#ANYWAYS I COULD MAKE THAT AU HAPPY BUT ITS SO MUCH EASIER TO BE SAD N HAVE CHARAS 'UNNECESSARILY' UPSET | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bangtanloverboys · 3 years

Text

found again // jhs

summary - forever was a very long time to be alone, but it was the safeest way to save yourself the heartache of losing loved ones. despite that, you still find yourself falling in love with hoseok

pairing - hunter!hoseok x immortal female!reader

genre - fluff, angst; reincarnation au

word count - 5.0k

warnings - strangers to lovers, hisorical inaccuracies, reader is centuries old, takes place in late 1700s, “i can fix that”, falling in love, kissing, proposal, mentioning of harming self, major character death, dogs die, im sorry everything i write of hoseok is sad but happy ending!!

author’s note - another fic inspired by ABC Forever, because i love the concept and i miss it

After nearing three centuries of life, one would think they’d get used to being alone. To the quiet still air of an empty home, void of a family. But it never did, you could never get used to it. It wasn’t that you purposefully chose to live a life of solitude, but rather found it the best way to live. If you were alone, you couldn’t get hurt. With no roots, it made moving from place to place easier. The only thing that got you through it all was thinking back on your family.

They were long gone by now, but that didn’t change the fact you still thought of them often. More than once, you would dream of what they would have thought with each place. How your mother would move every bit of furniture until it looked just right, how your father would go on about how far it was from the village, or how your little sisters would run about the cabin entirely, claiming it was perfect.

Several times you would get so caught up in your daydreams, you would even call out to them, only for your voice to die out before their names could even fully fall past your lips. Each time you’d wince at your own foolishness, before sighing, returning to the task you were doing.

That was simply how you lived until the day that Hoseok arrived.

You were deep into the woods, picking wild berries when a rustling was heard from across the clearing you were in. Cautiously, you made your way over to the rustling bushes. Right as you were about to peek behind them, a young man popped out from behind them. You let out a scream as you stumbled back, tripping over your skirt and sending you tumbling into the dirt.

“Oh my- I’m so sorry!” The young man spoke as he rushed over to you, helping you back to your feet.

“What were you doing? Were you watching me?!” You exclaimed, pushing him away from you as soon as you stood up.

“No! I promise. I was hunting when my dogs stopped.” It was then you were suddenly aware of the two dog heads that poked out from the branches. “I thought they caught a scent of maybe a deer but uh, seems like they found you,” he chuckled nervously, before his eyebrows shot up. “Where are my manners, I’m Hoseok,” he said, holding his hand out for you.

You stared at it for a moment, before you gave him your name, placing your hand in his. Your hand in his grip, he raised your knuckles to his lips for a kiss.

“Pleasure to meet you.” You swore your face grew hot at those words. It had been years since any man had shown you any sort of affection, even if it was the smallest bit. “What are you doing out here?”

“I- uh, berries.” You gestured to your basket that you left across the clearing. “Collecting some for a pie.” You’re unsure why you felt nervous all of a sudden, but with Hoseok’s gaze on your, it made it difficult to not feel shy.

“Berry pie? Oh that sounds delicious.”

Before you could even comprehend what you were thinking, you found yourself asking, “Would you like some?”

“Pardon?” He furrowed his brows at you.

“I mean,” you cringed at yourself before you started over, “would you like to come over? It should only take a few hours?”

A smile lit up his face, and you swear you don’t think you’ve ever seen a more beautiful smile. “I would love that.” The both of you walked across the field, picking up your basket as you reentered the forest, heading into the direction of your cottage. Glancing behind you, you saw the two bloodhounds following close on his heels. No doubt noticing how you kept glancing behind him, he introduced them. “Their names are Mickey and Ann.”

“They’re beautiful,” you complimented.

The rest of the journey back to your cottage was in silence, but it was not uncomfortable. Reaching your small little property, you felt uneasiness wash over you as you motioned to your small cottage. It was already several years old by the time you moved into it, windows didn’t shut right and it took a couple nudges to fully close the door; but it was home. If Hoseok thought any less of it, he didn’t say anything, besides ordering the two dogs to stay put at the front door.

Once inside, you began to prepare the pie crust. On occasion, you’d glance up at Hoseok who was staring at the small things you had collected over your life, mainly assorted coins from each country you visited and a few books. Picking one of them up, he began to flip through it.

“Do you actually understand this?” He asked, gesturing to the words on the page.

“Italian? Yes.” No doubt it was probably one of the first languages you learned when you discovered your affliction. Over the past few centuries, you found out you had quite the knack for picking up languages.

“You must’ve had some fancy schooling,” he whistled as he set the book down.

“Not really,” you flushed as you kneaded the dough. “Just knew someone who taught it to me.”

“Family?” He asked.

You shook your head no. A small Italian artist took you under her wing for a handful of years, deeming you her muse. In return for being the source of her inspiration, she taught you her language.

“Where is your family?”

The question had you cease your kneading. You should have known the question would’ve been asked at some point or another. Not to mention, you were somewhat of an enigma to the nearby village. A young well read woman from far away living in a small abandoned cottage, what could you possibly be doing all the way out here? No one ever said anything to you about it, but you knew they certainly thought something of it, judging by the stares you received when you’d walk into town. If he’d ever been, there was a strong possibility he knew of you already.

“Gone,” you answered, resuming your kneading. “Just me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that.” His voice was soft as he apologized, like he regretted asking.

“Not your fault, they’ve been gone for a while.” A long while.

The comfortable silence was gone, replaced with an air of tension. Like a string held so taught that the smallest movement would cause it to snap. The topic of your family always stung, no matter how much time had passed.

Quite possibly wanting to ease the awkward atmosphere he created, Hoseok quietly made his way over to you in your small kitchen. Standing beside you, he smiled.

“What can I do to help?”

Pushing down the butterflies that had erupted in your stomach, you stepped to the side and handed him the basket of wildberries you collected. “Make the filling?”

The rest of the afternoon consisted of both of you struggling to make the pie. Hoseok apparently wasn’t all that good with following directions as whenever you turned your back to do something, he would try and sneak a nibble at the filling. On occasion, he’d inquire about your knowledge of languages; curious to learn different phrases. It was only when you put the pie in the oven did Hoseok finally cease his linguistic questions. Sitting on a stool, you allowed yourself to catch your breath as you watched the young hunter, who’s gaze was fixated on your roof.

You were well aware of the shape your cottage was in, due to its old age it was in constant need of repairs. The most important one being the leaks in the roof, thankfully it was the dry season so you didn’t have to go about fixing them just yet, but you knew you’d have to get to it eventually.

“I can fix that.” He gestured up to the roof.

“Can you really?” You raised a brow at him.

“Consider it my way of repaying you for the pie.”

And that was the beginning of your friendship with Hoseok. He’d stop by every other day, tools in hand and work on sealing up your roof. A few times, he’d even bring in a few of his kills, offering it to you to make some dinner. Each time you refused, but he always insisted.

“A lady needs her food.”

A little over a week had passed and Hoseok finished the roof. It was then you realized how badly you hated being alone. You’d missed having someone to talk to, to cook for. Having grown so used to his presence in that week, you pointed to the old busted chicken coop that resided on your property. It had been empty since you’d moved in and you thought having fresh eggs from a nice chicken coop would be nice. Without hesitating, he agreed to fix the coop. And your front door, and your windows, and your fence. Each time he completed something, you found something new for him to fix.

While he worked on repairs, you’d either read or cook up dinner, not only for you and him, but for his dogs as well. Mickey and Ann were complete sweethearts, waiting patiently by the front door for their owner to come in and join you all for food. When he was working on your windows, more than once you saw him peeking through as you sat at your kitchen table reading as Mickey laid his head on your lap.

Eventually, the cottage was practically brand new. There was nothing else to be fixed and you had to prepare yourself to say goodbye to Hoseok. Your heart ached as he walked away from your home for the last time, his dogs trailing behind him. The following morning, you resumed your usual chores and activities; tending to your (new) chickens, work in your garden, and reread your books.

You’d been fighting off tears all day, and it was as you were preparing supper that the tears began to fall. Perhaps it was foolish of you to get attached to him anyways. No matter what would have happened, it would’ve turned out the way it usually did: with you disappearing.

A knock on your door, pulled you from your thoughts. For a moment you were confused, no one ever from the village ever came up to visit, you wondered what could’ve happened. Quickly, you wiped the tears from your eyes and made your way over to the door, where the unknown visitor knocked away.

“Coming, I’m coming!” You called as you swung the door open, revealing- “Hoseok?”

The young man was at your door, a handful of freshly killed quails in hand, and both hounds standing behind him, panting happily. “What, I’m not late am I?”

“No, no,” you shook your head, “that’s not it at all. I just- I wasn’t expecting you?”

“Why wouldn’t you be expecting me? I thought we had a nice little arrangement going on?” He questioned.

“We did, but I have nothing else for you to fix so I assumed-”

“Y/N,” he cut you off. Cupping your cheek, you had no choice but to look up into his sweet, adoring face. “I thought it was pretty obvious you wanted me around for some other reason besides being your handyman.”

Feeling your face grow hot, you slowly nodded.

He chuckled at you softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “So is it alright, I come over for supper?”

“Of course,” you breathed out. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so happy in so long.

So the two of you fell into a routine of sorts, he would stop by some meat for you to cook for your supper. Over the meal, you’d catch up on your day to day activities. By the time the food was gone, and you were with full bellies, Hoseok would excuse himself.

“Goodnight, I’ll see you in the morning,” was what he would say as he left your cottage for his own home, somewhere in town. A few times you’d stayed up so late that it was well past midnight, so you offered him your place for the night. Purely because you didn’t want him out so late, but each time he refused; saying it wouldn’t be right.

Slowly, your dinner meetings would begin happening in the day time. The last few days of summer were upon you and you wanted to spend it with Hoseok, having a picnic with him.

You dragged him up a tall grassy hill, basket full of bread, cheese, and jam. He laughed as he allowed you to pull him up towards the top, Mickey and Ann trailing behind at his heels, barking happily. Hoseok allowed the dogs to wander around the area, occasionally calling them back if they went too far.

All set up, you both sat down and enjoyed your lunch. It wasn’t long after you finished that you scooted closer to him, and closer until your hands were almost touching. You were about to slip your hand underneath his when Hoseok’s hand moved, taking your’s and placing it in his. His hands were rough to the touch, small calluses riddled his palms. A smile playing on your lips, you rested your head on his shoulder.

Neither of you moved for hours as you watched the day go by from that little spot on the hill, relishing in the late summer sun. Out of all the years you lived, you had to think that that moment there was the most peaceful. There was no need to run, no overwhelming sense of loss, just you and Hoseok.

“What was your family like?” He questioned.

Taking a deep breath, you began talking about your late family. “My father was a miller, he’d often take me on his runs to deliver flour, giving me a little sack to carry as well,” you smiled fondly at the memory, the villagers chuckling at you as you teetered behind him. “When I was even younger, I used to lay down by the fire and watch my mother sew. . . scolding me for growing up so fast.”

“Did you have any siblings?”

“I had two younger sisters, parents weren’t able to have anymore after the youngest,” you sighed, remembering how hard your parents tried. “They adored flowers, wanting to cover the cottage we lived in with honeysuckle and wild flowers.” Your vision started to get blurry as tears welled up in your eyes.

“They sound wonderful,” Hoseok murmured.

“Yeah, they were. . .” You sighed, blinking back the tears.

“Hey,” he pulled his shoulder away to look at you. “You’re okay, it’s okay.” Hoseok’s hand moved to cup your cheek, brushing the stray hairs from your face. “Your parents are looking down on you, so proud of the woman you are today.”

Meeting Hoseok’s eyes, you’re overwhelmed with the love and adoration pouring from his gaze. Never in your three hundred years had a person ever looked at you that way. As much as you wanted to give into his love, you were scared of the inevitable. One day Hoseok would begin to age and he would notice you still look the same as the day you met. He would grow old before your eyes, leaving you no choice but to leave him broken hearted. To love him would be selfish of you.

The sound of his voice calling your name pulled you from your spiral. You watched as his eyes flickered down to your lips for a moment, before he slowly leaned in. For the first time ever time felt like it stood still. There was no inevitable ticking clock, no fear or thoughts of the future. Just you and Hoseok, on that grassy hill on a late August day.

You should’ve known better than to have let him kiss you, as you knew as soon as you felt his lips on yours, there was no way you’d be able to let him go. Being alone for so many years, perhaps this time you could allow yourself to be selfish. One day you’d tell him about your curse, but until that day came, you were going to let yourself be with him.

As the seasons changed, your relationship with Hoseok only grew stronger. He’d visit you daily, bringing gifts of flowers, baked goods, and other assorted courting gifts. The two of you would spend all day together, reading or he’d help you take care of your chickens. Each night, he would leave, despite your insistence on him spending the night.

“I’m courting you, let me do this right,” he whispered once as he kissed you goodnight.

While you appreciated the sweet sentiment, he should’ve known your relationship was anything but orthodox. If your mother was still around, she surely would’ve been scandalized to hear you kissed him before you even married him. In fact the more you thought about it, the more horrified your mother would be at what you’ve done before marriage. But despite everything you may have done in the past, everything with Hoseok felt like a first.

Whenever Hoseok was with you, never did it feel like time was passing. Like it was only the two of you in your own little bubble of the world, frozen in time. Thoughts of your curse were far from your mind, but each time he left for the night, you knew you had to tell him eventually.

As the days grew colder, that ache you felt in your heart only became more apparent. Soon, you’d think to yourself, I’ll tell him soon. But it couldn’t come soon enough.

Snow soon covered the land, leaving you and Hoseok nothing much but to huddle yourselves inside your cottage. Both of you were huddled in front of your fireplace, desperate to keep warm. Hoseok’s dogs were curled up beside you as well, Mickey’s head resting on your lap as you lazily stroked his fur with one hand. You were rereading one of your novels, simply enjoying the warmth of the fire when you could feel Hoseok’s eyes on you. It wasn’t uncommon that he would stare at you as you did any sort of task, but there was something different about him. Behind his eyes, there was a particularly soft warm glow, making your body feel a thousand times more warmed than the heat of the fire in front of you.

“What are you staring at me like that for?” You finally asked, setting your book down.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

Within an instant you felt your cheeks warmed by his words. “Yes,” you responded shyly, avoiding meeting his eyes.

Scooting closer to you, he took the book out of your hand, placing it off to the side. Both hands now free, he took them in his as he said your name. “I don’t know how else to say this but, I love you. I don’t know exactly when I fell for you, but I don’t think I ever want to stop.” Removing one hand from yours, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a delicate copper band.

A gasp escaped your lips as he held out the ring for you.

“It would give me the greatest pleasure, if you were to be my wife.”

“Yes,” you whispered. “Yes, yes!” You repeated as he slipped the ring onto your finger. Not even looking at it, you threw your arms over his shoulders. Unprepared for your sudden movement, you both went tumbling to the floor, the dogs whined as they rushed to move away from your colliding bodies. You pressed your mouth to his, smiling into it as he returned your kiss.

Until that moment, all your kisses had been brief. Fleeting kisses of hellos and goodbyes, never lasting more than a second. This kiss was different. His hands held your gently at your hips, keeping you in place on top of him. A fire ignited deep in you as you kissed him, you didn’t want to let him go now, not tonight. Keenly, you began peppering Hoseok’s entire face with kisses. His grip on you tightened as your lips traveled lower along the side of his jaw, nibbling at his neck.

“Wait,” his words came out in a groan. Calling your name, you only responded by moving back up to his lips, wanting to kiss him again. “No, not yet.”

“Hoseok, please,” you whined, breathless from the kiss.

“I know, I know, my love,” he panted as his hand came up to cup your face. “It’s getting late,” he sighed, noticing how dark the sky was outside once you were both sitting up again.

“You could stay the night,” you offered once again. Before he could protest, you continued. “Besides, we’re engaged now. What difference would it make?”

Hoseok rolled your eyes at the logic. “The difference is I would like my first time with you, to be with you as my wife.”

“You’re such a romantic,” you huffed as he stood up, gathering his things for him to leave.

Once all his things were together, he lowered his head down, kissing you one last time. “Goodnight, my love. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, Hoseok and his dogs left just like they would any other night.

You stared at the door, waiting for the faint crunches of his footsteps in the snow to disappear. Now alone, you knew you had to tell him. Hopefully his love for you would trump any doubts he would have. While you could try to hurt yourself as proof, you doubt he’d want to see you harmed. Death was a jarring thing, no matter if you were to come back or not. Regardless of the outcome, you knew you’d tell him tomorrow.

The following day, you got up like you would any other. You got yourself dressed, and began your daily activities. Everything was the way it normally was, but something felt off. You couldn’t place what was, but you knew deep down that something wasn’t right.

Covering yourself with a thick shawl, you made your way over towards your chicken coop. Picking out the eggs from your hens, ready to make something for breakfast. Once you had enough, you made your way back over to your house. It was then you heard barking.

Turning your head, you saw the familiar faces of Mickey and Ann, but there was no Hoseok. Setting the basket down, you lowered yourself to the ground, ready to greet the hounds.

“Hey, hey,” you cooed as you pet the dogs, both of them clearly very distressed. “What’s going on? Where’s Hoseok?” As the mention of his name, Mickey barked at you while Ann whined, pulling at your skirts.

“Excuse me, miss.” A new voice called from across the way. Looking up, recognizing the face as the innkeeper. You’d seen him a few times in town and Hoseok spoke of him often, as he had been renting one of his rooms the past few months. “You knew Hoseok, correct?”

“He’s my fianceé,” you responded cautiously as you straightened up. You hugged your shawl tighter around you as the innkeeper’s eyes saddened at your words. “Why? What happened?”

“I’m very sorry for your loss, miss.”

“What?” That moment, you could’ve sworn your heart stopped. Deep down, you wish it did. No, Hoseok couldn’t be gone. It couldn’t be. You wanted to accuse the innkeeper of lying, or perhaps he mistook someone for Hoseok. But the look in his eyes was clear: Hoseok was dead.

A ringing started in your ears as you stumbled back into your cabin, the dogs following after you. Barely able to hear any other word the innkeeper might’ve said, but it didn’t matter anyways. Hoseok was gone. There couldn’t be anything else to be said.

Alone once again in your home, you collapsed onto the ground. Opening your mouth, a deafening wail passed your lips. You had died a number of times by now; you’d been poisoned, stabbed, hung, shot, drowned. You’ve felt almost every measure of pain there was, but nothing compared to the pain you felt when you’d lost your beloved Hoseok.

You became a ghost of yourself after that day. Simply going through the motions of each day. Your only company was Mickey and Ann, who too missed their late owner. They were your only comfort, knowing that taking care of them was something Hoseok would’ve wanted you to do. Every night, they slept on your bed, curled up beside you as you lazily pet their aging bodies.

Ann was the first to die. 10 years have passed since you lost Hoseok. You’d moved out of that cottage a few years prior, knowing it was only a matter of time before the village had caught on to your affliction. The move was particularly hard on the two hounds, not wanting to move far from the only town they’d ever known. But you had no choice. It became very apparent that Ann wished to return, always sleeping by the door, hoping you’d change your mind. That’s how you found her one spring morning, lying quietly by the door, having passed in her sleep.

You buried her in your garden, under a bed of roses.

Having lost both his sister and Hoseok, Mickey followed soon after. He rarely left your bed, only getting up to eat or to go outside. It was only three months later did you bury him beside Ann.

The only reminder you had left of Hoseok was the ring on your finger. You rarely took it off your finger, fearing that one day you might forget it or Hoseok. Often you’d find yourself staring at the copper band. It was simple, bearing no special engravings or jewels, but it became your most prized possession.

Unfortunately, time didn’t stay still for you to wallow in your misery. You had to keep moving forward. But as time moved on, so did the world around you. It was strange how fast technology advanced, but as helpful as it was to the people around you, it became your worst nightmare. It became harder and harder to disappear, small towns and far away cabins no longer felt like the safe haven they once were. Which was how you found yourself deep in the city.

It was strange how easy it was to disappear, to simply become another face in the crowd. No one spared you a second glance, no matter how many times you may have seen them over the years, no one recognized you and your lack of aging. As long as you kept to yourself, you managed to stay hidden in plain sight.

Off the corner of 3rd street, you had your own little hole in the wall bookstore. You purchased the store from a sweet old couple a few years back, it was a quaint little bookshop, already having its own group of loyal customers. On occasion, you would get a few new faces, but it was usually the same ones everyday.

Until today when you saw a face you hadn’t seen in almost 300 years.

Per your usual morning routine, you were taking inventory of the store when you heard the bell over the front door ring. “I’ll be with you in just a moment!” You called out, trying to finish the last few rows of books. Finished, you made your way back towards the front of the store, dusting your hands off. “Well, is there anything I can help you with-” You stopped dead in your tracks as you saw the man you had entered your store. His eyes were cast downwards and he looked over the titles of the front shelves. Hearing your arrival, familiar dark eyes faced you.

“I’m just browsing,” he said, lips curling into a smile you swore you almost forgot.

In front of you, was Hoseok. It was, had to be. He looked every bit the same as that cold winter night when you last saw him. Your mouth opened and closed several times, before you finally gained your senses.

“Well, just, let me know if there’s anything specific you had in mind,” you responded, smiling as you spun around on your heel, wanting to make a break for your back office.

“Actually, there might be something.”

Swallowing thickly, you turned back to face him. “Oh?”

“I’m thinking of getting into cooking, do you have any cookbook recommendations?” He asked.

“Y-yeah, follow me.” Quickly, you walked over towards your cookbook section, feeling his eyes on you as you walked him over to the shelves. Dragging your fingers over the spines, you pulled out the one you were looking for. It was an older copy, you recognized from the late 80s. Inside were recipes of different types of baked goods and other dishes. “This one, I think I’ve made just about everything in it twice,” you said, pulling it off the shelf and handing it to him.

As the man flipped through the pages, you found yourself fiddling with the ring that now hung around your neck. Long ago, you strung a chain through it, nearly losing it down the drain. You stared at him in front of you, still not able to wrap your head around it. After nearly six hundred years, you don’t think you’ve ever seen the same face twice. Maybe this was your second chance with him, to start over again. But at the same time, you knew it would be foolish. The man in front of you was a complete stranger, not Hoseok. For all you know, he could be completely different than your long lost fianceé.

Shutting the book, he nodded. “This is perfect.”

Shaking you from your thoughts, you nodded. “Great. I’ll ring you up over here.” Walking back towards the cash register, you both fell into a silence as you rang him up. “Alright, here you go,” you smiled, handing him the book.

“Thank you so much.” Cookbook and receipt in hand, he made his way towards the front door. He couldn’t go just yet, there was something you needed to know.

“Wait!” You called out right as he placed his hand on the door. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name?”

That brilliant smile played on his lips again as he responded. “Jung Hoseok.”

#btsghostie #jung hoseok x reader #hoseok x reader #hoseok fluff #bts x reader #bts fluff #hoseok fanfic #hoseok angst #bts angst

63 notes · View notes

hongism · 3 years

Text

the little things - c. jongho

↣ pairing: jongho x reader; mentioned poly ot8 x reader ↣ genre: sfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, fantasy au, witch ateez au ↣ wc: 3.6k ↣ summary: when the winters seem to drag and last forever, you find yourself slipping a bit into murky waters of despair. jongho is your lifeline, your lifesaver, your lifeboat, determined to guide you back to peaceful shores. ↣ warnings: mentions of intrusive thoughts, depression, lots of Talking about depression/grief/mourning, mentions of death/talking about someone who has died

The air bites harshly at your skin, nipping the areas where you can’t be bothered to pull your blanket up over, and if you were in a different emotional state, perhaps you would find it in you to care more. Instead, you remain rooted to the spot — a small stump behind your cottage that overlooks the quiet and expansive forest just over the lip of the hill. It’s a beautiful sight, even in the midst of winter like this where snow has just fallen and left a white sheen to the tips of the trees below you.

It would be wise for you to be inside just in case someone decides to climb the hill to your shop and request a prescription, but you know you will sense them coming before they even reach the stairs.

So, you stay where you are, letting your blanket slip a little more from your shoulders. Your guest — even the loud and boisterous one as he works — sings along to a silent melody, painting your ears with the pleasant sound of his voice as he moves freshly chopped wood to your dwindling pile by the house. Despite your attempts to help, he simply told you to stay put and not move a muscle while he chopped and moved them. Arguing with him would be a losing fight anyway.

In all honesty, as beautiful and delightful as the forest below you usually is, you cannot find it in you to see that beauty right now. Nothing seems to be working. All your wasted and helpless attempts to feel some type of way about your surroundings have failed time and time again. Either that or they are drowned out by that lingering ache in your chest, the one that clenches your heart tight in its clutches and pins you to the ground in a state of numbness that sadly is not foreign to you.

You wish you had a better explanation for that tightness in your chest. Whenever Seonghwa or Hongjoong asks after you and how you’re faring, you scrape by and say you are doing fine. Because yes, you are arguably fine. Not bad but not particularly good either. Just a middle ground of fine. (Nothing is ever truly fine in such a world where the word has become a cloak for how one truly feels, and you know both Hongjoong and Seonghwa can see right through your ruse each time you utter the words ‘I’m fine’. Neither push you further than that, however, so you don’t say anything else). Part of you feels the tuggings of guilt on your heartstrings when one of the others tries to cheer you up — Wooyoung with his playful jokes and endless tickle fights on the couch that end with you exhaling an exasperated sigh and leaving him there alone, San who does anything and everything to help but is too clumsy for his own good so he accidentally makes things worse, Yunho who tries his best to sit with you in absolute silence without moving while you read but inevitably cannot sit still for more than five minutes without doing something. So you do feel guilty for not being able to cheer up when they try their hardest to break that emotional wall around you.

It must be frustrating for them to have to deal with you while in such a state of emotional distortion and confusion; you aren’t sure whether you could be nearly as patient as they are with you (god, they are all so endlessly patient — another thing to feel guilty about). Yet you must admit that it is frustrating for you as well. Because as much as you want to be more than just fine or okay or whatever variation of “I’m not good, not bad, I don’t know what the fuck I am, I just am” you are on a certain day, you cannot will yourself into pushing those negative thoughts and feelings out of the picture. Almost like the thing holding you down has an anchor tied to your ankle and causes you to sink deeper and deeper each time you try to fight your way out of it.

Maybe you aren’t paying as much attention as you thought you were after all because when a firm hand reaches down to clasp around your shoulder, you are more than a little startled.

The little jump in your body as well as the sudden gasp that tears through your lips catches your companion off-guard too, it seems. Although Jongho is always a hard book to read; he doesn’t wear his feelings on his sleeve the way people like Wooyoung and San do. The slight and momentary widening of his eyes tells you all you need to know before you let yourself relax under his warm touch.

That’s another thing about Jongho — he is always so warm. Now, of course, you are fairly certain that part of that relates to him being an elemental witch, so obviously he will carry some extra warmth in his body because of those energies, but he holds a different kind of warmth with him as well. One that makes you believe for almost a second that it will be okay.

The sun flickering at the edge of the horizon.

Two swallows flitting across the bright and clear morning sky.

The rolling forest that rests at the foot of your hill.

It’s green today. The snow caps the trees just enough to leave hints of winter foliage peeking through.

Green and alive and beautiful.

Then the illusion breaks, like the anchor around your foot let up for just that moment to let you gasp in a desperate gulp of air and beauty before dragging you back into its abyss.

What a cruel, cruel mistress.

“Too cold?” Jongho inquires as he squats down beside you. A smile twists his lips, gentle and effervescent. (“Love,” your mind helpfully supplies, “he looks at you with love”).

“It’s not too bad today,” you reply in a quiet tone. There lies an alternate meaning to what you said, something contained and locked away in the box you call your heart, and Jongho takes that box into his hands so carefully as always. Sits down on the snow-covered ground without complaint beside your tiny stump and lets his hand slip down to rest over where your thigh meets your knee. It’s careful. Your lip twitches in some direction.

“That still implies it’s a little bad.”

You hum in response. There isn’t much for you to say to that even though he is unfortunately all too correct in saying such a thing.

“I chopped enough wood to last you through February. Should be a harsher winter than usual, so don’t hesitate to send for me if you need more before then.” You reach down to cover Jongho’s hand, tracing pointless and unknown patterns into the back of his hand. The touch is more for you than anything else; a peace of mind that allows you to disconnect the brutal reality of your pained chest from what is sitting right in front of you. Love, joy, care, warmth.

Why does your chest only grow colder in the face of something that burns so hot?

Jongho’s lips move again, and you are almost certain that he is speaking to you but the deep waters clog your ears and make it impossible to understand what he’s saying to you.

Why does this anchor never find a place to rest? You want to rest.

When you fail to respond or even acknowledge whatever Jongho has said in the slightest, he takes it upon himself to stand back up and nudge you away from your little stump. You are understandably confused by the action but too …absent to reality to complain or fight back against whatever he’s doing.

So you opt to simply stand off to the side and watch as Jongho brushes stray pieces of snow off your blanket. He wraps it snug back around your shoulders. It’s a bit warmer this time. Then, he guides you to the back door, hand closing around the soft white handle and pushing into the cottage without a word. This is just another language you speak. Understanding. Push and pull. The complex nature of working with an emotionally stunted and constipated individual who does not know how to communicate what exactly they are feeling or thinking in the moment.

You prefer to just exist rather than bog yourself down with such detailed intricacies — it makes things easier for you in the long run.

Once inside, Jongho continues to push you forward until you reach the positively tiny dining table you have set up next to the kitchen. Hardly an excuse for a dining table since it’s barely bigger than your bedside table but then again it’s made to seat you and only you. That doesn’t stop Jongho from pulling a second chair up to slot into the space directly to the right of your chair. Again you do not fight him when he eases you down onto the soft ivory cushion.

Instinct causes you to shift and look out the window above your table, finding the first few flakes of the morning snow beginning to fall. You wonder if Jongho sensed the weather shifting or if it’s merely happenstance that brought you both inside before the snow started.

“Seonghwa went on a rampage and cleaned the house again,” Jongho murmurs. He follows your gaze out the window but doesn’t say anything more than that, leaving the conversation open and hanging onto a hope for your response.

“Is he worried over Hongjoong?”

“No more than usual. You know how he gets. Can’t sit still even when you ask him to.” You shift to look at Jongho, noting the smile that curls at the corners of his lips, and this time you return the gesture with a lopsided grin of your own. “All before sunrise too.”

“He always has to be the first to wake up, otherwise he doesn’t get to tell you that you’re his darling sunrise.”

