

he doesn’t say anything else, just nods once and turns back toward the court. but the expression on his face lingers like an echo, tucked between something fond and something hopeful.

and for a second, it sits with you—settles in, quiet and familiar, like something you almost forgot the shape of. not just the question, but everything behind it. the ease of old routines. the echo of afternoons spent in the same spots, sharing food and stories and laughter that spilled too easily.

you don’t breathe too hard around it, afraid it might break the spell. because it’s been years, and still, somehow, it feels the same. and maybe, just maybe, it always will.

──────── · · · ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* · · · ────────

© lovemetsumu

playful delicacies

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader, ft. hyung line cameo

genre: domestic boyfriend!au | fluff, just fluff | college!au | established relationship

༄࿔˚✧ synopsis: a collection of moments with heeseung, shared over meals and snacks. a riff off of timestamps.

word count: 4.1k

cherry wine

You were welcomed home by a frustrated looking Heeseung. You watched with amusement as he placed an aggressive kiss on your forehead and shuffled his way back to his desk set up in the living room, glaring at the screen. From your position in the doorway, you stared as his screen went gray again, signaling his character’s death and you couldn’t help but laugh at his expense.

Heeseung sent a glare your way and exclaimed, “Yeah. Yup. I’m done! I’m over this.” And he ALT-F4’d right out of a ranked game.

While you were fond of games yourself, there was a reason Heeseung and you only played simple survival games together, over tactical first person shooters, or god-forbid, League of Legends. Despite his cute pleas to play with him, and his forced “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll carry us!” after your 14th death, you knew better to stay out of his way. You found his frustration cute, and it was far better to witness it as a bystander, than to be its source.

He shuffled to where you stood, as you looked over the ingredients you bought from the grocery. Heeseung stared at you with anticipation, knowing that there was only one person in this household who could cook. He had no idea what you had in mind for dinner with those ingredients. And, neither did you, yet. 

“How are the games going?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he pouted. You bit your bottom lip to spare him of extra laughter, opting to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him closer to you. He sighed into your temple and squeezed you.

“How was work?” Your part time job at the nearest ramen shop was grueling at times, especially on Fridays. Luckily, you filled the awkward lunch to afternoon shift, so you had time to stop by the market on your way home.

“Wasn’t too bad,” you replied. “Mrs. Sohn stopped by with her daughter. They asked me about you.”

Heeseung was a regular at the shop like Mrs. Sohn, going there long before you stumbled in a year ago, looking for a second job. You pulled away to see Heeseung look at you with a grimace. “They said something weird, didn’t they?”

“Asked if you dumped me yet,” you snickered. “Mrs. Sohn will never relent to get you to date her daughter.”

Heeseung groaned, his ears tinting with red. “Yeah, I think I’d rather talk about my games.” You found his passiveness with Mrs. Sohn too funny. He made sure to make it obvious just how in love he was with you if he stopped by the shop and she was there - amping up the lovely nicknames, and raising his voice when he called you babe. It never bothered you, because you knew how he felt about you and because you found it funny how Heeseung was too nice to the point where he felt bad.

Shifting your attention back to the problem at hand - both of your grumbling tummies - you hummed. You grasped a carrot in your hand and poked him with it. You glanced at Heeseung and caught his eye.

“Wanna get take out?”

“Should we just order delivery?” He said at the same time.

Thirty minutes later Heeseung set up two large pizzas in front of where you sat on the floor by the coffee table, and you prepared him with the latest League of Legends LCK highlight clips on the TV.

“Oh!” You gasped and jumped towards the kitchen. “I bought this on my way home.” You pulled a bottle of cherry wine from the fridge and grabbed two unceremonious mason jars.

Heeseung smiled as you brought them over, taking the bottle so he could open it for you.

You clinked jars with one hand and held pizza in the other, your legs intertwined over his, and you both drunkenly screamed at the TV. Heeseung yelled a mix of “What was that?!” and a couple curses, while you cheered in disbelief at the plays on the screen.

hot chocolate, extra whip

Winter wasn’t always your favorite season. Winter was cold and energy consuming, taking time for layers after layers and for running into buildings to beat the flashing snow. December was for hot packs stuffed in pockets, red runny noses, and staying home to avoid its bitter cold.

That was before you met Heeseung.

Each snowfall with him was treated as the first, him eagerly (and rarely) waking before you to revel in the white rooftops outside your apartment window. However, for the third snowfall of the season, you woke to find a sleepy and disheveled Heeseung making toast in the kitchen in silence.

When he noticed you emerging from the doorway he smiled, “Did I wake you?”

You shook your head, although you were confused why he hadn’t woken you.

Heeseung wiped his sleepy eyes and stretched his arms above his head with a yawn. “Don’t know I woke up so early -  I guess I was excited. It’s snowing!”

Mirroring him, you let out a yawn as well. “Hee, it’s almost 12 o’clock. When did you wake up?”

He stared blankly at you, knowing where you were going with this. “Like, 30 minutes ago.” You stared back. “Okay, like 10, but still! Earlier than you is still early in my book.” He beamed as if it was something to take pride in.

You left him to freshen up in the bathroom and get ready for a day of doing nothing with Heeseung. Maybe you’d go to a café with him and sit by a fire, or go outside and kick snow at each other or whatever he wanted to do.

When you came back, he was sitting on the couch, a random documentary lulling in the background, with a portable heater turned up by his toes. 

He pointed to a mug sitting on the counter, one matching his own on the coffee table. 

You smiled as you brought it along with you to sit next to him. “Hot chocolate?”

He smirked, and pulled out a red canister. Heeseung shook it before adding some whipped cream atop your drink. “I forgot I bought this the other day.”

You gigged as you watched him spray some directly into his mouth. He met your eyes and offered you some, and when you shook your head he opted to add extra on top of the slowly melting cream still in your mug.

Taking a sip and leaning into him further, you snickered. “You forgot I was lactose intolerant again.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened in shock, oh shit, and you laughed at his embarrassed face - whipped cream smeared at the corner of his mouth. You kissed it away and rolled your eyes. 

“Sorry.” Then he added with a sly whisper, “Lactaid’s in the bathroom cabinet.”

You set your hot chocolate down to, lovingly, smother your boyfriend.

Winter was for lengthy mornings in bed under the covers in his embrace. Winter was for snowball fights during Seoul’s first snowfall and for loving shoves into piles of snow. December was for the holidays spent with him, his hands stuffed into your pockets and flowers given to you on Christmas.

Winter was for Heeseung.

miso ramen

A college senior of yours was actually the one to suggest you look for a different job last year. “The clinic pays you dirt and doesn’t offer you a lot of hours, why are you still there?”

You playfully pushed her. “It’s for my resume! You know that.”

“You should quit and work at a restaurant - at least you’d get some free meals on top of pay. When I worked at the sushi place I never had to make my own dinner.” She was looking out for you, typical older sister-like duties.

You nodded in agreement and decided to follow her advice. But rather than quitting the clinic, you stubbornly just took it upon yourself to get a second job.

“Which one would you recommend?” You asked, taking a seat at an empty barstool. You kind of just wandered in here hungry after your study session and meeting with your senior. She had left you to meet with her boyfriend so you were off to have dinner by yourself.

The worker behind the counter hummed in thought, and before he could reply, a boy two seats down shyly answered, “Miso ramen.”

The worker nodded in agreement, “Well said from our number one customer himself.”

You smiled at the boy and placed your order, miso ramen with extra firm noodles and ginger on the side. 

The food was delicious and the atmosphere was better and you couldn’t help but notice a small sticker on their register when you went up to pay. HELP WANTED.

You interviewed on the spot and were asked to start three weeks later.

At the beginning of working there, Heeseung used to like to tease you about how he got you the job, how he had talked with the owner afterwards and complimented your manners. He would hang out a little even after finishing his food to talk to you and the other workers, and conveniently he only ever came at the awkward times after lunch, when there were less customers and less noise. You learned more about Heeseung as you cleaned tables and served food. You learned how at the time, he was in his final year in the architecture undergrad program at your university. He had morning classes most days, and a Thursday studio block that ended around 3 - hence his usual Thursday lunch-dinner at the shop.

But after 3 months of working there, you had learned the truth. That he had actually joked with the owner that if you were hired he would come more often just to see you. When the owner told you this, casually during a lunch rush hour, you chuckled.

“I didn’t order this,” Heeseung tilted his head towards you, the following Thursday. You had placed a single scoop of green tea ice cream onto his now empty table and sat down with him. Nevertheless, he quickly dove in with a spoon.

“Most people would say ‘thank you’ for a free dessert,” you said to him pointedly. 

He gave you a silly smile, giddy with the scoop in his hands. He jested, “Now, what did I do to deserve such a treat?”

“I get off in 20 minutes,” you simply stated and left to tend to a nearby customer.

You returned some dishes to the kitchen sink and glanced towards the front of the house to see Heeseung paying. He had to know what you had meant, right?

When you had waved your goodbyes to your coworkers, shoving your apron into your bag as you left. You frowned when you didn’t see Heeseung waiting for you outside. Your shop had a bit of a queue outside waiting for open seats, but he was nowhere to be found. Sighing with disappointment, oblivious men, you started walking down the street to the subway station.

As you walked, you started second-guessing yourself, cringing at the thought of Maybe he did know and this was his way of rejecting you? But there was no way someone would hang out that often after his meal to talk to you as often as he did? But he was a regular and friends with the owner, not just you…

A running figure towards you pulled you out of your thoughts as you neared the stairs to the station.

“Oh my god! I am so dumb,” Heeseung exclaimed, catching your shoulders in his arms. He noticed your startle and let go quickly, opting to smooth down his hair and attempt to catch his breath.

You frowned in confusion, “Why were you running?”

“Because you said you were off in 20 minutes and it took me the walk to the subway, and the time to reach the next stop before I realized what that meant.”

You poked his forehead, “What else would I have meant when I told you when I was getting off?”

“Honestly, I think I couldn’t believe my ears.”

Heeseung’s face was red, maybe from the running, but definitely from the embarrassment and you laughed, gently tugging his sleeve to pull him away from the subway entrance.

“Wanna grab some drinks?”

Your night had ended with him walking you to the subway station, and finally thanking you for the ice cream you had given him hours before. When you heard the chimes and the rumble of your incoming train, he rapidly tapped a foot.

“Are you free Saturday?” He asked.

“Wow, already wanting to see me that soon?” You joked, making your way to the side of the tracks.

“Hey, don’t tease the guy who got you your job,” he fought back.

You decided to spare him of your knowledge of the truth and waved to him as you stepped inside the train.

Heeseung waved a final time before he turned to the other side of the station to wait for his train. The windows were quickly covered by the passing wall as your train sped away and you pulled out your phone to message him.

yes i’m free

Heeseung responded quickly, perfect, i’ll take care of everything. just show up at sinchon exit 4 looking cute.

He double texted, hope that’s not too difficult ;)

pork fried rice

Heeseung had already graduated and was interning full-time, a hybrid of in office and at home. Working two jobs was tough to manage on top of school. Days at the clinic, coupled with nights at the restaurant, mixed in with sporadic classes every weekday left you with little time outside of your home life with Heeseung. 

The return to school after the winter holiday was something you dreaded since you knew you would see each other less, but something you looked forward to - since you’d get to see your uni friends again.

To celebrate the return after break, read: to cope with the return of assignments, your classmates had chatted about going out for barbecue and drinks on the weekend.

“Hey, if Sunghoon is coming, you should bring Heeseung!” Your friend suggested, and Sunghoon nodded excitedly. 

“If we’re bringing our boyfriends, you should bring Jaeyun~” you teased your other friend.

“We are not dating… yet!”

“Yeah, yeah glad you guys are all DATING and having BOYFRIENDS,” the youngest of your friend group complained.

You all laughed, and it was decided that you’d invite another boy, Jongseong from Anatomy 450, to make the group even, ‘without any ulterior motives’ you all had promised her.

Heeseung was more on the shy side, especially compared to you, which was something he had admired about you. So your mention of a quadruple date was met with a worried smile and a begrudging agreement.

“You’ve met Sunghoon before! Other guys will be there; it will be fun,” you assured him, climbing into his lap as he was reviewing designs on a tablet.

Muffled, he spoke into the top of your hair, “Yeah, yeah. Anyway - look at what the other intern made.” You resisted the urge to groan at him changing the subject, and instead shifted your body to follow where he was directing your attention.

He showed you blueprints and 3D drawings, combined with color swatches and matching foliage - things your pre-med mind didn’t really recognize but you enjoyed watching how his eyes lit up with creativity, and how he rambled about needing balsa and “Have you seen my exacto knife?”

Heeseung was insanely passionate, more than he let other people really know, and you loved that about him. You just wished he would be more vocal and take pride in all his accomplishments. You told him this once and he just shook his head, “I don’t need to show people how good I am. I already know it myself.”

He said it jokingly, but knowing him, you knew he believed everything he said.

