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astrophileous · 9 months

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Love Bugs (Pt. 06)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: You and Derek Morgan have an arrangement. At work, your relationship is strictly business. Under the sheets, it's all about pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, of course, your feelings start to get involved. Your situation is complicated enough without the unexpexted predicament that suddenly befalls upon you. But with a maniac serial killer on the loose, will you ever get the chance to make everything right?

Warning(s): cursing--there's a lot of it--like a lot, psychopathic behaviors, being held captive, verbal and physical violence, degrading nicknames, talks of death and unaliving someone, strangulation, PLS READ WITH CAUTION BECAUSE THIS PART IS REALLY GRIM I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING

Word Count: 4200-ish

Tag(s): I'm tagging everyone who requested to be tagged prior to the long hiatus, pls tell me if you'd like to NOT be included in the tag list for future updates, thanks! @marvelousgoldroses @jay-2s-world @whore-of-the-pumpkin-patch @maxinehufflepuffprincess @cat-or-kitten @littleshadow17 @itzz-me-duh @geeksareunique @paisleebubbles @whateverrrrrrrrs @crazyunsexycool @louderfortheback @wifeyofeveryone

Author's Note: HI EVERYONE HOW ARE YOU?? I know this is long overdue, but pls enjoy the new part of love bugs! I'm so happy to be posting again and I hope you like what I've got in plans for this series. I think we only have one or maybe two chapters left for this story (depending whether I want to write an epilogue or not lol) but in the meantime, pls enjoy this part and don't forget to LIKE+REBLOG+COMMENT !!! thank you 🌹

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

The bullpen of FBI headquarters was still reeling in the aftermath of a Derek-Morgan-shaped hurricane.

Emily was just about to enter the vicinity again when she heard the tail end of Derek's furious words, right before Hotch had ordered him to retreat.

"What was that about?" Emily asked as she approached Rossi's side, eyes never straying from the two men who soon disappeared into Hotch's office.

Rossi never addressed Emily's question. Instead, he gestured for her--and everybody else in the room--to be quiet with a finger on his lips, before he pressed the unmute button on the telephone.

"Hello?"

The UnSub's head jerked at Rossi's unfamiliar voice. You were barely successful in getting him to calm down following Derek's unexpected outburst, but the sound of Rossi's voice was threatening to throw all of those poor attempts straight out of the window.

"Who is that?" he demanded warily. "Where's Agent Hotchner?"

"He had to step away for a second," Rossi notified. "I'm SSA David Rossi. I also work with Agent Hotchner and Agent (Y/L/N)."

"I know who you are."

"Yeah? I still don't know who you are, though."

A responding groan vibrated from the other line. "Why does everyone keep asking me that? Do you think I'm fucking dumb?"*

"No one thinks anything here, pal. Just wanted to know who I was speaking to, that's all." At the UnSub's clear signs of agitation, Rossi quickly added, "It'd be nice to know the person who clearly means a lot to (Y/N)."

Rossi's reassurance obviously managed to trigger the intended effect it had sought. Everyone could see how the UnSub physically deflated at Rossi's words, meaning that hopefully he was soon going to let his guard down.

"I can't tell you who I am," your assailant said, still adamant, although his resolve was wearing thin with each word he had stated. "You're just gonna use it to track me down and keep us apart."

The last syllable of his sentence was emphasized by the weight of his dagger on the side of your neck. You instinctively winced at the unwelcomed touch of the blade before schooling your expression once more so your captor wouldn't notice.

"I promise you, no one is going to do that," Rossi said.

"He's telling the truth," you decided to chime in, surprising everyone including the UnSub whose grip of the dagger had teetered dangerously closer to your pulse point at the sudden proclamation. "They are good people. They don't break promises or tell lies. I promise you, nothing will come between us."

The silence that fell next was heavy with the UnSub's hesitation. Bracing yourself, you forced your head to tilt back, locking eyes with him who was still standing like a guard dog right behind you.

"I swear, Darling," you vowed.

The lull in your voice--or perhaps the fact that you had called him darling in front of your team, which he could arguably take as a display of affection--must have stirred up something in his twisted mind. He actually preened at you before his eyes went right back towards the direction of the camera on the wall.

"My name is Arthur," he confessed.

A particular thread of memory in your brain immediately lit up.

Back in the bullpen, JJ and Spencer were finally returning with documents containing your phone records that they had promptly asked Kevin to gather. Spencer didn't waste any time before perching himself on his desk to start rummaging through the thick pile of files.

"Arthur?" Rossi repeated the name, eyes flicking over to Garcia with a silent request to start cross-referencing the name with the other names they had acquired so far in the investigation.

The tech analyst didn't need to be told twice. She began typing furiously on her laptop as Rossi's attention was drawn back towards the projector.

The UnSub hadn't moved an inch. His hand was still just as sturdy on your shoulder. The blade was also still just as cold as it pressed onto your skin.

One wrong move, and you would end up no better than a slaughter animal on the cold hard ground.

"Do you have a last name, Arthur?" Rossi asked.

The entire bullpen held their breath in anticipation. Rossi had planted the bait as strategically as he could. It was up to the UnSub to take it and slip up the one information that would give them a major lead to end this case once and for all.

But before the UnSub could respond, a muffled beeping resonated in the air, through the telephone line, and finally into the bullpen. The sound was enough to make your assailant faltered.

"I have to go."

It was the last thing he uttered before the line, along with the livestream, went completely dead.

The atmosphere was laden with restlessness as everyone tried to make peace with the fact that they had just lost the only mean of communication they had with you. Without the feed from the livestream, no one could possibly know what was going on. The team would have no idea if something were to happen to you.

They would have no idea how to determine whether you were alive or dead.

"Did you find anything yet, Garcia?" Rossi questioned, although in all honestly, it sounded more like a desperate plea.

The thick regret behind Garcia's eyes gave Rossi the answer he needed to know.

"I can't find any Arthur in our files, sir," Garcia informed.

"Anything from her phone records? What about the hospital?" Rossi tried again.

Emily shook her head almost remorsefully.

"Nothing yet," Spencer spoke up from his place on the desk. "Not a single thing stands out from her records."

"What now?" JJ sighed, exhaustion and worry beginning to decorate the lines on her face.

The whole bullpen stood still, as if everyone was waiting for a slice of miracle to descend into the room, holding a map that would eventually lead the team to where you were still being held captive. But such a map didn't exist in this piece of reality, and the BAU knew that they were running out of time.

"Garcia, did you record the livestream by any chance?" Spencer asked at last.

"Yeah, of course I did."

Penelope punched a few keys on her keyboard before the projector once again came alive with the footage from the livestream.

"Can you fast forward to the very end?" Spencer requested. "And then play it again backwards to the beginning."

"What are you thinking, Spence?" JJ wondered.

"I don't know. I just... maybe there's a detail we missed. At this point, even the smallest piece of clue is worth pursuing."

Several pair of eyes glued themselves on the screen as the livestream footage ran backward at a faster speed. Bated breaths waited in tension for just the tiniest hint that the team could scour to determine your location.

"Wait. What was that?" Spencer interjected. "Garcia, play that again."

"What? What is it?" Emily spoke up.

"Look at her hand." Spencer stood up from the desk, approaching the screen to get a better look. "She's knocking against the chair. Garcia, zoom in on her hand. The left one."

Penelope did as she was asked. "Is that--"

"It's morse code," Rossi muttered, realization overtaking his countenance.

"What is she saying?" JJ questioned.

"A-U--" Spencer began spelling out loud, "--T... Auto. She's spelling auto."

"Auto?" JJ's forehead creased. "As in... auto shop?"

"Her records said she went to a mechanic a week ago," Spencer recalled. JJ immediately rummaged through the papers on Spencer's desk, but the pages flipping inside of Spencer's mind moved at a thousand times more speed than any normal pair of eyes ever could. "Dinozzo's Auto Service, 894 Southwell Street."

"Got it," Penelope chimed in from her place in front of the laptop. "Dinozzo's Auto Shop. Originally owned by Carlo Dinozzo before it was passed down to his two sons after his death a year ago."

"Any of them named Arthur?" Rossi asked

"Nope. Luca and Piero."

"What about the employees?" Emily suggested.

"No. I'm not seeing any Arthur anywhere near that place."

"We profiled that the UnSub could be holding down a steady job in his everyday life," JJ said. "He might not even be related to that place. Maybe (Y/N) encountered him there by chance?"

"Nah, I doubt it." Rossi shook his head. "The bastard's too sophisticated to leave anything up to chance like that. He must have found a way to orchestrate it one way or another."

"There must be a connection somewhere, then. No way he just chose a random place off the map," Emily muttered. "We should cross-reference the name to anyone associated with the Dinozzos."

Penelope began to frantically type something into her laptop. "We've still got three names here. Oh, never mind. Two names, 'cause one of them is dead."

"What do we have on them?" Spencer asked.

"First is Arthur Doyle. He went to high school with Luca and Piero Dinozzo, works in a local company, and looks like he travels a lot for his job," Penelope explained. "There's also an Arthur Harrison, works as an accountant in the heart of Arlington. His dad and Carlo Dinozzo were long-time pals. Apparently, his dad was an accountant too and used to handle the shop's finances before Arthur inherited the office. Oh."

"What? What'd you find?"

"Arthur was engaged," Penelope murmured, "to a Claire Dumont. They were gonna get married last year but the wedding was called off just one month before the D-day."

"Where's Claire now?" JJ asked.

"She moved to Ohio shortly after the breakup, and... oh my God. Guess what?" Penelope looked up, her eyes widening almost comically. "She just announced her engagement three months ago."

Spencer hummed. "That could be the stressor."

An image of a woman suddenly appeared on screen, right above the paused footage of your hand. Everyone stared at the picture in shock.

"That's Claire Dumont," Penelope murmured.

JJ held her breath. "She and (Y/N) could be sisters."

"We've found our guy," Rossi declared. "Garcia, pull up every known address associated with this man. And hurry, we don't have much time."

"I have three properties so far connected to Arthur Harrison. Sending the addresses to all of your phones."

As JJ, Spencer, and Rossi rushed to exit the bullpen, Emily turned around and called out to the others, "I'm grabbing Morgan and Hotch!"

Without stopping to knock, Emily pushed open the door to Hotch's office, ignoring the slivers of tension dancing around in the air.

"We may have something," Emily announced to the room. "We think we know where (Y/N) is."

Your assailant--Arthur, as it turned out--pulled his phone out and pressed a few buttons in, silencing the beeping. Once the noise was gone, the room was quiet again.

He looked at you, then. Piercingly. You squirmed underneath his scrutiny.

"Wait here," he eventually said. "I'll be back."

Without taking a second to breathe, Arthur flew past you and towards the direction he had appeared from earlier.

"Wait! Wait. Where are you going?"

The sound of steps ceased on top of concrete. You waited with bated breath for his response. But the only sound ever came was that of the metal door, and as quickly as you could count to three, he was gone.

At last, you were alone once more.

The traces of adrenaline had begun to dissipate out of your system, leaving you in a shivering mess inside that damp concrete room. Once again, you attempted with all of your might to free yourself from the state of confinement you were in. But the metal cuffs binding you to the chair only dug further into your skin the more you tried to escape, while the chair itself stayed nailed in place no matter how hard you tried to rock it.

After a few more minutes of futile attempts, you were forced to face the reality of your situation.

You were never going to get yourself out of that dingy place alone.

Huffing a breath, you knew that there was nothing more you could do except to hope that your team found the hidden message you had left for them to solve.

And with that last thought conquering every room your head, you let yourself succumb to the impending darkness.

You woke up gasping for air.

It took you a few seconds to remember where you were, to remember that you weren't back in the comfort of your apartment and instead, you were still holed up in the darkened cold room where your abductor had been keeping you captive.

It took a few seconds more to realize that the drowning dream you just had might have been a tad bit more real than you initially thought.

Still reeling in shock, you peered up and locked eyes with your abductor, eyes barely registering the empty bucket he was holding in one of his hands. It didn't take a genius to conclude that he was the one responsible for your drenched state.

"W-what?" you stuttered meekly. "What's going on?"

He only stared at you in response.

"Arthur?"

You shrieked loudly when Arthur threw the empty bucket against the wall, sending a resounding "bang" throughout the whole room and breaking the plastic object into two misshaped pieces.

"Arthur--" you gasped, searching for your voice that seemed to have disappeared beneath the layers of brewing fear, "--w-what... what are you... what's going on? Talk to me."

"I don't want to talk to you, you fucking bitch."

The beating inside your chest fastened. Before you could ask yet another question, Arthur had lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging your head back so you could stare directly into his eyes.

"You're a fucking liar," he seethed. "You lied to me. Everything you said was a lie, wasn't it?!"

"I don't--" you hissed, trying to ignore the biting pain in your scalp, "--I don't understand what you're talking about."

"Stop fucking lying!!!"

A sharp smack reverberated in the air.

It was only when the ringing in your ear grew louder did you realize that Arthur had slapped your cheek.

Hard.

Ignoring the tingling on the side of your face, you lifted your head once more. The room was spinning, tilting your balance left and right, but you held your ground through it all.

"What did I lie to you about, Arthur?" you asked carefully.

He threw something at your feet. It clanged against the hard ground below before landing face up near your toes.

It was your phone.

But the fact that Arthur somehow had your phone in his possession wasn't what caused the sick feeling to stir northward in your belly.

It was what you were seeing on the now cracked screen of your phone: a picture of you and Derek. A selfie that you had impulsively taken of the two of you in bed after one of your nighttime escapades.

For awhile there, you had briefly forgotten about that photo. It was another lost memory in the ocean of rubble left behind in the wake of your fallout with Derek. Seeing that photo again after such a long time triggered waves of emotions that you had been desperately burying for the past few weeks.

The longing, the guilt, the heartache.

The regrets.

The regret of ending your little arrangement so abruptly in such a hostile manner. The regret of not telling Derek sooner about the baby. The regret of maybe never being able to see Derek for one last time.

But most importantly, it was the regret over not revealing the truth of what your heart felt for him that was eating you alive.

"You're fucking him," Arthur fumed, eyes blazing with an indescribable fury that made your entire body shudder.

"Arthur, please... I can explain--"

"Shut the fuck up."

He stepped forward once more, crowding your personal place and rendering you helpless underneath his psychopathic gaze.

"Tell me the truth, and if you dare lie--" Arthur paused, his hand disappearing behind his back before it appeared again with a dagger that he promptly pressed against your abdomen, "--don't ever dream of meeting your child."

"Okay. Okay, I'll tell you the truth."

"You're fucking him, aren't you?"

The bile in your throat had tripled in size. Swallowing it down, you tried to even your voice out as you answered, "I was."

