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andkisses · 3 months

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♡ futon | enha ♡

ot7!enha headcanon: there’s something brewing between the two of you… if only he knew what to do about it

♡ ot7 x gn!reader | wc. 1.8 ♡ genres/tropes: uhhh angst ? yeah def a lot. you aren’t dating but u def should be lol; lots of they’re best friends but they won’t confess. ♡ mentions of/warnings: some jealousy what can i say ♡ a/n: little something for every member <3 jungwon’s first and the rest below the cut ^^ each part is inspired by lyrics from futon by ūla <3

♡ masterlist ♡

✧･ﾟ: * jungwon - “no dissing her, but you should be with me”

he’s almost certain this isn’t the way he should be going about this, but jungwon is also almost certain he’s out of options. he feels like he couldn’t be more clear about his intentions–his affections and romance and advances. he could hire a plane to fly a banner over you declaring his interest but you’d still be oblivious. maybe, he ponders before hitting send, it has to do with the friendship between you, and how long that version of the two of you has been a thing. maybe, he bites his lip as he types out his message, it’s because he’s seen you talking and for sure being flirty with other people. the five words at the end of his already short text feel the most potent: you should be with me. jungwon tries to keep his features still and serious as he watches you read the text from across him. maybe, outright confessing during a study session that’s worth nearly half your grade isn’t his wisest decision. but, again, he’s nearly out of options. at least texting you keeps it quiet–the cafe around the two of you none the wiser when your head shoots up, eyes wide, and cheeks red after reading. whatever your answer, jungwon knows it will be between just the two of you. and when he reaches out, placing his hand on top of your free one, he feels like everything is upside down waiting for your answer.

✧･ﾟ: * heeseung - “we could be together for like so long”

some would say he’s delirious, or delusion, but heeseung is convinced that if he somehow managed to catch your eye like that, you would be the best couple, a power couple to be contended with. at first, his cheeks would flush hot read when he realized he was staring at you–his best friend–so endearingly, somewhere beyond the ‘we’re just friends’ line every relationship like this has. now, he hopes maybe you’ll turn your head, catch him staring, and just ask. he’d pour his soul out for you, word by delicate word, if you asked. just so he could say how much he loves you, try to get you to see. your head snaps up from where you’d been resting it on a closed fist in the corner of the couch. heeseung’s own books flutters shut in his hands from where he sits in a nearby club chair. the blood rushing in heeseung’s ears–because, oh god, he realizes, he just said it outloud–makes it hard for him to discern, exactly what you say in response, but he knows what’d you say. plus, he can clearly see the confusion on your face, the gears turning in your head about how he said it, and what way did he mean it. heeseung places his book on the side table, quickly crossing the room to kneel beside you. he’s already said it, and maybe you asked when he couldn’t hear, so he might as well pour out his soul, word by delicate word. he hopes for the best.

✧･ﾟ: * jay - “sleeping in your sweater on my futon”

it’s been like this forever, he knows that. you go to his place, or he comes to yours, and you hunker down and try to watch as many movies or episodes of a tv series at once. ultimately, the night will always end with you slumped against each other, breaths matching. you’d wake up, necks sore from sitting upright and sleeping crooked on each other’s shoulders. it was so… innocent. delightful. now, as jay watches you from across the room–you, in his sweater you took without asking because you were cold, and he let you without question–he wonders when it changed. the way he saw you. one day you, you were his friend–his best friend since as long as he could remember. then, one day, or maybe gradually like how the night fades into the dawn, jay saw you different. an exciting, terrifying different. suddenly, it was the sparks he felt with your hands brushed, or how his heart swelled like whenever you would rest your head on his shoulder. oh, if only he had the bravery, the courage, the guts to say everything he thought. the way he wants to hold you, and spoil you, and do everything he could for you. sometimes he’s convinced you feel the same way, the way you laugh with him or reach out to touch him, his shoulder or hand or cheek. other days, he’s not so sure. so for now, he’s stucking, watching you sleep on his futon, wondering when he would ever find the words to speak to you.

✧･ﾟ: * jake - “i can make it better if you hold on”

he never thought it would get to the point, where the something between the two of you was finally something almost tangible. yes, jake probably should have felt bad for you when you called, heartbroken and crying that your boyfriend–well, now your ex–had dumped you. it should have torn him up inside, seeing you like that. and it did, really. that unique feeling you get in your chest when someone you love seems like they’re falling apart. he wished he could have said something to your ex, but ultimately you were more important. you always are. however, this event also sparked a unique joy–one that brought everything he’d tamped down back to the surface. jake thought he would need to keep these feelings under wrapped and near-forgotten forever. but now? his chance, his luck. whatever you wanted to call it, jake was going to do his best to make it happen. he’d either finally be able to be with you, or you’d finally reject him outright. either way, he’d be rid of the current problem plaguing his heart. the after effects? what could befall the friendship between you two, the one that had grown from strangers to acquaintances to the closest of friends? the ones who get mistaken for lovers all the time? quite frankly. not his problem right now. right now, he had to muster enough courage and time to tell you first.

✧･ﾟ: * sunghoon - “you should just forget her and we'll move on”

sunghoon was used to you dating–you were “particular” about your dates, you always said. they needed to have a certain something, not that you would ever elaborate on it. it used to be cute, something endearing sunghoon found in you, his friend. but then something changed. maybe the earth titled too far on its axis one day, or maybe sunghoon just hit his head so hard he forgot. but now, when he sees you, it’s somewhere beyond his best friend. you exist in his mind in the grey area past the line of “oh we’re just friends.” you exist so close to the line that, if you cross it, sunghoon gets to call you his, call you mine, all the time. he gets to brag on you, show you off. give you everything. but here he is instead–sitting across from you on his couch as you are talking about this one date you had months ago. again. maybe it’s the fact you only ever cycle through the same mundane talking points. the way you just haven’t moved on. maybe it’s the weather, your talking about this again, or the futures he envisions where he’s waking up next to you or you’re falling asleep together in each other’s arms. sunghoon didn’t mean to say those words–and definitely not with so much sincerity and spite. he feels his ears blush and burn as your words fall away, eyes wide, jaw slightly agape. now’s the time to find out which line you’ll end up crossing. at least you’ll be out of that grey area.

✧･ﾟ: * sunoo - “noticing you, are you noticing me?”

he’s gotten used to being the one who watches, who notices. sunoo feels like he knows everything about you at this point. the way you walk when you’re mad, or how you take your time to do your makeup before a big exam or something important. how you always use that word with him—friend. at first, it didn’t hurt. you were just a friend to him too. then, somewhere along the way, like all the love songs and all the cliches, you became different. or maybe the difference happened with sunoo. he would know–you still did everything the same, so uniquely wonderful and you. sunoo, spiraling in this realization, began to question everything–every interaction, every tine you were close or laughed with him or touched his arm or fell asleep next to him on the couch after a long day and a particularly boring movie. he’s thought of it all, to the point he began acting slightly off around you. he isn’t sure if he could handle your unknowing proximity anymore. surely, you didn’t act like this with everyone? surely, this was special and just for him? yes, sunoo watches and notices you, but it’s you. nothing else. curiosity, hope, and perhaps a good helping of dispair pull the question from sunoo’s lips one evening when you’ve done it again–laughed into his chest, hand on his arm. you look up at his serious expression, something new and inviting in your eyes. now, sunoo knows, you’re noticing him.

✧･ﾟ: * niki - “do i even matter? will you call my bluff?”

he thought he’d held his guard up well enough. niki couldn’t remember when his crush on you began, but he’s certain it’s called a crush because of the massive weight that now exists on his shoulder, on his mind. gone are the carefree adventures with you, and in are these mind-crushing emotions niki isn’t sure how to handle. they’ve always said you’ll know–is this what they mean? the panic he experiences when you’re so close to him he catches your perfume in the air? see the faint freckles on your cheeks? maybe he’s not as good at hiding his feelings as he thought,, because now here the two of you are, out on the sidewalk, stuck in place. the wind rustles through your hair, and niki does his best to keep his expression neutral, no matter how angelic you look. he watches as your eyes scan his face–great, now he’s got to live through this kind of scrutiny, too? maybe he should just tell you, right here as the sun sets and everything has been tinted blue. you’re smart, clever. you’ll figure him out eventually. he can’t keep this act up. maybe he doesn’t matter to you like that. maybe, you’ll decipher what all his actions mean and call him out. could niki handle you telling him to get over it? to move on? worse, could he handle the potential of never knowing how you feel? the world where two people are too afraid, too comfortable to express what they’re feeling. as you step closer, niki swallows, mind racing. maybe this is it–the moment where something happens, and he’s relieved or the crushing either gets infinitely worse.

#thank you for 100+ notes!

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andkisses · 3 months

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♡ fifty-fifty split | sunghoon ♡

Sharing an apartment with Sunghoon, your best friend since you were both 12, has ups and downs. Sometimes (a lot of times...) he doesn't do the dishes. But he always splits rent, utilities, and any other costs 50/50. And tonight? You find another good thing about him being just across the living room...

♡ sunghoon x gn!reader | wc. 2.2k ♡ genres/tropes: fluff!!, friends to lovers, roommate!au, casual hurt/comfort ♡ mentions of/warnings: bugs and creepy crawlies and reader is afraid of them; one pet name usage (love) ♡ a/n: i swear this man is my enha muse... enjoy lol inspired by true events </3 copyedited as i went so vaguely proof read lol enjoy <33 ♡ masterlist ♡

What should have been a peaceful late night of relaxation had turned into a nightmare. You'd done your self-care—shower with matching body wash and lotion, skin care with your favorite serums and moisturizers. Vanilla overnight lip balm applied. All that was left was to snuggle down into your covers and delude yourself into whatever romance you were reading or watching (you hadn't decided yet) that night.