Friday night came along and your friends met up earlier - “For some girl time before the, men, came” you had told Heeseung, adding a dramatic frown at the word men. You enjoyed taking photo booth pictures and even secretly stopped at a bar for a shot or two each before making your way to the decided restaurant. Your group giggled at seeing the other boys outside, making awkward small talk amongst themselves to pass the time.

Several soju bottles each later, you rested your head against Heeseung’s shoulder and he clumsily plopped his on top of yours and you suppressed your complaint about his heavy head.

You watched as your friends continued to fry meat and laugh about random things that came up in conversation. Heeseung hopped into the conversation naturally, “Yeah! And I heard that shit was expensive!” You had too much soju in your veins to keep up with what they were saying, but you were fond of how well Heeseung melded into your friend group. Even Jongseong, a classmate you had only hung out with maybe 4 times during study sessions, loosened up and … much to your satisfaction, had a loose arm around your friend. You made a mental note to tease them about it later.

A waiter joined your group for a shot and brought a bowl of rice and other condiments to make fried rice on top of your clean grill.

“Extra seaweed please!” Heeseung requested, knowing it was your favorite.

“I’m so full, man,” Sunghoon slurred. And you all laughed as he still scooped himself a plate of crispy fried rice.

You guys took a final shot before finally heading to the front of the house to pay - the boyfriends, the not-boyfriend-yet, and Jongseong fighting over the bill. You and your friends cheered for them, grateful your wallets had survived a Friday night dinner.

“Wait guys.” Your group opted to continue talking outside the restaurant. It was only 11 pm. You clung onto Heeseung, your hands held inside his jacket pocket, his other hand waving about during some animated conversation with Jongseong. You had to call out to your friends again to get everyone’s attention. “Round two?”

Heeseung smiled down at you as everyone excitedly shouted and started walking down the street to where all the bars were.

You two purposely walked a little slower, watching as the rest of the group argued and laughed and collected some stares from other people.

“I’m glad I came tonight,” Heeseung had mumbled. “Your friends are funny.” You pulled him in for a chaste kiss, tasting the sweet flavored soju on his lips, and you felt him smile against you.

“They can be your friends, too,” you reminded him. “Visit the uni more often and join us when we study!”

He jokingly scoffed, “Like I’d wanna listen to you nerds talk about bones and diseases.” Heeseung continued, “Yeah, I’d like that. Jaeyun told me he plays games too.”

You grinned at him, excited that your boyfriend was making friends with your own, and you tugged him along - your group was already getting their IDs checked by security outside the bar.

After a few more drinks and a couple hours at the bar, playing pool and chatting about everything and nothing, you learned that the guys had exchanged Discords and were planning to queue together at some point.

“Babe, we’ll need a fifth!” Heeseung had poked you, looking at you with pleading eyes. Despite the alcohol, you knew he was serious. 

“Oh god.”

“What have we done?”

The next morning, or rather afternoon, you woke with a pounding headache which was only exacerbated by shrieks from the living room.

“No way,” you stopped in your tracks to witness Heeseung with his headset and mic set up.

“Jongseong! What was that?” Your boyfriend whined. A pause. “No, it was definitely you, not Sunghoon- yeah tell him, Jaeyun!”

You walked to the kitchen to grab a glass of water to go along with your pain meds, trying to ignore the gaming guild you accidentally created last night.

“Babe! Can you join next round? We’re tired of having randoms in our party.”

puffed cereal snacks

As clumsy as he was, Heeseung took care of you endlessly. He would hold your hair or sleeves back as you leaned over your food to eat. Heeseung held the small of your back gently as he guided you through crowds. He made sure you were having fun when going out and quietly passed you snacks as you studied at your desk in your shared room.

Heeseung was the type to massage the knots out of your shoulders; to straighten you out when you were feeling unmotivated; to bring you random trinkets he bought on his way home from the office.

You woke up from a light shake and with a burning sensation on your forehead. Heeseung was curled up next to you, his breaths mixing with the sighs of your own, and he was sweating.

You pulled away to realize Heeseung was burning up with a fever, and he was shivering. Heeseung always got sick during the change of seasons, and the shift from the bitter cold to the brightness of spring was no different.

You tucked him in deeper and brought the heater in your bedroom, before walking into the kitchen to prepare him some soup with the ingredients you found in the fridge.

You took out his favorite puffed cereal snacks, cutting some fruit along with it. Your soup was pretty much done, so you peered into the bedroom to check if he was sleeping. Heeseung’s mess of a head of hair was barely peeking out from under the duvet and you saw the flutter of his lashes as he blinked himself awake. You knocked gently on the door to get his attention, offering him a glass of water.

“I think I’m sick.”

“Yes, I agree.”

“Will you nurse me to health?”

“Of course.”

He smiled weakly, and accepted your cup.

You left to scoop some soup into a bowl and placed it on a tray along with the other snacks you prepared.

Heeseung was sat up with his head in his hands, and you nudged him with your hip before placing the tray on the bed. He whispered a thank you before slowly bringing a puffed snack to his lips.

“I can’t kiss you right now, huh? Can’t get you sick,” he muttered.

You ruffled his hair, “Nope.”

“Being sick is the worst.”

You forced him to stay in bed, giving him his laptop to keep him busy as you prepared him some vitamins, meds, and plenty of puffed snacks.

Heeseung was teasing and playful with you, but when he was sick he was extra gentle, doting, and clingy. He pouted each time you left the room, only staying for a few minutes to check on him, keeping your distance. Heeseung apologized for making you sleep on the couch, whining about how he needs you to go to sleep. When you would leave to go to class, or to the clinic, or to the restaurant, he’d text you - dramatically proclaiming his love for you. On the 7th day of his mini quarantine he texted you hey i think i’m pretty much better but i need to kiss u or else i’ll actually die. 

When you arrived home, carrying some take out miso ramen for him from the restaurant, you found him looking pretty much recovered. A week of not sleeping next to him and only hearing his quips and teases in quick passing made you miss him, so you forgot to be hesitant as you kissed him.

You let him feed you some of his noodles as you two sat on the floor, using the coffee table to dine on as usual, and proudly showed him some of the clean and pretty notes you took. He sighed with content and placed his chin on your shoulder.

Cleaning up after dinner, he pulled you by your hands into the bedroom. He climbed on top of you, placing kisses all over your face, mumbling something about making up for the past week.

The next morning, you pulled Heeseung’s shirt over your body before realizing - your head kind of hurt.

You reached over a sleeping Heeseung to grab the thermometer on his night stand.

38°.

Heeseung got you sick. You couldn’t be mad at him, but you sighed as you leaned on top of him. You swiped your fingers along the contours of his face, brushing his eyelashes and tracing the turns of his lips. Heeseung opened his mouth in response to try to nibble on your fingers, before opening one eye slightly.

You kissed the spot between his eyebrows and whispered, “I’m sick.” You showed him the thermometer and he squinted and rubbed his eyes.

“Oops.”

my last effing straw */sobs aggressively

⌗ 𝗗𝗔𝗗𝗗𝗬 𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗨𝗘𝗦 !

⟢ SUMMARY. “If you were my little girl, I’d do everything I could.”

WARNINGS. daddy issues, parental seperation (father walking out), insecurity, toxic productivity, toxic perfectionism, inferiority complex, sibling rivalry (one-sided), attachment issues, abandonment issues, lots of tears? (mila cries a lot in this one)

NOTES. so um mila has daddy issues…? who would have guessed? 🫠⌇takes place after young and beautiful⌇“bold italics” = chinese, “italics” (double quote marks) = english, ‘italics’ (single quote marks) = flashback ⌇word count: ~7.7k⌇ requested: mila being insecure about heeseung and kiara

IT WAS QUIET. Something Mila had been used to for a long time — and yet, unlike the other times, this silence wasn’t nearly as stifling. As she lay there, her head on Jay’s chest as she listened to the beating of his heart, she could only feel warmth.

Heeseung stroked the top of her head, lulling Mila into a sense of comfort. She wondered if this was how babies felt when they were in the womb, wrapped up in a cocoon of warmth — and if so, she understood why her mother claimed Mila didn’t want to leave.

‘You were almost harder to push out than your brother,’ Mila’s mother once said. ‘It was like you never wanted to leave.’

Ah, Mila thought. It all made sense now.

Because when you had something like this, it was only natural not to want to let go of it.

“You know you can come to us for anything, right?” Jay asked, kissing the top of her head lightly.

Mila bit her lip.

Since her fainting incident, the boys had been a lot more attentive to her than usual, if that was even possible. And while she was grateful for it — God, she’s never been more grateful for anything in her life than to have them — she couldn’t help the feeling of guilt in her stomach whenever she thought of the pain they had to go through whenever they were with her.

“I know,” she replied. “I’m just… I’m sorry.”

Jungwon frowned, nuzzling his nose into her shoulder. It was times like this where his age showed — the times when it felt like he never wanted to let go of Mila, like a child clutching tightly to their security blanket.

“You don’t have to be sorry for that,” Jungwon said. “Just please… Talk to us, okay?”

Mila closed her eyes for a moment, before signing softly. She lifted her head, silently asking for Jay to let her sit up. And he did. Mila looked across the room at the boys, all of them watching her with varied expressions — but with one thing in common.

Love.

“Still,” Mila said. “I feel like… I think I still have to apologise.” She laughed dryly, fiddling with Sunoo’s fingers, as he sat beside her. “I just find it so hard to open up to people… but- but I should have known that if there was anyone I could open up to, it would be you all.”

The room was silent as the boys exchanged glances. They couldn’t say that they hadn’t noticed the same thing, too. They couldn’t remember the first person who pointed it out, but before debuting — before I-Land — there was such a thing that they had heard about Mila.

She was the famed ‘princess’ — the trainee from China with unreal visuals. Anyone who had the privilege of talking to her could say that, despite her still developing Korean, she was a pleasure to chat with. And yet…

‘Mila is easy to get along with,’ a trainee once said, ‘but hard to get close to.’

And the boys agreed; getting close to her was no easy feat. But slowly, one step at a time, it felt like they were getting somewhere. That she had seemed to be letting them in.

“I want to be open with you though,” Mila said, her eyes trained on Sunoo’s fingers. “I think… I’m just not used to having so many people to talk to. Or anyone. And I… I don’t know, I just— I’m so scared that one day you’ll realise I’m not the perfect girlfriend or that happy girl that you fell in love with…” Mila’s eyes grew distant, as if she were visiting a far away place in her mind.

“You don’t need to be perfect,” Sunghoon said. “None of us are. And that’s okay.”

Mila frowned. “But what if it’s not okay anymore? What if one day, you’ll all just…”

Sunoo frowned as Mila spoke. “We’ll just what?” he asked gently.

“That you’ll just leave.”

Mila swallowed the lump in her throat. She mentally cursed in frustration at the language barrier that prevented her from communicating the depth of how she felt. Because there was so much she wanted to say, and yet the only thing she could say could only show the mere tip of the iceberg that was her mind. 

The boys shared saddened looks, and her heart clenched in her chest.

“We’re not leaving,” Jay said. “I know it’s a lot to promise, but we don’t ever want to leave you. All we want in return is for you to let us know what goes on in this pretty little head, okay?”

Mila swallowed the lump in her throat.

The others didn’t add anything, because Jay had already said what they felt. And even if he hadn’t, it already showed. Mila couldn’t say she was a mind-reader, but their actions today spoke volumes. She wanted them to know, too, what they meant to her.

And so, for the first time in maybe forever… Mila found herself reaching out first.

“Remember that time I mentioned I didn’t have a dad?”

The boys immediately nodded. They could never forget that moment. It was an eye-opener to just how little they really knew about their little ray of sunshine — a metaphorical slap in the face if there ever was one.

It was during I-Land, one of the peaceful times where they were simply relaxing in the living room, sprawled out on the couches as they talked the daylight away. She had been talking animatedly with Daniel about something, and she had off-handendly said that she wished she could introduce him to her parents, to show off the adorable little brother she had gained.

‘Would your parents approve of me?’ Daniel had asked. To which Mila replied, ‘Of course! My mum would love you!’

Daniel’s natural response had been to ask, ‘What about your dad? Would he like me?’

And imagine the surprise of the boys when they heard her next words.

‘I don’t know,’ Mila replied nonchalantly — perhaps too nonchalantly. ‘I don’t have one.’

“I remember that,” Jake said with furrowed eyebrows.

“Until then, I didn’t realise that whenever someone asked about your parents, you only ever mentioned your mum.” Jay frowned, regretful that he hadn’t noticed sooner why she deliberately avoided the use of the term ‘parents’.

“Right. It wasn’t your fault, though. I never really gave anything away.” Mila laughed dryly. “Now that I think about it, I’ve always been pretty good at avoiding talking about myself. I guess I didn’t want anyone to get too close.”

“What about now?” Riki asked curiously.

Mila smiled. “Of course it’s different now. Because I have you.” The boys smiled fondly at her, and she found herself sighing. “I never really talked about it, because I didn’t know what to say. But I used to think that there was no point missing something I never really had… I mean, when my parents split up, I was still really young. I don’t even remember what he looks like.”

