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momobani · 2 years

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LOVE IS BLIND (or voluntarily shuts its eyes) - YANG JEONGIN

PART 1 OF THE CURIOUS LIVES OF THE SIGMA KAPPA ZETA - 12.5k

Fashiondesignmajor!Jeongin x fem!reader

Sum: you hadn’t heard of Versace or Armani, but you had heard of Yang Jeongin.

Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, mention of weed, mention of food, angst, fluff (not proportional to the angst tho sorry), no smut but a whole kith <3

Song rec: (although a little ironic) Versace on the floor - Bruno Mars

A/N: somewhat inspired by the TV series Sex Education, arguably one of the best N-flix shows, give it a watch if you’re old enough lol. As foretold, this may come under the umbrella of ‘idiots in love’, enjoy <3

Sometimes there are certain people you can never remember meeting for the first time. Were you in the same class? Did you catch the same bus that time? Was it a party? Did it matter?

You weren’t sure you cared about the answer to any of those questions as you counted the bills in your hand, the pad of your thumb grazing the paper with a satisfying shuffle sound. This right here is why you were involved with “Young Master Fennec”, or as you knew him, Yang Jeongin, in the first place.

Your cut was juicy despite you only being his secretary or assistant or whatever; you weren’t here for labels either. The red velvet curtain of the photo booth is pulled aside and Jeongin’s latest client walks out. You give the guy your best customer service smile as he exits.

“Come again!” You call loudly, giving him a wave. Judging by his outfit, he might become a regular.

Jeongin emerges from the adjacent, conjoined photo booth, putting the tiny voice modulator gadget in his jacket pocket. It was like a confession booth, he’d told you when you were picking locations for appointments. You had to confess it was a pretty smart idea.

You turn your attention to him. Jeongin is wearing grey jeans, the legs rolled strategically once, twice, and a white t-shirt underneath an emerald corduroy jacket. The tell tale signs of a fashionista were all in the details.

It screamed ‘campus model’ so you had no idea why he even bothered with the anonymity - people probably guessed it was him since he was one of the only people around here who knew the difference between dressing well and just buying expensive clothes. That’s and he was a member of one of the most well known frats on campus. Yeah, that might do wonders for his anonymity. Not.

“And that’s another one saved!” He grins, as you slide your headphones down to hear him. He insisted you kept those on while he was in meetings for the sake of client confidentiality. “How did we do?”

“A fat stack considering he paid you to trash talk his closet. Here,” You hand him a bunch of bills. “Thirty bucks.”

“Thankies, it’s nice doing business with you.” He accepts the money and shoves it in his other pocket. “And clearly the people know that Young Master Fennec is here to help them, that’s why they cough it up.” He adds cockily.

You sigh loudly. “Did you have to choose a fursona for an alias? You may as well just have called yourself Fantastic Mister Fox to the same effect.”

“Uh uh,” he sing songs. “Say that again and I’ll make it sixty-forty for me.” He threatens, the smile remaining. Jeongin liked to flaunt his generosity for leverage whenever you disagreed with him, your current fifty-fifty split always on the line.

“Alright, fine, do whatever you want. I’m just the admin, I know.” You check your wrist watch. “You’re going to be late for your five-thirty, Young Master, let’s get going.”

And so you left the mall basement, going up the escalators twice to reach the rooftop. There was a partial carpark and a cafe to the side of that. You left Jeongin at one end of the parking lot and called the client over the phone.

She was coming up the escalators when you met her, offering her a blindfold (a sleeping mask with a sheep design) as you reached the door leading to the rooftop.

“Seriously?” She asked. You nodded apologetically.

“Seriously.” You confirmed. You helped her put it on and held her arm, guiding her to where Jeongin was waiting. He skipped the voice modulator this time and just picked a voice impression to do. This time it was his grandma nagging voice.

You put on your headphones again, slipping one side off a fraction so you could listen to him. You had to admit it was one of your favourites.

Imagine paying to get lectured by a grandma about your terrible fashion choices whilst blindfolded on a rooftop. Then again, you weren’t going to judge because you were the one getting paid to help this person get schooled by some guy pretending to be a grandma on a rooftop.

Some things you just didn’t need to question. Like how the hell you even ended up doing this with Jeongin of all people.

Maybe it was all those parties.

You’d been headed to the bathroom when you found the door open and some guy trying to roll the sleeves of his flannel while looking in the mirror. You also noticed his hair was slightly damp, presumably with water. You thought you were drunk because surely no one needed a mirror to roll their damn sleeve, right? He told you he was just listening to Jeongin’s advice and apologised for holding up the bathroom. At the time a little bell rang in your head but you couldn’t picture who this Jeongin was.

That same night you met your friend Changbin around the beer pong table, offering him a beer. He had just tied his over shirt around his waist, leaving him in a tight black t-shirt that showed off his muscles. You asked him what he was doing instead of taking the can of beer in your extended hand.

He told you Jeongin said he should wear it like that if he wanted to reel in that hook-up of his, some soccer chick who was definitely looking in your direction. You nodded and left after handing him the beer. You didn’t want to disturb your friend’s odd mating ritual or whatever was going on there.

Those instances a couple months ago revolved around this Jeongin dude and both had occurred in the same place.

The Sigma Kappa Zeta house.

At the time, you imagined he was either in the frat or a friend of theirs. Whatever, so he was just some guy not minding his business.

Except it wasn’t whatever when you were at the next SKZ frat party.

You ran into some girl crying on the staircase because her dress was ripped. Your braincells shuddered, quaking in their boots. What do you do in that situation? Was that really a problem, you asked her. The rip wasn’t obvious or giant. She just wailed harder so you gave her your cardigan to cover it up.

An hour later you got dragged away from your comfy spot on the couch chatting with Changbin and the previously aforementioned soccer chick to a hallway. The girl with the ripped dressed pointed at you.

“It was her!” She said. The guy standing next to her had his arms crossed, his pronounced biceps completely contrasting with his pout while he stared you down. His glare was accusatory and you were suddenly annoyed. Then you saw your cardigan in one of his hands.

“So it was you.” He said, his voice serious. He unfolded his arms, holding the cardigan up to you. “Do you know what this is?” He asked. Was he trying to make a joke or something?

“Um,” you blinked. “My cardigan?”

“Cream!” He replied dramatically. You had no idea what was going on. The colour of your cardigan was cream but that’s where he lost you.

“What about it?” You shrugged. He had the audacity to look offended.

“You do not put cream over fuscia! Oh my god! Take it!” He thrust the cardigan to you. Then he turned to the girl with the fuscia (you assumed) dress. “Okay listen, we can salvage this. All I need is a pair of scissors and a belt. Come with me.”

You were too stunned to speak. Had you had too much tequila already?

All you knew was that your legs carried you forward, following the fuscia up the stairs. You leaned on the doorframe and watched as the guy worked fashion wonders. He made several incisions on the dress, carefully shaping them while the girl just stood still, in shock. Then he pulled a thin belt off the dresser to his left and threaded it through the cutouts.

The girl gasped in amazement, her jaw falling open. She screamed happily and thanked him several times before scampering off to rejoin the party.

You thought you dreamt it. Every part of that incident seemed bizarre to you, so it really would be possible for it have been some kind of lime induced fever dream or something.

