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fayeimara · 3 years

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Suna Rintaro || Two of Hearts

*Song Scenario | Inspired by Two of Hearts by Stacy Q*

PAIRING. Suna Rintaro x you

GENRE. Fluff <3

WARNINGS. Incredibly suggestive, sexual innuendos & references, swearing, drinking

Ah- Ah-Ah-Ah- I need- I need you...

Low, provocative music filters through the lush backyard of your house, mixing into and around the louder cadence of chatter. The space is relatively private due to the large trees bordering your parents' property and provides the perfect setting for your small get together.

The boys and girls volleyball teams have gathered on an unusually warm evening to celebrate the end of their respective seasons, but for Suna Rintaro, the draw is something more compelling and far more complex than a casual night to finally let loose.

Looking up to observe the slow darkening of the sky, the middle blocker leans back against the low stone fence that separates the in-ground hot tub from the walkout patio. Keeping an eye on the stars instead of following his instinct to seek you out from among the group around him, Rintaro contemplates what exactly he's doing here tonight.

The game of cat and mouse between the two of you has built a certain tension, spilling over into your day to day interactions. Having grown closer as friends the last couple years, neither you nor Suna can pinpoint exactly when the dynamic changed but it's as undeniable as it is unspoken.

The hypnotizing melody of the song currently keeping him company amidst the usual bickering between the twins spins around him but as the chorus flies out, Suna hears the scrape of a screen door and can't stop himself from looking across the tiled patio to meet your eyes as you step out from inside the house with a red solo cup in one hand and ... a chuupet in the other.

Ignoring the warmth that spreads across his chest in time with the thundering of his heart, Rintaro simply tilts his head in reaction, eyeing you as you approach him with a smirk on your face.

"I figured you deserved a reward for keeping these two company while I placed our order for dinner."

Even as his piercing eyes narrow and remain on you in a penetrating stare, the smallest quirk of his lips is enough to tell you he appreciates the gesture, as he extends his hand out to meet yours in the space between you.

Ignoring the jitters of both nerves and excitement churning through your body, an anticipatory feeling you're now well used to whenever he turns that discerning gaze your way, you nonchalantly hand over one of the many jelly sticks you'd bought specifically with him in mind. Neither of you comment on the pause as your fingers brush together and linger for a moment that stretches in silence, where only you two exist, carved out from time.

Osamu's voice cuts through the moment with a bored tone as he ignores his brother's last words to him in favour of turning to face the two of you instead. "If you two are done, can we get back to everyone else? It's definitely someone else's turn to deal with this dumbass."

You and Suna both retract your hands back to your respective spaces without a word, you turning to 'Samu with a sudden, playful grin, "Oh yeah, and who's going to deal with him if not you?"

"Angel?! Where's my treat?" Atsumu's outraged query slips out more pouty than he probably intended and you fully intend to ignore it. He's comfortable enough in your home to grab his own preferred snacks after all. You do keep them stocked, as well, for both him and Osamu.

"That would be you." 'Samu's delayed answer to your own interrupted question is threaded with relieved amusement.

One of the pretty generous perks of being your best friends is that the twins get to fob each other off on you when they're each too overwhelmed with the other's antics or behaviour. Joy. But you signed up for this, didn't you?

Suna stays quiet during your interaction with the twins, stepping up to follow behind you as you move to the gate that separates the patio from the hot tub and pool, twins falling in behind him. Pushing off the cool tiles of the patio down to the previously sun-warmed stones, you grin at the calls from the rest of your guests, faces turning your way as the volume rises slightly with friends calling out about the antics you missed in the mere minutes you were gone.

Rintaro hasn't looked away from you, watching the gentle sway of your hair as you walk in front of him, the breeze catching strands and lifting them lightly in the air to dance around with abandon. Stopping suddenly with his chuupet clutched in one hand, Suna shoves the other into the waistband of his shorts, quelling the urge to reach forward again, this time to capture the playful locks and slide them through his fingers before ending in a tug that calls your attention back to him.

Atsumu provides a momentary distraction, brushing past him to race over to the others in the adjacent pool, tossing himself in the air with complete abandon before pulling his knees to his chest and dropping like a bomb into the water. Or a cannonball, supposedly, but it lacks the form to be called so.

Suna looks back to you only briefly, catching the amused look you throw over your shoulder at him, likely in solidarity of the shared thought. That's one of the things that takes his breath away to this day, how for someone that outwardly seems so different from him, you always surprise him by understanding his thoughts to an exhilarating degree.

It was just fascinating at first, then eventually amusing and familiar, to seek you out for your shared humour, claiming space rent free in Rintaro's thoughts until you finally nestled in as his electrifying comfort. You were the one who would always be looking back without fail, reflecting his thoughts with just one look in those mischievous, enigmatic eyes.

Breaking the eye contact as smoothly as you caught it, with that wry smile still curving your lips, you turn back to your conversation with the others. Suna isn't in one yet thankfully, having stopped halfway to the pool, but he's sure something has to be coming his way from the way 'Samu has also quietly stopped by his side, so he looks over and raises an eyebrow at his best friend, who just obstinately mirrors the expression.

"I don't know what you're waiting for me to say." Osamu finally speaks, happily losing the silent challenge as his lips curl in amusement at Suna's carefully blank expression.

"Who said I was?"

"Then I guess I won't tell you how much more obvious the tension is lately. Like a string about to snap."

Suna turns his head slightly away to cast a disinterested look from the corner of his eyes with his response, "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

And with that, he starts to walk away, turning his head fully forward only to be caught in an incredibly rare moment of complete surprise to find you suddenly in his path, having left your conversation with the others by the pool at some point.

"What he means by what?" Your intoxicating smile aimed up at him freezes Suna completely in his tracks and words, a potent desire sweeping through him to just lean down and capture your lips with his.

Where Osamu was just about to silently step away, Atsumu is the one that steps in to break the tangible intensity between his two best friends, running up between you and Rintaro, soaking and slightly chilly now from his dip in the pool.

"Angel! The sun's almost completely set, let's hop in the tub!"

You back away with a light laugh, from where you had just found yourself rooted in Suna's path when his eyes locked on yours with heated intent. You're still holding his gaze as you answer the setter, "Sure, 'Tsumu. Remove the cover will you?"

"Of course! 'Samu, Suna, c'mon!"

This time it's Rintaro who looks away, slowly and keeping steady, probing eye contact with you until he's fully turned away, to walk the few steps over to the hot tub. You watch as he crouches down and literally single-handedly tosses back the tub's heavy cover with a droll look aimed at Atsumu who just shrugs in that careless, single minded way of his.

Osamu simply stands there, arms crossed and eyes rolling upwards before looking back at you in a silent request to take pity on him. Right, you were supposed to spare him from his brother's exuberant energy for a bit.

With another laugh, this time at all of them, you walk up to join your friends, stepping up to the edge of the tub at Suna's side, close but ever so careful not to do more than lightly brush against him. You're addicted to this thrilling feeling, the way your heart races and skin tingles with electric heat.

You enjoy the rush as the four of you adjust the various controls to set the hot tub up just right for a relaxing soak, adding in the various scented salts that you've finally managed to get them to appreciate as the wonder they truly are for overworked muscles.

Several other friends either hop out of the heated pool or move from their comfortable seats by the poolside firepit to join the four of you, until there's eight in total. Perfect for an eight-seater tub, coincidentally.

While you quickly tie your hair up in a bun to keep it from swirling and tangling in the water, Atsumu ignores the steps down to the floor of the tub and just hops lightly in, somehow avoiding too much displacement of the water and managing to slip right in without a big splash.

Your eyes seek Suna's in amused bewilderment, thinking of 'Tsumu's much bigger splash earlier, and find him smirking back at you, completely in sync. It continues to take your breath away, this likeminded connection with someone seemingly so different from you.

Preoccupied with these thoughts, when you slide down into the heated water of the tub, you find your side also sliding against Suna, sensations alternating with the switch between fabric and skin until you're fully seated. Fighting your blush at the skin to skin contact, you can't resist the compulsion to glance up at him briefly only to find his gaze on you yet again. He doesn't say a thing, however, so you end up anchored to your spot, feeling more and more lightheaded every time one of you shifts but sure he'll catch on if you move away even a little now.

Suna, on the other hand, has never had to fight so hard to keep his expression neutral as the effort he's currently making. The urge to slip an arm around your waist and drag you even closer still, to tilt your head up and press his lips to yours, or even just to pull you over his lap and hold you to him with his face buried in your soft neck. Nothing he can do surrounded by so many people, especially when the two of you are 'just friends'.

Then, Ginjima, one of your other friends but also Suna and the twins' teammate, walks up to ask if there's room for one more in the tub and somehow, having stood in the shuffle to accommodate him, you end up pulled back on Atsumu's lap, the same seat by Suna's side that you'd occupied before now shared by you both.

The middle blocker finds himself clenching his jaw in painful resignation of his late reaction, reminding himself that not only is the setter your undeniably platonic friend but his own close friend as well, even if he did offer to move much too quickly.

At this point, as Suna is debating the merits of simply yanking you away to the only place you should rightfully sit, someone, probably Atsumu, decides to start in on a discussion about boys and girls, and what each likes in the other. You don't know what kind of questions might come your way but you're curious to hear your friends' answers, particularly one typically reserved friend.

It's Gin, now sitting across from you, that asks Suna about his preferences in a girl, teasing implication in his carefully worded question. Careful not to look either too interested or too disengaged to be natural nonchalance, you notice that, for once, Rintaro's not watching you but making steady eye contact with the wing spiker instead.

With a casual shrug, he answers, "I dunno. I guess it's cute when their hair's all tied up in that messy bun."

You make a concentrated effort not to raise your hand to your hair, smirking at Suna instead while you wait for him to decide who'll answer his question next. Somehow, you're not surprised when his eyes slide over to you, happy to have his gaze meeting yours again, even though your heart races at the intent in his eyes.

You know what it's going to be even before he asks you- "What do you like in a guy?"

It's likely your projection, but the night seems to get quieter, stars peeking out above you to watch what feels like a monumental moment, as everyone in the hot tub waits for your answer.

Raising an eyebrow as if in pensive thought, you briefly sift through what you can and shouldn't say in reply before the time seems to stretch too long to be normal and you decide on, "I dunno. I guess it's cute when they're all confidently direct."

His smirk is slow to appear, melting across his lips as if he's carefully analyzing the truths and hidden depths to your words and coming to his chosen conclusion.

"What a cop-out, princess." His hand rises from the water, droplets running back down his wrist and arms to their domain, as his forefinger meets his thumb to flick your forehead in retaliation but you're already angling your face away as you reach up to intercept him.

You end up grabbing his hand just before he can connect, giving him another arch look as you force his hand back down below the water, aware that if he'd really wanted to catch you off-guard, your reaction would have been much too late.

Everyone is watching, some chuckling at the quick exchange, and because you need the attention to divert as soon as possible, you look over your shoulder to narrow your eyes on Atsumu and challenge, "What don't you like in a girl, 'Tsumu?"

He throws his head back in laughter at your twist, arm flexing around your waist as he traps you down to harshly poke your side in subtle retribution, before he meets your eyes with his own burning with indignation at your implication and responds, "I can't say, Angel. I haven't been able to take my eyes off you long enough to tell."

There's a slight brush against the back of your hand under the bubbling water, but you think nothing of it as you roll your eyes in response, with enough exaggeration that everyone can read your genuine disbelief as if it weren't already radiating from your very core, "Right, or you're just a smooth talker that can't admit you're an extremely picky perfectionist."

"Or that." He agrees with another laugh as you dig your elbow back into his stomach as penance for putting you on the spot like that, but he ignores your literal jab and turns to his brother to throw your twist in the question his way.

You're actually curious to hear what the less talkative of your two friends has to say about his dislikes, but your attention is immediately drawn away when you feel yet another brush on the back of your hand and it's as if a spark lights and sets ablaze in your lower belly when you realize it's the textured pad of Suna's thumb.

If anyone chooses this moment to speak to you or ask you a question, there's entirely no way you'll be able to form a coherent answer because your brain is short-circuiting as you realize you're still holding Rintaro's hand under the water, having never let go from when you grasped it before. But... he hasn't pulled away either. No, instead he's rubbing small, maddeningly slow circles on the sensitive skin where your thumb meets your first finger.

It's all you can do to keep your eyes trained on whomever seems to be talking, focusing on keeping your breathing even and quelling any involuntary responses from your sudden awareness. Trying desperately not to unintentionally twitch or shift your hand, not until you can absorb the consequences of this new development, born from one too many bold actions.

If Suna's aware that you've caught on and yet continue to hold his hand, you'll both be crossing into unknown territory. But with your awareness, and likely sudden stillness, how could the perceptive middle blocker have not noticed?

With a calculated move, you lean further back into Atsumu - trying not to blush at the realization that you're sitting on one best friend's lap but completely drowning into the connection to other beside you - and you tilt your chin to glance up at the only one that can hold your thoughts hostage in a binding way. Even though you expect it, you're caught by the knowing look in his eyes when you find him already watching you back, both of you falling deep into the acknowledgement in each other's gaze.

You've clearly missed something though as the volume gets louder and your attention is pulled away, making the conscious choice to nonchalantly slip your hand from Rintaro's as you lightly lean forward again when Atsumu shifts.

"Of course, I can! Look, I'll show you right now!"

And before you know it, you're lifted up by the waist only to be deposited onto the only seat you really wanted, back when you had to move previously. Your entire body is thrown to havoc as, this time, its Suna's toned arm that curves around your bare waist, sliding against your sensitized skin and pulling you firmly to settle back into him without a single word.

You can't even comprehend that while Atsumu might have, quite literally in a sense, tossed you into the fox's den, there's nothing more alluring then the possibilities for how this can end. So you allow your tension to slip away as you relax back into your friend, whose thumb has now resumed its too recent pastime, except with new patterns played on the delicate skin of your waist and stomach.

When Rin speaks, you can quite literally feel the rumble in his chest, like the earth shifting and tilting you off balance with small tremors of sensation, to the point you almost miss his question, "What's that about?"

Suna supposes he should expect the look both 'Samu and Gin throw his way. Of all the people here, he's the one least likely to be unaware of what's been building right in front of him. But how can they fault his distraction when the reason for it is such an appealing temptation, and one he's now finally able to hold in his careful grasp, especially when he almost just felt you slipping away.

Gin, taking pity on his friend's obvious slip, answers, "What do you think? He's trying to prove that at least one person here won't name any traits of his as a personal dislike."

"Wow, he really likes a challenge." You let out a light laugh as you shift to look at Rin behind you, his smirk matching yours but something entirely different in the piercing light of his eyes. At this point, the two of you are already hopelessly transparent, so everyone politely ignores it when neither of you pull back to make further conversation.

Instead, when Suna speaks again, it's addressed directly to you in a low tenor, "Who doesn't?"

"I thought that would be you, no?" You're quick to reply with a teasing look at him.

His arm tightens around your waist before his next words, "I bet I can prove you wrong."

Your smile drops slowly as your mouth opens and then closes, searching for the words that have chosen to desert you. Rin just watches steadily, patiently waiting for your decision but filled with relieved elation when your hand finally rises to rest on his chest, resting just over his speeding heart.

Your next words almost trip over themselves with the sudden desire to reach his ears when Atsumu bounds back up to the tub, challenge momentarily forgotten because- "Dinner's here!"

The spell breaks as you tug both your gaze and your hand away, almost jerking in reaction as if you've somehow fused into him and need the extra force to separate from the magnetic pull.

You lift up quickly from the water with a cheerful excuse that you'll return shortly, avoiding the sardonic arch of Osamu's eyebrow and Atsumu's narrowed eyes. You can't even force yourself to meet Suna's gaze again just now.

Once you've put enough distance between you and the hot tub, you're able to finally dispel the building pressure and tension with a long, slow exhale, grabbing a fresh towel from the deck box to wrap around yourself before heading into your house.

Suna tilts his head back up to the stars, questioning if they're simply curious observers or maybe even mocking meddlers with timed disturbances, as he rubs his thumb against his now empty fingers. Missing the weight of your hand in his, pondering the perfect fit of your frame to his, and committing the silk of your smooth skin to eternal memory.

Fuck it. I don't want the memories.

Harshly lifting himself out of the water, he ignores his friends' questions and, without overthinking it for once, follows restlessly in your wake.

You've already directed the deliveryman to leave the takeout containers on the entryway table, paying and tipping him generously before locking the door behind him, when you hear the door to your backyard open and shut across the open space behind you. Thinking it's likely 'Samu, offering to help with the food so he can get to it faster himself, you're already gesturing towards the takeout boxes as you turn to face him.

You have only seconds to see Suna, dripping with water left in a careless trail behind him, before he's towering right in front of you. In a swift move, he curves his arm back around your waist to pull you up against him before capturing your lips with his.

The credit card in your hand drops to the floor with a faint clatter as everything fades around you except for the feel of Rintaro's mouth moving against yours, his arms tight around you as you melt into his demanding kiss. One of his arms loosens, hand sliding up along your spine before you feel a tug on the tie keeping your hair up in its messy bun.

As the strands escape to flow down your arched back, he captures them in a new constraint, leveraging his fisted grip in your hair to tilt your head and deepen the kiss. You find yourself carefully maneuvered as he moves forward into you until your back is hitting the door and then you're trapped between it's hard surface and Suna's unyielding frame.

Your eyes have long since closed as you feel yourself falling apart in the middle blocker's relentless embrace, so you're caught entirely by surprise when a throat quietly clears, followed by a familiar voice loudly exclaiming, "I knew it!"

You and Suna draw apart, not suddenly but slowly instead, as if waking from an exquisite dream that you both desperately wish would keep you in its grasp forever. There's barely a shred of space between you two and you lock eyes with each other momentarily, his peridot gaze trained on you as you each work catch your breath.

You're careful to clear your expression before looking over at the twins both standing there in mirrored stances, and with ironically identical, unsurprised looks on their faces.

When no one else speaks, Osamu states calmly into the ensuing silence, "Don't let us interrupt. We just came to see if we could help with the food."

"I called it! Didn't I 'Samu?" Atsumu's voice is smug with excitement and satisfaction.

"You sure did, 'Tsumu."

You exchange another look with Rin, yours unreadable and his searching for something more, before you address the twins. Or try to, because it seems like you're at a loss for words yet again. Suna's effect on you, it seems, stealing your words, breath, and heart, all in a single move.

"Do they know there's water everywhere?"

"I think they do."

The twins have picked up the containers and are already walking away, you can catch the movement in your peripherals but you don't move to follow them, not with your eyes or your physical self. Rintaro's made the final move to change this game that you both have been playing long enough, the least you can do is acknowledge his win.

So instead of turning away as you've so gotten used to doing, you reach up instead to wrap your arms around his neck, drawing his lips back to yours in an unspoken concession. You don't see his exhilarated smile as it tugs at his mouth, no, you feel it curving his lips as they return to press against yours once again.

This kiss is softer, gentler, a luxuriously slow celebration of your two hearts finally beating in sync, together as one.

A/N: This... one got me so much. It's based very closely on one of my own experiences which might have been why it just had to be Suna. It also took me so long as I wrote it over many separate days, coming back to it again and again. And the quiet middle blocker just kept taking over. There are still so many thoughts and moments remaining for this scenario, going wild in my head every time I revisit it. So many things Suna has left to say or do... No promises but, I suppose this might not be the end after all.

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squirrel-moose-winchester · 3 years

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Officially

Title: Officially

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1108

Square Filled: Impala

Summary: You and Dean are on a drive. When Dean takes the wheels and you fall asleep, he uses that time to clear his head and make an important decision. (Gosh, I such at summaries.)

Warning: Fluff

Written for @spndeanbingo (round 2)

Disclaimer: All mistakes are mine. Gif by @frodo-sam. Check out her page! She’s a content creator for all sorts of fandoms! I’m sure you will find something you like and more! :)

A/N: OH MAN! It has been so long since I’ve posted a fic! I’ve recently moved and did not have access to internet so I couldn’t post any fics (which were all on my laptop because I like to write them out on Word Docs before actually posting). But internet is back and I’ve been writing! Woohoo! I hope you guys like fluff because this is nothing but that! :) Love you all. Continue to stay vigilant and be safe!

Dean was sitting in the passenger seat, allowing you to take the reigns this time, much to your surprise. Soft rock played through the impala with the volume down low, acting only as added background sounds.

With your eyes on the road and Dean fast asleep, there was nothing but content. Just being like this almost felt normal, like there wasn’t monsters running around killing people or demons and angels trying to rid you and the Winchesters of the world. It was nice. It was a well accepted change for once.

Baby purred smoothly, the sound enough to lull Dean to sleep, but it was the sound of something else that stirred him awake. He didn’t move his body as his eyes fluttered open, casting sideways to look at you. Your eyes were fixated in front of you, attention to the road, fingers lightly drumming against the steering wheel while you sang along to whatever song was playing. Your voice was soft, smooth, welcomed. It was in that moment of simplicity that he was happy to be alive, happy to be here with you.

Aside from the big wins with saving the world and the people he cared about, it was also the small moments like these that made his heart unbearably full. If he could, he’d stay in this moment forever. Just you and him on the unwinding open road. Soon, Dean fell back asleep to the sound of your soothing voice.

A few hours later, you and Dean switched places, giving you a chance to get some shut eye. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep. In fact, it took you all but forty seconds for you to knock out, hairline pressed against the window.

Taking a sudden hard right turn, your body shifted. “Shit,” Dean whispered, holding one arm to catch you, but he was a little too late, only able to slow and cushion your impending descent. Your head landed on Dean’s lap and your body quickly adjusted. You curled your body onto the seat with your feet bent and pressed against the door. Dean allowed his eyes to take in your form, a soft smile perching itself on his lips. God, did he wish you were his.

You were his best friend, the female adjacent to Cass. You had always been there for him, come through for him in a way that always surprised him. You were always on his side, no matter how stupid he was being. You were even bold enough to tell him like it is, giving him the tough love that was usually dished out by Sam. You’ve seen him at his best, darkest, and most vulnerable, and yet, you never looked at him any differently. He trusted you. You trusted him. Even Sam never second guessed you.

Finally reaching the bunker, Dean put the Impala in park however, he didn’t bother to move or wake you. He sat there in his beloved car listening to your soft intake of breaths. He didn’t want to ruin the moment, wanting nothing more than to spend more time with you. It was a little ridiculous considering he could have alone time with you in the bunker, but he just wanted to bask in this moment. He was in his favorite car with his favorite girl.

If life were different, and you two weren’t hunters, Dean could definitely live in this moment, although under much different context… If life were different, you’d be his girl, and the two of you would go out on drives just for the hell of it. Taking Baby and his baby out on the road just to spend some quality time. Damn, if life was different, he’d make sure this was how it would be. Not only that, but if life was different, both his parents would still be around, his grandparents too. Sam would come to visit on his breaks from Stanford, and you’d be wearing his ring on your finger. If life was different, Dean could have it all.

“Dean?” your groggy voice interrupted him from his thoughts. “We home?”

“Yeah, sorry. Didn’t want to wake you,” he half lied.

You stretched your arms and back, Dean’s eyes trailing over every curve. You were gorgeous. “What are you looking at?” you giggled. “Wanna help stretch a girl out?” you winked.

Fuck, he was lucky to have a best friend like you. Joking around, sleeping around, why didn’t he just make it all real? All he had to do was ask you to be his girlfriend. All he had to do was make it official.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind helping to stretch my girl out,” he suggested.

“My girl?” you teased. “What you talking about?” the giggle that followed your question was music to his ears.

“You know what I’m talking about. You… being my girl. Officially.”

A wide grin spread across your face. “Whoa, easy there, Dean. Baby might get jealous,” you cooed, grazing your hand gently over Baby’s dashboard. “She’s been your only girl for a long time.”

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m sure Baby wouldn’t mind. In fact, I think she really likes you. I mean, she let you drive her without complications.”

“Well, you know how it is. Us girls need to stick together.”

Dean smiled. “So what do you say?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “Baby, what do you think? Can you share Dean with me? I promise to take care of him just as good as you have.”

Miraculously, a popping noise came from inside the hood, the Impala cooling down. You laughed along with Dean, taking it as a sign.

“That’s my girl,” Dean crooned, kissing his steering wheel.

“In that case,” you started, crawling closer to Dean. “Looks like I’ve got the green pass,” you mumbled, lips barely grazing his.

Dean didn’t waste any time, pressing his lips towards yours. Inevitably, the kiss heated up quickly and you found yourself on Dean’s lap, straddling him. As layers of clothing started to come off, your ass pressed on the steering wheel engaging the horn. You and Dean separated with a gasp and labored breathing.

“Sorry, Baby. Y/N and I will take things inside,” his told the Impala, emerald orbs sparking with mischief and, what you would assume was, happiness.

“Yeah, sorry Baby,” you giggled, scrambling out of the car with Dean. Once out, Dean smacked your ass before you could take off running. You yelped, looking back at him playfully before dashing out of the garage and into the bunker.

“Thanks Baby,” Dean tapped the roof of the Impala before shutting the door and chasing after you.

A/N: Please feel free to reblog and leave some feedback. I would love to know your thoughts. Thank you for reading, and know that I appreciate all of you for taking the time to read the things that I write :)

#spndeanbingo #SPN Dean Bingo #spndeanbingo2020 #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fan fiction #dean fan fiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean fanfic #dean winchester one shot #dean one shot #spn #supernatural #spn fan fiction #supernatural fan fiction #officially #squirrel-moose-winchester

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unstoppableforcce · 3 years

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a long december

pairing: Santiago “Pope” Garcia x f!reader

masterlist

a/n: so she’s long, about 9.5k and I know that’s a lot but i really love it, i put a lot of heart into it and i don’t know, maybe i made it just for me but i really love it. WARNING of weed use, i’ll tag it but quite a few joints are smoked

also, the song is a long december by the counting crows !! enjoy, i really tried to get the vibe right so maybe listen while/before/ or after reading

I can’t remember the last thing that you said as you were leaving

The cold made everything worse.

With the haunting blood orange sun dropping just below the back treeline of his yard, he inhaled a deep breath of smoke from the burning embers of the small joint between his fingers, desperate to take his mind off the lingering pain of a day’s work which settled in his knees, back and neck. That didn’t even include the seismic rift running deep through his hollow chest.

The winter evening chill shifted from refreshingly brisk to painfully freezing in a matter of minutes as the sun disappeared but he held steadfast on the window seat in his bedroom, blowing his smoke out as the cold made its way in.

A blanket would make it better, turning the heat on, closing the window… he was too stubborn to bring himself to do any of it. The cold hurt but the alternative was worse.

He’d gone numb before.

After a string of bad missions, he couldn’t come home with the boys, he had to go somewhere else, somewhere where no one could see the way the shit piled onto his shoulders and weighed him down until it crushed him into cold and dark oblivion. There were drinks, empty bottles and spilled liquor… There was more too, more he either couldn’t remember or more he couldn’t fathom remembering. All he knew for sure was that he didn’t feel anything and that he hated it.

At least feeling the pain of his lingering injuries and the heartbreak tearing through him meant he was feeling something. All he wanted was to feel something.

Inhaling the next deep hit from the joint and exhaling it out the window, he found himself desperate for warmth, warmth that not even the burning bud between his fingers could provide him. He needed a blanket, he needed the heat turned on, he needed a body next to him in bed, wrapped around his body… That just wasn’t an option anymore.

You were gone. You had been gone for about four months now and it had been no one’s fault, but he was going to bed alone nowadays and the cold was becoming nothing but a familiar friend.

Fuck. He smashed the butt of his joint into the ashtray by his side and stood up as fast as his crying joints would allow, shutting the window and abandoning his empty bedroom entirely. The weed was for the physical pain, but his hollow heart needed something more. He needed liquor, he needed a blanket, he needed to turn the heat on and warm himself back up.

He couldn’t remember the last time he did a load of blankets though, his best bet was finding some in the laundry room but with each creaking step down the stairs, the pain got worse, doubling both in his weakened knees and in his chest as he walked down each dark, hardwood step. His laundry room was adjacent to his garage, one of the coldest rooms in his house, and as he shouldered open the door, he found it as much a mess as the rest of his house, spare the stack of neatly folded blankets atop the dryer.

It must have been the last load you did before you moved out.

Fuck…

It just hurt. It hurt so fucking bad.

Taking two steps into the room, he grabbed the first blanket off the stack and moved to make a hasty exit only to turn back at the sound of the stack hitting the floor in front of the machines. It wasn’t just blankets in the stack, there was a pair of his jeans beneath it, and a sweater.

Your favorite sweater.

The fabric of the sweater felt all too familiar against the cracked palms of his rough and calloused hands, the cream color of it appearing bright even under the yellow-tinted light coating the small laundry room. And the smell of it… it wasn’t just the fresh smell of his detergent, it was you.

The warmth it cascaded him with while his weak hands gripped tight to the thick stitching was not unlike the warmth he remembered you always filling him with. When you grabbed his hand and swung it between the two of you while you walked, smile shining brightly towards him whether it was just to your car or out for a date night. When you trailed kisses down from his chin to his hips, paying special attention to each of his jagged scars while your lashes fluttered against his skin. When you rolled over in bed, still half-asleep, and buried your head deeper into his chest, unconscious but desperate to touch him still.

He held it tight in his grasp, the blanket he had come searching for now the furthest thing from his mind.

It was one of your favorite sweaters, perfect for when the weather got cold like this, perfect for when you wanted to sit with him next to the open window while he smoked, or out on the porch while he worked on the yard, perfect for nights out and nights in… It was your perfect sweater and you had left it behind, folded into his blankets.

Given that it had been July when you left, he couldn’t exactly blame you for not remembering you left it with him, but it was nearing December and you must have needed it, you must have realized that you left it when you moved out, you must have--

You weren’t his to worry about anymore.

Even with the warm fabric gripped so tightly by his weak hands, he had to remind himself that you weren’t his to worry about anymore. It had been four months.

Nearly five actually, now that he really thought about it. Honestly, he had been trying not to really think about it, it never did him any good to get into it but now it was all that filled his mind even as the gentle lull of the weed began to calm him down.

His head filled with the thought of you, not in your happiest moment by his side, but in your saddest. The day you left…

He managed to pull one hand back from the sweater to rub his eyes as it all began flooding his senses, overwhelming his defenses. He could see the tears in your eyes as you held his hands and told him that the two of you could still be friends, he could feel his throat constricting as he agreed with you and stopped himself from wiping your tears away.

It hadn’t been anyone’s fault.

The guys didn’t believe him at first when he explained it like that, but there was no other way to describe it. No one cheated, no one broke the other’s heart, no one did something reprehensible or immoral or… there was no singular reason at all, actually. It had been piling up for the second half of the year the two of you spent living together and piece by piece, it just became too much. He didn’t blame you, you didn’t blame him, and the two of you steadfastly remained resolved in not allowing the other to blame themselves.