Jongho’s smile stretches wider and shows off his gums and teeth. It’s beautiful, you think, somewhere in the back of your mind that remains untouched by that cold sadness. Happiness looks good on Jongho — warm, alive, and beautiful. You wonder if it looks the same on your features as well, if it were ever to come back to you.

“Shall I prepare some tea?”

“You’re beginning to sound like Yeosang.”

“Maybe all those naps on the couch are finally starting to have weird side effects on me.” Jongho shrugs then laughs under his breath, but the sound is still clear and bright on your ears. He pushes back from the table to step into your small kitchen nonetheless, not waiting for your answer to his question as he begins to rummage through your cabinets.

“That would make sense; you’re his favorite after all.”

“Hm, I think Seonghwa has me beat there.”

“Only because of their familiar bond. Otherwise, I’m positive you would take the cake.” You prop your elbows up on the edge of the table, leaning forward until your chin rests atop your clenched fists, and you simply watch Jongho move around the kitchen with little on your mind for a bit. He’s quiet again; this time, he doesn’t speak as he works, and it allows you to stew in the silence while you can. You have to remind yourself that sometimes it’s like this. Some days are harder than others. Some days are easier, and some are like today where you can’t even manage to pinpoint the source of your negative feelings.

You glance over at the wall, staring hard at the small chalkboard that sits there with your messing scrawling and intelligible handwriting. Then your stare settles on today’s date. The small red circle around the number placed in roman numerals there. You left no other note there, no indication of what the red circle means, but after several years of practicing said habit, the knowledge is deeply ingrained in your mind now.

“Ah…” you exhale without thinking. You don’t notice the way Jongho’s gaze flickers over to you, how his hand hesitates near the kettle, or how he follows your stare to the calendar. You’re far too engrossed in the swarm of hurt in your chest. Suddenly your shifting moods make much more sense. “Another year, another birthday passed.”

The day always feels so odd and cathartic to you. A day one is supposed to celebrate that has long since grown cold and lonely because the one you are meant to be celebrating is nothing present. Birthdays are almost worse than the other melancholy anniversary that hasn’t left your mind.

You force your gaze away from the calendar to look back at where Jongho stands frozen as a statue in the kitchen.

“Did you… remember?” You ask. Jongho doesn’t typically come over unannounced, but he rarely explains why he comes to visit either. He did neither again today. It is far more understandable now that you’ve finally realized what day it is.

“I did,” he whispers back before settling back into his routine of making tea. “I did not want to mention it unless you brought it up first.”

His tone is careful and wary, like he’s treading on broken glass and trying not to make the damage worse. You are almost grateful for it.

“It’s okay,” you say through a strained smile. “At least I know why I’m feeling this way now.”

Next thing you know, Jongho is abandoning his station at the stove, leaving the kettle behind to heat up, and he returns to your side within seconds. Although this time, he merely stands beside your chair and brings his hands down to cradle your face in his rough and warm hands. You can’t understand why until his thumbs brush something damp away from your cheeks. You don’t even remember feeling the tears spring up.

“It’s okay.”

You nearly snap back and say it’s not okay, why would it be okay if you’re crying like this? But then it hits you that Jongho is not implying the situation is okay or that it is not something to be upset over. Rather, he’s telling you that it’s okay to cry like this, to be affected and hurt and in pain. You wish you could believe it.

“I thought it would get easier as more time passed.” You keep your tone quiet, knowing that if you lift your voice any higher it will begin to crack and break.

“Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t. But I think you’ve made lots of progress as it is.” Jongho squats down until most of his weight is pushed onto his toes, sitting just beneath your eye level now. His hands don’t drift from your face for a second though, and right now, you couldn’t be more grateful for the warmth of his touch. “It’s not always about measuring the pain or comparing how much it hurts not to how much it hurt back then. Sometimes it’s about being able to see how you’ve grown and how you can look back at memories that were once painful with fondness now. And occasionally, it’s about being able to look at the calendar and smile because you know you get to celebrate a life and a soul that you still cherish.”

“What if one day I look at that calendar and don’t remember though? I don’t want to forget, but I want to be okay.” You suck your lower lip between your teeth and bite down hard on the skin. It doesn’t help with your sudden influx of tears (not that you expected it to) but Jongho wipes them away with each one that falls.

“Is that what you’re afraid of? Forgetting?”

“Y-Yeah. I get… I get upset because — I don’t know. Part of me feels guilty to even want to be okay when I know that he didn’t get to be. He didn’t have the chance to be okay, he was gone before he had that, and I’m here and I just… feeling a lot less deserving of that.”

Jongho shifts his weight to rest on his knees now, and he pulls you a bit further down to still comfortably hold your face between his palms.

“Would he want you to punish yourself for something out of your control? Or would he want you to rest in the knowledge that he is okay now? Resting easy after a long fight and at peace because he did well in his life? Even if that life did not last as long as we might have hoped, he still did well and worked hard and showed a life that was full of many beautiful things, no?”

“You’re right,” you murmur, eyes flitting away from Jongho’s ever so gentle ones. “I’m thankful for the time I had with him, even if it wasn’t as long as I imagined it would be. He’s at peace and he’s resting and okay now. Just the selfish part of me isn’t ready to let go.”

“You don’t ever have to let go, darling. Not completely. And if you don’t want to let go, then that gives me confidence that you won’t forget him or the memories of him. He will always be resting here.” Jongho’s left hand falls to rest over your heart, fingers barely brushing against the soft material of your clothes there. You instinctively reach over to cover his hand with one of your own and press him closer and closer until his palm lies flat against your chest. “He would want you to find the peace you deserve even if he isn’t here on earth anymore.”

“I’m trying my best to remember that,” you counter. The words come out a bit choked and thick thanks to your tears but you push through that and continue speaking nonetheless. “I’m trying to remember that he would want us to celebrate him and remember him fondly, not just the sad parts or the tragedy. He wouldn’t want to be remembered as something sad or a tragedy, and he wouldn’t want to only be remembered when times are sad. I just feel like I’m drowning in these feelings and can’t get out sometimes.”

“In times of grief, we often let ourselves sink because we lose ourselves in the feelings of pain and sadness. It’s easier to get lost in it than it is to fight your way out of it, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. There’s always a way out. Sometimes you just need someone to hold your hand and help guide you home.”

“I want to go home,” you whisper. It sounds utterly stupid to say aloud since you are sitting in your own damn kitchen right now, you are home physically, of course you are, and you are more than well aware of that. Still, your heart feels like it’s torn from your chest and off who knows where with no hope of coming home, yet Jongho just twists his hand around and takes hold of yours. You cling to your lifeline harder.

“Do you trust us to stand by you until you find your way home?”

“Always.”

“Then I promise that’s exactly what we’ll do.” Jongho pulls your hand close to his face, then presses his lips to your knuckles. The gesture is soft and intimate, even moreso with the knowledge that Jongho isn’t one to typically engage in such physical affection often, and you feel some warmth creep into your chest again.

“Will you stay even after that?” You ask through a breathless whisper, bracing your hands on Jongho’s firm shoulders and offering a teary smile. Jongho pushes up, and his head bumps haphazardly into your shoulder as he moves suddenly. It causes you to tip back a bit, nearly falling all the way off the chair, but he catches you before you can slip. It’s not a verbal answer, nor do you need it to be because you’d like to think you can understand what Jongho means in the movements without hearing him say it. “Thank you for being patient with me. All of you are so patient and gentle with me.”

“I think this is where Seonghwa would say something grossly sappy like ‘that’s part of being in love’,” Jongho murmurs before his forehead finds purchase against yours. You let your eyes flutter shut and rest in the gentle embrace. “Thank you for opening your heart to me.” You hum back, not bothering with words in favor of just drinking in Jongho’s presence. “The kettle is boiling away, you know.”

“Let me have this for just a few moments more.”

“Always,” Jongho sighs against you, but it’s not a tired or exasperated sound, merely content in the peaceful space the two of you have created. You’re content as well — okay for now, fine for now, but maybe even leaning more on doing well and feeling good. Not perfect, although you don’t think it needs to be perfect as long as you have the hopes of reaching safe shores.

...

a/n: this came at an opportune time i think? april 7th/8th is always difficult for me and i know many people can relate to that well and understand that feeling, and i kinda unintentionally reflected those feelings into this part of little things, but i hope maybe that you can find comfort in this and understand how important and valid your feelings are, no matter what ❤❤

#atzinc #kdiarynet #kwritersworldnet #jongho x reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst #depression tw #anxiety tw #ateez x reader #jongho fluff #jongho angst #ateez imagines #ateez drabbles #jongho imagines #jongho drabbles #fic; the little things

179 notes · View notes

satoruvt · 3 years

Text

for a moment i forget to worry

pairing → xu minghao x reader

word count → 3196

genre → fluff + angst, college au ↳ tags: strangers to friends to lovers </3, college kinda sux, ROOMMATE CHAN MAKES AN APPEARANCE OR TWO, dance major minghao, reader is completely lost but its ok who isnt, lots of cute couple stuff, pov ur entire relationship with minghao. thats it, a sad break up scene, a solid amount of crying

summary → there’s something about minghao. maybe it’s the way he dances, vibrant and youthful, or maybe it’s the way he loves you. based off of hunger by florence + the machine.

warnings → i hint at sex but its pretty vague, i also mention a breakdown type deal (revolving around school/life after school)

a/n → first of all this was NOT supposed to be 3k words i dont know how it happened. second of all i’m only kind of happy with this HAHA i feel like the story itself isnt bad but i wanted it to match the song more ... idk :/ i hope u guys like it regardless !!!

pieces of you masterlist

The first time you see him is by accident.

Really - all you’re doing is trying to find Chan. You’re passing by the practice rooms, looking into them in hope he’ll be there, stopping to gaze at decorations and medals and trophies lined up on the walls. It’s when you approach a room that music plays from that you think you’ve found Chan, but when you gaze in, it’s definitely not him.

You don’t know who it is, but he moves like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

It’s hypnotizing, almost makes you want to drop your things and dance with him. There’s a sense of youth that comes from him and it’s almost overwhelming - but it’s not in energy, necessarily, but rather from the precision of his movements, the technicalities that he seems to both follow and break at the same time. Something vibrant seeps out between the seams of his body, colors you can barely recognize as they splash against anything they can reach. It’s almost tangible.

You watch him long enough for him to finish his performance (an unknowing one) with the last notes of a song you forgot was even playing. His eyes meet with yours, slow as he completes an eloquent turn, and at the same time, a hand meets your shoulder.

A small wave of embarrassment washes over you, and you turn towards whoever touched you, effectively breaking eye contact. “What are you doing here?” Chan asks, hair still wet from what you assume was a shower.

“Looking for you,” you tell him, following as he starts to walk towards the exit. “I wanted lunch, and you owe me for that time I took your British literature quiz for you.”

Chan groans but agrees to pay, and you laugh, though the world seems a little paler than it did a few moments ago.

The second time you see him is by chance.

(Maybe.)

You’re waiting for a lecture to start, tapping your fingers against your laptop idly as you watch students trickle in last minute. It’s not a strict course, but it does start at nine in the morning, and most everyone shows up with a coffee.

You look down to brush a stray hair off of your table, and when you look up again, the dancer from before walks through the door, then looks right at you.

You feel a blush heat your face and it’s like he wants to make sure that you know that he knows, because he almost refuses to look away. You break eye contact first (like the last time, you remember for no reason) but still watch as his figure moves up the stairs, past the rows, and you hope he’ll just move past you too…

He doesn’t. He takes the empty seat right next to yours, and you don’t say anything, instead finding the peeling sticker on your laptop incredibly interesting. The professor comes in and decides that today he’ll take extra long to set everything up, apparently, and you want to scream.

“So,” the dancer says, voice quiet. It takes your breath away, the way he sounds. “Mind if I ask why you were watching me the other day?”

You cast a glance at him - not too long, you don’t think you could handle more than five seconds tops - and finally open your laptop so it makes you look busy. “I was waiting for a friend.”

“And?”

The smile in his voice is palpable. You’re already exasperated.

“You…” you start, finally deciding to look at him as some sort of subconscious power move. “You’re a beautiful dancer. It was hard not to watch.”

Beautiful doesn’t even cover half of it, but you figure he already thinks you’re weird for watching him, so you hold back the thoughts of youth and vibrancy and color. The dancer looks at you, almost blank for a moment, before a soft smile draws itself on his face. It makes your heart beat a little faster. He says “thank you” with a gentle tone, sincerely felt.

The class starts, and the two of you don’t speak throughout the next hour and a half. You type out notes on your laptop and you see him write down names of the paintings being shown on the projector, little thoughts and notes written afterwards.

By the end of class, your professor assigns an optional partnered project, and you’re more than prepared to head back to your apartment and start on it yourself. The dancer stops you before you leave, however, asks if you’d like to be his partner.

(And he says it like that, would you like to be my partner, polite and somehow sweet.)

You know your answer. “I don’t even know your name,” you stall, standing from your chair.

“Minghao,” he tells you. “I’m Minghao, and I’d like for you to be my partner.”

You say yes easily, put your number into his contacts even easier. The sky is blue when you leave the lecture hall, trees dotted with pink and purple flowers, and it is all so bright that you forget it wasn’t this way in the first place.

The third time you see him is for school.

Underneath the excitement of giving Minghao your number, there is the knowledge that it’s for the sake of an assignment. He texts you the day after to ask if you’re free to meet up to work and you tell him sure.

(Sure is what you send back, but he doesn’t have to know that you burst into Chan’s room immediately after, plunging face first into his bed just to scream into his pillows. Chan had sighed, turned around in his desk chair to look at you, then asked what happened. He gave you two minutes to rant and then kicked you out, back to your own room.)

You and Minghao agreed to meet at the library on a day that neither of you had any afternoon classes, and you get there early, spend some time working on other classes. You have somewhere around thirty minutes to freak out to yourself before you see Minghao come in, dressed like he knows what he’s doing to you (which is really just a hoodie and jeans, but you think it’s the cap that really pulls the whole boyfriend look together), smiling when he finds you at a table in the corner.

“How are you?” is the first thing he says when he sits down, and you pull down your laptop screen a little to see him better.

“I’m good,” you say, feeling your heart pound. “What about you?”

Minghao sends you a kind smile. “Really good. Should we get started?”

You lose count of how many times you see him after that.

Meeting up to work on the project soon becomes just meeting up, and after the project’s done and turned in, it happens even more. You hang out and get lunch, send each other texts and stupid videos, take walks around campus together. The weeks pass, summer mellows into fall, then into the early days of winter. You develop a genuine friendship with him, finding comfort in his presence, looking for him wherever you go.

(Although the crush is still there, potent and patient, stubborn in a way you’ve never experienced before. You wonder if it’s a sign of some sort.)

You’re in one of the practice rooms with him, sitting in the corner. You had a class nearby and he’d wanted to practice a little more, so you told him you’d work on your own stuff while he finished up and then the two of you could grab something to eat.

But you made a small error on your part - the dancing. You’d forgotten the way he moves (you haven’t seen him dance since that first time) and in no time at all you’re letting your screen go dark in front of you and watching him. Honestly, it’s not your fault, you really can’t help it.

But of course he notices.

Minghao meets your eyes through the mirror and raises his eyebrows at you, and all you can do is look away, desperately try to get your laptop up and running again so at least it seems like you weren’t watching him for too long.

“You’re staring,” he says, long after you’ve looked away.

“Sorry,” you tell him anyways, immediate, quick.

Then he says, “I never said anything about stopping.”

In a second, you look up from your laptop and up at him. He moves closer, crouches in front of you. His eyes are kind - they’re never not - but you think you see something a little more in them. “Sorry, I think I missed that last part,” you respond, blinking. Minghao smiles like you’re endearing.

“I said I want you to keep looking at me.”

You think you’re barely breathing when he shuts your laptop for you, slides it off of your lap and onto the floor (gently, with care, and it’s a wonder to you how he can focus on that right now). He practically crawls over you, one of his hands eventually reaching the junction of your jaw and neck and holding there. “I’m gonna kiss you now, if that’s okay,” he says, but doesn’t move. You nod as soon as his words reach your brain, eager and quick.

And the next few hours get a little wound up in your head, a little mixed in with the feeling of his body - that moves so youthfully, with so much vibrancy that it reaches everything around you - melting into yours and the sound of him asking you to tell me what you need, honey, and the still-playing slow jam music he was practicing to.

You watch him sleep next to you, hand curled around yours against his pillows, and think that nothing bad could ever touch him.

The two of you… come together, after that.

Neither you nor Minghao use any proper labels, but you both seem to know. No labels are needed, really. You have each other and that’s all there is to it. And everything is really good.

You work together and laugh together like you’ve always known each other. He tries to teach you to dance with him when you’re in the practice room with him, pulls you up by your hands and guides you through your giggles. He was the first person you called when you realized that you had no idea what you were working towards, didn’t have a clue what you actually wanted to do with your life. He gets along well with your friends and you text his because they’re basically yours, now, too.

Winter turns back into spring, slow and easy. Vibrant and youthful. You’re not able to meet Minghao’s parents, but he meets yours (and you’re sure a quick introduction to his mom over a FaceTime call has to count for something). The two of you take advantage of the newfound warmth of the season and try to get out as much as you’re able to, with picnics and city dates and anything you can think of. A drawer in his dresser is reserved for your things, you bought an extra toothbrush for him to use when he stays over.

You watch him dance. It still feels like the first time, like color and breathlessness. You tell him he’s beautiful every time, feel yourself fall a little deeper when he still gets bashful amidst his comedown. You tell him you love him for the first time after he gets done with a performance - a proper one, for a showcase of the dance club he’s in. He says it back.

You think he put all the stars in the sky just for the two of you to gaze at them together.

Things shift the beginning of your junior year.

Minghao tells you about a program he’s applying to, a proper dance academy in New York that could really kickstart his career. Training under some of the best choreographers and performers in the world.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask him after he tells you, and he shrugs, leaning back in his chair. You’re studying at his apartment tonight.

“It’s just…” he frowns. “It’s so far away, you know?”

Oh. You hadn’t even thought about that, too caught up in the excitement of him being able to apply at all. A quick sigh leaves your lips, and then you reach for his hand, hold it between both of your own.

“That’s okay,” you tell him, though now that you’re thinking about it, you feel nervousness in the pit of your stomach. “We can work something out, though, when we get that far. We’ll figure it out.”

Minghao nods, a fond look in his eyes. He pulls one of your hands to his lips. “We’ll think about it if I even get accepted,” he says.

It’s bittersweet, but a promise nonetheless.

Fifteen minutes after you get a call from Minghao, there’s a knock on your door.

You wouldn’t necessarily say you’re worried, but, well. Everyone’s experienced the jump of anxiety when they get hit with the “I want to talk to you about something” line. Nonetheless, you stand from the couch to open the door, mentally preparing yourself for any and everything.

“Hey,” you greet when you see Minghao, opening the door to let him in. His face is unreadable. “Everything okay?”

He walks a few steps into your apartment, waits for you to close the door before turning back around to face you. Then he holds up a piece of paper, the creases from where it was folded still bending. You send him a confused look.

“I got in,” he says, a grin breaking on his face, and you blink, then feel your jaw practically hit the floor. Minghao only nods like he understands, and before you know what you’re doing, you launch yourself at him, holding him close.

“Oh my god, Hao, that’s amazing,” you say into his sweater, then step back to get a proper look at him. Youthful, vibrant. “I’m so proud of you.”

He seems to soften at your words, pulls you back into him again with a gentle kiss to your head. “Thank you for believing in me,” he tells you, tenderness palpable in his voice. All you can do is squeeze him tighter.

Minghao spends a lot of time away from you after that.

You’re not really hurt in any way - even though he got into the academy in New York, he still has to practice. You get it, this is important. He doesn’t text you as often, isn’t able to stop by as much, and you miss him, but you know how much this means for him. But it gets… weird, almost, after a while. Strange, even for him. It feels weird that he’s set to leave at the end of January and it’s December and he’s distant.

Both of you are laying in your bed, looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, when you decide to bring it up. “You’ve been… kinda far away lately,” you start, nudging him with your shoulder gently. “Everything okay?”

His eyes stay on your ceiling, but you feel the way he sighs. “It’s about the program,” he says.

“Okay.”

“And about… you and me.”

Oh. That doesn’t… sound the best. “About, like… what we’re gonna do?”

Minghao nods.

You say, “I wouldn’t mind visiting every so often. It’d be hard, but I’m sure we could find something to work.”

Minghao shakes his head, says, “no.”

You pause, and when you look at him he’s already looking at you. What does he mean by no? Does he want you to move with him? Or does he -

He reaches for your hand and you think oh.

His eyes are a little glassy. You feel the tears come, too.

“Oh,” you say out loud. Minghao squeezes your hand. “So this is… this is it?”

Your room is suddenly cold, and you want to crawl under the covers and stay there. The person in front of you is blurred into something unrecognizable, but you can’t be bothered to blink away your tears.

“I think so, love,” he whispers back to you. “I think it has to be.”

The two of you cry like that for a while. In your bed, loosely intertwined and broken. Even the way Minghao cries carries a kind of vibrancy that’s overwhelming, makes you think of the first time you saw him so long ago, and now -

When you manage to get a better grip on yourself, you ask him if you can still see him off at the airport. He says, “I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t.”

Then you ask if you can kiss him again. He responds by kissing you first.

And it’s sad, it tastes like salt and sorrow and you feel like the promises you never got the chance to make are broken. It feels like the most beautiful blue you’ve ever seen, and you know it’s only a branch of Minghao’s color.

He leaves soon after that, pulls on his shoes and his coat and turns around at the door to give you a tired smile. After he’s gone, you drag yourself to Chan’s bedroom, and once he sees the state you’re in, he offers up one side of his bed. Neither of you say anything, but the friendly reassurance of his hand in yours says enough.

You don’t fail to notice that everything seems to be washed out, a blandness you’re not used to.

The last time you see him is at the airport.

It’s a cold day, despite being sunny. The airport offers little warmth, but you figure it doesn’t matter. You won’t be here for long.

It doesn’t take you very long to find Minghao - you still look for him wherever you go, even if you’re not looking for him. Even then, it’s still so easy for you to find him, to pinpoint that vibrancy, that youth. He’s talking to a few others, you think you met them. Soonyoung and Jun.

Minghao meets your eyes and you freeze, but then he waves you over with a gentle smile. You follow like you think you always will.

You greet Soonyoung and Jun and the four of you talk, albeit a little awkwardly, even when Soonyoung tries his hardest to lighten the mood. Eventually he has to leave, and Jun follows with a shy goodbye. They both hug Minghao before they go.

You’re not sure what to say, but after a minute, you find words. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” you tell him, a little selfishly.

Minghao says, “you’ll do good. I know you will. I’m not worried about you.”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time, and you think he’ll give you a stiff and sad goodbye, but he steps a little closer to you. Looks at you the way he used to.

“Maybe…” he starts, then pauses. “Maybe we’ll meet again.”

Maybe, you think. Maybe.

“I hope so,” you tell him, then watch as he leaves.

#caratwritersclub #kdiner #kpopscape #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt imagine #seventeen imagine #the8 x reader #the8 imagine #svt the8 x reader #seventeen the8 x reader #svt the8 imagine #xu minghao x reader #xu minghao imagine #svt minghao x reader #seventeen minghao x reader #minghao x reader #minghao imagine #pieces of you

185 notes · View notes

forcefully-awoken · 3 years

Text

hello this is for @titan-fodder's coffee shop AU collab. you can find the rest of the amazing works here. divider by @firefly-graphics

i am patently against coffee shop AU's but i do like plot twists.

pairing: Nemuri Kayama (Midnight) x Reader

Summary: Life is boring when you work at a coffee shop in a small town and your life feels like it's going nowhere. Good thing Nemuri walks through the door and sets her eyes on you.

warnings: pining, angst, ghost shit, author has never worked in a coffee shop, period typical mentions of homophobia

WC: 4.2k

You never thought your life would turn out this way.

Stuck in a dead end job at a local coffee shop, always working the opening shift, paying off loans for a degree you barely had use for now. You weren’t so old now, barely twenty three, but starting college seemed so far away. Everything felt so much easier back then, you were so young and idealistic and you were going to change the fucking world. Now you have to listen intently while the rudest woman in town berates you because her coffee isn’t heated to the exact degree she had specified.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” You reply smoothly, voice honey sweet and fake as hell, “I’ll get that remade for you right away.” You had no such intentions, but this bitch didn’t need to know that. Instead you took it behind the counter, just out of sight while you busied yourself making another drink. Then you handed the original back to her, and watched as the woman took a sip, sighing happily.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” She snips, walking away. You roll your eyes and take up the register again. Standing in front of you is the single most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. You’re certain she’s never been in before, at least not while you’ve been working. She’s eyeing the menu board over your head, while you’re able to drink in your fill of her. Long black hair, falling in soft layers down her shoulders, pale, unblemished skin, full lips, and bright blue eyes. She’s dressed in the vintage style you’ve seen come back into fashion, red glasses perched on her face.

“W-what can I get for you?” You curse how you stutter out the question- you haven’t stuttered in front of a woman since the sixth grade and you realized you liked girls.

“I think just a black coffee, small.” Oh for fucks sake, even her voice is pretty. You mutely nod, picking up a cup to write down the order.

“And a name?” The words are routine as they slip from your mouth.

“Nemuri Kayama,” She replies, giving you a smile as bright as the sun. All you can do is nod back to her, taking her money and making change in silence. Your coworkers snicker quietly when you even go so far as to hand deliver her drink.

“What time do you get off work?” She asks when you manage to make it over to the table and set the drink down without spilling it on yourself. “I’d love to get to know you.” You check the time on your watch.

“Another two hours,” You reply, sadness in your voice because there’s no way she’ll wait.

“Wonderful!” Are you dreaming? You must be dreaming. “I’ll see you then!” Once again you can only nod in reply, silently wondering what the fuck to yourself as you get back to work. You try to look at Nemuri as much as you can, but she seems to just be lost in thought as she sits at the tiny two person table. She gazes out the window with a dreamy smile on her face, every so often bringing the cup to her mouth- though you notice it doesn’t look like she’s drinking, only smelling it.

Two hours has never seemed so long as your shift drags by. Customers come in, you take orders, your heart tries to beat out of your chest. Soon enough you’re hanging up your apron on its little hook, and ignoring the stares of your coworkers as you take a place across from Nemuri. Her cup still looks full, and you almost want to ask if there was something wrong with it before shutting that train of thought down- you’re not working right now.

“Hello,” You breathe out, trying not to sound so excited, failing miserably. “You waited.”

“Of course,” Nermuri practically purrs at you, leaning forward on the table, just slightly closer to you. “I wanted to talk to you.”

That’s all it takes- you think you’re in love now. The talk starts small, just figuring each other out, you tell Nemuri about your degree and she tells you she never went to college, that she worked as a secretary at a bank you hadn’t heard of. You figured it had to be in the town over, but the conversation moved on before you could ask. You don’t think you’ve had such a delightful conversation in ages, so far from your friends and not close to your coworkers.

Nemuri makes you realize how lonely you’ve been, but soothes the ache before it can even begin. Neither of you offer up your last names, but that seems so inconsequential. You want to know what makes Nemuri smile, what drives her out of bed in the morning (“Not a lot,” She says, smiling down at her now cold coffee, “Just getting by like everyone else.”). For all you can find it in you to care the rest of the world is standing still now. You think you could swim in her eyes, drown in the soft peals of her laughter.

It’s not until the pointed coughs of your coworkers that you realize the shop is only a few minutes away from close. She hesitates when you ask for her number, but that doesn’t slow you down. You offer to walk her to her car, but she says she doesn’t have one- doesn’t even have her license in fact. You offer her a ride home, eager to spend more time with the mysterious woman. She nods just the once, and you go to gather your things, taking her coffee to the back to pour it out in the sink. You’ll really have to figure out what kind of drink she likes.

Nemuri is standing by the table, waiting for you once again. She looks ethereal in the low light, and you tell her as much.

“You look like an angel,” You declare confidently, but she somehow becomes even more pale. There’s a split second where you think you’ve done something wrong enough that she’ll faint right there on the spot but she perks up after a moment.

“That’s the first time I’ve been compared to one,” She teases you, and you lead the two of you out the door. When you turn to grab your keys from you bag you take your eyes off of her for a split second, it’s barely anything, but there’s a gentle breeze and when you turn back Nemuri is gone- leaving you with disappointment and more questions than answers.

Namely, what the fuck.

You had the next two days off, and you were left to wonder- had you done something wrong? The signs felt like they were so clearly there but maybe you had misread them? Maybe Nemuri was just flirty like that, and ran at the first sign of queerness? For the first time in your memory you wish you would get called in so you could ask her about it. But your days off passed quietly, with you just puttering around your house, trying to get everything done that needed to be.

Soon enough you’re there, bright and early, and nervous beyond belief. It feels like it takes all day for Nemuri to show back up, but she arrives- this time right before your shift is over.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing out of her mouth, and damn, it’s hard to stay even a little annoyed when she looks so cute staring at you like that. You find yourself melting, smiling and taking her order- which is your favorite drink, you recommend it to her. When you join her after your shift again she gestures to it. “It’s yours.” Your answering smile is all she needs.

“Tell me about your favorite childhood memory?” Nemuri asks, and you find yourself unable to deny her.

“My mom took us to this mermaid cove place, they have a show with pirates, and mermaids, and singing, and I just remember how happy she was watching it all,” Your eyes grow a little misty thinking about the past, about your mother, “I remember telling her that I was going to be a mermaid one day, just to make her smile like that all the time. I was a very ambitious seven year old.”

“You sound like a good daughter,” Nemuri replies, smiling sweetly at you. “I’m sure your mother is still very happy for you now.”

“She passed,” You manage to choke out, trying hard to sound like you’re okay, “A few years go, but anyways, what about you? Your favorite memory?”

“I’m so sorry,” Nemuri starts, but sees something in your face so when she talks again it’s not about you, “We were down on our luck when I was a child, like everyone was. I was maybe nine or ten at the time- everything we ate was so bland, but it was all we could afford. One day papa came home with an orange- a real orange! We had to split it between everyone but nothing tasted sweeter.” Nemuri isn’t looking at you now- she’s lost in her own thoughts as surely as you’re lost in yours.

“We should talk about happier things,” You say, and Nemuri is nice enough to ignore the sniffle in your voice. “The future, maybe. Where do you see yourself in five years?” She blanches at that, actually, and you feel bad, taking a sip of your drink to focus your thoughts. “You’re right, that was bad. This isn’t a job interview.”