When Mila looked in the mirror, she saw a spitting image of her mother. Everything about Mila was so much like her mother that she had, at some point, convinced herself she was entirely her mother’s daughter. That in the same way that Mila’s mother had raised her alone, she too had been made alone. Though she knew she wasn’t.

As a little girl, Mila would be able to picture someone with a similar face to her brother’s, but more mature and aged; a more roughened version of her brother, who didn’t have the soft beauty that both Bai children inherited from their mother’s side. And if she tried hard enough, little Mila could see a set of dimples like her own, which seemed to be the only feature she didn’t share with her mother, and as such could have only come from the man that helped create her.

But one day, when Mila had grown old enough to forget, Mila found herself unable to imagine anything but a shadow. A blurred outline of a figure that wasn’t there. The only thing she could remember when she thought of him was a single memory of her hiding beneath covers with her brothers as two voices argued in the living room. And then the sound of the door being thrown open and slammed shut.

That was when Mila knew that he was truly gone from her life — if he was even truly part of it, to begin with.

“My mum raised me and my brother fine on her own. And my grandparents were there too, so it wasn’t like I wasn’t loved. I didn’t need him in my life. In fact, we were all happier without him.”

Mila frowned.

“But when I think about it now… I realised something. It’s like everything wrong with me was caused by him not being there… Because one day he was there, and then the next my mum told me he was going far away...” Mila blinked as the boys watched her with saddened eyes. And without even realising it, she felt a tear slip down her cheek. “And then he never came back. And I didn’t know why, but him leaving… it…”

Mila couldn’t help the way her shoulders shook from the withheld emotions she was trying to keep locked up, like a dam only just being held back from a broken gate.

Mila didn’t hate her so-called father. He didn’t mean enough — wasn’t there enough — for her to associate any emotions to him other than cold detachment. But she did blame him. She blamed him for making her mother raise two kids alone. She blamed him for making her feel like they — that she — wasn’t good enough to make her stay. She blamed him for a lot of things. But what she blamed him the most for was making her crave affection and love so desperately… yet being too scared letting others close, in fear that they would be like him — that they too would turn their backs on her.

Mila, above all else, blamed her father for making her a coward like him.

“I just don’t understand why someone who isn’t even here can mess me up so badly…” Mila sobbed. “I hate it.”

“Oh, love…” Heeseung frowned, as Mila sniffled, her breath coming out in broken sobs.

The boys could only watch with heavy hearts as Mila continued to pour out her heart to them in what had to be one of her most vulnerable moments so far. They had never dared to ask about Mila’s situation with her parents, knowing that it might be a sore point for her to remember, even if she had constantly assured them that ‘it was fine’ and that she had ‘gotten over it’. But they never could have imagined this. That the reason she had been so scared of losing them, of them leaving her, was because she had already been left. By a man who, by nature, was supposed to love and cherish her above anything else in the world.

They were filled with a mixture of heartbreak, fierce protectiveness and anger, caused by someone they hadn’t even met. They couldn’t comprehend how anyone would be foolish enough to throw away the gift that was Mila… And yet, they could only thank her fool of a father for doing what he did — because he had given them the chance to appreciate the very thing he didn’t.

“It’s okay,” Sunghoon said as he rubbed the girl’s back. “Oppa’s here now.” He kissed her forehead, as Jay cradled the back of her head. “We’re all here now.”

That was all the boys needed as a cue to wrap Mila in their warmth, holding her close to them, whispering sweet words into her ear, so that she would know — even if they couldn’t express with words — just how much she meant to them. And that they, no matter what happened in the past and no matter how long it took to make her understand, were here for her. They would always be here for her.

They were here to stay.

MILA WAS PAINFULLY FAMILIAR WITH THE WORD ‘SECOND’. She was the second-born child, second best, and also second choice on many occasions. And she was reminded of it at the worst of times.

She vaguely remembered a scene from her childhood, where she left her room because of a nightmare that woke her up, only to overhear her mother crying on the phone.

‘They’re having a baby,’ Her mother had said into the phone, sobbing madly. ‘It’s hasn’t even been a year, and he’s already starting a new family. What about my kids, huh? What will they think of they find out their dad is out there happy and raising another kid when he couldn’t even stay for them?’

Like that, Mila had unknowingly found out the reason that her house was missing one person, why their family photos now had tears in them from the forceful removal of one of the figures. And that day must have cemented Mila’s fate. It seemed Mila was her mother’s daughter, through and through — in the best and worst way possible. Because it seemed that no matter how beautiful they were, how kind or gentle they were, they were both doomed to be second to another woman in the eyes of the men they loved.

And the funny thing was, if it was Kiara Park, Mila couldn’t even argue about the fairness of it. Because Mila understood why any person would choose Kiara over her. Depressingly enough, she had even accepted it.

Mila remembered during I-Land, when the older female was considered one of the top trainees. Period. Gender was irrelevant when it came to someone as talented and skilled as Kiara. During those days, Mila could feel that familiar twist in her gut whenever she realised just how wide the gap was between the two of them, and how — despite walking towards the same dream — they seemed to be on severely different paths from one another.

One of them was consistently ranked at the top of every mission alongside the Ace trainee himself, earning the respect and awe of all other trainees. The other had spent more time in Ground than I-Land, weighed down by constant doubt over whether she was there for her visuals rather than her merit.

Mila had envied the older female just as any other girl would. She was everything Mila wanted to be — beautiful, strong, and confident in herself. And being older, Kiara automatically had an air of maturity that Mila — no matter how hard she tried to replicate it — severely lacked. Once, Mila had made a poor joke that if Kiara was fine wine, then she was grape juice, because Mila was every sense of the word immature. She was jealous, clingy, and painfully inexperienced. Everything Kiara was not.

The only similarity the two girls seemed to share — other than being the only female members in Enhypen — was that both of them were (or, in Kiara’s case, was) in a romantic relationship with one Lee Heeseung. The difference there was that one of them was Heeseung’s first choice.

And once again, it wasn’t Mila.

“Why couldn’t it be me?”

Heeseung froze, the smile on his face falling when Mila had finally asked the question she had been wanting to ask for so long. Because it didn’t make sense to Mila that after being with someone like Kiara, he would be able to settle with her. And it was unfair to her to doubt him, to question his loyalty, but this irrational feeling, brought to her by years of feeling worthless — subpar, second place, not good enough — made her wonder why he was still here, holding her to his chest as they lay on his bed, like she were the most precious thing in the world.

“Baby,” Heeseung said softly, as Mila’s eyes teared up. “What’s wrong?”

Mila sniffled as Heeseung gently brushed his thumbs against her now wet cheeks.

“It hurts,” she whimpered.

Heeseung frowned, his eyes full of worry. If he could get rid of her shadiness, he would; he would do anything to make her happy. And he hated that she looked so lost and broken in his arms, without a clue as to why she looked that way.

“What hurts, baby?” He gently pushed. “What’s making you sad?”

“It hurts that I wasn’t the first option,” Mila said with a small voice. Mila inhaled sharply. “Why couldn’t I get you to love me first? Why couldn’t I get to you before Eonnie did?”

Mila had tried so hard to leave it in the past. But she had already unlocked so many memories of the past by opening up to the boys about her childhood, by letting them into that space she hadn’t shown anyone else. And now those thoughts that she ran away from could finally catch up to her.

Heeseung felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest. Mila had been so worried about them leaving her, but all he could think about was how he always managed to — directly or indirectly — cause her pain. And it hurt like nothing else ever could to know that he had done this to her, even unintentionally. Especially after finding out just what she went through growing up.

Whenever Heeseung thought of the image of a younger Mila, lost and alone, he wanted nothing more than to sweep her up and hug her to his chest, telling her that it would be okay. That she didn’t have to grow up fearing closeness or affection. That when she got older, she would meet seven people who would love her like she always deserved, as long as she let them.

But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t spare her the pain that she had carried with her all these years. All he could do was make up for it with the time they had together.

Starting now.

“Trust me when I say that I loved you for a long time,” Heeseung said. “And everyday I regret that I didn’t realise it earlier. Because the whole time I spent with someone I didn’t even like romantically, I could have spent it with you, holding you like this…” He cradled her head with one hand and the other hand grabbing her smaller hand in his. “Kissing you like this…” He kissed away the tears on Mila’s cheeks. “I could have had you faster, and saved you from hurting like you are now. But I was blind and didn’t even realise it until I almost lost you for good. You were always enough, my love. It was never your fault. You were— are— everything I want and need.”

‘You were always enough.’ ‘It was never your fault.’ Mila hadn’t realised just how long she was waiting to hear those words — from anyone. She didn’t realise just how much she wanted to be told that she — as flawed as she was — was still enough. And yet, just as always, Heeseung knew exactly what to say, and what she needed to hear.

Mila blinked away the tears in her eyes, her heart feeling lighter than it had before. “Really?”

“Really.” Heeseung squeezed Mila’s hand before lifting her to where his heart was, resting her palm flat against it. “Do you feel that?”

Mila nodded as she felt his strong heartbeats against his chest. 

“That’s yours.”

Mila’s breath caught in her throat, her own heart fluttering in her chest, despite her previous state of despair. Heeseung smiled softly as he looked into Mila’s eyes, his own sparkling with adoration that made Mila feel as if she were the only girl in the world.

Did this man even know what he was promising her? Just how much he was placing in her hands? If so, Mila realised she was more foolish than she originally thought. Because no one could ever give away something so precious to someone who didn’t mean just as much — if not more.

“No matter what happened in the past, just know that this—“ (Heeseung rubbed his thumb against the back of Mila’s palm.) “—is yours now. And it always will be. No one else’s. You’re more than ‘first’ — you’re my last. You’re my one and only. You’re it for me, baby.”

When Heeseung looked in Mila’s eyes to see that dazzling look he had grown to love, he knew that he would do anything to keep it. He had given his heart to her already — he would give everything else he had as well.

“I love you,” Mila whispered.

Heeseung smiled. “I love you too.”

Without another word, he leant down and pressed his lips to hers, cherishing the feeling of her soft lips against his. By the time they seperated, the only words they had for each other were the desperate ‘I love you’ that spilled from their lips, which sought each other out like they were lost without them. Then they remained there, no words shared — only kisses and warmth.

And that was enough for Mila.

She was enough.

MILA MISSED HER CHILDHOOD. Not necessarily in the sense that she would relive it, but more so because she knew that she didn’t spend it as she should have. Now she was an adult with a career that didn’t allow her the same freedoms as she had back then, and she found herself wishing she hadn’t been so hard on herself. That she let herself have more fun, that she made more friends, that she played more often. That she let herself be a child.

But she had always been harsh on herself. Even then.

Mila remembered anxiously picking at her vegetables on the rare day that her mother finished work early — because of course her mother had to eat dinner with them on the day that Mila would rather be alone.

‘I heard the results came out today,’ her mother said. ‘How did it go?’

And Mila instantly knew how it would end.

Just like always, her brother had done perfectly. Because when did he not? Top of his class, every teacher’s favourite student, star player on the basketball team, everyone’s role model — including herself. And Mila could wish all she wanted that one day, he might do a little less perfectly, so that she could feel better about not being as smart or sporty or charismatic as him. But then she would hate herself even more, for wishing failure upon her own flesh and blood.

So, she could only quietly eat her food, her head lowered, as her brother continued to talk about the praise he had received from his teachers. And in return, their mother glowed with pride, showering him with compliments.

‘How did I give birth to such a smart son?’ their mother gushed as she liked his plate with the best dishes. ‘Eat more. You need to eat well to replenish all your energy. Actually— why don’t I ask Aunty to make your favourite snacks tonight? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if she heard how well you did.’

‘No need for that, Mama,’ Mila’s brother replied. ‘I’m fine just being able to eat dinner with you and Baobao.’

And Mila’s mother smiled lovingly, pride clear on her eyes. ‘Baobao’ was Mila’s family nickname; a name that meant ‘treasure’. But at times like this, Mila wondered if she was really worthy of such a name — when her brother seemed to shine brighter than she ever could.

Mila could already imagine her mother going to work the next day, bragging to her coworkers about her exceptional son, who was born gifted and talented — and Mila wondered if there was ever a time that her mother had done the same for her. That maybe, there was something worthy about her otherwise mediocre daughter that she could praise to the skies about.

But that was probably impossible, wasn’t it?

‘What about you, Baobao?’ Mila’s mother asked. ‘How were you exams?’

Mila bit her lip as she thought of her highest score — the 92 she had gotten on her English test — and then remembered her brother saying his lowest score was a 93. Even her best couldn’t match her brother’s worst. How sad was that?

‘It was so-so,’ she replied, before setting down her chopsticks. She forced a smile to avoid suspicion. ‘Thank you for the food. I’m finished eating now.’

And without another word, she excused herself from the table.

Mila cried herself to sleep that night — as she did on many nights — wondering when she would ever be able to do something to receive the same praise and recognition her brother did. She chased it so desperately that she threw her youth away. When she wasn’t at cheerleading practise, she was at her desk; and when she wasn’t at her desk, she was at school club meetings. Then when Mila became a trainee, it was like history repeated itself. She put hours upon hours into practice, never resting until she knew she had gotten everything perfect. And if she was anything less than perfect, she simply put in more. More hours, more sweat, more tears.