"Ha," he scoffed. "I knew it. You fucking whore. You're no better than any of them."

To your relief, he eventually chose to retract the dagger and stepped away from you, opting to circle the room like a distressed lion in a cage. But even with the blade no longer touching your skin, you knew very well that the danger wasn't over yet and that things could escalate even further in a matter of seconds if you weren't careful.

"Arthur," you called out to him softly, slowly, as to not startle him and risk doing something that would trigger a psychotic break. "Arthur, please. You have to listen to me. That arrangement ended long ago. It meant nothing to me. It happened long before I met you."

Arthur's voice echoed coldly as he replied, "I don't believe you."

"Please, Arthur--"

"That's his child, isn't it?" he cut you off, pointing the tip of the dagger at your belly. "What he said on the phone. He said my child. That's because it's his. You're having Derek Morgan's child."

"No--"

"I thought you were different. I thought you were the one." The dagger in his hand shook with venom. "But you're just the same as the rest of them."

"I'm not. Please, I'm not--"

"I have to start searching again. For the one. You're not her, which means she's still out there."

"Arthur--"

"I'll have to get rid of you."

"Arthur, please!" Your voice cracked, leaking of terror and desperation larger than anything you had ever known. When something wet touched the side of your nose, you realized then that you had started to cry. "Arthur, you have to believe me. I've ended everything with him. There's nothing between us anymore."

The words you uttered kept lingering in the air in a bubble made out of despair. But as if every single one of them had fallen on deaf ears, your captor paid no attention to them. Not even a single acknowledgment to your pleas.

Instead, he had begun taking careful steps forward. Silent and deadly, like a predator stalking its prey.

"Arthur, please! I choose you!"

To your shock, his steps faltered upon your words.

For a moment, you could taste relief on the tip of your tongue before it was washed away by the knowledge that you were not entirely out of the woods yet. But from the corner of your eye, you could see the slight loosening of Arthur's grip around the dagger. It filled you with enough hope to push forward.

"I'm choosing you, Arthur," you stated confidently, trying to convince him of your sincerity. "I don't care about Derek. I'm done with him. I'm done with my old life and everyone in it. I'm ready to leave everything behind to be with you. I choose you."

"You choose me?"

"Yes. I choose you to take care of me. To take care of this baby. The three of us can be a family. How does that sound?"

Seconds ticked into minutes. Minutes stretched into a long silence. The anticipation threatened to break your chest in half.

When he finally began to move once more, Arthur surprised you. He threw the dragger towards a darkened corner in the room, far away from his reach and, most importantly, far away from the possibility of it harming the growing life inside of you.

When Arthur took off the ski mask he had been wearing since the first time you opened your eyes in that harrowing place, you weren't at all surprised to see the face staring back at you. After all, it was the same face belonging to the man who had stopped his car for you when your own car had mysteriously broken down in the middle of the road just around two weeks prior. The same face who offered a business card of his friend's auto shop where you eventually went to get your vehicle fixed.

In retrospect, you should have been at least a little bit suspicious by the whole ordeal, but was it really your fault for choosing to put your trust in the good of humanity?

You knew there was no point in dwelling over what-ifs anymore. Arthur would've found a way, like any psychopath would, and you would've still ended up being tied up in this dismal room with him.

"Did you mean it?" Arthur asked.

You put on your best fake smile before answering, "Yes."

He grabbed you in his arms in just two long strides.

You wanted to throw up. You hated the feeling of his fingers stroking your back. You wanted to kick him away and get this piece of shit as far away from you and your baby as possible. You wanted to rid yourself of the lingering smell of him that had now undoubtedly transferred into your skin.

And maybe, you would've done all of those things if it was only your life that was on the line.

Unfortunately, fighting back was a luxury you couldn't afford anymore. So, you were forced to stay quiet instead, letting your captor whisper sweet nothings in your ear as if it didn't repulse you even being in the same room as him.

You were close to counting towards the 200s in your head when, suddenly, a clanking noise in the distance ripped your attention away.

In a split second, Arthur had peeled his arms from around you and got back on his feet. You knew then that he must have heard it, too.

You watched as he stepped away, dragging a crate from one corner of the room and placing it strategically underneath the only opening on the walls. He got on top of the crate to allow himself to peek outside, but whatever he saw must have startled him greatly. Because the next thing you knew, he had backed away from the wall in the blink of an eye, face crumpling in what could only be described as panic.

"The cops are here," he managed to sputter out.

"What?"

Your heart was hammering inside of its cage. The cops are here. You realized then that the team must have solved the clue you left them. They had solved the case, and they were coming to save you.

Derek was coming to save you.

"What did you do?!"

In a moment of weakness, you had allowed yourself to rejoice in the promise of freedom that you momentarily forgot you actually hadn't possessed it yet. The slip-up was miniscule, but it wasn't fleeting enough to escape the attention of your captor.

"You tricked me!" Arthur's voice boomed throughout the room, carrying rage unlike anything you had ever known. "I trusted you, and you lied to me! Again."

"Arthur--"

This time, there was no room for negotiation.

Arthur didn't even waste a millisecond before he dove forward. He was a lion, and you were the deer. His sharp teeth were calloused fingers, and they dug into your skin as Arthur tightened his grip around your throat.

"You lied to me. You lied to me."

He repeated those words like a mantra, his voice drowned out by desperate gasps as you tried to scour for what little bit of air you could still revel in. Your feet and arms shook beneath their restrains. Your head pounded from the pressure that had gathered inside your skull.

In that moment, death was imminent.

You could feel it coming. You could feel its claws clutching every single drop of life that was still remaining in your bloodstream. It was a battle between the two, and unfortunately, death was winning.

As the dark spots in your vision spread into a massive blotch, you allowed yourself to say goodbye. To life. To the world. To the memories of your loved ones whose faces you wished you could've memorized one last time.

To Derek, the one who could've been, the one you wished had been.

And to the child in your womb, the one you wished you could've met, the one you wished you could've saved.

When darkness came, you expected it to be cold and unforgiving, but as it turned out, darkness was easy. Simple. It welcomed you into its home with open arms, shielding you from the cruelties of the mundane world.

As it pulled you deeper into its abode, you could faintly hear the sound of your name being called repeatedly. It sounded similar. It sounded like home.

But this was your home now, so without turning back, you allowed darkness to lead you further down the dim path. Away from the pain and the heartbreaks of life. Far from the evil that lurked in the streets behind their well-crafted masks.

In the darkness, there was nothing.

In the darkness, you were nothing.

And nothing was exactly what you were going to be.

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timidpumpkin · 1 year

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Little Light (Stucky x reader)

Part 4: Retribution

Pairing: Dark!Stucky x f!reader

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: While you're left feeling hopelessly confused, it's clear to Steve and Bucky that you have a lot to learn about being their good little girl.

Warnings for this part: Dark!Stucky, Daddy!Stucky, Forced age regression, DDLG themes, Female reader, Manipulation, Violence against reader, Being tied up, Hints to sexual themes, This one's dark folks, Mean Steve and Bucky, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

As always, lemme know if I missed any!!

Notes: Thank you to everyone who has supported me since I posted Part 1 many many months ago. I love you all and appreciate your support and kind words more than I can express. I'm super nervous to post this one so i'm really hoping everyone likes it. ^.^

Tagging: @ppatricia34me @canyonmooncreations @haleyhunwritess

(lemme know if you wanna be added to my taglist!)

P.S. Please feel free to comment/ask questions as they are a million times appreciated as I ALWAYS love to read you guy's thoughts!

(pictures are not my own)

Warm.

The cozy temperature surrounding you beckons you to sink further into its comfortable drowsy feeling. It feels nice–good. It’s comfortable as you pull at the blanket wrapped around you to cover the cold tip of your nose.

When you do though, adjusting as you move, adrenaline rushes through you.

All sense of tranquility leaps out of your body to be replaced by standing hairs and cold blood as you realize you’re not napping in your bed.

No–you’re napping on your capture’s lap.

Hazy memories from just a bit ago replay in your mind. The picture they paint is fogged up by an overcast of intense emotion.

Worry. Fear. Shock.

The panic you felt is now an almost disembodied ghost, content with hiding in the closet as it knows you can’t handle its presence anymore.

Not right now.

It would be too much. Your body and mind having already fought till every single cell within you is doused with exhaustion.

The wispy wave of relief you felt–feel–now molds into another feeling. It rips the comfort your body so desperately clings to at this moment of peril and unkindly reminds you that you shouldn’t have let your guard down.

But you did.

You–as you see it–involuntarily allowed the very person, no, the very people who have snatched you, took you from your, albeit, unexcitingly ordinary–but otherwise stable–life, to soothe the very predicament they have forced you in.

As you recall their hushed voices anchoring you, steady hands smoothing your trembling ones, and sweet comfort that you somehow found in their pacifying of you, the one emotion you painfully feel now is…embarrassment. It aligns with disgrace you feel within yourself for giving into…this.

You stiffen, body frozen in place as you become acutely aware of your situation again. Both the larger reality of being held hostage, and the other–ever so slightly smaller issue–that currently places your head nestled right in your captor’s lap. Bucky’s lap.

This is what you found so comforting in your sleep state?

Head wedged exactly between his legs, resting heavily against his lower half. Your hands curled up. You stare at them. They lay right in front of your view. Almost too close to your vision where you watch them resting, palms nestled down between his thighs.

But it’s not just your position. It’s his too. One of his arms is resting against you, draped over your side, his hand sprawled just at your navel, adding to the welcoming warmth you felt upon waking up. The other, languidly stroking your head with his thumb.

It’s an intimate position–close–in more ways than one. It’s not one you should be in, it’s not one you’re in voluntarily–despite what your last memories torturously remind you.

“You get enough sleep there, princess?” Bucky’s voice calls. You haven’t spoken a word but he must be able to tell you’re awake. Whether it’s from how your muscles have tensed, or the way you’ve been holding your breath since, is unknown to you.

You can’t see him. Your eyes are too intensely focused on how your hands rest with faux intimacy at his thighs and the realization of how long you’ve been in this position makes your lungs feel as if they don’t work anymore.

“You really scared Dada you know,” he moves his hand from your navel to caress your arm as he lends forward a bit to get a better view of your face. Still, frozen in place, you don't meet his gaze. Your self-preservation response only knows how to freeze now as you don’t move, but keep looking forward, completely unsure of how to tackle the situation you’re in.

Waves of memory come back to you. It’s blurry as you remember how scared you were. You remember how Steve calmed you. How his voice led you to placidity. How could that be? It’s what led you to the position you're in now.

Vulnerable. Again. And yet, you let it happen.

But you didn’t, no–you couldn’t–you don't remember exactly with anxiety fogging up your memory.

You knew one thing for sure; you couldn’t give in.

“Not going to ignore Daddy now, are you?” Bucky questions, taking his hand to your chin and facing it upwards so you’re looking up to him. Somehow, it’s still shocking how large he looks. You feel as though you've somehow been shrunk down a third of your size when looking at him. His hand is mostly just ghosting your face, guiding it up as he looms over you, one cheek smooshed against his navel now as his hand remains on the other.

“Hmm?” he questions, his pointer finger tapping methodically on your cheek, prompting you to answer. “Don’t tell me you forgot your manners already now, doll.”

“I-I wanna go home,” You try to sit up, not exactly sure why you said that, as recent events have told you already it’s not what he wants to hear. But you’re just not sure about anything at the moment. He looks at you with a displeased look, face dropping into an unkind frown.

His hold on you tightens; his forearm presses down on your chest lightly, silently reminding you that trying to move would be a bad idea. You don’t fight it, knowing you wouldn’t be able to succeed in getting up even if your life depended on it.

“You are home.” he declares curtly, before swiftly picking you up, dizzying you as he turns you around. You feel as though you’ve barely blinked before you’re in the new position. Your back is to his stomach as he situates you on his lap. His right arm wraps snugly around your waist, firmly securing you against his body. His left hand reaches in front and clasps around your cheeks, the cool metal instantly raising goosebumps on your once warm face as he slowly tilts your head back and forth for you, forcing you to look around the room.

“You see all this?” he lilts with a scolding undertone. “This is your home. All of it.” he pauses before–somehow–squeezing you closer to him. He brings his head to the side of your ear. His chest flush against your back, engulfing your body, and encapsulating your very being with how he maintains his grip on your face. His breath dances lightly against your ear as he speaks, adding to the chilling feeling overtaking your insides.

“Now what would you call a house where two Daddies take care of their little baby?” He speaks in a low, hushed tone. Not a sweet one–like the hushed subdued one Steve used on you just hours ago–No, Bucky’s tone is polar to that. It’s mocking, and sardonic as you can almost feel the smirk gracing his face without even looking at him. It’s as if he’s asking the most rhetorical question known to man. “Hmm?”

You feel your own breathing pick up. It becomes evident with how every millimeter your chest moves, your lungs have to fight against the pressure of Bucky’s heavy arms around you. Your mind is blank as fright starts to fill it instead. How were you supposed to answer that?

When you take too long to respond, Bucky promptly pinches at your side and simultaneously squeezes your cheeks harder, causing a retaliatory yelp out of you.

“Ah! I-I don’t know!” you squirm around at the pain that certainly doesn’t help you think.

He promptly covers your mouth with a shush, his sizable metallic hand swallowing up your face as you squeak dully now into his solid palm.

“No yelling now, doll.” He turns your face towards him so he can look at you as he speaks. He glances quickly at the closed bedroom door before looking back at you. “Answer Daddy’s question.” He directs, “I know you’re a smart girl.” he grins at you, and though–in most contexts–that would sound like a compliment, his tone is decidedly condescending as he continues. “But I’ll repeat my question, just in case my silly little girl forgot.” he smiles snidely at you for a brief moment before continuing. “What do you call a house where two Daddies take care of their little girl?” He says the question more slowly this time, eerily calm but just as patronizing as he goes.

You stare at him with wide eyes as he carefully removes his hand from your mouth. He doesn’t have to speak the words as his eyes alone tell you not to yell again. His fingers remain on your face, retaking their previous position of gripping your chin as he looks at you expectantly.

“...home…” you breathe meekly, voice almost cracking as you do, hoping that was the right answer.

“Good girl,” he roughly pats at your cheek with a slightly more authentic smile. “that’s exactly right.” he praises. You then hear some movement coming from the bedroom. Bucky glances that way before speaking to you again with a stern glare in his eye. “Now when Dada comes in here, you won't say any of those silly little thoughts, will you?” he asks presumptuously. You shake your head agreeably, and when Bucky’s head tilts with a clench of his jaw, you answer promptly out loud.