And that's when It showed up.

You were scrolling through your phone, trying to see if a new drama would catch your eye before you defaulted to the book on your nightstand. The covers were mid-pull, almost tucked beneath your chin. You had scrolled again, mindlessly searching for something—anything—to curb your romantic tendencies for the night when—

Out of the corner of your eye—

Something dark and squirmy and creepy crawly on the edge of your covers, the part almost to your neck and chin.

It's over before it begins—you grabbing at the figure and dramatically chucking whatever it was across the room. You turned on your phone flashlight, waving it around your dark room looking for any sign of whatever that was. You kick the covers back, combing through every layer and blanket before coming to terms with your new reality.

You had no idea where that bug went—or if it was even real. And the uncertainty of the event and its aftermath meant your room?

No longer a place of relaxation.

Your hand pauses before knocking on Sunghoon's door. Yeah, he's your friend and all. Your best friend, at that. But what if he's busy doing something? Hanging out on a call with his friends or gaming? Yeah, he's your best friend, but he loves to tease you and surely this situation would lead to that, and... you aren't sure if you could handle him treating you like that right now. It's not that you despised his teasing, you most certainly adore his attention every time you have it. But tonight...

"Are you gonna come in or just stand there like a serial killer?"

"How do you know I'm even out here?" you huff, indignant that he cut off your thoughts.

"Kitchen light's on," he calls through the door. "You're casting a shadow under my door. Very serial killer-y. Come in."

You sigh, turning the knob and pushing his door open. Sunghoon sits on his bed, wearing the grey hoodie you think compliments everything about him. In his hands, resting on his lap, is a journal. You watch as he seamlessly places his pen inside, closing the book and setting it on the side table furthest from you. You watch as his eyes take you in—his shirt you stole a year ago and never gave back (even if it doesn't smell like him anymore), pajama pants, socks. Nothing spectacular, but your heart has already convinced you he's staring because it's you.

You forgot to calculate your stupid crush into this. Honestly, falling for your best friend who also happens to be your roommate?

"Let me guess," Sunghoon hums, smirk on his lips as he leans back against the wall, hands politely folded in his lap. "I forgot to send you my share of the rent."

"No, I—"

He holds up one finger, as if saying aha! "My share of utilities?"

"No, Sunghoo—"

"I did the dishes I promise!" His hands are both up, palms out, a stupid grin on his face.

"There was a bug in my room." You step forward, shutting the door behind you. You wanted as much room between you and that thing—even if you're still wondering if you even saw one or not. Sunghoon didn't need to know your doubts about that. "I'm here because there was a bug in my bed."

Sunghoon leans forward, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and patting the spot beside him. "Not because you're madly in love with me?" he teases, and you roll your eyes. If only he knew. "Because that was going to be my next guess."

"No, it's—I—" You sit down beside him, feeling his weight on the bed shift as you join in. You didn't think it had bothered you this much, or you didn't want to think about it at all. But sitting here? Trying to recall it?

"Hey, wait." Sunghoon's face has shifted, his brows knit together with worry. "For real. Are you okay?"

"It's just..." You close your eyes, trying to find the right words. When you open them again, you turn towards Sunghoon, whose stare moves over your features, searching for anything he can do. "It was so icky. It never actually touched me, but I feel like I can feel it on my skin.

"Where?" Sunghoon asks softly. His attention and care, the calming atmosphere of his room lit only with small table lamps and string lights, are already helping.

You go along, pointing to your arm. "Here. Like all over. It's nasty."

"May I?" he asks,

You pause, confused and unsure as to what he's asking about. But this is Sunghoon, and you trust him with so many things already. You nod.

He turns his body more toward you, and you mirror him. Sunghoon takes one hand with his larger, warm one, cradling yours in his palm. Then, with his other, he places his hand at the top of your shoulder, moving down softly and slowly, drawing warmth all the way down to your wrist. Any sensation you thought you felt has been replaced with a real one now. Sunghoon does it again once or twice—you're now feeling dizzy, intoxicated with such an intimate touch—before switching to your other arm and repeating the process. Once he finishes, Sunghoon drops your hand back into your lap, his lips quirked into a half smile. "Did that help? Is it gone?" You watch in a haze of feelings as Sunghoon reaches behind him, pulling his hoodie off effortlessly. His hair is ruffled now and all you can focus on is how good the black t-shirt he's wearing underneath looks. He places the hoodie in your lap, then reaches up to cup your cheek, his fingers threading behind your ear into your hair and against your scalp. "You felt cold. You take it."

"What are you doing?"

Sunghoon squints, unsure, but doesn't remove his hand. "I'm... taking care of you." He doesn't say it like a question.

You shake your head, and his hand falls away. You grip at the hoodie in your hands, still warm from being worn. "No, nuh-uh. Is this how friends take care of each other?"

"I'm not sure I'm getting what you're saying," he says, frowning. As he pulls back you lean forward, and his eyes widen just enough.

Just enough to keep you talking.

This ball of feelings had been pushed the moment you decided to come to his room and seek out comfort. If you didn't want to sleep in your room, you could have slept on the large sofa the two of you had saved up for and invested in together. You bought a couch together. Do regular friends do that? And then the touching and his warmth and openness and his hoodie in your hands and—and—

"I lied earlier."

You feel bad for how confused your best friend looks. "What? Seriously are you okay?" he asks, taking the back of his hand to press lightly against your forehead.

You reach up, taking his hand in yours and bringing his knuckles to your lips. There's no going back now. And since he hasn't kicked you out yet, you keep going, ball still rolling. "I lied earlier," you repeat. "I do like you."

You watch the blush on Sunghoon's cheeks, mindlessly wondering how you can see it happen again. Sunghoon blushing? Because of you? He clears his throat, but instead of withdrawing his hand, he threads his fingers between yours. "I actually asked if you were madly in love with me."

You nod, and you feel Sunhoon squeeze your hand tighter as his eyes widen. Now, it seems, his in shock. "I just... I adore you and I don't know when it happened. It certainly wasn't when we met and you called me a loser and then we got paired together on the next group assignment." You stop to catch your breath as Sunghoon laughs, drawing his free hand over his face. There's a soft, carefree smile on his lips when you continue. "And then I saw you date other people and it felt weird to be excited when it didn't work out. And then we moved in together and got the couch and—"

"Can I kiss you now?" he interrupts, bringing his hand back up to cup your chin between his thumb and forefinger, half-lidded eyes alight with happy mischief.

You squeeze his hand, acting as an anchor. "Would you believe me then?" you ask.

His whisper ghosts against your lips. "I already do."

He tastes sweet and tart and strong, like cherries and coffee. He tilts his head, nose brushing past yours as he kisses you, tenderly and thoughtfully and in a way you know you'll never, ever get enough but it won't stop you from trying. He shakes his hand from yours to wrap his arm around your waist, and your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt. You pull apart, gasping for air, trying to blink past the haze in your eyes before deciding that no, actually, neither of your were done. And this kiss? You can feel him smiling as he lets go of your chin to wrap that arm around you. You start laughing, pulling away as he plants kisses on your cheeks and nose and chin and jaw. You two topple over, a laughing mess with limbs already tangled together, like you already both knew.

Like you'd been loving each other for a long time.

"Can I tell you something?" Sunghoon asks, brushing his nose against yours. You'd been in his arms before, obviously, but this? Here and now? It's different—a good different.

"Yeah, I guess so," you reply. "I'd rather you kiss me more, though."

"What? We aren't doing a fifty-fifty split like we do on everything else?" he asks, propping himself up. "I have to do all the kissing?"

"Do I not deserve to be spoiled?" you ask, cheeks hurting from your smiling. The hoodie had been lost, probably fallen to the floor when you grabbed his shirt. But you aren't cold anymore.

Sunghoon laughs, grabbing the journal and paging it open to where he had bookmarked it with his pen earlier. His eyes scan the page, but he doesn't share. "I was actually writing about you... us... I was trying to get my thoughts out on paper when you showed up." He shrugs, placing the pen back to bookmark his spot and returning the journal to the nightstand. He levels you a soft and dreamy stare. "Maybe that bug was Cupid."

"I literally cannot believe you right now."

He laughs again, flopping back down beside you. Somehow, you'd found your way to the middle of his bed, head resting in his pillows. The two of you lay on your side, face to face, as close as each of you dared.

"Be honest," Sunghoon requests. "Was there really a bug?"

You whack at his shoulder, and he hooks his arm around your waist in response, pulling you closer. "Yes, there was!"

Sunghoon shrugs again, leaning in to kiss you. "Okay, I'll call the exterminator in the morning."

"What? You aren't going to save me yourself?"

"And give you an excuse to leave me and go back to your room?" Sunghoon's hold on your waist gets tighter. He shakes his head. "No, I'll call in the morning, thank you."

You roll your eyes. "Some prince charming you are."

"I'm calling, aren't I?"

"Make it up to me," you say, and Sunghoon nods. "Tell me how long you've been in love with me."

He laughs, blush coming back up to his cheeks as he rolls his head into the pillow. He looks back up at you shyly, and in such a way that makes you blush. You can feel the heat creep across your cheeks, the tips of your ears, down your neck. His eyes flick there before coming back up to yours.

"You told me you definitely didn't like me when I first called you a loser," he says, voice soft now. "But I think I did. I thought you were the coolest person ever, and I couldn't believe you were talking to me. So I panicked and called you a loser."