And that’s how you met Jeongin. Maybe. You think. It’s a little blurry in your head. You felt his face was somewhat familiar so maybe you had seen him before.

After being hung over for a day or two, you woke up with the the brilliant idea; why didn’t he do this regularly? And get paid for it? The inspiration originated in your bank account, the realisation that you’d need a lot more money for law school soon. You offered to be his manager, every star needed one, right?

His eyes sparkled when you called him a star. You had him hooked.

Another day, another hopeless baby bird that can’t figure out what to wear.

You’re listening to music while Jeongin is with a client at the other end of the cafe booths. They’re sitting back to back and talking, while you sit three booths down and facing the client. You don’t look at her as you sip on your drink, you’d rather not make that awkward eye contact.

You were the business’s face, the first and last point of contact, managing the schedule, the finances and the clients, not the advice giver. It wasn’t that taxing to fit into your timetable and besides, the money you made was completely worth it. You made more than minimum wage in an hour and you didn’t do any hard labour.

The fashion clinic was perfect because you made money while Jeongin got to do one of his favourite things; telling people what to do, well he calls it ‘helping’ but to you it was the same difference.

You’d get clients to send in photos of things they wore, pieces in their closets and give them to Jeongin to assess before each consultation. There he would talk to them about how to use those clothes and when. The process made sense to you even if you didn’t understand a thing about fashion. So you just went along with it.

A couple minutes later the client smiles at you and leaves, making sure not to look at Jeongin, mimicking how you imagined Orpheus walked out of the Underworld without looking back. You smile back, sliding down your headphones as Jeongin slides into the opposite seat of your booth with his iced Americano.

“Done and done. How much did she pay?” He asks, his smiling eyes crinkling in curiosity.

You had both agreed to work on an semi-open tariff basis, meaning that there was a minimum price (twenty bucks) and clients were free to add more if they wished. Depending on the client’s wish, you negotiated raising the price for the depth and scale of the advice Jeongin was giving, like the other day, the guy in the photo booth wanted a full closet evaluation. So he paid for it.

“Forty in total. Twenty for you, Young Master.” You say as you slide the bills across the table.

“You know, I can tell you’re calling me that sarcastically.” He pouts as he pockets the money. Today he’s wearing a white button up and beige sweater vest with black slacks, not missing matching silver chains on his wrist and around his neck that accented the veins protruding from each. Not that you were paying attention, of course.

“What, you actually expect me not to clown you? Pfft.” You sip on your drink.

“I don’t expect anything actually, just don’t call me by my name in public. I have to keep my air of mystery.” He says pointedly, looking around the empty floor of the cafe with paranoia.

“Alright, Jeongin.” You reply, containing a smirk.

“You did that on purpose, YN.” He narrows his eyes slightly but you can tell he’s not annoyed. One corner of your mouth turns up despite your efforts.

“How’s your saving going anyway?” He asks after a moment. You weren’t expecting him to care much about why you’d suggested this business, but he did occasionally ask you how you were managing with money.

Whilst Jeongin was a thriving fashion design major, you were a struggling prelaw major, knowing that this was only the first level of Hell you had to endure. You knew you better start saving money from now so you could manage things when you actually started law school and you’d been very transparent about it when you had made your business proposal to Jeongin.

“Not bad, I’m being careful and putting most of it aside, it’s better than getting a job too since I have time to study.”

“Oh yeah, I forget that some people are actually here to learn something.” Jeongin muses, suddenly deep in thought.

“At least you’re self-aware.” You say, eyebrows quirking.

“Hey, only people in our programme can make fun of it, don’t look down on us. We do learn stuff.” He berates you immediately. You must have hit a nerve. “Just ‘cause you’re a masochist doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t want to have fun in our degrees.”

“‘Fun’ and ‘degree’ in same sentence just sounds absurd to me, but you do you, I guess.”

“It’s kind of good though, when I become a world famous designer, I’ll need legal representation so at least I know someone I can trust.” He says reassuringly. It’s so typical to get comments from everyone asking if you can be their lawyer or wanting free legal advice from you when they found out you were going to law school. You weren’t even there yet for fuck’s sake! What if you failed to become a lawyer?

“Ah yes, Young Master, I’m sure you won’t forget about the little people that you knew along the way.” You roll your eyes.

“Of course not, now let us go, for the fashion peasants of this world need me!” He practically giggles, his eyes sparkling in the LED lights of the cafe. You humour him, nodding and getting up. There was never a day you were bored when you were with Jeongin.

It’s somewhere around midnight and your fifth shot of tequila that you and Changbin are laughing at something soccer chick said, your little group becoming a regular at the kitchen island every weekend at the SKZ house. You’d sent Jeongin to make a couple of rounds whilst he was still one shot in and therefore mostly sober, pointing out clients that might be waiting at particular spots around the house.

The music’s loud, the bass thumping from the living room through some solid looking speakers. There was an aux cord with a whole laptop attached to it, the frat’s president Chan providing most of the music but taking turns with some of the other guys in the house while he ran around making sure everyone was being safe. (You swore he was tallying each shot that travelled from your cup to your mouth).

Jeongin had told you that Chan wasn’t that uptight but judging by the way he locked his actual laptop in a safe, he may be at least stressed in a slightly control freaky way, though you couldn’t fault him since he practically parented this whole frat.

You sat on the counter top, pouring out drinks for the three of you, only half listening to the chatter around you and the music from across the hall. You spot Felix, one of the other Sigma Kappa Zeta guys, coming towards your group and you instinctively pull out another paper cup from the stack and pour another drink out, finishing the bottle to the last drop.

“Hey, you guys,” he directs a sweet thousand watt smile at you. “Did you try the weed brownies yet? I made them fresh today after class.” He opens the Tupperware in his hands, offering it to you. You’re tempted but ultimately pass and so do Changbin and his date. (You had no idea what their deal was, if she was his date or not, but they were constantly together at parties nowadays.)

You offer Felix the drink and he takes it with a quick ‘thanks’ before disappearing to deliver more brownies, stopping by people, Boy Scout style. Your semi-drunk self chuckles at his enthusiasm and you take another sip to finish your cup.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” You tell your friends and hop off the counter in search of the bathroom. They acknowledge your comment but are absorbed in their own world.

As you walk around the house, you keep an eye and ear open for Jeongin, to see if he was with clients or just partying. You don’t spot him so you make your way to your destination. There’s only a slight queue outside and you lean against the wall in case you sway.

You’re at a comfortable buzz-like tipsiness but not properly drunk at this point in the night. You tended not to get too drunk anyway, partially because your tolerance was high but also because you didn’t trust anyone at these parties to put yourself in a vulnerable position like that. Simply, you were a cynic and believed the worst could happen.

Your bathroom trip sobers you up a tad and you head back to the kitchen.

On your way, you hear Jeongin’s voice through all the static of other noise. You’d listened to him talking so much that you could recognise his voice anywhere. You stop and look around, turning in the same spot as if you’re trying to echo locate him. You hear him once more and find the general direction of his voice then follow it. It’s coming from a room down the hall and your legs carry you there.

