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quicksilverster · 1 year

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[😇] crashing ❈ yoon jeonghan

⋆⑅˚₊✎ prompt(s): crashing by illenium, bahari

⋆⑅˚₊✎ genres: a whole lotta fluff, a bit of angst, acquaintances-to-lovers!au, college!au, roommate!au.

⋆⑅˚₊✎ description: Five times Jeonghan crashes at Yejin’s apartment, and the one time she crashes at his.

⋆⑅˚₊✎ warning(s): mentions of alcohol

⋆⑅˚₊✎ pairing(s): yoon jeonghan x kang yejin

⋆⑅˚₊✎ word count: 3.4k words

⋆⑅˚₊✎ a/n: A fic I turned into a short story and into a fic again because I recently got back into SEVENTEEN. This is old, 2021-early 2022 writing, but I’m going to post it anyway because it wasn’t that bad (IMO) + I like this story. (i also apologize for the banner quality cuz it's been literal years since i made one for a kpop dude)

one.

The first time Jeonghan crashed at her place, Yejin was alone in her apartment, working on her essay.

Her roommate Aera wasn’t home; she was at a party or club somewhere, getting drunk and dancing her limbs off. Yejin could practically see her limping the next morning, the product of a crushed foot. She was alone in her room, sipping from a mug of warm tea as she added words in Times New Romans font onto her document. The only source of light in the room made its presence known through the glaring screen in front of her, illuminating her worn face. Melodies from her Spotify window and the clacking noise from her fingers drumming the keys were the only sounds in the room, accompanied by Yejin’s tired breathing. She leaned against the back of her chair with exhaustion, her brain fried like a skillet.

Yejin was jolted out of her reverie when the sharp rapping of knuckles against her front door resonated into her ears. Aera usually arrived home after 2 a.m. during one of these crazy social events, meaning the person at the door could not be her. The knocks were rather composed, too, given by one with a sober mind. Begrudgingly peeling her eyes away from the screen, Yejin slid her arctic feet into her fluffy slippers and headed to the front door. Gripping the door handle tightly, she swung it open to meet a familiar face, a smile frozen across his face as a result of the wintry atmosphere outside.

“It’s 11 p.m., why are you still awake?” Jeonghan bustled into the apartment chattering like a mother hen. He scrutinized her fluffy lavender pajamas and wide eyes behind her glinting spectacles. “I understand that you have work and stuff, but sleep is important as well.”

Yejin blinked blankly, watching Jeonghan tut over her apartment with a watchful eye, and dropped an overnight bag on her couch. “Um,” she managed after a few flummoxed seconds. “Uh, what are you doing here?”

“Aera sent me here,” he shrugged, carding his messy locks back. “She wanted me to make sure you’re doing your essay diligently instead of scrolling through Instagram or whatnot.”

“So you’re sleeping over?” Yejin raised a doubtful eyebrow.

Jeonghan scratched the back of his head. “Well, Aera said she might not be back until tomorrow morning, so she wants me to keep you company.”

Aera was currently dating Jeonghan’s best friend and roommate Seungcheol, so she was well acquainted with the young man in front of her. However, that didn’t mean she was entirely comfortable with the idea of him sleeping over in her apartment.

Jeonghan seemed to comprehend Yejin’s indecisive expression, for he placed his hands in the air. “I won’t do anything suspicious, I promise. Aera just doesn’t want you to be alone here.”

“Okay,” Yejin said, slipping her earbud into her ear as she continued her assignment. “Make yourself at home, I guess.”

Jeonghan grinned a broad, boyish smile, before plopping onto the couch and pulling his phone out to play a mobile game. Within a few minutes, he had fallen asleep. His snores accompanied the already existing sounds in the room.

Yejin eyed him from her workstation, her lips punctured as she wondered what her roommate was up to.

two.

“I’m perfectly fine being by myself,” Yejin said with as much patience (which isn’t much) as she could summon from the inner depths of her heart. However, her roommate was making it particularly difficult to be nice.

“I told you a hundred times, you need human interaction!” Aera said as she shoved her feet into a pair of heels, ready for yet another party.

“Easy for you to say, you social butterfly.”

Aera grinned proudly at the nickname she was bestowed with. “Thank you!” She said, bowing for extra effect.

Yejin fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Jeonghan hardly counts as human interaction.” She poked the yogurt cup in her hand with her spoon, denting the fragile base of the plastic. “Whenever he comes here, he only lounges over our couch, steals our snacks, and plays with his phone.”

“It’d be nice if you both become friends.”

“Doesn’t Jeonghan have a girlfriend? Are you sure it’s wise for him to be here?”

Aera fidgeted in the spot, her eyes ricocheting from the door and to her roommate. “If you put it like that, probably not.”

“You just want me to interact with him because he’s your boyfriend’s roommate.”

“And he’s a nice person, and you need his company,” Aera added hurriedly. “Now can I go? I’m going to be late.”

“Fine,” Yejin said. Aera bolted as soon as the words left her roommate’s mouth. Yejin shook her head almost endearingly as the front door slammed shut.

Half an hour later, Jeonghan materialized in her doorway with a messy hairdo and a plastic bag filled with boxes of food. The former was the result of the displeased weather outside, but Yejin couldn’t think of a special occasion that would warrant takeout.

“I heard you have an exam coming up,” Jeonghan placed the plastic bag down in front of her laptop, the smell of it tantalizing Yejin’s stomach to growl. “So I got you this.”

Yejin eyed the plastic bag, her fingers tingling to reach out and devour whatever was inside in a single gulp. She glanced upward and stared into Jeonghan’s eyes. It was difficult to maintain contact; his eyes were obsidian in color, as dark as black holes. If Yejin stared for too long, she’d get sucked in.

“What are you getting out of this?” Yejin asked as politely as she could, though a trained ear could detect the venom hiding within.

Jeonghan leaned in, his disorganized chestnut side-swept hair falling over his eyes. He fixed the navy blue backpack strap hanging from the side of his shoulder as he bent down to stare into her eyes. Yejin held her breath, intimidated by the sudden change of atmosphere.

“Your friendship,” Jeonghan ended cheekily, a boyish smile curling on the corners of his lips.

“Ha,” Yejin muttered weakly, running her hand through her long hair.

“You’re a very smart student, Yejin,” Jeonghan reached out to fidget with her laptop screen, pushing it close before pulling it up again before it could involuntarily shut down. “But it’s okay to take a break sometimes, you know. When you’re done with that assignment of yours, let’s play Monopoly.”

“Monopoly?” Yejin frowned. “We don’t have Monopoly here.”

“I noticed,” Jeonghan commented in a pained tone. “How can you not have a Monopoly board in this apartment? You and Aera are disappointments. Here,” he dropped his backpack on the floor and pulled out a Monopoly board.

Yejin raised a brow. “You brought a whole Monopoly board with you?”

“Yes, for this very special occasion,” Jeonghan said proudly. “Eat your food, and then tell me when you’re finished with your work. I’ll wait for you.”

Despite her protests, Yejin’s heart fluttered a little at his words.

“Okay,” she mumbled.

Jeonghan smiled and threw his body over the couch, unaware that he left a certain girl’s heart hammering violently against her sternum.

three.

A knock dragged Yejin’s attention away from her book and towards the door. Setting the paperback page down on the coffee table, Yejin stretched her sore back as her guest knocked on her door again.

“Coming,” she said, peeking through the eyehole to check. Her eyes widened a little when she recognized the mop of brown hair and swung the door wide open without hesitation. Jeonghan fell forward like a piece of domino, but luckily, Yejin caught his shoulders before he could collide with the ground.

“Get up, you’re heavy,” Yejin inhaled, catching a whiff of alcohol. She coughed, startled. “Oh, crap. Have you been drinking?”

“It was Aera,” he mumbled, his legs flailing behind him. He groaned as his palm flew to his temple. Yejin laid him gently on the couch and rummaged through her drawers for painkillers.

“What were you doing with Aera?” Yejin asked as she placed a glass of water and some tablets on the coffee table. She peered down at Jeonghan’s head from the side of the couch as his body took up the rest of the comfy furniture. From her vantage point, she could see the elegant curves and slopes that made up Jeonghan’s face. He was, indeed, handsome. She threw her gaze away in case he saw her staring, but he was too drunk to care.

“Some party,” Jeonghan said, his voice so soft that Yejin had to guess what he said through his closed lips. He had an arm over his eyes, and his voice sounded strained. Yejin raised an eyebrow.

“Okay,” she pulled at his arm to get him to sit up. “Come on, you need to drink this.”

“I don’t have a headache yet,” his words were slurred as Yejin attempted to yank him to his feet.

“You look like you have a headache. Trust me, Aera’s my roommate.”

“Can I confess something?” Jeonghan swiftly rolled over onto his stomach as he shot Yejin a smile. Or a smirk, more like, judging from the lopsided curve on the right side of his mouth.

“Okay?” Yejin gulped, feeling her cheeks pinking at the casual smile he offered.

“I actually like you,” he laughed, a bubbly note ringing through the silent air of the apartment.

Yejin froze. “What?”

“It was two years ago. I saw you at orientation and developed a crush on you. Surprising, eh? And I only saw you once but I fell deep. In love, I mean. I forgot about you, sort of, when I didn’t see you again for a very long time. And then a few months ago I saw you in the library and learned you were my roommate’s girlfriend’s roommate. You can imagine my shock.”

“Jeonghan, you have a girlfriend,” Yejin reminded him, feeling a stinging in her eye sockets.

“Yeah, I know,” Jeonghan laughed, his eyelids closing halfway through. “Funny. If only I went out more, socialized more, you know. Maybe I would’ve met you. Maybe I would’ve been dating you right now.”

“You sound so confident,” Yejin said, reaching out to press her palm against Jeonghan’s cheek. Just this once. One time, then I’m never going to do this again.

“I mean, maybe. I don’t know,” Jeonghan leaned into her hand and his lips brushed the heel of her palm. Her breath hitched and she swallowed. “Do you like me?”

Yejin grimaced, her lips embracing her teeth. “I don’t know.”

Jeonghan kept his firm gaze on her eyes, but she looked away within seconds. A sigh escaped his mouth and he leaned against the couch.

“Of course, you don’t.” He peeled Yejin’s hand from his cheek. “I’m sorry for coming here.”

“It’s alright,” Yejin said, running her fingers through his hair. “I don’t mind at all.”

“I really like you,” Jeonghan repeated, his voice fading into a soft laugh. “I just…”

A snore left his throat, and a tear escaped her eyelids.

four.

“I want you to be gentle with Jeonghan,” Aera said as she shoved her heels into her shoes.

“What do you mean?” Yejin asked as soon as she pulled the pen from between her teeth. Normally, she’d tuck the piece of stationary behind her ear, but that space was currently occupied by her black-rimmed glasses.

“Something happened,” Aera answered vaguely, averting her gaze from Yejin’s scrutiny.

“To him?”

“You’ll see for yourself.”

When Jeonghan came along, Yejin immediately understood what Aera meant. His fluffy swept hair was even more disgruntled than usual, vaguely reminding Yejin of a thornbush. There were dark circles under his eyes that were almost the shade of his onyx eyes and his lips were chapped and scarlet in some places, but Yejin glanced away before he could catch her staring. Despite how exhausted he looked, he still managed to smile at her.

“I’ve never seen you wear glasses before,” he said.

Yejin tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, swallowing nervously. “Yeah, well, I usually prefer my lenses.”

Jeonghan exhaled, a rough, guttural sound that shattered Yejin’s glass heart into a thousand fragments. “I broke up with Stacey.”

“Oh,” Yejin closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jeonghan laughed, an empty sound that undulated as he flopped face-first onto the couch. “I’m sorry about last time and for… for being here. I don’t know who else to go to.”

Yejin pursed her lips, wondering if Jeonghan still remembered his confession. Did he remember that he told her he liked her? Did he remember how she placed her palm on his cheek? Did he remember the sound of her heartbeat and the warm emotions thumping in rhythm with her blood?

“Do you want a hug?” she asked, surprising herself.

Jeonghan watched her, a small smile materializing on his face. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Yejin accompanied Jeonghan on the couch and allowed him to sink his head into the dip of her shoulder. They stayed that way for a while as Yejin allowed Jeonghan to take the warm comfort she offered him.

“I saw her,” he mumbled into the collar of Yejin’s sweater, “with another guy. It’s only been a week since we broke up and there she is. Dating again.”

“Maybe… that’s her way of recovering?” Yejin asked meekly.

“Maybe,” Jeonghan exhaled and Yejin could feel his breath on her neck. “But it still hurts so much, you know.”

“Yeah,” Yejin stared out at the dark sky. “I know.”

“Can I…” Jeonghan shifted to a more comfortable position, keeping his head on Yejin’s shoulder and his arms around her torso. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Sure.” Yejin pulled away to grab a cushion on the floor and positioned it under Jeonghan’s head. “Not a problem at all.”

Jeonghan looped his fingers through Yejin’s hand, and she didn’t pull away. Instead, she rested her head against the couch and watched his chest rise and fall.

five.

“What’s he doing here?” Aera frowned.

“No, the question is, why are you still here?” Yejin responded.

“I live here!” Aera threw her hands into the air incredulously.

“She’s kicking you out,” Jeonghan snickered. “She wants full ownership of the apartment and the cat and the refrigerator full of your delicious food.”

“We don’t have a cat.”

“He’s the cat,” Yejin jabbed her finger in Jeonghan's direction.

“Ouch,” Jeonghan used his hand that wasn’t occupied with holding a yogurt cup to slam the right side of his chest. “That smarts, Yejin.”

Even the way he said her name made her stomach soar.

“It’s true!” She argued, hoping that her cheeks remained their normal hue. “All you do here is sleep and eat our food. Just like a cat.”

“I meant,” Aera began, flapping the air when Jeonghan opened his mouth to argue, “that I haven’t even left and yet you’re already here. You usually come after I’m gone.”

“We’re having a movie marathon today,” Yejin said. “We’re binging the Larry Hatter movies.”

“Ah, that’s a classic. Have fun, you two.”

“Do you have the popcorn?” Yejin asked as the front door slammed shut.

Jeonghan snorted. “Of course I brought the popcorn. And the candy. What’s a movie marathon without candy?” He grabbed the tubs of popcorn and the colorful plastic bag and plopped onto the couch next to Yejin with a huff.

Larry Hatter and the Thaumaturge’s Rock flashed across the screen in front of them, but Yejin could only focus on the side of Jeonghan’s face. She watched the colors dance over the soft angles of his cheeks, garnering a blush on Yejin’s cheeks. Suddenly, he was watching her, but she didn’t look away.

“Is my face much more interesting than the movie?” Jeonghan laughed, a smirk dancing over his lips. Yejin fought the urge to slap it off his face.

“Why do you like coming over here?” Yejin answered with a question, her head slightly tilted to the side.

Jeonghan paused, watching her as Persephone scolded Roland for pronouncing a spell wrong on screen. Yejin watched the emotions swirl behind his irises, unable to discern any of them.

“Because you’re here,” he said.

Yejin nodded, trying not to smile at the vague answer. “Mhm.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not making fun of you.”

“You’re smiling,” he poked her cheek and Yejin fought the urge to lean into his hand.

Remember, he just got out of a relationship. Don’t do this to him.

“So what, you’ve taken away my right to smile now?” Yejin huffed.

“No,” Jeonghan assured, throwing his head back in a laugh. “It’s just that I can’t control myself when you smile.”

Breathe.

“Okay,” Yejin shrugged. She tightened her grip on her bowl of popcorn and kept a steel gaze on the movie, making sure to ignore Jeonghan’s stares and his hands.

+ one.

One bad thing kept happening after the other.

Earlier that day, someone knocked into Yejin while she was going up the stairs and she fell, scraping her knees against the pavement. They burned like an inferno and Yejin had to bite her lip to prevent herself from crying. The person who shoved her didn’t even spare a second glance her way; she walked home limping. When she arrived home, she checked her phone and discovered that she attained a superbly low grade for one of her essays. She also received a message from one of her friends that his dog ripped apart a book that she lent him. To make matters worse, it was one of her favorite books; a book her mother had given her on her fifteenth birthday.

It was too much for Yejin to handle.

Aera wasn’t home—where was comfort when you needed it—and no one from her family was picking up. Yejin’s face was buried deep into her right palm as another hand pressed her phone against her ear.

Please, Yejin thought as the phone continued to ring in her ear.

“Hello?”

Yejin’s balloon heart sagged in relief.

“Hi,” she swallowed. “Can I come over?”

Jeonghan’s response was immediate. “Yes.”

That was how Yejin found herself in Jeonghan’s apartment, snuggled against him on the couch with a warm mug of hot chocolate. He was playing a game on his PS5, but his arms were around Yejin like a large, comfy teddy bear. She leaned against his chest, hearing his heartbeat in sync with hers.

“Thanks,” she mumbled to him, and she could feel his heart pump faster.

“Any time,” he answered, pulling her closer to his chest.

Yejin continued to watch the characters and graphics flash across the screen. She sipped her hot chocolate as she placed her hands on one of Jeonghan’s hands, momentarily distracting him from his game. He recovered quickly and twisted his thumb so that he was caressing her palm.

“Jeonghan?”

He hummed in response.

“I think I like you.”

Jeonghan froze and his character died. He turned to her, ignoring the flashing message on the screen that spelled GAME OVER in red capital letters.

“You think?” he asked, voice cracking at the end.

Yejin shook her head quickly. “No, no. Not think. I do like you.”

She squirmed nervously; he was still at a loss for words. She vaguely watched his throat gulp as he swallowed.

“Really?” he asked, his voice raw and vulnerable.

Yejin understood why he was so hesitant. He had recently gotten out of a relationship—he didn’t know if he was ready to give his heart to someone else after losing it not too long ago.

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now,” Yejin assured, squeezing his wrist. “I’ll wait—”

“Yejin.”