“Yes, Daddy” you quiver. He smiles at you, and as if on cue, Steve emerges from the door. There's a towel around his neck and he ruffles it around his hair before spotting you, his face lighting up when he does.

“Hi there angel,” he beams and leans down to you, instantly taking in the sight in front of him.

Your adorable frame sitting atop his partner's lap. You looked so perfect right there. As if you were the last puzzle piece missing his entire life, now fitting together so seamlessly that it just looks like a painting. A beautiful one. Steve isn’t sure how they went without you before. Your soft face still holds a frayed look. His poor girl. He was hoping a little bit of rest would ease your frazzled little mind.

“You feeling a bit better after your nap?” Steve asks with a loving tone as he carefully picks you up from Bucky’s lap. He situates you so that you are on his hip, one arm supporting your bottom with legs wrapped around his side as he guides your arms around his neck. You fit so nicely around him like this. He almost wishes he could stop time and freeze this moment forever. Being able to hold you like this, he’s never felt so whole, so complete. You feel tense in his arms, but he knows one day…that won’t be the case. You’ll lean fully in, wholly relying on and giving yourself to them both. He’s eager for every moment leading to it and each subsequent instant after.

Steve’s cold and wet hair tickles your arms. Being so close, you can’t help but notice the crisp comforting aroma that emits from his warm skin.

For some reason, you look to Bucky as if he holds the answer to Steve’s question. He just glares at you with a slight scowl that dares you to misbehave before standing up after too long of silence on your part.

“She’s still feeling a bit confused.” Bucky caresses you, palm enveloping the side of your face. “Huh, doll?”

“Awh…” Steve joins in on stroking your face by soothing the back of your head. “well that’s okay angel. Babies get confused so easily.” he says with that underlying patronizing but sweet tone he uses. “Why don’t you let Dada check you, huh?” he asks while looking you up and down. You then feel all blood draining from your face as your eyes go wide, having no idea what he means by that.

You look between him and Bucky frantically as Steve gently grabs one of your hands from behind his neck. You instinctively try pulling away but his grip tightens before you’re able to.

“Now now, don’t be scared,” Steve assures sweetly, a stark contrast to the death grip on your hand. “Dada just needs to look at those pesky little marks we had to leave on you last night,” he explains while unraveling you from him and setting you back down on the couch where he kneels in front of you. Your body trembles in anticipation–for what exactly, doesn’t matter.

You can’t control it as he diligently peels your socks off and rolls your leggings up to look underneath. He takes his time tracing the deformed marks with his fingertips, lifting up your ankles as he goes before making his way to your arms. He tugs on them gently in front of you and repeats his previous examination as if he’s mapping out every little laceration. “You don’t want any more of these…do you, babygirl?” Steve lilts, an ever so slightly threatening tone lacing his otherwise calm voice as he presses his fingers down, digging just harshly enough into where a bruise must be forming and causing you to jolt at the pain.

“Ah!-n-no!” you yelp pitifully quick at the discomfort.

“No…what?” Steve prods with false grace before pressing harder into your skin.

“N-no Dada!…ah!...please.” you shakily breathe the last word with a plea, pathetically pulling on your arms that don’t move an inch under his hold.

“Good girl,” he praises with a mischievous smile, and unclenches his painful grip, but doesn’t let go completely, instead, keeping a firm hold on you.

He steadily lifts your wrists up…to his lips. They ghost your skin as he glints at you with a soft smirk before placing slow…slow kisses along the marked-up lines.

Warm lips meet the welts that are painted all across and up your arms from where you were bound–corporal reminders of what disobeying meant–he trails each one of them, dragging his lips and dousing each inch of burning skin with tender kisses, his grip remaining its powerful hold so you remain immobile.

When he makes his way to your upper arm, you physically resist from full-on screaming. A quick glance to Bucky with your sorrowful eyes reveals no mercy from him. He just glares at you, a deadpan look on his face but a teasing smirk in his eyes that dares you to make a noise.

Steve lifts his head up to face you after planting his last kiss on your upper arm, just a hair's breadth from your face. Your head has already pushed itself back as far as it’ll go as the rest of your body is ensnared by his that hovers atop yours. Thick air surrounds you as your trembles turn to full-on shaking, watching him as his eyes don’t even meet yours. His blown pupils are intensively fixated on your lips now.

They look so soft.

Time itself seems frozen, all except a slow-motion icy droplet that falls from the tips of his hair. It lands atop soft cotton, dampening the fabric on your chest that ripples chills throughout you. He follows it, dark eyes lowering to where sensitive skin is hidden by the dainty onesie Bucky dressed you in earlier. You feel heat taking over the arctic sensation within you as he looks at your body with what you can only prescribe as desire–want.

But to your–very minuscule–relief he looks back up to your eyes, and gives you a quick smile, before leaning back on his knees again in front of you with a satisfied smile adorning his face.

“Might take a while for those to heal up,” he remarks, “but don’t worry, Daddy and I will give them lots of kisses to help them heal.” he smiles at you.

“What do you say, doll?” Bucky speaks up, crossing his arms.

A confused and worried look that causes your eyebrows to furrow comes over your face, unsure of what he wants when you’ve barely gotten your heart to stop pounding from the previous predicament.

Bucky decides–for now–he’ll key you in. Mostly because he doesn’t like seeing his Stevie all upset when you don’t do as you were told.

He mouths a “thank you” with a cock of his head motioning towards Steve below him.

“Th-thank you…D-dada” you squeak, voice uncontrollably shaky.

“Oh, such a good girl. My good little girl,” Steve beams at you before standing up. “Oh…poor thing,” he remarks while looking down at your trembling form. “You must be freezing,” he states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Dada will go get you a sweater. Stay right here,” he instructs before trailing off.

When he comes back, there's more than just an extra garment in his hand.

“Now later you can play upstairs all you want, but right now,” he speaks while setting down a few colorful-looking books and a box of crayons on the coffee table. “Daddy and I need to watch you and make sure you stay safe,” He then motions for you to move your arms up so he can put the sweatshirt he brought for you on. He carefully moves your arms and head through the holes and then leads you to the coffee table. “You can color as long as you like, angel, just make sure to tell us if you need anything, like water…or juice, okay?”

You nod your head complacently at him while he holds your hand looking down at you.

“Okay-I mean-I-yes…Dada” you fumble before kneeling down on the carpet yourself in front of the variety of coloring books.

You don’t want to color. But–genuinely–what choice do you have? You could protest, but it wouldn’t lead anywhere beneficial.

You scan the playful books in front of you, trying to find some solace in the fact that maybe focusing on this would at least mean less nerve-wracking interactions with…them.

It shouldn't matter–which picture you settle on–with your brain still rattled from before, only you can’t help but feel choosy about the drawing you pick. You flip through the books, dog-earing the ones that pique your interest before settling on a foresty scene that depicts two large sleeping wolves and a little rabbit nestled right in the middle.

For some perplexing reason, the crayon box decides it doesn’t want to be opened by your frail fingers. Steve quickly notices your frustrated struggle with it and instructs you to hand it to him so he can open it for you. You groan at the box and mutter something about how you ‘got it.’

You don’t see his eye squint and eyebrow raise as he watches you fumble with it for a moment longer, but you do feel him taking the box from your hands.

“I don’t want you hurting those precious little fingers of yours now,” He smoothly opens the box and hands it back to you with a pet to your head.

At some point, Bucky notices your tired posture and offers you a pillow to sit on before moving the coffee table closer to the couch so you can rest your back on the cushiony sofa. He moves it effortlessly as if the table wouldn’t break your back if you tried to move it.

You mumble an assenting “thank you daddy” to which Bucky responds. “You’re welcome, sweet girl” with a wink and you withhold from sticking your tongue out at him.

Either one or both of them remain in the room with you for the rest of the evening, checking on you every so often. You attempt to keep your attention on remaining within the lines when you color, but you can’t help the way your unnerved hands still shake, causing you–to your annoyance–to occasionally strike outside the lines.

By the time the sun has long set, and the only thing illuminating the paper in front of you is warm artificial light, you find yourself yawning with your head sideways on the table as you color. Whiffs of savory smells dance through your nose as Bucky has been in the kitchen for the last little bit preparing dinner.

“Getting sleepy babygirl?” Steve asks, peering down at you and your drawings. You shrug your shoulders, unsure of which answer would allow you the most leniency.

“Oh, that one is just perfect,” he remarks while bending over and picking up the forest scene you colored first. It was hidden amongst other drawings that you had shuffled to the side. He holds it up and takes a good look at it. “You did such a good job,” he compliments. “I think this one deserves a place on the fridge” he boasts.

You turn your head back and watch in curiosity as he really does make his way to the kitchen and secures it with a little magnet. He stands back and smiles in satisfaction while you go back to coloring, feigning that you never even noticed the proud expression radiating off his body, and positively pretending that your insides didn’t go soft for a brief moment watching him.

Steve and Bucky chatter while setting the table. You try to tunnel in on their voices but you can’t exactly make out what they’re saying as they speak quite lowly to each other.

Steve makes his way to you and takes your hand to guide you to the table. He sets you in the seat furthest away from the door as they both sit rather closely to you–practically trapping you in. You poke at your otherwise appetizing plate as you have little desire to eat with your stomach still turned in tangled knots.

They both encourage you to eat throughout, but you only manage to get a few bites down. Neither of them look particularly happy with you and your full plate. Nevertheless, they stop pushing after a bit and share a knowing look that you can’t make out the meaning of.

You huff a quiet sigh of relief when they take your plate and start cleaning the kitchen, silently feeling as though you won this trivial round of control.

Bucky catches you from the corner of his eye as you take it upon yourself to get out of your chair. He tenses, preparing to snatch you before you can move until he realizes you’re only going to the living room, opposite of where the front door is. He decides to just watch you for a few moments as you go back to coloring with criss-crossed legs.

Innocent little thing. His naive little doll shading away, having not a clue in your pretty little head of how erroneous it was to make your own decisions like that. It really was much too soon for you to truly understand what consequences will come when trying to think for yourself. He can’t exactly blame you though. His poor little baby had to do it for so long before they found you. It’s probably why you’re benignly coloring away with not an idea in your head of what’s really in store for your life here. Such a sweet, sweet little girl they had. All to themselves. Forever now.

He observes how you ferociously analyze and juxtapose the colors before you, even testing them on other miscellaneous paper before choosing the right one for the job.

He already knows you better than you can even comprehend. He knows you’ve likely already thought you’ve gotten away with it.

“What do you think you’re doing little girl?” Bucky’s scolding voice startles you, causing you to jump a little in your spot. After just a second, he roughly yanks you up by your arm, spinning you around to face him as he holds you. “Did Daddy tell you you could leave the table? Hmm? Did Dada?” he fumes, the sudden escalation in action and tone making you want to just cry.

“I-I-” you fumble, squirming uncomfortably below him. “I thought-”

“Oh I don’t think you were thinking anything in that silly little head of yours,” he chastises while pinching one of your cheeks harshly with his free hand. “And did you really think you could get away with not eating?”

“Ah!-” you fight, struggling against him, confused and disoriented on why he’s suddenly being so harsh when you thought you were off the hook.

“Hey-hey, it’s okay,” you hear Steve speaking up behind him. “Let me talk to her Buck,” he says, allowing Bucky to let go of your arm and cheek. You tearfully rub at your hurt cheek while Steve kneels down to your level. “Sweet girl…remember yesterday when daddy gave you apple juice?” he asks, circling his hand behind your ear and gently cupping the cheek that Bucky previously inflicted harshly. You nod smally, glancing away around the room as you recall the unfond memory of being bottle-fed against your will. “Good, then you should know that little girls need their nutrients. And that means no skipping dinner,” he explains with a kind voice that makes you feel as if he's quite literally talking to a child.

“I-okay…Dada” you add, grateful for Steve at least being gracious enough as to not yell at and pinch you like Bucky just was.

“Good girl,” he smiles at you before telling you to sit tight on the couch while he goes to get your dinner. You sit there, a bit perplexed on how he planned on giving you a meal when you’re pretty sure you saw Bucky scrape the remnants of your food into the trashcan.

Steve returns with no plate in hand and sits a bit away from you, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion until you see it.

You watch in horror as he reveals a milky white bottle that he shakes in his hand while speaking to you.

“Come here,” he beckons, patting his spacious thigh. You grimace at the granule liquid that swirls around in the bottle, not unlike the one Bucky used on you yesterday. If you didn't know better–which you don’t–you’d say it quite literally looks like baby formula.

“Uhm…I just…” you trail off, trying to come up with a reason, any reason not to be literally bottle-fed like you were yesterday. “I’m-I’m really not hungry-my-my stomach hurts,” you reason clumsily, but truthfully as well since the only thing filling your stomach right now is queasiness. Most of it coming from your situation, but the grainy texture swirling around in the bottle certainly doesn’t help your appetite either. “And-and I can just eat the other stuff,” you add frantically while looking back to the kitchen and wringing your hands.

“Now this is going to help my sweet girl feel a lot better and sleep real tight,” Steve remarks, completely ignoring your words and requests.

“I-I said I'm not hungry.” you say a bit louder, but with a mild tone as to not sound too combative.

“And I said this will help you sleep,” he asserts while dabbing the tip of the bottle on his wrist. “Now come sit on Dada’s lap,” he demands while patting his thigh again. You shake your head while subtly scooting away from him.

“Mmm-mmm” you hum a no while sliding back even further. “Please, I don’t wan-”

“Did Dada ask what you wanted?” he cuts you off with a cock to his head at you. “No,” he shakes his head, answering his own question patronizingly. “I didn’t. You don’t get to decide what’s good for you. Only Daddy and I know that. Now I won’t ask again. Come here. Now.” he insists sternly. You debate quickly in your head, weighing out your limited options. When you still sit there not moving an inch, Steve sighs and reaches for you. He grabs your arm and pulls you towards him.

“No!” you say in response to the action. He’s not necessarily yanking or being particularly rough, but without thinking, you push back at him, your free hand overshooting and accidentally hitting his shoulder. Of course, it’s like you’ve hit a brick wall, the small action hurting your wrist much more than it likely hurt him at all. But something about it felt…cathartic. And something inside you just…snaps.

You had played nice all day, letting them hold you, touch you, kiss you. Hell–you even sat on the floor for hours and colored while wearing a onesie. And now he wanted to bottle feed you actual formula. You had to draw the line.

You couldn’t give in. The silent promise you made to yourself earlier rings in your head. You weren’t going to drink this stupid bottle.

Steve still has you in his grasp and is pulling you closer to him so that you can be in his lap. Only, you take this opportunity to fight. Hard.