"Really smooth," you say, reaching to push Sunghoon's hair out of his eyes. You revel in the way you see him shiver slightly beneath your touch.

"I know," he says, "but if I hadn't called you that, our teacher wouldn't have paired us together so we could 'get along.' And then we never would have bought a couch together."

You laugh, small and light, and Sunghoon smiles wider still. "What? You don't think we would have met or connected any other way?"

Sunghoon shakes his head. "I don't even want to think about a world where I never got to know you."

"Then don't," you offer, threading your fingers through his hair. "And kiss me again."

His hands splay against your ribs, warmth radiating against you, his lips moving against yours before you're done talking. "Whatever you say, love."

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andkisses · 3 months

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✧･ﾟ: * bf texts with: heeseung

♡ heeseung x gn!reader ♡ genres/tropes: mostly fluff, some angst, one suggestive one ♡ mentions of/warnings: use of petnames, some jealousy on his part ♡ a/n: these are sm fun to make ♡ masterlist ♡

#kdiarynet #kwritersworld #kflixnet #k-labels enhypen fluff #enhypen headcanons #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen texts #heeseung fluff #heeseung headcanons #heeseung scenarios #heeseung imagines #heeseung texts #texts #all #prose #enhypen

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andkisses · 3 months

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♡ cold weather care | enha ♡

ot7!enha headcanon: cold weather activities with you <3

♡ ot7 x gn!reader | wc. 857 ♡ genres/tropes: fluff, he’s so down bad and tbh u are too ♡ mentions of/warnings: none ♡ a/n: little something for every member <3 jungwon’s and heeseung’s first and the rest below the cut ^^ inspired by the complete freezing and miserable weather im having <33 minimally proofread lol

♡ masterlist ♡

✧･ﾟ: * jungwon - cuddles and naps

the thermometer is far too low to even think of going outside, even if the snow outside is enticing and beautiful. instead, jungwon brings all the pillows and blankets he can find out to the couch, where after moment of nearly being engulfed by said pillows and blankets, the two of you nestle down into a cacoon of warmth. you snuggle against jungwon’s chest, one of his arms wrapped around you and holding you close. the two of you mindless stroll through netflix, looking for something awful and cheesy to watch. you kiss the bottom of his jaw and relish the way he smiles, cheek crushing into his shoulder. he wouldn’t want anything else.

✧･ﾟ: * heeseung - first snow kiss

you both stay up late, peeking behind the blinds to look through the streets lights in hopes of catching the first few flakes. it isn’t until much past midnight, when you’re eyes are heavy and there’s no more games to play. one of you takes one last look outside, and the other starts throwing over coats and hats and scarfs and gloves. suddenly you’re outside, watching the fluffy white flakes fall down towards you. heeseung watches you, chest heavy with something good and romantic. he’s happy this is his life, happy you’re the one he gets to kiss delicately under a snowy night sky, lips soft and warm and smiley just for him.

✧･ﾟ: * jay - pillow forts

perhaps the both of you have taken this too seriously, but who’s to say when such an amazing pillow fort now graces the living room floor? sheets pitched like a tent with chairs from the dining table. you turned the floor into a menagerie of blankets, soft and fluffy while jay brought a carefully curated plate of snacks. you elect to catch up on the latest drama, the one that fell off because of work. as the snow pours down in white ribbons outside, you curl into jay’s side, savoring his warmth against your own. jay does the same, closing his eyes to place a kiss atop the crown of your head. how did he get so lucky?

✧･ﾟ: * jake - nighttime errands

you’re still chilly as you methodically look through the movies at your local library, trying to find something interesting and new. eventually, you grab something with a flashy cover. you check it out and prepare yourself before rushing out into the cold where jake waits. ever the gentleman, once he sees you on the way, he opens the passenger side door for you. when he asks what you picked, you tell him it’s a surprise. you laugh at his dramatic pout before leaning over the center console to press a kiss to his cool cheek. when you lean back, you can’t help but blush at his lovesick smile. you can’t contain your giggles, either, when he leans over, cupping your cheeks, and plants kisses rapid fire all over your face. you’re his favorite.

✧･ﾟ: * sunghoon - snowball fight

it begins outside, something innocent and wholesome as you and sunghoon step out to admire the snow. it coats everything in a thick blanket of white, and with one touch you realize it’s the perfect snow for make snowmen, or snow angels, or–you whip around in response to the cold hit to your back. sunghoon stands, hands in his pocket and gaze anywhere but you, acting like nothing happened. your shock quickly wears off as you ball up snow with your bare hands, hurtling it towards your unsuspecting boyfriend. it’s a short war that ends with both of you slipping and laughing at each other, noses red with cold. he’s never thought you looked more beautiful than right now.

✧･ﾟ: * sunoo - snow angels

always one for fun competition, and because he loves to see the determination on your face, sunoo bets he can create the best snow angel ever. it’s a few minutes of walking around the park by your apartment, bundled up but already feeling the bite at your nose. after, your snow angels so close their wings nearly touch, you and sunoo take time to judge. you fake gag when he calls you his snow angel. your laughter is very much real when sunoo tackles you backwards. he’s only half kidding when he says you’re a snow angel. with a laugh like that, there’s no way you aren’t heavensent.

✧･ﾟ: * niki - baking treats

they say that baking is an exact science, but you and niki have proven that might be a fallacy. the inexact amounts of sugar, salt, and vanilla you’ve added to these cookies would make a purist cry, but as you sit on the floor side by side, watching the cookies slowly rise in the oven, you have a feeling it will work. and when you taste the cookies after they’ve cooled, you share a peculiar look. they aren’t good like a bakery, but they’re still pretty tasty. as you start researching easy icing recipes, brows knit in concentration, the feeling in niki’s chest tells he’s never eaten anything better. and he wouldn’t want to share these kinds of adventures with anyone else.

#thank you for 100 notes!!

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andkisses · 3 months

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♡ oh say it ditto | enha ♡

ot7!enha headcanon: he confesses, and wants you to say it back

♡ ot7 x gn!reader | wc. 968 ♡ genres/tropes: fluff! ♡ mentions of/warnings: none (this wasn’t proof read tho </3) ♡ a/n: little something for every member <3 jungwon’s first and the rest below the cut ^^ each part is inspired by lyrics from ditto by newjeans <3 ♡ a/n p2: this song is so sunghoon coded imo so if u see smth else get posted with him and this song 🙈 just know

♡ masterlist ♡

✧･ﾟ: * jungwon - “like you a little, don’t want no riddle”

he’s had all this time to think about it, and do know that jungwon is really putting his thoughts to it. he’s decided—he needs to confess, and as soon as possible, because he’s slowly becoming concerned it might be a health crisis. this feeling, the one that started out so small and chaste, has grown into something he can’t contain anymore. and the idea that he doesn’t know exactly what you think? the riddle of it all? that’s what’s the worst. imagine his relief, after he confesses so simply in the winter wind, as he watches your cheeks and the tips of your ears flush red, red, red. and his heart sparks with hope. imagine the surprise when you grin, overwhelmed, and place a sweet kiss to the apple of his own smiling cheeks. “me too.”

✧･ﾟ: * heeseung - “my feelings for you, like the memories we share, have grown so big”

it started out so small, heeseung realizes thinking back on it. he liked your laugh, or your smile, or your fashion. then, suddenly, he found himself wanting to get to know you, not just see you from across a lecture hall. and now… this. the feelings that press against his chest, the ones that make it almost painful to see you because you don’t know. except, here in this stairwell after class, when he grabbed your wrist to catch you, you do know. the confession slips past his lips, almost desperate, and now heeseung is certain he will be sick. except, you take a step back up towards him, wrap your arms around his neck. and when he wraps his arms around your waist, the warmth that floods him tells heeseung he’s exactly where he needs to be.

✧･ﾟ: * jay - “you smiled at me but do you think about me now?”

uncertainty is not one of his favorite feelings, but jay deals with it for you. except, he’s not sure how much longer he can take this. he likes to think he knows things about people, knows how they tick. but you? maybe it’s the feelings that keep growing and growing inside, the way just hearing your voice down the hall or in the cafe makes him smile. but actually not knowing? it’s tearing him up inside, even if it’s masked by that beautiful smile. and now, here you are, standing at the corner of his desk after everyone has left. your fingertips on the corner, his gaze traveling up to your eyes, and the envelope in the other hand. the small, coy smile on your lips. “it’s hard saying things aloud, isn’t it?”

✧･ﾟ: * jake - “i had a long day, i miss you”

scheduling difference don’t have to be this hard, jake thinks as he waits for you at the corner of where your two paths meet. it feels like it’s been forever since he’s seen you—not like he’s obliged to see you or anything. you two weren’t anything official or special, even if he wants so badly to be. maybe it’s thinking about what life would be like if he could call you mine that made the words slip out. “i miss you.” normal words, but the way he said it, and the way you respond, eyes wide and cheeks dusted with blush. “miss me how?” you ask, winter breeze blowing at your baby hairs. jake takes a step closer, choosing to listen to his heart’s wishes as you do the same. he laces his hand with yours, then brings your knuckles to his lips for a small, dainty kiss. your growing smile keeps him going. “miss… like this?”

✧･ﾟ: * sunghoon - “say it, say it back, oh, say it ditto”

you make him nervous, sunghoon thinks, but the good kind. the kind that fills you with energy, like what you feel before a roller coaster. the hand that makes your fingers itch, wanting to be held by just one person. wanting to be held by you. this nervousness, he thinks, is what is motivating him, because he has surely never acted like this before let alone felt this much. he takes your hand on the walk back, a wash of seriousness pouring over his features. it’s too late to back out now, and you haven’t wrenched your hand away from his, so perhaps there’s a chance. “i like you,” he says, and he can feel the weights being lifted from his shoulders. “a lot. and i really, really want you to say it back.”