Yejin glanced at Jeonghan’s serious expression; his jawline is firm and stiff and his eyebrows are slightly wrinkled. He stared at her for a while, deep in thought, before he leaned in to kiss her.

Her eyes fluttered shut in response. Jeonghan’s lips were slightly chapped but soft and gentle. She was frozen for a while, her mind unable to process what was happening at first. Then Jeonghan pulled away, and she grabbed his collar to pull him into her.

“Yejin,” Jeonghan said breathlessly, his hair tousled as he held Yejin in his arms. “I don’t want you to think I’m only using you as a rebound; I like you, from the bottom of my heart. Can I be your boyfriend?”

Yejin laughed at the innocent question and reached up to tuck one of his curls behind his ear. She leaned up to peck him again.

“Yes.”

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quicksilverster · 10 months

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i think you should go back to inazuma ❀ kazuha

⋆⑅˚₊✎ genre(s): angst, situationship. ⋆⑅˚₊✎ description: Your relationship with Kazuha isn’t working out, so you tell him to return to his home nation. ⋆⑅˚₊✎ pairing(s): kaedehara kazuha x reader ⋆⑅˚₊✎ word count: 463 ⋆⑅˚₊✎ a/n: finished this ages ago but forgot to post it 💀. based off the song boston by alec chambers.

“I don’t think we can do this anymore,” you said one day, as you lay on the grassy plains of Liyue with him.

Kazuha shot up from where he lay next to you. The warmth from his bandaged hand, resting on yours just a few minutes before, disappeared in an instant.

“W-what do you mean?” He asked, something akin to fear gripping the tones of his voice.

You turned away from him. It would hurt you both if you made eye contact.

“I think we should end this. Whatever we are right now.”

You heard Kazuha’s breath hitch in his throat. The breeze whooshed past, ruffling your hair. You closed your eyes as you inhaled the scent of maple trees.

“Why?”

Why? You asked yourself. You weren’t sure either; you didn’t compile all the reasons why you wanted to let go before you spoke up.

Everything, you thought. It’s because of everything. You confessed to him and he accepted it, but he never told you if he liked you. There were times when he did not respond to your advances, making you feel embarrassed and rejected. The two of you only had a few things in common, so there was not much you could do together. You doubted whether he loved you, and you weren’t sure you could keep the relationship.

“I think you should go back to Inazuma,” you answered instead.

Kazuha blinked. Stared at you.

“You want me to go back to Inazuma.”

You turned to the sky and did not answer.

“You want me to leave?”

“Go home. Perhaps you’ll find something you’re missing there.”

Kazuha touched your hand. Something shifted in your stomach when he touched you, but you pulled away.

“I don’t want to leave. Tell me to stay.”

You said nothing.

“Please. I don’t want to go.”

Don’t ask me to tell you to stay. You need to want to stay.

You said nothing. Kazuha reached out to take your wrist in his hand once again, but you did nothing. You waited. Then you heard him say it.

“Okay.”

The air is quiet.

You don’t turn around. You hope that your suspicions are false, that the silence is only a result of a decision being thought over again. But deep down you know that the wind does not smell like him, and you turn.

He is gone.

You turn back around again, and sob. You cry because your struggles turned out to be true, you cry because you knew he did not love you as much as you did, you cry because you want to see him again and you can’t because he is lost in Inazuma, wandering like the wanderer he had always been.

The wind dies down, the maple leaves lie on the ground unmoving.

#kaedehara kazuha #genshin impact #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha imagines #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact fluff #inazuma #x reader #stories #quicksilverster

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quicksilverster · 5 months

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your tags on 8000 layers of inyun made my day when I saw them!! thank you so much for reading and enjoying - wavesmp3 <3 (and as a side note I guess lol, your tags on a story about us too <3333 I love them dearly)

omg hi omg 😭😭😭 i've been a fan of your work since the pandemic era so believe me when i say I'm freaking out rn 😭😭😭😭

thank you for the tags on crashing and itysgbti, i literally almost fainted when i saw ur username on my notifs 😭😭😭

#AM I DREMAING #MY DAY HAS BEEN MADE #it's THE wavesmp3 #AAAAAAA #quick questions quicksilverster #q: wavesmp3 #I STILL THINK I'M IN A DREAM

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quicksilverster · 3 years

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[🐸] 8 confessions, 8 letters ❈ xu minghao

⋆⑅˚₊✎ genres: a whole lotta fluff, some angst, mutual pining, slice-of-life, highschool!au, best-friends-to-lovers!au, childhood-friends!au

⋆⑅˚₊✎ description: Minghao may not have said the words ‘I love you’ out loud, but his actions told Miyeol everything.

⋆⑅˚₊✎ warning(s): a couple of accidents resulting in head injuries, i guess?

⋆⑅˚₊✎ pairing(s): minghao x miyeol (ft. a bit of seungkwan x nahee, vernon x misul :3)

⋆⑅˚₊✎ word count: 17K words

⋆⑅˚₊✎ a/n: also known as Eight Ways to Say I Love You because this clown is indecisive as heck 🤡

one.

Chemistry is the bane of Yang Miyeol’s existence.

Hunched over her colossal textbook and countless pages of chicken scratch notes on the kitchen island, the girl scowled as the cascading waves of her milk chocolate hair flew into her mouth thanks to the wind roaring at her from the back window. She massaged her nose bridge as she tried to process element symbols and the concept of molar mass, feeling her sanity slowly slipping away from her as she solved each of the vexatious problems.

“This may sound like I’m an irresponsible person but I hope I can borrow your notes.”

A grin manifested itself onto Miyeol’s lips, and she turned to the arrival of her friend with a smile as she grabbed a number of the line papers occupied by chaotic scribbles. “I think you need to worry about whether you can understand them.”

“Are you kidding? You take the best notes.” Xu Minghao slipped onto the seat next to her, the chair barely protesting with a meek squeak. He is as light as a feather, to Miyeol’s jealousy. He took the notes from her hands and squinted at the writing. “Although… deciphering this cacography might be a challenge.”

“Try taking notes as fast as Mr. Byun’s speaking rate,” Miyeol scowled, lightly kicking Minghao’s calf.

The only response she received was a cackle.

Miyeol returned to her work immediately, so immersed that she didn’t notice the paper bag in Minghao’s hands. Smiling as he watched her mutter decimals under her breath, he dug into the bag and pulled out a take-out cup carrier boasting two filled cups. One of them carried a warm green tea latte, identifiable from the lime shade of the fluid. The other is amber-colored and perspired on top of the table. Minghao shoved the second drink in Miyeol’s direction. The girl noticed the gesture and gasped dramatically at the sight.

“You got me iced shaken lemon tea?” She tentatively took the drink and the straw Minghao placed next to it.

“We’re working on homework and we are going to be studying two modules,” Minghao explained, puncturing a hole through his cup so he could drink his beverage. “On Chemistry. We need all the brainpower we could get, and it’s through tea and coffee.”

“You didn’t need to get me this,” Miyeol mutters, sipping the drink as if it was poisoned.

“Well, I wanted to,” Minghao shrugged, grinning as he pulled his pencil case out of his backpack. “Anyway, percent yield. What’s the formula to find this crap again—”

As she watched Minghao assaulting her notes for the basic formulas to find the moles of copper from grams, Miyeol tilted her head to watch him with a fond smile. She brought her hands together and stared at him with amazement, thanking fate for leading both of them to each other.

She couldn’t imagine life without Minghao.

two.

Autumn was coming but the atmosphere was still blazing like the beginnings of summer, threatening to melt everyone into puddles of skin. So when Junhui invited most of their class to the beach, Miyeol jumped straight away at the opportunity.

“You usually turn down offers to go to the beach,” Minghao comments casually, but Miyeol detected undertones of uneasiness. She dismissed it as she glanced groundward to the wheels of her bike, looking out for pesky pebbles.

“It’s sweltering,” she replied. “My brain is melting like ice cream. I’m only here for the ocean breeze and the cold sea.”

“And Jun’s abs for drawing reference,” Minghao added under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Minghao beamed innocently at Miyeol’s suspicious expression and tumbled down the path ahead in case she heard what he said.

When Miyeol caught up, she could already see their classmates taking over the expanse of sand like a colony of ants. Soonyoung, Wonwoo, and Jihoon were attempting to construct a sandcastle, but Seungkwan and Nahee kept demolishing it by running it over, evoking yells of annoyance from Jihoon. Jeonghan, Joshua, and Mingyu lounged in the wooden huts dotting the stretch of the beach, snacking on cold fruits and ice cream. Junhui, Vernon, Misul, and a bunch of others were getting ready to swim in the calmer waters of the ocean. Minghao couldn’t hide his smirk when he noticed Miyeol’s eyes glaring furiously at Jun’s bare top.

“I’m going to join them,” Minghao said, snapping Miyeol back into reality. He pulled his pearly shirt off through his head, revealing a wetsuit underneath.

“Me too,” Miyeol nodded, locking her bike with her toes and pulling her shirt off. Just like Minghao, she had a wetsuit that was disguised by her baby blue long-sleeved flannel.

“You’re going to swim?” Minghao arched a brow as he asked, shoving his clothes into his bag.

“Yup,” Miyeol nodded, stripping off her pants. She took out her tube of sunblock and squirted some onto her palms. “I did say I was here for the sea. Here—” Miyeol dabbed some white lotion onto Minghao’s cheeks. “You keep forgetting to put sunblock on all the time, I’m surprised you haven’t been cooked under the UV rays.”

“I would have made a great meal,” Minghao comments matter-of-factly.

“I’d like you very much alive, thank you.” Miyeol applied a dollop of sunblock on Minghao’s glabella, before dragging it onto his forehead and curving it down to his chin past the globs on his cheeks, creating a sloppy heart. Minghao couldn’t help but giggle at the strange sensation.

“A heart? Really? How cliché.”

Miyeol scowled, destroying the pattern and rubbing circles around Minghao’s cheeks to spread the milky thickness. “Just wanted to see what it looks like on your face,” she shrugs, wiping the rest of the lotion on any exposed part of Minghao’s body, which only happened to be his neck and hands. Shivers ran through his spine as she wiped the rest at the back of his bare neck.

“You can show me some swimming moves,” Miyeol thumped Minghao’s chest playfully, before applying some sunblock onto her body as well and taking out their goggles.

“Alright,” Minghao grins, clasping her fingers between his and dragging her along.

The duo walked towards the beach, sandaled feet sinking into the velvet sand. Mingyu offered them some fresh fruits just as a human frog named Jihoon leaped into the skies and tackled Seungkwan to the ground after the latter destroyed a perfectly crafted turret. Avoiding the cloud of sand floating into the air caused by Nahee's defensive kick to defend her boyfriend, Minghao led Miyeol to the rest of the group playing in the frothy waves.

“Matching suits, I see!” Jun yells over the strong winds, waving wildly at them right before a rogue wave swallowed him under. Misul snorts as she bobbed up and down, her head impervious to the pull of the ocean. Vernon’s head was gliding along the water next to her, but he was having trouble trying to keep his head afloat. Somewhere further away, Seungcheol, Seokmin, and Chan were playing monkey in the middle with a few other classmates and a beaten ball.

“Are you colorblind?” Minghao screeched back at Junhui when his head reappeared on the surface. “This one has turquoise stripes, the one Miyeol’s wearing has dark blue ones—”

“Same difference!” came the response before Jun swallowed a mouthful of saltwater. Miyeol winced before cackling at his grumpy expression as he tried to spit the salt hanging onto his taste buds. Her eyes lingered on the frantic waves clinging to the sands, mercilessly held back by the tides every single time.

“You sure you’re up for swimming?” Minghao questioned one more time as he snapped his goggles on, before fixing her pair over her temple.

“Yes,” Miyeol nodded as he tightened the straps. “It’s been more than a decade, Hao. I’m not scared of the sea anymore.”

Minghao smiled at the nickname and the courage in her voice. He squeezed her shoulder supportively, before running towards the sea at top speed. “In that case, the last one to the water is a rotten egg!”

“The rotten egg threat? Really? Who’s being cliché now?” Miyeol yelped with surprise after the race; she nearly surpassed Minghao but lost by a hair. She tripped on a twig and tumbled into the water, bumping her head against the silky sand. She surfaced with a gasp, meeting Minghao’s mischievous grin.

“You’re a rotten egg,” he declares victoriously, swimming away from her in rapid strokes.

Miyeol smirks as she dives into shallow water, chasing Minghao at nearly the same frightening speed. As she glided through the molecules of hydrogen and oxygen mixed with salts (Chemistry class is getting to her brain), she spotted some clams, shells, and little crabs fighting the currents. After three breaths of air, Miyeol’s eyes unintentionally located a shell covered in pastel shades. Gasping inwardly, she swam towards the treasure, unaware that she was drifting away from the shallower regions. She contracted her stomach muscles to keep more air in as she reached out to grasp the iridescent shell between her fingers. Her lips curved as the seashell took rest in the troughs and valleys of her palm lines.

The allurement of the shell distracted her for a moment, bewitching her to forget that she was underwater. The rectangles of sunlight peeking through the waves reflected itself from the translucent surface and into her eyes, allowing her to see the spectrum of colors dancing before her. Her fingers caressed the hills formed on the hard exterior, knowing it once served as a shield to some sea animal fighting for survival in the depths of the ocean. She sunk into the seafloor, a light cloud of sand billowing around her. The ocean currents rocked her body to and fro in a slow cadence that could only be heard by the inhabitants of the underwater world. As she watched the bright pink, purple, and sky blue colors, a person she loved dearly materializing in her mind, brought back to life by the opalescent hues emitted by the exoskeleton. She blinked, befuddled by the liquid forming inside her goggles.

Miyeol was so entranced by the shell she forgot all about breathing. Suddenly remembering the importance of oxygen, bubbles escaped her lips as she forced her limbs to push herself to the top. Feeling weak from the lack of air, the effort proved harder than she thought. It didn’t help that the ocean was deeper where she was, the surface further away than she expected. Just as she felt her consciousness slipping away, two resilient arms snaked their way around her waist and tugged her to the beach.

Minghao swam quickly towards the shoreline, adrenaline surging through his blood and pumping his heart so fast he could hear the thumps in his brain and the tips of his fingers. Upon reaching the beach he grabbed the back of Miyeol’s knees with one arm while the other held her shoulders, keeping a tight grip on the girl as he jogged quickly to the huts.

Miyeol gasped awake, spitting water. There was a burning sensation in her throat. Minghao set her on one of the steps and clamped her back to get the seawater out of her lungs, feeling tears brim at the edge of his eyelids.

“What are you doing?” he tried to keep the quiver out of his voice but failed miserably. “You could’ve drowned.”

Her lungs that have just shriveled from oxygen deprivation bloomed to life again, forcing Miyeol to inhale and exhale frantically to make up for the air she lost. She watched Minghao bite his lip and close his eyes, stopping the pearls from slipping out and dragging waterfalls down to his chin.

Miyeol reached out to caress his damp cheek, feeling as if her heart had exploded into numerous glass shards. Shame surged through her when Minghao buried his face into her hand, releasing a small sob.

“I’m sorry…” she mumbles. “I got lost in my thoughts. It was stupid. I should’ve thought about keeping my head on the surface at least.”

“You should’ve,” Minghao mumbled in a dejected tone that would’ve made Miyeol laugh if they were in an easygoing situation. “D-did—did you see her?”

Miyeol watched Minghao’s curious gaze and she managed a small smile, shaking her head. “No, I didn’t. It’s been too long, anyway.” The seashell was heavy in her other palm, and she opened her fingers like a flower’s petals embracing the sun. Minghao gasped at the shell’s tininess, running his fingers along the surface as he admired the rainbow reflecting from its top.

“I think this was the cause of my distraction,” Miyeol chuckles as Minghao took the seashell into his hands and held it like it was a newborn baby. “Keep it.”

“Really?”

“I was going to give it to you anyway.” It wasn’t a lie nor a product of her guilt. The shell reminded Miyeol of him—the beauty of the iridescent colors resembled his dark, nebula eyes, the crests and valleys of the outer layers were his aqueous dance moves as he twirled in the air, and the vulnerability of the shell’s size reminded her most of Minghao’s ability to empathize and care for others despite displaying apathy and ignorance.

“Miyeol!” a voice yelped past them. They looked up simultaneously to see Jun running to the girl with open arms. Unfortunately, the boy miscalculated his trajectory and swerved the wrong way, crashing into a pole that propped one of the nearby huts up. Seokmin’s booming laughter from the shoreline stole the one just about to escape from Miyeol’s throat. A curve etched itself onto her lips as Jun scowled and chased his perpetrator across the sands, ruining the sandcastle that had just been completed. Jihoon screeched with fury and ran after Jun who was still chasing Seokmin, creating a chain of people running after each other.

Miyeol laughed as Minghao moved to sit next to her, allowing her to lean her head between his neck and shoulder. Minghao fiddled with the seashell in one hand while twirling his fingers in Miyeol’s hair with the other. Pressing his lips against her salty tresses, he closed his eyes before the sunset before them, suddenly wishing he had brought his camera so he could capture the immaculate moment before them.

three.

As soon as the first bullets of rain ricocheted off the windows, Minghao knew he should’ve listened to his mother and brought an umbrella. Fixing the jacket dangling from his shoulders, he scowled and cursed his imbecility as he lingered in the lobby of the dance building, leaning against the smooth velvet couches as he watched the ashy, silver sky pelt rainwater down at the mortals below.

“What are you doing here?”

Minghao jumped at the familiar voice, the match that always set his kerosene skin alight. He blinked at Miyeol, who had a maroon umbrella in her left hand and her beige tote bag slung over her right shoulder. Exhaustion loaded her shoulders but her countenance was content.

“What are you doing here?” Minghao demanded, but his voice was coated in excitement. He saw Miyeol almost every day (they were just studying for a History test the night before), but he could never get tired of seeing her. Meeting her at least once every day was as crucial as oxygen or water.