He loved you. He hadn’t stopped when you left and holding your sweater now, after months of denial, only made it worse.

He still took it with him though, as he threw his blanket over his shoulders and walked back out into the slowly warming atmosphere of his house. He didn’t know what to do with it, but he knew he couldn’t just leave it, he needed to get it back to you. He could pass it to Benny, get it to you without breaking his heart in seeing you again, it was only fair.

Leaving it on his kitchen counter, he quickly moved for his liquor cabinet, filling up the empty hole you left behind with smooth amber without a second thought.

He needed the cold to go away, he needed the warmth he hadn’t felt since you left, he needed--

The vibration of his phone on the counter next to your sweater stopped his thoughts before they landed him some place that was all too dangerous for him to end up in. It was a message, from Frankie.

Then another. And another, a trio in quick succession.

Are you coming tomorrow night? Will wants a headcount.

Are you alive Pope?

We haven’t seen you in a while man, it’ll be good to get out of the house

Tomorrow night. Benny’s birthday party. Right.

He needed a response. Or at least, he needed to start thinking about a response.

Frankie was right, it had been a while since he had gone out with them. After the breakup initially, the guys had tried to get him out as often as possible, saying ‘it’ll be good to get your mind off of things’ and ‘you’ve got to get back on the horse’. Santiago didn’t have the breath to argue with them, nor the capacity to truly explain what he was feeling, so he just went along with them. Besides, was there really a good way to say ‘hey, I don’t think it’s fair to date other people when I’m still not over the woman I planned to marry’?

But it was Benny’s birthday. There was no avoiding that. And if he was lucky, there would be too much party going on for anyone to realize he wasn’t having a good time.

So as he threw his blanket over his shoulders and collapsed back against the couch with his glass in hand, he sent a quick text back to Frankie before he could send ten more.

Yeah, I’ll be there

Frankie very quickly responded, as if he had been waiting by the phone for Pope’s response.

Free beer too

Free beer, a Benny-centric party, and this big fucking hole in his chest. What could go wrong?

If you think that I should be forgiven, I wish you would

Elite tactical mind.

That’s what his commander described him as. An elite tactical mind.

Well how elite is his fucking mind if he didn’t figure out that you were going to be at Benny’s birthday party? Not very elite.

You had been Benny’s friend first, Santiago had only met you when Will introduced the two of you at one of his fights, he had asked you out during Benny’s superbowl party. Every single sign was there for him to realize that you were going to be at Will’s house when he walked in that night, but his elite tactical mind just didn’t come to play when you were involved.

If it was socially acceptable for him to put his coat back on and turn back to the doorway, he would’ve already done it, but instead, he stood frozen in place next to the coat rack and it had nothing to do with the jarring winter chill. Whatever game was happening in the kitchen had you throwing back shots in time with Benny right at your side, then laughing brighter than anything Santiago had seen in months.

Four months actually. Maybe five by now.

The way your hair was styled was all the same, the tight fit of your black top highlighted every single inch of your beautiful body, he had torn it off of you so many times, he knew it well. But there was something light about you now, a stark contrast to the image seared onto the back of his eyelids of your somber disposition as you pulled out of his driveway for the last time. There wasn’t just a hole in his chest, there was a faultline that was still shifting, quaking, decimating--

Was it warm or was he just not breathing?

The cold snap of the free beer thrust into his hand accompanied by the firm thud of the harsh grip landing on his shoulder was just enough to send his breathing back to normal, and as his stare was pulled from the sight of you in the kitchen, he found both Frankie and Will flanking him. But there wasn’t much in terms of comfort there as their party faces faded to looks of concern.

“Oh shit…” Frankie cursed into the neck of his bottle as realization.

But Will was already a step ahead of him with the words Frankie couldn’t find. “I thought that you knew…”

He tried to shake his head, to wave it away as the first taste of beer met his tongue but as his stare found that of his two closest friends, he found their brows not just laced with concern but also with genuine sympathy. This was a party, not a pity-party but a real one, for Benny’s birthday… he wasn’t going to make a scene, he wasn’t going to ruin it or distract from him. Instead, he just waved his hands in a futile attempt to dismiss their concern and shook his head once more.

“It’s okay, I don’t know why I didn’t know…” he waved his hands once more, even if he saw it was having no effect on their concern. “It’s fine, I’m fine, let’s just play some pool and forget about it.”

Maybe he was putting a little too much faith in the healing powers of a game of pool but if he faced away from the kitchen, he could nearly forget that you were in the same house as him. He could nearly forget the seismic rift through his chest and the way it burned with each and every thought of you. Fish was kicking his ass, which was not the way their matches usually went, but the casual banter and laughter was helping.

Or at least, it was helping. It stopped helping when Frankie leaned towards him, rubbing the chalk on the tip of his cue and whispered, “She’s been stealing glances over here every few minutes.”

He missed his next shot pretty spectacularly after that. And it only got worse.

“She’s coming over here, Pope.”

He couldn’t turn himself around. He knew he should, he knew that you deserved a face-to-face, he wasn’t avoiding you, you hadn’t done anything wrong… he just couldn’t. Not until he saw Fish and Will retreat a few steps to offer the guise of privacy. You had to be right behind him, he needed to turn around--

“Hey Santi…”

Fuck. He even missed the sound of your voice.

The toes of his boots turned slowly, as if they were caught in thick glue, holding him in place, but the second his stare found yours, it was like he was standing on ice without skates, completely unsure of his footing.

“Hi,” was all he could muster out as his hands gripped tight to the pool cue in his grasp, nearly tight enough to draw his tan knuckles white.

But if you noticed, you didn’t say anything. Your hands just found your back pockets while your stare held his, neither one of you moving to break the silence at first, just soaking up the four months of difference between the two of you.

And then, both at once, you tried to break the silence.

“You look good--”

“I’m glad you came--”

Then a round of half-comfortable, half-uncomfortable laughter fell from both of your lips as you pulled your hand from your pocket and gestured for him to go first.

His throat was tight, pinching around the words as they escaped his empty chest, “You look good.”

He regretted them almost as soon as they fell from his winter-chapped lips, eyes falling to the wood floor beneath his boots as his head shook instinctively. He wanted to pull them back, to swallow them down like the beer he had been drinking heavily throughout the night, he wanted them to stop before they ever hit your ears but they were already out, lingering in the foot of stale air between the two of you.

Yet, with his eyes to the floor, he missed the way your half-smile shifted into something more comfortable on your lips, something more genuine. And as he tried to recoil back from his own words, you stopped him.

“I shouldn’t have--”

“No, no it’s okay…” you laughed again, this time with the warmth he normally associated with you filling the freezing air between you two, bringing his stare back up to yours. “Thank you, you look good too, it’s good to see you.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that, the sound bouncing around as an echo through his hollow chest before falling from his lips in time with yours. He most certainly did not look good, he owned a mirror, he knew that much for himself. Bags under his eyes, in desperate need of a curl-controlling haircut, wrinkled shirt, worn jeans and the same boots he wore wherever he was, no matter what he was doing… he didn’t look good, he looked like he normally did but worse. You looked good.

But he didn’t fight you on it. If he did, he’d have to admit exactly why he looked the way he did. He’d have to tell you that he looked as good as he felt and he didn’t need to weigh you down with that guilt, this wasn’t your fault.

So he curbed his laughter and easily responded, “it’s good to see you too.”

At least that wasn’t a lie, it wasn’t something he was saying just to be civil, nor was it something he was afraid to say, it was just what came out and it was true. It was like a breath of fresh air but freezing cold at the same time. It was good to see you, it would just make going home alone so much worse.

Thankfully, you kept the conversation flowing as if you didn’t notice the sad turn of his eyes.

“I’m glad you decided to come, Benny said he hadn’t seen you in a while and that you were debating coming tonight, and I thought it was because of me... I just... I’m glad you came, it means a lot to him.” You started off strong, but the longer you talked, the less confident you became in the words that left your mouth until you ultimately sounded as hesitant as he did, your stare dropping to your feet just as his had.

The civil thing to do would have been to reassure you that you weren’t the reason he had been distant with the guys recently, it would’ve been the truth too. If he was being honest, it was the overwhelming sadness he felt whenever he did the simplest of things that was holding him back, and yeah, maybe that had only come about because you had left but it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t. He wanted to be civil though, he wanted to be friendly no matter how bad it hurt, so he shrugged and offered a non-answer casual reply and hoped you went with it.

“I’m happy to be here for him, and you know…” he trailed off, reaching back to the table for the bottle that sat there, “the free beer.”

The laugh you gave him back this time wasn’t in anyways forced. It was familiar, it was genuine, it was a break through the civil front you put up and it was real. That had to mean something, right?

“Free beer, yeah well, it tastes like free beer so...” you joked back, returning your stare to his as you did. And though he didn’t want to read too far into it, it also seemed like your shoulders released a tension as you spoke, like you were relaxing back into conversation with him.

He couldn’t help but do the same, a genuine smile worming it’s way to his lips as he did. “Well, you’ve got a strange taste for expensive weird beers.”

“Strange taste? They’re good--” you chuckled as you tried to defend yourself but his laughter cut you off.

“None of them were good, not even that pineapple one you loved so much.”

“I loved it because it was delicious, unlike the shit you drink.”

“Well the shit I drink is free tonight, so I guess I win.” He continued to fight with another laugh, all too comfortable with the way it was flowing out of him when it was you on the receiving end.

He knew it was wrong to do, to get sucked back into your inescapable gravitational field, but he couldn’t help himself. Besides, it had been Frankie’s plan to get him to come out and forget you and even he wasn’t jumping in to stop him, so maybe it wasn’t as wrong as it felt like it was.

Maybe it wasn’t wrong at all, maybe coming out and seeing you again was what he needed to bring you back into his life, maybe that was Frankie’s plan, maybe--

“Where’s my partner! I’ve got a game to win over here!” Benny shouted from the kitchen as he moved with wide arms and a following crowd towards the living room. And as you glanced over your shoulder and made eye contact with him, it was clear that you were who he was looking for. However, as he saw you with Santi, he toned down his volume and gave you some sort of silent signal that you waved off.

“I should probably go deal with him…” you chuckled softly as you turned back to him, sticking your hands back into your back pockets nervously. “It was really good to see you, I’m glad you came tonight.”

“Yeah, good to see you too…”

With that, you gave him another smile and turned away, half-jogging back towards Benny and his obvious drunkenness.

“You okay, man?” Frankie quickly asked as he came back to his side, Will rounding the table to do the same.

He tried to wave them off, to dismiss the feelings bubbling in his chest and focus on the meaningless game of pool in front of them, and while the two lingering men clearly didn’t believe him, they knew better than to push it. There was nothing either of them could do to make it better, nothing they could say, nothing they could change, so instead, they gave him the distraction he was desperate for. They cracked a few jokes, lined up their next shots, and let him spend the rest of the night trying to forget the brief sense of warmth flaming in his chest when he was talking to you.

It was the first warmth he had truly felt since the seasons shifted.

The smell of hospitals in winter…

Not going to Benny’s fight the following week had been a conscious choice, not solely because he knew you would be there, but he couldn’t deny that it was a heavily contributing factor. The cold made going out worse, he had a long day at work and figured a calm night in would be healthier for him then a packed fight, and yeah, he didn’t want to see you so soon after Benny’s birthday.

He wasn’t proud of hiding, but it was better for the both of you. Or, rather, it should have been.

Just as a subtle pull of sleep was beginning to tug on his eyelids where he sat on his couch, alone, watching reruns of whatever crap cable show they were showing at 11 o’clock at night, his phone began to buzz beside him on the cold leather of his couch, just outside the blanket he had thrown over himself. He checked it almost mindlessly as his brain toed the line between truly awake and falling asleep, expecting to see a text from Will in their group chat saying something along the lines of ‘Benny won’ or ‘Benny lost’.

But the buzzing wasn’t singular like one message coming through, it was sustained, like a phone call, and the solemn voice on the other end of the line pulled a devastating sickness from his stomach.

It was Will calling. Benny had taken a serious hit to the chest, he had to be rushed to the ER. It didn’t matter that you would be there, he really had no choice but to be there for his friend, and that meant changing out of his sweatpants and rushing to the hospital with a bag full of clean clothes for the two of them, as Will requested.

Over the phone, he hadn’t really understood his request for the shirt and sweats for himself as well as for Benny, but as he walked into the ER waiting room and found the broad shouldered blonde waiting next to you and the small Santa teddy bear in your lap, he figured it out.

His shirt and jeans were covered in blood.

“Benny’s blood,” you explained as you stood up to greet him while he passed the bag of clean clothes to Will, “his nose broke too and he had to help the medic pull him out of the ring.”

It didn’t take long for Will to leave with the clothes to change, and even when he came back, there was a lot of paperwork there for him to sign, leaving Santiago with you in the waiting room, slouching uncomfortably against the plastic chairs in almost complete silence. The room itself had its own hum of noise; chatter from the elderly couple in the corner, hushed whispers from the mother and father trying to contain their toddler and keep their baby asleep in the carrier, the drunk college-aged kids on the far side of the room bantering back and forth… but between the two of you was nothing but cold silence.

Cold silence and a teddy bear wearing a santa hat in the seat Will had occupied between the two of you.

He just couldn’t take it anymore, the warm, stale hospital air was nothing but a small spark of warmth compared to the heat that naturally connected you to him and he was freezing beside you in silence.

“Why the bear?” The voice that came out of his tight throat was one he barely recognized from himself, strained from the hour of night and the exhaustion blanketed over him, so he quickly cleared his throat and repeated himself. “Why the bear?”

The somber disposition that had coated your face since he first walked in faded slightly as you looked up from your lap and toward him, a half smile coming to your lips as your attention shifted from him to the bear and back to him. “It’s December, it was all they had in the gift shop.”

“It’s cute, he’ll like it.”

“Yeah, I think so,” you hummed, shrugging your shoulders as he leaned back to turn more towards you.

With the silence broken now, it felt much easier to keep going as if nothing had changed in the past five months. “How was the fight, you know... before he ended up in the ER?”

“He would’ve won, but you know how he gets cocky, drops his guard…”

“He shows off for you,” Santi mumbled with another shrug and you slowly nodded along with him. He almost took it back, he had never been jealous or weird about your friendship with Benny, he knew better than anyone that it was nothing more than friendship. And you always knew what he meant… “I mean--”

“I know what you mean.”

You always knew what he meant.

After that, conversation flowed much easier. It was friendly, civil, and easy, catching up about work and mutual friends, day to day excitement, your mutual love for the local sports teams. Leaning forward on your elbows, cutting the distance of stale air of the empty seat between the two of you with an attentive stare, you followed carefully as he told the story of the night when Benny drunkenly broke Frankie’s wrist in two-touch football, long before Benny had ever met you, which resulted in a similarly long night in the ER.

It was just easy. As the conversation grew more and more effortless, he grew looser and looser, letting himself laugh, letting himself bask in the warmth of your full attention. It was a high he had nearly forgotten all about, going straight to his head and accelerating the beating of his heart.

He missed you.

Eventually Will returned, filling the seat between the two of you, but the conversation didn’t go cold, it just evolved. Naturally. Effortlessly.

Santi couldn’t remember the last time anything had been this easy.

And after another hour or so of waiting, the three of you were called by a nurse and pointed in the direction of Benny’s room where he laid, bruised, bandaged, and out of his mind of whatever pain medication they had pumped him full of.

He liked the bear. He really liked the bear. And even if every laugh that bounced around his chest and out through his busted lips hurt like hell, it didn’t stop him from letting them flow freely enough to erase all the tension that had held in the three of you out in the waiting room.

He was still Benny, and he was going to be fine.

Knowing that made it a lot easier to say goodbye once the exhausted nurse pushed back the curtain to remind the four of you about family only visiting hours. It was nearly 3 in the morning and the four of you were not exactly a quiet bunch, so none of you blamed her, you just walked to Benny’s side, pressed a kiss to his forehead and bid him good night as Santi gave Will a solid hug.

“Get home safe,” Will minded.

And both you and Santi responded in unison, “Will do.”

It was too easy.

So, of course, it could never last.

It had snowed since Santi had arrived earlier, leaving the scarcely lit parking lot covered in a disgusting icy grey sludge, and as the two of you stepped out into the cold, he instinctively handed his gloves to you as he watched you shiver and stuff your hands into your coat pockets. You were dressed for the hot gym having come from the fight, your coat was warm but giving you his gloves was just what he did, what he always did.

He didn’t even realize he was in the wrong until you turned and stared at them.

“Sorry, habit…” He sighed, taking them back and slipping them on himself while you stifled a quiet chuckle blooming out of your chest.

“It’s okay…”

The two of you couldn’t keep doing this.

Crossing the parking lot in silence was simple, it was just the two of you, no prying eyes, no facades, but it wasn’t always going to be like this. You were going to be at every one of Benny’s fights, you would be on any guest list for any party being thrown, there wasn’t a way he could keep avoiding you, it just wasn’t possible. The two of you were going to have to find some alternative to whatever the two of you were, some version of your relationship where you could be… friends.

That’s what you had said when you left his house for the last time, that the two of you could still be friends. He had thought it was just a nice gesture, something you felt you had to say. In all the mutual break ups he had ever been in, someone always said that to lighten the blow, just like you had, but now it seemed like a real necessity.

The two of you were going to be in each other’s lives, you had to be some kind of friends.

Again, out of habit, he found himself following you to your car, but the words falling from his lips were in no way practiced, tripping and stumbling out of his chest. “Do you think…”

Your boots stopped in the dirty, icy slush, turning to the sound of his rough voice cutting through the freezing air, waiting for him to finish. But as the next chilling wind blew past the two of you, making you shiver, he still hadn’t found the rest of his words so you took a step towards him and prompted him back. “Do I think what?”

He shrugged his shoulders tensely, “do you think… I don’t know, do you think maybe we could get coffee sometime next week? We’re going to keep running into each other, we should try to stay friends…”

Your smile was soft, warming the air around the two of you even as you shivered and wiped your hand under your freezing nose.

“Yeah… Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

His chest swelled with a feeling he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Another gust of wind tore past the two of you and you shivered once more, turning back to your car for a quick glance and then back to him, “Yeah, just text me and we’ll figure out a time.”

“Sounds good,” he hid his smile as best he could, taking a step backwards in the direction of his car across the lot. “Drive safe.”

“You too, Santi.”

Coffee was good. Coffee would be good.

He repeated that to himself a few dozen times as he clambered into his truck, his eyes trained on your tail lights as you pulled from the lot and back out onto the street. Coffee would be good.

Maybe if he repeated it enough times, he’d actually believe it. Maybe if he repeated it enough times, it’d actually be true.

I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower

It was a mistake. He should have just burned the stupid sweater.

Watching your face light up as you took the soft, perfect fabric into your hands tore his heart in two. Not right away, at first it actually sparked a raging fire in his chest, bringing an unfamiliar warmth to his cheeks. But that could only last for so long once he remembered that you weren’t his.

He was just a friend returning a sweater over a cup of coffee. A friendly cup of coffee.

You weren’t going to surge over the table and kiss him, he hadn’t bought your coffee even though he knew your order by heart, you weren’t going to go home with him once your mugs were emptied… you two were just friends.

He was just a friend returning a sweater. That was it.

“You know, I was looking for this the other day, couldn’t fathom where it ended up…” you sighed, hanging it with your coat over the back of your chair before returning to meet his stare with the same warm smile painting your lips. “Thank you, Santi.”

“Yeah, no problem… I found it in the laundry room, I was looking for a blanket.”

“It’s been freezing lately, I know…”

You easily carried the conversation away from any awkwardness pretty easily from there. It was strange to settle into, a relationship with you that was purely platonic, but after the first twenty minutes, the two of you actually seemed to be finding your footing even on the iciest slopes.

The two of you each bought your own coffees, and when you later decided you wanted a muffin as well, he didn’t step up and offer to get it for you, he didn’t even remind you that this shop had the cream cheese you liked in case you wanted a bagel instead. When you began talking about a particularly sensitive topic, he didn’t reach over the table to hold your hand, and when he tried to update you on Tom’s kids, you didn’t reach across the table for his hand either. When he kicked you under the table accidentally, he apologized, and when the waitress bringing your muffin very clearly flirted with him, you didn’t say anything and neither did he.

It was… platonic. Plain and simple.

Except he didn’t watch his friends this closely.

He didn’t notice when Frankie bit his lip and sip at his coffee to avoid overzealously laughing at one of his jokes, nor did his ears gravitate to the sounds of rhythmic tapping of Will’s fingernails against the table top.

There were rules to friendships. One of them being that you weren’t supposed to watch the lips of your friends while they talked, or the way their tongue darted out over the drips of coffee which stained your bottom lips after a sip.

He wanted to be your friend… he was just too in love with you still.

Your phone buzzing on the table was the final nail in the coffin because it never hurt when other friends said they had to go. Sure, he’d give a friend a hard time for quitting a party early or leaving the rest of the group, and sure, he’d miss their company, but it never hurt like this when they left. It never broke his heart the way it did when you shifted your full attention to the reminder buzzing on your screen.

“I’m really glad we did this…” you spoke almost absentmindedly as you began pulling your coat back on, him doing the same, pushing his chair back up to the table with his knee as his hand fixed his collar. “Thank you for suggesting it.”

“Yeah, I’m glad we did this too…” he sighed, his gloves weighing so heavily in his hands as he followed you out the door back into the cool winter air, not nearly as freezing as it was that night outside the hospital, especially with the bright sun shining down, not a cloud in the sky.

“I’m parked over here…”

He followed your finger and nodded, stuffing his gloves into his coat pocket, “I’m right in front of the pet store so…”

The two of you stayed shoulder to shoulder, walking along the sparsely populated sidewalk until you turned back into the neighboring lot, heading to where your cars were parked just a few spaces from one another. And yet again, without even thinking about it, he followed you to yours on instinct.

He didn’t know how to say goodbye to you, not in a way that was acceptable among friends.

This was where he would kiss you, wrap you in a tight hug and wish you the best for the rest of the day of work that you had ahead of you. That wasn’t an option here. Neither was clasping your hand in a tight handshake or hitting you on the back like he did with the guys, it just wouldn’t feel right, not with you.

He didn’t know how to not be in love with you.

“I’m going to hug you, is that okay?” You asked hesitantly as the two of you reached your driver’s side door, turning back to him.

He couldn’t help but laugh. Clearly he wasn’t the only one still trying to work his way through this blatant awkwardness. “Yes… yeah, that’s okay.”

Your arms quickly moved to wrap tight around his neck and his settled so easily around your waist and up your back, holding you tight against him. You were slotted perfectly against him, fitting in along every ridge of his body like a pair of puzzle pieces, warm and perfect. His hands immediately moved to hold you in even tighter too, purely out of genuine habit, one hand around your waist and the other up your back, almost reaching the bare skin of his calloused fingertips up to the warmth of your neck.

It was supposed to be a friendly coffee, now he was sure that if he turned his head, he’d catch your lips with his, incapable of pulling away.

There was another fire lit in his chest, one he knew he had to extinguish.

In the same instant that he pulled his hand down and almost off of your form, leaving them hesitantly at your waist, you did the same, pulling them slowly down from around his neck, lingering on his chest for a few seconds too long.

He was hopeful. Your face was as somber as he felt, and hope was a heartbreaking thing.

“Bye, Santi…” You pulled your hands the rest of the way back from him and maneuvered yourself out of his longing grip to step back towards your care as he got an equally weak goodbye out as well.

“Bye…”

Hope was a heartbreaking thing.

Makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her

The holidays had always been hard for Santiago.

The first December he spent in the service was the same December that his parents died, making not just that Christmas unbearable, but every subsequent Christmas as well. He spent his holiday season out of the country, away from his friends, away from his brothers, it was the only way he could survive until he met you.

And this was going to be his first without you.

Frankie had been kind enough to offer Santi a seat at his table for Christmas Eve, and had even gone as far as to invite him over for opening presents the next morning at the crack of dawn with his little girl while Will and Benny were heading to their family’s for the whole ordeal. As much as Santi knew he was more of a grinch than he was a jolly old man, he knew that spending alone in his freezing house was going to be hell.

He graciously accepted.

Yet, now he was here, watching Frankie bounce his little girl on his knee as she giggled, the colorful stuffed cat that Santi had bought for her gripped tight in her fat little fist, he was beginning to think that there was no good way to celebrate.

At home alone, here in the warmth of Frankie’s family, they were both bad for his heart.

“I was talking to Benny the other day,” the sound of the fridge opening and shutting shook him out of his thoughts where he leaned over the kitchen counter, mindlessly spinning his empty beer bottle around in his hand. Frankie was grabbing another for himself, scratching at the stiff collar of his nice sweater, and watching his best friend with genuine concern. “He says she hasn’t moved on yet either…”

“I wasn’t--” Santi quickly launched to his own defense but Fish just rolled his eyes and continued uncapping the bottle.

“He says he’s tried setting her up and she’s not interested.”

Santi scoffed into his bottle at that, trying for another sip and finding it as empty as it had been ten minutes ago when he used it as an excuse to step away from the festivities.

“I’m serious--” Fish defended but again, Pope scoffed, releasing the hot air deep from within his chest.

“Don’t do that, don’t give me hope like that.”

“It’s not fake--”

Frankie kept up his dismantling stare even as Santi tried to step past him, finally hiding behind the refrigerator door in pretend contemplation to avoid the daggers being sent his way. “We weren’t some casual fling Fish, we were serious, she’s just taking time.”

The refrigerator door ruse only lasted so long though, eventually he had to reach for one of the last beers and pull back out of the cool air to find Frankie’s awaiting stare. It wasn’t just concern laced in his stern brow, it was a flurry of emotions all jumbled together, as unsettled as his stomach felt even as he downed a soothing sip of beer.

“I’m just saying… there’s no sense in getting my hopes up like that.” He sighed again, his fingers nervously twitching at the label on the bottle again.

“I’m sorry,” Fish shook his head, leaning back against the counter as Santi took a similar stance at the island across from him, still tearing at the corner of the label. “I just… I just don’t like seeing you like this.”

“Yeah, well… it’s complicated.”

“You still have feelings for her?” Another scoff echoed out of his chest and Frankie immediately shot his hands up in surrender, “Alright, I get it.”

“It’s just… I bought a ring back in February, you know, it’s just… it’s complicated.”

Complicated was putting it gently.

He never stopped being in love with you, he never stopped even for a second to consider that he wouldn’t be spending the rest of his life with you, even when your fighting was at its worst. He couldn’t think ahead, he couldn’t go on dates, he couldn’t move on, it just wasn’t an option. Maybe you were stuck in the same loop he was, but that didn’t mean anything for him.

You weren’t ready to move on, that didn’t mean that you wanted him back. Getting his hopes up like that, entertaining any of the thoughts that flooded his head when you lingered on your hug after coffee, it was just cruel.

He hated the holidays. He missed you.

Last year the two of you had spent three days away from the world, locked away in a cabin up in the mountains, with nothing but each other and a warm fire, and the first night there was maybe his favorite night of his entire life. The pain from having been sat in a car for so long, even with you driving for most of the way to let him get comfortable in the passenger seat, was still debilitating, and as the vibrant sun began setting over the snowy horizon, he started smoking one of the joints he had somewhat illegally smuggled in his toiletry bag.

After the first few puffs of smoke, you joined him on the windowsill, bracing the brisk air that poured while he blew his smoke out. Your arrival had been silently sudden, your fluffy socks padding your feet and dampening the sound of your steps until you sat down across from him. Even as you sat, you kept quiet, never once taking your eyes off the dense book in your lap as you mindlessly bit at your nail.

There was nothing complicated about it, no words, no fighting, just silence and each other.

The holidays were good when they meant just you and him, snow and simplicity.

He got you to pull your stare from your book when he stamped out the embers that burned at the filter and leaned forward, seizing your lips. And as his hand found your chin, holding you in for a second, deeper kiss, you forgot the book all together, surging to your knees to hold him in a position that was better for his back.

“I’m going to make dinner… want to help?”

You nodded, your nose hitting up against his a few times over.

“I love you,” he sighed, stealing another kiss from you lips, “so damn much.”

“I love you.”

It had been a year. A year that left him in a very different place.

And it’s been a long December

Getting out of the house had gotten easier. He knew you were going to be there tonight, not just because his elite technical mind anticipated it but also because Benny, Will and Frankie had gone out of their way to remind him. And he needed to get used to being your friend, he couldn’t hide.

It was hard, hell, it was virtually impossible, but he was trying.

It was New Year’s Eve and he was trying.

The laughter was actually flowing from his chest when he forgot about the hole in his heart for long enough to immerse himself in the party atmosphere. The alcohol was helping, but it also hadn’t been lost on him that you were nowhere to be found yet.

The card game happening at the table covered in snacks and drinks was growing more and more heated, but minute after minute passed, and you still hadn’t arrived yet. The hum of the new year’s broadcast played in the background but music played louder over it and he still couldn’t get you out of his thoughts. You weren’t his to worry about anymore, but he just couldn’t help himself, besides, friends worried about each other, right?

“Hey Benny?” He hummed as Benny rounded the table behind him to go grab more drinks, catching his attention and pulling him back before he could move too far away. “Where--”

The front door flung open, slamming against the neighboring wall with a clang that grabbed the attention of the table, Benny and Santiago included. Except, as violent as it was, the tension quickly dissipated as you reached for the door and shouted, “sorry!” loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You need something?” Benny leaned back down to double check with him, slapping his hand down hard on his chest, but Santi just shook his head, too engrossed in the sight of you at the door, stripping off your coat and shaking the snow from your head and shoulders. “Alright, good talk buddy.”

You were wearing that sweater. That perfect sweater.

Benny grabbed you before you could make it to the table where everyone had quickly resumed the heated battle over cards, spinning you in his arms before he forced you towards the table so he could continue on towards the kitchen.

“Hey, everybody,” you smiled, waving to the table as you approached but providing a separate greeting all together to Santi as you turned towards where he sat and smiled, “hey.”

“Hey.” He smiled back, lingering on your brightness even as you turned your attention back to the table searching for a seat to join the party.

And join the party you did.

You looked so… happy. Laughing with the surrounding friends, drinking what Benny brought to you, cheering when the crowd in Times Square did on TV following the musical acts. It was fun, he didn’t exactly jump head first with you into the dancing and the partying, but he was having a good time watching you have a good time.

It was somewhat masochistic, but he couldn’t stop himself.

He wanted to be happy, like you. He wanted to be happy with you, but that wasn’t an option, so he had to settle for just being happy.

He drank, he danced a little, not much, but a little, and he even cheered with the group when the drinking game ended and the loser attempted to drink their way out of it. He was trying, honestly trying, and then he saw you again, laughing with Benny as he told another one of his terribly loud jokes and filled your cup with more champagne.