The door is wide open and Jeongin is sitting down presumably with a client. You hang back not to disturb them and observe from a distance. He’s sitting with a sketchbook, a pencil in his hand, focusing on the page in front of him. You can’t see what he’s drawing but you can see how focused he is. The client is talking about something and Jeongin is nodding and sketching at the same time.

It strikes you how professional he looks even though he’s just some guy giving advice at a party. You feel a faint smile of admiration make its way to your lips. He’s completely in his element and you can feel the gears in his brain turning from here. You had to admit he was pretty cool when he did that. But you would only say that in your current tipsy state, of course.

After a moment, you leave, wandering through the sea of party people again back to the kitchen.

You can hear Changbin’s loud and drunk voice from a few steps away. But you stop short before turning into the kitchen as you overhear the conversation.

“…I can’t believe he won’t tell YN he likes her,” you hear him slur. “My little brother is such a coward. The kid just needs to do it. Like-” you hear the sound of his hand slapping the countertop. “Ripping off a bandaid.”

The sound of your name rings out to you, the sound barely just registering in the cavities of your head. His little brother? Is he talking about Jeongin? Must be, though you were aware Changbin was one of the older members of the frat since he’d taken a gap year so potentially it could be any of the younger guys. You didn’t really know all of them that well though.

But what soccer chick says in return confirms it for you.

“Jeongin seems like the shy type, let him be, he’ll do it when he feels ready. Now let’s go, I have practice in the morning.”

What were they talking about? It was absurd.

Yang Jeongin? Like you? That’s the dumbest thing you’d ever heard, the most prolifically idiotic statement of this century and last. There was no way. They’re bullshitting.

The two of you were just business partners, friends if you stretched, which you would admit, though your definition of friendship was a little rough around the edges.

Surely you would have noticed if Jeongin was acting like he liked you? To be fair he’d always been fairly nice but he’s nice to everyone, except for the sassy quips that escape his mouth every once in a while but even those aren’t supposed to be mean.

To you, being nice didn’t equate to liking someone. Why would it, really? You can be nice to anyone and everyone for no reason.

You decide to ignore it for now. This doesn’t matter, it’s not like he’s said anything so you’ll operate on the basis that you never heard this.

You can hear footsteps coming closer to the kitchen door and you scramble to get back up the hallway so your friends don’t see that you’d heard anything. Even if you had, you’d tell Changbin’s drunk ass not to yell about it so loudly next time.

You stumble backwards and end up accidentally colliding into someone’s back. You whip around startled, and the apologies start to tumble out of you. You see it was Seungmin and his girlfriend and they both look more startled than you and you worry that you might have ruined their conversation.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” She says to you, smiling artificially, which made you think it was really not okay but you nod politely, say sorry again and scram.

You look back just to see Changbin and plus one leave, not even glancing back.

After about a half hour, you leave the party, not finding the overwhelmingly crazy environment fun any more. You can’t find Jeongin anywhere to say goodbye. You walk home alone, tugging your jacket closer to your frame, mulling over what you’d heard.

Your curiosity was getting the best of you; was it true? Could it be? No one had liked you before, at least to your knowledge.

If he did say something, would you reciprocate? You weren’t sure. You enjoyed being in Jeongin’s company, finding it easy to get along with him but it was probably because you had something to be working on, a clear cut goal of what you needed to achieve through your business relationship.

True that at first you were wary of him after the cardigan incident, he seemed like a wild fox to you, unpredictable and overly passionate but as you got to know him, you adjusted to his volume or he adjusted his volume for you, and you came to respect his passion for what he wanted to do.

Sure you liked him as a friend but could it ever develop into romantic feelings? You hadn’t ever bothered exploring romantic feelings before, your crushes being fleeting and shallow enough to be forgotten after a little while, so much so that none of them really stuck. You’d never prioritised having a boyfriend before, thinking that you had too much on your plate to attempt dating. It might have made you numb to the idea over all this time and perhaps you still were numb to it.

By the time you got home to find your two roommates passed out on the couch, drunk snacked and washed up, you’re still thinking about the same thing. You almost feel silly for the impact this information is having on you. Well, alleged information, you didn’t have solid proof.

Proof.

That’s it!

You needed to get evidence. For that you’d need to observe Jeongin and give it some time to see if his behaviour chalked up to what Changbin said. The cogs in your brain started turning already…

You had a couple of classes, and consequently a couple of headaches as the professors droned on about the exact same stuff that you read in the textbook. You went back home and ate lunch, scheming your plan into existence.

Yesterday you’d booked two appointments at the mall for Jeongin, both on the rooftop instead of the photo booth since the weather was nicer than usual.

You weren’t even vaguely self-conscious, or not yet, about your plan since you had nothing to lose; it’s not like anyone will actually care, sure they might stare at you in the street but embarrassment was temporary and you could survive it while you focused on the big picture - figuring out if Jeongin did in fact have any feelings for you.

So you commenced the plan.

You put on the cuntiest, most horrifically abysmal combination of hot pink crop top and leopard print high waisted lounge pants you could find, a blue Hawaiian shirt, and topped it all off with a pair of crocs that sported a flame design, as if your feet were one of those toy Hot Wheels. (How some of those had ended up in your possession was a long and arduous tale that you did not wish to remember but one part involved making bets and let’s just say you were not a gambler).

You looked in the mirror and decided you belonged in the circus or some kind of institution. In other words, it was perfect. Maybe all those themed frat parties were not so dumb after all - your closet had become a wonderland after each one.

You make your way out, almost killing one of your roommates by making her choke on her orange juice as you walked through the living room.

“YN, what are you we-” you hear but you’re already out the door, taking long strides ahead before you could be dissuaded from this ridiculous idea.

You weighed up whether you wanted to walk or take the bus, but you end up on the bus since you could just sit at the back and nobody would look at you. Not that you cared, of course. You just wanted for the ground to swallow you up, no big deal.

(Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all.)

Jeongin is waiting for you on the rooftop as you walk up behind him.

“Hey.” you say, anticipating his reaction.

“Hi.” He glances at you but does a double take, his eyes roaming over your outfit. You could swear his eyes bugged out slightly but he turns back to the view. “Is the client here?” He doesn’t mention anything, and you’re not sure if it’s the desired effect or what this result even tells you.

No comment at all? No judging side-eye or even a sassy head swivel from him. What did that mean?

This is why you could never be a science major of any sort. You’d bet in your hypothesis that if someone did what you’re doing, he would not hesitate to critique them but you hadn’t really thought about how to gauge his reaction if the outcome was otherwise. Does this mean he doesn’t care about what you wear or about you? Or both?

It honestly felt like both. He didn’t care enough about you to care about what you wore. It made you feel less important than a client. Ouch.

You’d never cared that much about what you wore even though you know it was something people used to express themselves, sure it was great if you wanted to do that but it wasn’t you personally, you just wore what was comfortable and practical and didn’t look horrific on you. Yet, suddenly you knew you were expressing something on purpose and you wanted a reaction.

You didn’t get one. It was cruelly anti-climactic.

Were you disappointed? If you could call it that.

You’d just have to do it again and more often and see if he says anything. You wanted to test what he really thought of you, despite not knowing if it was the right way to test it. It’s not a conversational thing you felt you could bring up. You weren’t blunt enough to right out confront him about what you’d heard from Changbin. It might even cause tension between the two of them, so better do things your way.