“I just haven’t given it much thought,” Her reply is a little stiff, formal.

“Ah, a live in the moment type of gal?”

“You could say that,” There’s a secret hiding in Nemuri’s smile, one you want to spend as long as she’ll let you trying to figure it out. “What about you? Big future plans?”

“I want to fall in love,” You blurt out, cringing back a little, “That sounds so cheesy. I just want to have a little place, just a little piece of happiness.”

“I don’t think that sounds cheesy at all,” Nemuri assures you, “I think it sounds amazing.” The two of you sit there for another moment, just enjoying each other before the alarm on your phone goes off- half an hour until your therapy appointment. You frown at the reminder, cursing it internally for disrupting your time now. You stand, gathering your things as does Nemuri.

“I have to go, but maybe I could take you out?” There it is again- the blanching, the frown that plays on her lips. “Or is that too fast?”

“We could meet back here?” She slowly suggests, “I live in one of the apartments above?” You’re not sure why she sounds so shy about it but you readily agree anyways- you don’t cherish the idea of coming back here but maybe you’ll get lucky if she’s already inviting you over.

“It’s a date,” You declare, feeling more confident when Nemuri nods in agreement. You bid your farewells and make it home just in time to pick up your therapist’s call- the wonders of telehealth. It’s hard to focus on what your therapist is saying, and she seems to pick up on that.

“I met someone,” You say, suddenly shy. Nemuri is so new, you don’t feel quite comfortable gushing about her yet. “It’s new. We have a date tonight.” There’s not much else to say after that, anyways. After that you’re able to focus just a little bit more, and soon the hour is over, with you promising to tell your therapist all about your date.

There’s still a few hours so you take your time getting ready, trying to find that balance between casual and dressed up. You’ve never felt so nervous for a date before in your life, but then it’s suddenly, somehow, time to leave again.

Nemuri is waiting in front of the shop for you, looking nervous but she lights up when she sees you. You can see a soft glow behind her- the shop is transformed. The door is unlocked, and she mentions something about being friends with the owner again when you lead the pair of you inside.

The main lights are off but there’s fairy lights all over, and the tables pushed out of the way, save for one right in the middle. There’s some take out on it, a Thai place you know you had mentioned earlier today.

“This is all so much,” You gush to Nemuri as you take your seat across from her. She looks perfect, and you tell her as much, just to watch the apples of her cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink. It’s endearing, really, the way she waits for you to serve yourself, how she just watches you, and talks to you. Conversation flows as easily as the wine you brought, though you’re the only one drinking it.

“I thought I had misread the signs,” You confess. “I thought maybe once again I had a crush on a straight girl.”

“I had the same fears,” Nemuri returns, shaking her head a little, a soft strand of black hair falling around her cheek to frame it perfectly. “I know I can be a little unusual and I thought you were simply being kind.”

“Oh, no, I totally wanna fuck you,” You try to keep your voice a little light, teasing, but it comes out damn near a purr and Nemuri’s eyes widen in response. Now, your tipsy mind thinks, now you’ve definitely over stepped and you’ll be reported, and get fired or sued, and your therapist will be so disappointed and-

“It’s good to know we’re on the same page there.” Her words bring you up short, stopping your anxiety spiral before it can even really begin. Nemuri shifts, her eyes going distant when she looks away from you. “Though there is a slight complication here.”

That sends another pang of worry through you- you’re pretty certain Nemuri is perfect, what could complicate sleeping together? A million different scenarios speed through your head all at once, but for the life of you, you’d never be able to predict the next words that come out of her mouth.

“You see, I’m a ghost.” You’d laugh, but her face is kind and serious and all sorts of heart breaking.

“I’m sorry?” Your manners prevail, and you bite back what you want to say, “You think you’re a ghost?”

“I am, I know I am,” Her words hold a note of finality, so much so that you can’t help the next words out of your own- “Alright, then prove it.”

She looks back at you now, catching your eye with a mischievous grin. She stands, but the chair doesn’t move. Nemuri walks, actually walks, through the table, standing right in your food to bend over and brush her lips against yours. It’s like there’s nothing there, only the hint of coldness, something that sends a harsh shiver down your spine.

“Do you believe me now?” She asks when she pulls away.

“I do,” You answer simply, before everything goes dark and you feel yourself slide out of your chair onto the floor, as Nemuri calls your name.

Your eyes flutter open and Nemuri’s face is so close to yours that if she had breath you would be sharing it. You scramble away from her, kicking the chair as you move, and her face falls.

“You- you’re a gh—” You choke on the word as you sputter, unable to get your mind around it. Ghosts aren’t real, your mind distantly supplies, the wine is drugged, or you’re having a stroke, or you fell asleep on the couch but this isn’t- it can’t be real. Nemuri is still frowning at you, kindness in her eyes like she understands. God, how do you even begin to tell your therapist about this? That the girl you have- had- have a crush on is a ghost?

“I have to go,” The words leave your mouth, body twisting as you grab your bag off the floor and run out the door. You think you hear your name being called but you don’t look back, you don’t stop shaking until you’re home, and the door is locked behind you. Your mind doesn’t stop racing, anxiety making your heartbeat loud in your chest.

There’s a pang of regret but all you can think is why, how, what the fuck? Nemuri is a ghost, she walked through a table and kissed you and you ran away. You had work in the morning but it was so hard to think about going back. Would the shop even look the same now to you now? God, had she died there? Is this why she lingered around it? Were her bones buried under your feet as you made rude middle aged women their overpriced lattes?

That thought is enough to have you running to the bathroom, emptying your stomach into the toilet. You slide to the floor again, pressing your forehead against the cool tile to try and stop your reeling brain. You have no idea how to process this now, electing to simply crawl into bed, deciding to call in sick in the morning.

And you do- you call in sick for two days. You curl up in your blankets, and ignore the world outside. You think about the sad look on Nemuri’s face, and it sends another pang through you every time. It’s hard to think of disappointing her again but where do you go from here?

After two days you can’t justify calling in anymore. Your bills need paid, no matter how many ghosts you think you might want to have sex with. You don’t see her your entire shift either, which makes you a little sad, and that surprises you. You hesitate as long as you can, hoping to see her before you head home, but she never shows.

And for the next week you don’t see Nemuri. You brush it off when your therapist asks after her, and try to write it off as maybe a slight psychological break. But then you see her, sitting in a corner, and you notice how the sunlight goes through her now, like she’s fading, like she’s only ever been halfway there.

You don’t acknowledge her until the end of your shift when you whisper, “Tonight. The same time.” There’s no reply but when you glance back she’s gone.

Your hands shake something terrible when you drive back to work after hours. When you arrive this time there’s no grand set up (and you really should ask Nemuri how she did that!) there’s just the table by the window, the same one you first spoke to her at. You don’t even see Nemuri as you walk in, the lights on just enough for you to see.

“Hello?” Your voice echoes around the open space and then all of a sudden she’s right next to you. Materializing out of thin air like, well, like a ghost.

“You’re here,” The word sticks in her mouth, and you feel the pressure of it on you, compelling you to take a seat. You slump in your seat, eyes widening when Nemuri is just there across from you- only she didn’t walk there. She’s just there. Everywhere. The thought makes you dizzy.

“I figured,” You voice is too quiet, you clear your throat, straightening up in your seat, “I figured talking can’t hurt, right?” Nemuri nods, a little too eager. “I don’t have to solve your murder or anything right?”

“Heavens no!” Nemuri sounds scandalized at the thought which brings you little relief. “I died of old age, quietly, in the apartment above here about twenty years ago.”

“But,” Your mind is still reeling from how old she must be, what year her date of birth is, “Why are you here then?” And from the look on her face she knows you don’t just mean why is she in the coffee shop. She doesn’t look at you when she starts her story.

“My father wasn’t a nice man,” She says, a hard line to her words. “He loved me, please don’t misunderstand that, he loved me in the way fathers love their first daughters, which is to say pining a legacy on my shoulders before I know how to walk. He looked at me and saw future generations, saw grandchildren that might share the color of his eyes, the shape of his mouth.

Unfortunately for him the first time I kissed a boy I knew- I couldn’t love him or any man. I couldn’t love anybody the way I loved the girl next door, my roommate in my first apartment, the lovely barista at the coffee shop. I was… wrong in his eyes. I wasn’t the child he had been promised and that broke something inside of him. He asked me to deny myself, if I wouldn’t have a husband then at least, I should have nobody at all.

And I couldn’t deny him that. I died here. I died alone, with regrets, and one big thing tethering me to this ground we sit on. I wanted a love. I want one kiss, with someone who looked at me and saw me and understood me and loved me so much it didn’t matter that I was wrong in my father’s eyes- because I would always be right in theirs.”

You’re crying by the time Nemuri stops talking. Big, fat, salty tears make their way down your face. Your nose is running too, and with shaky hands you move to wipe your face off with a napkin. You can’t imagine Nemuri’s life the way she described it. Your mother had hugged you tightly when you came out, had set you up with the daughters of friends, had held your hand in hers on her deathbed and told you to love as much as possible.

But Nemuri, sweet and kind and loving, had been denied that because it was the wrong time? The wrong place? The wrong family? It broke your heart to think of decades alone, closing her eyes that final time knowing there was nobody waiting on the other side.

“I’m sorry,” You gasp out, trying to stop yourself from crying more, “I’m so sorry I ran off, I didn’t even give you a chance!”

“You’re giving me a chance now,” Your heart breaks a little more at how kind she still sounds, “And you’re not running. I don’t see fear in your eyes. I see acceptance, and understanding.”

“And love,” You say with some finality. It’s hard not to love someone like Nemuri, and how could you not love her now? She’s laid her soul in front of you, and all you want to do is hold her hand. You reach out, placing yours palm up on the table. She’s hesitant, but then her hand rests in yours and you can feel her- warm and vibrant and alive. She’s solid when you look back up at her. Holding her hand in yours, you move around the table, bringing your face level to hers.

“I love you, Nemuri,” You tell her, watching as tears gather in the corner of her eyes, “And I won’t stop until my dying day.”

When your lips meet hers this time you feel them, the first and best kiss she’ll ever give you, and there’s a soft exhale from her that your greedily swallow down. When your eyes open again she’s gone, but you know that’s okay.

Somewhere, she’s happier.

Your life moves on after that.

It’s weird- you think going back to the coffee shop might feel awkward but it doesn’t. You swear you can hear her laughter in the ringing of the bells over the door, feel her touch as it stops you from burning yourself on something hot. She’s everywhere and nowhere- just the simple, calming presence of an old lover.

You meet a girl, two, three, before the fourth one finally sticks. It doesn’t feel like betrayal, not when your first kiss with her happens because an invisible force pushes you forward and into her arms. Sue, your wife, is lovely and understanding, even when you drag her to a cemetery, and introduce her to a grave holding a person you couldn’t know, given that the gravestone held a death date of when you were five.

She doesn’t question it when she finds you talking aloud sometimes, to thin air, to a person who’s name she’s only even seen on that gravestone. Sue holds you tight on your worst nights and lifts you higher on your best. Every kiss with her is full of life, of love, of a happiness you find yourself thinking you’re sharing with one other person. You give everything you have to Sue, save one little corner of your heart.

You move away, you move on from that small town and everything that held you down there. Your life flourishes out, it’s more than you ever could have dreamed of, your happiness so much that you’re not sure how your heart handles it. Every little victory feels dedicated to her, to the one ghost you’ve never been able to exorcise but that’s okay, more than, because you know Nemuri loves you still, wants you to be happier just for her.

And you know it too, when you close your own eyes for that one final time, and her voice calls to you from somewhere, far off in the distance.

#nemuri x reader #nemuri kayama x reader #midnight x reader #homophobia tw #♟.collabs #♟.bnha #♟.nemuri #if nobody cries i’ll delete bye

59 notes · View notes

alienaiver · 2 years

Text

[D. Gray Man] The sanctuary of the heart

Lavi x gn!reader

summary: You hadn’t intended to pursue him romantically – ever. Because how could that end well? He was to become the next Bookman. He was the textbook definition of a real shitty romance and while all rationality in your being agreed with that fact, your emotions had a life of their own and you developed foolish feelings anyway.

warnings: Hurt/No comfort!!, major angst, more in the content part! wordcount: 1k words content: Hurt/no comfort, emotional hurt, unhappy ending, canon compliant, character study, angst, before where canon is rn (missing</3) reader-insert, reader is completely gender-neutral as in your gender and pronouns aren’t even mentioned in this!, im sorry about the angst uh... i only write happy dgm when its modern au lolol </3

notes: i have written so much for d. gray man thru all these years but this is my very first reader-insert! i havent ever been able to picture lavi get a happy ending romantically in the canon setting and this was.. kinda a fun way of exploring that and i had fun writing it even tho it was so sad lmfao!!

i take requests for dgm reader-inserts! :’) i hope you enjoy!!

_____

Loving Lavi was easy, without forethought. He made it effortless with his smile, with the way he shone so brightly. When you came back from a particularly rough mission and he grabbed your cheeks to force a smile on your face because he said he’d missed it before kissing you, you thought yeah, he makes this easier. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t do that in the hallway or any other place except for your room because the love he would pour into his antics filled you with such warmth that the hurt got easily bypassed. You understood his role, you really did. You also hadn’t intended to pursue him romantically – ever. Because how could that end well? He was to become the next Bookman. He was the textbook definition of a real shitty romance and while all rationality in your being agreed with that fact, your emotions had a life of their own and you developed foolish feelings anyway. It’d come to a head in the library one day.

The library was a place you found yourself more easily than anywhere else and a place he so rudely intruded upon when he first entered the Order. Not many used it for more than short visits so it’d been your sanctuary for the better half of your life and now you found yourself in a position where you had to share, as if life hadn’t already demanded more than it’s fair share from you as an Exorcist, you remember thinking bitterly.

You acted up about it with a cooked up plan of being such a menace in the secluded space of books that the young Bookman Jr would surely be more inclined to… pick another spot within the vast structure that made up the Order, but alas, it wasn’t meant to be. He never strayed from the library and with a begrudging – and dramatic – acceptance you formally welcomed him to the superior quarter of your shared Home.

Through your best efforts to barely befriend the man and merely co-exist, a pleasant and warm atmosphere seemed to rise to the surface between you anyways and it wasn’t long before you changed seats from your usual spot by the Periodical Section towards him. You’d sit on top of the table with your legs crossed, stealing glances of the documents he would bury himself in and occasionally trade quips about whether or not the book in front of him was shitty. Even if it’s lousy, yer know I still have to read it he’d sigh at you for the nth time since this … camaraderie between you had started blooming.

And bloom it did, so quietly at first that you’re convinced none of you noticed. Not even the almighty Bookman Jr who’d been trained to observe and store every little scrap of interaction and behavior had noticed. You’re not entirely sure when he figured it out but evidently, he’d also realized it so late in the game that even he couldn’t change much of your shared fate.

The day you first got an inkling of what your mind was up to you were sent on a mission and immediately had to park it in the back of your mind for several months, and when you came back you’d frankly forgotten about your little… awakening, so to speak, until the first place you wanted to go to was the library to see if he was there. The hope of it all almost choking you as you, through injury and fatigue, ran towards your sanctuary (when the sanctuary had become him and not the location itself, you didn’t know).

He’d been there, all alone, buried in parchments and books and as soon as he spotted you at the entrance you swore his eye shone in a way it hadn’t before and no amount of self-control or psychic knowledge could have ever stopped you from running into his arms (which he’d help open for you, mind you) or prevented you from pulling on his scarf to finally feel and know and experience what his lips would be like on your own.

Lavi was hard to love, with premeditation. His life had been about antipathy, of severance with his humanity and about becoming an encyclopedia of humanity’s sins and virtues. Being attached to anything or anyone was never in the image and sometimes he would ache so deeply that he would barely look at you. Because even a glance would remind him that everything he was doing was wrong, that everything about you was wrong – no matter how right it felt. You could be lying in bed together, weary of the arrival of morning because it’d indicate the start of a mission and he would suddenly get up and leave. He would leave without so much as a joke spilling from his lips because if he did that – if he stayed true to his 49th persona and acted carefree and fun, he felt sure he would scream and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stop. The love you felt for him was both a potent poison and the antidote. He’d brought color to the darkest depths in you and made it bearable. Not once had you ever thought of your life as tolerable before he’d forced his way in and picked a spot in your heart to call his. It’d been all about survival.

So when you first truly accepted that it was never going to be a happy ending, you’d keeled over in agony and absolute heartbreak in the corner of your room.

The day after – after picking yourself and your heart up from the floor where it’d been trampled on and withered, you did what you had to. You crawled back to the Periodical Section of the library with a wall of absolute iron built around you and an unapproachable air emitting from you, making it clear you weren’t interested in him going anywhere near you. The first time he’d come back to that he’d barely reacted. If you hadn’t known him better than you did and noticed the way his eye widened for just a split second, you’d think he hadn’t cared at all about your time together – you hope he hadn’t because that would mean he’d feel less rotten, less withered than you. And there’s only one thing you hoped for him and that was that his sanctuary had never become you, so he could live on without feeling like something was missing.

#D. Gray Man #dgm #dgm hallow #dgm x reader #d gray man x reader #lavi x reader #d gray man hallow #nohr.writing #nohr.dgm #i rly hope this doesnt flop! im pretty proud of it actually hehe #i do wish to write lighter/happier things for dgm also tho!#so if u have any requests please dont holdback :D!!!#likes and especially reblogs and comments gives me ENDLESS motivation to write!!! thank u in advance if u do any of it <33333 #ill go watch pokemon and hide a bit now bcos im always so anxious when posting hehe

18 notes · View notes

themonotonysyndrome · 3 years

Text

Guilt Eater

Part 4 of the ‘Successors of the Future’ is here! And yes, I will do my absolute best to squeeze in as much Blazblue reference in this series until I can’t! (I mean, that’s how I got the plot bunny for this series anyway~)

We’re moving the spotlights today to Malleus and Ace and a special guest! I thought it’ll be an interesting shift of perspective and change. Don’t worry, we’ll get right back to the kids in the next oneshot.

As always, big thank you to @tri3tri for letting us expand her Second Wive AU. Hope you guys enjoy this oneshot.

Time tend to leave its mark differently on each species.

For creatures who only grew stronger with time while their bodies remain near immortal, the passing of time means nothing to the Fair Folks. Time is likened to the ocean; ancient yet full of wonders.

For Malleus, however, time has not been kind to him. Not since his dear heart and children vanishes.

Ever since then, there is an unspoken rule among the residents of the Castle of Thorns: the Queen’s family wing is forbidden to everyone but the King.

Even Lilia nod his head to the rule; even he has been walking on eggshells around their King.

And the years had transformed the Queen’s domain into a catacomb. The rumpled beds, the toys littered in Princess Sherrie’s bedroom, the Queen’s favourite book on her study table - everything is left untouched with layered of dust and cobwebs covering every inch of the surfaces.

Every evening, the King would stalk the empty halls and bedrooms like a ghost; constantly yearning to feel the memories that embedded on the walls. Once he did his duties as the King and beget the male heir that the court had been pushing, Malleus has been living in regret ever since.

He should have known that his beautiful wife would attempt to escape during the night of his second wedding. He should have tightened the security not on his concubine, but to the Queen and their Princesses. He should have assured Renata and Sherrie that only their mother holds his heart and that Bellatrix is just a means to an end.

He should have told them that he loves them.

Regret and guilt are terrible poisons. It festered under your skin and twist your heart painfully. They plague your mind with ‘what if’s’ and ‘should have’s’ and Malleus have been carrying them ever since that night.

Tonight, he lost hours inside Renata’s bedroom, just staring at her favourite doll that he bought for her. He still remembers how her eyes lit up and how sweet her smile was when he presented the doll to her; how she was so happy that she clings on him and the doll that day. Deeply amused, he humoured her and carried her in her arms the whole day. Malleus even brought her to his court session, regardless how it broke propriety.

His every waking moments now drift to MC and their daughters. Where are they? Why couldn’t he find them no matter how many soldiers he dispatched across Twisted Wonderland, no matter how far his magic blanket the lands? Are his daughters healthy, happy? What are they currently doing now? Are they safe? Have they forgotten about him -

The mirror on the vanity table shattered. Malleus releases the doll in his grip and struggle to calm himself down; his body curl inwards and his breaths erratic. The thought of his wife and children far away and happy from him nearly drove him crazy if it weren’t for Lilia’s quick and careful words of consolation.

“They can’t hide forever, Malleus. Don’t ever give up, you hear me? And once we’ll find them, we’ll make sure her little escape routines are put to a stop. Permanently.”

Lilia’s words are enough to ground him. For now.

Malleus failed to assured his wife and daughters his love towards them, failed to show just how deep his convictions towards them are. The moment he finds any threads of their whereabouts, he’ll make sure to rectify that.

And as the night made way for morning, Malleus forces himself to leave his daughter’s abandoned bedroom to prepare for another long, monotonous day. The only reason why he hasn’t delegate his duties to Lilia was because of his grandmother. His grandmother had come to visit on the eve of his second wedding and stayed when a frantic Silver announced MC and their children’s disappearance. If it weren’t for her, Malleus would’ve burned away his suit and transform into a dragon to search for them. While Lilia organise a search team with Silver and Sebek, his grandmother made sure he understood his duties as King once more.

That was the first and last time he slept with Bellatrix before his thoughts and desire are consumed with the need to find his family. At that point, neither Lilia nor his grandmother could’ve stop him.

The castle staffs and guards know to scattered when they see him step out of the Queen’s wing. The moment they heard the door creaked open, the room is empty.

All but for one individual.

“Good morning, Father!”

Malleus stop his track. He tilts his head towards his heir, expressionless. Victor refused to be deterred by his Father’s gloomy aura yet he’s smart enough to carefully approach him.

The king is stoic on the best days, frightening on his worst.

“Will you be joining us for breakfast later? I heard from Grandfather Lilia that the kitchen staffs are planning to cook your favourites.”

“I’ll be taking my meals in my office as usual.” Malleus reply and starts to walk away.

Victor’s smile drop a little but he pressed on, jogging behind his father. In a rare burst of courage, the Prince grab Malleus’ hand. Surprisingly, Malleus stops walking. He stares at his hand before narrowing his eyes at Victor.

“W-Would Father like a report of my recent academic progress? My tutors said that I’ve been doing well in my magic classes! O-Oh! I’ve also been diligently keeping up with my etiquette lessons.” Victor stutters out after he immediately let go of his Father’s hand. Feeling like he just committed a grave crime.

“No need. Your tutors have been sending letters of your progress, daily.”

“Oh... then would Father be willing to... to train me - ”

“I’m busy. Ask Lilia or any of your tutors.” And with that, Malleus refused to linger any longer, leaving Victor in the empty room.

Crestfallen, Victor watch his Father go. Knowing that if he bothers him even more, it will just upset him and another storm would loom over the castle for the next few days. His expression immediately morph into a combination of anger and sadness as he stomps away before the staffs could return, not wanting them to see him vulnerable.

As usual, Victor desperately hopes that one day his Father would finally acknowledge him as a son, not as his Prince.

Time tend to leave its mark differently on each species.

For creatures with a set of years as flimsy as a lit candle’s flame, humans are creatures who bear the passing of time with a passionate vigor. Time is likened to fireworks; beautiful, bright but only for a short moment.

For Ace, however, time is a constant remainder that he had failed his best friend. Being vulnerable in Night Raven College is a sure way to be taken advantage off and Ace is never known as anything but his brutal honestly, mischievous streaks and habits of getting himself (and others) into trouble.

But when the headmaster announced that he couldn’t find MC anywhere the day after their senior’s graduation, was the moment that he, Deuce and Grim completely lose their composure. Deuce was too shocked to say anything while Ace couldn’t stop screaming alongside Grim.

She couldn’t have just vanish! People don’t work like that!

And even if she finally somehow found a way back to her world, she wouldn’t just leave without saying goodbye!

Ace hated himself as that moment. If only he texted them the night before. Why didn’t he? They usually send stupid texts to one another! If only he kept a closer eye on them. If only she kept Grim close to her.

For once, the headmaster drop all pretence. For once, his guilt laden answer and heavy sags of his shoulders are genuine.

MC is gone and he has no idea how or why. But the three of them refused to gave up just like that. Ever since that day, they would do their best to figure out or research about MC’s fate. Jack and Epel, after finding out what happened, did their best to help out too. But days passed without any leads and with heavy hearts, they accepted that their friend is lost to them.

That was not a good day.

After Ace and Epel managed to pull Deuce and Jack away from one another (Deuce had completely lost it when the wolf boy reluctantly admit that maybe it was best to stop their research), strangely enough, it was Sebek who finally interjects.

They need to accept that MC is gone. Even if they could never gain the closure that they desperately want, it’ll be no good to carry this sort of horrible guilt with them forever. With a long sigh, Sebek told them to find peace with it, even if it’s hard.

Easier said than done. Even now that he’s already an adult and have a son, Ace still couldn’t help but wonder what happened to his friend. He hopes that wherever she is, MC is safe and happy. Anything other than that Ace couldn’t bear to think.

Ace takes out his phone and checks the calendar app. The anniversary of MC’s disappearance is coming. Usually, Ace would cook MC’s favourite food in honour of her memory and over the years, he has gotten pretty good at it. Good enough that it also becomes his son’s favourite dish.

Just as Ace was about to put down his phone and get ready to go out for lunch with his older brother, it suddenly rings.

The name on his phone surprises him. His son rarely calls him ever since he got accepted to Night Raven College. Something about wanting some independence from his old man that Ace retaliates by ruffling his hair because of his boy’s cheekiness.

Ace press the accept button with a grin, knowing that this is going to be good. “What’s up, kiddo? Finally admit that you miss your old man?”

He expects a scoff, maybe a reluctant admittance, hell even his son’s rare bout of innocent honesty. What Ace didn’t expect however, is hearing his son’s frightened shriek.

“Dad! You knew a MC/S before right!? Please tell me you know what to do when she went batshit insane!”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down! What are you talking about? I can barely hear you!”

Ace impatiently wait while pressing the phone close to his ear as he hear his son rapidly talking to someone, shouting apologies and heavy breaths as if he’s currently running.

“Oh Sweet Seven, ok, I think we managed to hide from her.” His son panted. “Yeah, so, I might have, uh accidentally threw my food tray all over this girl and she immediately went supernova. We barely managed to dodge her fireballs!”

Suddenly, Ace felt his heart drop. “Girl? What girl? Night Raven College is an all-boys’ school.” He heard himself reply. Absentmindedly, his mind brought up the memories of his Entrance Ceremony, years ago. Of a girl that looked so lost in her robes as she stood in front of the Mirror of Darkness.

“Renata MC/S. She’s the only girl that ended up a student here. I remembered that you had a friend with that surname so I thought she might be related.”

At that moment, Ace choose to believe it. It’s way too coincidental for it not be. A girl that shares his lost best friend’s surname who also just happend to be the only girl to be accepted in Night Raven College?

But what Ace doesn’t understand is his son’s comment about the girl throwing fireballs. MC doesn’t have magic. So what’s going on?

“Hmm, I usually gave her some space before I apologised to her. And a little bribery never failed too.” Ace advised, recalling how MC reluctantly accepts the candy that he offered after he upsets her.

“That’s not a bad idea, Dad! Will report back the result if I’m not scorched to death.” Ace’s son dryly answer. Some rustling noises and hush whispers can be heard through the phone before his kid ended the call.

Ace is already calling Deuce’s number. He needs to know about this.

I hope I managed to did Malleus and Ace justice in writing them! I’ll get better with writing the rest of the boys once their children are introduce. Because Renata needed friends/allies against Malleus after all~

Speaking of Victor, I was really nervous when I was writing him. Here, he’s not all haughty because deep down, all he want is some praises and love from a Father who only see him as something to appease his court. Not a son. Hope I managed to portray that properly!

(Also, the name of Ace’s son and two others will be reveal in the next oneshot)

#twisted wonderland #fanfic #malleus draconia #ace trappola #malleus draconia x mc #yandere malleus draconia #Draconia Family series #Second Wive AU #tri3tri

229 notes · View notes

vminity21 · 3 years

Text

hoax | jjk

Pairing: friend!Jeongguk x female!reader, friendship to lovers!au

Word Count: 2,854

Genre: fluff/smut/angst

Warning(s): angst involving unrequited love, foul language use, smut, oral (m receiving), grinding, smutty kissing, unprotected sex, may or may not have happened in a restaurant, slight fem!dom Rated: 18+

Summary: the hoax was that you assumed it was unrequited love, but being approached by Jeongguk’s potential love interest proved otherwise, and the determination of confessing your feelings had never been so strong.

Credit to: @suhdays for the cover! I’m obsessed with it!

It’s crazy to think that just a certain way someone looks at you can spark a desire to dream about every and any scenario you can fester to make reality seem promising. Especially when it comes to a potential future with a suitor who’s gentle eyes meet yours now and again definitely trailing strings of hope in its wake. You imagine the way he would touch you in a dim, candlelit room where nervous breaths echo and wide eyes venture; you imagine the way he would tease you with silly banter if you could only muster enough bravery to sit next to him; you would envision moments of laughter even in the hours of the early morning before heading to work; you even ponder about how he would kiss you the very second you confess your love for him.

You wonder, you wonder, you wonder.

Palm clutching the metal doorknob from inside the bathroom, nerves tingle along your stomach when a fresh wave of nausea erupts. He is out there somewhere in the dining hall with his family as well as yours, and everyone assumes you are working late. Desperate to reveal what you have kept underneath for too long, your boss gave you the evening off, and here you are fully clothed in a glimmering dress, hair curled, and makeup dazzling your face. Mind drifting to all the events leading up to this moment has been what fueled your impulse of a decision.

When a friend of the past, LenLen, reached out to you last spring, you immediately took it considering it had been years since you had seen her including her four siblings: Maeve, Taehyung, Jimin, and Jeongguk. Unfortunately, your siblings, Monnie and Hoseok, happened to be busy that evening but you still went anyway, driving to what happens to be your favorite Italian restaurant. Seeing LenLen for the first time in four years was exciting, and you were happy to discover she had a boyfriend by the name of Kim Namjoon. His tall frame nearly overtowered LenLen and you were very appreciative of how social he was, and you found it quite adorable that they happened to meet on a popular dating app where many knew it to be for casual hookups.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the crew to show up, but you were amazed at how much everyone had grown- four years can make a world of difference, but you will never forget when your eyes landed on Jeongguk- your heart nearly leaped from your chest. Dark strands parted to showcase glimmering brown eyes and a thin lipped smile remained on his face nearly the entire evening. The attraction you felt was evident to you especially when everyone decided to continue the evening with mini golf. Anytime he was around you, it was like the feelings budded into a hope you weren’t sure how to control.