✧･ﾟ: * sunoo - “can’t wait 'til the morning, so say it, ditto”

yes, the sun set a long while ago. yes, sunoo should be fast asleep. but how can he be when all he can think or wonder or ponder is you? more specifically, how do you feel? he can hedge a bet—how close you sit, how you laugh at his jokes, how you reach out for him in the hall. but it’s the not knowing that’s really keeping him awake. so, of course, he does something about it. phone in his hands, six simple words—i like you, say it back? and while he waits, he elects it’s the perfect time to ascribe shapes to the spots and shadows on the ceiling. and when you text back? yes, i like you too. meet me in 10? sunoo always thought the campus was more beautiful at night.

✧･ﾟ: * niki - “do you want somebody? like i want somebody?”

the cafe is loud and quiet at the same time. niki is supposed to be studying, yet the pen in his hand feels like a heavy weight, and the words on the page in front of him no longer make sense regardless of how many times he tries to read. the one thing he knows for sure, though, is you sitting across from him, headphones on, pen scribbling and actually doing work. maybe it’s how loud the cafe is, or how short the distance across the table is to you. niki reaches out, taps on the side of your headphones, and once you look up and slide them off, he’s asking. “do you like someone?” your eyes grow wide, cheeks red, and he dares to be bolder, fingers tracing your cheek before: “and is it me?”

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andkisses · 3 months

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♡ oh say it ditto | enha ♡

ot7!enha headcanon: he confesses, and wants you to say it back

♡ masterlist ♡

✧･ﾟ: * jungwon - “like you a little, don’t want no riddle”

✧･ﾟ: * heeseung - “my feelings for you, like the memories we share, have grown so big”

✧･ﾟ: * jay - “you smiled at me but do you think about me now?”

✧･ﾟ: * jake - “i had a long day, i miss you”

✧･ﾟ: * sunghoon - “say it, say it back, oh, say it ditto”

✧･ﾟ: * sunoo - “can’t wait 'til the morning, so say it, ditto”

✧･ﾟ: * niki - “do you want somebody? like i want somebody?”

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andkisses · 3 months

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♡ bad influence | heeseung ♡

he promised to leave you alone so you could sleep, but there’s something important you both forgot

♡ heeseung x gn!reader | wc. 634 ♡ genres/tropes: fluff !!! he’s so in love w/ u, establish relationship/bed sharing ♡ mentions of/warnings: u call each other pet names ♡ a/n: prompt: kissing each other goodnight; also thank you for 80+ followers! <33 ♡ masterlist ♡

You’d already said goodnight, popped in your ear buds, and rolled over. The pillow soft beneath your head, comforter up to your chin, and the teddy bear Heeseung had won you long ago safe in your arms. This is the fastest way you know to fall asleep. Yes, you loved curling up into Heeseung’s arms, tucked under his chin. You reveled in how it felt, the warmth and the safety. And, too often, you’d keep yourself awake to stay in the feeling

But tomorrow, you have a big day, so it’s a pretend-he-isn’t-here kind of sleep routine kind of night.

And, given that he’s just started shaking your arm and calling out your name, he’s making both aspects (the ignoring him and the falling asleep) very difficult.

“What?” you ask, voice raspy with almost-sleep as you turn to look over your shoulder and pop one earbud out.

In the faint light, you see your boyfriend sitting up, knees beneath him, hands in his lap now that he’s gotten your attention. His lips are pressed together and his eyes are wide.

You turn over more, propping yourself up on your elbows, a string of worry pulling taunt through you. “Hee?” you whisper, still tired.

He opens his mouth to speak, which turns into a sigh. He closes his eyes and his shoulders slump. When he opens them again, his voice is timid. “I know you have to sleep, and I get that, I really do and I really tried and–” he cuts himself from rambling and levels you a passionate yet innocent stare. “You forgot to kiss me goodnight.”

The laugh that escapes your lips is big and bold and bright. The worry in you dissipates and is replaced with a big sense of adoration. How could you possibly be mad?

Heeseung pouts as you pull yourself to sit upright. “I’m being serious,” he whines, and it makes you giggle more.

“You’re so needy,” you tease, reaching out with both hands to pinch his cheek.

He leans into your touch, the warmth of his cheeks that you just know are blushing seeping into your palm. “I tried not to be…”

You pull him towards you, and it takes him off guard. He almost crashes into you as his lips meet yours, but one hand reaches out for purchase on the headboard and the other curls around your waist.

Heeseung sighs into your kiss, relief smoothing out his shoulders and the worry line between his brows. The arm at your waist is like an anchor, and when he’s sure you both won’t topple over, his other hand lets go of the headboard and his arm wraps around your shoulders.

You smile into the kiss, and keep smiling when he breaks it, resting his forehead against yours. “Do you really need to sleep alone?” he asks, voice so small and hopeful.

Your hands move up from his cheeks to massage his scalp. Heeseung sighs again, relaxing further into your touch. His reactions, you decide, are addictive. His lips on yours, your jaw, your neck as he punctuates each kiss with a begging please?

Just as intoxicating.

You slump into his form, pulling him back down under the covers. Heeseung smiles wide, knowing you let him win but loving the outcome all the same.

“See?” he says once you’re tucked beneath the covers and curled up into him. “Isn’t this better?”

“Yeah,” you conceed, your turn to sigh as you relax into the soft spot of his shoulder. One arm curls around his back and the other rests on the opposite shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his nightshirt. “Goodnight, Heeseung, my bad influence.”

Heeseung chuckles, something half asleep and entirely endearing. He plants a lazy kiss to the top of your head. “Goodnight, love, my everything.”

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andkisses · 3 months

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♡ a good way | beomgyu ♡

despite the director casting you and beomgyu, your best friend, as the romantic leads, you both promise it won’t change anything between you

♡ beomgyu x gn!reader | wc. 9.1k ♡ genres/tropes: college!au, friends-to-loves, theater!au, hurt/comfort ♡ mentions of/warnings: injuries, lmk if there's anything else ♡ a/n: this is a rewrite of a fic i wrote and posted YEARS ago; unfortunately it was eaten up when i accidentally deleted my blog :’) it was originally for joshua from svt; i changed some of the times in the fic from the original, so if it’s a little wonky that’s why :’) pls enjoy ! <3 at the time it was my longest fic, now only second to roman holiday ^^ a/n 2: apologies for my absences ! i had some health issues even tho it was supposed to be my break :') im doing well now ^^

♡ masterlist ♡

It was strange. Weird. Practically unfathomable and there must be some kind of mistake. The play had those two characters as romantic leads. The ones who slowly turn to look at each other, catch the starry glint in the other’s eye before slowly leaning in, before slowly closing their eyes, before slowly feeling their heartbeat accelerate because oh heavens this is it—before slowly kissing each other for the first time with such tender passion some members of the audience start to cry.

Those roles were not ever meant for the ones who have been friends since seventh grade, where one of them accidentally tripped and tossed their lunch all over the other, rendering the former an apologetic mess and the latter slightly smelling of garlic for the rest of the day. Not for the ones who stayed up far too late binge watching whole seasons of anime because they finally turned in that big project and it’s in fate’s hands now. Definitely not friends who are each other’s best friends, always. Never them.

But when the director swings back to the two of you, the mischievous and excited glint in his eye is unmistakable. His giddiness even bubbles over and he repeats himself, happily gazing between you and the best friend of 8 years standing beside you. “Beomgyu, Y/N, you will be the best two leads this stage has ever seen.”

You don’t want to talk about it. You avoid it for as long as possible. Have every conversation about everything else possible except the one topic that actually needs discussion. The trees outside are slowly losing their crunchy leaves, littering the ground with crimson and gold and sprigs of chocolate in between. They rustle and fuss when walked over, and shuffle down the street in a hoard of warning, proclaiming threats of the bitter winds of winter that would soon approach and engulf everyone whole.

Some mornings, you can see remnants of late-night frost on window panes, icy designs laced over the glass in the early morning hours. The grass glistens and shimmers with frozen dew, and the sidewalk is slippery enough to encourage walking slowly or bypassing concrete altogether and walking through the dead leaves. Some nights, you can see your breath curl as you wait outside the diner, a translucent white beast disappearing into the night. As night draws darker earlier, the air grows colder, like a mysterious ghost. One moment, you’re warm—the next, a bitter chill sprints around you, immersing everything in a coldness that drills past your layers and settles into your bones.

But you’d wait a thousand years in the cold just to walk him home. You’d wait forever if it meant seeing him one last time before the day ended and blurred into the next through a series of dreams and quiet darkness.

Beomgyu is one of the last few people out of the diner; he never closes, but he stays as long as he can, helping out and cleaning before his boss gets angry and tells him to “go home! Don’t you have homework?” When he steps out onto the street, making sure to close the door behind him, he’s safely bundled up in a black pea coat and a plaid woolen scarf that, when wound up, nearly encompasses his neck, chin, and even the bottom tips of his ears. When he sees you waiting for him again, he smiles, eyes lighting up like firecrackers and his grin is so warm it starts to defrost your bones, slowly but surely.

“You know you don’t have to wait for me?” he says, falling in step with you as the two of you began the chilled trek back to your apartment.

“Yeah,” you shrug, “but then who will make sure you don’t get lost on your way back? Or, I don’t know, get eaten by a star-monster?”