Happy just wasn’t working.

The small crowd in the living room was getting louder and louder and he knew it was because the clock was ticking closer to midnight, but the sounds were echoing in his ears, bouncing around in his head and driving him nearly insane with each second that passed. Louder and louder, louder and louder. The drink in his hand was doing nothing to calm his nerves, he needed something more, he needed fresh air and he needed it now.

Fuck. He just wanted to be happy.

And there’s reason to believe

It was freezing outside, a thin layer of snow coating the entire back patio and dead lawn, the only warmth in his vicinity coming from the burning embers of the joint between his fingers as he sucked in a deep breath. It was freezing outside, but at least, it was better than inside.

“How many of those do you smoke nowadays…” you interrupted his thoughts, stepping out into the blistering cold with nothing but your beautiful sweater wrapped around your torso.

Another deep breath in and out and he stamped out the butt of it on the concrete beside where he sat. “No more than before.”

“Can I sit with you?”

“Let me grab you a coat--”

“I’m fine, Santi…” you hummed, settling down next to him, the length of your thigh pressed to his, your shoulder pressed to his, bringing all the warmth from inside back to him. He could almost forget about the snow and the cold, you were like a radiator all on your own.

And that sweater… that perfect sweater.

The two of you sat there in silence for a few minutes, neither one of you making a move, nor a sound, just listening to the whispering wind that whipped around the two of you and watching the slowly falling snowflakes melt on the ground before you. Comfortable and quiet.

“Do you regret it?”

His head fell to the side, but your stare stayed straight ahead as the words fell from your lips.

“Do I regret what?” He asked back, coughing out some to the side opposite of where you were sitting before looking back at you. Not demanding an answer with his stare, but not turning away anytime soon either.

“Breaking up.”

Your stare found his this time, mere inches from his face but neither of you blinking away from it. How could he, the alcohol and weed were nothing compared to the rush that your attention gave him, especially as it ignited the fire of hope deep in his gut. Hope was heartbreaking, but in this moment, he couldn't hold himself back from the path ahead of him, the path you were begging him to go down.

“Breaking up…” He blew out a warm breath as he shook his head, “I don’t know… I know I hated fighting with you, all the pettiness and stupid arguments, it wasn’t how I wanted to be with you, I hated that. But we tried everything we could, breaking up was a last resort, so in that sense, no, I don’t regret it.”

“Is there a sense you do?”

“Hmm?” He turned back to you as you seemed to scoot infinitesimally closer to him, siphoning off some of his warmth.

“You said ‘in that sense’ you don’t, meaning there's a sense where you do…”

He glanced down to your lips then back up to your careful stare. “I still love you, I’m always going to love you, if that’s what you’re asking, but I think you already know that.”

“Yeah…”

He hit his knee against yours, letting out a huff of a breath, currently using all the heart his chest wanted to put behind a chuckle to open up to you. “So, I regret it in that sense.”

But you didn’t just sigh and keep the silence. Nor did you get up and run away. You just collapsed your head down onto his shoulder and let the next easy words fall from his lips.

“Me too.”

The silence was back now, neither of you willing to do anything to break it as his arm wrapped carefully around your back to keep in more warmth than your perfect sweater ever could.

The party continued on inside, booming and echoing like the sparklers and fireworks from all the houses on the block, but the two of you just stayed quiet, breath after breath, the cold air burning deep in your lungs. And then came the count.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. The chorus of their voices chimed out inside, loud enough to burst through even the shut door and ring in your ears as you held your head still against his shoulder. Six. Five. Four.

“Do you want to head back inside--”

Three. Two. One.

You pulled your head up off his shoulder and wrapped your freezing bare hand around the warm skin under his collar, at the back of his neck, turning not just his attention, but his lips back towards you. He caught your lips in a soft, chaste kiss, hesitant even as you held tight to his neck, keeping him close.

“What are we doing?” He hummed, nudging his nose against yours before moving his warm forehead to your freezing one.

“I thought we’d figure that out later…”

His lips recaptured yours, and as your hand moved up his neck, into his hair, his hands moved around your waist, one dropping down to maneuver your knees over his. The wind was freezing, the new year was seconds old, but your lips were just as he remembered them, warm and perfect, much like the sweater he gripped so tight, balling it up in his fist and exposing your skin and making you shiver against him. His other hand continued to trail up and down your thigh before ultimately settling in the bend of your knee and keeping you close as your lips grew fervent against his.

“We’ll talk later…?” He asked, out of breath as your lips fell onto the side of his mouth.

“Yeah.” Your smile was soft as you nodded, knocking your forehead against his again. “Later.”

Maybe hope wasn’t heartbreaking.

Maybe this year will be better than the last

#santiago ‘pope’ garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #triple frontier #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac #tw: weed #its NOT a holiday fic but it is #ya know #a long december

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poor-baby-bangtan · 3 years

Note

i was wondering if you could do something snz-centric with jungkook. like a cold or flu. hes just so adorable and im too much of a sucker of bts taking care of him in fics. (also im so happy youre back and well, you're one of my favourite bangtan sickfic writers here on tumblr ^^)

I hope you enjoy!

Sickie: jeongguk

Caretakers: Namjoon and Seokjin

Words: 6,853

Themes: snz, fever, hurt/comfort

"Ht'tschu!"

By the fifth time that Jeongguk had to tear himself away from the recording equipment to sneeze almost violently into his hands, Namjoon was ready to call it quits for the day. The pair had been finishing up some backing vocals for a nearly-completed song - it was only a bit of harmonization, nothing extreme or extravagant. Jeongguk had always been the best with harmonizing, especially in a higher pitch, so Namjoon figured that he would layer the maknae's hidden track over it first just to get a feel for the way it sounded.

But Jeongguk was barely able to get through any of his lines or simple melodies without having to turn around to sneeze or clear his throat. And now that Namjoon thought about it, his voice did sound a bit rough around the edges and maybe even a little congested if he listened closely enough to his dongsaeng's voice blasting through his headphones. And, above all, he couldn't get through a track that he would have aced any other day. It was nearing 1 AM and the maknae looked tired, stressed, and sick behind the mic.

"JK," he called through the slightly-opened door beyond the large built-in window between them (purely to keep unwanted sounds out of the recording). "You okay?"

Jeongguk sniffed and rubbed at his nose with a knuckle, ears reddening slightly at the sudden attention. Namjoon found it incredibly endearing that, despite living together for just shy of seven years, he still managed to get embarrassed over minor stuff like that.

"Yeah, I'm alright, hyung. I'm sorry, I know you wanted this finished quickly," he managed, staring at the open mic in front of him with obvious frustration and guilt, the tip of his bunny nose pink with mild irritation.

Namjoon stood and took off his bulky headphones, joining him in the adjacent room and placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Gguk, it's not your fault." The maknae sniffled again but didn't say anything, looking so pitifully sad as his eyes wandered around the floor. "Are you wearing a new cologne or anything? New shampoo?" Namjoon knew how sensitive their youngest was to smells - his perfume of choice was actually faint and made for women and he wore it for the sole purpose of it not irritating his sinuses. Even a change in shampoo, conditioner, or hair spray had a tendency to trigger Jeongguk's rhinitis flare-ups.

Jeongguk shook his head. "No, everything's been the same, Joon-hyung. I don't know why it's like this."

The rapper chewed at his lip worriedly, running a hand through the younger man's soft hair. "You think you're getting sick, babe?" Namjoon chose to break out the pet names now - it helped break Jeongguk out of that shy, nervous, I'm-grown-up-so-I-can-handle-everything-myself shell he always tried to adopt.

"Hih-H'tshhuh! T'cHh!"

Jeongguk didn't have time to reply before he was pitching forward to sneeze twice into his elbow, leaning back with a little groan. Namjoon chuckled quietly and rubbed the maknae's back as he sniffled and scrubbed at his nose with his sleeve. "I think that might be a yes."

The maknae sighed, rubbing at his brow like he had a headache. "I don't want to be."

Namjoon just tutted and put his palm to the younger man's forehead, frowning when he felt the slightest bit of heat underneath his hand. He wasn't flushed and didn't feel too warm, but he always ran hot when he was coming down with something. "I don't think you have a choice in this one, Gguk-ah."

"But hyung," Jeongguk whined, looking up at him with his big doe eyes, "I can't get sick right now. We have so much stuff to do and I'm already making you stay late-"

"Hey, no," he shushed. "You're not holding back anything. We have work, sure, but it's not anything that we can't push back a few days for you. This is the lightest our schedule has been for a while, so don't stress about it, okay?" Namjoon smiled faintly, running his fingers once more through Jeongguk's fringe. "And you're not keeping me here doing anything. We could have been doing this next week or even not at all; this is optional just to test the sound, you know that."

Jeongguk nodded, sniffling again for good measure. "Yeah, okay," he mumbled, still disappointed and very much not convinced.

"Why don't we go ahead and head home? It's late," Namjoon yawned, stretching, all an act just to get the maknae to not protest leaving just like the rapper knew he would. He had always been the hardest one to take care of - most of the others eventually gave in and let themselves be coddled. But, nope, not Jeongguk. He would put up a fight until he was passed out or in the hospital, something that his hyungs tried relentlessly to keep from happening. No matter how much they drilled into his head that you need to talk to us, Gguk or you can tell us anything, Gguk, it seemed like the kid never listened. Despite the fact that he had recently turned twenty-one, he had absolutely zero skills in the self-care department.

Jeongguk nodded and Namjoon marked that as a big success on his part. "Okay." He patted his pockets a few times before sighing. "Let me find my keys first."

That's right. He drove us here this morning.

"No that's okay, Gguk. I'd rather call a cab." Namjoon wasn't sure if he really wanted his maknae driving while sick, and at midnight nonetheless. He was already a little reckless behind the wheel on the best of days and the last thing they needed was him having a cold (or worse yet, flu) on top of that. The leader silently cursed himself that he hadn't gotten around to getting his license yet (and tried not to be embarrassed that the youngest of his group had to drive him around despite the age gap).

"No, I'm fine, hyung. I can drive," Jeongguk protested, looking just a little too eager to prove himself and that he was indeed okay. "I can.. d-dr- hhitsHh!"

He was interrupted by another sneeze, though, pitching forward, bent at the waist from the strength of it. He slowly straightened upwards, hands still cupped around his face. Namjoon took the hint and passed him a tissue, which Jeongguk hesitantly took as if he were almost too prideful to take it. He usually was, and the rapper was thankful that it was late in the evening. A tired Jeongguk was an obedient Jeongguk.

"I know you can, Ggukkie, but I'd rather just call someone. It's late and we're both tired; I'd feel better if we had a cab or a manager come pick us up. Besides, we're here every day. We can pick up your car another day, yeah?"

Jeongguk wiped his nose with the tissue and threw it away, sighing. "Okay. Is Sejin-nim still here?"

"Let me text him. Go ahead and put your coat on."

The maknae nodded and went to retrieve his hoodie as Namjoon fumbled with his phone.

Joon: Hyung-nim, are you still in the building?

Cool manager hyung: yeah I'm about to leave. need a ride?

He smiled at how Sejin already knew what he needed before he had the chance to say anything about it.

Joon: yeah, me and Ggukie are finishing up in the studio.

Joon: do you mind dropping us off?

Manager hyung: of course, it's on the way anyways. but I thought Jeongguk drove you two here..?

Joon: yeahh but I think he's coming down with something. don't want him on the roads right now ~_~;

Manager hyung: aishhhh why am i not surprised

Manager hyung: that kid always pushes himself too hard

Manager hyung: meet me outside in 10. i'll stop by the pharmacy tomorrow.

Joon: thank you Sejin-hyung :))

By the time Namjoon looked up from his phone, Jeongguk had pulled his hoodie on and was scrubbbing at his nose with one of the sleeves, sniffling weakly. The hoodie was a couple sizes too large and hung low around mid-thigh. He had balled up his hands inside of the sleeves, making rather adorable sweater paws with them. His nose was now red, morphing from the innocent pink tinge that it had held for most of the night, and his eyes looked a little far-off and watery. Namjoon tried his best not to make a sound of endearment and simply pocketed his phone, reaching out and squeezing his dongsaeng's shoulder.

"Sejin-nim is gonna pull up out front for us."

"'Kay," the maknae mumbled, looking exhausted despite himself. Hopefully it wouldn't be hard to get some medicine in him and put him to bed.

Sejin held true to his word; his car was already warm and running by the time the pair made it downstairs. Namjoon crawled into the backseat with Jeongguk instead of taking his usual place up front. Jeongguk didn't seem to mind, or even notice for that matter, as he put on his seatbelt and yawned into his hand. Namjoon caught Sejin's knowing smirk in the rear view mirror, though, and felt his face heat up.

He wasn't one of the most doting members but he still cared, alright?

Sejin started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot. "How's the song looking, boys?"

"It's going great, Sejin-nim," Namjoon smiled. "Jeongguk is really blowing it out of the water." He reached over and ruffled Jeongguk's hair lightly. Jeongguked smiled that cute smile he does, lips barely pulling back to preview his bunny teeth, eyes scrunching gently around the edges, and it was all Namjoon could do to not make a noise like a variation of a dying animal. That kid does something to his heart that should not be legal. The maknae pushed his hand away and he let him, reaching down to intertwine their fingers and rest them on his thigh instead.

Sejin chuckled deep and throaty, smiling in the rearview mirror. "Just as usual, huh?"

"Yep." Namjoon ran his thumb over Jeongguk's knuckles. "Golden maknae here always does his best."

Jeongguk ducked his head and smiled, teasing his lower lip with his teeth, ears going a bit red. He had never been able to take a compliment without getting embarrassed. "Thanks, hyung."

"Aish, don't thank me kid." Namjoon swore his heart was about to burst. His maknae really was just too sweet without knowing it.

Jeongguk was opening his mouth to say something back but stopped short, getting a far-off look in his eyes as his jaw hung slack. His nose twitched and scrunched several times with the effort not to sneeze; his breath hitched several times as his breathing quickened. He was not able to quell the feeling, though, and sneezed openly onto his lap before he could react.

"Hih.. hh-huh-H'itsxhu! Ht'scHh! Es'cHischh!"

He tore his hand from Namjoon's as he caught the second and third that came with it. They sounded increasingly intense and painful, and Namjoon winced in sympathy.

Sejin sucked in air through his teeth sharply as Jeongguk slowly brought his hands away from his face and sniffled in retaliation a few times. "You feeling okay, kid?" He pulled up at a red light and looked him over in the rear view mirror. "That sounded kind of bad."

Namjoon was glad that Sejin chose not to mention the fact that he had already told him Jeongguk wasn't feeling his best. Jeongguk would have been eternally embarrassed and probably would deny his hyung's help for a while. He had a strange trust system and Sejin seemed to know that.

Jeongguk snuffed once more against the increasing stuffiness in his sinuses before replying. "Yes, I'm okay Sejin-nim, thank you."

Namjoon withheld a sigh and put a hand on Jeongguk's thigh. Always so closed off and shy. Of course, he loved his maknae and wouldn't change his personality for anything. But sometimes he wished he would open up a little more and be a little more trusting to those around him. He had opened up to his band mates after a while, of course, but it was still hard for even them to get through to him at times. Jeongguk could be silly and goofy and just himself wherever he was, but when it came to showing any form of weakness it was like he retreated as far back into his shell as he could get. It was a constant inner struggle for him, realizing that he's still human and needs to treat himself as such. Even one (1) voice crack during a performance can drive him to tears. Weakness and mistakes are just not something that he tolerates with himself, as sad as it makes Namjoon. He's never really as concerned with Jeongguk's physical condition as much as he is with his psychological one when his health dips.

Sejin sighed quietly enough for Jeongguk to miss it and pulled up as the light turned green again. "If you're sure. Just let me know if that changes, okay, Jeongguk-ah?"

"Yes, hyung-nim." Namjoon could hear the gratefulness in the maknae's voice, even if he most likely would not accept the help.

"Aish, kid, always so formal," Sejin grumbled playfully. He had long stopped trying to get Jeongguk to drop the honorifics. They were fond and playful now more than anything.

Jeongguk made that happy noise in the back of his throat that he tended to do, sort of like a mix between a laugh and a endearing huff, and replied, "Of course, Sejin-ssi."

"Ack!" Sejin waved one of his hands in the air dismissively. "That's worse!"

Jeongguk chuckled, fully this time, with a grin that split his whole face and made his eyes squint. He seemed tired, but happy still - probably wasn't feeling too bad, then.

The trio fell into a comfortable silence for the rest of the trip. Namjoon could feel that they were all tired - reasonably so, it was past 1am - and if he was being honest he was ready to do nothing more than just crash in bed when he got home. But his maknae still needed to be taken care of, because he certainly wasn't going to take medicine on his own.

The pair said their goodbyes to Sejin after he pulled up outside of their apartment, with the older man giving Namjoon a knowing wink as a way to say good luck with that one. Namjoon just laughed and waved him off. He knew how to handle his maknae.

Jeongguk stumbled inside, already half-asleep from the car ride, and made his way into the bathroom. Namjoon veered towards the kitchen where their medicine cabinet was and dug around for a few minutes looking for some sort of cold medicine or anti-congestant. He came up with a half-empty blister packet of a nighttime cold medicine which was about the best he could have hoped to find. With the winter, colds had been going around the members quite often and it was around that time of the year that they were constantly running low on medicines. That, and it would help Jeongguk sleep more soundly - even though he usually slept a lot (like, a lot) when he was sick, it was never very deeply and it left him still feeling exhausted, even after he was healthy again.

Namjoon popped a few blue gel-capped pills into his hand and filled up a glass of ice water as he heard the shower come on, sighing when he realized he also still needed to shower. But then he had a thought... why wait? He'd rather keep an eye on his dongsaeng anyways.

Setting the pills and glass on the counter, Namjoon made his way other to the bathroom and poked his head in. "Mind if I join you, Ggukkie?" he called.

"Sure, hyung," came Jeongguk's reply, rough around the edges and tired. Even though he had been living with roommates for many years, he still erred to the shy side, especially when it came to being undressed around others. But, if he was tired enough or felt bad enough, he tended to care less about exposure and more about having company and skinship.

At his response, Namjoon stepped into the bathroom and quietly closed the door behind him, quickly stripping down and pulling back the shower curtain to step under the warm stream of water. Jeongguk stepped over to make room for him (thankfully they finally had enough money for an apartment with several large bathrooms with large tubs and showers, so both of them comfortably fit). The water was a tad too hot, probably because the younger was feeling chilled from being out in the cold, even if they were just walking from the car to their door. Or that's what Namjoon hoped - he was praying the kid wasn't cold because a fever was coming on. He did his best to ignore it, though.

Jeongguk was just beginning to shampoo his hair, eyes droopy and tired. He sniffled once, and then twice - the steam was probably helping with his congestion. Namjoon struggled against a fond little smile and reached over to shampoo his dongsaeng's hair himself. Jeongguk didn't even argue and dropped his hands immediately to his sides. His eyes fluttered closed as his hyung worked the product into his hair, swaying with the motion. He sighed a long, drawn-out breath and leaned into Namjoon's touch, mouth just barely hanging open like a puppy's when receiving a good scratch.

"You're not allowed to ever stop that, hyung," he mumbled, words thick with exhaustion and groggy, eyes still closed. Namjoon laughed again and massaged the base of his scalp.

"We'll see about that, kiddo." He worked the suds through Jeongguk's long hair (wow, it had really gotten lengthy, hadn't it?) and took a second to admire the youngest's features. Even when he was feeling under the weather, his face was still radiant and beautiful. His skin was perfectly blemished, a healthy tan (how could anyone ever want to whitewash him?), and the resting-exhaustion-pout glued to his expression made him look younger and more adorable than ever. As Namjoon guided his head underneath the stream of water, he took a second to appreciate how lucky he was to have Jeongguk as his dongsaeng.

Jeongguk preened under the warm water, melting under it as it met his skin. He looked half-asleep. Namjoon fondly tapped his cheek, to which he opened his eyes; the older man smirked. He was just about to say something teasing when Jeongguk's face screwed up and he hitched, pitching forward catching it in his elbow.

"Hh- hh'itschiew!"

He sniffled a few times as he straightened up, keeping his elbow to his face as he coughed a couple times into it. Namjoon felt his chest tighten and eyebrows pinch together.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay Ggukkie?" He ran his hands through the younger's hair once more, scratching at the base of his neck. Jeongguk just nodded and coughed one more time before dropping his arm, pushing even further into his hyung's touch. But he didn't say anything or respond verbally at all. He was probably feeling too tired to even try and debate about his health. Namjoon just sighed and reached for his own shampoo, quickly lathering up his silver-blonde hair. "I have some medicine laid out for you. Let's just finish up so you can take it and we can get you to bed, hmm?"

Jeongguk only nodded sleepily once more, fumbling for the conditioner. Namjoon once again took over washing his dongsaeng's hair as soon as he had finished with his own; Jeongguk was seriously lagging behind as he struggled to stay awake underneath the stream of hot water. After rinsing out the remaining conditioner from the younger's hair, Namjoon passed over the body wash, turning the maknae around so he could wash his back. Soon enough, though, they were both toweling off and clumsily dressing in sleepwear. Jeongguk groaned when Namjoon pulled out the hairdryer.

"Hyung, can we please just skip that? I want to sleep," he whined, lip protruding in a cute little pout in an attempt to win his hyung over.

"Nope, no way. You're already getting sick and the last thing we need is it getting worse because you went to bed with cold, wet hair. Turn around and sit on the counter if you want."

Jeongguk huffed, annoyed, but did as he was told anyways. Namjoon pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead before brushing through the younger's hair and turning on the blow-dryer. Now the maknae was actually falling asleep, head lolling down several times before he woke himself up and jerked himself back upright. Namjoon bit back a smile as he continued to blow dry his hair, overwhelmed by fondness. By the time his hair was dry, Jeongguk was passed out, mouth hanging open and cheek pressed against his shoulder. At the sound of the dryer turning off Jeongguk stirred, blearily opening his eyes and blinking several times to focus them.

"'M done?"

"Yeah, kiddo. Hop down and we'll go take your medicine."

Jeongguk fixed him with a groggy glare. "You didn't dry your hair."

Namjoon chuckled and winked. "I'm too tired, I guess."

The younger slid off the countertop and headbutted his hyung in the chest; evidently he was too tired to pick his head up, so he let it rest on Namjoon's sternum as he weakly hit him with a closed fist. "You're the worst, Namjoon-hyung," he mumbled, no real heat behind the words.

He just chuckled in response and wrapped an arm around his dongsaeng's shoulders, leading him out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. "Oh yes, I'm just terrible for looking after my maknae," Namjoon said as he passed Jeongguk the pills from where they were on the counter, holding up the glass to the younger's lips. Jeongguk mumbled faux-angrily under his breath as he tossed the pills into his mouth and let Namjoon give him a drink of water to wash them down. Namjoon took the glass with him as the guided the younger down the hallway and into their shared room, setting it down onto the nightstand.

Jeongguk belly-flopped onto Namjoon's bed with a big sigh, stretched out parallel to the headrest. He grumbled incoherently into the duvet and stilled completely. Namjoon huffed a laugh and slapped him lightly on the back of the thigh.

"Come on, Gguk-ah, move over so we can both fit. That's right, get under the covers." Jeongguk sighed and grumbled again at his words, lazily re-correcting himself to lay properly on the bed. Namjoon lifted up the covers for him and the maknae crawled obediently between the sheets, settling in on his side with his feet curled up in a half-fetal position. The older man climbed in after him on the opposite side of the bed, turning off the bedside lamp and pulling up the duvet over the both of them. He reached over and adjusted the covers to below Jeongguk's chin, effectively tucking him in. As he got settled in himself, Jeongguk squirmed his way to Namjoon's chest, cold nose feeling over his collar bone. The rapper intertwined a leg with the younger's, wincing at his freezing toes, and slung an arm around his slim waist. For a few seconds, it was just the quiet sound of the AC and the feeling of the maknae's chest rising and falling against his own, warm breaths puffing against his neck. Jeongguk's long locks tickled against his cheek.

"Th'nk you, hyung," Jeongguk slurred against his collarbone, sounding sleepy and content but more congested than he had previously. Namjoon just gave a low rumble and pressed a hand to his maknae's forehead. A little warm, but that was probably just from the combined heat of the shower and hairdryer.

"Of course, you don't have to thank me, Gguk." He pressed a kiss into the younger's hair. "How're you feeling, jaigya?" Namjoon's brow contorted in concern as Jeongguk shivered a little in his arms and sniffled against his t-shirt.

Jeongguk just gripped his shirt a little tighter and nosed further into the crook of his hyung's neck and mumbled, "Shh, hyung, sleepy t'me, shhh..." His breaths became a little deeper as he fell further into the grasp of sleep, the small rushes of air sending goosebumps over Namjoon's olive skin. "No m're talkin'," he murmured, sounding as if he were barely hanging onto the last dregs of consciousness.

Namjoon pressed a kiss to his forehead before relaxing back into his pillow, fingers drawing invisible pictures onto the younger's back. "M'kay, babe." Namjoon figured he had been awake long enough - it was nearing 3am and he was feeling sick, there was no point in keeping him up any later than he needed to be. He could always check up on him in the morning. Plus, Namjoon thought he had done a pretty good job of taking care of his maknae thus far - a little questioning could wait. "Goodnight, aeghi. Saranghae."

Namjoon was only barely able to hear the whispered reply of "Joon-hyung, saranghae," before the youngest promptly fell asleep in his arms.

xxx

As expected, Jeongguk was restless during the night. He never really woke up but tossed and turned all the same, occasionally making sleepy noises and sighs against his hyung's neck. He never slept particularly well when he was unwell, which was something Namjoon knew was going to happen. That being said, the older man didn't get much sleep either. He was hyper-vigilant and woke up every time his maknae so much as stirred. Namjoon was exhausted, seeing as he had several late nights in a row, but somehow he didn't seem to mind this time. As the night went on, though, Jeongguk seemed to still, back pressed up against his hyung's chest. Namjoon woke up a few hours later to light streaming through the window and Seokjin knocking at the door to wake them up up. The rapper stirred and stretched, inhaling sharply. It felt like he had hardly slept, but it was already 8am.

Jeongguk still lay quiet as the little spoon, curled up into Namjoon's stomach. His body was radiating heat and he was breathing laboriously through his mouth. Namjoon swore and peeled back the covers, pressing a hand to the younger's forehead; he found it to be hot to the touch. His tan skin shone with sweat and his face was particularly pale aside from the flush of his cheeks. Along with that, he was shivering a little in his sleep, brows contorted into a painful grimace. Namjoon dropped his hand and sighed; he knew this was going to happen.

The older man tucked his maknae back into the covers before getting up himself, sighing once more. He made sure Jeongguk was still asleep as he left the room. Seokjin was in the kitchen brewing coffee from the Kurig, watching with tired eyes as the bitter liquid slowly filled his cup. Namjoon approached him from behind and wrapped his hands around the older man's slim waist, burying his face in a broad shoulder and pressing down hard with his forehead.

Seokjin chuckled and patted his arm. "What's this, Namjoon-ah?"

"Jeonggukie's sick," he grumbled into the fabric of the singer's sleep shirt, getting a whiff of his fabric softener in the process. Seokjin always smelled so nice. The younger man could feel the other craning his head to look at him so Namjoon picked his head up and rested his chin on his shoulder instead, meeting Seokjin's gaze. "It came on last night," Namjoon sighed. "He was restless all night and when I woke up he was running a fever."

Seokjin maneuvered out of his arms, turning around to face his dongsaeng and tracing the pads of his thumbs over Namjoon's eye-bags with a concerned crease in his brow. "Are you sure you didn't get it, too? You look awful, jaigya. You're pale."

"No, hyung, I feel fine. Maknae-ah just kept me up with all his tossing and turning."

Seokjin got a smug look on his face, smirking.

"What?" Namjoon deadpanned. He was too tired for this.

"Well," Seokjin drawled. "You're usually such a heavy sleeper. Worried about our youngest, are you?"

Namjoon felt his ears go hot with embarrassment. What's the deal with people, first Sejin, now Seokjin was teasing him? Unbelievable. "With all due respect hyung, shut up. Just because I don't show it as much as you do I actually do care about my maknae," Namjoon spat, pushing away against his hyung's chest and trying to walk past him, annoyed. Seokjin's squeaky laughter followed him and he was stopped by the older man catching his wrist.

"I'm just kidding Joonie, don't get so defensive," he giggled, drawing the younger back into a hug.

Namjoon sighed and buried his face again in Seokjin's shoulder. "Maybe don't tease me then," he grumbled, but the heat was gone.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Seokjin stroked his back and laughed one more time. "Have you checked his temperature yet?"

"Not yet. He's still sleeping."

Seokjin hummed, planting a kiss in Namjoon's bed head before pulling away.

"I'll go get the thermometer. Will you wake him up for me?"

"Sure, hyung." Namjoon started down the hallway, slowly creaking the door open and slipping into his and Jeongguk's shared bedroom. The maknae was exactly where he had left him, turned away from the door curled up on his side. Even though he was about to wake the younger man up anyways, the rapper tiptoed around the bed and kneeled next to his pillow as quietly as he could. Jeongguk's face was still scrunched up and tense with pain, a flush high on his cheeks. His hair and shirt were saturated with sweat. Namjoon reached up with his hand and smoothed over the distressed wrinkles on his forehead; his face relaxed after a few seconds, melting into a neutral expression. His face was hot to the touch and Namjoon's fingers came away damp.

"Jeonggukie," Namjoon murmured, reaching over to grasp his maknae's shoulder gently. "Aghi. It's time to wake up, jaigya." The younger stirred, eyebrows immediately scrunching up again as he fought against waking consciousness and the pain he obviously felt. Namjoon shushed him gently, cupping the side of his face with a large hand and rubbing his thumb over his temple. "I know, babe, wake up for just a few minutes."

Jeongguk blearily opened his eyes and immediately winced, making a pitiful noise of pain from the back of his throat and curling up into a tighter ball. He squeezed his eyes closed and buried his face in his pillow.

"Aigoo, I know, I know it hurts Ggukkie." Namjoon moved from stoking his forehead to running his fingers through his damp hair, something he knew Jeongguk had a soft spot for. "Seokjinnie-hyung is bringing you a thermometer and then we'll get back to sleep, okay?"

Jeongguk whined weakly, voice gravelly from a combination of sleep and sickness, looking up from his pillow to gaze at his hyung pitifully. His eyes were red and glassy and tired, framed by the high spots of fever-induced color on his cheeks. Jeongguk's face screwed up, and for a horrifying second Namjoon was sure he was about to start crying. He pitched forward with a sneeze instead, following it up with a few rattling coughs. Whimpering, he reached up to hold his head in his hands as though the movement had aggravated a headache. The older man frowned and leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead before settling himself on the edge of the bed, running his hand over his dongsaeng's back in soothing strokes.