LenLen and Namjoon who you had carpooled with after dropping your car off at the apartment, decided to head home and LenLen’s siblings offered to drive you back to where you live. Jeongguk wouldn’t even drop you off where you claimed you would walk, parking in a handicap spot close enough to where the walk was easier to get to your door. He hadn’t gone with you but you were thankful he was kind enough to dismiss your original request. After a few days, you received a dm of a meme that he said made him think of you which ignited the excitement that he may be interested in you after all, but it was the most short lived four messages you had ever seen.

Moving on, nearly a year and a half passed when your roommate and best friend, Min Yoongi, decided to move into a new apartment ten minutes down the road, and your sister Monnie was preparing to move in to take Yoongi’s place. Maeve happens to be very fond of Monnie, and a month prior to the move, LenLen and Maeve invited you and Monnie to hangout at a Brewery not far down the road from your apartment. LenLen and Namjoon mentioned a guy named Seokjin who they were going to try setting you up with even though you already had a person in mind. When Monnie messaged you about the plans, you jokingly asked if Jeongguk was going to be there and at first he wasn’t, but when the day came, and he showed up at the table-

your hands went completely numb.

His presence was so overwhelming that you felt the need to consume enough alcohol to tipsy away the anxiety revolving around how shocked you were to see Jeongguk in all his glory sitting across from you. Taehyung took the seat to your left; Monnie had the biggest crush on Taehyung until Seokjin arrived and although the broad shoulders nearly caved you in, you knew Seokjin was your sister’s type and before you knew it, you caught Seokjin sneaking glimpses of Monnie every chance he got. And, after a few weeks, Seokjin and Monnie became the next couple aside from LenLen and Namjoon, cuddling at every bonfire.

As much as you hoped for Jeongguk’s attention, the most you scored was a teasing side eye while he planted his car keys into your hand where his fingers lingered a bit longer than you expected; also, the quick witted flirt of when you dropped your phone he offered to call it resulting in a deep blush flushing across your chest. Even admitting to him how he most definitely had muscles despite his insecurity of wanting his body to become more buff, and you may have spilled that he was attractive, because he is. The funny part is this all happened in front of Cadence- a girl Jeongguk had feelings for and the same girl who upset you enough that you are now hiding in the bathroom, trying to suppress the fuming anger boiling in your chest.

‘You think for one second he meant anything he said to you? I’m the one he wants and you know it.’

She was the first to see your arrival, and she immediately approached you with intense determination and resentment etched in her red lipped frown. She made it clear that she was aware of you and Jeongguk sharing a serious moment where you almost fully confessed, and he claimed how lucky any guy would be to have you. Your heart shattered for you knew he was stuck between a woman who couldn’t make up her mind and a woman that could. It was like he knew what the true answer was but he battled on not wanting to hurt anyone. When Cadence said what she said, you literally muttered, “What are we, in high school?” Offending the girl enough that you were able to stomp away, tears brimmed, yet you knew you couldn’t give up on Jeongguk just yet.

Bursting through the restroom door, the front of your gown clutched within both hands as you dash past the waiters and waitresses concentrating on balancing trays of food while the air reverberates with clinking glasses and scraping forks. The waft of savory meat and loaves of bread floods your nostrils, yet your eyes search the crowded tables for only one person. Frantically, you find his brother, Taehyung, fitted in a suit, chowing down on his dinner, “Hey, have you seen Guk?” You lean toward his ear trying to maintain your cool.

“Yeah, he’s over there,” Taehyung points toward his right where a few chairs away sat Jeongguk merrily conversing with his siblings though a sadness clouds his umber eyes. When you left earlier, he appeared visibly hurt that you couldn’t make it tonight, but here you are, rushing to him as if this would be the last time you would ever see him again.

“Guk!” You breathe, his wide eyes immediately turning to see you halting before him.

“Y/N? I thought-” He scoots his chair back to stand to his feet, overtowering you as his hair falls into his eyes. The sounds of the restaurant are loud enough to not make the scene unfolding as noticeable, but even if there was to be silence, you could care less.

“I worked it out with my boss, and I’m here now, and I don’t give two fucks what Cadence says-” you’re panting now as well as burning up with unwanted blushes.

“Cadence? She’s here?”

“Of course she is, when is she not with you?” Wetting his lips, his eyebrows furrow when he swallows slowly.

“I didn’t invite her.”

Shock is evident in your expression as the words died on your tongue, “You didn’t?”

“No, because it wasn’t her that I wanted to see tonight.”

When relief floods your limbs, you are hardly in a position to think straight for the man you’ve been hoping for all this time is finally seeing the light that has been shining this entire time: you. “Guk, I love you,” gasping, his lips collide with yours without any hesitation as his palms move to grip your waist. The tips of your thumbs find the corners of his lips while he kisses you slowly, taking in every moment that he never wants to lose any further for you are the missing puzzle piece that he has needed. He wants to show how sorry he is for letting you down prior to this moment; how blind he was to ever think he could let you walk away, and as stunning as you are, his heart pounds significantly.

“Awwww,” you hear Monnie coo as you giggle against his kiss. Jeongguk’s lips hardly leave yours before the pair of you find yourselves in a walkway where swinging doors meet at each end of the hall. Empty food carts are sporadic within the space and it’s so dim, your mind races with the feelings growing in all the right places. Moaning into his kiss when tongues meet, his arms latch underneath your ass before lifting you up to where your back hits the wall. Kisses growing so aggressive yet so passionate, you feel like you can’t catch a good breath and the last thing you ever want is to stop. Fingers tangling with the dark strands of his hair, your legs wrap tightly around his frame while you slide your teeth over his bottom lip, him hissing in response as he continues to bruise your mouth with the same hunger.

You are hoping not one individual happens to walk through here, and yet you don’t seem to mind this scandalous desperation of finally becoming one with the love of your life who happens to love you in return though it took a long time coming. Your dress has slid up to your thighs exposing your skin where you feel the material of his tuxedo and when the click of your heels meet the ground after a few more minutes of paradise, you feel his erection against your abdomen which arouses you to oblivion, and the sheet of your dress returns to sway against your shins.

Lost in the continuous motion of his kiss, you realize he plops into a chair that the back of his calves happened to discover. Breathless, you realize his attire has been disheveled while his hazy eyes sweep your figure, and with a lustful gaze you party a knowing smirk. Seductively you step forward to slowly swing each leg over his frame, set in a perfect straddle where your core grazes along his length. He hums pleasurably while you move your hips back and forth in a tease before pressing your lips to the corner of his jaw. Jeongguk struggles where to place his hands, sliding them along your back until he squeezes your thighs, letting you glide as much as you want while you pepper kisses on any visible skin you see.

Heat clenching, you can hardly take it anymore when you scramble to unbuckle his belt, unzipping his slacks, parting the slit in his underwear to reveal his being prompting your mouth to water at the sight. Jeongguk inhales sharply, you wanting to get down to business, sliding backward off his lap until your ajar mouth tickles along his shaft to build anticipation. “You don’t have to-”

“Shut up,” you take charge, fingers accepting his length carefully while the tip of your tongue dances from the base of his being to the tip in an agonizing pace. He places his hands within the curls of your hair, tightening his grip as he groans in ecstasy. Swirling your tongue along his tip, spreading his precum on his surface, you dip, sucking up and down- the feeling so satisfying, he can’t take his eyes off you. “Fuck,” his raspy voice sounds, “you feel so good.”

His words ignite the motivation to keep going, sashaying your tongue along his girth while you continue the bliss, but you didn’t want him to finish too soon. Releasing, you stand to bundle your dress up to expose a coral thong, shedding it down your legs prompting Guk to raise his hands in surrender. “Are you gonna at least let me pleasure-” Leaning forward with the sexiest menacing look you can muster, you fold your palm over the chair, inching as close to his face as you can to where your mouth barely brushes his panting lips. His words stop, eyes enlarging at the way you take the lead so effortlessly.

“I said shut. Up.” Deep down, you are willing to admit that you are truly showing Jeongguk what he will be missing if he ever decides to change his mind, and with the truth appearing at bay, there is nothing that you could ever do that will ever scare him away. He wants to make you feel good too. He wants to be with you. Reaching for his length, you position it beneath your core, letting the sloppy sound of your wetness cover his tip before taking him all in.

“Ooooh my-“ He grits his teeth trying to control himself and when you nod your permission, he begins his thrusting, your hands tangled in his hair while you moan against his ear. The way he moves sends you over the edge in the most erotic way, and with each stroke, he hits your g-spot, the strong feeling growing so intensely, you can feel the brink of a climax. “Keep going!” You gasp, “Keep going, Jeongguk, keep- ah!” Your toes curl against your heels as your thighs tighten, your high coming to its completion, as an orgasm overtakes your senses. Jeongguk spills within in you, arms wrapping around you tightly while he presses his mouth into your shoulder. Hugging him back, you have forgotten the existence of time, and how long you two hold each other, you are unsure.

“I’m so sorry that I-”

“Don’t.” You stop his whisper, eyes closed while you bury your face into the crook of his neck, taking in the crisp scent of his cologne. “I’m just glad you’re with me now.”

He tips his head enough to where you turn to face him, a seriousness overcomes his expression, his stare flitting to make contact with your own, “I love you, too.” Hearing the words become so real to the point that you almost want to cry tears of joy, but that doesn’t get to happen.

“Uh-” A male voice echoes, scrambling to your feet in pure terror, while the scrape of a turning chair holds Jeongguk fumbling to return his area back into his pants. Jimin stands frozen in place while you struggle to form any phrase.

“It’s not- it’s not what you think!” You squeak, your skin burning from embarrassment. As soon as the words left your mouth, Jimin’s ajar lips and wide eyes, look down at your crumpled thong that still rests proudly upon the floor. Shit, you shudder, and Jimin’s stiffened frame, shifts to exit the hallway, Jeongguk stifling laughter while you twirl to face him. Unbeknownst to you, Guk had reached to retrieve the damp garment, shaking his head. “You’re laughing? Your brother just caught us having sex in a restaurant!”

“An isolated part of a restaurant. And, I promise you he didn’t see too much of anything, I think he will be fine,” Guk chuckles, standing to his feet while you stare at him in calm disbelief.

“If this gets back to Monnie, I will never hear the end of it.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all,” you reply, relaxing into his embrace.

“Good. Because I plan to be around every time she brings it up.” Tilting your chin, he kisses you once again. “And,” he pulls away swiftly, raising your thong to your peripheral vision, “I want plenty reasons to have to return these to where they rightfully belong.”

And just like that, your dreams come true, staring up at his wide smile that scrunches his nose, and the way he looks at you returning the same joy- the hoax of unrequited love almost made you give up, and Jeongguk is determined to never let you slip away ever again.

291 notes · View notes

alicanta77 · 4 years

Text

Run Away

pairing: y/n x Jaemin

themes: fluff, angst, non idol au

warnings: swearing, violence, fighting, drugs, drug use, overdose, mentions of cheating, mentions of sex, depression, suicide attempt, death, character death, anxiety, abusive family, alcohol abuse

words: 12k

Disclaimer: This contains very dark content. Please do NOT read if you are uncomfortable with or easily triggered by anything listed in the warnings.

——————————————————————————

Would you run away to me?

‘Run away!’ Your young voice rang out clearly. ‘Run away before Hook catches you!’

‘Captain Hook will never catch me.’ Jaemin declared, standing on a box to put himself higher than you. ‘Because I’m Peter Pan!’

Yours and Jaemin’s mothers watched the two of you play. Just two seven year olds who had nothing more to worry about than being saved from a giant make believe crocodile.

You fell backwards pretending as though you had landed in water. You flailed your arms and legs around calling out for Jaemin to save you.

Jaemin saw the “danger” you were in and leapt into action. He jumped off of his box, landing in a shaky forwards roll, before picking up into a run and speeding towards you. He paused on the way to grab a large stick from the floor to use as a sword as he pretended to battle the imaginary demon attacking you.

After the monster was defeated, he landed on his knees next to you. Pulling you close to check that you were okay.

‘Y/n? You’re safe now. Nothing can touch you when I’m here.’ He reassured you.

‘My hero.’ You giggled, sitting up properly.

Both your heads turned as your mother called the two of you in for a snack. You took Jaemin’s hand and pulled yourself up.

‘Race you to the table!’ You challenged, sprinting towards the open back door.

‘Cheat! You should have waited for me to be ready.’ Jaemin complained, already running after you. It didn’t matter how much of a head start you gave yourself, Jaemin would always let you win anyway.

You enjoyed playing make believe with Jaemin. The imaginary worlds you created were always so much better than reality. Places where the two of you could be heroes and save people, where you were safe as long as you had each other, where nothing and nobody could touch you.

Unfortunately, you always had to come back to reality.

You father stumbled through the door, throwing his keys in the general direction of the coffee table, and missing. He sent you and Jaemin a withering look before making his way upstairs. He left a strong scent of alcohol behind him, one that you were very used to.

Jaemin’s mother looked towards yours with a sympathetic smile, your mother simply shrugging helplessly back at her. You and Jaemin were too young to properly understand what was going on, but, even at that age, you could tell that it wasn’t good.

Jaemin had always been better at reading people than you were. He could tell from the slightest twitch in someone’s eyebrow as to whether they were angry, sad or confused. The only person you could read like a book was Jaemin. The two of you never bothered to hide anything from the other, knowing that it wouldn’t work even if you tried.

The two of you sat down at the table slowly, your actions speeding up when you noticed the plate of cookies on the table. The two of you smiled at each other, cheeks full of the sweet treat as your mothers looked endearingly at you. At your age you didn’t stay sad or scared for long, making it easier for them to distract and protect you from reality.

---

The afternoon sun was beating down outside, giving out the last of its rays before it descended and the moon took over. You and Jaemin sat together, happily watching as the sky morphed into a painting of pinks and oranges.

‘I like the sky like this.’ You said, resting your tiring head on Jaemin’s shoulder.

‘Why?’ He questioned, hugging his knees with his hands.

‘Because it looks like something out of a fairy tale. Somewhere there are happy ever afters, and everyone gets one.’ You explained as Jaemin nodded in agreement. The both of you were too young to fully understand the depths of the words you uttered.

‘I can’t wait for a happy ever after.’ Jaemin admitted, putting his head on yours.

‘Me neither.’ You murmured, enjoying being near your best friend.

‘Jaemin!’ Jaemin’s mother’s voice drew both your attention away from the sky in front of you. ‘It’s time to go! Say goodbye, you can see each other again tomorrow.’

Jaemin turned back to face you, pulling you in for a quick hug.

‘Bye y/n. I’ll see you tomorrow?’ He asked.

‘Of course.’ You replied, smiling at him.

Jaemin stood up off the porch steps the two of you were sitting on, and walked off with his mum. He turned back to send you one last wave before he crossed the street. You waved back, watching until he disappeared from your sight.

You couldn’t wait for your happy ever after.

---

But happy ever after took time.

You sat in your bedroom, your hands covering your ears as you buried your head in your duvet. You were doing everything you could think of to block out the noises but it wasn’t working. Your father’s drunk screams were echoing up to your room and your mother’s retaliations were just as noisy.

You whimpered as the words got more violent and vicious, the threats becoming more and more severe. It was when you heard a smack and a yelp of pain that you finally burst into tears.

You had never felt more useless in your life. The hopelessness washed over you in tidal waves as you tried as hard as you could to stop the tears. Nothing was working.

Your sobs got louder with each one that escaped you, eventually becoming almost as deafening as your parent’s harsh words to each other. Your young body was shaking, partially from fear and partially from the force of your crying.

The noise from the floor below you quietened, making you still slightly, your sobs turning into quiet cries as you listened.

You heard footsteps climbing the stairs, loud uneven footsteps that you knew were your father’s. You felt your heart start to race again, this time you knew it was in pure fear. A second pair chased up after him, much lighter and faster. That was your mother.

Your father threw open your door, a sadistic smile on his face as he looked at your vulnerable form.

‘How pathetic.’ He mused. ‘Crying because you can’t handle a bit of loud noise.’

You whimpered again, attempting to pull your duvet up over you, as if it was a shield that could protect you.

He stalked towards you.

‘Get up.’ He spat. ‘Now.’

You were to afraid to argue, pushing your duvet down and standing on shaking legs. You wrapped your arms around you to defend yourself from the sudden chill of leaving the warmth of your bed.

You father managed one more step towards you before your mother reached your room.

‘No.’ She commanded, her voice full of an unusual authority. ‘You don’t hurt her.’

Your father turned around, almost amused by your mother’s words.

‘Hurt her? How would I do that?’

Your mother was clearly afraid and not enjoying the teasing looking on your father’s face.

‘Ohhhh.’ He said, realisation taking over his features. ‘You mean like this?’

He moved so quickly that you didn’t have time to react. He whirled his body around and lashed out with a punch. It was so fast and so powerful that it knocked you off your feet.

You hit the floor with a thud, banging the top of your head as you did so. You blinked a couple of times, trying to get the floor to stop spinning. You vaguely registered your mother trowing herself at your father, but he easily threw her off.

You were too out of it to hear his dangerous whisper.

‘You come at me like that again, and I’ll hit that child twice as hard.’

All you noticed was your mother stopping in her tracks, immediately giving up on protecting you. You watched her figure move away, not sparing you another glance.

Your father watched her go, his back to you, and you took your opportunity. You pushed yourself up off the floor, careful not to make a sound and crept towards your window. As you opened it slightly, you heard their conversation ending, you couldn’t quite hearing what they were saying, but you knew that you were out of time.

You finally got your window fully open and had half of your body out of it when you father turned around.

His face changed into pure rage at the sight of you getting away and he ran towards the open window, making a lunge for you. You threw yourself backwards, trying to catch yourself on the tree outside but just missing.

You arms scrambled for random branches and objects to slow your fall and you landed harshly in the buses by your front door. They managed to soften your fall to an extent, leaving you still able to get up and run.

So you did.

You ran to the one place you knew you would always be safe.

You ran to Jaemin.

You didn’t spare a look behind you, not knowing that if you did, you would find out that you weren’t being followed and instead your father was simply watching you disappear from your bedroom window. He was never going to chase you.

Your breath escaped you in desperate pants as you forced your short legs to move faster. For a seven year old, the distance between yours and Jaemin’s house felt like a marathon, each step feeling as though it was taking you further away from him, rather than closer towards.

After what felt like a lifetime, you reached Jaemin’s front door, banging frantically on it. You couldn’t hear anything over the loud beating of your heart, so you nearly jumped out of your skin when the door opened to reveal Jaemin’s mother.

‘Y/n? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?’ She asked, her soothing voice making the tears well up in your eyes again.

You stuttered out a few syllables pointing wildly behind you, not managing to explain anything. Jaemin’s mother shushed you, pulling you close for a gentle hug. You buried your head into her shoulder and cried. You began to sob, fully breaking down onto her as the fear finally escaped you.

‘Mum?’ You heard Jaemin’s voice from further inside the house. ‘Mum, who’s that?’

His mother turned around, allowing you to see Jaemin through the mess of your tears. Even at such a young age, Jaemin was fiercely protective of you, rushing forwards to hug you himself.

‘Come on Jaemin, bring her inside.’ His mother instructed, her tone so refreshing gentle that it made you look up at to check that it was real.

Jaemin kept his hand tight in yours as he pulled you into the safety of his house. The two of you sat at the table while his mother made you some hot chocolate. Jaemin kept one hand on you at all time, not wanting you to feel alone, and wanting you to know that he was there.

You didn’t tell them what happened, not really knowing how to describe the past minutes of your life. You didn’t understand the full extent of the previous events, but somehow, you knew that your life would never be the same again.

---

You lay in Jaemin’s bed trying to get some sleep, while he lay on a mattress on the floor. You could tell that he was worried about you, he wanted to know what had gone wrong and how he could help. But, for the first time in his young life, Jaemin was completely helpless. All he could do was watch as you had to face a harsh reality.

You rolled onto your side, looking down at your friend who was lying on their back. Jaemin opened his eyes and looked over at you, waiting for you to speak first.

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ You whispered.

Jaemin’s heart sank. He knew that he couldn’t make you talk about anything that you didn’t want to, but he also wanted to know what he could do to make things better.

‘That’s ok.’ He settled on that for a reply, not really knowing what else he could say.

You let out a deep breath, letting yourself finally relax after the long and difficult night you had tackled. Your eyes slowly shut and you listened to Jaemin’s breathing, matching yours with him. You let yourself whisper one final sentence, something lost in the darkness, only ever to be heard by the boy lying on the floor next to you.

‘Jaemin... I think I need to grow up.’

---

You arrived back home, finding the door unlocked waiting for you. You shut it behind you, listening for the click. You had never thought to do that before. You trudged into the kitchen, looking around, expressionless, at the sight in front of you. There were smashed bottles, glasses and belongings everywhere. Paintings had been torn off the walls and trashed, the coffee table by the TV had been thrown over and even the cushions on the sofa had been thrown about.

You knew that this was simply an argument of your parents’ that had gotten out of control. You knew you should probably react more, but you didn’t. You were going to grow up and accept it. You turned your line of sight to the dining table, where your father sat. You held eye contact for a second, neither of you saying a word as he finished the last of whatever was left in the whiskey he was drinking.

‘Can’t get into the back of the lower cupboards to get another.’ He stared you down while saying that.

Your young face didn’t change, you kept the same expressionless reaction on it as you crouched down and crawled into a cupboard. You pulled out the first bottle you saw, another whiskey that was half full and placed it on the table in front of your father.

‘Good girl.’ He said, nodding at you.

You made no attempt to reply in any way. Instead you turned on you heel and headed up the stairs. You paused in front of your room, listening to your mother’s sobs echoing from the other side of her closed bedroom door. You stood there for five seconds before moving inside your room and shutting the door behind you. You ignored it, knowing that it was your reality and you had to grow up and face that.

Then, you got ready for school.

In the end you got your wish to grow up. But you grew up too fast, the maturity forced on you by the struggles and difficulties you faced, and the trauma that came with them. You learnt very quickly that you either grew up and learnt how to survive, or you suffocated in the hellish mess you call reality.

So you chose to survive.

Would you run away for me?

‘Come on y/n! I’m getting tired of waiting for you. It doesn’t take that long.’ Jaemin whined up at your window.

‘Easy for you to say. You’re not the one climbing out of your window!’ You huffed, careful to make sure that your foot doesn’t slip.

‘Well I offered to climb up but you thought that would be a bit too ‘Romeo and Juliet’, so who’s fault is it really that we’re in this situation?’ He bit back, provoking a large eye roll out of you as you finally reached the ground.

‘Roll your eyes any harder why don’t you.’ Jaemin teased and you stared at him blankly for a second, before rolling your eyes so hard that it almost physically hurt. ‘Alright I stand corrected.’ Your friend grumbled as you laughed and began to skip away.

It was 11pm and both you and Jaemin were supposed to be asleep. But, being the rebellious 14 year olds you were, you decided to go for a walk. Luckily for the two of you, it was summer holidays and your streets were very well lit, meaning that you weren’t really in any danger.

Over the summer holidays, you had found yourself doing this more and more often with Jaemin. Your situation at home hadn’t gotten better over the past seven years, instead spiralling as your mother turned to the influence of alcohol in order to try and find the comfort her husband no longer provided.

Your family consisted of two alcoholic parents, one abusive and the other apparently unaware of your presence, whereas Jaemin’s household included his mother and a father that was attempting to buy his way back into their life after walking out on them ten years earlier.

Jaemin seemed to be the only place that actually felt like home for you, and you didn’t know it, but he felt the same way about you. It was such a blessing for the two of you to have your home as a person rather than a place, considering what state the places were in at the moment, it was probably lifesaving - you just didn’t realise it.

Jaemin jogged ahead of you, climbing up onto a small wall and walking along it.

‘When do you think we’ll get happy ever after?’ He asked, grinning down at you.

‘Get what?’ You laughed.

‘Happy ever after!’ He repeated, yet you still stared at him with one eyebrow raised. ‘What?’ He asked, jumping down and walking closer to you.

‘Jaemin... I don’t really think there is a happy ever after.’ You admitted and his face fell into confusion.

‘What are you talking about? That was the whole goal. We’re gonna grow up together, move away from here and finally get a happy ever after. That was the plan y/n!’ Jaemin insisted, confusion evident on his face.

‘I know it was, but I just think that that’s not really in the cards for me anymore.’ You shrugged, not really thinking it that big of a deal. Jaemin seemed to think otherwise.

‘What? Y/n, I don’t understand where is this coming from? Of course it’s in the cards for you! Do you not remember everything we talked about when we were kids? We used to love to play hero because at the end of it, we always got that happy ever after.’ Jaemin’s voice was turning sad, his face dropping.

‘Come on Jaemin.’ You laughed. ‘There was a reason that was all imaginary. We used to wish for when we could grow up but we had no idea what that really meant. It means letting go of those childish fantasies and facing reality. And reality is, happy ever after doesn’t come to everyone. I don’t want to spend my life chasing something that isn’t even real.’ You said the words casually, almost jokingly as you laughed through it, but they held much deeper meaning that Jaemin seemed to catch on to.

How could you believe in happy ever after when you’ve never seen it?

He nodded, sending you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes before grabbing you by the hand and pulling you into the park.

‘Race you to the swings?’ He challenged.

‘You’re on!’

---

Anything. You really would do anything for Jaemin. When you said he meant the world to you, you were understating it. You only said that because it was the closest description to how you felt. So when the two of you walked into his home late next afternoon to find his father sitting at the table with an innocent smile, you were prepared to do anything Jaemin needed you to.

‘Evening son!’ His father greeted him happily.

‘Don’t call me that.’ Jaemin spat, his eyes hard. ‘How did you even get in?’

‘Your mother let me in, son.’ Jaemin’s father explained. ‘I-’

‘Don’t call me son.’ Jaemin interrupted, his voice threatening calm but his eyes were wild with fury.

His father took a breath before continuing. ‘I wanted to talk to you.’

‘Great, good talk. We’re going.’ Jaemin grabbed your hand again and heading towards the stairs.

‘We need to talk son.’ His father repeated.

Jaemin visibly tensed.

‘Don’t call me son...’ He spoke through gritted teeth, his voice not so calm anymore.

His father persisted. ‘Your mother and I have been having conversations and, with her new job, we both agreed that it is best that I move back here for the time being so that there’s someone to take care of you.’

Jaemin didn’t reply to that, his face a picture of rage, disbelief and desperation. You could tell that this was the absolute last thing he wanted to happen. His father’s choice to continue speaking did nothing to calm the storm that was brewing in his mind.

‘Now I know that this is going to take some getting used to, but son-’

‘Do not call me son!’ Jaemin whirled around on his father, the shout erupting from his throat. ‘You don’t get to call me son until you’ve acted like a father! You’re nothing but a coward and I want nothing to do with someone like you!’

With that he walked back towards the front door, opening it and walking out. His grip on you hand never loosened, effectively bringing you with him and you just managed to grab the door handle and pull it shut behind you.

You let Jaemin walk for a bit, just following him as he paced around the town. After a couple of minutes of tense silence, you found yourselves back in the park you were in last night. You opened your mouth to speak, but Jaemin got there first.

‘We should go.’

Your head whipped around, staring at the boy in front of you in confusion.

‘Go?’ You asked, watching as he turned back to you.

‘Yeah. We always talked about leaving, let’s do it. Now.’ You could see in his eyes that he was being 100% serious, and it honestly made you nervous.

‘Jaemin... we can’t just leave.’ You told him, keeping your voice soft.

‘Why not? We can make it. We just stay together, find somewhere where no one knows who we are or what’s happened to us. Everyone in this town known too damn much about each other. I want to be known as something more than just the boy who’s dad didn’t even want him.’ Jaemin insisted, the raw honestly in his sentences were making your eyes sting slightly. You loved him so much and wanted him to be happy and safe, but you knew that you couldn’t run away, not yet.

‘Jaem, I don’t... We can’t just leave. We just 14... How would we leave? Where would we go? How could we survive with just the two of us? I just don’t think that this is the right time for us to run away. But, trust me when I say, we will leave. We will get out of here, I promise.’

‘The same way you promised we would always get a happy ever after?’

Jaemin wasn’t looking at you anymore, instead he was looking at the gradually changing sky, the way he always did when he had a lot going on in his mind. You bit your lip, the words he spoke hitting you as hard as knives. You meant what you had said yesterday, but you wished you had stopped to think about how it would affect Jaemin if you had said it.

‘Do you wanna stay at mine tonight?’ You asked him, moving your hand out of his and resting it on his bicep, doing the same with your other. He looked up at you before closing his eyes and nodding.

You smiled sadly at him before moving your arms further upwards and wrapping them around his neck. You pulled his into a tight hug, relieved when he began to hug you back. He held you as close as he could and buried his head into your neck. You could hear his soft sniffles and your heart clenched at the realisation that he was quietly crying.

‘I just wish... I just wish he would let us be happy without him. Mum was doing so well...’ His voice trailed off and you said nothing, just gently stroking his hair while allowing him to say as much or as littler as he wanted.

‘Can we go?’ He whispered and you nodded, gently pulling away.

You held you hand back out for him, which he gladly took, and began the short walk back to yours.

---

Jaemin had spent every night of the past week and a half at yours. His mum worked night shifts at her job so she wasn’t around to see that her son wasn’t at home either. You never minded as your parents took no notice of you so it was nice to finally have some company.

You were sat in the living room together, watching a film on the tv in front of you. Earlier that day you had gone to the shops to pick up snacks and the table in front of you was littered with food. There was a big bowl of popcorn, along with crisps and food and, not to mention, drinks.

You were laughing at a comment Jaemin had made about one of the characters when the front door burst open. You both jumped at the noise and Jaemin immediately paused what was on TV. You stayed quiet, wondering who was coming home at this hour. You knew your mum was also working a night shift and you assumed that you father was working late, but you were soon proved wrong.

You father stumbled through the door, almost slipping on the wall as he tried to steady himself. You shot to your feet, Jaemin following you. In the past few years you had gained the courage to tell Jaemin the truth about the bruises he kept finding on your body, and he knew that if your father was a drunk as he appeared, things were likely to get violent.

Instead your father broke out into a smile, turning around to look at something behind him and laughing. You and Jaemin shared a confused look before you moved closer to the open doorway, hoping to get a look at what he was laughing at.

What you saw made your entire body tense up with anger.