Your phone rang and you hurried to go pick up the three forty five client.

After the appointment, which lasted a grand total of five minutes, a new record of speed for whatever reason, you and Jeongin descend the escalators again. You’re happy to go home already since you’re starting to remember to be self-conscious around other people but Jeongin insists you stop by a claw machine game he spotted on the way down.

“You’re not a kid, you can go alone.” You tell him. Jeongin’s mouth forms a pout and you know you’re about to be convinced to stay.

“Yeah, but it’s no fun if you go alone. Besides, it’s weird if it’s just me.” He says. “I’m pretty good at it anyway, it won’t take long.” He adds more cheerfully. There’s a curious part of you that decides to take him up on his word, but you don’t expect anything.

You take that back.

‘Won’t take long’ was an understatement. Jeongin had been right. He was actually good at this.

You’d always thought that claw machines were designed to be a con and were supposed to empty your pockets in the process of frustrating you. But this is the first time you witnessed someone winning with your own eyes.

He managed to win a fluffy ram plushie within five minutes flat. It was basically the shape of a loaf of bread but with a cute face and some curvy horns on either side of its head. Jeongin pulled it out of the little door at your knees and held it up victoriously.

“See!” He grins, admiring his handy work. “Give it a name.”

“I don’t know,” you shake your head, looking at the plushie sceptically. You were waiting for it to make an impression on you. “Hmm, it just looks like a ‘Ramie’ to me but that somehow feels unoriginal.” You conclude. Jeongin turns it around and stares at it too.

“Eh, you might be right.” He agrees. You look at him expectantly, anticipating something brilliant from the creator of fursonas himself. “He’s a Ramie.” Jeongin confirms. You scoff at his cop out.

“You can dish it but you can’t take it, can you?” You roll your eyes. “Can we go now?” You cross your arms, starting to feel impatient.

Every time a kid with their parents or a gaggle of kids walked past, ogling at you, you felt a shred of your dignity wither away like the petal of a flower falling off. You also hated standing there in fucking crocs; it felt like a trespass against your soul.

“Yes, we can. Here.” Jeongin thrusts Ramie at you and you almost drop him in surprise.

“Why are you giving it to me?” You ask, getting a steady hold on the fluff after a moment. Jeongin glances over his shoulder at you with an unmistakable smirk.

“I can always win another one.” He shrugs and walks away.

You stare after him, speechless, your haste to leave forgotten. When did Jeongin get cool?

As your experiment carried on, you varied dressing crazily and dressing what was normally to you, Jeongin not batting an eyelid at either. You were starting to suspect maybe Changbin had been wrong; maybe what he’d said was a drunken, speculative statement and didn’t hold up against sober reality.

You were so tempted to up it to even more extreme looks but you still valued your dignity and you also couldn’t keep asking to borrow your roommates clothes to mix and match with yours. It was kind of exhausting thinking of new things too.

(You’d really put in a lot of effort, sometimes matching a brown jumper with a silver skirt, or a button up with joggers when you felt a little lazy, once going as far as thrifting to find a purple jacket that would be an eyesore with your azure tank top. It worked, though you weren’t sure you should be proud of that.)

You were headed to another appointment with Jeongin, this time giving a special consultation to the younger sibling of your client for her prom outfit. Naturally you bent your practice a little and went to the dress shop to meet the client. You’d cut the anonymity too, making sure the kid wasn’t going to be freaked out or anything.

Today you’d dressed with inspiration (read: a failed cosplay) from the classic Mean Girls; you’d taken to watching movies to find outfit ideas. After a marathon of Legally Blonde, 10 Things I Hate About You, and Clueless, you’d picked up a few things, specifically picking out clothing items that would certainly and definitely clash when part of the same outfit.

You’d found a pink polo similar to the one Cady borrows from Damian, some “army pants” (just khaki green cargo pants), and “flip flops” (well Birkenstocks that you had no idea were called that until recently, curtesy of the fashion guru himself) paired with florescent Grinch green socks. You felt as if you had really transcended your deliberate and humble experimentalist beginnings to morph into a fashion menace. You felt powerful, unhinged and unstoppable.

You were so set on pushing Jeongin to snap, it didn’t even feel like your original experiment’s purpose any more, you just wanted him to do something. It didn’t even have to be anything big, just like an eye roll or something.

You enter the dress boutique and call your client. He picks up on the first ring and tells you that they’re waiting on the second floor. You go up and meet them, a brother and little sister looking at dresses that were lined up on racks positioned around the room. You feel a pang of endearment at the scene.

After clarifying the budget for the dress, the brother and you take a seat on one of the tiny couches across the dressing rooms and wait for a mini-fashion show. You’re not surprised when the girl comes out in dresses that are both beautiful singularly but also perfectly suited to her energy, whether it was the right colour, or style or both, Jeongin had picked wisely. She looked so happy trying them on as you all told her how pretty she looked.

For a moment you were glad you’d started this clinic other than the money it paid. Maybe this is what Jeongin found rewarding in it - helping people feel more confident about themselves and have fun expressing themselves. Had you misunderstood what you’d been doing all this time?

You looked over at Jeongin, who sat on a stool a few meters away from you, focused on looking through photos the girl had given him to look at to understand her style further and see a variety of colours on her so he could gauge what else to try.

He seemed so absorbed, his broad shoulders tensed as he hunched over his phone. Today he wore a flannel and t-shirt combo and black jeans, paired with a small baseball cap, possibly one of the most generic outfits you’d ever seen him wear. Must be his attempt of looking as non-threatening as possible.

You watched as he tilted his head in thought, pursing his lips as he came to some sort of conclusion. The girl came out in yet another dress, a lovely lilac piece that had a high low hem, reaching just above the floor, and a boxed neckline matched with some short sleeves. It was possibly the best one so far and she was positively beaming.

The brother gasped next to you when he saw his kid sister and you glanced at him to see him smiling affectionately. This might be the winner.

Except Jeongin takes absolute pride in his work and is very thorough so he asked her to try on a few more before making the decision, thus extending your live viewing of Say Yes To The Dress. You sighed and leaned back to wait for the next series of dresses. You wondered what you would have worn if you’d gone to prom.

While you wait, you decide to have a little wander to stretch your legs and see if anything stands out to you in case Jeongin had missed it.

You walk along a line of racks, trailing your eyes over each dress. A deep bordeaux piece catches your attention and you pull it out of the pile gently, holding up the hanger. It doesn’t exactly scream ‘prom’ but it’s lovely nonetheless. It’s a spaghetti strap almost floor length number, with a slit and some tiny embroidered flower chains along the bodice. You had to admit it was gorgeous.

“That would look great on you.” You jump out of your skin as Jeongin sneaks up behind you, his voice quiet but sincere as he stands a little too close to you. Your pulse is thundering in your ears. Why was he here thinking about what you’d look like? That wasn’t the task you were getting paid for.

“Jeez, you move like a Tesla.” You complain. You collect yourself for a moment, not used to him being in this close proximity. “It doesn’t matter how it’ll look on me, give it to your client to try, she might like it.” You hand the dress to Jeongin adamantly. You don’t wait for him to respond before you make your way back to the couch.