"How're you feeling, babe?"

Jeongguk just grunted and gently placed his forearm over his eyes to block out the light from the window. "Bad," he mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.

"Tell hyung what's hurting," Namjoon prompted, smoothing out the wrinkles of his maknae's shirt over his side.

Jeongguk didn't move his arm as he answered. "My head n' my body are aching. It's cold."

"I know, aghi. Anything else? Is your throat bothering you?"

The singer just slowly shook his head before once again going still, arching his back against Namjoon's touch. He could feel the younger's fever through his shirt. He was satisfied that the younger's throat wasn't hurting him, though; a hoarse voice was an idol's worst nightmare.

Jeongguk reached back with his free hand and pulled his shirt up to expose his back, reaching for Namjoon's hand to press it into his skin. "Push harder, hyung. Please," he murmured, pushing with more force against Namjoon's hand, digging it into his ribs.

Namjoon took the hint and began to massage his back with the heel of his palm; Jeongguk shivered under his touch, goosebumps breaking out over his skin. He was probably cold and skin most likely sensitive, but wanted skin-on-skin contact anyways. His skin was moist and sticky from perspiration, but Namjoon bore the discomfort and carried on.

"Does that help with the pain Jeonggukkie?"

The maknae nodded underneath his forearm, releasing Namjoon's wrist and draping his arm back around his waist. "It feels good, hyung."

Namjoon adjusted his position on the bed for a better reach, kneading the palms of his hands into Jeongguk's feverish skin, moving from his shoulders down to his calves. Jeongguk mewled under the touch, arching his back and wincing but not pushing his hyung away. He always got awful aches when he was feverish and Namjoon seemed to know just how to get rid of them. The maknae tried to keep as still as possible, pressing his forearm against his eyes hard to try and reduce the pain.

A soft knock resounded on the door before Seokjin poked his head in, frowning softly when his eyes drifted to their youngest member. Jeongguk was shivering and trying his hardest not to let small noises of pain slip through his gritted teeth as Namjoon worked against his tight, painful muscles. The skin of his face was flushed and damp with perspiration - even from across the dim room the mat-hyung could see the rivulets of sweat trailing down his neck. Namjoon turned around, hands still kneading against Jeongguk's thighs, and met Seokjin's eyes with the same concerned look.

Seokjin looked back to the maknae and closed the door behind him, walking around and dumping his handful of medical supplies on the bedside table, keeping only the thermometer.

"Oh, honey," he murmured. "You must be feeling awful. I'm sorry, jaigya." Seokjin passed his fingers through Jeongguk's damp, sleep-tousled hair.

Jeongguk peeped out from under his arm and met Seokjin's gaze. "Good morning, hyung." His voice was strained and congested and the older man winced at the sound of it. He pursed his lips and planted a kiss on the maknae's forehead.

"My Jeonggukie, always so polite. Good morning to you too, baby. Let's get you some medicine and some food so you can get back to sleep okay?"

"Okay," Jeongguk mumbled, struggling to push himself up to sit against the headboard. Namjoon immediately moved to help him up, hoisting him up by the armpits until he was comfortably upright. The younger man winced as soon as he was sitting up, grinding his palm against his eye to try and ease the headache. He obediently opened his lips for the thermometer, holding it underneath his tongue until it beeped. 101.9.

"He wasn't very bad last night at all, hyung, I was surprised when I woke up this morning," Namjoon fretted, chewing his lip.

"You and me both, Joonie. We'll fix him right up though, aghi, don't worry too much," Seokjin said, putting the thermometer down on the bedside table and unscrewing the lid to the fever reducers, shaking a few out onto his palm.

Namjoon was about to respond when Jeongguk's face screwed up again for the second time that morning. His eyes got a far-off look as they glazed over, breath hitching. His already-pink nose twitched and nostrils flared, trembling. He brought his hands up where they paused, hovering just a few inches away from his face.

"Hih..."

Jeongguk squeezed his watering eyes shut, letting out an involuntary whimper as the sneeze refused to leave his body. The singer's mouth hung open just slightly as his breathing hitched again, once, twice, three times, nostrils flared and nose twitching.

"Hih... Hh... Hih.h..! Hihtshu! Hi'tshh!" His body lurched forward as he caught the sneezes in his cupped hands. Seokjin quietly blessed him and rubbed his back. Jeongguk let out a little groan as he leaned back slowly, dropping his hands and scrunching his face up in pain. The sneezing hadn't done much to help his headache.

"Oh, baby, I know," Seokjin cooed, running his thumbs over the distressed lines in the younger's face. Namjoon hopped up from the bed and drew the blinds, engulfing the room in a pleasant darkness. Jeongguk visibly relaxed at the abscence of light, sighing and melting back into the headboard. "Here, Ggukkie, take these and drink half the glass." The older singer pressed the pills into the maknae's hand and held the glass of water he had brought along near his lips. Obediently, Jeongguk popped the pills into his mouth and drank from the cool glass of water as Seokjin put it to his lips. Surprisingly, the younger drained the whole thing - both of his hyungs were pleasantly surprised.

"Good job, babe," Namjoon praised, kissing him on the cheek and patting him gently on the head. Jeongguk made a satisfied noise low in his throat, eyes already closed and lolling down to his shoulder.

"That's my maknae," Seokjin smiled, patting the younger on the shoulder before turning to Namjoon. "I'll finish making his breakfast and leave it in the microwave. I think it's fine if you let him sleep for another few hours. Watch over him, okay?"

Namjoon fixed his eyes on the younger who was blissfully dozing by that point, head lolling down to his chest. "I will hyung."

Seokjin kissed the maknae on the top of his head before leaving the room, going to wake the rest of the members and get them to get ready as quietly as they could (if they could at all, that lively bunch...).

"C'mere, Jeonggukkie," Namjoon muttered, going around to his side of the bed and crawling under the covers, holding his arms out for the younger to crawl into. Jeongguk didn't miss a beat, drowsily slouching down and scooting over until he was wrapped up in the older's arms. He nosed forward until his warm forehead was pressed square against his hyung's cheek. Jeongguk intertwined a leg with the older man's, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close as he shivered; he must have been freezing cold. Tucking the blanket securely underneath his dongsaeng's chin, Namjoon pulled him as close as he was able. The younger's breathing was already slow and even, already asleep. Namjoon laughed silently and pressed a kiss to his forehead, letting his eyes drift shut as well.

“Saranghae.”

There were definitely worse ways to spend the day, he thought.

#bts snz #snz #snz fic #snzfic #bts sickfic

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p-artsypants · 3 years

Text

The Ghost of Smokey Joe (6)

St. James Infirmary

Adrien Agreste was acting bizarre. Before she can get the truth out of him, Marinette finds herself as the sole heir to the Gabriel brand and the mansion, following the murder-suicide of both Adrien and Gabriel Agreste. The mystery continues as Tikki explains that Adrien was Chat Noir...but if Adrien is six feet under, why is Chat Noir still running around?

Relationships:

Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug

Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe

Characters:

Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Alya Césaire, Nino Lahiffe, Nathalie Sancoeur, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth

Additional Tags:

Temporary Character Death, Murder Mystery, off screen murder, Ghosts, Supernatural - Freeform, Haunting, Horror, Psychological Thriller, Eventual Happy Ending, I promise, Song fic, Halloween Flavored, Identity Reveal, Aged Up, Canon Universe, Mabel Voice: He's Resting, SPOOOKKKYYYYYY

Ao3 | FF.net

The night of the visitation, it rained. Like a kick to the gut, a painful reminder of what it was like to fall in love…now was only a soothing presence to losing love.

The old umbrella in her hand didn’t help either. It was his. Adrien’s. The very same he gave her that day over ten years ago.

Marinette had agonized over what to wear for too long. It was a wake, so black, right? She had this outfit picked out and everything. A sharp blazer over her little black cocktail dress, with black pumps. Even though it was a wake, it was a wake for her boss, one of the most influential fashion moguls in the world, and she would be taking his place. She had to look her best.

But then, she changed her mind. It was a social event, yes, and she would be in the public eye and representing the brand, true!

But it felt gross.

The cocktail dress was too sexy for a wake, and wearing that much black made her look goth.

It just wasn’t right.

Then she saw the dress. A rose pink, knee length dress that flared out as it went down. It had little black polka dots on it.

And it was Adrien’s favorite. He said so every time she wore it.

Too peppy for a wake. Too casual, too fun and flirty. But a black cardigan over it, and she felt perfect.

She could almost hear his voice as she posed in the mirror.

“I love that dress on you. You look so cute, Marinette.”

It made tears spring to her eyes.

So no makeup then. Because she knew she would be crying a lot more tonight.

“Don’t forget to pack tissues,” Tikki reminded, helpfully.

“Right, thank you, Tikki.” She tucked the little package in her purse.

With one last pass of the brush through her hair, she was ready.

So now she stood outside of the manor, the gate open.

Well folks, I'm goin' down to St. James Infirmary

See my little baby there

She's stretched out on a long, white table

Well she looks so good, so cold, so fair

The paparazzi stood nearby with their cameras, ready to swoop in like vultures.

She must have paused for too long, because they descended on her quickly, shoving mics in her face and asking questions.

Didn’t they know why she was here? Didn’t they know what she was going through?

An arm reached around her shoulders and started leading her forward. “Alright everyone, that’s enough! Can’t you see she’s not in the mood?” Her rescuer shouted.

The reporters didn’t pass through the gate, as that would have been trespassing. So thankfully, the crowd was left behind as they moved forward.

“Thank you,” she said to the unfamiliar man.

“Of course, Miss Dupain-Cheng.” He nodded.

“You know me?”

“I know of you. Head intern to Gabriel Agreste himself, if I’m not mistaken. I’m from Harper’s Bazaar.”

“Oh...a reporter.”

“Yes, but I really was just here as a guest to pay my respects. I’ve interviewed both Gabriel and Adrien a few times.”

“I see.”

He led her into the house.

Let her go, let her go, God bless her,

Wherever she may be,

She will search this wide world over,

But she'll never find another sweet man like me.

She was early, as Nathalie had instructed. No other guests were here. Just funeral staff, some family, and two steel caskets.

Two steel closed caskets.

Might make retrieving Adrien’s ring a bit of a problem, but not seeing his face…cold, motionless, and waxy would keep her somewhat sane.

The man walked with her right up to the casket, the one with Adrien’s picture next to it.

“It’s a shame. That much skill, the absolute genius spread between the two of them. The world as a whole will never be the same.”

“Yeah.”

“Any idea what’s going to happen next? Not that this is an interview, I’m just curious.”

She shrugged, “well, I’ve been offered the position, and everyone wants me to take it...but it’s so…”

“Overwhelming?”

“Yes.” She rested her hand on the casket. “I wish I could have a moment alone with him.”

“Let me see what I can do.” He smiled, then he called louder, to the room. “The lady would like a few minutes alone, if possible.”

“Is she family?” A staff member asked.

“This is Madam Dupain-Cheng, she’s the successor to Gabriel’s empire. She’s practically family!”

There was no arguing with that, and the group of staff members filed out into the adjacent dining room.

“Thank you,” Marinette called to the man, still not getting his name.

“Don’t worry about it darling.” And he followed them out.

Marinette glanced around the room, just to make sure she was alone. “Tikki?”

“I’m here!”

“I need you to keep watch.” The casket had two doors, one on top that would have been open if this was a regular visitation, and one over the legs. She slid the flower arrangement on top over to the bottom section and ran her hand over the edge. She pulled up slightly, and as she feared, it was sealed.

“It’s locked,” she lamented.

“Let me try!” Tikki zipped around the casket, and a moment later, it clicked and the cap opened ever so slightly.

Marinette took a deep breath as her fingers curled under the lip.

“What are you waiting for?”

“Just…I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to see what he looks like. I don’t want to…” but she put her reservations on hold, and pushed the lid up.

She choked out a startled gasp. “Oh no…”

Now, when I die, bury me in my straight-leg britches,

Put on a box-back coat and a stetson hat,

Put a twenty-dollar gold piece on my watch chain,

So you can let all the boys know I died standing pat.

Instead of the mangled body of her true love, there was only a pile of sandbags.

Tikki, also horrified, went over to Gabriel’s casket and phased inside. Then she popped out, “this one is the same!”

Marinette closed the lid and moved the flowers back into place, her mind moving at a mile a minute. Vaguely, she heard the click of the casket as Tikki put it to rights.

Marinette was panicking, but quickly calmed herself down. This didn’t mean anything malicious, not yet. Maybe they were cremated and the family wanted to keep it a secret. Or because there’s no graveside service, their bodies had already been buried.

Who was she kidding, something was definitely going on.

A mystery that was just aching to be solved, but her first priority was to retrieve Adrien’s ring.

“--A moment alone!” A voice shouted from the dining room.

Marinette whirled around in time to see Felix storming towards her. Did he know? Was she caught?

He brushed past her, “move.” And went directly to the casket, grabbing the lip like she had.

“Please sir! You’ll damage the casket!” One of the funeral home staff rushed and grasped Felix by the shoulder. “It’s shut and locked, it can’t be opened again.”

“I didn’t get to say goodbye!” Felix snarled. “Look at him!” He pointed at the photo on display next to the casket. “He has my face! I deserve to see him one last time!”

“Sir...he doesn’t look like that anymore. It would be very disturbing to see his remains.”

Disturbing indeed, considering Adrien wasn’t in there at all.

Amelie was quick to join the group and she consoled her son. “We talked about this. You knew it was going to be a closed casket.”

“They said the family had time alone. I just...wanted to say goodbye, face to face.” He shook his head and scowled. “He deserved that, at least.”

Marinette made herself small, feeling like an intruder in this family crisis. But Amelie still saw her and brought her in for a hug.

“How are you holding up, dear?” She asked, pulling away slightly.

“I’m…I’ve been better.”

“Of course, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Marinette had met Amelie and Felix more than a few times working at Gabriel. As the years went on, they came to visit more and more often. Amelie was always insistent that she call her ‘Aunt Amelie’ like Adrien. It felt weird to break the habit now.

“Isn’t pink a little too festive for the occasion?” Felix bit. The red from anger in his cheeks had faded. Now he just sounded bitter.

It was Adrien’s voice…but not. It was a shame Felix sounded so much like him.

He looked just like him too, minus the slicked back hair and glasses.

“Adrien really loved this dress,” Marinette whispered. “I know it’s not—I just—“

His face softened slightly, relieved that she had Adrien in mind, and not fashion. “Sounds fine to me.”

Even after the disastrous first encounter they had, Felix and Marinette never became friends. He and Adrien certainly got along, or at least appeared to, but Felix and Marinette were only ever cordial.

It was a wake, after all. He should be nice. He gave her a small smile, one that looked eerily similar to Adrien’s.

Before she could stop herself, she was hugging him.

He didn’t smell like Adrien at all. He smelled like clean cat litter and laundry detergent, not spicy cologne and the smallest hint of cheese. Belatedly, she realized the cheese smell was probably Plagg’s doing.

“Uh…” He said awkwardly, before sighing and patting her on the back.

“I’m sorry,” she pulled away. “Even though…” she trailed off with a blush, embarrassed with what she had done. “You just look like him.”

“I know,” he shrugged. “I worried about coming. I’m prepared for people to see me and burst into tears. Or hug me, like you did. I get it. As much as I would like otherwise, I’m willing to tolerate it for today.”

“That’s kind of you.”

His face softened further. “You loved him, didn’t you?”

Amelie gasped. “Felix! You can’t just ask things like that!”

“It’s okay,” Marinette assured, hugging herself. “You’re right. I was—am. I still love him, even though he’s gone.”

“And…you know what happened?”

She nodded. “It sucks. And I really wish I could allow one terrible action to wipe everything away…but I knew him. These last two weeks he wasn’t himself. He was cruel to me in a way I had never seen. It just…it wasn’t Adrien.”

Felix gave her a critical look. “I always assumed my cousin couldn’t hurt a fly. It’s…bizarre, what happened.”

“It’s not public knowledge,” Amelie reminded. “And it should stay that way.”

“Who are we protecting by lying about it? The ‘Brand’? The family? Adrien himself?”

“What are they saying, anyway?” Asked Marinette.

“They’re saying both Adrien and Gabriel died from an in-home accident.”

“Vague,” said Felix. “Suspicious.”

“But better than ‘unknown causes’ at least,” said Marinette. “Maybe it’s selfish, but I want Adrien to be remembered for all the good he did…” As Chat Noir, her brain added, “and not the demons he faced in the end.”

“Still, I can’t help but wonder what made him snap,” he mused, looking at Marinette. “Do you have any idea what may have caused it?”

Her mind went back to two weeks, when he had asked her to dinner. He was nervous, and told her he had something to tell her.

And then that phone call a few nights ago. What had he said? Something about the basement?

“I’m…not sure. I’d have to think about it.”

“Perhaps you two could consider this mystery another day? Not during the visitation?” Amelie urged.

“Sorry mom, you’re right.” He glanced back at Marinette. “If you have anything on this, I’d love to hear it. I care deeply for Adrien, and honestly, I’m highly suspicious of these circumstances.”

Amelie huffed. “Darling, you heard Nathalie, what she saw, what the police found, it’s pretty cut and dry…”

“People don’t just murder their father’s for no reason! Especially with supposedly flawless mental health!”

The room grew quiet, as Felix’s outburst was louder than intended. Thankfully, guests had yet to arrive.

“Sorry. This whole thing…I’ve had enough of death in this lifetime.” He cleared his throat. “I need some water.”

When he left, Amelie squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t let Felix get to you. It’s just hard for him. He has so much in common with Adrien, it’s a little scary for him.”

Oh. That made sense. Fear he’d snap too?

“It was sudden for everyone. We’re all going through it.”

“They said you were having a moment alone with Adrien. I'll let you get back to it.” She squeezed her shoulder and left her in peace.

So now Marinette was left to wonder what she could possibly do. Where to even start? She didn’t need anymore time with an empty casket.

An' give me six crap shooting pall bearers,

Let a chorus girl sing me a song.

Put a red hot jazz band at the top of my head

So we can raise Hallelujah as we go along.

There were a few more guests now, but it was still a little early. She saw a man in a suit arranging flowers. He had a name tag on his lapel.

As casual as she could, she snuck over to him. “Excuse me, are you the funeral director by chance?”

“Oh? Yes I am. Bill Hunkerson, at your service. How can I help?”

She had to phrase this very carefully, to not be suspicious. “I’m a very close friend of Adrien’s. He was wearing a silver ring when he died. It doesn’t actually belong to him, and I was wondering if I could have it back.”

The man turned pale, but plastered on a smile. “Well, he’s probably wearing it now. Unfortunately, after we close the casket, we can’t open it again.”

She knew that was a big fat lie. And Marinette hated liars.

She lowered her voice. “Well, since his body isn’t actually in the casket, it shouldn’t be that hard, should it?”

The man stared at her, wide eyed, no longer smiling. “How did you—“ He frowned. “Look miss, I’m just doing what I’m paid for. I don’t know anything. That ring is probably gone forever, and I’d stop this search now.” He straightened his tie and bowed his head slightly. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Marinette opened her purse when she was alone. “I don’t know about you, Tikki, but I’ve got a bunch of red flags and alarm bells going off inside my head.”

“This isn’t good! We need to get that ring!”

“We need to find out what happened to Adrien’s body!”

“Yes, of course, that too!”

Marinette gnawed at the inside of her cheek. “Hey, no offense to Plagg, but wouldn’t he know to bring the ring back to me? If he can’t remove it, then wouldn’t he come tell me about it?”

Tikki’s eyes widened. “You’re right! If he died under normal circumstances, yes…but if he was transformed when he died…”

“Then what?”

“Plagg probably would be forced back into the ring. That’s probably why he didn’t come!”

“Now I’m even more worried and confused.” Marinette crossed her arms. “What if Adrien isn’t actually dead?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if…he ran away? And Gabriel made it out like he died? What if Gabriel’s still alive too?”

“It’s a theory, but I don’t know how well it will hold water.”

She studied the room again, trying not to draw attention to herself. She was supposed to be grieving after all.

Felix sat in the chairs over by the stairs, his back to the growing crowd.

Even if they didn’t really get along, two skeptics working together would be better than each on their own.

“Do you mind if I join you?” She asked.

“I suppose not.” He sighed.

Marinette sat in the chair next to him, and sat quietly for a moment, trying to decide how to proceed. She didn’t want to reveal her whole hand, but maybe playing a few cards would be to her advantage.

Felix beat her to it. He let out a weak chuckle. “I hate this family.”

What an awful thing to say at wake. “Why’s that?” She asked calmly.

“They die too quickly. It sounds so awful, I know. But it’s just my mother and I now. Grandparents are long gone, then my Aunt Emilie, then my father, and now them. It sucks and I’m sick of stupid funerals.”

“It must be hard. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well...I’m a pro at it now.” He was resting his cheek on his hand, and was staring at the corner of a wall, just pointedly avoiding eye contact. Still, she could see he had red in his eyes. Though she chose to ignore it. Felix seemed to be the type to hide his tears.

“You know...the last time I talked to Adrien, he told me to check the basement.”

This piqued Felix’s curiosity enough for him to look at her. “Basement? What basement?”

“I suppose here, but I haven’t had the chance to, since you know…all this going on.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. I used to come to this house all the time. It doesn’t have a basement.”

“So…maybe at the company?”

“Could be. I wouldn’t know.”

“Okay, I just wondered...since you were family…”

He growled. “Yeah, some family.”

“Do you...want to talk about it?” She offered, really hoping he would take the bait.

He chuckled again, no humor in his tone. “Might as well, no one around left to hide things from.” He leaned back in the chair. “Gabriel is...was a very private person. I tried to love him, since he was my uncle, but he did a very good job at keeping us at a distance. Adrien was the opposite. We talked often, even when his mom and my dad died and things got rough. Sometimes, it didn’t feel like we were welcomed here. But Adrien so wanted a connection. I could feel it in his hugs when we visited. He was starving, Marinette.”

Marinette willed herself not to start crying.

“Mom and I were told by Nathalie that Adrien and Gabriel were caught in a murder-suicide, as enacted by Adrien, early in the morning on the 23rd.”

“Did she tell you where the murder-suicide happened?”

“Nope, just that it happened in this house. As the only living relatives, she asked if we could come and help with the funeral arrangements.”

“Were you involved in all of it?”

“I thought mom and I did all of it together, but there was one thing that Nathalie insisted on and wouldn’t budge.”

“What’s that?”

“Gabriel is going to be interred in the Agreste family mausoleum, but Adrien…” he sighed with disgust. “As punishment, he’s getting an unmarked grave.”

“What!?”

“That was the compromise. The truth about the murder-suicide, which I am believing less and less, would be withheld from the public as long as Adrien was…effectively erased from the family line.”

She couldn’t help the tears that burst forth. “But that’s not fair! He didn’t do anything wrong! He couldn’t’ve!”

“Yeah kid, I know. I agree.” He scowled. “It makes me sick. I hate it. Adrien was suffering in life, and now he’s going to suffer in death.”

“You don’t think he did it?”

“Do you?”

She shook her head. “I can’t. I know what’s been said, and what people saw...but it just can’t be true.” And she had evidence to prove it, in the form of that empty casket.

“You won’t mention I said any of this to my mom, right? She’s also having a hard time, but she tells me I’m in denial.”

“I won’t say a word.”

Folks, now that you have heard my story,

Say, boy, hand me another shot of that booze;

If anyone should ask you,

Tell 'em I've got those St. James Infirmary blues.

I’m not sure about next week’s update. I’m going camping and I don't know what the wifi will be like. Fingers crossed!

#ml #miraculous ladybug #the ghost of Smokey Joe #fanfiction #adrienette #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste

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the-void-i-scream-into · 3 years

Text

White Tulips - a JunJin fanfic 3/3

Full Story: Part 1, Part 2

Hey my beautiful readers. Thank you so much for sticking around till now. I was honestly so terrified of posting this fanfic because I had never done that before but everyone’s response has been so kind to me. Thank you.

This is the final part. I hope you all enjoyed the story. As always, this chapter is dedicated to the Shooters GC who are the best people on Tumblr.

Quick Info: The songs used in this chapter are You Were Beautiful by Day6. Park Yoona who plays Sujin said in an interview that she liked Day6, specifically this song. Haru by Royal Pirates is a personal favorite of mine. It has the same theme as True Beauty that in real love, things like looks don’t matter. The final song that Seojun sings to Sujin is Half Moon by Dean. Hwang In Yeop who plays Seojun stated that he liked this song in an interview.

Pairing: Kang Sujin x Han Seojun

Romantic Trope: Haters to friends to lovers

Word Count: 16.2k [this one is LONG]

Rating: T

PART 3

“What have I done?” Sujin pulled at her hair in frustration.

The deal she had made with Han Seojun had been the on account of the many shots of soju she had taken. It was only when she had sobered up the next morning that she realized, with horror, just what exactly she had promised.

It was a bad idea. On paper it sounded plausible; two people suffering from the same pain could empathize with each other. But in reality, going through a heartbreak meant that you needed someone to support you, not the other way around. Trying to support someone whilst being in pain yourself was hard. And in this particular case, it would be impossible. Mainly because the people Kang Sujin and Han Seojun liked were with each other.

Sujin could see her and Han Seojun’s fledgling friendship going up in flames before it had even had a chance to fly. She would always want to talk about Lee Suho and he would resent that since Suho was the one dating Jukyung. Seojun would want to talk about Jukyung and Sujin would find that annoying for the same reason.

It was a recipe for disaster.

“Yah, gimme your number.” Sujin had demanded last night, handing Han Seojun her phone after he had agreed to her stupid proposal. Seojun had obediently entered his number at her behest. She programmed her number in his phone as well.

“There. Now we can text each other if we ever need to talk.”

“Ya, why am I Gangster in your phone?” Seojun had protested when he had saw her type it out.

Sujin had chuckled, drunk on soju. “Because you’re a gangster, you gangster.”

“Is that so?” Seojun proceeded to type away furiously into his phone. He held it up for Sujin to see.

“Princess? Are we kindergarteners?” Sujin had frowned.

Seojun stuck his tongue out. “That’s what you get for naming me Gangster.”

Sujin had retaliated, editing his contact. “Here!” She held up her phone.

“Wha-What? Twerp?”

Sujin blanked on the argument that had proceeded after this but she knew they did argue. To the point that the owner of the tent bar kicked them out.

Now Sujin was stuck with the contact named as Twerp on her phone and she had no idea what to do with it. Should she text him? Should she delete it? Should she just pretend last night didn’t happen?

She knew she should choose the third option. Or even the second. But her hand itched to send Seojun a text and see if he really was up for hanging out.

All day long Sujin kept checking her phone, looking for any new messages or missed calls she may have received. All she got were some memes from Suah and everyone else’s responses to those messages on their group chat. Han Seojun had also responded with a laughing emoji. Which meant he wasn’t too body or occupied to text Sujin.

Then why wasn’t he texting her?

Why do I care?

Sujin knew why. It was because she had no body else to talk to about what was bothering her. Normally, she would have called Jukyung but this time, she couldn’t. Jukyung’s giant engagement ring kept flashing in her mind over and over. It even plagued her dreams last night.

Sujin needed to occupy herself. Her current jobless situation wasn’t helping things either. She quickly fired a text to Suah to see if she was free to hang.

Sorry Kang Su! Me and Taehoon are going to visit his parents. Suah had replied.

Sujin looked at her list of contacts. There was no one else but Han Seojun who she could ask. Reluctantly, she texted him.

I’m going to the batting cages. Wanna join me?

Sujin pressed send before she could stop herself and was immediately filled with deep regret she saw the “Seen” check appear.

One minute, two minute, fifteen minutes passed. He didn’t reply.

“Guess he wasn’t interested.” Sujin lamented. It would have been nice to have someone to hang with, but given the obvious rejection, she had to make do with just lonesome herself.

Kang Sujin wasn’t exactly a prodigy at sports, but she was considerably better than most. Batting happened to be one of her strong suits.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

She hit each ball with graceful ease. Her brows were furrowed in focus. Her breathing controlled and steady. Sujin had learned long ago that sports aided in dealing with her rage and frustrations. It was a way to release all of her worries in a healthy manner and channel inner peace.

Thwack! Thwack!

She hit again and again, not caring about the score, just wanting to get the shot.

“Wow, I’m impressed.”

“Huh?” Sujin carelessly turned and her surprise at finding Han Seojun standing in the adjacent batting area was only thwarted by the ball hitting her in the torso. She yelped in pain.

“Oh, gwenchana?” Seojun asked in concern.

“Aish.” Sujin held her side and moved out of the way of the pitching machine. She gave Seojun a scathing look. “What are you doing here?”

“You asked to meet here didn’t you?”

“People normally respond to invitations to confirm they’re coming.” Sujin checked herself for injuries before resuming her batting position.

Seojun was quiet. “I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to meet you.”

Thwack! Sujin hit a ball. “Oh, yeah? What made you change your mind?”

Seojun picked up his bat, not responding. The pitching machine on his lane whirred to life. He hit his ball. Thwack! “Did you see the video Jukyung posted?”

“Ah-nee.” Sujin replied. Thwack!

“She posted a bridal makeup tutorial.”

Sujin missed the next ball. And the one after that. Seojun could feel her gaze on his back but didn’t dare turn. From his posture Sujin could sense hostility. Which was fine, she hadn’t invited him here to talk. She invited him here to vent. She resumed her batting.

“I scored higher than you.” Sujin informed with a grin once they were done.

“Good for you.” Han Seojun said, unimpressed.

He still seemed on edge. Sujin had tried to engage him during their small breaks between the game but all he had given her were clipped answers.

“Did you watch the entire video?”

“Yes.”

“How did it feel?”

“How do you think I felt?”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Just hit the ball.”

Sujin didn’t know how Seojun was when they had parted, but she herself felt significantly better. She went home with a peaceful mind and even discovered that she had gotten a call from a prospective employer. They asked if she could come in for an interview the following week. Perhaps things would be getting better from now on.

Or perhaps not.

The interview had gone horribly wrong, especially after the interviewer realized who she was. Sujin had expected a polite rejection but instead the interviewer had decided that she deserved a lecture on bullying from him.

“You know. I was bullied too as a kid.” The interviewer had said.

The experience had left her shaken. Was this going to be her life from now on? Would she just be kicked out of society just like that, over a badly reported gossip article?

Sujin’s hands ached to be washed but she refused to even think about it. She needed an outlet and she knew exactly what she wanted. It was then that she got a text from Han Seojun.

Let’s meet.

Sujin told him where to show up.

“You know jujitsu?” Seojun was surprised when she had invited him for a match.