“I was hoping to practice a bit of that routine Jun was teaching me,” Miyeol grins. “But my wrist was still a bit sore from swimming, so I decided to go home early. I perfected that move though.” She executed a sharp move with her hands and hips that widened Minghao’s eyes slightly. It was an impressive feat, considering there was an umbrella attached to her arm. “Fancy seeing you here, too. What were you doing?”

“It’s Friday, I had a session with Chan.” Minghao got up from the couch and fixed his jacket and the duffel bag on his shoulder. “Are you going home now?” Minghao questioned, dreading to ask Miyeol if they could share the umbrella. She’d probably mock him for forgetting his.

“Yeah. Come with me,” Miyeol threaded her fingers around Minghao’s hand as they walked to the glass doors. “I was going to ask you since you don’t seem to have an umbrella. Here, we can share this.” She opened her rusty umbrella and succeeded, but nearly lost it to the mighty air currents. Minghao grabbed the handle in time and fixated the umbrella right above their heads.

“Do you want to stop by anywhere before we go home?” Minghao inquires, pulling Miyeol close with his free arm to prevent rain from falling onto her head. He felt as if somebody had blasted sun rays at his cheeks.

“Starbucks? I want another iced shaken lemon tea.”

“In this weather?”

“I’m craving something sweet,” Miyeol pouts.

Minghao grins and resisted the urge to pinch her cheeks. “Okay, let’s go to Starbucks.”

He tried not to, but it was really hard for Minghao to look away from Miyeol when she speaks. The girl’s milk chocolate hair was tied back in a ponytail held by an azure hair tie with a blue heart charm that kept swinging back and forth as she walked. When she talked about Junhui’s pranking habits, she gestured with tiny movements that always brought the corners of Minghao’s lips upwards. Her eyes sparkled when she talked about dance and art, like the constellations dancing in the tenebrous skies at night.

When they entered the chilly Starbucks shop, Minghao’s brow furrowed when Miyeol shivered slightly. She was wearing a white shirt with sleeves that reached her elbows, as well as gray sweatpants. Closing her umbrella, Minghao tells the girl to find a seat as he went to order. Upon returning with their drinks and a few snacks he instantly dove his hands into his duffel bag to locate something.

“Here,” Minghao tossed a hoodie at Miyeol, taking her by surprise. “Use this.”

“Why?” Miyeol glanced at Minghao inquisitively.

“You were shivering,” Minghao shrugged, pulling out his phone and nonchalantly sipping his latte. Miyeol’s cheeks flowered at the generous gesture and she slipped the hoodie over her head, warmth hugging her torso.

“Why do you always have a spare hoodie in your bag?” Miyeol questions, pulling the straps to tighten the hood around her slightly damp hair. She made a mental note to wash the article of clothing as compensation, just like the previous instances where Minghao shoved his jacket at her to wear. It was always the same piece—a midnight blue hoodie with a small fireworks design on the left chest area.

“Because you never bring one on your own,” Minghao set the plastic cup down for emphasis. He began cutting up the tuna pastry resting on the porcelain plate in front of him. “Don’t you ever worry about freezing to death? Getting hypothermia? Pneumonia?”

“You’re just being paranoid,” Miyeol grins, gulping her frigid tea down her throat eagerly. Minghao bit the tip of his tongue with worry, silently praying she won’t get assaulted by a brain freeze. She didn’t. She continued to sip her cold beverage in the cold room in the cold weather like it was the most normal thing to do. She set the plastic cup down and leaned her elbows atop her knees. “If you lend me your hoodie all the time, why can’t I keep it?”

“Are you kidding?” Minghao demanded, this time setting his knife down with an incredulous look in his eyes. “You know what’s going to happen if I give up ownership, right? You’re never going to use it, you’re just going to leave it abandoned in a dusty closet filled with your ancient childhood toys and elementary school textbooks. It won’t fulfill its life purpose and will spend the rest of its life as a hoodie with an existential crisis.”

Miyeol chortled at Minghao’s choice of words. “You think so lowly of me,” she fake-pouted, opening her mouth wide as Minghao offered her a piece of the pastry.

Stomachs filled and satisfied, the duo began walking back home. The rain had stopped and only fell in periodic drizzles, so the umbrella hung from where it was hooked on Miyeol’s forearm. As she ran her fingers through her drying strands, she glanced sideways at Minghao, who was busy texting his parents his current location. Miyeol noticed the seashell she gifted him hanging around his neck with the help of a crimson-colored band. She grinned fondly and allowed her eyes to travel upwards. She observed the crests of his cheekbones, the valleys of his rosy cheeks, the curve of his flushed nose, and the round cupid’s bow above his chin. Swallowing, she forced herself to look away, staring at the puddles she kicked and splashed.

“What are you planning to do in the future?”

Minghao turned to her with surprise, taken aback by the question. He exhaled, powering his phone off and sliding it into his bag.

“I’m not sure, actually,” he managed a nervous smile. “I haven’t decided.”

Miyeol sighed with relief. “I’m not the only one confused, then.”

“What about art?” Minghao suggested.

“But it’s a hobby,” Miyeol kicked a pool of water and winced when drops landed on a passing cat. It screeched and slipped into an alley. Miyeol rolled her eyes as Minghao sent a mocking giggle her way. “And because it’s a hobby, I don’t want to turn it into something I’ll stress about when I start studying it.”

“Okay… so not art.” He scratched his chin like he had an intangible beard, a sage man trying to make a wise decision. “What about dance? You could volunteer at the dance center for a while before deciding on a place to go.”

Miyeol opened her mouth, then closed it shut again. “You know, that’s a great idea.” She pursed her lips before glancing back at Minghao. “What about you?”

“I’ll join you.”

“Really?” Miyeol gleamed, eyes shining. She had known Minghao for her whole life, not being in the same city or school with him would be weird and saddening.

“Yeah,” Minghao smiled. “I promised I’ll be with you wherever you go, didn’t I?”

Memories of dark waves and a funeral and muddy clothes and a pinky promise flooded Miyeol’s mind. She felt liquid watering before her eyelids but she closed them, damming them in.

“You did,” she said instead, grabbing Minghao’s hand and squeezing it affectionately. “Thank you.”

He squeezed hers back in return and watched as the rain bulbs dripped from the thick clouds like Miyeol’s unshed tears.

four.

Final exams sapped the life out of Miyeol, but not her thirst for doing something fun. There was an ice-skating event in Lily Mall and Minghao had invited her to go with a few others.

“This is my first time skating,” she reminded her friend as they headed towards the mall, the subway train whizzing past skyscrapers and through dark tunnels.

“I know,” Minghao patted her head with his cold, bare fingers. “I think you’ll be great at it though.”

“You have too much faith in me.”

He only messed up her hair as a response, earning a scowl from the grumpy girl. Miyeol attempted to tie it back up into a neat ponytail as she walked out of the train, the cold air stinging her cheeks like a thousand tiny bees. She watched Minghao strutting a few feet in front of her, his jet black hair, now enclosed around his nape, swinging slightly in the cold air. He turned around to grin at her, and she managed a bashful smile back. He paused until Miyeol was next to him with her hair tied up, before intertwining their hands and heading towards the ice rink together.

Of course, the first thing Jun does when he sees them is to yell a rambunctious greeting and fall over an unbalanced Joshua. After laughing at his clumsiness, they went to get their skates. Miyeol watched their other friends absent-mindedly as she slid her gloves on. They glided across the ice with eloquence and style, Misul successfully executing spins and Seokmin skating across with one leg floating in the air.

“You got any ice-skating tips for me?” Miyeol questioned as she attempted to fasten the clasps on her skates, nearly chopping off her fingers more than once.

“Yes,” Minghao nods, kneeling to do it for her. “First, the most obvious one: stay focused. If you lose focus or daydream you might lose your balance and fall. Second, lean a bit forward at all times—you don’t want your legs to slip out from under you. When you feel like you’re starting to lose your balance, you need to bend your knees forward a little and hold onto them.” He demonstrated it as best as he could while kneeling. “If not, you might slip and hit your head and get a concussion.”

“Dang,” Miyeol mutters in a tone that resembles something along the lines of regret. Amused, Minghao chuckles as he finishes fastening her skates and reaches out to squeeze her knee.

“I’m not saying you’re going to get a concussion,” he assures, pulling her up to her feet. He held her shoulders as she balanced herself with her new skates. Limping towards the rink, Minghao made sure to keep his hands firm on her forearms, even though the soft foam flooring under their feet played a leading role in helping her stand. Just as they were about to get on the slippery surface, Miyeol realized something.

“Where are your gloves?” she demanded, running her clothed fingers along Minghao’s exposed palm.

“Oh whoops,” he could only say sheepishly.

Miyeol sighed and quickly hobbled back to the waiting area where her bag sat, Minghao’s neglected gloves sticking out hopefully. She looked like she was two years old again; learning how to walk while her center of gravity was constantly shifting. Minghao cringed every time her arms slightly flailed, but she managed to get the gloves without any damage. As she slipped the garment over his hands, their skin separated only with the thick wool. Without warning, Miyeol teetered. Minghao seized her arms swiftly.

“You alright?”

“I think I almost fell,” Miyeol balanced herself on the soft ground, silently frustrated. If she lost her balance on the skates before even getting on the ice, how was she supposed to prevent herself from falling face-first onto the cold floor like a pancake?

Minghao seemed to sense Miyeol’s inner turmoil because he reached up to brush her cheekbone affectionately. “Come on, you’ll be fine. I’ll be there to catch you when you fall.” He reached out to step onto the ice, standing effortlessly on the shiny surface. Miyeol slipped almost immediately upon contact, but Minghao kept his promise and caught her before she could break her face. He stuck his foot out for support as Miyeol tried again, managing to stand straight. Soon, she was on the ice, gloved fingers holding on to the frigid railing in fear.

“Hooray, you got on the ice!” Minghao twirled around gracefully to celebrate the milestone.

“Yeah, now I need to learn how to walk,” Miyeol tried to step forward but nearly slipped again, if not for Minghao.

“Easy, now,” Minghao tuts. “You need to take it slow. Here,” He stood next to her perfectly balanced, his feet in a V-shape facing outwards. He took tentative steps forwards, mimicking the actions of a penguin. “Walk like this, slowly.”

Miyeol copied his actions with a smile but kept a hand firmly on the railing. The next few minutes were filled with slipping and catching and repeating advice. It took a while, but Miyeol was able to walk on the ice eventually, and then moved on to drifting across the surface with windmilling arms. As she struggled, Miyeol noticed how Minghao’s gaze constantly drifted towards their friends; Wonwoo chasing Soonyoung after the latter stole his glasses, Misul and Vernon dancing together like two swans in a pond, and Jeonghan sprinkling ice at everyone around him, specifically his prime victim Joshua Hong.

“Go,” she nudged him gently towards them. “I know you’re aching to start twirling and showing off your skills. Go have fun with the boys.”

Minghao whirled to face her, eyes and face lines marked with anxiety. “Are you sure? What if you—”

“Don’t worry!” Seokmin appeared, swooping in and smiling brightly like a guardian angel. “I’ll be here to take care of her.” He bowed at her with a palm outstretched. Chuckling, Miyeol took his hand and sent Minghao a grin.

“I’ll be fine! Go.” Miyeol sent Minghao the deadliest look she could muster. Shivering teasingly, Minghao propelled himself across the rink, spinning periodically in the air as he reached the rest of the crowd.

“Couldn’t stay away from her too long, could you?” Jun stabbed Minghao’s sides for emphasis when he passed.

“Shut up,” Minghao prodded him back, zooming away when his opponent attempted a counterattack.

Even though Minghao hung around the left side of the rink, performing the axel and various jumps with skating prodigies like Misul and Jeonghan, his gaze was always lost on the right side, where Soonyoung and Seokmin orbited Miyeol as she skated timidly. He continued to watch her until Jun waved a hand in front of his line of vision.

“What are you daydreaming about?” he singsonged.

“None of your business,” Minghao jokes, reigniting their poking battle. Jun nearly fell over at the surprise attack but regained his balance quickly.

“Don’t do that, I nearly fell!” Jun complains. “Anyway, I was going to—ouch, Jeonghan!” He scowled at the laughing, playful teen skating away, mounds of ice in his clothed fingers. Jeonghan threw ice at Minghao’s hair but the boy ducked in time. Jun grabbed at Jeonghan’s ammo, slipping and stumbling in the process. Unfortunately, he failed, as Jeonghan managed to sprinkle ice into his brown locks before going away to disturb someone else.

“He’s so annoying,” Jun mumbles as Minghao helped him brush the ice away.

“Uh-huh,” Minghao agreed absentmindedly. “You were saying?”

“Yeah,” Jun scratched his ice-sprinkled head and grinned mischievously at Minghao. “When are you going to officially date Miyeol?”

Minghao rolled his eyes. “I told you, our—”

“—relationship is purely platonic, even though there is a ton of skin-touching that shouldn’t be there,” Jun finished in a mocking tone, impervious to Minghao’s razor-sharp glare. “That’s bull, Hao. Everyone knows you’ve got a thing for each other. Have you ever kissed her?”

The question caught Minghao off-guard. He nearly stumbled out of balance. “N-no.”

“Have you ever thought about kissing her?”

“Can we not talk about this?” Minghao began skating away from him, feeling slightly weirded out. Unfazed, Jun followed him with a foot hovering behind him.

“Come on, that thought must’ve crossed your mind at least once.”

“Please don’t ask me strange questions,” Minghao looked around for Miyeol, longing for her company. The rink was full of people, so it was difficult to locate her in the crowd.

“Minghao, what is she to you?”

Minghao paused in his steps, skidding to a stop. He turned to Jun, surprised by the serious tone weaved into the question, and the phrasing of the question itself. He had devoted a lot of time thinking about the answer, on the days he followed her around like a lost puppy and on the nights he wished she was by his side. What is she to him? Minghao caught the slight smirk at the edge of Jun’s lips, knowing that the clown knew what his answer was. It didn’t stop him from uttering the truth, however.

“She’s everything to me.”

Minghao didn’t care how cliché it sounded but minded how true it is. He turned around to avoid witnessing Jun’s reaction and to continue searching for Miyeol. He spotted her instantly, and a hundred-watt smile lit up his face. She found his eyes and waved enthusiastically at him, but then Minghao watched with sickening terror as her legs suddenly gave way from under her and she crashed to the floor with a loud thud.

Miyeol only blinked once before Minghao was right next to her, lifting her head and rubbing the area she pounded the ground with while muttering anxious words. Her head throbbed as Seokmin helped her sit up, muttering apologies about how he wasn’t able to catch her in time. Soonyoung quickly demonstrated how to get up after falling onto the ice, and soon Miyeol was back on her feet. Her head throbbed slightly but Minghao’s constant rubbing was easing the pain. She bit her lip as she watched his frightened expression, a stark parallel to the look on his face when she nearly drowned in the sea a few months back.

“I’m okay,” Miyeol assured, grabbing his wrist to stop his kneading. “I got distracted.”

“You did,” Minghao mutters, and the emotion carried in those two words sent an arrow of guilt through the girl. “Do you… want to stop skating now? Take a break?”

“But we’re just twenty minutes in,” Miyeol mumbles. “I only managed to slide across a little bit.”

“Alright,” Minghao held her wrist and didn’t let go. “But this time, I’m not going to leave your side.”

Miyeol’s heart rate skyrocketed, but she maintained a calm demeanor. Palms sweating in her gloves, she enveloped Minghao’s hands as they skidded through the ice together. Miyeol began chattering like a bored parrot, trying to distract herself from her aching head and the embarrassment that followed her fall. She talked about anything—from school to her latest art project to the dance routine she and Jun were perfecting—as she focused on keeping her feet perpendicular to the ice. As she talked, Miyeol couldn’t help but notice Minghao’s sharp gaze, watching her bent knees and her rigid shoulders. He didn’t seem to mind her talking, but couldn’t seem to get rid of the anxious look in his eyes. Running out of topics and tired of Minghao looking at her like she’ll crack her head open, she proposed leaving the rink. He pulled her out with the swiftness of a ninja.

“Do you want to hang around the mall for a little bit?” Minghao offers after they had removed their skates and bid their friends goodbye. Seokmin had yelled more apologies at Miyeol that allowed a sticky feeling to form inside in her throat.

“Sure,” Miyeol nods, gripping onto Minghao’s arm for balance. It was unusual to stand on the ground after being on the ice for more than half an hour.

“Where do you want to go?” Minghao asked. Miyeol’s hand slipped from his tricep and into his fingers, and she swung their intertwined fists lightly in the air. Minghao managed a tight-lipped smile at her cheerful gesture.

“I want to eat something,” Miyeol mutters absentmindedly.

“Like?”

“French fries?” she asked hopefully.

“Of course that’s what you ask for,” Minghao rolled his eyes. “Alright, let’s get you some fries.”

After a few minutes of wandering, they found a stall selling the snack they were hunting for. Miyeol and Minghao scarfed the potatoes down at an astounding speed as they explored clothing stores and stationery shops. As they looked around, Miyeol couldn’t help but notice how quiet Minghao was. He wasn’t a man of many words, but he always had something to say about things, no matter how simplified his statements were. As they entered a bookstore, Miyeol decided to confront him about it.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Minghao flipped through a book about knitting, pretending that he didn’t hear the question. “Hey, look at this very interesting pattern—”

“Minghao.” Miyeol used two fingers to pull the book down so that his gaze shifted over to hers. “Tell me. What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles, slamming the book shut and walking away, returning the book clumsily. Fumbling with it to make sure it doesn’t fall, Miyeol scowled as she placed the book back before running after Minghao.

“Hey,” Miyeol yanked his wrist and turned him around so that he was facing her. “Are you mad because I fell? I’m sorry for losing focus. I was just excited when I spotted you because it took me a while to get the hang of standing, and I was finally able to slide across the ice just like everybody else—”

“It’s not that,” Minghao mumbles, cutting through Miyeol’s rant. “It’s because… I didn’t catch you. I promised you that I was going to protect you but I didn’t.”