You try and forget whatever the hell that was, fighting the blood rushing to your cheeks and focusing on the myriad of dresses that come next.

Eventually they narrow it down to the lilac number, a dark sapphire strapless cocktail dress and surprisingly the bordeaux dress that you’d chosen. In the end the lilac wins, mostly based on happiness levels and as it should, you think.

The brother starts to pay you while the girl is getting changed back to her normal clothes. You look over his shoulder to see that Jeongin is busy talking to a staff member. The client wants to give you sixty bucks but you tell him you’ll give him a fifty percent discount since they had to buy the dress too so he gives you thirty.

“Thanks for making my sister happy you guys, I appreciate it.” He says as they part ways with you after buying the dress. You smile genuinely and nod. Jeongin is also incredibly happy, his eyes shinning and crinkling with his grin.

“No problem. You know where to find us if you need anything. Have a good time!” He says brightly. The girl thanks you again and they set off.

“Here’s your cut.” You say as you hand him the thirty when you step out of the shop. You don’t know what possessed you to do it, but it felt good, a tiny sprout of serotonin filling your system.

“Thanks.” He accepts the money, his fingers brushing yours briefly. You ignore the way it sets alarm bells off in your head and retract your hand quickly.

“So I’ll see you on Thursday?” You look up at him. “You have an early slot in the library, 11:45, okay?”

“Sure, do you want me to walk you home?” Jeongin asks. It had been a couple of hours since you’d been in the shop and it was getting dark outside already. He’d never asked you before and while you appreciated the gesture, you couldn’t wait to get away fast enough and you’re not even sure why.

“No, no, it’s alright, I’m catching the bus anyway. See you, Jeongin.” And you speed down the street, only realising you’re walking in the totally wrong direction to where your stop was. You end up going to a cafe on your way to get something to drink since you were really parched.

There’s a quiet radio playing in the background as you wait for your order. You recognise the song but it takes you a few seconds to identify it. You stand listening for a moment, utterly still and use it to calm down. What was that at the shop? He shouldn’t sneak up on you like that, it made your heart race and you didn’t like it.

It was unnerving.

You watch as the wind moves the clouds over the horizon, lifting the wisps of white rapidly through the air as the sun shone through their cover. You’re on the library rooftop, standing some distance away from Jeongin’s consultation, contemplating what to have for dinner later. You had already figured out lunch so you may as well move on.

You clearly weren’t going anywhere soon.

You were a little torn between chicken or ramen. You might see what your roommates were up to and see what they wanted or you could just keep debating it alone since you were bored.

This appointment was taking a little while since the client kept flirting with Jeongin. Initially you had had your headphones on, minding your business but it was sort of hard to miss the forced giggle that pierced through your music.

You thought it odd; what could Jeongin have possibly said that was that funny? Like okay he was funny but did it really make her squeal like that? Jeez, it was so loud, you thought your ear drum might burst. Regardless, you slid one side of your headphones to the side and listened, not out of curiosity but out of suspicion.

The girl was trying the most but Jeongin was as awkward as ever.

“So do you think I should wear outfits with more cleavage or should I try to show off my long legs more?” She asked, for a moment it sounded like a genuine question but then she kept sweeping her hands over her short clad thighs. You had to salute her strategy, it was pretty on the nose but unfortunately Jeongin’s nose was buried in the notes he’d made before the meeting. Regardless, something about the situation bothered you.

“Do whatever you want, I’m just here to tell you what clothes go well together.” The reply was as oblivious as ever. You bit back a laugh. Ah, that’s more like it, that’s the Jeongin you know. He’s not smooth, she’s just into him. That was hilarious in itself since she was wearing the damn blindfold and could only hear his voice.

To be fair to the girl, Jeongin had skipped the voice modulator again and instead opted to deepen his voice whilst throwing in the occasional southern dialect phrase in, and that might seem hot to some people if you were into it. Not that you were, of course.

You forced yourself to cover your ear properly again. You didn’t want to hear any more of it.

You hear at least four more songs before the appointment finishes and you send your client off. She gave you fifty in total. You split the money between you and Jeongin does a double take.

“Wow, amazing. I must give really great advice.” He grins to himself. The two of you are standing at the railing, looking out to the skyline of campus. It seemed so vast from here, this little bubble of your university.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.” You mutter, thinking she was probably had other intentions but you let it slide.

“What? Did you say something?” He tilts his head at you, the way animals do.

“Nothing, at the risk of inflating your ego, you do actually give good advice.” You look away as you say it, somehow feeling awkward yourself. You meant it but you weren’t exactly the type to say stuff like this out of nowhere, so you tried to be as nonchalant as you could.

You were reserved, especially if you thought highly of someone. Did you think highly of Jeongin? Must be so if you were stingy with praise. That and something about his shining confidence made you want to humble and level him a little; you didn’t want him to spiral out of control and become an asshole.

“Wow! Was that a compliment? Haven’t heard one from you, like ever?” He laughs.

“Don’t make me take it back, Young Master.” You warn jokingly, feeling his eyes fall on you. You keep your gaze on the horizon, tracing the skyline with your eyes.

“No, no don’t! It’s just that you don’t say stuff like that usually, it was refreshing. And besides, who doesn’t love being told they’re awesome?” He smirks happily.

“I never said you were awesome.” You hum, turning to leave. It was getting a little gloomy outside, the sky filling with darker clouds; the weather was giving you whiplash.

“But I know it’s what you meant!” He calls out after you then scrambles to catch up. You allow yourself a smile at his confidence, or was it blind optimism?

You descend to the ground floor and exit. Jeongin follows after you like a stray puppy, his long stride easily making the distance that separated the two of you.

At the bus stop, there are a couple of other people, seemingly from your university. Two girls who side-eye you and start whispering amongst themselves, as if you weren’t standing like four feet away. You knew what they were talking about, your outfit consisting of a jean skirt and a purple puffer vest over a green button up.

You felt a little annoyed whilst they giggled, the whole thing giving you flashbacks to high school where for some reason people wouldn’t mind their own damn business. Who ever said that college or life were any different? You wished the bus would come faster.

Jeongin said nothing.

“You doing anything for spring break?” He asks finally as you wait. The question takes you by surprise; was he looking for work during vacation time?

“Nothing, but listen, you should just use it as a holiday, I don’t think we should have any appointments.” You tell him.

“That’s not why I was asking. I agree though, I don’t feel like working over the break.”

“Oh, okay. Then what is it?”

“We’re throwing a bunch of parties, the one next Saturday is going to be a little fancier so dress nice, okay?” He informs you. You maintain a poker face as the light bulb goes off in your brain. You just couldn’t help doing stupid things could you?

“Aha, sure, I’ll see you there.” You smile.

Were you going overboard? Probably. Were you going to stop your ridiculous mission? No, since you were very much determined to break him. You felt like now you were testing your friendship more than anything else.

Friends looked out for each other if something was off about them, right?

You were kinda over the experiment and hated most of the stuff you wore but it was one of those things like impulsively cutting your hair, or splashing into puddles even though you knew your shoes were going to be fucked when you did.

You knew the consequences objectively, but you did it anyway.