Jaemin came around behind you and, when he saw the same sight the greeted you, immediately placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

Your father was standing in the hall way, making out with a woman who was most definitely not your mother. You watched as he pulled away from her, accepting her hand to bring him upstairs. You watched them disappear at the top of the stairs, turning the corner towards the room that he shared with your mother every night, and heard the door shut.

You didn’t move, filled with so many different emotions that you didn’t know what to feel. Jaemin gently held you by the shoulders, guiding you to sit down on the couch. He sat on the coffee table in front of you, clearing a small space before looking at you. He kept his hands on either side of your face, pushing your hair out of your eyes and wanting you to look at him. The dazed, unfocused look on your face was beginning to worry him.

‘Y/n? Y/n it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay, you’ve survived worse than this and I know that you’re going to be okay. Okay? Please just look at me?’ Jaemin begged you.

You focused your eyes on him, one emotion in particular drowning out all the others. Anger.

‘After everything he’s put my mum through, all the pain, all the trauma, and it’s still not enough for him.’ You breathed out, trying so hard to keep yourself calm. ‘Is there anything left for him to do? Any pain he hasn’t put her through?’

You turned and stared at Jaemin expectantly but he just looked back at you, completely at a loss of what to say.

‘I don’t know how much more of this she can take...’ Your voice dropped to a whisper, fear taking over your body.

‘Oh y/n...’ Jaemin moved so that he was sat next to you instead. He wrapped you up in his arms and whispered comforting words into you hair. But you didn’t hear any of them. You lay in his embrace, staring at the food on the table that made you feel sick from the sight of it. ‘Let’s go to mine yeah?’ He suggested, causing you to shoot up and shake your head.

‘No, Jaemin, that means staying in the same house as your dad.’ You objected, not wanting to go back on the only thing you could for him - provide a safe space.

‘Better than staying here.’ Jaemin reasoned.

You opened your mouth to argue but a small bang and squeak echoed through the floor boards above you and made your skin crawl. You scrunched up your face in displeasure and nodded at the boy next to you. He quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the door.

---

You crawled into the mattress on Jaemin’s floor that was set up for you, ready for this day to be over. Jaemin gently made his way around you to climb into his bed. He argued for about 25 minutes about you sleeping on the floor, but you insisted.

He switched off the light and you both lay in silence. You shut your eyes, hoping that would let sleep take over you, but your mind was far to awake to let your body rest.

You began to think about Jaemin’s offer to run away, and how sweet and simple it seemed. Just pack a bag, grab your best friend, and leave this god forsake town behind. Jaemin was right, everyone here knew too much about each other. The whispers on the streets about your father’s drinking, or the bruises on your arms haunted you as you attempted to live your life.

You thought about what it would be like one day. Just you and Jaemin, somewhere completely new, where you could have just him by your side, and always feel safe. Because Jaemin made you feel safe. A place where you wouldn’t have to worry about being afraid of your father. A place where Jaemin didn’t have to worry about his mother or be on his constant guard around his father. You didn’t know where you were going to go, but you knew two things about it. One, it would be a place of peace, where tranquility is in the air. And two, Jaemin would be there. Whenever you thought about your future, in any means, Jaemin was always there. You weren’t ever prepared to lose him.

You opened your eyes again, and spoke quietly.

‘Jaemin?’

‘Yeah?’ He replied, not moving from his current position.

‘I meant what I said last week you know?’ You said.

‘Huh?’ Jaemin opened his eyes, rolling onto his side so that he was looking at you.

‘About our happy ending.’ Jaemin raised an eyebrow at your statement. ‘We will leave here someday. And, wherever we go, we’re gonna be together. I promise you.’ You reassured him.

Jaemin didn’t reply, instead he simply moved over, opening the covers for you in a silent invitation. You immediately took it, climbing out of your covers and crawling into his embrace. He wrapped an arm tight around you and placed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

‘Promise me something else?’ He asked, his voice just above a whisper and shaking slightly.

‘Anything.’ You whispered back.

‘No matter what happens, you’ll always love me and... when the time comes, you’ll forgive me.’ Your heart clenched at his quiet words.

‘Forgive you? Jaemin what do you-’

‘Just promise me. Please.’ Jaemin cut you off, holding you tighter by the second, waiting for your reply.

‘I promise.’

---

Jaemin walked the route that had become scarily familiar to him in the past few weeks. In the times when he couldn’t see you, he found himself drifting here. He wasn’t sure what kept bringing him to this place, maybe it was the fact that it was only area where he really felt alone. To be honest, he felt alone every day, but at least up here, he really was alone, no one was around for miles.

He’d mentioned it to you in the past at some point, but he doubted you remembered.

Jaemin reached the same place he always did and turned towards the view. He climbed over the barrier and sat himself on the edge.

The bridge he was sitting on towered above a river, one that was twisting and turning with the harsh current that tore through it. Every time he came here, Jaemin told himself it was just for the view, but he knew that that wasn’t the reason he always climbed through the safety barrier and onto the shaky beams.

He knew that the view wasn’t the reason he always looked down at the river, finding it more and more inviting with every trip here he made.

Jaemin reached into the pocket of the hoodie he was wearing and pulled out his phone. He switched it on and was immediately greeted with a photo of the two of you. He smiled subconsciously at the sight of your smiling face.

God he was going to miss you.

But he had faith that you would be okay. You were the strongest person Jaemin knew, you could come back from anything. It wasn’t like he was much to miss anyway.

He opened his contacts and scrolled down until he found your name listed. He pressed on the number and lifted the phone to his cheek, taking a shaky breath to calm his nerves.

You picked up on the third ring.

‘Jaemin!’ he smiled at the sound of your cheerful voice, admiring how you could sound so happy when he knew how deeply you were hurting. ‘Where are we meeting today?’

‘Actually y/n-’ Jaemin cut himself off, having to take another breath to stop himself from breaking down entirely. ‘Actually y/n I think I’m gonna be a little late today.’

‘That’s okay. Why though? You’re not secretly making new friends are you?’ Your joking tone didn’t quite reach him this time.

‘Of course not, you know you’re my favourite.’ He admitted, the words truer than they had ever been before.

‘Good, because I’m not letting you pick someone else over me.’ God he loved hearing your voice, he needed this phone call but it was also making this so much harder.

‘Y/n, there’s a reason I’m going to be late today.’ Jaemin began, listening to how you hummed along to show that you were paying attention. ‘On the shelf at the top of your wardrobe there’s a box.’

‘Yeah I know.’ You cut in laughing. ‘It’s a box of our childhood memories, I made it Jaemin.’

‘I know.’ Jaemin whispered, the first tear making it’s way down his cheek. ‘But I put something else in there. Can you grab it for me.’

He heard you mutter out a response and waited patiently for your next reply.

‘Ok I found it! It’s a letter right.’ You asked, missing the pause from Jaemin that lasted just a second to long.

‘Yes. I need you to read it.’ Jaemin instructed.

‘Ok I’ll do that. By the way, how late do you think you’re going to be?’ You asked casually, not realising the importance and weight of the letter that you held in your hand.

‘I honestly don’t know y/n. I might not make it back home tonight at all.’ Jaemin heard your laughs stop slightly and your voice cut back through.

‘Not make it home? Jaemin where are you?’ He heard a chuckle in your voice but could tell that this one was far from genuine.

‘Just somewhere I come to think.’ He muttered. ‘Y/n do you remember the promise you made to me that night at my house a couple of weeks ago?’

‘Yeah.’ Your voice was small, fear starting to come through.

‘Good. I need you to keep that promise in mind when you read that letter okay?’ Jaemin’s voice was almost breaking, the tears falling down both cheeks.

‘Jaemin, what’s going on?’ Now he could really hear the panic in your voice. Jaemin knew that if he stayed on the call any longer, he would never be able to hang up.

‘Read the letter y/n. And never forget, I love you.’

---

You threw your phone at the wall in panic, your breath getting caught in your lungs as the letter stared at you from where it sat on your bed. You ran up to it, tearing it open and began to read as fast as you could, tears clouding your vision as you prayed that you had read the situation wrong.

My dearest y/n,

It’s strangely poetic isn’t it? The first letter I ever write to you is probably going to also be my last. I’ve always liked symbolism like that. But of course, you know that, you know everything about me.

I suppose I should start with the most difficult but also the most important part, the apology. Y/n, I’m so sorry that I can’t do this anymore. I’m so sorry that I’m leaving you alone. I’m so sorry that I’m not as strong as you are, but I’m just not, and I really can’t take this for much longer. It hurts. Everyday physically hurts and I don’t know how else to stop this pain.

I don’t want you to blame yourself. If you did I would never be able to forgive myself. You’re the reason that I’ve lived as long as I have and I can honestly say that, without you by my side, this would have happened a long time ago. You are the best thing that has ever and could ever have happened to me, and I am eternally grateful that I got to have you in my life.

This isn’t me dying, nor is it me giving up. This is me simply choosing a better life, a life that I can actually manage living and a life that feels worth living. I want you to know that I’m not scared so there’s no need to worry about me. Once I’m out of this place, I’ll be okay. My biggest regret, my only regret, is the fact that I have to leave you behind.

Please keep fighting for me. I know that one day you can make it out of this hellhole and escape the ghosts that haunt us both daily.

And I want you to get your happy every after. You deserve it.

All my heavenly love,

Yours forever,

Jaemin

You hugged the paper to your chest, the tears falling down your face unstoppably. You needed to find him, but the problem was, you had no idea where he was. You thought back to what he said. Somewhere he goes to think...

Your head shot up as you bolted out of your door. You only had one place in mind, and it was a long shot, but you would hate yourself forever if you didn’t at least try.

---

Jaemin stared at the phone in his hands, turning it over and over, contemplating the choices he’s made that led him to this position. He sighed and prepared himself for what’s to come. Instead of putting his phone back in his pocket, he placed it on the tarmac behind him before removing his necklace and gently laying it on top. After all of this, he wanted you to have a memory of him.

He stood up, watching the dark waves beneath him and whispered a few words lost in the winds.

‘Goodbye y/n.’

He ignored the sounds behind him and let go of the beam, preparing himself to fall towards to cold water below that was calling out to him like an icy abyss.

Until two hands grabbed his sweater by the shoulders and pulled him back.

He stumbled backwards, tripping on the safety rail as he was pulled back to the tarmac. He began to struggle, wresting his way out of the person’s grip and trying to make his way back to the edge. It took him a few seconds before the voice that was desperately screaming his name.

‘Jaemin!’ He whirled around and found himself staring into your teary eyes.

‘Y/n?’ He questioned, his voice breaking halfway through.

‘Oh thank god!’ You sobbed, throwing yourself onto him and wrapping him up in the tightest hug possible. ‘You’re alive, thank god you’re alive.’

Jaemin didn’t know how to react, his instincts kicked in and he held you by your waist but didn’t say a word, instead just listening to you cry into his shoulder.

You pulled away, only to whack him, hard, on the shoulder.

‘Ow!’ He yelped.

‘Fucking serves you right you dick!’ You shouted. ‘Why would you do that to me?’

‘How did you find me?’ Jaemin stuttered out.

‘I listen to you, that’s how. You told me that this is where you come to think, so I ran.’ You explained, the tears still pouring down your face.

Only then did Jaemin stop for a minute to take in your appearance. Your hair was disheveled, your cheeks red and your chest was heaving. You were clearly exhausted. He forced himself to look at your face, and when he did, he felt his heart break. Tears stained your cheeks, both fresh and dried and your eyes held more pain than Jaemin had ever seen before.

‘Why did you stop me?’ The broken whisper came out of the boy before he could stop it.

‘Because I can’t lose you, I can’t survive without you. If you were to die, I wouldn’t be able to come back from that.’ You admitted to him, moving close to him again.

Jaemin looked into your teary eyes as emotions of his own started to bubble up. He pulled you properly onto his lap, and held you close by your waist, burying his head into your shoulder as he began to cry. You wrapped yourself around him completely, hiding your face in his neck as well and stroking his hair.

‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’ Jaemin hiccuped through sobs, trying to hold you closer even though it wasn’t possible.

You just shook your head, tightening your own arms as you both sat there, two broken teenagers crying into each other on the side of a bridge.

‘Jaemin...’ You began, waiting for his reply before continuing.

‘Yeah?’ He whimpered.

‘I need you to promise me something.’ You said and felt him nod into your shoulder. ‘Anytime, and I mean anytime, you ever feel like doing something like this to yourself again, come to me. Please just come to me and I’ll sit with you and talk with you for as long as you want or need. I can’t stand the thought of losing you.’ Your voice began to break again at the end of your confession, causing Jaemin to pull his head out of your shoulder and look you directly in your eyes.

‘I promise.’ He uttered. And he meant it, he really would. After seeing how affected you were, he knew he could never do anything like this to you again.

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his as you whispered the sentence that became his motivation to survive.

‘Jaemin... there’s no happy ever after for me if you’re not there.’

Would you run away from me?

Jaemin stuck to his word, always coming to you anytime he felt feelings similar to the ones that drew him out to that bridge. You didn’t mind, you were often glad to wake up to a call from him at 2am because it meant that a situation like that wouldn’t happen again. You were sure you could survive it if it did.

Three years later and life wasn’t any better. The 14 year old kids who found shelter in a playground were gone and replace with 17 year old teenagers, who were looking for an escape anywhere they could find it.

Last month, Jaemin’s mother passed away. It was quite possibly the worst thing that could have happened to the two of you, as Jaemin’s mother was pretty much the only figure in your lives who was even slightly paternal. She was the positivity that you both needed, and without her, the two of you were feeling very lost.

Jaemin was now stuck with his father who, now that his mother wasn’t around to make an impression on, had turned back into the cruel, careless man who ran out on the boy all those years ago. As for you, your mother had found out about your father’s cheating. And it turns out, it wasn’t the first time he had done that. He refused to give your mother the freedom she so desperately wanted, so she searched for it somewhere else. You had walked into your house one day, only to walk in on your mother doing Cocain off the kitchen table, trying to find the release that was now only available in drugs.

She had become an empty shell of herself and you often found her drugs lying around the house. Normally you just ignored them, but for some reason, when you found a small bag of Ecstasy in your bathroom, you kept it. You didn’t know why, but it was always there when you reached into your pocket.

You were getting ready to go out with Jaemin, the two of you heading to a party close by. You pulled on your jacket and headed towards your door. You turned back, doing a quick scan of the room to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything and your eyes landed on the small bag of Ecstasy that was currently lying on your bedside table. After a short deliberation you walked back into your room, swiped it off the counter, and headed out to your party. What’s the worst that could happen?

---

You and Jaemin laughed as the music deafened you. You were drunk beyond the point of no return, and you knew that you wouldn’t be remembering any of this in the morning. The music turned from a heavy beat drop EDM track, to a slightly more sensual number and you, in your drunken state, had no control over your instincts. You pulled Jaemin closer by the neck and wrapped your arms around him. You registered the familiar feeling of his arms snaking their way around your waist and you sank into him more. He moved his head to your neck and nipped gently at the skin there.

You were too wrapped up in the music and being close to each other to notice anyone else around you. You lifted your head off his chest and looked at him. He followed your actions and soon you found yourself staring into Jaemin’s brown orbs, completely mesmerised by the colour in front of you. His hot breath was fanning your face and you found yourself subconsciously leaning in.

‘Yo!’ A random guy yelled, approaching the two of you. You leaned away from Jaemin and turned to the guy who appeared out of no where. ‘Don’t mean to interrupt bro, but do either of you want some Molly? We got masses spare and it’s going out for free to anyone here.’ He held out a bag with some pills in it.

You stared into it, licking you lips at the thought of being even more out of it than you already were.

‘Go on baby, you know you want to’ The unnamed guy in front of encouraged.

You were too far gone to comment on the pet name that, if you were sober would have made your skin crawl, and instead reached into the bag and pulled one out. You surveyed it in your fingers and made eye contact with Jaemin. He stared at you for a second before pulling out one of his own.

He reached forward, nodding at you and you opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue slightly. Jaemin placed his pill on his before repeating the actions himself, allowing you to give him your pill. You both swallowed and fell back into each other’s embrace.

You weren’t sure what you and Jaemin were anymore. He was still the one person you felt safe around, the one person that you wanted in your future, but he had also become so much more than your best friend. Nothing had ever gone further than a few drunk kisses and you never had the courage to ask him what they meant the next morning. All you knew, was that you thought of him as more and... the drug was really starting to take effect.

The surroundings faded into an almost blur, yet the colours became much more vibrant at the same time. The only thing that was fully in focus was Jaemin’s face in front of you, more importantly, his lips. You found it hard enough to stop yourself staring at them when you were sober, meaning it was twenty times harder when you were this far gone.

You didn’t waste any time, choosing to immediately move towards him, pressing your lips onto his. He quickly responded, kissing you back. The alcohol and cigarettes you had shared throughout the night were the only thing you could taste, yet, somehow, you could still taste Jaemin.

There was still so much of him in the kiss that you needed more and more of it. You could feel Jaemin thinking the same thing, his kisses getting more and more desperate, before he broke away and leaned down to your ear.

‘Shall we get out of here?’ He asked over the music.

Instead of straining your voice by replying, you nodded, a grin taking over your face. Jaemin slipped his hand into yours and began to pull you out of the warehouse. You made your way outside, stumbling slightly on the stairs before you were blinded by red and blue lights.

‘Shit.’ Jaemin murmured, pulling you out of sight of the police car heading towards the front entrance.

‘Seems like we got out just in time.’ You slurred slightly and Jaemin nodded in agreement. The two of you ran down a side passage before being greeted with the metal fence that would give you a short cut back home.

Jaemin climbed up first, offering a hand for you which you gladly took and helping you over. You landed safely on the other side and began to walk off, laughing at the close call. If you were more sober than you would have begun to feel bad for all those still stuck in the warehouse, most of them definitely being charged with drug possession, but right now you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on anything but you and Jaemin.

‘Y/n, I don’t think we should do anything when we get back.’ Jaemin blurted out of the blue.

‘Why not? It’s just fun isn’t it.’ You shrugged.

‘But if anything else happens between us, I’d prefer us to remember it.’ Jaemin said, his words serious but the drugs in his system forcing a laugh out of him.

‘I’m always gonna remember you...’ You whined, leaning in to him more.

‘Y/n we should have control over what we’re doing and saying. Sober consent is needed you know?’ Jaemin couldn’t stop himself from laughing now, causing you to start as well.

‘No, you’re right.’ You giggled, trying to calm yourself down. ‘It’s not a good idea. Don’t want to ruin our happy ever after.’ You nudged him.

Jaemin scoffed, rolling his eyes at that.

‘Happy ever after? Really? Come on y/n I thought we were beyond that.’ He looked down at you, suddenly making you feel very small.

The drugs and alcohol in your system were making your adrenaline pump, giving you a major confidence boost, something that you assume was also happening to Jaemin right now.

‘Now you don’t believe in it? Now it’s not okay to want that? What about when I didn’t want that? No, if one of us believes in it so does the other.’ You stood your ground, staring back at the boy in front of you.

‘Grow up.’ Jaemin spat, making you visibly flinch at the tone he used on you. ‘We’re not children anymore, happy ever after isn’t found in a town like this.’

‘God you don’t have to be a pessimist all the time, you used to be so positive.’ You muttered, venom lacing your words.

‘Positive? Neither of us have ever been positive or happy in our entire lives! Do you know why y/n? Because our lives suck. Maybe happy ever after doesn’t exist. Or at least, maybe it does for some, but for others, like us, maybe it’s just the thing that we read in stories, something for us to dream about. Something to distract us from the reality of what really happens. Where things just end. You don’t always get that moment, that final showdown, the big turning point where you realise how to fix everything and its all gonna be okay. Sometimes things can’t be fixed. Sometimes things aren’t going to be okay. Sometimes life just ends.’ Jaemin was full on yelling at you by the time he finished his speech.

His final words hit you like a ton of bricks, sobering you up quickly. You were still very drunk, but your mind was clear enough to read between the lines and realise that he was talking about his mum. You stepped forwards gently, placing a light hand on his shoulder.

‘Jaemin-’

‘Get off me!’ He bellow, throwing you hand off him with such force that you stumbled to the ground. Your body was still foggy, causing you to hit the floor with a much harder impact than you normally would have.

You lifted your head off and stared at Jaemin who was looking at you, an expression of pure horror on his face.

‘Y/n-’ He slurred but you scrambled away from him.

‘Stay away from me!’ You shouted, your voice cracking as the tears easily fell down your face. You felt like the same 7 year old girl who took her first hit from her father. ‘Don’t step any closer.’

Jaemin put his hands up in surrender, his face and voice pleading.

‘Y/n, please, I didn’t mean it, I would never hurt you. You have to believe me.’ He was begging you, almost on his knees.

You stared down at him, the boy you loved in more ways than one. The boy who had always made you feel safe. But right now, he didn’t make you feel any of those things. You felt as though you didn’t know him at all.

You turned on your hell and ran. You left Jaemin standing alone in the dark and ran the full way home. You burst in through your front door, ignoring the yell from your father about disrespecting his privacy and headed straight up to your room. You shut the door behind you and fell onto your bed.

You sat straight up again, the drugs taking over your system and pumping you with adrenaline. There was just one problem, it wasn’t enough. Your hands fumbled in your pocket and brought out the little clear bag with your mother’s pills in them. You popped some more in your mouth, relishing in the alien feeling of happiness that it brought to you.

You watched as the bag started to swirl around, the colours dancing in front of your eyes. Time seemed to fade out of existence and you felt yourself completely disassociate with the world around you.

You stood up, hoping to go to the bathroom but as you attempted to move you found your mind incredibly foggy. You shook your head, attempting to get rid of it, but it persisted. This wasn’t the same, slightly unaware fo your surroundings foggy that you had felt in the warehouse, but instead an, everything around you is fading out of existence kind of foggy, and it was staring to scare you. A sudden chill violent shook you, making you whole body tremble where you stood.

You felt yourself begin to sweat and you pulled at the top that you were wearing. The collar seemed to be getting tighter as the room and floor began to spin. You clawed at your chest as you reached the door to your bathroom, falling over in front of it.

You felt hands on your shoulders and you flinched away in fear, until your brain registered who they belonged to and you slumped into Jaemin. He kicked open the bathroom door and pulled you in after him, sitting you against the bathtub and getting you a glass of water. He pushed the cup to your lips but you flinched away, the thought of drinking any water making you feel physically ill, yet Jaemin didn’t let up.

He eventually got a small amount of water down your throat, and you realised just how parched you were. You grabbed the cup out of his hands and began to gulp at the cold liquid. You pulled at your top again, crying out in frustration when it didn’t tear off you. Jaemin noticed your struggle and grabbed the hem on it, gently pulling it over your head. He had only got it halfway off when your arms took over, aggressively ripping it off. You took heavy breaths as Jaemin fetched you another glass of water.

You sat on the cold floor of that bathroom for who knows how many hours, drinking water, crying and clawing at the aching parts of your body. By the time you eventually started coming back around, you could see Jaemin’s fingers uncontrollably tapping anywhere they could reach. He was still on the come down from his high, yet refused to leave your side.

You reached out a feeble hand to him, and he quickly pulled himself close, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting your head on his chest.

‘I’m so sorry.’ He whispered to you. ‘If I hadn’t overreacted then you wouldn’t be in this position.’ He placed a kiss on the top of your head, making any previous fears you had had about him evaporate. You knew that you had your old Jaemin back, the one who would do anything to protect you.

‘It was the drugs, not you.’ You croaked out. ‘But promise me something?’

‘Anything.’ Jaemin replied, his fingers finding their way into your hair to run through it soothingly.

‘Neither of us do drugs again.’ You let out a hoarse chuckle.

‘Deal.’ He said with absolute certainty in his voice. He leaned down again, giving you another kiss on the top of your head.

‘Jaemin?’ You whimpered.

‘Yeah?’ He responded.

‘I don’t know how to be happy, how am I ever going to get a happy ever after?’ You asked him, the question spilling out of your exhausted state before you passed out in his arms.

Jaemin was almost thankful that you had passed out immediately after asking that because, for the first time in his life, Jaemin didn’t know how to reply.

---

It had been three days since your encounter with drugs, and Jaemin hadn’t left your side. You were so thankful that he hadn’t however, as the constant drug use in your house done by your mother, was making it difficult for you to go about your everyday life without having flashbacks to that night. That was the worst you had felt, physically, in a very long time.

Jaemin had gone through your entire room and bathroom with you, gutting the areas of any alcohol and drugs. He also removed any substances or objects that can be used against yourself, making sure that he could protect you as best as possible. You knew that without him, you would never have had the strength to do any of this.

Even though he had seriously scared you on that night, every time you looked at him you saw the person he truly was, not who the drugs had made him become. You knew that that night you had seen the worst side of Jaemin, the side of him that he kept locked in a cage so tightly, he hoped he would never let it free. But when under the influence, he hadn’t had control and the anger inside him had reared it’s head.

He wasn’t perfect. He was far from perfect. He was sad and angry and, by every definition of the word, he was broken. But he was yours. He always had been yours. You had seen him through the absolute best and the complete and utter worst. And he had seen you through yours. You had seen him when his father walked back into his life without warning, the look of betrayal that took over his features as he stared at the man in front of him. He had seen you when your father first hit you, the fear in your eyes and the bruises on your body, you didn’t trust anyone else with them. You had seen him when he tried to end his life, the utter pain and heartbreak in his eyes when he told you he couldn’t handle it anymore. And he had seen you three days ago, shivering and crying on the floor while you tried desperately to hold onto yours.

It wasn’t romantic. Nothing about what the two of you had gone through screamed romance. It was hell, pure unedited hell, but somehow, somewhere along the way, you fell hard for your best friend.

He was safety, warmth, home and hope and rolled into one. If there was anything that you had learnt so far in life, it’s that as long as you had Jaemin, you could handle anything.

---

You walked towards the park, listening as the swings slightly creaked in the breeze.

‘You know if we’d come here a couple of hours later this would be a horror movie in the making.’ Jaemin’s sudden voice from behind you made you jump.

You turned around to look at him, a smile on your face.

‘So this isn’t you coming to murder me? God don’t get my hopes up.’ You joked, watching as you got a smile in return and he moved towards you. You both sat down on the swings next to each other, sitting in silence for a moment.

‘How are you feeling?’ Jaemin asked, concern clear on his face.

‘Better.’ You replied honestly, sending him a reassuring smile. ‘How are you doing? Your dad still being a pain?’

‘Yeah.’ Jaemin sighed. ‘He’s a nightmare, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.’

‘I’m proud of you.’ You told him, your voice quietening as if it was a confession.

‘I know.’ Jaemin smiled. ‘I’m proud of you too.’

‘I know.’ You whispered, blinking away the tears that were threatening to gather at this moment. You knew he was proud of you, but actually hearing someone say the words out loud reached your heart. ‘Jaemin, we’re still getting out of here right?’

‘Of course. Just me and you.’ Jaemin nodded.

‘Somewhere no one knows us.’ You found yourself say the same wishes that the two of you had been making consistently throughout the years.

‘Where we can start fresh.’ Jaemin murmured, watching the clouds pass.

‘Somewhere we can be more than this place allowed us to be.’ You closed your eyes wistfully, thinking of this paradise.

‘Somewhere we can be together.’ You opened your eyes at Jaemin’s words, only to find him already looking at you.

‘Somewhere we can be together.’ You repeated, your body taking over your mind as you began to stand.

Jaemin followed your actions, lifting himself off the swing he was perched on. He moved towards you, reaching out with an arm and you stepped closer to him.

He pulled you in, one arm around your waist and the other cupping your face and he looked down at you. You fit so perfectly in his arms, as if you were made to be there. Jaemin’s eyes glanced down at your lips, and you nodded slightly, giving him permission.

Jaemin leant down, pausing for half a second before finally closing the gap. He pressed his lips to yours, kissing you with all the love he had in his body. You kissed him back, desperately hoping to convey your feelings for him through the kiss. You pressed your body into him, feeling Jaemin’s arm wrap further around your waist in response

You broke away slowly, keeping your faces close as you both gently caught your breath. Your eyes opened, looking up into the brown ones that had always brought you comfort. You found Jaemin looking down at you, with so much love on his face that it made you shy.

You couldn’t stop the smile that broke out on your face, the feeling of happiness that you had been deprived of your entire life, finally taking over your being and filling you to the brim.

You leant back into Jaemin, wanting more of this feeling that only he could provide. He was more addicting than any drug you’d ever taken and more intoxicating than any alcohol you’d ever consumed. You were completely and utterly addicted to the feeling of being loved and being in love.

Would you run away with me?

Three years later, and the two of you have fulfilled your promise and said goodbye to the town you grew up in. You felt freer than you had ever felt before in your entire life, and you never wanted to lose that feeling. The ghosts that had haunted you everyday were now nowhere to be found, allowing both you and Jaemin to start a completely new chapter together.

A couple of months after the death of Jaemin’s mother, lawyers came knocking at his door. They claimed to have her last will and testimony, something that Jaemin’s father didn’t know existed. It turns out that all her assets were left to Jaemin, and since Jaemin was now an adult it meant that he got everything. He ended up having the house, the car and a couple of shares that his mother had stored away. This angered Jaemin’s father immensely, but at the end of the day there was nothing he could do.

It finally seemed as though Jaemin’s troubles had a solution. His father had never gained any legal rights to Jaemin after relinquishing them when he left, so there was nothing the man could do to try and stay in his life and gain any access to the assets.

He was gone by the next morning.

A much happier Jaemin appeared at your door, immediately pulling you in for a hug when he told you the news. You couldn’t believe it. For the first time, things started to actually go your way. Then, Jaemin told you of his plan, it was only thanks to this plan of his that you were ever able to actually get away.

He put the house up for sale and cashed in the shares. The money he would gain from both of these gave you the chance to find a place for the two of you to live. You decided that, as soon as the house sold, you would get in the car and go.

The two of you searched and searched for the area you would move to, wanting to find the right place and, after a while, you stumbled upon it. An apartment just on the edge of the city. Close enough that it would easy to get in for any job you managed to get, yet far enough out that you still felt the privacy of it just being the two of you.

You started looking for jobs in the city, managing to find an opening at a large company. You quickly interviewed for them and were waiting to hear back from them. Jaemin was overjoyed with this news, it looked as though nothing could go wrong.

Then your mother passed away.

It was ruled as an overdose, the copious amounts that she was taking eventually became too much for her. Your father was in charge of organising her funeral, but he did nothing. It ultimately fell to you, and with Jaemin’s help, there was a small ceremony to lay her to rest. You knew you should probably feel worse about it than you did, but over the past ten years you had drifted so far away from her, that it felt as though you were burying a stranger.