Miyeol looked up at his lips with blinking eyes, as if expecting more words to tumble out of his tongue.

“That’s it?” she exclaims after a slight pause.

“Yeah…?”

Miyeol released a short laugh. “You don’t need to feel guilty, Hao.” She took his hands and traced circles around the back of his hands. “I know you wanted to go skating out there with the others. You don’t need to watch over me every minute of my life.”

“Still…” Minghao mumbles, mind fumbling for more words to say. Jun’s words continued to echo in his head, distracting his eyes and causing them to linger on her lips. Stupid Wen Junhui.

“It’s okay,” she assured. “I’m okay.” Miyeol reached up to pinch Minghao’s nose. “I know you’ve taken care of me since Mom died—and I’m surprised that you aren’t tired of me yet—but that doesn’t mean I can’t get hurt sometimes. I’m not made of glass.”

“I’m never going to get tired of you,” Minghao confesses truthfully. “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“Ew, so cheesy,” Miyeol scrunched her nose, fingers migrating to deliver a flick to his forehead.

Minghao stared heavenwards as he led her out of the bookstore, ignoring her melodious laughter. He began to remind her to ice her injuries as they walked home, then decided he was going to do it for her anyway. There was a likely chance she is going to forget about it by the time he drops her off. Not that Miyeol minded—she loves it when Minghao comes over.

five.

Miyeol typically considered the dance studio her second home, but right now she was itching to leave it. She could just grab her bags and strut out the front door right then and there, but something was stopping her.

“Come on, Hao, you’ve been working on this for the past hour,” Miyeol yawns, turning her phone off. She only has about 23% of the battery left, and she happened to forget her charger that day. She leaned her head against the mirror as Minghao restarted the song, speakers blasting out the beat of the intro in rapid succession.

“I know,” he snaps like a mollusk clamping its shell shut, fury laced between the letters of his words. Miyeol raised her eyebrow at his annoyance, knowing very well his hostility wasn’t directed at her. Sighing patiently, she watched him execute fluid movements for the umpteenth time. She didn’t understand which part he was frustrated with—he danced better than she ever could. She closed her eyes as Minghao stopped the flow of his dance, fingers ruffling his ebony hair with crystal stress as he walked towards his phone to rewind the song back to the beginning.

“Hao, you need to take a break,” Miyeol insisted. “The instructor did say this song has a complicated choreo; she didn’t expect you guys to succeed in three days. Even Soonyoung was struggling—”

“But he finally managed to do it right,” Minghao answered exasperatedly, crouching as he fumbled through his phone. “It was hard for him but he finally got the movements. Look at me! I always miss a beat when I’m trying to do the foot jerk. I need to perform this dance move correctly before the screening—”

“Hao,” she repeats. Minghao released an ire groan as he dropped to the floor on his back, an arm resting on top of his eyes. Miyeol waited a few moments before crawling over to him, lying down next to him on the floor. Heart wilding in her chest, she reached over and intertwined her fingers with his. Minghao pursed his lips, swiftly dragging his long sleeves past his damp eyes.

“I almost get it,” Minghao tells her, and Miyeol’s heart cracks a little when she hears his voice do the same. “Every time. But I always mess up. And I don’t know why. I understand how to do it. Why do I always fail?”

“You’re just tired,” Miyeol yawns to prove her point. “Like me. Or you might be hungry. It’s past six-thirty.”

Minghao snorts. “I’m not the one who stays up until 2 a.m. watching Attack on Titan or misses breakfast every morning.”

“That was not my point.”

He watched her strict gaze and sighs, jolting upwards to a sitting position. Their hands were still intertwined, and Miyeol felt her cheeks heat up as sweat started to slip through her palms. Or they might be from Minghao’s—his forehead was still perspiring like a loose fire hydrant. Miyeol’s stomach growled, breaking the silence. She scowled at her friend, who laughed at the sound intrusion.

“Here,” Miyeol bounced their connected palms on top of Minghao’s knees. “You try one more time and when you succeed, we’re leaving this place and we can get food. If you don’t, we’re leaving anyway. Deal?”

Minghao snorts. “That doesn’t sound fair.”

“Deal?”

“Alright, alright. Deal.”

“Yes,” Miyeol lifted her hands to cheer, letting go of Minghao simultaneously. She felt the loss as she jumped to her feet and performed a little victory dance, but she focused on the prize ahead of her. “But do it quickly, I feel like my stomach is going to crumble to ash.”

Minghao ignored her exaggerated comment and hummed to the song as it started playing once again. He knew that she could’ve just left him alone in the practice room any time, but the fact that she chose to stay made him feel like an ice cream sundae left out on a summer afternoon. He watched her as he danced, noting how a few strands of her hair escaped her ponytail and she ran her fingers down her ears to tuck them in. He observed her smile as she gazed at him like he was an exquisite diamond. His heart thumped harshly inside his ribcage, and Minghao wondered if it was bruised; he lost focus and tripped, sending his body plummeting to the ground like a swerving meteorite. He bashed his skull against the wooden floor, setting off firecrackers before his eyes. His mind was filled with a blurry haze.

“Hey,” a voice called out to him in the mist. Minghao blinked languidly, every bone and muscle in his body exhausted from his efforts. “Minghao. Are you there?”

She didn’t call him by his nickname, he noted. Her voice was shaky, like a vase threatening to teeter off the edge of a table. Miyeol pulled him up, and Minghao’s eyes refocused slowly, like the lenses of a camera. He could see a tear gathering at the corner of her eyelid; he wanted to wipe it away, but his arm felt like liquid jelly.

“Minghao,” Miyeol shook his shoulders lightly. “Hao.”

“Hello,” he answers with a smile.

“Are you okay?” she was rubbing the back of his head. Minghao was hit by the sensation of déjà vu. A distant memory played inside his head, a rusty film that played in his nightmares. He watched Miyeol fall back in slow motion, head colliding against the ice. He felt her run feather-light fingers against his forehead and nodded.

“I’m fine,” Minghao replies as he reaches over to rub the sore part of his head. As he sat up, a migraine cut through his brain. “Ow.”

“You sure you’re fine?”

“Yeah,” he stood up, his noodle legs trembling as they tried to support his lanky body. Miyeol kept her hands on his torso, keeping him upright. He patted his chest and was relieved to find his seashell necklace still intact. The dancer stood for a while to gather his bearings, which gave her the perfect opportunity to thread her arms around his waist. She tucked her head against the curve of his spine, ignoring the damp sweat sneaking through the thin shirt. An emotion she identified as relief rushed through her veins.

“Is this revenge for me falling over two months ago?” she mumbled.

“Maybe,” he hummed ignorantly. She squeezed his torso in response.

He could stay that way forever, Minghao thinks. But he waited for his headache to recede before naming eating places for Miyeol to pick. She named one before peppering him with questions asking if he was hurt anywhere else. He told her no, again and again, but she continued to watch him like a fragile flower.

“So this is what you felt like when I kept watching you after you fell,” Minghao comments as he bit down on his warm taco. He scalded his tongue, but he kept his countenance apathetic in order not to alert his companion.

“I understand your feelings now,” Miyeol mutters. “Like, the person you care about is a mirror, as if they’re going to fall and break and you’re going to lose them any moment.”

Heat traveled to Minghao’s cheeks, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t because of the taco or the strenuous exercise he forced his body through an hour ago. He took another bite. “Yeah.”

“You should come over for a while,” Miyeol said out of the blue, turning to Minghao with innocent eyes. “Jeongin misses you.”

“Does he now?”

“Okay, maybe not,” Miyeol nibbled her taco to not get sauce all over her face. “He’s probably still mad at you for that tomato sauce incident. But I miss you. Dad misses you too.”

“I’ll come over,” he ruffled the back of his head lightly. His black hair had grown into a mullet, itching Miyeol’s fingers to comb through the strands. “Can I use your shower? I have spare clothes in my bag and I feel stinky.”

“Sure,” Miyeol grins like a child on Christmas day, grabbing Minghao’s hand and dragging him to her street.

Mr. Yang is an effervescent middle-aged man with a love for gardening. His front yard was filled with countless species of flowers, ranging from jasmines to violets to tulips to roses. They found him sitting on the bench outside reading a book with the aid of the porch light, enjoying the evening sky dotted in glowing diamonds. When he spotted his daughter and her best friend, a smile bloomed on his face.

“Minghao!” He dropped the book and embraced Minghao in a big hug that nearly crushed his bones. “I haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?”

“Great,” he chokes, feeling the headache creeping back. Miyeol squeezed her father’s shoulder to let the poor boy go. Minghao blinked several times and rubbed the bruised area as Miyeol hugged her father. She mumbled something about Minghao using the guest bathroom before pulling him in, nearly colliding with Jeongin.

“Jeongin!” Minghao waved cheerily. “Nice to see you!”

Jeongin’s eyes widened as he spotted his sister’s partner-in-crime before scurrying off to the kitchen and taking refuge there. Miyeol laughed at his urgency and turned to Minghao, who looked dejected.

“That was one time,” he insisted. “It was an accident! I apologized and even cleaned his jacket! Why’s he still running away?”

“It’s because you stink,” Miyeol shoved him in the direction of the bathroom. “The next time I see you, I want you to smell like flowers.”

“Okay, okay.” He sent a wink in her direction that made her heart feel as if it was dropped in a pile of pillows.

Miyeol ascended the stairs to the upstairs bathroom, taking a shower of her own. After drying her hair with a towel, she descended the stairs to find Minghao sprawled on the couch, reading a book he picked up from the coffee table.

“Isn’t this the book Wonwoo got for you last Christmas?” he asked after shifting aside to leave Miyeol room to sit.

“Yup,” she nodded, leaning against Minghao’s shoulder. She caught a whiff of a familiar scent. “Hey, isn’t this my peach body wash?”

“You left a bottle at home last month,” Minghao shrugged. Water trickled down his soaked hair, giving his skin a glossy sheen. “I kept it in my bag, but I keep forgetting to return it. Now that I remember…” He reached into his bag for the coral bottle, but Miyeol shook her head.

“Keep it, it suits you,” Miyeol said, drawing his attention back to the book in his hands. “The Fault in Our Stars. Wonwoo told me this book made Joshua cry so I was curious.”

“Of course it did,” Minghao mumbles, flipping through the pages with the seriousness of an English teacher examining an essay for grammar mistakes. Miyeol peeked at him from her vantage point on his shoulder and poked his cheek with a tentative finger.

“Can you read it to me?” she requested shyly. “I can never stay focused and read it on my own, and I think someone else reading will help.”

“Of course you can’t,” Minghao comments. “And yes, I’ll read it for you.”

Miyeol chuckled and relocated her head to his lap. She felt his chest rise and fall as he inhaled and exhaled, leaning back against a pillow for a more comfortable position. The rustle of the pages weighed on Miyeol’s eyelids, bewitching her to sleep. She smiled with content as Minghao began reading, each syllable an enchanting note harmonizing with an invisible metronome.

It took Minghao fourteen pages to realize Miyeol had dozed off to sleep. He was too absorbed in reading the comedic and tragic moments sewn into the young adult story to hear her snores. He closed the book and set it aside, before leaning over to press a gullible kiss against her forehead.

“Hope you’re dreaming of me,” Minghao kids, knowing the joke fell upon deaf ears. However, he could have sworn he saw the corner of her lip twitch upwards—not that he could have known for sure, for he had also fallen into the arms of sleep, arms resting on the shoulders of the girl he loves.

six.

Miyeol didn’t remember who picked the movie, but she wanted to stab whoever picked the horror-thriller. She tossed popcorn into her mouth and chewed obnoxiously to distract herself, but the only result she gained was off-the-shoulder glares. She tried shutting her eyes, but she kept opening them again thanks to the rapid bursts of light flashing from the screen. The swift camerawork prodded her to curl up in her seat and bury her head into the cushion of her chair. A hand came to rest upon her knee and she stared at its owner with panic gleaming over her corneas.

“Want to get out of here?” Minghao smiled back at her, fingers quaking slightly.

Miyeol nodded ecstatically. Another scream tore through the air and she was on her feet, racing down the stairs and out of the theater. She mentally apologized to Nahee and Seungkwan and everyone else who invited them to the movies, but she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Well, that was a great movie, wasn’t it?” Minghao comments as he fixes his hoodie on his head.

“Wonderful movie,” Miyeol answers sarcastically, tossing her empty popcorn box into a trashcan. She slipped her hand into Minghao’s palm with ease, swinging their arms nonchalantly. Minghao sipped his soda as they exited the cinema, feeling a weight being lifted off from his shoulders.

“Next time, let’s pick the film,” Miyeol suggested, chocolate hair flying in the cool air. Noticing her friend vanish from her periphery, she paused in her steps. “Even Mingyu was quivering in his chair, hiding behind his hands. Who even—”

Miyeol was cut off when she turned to see Minghao’s jacket splattered with soda, his head bent forward as the same purplish liquid dripped from his chin and onto the asphalt of the pavement. Tutting, she dug into her bag and pulled out a packet of tissues, dabbing his face and torso with them.

“Oops,” he remarks without much shame, pulling the front of his hoodie to prevent the soda from soaking his shirt.

“What would you do without me?” Miyeol teased, wiping his lips. She quickly averted her gaze when a certain thought about them popped into her head, jumping around as if provoking her to act upon it. She would be lying if she said it wasn’t the first time she imagined it, but she knew that if her thoughts lingered there for too long, she’ll do something she’ll regret. Minghao took the tissues from her and cleansed himself of soda, taking another sip.

“No idea what happened,” he shrugged, tossing the damp tissues into the trash.

Miyeol nodded with understanding, hoping the image of a kiss floating in her mind didn’t show on the shade of her cheeks.

The duo walked in silence, each one in their thoughts. When they were lost in the vast galaxies of their minds, there was always a comfortable silence hanging between them. It was never awkward with Minghao, and Miyeol loves that about them. And him. She loves his fluid dancing and siren-like voice and persistent nagging. She hoped the universe would keep them together. A world without Minghao was a world deprived of oxygen. A world that wouldn’t and couldn’t exist.

Miyeol watched as Minghao turned to her abruptly and opened his mouth to say something, but she bumped into a moving body. She shifted aside and got ready to apologize, but foreign fingers curled around her wrist and she recoiled with surprise.

“Hey girlie,” a stinky bomb exploded onto her face and she scrunched her nose in disgust as she caught a whiff of alcohol. “You look pretty. Why don’t I take you out for some dinner?”

“No thanks—” she began, but another hand was already wrestling his grimy, stained fingers from her pale skin.

“I’d rather you not touch my girlfriend, please,” Minghao crafted a polite smile on his expression, but Miyeol could see the undertones of enmity and animosity laced underneath. She felt herself turn red at his sudden possessiveness, as if she had taken a shot of whatever the man in front of them had been drinking.

The man was taken aback as if he didn’t notice Minghao walking alongside her before. He stared at his soda-soaked hoodie and purple chin and blazing eyes and snorted. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he grumbles, kicking a stone off the pavement and mumbling incoherent words to himself as he walks away from the duo.

“Girlfriend?” Miyeol pants as if she had just run a marathon. “I wasn’t aware that I was your girlfriend.” She said this with a joking tone, but she knew there were hints of surprise and irritation weaved under it.

“Just to get him to go away, you know,” Minghao shrugged, heart hammering. At this rate, the organ was going to mine a tunnel out of his chest. He didn’t realize his hands were still around her wrist, focused only on the fact that she was staring at him like he knew all the secrets of the Earth’s past.

He couldn’t look away. She was the epitome of beauty, her features screaming fairness and attracting the attention of everything around them. The way her hair fell down her shoulders in undulating waves, her cheekbones prominent without the help of make-up, and her rosy lips that he could never get tired of looking at. He wanted to kiss them and officially claim her his, but he was scared. Of what, he hasn’t placed a finger on yet.

Minghao’s body betrayed his mind to steal a moment as his fingers reached up to her chin, his thumb lightly caressing her bottom lip, soft and silky. Holy—he wanted to kiss her so bad. Miyeol’s eyelids fluttered, and he wondered if she was thinking of the same thing. But he couldn’t bring himself to lean down. There were just too many things to worry about.

His hand fell from her cheek and hung disheartened from his side. “L-let’s get going,” he stutters. “Your dad will kill me if I bring you home late.”

Minghao didn’t miss the acute disappointment in her voice. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Miyeol dug her hands into her jacket and denied him permission to hold them. She watched her feet for the rest of the walk, strutting faster than Minghao until he had to jog lightly to catch up to her. Panic rose in his throat. She didn’t even make a joke about her dad punishing him for past midnight affairs.

That was when he knew he screwed up.

That was when he knew he needed to say something, anything, to break the ice building between them.

But Minghao was afraid.

seven.

That April afternoon, just like all those April afternoons for the past few years, Minghao was standing on the doorstep of the Yangs’ house. A backpack burdened his shoulders as he rang the doorbell, heels rocking back and forth to a steady song playing only in his head. He waited patiently for the door to swing open—he had already known it was going to take a while, for it was no ordinary day for the Yangs. To his surprise, it was Jeongin who finally answered the door. His hair was sticking out in all directions, and there were shadows underneath his eyes.

“She’s in the kitchen,” he yawns, politely covering his mouth. It didn’t quench the rise of one in Minghao’s throat, but he thanked Jeongin politely for opening the door before heading towards the kitchen.

He found her on the island, mirroring the one they sat on at Minghao’s house earlier in the school year when they were struggling on stoichiometry. Minghao was hit by a feeling of nostalgia as he reminisced on how much they’ve grown over the years. Miyeol had snipped off some of her hair, but they still fell in graceful waves. She heard his footsteps against the wooden floorboards and looked up to greet him. A sunny smile appeared on her lips.

“Hey,” she greeted breathlessly. One look at Minghao always gave her a burst of energy. “Have you eaten?”

“No.” He had gone home straight away after a dance session with Soonyoung, Jun, and Chan, forgetting to eat the lunch his mother prepared for him. He made a mental note to apologize to her later.