“Don’t you?” Sujin said, clad in her white Gi. She had been warming up when Seojun had arrived clad in jeans and a hoodie. He had a cap on underneath the hood.

“I don’t fight with girls.”

“And what if a girl fights with you?”

Seojun chuckled incredulously.

“If you can laugh like that then you can show me what you’ve got, no? Or are you afraid you’ll lose like you lost in the batting cages.”

“That wasn’t a competition.”

Sujin smirked, “Sure it wasn’t.”

Seojun rolled his eyes and went to change out of his clothes.

Smack! Down Han Seojun went. He had gone easy on Kang Sujin for the first round because she was a girl. But she had immediately disarmed him and thrown him over her shoulder. Grinning like a wolf, she immediately took the fighting position again, leaving Han Seojun to recover on the floor.

“First one doesn’t count!” He argued.

“What’s wrong, Han Seojun? Can’t even fight against a girl?”

Seojun got up, “Alright. I won’t be going easy on you anymore.”

“Fine by me.”

Sujin attacked first, Seojun quickly blocked her, wrapped his arms around her waist and tried to push her down. She wrapped her legs around him and swiveled him around so that he fell. Then she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling at his arm.

“You fight without strategy.” Sujin said through clenched teeth as she tried to keep him down. Seojun managed to turn her entire body over, releasing himself.

“Fighting is about instinct. Not strategies.” Seojun went for the attack this time. Sujin blocked him but he easily maneuvered around her, throwing her down and pinning her in place with all his strength. It was an awkward position to be in, but he didn’t care. He would not let her win.

“Anything without a strategy is doomed to fail.” She grabbed his collar and adjusted her leg to flip them over. Now she was keeping him down.

“Nope. Instincts always win.” He weaseled out of her grip and they parted.

Sujin took fighting position again. She easily jabbed and smacked him around while Seojun blocked haphazardly. She was precise and focused, knowing exactly where to hit and how.

In her mind, she wasn’t fighting with Han Seojun. She was fighting with her interviewer. She jabbed and blocked and kicked the man who had sat and judged her without even hearing her side of the story. It was cathartic to let this all out. And if Han Seojun got hurt in the way, then she didn’t mind.

Sujin and Seojun fought for a long time, both sweating and panting with exhaustion but neither relenting.

“I’m still winning Han Seojun.” Sujin said with labored breath.

“We’re not done yet.”

Smack! Down Han Seojun went. Again, and again, and again.

“Had enough?” Sujin asked as they parted.

“Never.”

Seojun attacked. Sujin easily blocked it, kicking him in the chest. The mat was slick with their sweat. Sujin didn’t see Seojun slip and fall to his knees. She only spun around to deliver a roundhouse kick to his torso. But the kick would have hit him in the face. Except, except Han Seojun caught her ankle just in time. The force of it nearly knocked him down.

“I can’t let you hit my face.” He said with a half smirk.

“Wae?” She asked with a flick of her brow.

“It’s a precious commodity.”

He pulled Sujin by her ankle, bringing her leg to his side. She fell on him, using his shoulders to brace herself. Their noses were almost touching. He cupped her calf and grabbed her sleeve to hold her in place.

It was too close. Sujin’s mind went blank. And that was the opening Seojun needed to throw her down.

“I won that round.” He grinned, standing up.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m still ahead.” Sujin’s face still felt hot. She got up and straightened her Gi. “I think that’s enough for today.”

Seojun nodded. “You hungry?” He asked. After the workout she had just had, she was ravenous.

They went to a nearby convenience store where they got ramen. Seojun watched in surprise as Sujin hungrily chowed down.

“What?” Sujin asked.

“You are a very unexpected girl, Kang Sujin.” Seojun took off his cap and ran his hand through his hair.

Sujin smiled and stirred her ramen. “So, what happened this time?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why’d you ask to see me today? Did Jukyung post another video?”

Seojun hesitated. “Last time… I was in a bad mood. But you seemed like you wanted to talk.”

Sujin gave a slow smile. “What? You felt guilty?”

“Yes.” Seojun said unabashedly.

“You know we don’t have to talk. Maybe we can just keep each other company.”

“Sure. That seems fine.” Seojun looked at her critically. “But something was bothering you today.”

Sujin bit her cheek. “I had an interview today.”

“Didn’t go well.” It wasn’t a question.

Sujin told him, about how her interviewer treated her. About how she feared she may never get a job again.

“Ah-nee, how can people be so ridiculous? You already settled the matter didn’t you? Then what’s everybody’s problem?” Seojun’s outburst warmed Sujin’s heart. It felt good to talk and share. It made Sujin feel lighter. She wondered if she could return the favor.

“You didn’t tell me what you thought of Jukyung’s video.”

Seojun’s face fell. “Ah. That.” He leaned back and sighed. “Did you see it?”

“Yeah.”

Seojun’s face was a strange combination of pain and admiration. “She looked beautiful, didn’t she?”

Sujin’s voice was small. “Yeah, she did.” And Suho probably thought so too.

“They’ve been together for so long. Marriage was inevitable. But now that it’s happening… I don’t know. I just feel… honestly I don’t even know what I feel anymore.”

“I know what you mean. I can’t imagine how I’m going to attend the wedding.”

“My mom’s inviting the two over for dinner to celebrate. Imagine having to sit through that.”

“Yikes. Does your mom know how you feel?”

“Of course, she does. But Lee Suho is my best friend and she’s happy for him.”

“Well… I’m always here,” Sujin held up her phone, “just a text away. If you need me.”

“What I need right now is more food.” Seojun got up.

“Aren’t idols supposed to diet?”

“Not when they’ve had their ass kicked twelve times. You want anything?”

“Nah. I’m full.”

While Han Seojun went inside, Sujin checked her phone for any messages and emails. She had applied to a dozen non-profit companies. None of them, except the interview today, had gotten back.

“Omo. Isn’t that, that girl?” Someone said loudly.

“Yah! Shhh!”

Sujin looked up to some mean looking high schoolers gawking at her. There were three of them but the one standing in the front was clearly the leader. The girls to her side was trying to keep her quiet but unsuccessfully.

“It is! Look. Its that woman, Kang Sujin! Wah! I never thought I’d meet someone I read about online in real life.” The leader girl came forward, crossing her arms.

Sujin stood up to her full height. The girl was shorter than her, but she was undeterred. Sujin half admired her courage.

“Can I help you?” Sujin asked in a measured tone.

The leader girl stared Sujin down. “Check out her audacity. Should someone who’s hated by everyone be talking like that?” The girl spoke in banmal.

“I don’t know you. And you don’t know me. So why don’t you leave?” Sujin suggested. These kids were younger than her, although by not much. They looked like seniors who might have been held back a year or two.

“Why should I leave? You leave.”

“I was here first.”

“This is my usual place. My boyfriend’s coming here to meet me.” The girl said self-assuredly.

“Then let him come. There’s enough space for the both of us.”

“I don’t think so.” The girl got right in her face. “You’re the girl who seduced our Seojun Oppa, aren’t you? Don’t you know that you almost ruined his career by doing that?”

Sujin laughed at the thought of Han Seojun being someone’s Oppa. He always seemed so childish to her.

“Oh, you think its funny to ruin someone’s career?”

Sujin tried to explain calmly, “No, no. I wasn’t—"

The girl pushed her, “Women like you are everything that’s wrong with the world!”

The old Kang Sujin would have kicked this rude girl’s ass by this point. But Sujin was trying to be a new Kang Sujin, one that didn’t hate easily. Sujin sighed. “Kid, just leave me alone.”

The girl poked her finger in Sujin’s shoulder. “And what if I don’t?”

Sujin raised a hand and the girl flinched. But Sujin only stroked her head. “Youngster, you shouldn’t be so rude to people.”

“Like you were to Lim Jukyung?” Sujin’s face hardened as the girl taunted, “What? You guys are friends now? Who would buy that bullshit? People are you are such trash. You go around flaunting your beauty, seducing our idols. Trash like you doesn’t belong here.”

“Yah, stop it!” The girl’s friends warned from behind.

“Chaeri, you’ll get into trouble.”

Chaeri didn’t listen. “Leave! I don’t want people like you here.” She told Sujin.

It was one thing to be nice. It was quite another to be weak. And Kang Sujin was anything but weak. “You want me to leave?” Sujin said. “Then make me.” Sujin stood her ground, glaring at the girl.

Chaeri smiled. “Okay.” She reached over to the half finished can of soda that Han Seojun had left on the table and poured it over Sujin.

Sujin closed her eyes to calm herself. Don’t engage Kang Sujin.

“Here you go, b****.”

Alright, screw it.

Sujin’s eyes popped open enraged. “What did you just call me? B****?” She grabbed Chaeri’s hair and pulled.

Chaeri screamed, “Yah! What are you doing?”

“I was going easy on you since you’re a teenager. But now I see you need to be taught a lesson.” Sujin kept her grip firmly on the Chaeri hair as the girl struggled to break free. “Listen carefully. Just because someone has allegedly done something wrong doesn’t mean you get to take justice in your hands. If you see something wrong, you speak up about it. If it’s happening in front of you, you stop it. But you don’t go around harassing someone without even understanding the full story, arachi? If I’m a bully, then go tell the police and have them investigate. Calling me names and bothering me only makes you another bully, not an avenger.”

Sujin let go. Chaeri ran and cowered by her friends who looked at Sujin in fear.

“Now get out of my sight. And don’t let me see you girls again.”

The girls ran away as Sujin watched. She didn’t enjoy what had just happened. It left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Was I too harsh?

“Remind me never to piss you off again.” Han Seojun came to stand by her.

“Mwo-ya, were you watching? How long were you here.”

“I came out when I saw you grabbing that girl’s hair.”

Sujin frowned in worry. “I wasn’t—”

“I know.” Seojun came forward, eyeing her head. “I heard the speech. Did they do this?” He pointed to her wet hair.

“Ugh. Yeah.” Sujin groaned.

“Let’s go inside. You can clean up.”

Sujin used the convenience store bathroom to wash out the soda from her hair. She dried off with some paper towels but her head looked like a mess when she was done. She tried to smoothen it down but then it stuck to her face weirdly.

In the store, Han Seojun was signing an autograph for the store clerk. “Ya, gimme that.” Sujin came up behind him and took his cap off from him, putting it on herself. Han Seojun didn’t bat an eye lash.

“Here you go.” He told the clerk.

“Thank you. My girlfriend will really appreciate it.” The clerk beamed.

The convenience store entrance rang as they exited.

“You can keep that cap.” Seojun told Sujin.

“Ah really?”

“Yah! Are you the one who harassed my girlfriend?”

Seojun and Sujin turned. The high schooler, Chaeri, was standing there with four hulking boys, all looking like miscreants with their mean faces and unkempt clothing. They seemed older than high school kids, more like college students. The girl’s friends were notably missing. It was just her and the four thugs.

“Han Seojun,” Sujin whispered, “you leave.”

“No.” He said casually, yet firmly.

“You could get into another scandal, you idiot!” Sujin hissed.

“No.”

Sujin clenched her jaw. “Listen to me, you dolt. You’ll—”

“Omo! Is that Han Seojun?” Chaeri was staring, eyes wide in wonder. “It is! Oh my God, Oppa! Is that you? Why are you here?” Chaeri’s eyes passed between Seojun and Sujin. “Oppa, are you actually dating this girl?” She asked, sounding betrayed.

“You know this guy?” Chaeri’s boyfriend asked.

“He’s Han Seojun. He’s an idol.”

“He’s not with me.” Sujin declared as she walked up to the group, putting distance between her and Seojun. “We just coincidentally met inside.” She stood resolutely with her shoulders squared, not showing an ounce of fear.

Seojun walked up and stood Sujin. “I am with her. So what? You got a problem?” He asked Chaeri.

Sujin’s face contorted in exasperation. Han Seojun, you idiot!

The boyfriend looked amused at the situation. “Aaah. I see now. You think that just because your boyfriend is a big shot idol that you can do whatever you want?”

“That’s not what happened. Your girlfriend here harassed me first.” Sujin explained coolly.

“Oppa, she’s lying.” The girl said. “I was just walking by and she started pulling my hair.”

Sujin scoffed. “What an obvious lie. You gonna believe that?”

“I don’t see why I have to believe you.” The boyfriend replied.

“Why would I attack her without any reason?”

“Oppa, she did it because I was a fan of Han Seojun.” Chaeri looked at Seojun, “Aren’t you going to defend your fans?”

Seojun tilted his head. “My fans don’t go around harassing my friends.”

Chaeri’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“Also, no real fan would damage their idol’s reputation but causing a scene like this. Don’t you know it reflects badly on me when say I have toxic fans?”

Chaeri’s face contorted in anger. Sujin gulped, “Han Seojun, shut up.”

“Oppa, you’re going to just let these people treat me this way?” Chaeri pulled at her boyfriend’s arm.

The boyfriend leaned down to Sujin, “Listen here ahjumma, you hurt my girlfriend. That action is going to come with consequences.”

Seojun grabbed the boy’s collar, pushing him away from Sujin. “You can’t call yourself a man if you threaten women like this.”

The boyfriend laughed, before he went in for the punch. Seojun dodged it and kicked the guy in the chest, sending him backwards. Chaeri squealed and jumped to the side. The other three thugs went for Seojun and Sujin.

Sujin brought one of them down with a spin kick in the face. The other two boys were on Seojun. Sujin kicked one of them away and dragged him further by his hair.

It was difficult for Sujin and Seojun to keep up. The thugs, while young, were still huge and more in number. Sujin took her time to size up her opponents, hitting and dodging accordingly. Seojun fought in his typical instinctive manner, taking many hits but also delivering his own.

One of the boys had Seojun backed up in the corner and by this time the boyfriend had gotten back up. Seojun didn’t see the boyfriend, but Sujin did. The boyfriend picked up a stick lying on the corner of the street by the garbage cans. Two thugs were on Seojun now, holding him back as the boyfriend raised the stick, aiming to swing it right in Seojun’s face.

In that moment, Sujin forgot all about fighting with strategy. All she could think of was saving Han Seojun. She ran into the boyfriend, taking him down with her entire body. She kicked him in the groin, causing so much pain that the boy’s face became red. Han Seojun, and the two thugs holding him back, were staring at her speechless.

“I won’t let you hit his face.” She told the boyfriend. Then, giving Seojun a sideways look she added, “It’s a hot commodity.”

Seojun took this opening to break free and kick the thugs away. Sujin swung the stick and hit one of them in the back. The last one standing decided to be smart and ran away.

Seojun and Sujin looked at each other, and the high schoolers lying on the ground, moaning in pain. They had won and it felt good. Seojun looked at something behind Sujin. She followed his line of sight and found Chaeri standing by the corner, recording everything on her phone.

Sujin walked up to her. “Give it while I’m being nice.”

“I’m recording this too you know.” Chaeri said insolently.

Sujin smiled. Then spun around to kick Chaeri, except she missed her face by an inch.

“Ah, how sad. I missed.”

Chaeri just stood, frozen in place. Seojun walked up, pulled the phone from her hand and smashed it to the ground.

“Am I going to hear about this online?” It was a rhetorical question. Said with such authority, in that deep angry baritone, that even Sujin felt intimidated.

Chaeri just shook her head.

“Good. Lets go, Kang Sujin.” Seojun led Sujin away by her arm.

“So, like I said. Remind me never to piss you off again.” Seojun repeated. Sujin chuckled. “Also…” Seojun rubbed the back of his head, “Thanks… for saving me back there.”

“Don’t mention it. After all, we have to protect his hot commodity.” Sujin teased. Instead of getting annoyed like she expected him to, Han Seojun smirked.

“You know I never said my face was a hot commodity. I only said it was a precious commodity.” Sujin stopped in her tracks as she realized he was right. But Seojun kept on walking smugly. “I guess you think I’m hot.” He called back to her.

“No way!” Sujin yelled as she ran after him. “No way!” ii.

Things had changed between Kang Sujin and Han Seojun. They were way past enmity now. In fact, Seojun couldn’t even remember the hate he used to have for her. They were also past the courteous co-existence they had sustained for a brief period where they acted polite and nice to one another which was more a sign of them being strangers than anything else.

Now Han Seojun and Kang Sujin really could say that they were friends. Hanging out together had become a weekly ritual. Almost always, it was prompted by something Jukyung or Suho did.

The night of Suho’s and Jukyung’s the engagement party, hosted by Suho’s father, they went to karaoke to sing their hearts out. As expected, Seojun was the better singer. But Sujin wasn’t exactly bad herself. Her song choices were about self-empowerment and having fun. Seojun chose soft, ballads that were clearly about Jukyung.

“One day, my songs will be on a karaoke machine too.” Seojun had wished as they had walked back home.

“And then I will sing it.” Sujin encouraged.

“And ruin it.”

Sujin punched him in the shoulder.

The time Suho and Jukyung announced their wedding on Jukyung’s channel, they went to an arcade. Of course, Sujin beat Seojun at every game.

“Ah-nee, how do you know how to play? All I ever saw you doing in school was study.”

“Just accept it, Han Seojun. I’m better than you.”

“At bragging maybe.”

The time Jukyung got drunk and went around hugging Han Seojun thinking he was Suho, they went for a drive on his bike.

Sujin had insisted that he teach her how to ride it.

“Aren’t you afraid?” Seojun remebered how terrified Jukyung had been when she first rode with him.

“Why would I be?” Sujin asked, confused.

She took to the bike quickly and soon was riding them both around the city without Seojun’s guidance.

“Not too bad, Kang Sujin.” Seojun was impressed. Sujin grinned triumphantly.

As per their agreement, the two looked out for each other when they were with the group, making sure their feelings weren’t too apparent. At the night of the engagement party, Sujin kept covering for Seojun when he didn’t participate in conversations as much as he usually did. She would answer for him or change the subject. On the same night, Seojun had been the one to sneak Sujin away when she was on the verge of breaking into tears when the couple was cutting the cake. No one had noticed the two heart broken friends that night. All eyes had been on Jukyung and Suho.

On the same night that Jukyung had gotten drunk, Han Seojun had been the one to distract Suah when she kept pushing Jukyung into dating a guy she knew from work. And on a separate occasion, when the group was out for dinner and had run into Suho’s father, Seojun had kept a firm hand on Sujin’s back when Lee Joheon spoke at length on how sad he was about her parents’ divorce.

As uncanny as it seemed, it was undeniable. Han Seojun and Kang Sujin were friends now. Oddly enough, no one seemed to have picked up on their closeness, despite the fact that they never hid it from anyone. Sujin mentioned that Seojun had taught her how to ride his bike but the statement went unnoticed for its inclusion of Han Seojun. All Suah and Jukyung cared about was how dangerous it was to drive bikes.

“Han Seojun! Stop being a bad influence on Sujin!” Jukyung had scolded.

“What did I do? She’s the one who wanted to learn. And she’s not so innocent either. Just ask her about how she beat me in jiujitsu.” Seojun had pointed a finger at her.

“You know Jiujitsu?” Suho had asked, ignoring the part about her beating Seojun.

“Yeah. We should spar sometime.”

And so things went on and Jukyung’s and Suho’s wedding date inched closer and closer. But Sujin felt nothing had really improved with her feelings about Suho.

“We should really get to the therapy part one of these days.” Sujin casually said over a cup of coffee. This time, they had opted for a quiet meeting in a café.

Seojun considered her request. “What should we talk about?”

They both drew a blank, neither able to come up with a good starting point. Their feelings were so complicated and tangled that neither knew were to start unraveling.

Sujin raised a hand, fingers spread out wide. “Five questions.” She said, and with each word she lowered a finger, “Who, What, When, Where and Why.” She said in English.

“What’s that?”

“Its how you gather basic information. You ask yourself these questions.” Sujin explained, translating in Korean, “Who is it? What is it? When was it? and Why was it?”

Seojun nodded. “Okay. You first.”

“Hmm… We can skip the Who since we already know who it is. So, what is it that I like about Lee Suho? Hmm…” Sujin had to think for a minute.

The first thing that popped into her mind was her father. She and Suho both had troubled relationships with their fathers and at the time, Sujin had felt that Suho could understand her better because because of this. But she couldn’t tell Han Seojun that. Having a dysfunctional family made her feel like a freak. She didn’t need Han Seojun knowing about her private problems, even if they were friends.

So instead of the truth, she said, “He was cool,”

Seojun scoffed. “Kang Sujin were you that shallow?”

Sujin looked at him flatly. “It wasn’t just that! It was… well, he was always cold to everyone else. But he still treated me better.” Sujin looked at her hands, nervously playing with her thumbs. “I guess I liked how he was with me. And I liked that he wasn’t shallow like most boys are. ”

That answer seemed more acceptable to Seojun. “I don’t think I can distill my feelings to just a couple of traits. I like everything about Lim Jukyung. The way she smiles, the way she ties up her hair, how kind and caring she is with everyone… she just has this warmth about her that just… draws you in.”

“I know what you mean.” Sujin agreed. But there was a little part of her that resented Seojun’s compliments of Jukyung. Wasn’t she kind and caring too? Didn’t she have any warmth?

Probably not. Her father’s voice said. Sujin pushed it away.

“When did you first start liking Lee Suho?” Seojun asked.

Sujin thought for a minute. “I don’t know. I just know that when I noticed I liked him, it felt like I had always liked him.” She sat up straight. “What about you? When did you start liking Jukyung?”

After a pause he replied, “When I started to get to know her. I can’t say exactly when… But I noticed my heart would act weird after she started teasing me about my underwear--”

“Say what now? What underwear?” Sujin perked up. It was at this moment that Han Seojun knew, that he had messed up. He could feel himself get red in the face.

“It was nothing. What I meant was—”

“Nononono, no. Han Seojun, you’re not getting out of this one. Tell me. What underwear?”

Seojun crossed his arms, “I’m not saying a word.”

Their therapy session had ended there. Sujin tried again and again to get Seojun to reveal what the underwear incident was but he kept his silence. He would die before he ever told anyone about how Jukyung had seen him dancing around in his cheetah print underwear.

Han Seojun still experienced PTSD when he heard “Okey Dokey yo!” from anywhere.

iii.

Seojun didn’t know how the fight began. They had met up for dinner after Sujin got off from work. She had taken up various part time jobs to pay the bills. With her being busy throughout the day, dinner was the only time they could meet.

They had been talking about Suho and Jukyung. Seojun normally danced around the topic of what Sujin had done back in high school now that they were friends. But this time she had brought it up herself.

“Do you remember that picture I took of you?”

“Yeah.” Seojun still remembered how flatly she had said You look cool. He had almost admired her audacity back then, and he did so more now.

“I traded it to get the info on Jukyung.” She admitted quietly.

“Ah, even back then my face was such a hot commodity.” Seojun said smugly.

Sujin made a face at him.

They joked about the past, about how Han Seojun hadn’t changed since then, about how Sujin had changed so much. Then, as they walked towards Sujin’s apartment, they got into the serious stuff. About how Sujin just disappeared after the truth about her was revealed, about how Seojun was right that she had only destroyed herself, and no one else.

“I wish I hadn’t done all that. Looking back, I want to kick myself.” Sujin had said.

“You should have shared, about what you were going through. Suah and Jukyung would have understood. I mean, having your father treat you the way he did… it must have made everything harder to deal with. Looking back, I might have acted better too, even helped y--”

Seojun suddenly noticed that Sujin wasn’t with him. She had stopped in her tracks and was glaring at him but Seojun couldn’t understand why.

“W-what do you mean my father’s treatment?” Sujin asked icily, her face was unreadable.

“Well… didn’t he used to beat you and pressure you for—”

“Shut up! Just shut up, Han Seojun!” Sujin suddenly freaked out. And it scared Seojun.

“What’s wrong?” He asked with concern. He moved towards her, but she moved back.

She looked at him coldly. “Who the hell told you about this? Was it Suho? It was Suho, wasn’t it? No one else knows besides him.”

Seojun hesitated. “Actually... that time when I met your mom—”

Sujin blinked rapidly. “So you’re saying that you’ve known about this all this time?”

“Kang Sujin, calm down its not a—”

Sujin spoke through clenched teeth, “What’s not a big deal? The fact that my family is broken or the fact that my father was an abusive asshole? What exactly about it is not a big deal, Han Seojun?”

Seojun was thoroughly confused now. “Sujin-ah.” he called out to her but she kept moving back with every step he took towards her. She was shaking quite visibly.

“Did you have fun, thinking I was so tragic and damaged? Did you have fun pitying me all this time? Did you—” Sujin’s eyes went wide as if she hit a realization. “Ya Han Seojun… did you become friends with me because you pitied me?” She said the word with such acidity that Seojun flinched.

It would be a lie to say it hadn’t influenced his opinion of her. But it wasn’t the only reason they were friends. Surely Sujin had to understand that.

“Sujin-ah—”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Sujin’s lip quivered. “All this time, you’ve only treated me decently because you thought I was some tragic case—”

“You know that’s not true.” Seojun protested but Sujin wasn’t listening.

“—and here I was thinking we were actually friends. Han Seojun, would you have even been nice to me if you hadn’t known?”

“Does that matter?” Seojun asked, frustrated, “We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

That had been the wrong thing to say. Sujin’s eyes flamed as she suddenly switched. Gone was the shaking and the freaked out look. Sujin was now very calm and cold; calculating in her movements. She gave a sarcastic smile. “Ya Han Seojun. Do you know? I pity you too.”

“What?”

“Pathetically liking someone for so long, whining like a boy over everything, acting all childish, you think that makes you attractive?”

“Ya, Kang Sujin—” Seojun warned.

“I bet Jukyung pities you too.” Sujin stalked up to Seojun. “Ah, that loser, Han Seojun, until when is he going to be hung up on me? I bet that’s what she thinks every time she sees you.”

They glared at each other for the longest time. Maybe too long.

“Kang Sujin… you are seriously messed up.” Was all Seojun said before he walked away; from Sujin and the entire situation. Sujin’s eyes filled with tears which she furiously blinked away.

If Sujin had been more like Jukyung, she would have dealt with this situation maturely. Lim Kukyung would have faced her emotions and not taken Seojun’s sympathy as pity. Lim Jukyung would have been up front about how she felt and not pushed Seojun away. Lim Jukyung would have been better.

But Kang Sujin was not Lim Jukyung. Kang Sujin was a messed up girl.

iv.

“Has anyone heard from Sujin recently?” Jukyung asked the group. They were all gathered for lunch, all except Seojun and Sujin, both of whom had been absent these past couple of get-togethers.

“Wae? Has something happened?” Suah asked.

“Not really. But she hasn’t been replying as much to my texts.” Jukyung pouted.

“You know what Kang Su is like. She’s rarely online. Plus, she’s working all these jobs now.”

“She always replies to me though,” Jukyung muttered to herself as she looked at her chat with Sujin. The one Sujin hadn’t responded to since four days.

“Is Seojun not coming today either?” Taehoon asked Suho.

“Don’t know. He’s so busy with brand practice these days that he barely replies to me.”

“Guys! Sorry I’m late!” Sujin rushed towards the group.

“Kang Su!” Jukyung and Suah welcomed her.

“We were afraid you wouldn’t show up again.” Jukyung said, putting her arm through Sujin’s.

“Kang Su-ya,” Suah said, playfully nudging Sujin’s shoulder, “you’re all dressed up. Did you just come back from a date?” Indeed Sujin was wearing a sleek black pant suit with full makeup on.

“Who went on a date?” Seojun arrived but stopped when he saw Sujin. Sujin held her breath as she waited for him to say something.

“Our Kang Su.” Suah responded. Seojun just flicked a brow but betrayed no emotion. He took a seat besides Suho.

“Ya! It wasn’t a date. I just came back from an interview.” She grinned.

“Ooh! How did it go?”

Sujin kept her silence for a second before she finally burst with excitement, “I got it!” The girls squealed at the good news. “Its at this non-profit that works with providing clean water to under-developed countries.” She showed everyone the website for the company and the work that they did on her phone.

Everyone congratulated Sujin on her accomplishment. Even Seojun gave her a “Congratulations.” To which she thanked him.

“I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t think you’d come.” Suho told Seojun.

He wasn’t going to. But he had heard that Sujin hadn’t been present either and he had figured it would be okay for him to join everyone if she wasn’t there.

She should have been an actress, Seojun thought as he watched Sujin behave like nothing was wrong.

The conversation over lunch flowed easily as it usually did. Everyone laughed, joked and shared about what had happened since they last met. No one seemed to notice that Seojun and Sujin were not speaking directly to each other, even once. They only spoke to everyone else.

It was only when Seojun was leaving the men’s room that he found Sujin waiting for him and jumped in surprise.

“Ah, ggam-jjak-ee-ya!” Seojun held his chest in shock.

“Aww, the great Han Seojun get’s scared?”

“Only when confronted by pervert girls who stalk boys outside the washrooms.”

Sujin narrowed her eyes. “Shut up! I wasn’t stalking. I was only waiting to talk to you.”

“That’s equally worrying. What do you want?” He said dismissively.

Sujin handed him a keychain. It was his own face made in cartoon form. “Here. I know how much you love seeing yourself.”

“What’s this for?”

Sujin cleared her throat. “An apology. Mianhae, Han Seojun. Last time—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” He handed the keychain back to Sujin. She grabbed his arm as he tried to leave.

“At least hear me out.”

“No.” Seojun pushed her arm away.

Sujin’s lips tightened. She grabbed Seojun’s arm again, pulling him with brute strength. “Will you just listen to me you big baby! I’m trying to apologize.” She glared at him.

“Why? I thought you hated me.”

Sujin’s face softened. “I don’t hate you, Han Seojun.” She let go of his arm. “That time… when you started talking about my father, I just lost it. I haven’t actually told anybody about what he did to me. Not even Suah and Jukyung know. All they know is that he was tough on me.”

“Lee Suho knows.” Seojun accused.

“He figured it out on his own. I never actually told him. How could I?” Sujin felt ridiculous admitting it out loud, “How could I tell him that I don’t know what a happy family looks like? I see Jukyung with her dad and Suah with hers and how they have such good relationships, and I can’t imagine being the same way with my father. And that makes me feel like a freak. People already give me weird looks because of my parents’ divorce. If they knew about my father, they’d think that I was crazy… and maybe I am, who knows.”

Seojun softened. “You’re not crazy, Sujin-ah.”

There it was, that pity on Han Seojun’s face. Sujin hated it but she had come today to this lunch only to apologize to him and that is what she was going to do.

“I am, Han Seojun. Why else would I have said all of those mean things?” Sujin’s voice shook. Seojun moved to hug her but she stepped away. Him comforting her would be too much, she would fall to pieces if he did. She had to hold herself together, on her own. “I’m sorry Han Seojun. I didn’t mean any of it. Not a single word.”

Seojun nodded. “I know.” He felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders and only then did he notice how bothered he really had been about their fight.