With all the strength you have, you wrench yourself back. Steve quickly encapsulates both your hands, making you feel as though you’ll sooner break your own wrists before you ever successfully free yourself from his grip. You take it upon yourself to switch strategies, maneuvering yourself into a position where you just start kicking at him feverishly. It felt childish. It looked childish. But you didn’t care right now. You weren’t going to play along any longer.

You realize halfway through your nonsensical thrashing fit that Steve is likely just letting you play this out before he decides he’s had enough. He decisively stands up, dragging your combative form with him as he roughly swings you up to throw you over his shoulder. You still fight him, your flailing is joined with nonsensical shrieks as you lash out on him physically and verbally. Steve holds you down atop him firmly while hauling you upstairs. Before you realize it, you’re roughly tossed down into a mattress. The otherwise compliant spread hurts you on impact from the height you fall from. Your swirling vision from being upside down and lack of oxygen in your lungs from screaming leaves you disoriented until your dazed eyes focus on structured parallel bars.

Steve’s thrown you into the very crib he showed you just hours ago.

“That’s just for when you’re feeling extra little,”

You instantly try to stand up only for Steve to effortlessly push you back down, sending you to roughly bounce on your bottom. You clumsily try to regain your balance and breath while Steve reaches for something besides the crib. Before you know it, Steve’s grabbed both your hands and starts heatedly tying them together. Tightly. He ensnares your fingers together and weaves the rope around every inch of your digits up to the middle of your forearm, completely restraining the hands that fought him.

You try getting up again only to find it’s surprisingly hard to move with your hands bound in front of you.

He mutters to you something about ‘not moving’ while making his way to the end of the crib. He abrasively yanks both of your legs down to the edge of the caged mattress and begins tying those together too. You flail hopelessly, hurling unkind words at him while he secures your ankles to the bars, completely immobilizing the legs that were just unabashedly kicking at him.

When you finally catch a glimpse of Steve’s face, his expression is unforgiving. Furrowed eyebrows highlight his intense dark focus as veined arms secure you to the crib.

Steve straightens himself up and towers over you from beside the crib. He just watches you until you decide to give up on fighting, realizing you can’t free yourself from your binds. Your anger slowly turns to just pure sorrow, as you find yourself crying hot tears into your already burning face. You murmur pointless cries asking over and over again to just be let go…

“Angel…” Steve says softly, his features appearing less angered now, but still unhappy nonetheless. “I’m going to give you one more chance,” he kneels down, leveling himself with you from outside your confines. He reaches through the bars and caresses your rope-covered hands. “If you do what Dada says, then I might go easy on your punishment,” he slides his hands up, open-palmed, slowly inching his way to your face. He lingers on your throat for a moment too long before laying his hand across your cheek. “But that’s only if you stop being a bad girl…is that what you want?” he asks patronizingly, with a cock to his head, faux sympathy lining his tone. “You want Dada to treat you like a bad girl?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, heavy tears pitifully falling as Steve watches you. He doesn’t catch them as he awaits your answer that doesn’t come.

He then tries to give you the bottle from before again but you only resist. Shaking your head and crying profusely while mumbling sorrowful nonsense.

Steve sighs, and hangs his head. He doesn’t enjoy seeing you like this. He wants to hear you laugh. The same laugh he heard over anything else the first night he found you. He wants to see you smile. The same way you beamed at him that night he helped you find your way back. He wants to draw you close when you fall asleep next to him. The same way he’s watched you fall asleep all by yourself for months. He wants to replace the teeny little thumb you always stick in your mouth when you think no one is watching with his. He knows you want this. He knows you need this.

But it’s obvious his poor girl just doesn’t understand that yet.

Steve knows babies have a hard time listening when throwing tantrums anyway...

For now, if you won’t listen, he’ll just have to show you.

“My sweet girl…” Steve grabs your face, turning it towards him. “You just won’t learn unless Dada shows you, huh?” he releases your face dismissively and stands up.

“If you want to act out…” he speaks while reaching across the crib above you,

“and think you’re a big girl…” he lifts something weighty that’s attached to the top of the crib,

“that’s fine,” parallel bars intrude your vision of Steve from above you,

“But this is what happens when you act like a bad girl.” Steve’s voice turns more ireful with every word he speaks, as he works his way around the crib, latching multiple locks together that you hadn't noticed before with increasingly aggressive force.

“You get treated like one. Bad girls get left all alone by themselves without Dada. If you really want Dada to let you go. Fine. You’ll stay right here until you understand what it means to listen.” he slams the last latch shut.

You barely have time to process his words while your wobbly vision interprets what’s happening above you. By the time you comprehend that there’s a top to this ‘crib’ that Steve has locked you in, he’s already left the room, truly isolating you.

Anguished sobs that were falling on deaf ears during Steve’s spiel to you now meet the equally deaf silence of the room itself.

The only sound that accompanies you now is your own cries, echoing back pitifully to you from the horizontal bars above…

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sweetteainthesummerx · 16 days

Text

THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG (3)

In which Aubrey turns 18 and attends her first Grand Prix...

series masterlist

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leahsavajeffries posted on their story

caption: happy 18th birthday to my big sis! love this photo of us 💛

tagged: aubreyyang

dior.n.goodjohn posted on their story

caption: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MOTHER QUEEN AUBBIE 🙇🏽‍♀️ LOVE YOU SO MUCH BABE YOU DESERVE THE BEST DAY MWAH

tagged: leahsavajeffries, aubreyyang

mckennagraceful posted on their story

caption: happy birthday sweet girl! ilysm and I can't wait to work with u again in the future 💕

tagged: aubreyyang

lilymhe posted on their story

caption: happy birthday to my little sister and child, so proud of you and all that you've been through. see you soon!

tagged: aubreyyang

dallas_liu posted on their story

caption: everyone go wish this wonderful human being the bestest birthday ever 🗣️🙏🏼🐐

tagged: aubreyyang

aubreyyang posted

aubreyyang Thank you for all of the birthday wishes 💌

liked by iamcharliebushnell, momonatamada, and 493,907 others

view all 351 comments

morganfreeman Happy Birthday, on-screen daughter!

-- aubreyyang aww love you!

-- ytjdtger STOP their too cute

dallas_liu hbd ig 🙄

-- aubreyyang ty ig 🙄

_xochitl.gomez happy birthday gorgeous!

liked by author

aryansimhadri just wait for the 0.5s

-- aubreyyang NO I BEG OF U

yang_aubsfp happy birthday to motherrr

f1_1news posted

f1_1news Actress Aubrey Yang seen with Alex Albon and Lily Muni He at the Monaco Grand Prix.

liked by f1wags and 103,883 others

view all 15 comments

f1wags new wag alert?

papaya_ml she's so pretty who is she

-- aubreyyangfp AM I ABOUT TO INTRODUCE U TO MY FAV

-- aubreyyangfp basically shes the sweetest kindest upcoming actress of hollywood and shes winning awards left and right

aubreyyang posted on their story

caption: baby's first Grand Prix 🏎️❤️

tagged: scuderriaferrari, lilymhe

scuderriaferrari posted

scuderriaferrari happy to host @aubreyyang for the day and P4 for @olliebearman ❤️

user1 WOWOWOW my worlds just collided

aubreyyang it was so nice to meet everyone! Ty for such a fun day :)

-- charles_leclerc @scuderriaferrari please invite her back she speaks French fluently

-- olliebearman it was so nice to see you! big fan of station 13 🙌🏻😁

-- redferrari_8 woah Charles approved

-- f1waggss is no one gonna talk about ollie cheesing

-- oliebearlove he has a gf chill

olliebearman started following aubreyyang

aubreyyang started following olliebearman

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Taglist: @callsignwidow

#f1 drivers #f1 smau #formula 1 #ollie bearman #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman x you #luke castellan x reader #f1 x reader #social media au #THEYRE SO CUTE UR HONOUR

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yumeka-sxf · 1 year

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A chronological analysis on Twilight and Yor - Season 1 Wrap-Up

*This is a wrap-up post for my Twiyor analysis series. If you missed the Introduction/Part 1, click here*

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As some of you may know, I'm fairly new to the SxF fandom, having only started watching the anime in October of last year. But it didn't take long for me to become hyperfixated enough to binge the manga, start my own blog, and develop ideas for analysis posts.

I've always enjoyed meta writing for my favorite fandoms, and SxF is definitely one of those! While I like many things about the story and characters, the Forgers overall, especially Twiyor, are my favorite thing about it, so I wanted to focus my first analysis posts on them. During my early months in the fandom, I found lots of good analyses and was impressed by the amount of talented fan writers out there. But rather than write random stand-alone posts, I wanted to express all my thoughts in chronological order. I eventually came up with the idea for this post series in December of last year, and after spending a solid month of writing during most of my free time, I finally felt I had enough to begin posting on a weekly basis.

Now that I've come to the end of the season 1 posts, I want to express my sincerest thanks to everyone who read them, especially those who left nice comments and reblogs. Even for those of you who only left likes, I appreciate it! I pay attention to the notes on my blog and it always makes my day to see the same people interacting with each new post every week. It's especially gratifying when I see a new person come along and leave a like on each post in order, one after another! In the many fandoms I've been in over the years, I always write for myself and my own enjoyment first, regardless of whether other people will enjoy my writing too. But it's nice to know that other people can also appreciate how I interpret things.

So here's what's going to happen with the post series going forward…

Since I want to continue keeping the posts as manga spoiler-free as possible, I won't start releasing the next batch of posts until season 2 airs (it's scheduled to air in October). I'll most likely release part 19 and onward towards the middle or end of season 2's run. I already have a good idea of what manga chapters will be adapted and will get them queued up beforehand.

On that note, I did end up having to tag a few of the season 1 posts for manga spoilers. I tried to avoid it as much as possible; I only discussed manga spoilers if I felt not doing so would be a disservice to my analysis. However, once season 2 airs, all but part 18 should be safe for anime-only fans! (I'll go back to those posts and remove the spoiler tags)

At some point during or slightly before season 2's airing, I plan to reblog all of my Twiyor analysis posts in order. If I can get the timing right, I hope to reblog part 18 (the last season 1 post) right before my start date for the first season 2 post. I'll probably do the reblogs just a few days apart before doing weekly releases again when I get to the new posts (for the reblogs, I'll be using the hashtag "#reblog for season 2 hype")

I don't have any other big analysis posts planned until then, with one exception…I do plan to write a post about Anya. I originally wanted to include her in the chronological series, but since her character arc is simpler and more straight-forward compared to Twilight's and Yor's, I didn't have nearly as much to say about her and figured it'd be best to talk about her in a separate post. Not sure when I'll release that post but should be sometime before season 2 as well.

Guess that's all for now! Thank you again to everyone who read this post series and I look forward to more compelling discussions in season 2!

#twiyor #spy family #spy x family #sxf #spyxfamily #loid forger #yor forger #sxf analysis #loid x yor #loidyor #sxf meta

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awooghan · 1 year

Text

24 to 25 ✧.* y.ji (part two)

➳ PAIRING: jeongin x fem!reader

➳ GENRE: fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers, christmas

➳ WARNINGS: mild language, mentions of food, long as hell, i put the ‘slow’ in slowburn (in my defense this trope does not work without it), i’ve checked like 1922847473 times for inconsistencies but if there are any pls be nice it’s my first long fic ;w; also you can slowly see the quality of my writing decline in the end im sorry 😭

➳ WORD COUNT: 47.7k (part one: 25.9k; part two: 21.8k) i'm so sorry

➳ SUMMARY: “stay for christmas?” was a phrase jeongin first uttered to you when you were both ten years old, but neither of you had any idea the bond those three little words would hold as the years go by. (inspired by “24 to 25” by stray kids)

➳ NOTES: IT’S FINALLY UP!! i’m so sorry for the wait, i really really wanted to get this right and it took me wayyy longer than i thought it would. but i love how it turned out and i'm so proud of it. i hope y’all enjoy :’)

i’ll include more to the note when i'm not in such a rush to get this posted but tysm to everyone who helped me in writing it! @crispy-chan jas thank you for beta reading (i’m so sorry it was so long) your comments were really sweet and really reassured me that i was doing okay <;33 thank u @pearleechai and @gloseoks for helping me out with that one part i got stuck on for like a week lmaooo. to elsa specifically, ty for all ur help and encouragement in the couple chapters i asked for help on :D i’m sorry it meant u had some of the fic spoiled for u tho ;w; lastly, @svtbabies hopie u have been my lifesaver from start to finish w this fic. thank u so so much for planning w me and for the multiple times you’ve saved me from a huge writer’s block. i wouldn’t have been able to complete this without you, so ty for everything <33 also ty for the banner lol

➳ IMPORTANT!!! this fic is so long that i have to split it into two parts. i'd use the legacy editor but i can't toggle btwn the two anymore 😭 i did not intend for it to be this lengthy but anything for childhood friends to lovers i guess. PLEASE READ PART ONE FIRST.

part one | [part two]

network tags: @straykidsland

taglist: @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs @crow953 @urmomma0324 @tasmtrilogy

20.

Regardless of how desperately you wanted to enjoy Christmastime like you'd usually do, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it this year.

You had long broken up with Heeseung, and while it did hurt immensely to begin with, it still persisted as a dull ache. You’re a little bummed you couldn’t indulge in your Christmas romance fantasies this year, but you figured you’d manage. You know that wasn't everything in a relationship; it was just a bonus, especially for someone like you.

But what does feel unbearable this year had nothing to do with love or romance. All you could think about was last year and the way Jeongin had left.

It plagued your mind for weeks after that night, on whether or not you should have stayed and spent your time with Jeongin instead of bringing Heeseung to Jisung's Christmas party. Nevertheless, you had to remind yourself that you didn't know Jeongin had planned to leave that night—and no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn't go back and change the past.

You couldn't tell if you resented Jeongin for what he did, or if you blame yourself for not listening to him. All the times he wanted to speak to you last year—maybe even to tell you, you just cut him off, too caught up in your new romance with Heeseung to even notice what Jeongin wanted to say.

Perhaps this was what you deserved for trying to follow Jisung’s advice when you were sixteen. “Date and move on,” he said. There was nothing to move on from, but you still tried it anyway.

And look where that got you.

Your original plan had been to stay nestled up in the comforts of your bed, watching whatever trash Hallmark had put out this year as you drank an atrocious amount of hot chocolate to comfort yourself. You were tempted to avoid Christmas plans altogether, especially when all the neighborhood party would do was remind you of Jeongin..

However, Jisung, the persistent fool that he was, wouldn't let that happen. Not when you could be watching laughable Christmas movies with him and his, and now your, friends.