“Okay,” Miyeol got off her tall chair and grabbed a packet of bread from the cupboard. “I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Miyeol insisted, echoing the excuse Minghao gave when he brought her favorite drink to their study meet back in August. He relented and moved to watch her from behind, making sure she was holding the knife correctly.

After gobbling up Miyeol’s sandwich (the bread was a little stale and there was too much cheese, but Minghao would eat it even if there was a fancy buffet in the room), he fulfilled her request to read her two chapters of The Fault in Our Stars until his voice grew hoarse. Upon finishing that, they worked on homework for twenty minutes before giving up and moving on to play board games with her dad and brother. Minghao watched the mask on her face, where a playful arc and two cheerful half-moons had been painted over. He knew that it was plastic, all fake—but he didn’t mention it. He waited restlessly for the façade to fall apart and prepared himself to catch her when she breaks.

Halfway through the game, Mr. Yang checked out to work. Jeongin left a while later to play computer games with his online friends. Miyeol and Minghao continued to play Monopoly with each other, laughing as they bought businesses and continuously made the other go bankrupt. Just as the sun sunk beneath the horizon, Miyeol insisted on playing a video game in her room.

“Is your dad fine with it?” Minghao lowered his voice nervously. He hadn’t been in Miyeol’s room for nearly a year. His father had insisted it’d be polite if he didn’t go there anymore.

“You used to come to my room all the time,” Miyeol deadpans. “He won’t care.”

Minghao allowed himself to be dragged upstairs before Miyeol let him into her childhood sanctuary. He knew the room like the back of his hand; he was struck by how most of the place remained nearly identical to his memory of it. Her bedsheets were still milky pink and covered with red hearts. Miyeol’s teddy bear (unsurprisingly named Hao-Hao) is still sitting atop the fluffy pillows like a king. The only major difference was the walls. Long gone was the rose wallpaper vandalized with their childhood scribbles. In their place were countless sticky notes tattooed with quotes and phrases from books, songs, and movies, photographs of them, her family, and her friends (he took pride in noticing that most of them had been taken by him), and pages and pages of sketches. Some of the drawings were of fantasy landscapes and animals, but most of them were realistic portraits of the same person.

“You draw me a lot,” Minghao remarked, stunned. He ran his fingers across one drawing of him sitting on the cafeteria tables, brow creased as he worked on homework. There was another one of him floating in the air, trapped in a jump. He realized with a start it was of him performing the complicated dance step he was stressing on; his hard work had paid off and he had executed it perfectly at the festival. His loose-fitted sleeves and elongated belt swirled frozen mid-air, following the path of his movements. As his eyes wandered around the room, he spotted another sketch, taped onto the wall in front of her study desk. The paper stood adjacent to a polaroid of Minghao, taken by Miyeol herself. It was a close-up of his upturned lips and sparkling eyes, taken after his team won first place at a dance competition. The sketch mirrored the photo almost precisely, except for the fact that it was in black and white. Minghao caught his name written in an intricate script under the picture, a heart scrawled next to it. He turned to the artist inquisitively, who blushed and cursed herself inwardly for putting her art all over her room for display.

“I see you all the time,” she reasoned, turning on the video game console.

“So I’m your muse?” Minghao prompted. Miyeol snuck an apprehensive peek, making a face when she found an impish smirk plastered on his face.

“You’re my favorite drawing reference,” she justifies, passing him a joystick. He accepted it in a fashion that allowed their fingers to brush against each other like two fleeting strangers. The duo made themselves comfortable on the bed before commencing their game.

Minghao had been watching Miyeol the whole day, making sure that she was doing okay. Her mask remained adhered to her countenance, but he could already see cracks forming across the manufactured expression. Her eyes were glossy and her lips were cardinal red, thanks to her canines. He watched her close her eyes in clear frustration as she messed up in the two-player game and apologized repeatedly, breaths short and furious. The same process restarted over and over until her patience wore thin, and Miyeol lifted her joystick to pound it to the ground.

“Whoa, hey,” Minghao snatched her wrist with the agility of a cheetah. “Calm down.” She whipped her head to glower at him, mask completely shattered. In its place was the face of a broken girl, features marred with an old tragedy that still affected her. Minghao dropped her wrist and his joystick sunk into the bedsheets as he wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head into his chest. He swallowed when the first sob erupted from her throat, grasping her tight. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

He ran his fingers down her hair. Miyeol wept into his jacket, feeling her heart crumble to dust beside her lungs. A distant memory from more than a decade ago broadcasted before her eyes, like an old sitcom from the 1990s.

Miyeol was six again. It was the summer, and her mother was dragging her to the beach, wetsuit hugging her sculpted, petite form and a surfboard snug under her arm. She squeezed her mother’s slender fingers as she gazed up at her with awe. Her mother was beautiful—she was alluring as a scarlet rose amidst a field of milk-white daffodils, like the silver rivers snaking through the countryside underneath the moonlight, like the collection of stars clustered around one another to stand out in the sea of abysmal darkness. However, there was something unusual about the aura radiating off her skin. She sensed anger and frustration, emotions as red as blood. Her mother turned to her with a bright smile, but Miyeol could see the blue fire burning in her pupils.

“Miyeol,” the woman began, stabbing the surfboard into the sands. She knelt before her, cheeks folding against her crescent eyes. The night winds raged against their locks, strands of hair slapping against their cheeks. Even with a mess on her head, Miyeol thinks her mother was still a queen. “Mommy loves you, alright?” She shoved her light brown hair aside before tucking her daughter’s hair behind her ear, marveling at how much the two were alike. “I’m going to surf the seas for a little while. Wait here on the beach for me, okay?”

“But Mom,” Miyeol had been watching the tides before they reached the beach. Even a child could tell the ocean was untamed that night, gales rampant and waves barbaric. “The sea looks scary.”

Her mother glanced at the storm dismissively, pinching her daughter’s cheeks. “I’ll be safe. I’ve been surfing here since I was a little girl. You don’t have to worry about me, Yeollie. I promise I’ll be right back.”

But the waters, she had thought. The vengeful, mourning seas, ready to swallow people setting foot into its pitless stomach. Miyeol remembered grasping her mother’s fingers tightly, not wanting to let go. However, her angelic smile distracted her, hypnotizing her and rendering her unaware of the moment her mother’s butterfly fingers drifted away. She pressed one last kiss against her daughter’s forehead before drawing her surfboard from its perch in the sand. Miyeol plopped onto the sands, watching as her mother waltzed across the surface of the sea, believing in the empty promise she had given her.

The next moments were dim and blurry as if someone doused her painted vision in water. Blemishes tainted her memories, allowing her to only vaguely remember certain details.

She remembered a familiar, skinny figure shaking her bare shoulders. Minghao. Cute and lanky ever since they were little, hair cut short and sticking out in different directions. He was saying something, but she couldn’t hear anything except for bits.

Your mother. Help on the way. Drown.

Drown? No, it wasn’t possible, Miyeol recalled her past introspections. Her mother is a talented woman. She couldn’t have lost control of her board and drowned.

Could she?

She remembered men and women arriving on the scene, clad in wetsuits and diving gear. What were they doing? Why did they look so grim? They were headed towards the docks, getting ready to board a boat. What for? Miyeol wanted to walk over to find out what the commotion was all about, but Minghao was holding her back. He was embracing her and looking out at the ocean in fear as if he carried a dark secret she didn’t know about.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her young mind perplexed.

Minghao didn’t answer but brought her to her father. Miyeol ran over to embrace him, careful of her baby brother that he carried. His hug was as mellow as she remembered, but there was something about the air that made her tense. Her father was trembling, fingers jittery. It was strange. Her father was a tenacious, gallant knight; he shouldn’t be afraid. He was the perfect example of courage. She played with her fingers while Minghao stood next to them, equally skittish. There was something off but Miyeol couldn’t identify what it was. Looking around them, Miyeol noticed someone was missing. She turned to her father with wide, inquisitive eyes.

“Where’s Mommy? I want her here.”

The effect was instantaneous. Suddenly, tears were rolling down her fearless father’s face and he crumbled like a clay pot, hugging Jeongin to his chest. The baby cried out as if joining in the cacophony of the raging winds and his father’s sobs. Miyeol was hit by a wave of confusion. Her father was crying. Why was he crying?

“Dad—” she began, but then she spotted the group of men and women wearing gear coming back on the boat. There were flashing lights; everything was so bright. Miyeol spotted them lugging a strange, cylindrical shape from the sea, covered in sky blue plastic. The realization hit her like a bulldozer. She turned to Minghao, knowing her father nor brother would be able to give her an answer.

“Is that my mom?”

“I-I don’t know,” Minghao stuttered. There was some truth laced in the words. Miyeol knew he didn’t know for sure, but there was some qualm mixed in too. She shook her head.

“No, that can’t be her,” Miyeol insisted. “She’s a skilled surfer. She knows how to go through this storm.”

She didn’t know for sure, but Miyeol had recalled hearing her father wail louder in the core of the tempest. Minghao’s hands were in hers, holding her as she watched them carry the dead body across the beach.

“I’m here,” she remembered hearing his voice travel safely through the raucous sound waves produced by the whirlwinds, arriving in her eardrums without fail. “I’ll always be here, Miyeol.”

“I know,” she had answered, before tucking her head into his shoulder and closing her eyes, mind still lost in the commotion around her.

Another memory began to air. Miyeol was ten, head covered in sticky mud. School had just ended; a few girls were laughing at her disheveled appearance, unable to believe that she’d pick playing in the mud instead of dolls like they did. Hatred curled her fingers into fists, nails marking her palms like thick ink. She lifted a hand to punch a girl, but a body went flying behind her and diverted her attention away.

“Eeeeee!” Minghao’s squeal was analogous to a pig’s, screeching through the air as he crash-landed into a puddle of mud. The girls yelped as scattered dirt and silt made their way to their pristine outfits. Miyeol released a gleeful giggle as she flopped onto her best friend, further ruining the lavender shirt she wore.

“I had to stop you from punching those girls,” Minghao told her after getting an earful from Mr. Xu about ruining their outfits. They rinsed their mud-caked hair at the park’s water tap. “Mr. Dong was just around the corner and he would’ve sent you to the principal’s office and gave you detention.”

“They were being mean though,” Miyeol said, scowling as she soaked her fingers in the water. “Why can’t I play what I want to play without getting judged?”

Minghao was quiet. He had noticed that Miyeol had changed ever since the death of her mother. Her body hygiene had been all over the place lately. She was seldom clean anymore, her body always decorated in some icky substance. She acted differently, too—more violent and impatient. She didn’t talk about her mother anymore, either. That was probably the most worrisome change about his childhood friend. He wanted to help her get better, but he didn’t know how.

Miyeol nudged Minghao, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Let’s go.” She was already putting her shoes on, but Minghao noticed she had missed some parts while washing herself.

“Wait,” Minghao grabbed her wrist and placed them back under the running water, scrubbing her skin in rapid gestures. He pumped the soap onto his hands and rubbed them against her arms, creating bubbles all over. “There’s still a bunch of mud here. You missed so many spots.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Miyeol began.

“It does,” Minghao lectures, poking her shoulder. “Cleanliness is important.”

The temperamental child rolled her eyes but Minghao spotted the grin blossoming on her face. As he finished cleaning her skin and hair with soap and water, Minghao patted her head and limbs with a towel, making sure she was dry. He brought her home and grabbed two chocolate bars from the fridge, giving one to Miyeol as they sat on the couch. Minghao switched the TV on, which began airing a cartoon about swimming. Miyeol’s head fell onto Minghao’s lap, and he asked her if she wanted to change the channel.

“N-no.” Hearing her voice, Minghao was hit with the reminder of the fragility of human beings. “I-it’s okay.”

He patted her shoulder, chewing on the sweet chocolate. “I’ll take care of you,” he tells her. Her mother wasn’t there anymore to tend for her, leaving him no choice but to take on the job. Not that he minded. “Even when we’re old and wrinkly, I’ll be here to make sure you’re safe and healthy. I promise.”

Miyeol glanced at Minghao looking down at her with dead seriousness. Her chocolate bar remained unopened in her hands. “Promise?” her voice cracked.

Years ago, her mother had said the same thing. She promised she would return to her daughter, knowing very well the tempest wouldn’t let her. Yet she uttered the words anyway, breaking the oath as she drowned into the merciless waves.

Minghao was instantly alarmed when he saw translucent lumps gather in her eyes. “Yes!” he nods hastily, fumbling for Miyeol’s hand and intertwining their pinkies. “I promise,” he repeats. “A pinky promise must never be broken.”

Nearly a decade later, Minghao hasn’t broken that vow. He clutched her torso tight as if she was a precious emerald no one could afford to lose. It took a while for her sniffles to recede, but her speech was still riddled in sobs when she spoke up again.

“I-I keep thinking,” she hiccups, rubbing her eyelids. “What would have happened if I forced her to stay with me, to talk out her problems with Dad instead of inclining to the sea for escape. Maybe she would still be here, laughing with us, lecturing Jeongin about his grades, cooking meals, helping me with homework, making my dad happy again.”

Minghao remains silent, running his fingers through her hair. Miyeol lifted her hands and rested them on his chin. Electricity shot through his spine as he sat up a little straighter, suddenly hyperaware of their proximity and her soaked cheeks and quivering lips. His hand was on her cheek, brushing the tears away.

“Thank you for hanging out with me today,” she leaned in and pressed her forehead against his, her stammering breath mingling with Minghao’s, causing his breath to hitch.

Something in his chest was expanding like a swelling balloon, threatening to explode and possibly kill him. Miyeol felt the same way, her heart throbbing at the pressure. Their noses rubbed delicately against one another, sending both their skins crackling with electricity. One of Minghao’s hands was on her waist and the other had moved to the nape of her neck. He wanted to kiss her, but the fear that overpowered his need the night they left the theater had returned. Miyeol’s hands were on his cheeks, cotton candy fingers grazing his skin.

“I…” Minghao swallowed his doubt, his fear, and his concerns. “Miyeol… I…”

I love you.

He gasped breathlessly. The words were there, but they wouldn’t leave his throat.

I love you.

I—

Three words. Eight letters. But why was it so hard for him to say it?

She watched tears brim at the edge of his eyelids, drowning in the hold of his powerful emotions. She sent him a smile, trying to convey to him without words that she knows, she knows how much he cares, how much he adores her, and how much he cherishes her. And she tries to tell him too, through the same smile, how much she appreciates him, how fond she is of him, and how much she loves him. She watched the next words tumble out of his lips, singing through the air like a glorious choir.

“Can I kiss you?”

A breathy laugh left her throat. Thought you’d never ask, she mulls but didn’t say. Her tongue was heavy metal in her mouth; she only nodded, eyes fluttering.

When Minghao kissed her, she felt like she had just tasted the sweetest chocolate in the world. His lips were soft like rose petals crossed over with velvet sand and whipped cream. His cheeks were plump and tough at the same time, hardened by years of growing up. His neck was clammy and his shoulders were unsettled, but they were instantly soothed when she stroked his skin. Minghao pulled her closer and grasped her back with an arm, the other hand mapping hearts all over her face. Miyeol wound her finger around a lock of charcoal at the nape of his neck and unwounded it again, using her fingers to comb through his satin tresses. Minghao hesitantly pulled away for air, feeling the same adrenaline rush he had when he nearly lost her to the ocean. The seashell she had given him stayed glued to his neck; a sign of their mutual affection. Miyeol released a child-like giggle—a crisp contrast to the tears gathered around her eyelashes, too lightweight to fall.

They were equally speechless at what had just transpired. They could only stare at each other, dumbstruck, for a few moments. Minghao reluctantly tries to pull away, but Miyeol grips his hands in an iron grip, eyes begging.

“Stay,” she pleads. “Don’t run away.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Minghao assures, allowing Miyeol to melt into him. He caressed her forehead and pressed a gentle kiss against it.

They reclined against the mattress and pillows, Miyeol curling in Minghao’s embrace. His fear for losing her was still idled inside like a badgering shoulder demon, but the solace he found in her company overpowered its villainous powers. For a moment, a euphoric, untarnished moment, he believed with adamantine confidence that she will always be by her side, that until the time trickled away like sand in an hourglass, until the Earth is destroyed by a cataclysmic event, and until death reclaims their souls, they will always be together.

eight.

When they were twelve years old and entering the seventh grade, Minghao and Miyeol had made a pact to ask each other out every year for the annual school dance. They didn’t think about what would happen if one of them develops a crush or falls for another girl or boy, for they’ve always had each other. They were two close-knit teenagers who have been through thick and thin together, and straying away from each other would tear out a part of their soul.

The closeness they had was probably a reason why they weren’t awkward about the kiss—they didn’t talk about it in the past few weeks, choosing to swerve their talks around the sensitive topic. Instead, their conversations were diffused with chatter about the upcoming dance. Minghao and Miyeol spent their days going around and making preparations, choosing outfits that match each other. They didn’t have trouble learning how to slow dance together and weren’t bothered by the proximity they experience in intervals. They laugh it off with a light whack or friendly nudge, dismissing the matter almost immediately.

Even though their relationship looked just like it always does at the tip of the iceberg, there was a bit of underlying tension beneath the surface. Behind the pining glances, the hair combing, the intertwined fingertips was the longing for something more. Neither ever brought it up, both silently agreeing to not linger on the matter. It didn’t mean they didn’t want to talk about the touchy subject, but they were still scared.

And Minghao wanted to clobber his skull with a hammer for not being able to overcome his fears.

“What do you think?” Miyeol asked, examining her coal-black dress in front of the mirror.

Minghao watched her twirling figure, thoughts racing in his head. It was a flowy, satin garment that almost kissed her ankles, with sheer, lacy sleeves. A belt adorned in diamonds hugged her hips, and her shoulders were sprinkled over in golden glitter, like a celestial cupcake. There was just enough make-up to accentuate her features, but it was enough to make him gape in awe. Her hair had been styled in a neat bun, a few strands spilling down her shoulders. He couldn’t bear to look away as if she had placed him under an enchanting spell.