And it was happening all over again. Her face behind in her arms as she lay on her desk, overwhelmed by the papers scattered around her.

It was her day off, as five of the members (Kiara, Heedeung, Jungwon, Jay and Riki) were filming for a variety shoot. So, she had been locked up in her room for hours by that point, determined to make use of her free time to catch up on the school work that she missed. But looking at content on top of more content, her brain had already reached its breaking point, and no matter how much she looked at the materials in front of her, the only thing she could think was that she was just so tired.

And that was when Jake walked in to see her crying.

“Hey,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t understand,” Mila replied in frustration. “No matter what I do, I can’t get it,” she said quietly. “I feel so stupid.”

“Shhh… hey, hey,” Jake said softly, kneeling in front of Mila and cupping her cheek. “Don’t say that, okay? You’re not stupid. You’re just having a slump. And that’s okay. Because you’ll pick yourself back up again.”

Mila sniffled. “But everyone else is already so ahead of me.” It was like she was a child all over again, chasing after her brother’s legacy. “It’s like I’m the only one lagging behind.”

Jake sighed, his eyes sad for the girl in front of him. He had always admired her ethic to improve — but he often wished she could be kinder and more patient with herself, as she was to others.

“You’re not behind. You just need more take time, and that’s okay. Not everyone gets it in right away— but what matters is you’ll get it eventually.” Mila nodded as she took in Jake’s words, feeling slightly better about her lack of progress. Jake smiled encouragingly. “You’ve been working so hard the past few days,” he said, “it’s time for a break.” He got up and started to pull her out of her seat. “Come on.”

“What?” Mila shook her head. “But I have to finish this.”

“You can finish it later,” Jake replied. “You have all the time in the world. That’s enough to give yourself a break and come back, when you can think clearer.”

Mila bit her lip as Jake called out to Sunghoon and Sunoo, the only other remaining members in the dorm. “Get ready!” he yelled. “We’re taking Mila on a date!”

Mila couldn’t protest anymore. Not when Sunoo and Sunghoon later joined Jake in nagging her, before threatening to carry her to the car themselves. Embarrassed by the mere thought of it, Mila immediately agreed to do what they wanted and let them take her out on a date at the mall. They had just gotten food to eat, when Sunoo noticed the arcade, which in turn made Mila excited.

“Can we go there?” she asked excitedly, tugging on Sunghoon’s and Jake’s sleeve. “Please?”

Taking one look at her pleasing eyes, the boys knew they didn’t have the heart in them to say no. Jake, who Jay had told to be back at the dorms by a certain time so they could all have dinner together, could have said no. Maybe Mila would have pouted a little about it, but they would be able to sweet-talk her and bribe her with the promise of chocolates. 

And yet, without a second of hesitation, he and Sunghoon immediately agreed, letting the girl drag them into the arcade by the sleeves while Sunoo skipped beside them. It was dangerous just how much they were willing to do for her and let her get away with. But it was no secret that they were down bad for their girlfriend — and they weren’t ashamed of it in the slightest. Which is how they ended up following her around after getting their tokens, watching her attempt various different games.

“Wah, that looks cute!” Mila said as she pointed to a crane machine, full of mini plushies. “I’m going to try to get one.”

Mila slipped a token into the coin slot, before grabbing the controls of the machine. 

“Don’t you have too many already?” Sunoo teased.

Mila laughed. “You can never have too many.” She returned her attention to the machine before manoeuvring the hook so that it hovered above a small bunny plush. “I’m going to go for the bunny.”

“Move a little to the left,” Jake said. 

“No, no,” Sunghoon disagreed, “you’re fine where you are.”

Mila furrowed her eyebrows. “Huh? Then do I move left or stay here?”

“Move left.” “Stay there.”

Sunghoon and Jake exchanged looks.

“Just do whatever!” Sunoo interjected. “Don’t listen to them. They’re bad at this game anyway.”

“No I’m not!” The two exclaimed in unison.

“Here.” Sunghoon put a hand on the small of Mila’s back before moving to stand behind her, placing his hands over hers as he helped her manoeuvre the controls. “I’ll help you.”

“Ayeeeee,” Sunoo and Jake chorused teasingly.

Sunghoon smiled shyly, a complete contrast to the confidence in his aura as he helped Mila to coordinate. As soon as he found a good angle at which to drop the crane, he told Mila to press the buttons. And the four of them watched as the crane descended, grabbing onto the bunny’s neck.

“Oh— it’s working, it’s working!” Sunoo announced as the crane successfully picked up the bunny. But halfway to the drop zone, it suddenly fell, causing them all to groan in disappointment.

Mila sighed. “Ah, it was so close…” 

Seeing her disappointed expression, Jake immediately jumped in. “Let me try.” Sunghoon moved aside and let Jake take his spot, watching as Jake did the same movements as he did before. “Okay, try pressing the button now.”

Mila did as Jake said and pressed the button. However, just like before, it only made it halfway. The four of them — too invested in the claw game — stood there for goodness knows how long, trying to get the plushie, until Mila decided to do it herself.

“Okay, last time! Here we go!”

Mila bit her lip in concentration, her eyes fixed solely on the machine in front of her. Sunoo, who was standing beside her, watching with fond eyes, taking in all her features as she remained fixated. It was just like her to be so focused on her goals, and this time, he was glad that even if she never did lose her tunnel vision, she was using it for something other than work.

Mila watched in anticipation as the crane lifted to the bunny, breath baited as she watched it travel over the other plushies below on its way to the drop zone. And when the bunny made it all the way to the end, she couldn’t help her jump for joy.

“I did it!” she yelled before turning to her lovers. “I got it! I got it!”

The boys laughed as Mila excitedly grabbed the bunny from the tray.

“Good job,” Sunghoon baby-talked.

Jake patted her head, as Sunoo clapped.

“It’s cute,” Sunoo said as Mila held it up.

“It kinda looks like you,” Sunghoon added.

Jake laughed. “Right?”

Mila laughed. By that moment, Mila had already forgotten about the sheets on her desk back at the dorm. She had spent so much time on tests and evaluations already, she realised she needed this break. At times like this, Mila realised just how much was out there. How beautiful life could be when she stopped obsessing about numbers on a piece of paper, or the approval of fickle-hearted people who could care less about who she was and what she went through. Especially when she could amend time with the people she loved instead.

This moment right here?

It made her happier than a 100 on any test could.

LONELINESS WAS AN OLD FRIEND OF MILA’S. It wasn’t like Mila didn’t have anyone who cared. Quite the opposite, in fact. She knew her mother loved her, and she knew her older brother would do anything to keep her safe. But when you were a child who had been convinced that you were a nuisance for wanting comfort — by someone who you barely even knew — you just learnt not to ask for anything more than what you already had.

‘Aiya, what are you doing out of bed?’ The housemaid asked one night, when a young Mila would wander out of her room, clutching a stuffed bunny in her arms.

‘I wanted to sleep with Mama,’ Mila replied.

The housemaid clicked her tongue, and put her hands on her hips, looking down at the young girl with a reprimanding stare. ‘Your mama only just got back home from a long day at work, ah. She needs sleep, but she can’t do that if she has to look after you. Do you want Mama to be tired in the morning?’

Mila immediately shook her head. ‘No.’ She looked down at the floor in shame, before asking, ‘Then can I sleep with Gēgē instead?’

The housemaid sighed. ‘Your older brother is tired from studying so hard, unlike you. You shouldn’t disturb his sleep.’ The housemaid held out a hand. ‘Here. Aunty will tuck you in.’

Mila hesitantly took the older woman’s hand, barely even holding on to it. But the woman didn’t seem to mind as she hurriedly escorted Mila to her room. The older woman had barely put the sheets up to Mila’s chin before she was bidding her goodnight and turning the lights off, shutting the door before Mila could even protest.

Mila turned on the bedside light beside her and screwed her eyes shut, forcing herself back to sleep. And the next morning, when she woke up, feeling as if she had barely slept at all, she took one look at her older brother, who had been diligently reading a book at the dining table, while the housemaid smiled fondly and served his breakfast; and then at her mother’s seat at the table which, like always, was empty at this time. And at that moment, Mila realised that maybe she really was just a nuisance. Because everyone seemed to have more important things to worry about than her.

That’s why Mila looked forward to the weekends more than anything — because then the whole family would be complete, and they would spend time together like families usually did. Her mother would take her and her brother to the park, and the two would play tag and other games. And she could pretend for a second that she wasn’t lonely, that she wasn’t desperate for just a little more affection.

But then time passed, her brother finally outgrew his little sister, and her mother had deemed her old enough to look after herself. Then Mila was by herself more than she wasn’t. And so, Mila learnt to enjoy the times she spent in the living room, alone, while she quietly watched her favourite shows on the television; or the times sitting by herself at the dinner table, with nothing but the sound of her chopsticks clicking against the dishes. Because there was nothing else she could really do about it.

But things were different now. Because the thing about the Enhypen dorms was that it was never quiet for long.

“Yah!” The sound of Sunoo’s yell was the first thing Mila woke up to. “Who used my lotion?”

“It wasn’t me!” came Jake’s reply. “Ask Sunghoon!”

Mila could just barely make out Sunghoon’s tired voice asking, “Why are you blaming me?”

With a giggle, Mila rubbed the sleep away from her eyes. But just as she made a move to stretch her arms over her head, she suddenly became aware of the other person occupying her bed and restraining her in a tight hug.

Riki groaned, nuzzling his face into Mila’s neck. “Don’t go…”

Mila laughed and did the best she could to pay his head as he clung to her side. His leg was thrown over Mila’s waist, and his arms over her chest, taking up almost all the space on Mila’s bed, leaving only a fraction of it to her. And yet, Mila couldn’t find it in her to be mad about it. Because she figured, she would rather be squished on a bed from having to fit two people, than to take up the entire space by herself.

“Bǎobèi,” Mila said with a mock stern voice, softened by the use of the pet name meaning ‘Baby’. “You need to wake up before Sunoo comes in here and scolds you for using his lotion again.”

Riki whined and squeezed Mila tighter. There was a reason why Mila was his favourite sleeping buddy. And it happened to be because: one, she was the perfect size to cuddle — like a life-sized teddy bear — and just as soft; and two, as much as he hated to admit it, he loved the way she would baby him in the mornings. He didn’t know that Mila treasured his cuddles just as much as he treasured having her in his arms. But he was just glad she was one of those people she let in — that he could be close to her in ways that some people would never get the chance.

Maybe Mila had been lonely, but Riki would always be here to show her that she could always count on him for company.

Riki furrowed his eyebrows when there was a knock at the door followed by a familiar voice. “Noona.”

“Wonnie?” Mila asked, her eyes brightening. Riki groaned, rolling his eyes as she said, “Come in!”

The door opened to reveal Jungwon, his dimples appearing with the way he smiled so widely, and his  eyes holding a galaxy of emotion. Riki could recognise that look anywhere, because it was the same one that he — that they all — had when they looked at Mila. As if she were the only girl in the world, the only thing that mattered. Perhaps Mila was the only one who didn’t see it. But that was okay. Because they had all the time in the world to show her.

“Yah,” Jungwon said to Riki, poking his side. “Get up. You got to cuddle her the whole night.”

Riki scoffed. He haughtily turned his head away from the elder and pouted as he clung on to Mila. “Don’t want to.”

Jungwon scrunched up his nose in distaste before turning to Mila, who watched the two with fondness on her eyes. She couldn’t help the way her heart fluttered, knowing that they valued her company enough to bicker about it. And her smile only grew when Jungwon pulled out those kittenish pleasing looks of his that he knew she could never resist.

“Darling, can you tell him to go away?” Jungwon asked. “I want to cuddle with you now.”

Mila laughed, before holding out a hand to him. “Then come here. We can all cuddle together.”

Riki smirked smugly, knowing that Mila would never kick him off of her bed. (Or any of them for that matter— but he just wanted bragging rights.) Jungwon looked mildly displeased at the thought of not getting Mila to himself, but then the feeling was quickly replaced by excitement as Jungwon’s eyes flickered with mischief.

As Mila was lying closest to the wall, Jungwon would have to get over Riki first. And being petty as he was, Jungwon — all decorum of a leader cast aside  —  stepped over him, purposely digging his foot into the younger’s side. A look that could only be described as a smug cat-like grin crossed Jungwon’s face when Riki yelped in pain, clutching his side. In the short window of time that Riki’s arm wasn’t on Mila, Jungwon lay himself on top of her, his head on her chest.

“Hyung!” Riki said indignantly. “That hurt!”

Jungwon simply stuck out his tongue before nuzzling his face into Mila’s — or rather, Sunoo’s — hoodie. He sighed in content when Mila’s hand immediately went to his locks, unaware that the other was gently rubbing Riki’s “hurt” side.

“Are you okay?” Mila asked, as Riki scrunched his nose up.