Felix and Hyunjin are squished together on the loveseat in Jisung's apartment, not that Felix seemed to mind as it gave him an excuse to cuddle someone. Seungmin is positioned on the floor, his legs crossed under the coffee table as he picks away at what little snacks remained in the bowls Jisung had laid out earlier. And you were lazily stretched out across the sofa, your head in Jisung's lap. Since Jisung was the one that dragged you out of bed, he was going to have to put up with your grumpy state.

"What do we watch next?" Felix calls out as the end credits of the Elf roll across the screen. He casually scans the room for your responses, his arms wrapped loosely around Hyunjin's waist.

"The Grinch?" Seungmin suggests before Hyunjin quickly follows up with A Charlie Brown Christmas.

You pout. All of those sound good but you’d be lying if you said you were in a particular mood for any of them. It almost crushed you to say that, as they had brought you so much joy in the past, but none of them seemed to cut it this year.

A few seconds passes by and you decide to speak up, throwing in a suggestion of your own.

"Are there any Christmas animes? Why don't we watch those instead of a movie?"

A deafening silence fills the room at your suggestion. The boys exchange confused glances with each other, and you begin to wonder if you said something wrong. If there were Christmas cartoons, surely there’d be Christmas animes, right? But your thoughts are quickly cut short when you hear Jisung gasp rather loudly.

"Oh, so NOW you want to get into anime?!"

Your frown deepens and you hit Jisung's thigh with your fist. "Shut up, it was just a suggestion."

Another silence hangs in the room and the other three boys watch you silently like hawks, as if they were ready to pounce on you at the next move you’d make. You hate how small you feel under their piercing stares, and you shuffle to the other side of the couch in hopes that they’d stop.

"This isn't because you miss a certain person, is it?” Jisung chirps in a teasing tone. He crawls over to your end of the couch, a grin pulling at his lips as he pokes at your cheek repeatedly. “Is that why you're all Scrooge McDuck?"

You jerk your head away and shove his hand back, letting out a strangled groan. "Oh my god, Jeongin has nothing to do with this! and it’s Ebenezer Scrooge!"

Jisung snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. "I never said Jeongin's name."

"He got you there, just saying." Felix chimes in with a shrug.

You huffed frustratedly, spluttering, "I– this– this isn't about Jeongin, and this isn't about Heeseung either. can we just move on from this already?"

"You know it's okay to miss him, right?” Hyunjin says, his voice soft. “You’re not doing anything wrong."

"I never said that!" you groan again, raising your voice slightly. "I can’t suggest an anime because you guys assume I miss someone? Can I not do anything without you guys thinking it’s about a boy?!”

"Well, you never even mentioned anime once until now,” Seungmin points out, “the only reason you would is because of Jeongin—”

“It’s not about Jeongin!” you snap, burying your face in your hands in defeat. “God, I hate men.”

A chorus of offended ‘hey’s echo throughout the room which causes your eyes to roll.

"After all this time? after all these years, sugarplum?" Jisung gasps, his hand over his heart in feigned offense.

"Oh my god, you know what's not what I mean, Jisung," you huff, grabbing your phone from the coffee table as you stand up. "I'm going to get us more snacks, I hate this."

You carry yourself to the kitchen and from behind you, you hear Jisung call out, "But you haven't taken the bowls with you!”

Without turning back, you make a face to yourself. "I'll just get new ones," you respond blankly.

The kitchen was a break you so desperately needed. While you could still hear the boys chatting in the living room, it was just muffled enough to keep your mind at ease. you thought you could get away with Jisung not mentioning Jeongin, but maybe you had put too much faith in him.

You didn't mean it, really, but sometimes it got to be a lot.

You unlock your phone and staring back at you is a photo you knew you should have changed earlier, but something inside of you just couldn't bring yourself to do it.

It was an old selfie of you and Jeongin, one you had to beg him to take in the first place a few years prior. You both had your large winter coats on and his arm hung loosely around your shoulders as you both grinned into the camera. In the picture, you had a light blush on your cheeks—presumably from the cold—but deep down you knew otherwise.

You brought up his contact. This photo was one where he isn't looking at you, but he’s still holding up a peace sign. Just the look of it and the memory of that day flashes in your mind, making you chuckle.

Clicking on the text conversation, you're met with the last text you had sent him months and months ago, the small seen tick making you frown.

I miss you... you type out the words slowly. Your thumb hovered over the send key, but you can’t bring yourself to press down.

The glassy feeling in your eyes appears and you blink the tears away rapidly as you let your finger fall on the backspace key, completely erasing the message before you lock your phone once more.

What you didn't know was in his dorm room, bundled up in blankets like a burrito was Jeongin as he hopelessly scrolled through his phone. he had stumbled across a photo of Christmas lights that reminded him of you, and it took every ounce of his being to stop himself from sending it to you, finding himself scrolling through your message history instead. How could he text you so casually after what he did? Afterjust leaving like that without so much as a proper goodbye?

He watches your typing symbol come up at the bottom, only to have it disappear moments later—leaving him just as despair-ridden as you.

21.

You lost track of how long you had been cuddling against Yeonjun’s chest as Die Hard played on the tv. You had wanted a Christmas film, an actual Christmas film, however, Yeonjun was adamant that this did, in fact, count, as it happened around Christmas day.

You gaze up at Yeonjun, your eyes lingering on his own. You smile at how much focus he has on the movie, to the point where he’s hardly blinking.

You originally knew Yeonjun from your neighborhood, which kind of makes things go full circle for you in a way. Him being an older kid, though, meant that you never had a reason to know him personally or even have a chance to talk to him. He stuck with his group, and you stuck with yours.

But in a weird twist of fate, you met again when you got a part-time job at a small family restaurant just off of your university campus. After a few awkward conversations and some catching up, you both seemed to warm up to each other and Yeonjun soon asked you out on a date… you happily said yes.

Yeonjun is amazing. He's patient with you, smiles at you like you light up the whole sky, looks after you when you feel ill, he takes you on adventures at midnight for snacks just because you mentioned you were hungry.

He’s, on paper, your dream guy. Handsome, understanding, open and caring. You like him, you really do. Yet, it always feels like something's missing—but you can never put your finger on what.

The end credits of Die Hard roll across the screen, causing you to lift your weight from off of Yeonjun and stretch your arms out around you.

“I should get home,” you yawn, causing Yeonjun to pout slightly.

He reaches out to grab your hand as he whines. “Do you have to?”

You match his pout, nodding your head slowly. “Yeah, I should get back before it snows.”

“You don’t have to,” Yeonjun muses, and you watch the corners of his mouth twitch into a hopeful smile. “You could… stay over for Christmas? What do you think?”

Your breath hitches at his words, stiffening like a board as you stare at him with wide eyes.

“Stay… over for Christmas?”

He seems to notice the hesitation in your voice, and he begins to rub gentle circles with his thumb on the back of your hand.

“Think about it,” Yeonjun continues, “waking up together on Christmas day? It would be so cute!” he grins. You could practically see the tiny hearts floating about his head.

Stay over for Christmas. He doesn't know about it, but the whole sentence makes you feel uneasy. The implications and everything they bring with them—not to mention all the memories they invoke—are too much for you to handle at that moment. Not that you’d be the first to admit it

“I— I shouldn’t,” you start, your heart hurting as Yeonjun’s lips twist into a frown. “Baby, Soobin’s here and I don’t want to make things awkward for you by intruding.”

Yeonjun sits up suddenly, his fingers linking with your own. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, plus he enjoys your company. Not as much as I do, obviously,” Yeonjun cheekily grins at his words, sending a wink your way.

You huff a laugh. “Regardless,” you say with a roll of your eyes, “I... I don’t think I feel comfortable staying here yet.” Your own frown seems to match his. “So I'd rather get back before it starts snowing.” Your shoulders drop and you focus on his fingers that are busy playing with your own. “I’m sorry.”

One of Yeonjun’s hands moves from your fingers and delicately slides against your cheek, guiding your head so you’re looking up at him. Whilst you can see hints of sadness behind his eyes, his smile is one of comfort and understanding.

“Don’t be silly.” His smile grows. “I like you and we can go as slow or quick as you want.” His hand moves from your cheek as he lightly brushes your hair out of your face. “Don’t be scared to tell me, we’ll work through it together.”

Your heart swells at his words and you lean into his touch, placing a small kiss on his palm. “You’re too sweet to me,” you mumble.

He disagrees. “No, it’s just the decent thing everyone should do, They're your boundaries, I’m not going to be an idiot and push them.”

“How did I find you?” You wonder aloud. His cheeks tint red and his smile somehow grows even wider than before.

“No, no, how did I find you?”

Your foreheads lean against one another, and you can feel his breath ever-so-slightly tickle your skin.

“Can you guys stop being disgusting now?” a voice huffs from behind you two.

You and Yeonjun jump apart from each other and you turn to see his roommate, Soobin, standing with a scowl plastered on his face, an empty cereal bowl in hand.

Yeonjun grumbles to himself, muttering ‘You're just jealous,’ as he grabs your hand, guiding you past Soobin and towards his dorm room door. At the same time, you quickly call out a goodbye to Soobin and Yeonjun sighs sadly when you both stop at his door.

He pulls you close and you can feel his body heat seeping into you. It almost, almost, makes you want to stay, as you would rather be in the warm arms of your boyfriend than face the ten-minute walk home in the cold.

“Text me when you get home?” Yeonjun asks into your shoulder and you hum in response.

“I will."

Before you pull away completely, Yeonjun places a light kiss onto the side of your lips, leaving you open to steal one right back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” this time Yeonjun is the one to hum. A small smile plays at his lips. “I love you.”

You still for a moment at his words. You should say them back—you know you should—but you just can’t. They’re on the tip of your tongue and yet you fall silent instead. You settle for stealing another kiss from him and reaffirming your words from earlier, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You can tell his smile is dripping in sadness, but you're unable to bring yourself to utter the words he so desperately wants to hear back from you. You look back and wave for a final time before you exit the hallway that leads you to the elevators and out of the building.

When you finally make your way outside, you take a deep breath; it feels almost like a huge weight has been lifted from your shoulders. The pressure of staying over with Yeonjun is gone. But now in its place is another burden you’re not ready to think about. It had started creeping into the back of your mind the moment he said those words—a reminder of times gone by. Of another boy with dark hair and eyes that sparkled and those same, fateful words.

As you walk home, you shake your head, trying to push back the tears already threatening to cloud your vision. You’ve spent too long shoving down and ignoring those feelings just to ruin everything now by bringing them back up. You aren’t ready to think about it now and, as you look up at the clear, cloudless sky, you’re not sure if you ever will be.

It did not snow that winter. Not a single flake fell from the sky.

22.

After years of not going to the neighborhood Christmas party, it feels weird to be back.

The party happens to be at Yeonjun’s family’s house this year, and once Yeonjun found this out, he jumped at the chance to introduce you to his family. You couldn’t help but smile at the hope swirling in his eyes that day as he gushed about how much they’ll love you.

But being the sweetheart that he is, he definitely noticed the doubt swimming in your eyes. He tried his best to reassure you, telling you how sweet his family is and how excited they are to finally meet you.

That’s what wins you over, and now you’re here. The feeling of being home, or, at least, a few houses away from it, brings a warm feeling to your chest. To be able to spend it with your lovely boyfriend only deepens the feeling.

In a weird way, though, you notice bits and bits, just minor details that others seem to gloss over, that only tug at your heartstrings. From the movie playing on the flatscreen, to the gingerbread house tha’s about to be devoured by a wide-eyed seven-year-old, it brings this feeling of nostalgia that you can’t quite shake off. The more the night goes on, the more it seems to eat at you.

If you didn’t already think this was some weird full circle moment of sorts, you definitely do now.

Everywhere you look, all you seem to get is mirages of past times. Faint traces of Jeongin linger in the crevices of your mind. Even if it had been two years since you last saw him, he stuck to your memories like glue.

You tried your best to push those memories to the side—to push the ick you felt every time something that reminded you of those moments away, even if it did send a chill down your spine.

But Yeonjun just had to utter those words. “Want to stay over for Christmas?”

It made you physically pause, the words processing in your mind. Ten years worth of memories surf through your mind at lightning speed. The slight word change gives you the worst feeling in your stomach you have ever felt—it was like a huge pit of emotions had opened up inside of you.

You take a breath and exhale it slowly. “Do you mean stay for Christmas?”

“Stay for Christmas, stay over for Christmas,” Yeonjun sighs, “same thing.”

“It’s different,” is all you can mumble in response.

Yeonjun groans, leaning his weight onto his hands that are placed on the counter sides.

“One word difference.”

You snap to face him, a stern look making an appearance on your face. Your voice dripping with irritation, you say, “But there’s still a difference.”

You can cut the sudden tension that arises with a knife and it’s like that is exactly what Yeonjun chooses to do. He stands straight, turning to you, and you can see how tense his jaw is—like he’s been holding everything in, and how it’s now about to burst open at the seams.

“We’ve been together for over a year and you still can’t even stay over. And when I offer to spend Christmas with you because I know it’s your favorite time of year, you fight me on it.” Yeonjun runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Is it because I’m the one that’s asking?”

“What?” you gasp, shaking your head. “It’s just, it’s stay for Christmas. Not stay over, not stay with, it’s stay for Christmas.”

Yeonjun squeezes his eyes shut, hand still in his hair. All you can do is stare at him, waiting for what he says next. Once he does open his eyes, you can see the fogginess as in them, and when he speaks again, you feel like you’re being torn in two.

“But I’m not Jeongin, I can’t ask in the way he would.”

You open your mouth to speak, shocked at his words, but nothing comes out.

“What does Jeongin have to do with this?” You question. “I like you because you’re you, Yeonjun, not because you’re someone else.”

You both stand there, staring at each other and you can’t help but feel like neither of your words are sinking in. Like they were falling onto deaf ears.

“Well what about the snow?” Yeonjun suddenly asks. Had he been spending too much time with Jisung?

“Yeonjun, baby, it’s just the weather,” you look at him with soft eyes, but all it seems to do is break him more.

With a hiccup, he tries to keep his tears at bay, “Then how come it never happens when we’re together?”

You have to look away from him, not because you don’t care, but because if you look at him any longer, tears would spill from your own eyes. It would only just make everything harder than it already is.

Yeonjun’s sniffles fill your ears and from the corner of your eye, you can see him wipe his tears away. Even when he takes a few steps towards you and takes one of your hands in his, you’re still unable to look at him in fear of breaking.

“I’ll walk you home,” he whispers gently.