Arriving back home after the funeral felt strange. Even though you felt nothing for your mother, you were still glad that you went. However, instead of mourning her death like everyone else there, you mourned the woman who was lost in the haze of drugs and abuse. You mourned the woman who used to sing you to sleep or bake you cookies on a sunny afternoon. You mourned the woman who, sadly, died a long time before her body did.

Your father took this as an excuse to turn his rage onto you. The morning after the funeral, he raised his hand at you, swinging blindly. But the blow he landed on your side was nothing compared to the counter attack that Jaemin launched on him. Jaemin had only been coming around to pick you up and witnessed first hand what your father was capable of. He called the police and you both watched as the man was dragged away in cuffs.

His trial was short. Like Jaemin had said, everyone knew everything about everyone in this town, so your father’s tendency to lash out wasn’t unknown. You watched him with no remorse, wishing him to stay out of your sight, mind and heart for the rest of time.

Then it was only you and Jaemin.

Like Jaemin, you gained ownership of your house and assets, allowing you to sell them as soon as possible. And, once the final offer on yours and Jaemin’s houses were accepted, you did as you’d decided to and climbed into his car together and took off, watching the town you grew up in shrink in the rear view mirror until it eventually disappeared.

You left everything behind, choosing to only bring with you a couple of prized possessions and each other. There wasn’t anything about that town that you would miss or regret leaving behind. Except, maybe that park.

There were whispers everywhere you went, reminding you of everything you had gone through and it was impossible to escape from anything when you were constantly surrounded by it. You couldn’t cross the bridge without thinking of Jaemin, you couldn’t pass the warehouse without having flashbacks of the night you both took Ecstasy and you couldn’t even walk around you own house without thinking of all the things you’d seen there.

So you ran away.

You often thought back to the days when you were children, playing Peter Pan in your garden and praying to grow up so that you could get your happy ever after.

Well, here you are, all grown up and still searching.

You’ve learnt that things take time to fall into place. Sometimes you have to wait a lot longer than you want to, a lot longer than you think you’re capable of, in order to find that perfect moment. You’ve learnt that you cannot be brave, without letting yourself be vulnerable. But you’ve also learnt, that when you’re vulnerable around the right person, it’s easy.

You don’t know what’s going to happen next. And, to be honest, you don’t want to. Life is an adventure for you now, and it’s one that you’re enjoying living. You know that you haven’t reached your happy ever after yet, and that’s simply because, your story isn’t over. But you didn’t mind, because you weren’t searching for it anymore. As long as you had Jaemin, happy ever after was always going to be right there.

216 notes · View notes

taelme · 4 years

Text

Enemies-to-lovers!Jisung

request: - anon: Could you maybe write an enemies to lovers like the Chan one but with jisung?? It was so good 😔😔😭🥺💞💞💖💘💘💞💗💞💗💕💞 can it be fluffy and Angsty hehe 😖 maybe where they're both college students - anon: Can you do a Enemies to Lovers AU with chan!!! Where they're going to college and their families happen to be friends so they get an apartment together to save money, but the first time they meet it doesn't go well. Then yk, slowly w time they fall in love ahhaha... I love your writings btw!! 💓💞💓💝💓💞💓💝 (I recently sent the ask about the enemies to lovers au w chan that involved going to college.. since you literally just wrote an enemies to lovers au for chan if you want you can do my request (if u do it ahahha) with jisung!!) - anon: I really love how you write au’s/fanfictions. I just want to know if u can write something about han jisung?? maybe a cafe love story or another tattoo artist just like chan? or maybe a studio date night?

genre: enemies-to-lovers!au, college!au, roommate!au, tattoo apprentice!jisung lol (fluff, a bit of angst)

pairing/s: Han Jisung / Reader ( ft skz Bang Chan and nct/wayv/superm (lmao) Lucas )

word count: 18k

tw: I talk about like kind of sad stuff when jisung has like an artist’s block in this I guess

a/n: thank u anons for being so patient with this request!! I rly hope that I managed to do it well and that you guys are satisfied with the outcome n have fun reading it hehe, it was kind of inspired by the song sunshine!! by stray kids so I hope that it gives u the same good vibes I got from the song while writing this :( ok bye

If it were any other person standing in front of you, maybe you wouldn’t have regretted having an outburst in the café for the morning crowd to see.

The fight, or outburst (if you wanted to relieve him of any role in the exchange), had started rather simply. You were just having one of those days where it was raining outside, you were awake even before roosters were (in your opinion) and you had wanted nothing more than to just curl up in bed and sleep into the evening.

You had gone to grab your morning coffee, combating against the rain with your multi-coloured umbrella, as one does. Shoving the doors of the café open, you were met with shouts of names and storms of people squeezing to collect their orders. The whole ordeal would’ve made you pretty at ease if it weren’t for the coldness of your feet and the way your umbrella would cause someone to slip soon if you didn’t move.

Your shoes squelched against the shiny wood floors of the café, each step making you cringe as you waited anxiously to reach the front of the line, desperate to put an end to this experience. Thankfully enough, your order was pretty straightforward, so you’d collected it quickly, the small smiley face drawn on the cup by the staff serving to put you in a slightly less dreadful mood.

Stationing yourself at one of the empty tables you’d spotted by the exit, you set your still-dripping umbrella on the floor before you tried to get your tissues out to salvage whatever you could of your shoes. Shrugging off your coat, you’d draped it over the back of the seat.

Glancing at the time on your phone before you shoved your notes aside within your bag, you’d pushed your arm forward and opened your bag harshly, taking your box file out of your bag, almost nicking yourself against the broken corner of the file in your rush.

The next sequence of events happened quickly, and too ‘all-at-once’ for you to process. Upon taking out your box file, you’d heard a yelp behind you, followed by harsh footsteps and the splash of coffee on your box file.

Letting out a loud yelp of surprise as the person in question had stopped their fall with a loud thud of their hands against the pillar in front of you, they’d turned to you with wide-eyes, their eyebrows quickly furrowing into an expression that looked utterly ticked-off, their mouth already opening to speak.

You’d seemed to beat them to it, hurriedly grabbing your tissues to wipe down your file, checking for any brown-stains on your precious papers.

“What the hell,” you scoffed, casting a glance up at the boy. He had stood slightly taller than you, with rounded eyes and a defined nose, his lips pressed into a firm line.

He looked fairly young, from the way he dressed in brand-name basics to the way he was practically decked out in accessories. Call you biased, but if this was a senior or a child, you’d probably have let them off with it. But the way he was looking at you now was somehow successfully unnerving you, and you supposed admiring his annoyed features was about the last thing you should be doing at the moment.

“‘What the hell’?” He echoed your words, “who’s the one that chose to stand in the middle of nowhere to go through their damned bag?”

Your eyebrows raised in offence, your annoyance from before making itself known as you frowned, your grip on your bag tightening, “oh, and it’s my fault you have poor coordination?”

The boy had narrowed his eyes, mirroring your expression, his bracelets shifting on his wrist as he gestured at your umbrella on the floor.

“Your stupid umbrella was the reason I tripped in the first place,” he told you pointedly, strangely making you even more annoyed that he chose to attack not only you but your innocent umbrella too.

Your volume raised involuntarily with your frustration, “it’s so bright! It was basically screaming at you that it was there,” you defended, attracting a few customers attention with your outburst. You didn’t understand why you had to go through this so early in the morning when you were already irritable beyond belief.

The boy seemed to have noticed this as well, discomfort washing over him at the feeling of the crowd’s stares. Ultimately deciding he would rather give up the fight with the crazy stranger from the café and leave before he was late for his job at the tattoo studio.

“Whatever,” he huffed, leaving the café, the bells at the doors jingling loudly as it swung back.

Something about the apology just wasn’t enough for you, (maybe you just expected more because he irked you) but you were already late enough for class. Rolling your eyes, you’d slung your bag around your shoulder with a thump, gripping your cup in your hands tightly and picking your umbrella (that now had an evident crease in one of its panels) up before running to class.

Your mom had called you halfway through the day while you were on your way to classes, the gesture enough to make you huff good-naturedly at her insistence.

“Hello?”

“Hey, honey, is this a good time?” her tone was practically dripping with motherly concern, making you let out a breathy laugh, nodding even though she couldn’t see you.

“Yeah, It’s fine,” you told her, “but anyway, I think my umbrella’s broken. Some idiot at the café this morning practically destroyed it with their stupid combat boots.”

Your mom didn’t seem to pay much attention to your rant, cutting straight to the point that she’d called you for.

“Have you met Jisung yet?”

You sighed as you entered the auditorium for your next lecture, lowering your head slightly as you found a seat around the middle of the hall.

“No, not yet. I’m only going over to the house after my classes end, remember? But I heard my stuff already got moved there,” you explained to her, holding your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you took your laptop from your bag, setting it on the table gently.

“Oh, do you want his phone number? To make things easier for the both of you,” she offered, earning a disinterested hum from you.

 Your mom was more than excited about the fact that you would be 1. Not living in a residence within the school and 2. Living with the son of one of her friends from college. You figured your duty as her child now would be to appease her and at least try to live out her desires for you. Which in this case was sharing an apartment alone with some boy you didn’t even know. Maybe your mom was just a little more trusting than most.

You shrugged, “yeah, sure, just send it to me.”

Your mom let out a squeal, “I’m so excited for you to meet him, honey, he’s such a nice boy. You two are sure to get along. I’m so happy you agreed to this.”

Letting out a small sigh, you leant back in your seat as you held your phone with one hand, your other hand going to unlock your computer.

“I still feel like I’m imposing on them,” you hummed.

“Honey, it’s fine, Jisung’s parents insisted that you didn’t have to pay any rent.”

You hummed patronisingly, it wasn’t as if it was the first time she was telling you this, “yeah, uh-huh,” your attention was momentarily diverted by the tall boy that was standing next to you, gesturing to the empty seat with raised eyebrows.

“Sorry, is there anyone sitting here?”

Your lips parted, “okay, mom I gotta go I’ll call you once I’ve settled into the apartment.”

You did a once-over of the boy, who shook his head to get his bangs away from his eyes, giving you a wide smile. Gesturing for him to go ahead and sit down, he’d flopped down onto the seat with a sigh.

Letting go of his bag strap as he turned around, he gave you an appreciative nod as he opened his bag, pulling out a notebook and pen.

“First day, huh,” his voice was deeper than you’d remembered it to be from just seconds ago, his hand coming up to cover his growing smile as a little giggle escaped him, “I’m Lucas.”

“How’d you know?” You hummed, “and my name’s Y/N.” You swore you’d never seen a boy with such sparkly eyes before in your life.

Lucas shrugged, leaning his folded arms on the desk and turning his head slightly to observe you in your confusion, one hand shifting to play with his earring, “haven’t seen you around before.”

“You talk like you know everyone in the school,” you scoffed.

Lucas didn’t seem to sense your sarcasm, simply giving you a shrug, “possibly. And also because it’s my second time taking this stupid class so I should know an unfamiliar face when I see one,” he told you, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Your eyebrows raised, hearing the doors at the bottom of the auditorium open, a short stocky man walking through and making his way to the speaker’s desk.

“Second time? Why?” You hummed, keeping your gaze on the man in anticipation for what he was about to say.

Lucas cast a glare towards the professor, “I thought he was boring so I didn’t really go much for his lectures the last time, you know, because I thought they weren’t graded. But he decided to include them as passing criteria way too late.”

Lucas pointed at the professor, his sleeve riding up slightly to expose a tattoo at his wrist. You were starting to wonder if everyone at this place had tattoos, the sight seeming fairly common from just your few hours in the school.

You winced, nodding, already getting the sensing that this man was someone you needed to be on good terms with.

“Alright, class, enough talking. From now on, I’m the only one that should be talking so I expect nothing but your full attention from here onwards.”

This was going to be a long lecture.

===

Your mom had texted you the Jisung kid’s number, and you’d dropped him a text saying you were on your way to the apartment, getting a reply from him that he was on his way there as well. You figured he seemed pretty polite, from the way he texted you, so you guessed that helped in making you dread the whole arrangement less.

When you’d reached, you’d ended up at an apartment building that looked fairly plain, walking in to the lobby and scanning the sparsely decorated notice board for residents, the last thing put up being a picnic for families that was 3 months ago.

Stepping into the lift, you’d noticed that though it was relatively well-maintained, it seemed rather dull, from the prison-grey lights to how the mirrors were covered for maintenance. Thankfully, your apartment itself was relatively well-maintained (you remembered your mom telling you the apartment was previously being rented out by Jisung’s parents), aside from the space being a little not-so conducive. But well, they were letting you live here for free, so you couldn’t complain.

Setting your things down onto the sofa in the living room, you moved to examine the respective rooms, frowning when you realised that whoever Jisung was, he’d taken the room with the bigger bed, his clothes either already hung up on the clothing rack or stacked up on his bed.

Walking into what you assumed was your room now, you tried to envision how you could make this space more conducive. From moving the bed aside to switching the desk out to the living room for more light, you tried out different permutations in your head, your time as an amateur interior designer cut short when you heard the rustling of keys at the front door.

Smoothing your hair down to make sure it was neat, you’d dodged the boxes of stuff as you leant over the sofa, curious to see what this Jisung kid would look like.

Jisung had done the same outside the door, making sure his hair and clothes were somewhat presentable before pushing the door open. And immediately wanting to close it back.

“You’re Jisung?”

“You’re Y/N?”

The two of you spoke simultaneously, disbelief and shock written over your features as you pointed an accusatory finger at him.

Like you mentioned before, maybe if the boy at the café this morning wasn’t Jisung, you would’ve regretted your actions a lot less.

Jisung gave you a look of disbelief, stepping into the apartment and folding his arms across his chest, his bag still hanging from his shoulder. He couldn’t wrap his head around how unlucky he must have been to have had such a bad encounter with someone he was about to spend probably his entire college life living with.

He sighed deeply, “now I don’t feel like paying the rent on your behalf anymore.”

You rolled your eyes, “your parents are paying the rent, not you. You have no say in it.”

Jisung made a sound of protest, shaking his head vigorously, his eyes widening in his aggravation.

“No, they aren’t. I told them to let me take care of it because I felt bad for them. But I don’t feel bad for you, so you’re gonna have to split the rent with me.”

Your lips parted, fumbling for a response.

Jisung’s expression was expectant, provoking you almost, “what? Would you rather get an apartment on your own? ‘Cause I’d be more than happy to let my parents know.”

You wanted to cry. It was already the start of the school term so staying in the dorms was out of the question for you already, the deadline having closed long ago. And you knew that finding another apartment in the school district that was within your budget was going to be a pain in the ass. So as much as you hated to admit it, splitting the rent with Jisung was your best option. You needed to get a job asap.

You rolled your eyes, “well…well then why do you get the bigger room?” You huffed, mirroring his stance as you folded your arms across your chest.

Jisung gave you a mocking pout, “simple, ‘cause I got here first,” he brought his hand up, inspecting his nails.

“You should be glad I’m not charging you extra for inconveniencing me,” he added.

Not being able to help but let a small gasp leave you, you were quick to respond, “inconveniencing you? You were the one that got coffee all over my file.”

Jisung shrugged, “potato, potato. Doesn’t change the fact that you made me late for work.”

You clenched your jaw, watching with a glare as he strolled past you, gesturing to the space in the living room which you’d been planning on using as a work area, “I have dibs on this space.”

You frowned, mumbling, “I wanted to shift the desk in my room out here, though.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Wanna consider moving out now?”

You inhaled deeply, brushing past him to grab your luggage that contained your clothes.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you huffed in annoyance as you walked into your room, his laughter echoing behind you.

===

“How can you say that? Jisung is a very nice boy,” your mother cried, making you roll your eyes, glaring at your phone from where you were hanging your clothes up.

“He’s the idiot that I fought with at the café, it’s not like I’m saying this without reason.”

You heard your mom sigh deeply, conversing with your dad about something in the background, “try to put your attitude aside for once, please, I’m begging you.”

You groaned, kicking your luggage aside before you made your way over to your bed, flopping down next to your phone with a loud sigh, wincing at the feeling of the springs in your mattress. You were so sure Jisung’s bed was more comfortable.

“It’s not me that has the attitude, it’s him,” you mumbled, sulkiness evident in your tone.

“Enough, Y/N," she said sternly, "If I hear anymore complaints you’re really gonna be in for it.”

You kicked at your blanket, “fine, goodnight. Love you.”

You hung up, staring at your desk as you contemplated on whether to move it into the living room now or tomorrow, distracted from your thoughts when you could hear the water running, not to mention the awfully loud sound of Jisung singing in the shower.

How thin were the walls? Your glare had shifted to your door now.

“Can you keep it down?” You shouted, hearing a silence on his end momentarily. Heaving a sigh of relief, you turned around in your bed only to hear him resume his singing, except this time, you swore it got louder.

Burying your head under your pillow, you kicked at your blanket, hoping this was the worst it could get. It wasn’t that bad, right? You could deal with simple shower concerts. Maybe living with him wasn’t going to be as hard as you thought.

===

Safely to say, you should’ve thought otherwise.

The very first time you realised you'd underestimated Han Jisung, was when you'd gone to the fridge to fix yourself something for dinner, only to find post-its on every single one of the items that read : 'property of han jisung! not for y/n'

You'd moved to look for something else to eat that was unlabelled, only realising then that he'd even gone to the (very petty) extent of labelling the snacks in the cupboard.

Huffing, you'd shrugged your coat on, grabbed your wallet and made a trip to the grocery store.

Cursing him in your head as you shoved your items into your basket, earning yourself looks of scandal from the elders who were for whatever reason still in the grocery store, though you couldn’t be bothered to look more amiable. You’d wanted nothing more than to throw out Jisung’s groceries, but of course, you were a nice person, so you wouldn’t do that. It seemed like you just couldn't get a break when your phone had begun to buzz in your pocket.

"Hey, mom," you hummed, trying not to sound too tired lest she started to drill you about resting. You brought your groceries over to the self-checkout aisle, heaving them onto the small platform with a grunt.

"Have you eaten dinner?"

You huffed, "we didn't have enough food, so I went to buy some groceries." Biting back your tongue, you rolled your eyes, scanning your items and bagging them angrily.

"How's finding a job been?"

You shrugged, Lucas had told you about various job openings nearby your house, (surprising you with how much he knew about the area) one of them you were looking into was a simple job at a café near your apartment. Thankfully, not the one that you'd had your little ‘encounter’ with Jisung at.

"Pretty alright, nothing too difficult,” you hummed, fumbling to pull out your card so you could make your payment, ignoring the stares you were getting from the people queueing up behind you.

"Alright, that's good to hear."

"Everything alright with you and dad at home?" you asked, shoving your card back into your wallet before slinging the bags onto your forearms, beginning to walk out of the supermarket.

"Yes, of course. Don't worry about us, we just miss you."

You sighed, something about the night air putting you in a drowsy mood, "me too. I never realised how much I liked living with you guys till now..."

"Don't tell me you're still having a hard time with Jisung," you heard her tone, your knew that this was her way of implying she didn't want to hear anything other than that you and Jisung's housemate experience was just peachy.

"Don't worry, mom, everything's... fine."

You'd tugged your coat closer to yourself, giving her whatever updates you figured she'd want to know before hanging up, enjoying the peaceful walk before you reached your apartment, figuring this was as much peace you were going to get before you returned to the apartment to be met with his stupid antics again.

And surely enough, the evening breeze accompanied with the sounds of faint conversation from the restaurants nearby had started to put you in a rather drowsy mood, making you start to contemplate if you were even still hungry, the lure of sleep starting to seem more tempting.

Reaching your apartment building, the lift lobby illuminated by a harshly bright lightbulb, you’d bumped into one of the ladies living on the same floor as you exited the lift on your floor, watching as her eyes widened in surprise, giving you a small smile as she enquired.

“Oh, are you the resident from apartment 19B?" you nodded.

If you were drowsy before, you sure weren't drowsy anymore.

You flinched slightly when her expression had changed in an instant, her once amiable expression now replaced with an annoyed glare.

"Can you please refrain from singing so loudly in the middle of the night? Some of us are trying to sleep."

Your eyebrows raised, shaking your head as you slot your keys into the keyhole, opening the door just a crack, "oh, sorry, that's not me that's my housemate—”

The middle-aged lady had narrowed her eyes at you, "you know, It's not ethical for someone as young as you to be living with a man when you're so young—”

"Okay, sorry, won't happen again!" you told her quickly in your attempt to appease her, shoving the door open and slamming it behind you, turning around only to see Jisung standing in the living room, dressed in loungewear with black gloves on his hands as he pointed at you in amusement, his shoulders shaking as he laughed.

"Aw, I'm not the only one that thinks it's not ethical for you to live here," he pouted.

You rolled your eyes, "I can't believe she thought I was the one singing," you huffed, going over to the kitchen to see yet more dishes in the sink.

Pointing at them with a look of disbelief on your face, "are you not gonna clean these either?"

Jisung turned around, looking at the sink with evident contempt, shrugging. He held his hands up to you, showing you that they were currently gloved.

"I'm a little busy, why don't you do me a favour this once? Consider it compensation," he grinned, making his way back to....your room?

"What are you doing in my room?" you asked, shoving the last of your groceries haphazardly into the fridge before you'd followed him into your room, shutting your mouth quickly when you saw that he’d practically set up a work station next to your desk, looking closer to find that he was using what looked like tattoo equipment.

“Practicing,” he shrugged.

You didn’t bother asking what his business using tattoo equipment was, simply huffing in exasperation, “and you had to do it in my room, of all places?”

Jisung nodded, pushing one of his sleeves up on his shoulder, revealing a rather big tattoo on his arm that was partially hidden by his sleeve.

“This is the only room with an accessible plug and a good enough space to work in.”

“Then why didn’t you just take this room as your bedroom?” You were dumbfounded at the way he was so nonchalant about his actions, the buzzing of the tattoo needle resuming as he practised on fake skin.

“I like to sleep in a comfortable bed,” he shrugged, leaning back to look at his tattoo.

“And you think I don’t?” You shot back, your hands going to your hips, his reply coming just as quick.

“Well, for $300 bucks above the rent maybe you can,” he smirked, using a tissue to rub at the fake skin, looking at you as he poked his tongue in his cheek, quirking his eyebrows before turning back to continue tattooing.

That night, you remembered asking Lucas if he knew who Jisung was, since he’d mentioned how he was pretty into tattoos, having a few of his own, his reply only making you wonder if the world was just small or you were just unlucky.

lucas wong

8:53pm - oh yeah I know him! he’s apprentice-ing at the tattoo shop I usually go to, he’s pretty good-

8:53pm - why? do u like him? I cld put in a good word for u-

You sighed deeply

8:53pm - no thanks im good-

Little did you know, the next time Lucas had visited the the tattoo studio, he’d spotted Jisung working on his designs at one corner of the room, going against your request and disturbing Jisung even despite how he looked like that was the last thing he wanted, too focused on the shadings of his chrysanthemum flower sketch on his tablet to have paid attention to Lucas' entrance.

“Hey, do you know anyone named Y/N?”

Jisung’s face scrunched up in distaste, looking up at Lucas and hoping desperately that he was joking, “don’t tell me… freshman Y/N?”

Lucas nodded, his eyes lighting up in excitement, “yeah! So you guys do know each other.”

Jisung made an uncertain sound, “I wouldn’t call it much of a relationship. Y/N’s my housemate.”

Jisung’s words had sparked a realisation in Lucas, the latter only piecing together your disdain towards Jisung with your stories about your ‘asshole housemate’

Lucas’ silence had caught Jisung off guard, making Jisung look up at Lucas expectantly, “sorry, you wanted to go get something to eat, right?”

Lucas nodded, masking his shock with a smile, recovering quickly.

“Wait, lemme go call Chan,” Jisung murmured, beckoning the boy who was currently snacking at the reception area.

“Where do you guys wanna go?” Lucas asked, earning a hum from Chan.

“I kinda wanted to get a smoothie,” Chan admitted sheepishly, though thankfully, Jisung and Lucas didn’t seem to have a problem with that.

 “Why didn’t you wanna go to the other café? They’ve got better smoothies,” Lucas wondered out loud, making Jisung snort.

“We’re only going there because Chan has a fat crush on one of the baristas.”  

Which was what ended them up at the café you worked at.

The moment they had entered, you noticed your colleague tense beside you, bending down to pretend to take something from below the counter.  

“Shit, they’re here. Oh my god, help,”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “who?”

“That cute tattoo artist guy I was telling you about!” She whispered harshly, standing up and greeting the boys with a smile, her heart eyes directed particularly at one of them with curly hair.

Only then did you realise Lucas and Jisung were there, receiving an overwhelming feeling of wanting to bang your head into the cash register. You already saw him enough at home, and now you had to see him at work too?

“Hi, how may I help you?” You smiled at the curly haired boy, casting a glare in Jisung’s direction, the boy looking equally as dismayed to see you here.

“Hello, can I get the berry smoothie?” He asked, and you stepped aside, letting your colleague ring up his order while you prepared his drink, giving it to your colleague to serve since she’d spent so long talking to him.

Lucas had mouthed a ‘sorry’ to you when he’d gone to sit at one of the tables with Chan, Jisung lingering at the cashier as your colleague went to the backroom to squeal.

“What do you want?” you wore a bored expression.

Jisung looked almost too focused, his eyes glaring at the laminated menu between the both of you.

“I changed my mind, I want a drink too.”

You suppressed your urge to roll your eyes, your finger scratching at the corner of the cash register, “you couldn’t have ordered it like five seconds ago?”

Jisung shot you a look, “yeah, well I didn’t want it five seconds ago.”

Inhaling deeply, you’d gestured to the menu, and now not only was your expression bored-to-death, but your tone was too, "what do you want?”

“I want an iced americano,” he told you, pausing before he added, “and ask your friend to make it. I don’t trust you not to spit in my drink.”

You gave him a sarcastic smile, “good call.”

Ringing up his order, you’d called your friend, dismissing any thought of ever having a normal encounter with Jisung.

Upon returning to his table, Chan had given him a look, "Lucas told me you know the cashier."

"Not the one you think is cute, don't worry,” Jisung sighed, glancing in his drink just for good measure.

Chan's eyebrows lifted in amusement, "so the one you think is cute?"

Almost instinctually, Jisung replied, "yeah," paying more attention to his drink than his words. Looking up when he heard Chan and Lucas struggle to stifle their giggles.

"What?"

Lucas clapped his hands together, his smile wide, "you just said Y/N was cute."

"No, I didn't, you did." Jisung shot back quickly. It was obvious that retaliation didn't always have to make sense for him.

Chan had a curious glint in his eyes now, the corner of his lips quirking up into a smirk, "I mean, you guys do live together right, and you've really never thought anything about her?"

“I did, I thought her nagging was annoying as hell,” Jisung shrugged.

 Chan narrowed his eyes at Jisung, an amused smirk on his face, “you know that’s not what I meant.”

Jisung gave Chan a pointed look, "I'd appreciate if you wouldn't stir shit, especially not in front of him." Jisung pointed at Lucas.

"You didn't answer the question," Lucas sing-songed.

Jisung scoffed, casting a furtive glance towards your direction where you were smiling as your colleague showed you something on their phone.

Jisung shrugged, it wasn’t as if you looked bad or anything, with his pride, he’d probably have told Chan that you were pretty if he squinted.

“Guess if they smiled more they'd be...decent."

 Lucas raised his eyebrows, enjoying the scene playing out in front of him very much, “decent, huh.”

Chan leant back in his seat, shaking his head at Jisung, "now I feel like I have to make you my apprentice for relationships too."

Jisung scoffed, regaining his usual confidence.

"If by that you mean you want me to stand at the counter giggling my ass off like how you did with that cashier then no thanks, I'm good on my own."

===

You'd tried your best to tolerate Jisung, especially after Lucas fed you some story about how he takes a while to warm up to people (which you totally bought).

This tolerance came in the form of things like waking up earlier to use the bathroom so the both of you wouldn't have to fight in the morning, or giving him reminders to do the laundry or clean the dishes but only doing them after he forgot the third reminder.

Jisung usually forgot to turn off the lights whenever he went to sleep (though sometimes he did it on purpose, not liking the eerie darkness of the house when the lights were off), so you would always end up waking from the glare of the lights that seeped into your room, stepping over the mess of clothes or socks (sometimes even shoes) in the walkways and turning them off for him instead of nagging him about the lights. See? Tolerance.

Call you a pushover or whatever, but you kind of prided yourself on how your well of patience seemed to run deep. Very deep. Deeper than the average human, you supposed, even.

However, days like the ones you were having now, just didn't seem to let you draw from that well of patience.

You'd started off your shitty morning when you'd slept through your alarm, needing your usual work clothes but realising that Jisung hadn't done the laundry, leaving you with no choice but to grab the nearest hoodie you could find on your bedroom floor and sprint to work.

If that wasn't enough, you'd landed cashier duty as punishment for being late, your social battery starting to empty not even halfway through the day. Your 'hi, how may I help you's slowly turning to 'what would you like's to eventually 'hi's and ending up with a small smile and gesture towards the menu.

It didn't help that Chan, the tattoo artist your colleague had an obvious thing for, had shown up halfway to try and strike a conversation with you about Jisung, much to no avail.

“Aren’t you wondering why Jisung isn’t here?” You remembered him asking, to which you’d shook your head.

“Not really,” you shrugged, earning a thoughtful hum from Chan.

“Really? You’re not even the slightest bit curious?”

You had shook your head at him then, remembering the way he looked so shocked to have made you even more curious about why he was asking you this in the first place.

By the time you were done with your work, you'd wanted nothing more than to just go home, take the longest shower of your life and curl up in your horribly uncomfortable bed. Except you couldn't even do that, because you had unfinished readings for your class the next day.

You figured if you sat yourself at your desk with no distractions you could be done sooner and go to sleep sooner, but your one distraction had just come home from the tattoo studio and was somehow getting on your nerves even more today.

Not only had he been acting as if he was the opera community's 'next big thing', he'd proceeded to seat himself on the sofa behind you, watching whatever show he was into loudly, seeming to find whatever the protagonist was saying to be too hilarious to just enjoy the show silently.

You figured you could handle that much, you know, having to live up to your preachings on tolerance, deciding to breathe deeply and suppress your urge to tell him to shut up, and soon enough, he'd disappeared.

But your joy was short lived, once again, when Jisung came back out, singing as he made a snack for himself and proceeded to eat it right in front of you, the smell growing more and more distracting.

Now, he was now lounging on the sofa in the living room, headphones on and connected to his laptop that rest on his stomach, but still typing away with his phone not on silent, the keyboard sounds distracting you from your reading. You figured, maybe your well of patience was just closed today.