“A star-monster?” He quirks his head towards you, raising his eyebrow in mild but amused confusion.

You nod your head. “What if the stars gang up on you and snatch you right off the face of the earth and you disappear into the sky? And no one knows or can save you because I wasn’t there? Hm?”

A bitter chuckle escapes his lips. The white curl of his breath fills the air in front of him before it fades, taking the bright look in his eyes with it. “Then I guess I wouldn’t have to be a part of the musical, would I?”

Silence washes over you like a breaking wave—it hurts and stings, knocking everything away and tossing the tiny ships around into chaos. The only sound now is the brush of the wind skirting the leaves down the street with you and the distant city noise. The heels of your shoes hit the pavement in time together, and your breaths slowly start to match up. But something’s off; you feel it in your heart and your bones begin to ache again as the cold ice returns once more, spreading their chilled fingers across them.

Somehow, you find your voice, but it’s quiet and small. “It couldn’t be that bad, could it?”

Beomgyu shrugs, looking anywhere but you. He throws his head back and stares up at the night sky, where the stars kindly twinkle back at him, almost as a promise of we’d never steal you away. You look up, too, but all you see is a menacing darkness that you’re not sure you can get rid of. It feels like it’s bearing down on you, pressing down on your head, your shoulders, and your heart. With it comes a dark doubt, one that oozes into the cracks of your armor and makes you start to question things. It beckons out the dangerous thoughts—the what ifs—and coaxes them into the light and forces you to acknowledge them. What if... this changes things. What if... it ruins things. What if...

“Y/N?”

Your gaze drops back down. Beomgyu stands a few yards ahead of you, in the light of one of the yellow streetlamps. You must have stopped while lost in thought, slowing down until you ended up stuck in between two lamps, in the shadowy part. “Hm?”

He shakes his head. “You just stopped walking.” He turns toward you completely and quickens his pace until he’s beside you again. The look on his face screams of concern, of wondering if his best friend is fine or if it’s something he can’t fix. He reaches out to take your hand in his. “Is everything okay?”

Your heart swells, but it still feels as if it will break, shatter, crumble at any time or place. It feels like porcelain, that if it isn’t handled with care and marked FRAGILE, it will ruin to the point that nothing can fix it. You know what question you have to ask; it’s weighing down on your tongue and you’ll have to force it out.

You gulp, and you can feel your hand shaking in his. Beomgyu’s eyebrows knit together, his starry eyes trying to search for what’s wrong. For what is in need of helping. You stare back at him, garnering the courage to ask the question that’s been plaguing you since roles had been assigned. “The show–it won’t change anything between us, will it?”

And then, he does something unthinkable.

He laughs.

Beomgyu lets go of your hand and bends over in half, practically cackling at the idea, whisker dimples on full display. When he stands back up again, he’s still laughing hard enough he crinkles into your frame, resting a hand on your shoulder and burying his head into your neck, an arm resting across his stomach. His body shakes with laughter, and it’s infectious. A grin slowly spreads across your face, and then a giggle works its way out until the two of you are both laughing like fools. You may be between two lampposts in the shadows, but there’s light where you are.

When the laughter finally subsides to gentle smiles, Beomgyu takes your hand again and tugs you close. He starts walking again, pulling you along, swinging your arms between the two of you. He knocks into your shoulder jokingly, and the both of you smile harder. “Of course not,” Beomgyu says. His smile is pure, assuring. The hand in yours is warm, stable. “Nothing will ever change us.”

Seventh Grade.

The auditorium was full of anxious students, the buzz of noise telling the story of those who were waiting for their turn to shine on stage. The lights were turned on as bright as they would be for a performance, and the stage was decorated with real props from last semester’s performance, a steampunk rendition of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. No one thought the director could pull it off, but when the curtains closed for the last time that first showing, everyone was left starstruck and a new round of students was inspired to try out for the next performance.

A loud clap from the director thundered through the auditorium, signaling for attention and shocking you into your seat a little further. The red fabric bristled against whatever skin your sweater didn’t cover. Outside, the harsh winter weather pummeled the barren landscape, the dead, empty tree branches getting whipped by the bitter, unforgiving wind. The light dusting of snow made everything brighter, almost to the point it hurt to look out the windows at the white world. Inside, however, was full of warm tones and warm breaths. The heat of the auditorium practically had you sweltering, making you wish you had worn layers instead of a bright green sweater. The threads around the collar began to itch at your neck, and you tugged at the hem in search of relief. You really wanted to be here. You really wanted to audition. But the number of people and how long you’ve waited has started to play mind games with you. What if they don’t get to you today? What if they skip over you entirely for someone else? Someone with more theater experience from prior years than you, a complete newbie? What if—

“Hey, uh, is this seat taken?”

You looked up, still fiddling with your itchy collar. It was the boy from the day before—Beomgyu. The one who had accidentally tripped over someone else’s backpack and thrown his lunch all over you. He looked like a complete wreck, one hand holding onto the wrist of the other arm, his dark brown hair falling into his eyes as he struggled to even look in your direction. You shelf your own nerves and offer up a kind smile and pat the seat, which he hastily filled.

It’s quiet between the two of you for a while afterward. On stage, more students rotated through songs and performances, some spectacular and others a little lackluster. It was beginning to become monotonous, and your mind started to wonder if you had gotten here earlier, would you have already auditioned by now? But then something happened. A student walked on stage, introduced themselves politely, and then began to blow everyone and every other performance out of the water. The way they moved, spoke, sang—everything they did was captivating and you felt yourself leaning forward in your seat, drawing ever nearer to the practically perfect audition. There was no music playing in the background, but their vocals and stage presence was more than enough. The entire auditorium erupted in applause when the student on stage finished.

“Wow,” you breathed out. You’d practically fallen out of the chair—feet standing on tiptoes, elbows on knees, chin rested in your cupped hands with a shimmer in your eyes. That. You wanted to be like that. Bewitching, enchanting, and utterly spellbinding.

“I know right?” the boy whispered beside you. The two of you turned to look at each other, and somehow, in the back of your mind, you registered he was sitting the same way you were, looking completely and utterly enraptured with the previous performance. He stared into your eyes—the first time, you noted—and you could see the stars, like a secret milky way full of wonder. There was a serious note in them. “Let’s both do our best so when we grow up, we can be that good.”

“No.” You shook your head, and Beomgyu’s face collapsed into confusion. You shook your head again, this time with a mischievous grin spreading across your lips. “No, when we grow up, we’ll be way better.”

A murmur ripples around campus. Sophomore year of college, and all of high school behind you. You’d think you would be used to it by now, the way quiet words spread around so sneakily but somehow always managed to make their way to your ears, too. But when the girls in the bathroom see you and slyly turn away, whispering how you and Beomgyu have the romantic leads, how of course they do, you can’t help but feel the knot in your stomach form and twist your insides until you feel pressure on your heart as well. Until it feels like you’re about to burst and spill everywhere. You want to spin at them, throw your hands out, and tell them how it’s not like that! That there’s nothing between the two of you except for friendship, the purest of kinds! Stop thinking that way!

But the wiser part of you, the one that’s been through high school, knows that they would just nod their head and try to hide their smirk. You can’t change their minds; they’ll always be thinking and imagining what they want.

Outside, the halls teem with people trying to get to their next class or break. You debate on stopping by your locker near the theater—you won’t need your books again until you go home thanks to rehearsal, but it would be out of your way to get there, on the opposite side of the arts block. But your books are heavy. Really heavy. Like shoulder-breaking, premature back pain-inducing heavy. You find that your feet have started to take you through the crowds to your locker before your mind decides on the plan itself.

In middle school, your and Beomgyu’s lockers were practically as far as they could be from one another. Yours by the gymnasium and near the arts building and the theater. With your mismatched class schedules, you only got to see each other at lunch and for theater. As your friendship grew, he would let you borrow locker space. It got to the point where you basically co-owned each other’s lockers; everything for classes on his side of the building was in his locker and everything for classes on your side was in yours.

By the time high school rolled around two grades later, the two of you were inseparable. As were your lockers. His at one end of the hall, yours at the other end on the opposite side. This only caused trouble junior year, when the two of you had such a bad falling out you could hardly bare to walk past one another’s locker let alone the other person. You would end up taking roundabout ways to your own locker, which worked until you ended up running into him one day without warning.

But you don’t have that problem now. As you walk past Beomgyu, who’s standing by his locker talking to another theater kid, you lightly slug his shoulder. You turn to walk backward and catch his reaction, and he’s staring back at you with fake confusion and his arms thrown up in the air. “You’ll pay for that!” he calls after you.

“Yeah, yeah, sure I will!”

You reach your locker, a happy smile on your face, glad your best friend is the kind of person you can beat up on. You spin the lock with precision, ready to open the door, slam your books inside on the shelf, and hurry to the theater for rehearsals. You can’t wait to see what strange exercises the director would have up his sleeve today; last time, he had everyone stand on the steps in the audience and each time they recited a line correctly, they got to move up two steps. First to the top wins; you and Beomgyu tied for first.

When you pull out the lock and swing the door open, what you see ruins your mood instantly. The crisp, white, inch-thick script stares back at you with quiet remorse. Remember me? it seems to say. Don’t forget about me. You’re almost afraid to touch it, knowing exactly what it holds in its pages even without having read a single line. If your fingers were to graze it, it’s as if an electric shock would shoot out and stop your heart from ever beating again. A tiny part of you wonders if, if your heart really did stop beating, would Beomgyu come to your side and rescue you?