It’s not on your bingo cards when you walk into the Sigma Kappa Zeta house and find every other party goer is wearing super random and clashing outfits, as if they decided as a collective to get dressed in the dark.

What the fuck was happening?

Jeongin told you to ‘dress nice’, so naturally you did the opposite, dressing in the most outrageous pieces of clothing you had. You were wearing a crop top with a cartoon drawing of a monkey which was made with some felt fur fabric and a pair of lounge pants covered in silver sequences, which made you look like a walking disco ball if you walked past a light.

Despite that, you basically blended in. How had you not heard this was a themed party? (Probably because you didn’t have a lot of friends.) And in that case, what was the theme? YN’s silly wardrobe? Fashion disaster?

You walk around to see if you can find any of the SKZs to tell you what you were seeing and end up in the kitchen when you don’t find anyone. You stand at the counter, trying to get a grip. Was Jeongin on to you?

Regardless, it opened your eyes. You’ve been ridiculous this whole time, you and your silly little outfits and playing dress up for no reason.

“You didn’t like it?” You jump at Jeongin’s voice behind you. You whip around to him and your eyes bug out. He’s wearing a black and white spotted button up, black leather pants and a massive fur coat over the top of it all. A pair of sunglasses adorns his face, the glass faded black so you can’t see his eyes.

“Like what? Jeongin, what is all this?” You demand. He hums in thought for a moment.

“A concession? A truce? Whichever you prefer.” He shrugs.

“What?”

“I admit and acknowledge your fashion choices, now for the love of Gucci, please stop being a menace to society and just be you, okay?” He smiles. You look at him blankly.

Was he talking about your experiment? Did he know what about that? You hadn’t told anyone why you were doing it so how on Earth would he know?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You decide to play dumb.

“I think the monkey on your shirt does though.” He scrunches his nose at it. “The YN I know would only ever wear that ironically or not at all.”

“Then you don’t know me very well.” You counter, starting to feel your fight or flight response kick in.

“I think you’d be surprised how well I do know you. Enough to know you’ve been up to something.” He crosses his arms. “Now, why is it that you continue to commit crimes against fashion?”

“What kind of question is that? I’m just wearing whatever I want.” You argue but it sounds unconvincing even to your own ears.

“We both know that’s not true, just tell me what’s going on.” He continues to try and coax it out of you, leaning on the counter like you are. Now that you’re faced with the confrontation, you suddenly don’t know what to do.

“Fine.” You say, your heart thundering in your chest. “I just wanted to get your attention. I wanted you to say something, anything. But you didn’t.” And you feel and sound so desperate as you say it, the tension leaving your body after weeks of this facade.

Jeongin stands still, the smile on his slowly fading.

“You wanted me to say something?” He asks, disappointment lining his voice. “What more do you want me-”

“You care so much about what other people do, but you ignored me.” And now that you say it out loud, you know deep down you’d been a little sad he had. “We spend so much time together and I thought we were becoming friends. Wouldn’t a friend care a friend was getting laughed at?” You pause, not sure where you were pulling the friend card from - this whole thing was to check whether he had feelings for you but all you had evidence of was that he didn’t care about you at all.

“Friends?” You watch his face contort in thought, as if you weren’t in the middle of a conversation.

“It’s not even about that, I heard something dumb from Changbin and I wanted to see if it was true but now that I’m thinking about it, it clearly isn’t.” You can’t help but scoff at your stupidity. How could you have ever attached any meaning to something that came out of a drunk person’s mouth?

You were starting to lose it. You were getting confused too. Was this what you wanted all along? Jeongin to do something? Well he did; he threw a whole party to try and stop your ridiculous experiment even though he didn’t know what it was. So why did you feel so flustered by it?

“What uh, what did Changbin say?” Jeongin looks a little tense, as tense as you feel.

You considered telling him the truth but you didn’t want the humiliation; you’d endured all your silly outfits and people’s stares, but you couldn’t stomach the humiliation that you would feel if you did. It felt like you would be begging him to like you, not just asking what he thought.

And you didn’t beg anyone for anything.

“It doesn’t matter. Just forget anything ever happened between us, okay? Let’s just stop whatever-” you gesture with your hands helplessly. “-this is. Find a new admin.”

Jeongin faltered, one hand coming up to his face to take the sunglasses off. The corners of his mouth flopped into a frown and the expression on his face was suddenly so crestfallen. It made you regret how harsh you’d sounded, an ache appearing in your chest.

“You don’t want to work with me any more?” He looked at you with those sparkly eyes of his, the embodiment of that emoji everyone adores and for a moment you wondered if it was the lights or something else.

“No, I don’t.” You word vomit. “I just-” you pause. What did you want? Wanted him to have liked you? To have reassured you when people stared?

You had lost sight of what you were even doing, aimlessly putting on random clothes, trying to make yourself look crazy enough that he’d react. How could you be so childish? This was like the equivalent of kindergarteners pulling on pig tails cause they liked someone.

Hold up-

You were the one pulling in this context. And for what reason? You didn’t like Jeongin, did you? Did you?

“I don’t know!” You say out loud, breathing out shakily. “I’m leaving.” You can’t bear to look at his face, the disappointment, the pouty kicked puppy expression, it was too much. You weave through the crowd of bodies and disappear into the night, practically running home.

You had looked over your shoulder several times to see if Jeongin had made any attempt to follow you out of the house, but you knew it was selfish to think he might after what you’d said to him. You felt so shitty for making him look like that - the way his face fell replayed in your mind on loop. He was probably really mad at you, for being weird, for overreacting, for quitting so suddenly. All of it.

It had been over a couple of months since you’d started the advice clinic. All that time, you had to admit you’d grown fond of Jeongin and his little voice impressions and that stupid sheep blindfold that you still had on your desk, ready to use at the next appointment. There was no next appointment. Not for you anyway.

You’d become friends, at least in your head, but had your fondness grown into attachment and maybe something more?

Initially you had been in it for the money, but over time and especially after that one consultation in the dress boutique, you’d come to understand something profound about what Jeongin found rewarding in the experience. It was more about the way people felt. Maybe it put Jeongin in a different light that you hadn’t seen before.

You make it home and catch your remaining roommate lounging on the couch with a beer in her hand.

“YN?” She calls when she hears the door open and close. You throw off your shoes and make your way to the sink for some water.

“Yeah, I’m home.” You reply. You grab a cup off the dish rack and fill it, chugging until you feel breathless.

“I thought you were going to that party tonight, what happened?” She straightens up and looks over at you from the couch.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You sigh. “I’m tired, I think I’ll just have an early night.” You move to take a half eaten tub of ice cream out of the freezer.

“Ah, alright. Come through if you’re lonely, I’m catching up on some shows.” She tells you. You hum in response, grateful your roommate isn’t the pushy, invasive type. “Oh YN! I forgot, a package came for you yesterday. It’s in the utility closet.”

“I didn’t order anything, are you sure it’s for me?” You ask her, ice cream forgotten. She takes a sip of beer, nodding.

“It definitely had your name on it.”

“Okay, thanks.” You mumble and let her get back to her show.

You don’t know what you’re expecting but you go find the package and take it to your room.