You gaze at the floor and nod your head, squeezing the hand that held yours. He squeezes it right back in a silent understanding. It’s like you hear both of your hearts cracking like glass in the silence, but it was unlike any type of heartbreak you had ever felt before…

It can’t compare to the heartbreak you had with Heeseung, or even the heartbreak you felt when Jeongin left. This is its own brand of heartbreak, one that would last and one that would carve itself into your heart, a cruel reminder that will follow you for all time.

The walk back to your apartment is a quiet one. Your fingers stay linked with Yeonjun’s, and every now and then, you’d squeeze each other’s hands to remind yourself of the moment—of the feeling of your hands entwined with each other.

When you’re outside of your door, it’s bittersweet and it’s heartbreaking. And when Yeonjun reluctantly draws his hand away from yours, you want everything to chase after it with your own.

This is when you finally look up at him.

His eyes are red and fresh tears have prickled up in his eyes as soon as they meet yours. As soon as you see his tears, your eyes quickly well up to match his.

“We should,” he hiccups. “We should take some time apart.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, sniffling away the sob that crawls up your throat. You feel Yeonjun’s light kiss on your cheek, and that sob defies you, escaping your lips.

When Yeonjun pulls away, he speaks softly, as if speaking any louder would break him completely. “We’re on different pages and we both deserve people who aren’t.”

His lips linger on your cheek, like a silent plea begging you not to let him move away, but to pull him closer. To tell him that you both could make whatever it is you called a relationship work.

But you don’t, and he soon pulls away, the warmth of his lips is quickly replaced with a damp, cold breeze.

You regret opening your eyes when you do because you’re met with Yeonjun’s own tears rolling down his face. With no attempt to stop them, Yeonjun hiccups and looks away from you.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N,” his voice strains.

As he walks away, you open your mouth to yell out for him, but nothing comes out when you try. You just watch as he slowly disappears down the hallway, his shoulders hunched, shuddering slightly every time a quiet sob escapes him.

You can’t tell if you’re lucky or not when you enter the apartment and realize that Jisung isn’t home. On one hand, you wouldn’t have to cry in front of him—on the other, you really don’t want to cry on your own.

You trudge your way to your room, a numbness overtaking your body. You crave the warmth of your blankets and can’t wait to let them hold you in comfort as you cry for the rest of the night.

When your blankets are secured around you and long after the tears have dried out, you sit there in self pity. Your phone is staring up at you, and you somehow find your way to your camera roll. An album of photos of you and Yeonjun sits right by your recents, and you’re hesitant to click on it. But you do, and the collection of photos from the past year and a half makes your heart wrench all over again.

You wish the relationship didn’t end this way as badly as he did, if not more. Yeonjun was perfect in every way—sweet, understanding, patient—yet, somehow, it still wasn’t enough to keep you two together.

“But I’m not Jeongin.” His words echo in your mind as you swipe through all of your selfies with him. He’s right: he’s not Jeongin. But that shouldn’t have mattered… right?

“I can’t ask in the way he would.” He can’t.

Or can he?

If he had not flubbed the iconic line, not even with the slightest one-word difference… would you be where you are right now?

You let your phone drop onto the mattress as you ponder. Burrowing yourself further into your blankets, you try to imagine Yeonjun saying the line correctly this time. ‘Stay for Christmas?’ he’d chirp, hope lighting up his beautiful brown eyes. ‘Stay for Christmas?’ he’d pipe, a pure smile pulling his soft lips upward.

But it doesn’t feel right.

No matter how you try to picture it, there’s something about those words leaving Yeonjun’s mouth that makes your stomach twist. As hard of a time as you gave him about getting the phrase wrong, imagining him getting it right almost feels worse.

Maybe he can’t pull it off like Jeongin can. Maybe he was missing the awkward little beat Jeongin always carried when he uttered those three little words. Maybe he lacked the sheepish glow Jeongin always seemed to have creep up his cheeks when he said it, regardless of how coolly he tried to pull it off. Don’t forget the way he’d stupidly wiggle his eyebrows at you, and the faint little giggle that followed as he scrunched up his nose in embarrassment.

It’s a charm you truly believe only Jeongin could pull off.

But it shouldn’t have mattered that much. Jeongin wasn’t your boyfriend—Yeonjun was. And it’s not like Yeonjun didn’t have his own charm to him. His was more classic romantic, per se—always showing up at your doorstep with roses and a sweet smile, surprising you with dinner, taking you out for midnight drives while you blast both of your favorite songs. He’s a true Romeo, a type of lover that only exists in the movies.

“But I’m not Jeongin.”

You can’t stop Yeonjun’s gut-wrenching words from haunting your mind. It’s like the toll of a bell, its low tone ringing in every corner of your skull, shaking every crevice of your brain. Really, it shouldn’t bother you this much.

For starters, Jeongin is no Romeo. You’ve witnessed him try to be one firsthand—multiple times, actually. The keyword here is ‘try’.

There really were no suave, overly romantic elements to Jeongin, like there were for guys in the movies. He doesn’t need big gestures like flower bouquets bigger than your head to show that he cares. It’s all in the details, the smaller things he did, how he knew you nearly better than you did yourself. Taking you to see the lights all those years ago meant more to you than any grand movie gesture ever could have. Ultimately, he doesn’t need anything else because he is enough as it is. It’s a thought that slowly crept in over time and you never even noticed until it hit you like a brick. He’s not picture-perfect, but that’s not who you want him to be.

He’s just… Jeongin.

A part of you wants to admit it, but maybe, just maybe, he and stay for Christmas were what pushed your love for Christmas and the winter season more. But now that he isn’t here, that’s why it isn’t the same.

Because is there really a Christmas without Stay for Christmas?

The longer you stare at the folder, filled to the brim with photos of you and Yeonjun over the course of your relationship, the more unbearable it becomes. Your thumb hovers over the back button, soon letting fall against the screen.

Scrolling away as far as you could from it, another folder that instantly causes a mountain of flashbacks appears. Giggling at the joke title you named the album, you stare at it for a moment. You aren’t sure when the last time you looked at this album was.

As soon as you click on it, you’re hit with a wave of bittersweet nostalgia so hard, it almost hurts.

It’s a compilation of photos of you and Jeongin, dating back to when your parents handed you your first smartphone. You’re able to scroll so far back that you can find photos of Jeongin in that obnoxious purple sweater. Somehow, as you look at it in that moment, it doesn’t seem as obnoxious as it used to be…

Maybe it had grown on you, like stay for Christmas had grown on Jeongin.

And how pictures of Christmases before (and all-year-round photos) made your heart seem to swell in a way you hadn’t felt in a while. All the lights that grazed your presence when you were with him, all the longer-than-necessary hugs you two shared in the snow, even the thoughts, the memories of it, are like little static shocks sending metaphorical butterflies swarming around you. It plays at your chest like a flute and it makes you begin to wonder… if the thought of Yeonjun or actually being around Yeonjun, or even his touch, made you feel that way.

You’d think since Yeonjun is—was—your boyfriend, you wouldn’t have to think so hard for the answer. Yet here you are, comparing everything you felt with Jeongin to how you felt with Yeonjun over the past year.

It opens up the box of feelings you’ve tried so hard to push away. This time though, there’s no stopping it as everything bubbles up and spills over.

You continue looking through the photos of you and Jeongin, hardly noticing when the pictures start to blur slightly, fresh tears making their way down your cheeks. You missed him, you missed him so much it makes your chest hurt. There’s no denying that anymore, not that there was ever a point to it anyway. You missed everything about him, how he knew you like the back of his own hand to how effortless things had been between you two for so long.

A teary smile makes its way onto your face, unable to stop the overwhelming warmth that tore through you as you gaze at one photo of you two. Jeongin had an arm slung over your shoulders, braces-covered smile beaming up at you from the screen. You had a grin to match, happy and effortless, without a care in the world.

That’s how Jeongin had always made you feel, even during times when you had disagreements or fought over stupid things. At the end of the day, you always made your way back to him. Because ultimately, nobody else could make you feel the way he could—like you were safe, like you were home.

Eventually you ran out of photos to look through, and somehow you made your way to your messages, scrolling through and rereading old texts from Jeongin.

i miss you… you type out, take a deep breath, and hit send.

Instantly, he responds, making your heart swirl treacherously. i miss you too.

A second later, another text appears from him, making one last wave of tears pool in your eyes. stay for christmas?

The timing truly couldn’t be any worse than this, but you can’t deny the real reason behind your outburst anymore. All the seemingly-random bursts of butterflies in your stomach when you were a teenager slowly start to make sense. All the times your heart would skip a beat whenever he looked at you a certain way, the telltale sense of warmth you felt when you were even around him; heck, the entire incident at the winter formal—it all adds up.

There’s no denying who your heart yearns for anymore. And, if given the choice, there’s no denying which dark-haired boy you would live everything with all over again. No more running away, only running back to him—if only fate would let you.

wouldn’t miss it for the world.

23.

“Why so glum, chum?”

You barely move your head from where you’re curled up on the sofa to look at your roommate as he bounces into the living room. His overly energetic skips come to a halt right behind you and he looms his head above you, letting the corners of his mouth drag into an exaggerated pout.

You let out a slow breath and stare back at him with solemn eyes. The weather had dropped to the all-too-familiar December chill, rainbow lights adorned the city—heck, you’re watching A Charlie Brown Christmas for the third time in a row—but you can’t seem to will yourself into the Christmas spirit even if you tried. The reason seems pretty obvious to you.

For better or worse, the boy tapping his fingers on the back of the couch as he waits impatiently for your answer is one you’ve known for years. Over time, he’s morphed from the awkward older kid that ‘needs to take a couple babies under [his] wing’, to a sweet (when he wants to be)—dare you say, mature (again, when he wants to be)—older brother figure of sorts. If anyone knows why you’re so somber as you wallow in candy cane wrappers and your favorite ugly Christmas sweater, it should be him.

“You know why,” you grumble.

You think that’s enough of an answer, but Jisung bends down to get a better look at you and attempts to pry more.

“Hmm, do I?”

Another, more irritated huff leaves your parted lips as you turn to Lucy mercilessly grilling Charlie Brown, and you make damn sure your back is to your snoopy roommate.

Why do you even need to explain yourself to him? Jisung has literally had a front-row seat to the entire story since before he knew how to part his hair properly. He watched you slowly and hopelessly fall for your best friend before his very eyes since you were sixteen. He witnessed you delude yourself into a bottomless pit of denial for years, pushing yourself down so far that not even the most picture-perfect guy could pull you out.

Your life might as well be a sappy romance anime unfolding right in front of him, and Jisung knows every minute detail, every moment of development, every tear you shed for Jeongin like the back of his hand. He could whip up a play-by-play of your history with that boy faster than he can for the plot of Your Name—and he loves that movie.

But you guess as the older brother figure, it also means he has to annoy the living hell out of you for it. Not that he didn’t in the first place, but usually he’d, you know, comfort you when you’re upset.

Waddling around the couch to plop next to you, with overdramatized puppy eyes boring into your soul, is not that comforting.

“Come onnn, Y/N,” Jisung sing-songs, poking at your cheek. “Talk to me.”

Your frown etches further downward. You don’t do anything to move his hand, though, and opt to just turn your head back to the Peanuts characters.

“Cheer up, sugarplum.” Jisung now squishes your cheeks in one hand like a doting mother. It earns a whine from you, and you finally slap his hand away.

“Jisung.” You sigh, keeping your eyes on the TV. “I’m really, really not in the mood for celebrating Christmas this year.”

It makes your heart ache to actually admit it out loud, but you’d be lying if you tried to say otherwise. Christmas will always be your favorite time of the year, but all the memories you carry with it hurt too much now. It’s all a gaping hole in your stomach that you can’t patch.

“I know, I know,” Jisung says simply, but a heart-shaped smile slowly forms as he speaks. You blink as you stare blankly at him—you don’t like that sparkle in his eye.

That suspicious grin only widens as he utters his next words.

“That’s why we’re hosting a Christmas party next week.”

Your heart stops for a second, and you stare at Jisung with wide eyes.

“We?!”

You’re sure Jisung senses the aggravation in your voice. You already, and very blatantly, you may add, have made it clear that all you want for Christmas this year is to wallow in your blanket burrito and watch whatever cheesy film Hallmark was putting out.

But of course, Jisung won’t let that happen. You know he means well, but you still wonder for a second why you agreed to move in with him once he graduated and came back home from college.

“You know this is my apartment, too, right?” you add.

“I know, but just trust me!” He beams, and it only makes you scowl more. “Oh, wait…”

His phone flashes on, a notification popping up on his lockscreen, and whatever it is seems to elate his already excessively cheerful mood. You peer over his shoulder with curious eyes as his thumbs fly across the keyboard, but Jisung places a palm to your forehead and pushes your head away before you can get a glimpse.

“Nuh uh, that’s private!” He tuts, and you frown at him again. As he slides his phone back in his pocket, the cheesy smile returns to his face. Once again, you’re not a fan.

“I need you to trust me, okay?” he says. “It’ll be fun! It’s just gonna be you, me, and our closest friends. Promise.”

You’re still not super on board with the idea. Even a small hangout seems too much for you right now, and you can practically feel the flashbacks from the last few years haunting your mind as you think.

“I… I don’t know, Jisung.”

“If I give you hot chocolate right now, would that influence your decision?”

You watch as Jisung turns around, whipping out two to-go cups from right next to him. A small smile makes its way to your face as he hands you one.

“I’ll think about it,” you mumble, taking a sip of the warm drink.

The gesture is surprisingly enough to make you say ‘yes’ a few harrowing (for Jisung) hours later, and that’s how you find yourself at your and Jisung’s “Christmas Eve Eve Spectacular”. Why Christmas Eve Eve? Who knows, but you did hear Jisung mumble something about being able to go to your neighborhood party in peace. Weird, especially when he seems to know that it’s on Christmas Eve this year.

Regardless, you think you did a good job of decorating the apartment for the occasion. Besides the small Christmas tree in the living room themed red and gold, you and Jisung had wrapped matching garlands above the curtains and hung wreaths on your bedroom doors. Your couch was adorned with throw pillows you had gotten on sale a week ago, and, because you didn’t have a fireplace, you opted to hang the stockings right above the TV instead. It’s very homey, yet screams young and broke at the same time.

The entertainment is even better. Something about Frosty The Snowman playing on the TV while a bunch of grown men yell at each other playing Twister just feels very college Friendsmas-esque to you. The best part? You’re in charge of the spinner. You can get your daily dose of Christmas cartoons without being trapped under a bunch of loud, sweaty guys.

“You’re cheating!” Hyunjin accuses Felix, slapping his hand from the yellow dot.

“It’s not my fault you don’t know what yellow means!” Felix yells back. He slams his hip into Hyunjin’s side and makes him topple over.