The younger glared at the elder, who was purposely hogging as much of Mila as possible. Feeling petty, he kicked Jungwon’s foot. 

“Yah, hyung, stop hogging and move over.”

Jungwon huffed. “Don’t want to.”

“Moveeee,” Riki whined, before looking at Mila with a helpless look.

Mila laughed. “Okay, okay. Move over a bit.”

Riki immediately did what Mila said and moved to the edge of the bed. Mila then tapped Jungwon’s back and instructed him to squeeze in between Mila and the wall. Just like that, Mila was in between two extremely clingy males who latched onto her like koalas.

“Better?” Mila asked.

“Eung,” both boys replied.

There was a short silence before Jungwon then added, “It would be better if Niki wasn’t here, though.”

Riki’s head shot up. “Then leave.”

Mila sighed as the two went back and forth. And yet, she couldn’t find it in herself to be truly mad. Because how could she, when it showed just how much they cherished her? They found comfort in her, as she did in them. And that alone was enough to fill her with contentment.

“I’m her favourite, anyway,” Riki said.

Jungwon clicked his tongue. “No, you’re not.”

“Who’s the one who got to cuddle her last night?”

“That’s only because it was your turn. Remember that it’s my turn tonight, so you’re not allowed anywhere near her bed.”

Mila laughed.

Yes, the Enhypen dorms were loud. Yes, there was bickering and petty fighting. And yes, sometimes Mila worried that the walls might fly off with how noisy things could get. But Mila wouldn’t have it any other way.

If anything, it just reminded her she wasn’t alone.

MILA HAD ALWAYS BEEN A JEALOUS PERSON. It wasn’t something she was proud of, nor which she liked to admit. But it was true. And it had to be her tragedy that there was always someone out there with something she wanted, but never really had — especially as a kid.

Other children envied the fact that Mila always had a pretty set of shoes and dresses to wear; a different hair clip in her hair every day, a pencil case full of assorted crayons and coloured pencils of the best brand; a shiny car, and not to mention the best snacks for lunch. But they didn’t realise she envied them, too.

Mila wondered if those kids from her youth realised now that Mila would have traded her store-bought food in a heartbeat for their homemade lunches. That even if she had shiny fancy hair clips and pretty dresses, it wasn’t her mother (who was always gone by the time Mila woke up for school) who helped her into them, but something she had learned to do herself, instead. And Mila couldn’t care less about the shiny car that came to pick her up after school, because unlike the other kids, she knew her dad wouldn’t be stepping out of it, smiling, and opening his arms for her to run straight into them.

Instead, Mila would only wait awkwardly in her classroom, watching as her classmate’s father picked her up and kissed her on the cheek.

‘How was my princess’ day?’ Her classmate’s father asked. And then Mila’s classmate showed him the picture she painted that day, of her happy family, to which her father beamed and said, ‘Wow, you drew this? It’s too good to be a pre-schoolers. Why don’t we get ice cream as a treat?’

Mila could only watch in envy as the father- daughter pair left the classroom in a fit of giggles and laughter, just as her chauffeur appeared at the door, gesturing impatiently for her to follow him. Then Mila followed him with rushed steps — scared of annoying him if she took too long — her own painting that she had drawn that day folded and forgotten inside her backpack.

But that was okay, Mila thought. She knew her mother was busy at work, and with playing the role of two parents, so it was hard for her to be there for Mila; and her grandparents lived in a different city, so it wasn’t like she could stay with them either. So she would just have to go home as she usually did, waiting until the time her brother finished training so that she wasn’t alone.

And Mila accepted that. She had gotten used to it. Because she hadn’t known anything else… Until she gained so much more.

“Ayeeeeee!”

Mila had just finished putting on her backpack, she was startled by the jostling of her classmates who had erupted into cheers and wolf whistles. Confused, she looked up to find the source of the sudden rowdiness. And there he was. Jay, standing at the door in his uniform and coat, with a smile on his face.

Mila could only smile back, fondness filling her chest. She knew there a bunch of envious gazes and excited whispers going through the classroom, but she didn’t notice them. All she could see was him, waiting to pick her up from class himself.

“Don’t make the poor man wait,” her classmate said teasingly. “He looks like he’s dying to run up to you right now.”

Without a quick goodbye, Mila skipped up to Jay happily, his eyes brightening with each step she took towards him. When she got to him, his hand immediately found her bag strap, a soft smile on his face.

“Let me carry it,” he said, taking the bag from Mila before she could protest.

Mila giggled. “I can carry my own bag.”

“I know,” Jay replied while chuckling. “But let me do this for you, okay?”

Jay didn’t know if Mila knew just how much it meant to him, having her rely on him for these kinds of things, no matter how small and insignificant they seemed. He knew that if she didn’t want his help, he would have no choice but to respect her decision — and yet, at the same time he couldn’t help the feeling in his chest whenever he looked at her and her bright eyes. The feeling of doing anything and everything for her. For no reason at all except that she deserved it.

Even before Jay knew anything about her childhood — and the empty gap waiting to be filled — he had already promised himself to be someone she could depend on. And now that urge only grew stronger.

“What do you want for lunch?” Jay asked gently as he brushed a strand of hair from Mila’s face. “We have time to get some food to eat before we go back to the dorms.” Noticing Mila’s hesitant lip bite, he added, “Get anything. I don’t mind.”

Mila hummed. “In that case… Is it okay if we go home to eat?” Mila asked shyly. “I really feel like having some of your cooking.”

Jay’s chest was filled with warmth, both pride and joy. He would do anything that she asked if it made her happy. But hearing that she wanted to have his cooking more than any other option made him wish that teleportation existed, so that he could get to the dorm and make something for her as quickly as they could.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll let Sunoo know to meet us at the car.”

Mila could only smile warmly, adoration shining in her eyes like sunlight through a painted glass window — full of vibrant colours that only love could make. The two of them walked side by side, their fingers brushing against each other, not too close as to avoid the curious eyes of their schoolmates.

“How was your day?” Jay asked, tugging her closer to him when a rowdy pair of male students ran past and switching sides with her so she was walking on the less crowded side of the hall.

Mila hummed, before she smiled upon remembering something. “It was good! During Math, one of the teachers asked me to solve the problem on the board — and it was hard at first, but I actually did it right!”

Jay beamed. “Really?” When Mila nodded happily, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. And when they finally reached the less crowded part of the school on the way to their van, Jay leant down to whisper in her ear, his lips brushing against the shell. “I’m so proud of you.”

Mila had almost cried then and there. She somehow made it to the van without shedding a tear. But that afternoon, when Mila sat at the dinner table with Jay next to her, holding chopsticks to her mouth, she really did cry. Her eyes watered, glassy with tears as Jay fed her the food that he had cooked just for her.

“Thank you,” Mila whispered, unable to say anything else. Because she didn’t want to apologise anymore. Jay deserved more than that. They all did. She was grateful for them. Grateful that they loved her. Grateful that she got the chance to love them in return.

And for a split-second, Mila wondered if Jay thought she was odd for crying out of nowhere. But of course, he didn’t. Because that was just who he was. That was Jay.

“Shhh, I know,” Jay whispered, wiping the tears off her face as she chewed on her food. He kissed her forehead and said, “It’s okay.”

And Mila believed him.

Jay was there, and so were the others. And she believed if they were together, then everything was going to be okay. Because the same way she promised — then and there — to do all she could for them, so too would they do the same for her. Would give the world if she asked, wrapped up in a bow. And if she lacked love before, then all they would have to do is make up for it with their own.

Because she was their girl now.

TAGLIST: @lanamoonroh @3amstarlight @nikitopia @one16core @onlyuyu @xinikons @clar-iii @shinrjj @nee-issaire @elizalabs3 @lol6sposts @cyberpunksunwoo @woonkies @wonsctz @euniceruiz11 @curly-fr13s

another night, another fic of hyunjin to cry for

DRUNKEN WITH A SENSE OF LOVE | HWANG HYUNJIN.

genre | romance / drunken confessions / fake dating au

synopsis | you and hyunjin got drunk at different times, and you two took care of each other similarly. 

word count | 7.1k+

warning | mentions of insecurity / brief allusion to sexual themes / alcohol and drunkenness  

note | i changed almost everything about this.

Hyunjin has gotten himself etched to the back of your mind, and you genuinely did not like that.

You didn't blame him, though. If anything, you blame yourself for falling so head over heels for him.

For one, Hyunjin couldn’t help who falls in love with him. He couldn’t suppress his overwhelmingly good looks if he tried, which he never did. He enjoyed the positive attention, however shallow they often were. He also couldn’t put a pause on his decent personality, which came as a genuine surprise to you after you got to know him better through this fake dating scheme. You always thought beautiful people harbored the ugliest heart, out of envy and bitterness. Hyunjin wasn’t like that. You didn’t think he was, at least. 

For two, you should have known better than to fall in love with a man leagues above your selection pool. People called it self-degradation, a lack of self-esteem, having no self-worth, and whatnot. You considered it a down-to-earth trait, a reality check, understanding your limits, and whatnot. Hyunjin was a boy you should fall in love with in moderation but never utterly, ardently, absolutely. You were, unfortunately, the latter. 

For three, and this was the stupidest part, you two were temporarily dating. Hyunjin was honest when he approached you and said that his friends, at the ripe age of twenties and pursuing higher education, thought you were good enough to be the butt of a romantic joke. They had challenged him to chase you, get you into a relationship, and break your heart. It was a heinous and, frankly, childish game, but you agreed to it with him for the prize money. 

It was worth it at that time. It was easy money! Who wouldn’t want that? You didn’t feel that way now. Pretending to be in a loving relationship with him has short-term perks but long-term losses. 

Hyunjin was practically in you, etched to the back of your mind, tattooed on the inside of your skin, taken by your bloodied hands to the bottom of your grave. The degree to which your heart dropped for him was unexplainable by yourself. Therefore, having the excuse to go on dates and hold his hands in public, snuggle with him during outings with his friends, and maintain a pleasant friendship with him behind closed doors were great experiences. But when the time comes for separation, you will hurt, not merely over the breakup, but the reminder that he has never felt more for you, that your wonderful experience with him was just an experience.

Clumsy stumbling could be heard outside his apartment, and not a second later came a round of demanding knocks. Hyunjin's head perked up at the noise, his eyes wide in alert at the sudden banging. He looked at the door momentarily before finally looking over to the clock, his brows furrowing slightly at the late time. He waited to check if it could be a drunken stranger approaching the wrong door, but soon enough, another round of aggressive knocks sounded.

Holding the thought that it could just be his roommate, Han Jisung, coming back home late for yet another odd reason, and also praying inwardly that he wouldn't have to spend the night taking care of a loud, obnoxious, and very drunk Jisung, he made his way up and approached the door.

Flinging the door open, Hyunjin did a double-take before his annoyed expression morphed into one of surprise. His arm went slack against the wooden frame of the door, and he took an instinctive step forward when he saw your drunken state—your features were scrunched up in discomfort, your eyes squinted because astigmatism had taken over on your walk to the apartment building, and you were hunched over. You were not at all the way you used to look, not the way he was used to seeing you, which was always so presentable and well put together.

An amused smile appeared on his face as he eyed you up and down, wanting nothing more than to make fun of and tease you even without your ability to form the perfect retorts he has grown to be highly fond of. But you sniffed for a moment and took a step forward. In that exact second, you had Hyunjin doubling over to catch you before you could fall to the floor, concern lining up the crinkles of his eyes as he looked down at you.

"Woah, alright! Let’s stand slowly, okay?" he commanded gently, cooing at your side as if talking to a child. 

His arms curled around your shoulder and waist with a protective grip, and he hoisted your weight by supporting you with his own. Pulling you into the apartment, he shut the door slowly with his feet before returning his attention to you, hoping to bring you to the couch where you could lie down and rest.

“Jeez, babe, how much did you drink?” he laughed, dragging your unresponsive body along with him.

You groaned lowly, trying your best to hold down the acidic taste rushing at the back of your mouth. You wouldn’t know it, but this was not what you had planned for the night. Your friends did their job sending you home safely. Who would have thought you’d leave your apartment shortly after just to stumble to Hyunjin’s home? It was a short distance from your place, but what a miracle you made it without any major accidents! And what a disaster you made it to his home while being high on alcoholic honesty!

You snapped your head up. You were at the perfect angle to stare at his side profile, allowing you the premium shot of his perfect jawline, luscious locks, beautiful lashes, button tip of his nose, and just the most kissable lips you have ever seen. A grimace reached your face. It was an instinctive response. His good looks indeed couldn’t hide even behind the blurriest of eyes. You thought if you lied to your body enough, your mind would follow, so you grimaced whenever you looked at him, hoping to start disliking him. It hasn’t worked. 

"Hwang Hyunjin,” you muttered.

He chuckled. “Yes. That is me."

You gulped, still staring at him. Then, as you lowered your eyes to the floor, you leisurely suggested what’s been on your mind recently, “We should break up."