Miyeol snuck a glance at Minghao, lying casually on her bed. His equally ominous vest was a funny contrast against her pink bed sheets, causing her to suppress the laugh threatening to blow up from her chest. His slick black dress pants accentuated his slim legs and his sock-clad feet awaited his shoes downstairs. There was a rose peeking out from behind his lapel, handpicked straight from her father’s garden. He had no make-up on and his hair was left in its long, boisterous loops, but he still looked like a model straight out of a magazine. Both caught each other’s gaze and turned crimson almost right away. They avoided the other’s looks instantaneously.

“You look great,” Minghao cleared his throat, swinging his legs over and standing up, fixing his vest. He offered his palm for her to take, and she curtsied before endowing her hand to him. They walked down the stairs together, Mr. Yang ready on the first floor, a polaroid camera in his hands and proud tears welling around his eyeballs.

“Dad,” Miyeol gave him a look when he started sniveling.

“You both have grown up so much,” he sniffs, wiping his eyes. “I remember when you were four and stepping all over each other’s feet while trying to imitate your parents’ waltz.”

“Minghao’s parents are slow dancing prodigies,” Miyeol snorts. Like his son, she added in her mind as she posed for her dad. Minghao placed a hand on her shoulder and threw up the classic peace sign. The sudden contact surprised Miyeol for a split second but she managed not to trip down the stairs. While Mr. Yang gushed over the polaroid with Minghao, she walked over to the living room. Jeongin was there, playing a game on his phone while lazily sprawled over the couch in a posture that made Miyeol cringe. Just as she was about to tiptoe out of the room, he called her out.

“Hey Miyeol,” Jeongin said, eyes glued to the screen. “Are you going to finally kiss him tonight?”

“What?” Miyeol gawked like a surprised monkey. “Since when were you interested in my love life?”

“I’m just saying,” her little brother shrugged, switching his head and leg positions with the agility of a sneaky leopard. “Even a blind person can tell the closeness you two share. There’s something more than just friendship in that bond.” He eyed his sister’s hesitation and grins. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Shut up,” she nudged her brother for space on the couch and sat daintily, making sure not to ruin her hairdo or make-up. She made sure to not mention that she had already kissed him once; it was something they both wanted to put behind them. At least, Minghao seemed to. Kissing him was like a drug; she’s been craving another taste since the night in her bedroom. She exhaled as she cupped her cheeks, hoping her hands could absorb the redness forming on them.

“Is it because you’re scared?” Jeongin threw the question out in the open in a casual manner.

“What?”

“Are you afraid to lose him?”

“My baby brother’s giving me relationship advice now,” Miyeol deadpans. “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?”

“Blame Hyunjin and Seungmin for making me watch one too many romcoms,” Jeongin rolls his eyes, but Miyeol knew he was fond of his friends. “Most friends don’t want to start a romantic relationship because they’re afraid they’ll break-up and they’ll lose each other. That fear is even more palpable in your relationship because you’ve known Minghao since forever.”

“Some people regard us as siblings,” Miyeol adds. “Wouldn’t it be weird if we start dating?”

“Why should you care?” Jeongin argues, eyes still plastered onto the addicting bright screen. “It should be up to you, shouldn’t it? It’s your relationship, not theirs. You and Minghao decided what you guys want to be. Best friends, lovers, strangers—it’s your choice.”

Miyeol pondered over his words for a while, kicking the couch with the back of her legs. A sharp honk and a call of her name finally jolted her out of her reverie. She grabbed her purse and jogged out of the door. She smiled at Minghao and her father at the door, Jeongin’s words echoing somewhere at the back of her mind.

“See you later, Dad,” she pressed a kiss to his cheek before taking Minghao’s hand and heading towards their ride: Soonyoung, Jun, and Chan with their dates all cooped up in a van. Jun winked at Minghao and Miyeol from the driver’s seat and began a conversation about chickens as they rode towards the school. Miyeol glanced sideways at Minghao, who was as silent as a cemetery.

“Are you okay?” Miyeol nudged Minghao as discreetly as she could. “My dad didn’t threaten you or anything, did he?”

“Nah,” Minghao shook his head. “He just told me to take care of you, that’s all.”

“Of course he did,” Miyeol folded her arms and leaned into his side. Her chest shuddered when he rested his arm on her shoulder. How could she not think about kissing him if every time they touch her skin burns? She caught Soonyoung’s smirk and looked away, glaring at the ceiling.

When they arrived, the school’s big gym was packed with students clad in formal suits and gowns bobbing to the music and snacking on delicacies. Miyeol sighed with relief when she noted that the fairy lights looked positively ethereal hanging from the speakers. It had taken her and Chan forever to get them approved by the president of the decorating committee. The lights weren’t very radiant, but they were bright enough to cast a dim glow over all the students and teachers attending, giving each one a unique, mystifying aura. Miyeol high-fived Chan for their success before she was pulled away by someone.

“Miyeol!” Misul screeched into her ear, rendering her deaf. “The lights you picked are amazing! I can’t believe Seungcheol disapproved of them!”

“Seungcheol is an idiot, that’s why,” Miyeol scowls, eyes snaring the said boy, who felt her glare almost immediately. Seungcheol rolled his eyes at her eagle stares, focusing his attention on a gesticulating Jeonghan. Miyeol scanned her surroundings for Minghao, but he seemed to have vanished. She turned back to Misul, who was waving her arms to the song playing from the speakers.

“Why’d you steal me away?” she asks. “Where’s Vernon?”

“Probably eating chocolate,” Misul shrugs. She caught Miyeol’s demanding glare and rolled her eyes. “Come on, you can survive a few minutes without Minghao. I need to tell you something.” She grabs Miyeol’s arm and steals her away into the crowd.

Meanwhile, Minghao found himself stuck with the boys. He was forced to listen to the pick-up lines Jun kept delivering to his date and Soonyoung and Chan’s obsession with League of Legends after their dates went off to find something to eat. A few minutes ago, he had turned around to notify Miyeol that Jun might get a girlfriend, realizing she was missing. He was thrown into a frenzy but before he could run away, a hand grabbed his forearm.

“Minghao, don’t worry,” Jun assured, his other arm still around his date. “I saw Miyeol disappear somewhere with Misul. She’s safe.”

A boulder of worries had rolled off the slopes of his shoulders when he was informed of her whereabouts. “I should still go look for her anyway. I’m her date.”

“Why don’t you date her for real after tonight?” Jun clowned.

Scowling, Minghao crossed his arms, but he knew Jun was half-right. He started to look for her but Soonyoung convinced him to stay, telling him he’ll have a lot of time to spend with her during the slow dance.

Watching Jun and his date, he wondered how the idiot managed to ask her to come with him. He noticed how the girl’s eyes idled way too long on Jun’s neck, and shook his head, groaning inwardly. Love made people blind and stupid.

And it was true. Love made Minghao do stupid things like staying up until 3 a.m. watching anime even though he didn’t particularly enjoy it. Love made him lose marks at school for passing notes instead of paying attention to the teacher. Love made him ride his bike to school even though he trusted his dad’s car, even more, to not kill him on the road. Love made him crazy and dumb but it was all worth it.

He was in love with Miyeol, but he still couldn’t say it aloud.

The speakers started playing the slow songs, just as Minghao made his final decision—he was finally going to tell Miyeol the truth. As his companions dispersed to find their dance partners, Minghao weaved through the crowd to find his own. It took him a while, but he managed to locate Miyeol in the throng of people. She was sipping from a red plastic cup while listening to Misul rant next to her, talking about something he couldn’t hear from a far distance.

“—and I asked her, ‘Are you sure you want to marry this dude?’ for like the fifth time, and she said ‘Yes’, again, as if this wasn’t the same person who dropped her off in the middle of the highway, nearly left her to drown in the pool when he knew she can’t swim and literally ditched her during prom to dance with a popular, prettier girl back in high school,” was all Minghao caught, and the last part instantly sent him into a fit of consternation.

“Maybe he’s changed?” Miyeol shrugs, eyes still scanning her surroundings for her best friend. She wondered where he was—the cheesy ballad songs have already begun and she was itching to get on the dance floor. She didn’t see him coming up to her right.

“People like him don’t change, Miyeol,” Misul growls, tossing a puff pastry into her mouth with the ferocity of a child throwing a tantrum.

Before Miyeol the optimist could argue with her, she felt someone tap her shoulder. She turned around to see Minghao stand there, a bead of sweat running down his forehead. His tie was loose and there was an aura of agitation around him.

“I didn’t go away to dance with some popular girl,” he clarified.

It took Miyeol a while but she laughed when she realized what he was talking about. “I know you didn’t,” she set her cup aside and waved at Misul. “Go find Vernon and have fun!” she calls.

While Misul’s shouts of betrayal were drowned by the melody of the song, Miyeol fixed Minghao’s tie. “You didn’t actually dance with somebody else, did you?”

Minghao frowned. “You doubt me that much?”

“Just making sure,” she chortles, brushing his bangs away from his eyes as he tows her to the dance floor.

“So,” Miyeol began as she relaxed her hand on his shoulder and his on her waist. Their other hands intertwined as they swung across the floor gracefully like they were dancing on the surface of water. “What were you doing?”

“Trying to keep up with Soonyoung and Chan’s conversations about League, naturally,” Minghao cringed, making Miyeol poke his arms playfully. “I don’t understand why they’re so obsessed with it. I keep dying in the game, no matter which champion I use.”

“You just need practice,” Miyeol shrugs as Minghao twirled her around. “Jeongin’s a whiz at the game. Should I ask him to teach you?”

Minghao nearly stepped over her evening black heels. “Jeongin? Jeongin? You want your baby brother to teach me how to play a computer game?”

“I mean… he’s a prodigy at that. I wish he uses that same focus and motivation towards his schoolwork.”

Minghao laughed as swayed Miyeol to the melody, carefully twirling her amongst the waltzing pairs. She continued to ramble about what Misul told her, and he rubbed her palm as he listened. He felt like he was going to throw up the chips he wolfed earlier, and he tried his best not to do so in front of her. She will hate him for the rest of his life. Or maybe not. He couldn’t seem to quench the nervousness at the bottom of his gut for what he was about to do. He couldn’t help but feel like something was going to go wrong.

“You’re worrying again,” Miyeol snapped her fingers in front of Minghao’s face. He realized with a start he had stopped short. Muttering apologies, he resumed the dance.

“What’s wrong?” she questioned softly, and Minghao felt his insides turn into candy floss at the gentleness in her tone. “Did Jun say something you didn’t like? I’ll gladly kill him if he did.”

What did he do in his past life to deserve her? “No, it’s—” Minghao stopped short. No, not during the dance. He wasn’t going to confess to her in the middle of a crowd of eavesdropping students and while his breath probably smelled like barbecued potato chips. “I’ll t-tell you later.’

If she heard him stumble over his words, she chose not to say anything about it. Miyeol only stared at him with a distant smile on her face, the beautiful smile that Minghao couldn’t get tired of seeing. After a few slow songs, he tugged her waist and pulled her out of the packed gym. He grabbed a cup of fruit punch and did his best to ignore the grin and wave Jun sent them as they exited. Miyeol eyed Jun’s frazzled appearance and swollen lips with suspicion, but the only response she got from Minghao was “I’ll tell you about that later.”

Miyeol didn’t know why the boy in front of her was so troubled. A thousand scenarios ran through her head, none of them pleasant. What if Minghao was planning to tell her he was going to move out of town or leave the country? Was he going to tell her he was failing school and his parents were going to kick him out? Minghao is a smart kid and he always got excellent grades, but his father always classified a B as a fail. She knew she shouldn’t have forced him to binge Your Lie in April with her the night before the stupid Chemistry test. Or was he going to bring up the kiss and tell her that he regretted it? Miyeol felt her fingertips grow cold at the miserable thought. To be fair, he was the one who asked to kiss her… or was it a joke and she shouldn’t have kissed him back?

“Now you’re the one worrying,” Minghao chuckled, pulling Miyeol out of her river of anxious thoughts. She hoped she didn’t say her thoughts aloud—that would be deathly mortifying. She watched Minghao’s pretty smirk as he leaned against a tree, bangs falling over his eyes in a manner that made Miyeol’s back sweat.

“Shut up,” Miyeol grabs the rest of Minghao’s punch and downs it all in a gulp, setting the plastic cup on one of the potted plants. When Minghao raised a brow disapprovingly, she only shrugged. “I’ll throw it out later. So what’s up?”

The full impact of what he was about to do suddenly crashed into him; his anxiety struck at the worst possible moment. Minghao felt his legs quiver and give way. He knew that if Miyeol wasn’t in front of him, he would’ve slammed his head against the stone driveway under their feet. He gripped her arms tightly and swallowed the huge lump in his throat, forcing himself to gather all his courage and say those stupid eight letters out loud.

“Don’t scare me like that,” Miyeol huffs, hugging Minghao to keep him upright. Leaning her ear against her chest, she was startled to hear his heart beating at an inhuman pace. Confused, she glanced up, wondering why he was so nervous. His eyes were darting all over different directions and his neck was glossy. Instantly, the worst thought came to life in her head.

“What’s going on?” Miyeol pulled away slowly, the monster called fear wrapping itself around her heart. “Hao… are you leaving me?”

“What?” Minghao blinked with confusion. “What are you—”

“Your heart is beating so fast,” Miyeol tried to stop herself, but her eyes began tearing up before she could stop. She wiped at them hastily, hoping she didn’t smudge her make-up. “W-why are you so nervous? Are you moving away? Going back to your country?”

Minghao was still baffled, wondering where the notion came from. “Where’d you get that idea?” he frowned.

“You’re shaking, you nearly fell over, your heart is beating impossibly fast,” Miyeol listed the symptoms out with trembling fingers. “What’s going on?”

Minghao nearly laughed at the incredulity of the situation. He grasped her fingers tightly, kneading her palms comfortingly. “Miyeol, listen to me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Miyeol sniffed, eyes still watery. “Y-you’re not?”

“No,” he smiled, dabbing her eyes with the napkin in his pocket. He was careful not to get mascara all over her face. “I’m staying. We still have one year of high school left, after all. Then I’m going to volunteer at the dance center with you.”

The girl exhaled with relief, head snapping downwards. “Now I feel stupid.”

“Probably not as stupid as I feel,” Minghao used a finger to lift Miyeol’s chin so that he could see her face. She looked puzzled at his words, but he decided to get the words out of his voice box before doubt makes him chicken out again.

“I don’t know why this took me forever to say, but Miyeol, I love you.”

Three words, eight letters, finally out of his stupid throat. Miyeol blinked as Minghao awaited her response with adrenaline-induced anticipation. Suddenly she burst into a smile that could reverse global warming and climate change.

“About time,” she answered simply, hands snaking up to his shoulders.

Minghao blanched in perplexity, face blushing. “Wha—?”

Miyeol tiptoed and kissed him feverishly, tasting the fruit punch he drank earlier.

Ever since her mother passed away, she thought her life would never be the same again. She was the only person who directly and constantly told her ‘I love you’. Those were Miyeol’s favorite words of all time; she appreciated the raw and vulnerable meaning behind the letters, knowing that when said by the right person and with the right emotions, it could make a field of baby seedlings bloom to vivid flowers with intense colors in an instant. She believed only her mother could truly love her that way. That was why when she passed away and left her behind, there was this persistent bone-crushing weight on her back, crippling her and inducing her with a grief so great she couldn’t seem to get out of it.

Then came Minghao. He was present in her life before her mother’s death, but even after the traumatic, life-changing event he never left. Coming over to play with her, drawing little cartoons on her walls, pulling pranks on their parents together. He visited when she was sick, helped her with homework when she was struggling, hugged her when she cried. He never said the words ‘I love you’ aloud until today, but then she realized that he didn’t need to. It was all in his actions.

The time they studied for the arduous Chemistry test when he brought her favorite drink. The day he saved her from drowning, pulling her out of the ocean and carrying her single-handedly towards the beach. The day it poured buckets when he shoved his hoodie for her to wear when she was shivering. The afternoon at the ice-skating event, when he chose to teach her instead of hanging out with the skilled skaters. The evening he came over to her house and read The Fault in Our Stars to her. The night he saved her from a creepy man, eyes flashing with anger and holding her defensively. The day of her mother’s death, when he embraced her and both metaphorically and literally held her together in his arms.

There were many other moments. Making sure she was clean and free from mud and silt. Tightening the straps of her goggles for her. Worrying for her when she hit her head against the ice. Accompanying her on the hardest day of every year. Minghao had confessed to her many times, and saying the words aloud just further proved what Miyeol had known for her whole life.

Minghao gasped as he broke away for breath, face flushed and lips as bright as cherry. Laughing, he rubbed Miyeol’s equally red cheeks and leaned in again, tasting the blossoming strawberry cake, zesty lemon confectionery, and nectarous fruit punch she consumed before. To add to that, she tasted like syrupy sunshine and moonbeams.

He didn’t know why it took him so long to get the darn words out into the open. He knew she felt the same way—she told him through lending her school notes, applying lotion onto his face, sharing her umbrella, getting his gloves, confirming that he was okay, cleaning his messes up, and making him a sandwich. She cares for him the same way he does; there was nothing to be fearful about.

“I love you too, Minghao,” Miyeol breathed, eyes closed as their foreheads collided smoothly.

Minghao grins a peachy smile as he kisses the girl who loves him one more time. Miyeol wraps her arms around the boy who loves her, never once letting go. The iridescent shell necklace hung between them, a witness to their unyielding love.