Or would it be like the other night, with a sharp, bitter laugh and a mild happiness over a forgotten kiss.

You’re jostled out of your stupor by a neat punch to your arm, and you fall back into your locker with a metallic clang. When your vision focuses back on the real world, you see Beomgyu walking away from you towards the theater with a confident smirk on his face. He throws out his hands, his smile growing even wider. “I told you, you’d pay for that!”

You’re smiling too, now, and you hurry and grab the script and race after him.

It will all be okay. The two of you had already talked about it, how nothing could change between you two. Regardless of what the girls in the bathroom would dare to say in front of you. Regardless of what anyone else on campus or your major are thinking. Regardless of the script that burns slightly in your grasp, the crisp paper threatening to cut tiny slices into your delicate skin. You and Beomgyu—inseparable best friends for the rest of time.

It would always be that way. No play, no roles, no romantic leads, would get in the way of that. You’d promised each other you’d be each other’s best friend, always.

Freshman year.

Sunlight streaming through the loosely drawn curtains was what woke you, lit patterns playing across your face. Your back ached from sleeping on a couch at a crooked angle for who knows how long. You stretched and tried to pull at your sore joints, attempting to return them to pre-crooked status. The room was still dark; the lamps were all off and the only other source of light was the television, where Netflix was playing some random anime you don’t remember ever selecting or talking about. Vague memories float up to the surface slowly as you finished waking up: you and Beomgyu had turned in a big semester final project that neither of you had thought would be finished on time but somehow managed to pull off. Deciding to get take out and stay up as long as possible watching as many seasons of anime as you could fit in and—

“Boo!”

Your scream echoed through the small dorm and you pulled at the blanket on top of you, trying to hide behind the soft, comforting quilt. On the other side of the couch was Beomgyu, laughing so hard he nearly rolled off onto the shag carpet rug. You half thought about being kind, and warning him to be careful because if he fell he could hit his head on the coffee table, but the other half said he scared you and deserved whatever happened next.

“How could you be so mean!” you whined, reaching behind you to grab a pillow to throw at your best friend’s face. “How long had you been planning something like that?”

Beomgyu paused his laughter to think. “Probably since I woke up about ten minutes ago. It would have been more elaborate, but then you woke up and I ran out of time.”

“You’ll pay for that, you know,” you muttered, drawing the blankets closer against your chest, where inside your heart still beating faster than usual.

“Even after helping you with that project and pay for dinner? On a college budget?” He paused for another moment, resting his chin between his thumb and the rest of his fingers. “Wait, pay for dinner... seems like I’ve already paid for it, Y/N.”

“Beomgyu!” You lunged forward, diving towards his end of the couch. Instead of a successful attack, you landed squarely in his arms, where he proceeded to tug you tightly against his chest. Escape, you soon realized, was futile. You’d have to talk your way out of this one. “Beomgyu, let me go. Now!"

“You know, you sure are whiney when you wake up,” he commented, rustling the hair atop your head. Your heart was still beating quickly and you were convinced the flush of your cheeks was due to large bouts of boiling hot rage streaming through your veins. “And why should I?”

“I would be in a nicer mood if you hadn’t scared me!” You tried to wriggle your arms up and pry your way out, but his grip was solid still, strong and warm. Since when was he ever this strong? His cheeks, you noticed, were warm and rosy as well, but that was from laughing too hard, you were sure. Why else would they be flushed?

“You may have a point…”

“Of course, I have a point! Now let me go!”

Mischief swam around with the stars in your best friend’s eyes. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, planning something you could only hope wasn’t entirely embarrassing. One eyelid dropped shut, and the smirk on his lips was unmistakable. “I will, but only if you pay for breakfast. From somewhere nice,” he rushes to add. “Student union doesn’t count.”

You released a terse sigh, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Fine! Deal! Now, release me!”

His arms slid away and you rolled over onto the floor, gently landing between the couch and the coffee table. The carpet was rough against your bare arms, but you were glad to be freed from Beomgyu’s death grip.

He was situated on the edge of the couch, chin resting lazily on his forearm, his eyes filled with mild shock and awe. “Really?” he gasped, as if he couldn’t actually believe you’d agreed. “Even if it’s the overpriced brunch food from the boutique down the street?”

You sighed, staring back at him. “Yes. Even the brunch food from the boutique down the street.”

A moment of stillness, then...

“I’m glad we’re best friends," he said plainly, no hesitation in his voice. His dark eyes had warmed to a welcoming honest color, the kind some people could describe as home. The air around the two of you was still, a precious silence that quietly begged to be broken softly. Outside, the morning birds began to sing their late winter tune, beckoning spring to arrive as soon as possible. The sun filtered through the tiny windows brightly now, filling the dorm with warm yellow like that made everything feel nostalgic. Like the perfect ’80s movie.

When you found your voice, your words were soft but not timid. They held the same amount of honesty and weight as his had. “Me, too. We’re best friends, always.”

A soft smile played at Beomgyu’s lips as he echoed your promise. “Always.”

The walk back to your apartment is chilly. Even though the sun shone brightly ahead, the first freeze of the season the night prior plunged your town from late autumn into early winter. What few leaves remain on the trees might as well be frozen on, and the rest of the dead ones scattered around on the pavement, crunchy husks of their former selves. It’s daylight, but you can easily imagine if darkness were shrouded around you, your breaths would be rising out in front of you in vague translucent puffs. Cold describes everything in sight.

Beomgyu is close by your side, nestled in that ridiculously oversized scarf of his. Christmas is a while away, but you’re already planning on getting him a nice, Beomgyu-sized scarf, probably a deep brown to match his eyes.

“What’cha thinking about?” His voice, clear as crystal, cuts through the air like a sharpened knife, but it doesn’t startle you. It’s warm and inviting against the bitter winter weather, a gentle fire among the cold.

“What I’m gonna get you for Christmas,” you reply, burying your hands into your coat pockets. The pavement scuffs beneath your boots, the walk back home growing boring. As you crossed the street where you two used to part ways freshman year, him to the left and you to the right, you remember when he said his parents told him they were moving during high school. How distraught the two of you became, only to find out he was moving in across the street from your house. Now, you split the rent for a two bedroom apartment. “How about you?”

“To be completely honest, I’m wishing I had remembered my gloves this morning, because right now, my hands are extremely cold.”

You laugh, a bright chuckle, and pull your own hands out of your pockets, staring down at the grey gloves cloaking your fingertips. You hold out your hand towards him. “Want to take one?”

Beomgyu scoffs. “And let you suffer from an equally terrible fate as myself? I think not. At least one of us needs to live.”

You laugh again, throwing your hands back into your pocket. “Fine, be that way.” You cut in front of him, dashing over to the short decorative stone wall running as a divider between the grassy park and the sidewalk. In a quick hop, you’re walking along the top as it gradually slopes higher to the point your feet are even with Beomgyu’s waist.

He stares up at you as you hold your arms at length on either side of you, a small frown playing on his lips. “Be careful,” he warns, the tone of his voice surprisingly stern, something he rarely treats you with. When you look down, you see his brows creased as he follows your pace.

“Yeah, okay, dad,” you laugh, finding the bitter look on Beomgyu’s face amusing. The stone wall beneath your feet is sturdy, and your balance is just as solid. Years of strange theater exercises had brought you that. You can even see your apartment down the street; you’d walk all the way atop this wall, taller now still, and show him. You’ll get to the end and hop off dramatically and tease him for worrying. He keeps pace with you perfectly, still by your side even if there’s distance. The look in Beomgyu’s eyes tells you he wants to reprimand you, take you by the waist and set you safely on the sidewalk before scolding you on every reason why you shouldn’t have done that. But you don’t need him to. You’re perfectly safe with no reason to worry and—

You’ve misstepped.

Your foot is too far from the center, closer to the edge of the stonewall than you had anticipated. There’s not enough foot on the edge to save it. Your impressive balance is misplaced even further as your arms circle widely at your sides, trying in vain to regain some semblance of stability. You can feel yourself pitch sideways, your feet finally coming out from beneath you, and now you’re looking up at the crystal blue sky.

There’s not a cloud in sight, odd for this early winter day, and for the shortest of moments, it’s like you're falling through the atmosphere. The cold wind biting at your cheeks is caused by your descent. The screams you hear are just the air rushing past your ears, calling your name, not anyone else. The clunk of bodies hitting the pavement is just an illusion.

Your vision snapping to black is just a mistake, a cruel trick of fate, like the dark doubts that swarm around your head when you’re all alone. The blackness is almost welcoming, and you succumb quietly.

Twelfth Grade

Four weeks. Just under a month. Your life had gone from bold with color and emotion to two steps from dead and lifeless. Subjects you’d once enjoyed, now dull and monotonous. Walks to school were boring. Lunch and free period were non-committal. You’d skipped theater more than your fingers could count; you’d gotten an email from the director asking if everything was okay.

But it wasn’t. Nothing was.

Because it had been four weeks, just under a month, since you’d talked to your best friend.

What you’d even been fighting over, you couldn’t remember. That entire night is a fogged mess in your memory banks, existing but inaccessible. You know it’s there, but your brain, or maybe your heart, refuses to replay the details for you. The only information it relays is that there was a fight, and somehow some kind of words were said that ended in hot tears and storming out of houses with no goodbyes, take cares, or any sign of always.

Life since then had been weird, like you had shifted from one plane of existence but the world didn’t shift with you. Like a blurry camera shot, where one part of the image is in focus with fuzzy edges but everything else is shaken and smeared like thick wet paint.