The taller boy gasps dramatically, pointing at Felix as he lies on the floor. “Now you really cheated, asshole!”

You snicker and shake your head at the boys’ shenanigans. You’ve nearly forgotten about the sour mood you were in just days ago; maybe giving in to Jisung’s incessant begging was the right decision.

Speaking of Jisung, he doesn’t seem too into the Twister game, and he’s usually one of the most competitive of the bunch. He was the first one out this round, claiming he “accidentally stumbled” on Seungmin’s hand as he “reached for the wrong dot”very early in the game. Weird.

From the corner of your eye, you can see him fervently checking his phone instead of watching the game, and sometimes, you’d catch a smug smile painting his face briefly before he quickly snaps back to a neutral facade. You’re tempted to snatch the boy’s phone from his hands and read whatever the hell is making him smirk so much.

After a moment, you focus back on the game. Seungmin and Felix are the only two left. Both are at the brink of collapsing, their entangled arms wobbling under them, and you’re placing bets with Hyunjin on who will fall first.

Felix’s arms give out first, after attempting to contort around himself and Seungmin as he stretches for a red dot. He groans out in pain, and you unceremoniously shove five dollars into Hyunjin’s hands as he revels in his victory.

“Thanks for the early present, Y/N,” he says, smiling cheesily.

You make a face akin to a grimace and roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I want a rematch!” Felix’s voice audibly cracks as he whines, lying in a starfish position on the floor.

“Why did you try to go under and not over me?!” Seungmin remarks with an incredulous stare.

Hyunjin snickers. “That’s what she said.”

You smack him on the chest as the other boys groan. “Oh shut up, Hyunjin!” You hiss, shaking your head at the very mature joke. “We can do a rematch, though, but it’s up to you two,” you add, pointing two fingers at Felix and Seungmin.

Before you bend down to fix the bunched-up Twister mat, you turn to Hyunjin one more time. “And no more dirty jokes!”

The doorbell rings through the small apartment, making a look of puzzlement cross your face. You know you aren’t expecting anyone besides the boys that are already here, so you look to Jisung to see if he is.

“Did you order takeout, Ji?”

Jisung shakes his head at you, but a small smile graces his lips. “Nope.”

You blink. “…Did you order a package?”

He chuckles lightly. “One could say that.”

The growing gleam in his eye makes you furrow your brow more. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His small smile morphs into a Cheshire-like grin.

“Why don’t you get the door and find out?”

You stare at him with a twisted face as you slowly get up. You really, really don’t like that sparkle in his eye.

Your stomach jumps with uneasiness as you make your way to the door. Part of it was due to Jisung’s odd phrasing, but regardless, you’re almost terrified to find out what lies on the other side. You just cross your fingers and hope it’s a terrible gift at best that you can pretend to like.

Your hand shakes as you slowly twist the top lock open, then the bottom. Then you pull the door open, and you feel your heart rattle in your chest at the sight.

“…Jeongin?”

You feel like you’re dreaming as you stare at the boy in front of you. Jeongin has a comfy, dark purple sweater over a white hoodie—an actually decent shade of purple that’s pleasing to the eye. He runs a hand through his messy black hair as he smiles at you, letting out a deep but nervous chuckle when he realizes he’s just fluffed his hair up more. He’s grown it out since you last saw him, and his bangs perfectly frame his face, some strands falling in front of his eyes.

You feel the breath sucked out of your lungs. Not because he looks good (but you’re not denying that), or because you pick up a hint of sandalwood and amber lingering from him that nearly makes you dizzy—but because you feel all the memories from over the years flood in all at once. First come the good memories, and there’s tons of them. The several times you played hooky with him, the night he took you to see the glittering lights… the day you first met. It all brings a warm feeling to your chest, sending your heart fluttering as a light blush coats your cheeks.

But right after the good, you’re brought back down to earth with the bad. You’re fortunate that the bad is so little compared to the good, but the night before he left for college so suddenly is one you just can’t erase, no matter how hard you try. Memories of concerned glances and the surging feelings of regret and heartbreak make themselves known once again. Every moment of longing and the mixed feelings of wanting to reconnect with him, to be by his side again, causes your insides to twist in uncomfortable ways.

You can’t tell if you want to yell at him after leaving and not telling you himself, or if you want to run into his arms and never let him go.

Say something, Y/N, your mind screams at you as you remain frozen in place. But what are you supposed to say to someone so dear to your heart, that also happens to be the reason it’s ached for all these years?

You draw in another breath, and you stammer out the first thing that comes to mind.

“H-Hi.”

You mentally slap yourself. That’s all you have to say? You have been yearning for this moment for three years, and all you can come up with is ‘hi’?

Luckily, Jeongin seems to reciprocate, mumbling a “hey” back with an awkward wave, but you still want to kick yourself for your pitiful attempt at a greeting.

You turn around to see Jisung visibly deflate at the interaction. It’s clear now that he’s had this surprise planned for a while, and all his offhand murmurs from the past week about ‘getting the band back together’ are starting to make much more sense.

He blinks, and in a moment’s notice, his frown is gone and he sweeps in to save the moment.

“Jeongin, come here, my honey sweet!”

You chuckle fondly as Jisung smothers Jeongin with bone-crushing hugs and excessive hair ruffles. It’s just like when you were all awkward tweens and teenagers in the school hallways, except Jisung wasn’t randomly popping up behind you two, and you were all considerably shorter. You forgot how much you missed that.

“We’re about to play another round of Twister,” Jisung chirps after a minute, his arms still securely around the younger. “But I think Hyunjin, Felix, and Seungmin all want to go against each other, so you can go next round.”

Hyunjin cocks a brow. “No, they just said everyone can joi—”

“No they didn’t, Hyunjin,” Jisung bites back through gritted teeth, and sends the blond a look that makes him cower back to the living room.

Once Hyunjin leaves the room, Jisung turns to a confused Jeongin. “Y/N’s spinning. You can keep her company, maybe catch up a bit while you’re at it?” he suggests.

Jeongin smiles lightly, but he’s shoved into the living room with you in tow before he can verbally respond.

You’re both unceremoniously pushed into your tacky Christmas pillows, and Jisung hands you the spinner. He even does the first spin for you, and sends you a wink as he moves to sit by the window.

You just blink, waiting for the arrow to come to a full stop. “Seungmin, left foot on blue,” you call when it does.

As Seungmin is stepping onto the end blue circle, you spin the spinner again, nibbling on your lip anxiously as you feel Jeongin’s body heat radiating onto you. It makes you want to squirm, and you try your best to keep your eyes on the spinner.

“Felix, left hand, red.”

Felix mumbles to himself, but you’re not sure what as you’re not really listening. Once he settles on a dot, you flick the spinner again.

Jeongin clears his throat and fiddles with his fingers in his lap. “How have you been?” He attempts—keyword: attempts—to ask casually.

You’re so focused on watching the spinner, all you do is hum in response. When the spinner slows and stops, you clear your own throat. “Jisung, right foot, green,” you call out, “and… alright,” you mumble afterward. “I’ve been alright, you?”

He watches you as you flick the plastic arrow again. “I’ve… I’ve been okay…”He trails off like he wants to say more, but he remains quiet.

“Hyunjin, left hand, yellow.”

You’re not sure how long you guys sit there silently for, but your insides feel like they’re trying to claw their way out of you. Maybe ten minutes of silence feels like ten hours, and you desperately pray for the game to end so you could do literally anything else.

If only your thirteen-year-old self could see you now. Maybe you were too dramatic that Christmas, because you are sure this just took the throne as The Most Awkward Conversation Of Your Life™.

Out of nowhere, a loud gasp booms over Michael Bublé’s “Have A Holly Jolly Christmas”, the boys’ shouting, and whatever cartoon autoplayed after Frosty ended. Everyone’s heads snap to Jisung, who stares with sparkly eyes at the world outside.

You lean past Jeongin to get a glance. Light gray skies, slow-floating crystals, fluffy white blanket… it makes you break out into a grin. So does Jeongin, who smiles fondly as he pats your knee. The move makes you want to do backflips.

“Oh my god, snow!” Jisung cheers, already scurrying for the door. He mutters something about it being ‘just what he needed’ as he zips past you and Jeongin, but quickly turns on his heel when he sees neither of you move a muscle.

“Um, hello?!” the older boy chastises you and Jeongin, tossing you your coats and hitting you both in the face. “It’s the first snow of winter, what are you doing?!” He claps his hands for emphasis, but not before he shoves a pair of mittens into both your hands. “You need. To see. The snow.”

You exchange a knowing look with Jeongin but follow Jisung’s hasty instructions. Neither of you seem to move as fast as he wants you to be, so he does the job for you by hurriedly, but carefully, pushing you both down the stairs and to the lobby.

Jeongin presses his lips into a thin line, stepping closer to you as Jisung dashes back up the stairs to get the rest of the group. You smile back politely, but say nothing else.

You turn back to the stairs at the sound of Jisung’s voice bouncing off the walls. Whether he knows you two could hear him or not, you don’t think he cares, considering that he’s already yelling at the top of his lungs.

“SEE!” He motions around himself widely. “I TOLD YOU IT’D SNOW WHEN THEY WERE TOGETHER!” A dopey smile covers his face as he holds his hands up to his chest, like he himself had just miraculously fallen in love. “It’s like magic!”

Judging from a quick glance behind you as you make your way toward the front doors, Hyunjin seems to fully indulge in Jisung’s antics, smiling brightly and hopping up and down as they bound down the stairs. Felix and Seungmin, who trail behind them, don’t seem nearly as amused.

“Jisung, bro,” Seungmin blinks, “It’s literally just the weather.”

Jisung’s smile drops instantly and he glares at the brunet boy, pointing a finger at him. “No! You had to be there for everything, trust me! I’M NOT CRAZY, WATCH!”

The listless look doesn’t drop from Seungmin’s face as he follows his overly chipper friend downstairs.

Jeongin snorts, lightly bumping his shoulder into your own. “He’s still on that?”

You open the front door for the both of you, rolling your eyes. “He never stopped, seriously.”

The cold air hits you instantly and you’re glad Jisung gave you your gloves to wear. You scan the area around you and the only other people in sight are a group of children across the street. The ever-growing white blanket in front of your apartment complex is all yours and Jeongin’s—anything’s free game.

Unfortunately, the delicate, white crystals fluttering down around you do nothing to help the tension looming between you both. It followed you out of your apartment like a dark storm cloud, and now it’s raining on your snowy parade. You hate it. But you don’t know how to get rid of it.

“Sooo…” you start, and just as quickly trail off. “What now?”

Jeongin just shrugs, watching a snowflake fall to the ground.

You sigh, mostly to yourself. Looks like you’re going to have to take the lead. You begin to roll up a ball of snow, making it bigger and bigger in hopes of building a snowman.

The bigger and more round your snowman base gets, the more that the little rain cloud between you and Jeongin seems to shrink away. Even though you haven’t said a word to the boy and nearly forgotten he was even there, something about playing in the snow together in silence is… healing. It’s therapeutic in its own right, the soft crystals somehow bringing a feeling of warmth to your chest as you bring out your inner child.

Just as you’re finished with the top body part and you’re lifting it up ready to place, a sudden impact of cold, wet snow hits the back of your neck and begins to slither down your back. This results in you dropping the snowman’s body and you gasp as it breaks apart into heaps on the floor.

Turning around, you pout as Jeongin looks at you with a cheeky smile playing at his lips. He looks away, whistling innocently and shoving his hands into his coat pockets. Your glare hardens and you quickly pick up the precious bit of used snow, squishing it into a ball before lobbing it in Jeongin’s direction, just barely missing his left arm.

“You need to work on your aim,” Jeongin remarks cockily, and you scrabble another snowball in your hands.

Throwing the haphazardly-made snowball in his direction, his laughter fills your ears and makes the butterflies in your stomach fly. You duck as his own snowball is about to hit you, and it just skims the back of your head.

“This is war!” You glare at your best friend. “You made me mess up my snowman!”

“Why focus on your snowman when you can focus on me?” Jeongin laughs, making your heart speed up again.

You hide behind the pitiful remains of your snowman and hold your hands to your cheeks. Sure, you were in a war, but you couldn’t let him see that his words affected you. You could have blamed it on the cold, but would Jeongin really believe it?

“You can’t hide forever,” Jeongin sings, his voice getting nearer and nearer.

Keeping a watchful eye over your shoulder, you attempt to make a bunch of snowballs as you try to will the color on your cheeks away. You try to calm your breathing, suppressing any giggles that threaten to come out as you grow your small pile of ammo.

As you scramble to prepare for whenever Jeongin plans to pelt you with snowballs, all your worries seem to melt away. Adrenaline rushes through your body as you hear Jeongin’s boots crunch in the snow, but you also feel a wave of calm wash over you. It’s just you, Jeongin, and the white blanket of snow surrounding you two. Just like when you were little.

You missed this.

A small giggle escapes your lips as you peer over your shoulder one more time. Jeongin doesn’t seem to be sneaking up on you—in fact, he’s nowhere in sight. You turn around and let out a sigh of relief. You’re safe.

Until you notice Jeongin towering over you, smirking deviously.

“Did you miss me?”

You let out a squeal, backing yourself against your crumbling snowman as you frantically chuck snowballs his way. He seems to be unfazed by it, only chuckling as the snowballs split into pieces as they hit his chest, and he steps closer to you.

Soon, you’re resorting to flinging pathetic scoops of snow at him as you try to scoot back. You’re in a fit of giggles as he inches closer, your heartbeat quickening his pace as you chuck one more blob of snow to hopefully deter him.

It strikes him square in the face.

Your jaw drops in surprise, and you can only watch as Jeongin wordlessly wipes the snow off his face. You search his face for any sign of hurt, fearing you might’ve gone too far, but you only find a mischievous glint in his eye.

Oh no.

You gulp as he drops to his knees and continues to close the gap between you, his smug smile growing wider. A nervous giggle escapes your lips as you watch for his next move, and you grab another handful of snow in your mitt to get ready to fight back—then you feel his fingers at your sides.

“Jeongin, stopppp~!”

You’re unable to control your laughter as Jeongin mercilessly tickles you. Any attempts at pushing him away are quickly proved fruitless by a shove of his hand, and you’re left thrashing around helplessly as he continues to torture you.

You’ve practically been thrown into the pillow of former-snowman behind you by the time Jeongin sits back and lets you go. Gasping for air, you let out another giggle as you watch him bend over, hands on the snow by either of your sides as he catches his breath as well.

The air around you falls silent as you stare up at him. You search his face again, your chest heaving up and down. You can’t find any more signs of incoming mischief, but you find his soft gaze staring back at you, and the rosy color pricking at his cheeks. You assume his blush is from the cold, but you know yours is from otherwise.