⋆⑅˚₊✎ a/n: if you’re reading this, thank you for reading this super long imagine, it means so much to me 😭💖 i planned to finish and publish this imagine about a week or two ago, but school attacked me with three tests out of nowhere (you can kinda tell from the Chemistry references in the beginning lmao, i hate the stupid subject ;-;). the original length i planned for this imagine to be was 8K words but it somehow doubled, rip 💀. i feel like there were plenty of mistakes riddled into this story, but otherwise i feel pretty proud of how it turned out and i hoped y’all enjoyed it too :3 i’m gonna shut up before this note gets ridiculously long lol

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quicksilverster · 3 years

Text

[🍊] cuddles ❈ boo seungkwan

⋆⑅˚₊✎ genres: fluff, childhood-friends-to-lovers!au, college!au, roommate!au, slice-of-life, romance

⋆⑅˚₊✎ description: Nahee’s heater broke, but at least she had a mountain of blankets for the upcoming winter—and Seungkwan’s body warmth.

⋆⑅˚₊✎ warning(s): none

⋆⑅˚₊✎ pairing(s): seungkwan x nahee

⋆⑅˚₊✎ word count: 6.6K words

⋆⑅˚₊✎ a/n: this was gonna be shorter, about 3.5K or something but i got sort of carried away hehehee

Nahee was your typical college student: sleep-deprived, tired 24/7, and impecunious. Well, probably not that far, but broke enough to be unable to get her stupid heater fixed. Which was a huge problem, considering autumn was looming just above the horizon, meaning winter was coming and threatening to bewitch her into a popsicle.

“What are you doing?” Seungkwan inquired when he passed Nahee’s room for a cup of water. The girl’s bedroom was plunged in blackness, but he could still see her silhouette unpacking stacks of folded blankets from a box with a jagged lid. As he walked into her territory, Seungkwan could see a label on the packet revealing Nahee’s home city and childhood address with the help of the glow from the light outside.

“Unpacking those ugly blankets Mum sent last year,” she explained. She carefully set the cutter lying next to her aside before lifting a maroon one with tangerine and cyan stripes. “See? What kind of pattern is this?”

“What for?” Seungkwan leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest and a bemused smile knitted across his mouth.

“Warmth.”

“Don’t you have a heater?”

Nahee smiled sheepishly at him. “I think I broke it. It doesn’t work.”

Seungkwan sighed, and the girl knew he was summoning all his willpower not to pull off the classic facepalm. As he eyed the neat pile of blankets on the edge of her bed, an idea formulated itself in his brain, passing through neurons and vessels and forming into a solid thought. Seungkwan’s mischievous lips curled up in a devious smile and he opened his mouth—

“I know that look,” Nahee smirks, but she wasn’t even looking at him. She knew him long enough to decipher his thinking silences. “You’ve got an idea, don’t you?”

“We can make a pillow fort!” Seungkwan responded as a dazzling smile strong enough to light up the room exploded onto his lips. He leaned forwards to scoop the blankets into his arms. “We can use these… ugly blankets, as you call them, as well as our pillows and plushies—”

“Where are we going to build it?” Nahee jumped to her feet ecstatically. Seungkwan dropped the blankets to grab her hands as they both leaped up and down, enthused that somebody else shared his excitement.

“The living room!” Seungkwan rushed out to the said place, already shoving the plush hazelnut couch out of the way. “We can build it on this carpet, or we can use one of your blankets as the floor…”

It didn’t take long for the two roommates to build the fort. Setting up clotheslines across the room to hang the blankets over, Nahee succeeded in making the ceiling while Seungkwan used cushions to make walls. After a pillow fight and three separate arguments about their plushies, the fort has been built. The entrance was left open so the duo could peek out at the TV outside. Groaning, Nahee plopped back onto the mountain of pillows and plushies she set inside the fort, awakening a shrill cry from Seungkwan’s throat.

“Thomas!” he cries, yanking at the train plush Nahee landed on. He hugged the plushie tight and sent Nahee a frying glare.

“What?” she yawns, suffocating her round yellow plushie with a smiley face threaded on one side. She reached out to playfully ruffle Seungkwan’s charcoal locks. “You hated that doll when we were kids. Didn’t the other kids say you look a lot like him?”

“Well, I love it now,” Seungkwan huffs in response, placing Thomas the train higher up on the cushiony mountain. “Besides, nobody says I look like Thomas anymore.”

Nahee unfolded a blanket (white with azure spots, tolerable) and kicked it so that it envelopes her body and curls under her feet. She snuggled closer to Seungkwan, who had just picked a pastel lavender blanket to sleep in. She reached out for his hand and placed it on her cheek, leeching off his body warmth.

“Soft,” she mumbles.

Seungkwan smiled fondly down at his childhood friend, bending over to press an innocent kiss on her cheek.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispers into her ear, before wriggling into his blanket like a snail retreating into its shell. He pressed his forehead against hers and swiftly drifted off to sleep, hand still against her skin.

Seungkwan missed the rosy blush spreading across her face.

“Are you never going to get your heater fixed?” Chan asked the girl playing a game on her phone that required her fingers to tap dance across the screen. He was eating a bag of chips, carefully placing them in his mouth so that crumbs don’t slip between the brown cushions.

Nahee punched the pause button, stared at Chan, before shaking her head and returning to her game. “I forgot to call someone to come fix it.”

“That’s a load of bullcrap. You just want to cuddle and sleep with Seungkwan.” He gave the pillow fort in the middle of the living room a pointed look.

Nahee glared at the younger boy. “Watch your language, young man. Also, that last part sounded really wrong.”

Chan sunk even lower into Seungkwan and Nahee’s couch, a hearty laugh erupting from his chest like an active volcano spewing magma. Nahee nudged his leg with her toes, nearly bringing down the walls of the fort.

“Stop laughing like an idiot.”

Since Nahee never got her heater fixed and winter was approaching quickly, the fort was still up and thriving in the living room. Seungkwan refused to sleep in the warmth of his room, choosing to sleep with Nahee under the piles of feathers.

“My pillows and blankets are here anyway,” Seungkwan said one night, Nahee curled up in his arms. “It’ll be annoying to bring them all back. Also, why pay money to get a heater fixed, when two people are literal matchsticks?”

“Are you sure? It’s warmer in your room than out here.” She remembered blushing at the matchstick comments for reasons she did not know.

“Nah,” Seungkwan buried his face in Nahee’s almond locks, inhaling the strawberry scent. “You’re just as warm.”

“You’re both pining, aren’t you,” Chan pretends to wipe a mock tear from the corner of his eye. “You’ve been friends since fifth grade and still haven’t confessed your love for each other?”

“Pining?”

“Mutual pining? Y’know, the trope where two people like each other but think the other one isn’t interested.”

This time, Nahee aimed for the head. “I do not like Seungkwan that way, stop making it so weird.” She hated it every time someone came up to them just to ask ‘Are you two dating?’ or ‘You sure you two are just friends?’. Even those who knew that they were just friends (like this idiot sitting next to her at the moment scarfing chips down his throat, she hopes he chokes) pressed the question, more so after they found out that the two shared a flat. Not only was it a hassle to keep saying ‘no, it’s not like that’, ‘we don’t like each other that way’, ‘we’re just really close friends’, it was also confusing Nahee’s feelings for him.

Perhaps it’s natural. It isn’t unusual for boys and girls to fall for each other; otherwise, how is the world population supposed to grow? That complication was probably why it was hard for boys and girls to be good friends. There was always the topic of romantic love involved at some point. Lucky for those people who aren’t attracted to the opposite gender or anyone at all, in Nahee’s opinion; they don’t need to worry about their friendships with the other sex falling apart because of something as trivial as romantic feelings. That was her problem: she was falling for Seungkwan.

Finally confirming the throbbing feeling in her chest every time she sees her roommate, she accidentally pressed the wrong button on her phone, sending her avatar careening off a cliff. She sighed, cheeks tinted cherry.

“Hmm, yeah you don’t,” Chan answered in such a provoking way that Nahee’s finger itched to dump his chips all over his dyed blonde hair. He glanced at his watch before beckoning the girl to stand up. “Let’s go pick Seungkwan up.”

“Why?” Nahee questioned, hyperaware of the heatwave spreading from her cheeks to her chest at the name.

Chan gave her a weird look. “What do you mean, why? We always pick Seungkwan up after vocal practice every Saturday.”

“Oh. Right,” Nahee mutters distractedly, pocketing her phone and stretching her limbs. She pulled her hood up to disguise her tousled hair and grabbed another jacket. The days were getting colder again. “Let’s get going then.”

Chan gave the girl a knowing smirk the whole way to college. Holding onto his shoulders to prevent herself from tumbling off the scooter and meeting her imminent death as her avatar did, she gulped as she watched her school looming over the horizon. Nahee eyed the music building like it was going to change into a T-rex and swallow her whole, before wishing she came to pick her best friend up in a better outfit other than sweatpants and two jackets.

Chan seemed to read the situation from her iron-clad grip because he began confronting her. “What’s wrong, Nahee? We’re just picking Seungkwan up like we do every Saturday. It’s basically a ritual.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Nahee insisted, squeezing Chan’s shoulder blades even tighter.

“Something is wrong, you’re trying to break my bones.” Way too soon, Chan was already parking his motorcycle in the lot behind the music building. Nahee felt her soul slowly drift away from her body.

Something is wrong with her, no joke. She wasn’t usually this nervous when picking Seungkwan up from practice. Normally, she’d stroll in confidently with a joke about him and his friends at the tip of her tongue, lifting a plastic bag of food in her—

“I forgot to get Seungkwan food!” Nahee gasped, the nervousness gone and replaced with anxiety.

Chan rolled his eyes as he walked ahead. “He loves you too much to scold you for forgetting to get him food.”

Nahee prodded the back of his knees with her sneakers, but she knew he wasn’t entirely wrong about that.

Going to pick up Seungkwan from practice was usually an easy activity, but not so when everyone is suddenly interested in Nahee’s relationship with him.

“Hey Nahee!” one of Seungkwan’s notorious older friends, Jeonghan, waved at her as she entered the building with Chan. He was seated on one of the couches with Joshua, poring over papers with little words that look like song lyrics. “I heard that you are sleeping with Seungkwan now—”

Jeonghan managed to evade her angry fist by a hair. “Don’t say it like that, you creep!” Nahee yells. She turned to Joshua and a grin replaced her frown. “Sup, Josh.”

“Hi,” Joshua grinned, amused at the girl’s sudden change in attitude.

“Okay, but in all seriousness,” Jeonghan continued, his hands surrendered when Nahee refocused her fuming stare at him. “What are you two?”

“Human.”

Joshua and Chan exploded, enjoying the moments when Jeonghan was being outsmarted by someone. He rolled his eyes at the lame joke.

“You know what I mean, Nahee,” Jeonghan set the song lyrics aside, nearly soaking it with his sweating cup of sweet tea. “Your relationship with him.”

“We’re friends,” Nahee insisted.

The three boys simultaneously gave the girl disbelieving looks.

“Hear, hear,” Joshua said sarcastically.

“Yeah right,” Chan mumbles.

“Friends?” Jeonghan smiled mischievously. “Friends don’t give each other prolonged stares in a room full of people. Friends don’t linger their hands or keep their skin in contact. Friends don’t kiss each other on the cheek goodnight.”

“You kissed my forehead on that one sleepover—” Chan began.

“Not the point, Dino,” Jeonghan shot back, using Chan’s performance name.

Nahee frowned. “How’d you know he kissed me on the cheek goodnight?”

“Ah,” Jeonghan grins bashfully, like a kid who got caught trying to steal cookies. “Sorry, Seungkwan.”

Nahee rushed up the flights of stairs, ignoring Chan’s calls and Jeonghan’s irritating laughter. Fury boiled in her blood for reasons she couldn’t identify, her feet hardly touching the ground as she ran through the hallways like the wind. She spotted the room Seungkwan usually records his voice in and slams the door open.

“Boo Seungkwan why would—”

She was cut off when her breath hitched in her throat, rendering her speechless. Every cell in her body froze; if not for the fact that it was just a metaphor, she would’ve been dead. Chan trudged not far behind her, panting like an exhausted puppy.

“Woman, you run faster than a tornado!” He gasped.

But Chan’s voice was muted in her head.

In front of Nahee was Jihoon, organizing something in his laptop and nodding hello to her. Seokmin was seated on the plush couch on the side, gulping his water bottle dry, papers of song lyrics resting peacefully beside him. Across Jihoon was the isolation booth, where the microphone stood. Seungkwan was in there belting out meaningful words and phrases with his sweet honey voice, onyx headphones blending in with his black hair.

His black hair.

Except it wasn’t quite black anymore.

It was hardly noticeable, but Nahee had brilliant eyesight. Seungkwan’s jet black hair had been dyed a midnight blue, the blue that reminded Nahee of candied melodies and soft cuddles in the pillow fort, warm goodnight kisses, and grotesque childhood blankets. The blue Nahee favored because it reminded her of the dark sky when she was ten years old at school camp, glowing white stars dotting the scene while she lay on the grass with a special someone always telling her stories in that voice she could never grow tired of hearing.

Midnight blue, her favorite color.

Midnight blue, now the color of Seungkwan’s hair.

Nahee’s heart pulsed so rapidly her palms were starting to sweat and she could focus on nothing but the breathtaking dark hue. Her hands turned to rubber gloves and her legs melted into her sweatpants. She teetered a little as she stood.

“Nahee?” Chan’s voice snapped her out of her daze as he shook her to reality. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Nahee breathed, eyes zeroed on Seungkwan.

Chan followed her gaze and smiled sentimentally, leading her away from the recording room and sharing a giddy look with Seokmin. “You whipped soul.”

“Whipped?”

“Dang, girl, how do you not know these terms?”

“You need a plan,” Chan told her for the hundredth time that afternoon.

“And I’m telling you, I’m not planning to confess to him!” Nahee yelled for the thousandth time.

“Whoa, chill.”

Nahee fired blazing scowls at Minghao, one of Chan’s dance mates who he invited to dinner. Intimidated, he averted his gaze at Chan, who looked like he was going to bang his head against the wall behind him.

“Why not?” He nearly knocked his salad over as he gesticulated wildly. “You like him, he likes you, you both like each other—no, love each other—don’t give me that look, missy—so confess boom you’re in a happy relationship!” Chan lifted his fork and brought it down with a satisfying smack to prove his point.

“No,” Nahee answered curtly, arms folded across her chest.

“Please elaborate on that ‘no’,” Minghao requested, holding onto the back of Chan’s neck to stop him from breaking his occipital bone.

“No as in, there’s no concrete proof he returns these feelings.”

“Is the dyed hair not enough—”

“Concrete. Proof.” Nahee hissed at Chan. “He could’ve just dyed his hair that shade because he liked it.”

Chan mumbled something along the lines of ‘I doubt it’.

Minghao exhaled patiently, bringing his hands together. His composure both irritated and calmed Nahee at the same time. Maybe that’s why Chan brought him over—Minghao’s Zen-like demeanor is able to pacify an angry gorilla.

“We just want to help you,” Minghao explained.

“I know.”

“How long have you been in love with Seungkwan?”

“Eight years,” Chan answered before Nahee could. Under the table, the girl crushed his toes like grapes.

“I’ve known him for eight years, doesn’t mean I had a crush on him since we met.” Nahee huffs.

“Since when, then?” Minghao pressed on.

Nahee brought her glass of sparkling water to her lips before setting it back down, a tired breath slipping through her nose. “I don’t know,” she said after a pause. “He always does these nice little things for me. Packing me a sandwich for breakfast, making sure I’m caught up with my homework, keeping my sleep schedule on track…” Nahee smiled, suddenly longing for the cuddles she shared with him. “He always does these things, ever since we were little. It’s practically his second nature. I’ve grown used to it, but lately… it’s been making me feel like there’s a butterfly in my chest.”

“And when did you start feeling this way?” Chan mimicked Minghao’s posture and voice, which he wasn’t quite successful in doing thanks to the irritated undertone laced under the soundwaves.

Nahee swallowed her retort. “I think... when we started sleeping together in the pillow fort.” She mutters.

“Sorry?” Chan repeated, both he and Minghao lightly knocking their foreheads together as they inched forwards in unison.

“Since the pillow fort thing!” Nahee raised her voice, starting to get annoyed. She sent apologetic looks to nearby customers, staring down at her with curious and annoyed looks.

Chan grins, taking a sip from his cup of tea. “Who knew that being lazy to get a heater fixed could bring forth a hot romance?”

Nahee eyed Chan suspiciously at his choice of words.

“It was only your heater that broke, correct?” Minghao interrogated.

“Yeah.”

“And Seungkwan’s heater is still functioning properly, is it?”

A blush spread through her body like a warm stream. “Y-yeah.”

A cheeky smile blossomed on Chan’s face.

“And he still chooses to cuddle with you in the pillow fort? In this weather?”

Nahee buried her face in her long jacket sleeves, embarrassed. Chan pressed his palm against his lips to cover his giggles.

“This is so cute!” he gushed. “Nahee, if I was a girl, I would try to steal this gentleman away from you.”

“And you would fail,” Minghao stated sadistically. “Do you really think you could steal Nahee’s man from her?”

“Don’t… say it… like that…” Nahee mumbles.

“It’s true though.”

Nahee wanted to protest, to find an excuse without betraying her feelings, but she was stumped. Luckily, her phone started ringing, distracting the group from her lack of a response. Chan grabbed Minghao’s arm in anticipation.

“Is it Seungkwan?” Chan gasped dramatically.

Nahee blushed when the name flashed across the screen just as Chan uttered the words. Gulping, she accepted the call and placed the screen against her ear.

“H-hello?” she stumbled over her words.

“Nahee!” Seungkwan’s mellifluous voice flowed into her ear like honey. “Are you still with Minghao and Chan?”

“Yeah,” Nahee stole a glance at the boys, regretting her decision almost at once when she sees Chan making kissy faces and finger hearts in her direction. She shut her eyes to ignore the aggravating sight. “What’s up?”

Seungkwan released a sigh, and Nahee instantly perked up with worry. She gripped her phone tightly, “Are you alright?”

The next words were spoken in a sheepish tone. “I left my keys at the flat.”