“You guys not coming?” Suho asked as he passed by. Seojun and Sujin straightened themselves up and joined the others.

They found the girls giggling at something on Jukyung’s phone.

“What’s funny?”

“Ya Kang Sujin, your nose looks so big in this!” Suah commented. Jukyung turned the phone to Sujin. It was the video of the live event they had done.

“Aish!” Sujin said disapprovingly. “I look so weird in this video.”

Suho and Taehoon leaned over and laughed too as Sujin robotically read off the comments in the video.

“Maybe we can go Seojun’s makeup next.” Jukyung suggested.

“I’m a celebrity, Lim Jukyung.” He said haughtily, pulling the lapels of his jacket, “You can’t just have me on any show.”

Sujin wrinkled her nose at Seojun, “This coming from a guy who didn’t even know the difference between ppt and fitting.”

“That never happened!” Seojun contested. Everyone else laughed.

“Sujin-ah. Maybe I can have you on as a guest next time.” Jukyung suggested.

“Sure.” Sujin put her arm around Jukyung and whispered audibly, “And let’s do it when Suho isn’t around.” The girls winked to each other.

Suho smacked Sujin’s hand away from Jukyung’s shoulder. “Keep your hands off my girlfriend.”

“Sure. But I can’t guarantee she’ll keep her hands off me.” Sujin grinned evilly. Suho’s wide eyed, worried, expression made Jukyung laugh.

Han Seojun fell on his face for the umpteenth time as he tried to hit the ball that Sujin had served. He was lucky they were all on the beach and his face was hitting soft sand instead of concrete.

“Ya, who’s idea was it to play volleyball?” Seojun asked as he brushed himself off.

“Quit being a sore loser, Han Seo!” Sujin called from the girl’s side of the net.

“Just you watch. I will make you eat your words!”

Of course, the boys lost. Suho was too distracted by Jukyung. Taehoon played bad on purpose because Suah said she wanted to win. Chorong was a bad at playing in general. The only two people taking this seriously were Han Seojun and Kang Sujin who ran around covering up for their team mates, as if their lives depended on winning. Sujin in particular refused to let Seojun get a single goal.

“You must really hate Han Seojun, huh?” Suah asked once the game was over.

“No. I just don’t like to lose.”

“Look at her, it’s like she’s going to war.” Jukyung laughed at the fire in Sujin’s eyes.

“Did you piss Kang Sujin off?” Taehoon was asking Seojun on the other side as the boys drank water.

“Nah, she’s just like that in general.” Seojun panted, still exhausted from the game.

A crowd of girls had gathered around their little game, drawn towards Suho and Seojun playing. They had cheered the boys on during the game and now they gravitated towards the two, hoping to get a chance to talk to them.

Suho had brushed them off in his usual rude manner. Seojun had been obliging, especially when they recognized who he was. He patiently signed autographs but couldn’t take pictures since his company didn’t allow them.

“Han Seojun, we have to get back.” Suah had come over to inform him.

“Yeah, just one minute.” The fans kept coming and coming. Seojun realized that maybe he should tell them he has to go. But as much as he wanted, he couldn’t say no to the hopeful girls who had liked the music that he made and had decided his signature was worth something.

“Han Seojun hurry up! We have to move!” Jukyung called.

“Just a second!”

Suho came over and rudely pushed through the crowd of girls. “Yah! Don’t be like that to my fans.” He tried dragging Seojun away but Seojun dodged him and the girls quickly pushed him back.

“Yah! Haven’t you girls had enough?!” Sujin’s voice boomed over the crowd, terrifying everyone. “And you girls over there!” Sujin pointed, “I saw you two return twice! You’re planning on selling those autographs, aren’t you?”

“Ya Kang Sujin—” Seojun began to protest.

“Don’t piss me off.” Sujin warned, “Our trip isn’t a place for you to have fan meetings.” She grabbed Seojun’s wrist and dragged him away before he could object.

The fangirls whispered to each other angrily, but none dared stand in Sujin’s way as she took Seojun away from them.

“Mwo-ya.”

“Who is that girl?”

“What the hell?”

“Come on, I’m hungry. We should get back to the resort.” Suho said when Seojun had joined them. He and Taehoon picked up their things and loaded them in their car.

At a distance, near a food cart, stood Kim Chorong. He watched as everyone got ready to leave. He could see Suah and Jukyung clinging to their boyfriends, his own posse goofing around and Han Seojun laughing and joking with his arm around Suho.

“Did you see how all those girls swarmed around me?” Seojun asked Jukyung. “Ya, aren’t you lucky to have a guy like me as your friend?”

“What lucky? You wasted all our time!” Jukyung scolded.

“Ah, I just can’t turn off my charms.”

Sujin scoffed, pulling a disgusted face, “Where? Where are these charms?” She put her hand over her eyes and mimicked searching.

“Right here!” Seojun replied, puffing his chest. “See how charming I am!”

“As charming as a sea louse maybe.”

“Yah!” The group laughed as Seojun pointed accusingly at Sujin.

Chorong had watched as Seojun pointed at Sujin in a huff while everyone laughed. It was the liveliest that Chorong had ever seen Han Seojun be.

“Chagi, what are you doing here all alone?” Chorong’s girlfriend came up to him.

“Geunyang.” Chorong put his arm around his girlfriend and walked towards the group.

They all went back to their resort, a beautiful location that Suho had paid for as this was the first time that everyone was going together since high school. They were all given shared rooms. Naturally, Chorong shared his with Seojun.

“Han Seojun,” Chorong began as Seojun changed out of his shirt, “I’m really happy for you.”

“Huh? What for?”

“You always used to complain about hanging out with everyone, but I don’t hear you do that anymore.” Chorong said sentimentally.

Seojun blinked. “Kim Chorong did you drink too much sea water? What kind of a weird thing is that to say?”

Chorong came up and hugged the half-naked Seojun, who balked at the gesture. “What the hell?!”

“Do you know how worried I was about you?” Chorong, with his enormous size, did not notice how Han Seojun desperately struggled to break free from his grip.

“Ya! You pervert, lemme go!”

“Ah-nee, look at you now. You said you would never go on an overnight trip with Suho and Jukyung, and yet here you are.”

Seojun stopped struggling. “What?”

It was odd that out of all people, Chorong had been the one to notice. “I’m so happy for you Han Seojun. Th—”

“Han Seojun, Jukyung’s asking if you would—whatthehell?” Sujin burst in and went still when she saw a half dressed Seojun being held by a sentimental looking Chorong.

Sujin betrayed no emotion. Just wordlessly took out her phone and promptly snapped a photo.

Han Seojun tried to push Chorong away, “No! Ya! Don’t you dare!”

“Jukyung is asking if you will sing songs for us. Quickly get dressed and come over, okay?” Sujin went out and Seojun caught a glimpse of her evil smile as she did.

“Yah! Kim Chorong!” Seojun shouted as Chorong finally let him go.

Of course, Seojun would perform. He always did when Jukyung asked. The group clapped at the end of the first song but the only reaction Seojun cared for was Jukyung. As usual, he found her engrossed with Lee Suho instead of him. Seojun couldn’t help but stare at the two.

“You sounded good.” Sujin came out of nowhere, blocking his view of Jukyung. Seojun knew, she was doing it on purpose.

“Too obvious?” He asked quietly.

“Too obvious. Suah almost noticed.” Sujin moved to block Suah’s line of vision to Seojun’s face.

“Thanks, I owe you one.” Seojun said.

“Pay me back with a song then.” Sujin rolled on her heels.

“Nope. Only Jukyung gets to request songs.”

She pfft-ed through her lips, “Mwo-ya. How stingy.” She turned on her heels.

“What song?” Seojun asked. Sujin smiled and turned back.

“You Were Beautiful by Day6.”

“Why not something by my band?” Seojun sounded almost insulted.

“I like Day6 better.” Sujin teased.

“I expected better taste from you, Kang Sujin.” Seojun adjusted the tuning of his guitar, testing the chords.

“Its my goodbye.” Sujin explained. “I’m moving on from Lee Suho.”

“Haven’t I heard that before?” Seojun said skeptically.

“Its for real this time.” Sujin said. Seojun looked up at her determined face.

“You’re serious.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. It’s been long enough now. This is my way of making it official. So do a good job, okay?” Sujin walked away.

“I bet I’ll sing it better!” Seojun called after her.

“We’ll see!”

She hadn’t looked at Suho even once during his performance. But then, she hadn’t looked at anyone, just stared out the window. By the end she was tearing up. Seojun saw Suho happen to look over at Sujin.

He’s going to see her cry.

Seojun began to play his guitar loudly and messily, “Yeppeosseo! Yeppeosseo! Neon neomu yeppeosseo!” Everyone winced as he sang, or rather shouted, at the wrong note. But the abrupt bad singing had its intended effect. Suho’s attention was on Han Seojun. It took a second for Sujin to get the message. She sat up straight and wiped her face.

“Han Seojun! Stop it!” Suah yelled and Seojun stopped. “Are you in a rock band?”

Sujin sent him a grateful smile.

“It’s a totally new style of singing. You guys don’t like?” Seojun asked.

“No!” Came the resounding response.

Sujin’s was the only voice that said. “Yes!”

Seojun pointed his guitar at Sujin, head tilted back. “Better than Day6?”

“Much better!” Sujin grinned.

vi.

“YES! I WIN! I WIN!” Seojun ran around the court, pumping his fist in the air as Kang Sujin stared with a flat face and her hands on her hips. After having lost at nearly everything to Kang Sujin, Han Seojun had finally discovered something she was bad at.

“Are you really that happy?” She said, her upper lip pulled up in disdain.

“Ya! How can someone be so bad at basketball? You didn’t score a single goal!” Seojun’s eyes were wide with pure joy, his cheeks uplifted in a wide smile.

“Stop making fun of me.” Sujin fumed. She hated losing.

“I mean, I’ve never seen anyone lose so bad!” He laughed while pointing at Sujin, relishing in her first defeat. He knew he was great at basketball, but he hadn’t expected Sujin to be that bad. Sujin looked away, puffing up her cheeks.

“Zero!” He made a circle from his finger and thumb, “You got zero! I’ve seen worse players score more on accident!”

“Ah shut up!” She stomped her foot, "I was just off my game!”

“Off your game? Wae? Was my handsome face too distracting for you?” Seojun expected Sujin to come after him with a flying kick, or a punch in the shoulder or even a pithy retort. What he didn’t expect was the deep blush that spread across her cheeks. She looked around, choosing to look anywhere but him.

“Oh my God, jinjja? You got distracted by my face?” Seojun moving to look at her face better.

“Ah-nee-godun!” Sujin yelled, dodging his gaze. “Who would get distracted by those mean eyes?”

“Oh, so it was my eyes?” Seojun purred.

“As if!”

“Ooooooh! You’re even blushing!” He teased.

“I’m red from playing!” Sujin spun around and walked away, leaving Seojun laughing.

“I’m joking! I’m joking! I know it’s not that. Come back Sujin-ah!”

They changed out of their sweaty gym clothes. Seojun was wearing his typical brown coat over black pants and a black turtle-neck sweater. He was ready before Sujin so he waited for her outside.

She came out all dolled up, her hair brushed straight, fresh makeup on her face. She had a white coat over a pretty, pale pink dress. Seojun didn’t understand why she had dressed up so brightly today. She even had heels on. Sujin had denied any special reason when he had asked before so he figured this was just a girl thing that he would never understand.

They had only walked a couple of steps when Sujin stopped in her tracks. “Ah, shit. I think I forgot my phone inside.”

“Why are you so distracted today? Where is your head, Kang Sujin?” Seojun complained. Sujin ran back inside to get her phone.

“Got it!” She came back running.

They walked over to the café that they frequented to the point where the barista recognized them now.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t go to the amusement park like you wanted.” Seojun apologized.

Sujin waved a hand dismissively, “Doesn’t matter. It was just a throw away suggestion.”

“But I understand why you wanted to go there instead.”

“You do?” Sujin asked with a tinge of worry.

“Its because you didn’t want me to find out you were bad at basketball, didn’t you?” Seojun snapped his fingers.

Sujin’s face fell. She clicked her tongue in disappointment.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

Sujin replied sarcastically, “Ah, you’re totally right Han Seojun. I am so immature that all I care about is winning against a guy who thought Einstein was an appliance.”

“That happened only once.” Seojun defended.

A silence fell between them as their order came. Wordlessly, Sujin drank her iced latte and Seojun sipped his iced Americano. They often had these moments where neither would speak. But it was a comfortable silence. Sometimes Seojun and Sujin just enjoyed each other’s company without feeling the need to talk.

“You know we never finished our five questions.” Sujin reminded.

“Oh wow. That feels like it was so long ago.” Seojun leaned his head back as he tried to remember. “We covered the When. Where… I don’t remember where I fell in love with Jukyung. I think it was the moment in school where she was making fun of my…” Seojun cleared his throat.

“One of these days I’ll find out what that incident was, Han Seojun.” Sujin claimed.

“But not today.” He smiled. “So yeah, I think it was in school. What about you?”

“I think it was at the tutoring centers. I used to go there to study. My father had hit me, and I was in a strange place at that time. Suho comforted me and I guess that was when I realized I liked him. Now you, why did you like Lim Jukyung?”

Seojun leaned back and thought for the longest time. “She was… unexpected. I only started to pester her because I thought she was dating Suho.”

“Yeah, I remember that pestering part.”

Ya, Han Seojun are you a gangster?! Whiplash. Every time Seojun remembered that moment he felt whiplash.

“Since I hated Suho at that time, I had expected her to be hateful too. I thought she was just some vain, mindless girl but… she was the complete opposite. She was kind and thoughtful. She had a good heart and that made her beautiful to me. With or without makeup.” Seojun paused, then suddenly chuckled.

“What?”

“It’s funny. Before, I was never able to pin down what I liked about her. My feelings always seemed so complicated. But now that I see it… it feels so obvious.”

Seojun didn’t notice Sujin looking down at her hands, nervously rubbing them together, “Seojun, do you ever think you coul—” She spoke just when Seojun did.

“What did you like about Suho—oh sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no.” Sujin shook her head. “I wasn’t saying anything. You were asking why I liked Lee Suho? Umm…” Sujin thought about it.

“Lee Suho, has never once liked a girl. Not before Jukyung, at least. There was a time when I was his only friend in school. And I thought… I misunderstood, his kindness as interest. I’ve always been pushed to get the number one position, you know? I always had to be number one. And when I thought that the guy that liked no one, liked me… it made me feel like I was number one, even if I ranked low on the grade sheet.” Sujin looked out the glass wall of the café, out on the street where people were walking, and it was slightly drizzling.

“When he found out that my father hit me, I thought he would see me as a crazy person, or pity me, or judge me for hating my father. But he never did. He only comforted me. He just… understood. And it was the first time that I felt that there was someone else who could understand me and understand what I was going through. That’s why I liked Lee Suho.”

Sujin looked back at Seojun. His mouth had shrunken into a small curve.

“But now he’s just annoying.” Sujin said in a lighter tone, “I mean, at a certain point you start hating people when they appear too perfect, isn’t that so?”

Seojun attempted a smile but it was weak.

“I’m happy now, Seojun-ah. I’m happy that I’m not with Suho. I think its for the best. If I think about it. Suho and I are too similar. We didn’t need more of the same. We needed someone who would help us change. Jukyung helped Suho do that. I could never have.”

“That’s a healthy way to look at it. Though I still think I’m perfect for Jukyung.” Seojun said smugly.

Sujin scoffed. “You think you’re perfect for every girl.”

“Where’s the lie?”

“Here! Yeogi! Here’s the lie.” Sujin tapped her finger on Seojun’s side of the table.

“Ah, Kang Sujin. You have no taste.” Seojun squinted his eyes at her in mock pity.

“And you have the IQ of a sloth.”

“I don’t need a high IQ. My greatest strength is my charm.”

“You keep mentioning this charm but I never see it.” Sujin put her hand over her eyes and began to search around.

They bickered in the café till the barista had to remind them, that they were being too loud. The banter continued as Seojun walked her all the way to her apartment. Throughout the way, Seojun could notice Sujin acting nervously; playing with the hem of her dress, combing her hair again and again, wiping her sweaty palms against her coat when she thought he wasn’t looking. He felt she had something to say to him but he didn’t want to ask what it was. If Kang Sujin had something to say, she said it.

Then, out of the blue, she swiveled on her heel to stand right in front of him.

“Ya, Han Seojun…”

“What?”

Sujin gulped. “Ah-nee-da. It’s nothing.” She turned her back to him.

“Whaaaat?” Seojun whined. “You’ve been fidgeting this while time so you definitely have something to say. What is it?”

“I forgot.” Sujin said, walking ahead, biting her lip.

“Mwo-ya…” Seojun let it go. She probably had more to say about Lee Suho and he wasn’t in any mood to hear it.

“Good night, Sujin-ah.” Seojun said when they reached her building.

“D-Do you wanna come up?” Sujin asked, stuttering a bit.

“Nah. I should go. I have an early day tomorrow.”

“Ah, okay.”

“Chalga.” Seojun waved goodbye. He had not walked more than ten steps when Sujin called out to him.

“Han Seojun!”

“What?”

Sujin hesitated. “B-Bye!”

Seojun chuckled. “Mwo-ya. She’s so weird.”

Sujin saw him wave and then leave. “If he turns, then I’ll tell him.” She told herself, trying to work up the courage to say what she had been meaning to the entire night.

But he never turned. Seojun just kept on walking and walking till he disappeared into the crowd.

“I like you, Han Seojun.” Sujin confessed to the wind. “I like you a lot.”

vii.

Han Seojun had to be absent for the whole month due to his idol duties. Sujin was glad for his absence. It had given her time to set her head straight about her feelings. She could still vividly remember, that last time she had ever confessed to a guy and that was back in high school. She clearly recalled how Suho had looked at her with disgust when she had said, or rather declared that he would have liked her if she had confessed first.

No. I wouldn’t have.

“Aish! What was I thinking saying all of those things?” She pulled at her hair as she rolled over in her bed. The humiliation of demanding that Suho break up with Jukyung, and ridiculously saying that she would toss Jukyung aside for him was too much. On top of that, she had tried to kiss Suho and he had pushed her away, repulsed. That in and of itself made her stomach ache with embarrassment.

She had a good heart and that made her beautiful to me. With or without makeup.

“Ah out of all people why him?! Why another guy who loves Lim Jukyung?! What the hell is wrong with me?!” Sujin groaned, rolling around in her bed over and over. Was she obsessed with men who were into Jukyung? Sujin felt frustrated with herself and wanted to throw her heart out.

She just has this warmth about her that just… draws you in.

Kind, caring, genuine, warm; none of those things describe me. Good heart? A single search on the internet would reveal just how good my heart is. Betraying my best friend and ruining all of my friendships in the process… who would say I have a good heart?

Sujin couldn’t compete with the shadow cast by Lim Jukyung. Even if Seojun did start to like her, Lim Jukyung would always be his first love. And just like always, Sujin would be second.

Sujin felt a familiar jealousy creep in; a resentment, a hate, an anger. It was history repeating itself. It was Lim Jukyung again. Why? Why did it have to be her? She and Suho had ten years worth of history between them and even that couldn’t compare to how he felt for Jukyung. Sujin and Seojun had only a year worth of friendship, a quarter of which included Seojun hating her.

It was a dark feeling. A heavy feeling. Like a weight in her chest. Sujin carried it with her whereever she went. She was supposed to meet everyone today. Seojun was suppsed to be back. She felt like she would be a coward if she didn’t go. But she felt like she would hate Jukyung more if she saw her. In the end she did go, and that weight in her chest went with her.

Jukyung was outside alone when Sujin saw her. She was finishing up a call.

Why? Why did it have to be her? Whywhywhy?

Sujin stopped in her tracks. No. She thought resolutely. She would not make the same mistake again. She would not let her feelings take over her judgement. She would not lose her friend again. As much as she loved Han Seojun, she loved her friendship with Lim Jukyung even more.

“Sujin-ah! You’re here-Oh?”

Sujin enveloped Jukyung in a massive hug, almost on the verge of tears. Jukyung hugged her back, confused.

“You know I love you, right?” Sujin said.

“Dangyunhaji! I love you too.” Jukyung hugged her tighter.

“I’ll always be a good friend to you, Jukyung-ah. I promise.” Sujin sniffed.

“Oh, are you crying?”

“No, there’s just something in my eye.” Sujin quickly wiped her face while still holding Jukyung so that she wouldn’t see her cry.

But before she could part, something pulled her collar from behind.

An irritated Suho stood, still tugging at her collar, “You’re not stealing my fiancée.”

“I bet she’d prefer me to you.”

“Okay! Okay! No fighting!” Jukyung declared a ceasefire.

“Are we fighting?” Seojun came up, putting his arm casually around Suho. “If it’s a fight, my bet’s on Sujin.”

“Wae. You think she’s better than me?” Suho asked.

“She’s scarier than you.”

“You traitor.” Suho released himself from Seojun’s side hug and went inside, grumbling. Jukyung followed after him.

“What was that about?” Seojun asked Sujin.

Sujin looked at him. His delicate, boyish features, his mean looking eyes that carried a surprising warmth. Her heartbeat wildly like a hummingbird. Sujin felt like she could spend an entire day just staring at his face. And then she felt it again, the quiet darkness that reminded her that she could never be with him. Quite suddenly, Sujin spun around and kicked Han Seojun in the back.

“Yah! What was that for?!” Seojun yelled.

“For being you.” She said and walked in, leaving Seojun bruised and confused.

viii.

You were pretty

The feeling of not wanting anything more

Moments that only you gave

Everything, everything

Everything has passed

But you were so pretty

Seojun hummed the song as he finalized the playlist for Jukyung’s wedding. Of course, he was going to perform at Jukyung’s wedding. It only made sense given his connection to Jukyung and Suho. The fact that Suho’s father was an important man at Move Entertainment also helped make things official.

A part of Han Seojun had wished that Jukyung hadn’t asked him. He was terrified of her wedding day; terrified of what his heart might do to him, terrified that he might feel compelled to run away with her in front of everyone.

Right now Seojun was calm. But it felt like it was the calm before the storm.

“Memories of me, have probably become, a thing of the past for you too, whatever I saw to you, it will all be something, in the past.”

“What’s that? New song?” His band mate asked when he overheard Seojun singing to himself.

“Hmm? No, its Day6.” The song had been stuck in his head since the day he had sung it for Sujin.

“You’re going to play a cover for your friend?”

“Yeah.” It would be his send off to Jukyung. Like Kang Sujin, Seojun was going to put an end to his chapter with Jukyung.

His bandmate put the song on their speaker. After the first verse he declared, “Yah! You can’t play a breakup song at a wedding.”

“Is it too obvious? I was hoping I could get away with it.” Seojun scratched the back of his head, stretching. He had been on his computer for hours now.

“Take it off. Choose something else.”

Seojun went back through his list of songs that he wanted to play. There was one other song that he had discovered recently by a disbanded group. He had really connected with the lyrics and it wasn’t a breakup song.

“How about this?” Seojun played it.

“Yeah, that’s perfect. Use that for the couple dance.” His bandmate said.

The anticipation of the pain kept Seojun up all night. He worried about how he might behave or what might happen. The next day he woke up grouchy and depressed.

“Woah! Why do you look like a ghost?” His bandmate had said when Seojun arrived that morning. He would be going to the wedding with his band, given that they were performing. This might have been easier if he had gone with his friends.

Don’t worry. I’m here if you need me. Sujin had texted that morning. But Seojun was done relying on Sujin like a crutch. He would deal with things on his own. He didn’t want Sujin to think that all he was good for was complaining about his broken heart.

Seojun waited for the pain to hit when they arrived at the location but it didn’t. The wedding planner helped Seojun and his band set up along with members of Seojun’s own staff. When everything was good to go, Seojun took his leave to meet Jukyung in the bridal room where everyone was taking pictures with her.

Here it comes. The pain. How would it feel? Would Seojun cry again?

“Seojun-ah! You’re here!” Jukyung said. She looked stunning in her beautiful white dress. “Hurry! Get in the picture!”

Everyone was there, already positioned for the shot. Seojun joined Sujin to the side. She was wearing a tasteful black pant suit that fit her well. She was wearing makeup which Seojun noticed looked similar to one of Jukyung’s tutorials.

“How does it feel?” He whispered to Sujin.

“Meh.” She replied. “You?”

It was strange. Seojun didn’t feel anything. “Oddly enough, I feel fine.” Surely he was in shock. The pain would hit any time soon.

It was a while before the pictures were done. Seojun’s cheeks felt sore from all of the smiling.

“Come with me to see Suho.” Sujin held up her arm and Seojun took it. She escorted him to where Suho was receiving his guests.

“Lee Su! Congratulations!” Sujin hugged him. Seojun did the same.

“Yah! I can’t believe we’re old enough to get married.” Seojun commented. Suho laughed.

Chorong and the Seojun Squad came over too, patting a blushing Suho on the back.

Seojun couldn’t help but think that Seyeon would have loved to have seen this. Sujin sensed his sadness and bumped shoulders with him.

“Okay?”

“Uh-huh.” Seojun smiled. Oddly enough he was. The pain still hadn’t hit.

A couple of girls walked up to him and asked him whether he really was the Han Seojun they were fans of.

“Of course!” Seojun puffed his chest and signed their autographs. He couldn’t see it but he could feel Sujin’s disgusted gaze on his back. When they were gone, Seojun turned to Sujin with an arrogant grin.

“Ah, I hope more people won’t bother me for my autograph.” He said in fake modesty.

“You should be grateful to have any fans.” She scoffed at him.

“Ugh. You’re too mean, Sujin-ah.” Seojun pouted.

“Ugh. You’re too childish, Seojun-ah.” Sujin mimicked him.

“Um. Excuse me.” A shy looking girl approached Seojun.

“Oh, you want an autograph too?” Seojun had a pen ready. Sujin gave him her most scathing side eye.

“Um actually—”

“You want a picture too? Sorry but I’m not allowed to take pictures at the moment. But I’ll sign if you like.”

The girl blushed deeply. “No, um—”

“Oh I get it.” Seojun swiped his hair dramatically from his forehead. “You’re here to confess to me. Well then I should let you know—”

“They’dlikeyoubackonstage!” The girl quickly blurted. “They’d like you to join your band. The ceremony is about to begin.”

Sujin laughed uproariously, that clear gurgle of pure, high pitched happiness that Seojun often enjoyed. But not in this moment. Not when his arrogance had been so efficiently deflated.

“Sure. I’ll be right there.” He mumbled to the girl who scurried away. Sujin was still laughing. “Found that funny, did you?” Seojun said, but it was not a reprimand. He liked that she was happy.

“Yes.” Sujin wiped away tears.

“You’re going to regret making fun of me when I perform.” He said, comically pulling the lapels of his jacket before leaving.

The lights dimmed as the wedding began. The Master of Ceremonies kicked things off, guiding everyone through everything. The band only played instrumental now. Suho entered first. Jukyung entered after him, looking every bit the ethereal angel that she was.

The couple exchanged their wows and drank the traditional wine. They then bowed to each other and bowed to their guests. Even in the darkness, Seojun could pick out Sujin. From the light glittering off her cheeks he could tell she was crying. He was too. But these were happy tears. His friends were about to make a new journey in their life together and he was happy for them. Truly. That pain he had dreaded over Jukyung’s wedding never did show up. Perhaps it never would. All he could feel was excitement for his closest friends.

Seojun had only one regret, that Seyeon hadn’t been able to see this moment. Seyeon’s was the one absence he always felt. In that moment, Han Seojun swore that he saw Seyeon among the guests. He saw his friend smile to Lee Suho’s and then to him. But Seojun blinked and Seyeon was gone but Seojun would keep that image of Seyeon similing with him forever.

Once the formal ceremony was over, it was time for the real party to begin. Seojun and his band turned up the performance, raising the mood of the room. People danced and sang along with them as they played so well that Sujin realized she could no longer make fun of Seojun when he bragged about his band.

The band then slowed things down, the set finally reaching the song Seojun was excited to play. He emptied his mind of everything but that one song and how it made him feel. This was for Suho and Jukyung and he was going to give his best performance tonight.

The bride and groom took center stage and swayed as Seojun played a softer version of Haru by a lesser known band, Royal Pirates. His rich baritone filled the room as everyone listened, entranced.

“You’re not a traditional beauty, but I like you, you who gets more attractive everyday.”

Seojun had never understood why people considered her attractive. To him, beauty had never mattered. But as he had gotten to know her, he found her to be more beautiful that how others described her.

“You don’t have a feminine voice, but the more I hear it, the more I get attached.”

He could hear her now, scolding him, yelling at him, throwing witty remarks at him that caused him whiplash, which was just his heart beating really fast.

“I can’t call you often, but I always miss you. Each minute, each second. Yeah-yeah.”

When he thought about it, they never really hung out as much as he did with Suho or his Seojun Squad. Most of the time Seojun was busy with work and so was she. But he still looked forward to the times he would meet her again.

“An entire day would pass just by looking at you. If I look at you, I can’t do anything else. Oooooooh. An entire day would pass just by thinking of you. I won’t be able to sleep at thoughts of you. But I can’t help it, an entire day would pass just because of you.”

Time did fly when they were together. Whether he liked her or hated her, he had to admit. She was never boring. Even through the mundane stuff, she always kept his attention. With her brows furrowed as she concentrated, her mouth turned like an ‘n’. He smiled whenever he thought about it.

“We have so many differences. But you fill up what I lack. No matter how much I see you, you’re always beautiful. No matter what anyone says.”

She was always ahead of him; so much smarter and stronger. Beating him at everything. Well, everything except—wait. He never played basketball with Jukyung.

Seojun missed a note. The guitar twanged awkwardly as he stopped singing. His hands were shaking but he didn’t have time to digest what had just happened. The moment only lasted a half-second; Seojun had recovered quickly and continued. No one paid attention to his little mess up, but his hands were still shaking, and his heart felt like it would burst.

He couldn’t think about it. But how couldn’t he? This song had been for her all along. He had been staring at Kang Sujin the entire time he was performing, without even knowing it.

The base guitarist for his band leaned over to him when the song was done.

“Thought you lost your footing for a bit there.”

“You noticed? Did anyone else did?”

“Nah, I think you’re safe. But are you okay? You’re shaking.”

“Nothing.” Seojun said, more to himself, “Its… its nothing.”

ix.

He never got to see her again at the wedding. The band was surrounded by fans once they finished so they had to be escorted out. Their food had been arranged separately for privacy. By the time Seojun got the chance to break free, Sujin, along with most of the guests, had left.

Which was good because he needed to settle himself before he said anything to anyone. He couldn’t make heads or tails of what had happened.

“I like Kang Sujin? Ridiculous. Totally, ridiculous. This would never happen!”