It’s a white box, about A4 size in length and it has your name and address on it. It’s not that heavy when you pick it up and you wonder what on Earth it could be. Had you impulse shopped at 3am again? No, you’d remember if you were expecting a package; call it organised or paranoid, but you would.

With a pair of scissors you slice the box open, following the lines and being careful not to ruin the box. You sit and move the flaps carefully and find a layer of tissue paper and folded note on top.

Your eyes scour the note, more like short letter, and your heart physically sinks.

You were the biggest douche you knew right now. You feel like screaming in despair. Why would he do this to you?

You let the note flop to the bed and unravel the tissue paper, your suspicions confirmed when you laid eyes on the bordeaux fabric folded neatly in the box. You let out a groan and lie backwards, except you underestimate your stability on the edge of your bed and tumble down with a yelp.

You hit the floor with a thud and all you can think about is how karmically deserved that was. You just lie there for a moment and your roommate bursts in.

“YN?” She shouts, scanning your room until she finds you on the floor. “Are you okay?” She asks, lowering her voice.

You let the question sink in for a moment, trying to control the influx of frustration, anger, regret, guilt and more, followed by tears.

“Am I ever okay?” You say, your throat closing so you sound like a wheezing cat.

“Um,” your roommate hesitates to answer what was meant to be a rhetorical question.

“I fucked up so badly.” You confess, the tears spilling over the edges of your eyes and falling down the sides of your face. You sniffle and close your eyes.

“Oh sweetie.” You hear your roommate shuffle until she’s sitting next to you and pulling you to rest your head on her lap. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

“Read that piece of paper.” You instruct, pointing to your bed. It might make more sense for her to see that first before you explained everything.

She reaches up on to the bed for it and grasps it, turning it over in her hands.

“‘Dear YN. It’s been almost three months since we started the clinic. In honour of that I’m throwing a party themed ‘opposites’, just like you and I are. I know you’ll probably wear something that is in the eyes of others heinous so I wanted to give you another option, one that matches you better. As Christian Dior once said: ‘There is certainly a red for everyone.’ And this one, I’m certain, is yours. If I’ve learned anything in the past few months, it’s that clothes enhance the beauty that lies beneath them. So I humbly invite you to be the only person who does not come as their opposite, but as themselves. Yours, Young Master Yang.’”

You choke on the sob that reverberates through your chest.

“Oh my god.” She says, blinking. Then she gasps dramatically. “It’s a love letter!”

“And I’m a bitch.” You cry harder. Your roommate flicks your forehead and glares at you. “What? I thought we were just stating what things are at this point?”

“No, we are not and you are not. Whatever happened, I’m sure it’s not that bad.” She reassures you naively.

“Wanna bet?” You sniffle.

You get up and sit on your bed, the two of you sitting on either side of the box, your roommate listening intently to every bullshit thing you did since the beginning while you clutch Ramie the Ram to your chest.

At the end, there’s silence as your roommate digests the information you just bombarded her with. She tilts her head and purses her lips, the action putting her in the most pensive state you’d ever witnessed her in.

“Okay,” she begins. “Maybe it was kinda bad, but it’s fixable. It sounds like a misunderstanding, about the dress and what you said at the party. So you could start with that?”

“You don’t think it’s that bad but you didn’t see his little face, he looked so crushed and disappointed. And I quit too. That was just even worse.” You tell her.

“Listen, I’m going to ask you a bunch of questions, yes or no ones. Ready?” You nod. “Do you want to fix things?” She asks. You nod. “Do you want to keep working with him?” You nod again. “Do you like him?” You find yourself nodding again then stop abruptly.

“Holy shit.” You whisper. You roommate looks just a tad happy with herself.

“Oh would you look at that, you can tell the truth.” She gloats, throwing a smirk your way. You click your tongue at her.

“You tricked me, okay? It doesn’t count.” You reason, shaking your head. At that she groans, a loud monstrous and exasperated sound.

“Would you give it up already? Face it, you’ve fallen for Jeongin and that’s why you kept doing the stupid dressing up thing. That’s why you’re distressed and crying about what happened. Because you care about him.” Your roommate spells it out for you in small words.

There’s a sense of relief in your chest as you hear it out loud for some reason; as if you’d known for a long time that this was the case but you’d been so caught up in petty things that you’d never paid attention to the mounting feelings you had.

“Okay, yes, I care about him. I like him.” It sounds so bizarre as it comes out of your own mouth but also incredibly right. “I like it when he laughs, when his smile reaches his eyes, when he says something snarky but not mean at all. I like it when he does his voice impressions or vows he’ll make me his lawyer one day.”

“Jeez, you fell hard.” Your roommate mutters. “Don’t tell me about it, tell him!” She exclaims.

“What, now?” You ask, dubious.

“Yes! Go!”

“No, he’s probably so mad right now, I can’t go and do that. I should give him time to cool off first.” You reason.

“You’re just being a coward again, aren’t you?” She asks sceptically. “He probably just wants to know you don’t hate him.”

“I can’t do it. I can’t just go and give him whiplash like that.” You shake your head. “It’s not fair for me to say one thing and then another in one night.”

“Love isn’t fair and life’s too short to wait for it to be fair. Now go before I kick you out of the apartment.” She huffs, she looks down at the box between you and seems to get an idea. “Go now or the dress gets it!”

You gasp in outrage.

“You wouldn’t! Don’t you dare hurt my dress. It’s precious.” You threaten back.

“So is your relationship with Jeongin, now leave already, would you.” She gets up and starts to drag your arm.

You let her usher you out the door, not even pausing to let you put your shoes on properly but thrusts them into your hand and shuts the door.

“Don’t come back until you tell him how you feel.” She says, her voice muffled by the door.

You knew she was right. It was just astonishing how terrible you felt about the whole situation and how worried you were about what Jeongin might say if he saw you again tonight.

Well, he already hated you probably, so there was nothing left to lose, was there? You wanted to apologise. You, who didn’t beg anyone for anything, were going to beg Jeongin for forgiveness.

It was getting late now, past midnight, but you speed walked back to the Sigma Kappa Zeta house, forcing yourself to put one foot in front of the other. The party was probably not over yet as the usual end time was around 2am, a Chan imposed curfew on every party goer and SKZ member. He maintained that it was for keeping some kind of sleeping pattern but you knew it was probably ‘cause he didn’t want to keep chaperoning everyone all night.

As the house came into view, you could tell from a distance that the party was still going strong. You made it back in, looking wildly all over for a glimpse of the fur coat.

You hear your name being called out from behind you and you whip around to see Changbin approaching you. He’s wearing a shirt and sweater vest contrasted by a pair of basketball shorts. To his right you notice one of the other SKZ members, Hyunjin, wearing the top part of the basketball jersey and a pair of black slacks to match.

“Where have you been?” Changbin asks. “What happened with Jeongin? He’s been holed up in his room all night. Do you know anything about it?”

You sigh, the guilt rising up in your chest.

“It’s my fault. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” You promise. There’s a hint of scepticism in the way he quirks his eyebrows but Changbin nods.

“I know we’re friends, but that’s my little brother, I don’t want to see him hurt.” He warns. You understand where it’s coming from although at the same time you want to tell him you’d heard what you had from him first and foremost, but you know he’s right. Changbin will stand up for his family no matter what and you respect that.