“Hey,” you called. No response. If anything, the silence of the apartment had made his typing sounds even louder.

“Hey, oh my god, can you like put your phone on silent or something?" You tried again. Still no response, now, he was humming in between his pauses before he would type another burst of words on his phone.

Deciding you had to take matters into your own hands, you stormed over to where he was, your book still in your hands as you stood in front of him, making him turn to you with wide-eyes.

Pulling his headphones off of his head, he frowned, "what?"

“This,” you gestured pointedly towards his phone, “put your phone on silent, it's distracting me."

Jisung would've complied, though a part of him couldn't help but be annoyed by your nagging, his instinct prompting him to act defensively, “why don’t you just listen to some music or something? Then my typing sounds wouldn’t be a problem,” he told you dismissively, making you groan in frustration.

“I can’t study with music, it’s already hard enough for me to focus as it is.”

Jisung was annoyed, “It’s just a typing sound, what are you getting so worked up for? You’re always getting on my back about everything when I’m just minding my own business."

You let out a groan, "look, it's been more than a month, and i'm up to here with your shit," you held a hand way above your head for emphasis, any of your tolerance long gone out of the window (which he had also left open, making the apartment chilly and noisy).

Jisung's eyebrows knit in a frown, your outburst coming as a shock to him, "fine, whatever. I'll put my phone on silent, chill."

You shook your head, your gaze firm and unwavering, "no, I wanna make rules."

Rules? Jisung wanted to scoff. What was this, a second-grade classroom?

Jisung stared at you in shock, nodding dumbly. "Rules....oka-alright, yeah. Let's make rules."

You nodded firmly, "first of all, if you're gonna make food at ungodly hours in the morning, eat it in your own room."

"And the dishes, clean up after yourself," you added, gripping your book tightly in your hand.

“Stop leaving your shit in the corridors,” you continued, “and pack up your shoes it’s such a mess at the door way I can barely walk into the house,” you huffed, feeling as though with every rule you made you were finally letting your feelings be heard.

Jisung wracked his brains for a rule of his own, finding ways to regain control over the situation, "well, I have a rule too! You gotta stop nagging me to do shit," he sat up, setting his headphones on the sofa cushion.

You let out a tiny gasp, "excuse me? I only ask you to ‘do shit’ that you should be doing."

Before you could get carried away, you continued, "and as for the laundry—”

Jisung perked up, “okay, how about this. I do the dishes and you do the laundry," he suggested with a forced smile, bringing a hand up to run it through his hair, which fell back against his forehead gently.

"You know for a fact that that’s not the same, so we'll switch," you told him, "you do laundry on one week when I do the dishes, and the next week i'll do the laundry and you do the dishes. Fair, right?"

Jisung huffed, rolling his eyes, "whatever."

At the mention of laundry, Jisung glanced over at what you were wearing, frowning at the familiarity of his hoodie.

"Good, now that we have an agree—”

"That's mine," he pointed at your stomach, making you look at him in disbelief.

"Huh?" Your stomach? Your hands found their way to cover your stomach.

"The hoodie. It's mine."

You looked down at the hoodie you were wearing, a frown evident on your face. You didn't know what he was talking about, you had this hoodie since you were in high-school, it couldn't be his.

"No, it's mine. I had this since I was in high-school," you frowned, unsure if this was some sort of joke he was trying to play.

Jisung couldn't hide his amusement, letting a laugh slip from his lips, "yeah, so did I... which is why I know that that's mine."

You scoffed, "it was on my bedroom floor," you mumbled, seeing him nod patronisingly.

"Because I left it there," he told you, enunciating his words slower, shocking you when he'd reached over and grabbed you by the sleeve, raising your hand up for you to see.

"Look, this stain. It's tattoo ink. I would know because you're wearing the wrong hoodie. New rule, don’t wear my clothes.”

You stood silent, huffing as you removed the hoodie, leaving you in your shirt and sweats, tossing the hoodie at him in annoyance, the smirk on his face making you even more annoyed.

"Fine, take your stupid hoodie, I don’t wanna wear your stupid clothes anyway,” you huffed, “and you’re on laundry duty this week."

You didn't finish your readings that night.

===

You would like to think your rule system was working pretty well, seeing as you didn't find yourself butting heads with Jisung as often as before.

Halfway into the semester, you had grown busier with your assignments, which had managed to take your attention away from Jisung.

Though you were certainly more tired than usual, from attending birthday parties of friends to working, to rushing your readings during any free time you got (not to mention squeezing in any bit of sleep whenever you could), to rushing through your assignments just to meet the packed deadlines. But you couldn’t complain, this was typical for any college student you knew.

But of course, that didn’t mean you weren’t itching for a break, eyeing the semester break on your calendar that was fast approaching, letting yourself get carried away during classes with Lucas as you both planned on your pieces of scrap paper all the things you’d wanted to do during the break.

Similarly, Jisung had grown busier at the tattoo studio, and Chan had recommended him to a music producer that was interested in hearing Jisung's compositions.

Jisung was more than thankful that Chan had given him that opportunity, of course, but what was bothering him was the pain-in-the-ass creative block he was beginning to struggle with.

Not only was he struggling to find inspiration for a song he'd wanted to make, but the process seemed almost painfully slow, with how he'd fumble around with ideas that he would start on but eventually scrap, deciding that he 'wasn't feeling it'.

He'd started receiving commissions for tattoo designs, and you'd noticed he wasn't at home as often as he was before because he'd made it a point to coop himself up in the studio to try to churn out these design requests.

Fortunately, his customers were always satisfied (and he thought that was great, you know, with all the good words from Chan he was getting), but he wasn't.

Chan had seemed to sense this too, making sure to check in on Jisung more than usual during this period.

"Hey, I'm heading home a little earlier today, you'll be fine alone?"

Jisung's head lifted when he heard Chan's voice, pulling one of his earbuds from his ear as he nodded.

Chan glanced at Jisung's papers scattered around him, of half-done or halfway-abandoned sketches, giving him a look of sympathy, "don't work too hard, alright?" he huffed, glancing out of the window.

"I heard it might rain tonight, so make sure you get home before the rain hits, alright?"

Jisung waved Chan off, not paying any care to the impending rain as he bid Chan goodbye, continuing to tap his pencil on the table in his search for good ideas.

Maybe he needed to consult a lifeline.

"Hello, Lucas?"

The said lifeline was more than happy to hear Jisung's voice, having heard from you that he wasn't home as much recently, a part of him concerned as well.

"Hey, man, what's up?"

Jisung hummed, "wanted to ask if you had any ideas on what tattoos you think would be cool."

Lucas snorted, "you're asking me? You could draw a turd and i'd want to get it tattooed. Dude, you're too good, just go with your gut."

Jisung let out a whine, "my gut's not being very useful right now."

Lucas hummed, letting out an urgent grunt of surprise, "I know! Why don't you take a look at your older designs, maybe they'd give you some vibes or something."

Jisung shrugged, figuring this was probably the best advice he was gonna get, thanking Lucas before hanging up.

Picking up his tablet, Jisung had scrolled through his various sketches until he'd reached the very first few designs, sighing at the sight of the sketches, looking at his first sketch of a peony flower, with leaves dangling along the stem wedged between the budding flowers.

Jisung figured he wouldn't let his dissatisfaction subside until he tried doing a better rendition of the sketch, to refine the shading or the flow of the shape from what he'd learnt from Chan overtime.

Putting back his earbuds in, he turned his music up, beginning to work on the sketch, riding on the motivation he was afraid would disappear at any given moment.

Jisung was surprised at how fast he was done, ( only to look at the clock and realise he wasn't that fast and that it was already a little past midnight ). Removing his earbuds and going back to the sound of the whirring air conditioner and the loud sound of rain thumping against the gravel outside, Jisung knew he was done for.

He hadn't brought an umbrella with him, and the rain frankly didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon, Jisung contemplated his very limited options.

Was a binder enough to shield him from the rain? Probably not. But was it better than putting down his pride to text you to come and pick him up? He thought the binder was better, honestly.

Deciding to try his luck anyway, he'd sent you a text.

Little did Jisung know, you'd dozed off on your bed while reading, the vibration of your phone next to your face having woken you from your nap, the sound of the rain outside harshly thumping against the window.

han jisung 12:37am -hello, housemate. it is your housemate, han jisung. its raining rly badly. wld u be so kind as to come to the tattoo studio with an umbrella for me pls :D-

You frowned in annoyance, your eyes barely open as you replied him. There was no way you were going to send yourself out in the thunderstorm like that.

12:37am - no. just wait until it stops raining-

Thinking that had settled your worries, you'd shoved your phone underneath your pillow, deciding you'd let yourself sleep in since tomorrow was a Saturday after all.

You should've known better, that this was Jisung, the 'i'm tougher than a little bit of rain' Jisung, so you should've seen it coming when you'd woken up to the sound of his incessantly ringing phone.

Rolling out of your bed with a grunt, you'd pushed yourself off of the bed, ready to confront Jisung about not answering his phone.

Walking across the corridor and pushing his bedroom door open, you'd been met with an empty room, frowning as you walked over to the bed, picking the phone up and stopping the alarm.

You noticed that he'd received a few texts from Chan, not being able to help yourself from reading them.

chan 1:20am - dude! why didnt u just wait for the rain to stop?- 1:22am - ure gna fall sick…-

Frowning, you made your way into the living room, spotting Jisung curled up on the sofa with his blanket at his feet, an instant feeling in your gut that something was wrong.

“Jisung?” You called, seeing his eyebrows furrow slightly.

In spite of yourself, you’d walked over to where he lay, your hand coming out to nudge at his shoulder with his phone.

“Hey, are you…alright?” You watched and waited as he opened his eyes slowly, blinking at you in a daze. There was perspiration beading at his temples despite the coolness of the apartment, giving you more reason to feel like there was something wrong.

As much as you didn’t like him, you couldn’t help but feel as though you were responsible for him, and it was kind of your fault that he’d walked back in the rain. You glanced at your brightly-coloured umbrella leaning against the wall, figuring there was something about this umbrella that always got you into trouble with Jisung.

You suppressed your hesitation, bringing a hand up to his forehead, Jisung not even daring to budge even an inch as you pushed his bangs back. The back of your hand pressing against his forehead gently, your breath hitching at the sheer heat of his body.

This was probably the most contact you’d ever had with him in your months of living together, and Jisung knew this too, not knowing how to feel about the concern you were showing him, feeling as though it was some kind of ridiculous fever dream.

“You walked home in the rain didn’t you?” You murmured, your feeling of guilt growing as you saw him nod at you.

You cursed inwardly, “do you have a thermometer?”  

Jisung shook his head, attempting to get up, “it’s fine, I can take care of myself, just give me my phone.”

You handed him his phone, ignoring his previous statement as you went into the kitchen in your search for any kind of medicine you could give him, cursing once again when you realised there was none. Trust the both of you to only care to buy groceries.

“We don’t have jack shit in this house,” you groaned, walking over to the bathroom, finding a cloth and a small pail to fill with cold water, bringing it over to the coffee table and setting it down next to the sofa.

“I’ve gotta go to work,” Jisung sighed, though he made no move to get up, a part of him just waiting for you to refute him so he could use you as an excuse to get off work.

You shot him a look, “no, you don’t. Shut up and lie down, I’ll go and buy your stupid medicine. If I come back and you’re not here I’ll kill you,” you warned, missing the way Jisung had complied happily, lying back down with his head on one of the sofa cushions.

Squeezing the water from the cloth, you may have slapped it a little harshly on his forehead, earning an annoyed glare from him.

Walking to grab your wallet, you cast one last look at his bored face, seeing him rush to close his eyes when he saw you glaring.

“I mean it, you better stay here.”

Jisung nodded, waving you off.

On your way to the pharmacy, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was a good thing that Jisung was sick.

In terms of your pros, if he was sick, he wouldn’t be able to annoy you, right? And him being sick meant that you’d basically had your desk and your bedroom to yourself, with him unable to practice tattooing in your room and use your desk as his sketching station.

In terms of your cons… well, you were planning on getting some rest today, and having to watch Jisung meant you would technically have to be near him, wouldn’t you? You were starting to wonder if that was even a con that he was basically giving you an excuse to laze around and watch tv.

“Hi, how may I help you?” The pharmacist asked.

You hummed, “uh…do you have those over-the-counter medicine and stuff for like someone with fever?”

The pharmacist nodded, pulling out the various boxes and pointing at each one, confusing you with the sheer amount of names she was listing, resulting in you just choosing the one you recognised your parents telling you to take whenever you were sick.

Making your payment, you swallowed whatever pride you had that was making you hesitate. You figured Jisung falling sick was karma for that text you sent him the night before, so you decided that you were going to see him recover for yourself.

Upon returning to the house, you’d shrugged your jacket off, making your way over to where he was, sitting on your heels next to where he was so you could gently peel the cloth from his head, replacing it with one that was soaked in colder water.

You’d drawn back slightly when you felt Jisung flinch as you laid the towel on his forehead, opening one eye to look at you, “that was fast.”

You rolled your eyes, shushing him as you took the medicine out, along with a glass of water you’d gotten from the kitchen, bringing it over to him with an expectant look.

Jisung took them from you wordlessly, swallowing them down as he averted his gaze from you, unsure why you were looking at him like some kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, reaching over to grab the television remote in an attempt to calm your nerves, “this is kind of my fault. Since I didn’t go over to the tattoo studio yesterday.”

Jisung took a moment to process what you said, wincing as he let out a (fake) cough, only serving to make you feel even more guilty than you already were.

“Are you actually…apologising to me?” Jisung’s smile was poorly hidden behind his hand, making you roll your eyes, your guilt ever-present when you looked at him.

Jisung sighed, deciding to let you off this once, “seriously, it’s no big deal. I didn’t expect you to come, anyway. I was just trying my luck,” he told you, making you frown, your mouth forming a slight pout.

“I was just being petty, I’m…” you trailed off, shaking your head, “yeah, whatever, I’m just really sorry.”

Jisung looked at you with a hint of a smile on his face, taking his lower lip between his teeth as he nodded. He wasn’t sure if it was his fever, or the way your gestures were exuding warmth, but Jisung swore just for a moment. A second, almost, he kind of thought you looked cute.

Jisung nodded, “I’ll let you know by the end of the day.”

You frowned, turning away from the television to face him, your back resting on the sofa slightly, “let me know about what?”

Jisung kept his gaze fixed on the television, bringing his hand up to scratch at his collarbone, hints of his tattoos peeking out from his neckline.

 Shrugging, Jisung’s gaze shifted to meet yours, “if your apology is accepted.”

You were sure that your mom would’ve just laughed in your face if you told her about your experience today, as you began to realise just how much you didn’t hate Jisung’s company when the both of you weren’t trying to fight each other.

In the few hours that had passed alone, you’d learnt much more about him than you had bothered to in your months living with him. You’d learnt that he was a music major, that wanted to pursue a career in music production, and that he’d gotten interested in tattoos when he’d met this kid named Changbin in his class, who introduced him to Chan for an apprenticeship.

As for Jisung? He was just learning that you weren’t as intolerable as he thought you were.

You’d ordered food for the both of you, Jisung having refused to eat porridge, and you were currently having an actual, comfortable conversation with him, the hallmark movie playing on the television long forgotten.

Jisung’s phone had started to ring, interrupting him mid-sentence as he told you about how the tattoo studio works, making you lean over to check who it was.

“It’s Chan.”

Jisung grimaced, “speak of the devil,” he scoffed. Shaking his head vigorously as you made to grab his phone, Jisung set his chopsticks down hurriedly to reach for his phone, only to grab air when you’d answered the call.

“Hello?” You heard Chan speak, an urgency to his tone.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Jisung is…not feeling so well right now.”

Jisung shot you a look, bringing his hands around his throat with his chopsticks held between his fingers, acting as if he was so sick he was about to pass out, making loud coughing noises in the background.

You couldn’t help but smile, scrunching your nose and waving him off in your attempt to get him to stop before he choked on his food.

Chan sighed, “Is he, now? Tell him I’m shifting today’s appointment to next Wednesday. Anyway, thanks, Y/N, bye,” he hung up promptly after.

You gave Jisung a grim look, setting the phone down slowly onto the coffee table, “Chan said he’s shifting your appointment to Wednesday.”

Jisung’s lips parted, almost forgetting his cheeks were full of food, tilting his head back to groan.

“Chan’s gonna kill me.”

“Why?”

Jisung shoved more food into his mouth, chewing slowly, “I totally forgot, I was supposed to do this girl’s tattoo today, but cause I’m, you know, sick,” he gave you a pointed look, “I can’t do it.”

“You do tattoos already? I thought you were still just…”

Jisung rolled his eyes, “what? Still just tattooing on fake skin?”

You nodded sheepishly, earning a sigh from him, though you didn’t miss the small smile on his face.

“I’ll have you know, I can tattoo people now. You know Lucas’ tattoo of the angel looking mermaid hybrid type thing?”

You hummed in thought, his description oddly specific yet successfully helping you visualise the tattoo, gesturing to your forearm, “the one he got here?”

Jisung nodded, “I did that for him.”

Your eyes widened, impressed at the scale of Jisung’s detail in his design, remembering how enamoured you were with it when Lucas had first showed it to you.

“Lucas’ been asking me to get a tattoo with him once the break starts,” you mentioned casually, earning a surprised hum from Jisung.

“Oh,” his eyes widened, as if he was still trying to process what you said, “really?”

You nodded, “still thinking about it, though. Haven’t really decided on what I wanted.”

Jisung scooped the last of his food into his mouth, giving you as nonchalant a shrug as he could muster.

“Well, uh, you know, if you want or something you could come one of the days during the break, I could show you some stuff I think you’d like.”

You nodded, the simple suggestion somehow exciting you.

That night, you’d gotten ready for bed, having made sure Jisung ate his medicine before he went to sleep.

Before you could move to switch the lights off, he’d stopped you/

“Wait, like…can you um… leave the lamp on?” You raised an eyebrow at him, but complied nonetheless, figuring this was your chance to repent while he was sick.

“Goodnight,” you murmured, stretching your arms above your head with a yawn.

“Yeah, night…” he murmured, inhaling deeply, “oh, and Y/N?”

You frowned, “uh-huh?” Looking at him expectantly, your breath hitched at the sight of the small smile that made its way on his face, the moonlight casting a calm glow in the room that mirrored his expression.

“Apology accepted.”

You smiled, nodding before you left. Hopefully this meant things were looking up for your relationship.

===

After that day, it was as if something in your dynamic had shifted, you found that Jisung was giving you lesser and lesser reasons to be annoyed at him.

Lucas had gotten a kick out of it when you’d told him about it.

“You guys finally realised it wouldn’t kill you to be nice to each other?” You remembered him telling you.

You would beg to differ, though, because with this shift in dynamic came a whole lot of awkwardness, especially when one of you had done something mildly nice for the other person.

Take this instance, for example.

You’d been sitting at your desk, trying to finish up on your essay that was due that week, not wanting to let your motivation subside without making full use of it (also because you knew if you didn’t do it now, you’d procrastinate and stress out when you realised you were behind time).

You’d been able to faintly smell Jisung’s noodles that he was cooking in the kitchen, making you sigh. You didn’t like eating things after you had your dinner, but you couldn’t lie and say that they didn’t smell great.

Expecting to hear his bedroom door shut and feel the smell of the noodles get fainter, he’d surprised you when he made his way over to you, setting a mug containing a hot drink on your desk.

Turning to him abruptly, he’d flinched back, looking at you with wide eyes as his hands flew up over his chest, making you laugh.

“I’m not gonna hit you, calm down.”

Jisung relaxed (albeit hesitantly), one of his hands coming up to grip the back of his neck, gesturing towards the mug with his other hand.

“Go ahead, I uh…didn’t poison it or anything,” a huff of awkward laughter left him.

You glanced from the mug to him, nodding slowly, “thanks.”

“Don’t, you know…sleep too late, and stuff,” he told you, earning a nod from you.

He nodded back at you, giving you a close-lipped smile before practically jogging back to his room, the door shutting a little louder than usual, a yelp of apology echoing after.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t try to to be nice to him either, but frankly, he wasn’t giving you many opportunities to do so.

 Jisung was still keeping his worries to himself, with his creative block seeming to have spiralled him into heavy feelings of anxiousness and a lack of confidence in his abilities.

You figured that things had been weighing heavy on his mind when you realised he’d been intentionally keeping the light on more often when he slept, or how the typing sounds of his keyboard would get more frequent as it got later into the night.

You’d even had Chan pleading for you to check up on Jisung every now and then once you noticed that he’d been sleeping a lot more and eating at irregular intervals. Listening out for his humming every now and then, you noticed the melodies seemed to have taken a more slow-paced, almost melancholic turn.

One night, you’d decided that if Jisung wasn’t going to give you opportunities to be nice to him, you would just create them for yourself. Making a determined trip to the kitchen, you’d boiled his favourite type of instant ramen, having seen how he made it so many times you knew just what to add in.

Padding over to his room, you’d knocked on the door before pushing it open slightly, watching him straighten up where he sat on his bed, setting his iPad down beside him, his thigh blocking it from your view.

“Hey, I uh…here,” you cut to the chase, Jisung was quick to find something to put under the pot on his bed, opening it and looking at you wordlessly.

“Figured the both of us could use a break,” you shrugged, oblivious to the way your words had stirred something within Jisung.

“What were you working on?” You asked, scooping some noodles into a bowl for Jisung and handing it to him.

He’d taken the bowl from you absently, his eyes widening at the mention of the sketch, unconsciously pushing it further behind him.

“Nothing, I was just doodling.”

Jisung had no idea how to explain that he had been trying to design something for you, something that reminded him of you. Because frankly, that was the only thing that seemed to be pushing his creative block aside at the moment.

“Can I see?”

Usually, Jisung would’ve fought you ( to the death ) before he’d let you see his unfinished designs, but there was something about your demeanour that made him feel like it was okay to show you. That it was okay to tell you that it wasn’t perfect because something inside of him just told him that you would understand.

In spite of any rational fibre in his being, he’d picked up the tablet, giving it to you as he continued to eat the ramen, his gaze never leaving your expression, oblivious to your scrolling as he was too busy gauging your reaction.

“These are all really pretty,” you told him, scrolling until you’d reached the bottom, clicking on one of the drawings and flipping the screen around to show Jisung.

“I love this,” you told him, earning a surprised hum from him.

He saw that you’d clicked on the sketch of the peony that he’d tried to refine that day he got rained on, wondering what made you choose that out of all his designs, since he was probably the least satisfied with that one.

“Are you sure? What about this one?” He took the tablet from you, scrolling back to the design he was working on, making you hum thoughtfully, eventually shaking your head no.

“I like the other one better,” you told him, earning a confused hum from him.

“Why?”

You scoffed, frowning at him, “why are you so against it? You’re the one that drew it,” you took the tablet back from him, holding it against your shoulder before shaking your head, setting it back down onto your lap.

“Besides,” you murmured, zooming in to admire the shading on the flower, “I think it’s beautiful.”

Jisung’s expression was unreadable, unsure how you had such strong appreciation for something he thought was his worst work, something about the way you praised it making a strange feeling that he couldn’t place build within his chest.

It was like before, the feeling of comfort, that he didn’t have to worry about any kind of creative block that could be thrown his way because you gave him a different perspective on his abilities.

You know, the cliché, hard-hitting feeling that ‘everything is gonna be okay’.

“Do you have anything happening during the break?” You asked, earning a shrug from him.

“I’ve gotta submit my song to Chan’s music producer friend.”

You perked up at the mention of Jisung’s song, “have you thought of what you wanted to do for it yet?”

Jisung shook his head, letting out a deep sigh, “it’s been kind of stressing me out, to be honest,” he admitted.

“I like…I don’t wanna give him something that doesn’t show what I’m capable of, you know?”

You nodded, “I understand…I wish I could help you but I don’t really, you know, know how,” you fidgeted with your fingers, hearing him grunt in dismissal.

“It’s fine,” he mustered a confident smile, “nothing I can’t handle.”

And for a moment, you really would’ve believed that he’d gotten it handled. Leaving him to continue with his work as you got ready for bed.

You had almost anticipated to hear typing sounds as you did every night these days. But unlike the other nights, Jisung didn’t very well feel like being alone with his thoughts that night, not even wanting to type them down. He craved the feeling of being okay, of feeling like he still had time and didn’t have to be anxious or feel shitty about his mediocre work.

So it had come as a surprise to you when you’d heard the gentle knock at your door that night just as you were about to drift into a half-asleep state, hearing the door open and watching as Jisung made his way hesitantly over to where you were.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” You heard him let out a shaky breath, and you didn’t need to ask him further, giving him a small hum of approval as he’d pulled the small heated mat from under your bed and made himself comfortable next to your bed.

Jisung let his head hit the ground gently, a deep sigh leaving him as he closed his eyes.

“Do you want me to leave the lamp on?” You mumbled, hearing him hum.

“No, it’s fine,” he told you, strangely not feeling much of a need for it now that he had you near him.

The both of you knew better than to speak more, the silence seeming to have made you understand how he was feeling. And as he lay there, with your presence in the room, Jisung felt alright, and so did you.

That night, there were no typing sounds.

===

Contrary to yesterday, you'd started today on a good note. Having bumped into Jisung the next morning after he'd gotten ready, meeting in the hallway when you were still dressed in your sleepwear, you couldn't help but smile.

"Morning," he murmured, a small smile on his face as he gave you a little wave, leaving promptly to meet Chan at the tattoo studio.

You didn't have work today, and you'd arranged a meeting with Lucas to hang out, the boy not seeming to want to waste anymore time when he'd finally arrived at the mall, practically bounding over to where you were waiting at the fountain in the atrium.

"So, have you thought about it yet?" he asked you, extending a hand to help you up.

Frowning, your lips parted in confusion, "thought about what?"

Lucas gave you an unamused look, as if you should've known what he was talking about. Pushing his sleeves up to his elbows, he'd raised his hands as he gestured, "you know, about what tattoo you wanted to get."

You made your way to a bubble tea outlet that Lucas wanted to check out, pestering you to go with him as part of the things he’d wanted to do during the semester break.

You couldn't help but laugh at the realisation, feeling awfully giddy at the thought of yesterday.

It was just a simple interaction, yeah, whatever, but no one said there were rules on what could make your heart flutter and what couldn't. All you knew was that whatever happened yesterday, did.

"Yeah, I did," you confessed, huffing with a smile on your face.

Lucas didn't know whether to feel afraid or happy that you were so quick to decide this time, looking at you in concern, "okay...so, what did you decide on?"

You pursed your lips, your smile disappearing, "I don't have a picture with me, it's on Jisung's ipad. But it's really pretty, it's like this drawing of a flower," you explained.

Lucas' eyes widened, his hand coming up to cover his mouth in a poor attempt to conceal his growing excitement.

"Oh, it's one of Jisung's stuff?"

You nodded, not seeming to understand why he was so happy about that, "what?"

"Nothing," he shrugged, "you and Jisung seem to be on pretty good terms recently, huh.”

You scoffed, shrugging because it wasn't as if what he said was a lie.

Lucas leaned closer to you, "have you been smiling at him more these days?"

You frowned at his question, shrugging at him nonetheless, turning your attention back to the menu board, "yeah, I guess."

Lucas' giggles escaped him like bubbles, nodding at you knowingly, “perfect. You should definitely keep doing that.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “questionable advice, but I’ll take it. Anyway, when are you planning on getting it done?"

Lucas straightened up, lifting his phone slightly to check the date.

"I made an appointment for Chan to do mine next Tuesday," he told you, “have you asked your parents yet?”

You nodded, “they weren’t as supportive until they found out Jisung designed it, they just told me not to get anything I’ll regret.”

Lucas couldn’t miss his opportunity to tease you, “well, I’m sure if Jisung’s doing it, the last thing you’d do is regret it.”

Shoving him aside and ignoring the way he’d burst into a fit of giggles, you ordered your drink, and Lucas’ as well once he calmed down enough to point at what he wanted on the menu.

“Maybe you should text him and ask about when you can book him?” Lucas gestured to you with his drink, his leg bouncing absently as he looked around the small outlet, the group of high-school girls in their uniforms sitting next to your table giggling as he’d skimmed over their table.

“Do you think that’d be too much? Should I just ask Chan instead?” You glanced at him for a sign of approval, “but then if I ask Chan would it make Jisung think I don’t want him to do my tattoo?” You wondered out loud, your stream of thought proving to be fairly amusing to Lucas.

“Just text him, it’s not that deep,” Lucas sipped on his drink.

“Nah, you know what? I should just ask him later at home, I shouldn’t bother him when he’s at work,” you shrugged, earning a sound of dismissal from him.

“Texting him would be a lot faster, you know.”

You shot him a look, “why are you so insistent on me texting him?”

Lucas scoffed, “why are you so against it?” He shot back.

Giving him a look of feigned annoyance, you’d set your phone down onto the table, staring blankly as Lucas had turned it to face him, unlocking your phone and going to Jisung’s chat.

“How should I start? ‘hey baby’—”

Your eyes widened, about to snatch the phone back from him when he’d pulled it towards himself in time, shooting you a look of feigned confusion.

“What? Too mild?” He laughed.

Sighing as he calmed down from his laughter, he shook his head slowly as he typed out a message, “man, you’re so bad at this,” he murmured.

“What makes you say that?”

Lucas pressed something on your phone with finality, scrolling up as he showed you your previous texts with Jisung. Texts like:

1:09pm - dont eat my chips get ur own - or texts like

 10:11pm - keep it down! Im trying to study -

Jisung 10:11pm -well so am I!-

“All you guys ever text each other for is to ask each other to do things, how can you expect him to like you if you’re always telling him to separate his lights and darks?”

You took the phone back from Lucas with a huff, “leave me alone. And who said anything about wanting him to like me?”

Lucas looked as though you’d just asked him an obvious question, looking almost scandalised at your denial, “really? You went from ‘oh, I don’t wanna bother Jisung at work’ and ‘oh, heehee me and Jisung ate ramen together yesterday night’ to ‘who said anything about my big fat crush on Jisung’?”

You huffed, “that’s inaccurate.”

Lucas chewed on his tapioca pearls harshly, making sure you heard the smacking sounds of his chewing to unnerve you, shaking his head at you matter-of-factly, “it’s pretty much-what’s the word, ah! Verbatim. That.”

 You rolled your eyes at him, wondering how the high-school girls sitting next to you still managed to find Lucas an absolute dreamboat despite how intentionally ridiculously he was behaving.