Of all the things you have done within these few months of him meeting you, including you agreeing to help him lie to his friends about this fake dating challenge to punching someone in the face for shaming his impulsive sex life, which you weren’t surprised he has, this one caught him off guard the most. This one also made him panic. It was fear, like sweaty hands and dry lips, like his mind racing with terrible thoughts, racing with made-up reasons as to why you would want that, racing with every single action he has done that could be counted as a mistake.

"Wh–what? Why do you–why? Why are we breaking up? We are fine. I didn't do anything–did I do something?" Hyunjin stuttered, unconsciously tightening his grip on your body before he let out a gentle but firm whisper, "No."

“I know, I am sorry. I don’t know–I’m just sorry,” you slurred, long stopped looking at him and instead was now leaning your entire weight against him like a wall. Your hands waved about in the air. "You are mad at me, aren't you? Of course–“ you snorted obnoxiously–“it’s a lot of money! I’ll pay you. Break up with me, don’t be mad.”

Hyunjin stared at you as you laughed manically. It sounded choked up, like you’ve got wet coughs prepared in your throat, but he could tell you were far from shedding tears, unlike good ol’ sensitive him, who remained in a state of anxiety and was still trying to process why you brought up separation. It wasn’t time for the fake dating to end. It was nowhere near it! To suggest breaking up so early must mean something was wrong with him, but what was? He couldn’t tell! To think he was just losing his mind over what to do once it was time for this fake relationship to end. 

“Hyunjin,” you called him once when you noticed his silence. Looking up at him, you furrowed your brows and reached up to brush his face clumsily with your hand, pushing your fingertips against his skull. “Hyunjin? Hey. Answer me. Hey. Hello. Hyunjin!”

He leaned away from your aggressive touch, his shoulders relaxing at your playful antics. A smile formed uncontrollably on his lips when you doubled down on smearing your hands all over his face after his dodges. He was left haplessly struggling between missing your direct eyeball pokes and keeping you from falling to the ground. You grinned out loud; he mirrored it, and he didn’t hear the sound of your laughs mixing together because he hears it all the time.

“You are very drunk, [Name],” he managed to comment after grabbing both of your hands and keeping them at his face level. His tight-lipped smile sparkled when you attempted a struggle, like a parent reprimanding their child, then he moved your hands to your face and squeezed your cheeks together. Your lip jutted out in response. He leaned in to kiss your cupid’s bow. “You’re being silly. Let’s get you cleaned up and back to bed.”

The frown on your face made him nervous. His hands slowly slipped from your face, and your hands fell to your sides. You remained silent, and he let the clogs in your brain move. Your thoughts weren’t clear. The only thing you were sure of was that the man standing before you was Hwang Hyunjin, your temporary boyfriend, and you’d spent the whole night trying to drink your feelings for him away. You came to his apartment for a reason—you needed to break up with him for your own good.

“No, I can’t go to bed yet. I have something to do.” You yawned and waved an arm dismissively. You spoke before you finished yawning, leaving your words hanging in the air in slow motion. “I came to tell you something.”

Hyunjin’s hands curled into fists. He let go, tightened them, and let go again to alleviate the sweat gathering at his palms. You were surprisingly hell-bent on the topic, which led him to believe it went beyond a moment of drunkenness. It must have been a conclusion formed long ago, and you have just now mustered the courage to let him know. But why? What did he do? What did he not do? 

He was more than nervous, if there was a word to describe the state of his heart. This was more than a personal problem, which he admittedly still has to work through, but far more significant than himself was you—his feelings for you, his immense affection for you, the fact that he loved you the way you warned yourself not to love him but did anyway. It wasn’t your fault. Your observant eyes, your sincerity, your care for him. It wasn’t your fault. He fell in love with you of his own accord.

If you left him, he would be like a dog without a leash, a dog without an owner. He would wander aimlessly, filled with rage and dread, sniffing every darkened corner for a whiff of your scent. 

“Are you breaking up with me?” he asked meekly. 

You sucked in a deep breath to counter your congested chest, then you shook your head in agreement. “Yes.” 

You were very drunk. He shouldn’t take your words into consideration. “That’s fine,” he said as he stepped toward you, “can we get cleaned up and go to bed anyway? It’s very late.”

“No, I don’t want you touching me anymore.” You stepped back dramatically and hugged yourself into a protective stance. “It’s for the better.” 

He wondered what that meant. Were you repulsed by him? Did you finally realize how disgusting his inability to stay away from sexual and romantic validation was? Were you ashamed to be associated with him because of his impulsive behavior? He was only good for a short time; did you come to that realization? You were too good for him. He always knew that.

Hyunjin retreated his hand from mid-air. His hands met before his abdomen, his fingers immediately picking at each other as he uncomfortably shifted his weight. The corner of his lips arched downward at your rejection, but he tried to keep them neutral so he wouldn’t be influenced into crying. There wasn’t much else he could do with himself if being near you was no longer an option. He looked lost and wronged; he felt so.

“[Name], did I do something?” he asked, rubbing his elbow awkwardly. “Why do you suddenly want to break up with me?”

You blinked at a random space on the wall. Sitting below your sight was a messy square table with unwashed cups, scattered papers, and a closed laptop. Even in a state of haze, you knew they didn’t belong to him. Hyunjin was more organized than that. He told you once it made his school experience much easier to have everything in one place: his computer, which you knew he often kept in his school bag. You sniffed; you knew him like the back of your hand. 

“I can’t tell you,” you replied slowly, not looking at him. “It’s a secret.” 

Hyunjin tilted his head. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” 

He sounded convincing, so you gradually moved your eyes to access him. Standing in front of you, timid as a mouse, was Hwang Hyunjin. You knew that, and you knew that your secret was to be kept from him. Yet, somehow, all that did not register once you were engaged in a conversation with him. He was Hyunjin, just a person you were talking to. If he promised not to tell, then it should be fine. 

“You promise?” you asked. 

Hyunjin nodded. “I promise.” 

You pouted with a glare, willing him to waver and show any sign of deception, but he stood his ground and waited for you to expose your deepest and darkest feelings to him. A faint grumble sounded from your mouth. You looked around briefly to check for any eavesdroppers before you walked a few tentative steps toward him, and you confessed, “I’m in love with you.” 

It was like a shot through the heart, and the shot was aimed so successfully that the organ tore off its hinges and fell to his abdomen where his hands fiddled nervously with each other. It may be asking for an exit out of his body, it may be seeking its new owner, or it may come knocking boldly at your mouth and ask to fit inside you. Hyunjin remained perplexed at your confession. The confession had a bitter taste; he wasn’t sure what to make of it or if he deserved it from someone like you. 

“[Name]…” 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I am very in love with you. It’s stupid.” 

He couldn’t tell, but you understood, despite a fogged mind, that letting him know your affection for him was a cause for your demise. Your emotions were in a whirlwind, collecting up the fragments of all the heart pieces you've broken because of Hyunjin and how you had confronted yourself multiple times with your own delusions that this wouldn't be like the movies. He would never fall in love with you just because you two got closer from months of fake dating.

Even then, he was empathetic to your body language, especially how much they mirrored his. His shoulders slumped at how you turned away from him to trail your attention off somewhere safer, where he wasn’t in your sight. Registering his beautiful face was hard for you because you couldn’t have him; processing his existence and your proximity to him was difficult because you could never have him. You turned away from him to further signify to yourself the assumed truth, your trembling fingers pulling at each other to avoid an awkward standstill. 

Hyunjin was etched to the back of your brain. He was overwhelming, and he was far away. Unable to contain the sudden reminder that you were never going to get over him, a rush of tears started to tremble their way up to your eyes. Your face scrunched without remorse, and your head dropped near your shoulders alarmingly quickly that it startled him.

“I love you, I’m so sorry,” you sobbed. It made him panic. “Please break up with me.” 

“Why are we breaking up if you love me, silly?” he forced a laugh once he approached you. 

His lanky arms were clumsy and gentle after he pulled at his sweater sleeves to wipe your tears. They hovered awkwardly over your face, gauging how much strength to use to effectively dry your eyes but not push you any further away from him. He cooed a bunch of nonsense, but they were sweet like sleepy kisses on your hands. Eventually, he cupped your face and wiped your eyes with his thumbs. You let him; he made you laugh when he apologized for using too much force, even though he never did. 

“You don’t love me, Hyunjin,” you muttered. 

“Nonsense,” he retorted within a second, “who said that?”

You didn’t reply, so he stood with his arms raised for a whole minute while you leaned the weight of your head against his palms. He thought it terribly horrific that he ought to remember the shape of your face with his slender fingers because of his inability to sew his skin into yours. If his hands were like superglue, he could be attached to you forever—your face, your features, you, his most favorite thing in the world. His hands would burn, but what of it? Better you scorch him than to never be touched by you at all. 

“Hyunjin,” you called when you were finished zoning out.

“Mhm?” 

“I love you. I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m so ugly.” 

Growing up being valued for his beautiful features taught him to devalue it. He didn’t care for it. He wouldn't cry about it if he were to earn a permanent scar across his face. Yet, even then, if he were to have one, he was sure people would rave about how the scar ruined his face rather than talk about how he obtained it. Except for you. You’d ask about it, like you always asked everything about him. 

The kind of person you were, his most favorite person in the world—you were detailed like that, and you made him feel an essence of humanity others didn’t. With you, he wasn’t ethereal, he wasn’t a God, he wasn’t an angel fallen to Earth. He didn’t have to be because you never put him on some miraculous pedestal. He was just Hwang Hyunjin; his favorite food is his mother’s cooking, he makes clumsy mistakes and looks funny when he does, and he enjoys making art. 

Not a model, not God’s favorite, not pretty. Just a boy, and he’s in love with you.

“Okay,” he said, “I’m ugly too.” 

He didn’t deny your false claims; you were the prettiest he had ever known, but only he needed to know that. When there comes a time for him to praise and worship your physical body, he will. For now, there wasn’t anything much he wanted to say in return. Just that he was the same as you. 

Your souls didn’t collide that way, obviously. You two were completely different people with varying hobbies and friend groups. However, Hyunjin was willing to chase you like Hell to meet where you were. There wasn’t anything he wanted to be if he couldn’t be it with you. Whatever you are, he is.

There was another long pause. Hyunjin patiently waited, tender eyes concentrated on each crevice of your face as he stroked your stained cheeks with his thumb. You didn’t say anything more, only slapping your hands over his and pulling them from your face. He thought you were moving away, but you took a step forward instead and dove into his arms. You hugged him around his neck, hanging off him like a sloth. He chuckled, swaying you side to side. You were tired, he knew. 

“It’s getting late, baby,” he whispered, leaning back to watch your closed eyes and laughing. He ran a hand through your hair multiple times, getting a clearer view of your face. “Let’s clean up and go to bed, okay?”

You groaned and muttered in response. He didn’t hear what you said. He kept sweeping your hair back. Supporting you with his weight, you were heavy, but he didn’t mind. You wouldn’t be able to change your clothes by yourself, so he would help you. It’d be sloppy and slow, and he wouldn’t mind. You would take up most of the bed, sprawled out without a clue that you weren’t sleeping in your apartment. Your body heat would scratch up a fever in him, and he wouldn’t mind. He enjoyed taking care of you. 

Staring at him as he stroked your hair, you pouted before uttering three familiar words, “I love you.” 

Hyunjin smiled. Whatever you are, he is. He kissed your nose and your eyes. He told you he loves you too.

It was one of those nights when Hyunjin couldn’t spend time with you, and you were unreasonably disappointed about it.

You slouched atop the couch you got at a flea market, which Hyunjin had to convince you to get after repeatedly reassuring you that there wouldn’t be any actual fleas hiding in the creases. This uncomfortable position resulted from five hours of continuous mumbling about how you should not be upset that Hyunjin didn’t choose to spend the night with you, which he had done the past few weeks. He has been somewhat clingy lately, and you couldn’t imagine why. You thought your act was good. There was no way his friends doubted you. 

This could be the calm before the storm. Even though you two had concocted a detailed timeline for your fake dating, you wouldn’t be surprised if Hyunjin abruptly cut it short. If that was true, his current sweetness was nothing more than a buildup to a dramatic and convincing breakup. 

Pouting in dismay, you rolled up the bag of chips and reached for the tea table beside you, your fingertips wiggling to graze past the black binder clip you used to keep the plastic bag sealed. Amid your frustrated groaning, still refusing to get your ass off the couch even after more than ten seconds of struggling, the doorbell suddenly rang, and coming after that were loud bangs at your door.

A shiver ran down your spine as you snapped your head toward the direction of the noise, your brows rising abruptly at the fearful intrusion. Slowly throwing your chip bag on the table, you stood up and tip-toed your way over to the door where you pressed your hands to the wooden surface and carefully looked through the peephole.

A gasp caught in your throat when you saw Hyunjin’s face standing just a few inches away from the circle as if leaning against the door for support. You immediately moved out and unlocked your door, swinging it open to reveal him fully. Taking a good look at his face before he started to throw his little drunken tantrum—messy hair, concentrated brows, droopy eyelids, and a general look of discomfort—you concluded that he definitely has been downing more shots than he could handle.