“Me neither, which is why I’m going to fix this.” You bid him goodbye and head towards the stairs. You heart is thumping at your throat as you go up, each step feeling like it takes you miles forward.

When you get to his door, you hesitate, swallowing down your anxiety as much as you can. The party is still noisy downstairs, the music thumping through the house and chatter filling up the air. You raise your hand, resting your fist against the wood for a moment. Before you can over think it, you rap your knuckles against the door and wait.

You can’t really hear anything but after a moment the door swings open and Jeongin stands on the other side. He registers who it is and a flash of surprise rocks his features.

“Please can we talk?” You ask, your voice quieter than you thought it would be.

He doesn’t say anything but stands aside to let you in. You’d not really been in Jeongin’s room before, maybe that time with the ripped dress girl but that was so long ago you didn’t remember what it looked like. His room isn’t messy but it’s not pristine either; the bed is half unmade, the large fur coat thrown haphazardly over the desk chair, a bunch of sketchbooks and pencils littered on the desk itself.

Jeongin sits on one corner of the bed, looking down at his hands and you stand a few feet away, looking at him, wondering where to start.

“I got your note,” you begin. “And the dress. It came yesterday but I didn’t see it until a while ago.” You shift from one foot to the other. You don’t waste any more time. “I’m so sorry, Jeongin.” You say. “For everything I said. And for quitting on you and for the silly experiment and not talking to you like a normal human being should have.”

Jeongin perks up slightly. “Experiment? Is that what that was?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I was trying to figure out if you’d comment on what I was doing, whether you would tell me how to dress better like you do with other people. It was stupid and childish, but I did it because I thought it might show if you had any feelings for me at all.” You sigh, realising how random it must have sounded to him. “Anyway, I played myself because I got too caught up in it and hurt you so it was all for nothing.”

Jeongin blinks for a moment, considering what you were revealing.

“You wanted to find out if I had feelings for you? Why?” He asks, a small frown appearing on his lips.

“Because I heard that you might but I didn’t trust it without proof. And I didn’t get any in the end, I guess.” You half shrug apologetically.

“What do you mean you got no proof?” Jeongin stands up suddenly. You’re taken aback at the abrupt action, your heart starting to hammer in your chest. “Was that note not clear enough? Was me putting up a truce nothing?” He questions.

“I don’t get it.” You whisper. Was he telling you that Changbin was right all along?

“You know, for the smartest person I know, you sure are dense.” He shakes his head, a smile breaking over his features. “Of course I have feelings for you! Of course I like you! There, is that obvious enough?” He says, looking at you expectantly.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry. Now that you heard it from him, it still didn’t make sense, as if your brain couldn’t compute the information.

“You do…” you trail off, a wave of relief coursing through you. “Then why didn’t you tell me I was being weird and stop me?” You ask.

“What do you mean?” Jeongin tilts his head.

“You should have criticised me the way you would have anyone else, why didn’t you? I thought you couldn’t care less about me.” You explain. Jeongin’s mouth widens in an ‘o’ with his understanding. He hums for a second.

“I didn’t say anything because” he pauses. “To me you were always more important than what you looked like and always beautiful no matter what you were wearing.” He says, finding your eyes and holding them with his.

It renders you speechless and you feel like even more of an idiot for going to the lengths that you did, every action left in vain by Jeongin’s simple explanation. His words make your head spin and your chest feel tight, the symptoms of nervousness zipping over your body.

No one ever said this type of shit to you, not one single soul. If anyone else had said it, you wouldn’t believe them, but because it was Jeongin, you somehow knew deep down he meant it.

“Okay, I have a feeling I know the answer but I’ll ask just in case.” He steps towards you and stops in front of you. “Is it mutual? Or have I just misread the reason why you came here?”

You’re so close you can see the light reflecting in Jeongin’s irises and smell his perfume. He was still wearing his party outfit, the first few buttons of the dotted shirt undone.

You take a breath, exhaling shakily, and steel yourself. You were only telling the truth tonight.

“It is mutual.” You reply. “It is, and I don’t know when it started to be, it doesn’t really matter, because it is.” You say with newfound conviction. It was so much easier to say it and it made you feel so much lighter. Maybe because just being in front of Jeongin, you felt yourself becoming braver.

“I’m really happy it is. It means I can take you out on actual dates instead of appointments.” He beams. You look down when you feel him reaching for your hand. He takes it gently with his slightly larger one and holds it firmly. You can’t help but return his smile, your face muscles moving of their own accord. “So, can we kiss? Because I missed you so much already.” He whines, tone switching in a heartbeat.

You burst out laughing at the sudden change. That was more like the Jeongin you knew.

“God, you’re so dramatic, you saw me two hours ago.” You say jokingly, closing the space between you. “Now, come here.” You reach up to cup his face with your free hand, and bring your lips together.

You don’t know what you were expecting, but it’s a hundred times better. Jeongin lets go of your hand in favour of curling his arms around your waist to pull you even closer, smooshing the two of you against each other and you deepen the kiss, getting obsessed with the feeling of his soft lips on yours. Your hands land on each of his shoulders, fingers scrunching up his shirt and if you weren’t so preoccupied, you’d worry you were messing it up.

Eventually you pull away to breathe, your lips swollen but still chasing Jeongin’s. He holds you close still and looks down.

“Take off your clothes.” He says, his voice gravelly. A thrum of energy runs straight through you but you blink at him.

“Aren’t we moving too fast?” You ask. He chuckles at your question for some reason.

“That’s not what I meant!” He shakes with laughter. You’re confused. “Your disco pants are literally blinding me right now.” He steps back a fraction and you notice how the light coming from his desk lamp is reflecting on the tiny sequences of your outfit. You snort at your lapse of understanding, feeling the embarrassment heat your cheeks.

“Ah, right. Sorry.” You say sheepishly. Jeongin lets you go and walks over to his closet, sliding a drawer open and plucking out an item of clothing.

“Here, before you start attracting ships from over the horizon.” He giggles, handing you a pair of checkered pyjama pants.

“Jeongin, I’m not a lighthouse!” You complain but take them.

“What? You told me to criticise you like other people. I’m saying it because I care.” He says and pulls you closer again, planting a soft kiss on your temple as you pout.

“Don’t make me regret it, Young Master.” You ‘humph’ at him.

“Aha, okay, my Lady. Got it.” He nods. You take a good look at the pyjama and reckon it will fit you. It was kind of funny you were already getting your boyfriend’s clothes. Wait- was he your boyfriend now?

You suddenly feel the urge to ask. “Also, just to clarify, we are starting to date, aren’t we?”

“YN!” Jeongin groans, the answer evident in his voice.

“Okay, okay, it’s official. Just checking.” You hold up your hands innocently, smiling at the conclusion.

A/N: thanks for reading!! feedback is always appreciated <3 i had fun starting the series, though i have to admit i didn’t expect for this one to end up this short lol and it’s probably the lack of smut, forgive me, it didn’t fit the vibe here, but i have promised it so i shall deliver it at some point, please bear with, thank you!

#stray kids #stray kids college au #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #i.n #yang jeongin #jeongin x reader #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #yang jeongin x reader #jeongin imagines #jeongin scenarios #momobani.writes

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