All the love and joy theater had brought you since seventh grade was gone, five years nearly shattered to pieces inside your nearly-broken heart. You had no idea when the light would return, or if you would ever act again. It was so closely entwined to him, it physically hurt to walk near the theater or even think of certain plays.

Just like it hurt in the classes you shared. Sitting across the room from each other as far as possible, as opposed to right next to each other and sharing looks and soft smiles. The other students and even the teachers were left in a mild tailspin of confusion. There was never a scene made, nor any words spoken. Glances weren’t exchanged anymore. You never looked in his direction; your heart would ache far too much to handle.

Different pathways were even chosen to get between classes. You didn’t want a chance encounter in the halls, you couldn’t handle it. You guessed he couldn’t either, because you never saw him. There were never any accidental meet ups by your lockers, either.

Your plan had been to skip theater again and take the bus home, riding it around until it dropped you off last. You wouldn’t have to see him, it wouldn’t have to hurt, for that day at least. But you were running late, another teacher asking if you were okay needing brushing off. You needed to hurry and stop by your locker to retrieve your books. The bus was leaving soon; if you wanted to leave, you’d need to rush.

The halls were empty, everyone either in their after school clubs or outside waiting for the buses. You hurried to your locker, fingers anxious to spin the code in, grab your books, and leave. You reached inside, ready to retrieve the books by their spine and disappear from this place for what would feel like a short eternity. The hall was too bright, too empty, too--

“Y/N?”

Your heart skipped a beat, head whipping to the side. Beomgyu stood mere feet from you, but he might as well have been a thousand miles away. There were no longer any stars in his eyes, no warmth or cheer. They were sad, dark pits of self-doubt. They were muted screams, begging for help but not being quite loud enough. The dark circles under his eyes pleaded as well, and the downturn of his lips was what sent your stoic, bored, “I can make this” facade spiraling downwards.

You reached forward instinctively, wanting to cup his cheek with your hand and gently rub away the dark circles with your thumb, but you froze midway. Your voice even hitched. “Beomgyu... you look…”

“Awful? Dreadful? Like hell?” he filled in for you, and you couldn’t help but nod. Your chest was tight, almost to the point you wanted to clutch and tear at your heart to find relief. And the way your best friend was standing, shoulders slumped and body looking one strong wind from caving in like a fragile house of cards, it seemed like his heart was aching, too.

“What happened to us?” you asked, voice quiet and quivering. The hot buildup of tears began behind your eyes, making the edges of your vision blur together in a mass of sad, muted tones. “Why did we—”

“I don’t know,” he answered quickly, anxiously, as if he doesn’t speak fast, he’ll lose you again. He took a tender step forward, leaving only a few feet between you, but it was still too much space. You missed being side by side, close enough to bump into each other’s shoulders or elbow each other’s sides. Beomgyu took another tiny step towards you when you didn't move back. “What were we even fighting about?”

“I don’t know.” You felt like one step away from crumbling inwards, clasping in on yourself and all the way to the cool hallway floor. Your hands were shaking now at your sides, and you gripped your hoodie hem to prevent the shivers from racing up your arms and shaking the rest of you until you shattered into tiny shards. The moment your fingers curled around the soft hem was when you realized: it was his. You’d thrown in on that morning without even thinking. Now, all you could notice was how strongly, how nicely it smelled like him. You took in a solid breath of air to prevent the tears from spilling over, but it was shaky and unconvincing. “Whatever we were fighting about, it’s not worth this. I miss you, Beomgyu.”

His eyes were still empty, no stars in sight, but now they were glossy with tears. His chin quivered, and his lips moved to say something but couldn’t. His fingers curled and uncurled around the leather strap of his messenger bag. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “I miss you. So much it hurts to breathe, so much I can’t stand to look at you in class or else I feel like crying. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Please, please, forgive me and be my best friend again. I don’t think I can take life without you anymore.”

The both of you lunged forward at the same time, wrapping each other in a hug. Your arms clung to his neck while his encircled your waist, holding you close. Warm, salty tears finally spilled over, running down your cheek and onto the soft denim of his jacket. By his shaky breaths, you figured he was crying, too. “I don’t want you not in my life anymore either,” you managed, hoping somehow that you’d made sense.

Beomgyu laughed in your arms, drawing you even nearer. “Good, because I really didn’t want to have to explain to your father why I was standing under your window with my guitar instead of just letting myself in like usual.”

You laughed too, but the kind of broken laugh where you find pure happiness just after harsh sadness. Your heart swelled with joy, knowing that Beomgyu was still yours. The time you’d spent apart, not talking or goofing around or shoving each other playfully with stupid grins on both of your faces, had been life-draining. You’d never get it back, even if you spent forever together. You never wanted to go through anything like that ever again.

Beomgyu nestled into the crook of your neck, words whispered so quietly you knew instantly that they were just for you. “We’re each other’s best friends, always. Right?”

You wrap your arms around even tighter, a true smile on your face for the first time in weeks. “Right. Always, Beomgyu, always.”

The apartment is quiet. The shades are drawn open, allowing late afternoon sunlight to spill in and swim around on soft carpet floors, bathing them in warm yellow light. The television in the corner is on but mute, the news airing with no noise. The heater kicked on a minute or so ago, filling the house with nicely warm air. Outside, soft baby snowflakes begin to fall out of the sky, the first snowfall of the season. If the sound had been on, you would have known that the weatherman said the snow was no reason for concern—it wouldn’t accumulate to the point it was dangerous. Just a light dusting, something to make the outdoors look nice and wintry.

But you are unconcerned with whatever the weatherman’s words may be or the consequences of the snow. There are more pressing concerns.

Your voice warbles as you pull out the first aid kit from above the washer and walk back into the living room. “Beomgyu, I’m so so sorry, I—” You bite down on your lower lip to prevent yourself from crying; there wasn’t time for that now. The white plastic lid snaps open, and you pull out the gauze, the alcohol wipes, and the bandages with shaky hands. He sits on the edge of the couch, one hand bracing himself on the cushion, the wounded one resting tenderly on his lap.

You lower to stand on your knees and reach out to take the hurt one in yours. You stare down at his split second knuckle, an ugly gash that would surely scar no matter how kindly or tenderly you treated it. Caused because of your stupidity, your recklessness. Caused because you tripped or slipped or something and fell off the wall. Caused because he risked his safety to catch you. You feel your heart break, knowing the scar would be your fault, forever, and you can’t ever fix it no matter how hard you try.

There’s no going back, or rewinding time to try again.

Beomgyu winces as you wipe at the cut with the alcohol wipes, and you mutter sorry after sorry. It’s beginning to not even feel like a real word. You can feel your chest heaving, one step away from a total breakdown as you swim through deep and measured breaths. Guilt pours over you like a thick syrup, sticking to every surface and threatening to drag you down and drown you whole. It fills into the cracks of your armor, bubbling up inside you like a witch’s brew. As you place the gaze and wrap the bandages around his hand, your breaths are coming shallower and shallower, your ability to keep it together fading. When you tie the bandages into place, you let go and drop to sit on your heels, all energy gone. Your head hangs in shame, and you wish you could crawl away and hide somewhere until further notice.

Which would be easier if you didn’t share a damn apartment.

However, your best friend won’t let you.

“Hey,” he calls, his voice soft and soothing. His healthy hand curls under your chin, gently begging you to look up, and you comply. His eyes are calm and filled with stars again, and other emotions you can’t quite place. He smiles kindly, and you can feel your heart shatter at that instant. Right now, you don’t deserve that kindness. Your shoulders spike up and tears begin to spill over. Beomgyu’s face collapses into concern, and he slides off the couch to sit on the floor next to you, legs crossed.

When he places his hands on your shoulders, you try to shake them off. “Please, just...” Your voice falls away. How could you ever apologize for what happened? You knew you shouldn’t have, and yet you did. You knew he seriously disapproved, even if he didn’t voice it totally, and yet you continued. You knew, deep down, that you were getting cocky, and yet you didn’t stop. You had plans on teasing him, mocking him for his concern. The guilt presses down and down, crunching against your head, your shoulders, and your heart until you could scarcely breathe. Quiet sobs heave against your frame, from your torso down to your whole body. You could tell, soon, that you’d simply shake apart into fragments that could never be pieced together again.

You injured your best friend from your own stupidity.

“Hey,” Beomgyu says again, and this time, he reaches for you and pulls you into his lap, safely tucking you under his chin. You don’t resist, and even if you wanted to, you doubt you could have done it past all the crying. He gently rocks you back and forth, rubbing your back, soothing you as one would a small child. Once your sobs have subsided, and your breaths return to a semi-normal state, he speaks again. “I don’t hate you for what happened, if that’s what you think. I could never, I…”

You pull yourself slightly from his grasp, enough to stare at him at eye level, coming out from underneath the warm spot of his chin and neck and shoulder. The emotions swirling around amongst the stars in his eyes are new and unusual to yet, and some part of you feels at home with them. Your voice is quiet, almost hesitant, when you talk. “You... what?”

Beomgyu takes a breath, as if steeling himself. "I have something I need to tell you."

"Need?" you echo, head quirking to one side in confusion.

He nods, staring straight into your eyes. When he speaks, his tone is something you’ve rarely ever heard before. “Need. My chest might burst if I don’t get this off it, and that wouldn’t really help me graduate. Or tell you this. So... and seeming we might as well have almost died…” You roll your eyes at his dramatics, and Beomgyu seems hesitant, but only for a moment. Years of going up on stage have prepared him, but you can tell in this instance, he’s honest, 100% himself, and your best friend, not some actor playing a character for some play.