This drew a groan from Nahee’s voice box, her forehead crashing onto her palm as she processed these words. “Again? Seungkwan, it’s the third time this week.”

“I know! I’m sorry.” Shuffling noises accompanied the apology, and Nahee knew he was trying to make himself comfortable on the cold floor outside their apartment. “I just had a lot on my mind lately. You don’t need to come right now, I’ll wait until you finish dinner with Minghao and Chan—”

“I’ll be there,” Nahee cut him off, hanging up. She shoved the last morsels of her meal into her mouth and began packing up her belongings.

“What happened?” Minghao asked, genuinely concerned.

“Seungkwan forgot to bring his keys with him again,” Nahee explained, shouldering her sling bag.

Chan tsk-tsked, a disapproving frown on his face. “This kid is going to misplace his organs somewhere one day. If I was a girl, I wouldn’t steal him away from you, Nahee. He’s a handful.”

He may be a handful, but that didn’t mean her affection for him was any less tenacious.

She found him squatting in front of the door, rubbing his khaki coat for warmth with his gloved hands. His ruffled dark blue hair peeped out from under his hood shyly and his collar dusted his apple cheeks as he turned around. He spotted Nahee almost right away; a blazing smile illuminated his whole face, nearly blinding her.

“Nahee!” Seungkwan enveloped her in a bear hug, their cheeks mushing against each other. The girl’s heart rate skyrocketed at the friction, warmth reaching her fingers and toes from the point of contact almost immediately. When he finally let go of her, she fumbled with her keys, nearly dropping them several times.

“H-how was dinner with the other guys?” Nahee questioned, flipping the lights to their apartment. The pillow fort stood in the middle of the living room in plain sight, turning her cheeks into red strawberries.

She effortlessly sensed him pause behind her as if it was as noticeable as time reversing. “Great,” he shrugged, hanging his coat on one of the pegs near the front door. “We talked about vocal practice stuff, mostly.”

Nahee nodded languidly, deciding not to comment on his sudden hesitation. She ducked into the shower and settled on cottony pajamas before launching her body onto the pile of pillows just outside the fort’s entrance. Seungkwan joined her shortly after, with two mugs of hot chocolate in his hands. Nahee smiled wistfully.

“Remember when your mum used to make us these after we ran marathons around the neighborhood during winter?” Nahee recollected, taking dainty sips of chocolate and milk. She was careful to avoid the iceberg of whipped cream floating in the center of the drink.

Nostalgia washed over Seungkwan’s face, and he was sipping from his heated cup. “Yeah. She would scold us for slipping and falling over all the time, and getting bruises and scratches.” Seungkwan grins, taking an eager swig from the brown drink. Whipped cream adhered itself onto the top of his lips, unbeknownst to him. As Seungkwan continued reminiscing childhood moments, Nahee stared at the white cloud, suddenly filled with the urge to wipe it off his face.

“What?” Seungkwan asked, jolting Nahee out of her skin. “Is there something on my face?”

“Yeah, actually,” she pointed to her philtrum. “There.”

Seungkwan’s eyes lingered on the frame of her lips as he licked the whipped cream away with his tongue. Nahee felt her skin go clammy as she watched the pink flesh. Noticing his burning gaze, she shrank into her skin.

“Did I get it?” he asked, his voice strangely hoarse.

“Yeah.” She coughed into her drink and gulped another mouthful of sweetness down her throat.

The whipped cream incident hung a curtain of awkward silence between the two roommates. Seungkwan chugged the drink in his hand as fast as he could before taking Nahee’s empty mug with him to the kitchen. When he returned, she was already snuggled against the plushies, her arms hugging a marshmallow pillow tight and her eyes shut.

“Asleep already?” Seungkwan chuckled, the question cutting through the tension like a knife through slick butter.

Nahee’s eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings. “No,” she yawned widely.

Seungkwan cocooned himself with a blanket next to her, their arms only separated by the layers of cloth between them. Even so, she could still feel the warmth seeping through, even more so when Seungkwan draped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer.

“Tell me what you did today,” he murmured into her hair.

“I ate,” Nahee yawned. “Finished that annoying essay for Mr. Yang, played games, picked you up, went to dinner with Minghao and Chan.”

Seungkwan waited expectantly for the details, but she didn’t provide any to him. “Seriously? That’s all?” he chuckled, pressing his lips against her forehead fondly.

Nahee huffs, feeling sleep threatening to overtake her eyelids completely. “My life is boring,” she mumbles, curling her body closer to her best friend’s. “It’s just the same routine over and over again.”

Seungkwan hummed, stroking Nahee’s brown tresses and resting her arm on her side. “Why don’t you try something new?”

“New?” Nahee tightened her jaw to stop herself from yawning. She enjoyed the nightly conversations she had with him before drifting off to dreamland, and she wasn’t going to miss one because she was feeling strangely fatigued.

“Like… why aren’t you dating anyone?”

Nahee froze mid-yawn, straining her jaw. Grabbing the sore area, she rubbed it lightly as she stared up wide-eyed at her roommate.

“What?”

Flabbergasted at the agitated response, Seungkwan coughed into his arm apologetically. “I—sor—it’s o-okay, you don’t need to answer that.” He clears his throat and tightens his grip around the girl, afraid the question will turn her into sand and she’ll slip through his fingers.

Nahee was silent for a moment, her heartbeat the only sound in her ears. She bopped Seungkwan’s nose with her index finger, trying to get his attention. As soon as he laid his eyes on hers, a question that plagued her mind escaped through her lips.

“Have you ever kissed anyone?”

In normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have asked her childhood friend this personal question. Despite being very close, their love lives were kept top secret from each other. Nahee scarcely talked about the guys she dated, nor did Seungkwan ever tell her about the girls he’s kissed. They just weren’t interested in that aspect of each other’s lives. But at that moment, both friends wrapped together under soft feathers and tight-knit blankets, warmth enveloping both figures and their arms around each other, Nahee wanted to know about the other important people in his life. Maybe it was the drowsiness clouding her mind, covering her sight in mist and hazing her decision-making. Or maybe Seungkwan placed something in that hot chocolate.

Seungkwan swallowed, a cranberry hue appearing on his cheeks. “Once.”

“Once?” Nahee’s eyes fluttered, and she struggled to keep them open. “Really? Just once?” She examined every feature of Seungkwan’s face, every curve, and hill and crest. She wanted to commit his face to memory, to have something left of him even when he finally gets tired of her. His midnight locks grazed his eyes, and Nahee lifted her fingers to move it away.

“Yeah,” Seungkwan chuckles, trying to lighten up the strange atmosphere. “My first kiss.”

“Hmm,” Nahee dug her head into his shoulder. “Tell me about it.”

Seungkwan exhaled with thought, fingers tracing circles on her temple. “It was during prom, back at high school. My date wanted me to be her first kiss. Right before we had to go home, we sat on one of the benches under the tree and just… you know, connected lips.”

“Aw,” Nahee cooed. “That’s cute.”

“It was pretty sloppy.” He chuckles. “What about you?” Seungkwan pulled out the reverse card, redirecting the question. “Have you ever kissed anyone?”

“Nope,” the word jumped out of her mouth with honesty.

Seungkwan flinched. “No? You’ve never had your first kiss?”

“Nah,” Nahee shook her head, tickling Seungkwan’s collarbone. “Haven’t found someone worthy.”

There was a pause as loud as the midnight air. As silent as a calm breeze, Seungkwan’s fingers trailed from her temple to her rotund cheeks and down her fine jaw. Breath hitching in her throat, Nahee gulped when Seungkwan lifted her chin slightly to look at him. She squinted into his eyes, oblivious to the fact that they were so close their breaths were colliding with one another and becoming one.

“There are galaxies in your eyes,” Nahee comments softly, consciousness slipping away.

Seungkwan swallowed. There was no one watching them in the fort, their little haven against the colossal, cruel world. Their little bubble, where there were just the two of them cuddling close, two souls just seeking comfort. Locking his coal orbs with Nahee’s drifting ones, he leaned in and closed the distance.

Nahee mewled against his lips, startled by the sudden action. Suddenly, electricity was flowing through her veins and she traveled her hand from his torso to his cheek, pulling him closer. Seungkwan’s grip on her waist tightened as he tilted his head against the plushies, tasting the exploding sweetness from the hot chocolate and the zesty mint from her toothpaste. Nahee’s fingers tangled themselves into his blue hair, his beautiful hair the color of the darkened sky and the deep ocean, her fingers feeling through the soft satin. They both pulled away to breathe simultaneously, warm breaths caressing each other. Nahee’s hands moved over to touch Seungkwan’s swollen lips, wanting to reunite them with hers again.

“Was that a good first kiss?” Seungkwan’s voice was fleeting, and so was her consciousness.

“The best,” Nahee mutters. “I want to kiss you again.”

And then she was floating across the universe, blinking constellations and nebulas smiling down at her, imitating the face of the boy she loves.

“You kissed Boo Seungkwan?”

“Shut up or I’ll break your neck,” Nahee growled, fingers curling around Chan’s sensitive throat. Faking a choking noise, Chan leaped from his seat to hide behind Minghao’s.

“Save me,” he begged.

Minghao only watched Nahee with fascination as she poured a sachet of sugar into her jasmine tea with a frown on her face. “Wow,” he whistled slowly at the statement.

“What?” Nahee snapped, glaring at Minghao and Chan through bloodshot eyes.

“I don’t understand why you’re upset about this,” Minghao said truthfully, bending over to take a sip from his strawberry smoothie. “Every time I see you two together you both give off the aura that you want to make-out with each other.”

Nahee was tired of glowering at him, resorting to glaring at the cup of tea in front of her. Her spoon came to a rest, the ripples still dancing across the surface. Suddenly, the ripples shifted, morphing into a familiar boyish face with dark hair. She screeched and pushed the cup of jasmine away from her, sloshing liquid all over the table.

“Woman, what are you doing?” Chan demanded, grabbing some napkins and wiping the mess away. Minghao left his seat to kneel beside the girl, stroking her arm as she started sobbing into her hands.

“I-I see him everywhere,” Nahee inhaled.

“I think that’s normal if you love someone,” Minghao shrugs.

Nahee’s hands curled into fists as she wiped her tears away with the heel of her palm. “He left this morning without saying anything. Not a good morning peck, a greeting, or anything.” Just an empty crater in the pillows, the loss of warmth. The weight of the kiss crashed down on her, and she braced herself for the consequences. Seungkwan disappearing off to who knows where was just one of them.

Minghao squeezed the girl’s forearm reassuringly. “Maybe he’s nervous. Look, Chan and I are confident that he returns your feelings. Why else would he kiss you last night?”

Nahee looked up at Minghao, always the voice of reason. She reached to take a sip of whatever’s left of her breakfast tea but her phone dinged at a message. Chan paused in mopping the mess and leaned over the table to peek at her phone.

“It’s Seungkwan!” He gasped.

Screeching, Nahee lifted her arm to fling her phone far, far away, but Minghao caught her wrist in time.

“Read it before throwing the phone away, at least,” he tsked.

Despite every fiber in her body refusing to open the app, she clicked the notification and punched in her passcode, teleporting straight to the text. She squealed and nearly fell off her chair. As Minghao lifted his hands to support her back, Chan snatched the phone out of her fingers and his eyes darted across the message. He released a similar yelp.

“Nahee you better go or I’ll unleash my wrath upon you!”

The only other customer in the café was an older man reading the newspaper, giving the three youths a curious look before returning to the tiny print embedded in the ashy paper. Nahee glanced at him, pathetically hoping that he could help her out of this ridiculous situation.

“Go where?” Minghao questioned, Nahee shaking lightly in his arms.

“Seungkwan asked her if she could meet him in Westlife Park,” Chan explained, typing a reply. “There, I told him that you’ll go. Now get going.”

“No,” Nahee shook her head, adjusting her position so that she was sitting on her chair again.

“Are you still mad at him for leaving you earlier this morning?”

Nahee avoided Minghao’s penetrating gaze. “Maybe.”

“Don’t be a kid,” Chan took the girl’s hands in his and pulled her up, her body lagging as if she was merely an unfolded shirt. He thumped her shoulder blade lightly, offering support. “He’s not going to hurt you.”

“I know that,” Nahee mumbled at the incredulity of the statement.

Chan shoved Nahee lightly to the front door, waving at her when she reached it. “Go on, quickly,” he said, Minghao lingering behind him like a ghost. “When I see you again you better be Seungkwan’s girlfriend!”

She whimpered as her feet led her away from the warm café and into the wintry air, snowflakes starting to fall and brush against her flushed cheeks as she went off to meet him.

Winter reminded Seungkwan of Nahee.

Winter reminded him of the snowball fights they had in the school playground. Winter reminded him of the marshmallows accompanying the hot chocolate drinks his mother provided as they worked on bothersome Chemistry assignments. Winter reminded him of the blazing tongues of fire in the brick fireplace of Nahee’s abode, of the blankets separating and protecting the duo from the freezing air as they cuddled together on the couch, talking about their future careers.

Winter reminded him of last night, their breaths intertwining and Nahee’s soft, warm lips against his, the sweet and spice of the chocolate drink and mint paste colliding into a pungent taste that made him want more.

The flush spreading across his face mimicked the scarlet hat he wore atop his head, the color a stark contrast against his hair. Coughing into his scarf, Seungkwan's eyes assessed the park around him. He spotted kindergarteners building snowmen with the recent falling snow, families sticking their tongues out to catch the sinking snowflakes, couples walking around the border holding hands. His eyes continued to trail around the panorama until he spotted a familiar figure walking toward him. His heart leaped into his throat and his mouth morphed into a fond smile.

Nahee reached him in a few more steps, a pout displayed on her mouth. Seungkwan rubbed his gloved hands together as she stopped in front of him, her cold breath a good distance away from the white air.

“You left without saying anything this morning,” Nahee huffed before Seungkwan could utter a word.

He exhaled with alleviation, relieved that no harsher words left the rosy bud on her face. “I’m sorry. I… I had a lot on my mind.”

Nahee lifted a curious eyebrow, the action light and so out of place Seungkwan can’t help but smile. “You keep using that excuse,” she mumbles. “What are you thinking about that’s always making you distracted?”

Seungkwan paused as she glanced up at him expectantly. A word (you) was ringing in his mind like the school bell similar to one belonging to their elementary school, but he knew that alone wouldn’t suffice. Inhaling sharply, he let it all out.

“Iloveyoudon’taskmewhyIjustdoIcan’thelpmyselfyou’resobeautifulIjustwanttoholdyouinmyarmsandprotectyouandsingaboutyouandcuddlewithyouuntiltheendoftheworld—”

“Wait, wait, wait, slow down,” Nahee waved her hands wildly, hoping it would stop Seungkwan’s sudden rap. Her ears caught a few words that made her want to jump into his arms, but she calmed herself and her beating heart. “Can you repeat that?”

“I’m in love with you,” Seungkwan confessed concisely.

The five words were enough for Nahee’s brain to tune out everything in her environment, except for the boy in front of her, ready to open the cage trapping the affection he had kept in his heart for so long.

“I don’t know when exactly I started feeling this way,” he said, reaching out to pull Nahee closer to him. His fingers relaxed when she didn’t pull away. “I feel light when I’m with you, electricity whenever we hold hands, and butterflies dancing in my stomach when you talk about the things you love. It came like an epiphany when I realized I loved you. But the feeling has been there for a long time, a little seed growing bigger and bigger until I noticed it.”

Her heart was hammering so hard it was getting difficult for her to breathe. Seungkwan tucked her hair behind her ear, fiddling with the skin and sending her veins aflame.

“Y-your hair?” she choked, trying to calm the growing throb in her chest. “Why’d you dye your hair that color?”

“I don’t know,” Seungkwan mumbled. “It just felt right… and it’s your favorite color.”

Nahee nearly fainted right then and there.

So Chan was right about that.

Forcing herself to calm down, she bopped his nose with her frozen fingers to calm his nervous breathing (and maybe her own). He pulled back slightly at the chill before looking down at her hands.

“Why aren’t you wearing gloves?” he demanded, already pulling his mittens out.

“My fingers can tolerate the cold,” Nahee assured, slipping the cloth back in. She noticed his downcast eyes at her lack of a response to his previous words and grins.

“By the way, I love you too,” she pecked his nose and took off running, planting her feet strategically so she wouldn’t slip and land on her bottom like an idiot. But of course, Seungkwan caught up to her quickly. He snaked his arm around her waist and lifted her into the air, spinning her around so she was facing him, warm coats pressed against each other.

“I give you that long soliloquy and you respond with that curt statement?” he sulked.

“That wasn’t a soliloquy, did you ever pay attention in literature class?” Nahee glided her fingers across Seungkwan’s cold, porcelain cheeks, pulling his scarf downwards a little to peck his lips. She leaned back to pull away but Seungkwan gently yanked her back to him, lips warm like burning embers in the fireplace. Nahee gripped his shoulders as he lifted his hand to the small of her back, hugging her protectively. When they finally pulled away, Nahee was grinning so wide her cheekbones started throbbing.

“You know I’m not good with words,” she said.

“Don’t worry.” Seungkwan leaned forward to brush his lips against her nose. “You already told me everything.”

They both walked away from the park, arms swinging freely between them. As the snow began to fall rapidly, Nahee turned to Seungkwan with a curious glance.

“Hey… Jeonghan said something suspicious yesterday when I came over to pick you up.”

“Yeah?” Seungkwan arched a brow and adjusted his scarf. “What did he say?”

“He knows that you kiss me goodnight,” Nahee remarked—

Seungkwan left her side almost immediately, taking brisk steps away from her. “Ah, I just realized I left something very important back at the recording studio…”

“What are you doing?” Nahee broke into a run to catch him, musical laughter erupting from her chest as she chased the boy with hair like the night sky. He joined her giggles and allowed himself to be caught, before he lifted her into his arms and pressed another kiss to her lips, as warm as the cuddles they share before the night allures them to sleep.

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