“What happened to you?” 

You stepped up to put your hands on either side of his arm, carefully bringing him into your apartment. He stumbled with most of his weight straining on your shoulder. There were so many stutters in his steps that you almost dragged him into a fall with you on your way to the couch. After setting him down, he snorted at the cushy feeling of your couch. It took him a while to process the new environment, and then he arched his neck to find you. 

Hyunjin could barely make out your face. He couldn’t even be sure if he went to your apartment, but subconsciously, he could tell he was at your place. He felt it in your timid touches just now, and whatever scent he whiffed out of the air, it smelt like you. Licking his lower lip as his worries slowly faded away and his attention—as much as he could muster—returned, he mumbled a string of incoherent noises under his breath before he, much to your palpitating heart’s dismay, pulled you onto the couch next to him. 

He got on top of you; his legs had to bend in weird ways to accommodate the small couch, and he placed his palms on either side of your head to trap you under him. You felt heat forming on your cheeks as you shrunk beneath his shadow, your eyes widening at the proximity. Hyunjin has never done this before. The closeness wasn’t new, but the position of it was. Being under him was an unbelievable feeling. He looked beautiful, and his toned muscles became more visible by supporting his own weight. How your thoughts were smeared! You doubted your body would forget how well he could cage you in. 

Hyunjin stared at you with a low, drunken hum. Then, suddenly, he leaned down to meet your face. 

“[Name],” he started, lowering his head tiredly to your shoulder, “you wanted to break up with me?”

You blinked up at the ceiling, confused, but you figured it could be the alcohol talking for him, so you chose to disregard all the questions that popped into your head. Holding out your arms to push against his chest, you attempted to sit up. “I don’t want to break up with you, Hyunjin.”

He seemed to be processing your answer as he allowed you to set him aside and give yourself more space. You sat quietly next to him, letting him have the time to think over what he wanted to say. The thoughtful pout on his face told you it was difficult for him to use his brain, but it looked cute enough that you almost took a picture to tease him about it once he got sober. You wondered if his response would be nonsense as well.

“Why do you want to break up with me?” he whispered, causing you to sigh. He hasn’t heard you, after all. His lips were pursed into a frown, and his eyes were squinted to show that he was very close to leaking a few tears down his cheeks, but you couldn’t read between the lines and realize what his despair meant. Hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt, he abruptly turned to you and sniffed. “You can’t do that to me. I won’t–I won’t let you do that to me.” 

You tilted your head to the side, your brows constantly furrowed. Where was he getting this idea from? You tried to recall any off-handed comments you made. Still, they were primarily directed elsewhere and never at your fake relationship. You’ve never said anything bad about him, not to him, and never behind his back. There wasn’t anything outstandingly mean to say anyway, so what sprung this on? 

Returning to reality, your head faintly shook as you looked up at Hyunjin to ask his drunken state about the reason behind this outburst. Your eyes widened instead when you saw he had taken his shirt off, the lump of fabric discarded on the floor carelessly. Heat blossomed at the base of your neck, and you felt your joints sour in panic; seriously, what sprung this on! This was a much bigger issue than drunkenness! 

When you noticed his hands reaching to the belt of his jeans, you immediately lunged toward him and circled his wrists to stop his movements. Your panic became a surprised concern at his need to strip naked in your apartment. You doubted he wanted to show you his body. Even if he did, this wasn’t how you wanted to do it. 

Moving his hands away, you urged, “No. We’re not doing that.”

“No, I have to! I have to!” 

He snatched his hands away from yours and dove to unbuckle his belt again. His movements grew increasingly frustrated the more you blocked his attempt to remove his pants. You were annoying, but he wasn’t angry at you. He was scared. He wasn’t getting what he wanted, and he thought you might leave him if he didn’t show you what he could offer. It scared him that you didn’t want to see him whole, so eventually, he began to sob. 

“I have to show you, [Name]. Please let me!” Hyunjin whined, hands tugging harshly at each other by his chest.

“You don’t have to show me anything,” you assured as you grabbed a few tissues from the tea table. You dabbled softly at his eyes. “Come on, let’s put your clothes back on.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks like knives against your skin. He felt uncomfortable at this unfamiliar sequence. Things usually go smoothly after he reveals himself. Nobody has ever refused to see him, so why did you? What about himself was so repulsive that you couldn’t take one look at his bare skin? Why didn’t you love him back? 

“No.” he slurred, then paused to catch his breath. 

The moment of calm was gone too soon. His hands reached up to ruffle his hair in a frenzy. His heart hammering against his chest, yet his brain wasn’t sane enough to understand what the sudden panic was about, just that it had something to do with you. That obliviousness, as a result, was making him even more agitated.

“You need to love me again!” he exclaimed, eyes brimming with unknown tears. “People love me when I take my clothes off. You need to love me again!” 

A puff of air slowly made its way out of your half-parted lips. You could feel the stretching of your heartstrings. Hyunjin cried as he shrank into himself, his arms going around his cold body for a sense of comfort, and the sight toyed with your head by sending waves of deep anguish like mere laps of the ocean. The feeling deranged you—to realize Hyunjin experiences such a level of hopelessness and loneliness was heartbreaking. More importantly, you felt ignorant of his problems. You should have been a better friend, perhaps even a better lover.

“Hey,” you called out gently as you scooted toward him. You brought one hand up to his face to direct his eyes to you. You smiled softly when you found that he was opening his squinted eyes to stare back. “I’m going to get something, so wait here for me, okay?”

He sniffed, tasting the tears rolling down his mouth, and nodded. You rubbed his cheek with your thumb, ever so gingerly placing a hand at the small of his back, hoping to calm him down, but it turned out Hyunjin had a thought of his own. After feeling the warmth of your hand, he took it as a sign that you wanted to hug him, so he obliged immediately by wrapping his arms around your torso and putting his head on your shoulder.

You breathed a small chuckle when he made weird noises after finding a space at the crook of your neck. The transition from him throwing a tantrum to having a mini panic attack to being the clingiest person you have ever met was amusing. As was the transition from your mind being filled with annoyance and confusion to having your feelings torn into shreds to breathing out a chuckle. It was entertaining, and the fact that Hyunjin could bring out so many different aspects of your emotions was undeniably endearing.

He was that kind of person. He has always been. More than beautiful, he was expressive, selfless, and tender-minded. Watching him allowed you to live an emotional life vicariously. All the things you ignored in the past because of mental stress were repainted in colors by his hands. The movie you never watched, the ice cream you never tried, the districts you never visited, and the fireworks show you never stayed for—everything meant something to Hyunjin, so everything meant something to you. 

To him, love was a grave of sacrifices. Of his time, his space, his body, and his mind. He was willing to give, and he has given you all except one. You wouldn’t know any of it. 

You moved to the back of the couch, cautiously pressing your back up against the edge. Hyunjin followed you, shifting his position so he lay stuffed against your chest with your arms around his shoulders. His fingers played with each other shyly on top of his bare chest as he looked around your apartment absentmindedly. He couldn’t register anything but the fabric of your clothes and how small you made him feel. 

He finally looked at you after a moment. His cries had long ceased and left only trails of dry tears on his dearest cheeks. With his eyelashes still wet, glittering beautifully in the air, he blinked, his eyes widening after he found out you had been looking down at him. Suddenly, he grinned childishly with a hint of sun hidden in his smile. “What are you looking at?”

You hummed, finding Hyunjin utterly irresistible even with his tear-stained cheeks and slurred laughter. He was all messy and puzzling, but your heart pushed against itself to give him space to stay inside. “I’m looking at you, silly.” 

“Oh, you’re looking at me.” He giggled, covering half his face with his hands and shutting his eyes shyly. He squirmed around in your arms, but not once did he move far enough to not feel you against him. When he was done, he returned back to the original position, and he peeked an eye through the gap between his fingers. He laughed. “ I am looking at you too.”

“I know you are,” you said, fingers threading through his feathery locks with serenity, and a smile so heartwarming that Hyunjin couldn’t help but focus his sight on it.

“Why?” he asked, his eyes shaky.

You pursed your lips together and shrugged. “I can’t tell you. It is a secret.”

Hyunjin’s gaze hardened naively, a gasp ripping through his throat as he leaned back against your hand. “Tell me! I promise I won’t tell anyone else.”

“You promise?” 

“I promise!” he exclaimed, sitting up slightly and bumping his forehead against your chin. He burst into a fit of giggles then, rubbing his forehead for a while before reaching the same hand out to touch your chin sloppily. “I’m sorry, I hit your face.”

“It's okay,” you said, your thumb soothing against the spot he had bumped into you. “But you promise me you can keep a secret? It’s very important!”

He nodded eagerly. “I promise!”

“Okay,” you said as you looked up at the sky, pretending to think. “The reason why I am looking at you is really simple. It is because I love you.”

You glanced back down at him to find him looking at you in astonishment. He licked his lower lip. His mind cleared a little for the first time, and he felt all of the universe that was your body pressed close to him. Beyond that, there were more minor things. Your heart beat faster than his, making him chase after you like a madman; the warmth of your skin equated to the warmth he manually cultivated in his bed by stacking multiple blankets together, an attempt to replicate your presence at night; your soft voice, going through his blurry ears, sounded like the subconscious voice he hears all the time. Maybe his subconscious was all just you.

Those were all fragments of proof of how much he loved you. To think you returned his feelings—he didn’t know what to think. 

“Really?” He sounded so surprised. It was almost heartbreaking.

“Yes,” you nodded, “even when we both have clothes on.” 

He looked down and touched your shirt. “Oh, you are wearing a shirt.”

“Yes, I am.”

He gazed at it briefly before, with an invisible shrug, leaned his cheek against your chest. “You’re warm. I like it.”

You smiled, feeling like your lips were about to extend out of your cheeks to become wider. “You’re cold because you took your shirt off!”

He scoffed and said nothing. Hyunjin was unguarded and half-stripped before you, chastely snuggling up against your chest while slurred words spilled out of his mouth like a mantra. You didn’t try to understand him; he wasn’t looking to have a conversation. You just wanted to lay together without a thought or a worry. Occasionally, he would sit up just to look at your face, then hum and lay back down, continuing to rot. 

It was such a wondrous thing.

“Do you want to wash up and go to bed?” you asked. “Are you tired?” 

“No. I want to stay here. I like it here.” 

Hyunjin let out a dreamy sigh. He threw his head back with a smile, his hair hitting your jaw and sprawled over the crook of your neck. He tilted his head then, letting it fall along your shoulder. His eyes were closed with bliss, and he laughed to himself. When he opened his eyes, there was only the shadow of your side profile, which was good for him. He wanted to kiss the skin, filled with close-up bumps and blemishes. It was a side profile he’ll know for the rest of his life, and he’ll whisper ‘I love you’ to a million times. 

“I have a secret to tell you,” he mentioned.

You raised a brow, intrigued, and urged him to continue, “What is it?”

He bit his lower lip and scurried off your body. You sat up straighter then, watching as he stumbled over to the front door for the bag he discarded on the ground. He crouched to pull a small notebook out easily before returning to you. He stopped by the couch, his eyes concentrated as he stared at the notebook's cover. Then, without another word, he dropped back onto your body and made you wrap your arms around him like before. 

“I draw you all the time. In my sketchbook.” 

He grinned out loud in the same way you would grin at him. His fingers played with the blank pages before, finally, he arrived at one filled with traces of his pencil. You gasped. He wasn’t spilling nonsense. The page was filled with beautiful sketches of your face, and so was the next one and the next. He kept flipping his notebook, and everywhere you could find pieces of yourself dotted out sincerely by his hand. 

They didn’t look to come from memories, but they were definitely from moments not even you could remember. But Hyunjin remembered everything because he detailed it all in the lines. His inability to not consume all of you tied his hands together and made you his ultimate muse. Almost unconsciously, for a while, the only thing he knew to draw was you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t know how else to pour you out of his mind. 

It was overwhelming, and you could see that. He was showing you all his blood work: mornings spent missing you with the tip of a crooked pencil, afternoons spent recalling your features in his head, nights spent tracing your face with his lead-filled fingers under a desk lamp. If he could inhale these sketches of you into his bloodstream and poison himself with those images, leaving an organ tattoo of your presence, he would. 

“I love this one,” he said, pointing at a full-body sketch of you. “I was waiting for you at the coffee shop, and you were walking towards me. I love it. I was so excited to see you. I memorized what you wore.” 

This sketchbook stayed with him all the time; he felt like he was bringing you with him, like a kid refusing to let go of their blanket. You wouldn’t know anything about that. The beautiful boy in your arms admired you constantly, from the farthest corner of his soul to the tip of his button nose, and you wouldn’t know anything about it. 

“I draw you all the time,” he added. “I will never forget what you look like, but I always want to remember.” 

The implications of that didn’t fly over your head. His addition to telling you the truth disabled your ability to attribute the fact that he draws you in his free time to him being artistic. But more than being afraid of rejection, you feared a mutual connection. The only thing worse than you finding Hyunjin loveable was him finding that you were as well. 

“Do you know why?” he asked, looking at you expectantly. 