The truth is, Jisung wouldn’t have cared if you’d ‘bothered him during work or not’. He probably would’ve jumped at the notification of your text.

After the night before, Jisung couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of comfort that flooded him at the thought of you. Finally getting enough inspiration to work on his song when he’d gotten home, even despite the pounding in his head and the sheer fatigue from the day that had passed.

Call him whatever you wanted, but Jisung couldn’t shake the feeling of reassurance he got with you, and it was a feeling he never thought he’d be experiencing as deeply as he did now.

From how familiar it was to hear your voice (even if it was asking him to fold the laundry), to how the smell of your perfume would awaken him on certain days, just in time for him to start his routine for the day. In small things, like how whenever he was looking for a break from work, somehow he’d find it with you.

He’d been working on his song for hours now, though he’d kept letting his gaze wander to the door in anticipation, wondering what was taking you so long to get home. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were still with Lucas, his imagination running wild with all sorts of scenarios that could have taken place to warrant you coming home so late.

Jisung brushed the thought away quickly after he found himself going to your contact on his phone, setting it down quickly as if it burned him. It was fine, you were an adult (he figured), you didn’t need him to hound you about a curfew.

Deciding to work on his lyrics for the song, he’d typed away on his laptop his ideas, his mind seeming to always gravitate to thinking of you as he read what he’d typed down.

Satisfied with the amount of work he’d gotten done for that day, Jisung had let his head lean back against the armrest of the sofa, his legs bent as he lay on his side, letting his eyes rest from all that staring at his glaringly bright computer screen.

You’d gone for a late-night movie with Lucas to end off your day, having gone home later than usual, though you didn’t mind. It wasn’t as if you had a curfew anymore.

You managed to reach your apartment as stealthily as you could, since the walls were really that thin and you didn’t want the old lady from next door to get on your back for being noisy when she was trying to sleep or whatever again.

Shoving your keys into the keyhole, you frowned when you saw that the lights in the living room were still switched on, spotting Jisung lying on the sofa with his eyes closed, his head lolling to the side as he dozed off.

Going into your room (in stealth mode, again), you’d set your things down quietly, deciding to take a shower and get ready for bed before anything else. Suddenly everything seemed to be a thousand times louder than you were used to. You were sure Jisung hadn’t been getting much quality sleep recently, so seeing him dozing off on the sofa had only made you want to ensure that his sleep continued uninterrupted.

Once you were changed into your sleepwear, you’d gone into Jisung’s room, taking a soft blanket from his cupboard and bringing it over to where he was, draping it over him till it reached his shoulders. You couldn’t help but find how peaceful he looked to be rather endearing, wishing you could do more but knowing there wasn’t much else you could do.

Jisung considered himself a good actor, because on the inside he was far from peaceful. He’d awoken at the feeling of being covered by the blanket, the back of your fingers grazing against his arm slightly.

His heart had fluttered, extremely, at the gesture, though something in him was yelling at him not to open his eyes, wanting to savour the moment for himself. It felt warm, a comfortable kind of warmth, the kind you would want to bask in for hours after being in the cold for so long. Something like a ray of sunshine.

Jisung was convinced he was going mad.

Switching on the lamp at your desk so that the living room wouldn’t be in complete darkness, you’d switched off the lights in the living room, bidding a silent goodnight to Jisung in your head before you’d gone back to your room, leaving Jisung dumbfounded.

===

“What did you say the song was called, again?” Chan had asked Jisung on Tuesday morning, looking at him with an endeared smile.

Jisung felt shy for some reason, pressing his lips together firmly as he averted his gaze from Chan, preparing his equipment as he waited for you and Lucas to arrive.

“Sunshine,” Jisung told him.

Chan huffed, his smile growing bigger, “I like that,” he hummed.

“What’s it about?” Chan asked, pulling his phone out to check for a text, “also, Lucas says they’re nearby.”

Jisung shrugged, “what’s it about?” He echoed Chan’s question, as if not knowing for himself either, something about him seeming fairly preoccupied, “it’s kind of hard to explain.”

Chan nodded in understanding, glancing at the way Jisung fiddled with the practice sketch he’d done of Y/N’s tattoo, twirling it around in his hands and anxiously glancing towards the door.

“Nervous?”

Jisung’s head shot up to look at Chan with wide eyes, “huh?…” he nodded slowly, “yeah, kind of.”

A small smile played at Chan’s lips as the boy had finished up the stencil for Lucas’ tattoo. “Is it because it’s Y/N?”

Jisung let out a nervous laugh, “yeah, duh,” he mumbled, “I mean, yeah, I’m nervous because she’s the one getting the tattoo but more like…”

Jisung shrugged, “I still don’t understand why she chose this out of all the designs I had.”

Chan raised an eyebrow, the jingling of the bells at the door followed by a loud guffaw of laughter signalling to him that the both of you had arrived.

“You should take more pride in your work,” Chan pat Jisung on the back, almost sending the boy stumbling with the sheer force behind the hit. Though Jisung couldn’t very well pay attention to the pain in his shoulder once he saw you with Lucas.

Lucas was quick to shove you towards Jisung, going over to one of the beds with Chan as they discussed the placement of the tattoo.

Jisung was almost uncharacteristically tense, leading you over to the station across from Lucas and Chan, holding the stencil up for you to see, “you’re absolutely sure you want this?”

You rolled your eyes, nodding, “yes, I’m sure.”

Jisung nodded slowly, albeit hesitantly, at you, “have you figured out where you want it?”

Lucas had perked up at that, butting into the conversation despite being across the room, “we were thinking between two places.”

Jisung hummed as he’d gone over to take the tablet containing a form for you to fill out before he got started.

You shushed Lucas quickly, accepting the tablet from Jisung with a nod of thanks, “yeah, I was thinking between here,” you gestured under your collarbone, “or here,” you gestured to your shoulder, just above your shoulder-blade.

Jisung nodded, “which do you feel more comfortable with? I think both are alright.”

“I was thinking maybe here?” You held a hand over the space under your collarbone, earning a nod from him.

“Alright,” he murmured, taking the tablet from you once you were done and quietly gesturing for you to lie down.

In your haste to get it over with, you’d almost completely forgotten about the placement of your tattoo, Jisung quirking an eyebrow at you and letting a huff of nervousness escape him.

“Sorry uh, I hope you don’t mind,” he murmured, pulling the collar of your shirt down to expose the area you’d wanted tattooed, making Lucas (who was watching intently) snicker from where he sat.

You’d felt heat creeping up to your neck, making you stretch your neck to look elsewhere, deciding to focus on the black pipes lining the ceiling, your shyness reducing your voice to a mere mumble, “yeah, sorry.”

Your nerves had built up even more with how tense Jisung was, even as he had disinfected the area and transferred what looked like a blue-ish outline of his sketch to your skin, making you almost want to writhe in your place with how nervous you were growing.

However, once you’d heard the buzzing of the tattoo gun, it was as if you were transported into your room, the familiarity of the sound making you less nervous, simply anticipating the pain that you’d associated with the tattoo to occur.

It was a wonder you hadn’t even been able to think much about the pain of the tattoo, though, because you were too busy trying to ignore Jisung’s proximity to you.

He was a stark contrast from Chan, who was making conversation with Lucas throughout the process, whereas Jisung had simply loomed over you, a tense knit to his brow and his lips pressed tightly together. Just by your expressions alone, people would have thought he was the one getting the tattoo.

This was only so because Jisung was struggling, with the smell of your perfume making him feel more awake than ever, and not to mention the pressure to make sure the tattoo turned out well that weighed heavy on him. Everything about you was so familiar, yet everything about the experience was not, and it was driving Jisung crazy with the amount of tension it was making him feel.

“Are you okay?” He asked, gauging your face for any sign that you were in too much pain.

You wanted to laugh, “This is like the fifth time you’re asking me that,” you told him.

“Can’t help it,” he told you, and you swore you saw his cheeks start to tint pink, “just wanted to make sure you were okay, you know…since it’s your first tattoo, and all.”

You nodded reassuringly, “it’s fine, just keep going.”

Jisung nodded, “I’ll be done quicker than you know it, I swear.”

You continued to distract yourself with the sight of Lucas across the room, Chan having to bring the needle back whenever Lucas couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“I’m sorry, It tickles,” you heard him tell Chan, making you have to stifle your laughter.

“Can I ask you something?” You decided that maybe talking to Jisung would help time pass faster (and less awkwardly).

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, shifting his chair slightly to get into a more comfortable position.

“How many tattoos do you have?” You asked, earning a long, reflective hum from him.

“I got a few in the time after college started, I would say about 5 or 6 now?” He shrugged, “and if you’re gonna ask me what’s their meanings…I don’t really know how to explain it, I just like the feeling they give me when I look at them.”

“I get it, it’s expression after all.”

Jisung nodded, his focus returning and making him let the conversation still. You didn’t like that, the feeling of awkwardness that returned with his silence, making you wrack your brains to find any sort of other conversation topic you could think of.

“Are you seeing anyone?” You wanted to instantly hide your face once you heard the words leave your mouth, Lucas turning to you with a wide-eyed expression.

Jisung sputtered, pulling the tattoo gun away from your skin, shaking his head at you.

“Uh, no, I’m not.” He narrowed his eyes at you, trying to regain his confidence in the situation, “why’d you wanna know?”

Now it was your turn to flush, averting your gaze, “oh, you know, just…curious, is all.”

Jisung smirked, “well, don’t go getting any ideas. I already like someone,” he told you, feeling as though he was dangling a carrot right in front of you.

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise, “really? Who?”

Jisung shrugged, “it’s a secret.”

You frowned, wanting to get back at him but not quite knowing how, deciding to go with the first thing you could think of, “well, I like someone too, you’re not special.”

Jisung hadn’t expected you to retort with that, narrowing his eyes at you, “wait, really? Is it Lucas?”

“Oh my god, no way, never.”

“Then who is it?” He met your gaze, making you stick your tongue out at him, mustering your best impersonation of him.

“It’s a secret.”

You had almost thought you were imagining things, but you noticed Jisung’s mood take a turn from there, seeming awfully pensive as he did the rest of your tattoo, the both of you having maintained a silence after your failed attempt at a proper conversation with him. He’d already begun to do the shading for your tattoo, so you figured he was really going to be done quicker than you thought.

You tried to distract yourself by glancing towards Lucas and Chan’s direction. Jisung could see you staring in their direction from the corner of his eye, wondering why your gaze kept travelling there when he was right in front of you.

“Is it Chan?” He blurted out, making your eyes go wide in shock.

Your smile grew, shaking your head, “no, definitely not.”

Jisung frowned, “who could it even be, you don’t even know that many people,” he huffed.

You sighed, trust you to fall for someone as oblivious as him.

“Do you want a clue?” You asked, earning a grunt from him.

“They’re very oblivious.”

Jisung frowned, looking as though he were contemplating, his tissue going over your tattoo slower as he thought. His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape in realisation, a gasp leaving him.

“No way, it’s not that Felix kid from your department, is it?” He looked as though he was hoping you would say no.

You fought to suppress the urge to roll your eyes, yet not realising you were smiling at him, “no, it’s not him.”

Jisung sighed, “oh, good. I know I always say I’m the best looking but he’s a lot better looking than I am, don’t tell him I said that.”

“Good?” You questioned, wondering why he seemed so relieved that all his options had turned out to be false. Jisung had realised he may have made things a little too obvious, shaking his head vigorously.

“Nothing, you’re all done, forget I said anything.”

He pushed himself away from you, his chair swivelling far back as he tried to calm the racing of his heart as you sat up and stretched, your body tired from being in the same position for so long.

“What time is it?” You asked, earning a grunt from Jisung, not knowing either.

Chan had chimed in from the other side, having been done with Lucas’ tattoo way before yours.

“It’s 4:24,” he told you. Jisung had been busy putting an adhesive bandage over your tattoo to pay attention to your reaction.

You spent 4 hours lying there and you only got like what, two conversations with Jisung? This was a new low, even for you.

 You were snapped out of your disappointment when Jisung had spoken.

“Uh… yeah keep this on for like three to four days?” He gestured to the bandage, your breath hitching as he hiked the collar of your shirt up so it wasn’t still dropping off your shoulder.

“You can still shower and everything so yeah…” he told you, reciting from memory after having been told this a thousand times by Chan.

You tried your best to pay attention, though you knew you’d probably forget by the time you were home, making him stand up mid-speech and walk over to the counter, pulling out a little brochure to hand you.

“Honestly, just read this, it has everything you need to know inside,” he told you, walking away briskly to compose himself at his station.

You’d made your payment to Chan at the counter, Jisung having pretended to be busy with cleaning up, making Chan flash you an amused smile.

“What?”

He shook his head, dimples appearing as he gave you your receipt, “You two are just too cute,” he huffed, earning a loud hum of approval from Lucas.

“Aren’t they?” The tall boy chimed in, making you scoff.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, bye,” you waved, seeing Jisung turn around to give you a wide smile before turning back around, practically collapsing onto the bed once you and Lucas were gone.

“Those were the most excruciating 4 hours of my life.”

Chan’s laughter could be heard as he made his way over to Jisung, giving him a pat on the back, “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Jisung let out a loud groan, “we were like this close!” Jisung brought his hand in front of his face for emphasis as he whined to Chan, “and I couldn’t focus at all I was so scared I was gonna screw up her tattoo because I kept zoning out,” he rambled, feeling as though his knees were about to buckle.

Chan shook his head with a feigned look of sympathy, looking at Jisung as though Jisung were his son, “I’m glad you’re feeling stressed.”

Jisung scoffed, shrugging Chan’s hand off of his shoulder and glaring at his mentor with a look of disbelief, “you’re glad? Aren’t you supposed to be feeling some sympathy for me? That’s sick, I can’t believe you.”

Chan wasn’t surprised at Jisung’s dramatic reaction, simply laughing as he shrugged.

“I’m glad because if you’re stressed, you’re gonna be pushed to do something about it soon. And then I can stop hearing you stress about it and just see the both of you together, instead.”

Jisung shot Chan a dirty look, “you’re mean, old man.”

Chan scoffed, “at least I’m not stupid in love.”

===

Jisung had been keeping himself fairly busy since then, the both of you having been busy with your own plans since the semester break had started. However, the both of you had somehow managed to enjoy suppers together, bonding over a (rather unhealthy) meal of snacks or instant food whenever it was late in the night and the both of you didn’t want to go to sleep just yet.

And speaking of sleep, you’d also noticed how Jisung had started to look brighter these days, seeming to have been overcoming that period of lethargy he was previously in.

Now, the brightness was heard in the songs he hummed, in how he smiled and laughed more whenever you were together. Even in how he'd started growing more comfortable with sleeping in the dark. You weren’t sure what exactly sparked this change in him, but whatever it was, you were glad it happened, yourself seeming to be all the more enamoured with this version of Jisung that had grown on you.

You’d planned with Jisung to have a day of celebration (or a pity party) once he’d submitted his song to Chan’s music producer friend.

Since you had work that day, you’d wanted to get up early to prepare breakfast for him, but you didn’t realise how late you were until you woke up and found that he had already left.

Making your way over to the kitchen to find some food for yourself after you’d gotten ready for work, you yanked open the door for the fridge, expecting to be met with all of Jisung’s snacks and cans of drinks that still had their post-its on them.

However, as you were scanning the fridge to see if you had anything you could eat, you spotted a different coloured post-it on a bundle of juice packets, peeling the post-it off of the packaging to inspect it.

‘y/n, I heard these are great to start the morning with, try them for me?’

You couldn’t help but smile, a hand coming up to your face to attempt to slap away the heat you felt in your cheeks, pulling out a packet of juice anyway.

You were starting to think the juice did have some sort of magical properties in them, because when you got to work, you’d been on drink duty, which was your favourite to do. Well, technically, anything other than cashier duty was your favourite but who’s keeping track here?

You knew Jisung's meeting with the producer was around the afternoon, so when Chan had shown up at the café alone, you didn't question it.

Now you were really glad you weren't on cashier duty today, giving your colleague more time to talk to Chan while he ordered.

"One strawberry smoothie for Chan?" you called to get his attention, seeing him stroll over to the pick-up point with a smile on his face.

"Sorry, Jisung's not here," he teased, sighing wistfully.

You scoffed, "yeah, yeah. I know where he is.”

“How’s the tattoo healing?” He asked, making your hand go up to your shoulder unconsciously, “It’s alright, looks really pretty now that it’s all healed.”

Chan gave you a thumbs up, opening the lid of his drink as he took a sip, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“Is he meeting your friend now?"

Chan’s eyebrows raised in confusion, “who?..oh,” he nodded in realisation, “yeah, just went to meet him. Honestly, if you asked me, he didn’t seem as excited about the meeting as he was to meet you for dinner.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “don’t put ideas into my head, old man.”

Chan simply gave you a shrug, “I’m not that old, you know,” he brought his drink up to his lips to take a sip, “and they’re only ideas if you’re in denial.”

You groaned, “go, begone, leave me alone.”

Chan giggled, nodding as his hand went up in surrender, “fine, I’m going. Have a good dinner later, Y/N,” he sing-songed.

Curse Chan for putting the thought into your head, now you couldn’t stop thinking about dinner.

Your shift only ended at 5:30, so that gave you just about enough time to go get groceries while Jisung prepared the things for your hotpot at home.

Deciding you would do what you were called to do, which in this case, meant to send Jisung a text wishing him the best of luck, you did as such.

2:31pm - hey, all the best for your meeting with the producer man!!-

Jisung’s reply had come quickly,

han jisung 2:32pm - thanks :( im waiting to see him now, I didn’t know there was gonna be a whole queue -

Setting your phone aside, you’d tried not to let yourself get too anxious while you waited for him to update you, busying yourself with washing dishes and even serving tables out of your sheer boredom due to the crowd starting to disperse at this time.

You waited, and you waited, you waited until the word ‘waiting’ itself felt weird to say in your head. You should’ve known better to have expected Jisung to update you over text, only receiving a text in the evening that read

han jisung 5:23pm - hey…i just finished meeting him…see u at the apartment?-

You’d texted him back, not knowing what to make of his text.

5:23pm - is that a good hey or a bad hey? -

Jisung hadn’t answered your question, his next text coming as more of a source of confusion for you.

han jisung 5:24pm - ill tell u in person -

“What happened? Is it Jisung?” Your colleague seemed to have sensed your inner turmoil, looking at you with concern etched in her features.

“Yeah, he told me he was done meeting the producer person…but he didn’t wanna tell me how it went,” you frowned, seeing your colleague hum in confusion.

“D’you think it didn’t go well?” She asked, mirroring your expression of uncertainty.

You typed out your reply to Jisung as you shrugged, “I don’t know, I’m hoping he’s just messing with me.”

5:26pm - my shift ends in like 4 minutes… I’ll go and get the groceries before I get back -

han jisung 5:26pm - okay, ill be waiting -

“All the best, then?” Your co-worker offered, giving you a look of sympathy.

“You too, enjoy the rest of your shift,” you returned her expression, sighing as you removed your apron, grabbing your bag from the back room before you left.

You’d tried your best to be quick in getting your groceries, making sure you’d gotten everything Jisung had told you to, your footsteps quick as you briskly walked to your apartment building.

Not knowing if it was because you hadn’t eaten in hours or if it was because you were just excited, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement in you, not so much because you were excited to hear how Jisung’s meeting went but more of because you were excited that you were going to see Jisung soon.

Finally reaching your apartment, you’d pushed the door open to spot Jisung coming out from his room, a towel on his head as he rubbed at his freshly-washed hair.

“Hey,” you breathed, a hint of a smile on your face, scanning his face for an expression as he glanced at you, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose cutely.

Jisung had a whole plan for how he was going to surprise you with the news, he wanted to wait until the food was ready and when the both of you were seated across each other in the living room, wait for you to ask him about how the meeting went so that he could pretend to be upset about it.

And just like he’d seen in the romantic movie Chan was playing in the studio the other day, he would wait till you showed concern to give you a smile and tell you the good news, already being able to imagine the smile you would give him in celebration.

But seeing how you looked, a little bit breathless from rushing, carrying groceries in your hands as you looked at him with a smile that spelled nothing but relief, Jisung couldn’t help himself.

“He offered me a job,” Jisung confessed, his grip tight on his towel as he let his hand fall limp to his side, any perfect, fool-proof plan of copying the romance movie now long gone.

Your eyes widened, setting the groceries on the counter as you cheered, “oh my god, that’s great! I’m really happy for you!” You cheered, practically running towards him before stopping yourself halfway, realising you were almost about to hug him.

Jisung noticed you stop too, tilting his head at you as his hands had already begun to raise to welcome you into a hug, hesitating once he’d seen you stop.

“Sorry,” you huffed, shoving your hands into your pockets, taking a step back to create some distance between the both of you.

Jisung smiled, shaking his head, “don’t be.” Shocking you with his confidence, he’d taken a step closer to you, his arms going around your shoulders as he pulled you towards him, his head leaning against yours gently as one of his hands went up to pet your head gently.

“You really helped me through it, believe it or not.”

Your eyes widened, trying not to get too carried away with the way his hold felt too comforting for you to pull away, thankful that he’d let go first, his hands coming up to grasp your shoulders.

“You hungry? The soup’s almost done.”

You nodded, “can I uh…take a shower first? I’ll be quick I promise.”

You didn’t wait for him to reply before you’d escaped to the bathroom, too focused on showering quickly that you’d almost forgotten about the hug. Keyword, almost.

Once you’d changed into a comfortable shirt and shorts, you’d practically jogged over to the kitchen, seeing that Jisung had already taken out the ingredients to thaw the meat and prepare the veggies.

“Wow, who are you and what have you done with Jisung?”

Jisung turned around at your voice, rolling his eyes at your statement, flicking the water from the veggies at you as you dodged, “figured I’d do something while waiting, you know, make myself useful.”

You huffed, a smile on your face as you gestured for him to continue, “well, don’t let me stop you.”

“So how did the interview go?” You asked, watching intently as he brought the platefuls of ingredients to the coffee table, stopping you when you’d moved to help him get the pot of soup.

“It’s okay, you go sit down, I’ll do it.”

You couldn’t help the impressed pout from your lips, not wanting to let on that the gesture had made your heart flutter.

Once all the food was on the table, Jisung had taken a seat next to you, the both of you starting to throw your ingredients into the soup, Jisung turning to you looking as though he’d wanted to say something.

“What was I saying before? Oh, right,” he nodded, “I didn’t expect him to be so intimidating, I nearly pissed myself when I walked into the room.”

You’d burst into laughter, Jisung laughing along with you, “I’m not even joking. Chan gave me a completely different description of what he would be like.”

You’d tried your best to calm down from your laughter quickly, seeing him take a piece of food from the pot and place it into your bowl wordlessly, choosing to ignore the gesture for the sake of your heart.

“But I’m assuming he’s not that bad? Since he offered you the job?”

Jisung let out a sigh, “yeah, thank god he did, I was a stuttering mess. Even Iwouldn’t have hired myself.”

You let out a chuckle, “you’re lucky he judged you based on the song, then,” you teased, earning a harmless glare from him.

You’d scooped some food into your mouth, looking up at him to see that he’d already had his cheeks full of food, nodding at you expectantly.

“So does this mean you’re gonna work on that producer guy’s team?” You asked, earning a nod from him as he swallowed his mouthful of food with a wince.

“Yeah, he said I could intern at his company in the holidays and if everything goes well he’ll give me a contract once I graduate.”

You let out a low whistle, “wow, imagine all the exposure you’d get there…all the different types of genres and artists you’d be exposed to,” you marvelled, Jisung finding it amusing how you seemed more excited about it than he was.

You perked up in realisation, “speaking of which…I realised you’d never let me listen to the song yet.”

Jisung flushed, shaking his head, “did I? I swear I did,” he lied, making you shove him, a smile showing on his face as you did, nodding in surrender as he grabbed his phone from the coffee table.

“What’s it called?” You asked, seeing him nudge his glasses up with his knuckle, shaking his head to flick his hair from his eyes.

“Sunshine,” he told you quickly, not wasting anymore time and playing the song.

As he started to play the song, you were surprised at the light sounding melody the song had started with, the sounds of the city that he’d put inside, the feeling that you were…at home?

“Don’t look at me when you’re listening to it, I’m shy,” he brought a hand up to cover your face, making you yelp, your hands coming up to grab his wrist, pulling it away slowly as you grew more focused on the song, recognising his voice as he sang.

It wasn’t a love song, thankfully, you realised. You realised that the song revolved around a certain feeling of calm, with themes of getting away from the busy nature of your life and taking time for yourself, something you realised you and him both kind of needed.

You listened until the song had ended, looking at him with a big smile on your face, a smile that made Jisung want to cover your face in fear that it would make his heart burst with how giddy he felt.

“I love this,” you told him, “can you send it to me?”

Jisung scoffed, “no way, how do I know you’re not gonna sell it before I can get it copyrighted?” he huffed, leaning forward and resting his elbow on the table to support his head on his palm.

“I’m really impressed, how’d you get the inspiration to do this?”

Jisung shrugged, “my own life I guess, and the people that helped me get through that weird period of creative block that I was in,” he murmured.

You nodded, “well, whoever they are, you should thank them for me.”

Jisung nodded, facing the television as he contemplated in his heart whether to do what he wanted to do, turning to you with a small smile on his face, he nodded slowly.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Your eyes widened, not knowing what to make of his words. The song had started to repeat.

Jisung had shook his head, “I’m not just saying this because I like you or whatever—” he stopped himself with a small curse, “shit, that was not how I planned on telling you. Whatever, as I was saying…” he trailed off, his gaze landing on your tattoo, the neck of your shirt having started to slip off your shoulder slightly.

“Honestly, I really hated that drawing,” he told you, your gaze following his to look at your tattoo, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

“This? Why? But it’s so pretty,” you insisted.

Jisung shook his head.

“It was my first design, and I wasn’t…you know, I just didn’t think it was that impressive, and all. Chan had told me to keep it in my portfolio but I was really close to just removing it.”

His gaze shifted to anywhere except your face, distracting himself by looking at the various things in the house, his gaze landing on the rainbow-coloured umbrella at the door.

Jisung sighed, shifting in his seat so he was leaning against the sofa now, his body angled towards you, making you unconsciously shift your body to face him as well, your breath hitching in anticipation for what he was about to say next.

“But then, you said you wanted it tattooed, and I honestly didn’t want you to get it but I had no choice, you know, blah blah customer’s preference first and all that bullshit,” he waved his hand for emphasis, “but then after I saw you with the tattoo more, I guess my perspective started to change? I mean, like, you kept insisting that it was so beautiful and all that..you know, seeing you with it kind of started to grow on me.”

Jisung paused, his gaze on a corner of the coffee table as he tried to find the right words to express how he was feeling, shrugging at you and just deciding to say whatever was at the top of his head and work from there.

“I guess it kind of made me love my work more, and like, trust myself, you know… because I realised how beautiful it could be.”

You looked at him wordlessly, your heart picking up speed at the tension in the room, something in you urging you to stand up, making you get up on your feet with no aim in mind.

So as not to look like a complete fool, your hands flew up to hug your arms, “oh, it’s a little um, chilly. Be right back,” you sprinted to your room, reaching in your cupboard for your hoodie and putting it on without a second thought, too preoccupied to notice how it stopped at your thighs and how the sleeves bunched up more.

Returning to the coffee table, you’d almost regretted your decision to put on the hoodie, feeling utterly warm from how flustered you were, especially with the way Jisung was looking at you with a hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

“Sorry,” you murmured, averting your gaze as you tilted your head down, not expecting Jisung to tilt his head down as well so he could search for your gaze, making you scrunch your eyes shut, wrinkling your nose as you let out a huff of laughter.

“You can reject me, you know. I remember you said you already liked someone,” he told you, and Jisung meant it, not wanting anything but to make sure you were okay, and happy.

You shook your head, “I don’t want to,” you murmured, finally daring yourself to meet his gaze, your heart skipping a beat when you saw the way Jisung had smiled.

“I can’t say I’m not happy to hear that,” he told you.

Jisung had brought his hand up, lazily removing his glasses and looking at you finally, since now the other things in the house weren’t as clear in his vision, all that was important being that you were right in front of him, and he could see you clearer than anything.

“Why’d you take your glasses off?” You murmured, seeing him shrug, giving you a lazy smile.

“What? You scared I didn’t wanna see your face?” He teased, the flush on your cheeks making him give in almost immediately, “I’m kidding. I just didn’t feel like being distracted anymore.”

Maybe it was the atmosphere of the living room, or the lingering feelings the song had left in you, maybe it was even the way you felt like you were finally getting what you were waiting for.

Whatever it was, there was an overwhelming feeling of giddiness in you, especially with the way Jisung’s gaze had flickered between your lips and your gaze, and yet he’d made no move to lean closer to you, as if he was expecting you to move first.

Leaning closer, you’d let yourself glance down, getting distracted by the stain of black ink on the sleeve of your hoodie, only realising then that it wasn’t your hoodie.

“Shit, sorry I’m wearing yours by mistake again, it must’ve gotten mixed up,” you murmured, knowing it wasn’t your week to do laundry duty.

Jisung stopped you before you could stand up, pulling your hand forward so the only thing stopping you from losing your balance was his grip on your arm.

“I never thought I’d be saying this but, you can wear it.”

You’d sworn if your heart were any weaker, you wouldn’t have been able to last this long, Jisung seeming almost teasing with the way he’d inched closer at a painfully slow pace, so his lips were barely touching yours.

Just before he could pull back, you’d groaned in frustration, bringing your free hand up to cup the side of his jaw, meeting your lips with his.

And there it was again, the feeling of relief that washed over, knowing that this was very much happening, and that you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Jisung pulled away first, his pupils blown and his eyes giving away his surprise, huffing at you and folding his arms, increasing the distance between you.

“I’m only realising this now, what do you mean I’m oblivious?”

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll explain it again later, I swear.”

Jisung huffed, more dramatic this time, making sure you sensed his sulkiness (as feigned as it was), looking at you with a pout on his lips, “give me a kiss and I’ll forgive you.”

He puckered his lips, making you roll your eyes, though you didn’t hesitate to cup his face again, pressing your lips against his as your thumb brushed over his cheek gently, pulling away before he would’ve wanted. You couldn’t help yourself from laughing at the way he’d leaned forward, chasing your lips, frowning at you with a soft sigh when you’d straightened up.

“Can we eat now? The meat’s getting overcooked.”

===

lucas 11:30pm - dude I told u it would work if you smiled at him more cant believe u didnt believe me smh -

1K notes · View notes