He takes another breath before: “I think I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes grow wide, a small gasp escapes your lips, but he doesn’t stop.

“No, that’s not right. I know I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you for a long time but this... this is different. I want to keep you safe, to wipe away any of your tears. Seeing you sad just... tears at my heart. It hurts. Whenever you're sad or upset, I feel the same way, even if it’s just words over a text message. I really did feel like I was going to die when we had that fight. Living without you was unimaginable, but I had to go four weeks without you. Without your voice, your stupid jokes, your laugh. I guess I was in love with you then, too, I just didn’t know it.”

Words escape you, any witty comeback gone. You stare at him, the honesty in his eyes, thinking you’d see him differently after his confession. But you don’t. He’s still Beomgyu. He’s still your best friend. He’s still your Beomgyu.

One of your hands raises, and you tap yourself on your sternum. “Me?”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes now, as if he expected some kind of response like this. “Yes, you. I mean, who else would look up at the night sky, invent a star-monster, then worry about it taking me? I’ve wondered if I was really in love with you, like really actually in love with you. But when you fell and I caught you and you blacked out and I didn’t know why... Y/N, I was so worried. I could feel my heart breaking and I knew that if you never woke up, I wouldn’t ever be the same again.”

He’s mere inches from you, arms around you, body heat radiating off in such pleasant ways you feel okay with melting straight into the floor. His hands move from around your back to ghost around your face, like they want to caress you but are too afraid you might shatter like a fine porcelain under his touch. And his eyes—damn, his eyes. Every star, every galaxy, stirring together to create a beautiful milky way, a gaze so firm and caring you feel as if you’ll never look away. That if you somehow managed, too, you’d feel as if you were missing something dear and important.

Your heart flutters in your chest, its beat stuttery against your wrists. Oh, how on earth did you get here?

Maybe it was when one was so starstruck by the other they stopped watching where they were walking and dripped over someone’s strewn out, overstuffed backpack. When the other offered up a seat beside them during the audition to help settle nerves. Maybe it was when they woke up next to each other after having fallen asleep after binge watching an entire anime season or two, with Netflix on some other autoplay show, one was wondering how the other could look so soft and delicate just after they wake. When the other was happy that they were in each other’s lives. Maybe it was when they declared they’d always be friends, best friends, but now always seems to be more weighty and mean a little more than before.

Maybe, just maybe, this is when they slowly turn towards each other, catching the starry glint in the other’s eye. When they slowly lean forward, ever closer, to the point they can feel one another’s soft breath. When gazes go from eyes to lips and back. When heartbeats slowly start to be harder and louder. When you feel like you might be the one crying because oh heavens—this is it.

But there are things those plays never mention, things the audience can never detect.

They never mention how the palms of hands become sweaty, or how automatic it is to take a soft breath before another pair of lips meets yours, a touch so delicate you finally understand what all the hype is about.

How nice it feels to have two hands cupping your cheeks so gently, their little fear of shattering you gone, or how your own hand curls into the fabric of his shirt as if it’s second nature, the most right thing in the world.

How tantalizingly dizzy a first kiss is.

How soft lips are, how soothingly warm to the point you wouldn’t mind if they were all you felt. How tender goosebumps trail down your spine until something begins to pool in your stomach.

How, even though you’ve become utterly breathless, you can’t stop at just one, because now something that's been building and growing for years has unlocked.

Hands that trail from cheeks to ghost over the nape of the neck, sliding down arms softly to then find purchase at your waist. Kisses, more warm, tantalizing kisses that leave you craving for more. Kisses that roam from lips to chins, then trail down the jaw to tease and nip tender patches of skin on necks, only to return to corners of lips for more wholehearted, dizzying kisses.

You’re warm, almost hot, but it’s so pleasant. What exposed skin you have tingles with feeling, with a craving touch and affection, too. The two of you rest your forehead on one another’s, breath still shallow from all the kisses exchanged, hands softly interlocked with fingers entwined, or as much as one can with bandaged knuckles. He finds his voice first, though even it is soft and a little hoarse. “I should have done that a long time ago, huh?”

You giggle and snuggle closer, nestling into the crook of his neck. You place a kiss underneath his chin. Beomgyu rubs even patterns on your back with his healthy hand while you take the bandaged one in your own, cradling it gently. You pull it up to your own lips, kissing where each knuckle is softly. When you look up, you see the stars glowing in his eyes, brighter than anytime you’ve ever seen them.

Beomgyu sighs, eyes softening at the corners. “I guess the kiss in the play won’t matter anymore, hm?”

You lightly slug in him the shoulder, a love-filled smile playing on your lips. He smiles back in a similar manner, his eyes lighting up with happiness. “Oh, and I guess this means you love me back, too.”

People fill and mingle around the diner, looking for an open seat among the crowds of customers. And older couple swoops in as soon as you vacate the booth, not even caring that your dirty dishes were still neatly stacked at the edge awaiting pick up. But you didn’t mind. You push through the doors to wait outside while Beomgyu paid. Even though there’s a small crowd at the counter, you knew exactly which one he was. Beomgyu wore his light blue jacket, the one that accentuated all his features nicely. You’d have to make sure that whatever Beomgyu-sized scarf you bought matched that jacket. He needed to wear it as often as possible.

The first official date was almost over, but you knew there would be many more to come.

Once he’s finished paying, Beomgyu makes a beeline for the door, carefully navigating around all the people crowding the entryway. “Is it always this busy?” you ask when he rejoins you.

Beomgyu shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess so. But knowing you, the most gorgeous person ever alive, would be there waiting for me was very motivational.”

You do little to hid your smile.

He takes your hand in his, interlacing your fingers as if it were second nature. Maybe, it was, and you two had just been trying to ignore it. This walk from the diner back to your apartment had been done countless times before, but this one is special. And now, you think, it really is your apartment.

Beomgyu starts to casually rub gentle circles onto your skin with his thumb. “It’s the perfect kind of weather for me to take off my jacket and give it to you to keep you warm, you know.” He then takes a deep sigh and throws his head back. His next words come out playfully clipped. “But, someone had to be smart and wear their jacket.”

“Well, you’re not dating a fool,” you chuckle. When you notice Beomgyu pouting, eyes downcast away from you, you laugh again and poke him in the shoulder to get his attention. “Thank you anyway, Beomgyu, for always thinking of me.”

He turns back to you, all smiles. “Darling, I don’t think I could stop thinking of you even if I tried.”

“Ew, gross.” You laugh, white curls of breath forming in front of you. But, unlike last time, there is no cold or ice in sight. No dark thoughts and doubts plague you tonight. You’re delightfully warm and happy.

“Ew, gross yourself,” Beomgyu mimics, throwing his tone to match yours. “I’m cold too, by the way. So I guess thanks for thinking of me by thinking of yourself. God, you’re like the smartest person ever.”

As the walk home continues, so does the conversation. "Our parents seemed pretty happy when we told them, huh?" Beomgyu mentions, a smile playing at his lips.

“Maybe they planned it,” you muse. “Maybe the director was in on it. They wrote it all together because they decided it was now or never.”

Laughter fills the air, and even in the dark spots between the lampposts are filled with light.

You nudge your shoulder into Beomgyu’s, garnering his attention. “Can I ask you a question?” When he nods, eager to hear what you have to say, you continue. “Why did you throw your lunch on me that day in seventh grade?”

“That was an honest mistake!” he exclaims, eyes filled with desperate honesty. The blush along his cheeks as he looks away is readily apparent. When he looks up, his eyes are filled with sincerity. “But sitting next to you on audition day wasn’t.”

A soft smile plays at the corner of your lips. “I’m glad I got there late, then.”

“Me, too.” A moment of silence falls between you, but it’s comfortable, like an overtly fluffy blanket made just for two. Afterward, Beomgyu is the first to speak again. “Okay, I’ve confessed something from our past that’s mildly embarrassing yet still endearing. Now it’s your turn.” He turns to you with a mischievous grin on his lips. "’Fess up, darling."

It takes a small instant, before: “Oh! You know that time we stayed up all night and watched anime after that big project? When we woke up the next morning, even though you scared the hell out of me, I thought you were pretty cute.”

Beomgyu’s eyebrows quirk up, his grin grows wider. “Cute? Me? You thought I was cute?”

Pink blush rushes to your cheeks before you smack him on the shoulder. You drop his hand and quicken your pace. “You were cute, you’re not anymore.”

Beomgyu races to catch up with you, takes your hand again, and bumps into your shoulder gently. “Of course I’m not cute anymore. I’m handsome.”

You make a fake gag. “Oh, please!” There’s no sense of lightness when you shove his shoulder.

“Hey, now,” he says, rubbing his shoulder with his free hand, another fake pout on his lips. “Be nice to your boyfriend.”

You scoff. “Is that what you are now?”

“What else would I be? More than friends but not a boyfriend…” Beomgyu’s eyes brighten as he lets go of your hand and snaps his fingers. “Aha! Your husband!”

You shove him with two hands this time. The idea of being with him like that is overwhelming to the max. “Fine, you’re my boyfriend, then.” The word feels foreign on your tongue, but you can easily imagine them growing comfortable. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your Beomgyu.

He slings his arm over your shoulder and pulls you close as your apartment slowly grows larger in the distance. He leans his head over and rests it gently on yours. “I guess I lied,” he mutters, and you pull back confused even with his eyes on you, rich and loving. “I told you the play wouldn’t change things between us.”

A smile slowly spreads across your face. “But... we changed in a good way, right?”

Beomgyu answers you with a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, caressing your shoulders kindly and pulling you just a little closer. “Yeah, we changed in a good way.”

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