You wavered. You hadn’t spoken since he showed you his sketches. “Why?”

Hyunjin stared at you. Within the drunken fog of his eyes, there was earnestness. “Because I love you too.”

You didn’t know what to say, and you wouldn’t. There was solace in choosing to believe that he didn’t mean it. When tomorrow arrives, and he returns sober, you wouldn’t speak of this conversation at all. When night comes tomorrow, and he’s had a full day of rest, Hyunjin would vividly recall how you took care of him and told him you loved him, and he would draw you again. 

“Do you like them?”

His question snapped you out of your trance. Your sight blurred through a sudden quake before it focused on his face. Hyunjin pouted, his fingers tapping patiently at his notebook for your response. You softened with love and squeezed him in a hug, a smile blooming on your face. 

“I’ve never liked anything more,” you complimented, “except for you!”

His legs kicked when you nuzzled your face to the back of his neck. His heart filled, like the sun could fill up a piece of land and the moon could fill up a river, and in return for his joy, he let out a boisterous laugh. He didn’t hear how it sounded with yours. Still, it was such a wondrous thing. Your love was such a wondrous thing.

love me back ✶ sjy female reader word count 0.8k genre romance high school popular!jake ✉️ @okwonyo

love was something special, woven from the fragments of old heartbreak and first experiments. you could say you experienced love, in one form or the other. however, falling in unrequited love seemed to be your specialty at this point.

it was your third rejection and you couldn’t help but wonder what was so wrong with you. was it the way you approached them? the way you talked? did you spit when you spoke to them? or was it the way you fidgeted with your skirt when confessing?

all in all you found comfort in the quiet classroom as you stared out the window watching the life of others. the box of cookies in front of you were soggy and cold, the pink bow taunting you once again. this would be your third batch of cookies tossed into the garbage bin.

perhaps it was the cookies? what if they didn’t like cookies and preferred cupcakes? or a chocolate bar even. or no pastries at all?

while in the midst of your complicating thoughts, jake—your best friend, slid the classroom door open, smiling instinctively when he saw you.

“thought you went home already?” jake’s voice snapped you out of your daze, startling you slightly. “i was gonna wait for you,” you pointed towards the window indicating his soccer practice.

he was clad in his black jersey and shorts, a bit of sweat lined his forehead but he still managed to look ethereal in the dim light.

“oh,” he once again smiled walking over to sit beside you. “you didn’t have to, i know how tired you are.” jake snuck a piece of hair behind your ear as you sulked in your palm.

“what’s the matter, hm?” he noticed you toying with the box of cookies, eyes droopy and lips jutting out dejectedly.

you sighed before laying your head down on your desk, looking away from jake and hoping he didn’t notice your flushed cheeks. “do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“it what way?” he continued to play with your hair, fingers running through your locks.

“i don’t know, in like a love way. i tried confessing again and i got rejected, again.”

jake’s fingers halted in your hair, eyebrows furrowing before he spoke, “you confessed? to who?” jake bit the inside of his cheek thinking about how you had eyes for everyone else but him—when he was right in front of you.

“some kid from my art class, he’s on your soccer team. i thought he liked me.” you turned to face jake.

it was jake’s turn to sigh, “i know why you’re being rejected all the time.” your head perked up at his statement and you moved closer to listen to him.

would you finally have a cure to this madness?

“i told every boy in the school you were off limits.” jake almost looked proud of himself as he spoke, a small smirk beginning to grow on his lips.

“jake! why would you say that?” you were absolutely appalled to hear that your best friend was the reason behind your nonexistent love life.

“because i’ve been waiting for you to love me back.” jake said it like it was the easiest thing in the world, and to him, loving you was.

for you, you could feel the years of forcing yourself to like someone else other than your best friend brewing. you had told yourself that it wasn’t normal to like your friend—he was a friend for a reason.

jake pulled your chair until you collided with his legs—trapping you between them. “you don’t know how many threats it took for it to actually get through their heads. i couldn’t have someone else taking my girl away from me.” his hand rested on your exposed thigh drawing circles on your warm skin.

“why didn’t you stop me from making a fool of myself to all of those boys?” half of you felt flustered about his confession while the other felt angry—you looked like a idiot!

“oh my god! you were there when i was making those boys all these cookies! do you know how expensive all of that supplies was? you’re paying me back every cent—!”

your words were cut short when jake smashed his lips into yours, he snaked his hand towards your nape to keep you in place as he desperately and longingly kissed you. jake smiled cockily at the way you tried backing away from him but reluctantly melting into him, finding a comfortable pace.

“as your boyfriend, you can cut me some slack, no?” jake rested his forehead on yours after pulling away, softly running the pad of his thumb on your cheek.

“you’re not my boyfriend.” you scowled at him.

“not yet, but i will be.”

literally sobbing rn

Love Lessons

Genre: husband!Chan, angst, fluff

Warnings: self hatred (Chan)

Request: no

Characters: Chan, Y/N

Word Count: 1.8k

"I wish I looked like him."

Bewildered, Y/N turned to look at her husband. Chan was looking at the TV a little wistfully, a sad smile on his lips as he studied the actor depicted on the screen.

"He's so handsome … " Chan continued with a sigh, and he leaned back into the sofa in slow defeat. "And have you seen his body? He's so … big."

Y/N blinked. She moved fully so her body was facing his, and she reached out to take his surprised face in her hands. "Well, I'm very glad you don't look like him. I'm attracted to you, not him."

Chan was confused. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you attracted to me … ?" Chan's voice came out in a whisper; it wavered and cracked towards the end, and Y/N bit her lip.

She had a feeling it was one of those days. One of those days where her husband hated himself more than anything. One of those days where her heart broke over and over again in her attempts at trying to get him to see what she could see.

But she'd never stop trying. Not until he could finally learn to love himself even a fraction of how much she loved him.

"Because you're beautiful," Y/N smiled, caressing his cheeks. "And I love you very much."

Chan frowned. He didn't seem convinced; but then again, he never did. "But … I'm ugly."

Y/N considered saying "no, you're not" or "don't say that" … but something in the back of her mind told her not to. She decided to try a different approach, one that hurt her a little more than she wanted to admit.

"Okay," Y/N nodded softly. "Let's say you are ugly."

Chan was taken aback; his eyes widened as he stared at his wife.

Y/N smiled gently. "If you're ugly, does that mean you deserve less love than anyone else?"

Her question hit him harder than he thought it would. He blinked slowly, and he began to shake his head.

"No," Y/N murmured as she shook her own head along with him. "It doesn't. Do you remember what you used to tell your fans all those years ago?"

Chan bit his lip.

"'It doesn't matter where you're from, it doesn't matter what country you're in'," Y/N quoted as Chan's eyes began to glisten rather brightly. "'You deserve love. It doesn't matter what you are, what you chose to be, you deserve love,'."

At that, Chan couldn't help the tears that began to drop down his cheeks. Smiling up at him with her eyes full of love, Y/N wiped the tears away with her thumbs as she pulled him a little closer to her.

"I know it wasn't exactly about looks," Y/N said. "But I know for a fact that if someone was hating themselves back then because they thought they were ugly, you'd have immediately told them they deserved to be loved."

Looking down at his lap, Chan shut his eyes tightly. He hadn't expected this; he had no idea his musings would result in his wife's words bringing the tears out of him.

"Why are you any different, hmm?" Y/N gently caressed the nape of his neck; his hair had begun to curl up there, and it was soft, so incredibly soft that Y/N couldn't help but feel sad. She didn't understand why her husband hated himself when there were parts of him that were so dear to her, that she had no idea what she'd do without them.

"Who are you to not love yourself?"

At that, Chan spluttered; the hems of his shorts had ridden up his thighs, and they now glistened as fat tears splashed onto his skin like sad fireworks.

Y/N let him cry; she rubbed his back and kissed his hands until he was finished. When he looked up at her with red eyes, she almost felt her heart physically shattering into smithereens like glass.

There was so much pain and self loathing painted in his eyes … the eyes that felt like home to her, the eyes that calmed the depths of her anxious soul on the most terrifying of nights. She was shocked that such beautiful galaxies could hold such hatred; hatred that was directed at himself.

She found it terrifying yet beautiful that the eyes that looked at her with such love were the same as these ones; hard, cold, and full of pain.

"Okay," she whispered, reaching out to slip her fingers onto his again. "Okay. Let's go through this. What is it exactly that you think is ugly about you, baby?"

"Everything," Chan whispered. "Everything."

"Everything is a very big word, my darling," Y/N smiled. "I don't think even you hate everything about yourself."

She knew him well; the corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly, and she couldn't help but inwardly smile even bigger.

"Okay, let's try this instead … you love me, right?"

It was remarkable; Chan's eyes immediately softened at the question, the sparkle that was so familiar to Y/N appearing in his pupils.

"Very much," Chan hummed.

"What is it that you love about me?" Y/N asked.

Chan smiled. "Everything."

At that, Y/N couldn't help but giggle. She leaned forward and kissed the man on his cheek. It was wet and fever hot, and she wiped the traces of tears away with her fingers again.

"Well … you believe in soulmates, don't you?"

He had no idea where this was going, but he nodded; he had said countless times since meeting her that he felt as though their souls were extensions of one another.

"If we're soulmates, then that would mean we share bits of each other, right?" Y/N asked.

Chan pondered this. He nodded slowly.

"If bits of you are in me, and bits of me are in you … " Y/N whispered, running her fingers over the backs of her husband's hands. "If you hate yourself, wouldn't that mean you're also hating bits of me?"

Chan's eyes suddenly widened. He seemed at a loss for words; he had no idea if what she was saying was scientifically correct or not, but he suddenly didn't care. The thought of him hating her, indirectly or not, was too much for him to bear.

His eyes suddenly flooded with tears all over again.

"Baby … " Chan whispered, dropping his face into his hands. Tears spilled through the gaps in his fingers as his body shook in front of his wife.

"Do you know one of the reasons why I began to love myself?" Y/N continued.

Chan shook his head.

"I started seeing pieces of you in me. The more time we spent together, the more I fell in love with you … I realised we were so much more similar than I thought was possible. And I thought … how on earth am I supposed to hate myself when so much of me is like you?"

"Y/N … " Chan was crying loudly now; his face contorted with pain as he gulped, his entire body shuddering. He didn't know what was going through his mind … all he knew was that he had never loved anyone as much as he loved the woman in front of him.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Chan pulled Y/N into him; he closed his lips over hers in a warm kiss, one that made Y/N's own eyes prickle with emotion as she shut them. She kissed him back, her lips gently caressing his. She was telling him something that no amount of words could ever say, and fresh tears spilled down his cheeks, and onto hers.

Y/N sniffed as she kissed her husband. She suddenly remembered reading about how people who didn’t love themselves couldn't love others; she couldn't help but feel that that was wrong. She had never felt as loved by anyone as she had by her husband. He loved her fiercely, passionately, so much so that sometimes she forgot he was even capable of hating in the first place.

She knew that people said it was impossible to love a broken person. She didn't think that was true. Difficult, perhaps.

But never impossible.

"You're beautiful to me," Y/N whispered now as she cupped his cheeks. "You're always going to be beautiful to me."

Chan nodded against her; her earlier words had flooded through him like a shock wave, and he suddenly felt incredibly guilty towards himself.

I was something he had never experienced before. He didn't quite know what to make of it.

"Whether you're ugly or you're not," Y/N said, her face breaking into a smile as she nudged her husband playfully. "Which you're not. But ugly or not, your body works so hard for you everyday. It does its best for you so you can eat and so you can walk and so you can talk and just … be alive. Don't you think it deserves a little bit of love for that?"

"Yeah … " Chan hiccuped. He leaned forward and Y/N immediately scooped him up into her arms. She held him tightly, gently rocking him as he cried into her shirt with an urgency that made her feel as though hundreds of little needles were piercing through her heart.

"I know you're always dissatisfied with your body and the way you look … " Y/N whispered against his shoulder. "But no matter how much your body changes, you're always going to be dissatisfied if you don't truly love yourself. You could be the strongest man in the world … but if you hate yourself, you'd still find a reason to be unhappy about your appearance."

Chan knew she was right. She always was. She knew him better than he knew himself - she seems to have somehow crawled into the depths of his mind and addressed the thought that constantly berated him throughout the day.

He knew he'd never be satisfied with the way he looked. He also knew there was only one way to go about fixing that.

Perhaps it was time he actually tried.

"You're right," he whispered, sniffing as he rubbed his cheek against Y/N's neck. "I know you're right. You're always right."

"This isn't about me being right, baby," Y/N smiled as she kissed his cheek. "I just want you to be happy in your own skin. I can't make you happy … but I can hold your hand and be right here while you do it for yourself, you know?"

Chab nodded. He nodded hard, and when he pulled away from his wife again, his face began to glow with a small smile.

"Aw, look at that," Y/N laughed quietly as she kissed his smile. "You're the most beautiful man I have ever seen."

He flushed; his nose turned pink and instead of denying the compliment like he usually would, he grinned.

"Thank you?"

---

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