Be that as it may, his heart still acted strangely when he got a text from her asking if he was okay. She was worried about him since Jukyung and Suho were now married. He told her tersely that he was busy and couldn’t meet. Then threw his phone away when he realized he actually really wanted to meet her.

It was the first time that I felt that there was someone else who could understand me and understand what I was going through.

Seojun could still remember his irritation when Sujin had told him why she liked Lee Suho. He had resented the fact that yet another girl saw Lee Suho as perfect. How could Han Seojun ever compare to the perfectly perfect Lee Suho? He and Sujin had ten years between them and a shared tragedy with their fathers that Seojun didn’t have.

Ah-nee, can’t I be someone who understands? Can’t she see that I get her too?

“Ridiculous. Why would I want her to think I understand her? Ridiculous.”

If Han Seojun had to answer the What, When, Where and Why of his feelings, he would not be able to put it into words. His feelings were intense and complicated. Too complicated for even him to comprehend. Which is why the braincell that he shared with Suho decided that he must be mistaken and that he didn’t actually have any feelings for Sujin.

“Ah-ne-da. I must have been overwhelmed because of Jukyung. Yes, that must be it. It must be a defense mechanism. I’m only thinking about her to protect myself, because I’m still not over Jukyung.”

It made sense. She was the only other girl he was close to in his squad, and they had been hanging out together more than they used to. His heart must have just gotten confused for a moment. Yes, that was it and nothing more.

The group did not meet each other for a while. Suho and Jukyung had gone off to their honeymoon. Suah and Taehoon had their own things. Seojun only met up with Chorong and Co. but his heart was never in those meetings.

He wouldn’t meet up with her. She tried texting and calling but he always gave her an excuse.

Why did we start meeting so much in the first place? He hadn’t noticed when it had happened, but Sujin had become someone he had come to rely on and this he only noticed when he started avoiding her.

“Seojun, you’re not coming to the flower festival?” Chorong asked, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“Huh? What flower festival?”

“Ah-nee, where is your mind these days? You attend it every year! Did you forget?”

Oh right. Seojun always did like to see the flower exhibitions held once a year. He always got flowers for his mother and sister when he went. It may have seemed like a ridiculous hobby for a boy to be so interested in flowers. But Seojun unabashedly liked them and of course, Chorong and Co. were always there to go with him.

“Of course I’m going to attend. Wae?”

“Sujinnie was asking if she could tag along with us. Suah and Taehoon are not around so she has no one to go with.”

Sujinnie?! Seojun blinked rapidly. “Ya, since when are you and Kang Sujin close?”

“Waegurae? Aren’t we all friends with her now? Did something happen?”

Seojun put on a straight face, “Ah-nee!” He exclaimed in a pitch too high, “Nothing happened. I’m just surprised, as all.”

“Aigoo. Did you guys fight? Sujin did say you haven’t been replying to her texts recently.”

Seojun tried hiding his curiosity, “You’ve spoken to her?” He said, as nonchalantly as he could, which wasn’t nonchalant at all.

“Of course. We all had drinks yesterday.”

“What?! Why the hell did you guys meet her and not me?”

“Seojun, she did text you about it.” One of his friends pointed out.

“Yeah! And why are you acting so weird? Do you hate Kang Sujin again?” Chorong asked.

“Ya! Don’t hate her! We like her now!”

“Yes!” Half the group said together.

“Arasso! Arasso! Calm down.” Seojun waved at them to chill. It wasn’t as if he minded that Kang Sujin was hanging out with his friends. But he did feel a sense of betrayal that he didn’t know about it.

“So, how about it? Will you go?” Chorong asked.

The flower festival was an exhibition where all flower vendors came over to show off their best products. People looking for suppliers of flowers and the public in general could attend, buy flowers or just enjoy the various arrangements.

Seojun went with Chorong and the others. Sujin was there waiting for them.

“Ya Han Seojun! You’re alive!” She lit up when she saw him, punching him in the chest with a brutal force only she had.

“Yah! How could you hurt an idol like that?” Seojun rubbed his chest in pain.

“Oh, sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all!” Seojun said, “I’m a man. I don’t get hurt.”

“Pfft. Sure.” Sujin grinned.

They went through the various stalls that showcased the various beautiful flowers. The group seemed to have broken off. Chorong was led away by his girlfriend to take some pictures. The boys all banded around a strange, evil looking plant like school children. Seojun and Sujin seemed to have taken a track of their own.

“You don’t want to take pictures?” Seojun asked, pointing at Chorong and his girlfriend who were stopping at every stall.

“I don’t care for that sort of thing. Wae? You want me to take yours?”

“No. We should take on together.”

Seojun took out his phone and pulled Sujin closer, taking a selfie.

“Ya, you can’t even see the flowers.” Sujin complained.

“Yes, you can.” Seojun put a hand to his cheek. “Right here. I’m the flower.”

Sujin’s lip curled in disdain. “Ah, right.” She said dryly. Seojun laughed and she couldn’t help but smile too.

As a regular attendee, Seojun knew most of the repeat vendors there. He took Sujin around, introducing her to the people who knew him and showing her the various flowers he liked. Sujin listened to him go on at length about where the flowers came from and what they meant.

“You know the language of flowers?” Sujin asked, thinking back to the white tulips and the yellow roses he had gotten her way back when.

“Dangyunhaji! Every man should know flowers. How else will you impress the ladies?”

Sujin chuckled. “You know if being an idol doesn’t pan out, you can always be a florist.”

“I’m too pretty to be a florist. The flowers would all wither in shame.”

Sujin patted his head, sarcastically remarking, “Aigoo, our Seojun has suffered so much for being so good looking. It must have been so difficult, living like this.”

It felt nice being with Sujin again. Seojun felt oddly energetic; like he could run a mile and not break a sweat. He babbled about this and that and wondered if Sujin was getting bored. But she never was, she listened and nodded and responded when need be. Time flew by and before he knew it, they had finished going through the festival.

He pulled at the sleeve of her coat, “There’s something else you should see.”

In the back corner, hidden away from the main area were the small level vendors who could only afford the cheaper stalls. It was a street that led away from the festival. Only a couple of people were around.

“These people don’t earn that much because they’re always placed at the back. But they have the best flowers.”

Seojun introduced her to the people that were running the stall, all of whom he knew by name. Some of them gave Sujin flowers for free. She gratefully took them.

The day was almost ending, the slow sunset had begun. A lot petals had been shed. The street with these vendors was covered in these petals, making it look like a path made entirely of flowers.

“This is really beautiful, Seojun-ah.” Sujin said, admiring the street.

“Yeah.” Seojun said, looking at her.

One of the stalls was filled entirely with tulips. Bright yellow owns, pretty pink ones, eccentric multi-colored ones. Seojun pulled out a purple one and gave it to Sujin.

“Here you go, Princess.” Purple tulips represented regality. Sujin smiled.

“Aaand…” Seojun’s picked out a red one. “Here.” He said. Then quickly-— a little too quickly— he added. “Ah-Because it matches your coat.” He pointed at Sujin’s red coat.

Sujin looked at the flower, then back at him. But said nothing.

They strolled over to a bridge that overlooked the entire festival. The descending sun had set everything in a warm glow. The air smelled sweet with all of the flowers. Petals flew in the air.

“Here.” Sujin handed the tulips back to Seojun.

“Why? They’re for you.”

Sujin smiled. “Phabo. You should be giving them to the girl you like. And tell her what they mean when you give them.”

Seojun sighed wistfully, “The girl I like doesn’t know the language of flowers.”

Sujin hit him lightly with the tulips. “I wasn’t talking about Lim Jukyung. Go and like someone else, and bring her here, and give them these.”

“I wasn’t talking about Lim Jukyung either.”

“Mwo-ya. You have someone you like?”

Seojun’s bit his lip. “Yeah. But I’m going to give up.”

“Waaaee? You only just got over Lim Jukyung!”

“Because this girl likes someone else too.”

“Omo, chincha?” Sujin laughed. “Again? Ya, Han Seojun, can’t you choose a better girl to like?”

Seojun gave a sad chuckle. “I know, right?”

“Who is she? Do I know her?”

“Yeah.”

“Who is it? Tell me!”

“Nope. Secret.”

“Ugh, how stingy. At least give me a hint. What does she look like?”

Seojun looked at Sujin, “She’s beautiful. Very beautiful.”

“Ayyy, that’s every girl out there.”

“Well, that’s all the hint I’m giving.”

Sujin punched his arm but relented. It was perhaps better to not know who Seojun liked. Sujin would have been filled with jealousy again and she didn’t want that.

It was curious however, that Seojun found someone he liked, and she didn’t even know. It was curiouser that this new girl had someone she liked too. Just like Sujin, Han Seojun had—

Sujin looked at the tulips in her hand. They stood out among the other flowers the various vendors had given her. Sujin looked at Seojun, who was busy admiring the sunset.

It was strange, but in that moment, she remembered something her teacher had once said.

Some of you don’t know what it is you really want. And some of you do know but you’re hesitant. However, opportunities come without warning and you must be prepared to take advantage of it.

“Han Seojun.”

“Hmm?”

Sujin pointed the flowers at him, tilting her head slightly. Much like he had done a long time ago when he had asked her Do you think I’m handsome?

“Do you like me?”

And just like she had, Seojun answered immediately, with no remorse or regret. “Yes.”

Like the cool girl she was, Sujin didn’t overreact or exclaim in surprise. She only casually said, “I like you too. So, we should date.”

A beat of a pause. One, two three.

“What? What?! WHAT?! You like me? You like me?! Me?! As in, Han Seojun?”

“Yes you, you idiot. Manhi Joahae.”

“What? Ican’tbelievethis. How? Why? Wait, you asked me if I liked you. Did you already know?” Seojun appeared as if his brain had malfunctioned.

Sujin grinned. “You phabo, even if I didn’t know flower language, I could still tell by the red tulip. Ah-nee, red is the universal color for romance. Didn’t you know?”

Seojun’s face was a mixture of wonder, shock and pure happiness. His eyes were wide, cheeks red and pulled up, mouth hanging open in a slow smile. He had no words to speak. He felt like he would explode like a firecracker and light up the sky in sparks.

“You like me? You really like me?”

Sujin closed the distance between them, pulling at the lapel of his coat. She gave him only a chaste peck on his lips before moving back, blushing. “It’s official now. So, no backing out, okay?”

His mind, that was already haywire, went blank.

He pulled Sujin by the waist, pressing her entire form to him and cupped her face with his other hand. The kiss he gave her was intense and she gasped before giving in to him. Sujin felt she could stay like this forever. The kiss only ended because their mouths kept pulling back in an uncontrollable grin.

“You like me?” Seojun asked.

“Yes.”

He kissed her again but they couldn’t stop smiling. Both of them were shaking.

“You like me?” He asked again.

“Yes.” She replied again, chuckling.

And they kissed again.

“You like me?”

“Yes!” She laughed.

And they kissed again. And he asked again, she replied again, and they kissed again and again and again.

EPILOGUE

When Seojun and Sujin told Jukyung and the others that they were dating, it had been the first of April. So naturally everyone assumed they were joking. Seojun and Sujin hadn’t realized this and were surprised at the luke warm response that everyone gave to their announcement.

“Yes. We believe you.” Suah had said and Sujin missed her sarcastic tone.

when Seojun gushed over Sujin, the group all just looked at each other thinking, Wow, they’re really dedicated to this prank.

And even when they left together, the group all gathered and said;

“You believe them?”

“Why pull a prank that’s so obvious?”

“Exactly! Han Seojun and Kang Sujin? No way.”

Only Suho had been the one to keep his silence and not say anything.

But when they all met up again and Seojun and Sujin acted like a couple again, everyone gasped in shock.

“What?!”

“You guys are actually dating?!”

“How?! How did this happen?”

Only Suho had been the one who wasn’t surprised. “Congratulations. I’m happy for the two of you.” He had said warmly.

“Sujin-ah, what about our affair?” Jukyung said despondently, making a crying face.

“I’ll let you know when Seojunnie goes on tour.” Sujin assured her quietly.

“YAH!” Both Suho and Seojun exclaimed in protest, pulling their girlfriends away from each other.

“Lim Jukyung, you keep your hands off my girlfriend.” Seojun warned.

“I will. But there’s no guarantee she’ll keep her hands off me.”

Chorong and Co. had a similar reaction, they all exploded into shock and happiness at the news. Only Chorong seemed unsurprised.

“So you finally figured out your feelings?” Chorong asked Seojun.

“You knew?”

“Friends know.”

To Sujin, Chorong said, “Sujin-ah, I respect you a lot. But if you hurt—”

“Arasso, arasso. I won’t hurt your precious Han Seojun.”

“I meant don’t hurt me if he ever pisses you off. You scare the shit out of me.”

When enough time had passed and they knew they had to tell their parents, they went to Seojun’s mother first. The woman had been pleasantly surprised by this news and declared Sujin a part of the family immediately. She had met Sujin before and had taken a liking to her immediately but now that she and Seojun were dating, the woman gushed and cried.

“Ah, I have another daughter now.” She said, kissing Sujin on the forehead.

The tricky part was Sujin’s mother, who was still a little pissed over the scandal.

“What will people say if you announce this online?!” The woman had argued.

“But mom,” Sujin made a flower pot with her hands around Seojun’s face, “look at how handsome he is.” And that was enough to entice Mrs. Kang.

Receiving so much happiness and love from everyone was an unfamiliar experience for Sujin. So much so that it terrified her. She felt like she was in a dream that would shatter any minute and she would suddenly wake up back in her old bed with her father banging on the door, screaming at her that she was worthless.

It was this image that jerked Sujin awake in the middle of the night. She sat up straight, her heart was pounding, her hands felt sweaty and clammy. Her father’s shouting was still ringing in her ears.

Seojun stirred on the other side of the bed, “Bad dream?” His rich baritone was husky from sleep but it cut through the darkness of the room and Sujin didn’t feel so scared anymore.

“Um-hmm.”

“Come here.” Seojun patted her side of the bed. She fell back into his arms, nuzzling her nose in his neck.

He sang to her softly, his deep voice soothing her. “Love, love the stars. Love, love the moon. Nothing has really changed. It’s still the same air. With the same bed looking at the same ceiling.”

Sujin’s hands stopped feeling clammy and dirty and soon enough, she drifted off to sleep, dreaming of flowers and sunsets.

THE END.

A/N: Dear reader, if you stuck till the end and liked what I wrote, then thank you. Saranghae <3

Please have my badly made memes with my sarangs

#true beauty #true beauty fanfiction #true beauty kdrama #true beauty soojin #kang sujin #kang soojin #Kang Sujin Fanfiction #kang soojin and han seojun #han seojun #han seo jun #han seojun fanfiction #seojun x sujin #seojun x soojin #kdrama #fanfiction #hwang in yeop #park yoona #junjin

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Until Yesterday

➜ Words: 10.4k

➜ Genres: 75% Fluff, 22% Angst, 3% Smut

➜ Summary: You and Taehyung are hopeless as you are hopeless romantics. But five months after tying the knot and saying "I do", you're hospitalized after a car accident with him. But upon waking up, the doctors tell you that you don't have a husband.

➜ Notes: Inspired by the movie The Vow (2012) and a bit of The Notebook (2004). This is purely an indulgent fic for all my hopeless romantics out there, so it’s a bit different from my usual!

cr.

Marriage was nothing like they told you. It’s true that not much has changed from when you were dating or engaged, that merely the title of your relationship has slightly altered, but you have no regrets doing it at all. They always told you to wait until the honeymoon phase was over — that you'll find yourself tired and driven crazy by him. They told you to wait a few years down the line when you’re not having sex anymore and you’ll be so sick of each other, it’ll be like living with an awful roommate-child than being a couple in love. You’ll be bored when something becomes a normal routine, they said. But it isn’t like that at all. If anything, you’re more in love with Taehyung than ever. “We should put the couch right here.” “Well, we need to buy a couch first, Tae.” “Didn’t you like the leather one we saw today?” “I mean...I didn’t love it and it’s a bit pricey, don’t you think?” “It’s fine. Leave it to me and the bank account!” The blonde grins and pats his own chest and it only garners your scoff. “I’ll take care of you. It’s the least I can do.” “I make the same as you, idiot.” It took years of hard work and dedication for the two of you to get to where you are, to have landed your dream jobs and built your dream house together. But of all the sweat and tears, you wouldn’t trade the outcome for anything else. The house was newly built in a developing neighbourhood, the scent of cut wood and paint still lingering in each room. The white picket fence surrounds the seashell home with the dark brown roof, glass windows large and bringing light into the open concept structure along with the skylights. It has the cherry wood door reminiscent to that of your old dollhouse and a swing out back tied to the tree that Taehyung wanted. It was all the two of you could’ve ever dreamed of and you’re eager to move in, to bring in your furniture and allow this home to grow with you. “Why is the master bedroom larger than I remembered?” Taehyung’s laugh echoes down the hall and you hear footsteps becoming louder against the wooden floorboards. “Maybe the construction team came in during the middle of the night and expanded the room for us for free.” “Yeah maybe,” you playfully quip back at him. “Maybe they’ll consider expanding our backyard too, so we can put that marble fountain in. It might cost more than this house, but you said I could trust in you and the bank account, right?” Taehyung peels you off of him when you glue yourself to his side and giggle. Batting your lashes at him has little effect. “Fountain is still a no-go, sweetheart.” You grin at him and waltz to the adjacent room, peeking your head into the modest space. “We still need to decide what to do with this spare room, Taehyung. If we want to turn it into another bedroom for when your mom visits or maybe an office.” Suddenly, arms wrap around your waist and you ease as your husband props his chin on your shoulder. It’s one of his many habits of his that you love. “How about we save it for a nursery?” The corner of your mouth quirks and you turn your head. “Are you sure?” “As sure if you are.” You spin around in his arms to plant a kiss against his mouth — one where Taehyung steals the opportunity and deepens it, catching you off guard. He pulls you in by your waist when you threaten to pull apart and he smiles at the whimper that comes out of you. When the pair of you finally part, you’re unable to resist the smile that spreads into your cheeks and your arms loop around his neck. “Kim Taehyung, aren’t you blessed? There’s no one I’d rather have a baby with than you.” His mouth forms into a rectangular grin. “You shouldn’t tempt me when we’re going to be late for our reservations already.” “Late?” Your lips fall and you check your watch before your eyes grow wide. Taehyung laughs and strolls behind you as you rush out, grabbing your coat and screaming at him to get the car started. It’s another one of those date nights. One where intimate conversations are shared over a candlelight dinner. Until Taehyung accidentally catches the tablecloth on fire and the candlelight is removed by an exasperated waiter and the intimacy in your discussion ends up with him doing something dumb and water nearly spewing out of your nose from laughing, and the other patrons are glaring at the ruined atmosphere. Still, with a generous tip paid, you leave full and happy. “Anything you want to watch tonight?” you ask as he’s driving. It’s peaceful with the roads emptier at this time of night and the radio playing some generic pop song in the back. You count the lamp posts that pass by. “Hmm...how about we do something else tonight.” Your head turns. “Like what?” Taehyung steals a glance at you and smirks. “I was thinking that we would drive back to the new house and break in that mattress we just got. Maybe get that kid you were talking about.” You scoff, looking straight out the windshield as you feel your face heat. Even after so many years with him, he still knew what to say to affect you. “It’s not that easy, you know, and that mattress is still wrapped in the living room.” “It’s fine. Better start now than later. And it’s our house, we can taint it however we want to.” It doesn’t take much for you to agree — and you do so in the midst of laughter. You shamelessly stare at Taehyung’s profile, the strands of his blonde hair that desperately needs a trim, his long lashes that you’ve always been envious of, the slope of his nose and his thin lips that always knows how to kiss you right. Taehyung’s thick brow cocks when he notices your blatant staring, but you don’t care. You’re just filled with joy and at a loss for words at how he’s with you. He’s yours. The two of you are too wrapped up in one another to pay mind to the car behind you. To the piercing beam lights. The wheels that screech against the asphalt. The sheer speed of the vehicle and recklessness of the intoxicated driver. So when the rear of the car is slammed into and you both lurch forward into the intersection of the road, it’s a shock. // The white fluorescent burns your eyes. It’s hard to see and you can’t feel your body. Not even your fingers that begin to twitch. You’re disoriented and delirious, not sure what day it is, how long you’ve been out, where exactly you are. It’s all muddled in your mind. All you can discern is a constant rhythm of beeping beside you and the odour of disinfect filling your senses. You’re scared — but you’re overwhelmed with the thought of Taehyung. Taehyung. You jolt in your spot and the rhythm of the machine quickens until it’s like an alarm, sounding aloud and making you panic even more. But then there’s a rush of people entering the room, white coats and scrubs checking the machines and lines hooked up from you. “Ms. Y/N, I am doctor Jeon.” There’s a man looking down at you and you blink blearily at him. “You’ve been in a coma for three days now. Is there anyone we can call for you?” “M-My husband,” you cry out with a parched throat. The doctor looks to the nurse but she frowns and shakes her head. “The patient doesn’t have a husband.” You don’t have a husband? At once, sobs wrack through your entire body and you thrash despite the aches in your bones and your ankle wrapped in bandages. The doctor and nurse are alarmed and you choke out the words— “I-Is he okay? Is he dead?” “Ma’am,” the doctor calmly says, “you were the only one injured on the scene.” Before you can utter a word, a man comes from the doorway. His hair is dark, matching the hue lined underneath his exhausted eyes. His features are soft and evidently tired like he hasn’t slept in the past few days. You don’t know who he is but he stares right at you — and then a relieved smile draws upon his features, one that is too comfortable and familiar. “Y/N?” His voice is deeper than expected and he closes the distance. The nurse is visibly confused, but he quickly introduces, “I’m her partner, Min Yoongi.” You recoil back before he can touch you, even when the hurt comes across his expression. “I-I’m sorry.” You don’t know who he is. “I think you have the wrong person.”

It’s hard to cope — your entire universe has been flipped upside down and you don’t know what to think. Suddenly by opening your eyes, your entire life has been swept from underneath your feet. Everything that you loved and cared about is gone. And you’re left alone to deal with it. “I-I remember being with my husband. We were driving back from dinner and planning to take a detour to the new house, but then a car rear-ended us and we were brought out into the intersection,” you recall. But the doctor’s brows furrow. “I see. Well, I can tell you that you weren’t in a car accident, Ms. Y/N. You were injured after falling down the flight of stairs at the subway station. You’ve been in a coma for three days.” It doesn’t make any sense and you squeeze your temples. But it hurts. Everything feels like a dream, like you’re floating and not truly grounded in reality. Your surroundings are hazy and you wonder if this is just a hallucination — a very frightening one, a world where Taehyung doesn’t exist. “What year was the car accident?” the doctor asks suddenly and you exhale, trying to remember the date. “It was late January of 2016.” “Ms. Y/N, it’s 2020 right now.” It’s a shock through your system. At first, you sputter, choking on your own spit. The doctor is kind enough to give you a moment but when you press your hand to your chest, you wince at the bruises around your wrist. Then you open your mouth and close it, finding yourself rendered absolutely speechless. Your brain is melting into itself and you have an urge to get up and scream. “What?” “It looks like you have a four year memory gap,” Doctor Jeon says as if he’s prescribing you with cold medication and if you weren’t bedridden, you might just throttle him to the floor. “It’s okay, these things happen with your sort of injury. It should be fine and only temporary. You can get your memory jogging again after looking at mementos, pictures, or talking to the right people.” “Anyways, we’ll keep you here for a few more days just to monitor that head injury, but it looks like your ankle is healing nicely. There’s no cause for concern, really.” The doctor ends up leaving and you repress the urge to cry again. You don’t know where Taehyung is and you miss him. // Your so-called partner appears days later to help with your hospital discharge and pack up your belongings. You learn his name is Min Yoongi and that he’s two years older than you are. He works as a car mechanic in a shop and you’ve apparently been with him for a whole year. Yet, you can’t help but stay guarded, watching him from the corner with your arms crossed while you try to decipher his impassive expression. The man is quiet, but not in an angry or frightening way. He never asks you questions, makes demands out of you or once appears exasperated with your distant behaviour. He seems gentle somehow. You wonder what your relationship with him was like. “T-Thank you,” you murmur as he packs the slippers he had brought for you into the duffle bag. Min Yoongi turns his head and the corner of his mouth pulls into an oddly warm smile. His voice is husky when he says, “You don’t need to thank me. I’m just happy to see you walking around again.” You’re taken aback. You aren’t used to receiving this kind of love and affection from someone other than Taehyung and from a stranger no less. It makes you unsettled. Conflicted. The car ride is smooth. Yoongi helps you into your seat and buckles you in without making you speak much of a word. You’re not sure where you’re going, but you spend your time looking out at the window and taking in what you’ve missed for four years, or rather what your mind no longer recalls. Luckily, it seems like the world hasn’t changed too much. The streets are familiar, lined with lamp posts and bike racks. There are different billboards and some buildings you don’t recognize, but it looks like many things have stayed the same. The street names, avenues and boulevards, the people jogging and walking their dogs — it hasn’t changed. “Hey, Tae—” Except for the person driving beside you. You turn your head and blood drained from your face, realizing that it’s not your husband you’re sitting beside. “N-Never mind.” There’s a moment of quiet. Then Yoongi’s lips part. “It’s okay.” He glances at you and your eyes meet. “It’s okay,” he repeats with a small smile that makes you even more burdened. The apartment is modest yet cozy. A living room with cushions out of place and souvenirs on the shelves next to the television. The kitchen is to the left, cups in the sink and refrigerator haphazardly filled with take out boxes. It’s lived in, full of memories that you don’t have. But above all, you notice there’s only one bedroom and there are male belongings assorted with yours. Shaving cream. Gel. Cologne. “You live here?” you ask Yoongi, coming to the living room where he was giving you a chance to look around for yourself, perhaps hoping that you would remember something. “We live together,” he corrects with a tiny smile. “But it’s okay. I’m planning on staying at a friend’s place, so you don’t have to worry about me being here if that makes you uncomfortable.” “You…” Your mouth opens before closing, startled at how considerate he is. “You don’t have to. I mean, this place is yours too. It seems unfair if I kick you out. You should...stay.” Yoongi smiles and you shy away from his attention. “I...might not be comfortable sharing a bed with you though…” “Okay.” He nods. “I can take the couch.” That night, you lay awake in the foreign bed, unable to sleep and staring at the ceiling. It feels like you’ve been asleep for four years anyways, although it’s technically only been three days. Your brain is swimming in confusion. You’re not sure what to think. One moment you were with Taehyung and the next, you don’t have him beside you anymore and you’re with someone else. Taehyung…. You reach over to the nightstand and switch on the lamp. A dim yellow light softly fills the room and you begin to truly investigate your surroundings. On a pinboard near the door are pictures of you and Yoongi, selfies taken where you’re both smiling with one another, one of you at a carnival and another at an aquarium. The vanity drawer holds jewelry that you don’t recognize, perhaps ones that Yoongi had bought for you. Your phone contains grocery lists and miscellaneous notes that make no sense. There’s nothing on your social media, no connection, nothing once you search his name up. All you discover is work-related things in your calendar, more pictures of you and Yoongi and affectionate texts between the two of you. There’s no trace of Taehyung whatsoever. But when you dig into the closet and find a box at the top shelf hidden away, your answer is found. It’s inside a box of paperwork — school awards, certificates of achievements, evidence of your first paycheck, your birth certificate, social security papers, and divorce papers. You and Taehyung got divorced in April 2018. Two years and eight months after getting married. And it’s been a year and ten months since. The paper crumples underneath your hands and you gather your knees together on the floor as quiet sobs break through you once again. You don’t know what happened. Where it all went wrong. // When morning comes, you hope the swelling and redness of your eyes from crying so much isn’t noticeable. If it is, Yoongi doesn’t say anything and only regards you with a gentle smile. “I was going to stay home today, but I thought it might be overwhelming for you,” he says before you can protest otherwise, “so I’ll be at work. Take it easy, okay? You can call me anytime you want for anything. My number is in your phone.” You nod. “Thank you, Yoongi.” His smile is sweet. “I already told you, it’s not a problem.” But half an hour after Yoongi leaves, you prepare for your own departure. Hobbling with your weight on one foot and off the one with your injured ankle, you grab a coat and the car keys laying on the counter. It takes a moment to figure out which one is your vehicle in the lot but you find it after pressing the panic button. It looks brand new — apparently recently repaired and the reason why you had to take the subway and how you got your head injury in the first place. It might be wrong to leave without giving a warning to Yoongi, especially when he’s so worried about you, but you can’t stay idle at the apartment. You can’t sit still. You need answers. You drive to the house — turning down the familiar streets and roads before coming into the neighbourhood that feels like you had been in just a week ago when it’s probably been years. But you don’t recognize it anymore. It's more developed than you last remembered. What once were empty lots have other homes built. All the sidewalks are paved, there’s an elementary school down the avenue, a new playground that shines, neighbours that have moved in. What hasn’t changed is the house itself. There’s still the white picket fence that surrounds the seashell white home, a shade you had personally picked yourself when building it. The roof is a dark brown and the front door cherry wood. The glass windows are large with baby blue curtains and you wonder if there’s still the swing in the backyard…. You get out of the car, feeling your emotions swell up to your throat and your eyes becoming watery as you gave upon the house. This was the place you had built with Taehyung. The place you both had planned to live in for years. The place you wanted to raise your kids, grow old and retire in. It was perfect. The combination of your dreams. Where did it all go wrong? You close the distance, limping up the path to the door and knocking on it. After a moment, you ring the doorbell properly. But even then, there are no answers and you notice that the Kim nameplate under the mailbox is gone. Of course. It’s been over four years after all. You cross the street back to your car again, but not before catching sight of a woman bringing groceries up her driveway and towards her own house. “Um, excuse me.” She turns at your voice, brows lifted. “Do you happen to know who lives there?” You point to what was once your home. But unfortunately, she shakes her head. “Sorry, I don’t. I know that house has been sold a few times and the owners have recently changed again.” “Oh. Thank you.” It’s hard to leave the house behind you, but you keep your foot on the gas pedal and drive, never glancing out the rear-view mirror in fear of bursting into tears again. You still have more questions than answers, so your next destination becomes downtown where Taehyung’s engineering firm is. The two of you had met in school, back when you were awkward and chasing after your ambitions of being a chemical engineer like your aunt while for him, he wanted to take his childhood lego dreams to the max and become a civil engineer. Your neck hurts to look at the top of the skyscraper, the many windows reflecting the bright sunlight into your eyes and blinding your vision. If there was any place where you could find Taehyung, it would be here. It’s his dream job. What he had wanted for so long and legitimately cried when he found out he got a position at. You remember that day, how proud you felt of him for achieving such a goal. But when you approach the receptionist at the lobby’s desk, her response only fires the confusion further. “Sorry. We don’t have a Kim Taehyung working here. Are you sure you’re not mistaken?” You miss him. And you wonder at what point, he wasn’t a part of your life anymore. // In an attempt to find Taehyung, you contact your friends and work your way down your list of contacts on your phone. They’re happy to hear from you, some even knowing about your accident and asking if you’re alright. But when you ask about Taehyung, they tell you that they haven’t spoken to him since the divorce. That they’ve lost contact. That the months leading up to it, the two of you were distant from them and they’re unsure of the reasons for what had happened. It was frankly unexpected. “You always told me it wasn’t any of my business, dear,” your mother says over the phone. “You actually got quite upset when I asked, so after a while I didn’t anymore. Do you want to talk to your dad? He’s watching the news right now.” “No.” You press your temples, holding in your sigh. “It’s fine.” Frustration overwhelms you. No matter where you turn, you can’t seem to get the reasons for yourself. You can’t find him. “Is the take out okay?” At once, you’re snapped out of your thoughts and you lift your head to meet kind, cat-like eyes staring at you. “It’s good,” you try to smile and nod. He seems to sense how disconnected you are. “I’ll learn how to cook. I know you like carbonara, so maybe I can find a recipe this weekend and try to make it, so we don’t have to eat out all the time.” You stare at the man across from you. How tired he seems, his dark hair shagging in front of his forehead, his downcast head facing his food as his fork scrapes against the bottom container, never quite taking a full bite. Yet whenever your eyes meet, his plump lips always tugs into a small smile and his eyes crinkle. “I’m sorry.” Yoongi’s brows lift at the sudden apology. “What for?” “For not remembering you.” Even if Min Yoongi is a stranger, you can feel how intimate the pair of you used to be by the photographs you’ve seen, by the way he still regards you. You feel guilty for not being able to return his affections. “It’s fine. It’ll come back with time, right? Don’t stress out about it too much. It won’t do you any good.” “Yoongi.” You have his attention by the way you say his name like he hasn’t heard it uttered from your lips in quite a while. “I went searching for my...ex-husband today.” It’s foreign to call Taehyung that. It’s unsettling and makes you uncomfortable. But your eyes never divert from Yoongi’s. “I need answers.” “I know,” he murmurs in a low voice, still playing with his food. As intimidating as he might appear on the surface, you’re quickly learning how considerate and soft-spoken he really is. “And I want you too. I don’t want you to have any regrets. I want you to know you’ve made the right choice by being with me.” Your heart squeezes at his thoughtful nature and you sigh lightly before stuffing your mouth with some of the noodles, trying to alleviate the tension. “You’re a good man, Yoongi.” He chuckles, gummy smile emerging for the first time that you can recall. “Maybe that’s why you chose me in the first place.” // The avenue is nostalgic, a street that you and Taehyung spent many dates at with its cheap street food and cute stores. And when you were both working, it was the halfway point between your workplaces and where you’d meet to have lunch on those special occasions. A few things have altered from when you remembered them, the stationery shop closed and that ice-cream parlor changed into a pancake café instead. But for the most part, it remains the same. You aren’t sure what you’re doing here. Of all your ways and methods in searching for Taehyung, even you know that it’s unlikely you’ll find him on a Tuesday morning at such an obscure location. But it’s where you’re drawn too, where your body told you to go and your mind followed. Otherwise, you’re not sure what to do anymore or how you should contact him. You wonder if it’s too drastic to drive hours away to visit his mom on the off chance that she’s still living in the same place after four years. If she moved, the journey would be for nothing. But even then, if you somehow found him and reached out, would he even be willing to talk to you? A sigh escapes your parted lips. You tilt your head up to the sky, wondering where on earth he is. And in your reverie, you fail to notice the strapping brunette humming to the music he’s listening to. Not until your shoulder collides with his as he’s walking the opposite way. But instead of an apology spilling from your mouth, you’re interrupted by a call of your name— “Y/N?” It's shock that has taken hold of his expression. His hand rips out his earphones and the loud music becomes silenced from his world. With the way he looks at you, it would be like he’s seen a ghost. A stranger from his past. In your mind, it’s only been a week since you’ve seen him. And you’ve been missing him so much. On sheer instinct, you wrap your hand around his wrist, afraid to let go. “Taehyung.” // It’s awkward, the stiff air almost suffocating your lungs. You’re sure that the first date wasn’t even as bad as this. But you don’t mind whatsoever, even if he’s shifting uncomfortably at the intent way you stare and how it makes him break out into a sweat. Even if Taehyung hates you now, as long as you can see him like this, it’s enough to bear. Taehyung clears his throat, diverting his vision elsewhere. “So….you look like you’ve been well.” “Not really,” you murmur. Taehyung is still a man of intense habit. His drink order hasn’t changed, a cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings. At the same exact coffee shop since you were dating. And he’s taken the same table in the corner of the shop too, the spot of your many study dates. It’s these habits that have led you back to him. “I heard you weren’t working at the engineering firm anymore,” you say after another tense pause. Taehyung’s brows curiously raise. “I haven’t been working there in years. You knew about it.” “Did I?” He’s wary that you can’t recall. “Yeah….” “What are you doing now?” “I’m in animation.” Your eyes widen, surprised. “I never knew you could animate— well, I knew you could draw, but you never even watched much animation.” Taehyung shrugs. “It’s a good fit. I didn’t know I’d like it either until I tried.” Your expression softens, a tender smile pulling into your cheeks. Taehyung’s gotten older but in a refined way. His hair is back to its natural colour, a few wrinkles set into his skin but his features are sharper and less rounded and boyish. He seems less mischievous and irresponsible too, a little more mature and quiet. Or maybe he’s reserved because you’re his ex-wife. The thought makes you nauseous. He sips his drink. “So...what have you been doing?” “Not great. I recently got into an accident, Taehyung.” That seems to grab his attention and his eyes become rounded while you brace yourself. “Apparently I fell down a flight of stairs at the subway station and I was in a coma for three days.” “Oh shit. That...must’ve sucked. I...I’m sorry to hear that.” “I’m fine now.” You pause, clear your throat. “But the last thing I remember is us, Taehyung. We were planning to spend the night at the new house and we got hit by that car…” “I remember.” He nods slowly and murmurs, “But the accident wasn’t that bad, Y/N. We were only bumped.” “I don’t remember that,” you tell, earnest eyes connected with his that makes him believe you. Even after all this time apart, Taehyung can still tell when you’re lying and telling the truth. Your voice raises in pitch, in frustration and exasperation. “And...and I’m trying to understand how this happened. I’m trying to understand how we…..how we ended up divorced.” Taehyung’s brows furrow and he fiddles with the paper cup. “What’s there to tell? We fell out of love.” “That doesn’t make any sense!” Your shrill voice garners the attention of other patrons, but you don’t pay mind to them. “We got married and were planning to have kids and we just built a house in a new neighbourhood—” “We lost that house.” Taehyung doesn’t look at you. His downcast head allows his eyes to stay on the floor. He looks small — shoulders slugging and frame slumped. “I lost my job and then we lost the house. It went downhill from there and one day, you couldn’t do it anymore and packed your bags. You were the one who divorced me, Y/N.” You’re stunned, unable to get a single word out at the revelation he’s given you. An answer to your questions that you had never expected. That you didn’t want to hear. Taehyung’s eyes are saddened and he never once meets your gaze. “You’ll remember sooner or later. I’m sorry this happened to you, Y/N. I really am. But it was still nice to see you.” He gets up before you can protest, leaving as fast as he came into your life again. // Yoongi arrives home visibly tired, his hair in a disarray and his navy workwear stained with oil and grease. Still, he greets you with a warm, sleepy smile that you still aren’t used to. “I saw my ex today,” you tell him during dinner, breaking the silence by deciding to be open and honest. It at least alleviates some of the guilt weighing on your chest. “I found him coincidentally.” Yoongi’s eyes flicker up, peeking at you. “How did it go?” “It didn’t help. I’m still confused.” You can’t understand why you would ever leave him, even if you lost the house and he lost his job. It didn’t make any sense. “Do you know anything about the divorce, Yoongi? Did I….ever tell you anything?” “You told me that he was pathetic,” he informs but without any malice like he’s simply stating facts. “He was unemployed for two years and didn’t get off his ass to find a job. Hey, your words, not mine.” The corner of your mouth curls even when you’re still stupefied. “Are you alright, Y/N?” An exhale leaves your lips. “I’m not sure.” That night, you find another box in the closet while alone in the bedroom. There are pictures of you and Taehyung from when you were younger and just friends, small mementos like movie tickets and keychains won at arcades while you were dating, and photographs of the wedding day, the two of you with enormous smiles and swollen cheeks. But they’re buried underneath your belongings with Yoongi. // His expression is one of repulsion, like he bit into a lemon or something bitter. But you don’t pay any attention to it. “What are you doing here?” Taehyung is incredulous to see you in the morning, standing in the same café as if you own the place. “I’ve been waiting since eight,” you complain and he repeats his question with increasing skepticism. You suppose it’s not everyday your ex-wife is waiting to run into you, so you don’t blame him for his apprehension. “I’m trying to understand how the two of us got divorced. I know this is probably really weird since for you, I’ve shown out of nowhere after two years.” “You think?” You ignore his playful quip. “But for me, my last memory is still going on that date night and getting into that car accident.” Before Taehyung can utter a word, the barista is calling him as the next person in line. “Can I get—” A cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings. “A cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings,” he says without missing a beat and your mouth tugs into a smile. Lots of things may have changed in the time that you no longer remember, but the fact of how constant he is comforts you greatly. You wait with Taehyung at the counter, feeling his eyes glancing at you every so often. When your eyes meet, he realizes he’s been caught staring. “Once I remember again and make sense of the situation, I’ll leave you alone,” you say even if it hurts, but the last thing you want is to be burdensome to Taehyung. “I just want to understand and get over it and move on like you have.” Taehyung sighs, never saying a word. He picks up his drink and you follow along with him, quietly as to not disrupt the comfortable silence between the both of you. He walks down the street and enters the modest grocery store, beelining to the deli to pick up a ham sub. But he notices your quirked brow. “What?” “No.” You shake your head. “Just reminds me of uni. You used to eat those too. Same brand and everything.” The man scoffs lightly, but he knows. You’ve pointed it out to him many times in the past that he has a tendency to stick to specific habits — the odd quirks that you once said you loved about him. “Like what?” he had once asked when you mentioned it. “Like you always put your beverages on your left side and you chug half a glass of water before going to bed and you always close the entire toilet when you’re done going to the bathroom and you have the same brand of cereal every morning and after you sneeze, you always scratch your nose every time,” you had said in the midst of giggles and then lifted yourself up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry. They’re cute and it’s part of why I love you.” The two of you walk together down the street. The early morning air is crisp and chilly, slightly nipping at his nose. He grips his drink still steaming to warm his hand and Taehyung can’t help stealing a glance at you, wondering if you’re cold too. “How’d you get started into animation?” “Huh? Oh. Well, if you really want to know then after you packed your bags and dumped me, it was a pretty good wake up call.” Taehyung laughs as if he’s recalling a funny memory, but then his expression softens, touched with sorrow. “I decided to get myself picked back up and get a job. They liked my personality enough at the interview to give me a chance. At first I didn’t know what I was doing, but I learned and I like it a lot.” He turns his head when your silence is prolonged. But his eyes widen when he finds your tender smile. “I’m happy for you, Taehyung.” And you really are — even in spite of him not technically being a part of your life anymore. // The next day, Taehyung is not any more impressed to see you there at the café. You enthusiastically smile and wave at him. And when the barista calls the two of you in the line, you have no hesitation. “Can I get a cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings? And just an iced americano for me.” Taehyung eyes you when you pay and stroll to the other counter to wait. “Don’t you have a job to go to?” “I’m still technically in recovery and it’s not like I can work if my head’s a mess.” Taehyung scoffs lightly. “What do you want to know this time?” He can tell by the look in your eye that there are questions on the tip of your tongue. And when you take out a whole laundry list like it’s things you need to buy at a grocery store, a rectangular grin plasters on his face. Taehyung wouldn’t expect any less of you. “Hey, I was thinking about it all night, alright? I was afraid I was going to forget so I wrote it down.” He leans over to look at the list but you move away. “Don’t peek.” “Okay, okay.” He laughs and gestures for you to start. “First question. What did I say before I left?” You look at him, eyes meeting his. “What were my exact reasons for the divorce?” He hums a low note, staring off into the distance. “I don’t remember well. You called me a motherfucker though,” Taehyung chuckles and becomes solemn. “Probably something along the lines that I’ve stopped trying and that you were leaving. There was a lot of crying and screaming. I…..don’t really like to think about it.” There’s a pause and you clear your throat, paper in your hand crinkling and forgotten. “Why didn’t you ever do anything to stop it?” A sigh leaves his lips and he runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’m an idiot. But it’s not like I could’ve forced you to stay with me.” “I’m sure if you had said something, I would’ve stayed.” Taehyung’s smile is meek and sad, not at all like how it usually is. You wonder just how much you hurt him, how much you hurt each other. “A lot can happen in two years, Y/N.” A lot can happen in the two years they were apart too. “Have you been seeing anyone?” “No. I haven’t,” he says. It’s a question that tumbled out of you, one not on the list. // The evening comes and you hear the front door open and shut. Immediately, you call out from the kitchen, “Hey!” Yoongi emerges from the hall with another tired smile. “Hey.” “I got takeout for us,” you say while heating said food up. “How was work? Busy again?” “A little.” The man comes closer to see what you’ve bought but before he’s able to assess, he mindlessly leans in and plants a soft kiss against your cheek. You instantaneously freeze, the muscles in your body becoming rigid and tense, and Yoongi realizes. “I’m sorry. It’s a bad habit.” He pulls away, disheartened and guilt wells up in your throat. “It’s okay.” Yoongi nods and he shrugs off his coat, walking back towards the hall to hang it up, but you stop him before your conscience can berate you, before you hurt him further— “I saw him again. This morning.” He halts. He stands still as you watch his backside. The both of you know who you’re referring to. “How was it?” Yoongi inquires hesitantly as if he’s not sure if he even should. “It was good,” you murmur. “I got a few more answers.” His head turns, the black strands of his hair sweeping against his forehead. Yoongi’s gentle eyes are glossed over, his tone low and husky as he quietly asks, “Can’t you get answers without seeing him?” “I…..I’m sorry, Yoongi.” You divert your vision, but from the corner, you can see the way his mouth curls gingerly. “It’s okay.” But you know that it isn’t. It’s unfair to him to wait for your memories to return, for you to continuously see someone of your past as he waits for you to come to love him as you once did. The man retreats into the darkness and you feel guilt overwhelm you. // When Taehyung wakes up, does his daily routine and heads to the café, he opens the door and expects to see you. Standing there, waiting for him as if you were the owner or a barista working full time. “Are you sure you’re not healthy enough to go back to work?” He grins, brows lifted and almost impressed at how adamant you are. “No.” You loll your head to the side. “I’m still feeling tired.” Taehyung scoffs lightly, noting that you always show up earlier than he does. “Tired, huh?” “You must be tired too. Your shirt is inside out.” “What?” His line of sight follows to where you’re pointing and Taehyung looks down to see that his shirt is indeed inside out. He groans in embarrassment as you laugh. “Did you not notice?” He doesn’t answer, grabbing his drink from the counter once the barista calls his name and he books it out of the shop. But not without you following behind him and still giggling. “Are you sulking?” You quickly catch up to him and quirk your head almost to his shoulder. “I’m just teasing, Tae. It’s not that noticeable.” “You noticed it.” “Well I’ve always noticed everything about you.” He clicks his tongue in feigned annoyance and stops, making you halt on your heels. “Don’t flirt with me, woman. Didn’t you say you were seeing someone?” You scoff, continuing to walk and this time, he’s the one who follows after you. “Who says I’m flirting with you? I think you’re terribly mistaken and quite frankly, full of yourself.” Taehyung grins. “It’s not my fault I was born this handsome and have so many people regularly flirting with me.” “Uh-huh. You’re beginning to sound like Seokjin.” “He’s not half as handsome as I am.” You burst out laughing, knowing that your old friend would probably throw a fit if Taehyung openly fought him for the position of most handsome in your group of friends. “I beg to differ.” “Then why didn’t you marry him back then?” “Should’ve,” you sing-song much to Taehyung’s chagrin. The pair of you stop in front of his building, the destination of every morning journey. You know this is where you’ll have to leave him off and see him again tomorrow, wait for just these ten minutes of conversations and banter. But unusually, Taehyung doesn’t bid you farewell right away. He doesn’t run away with his tail in between his legs, shooting you a playful glare over his shoulder. Instead, he stops with you and smiles. Taehyung lingers on the sidewalk with you. “Y/N…” He gazes at you. Your eyes connect with his warm irises and something lodges in your throat, an emotion that only seems to come with him. “Hmm?” There’s held silence— “There’s a bug in your hair.” “What?!” His palm slaps your forehead before you can flail, not enough for it to hurt, but enough that you’re stunned. You lift your hand to rub the spot and at the same time, a rectangular grin spreads into his face. Taehyung laughs childishly. “Kidding.” “Are you five years old?!” you shout but it only eggs him on more. “Sorry, sorry.” He bats your hand away and his fingers come to rub the spot for you instead. “I’m pretty sure it was your face cream and not a bug.” The proximity is closed. You can feel his breath against your face, count his thick lashes, draw constellations through the tiny freckles around his nose. You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise into your cheeks and Taehyung catches it. For a moment, his eyes linger against your lips and yours follows down to the dip of his cupid’s bow to the corner of his mouth. There’s a thick tension between the two of you, a kind of intimacy not found between a pair of old friends on a normal morning. It’s a kind of longing that you recognize in Taehyung’s gaze as it’s similar to your own… You lean in to close the distance completely. But then Taehyung abruptly pulls away. His vision is diverted to the ground. All traces of mischief are gone. His mouth has fallen into a straight line, brows knitted together as if he’s in physical pain. “What are we doing, Y/N?” He doesn’t wait for a response. Taehyung turns and walks away while the knots in your chest constrict you. But you run after him. You take three strides before he can vanish from your life — like what you found when you woke up in that hospital bed. The thought of that returning is terrifying. “Taehyung!” “No!” He turns around to face you, shutting you down before the way you call his name can affect him. You’re taken aback by the hurt etched on his expression. “It took me two years to get over you and even now I’m still not over you,” he declares angrily and your eyes widen. “And then you come out of nowhere to make a mess out of my head, playing these games.” Your brows furrow, upset at his accusations and you shout back at him, “What games?!” “I know that the moment you remember again, the moment you get over your stupid fucking amnesia, you’re going to dump me!” Taehyung swallows hard. “You’re going to make me go through all of that again. It’s downright cruel, you dense woman!” “Don’t call me dense!” Without conscious decision, tears begin to shed down your face and you shake your head. “You know that that isn’t my intention.” “I know.” Taehyung sighs. “But it’s going to happen anyway.” The pair of you look at one another and then the doors to the building open. A tall man with dimples comes out and is absolutely bewildered at the ruckus. He’s seemingly familiar with Taehyung, perhaps a colleague of his. “Is something wrong, dude?” “It’s fine.” “Who’s this?” the stranger asks curiously, smiling at you. “She’s my ex-wife.” The man is caught off guard, eyes becoming rounded. “I didn’t know you were married.” “Yeah, well, I used to be.” Taehyung peeks at you in a silent farewell and you watch his backside leave.

When Taehyung wakes up, does his daily routine and heads to the café, he opens the door and then his breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t know why disappointment seems to overwhelm him when you’re not there and he wonders since when he expected you to be in the first place — standing there, waiting for him. He stands in line by himself. Makes his order by himself. Picks up his lunch by himself. Taehyung walks to work alone. And every so often, he unconsciously glances to his side and then sighs when he catches himself. He’s not sure why he keeps anticipating you to be with him. Why he allows himself to feel frustrated when he remembers you’re not here. You’ve become Taehyung’s habit. And now you’re gone.

There’s a timid knock at the door. A moment later, it cracks open. “Hey, dinner is ready….” Yoongi’s puzzled to find you standing on a stool, reaching to the top of your closet but he smiles, glad to see you lively again. “What are you doing? Do you need help?” “It’s okay.” You grab the album you were reaching for and wipe off the layer of dust that covers it. “I just remembered I kept old albums up here. Jeez, it’s so dusty.” Yoongi’s brow lifts. “You remember?” You nod, smiling at him. “I do.” The album is flipped open and you step off the stool to sit on the edge of your bed. Yoongi watches you for a moment and exhales softly. “Well, I’ll leave your food on the table.” You thank him and he takes his leave, shutting the door. You guess no matter how bad your relationship with Taehyung got, you never had the heart to throw away or burn the photographs. And you’re glad. The photographs of your wedding day are still in tip-top shape, images showing the pair of you glowing in the sunset with his arms wrapped around you. You remember that wedding dress and that suit of his that had to be tailored twice. You remember being late to the ceremony and having to run with Taehyung who snuck out to see you beforehand even though he wasn’t supposed to...… There are also photographs of your honeymoon, a vacation to the Caribbean, and another trip of Europe that you went on during your university days. But above all, there are photos of the pair of you in front of the newly built house. Proud and ecstatic. The seashell white home with the dark brown roof and large windows and skylights standing tall behind you two. Ready to house your future. Some things change but these memories won’t. // The sprinklers spritzes across the freshly mowed lawn, a sputtering hiss that leaves a mist in the air. You step up the stone path to the cherry wood door, noticing the golden nameplate under the mailbox, but you don’t dwell. In your haze, your closed fist comes to steadily knock at the door. It swings open. Inside, you find someone with warm eyes, brunette hair and a boxy smile. He encapsulates the sunlight itself, so bright that it’s hard to discern who exactly it is. But you feel like you know. Like you had known before you even knocked and the door opened. The man calls your name. And you’re shaken awake from the beautiful dream. And you wake to an empty bedside, tears welling up in your eyes. It’s the middle of the night, darkness surrounding you and weighing heavily against your body. But you fight against it and rip the covers off of your body, grabbing a cardigan off your chair and rushing down the hall. Yoongi is stirred from the noise and gets up from the couch. “Where are you going?” he asks in a husky voice, running a hand through his hair that’s sticking in all directions. But the sleepiness leaves the man as he watches you shake your head, struggling to put on your shoes with tears in your eyes. “I-I need to go, Yoongi.” But for the first time, he reaches out. Yoongi’s hand clasps around your wrist to stop you, having an inkling that you might never return. “I won’t let you.” His foot is finally placed down, but the decision has long been made. “I’m sorry, Yoongi.” “Don’t say that,” he desperately pleads. “But I am. It’s unfair to you. That I’ve treated you this badly while all you’ve ever been is patient and considerate and understanding. But I don’t want you to wait for me anymore.” “You’re not going back to your asshole of an ex-husband. He was horrible to you.” “Yoongi, what do you expect me to do?” It’s a genuine question that you ask. You’re at a loss and the words choke out of you, but you had these feelings the moment you had awoken in that hospital bed. “I love him.” The pause draws on and you lower your gaze. “It’s not fair for you to wait for me to love you instead. I’m in love with Taehyung.” Yet in spite of your words, Yoongi still pulls you into him. He wraps his arms around you and squeezes you tight as if you might vanish between his fingertips. You come to realize that you never gave Yoongi a chance to express his love to you — you never kissed him or held him despite how long he waited. You feel him tremble against you. The man who you had woken to presses his face to your shoulder, his quiet tears staining your thin clothing. You return his hug, arms lifted around his torso and grasping him close. You remember who he is. You know well. He’s Min Yoongi, the man who you loved. After a moment, he releases you. “Go.” You nod. “I’ll always be thankful to you, Yoongi. More than you’ll realize.” // The car door slams shut. You cross the street, approaching the house that still stands tall on the quiet suburban street illuminated by lamp posts. You’re not sure what you’re doing here at this time of night and you know you’ll just be disheartened when you see another family inside, living in the space that was meant for you and Taehyung. But you needed to see it. It’s your home. What you made with Taehyung. Physical proof of your planned devotion to one another. The house is dark and you assume that the people inside are long asleep. So you take a moment to gaze at it, heart aching inside your chest, and after ten minutes, you turn to walk away and leave your home behind. But then a car drives down the road. It’s a modest vehicle and as you wait for it to pass to cross the street, it instead pulls into the driveway of the house. The headlights turn off. The engine dies. The car door opens. And you freeze, watching the person emerge. “Taehyung?!” The strapping brunette man is unmistakable. He’s dressed in his work clothes, casual sweater and black trousers, his leather crossbody bag slung across his torso. He looks tired from what you can see with the glow of the many street lights, his hair messy and eyes weary. But he still has the energy to be shocked at your sudden presence. Shocked as if he’s been caught in the act. “What are you doing here?” You speak on an exhale. “Y-You bought the house back again?” He bought it after the two of you lost it. Even when there’s no reason to. Not unless it still holds sentimental value. Not unless the memories held in there were ones he still cherishes. Not unless he still loves you. Taehyung murmurs your name, “Y/N…” You run to him, closing the distance, throwing your arms around his neck. And you kiss the silly man breathlessly, pressing your mouth against his and swallowing the groan that leaves his lungs. His arms wrap around your back, holding you close and quickly reciprocating. His head tilts and his tongue slips into your mouth, drawing noises out of you like when you were young and still exploring one another. But it’s a kiss of sadness and longing — yet still sweet even after so much time has passed. After a handful of seconds, Taehyung pulls away. “W-What are we doing?” He shakes his head, letting go of you. But you grab hold of his hand. “I still love you, Taehyung. I love you.” His earnest eyes search yours. “How….how do I know you won’t just remember why you wanted to leave me. How do I know it won’t happen all over again? We’re still the same people, Y/N. It didn’t work once.” “I don’t care,” you spit at him desperately. “To me, it feels like it was until yesterday that we were still married and in love. And right now, right now I still love you, Taehyung. I miss you. I don’t care what happened, that you lost your job, lost the house and started to feel bad about yourself and gave up on us.” Taehyung’s eyes are rounded and his lips part. “You….remember?” You nod. “I have gradually for a while now.” Bits and pieces had fallen together the longer you spent with him, the more you looked at pictures and mementos, and searched your memories. They were loose puzzle pieces, moments of time, until you fit them together to create a whole picture. To finally understand why things happened the way they did. And you can finally recall the downward spiral of Taehyung all those years ago. How he abruptly got laid off, losing his dream job that he had worked so hard to obtain, how the two of you lost the house when your sole income was no longer enough and how depressed he became about losing that home. How he sat at his desk for two years in the dark, playing games and wasting time, giving up on searching for a job and refusing to get himself help in his poor mental state. You remember how he ignored you until you felt like his mother and couldn’t take it anymore. How he pushed your sanity enough that you had to walk away before you were damaged. But in spite of all that has happened… “I still love you.” He’s an absolute shit, but you love him. Without being able to blink, Taehyung tugs you in by your waist and he presses his lips against yours, holding you close to him. You smile against his mouth before your hands lift to cup his cheeks, cradling his face as he deepens the kiss. It’s desperate, hungering to make up for lost time, fulfilling the yearning that has dwelled between the pair of you each time you spoke. Taehyung kisses you like he’s missed you more and the pair of you barely manage to break apart to stumble into the house. “I can’t believe you bought this place back.” It’s a whirlwind, nostalgia slamming into you as you step into the foyer. You’re overwhelmed with emotion, feeling a staggering urge to start crying. “Had to do a lot of negotiating, but I did it,” he murmurs proudly, happy to show you how he’s picked himself up, how he found another passion and followed the path, that he’s no longer so pathetic. “All on my own too.” “Taehyung…” He kisses you again, less gentle than before. He’s merciless, hands placed on your hips and your back arches into him until the force of his body causes the two of you to fall backwards onto the floor. Taehyung catches your head so that it never hurts and he hovers over you, leg between your knees while he peels off his coat. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, gazing into your eyes. “I never got to tell you that. I’m sorry for hurting you.” You nod, grasping at his forearms that’s next to your head and he takes the opportunity to lean down. Taehyung lay pecks against your cheek until he moves his way down to suck bruising kisses into your neck. You cry his name, writhing against him as he palms your breast and leaves his marks all over you. Taehyung eats you out on the cool tiled floors of the foyer entrance, filling the house with obscene sounds that make you embarrassed. But you can’t complain, not when you’re sobbing his name and your fingers are sinking into his hair. You end up cumming all over his swollen lips and chin, and you bat at him when he grins and says it’s delicious. Before Taehyung can completely ruin the mood, you grab him and with little warning, his cock sinks into your cunt, head poking right at the entrance of your cervix. You feel full and he begins to pound into you, satisfying that itch you’ve had for so long. Taehyung makes you look at him the entire time and as you hold him, it hits you just how much you missed him. Tears leak from your eyes and it only eggs him on to be rougher. His fingers sink into the meat of your thigh and his mouth leaves hickeys down the valley of your breasts to admire later. You cum again and then he presses his pelvis into yours and cums in you as well, painting your walls in white. Despite being sweaty and sticky, Taehyung kisses you again and the two of you hold one another. He��s sweet and affectionate until he starts to push his cum back into you with his fingers when you begin to leak. “Now you’re not even trying to hide the fact you want me to get pregnant.” The man mischievously grins. “Last I checked, it was yesterday that we wanted kids.” You burst out laughing, unable to argue with that but…. “We’re not even married anymore. What would your mom think?” “She would probably cry tears of happiness if she knew we were together again. And marriage…” He interlaces his hands with yours. “We could make it happen again. If you want.” You nod. “I do.”

It’s another chance. Another do over. You wonder if you had never lost your memories and tried to chase them down, if you would’ve ever reached out to Taehyung again and reignite the spark between the two of you. Had you not found him again, you wonder if you would’ve known that he’s picked himself again and returned to the man you fell in love with. It’s hard to say but those things are yesterday’s problems. Today, you look towards the future. “Wake up, sleepy head.” On any other day, you might kick him in the knee for waking you up on a weekend, but it’s been so long that you don’t mind whatsoever. Taehyung’s mischief is world’s better than waking up to an empty bedside or to someone you can’t genuinely love as much. “Ugh.” You open your eyes and immediately slap a palm against his mouth. “Don’t kiss me. Morning breath.” Taehyung peels your hand off, grins and smooches you anyway. You laugh and quickly reciprocate. When it’s all done and over, he snuggles into you. “You know…” You’re wrapped in each other’s arms and you slowly blink awake, glad that you’ve finally woken up with him beside you. “...those brown walls in this room are going to have to change.” Taehyung laughs. “Happily.” There’s nothing been more certain of. You want to spend tomorrow with Taehyung and the day after that and the day after that. Until eternity.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenario #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #yoongi angst #yoongi fanfic #throw away your logic y'all #and indulge in some hopeless romance

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