Another few seconds pass and Jeongin still hasn’t tormented you. A smirk slowly spreads across your face as an idea sparks on your mind.

Before you can even think it through, you spring up, arms outstretched as you pounce in his direction. He has no time to react before you tackle him, fingers going to his sides as you tickle him and get your sweet revenge.

“You asshole!” You shriek in between giggles.

It’s now Jeongin’s turn to try to shove your hands away as he scoots back, an endless stream of giggles escaping his mouth as well. Hearing his laughter ring in your ears makes you laugh more in turn as you shuffle after him. You both grapple around for a moment and eventually land on the ground, you on top of Jeongin, your legs all tangled together.

You tickle him for another second when you look up and pause. It’s then that you realize just how close your faces are to each other, and suddenly, you forget how to breathe. Everything goes still for a moment as you stare at him with wide eyes. One more movement and you’d be kissing him.

You pray that Jeongin doesn’t feel your heart hammering against your ribcage as you’re pressed up against him, but you can’t help but wonder if his heart is doing backflips in his own chest.

Unable to take the thoughts swirling inside your head anymore, you roll off of him and onto your back, looking up at the sky. Tiny snowflakes fall around you in a light, gentle flow, but a steady one—it almost feels reassuring. It’s like the universe is sending you a message, in its own special way, that everything will be alright.

You take a deep breath and look over at the boy next to you. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he blinks, wide eyes gazing up at the snow. A couple snowflakes seem to fall on his face and he scrunches up his nose as he giggles. A fond smile decorates your lips as you watch him, and you feel your heart quicken its pace once again.

Another moment passes and Jeongin turns his head to you. “What's wrong?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed slightly.

You shake your head and start moving to stand up. “It’s nothing, just…” you trail off, unsure what to say next. You hold out a hand to help him to his feet as well.

The two of you stand in silence for some time. You take a small step closer to him, and you can’t deny the way your heart swells in your chest as you take in the scene around you. The snow seems to dance around you two, swirling around gently as if the crystals are casting a gentle spotlight on you both. When your eyes land back on Jeongin, you note the snowflakes that dot his chestnut hair and perfectly complement his slightly messy curls. It’s adorably awkward, but he looks cozy, like… almost like home.

He turns his head to look at you and gives you a smile that sends warmth spreading through your whole body. There’s a gentleness to his gaze as his eyes meet yours, and the way he reaches over to move a strand of hair away from your face nearly makes you melt. A faint blush dusts his cheeks as he steps closer to you, closing the distance between you two, and you hope he doesn’t notice your already rosy cheeks glow a deeper red.

“Stay for Christmas?” he whispers.

There’s no helping the grin that grows on your face at the familiar words.

“Just come here.”

You can hear the squeals of the children across the street (and Jisung from behind you), but you feel at peace as you lean up to wrap your arms around Jeongin’s neck. A small chuckle reverberates through you as you feel him snugly hug you back, and you tuck your head in his shoulder.

You still don’t believe the snow is the seasonal deity that Jisung swears by, but something about the way it gently cascades down feels like it’s wrapping you both in a warm blanket and reassuring you that you’re okay. That you’re home. As Jeongin gently rests his head against yours and sways the two of you back and forth, you realize that this was what you were missing the whole time; not only in your old neighborhood, but during the time Jeongin was away.

Turns out the magic you always felt during this time of year wasn’t just in the snow. It wasn’t just in the whimsicality of Christmas cartoons, or your utter fascination with the holiday lights, either. It’s the feeling of comfort that comes with it, the feeling of knowing that someone who cares about you will be there to do it all with you a thousand times over. That special feeling that only Jeongin has been able to give to you all these years, even if it’s awkward at times, even if you’ve consumed one too many cups of hot chocolate for his liking… the feeling of being home.

You realize that Jeongin is more than just your best friend and your longtime crush—he’s home. And if it takes a bit of snow to realize that, that’s magic enough for you.

24...

Christmas has changed a lot since the previous year with you and Jeongin officially being back at best friend status—not that he had ever left. But just knowing he’s finally home is enough to rekindle your affinity for the holidays that you’ve been lacking for the past few years. Now it’s finally here, and the fire inside you is burning brighter than ever.

With it being a newfound tradition in the Y/Nsung household—funny enough, you actually coined the name—your apartment this year is once again the main headquarters for all things Christmas festivities. And this time, it’s on Christmas Eve. You thought it’d be fitting, considering your shared history with Jeongin over the date. Like last year, you took care to decorate the apartment to a T, pretty garlands and shades of red and green glistening all over the living area.

The party had very much been a success, with only a few disagreements (read: screaming matches) between Hyunjin and Felix about who was actually better at the chosen game, and who was, in fact, cheating. You suspected both of them cheated at some point, but decided staying silent was probably the better option.

And after a hearty meal of Chinese take-out from the 24/7 open restaurant, the three boys, minus Jeongin, called it a night and headed out for the comforts of their warm beds. You could still hear Hyunjin and Felix arguing as they left, with a sulking Seungmin behind them, grumbling something about having to listen to them all the way back to their hotel.

You close the door behind them and turn to your best friend. He’s standing rather close to you, making your heart speed up slightly. The small smile that covers his face leaves you feeling comforted, loved.

It’s crazy how much can happen in a year. The awkwardness you feared would persist after being apart for three years had melted away after Jeongin (and Jisung) surprised you with his return, after that impromptu snowball fight that set your heart alight. You two spent the following few days doing some much-need catching up, and now, you’re closer than ever. It was like he never left home. Or, rather, like you were finally home.

“I thought you would have gone with them,” you mention, your own smile playing at your lips.

Jeongin shrugs, opening his arms out wide, indicating his need for a hug. “Just wanted to spend more time with you.” You giggle, shuffling into his arms. “Without all of the yelling,” he finishes his sentence as a mumble.

“Yeah,” you sigh into his chest. “This is much nicer.”

Maybe it’s weird to say that you feel something in the air shift. Or maybe it was the way Jeongin subtly changed his grip on you, but something seems different all of a sudden.

“Are you okay?” Your voice comes out softer than you expected, but when Jeongin holds you tighter and just sighs, your suspicions become elevated.

He lets his arms fall from you and he slips one hand into your own, leading you back into your living room. An uncomfortable silence sifts between you two.

“Jeonginnie?” you finally say after another moment.

“I need to talk to you about something.” He frowns, pulling you down so you’re sitting next to him. “It’s serious.”

A frown of your own instantly takes its place on your face. Jeongin sits there, his gaze on your one hand in his lap, and he plays with your fingers in hopes of calming himself down.

“And I need to tell you because I don’t want what happened before to repeat itself.” Jeongin explains. “I don’t want to go however many years to go by again because I didn’t tell you myself.” He continues, now looking at you.

Eyebrows furrowed, you gaze at him. “Jeongin, what’s going on?”

“I… I got a job offer…”

You’re about to open your mouth and congratulate him, then he finishes his sentence, finally looking you in the eye.

“…but it’s two cities away.”

If Jeongin listened carefully enough, he could’ve heard your heart crack in your chest.

“Oh…”

He nods his head solemnly. “My parents are flying out with me tomorrow night to go check out apartments.” His gaze falls back to your hand that’s on his lap, and his voice grows softer as he continues to explain. “We’ll be back by New Year’s, but… once we settle on a place and sign the lease…”

“…You’ll be leaving again,” you quietly finish his sentence, your voice wavering at the end. He nods once more.

It’s like you were nineteen all over again, but this time, you had Jeongin in front of you—almost softening the blow. All the emotions you felt after he had left the first rush back to the surface all at once, and you nearly feel like you’re drowning.

But you stuff it all down. You shove it back in the crackling dam that is your heart, at least for the moment. You can let out your frustration with the world when Jeongin goes home. Not now.

Be strong, Y/N.

“We can still text,” you begin, your voice filled with hope—at least, you pray that’s what comes across. “And call and FaceTime.”

The sides of Jeongin’s lips turn up into a small smile. Slowly, he moves his hand so it’s wrapped in yours, entwining your fingers together and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“We will.” He looks up at you again. “I just wanted to be the one to tell you this time.”

You squeeze his hand back. Your heart races. “I appreciate that.”

A thick, heavy silence spreads across the room. You’re too focused on gazing into Jeongin’s eyes to care about the world outside of your little bubble with him. But your heart cries out, not wanting the moment to end. Not when this could be the last night you see Jeongin for a while.

You want to hold his hand and hold him in your arms and never let him go. But you know you can’t do that. Not when this job could be a big deal for him, not when it could change his whole life.

So you let the warmth from his hand seep into yours. You let your head fall onto his shoulder. You let the butterflies fly in all directions at the sight, and feeling, of his sweet gaze on you. The one you’ll miss so dearly when he’s gone.

The one you’ll cherish for as long as you can.

“YAHOOOO!!”

A loud yell echoes throughout the apartment, causing your stares to break and Jeongin to drop your hand. With the yell coming from the only other known person in the apartment, you silently think of the ways you’d hurt Jisung in his sleep tonight for ruining the moment.

Soon, a trail of slamming doors and footsteps are heard, growing in frequency and volume as they get closer and closer to the living room. Then the living room door swings open and slams against the wall, Jisung’s hand stopping it from bouncing back and hitting him in the face whilst he prances into the room with the largest gummy smile you've ever seen. His cheeks are all pink and he looks like he could burst into happy tears at any moment.

“Guess what, my babies!” he sings, maybe a little too lively, “Looks like your guardian angel came to the rescue, Jeongin’s not leaving tomorrow!”

Blinking, you sit there, your lips twisting into a confused grimace as he dramatically wipes the corners of his eyes with his sleeve. You want to wholeheartedly believe your fanatical roommate. You wish so desperately for this to just be some bad dream you’re about to wake up from. But the way your heart continues to squeeze in your chest, even as Jisung skipped into the room so cheerfully, tells you all of this is real. The idea that a last-minute Christmas miracle is about to turn things around sounds too good to be true.

You’re about to interject and beg Jisung to explain, but he beats you to it, sensing the skepticism on your and Jeongin’s faces. “Look outside!” He feverishly points to the window. “You’ll see what I mean!”

Lifting your head off Jeongin’s shoulder, you exchange confused looks with the younger boy as you both get on your feet. He leads the way to the window by your front door, blindly reaching behind him for your hand and connecting your fingers when he finds it. You notice Jisung wiggling his eyebrows at you and almost let go to make him stop, but Jeongin lightly squeezes your hand before your fingers can slip away.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you push the blinds to the side, and you hope Jeongin doesn’t glance your way and notice. Luckily, he’s too occupied with gaping at the scene outside. And so are you.

It is, in fact, snowing—and it’s snowing hard. Wind howls against your thin apartment walls as the icy flakes come pouring down, a thick, white fog blurring your view of the street below you.

“Wow…” you mumble to yourself. In the fifteen or so years since you’ve moved, you’ve never witnessed a snowfall this hard. Let alone on the first snow of winter.

“It’s snowing like this all over the country,” Jisung remarks, showing the two of you the weather report on his phone. Jeongin scrolls through the list with one finger and, to his horror, the city where his new job is located is there.

“You know what that means?” Jisung continues, a small smirk on his face. “No leaving, at least for a few days.”

You keep your gaze out the window, your spirits brightening at the news. As selfish as it was, you could barely control the surge of happiness bursting inside you at the thought of having Jeongin around for a little while longer.

Maybe a Christmas miracle is possible.

You completely miss Jeongin’s loved-up stare as you look back at him, a concerned frown on your face. “What about your flight tomorrow?”

He shrugs, rubbing his thumb in circles on the back of your hand. “I’ll figure something out,” he mumbles.

He steps closer to you, and you swear you see sparkles in his eyes as he gazes into your own. You forget Jisung is there as the taller boy leans down until your noses are nearly touching. A small smile grazes his features as he whispers, a gentle but playful timbre to his voice:

“Stay for Christmas?”

“I– um– uh–” you sputter at the sudden close contact, your eyes widening in surprise. You take a second to breathe and recompose yourself before you try again, sheepishly gesturing to the window, “I don’t think you have a choice.”

You carefully watch Jeongin for his reaction. He seems to lean forward, inching his face even closer to yours, and you feel your breath get caught in your throat.

The boy squeezes your hand and leans his forehead against yours, a shameless grin on his face as he flashes you a wink.

“Fine by me.”

You pray that he can’t hear your heart pounding in your chest, or that he doesn’t mention how red your cheeks are. You note the pink tint dusting his cheeks as he steps back, in case he decides to tease you for the latter. Despite your embarrassment, the shy giggle that slips out his mouth still makes you smile.

Jisung suddenly breaks the moment with a dreamy sigh, a hand flying over his heart. “And it’s all thanks to snow!”

You roll your eyes dismissively. “How much longer are you going to keep on about this magic snow?” you ask, causing Jisung to snort.

“As long as I want, Miss Tuxedo Effect.”

You can practically hear the shit-eating grin on Jisung's face. You drop Jeongin’s hand as you snap your head to the older boy, throwing a scowl his way.

“‘Miss Tuxedo Effect?’” Jeongin questions, an eyebrow raised as he looks between the two of you.

If your cheeks weren’t already as red as a tomato, they surely are now. “Don’t ask,” you grumble, swiftly heading to the kitchen to try and evade his prying. To your disdain, he follows you like a lost puppy.

“What’s he talking about?” he asks again. When Jisung, who’s treading behind you two in amusement, goes to open his mouth, you glare him into silence.

“It’s nothing.”

That seems to shut your overly curious best friend up long enough for you to pour yourself a glass of milk. The less Jeongin knew about the tuxedo effect incident, the better. You don’t need two boys torturing you about it, especially when the first one still refuses to let it go after eight years.

You watch him in silence as your drink heats up in the microwave, his eyebrows knitted together as he tries to search your and Jisung’s faces for answers. You maintain a poker face, but of course Jisung revels in Jeongin’s nosiness.

“Jeongin, think about it,” he hums, casually taking a bite of one of Felix’s cookies. You resist the urge to slap it out of his hand.

“Don’t,” you glower at him.

“How many times has she seen guys in tuxedos?” Jisung continues, his cheeks casually puffed up with food.

“Depends,” Jeongin looks to his friend and shuffles closer to you, “are we counting movies?”

Jisung snorts, nearly spitting out a chunk of chewed-up cookie. “Don’t include movies!” He covers his mouth with one hand as he gulps the bite down. “You’ll never narrow it down if you do!”

Your jaw drops in offense as the boys fill the kitchen with giggles. “Hey!”

An embarrassed flush creeps onto your cheeks again and you turn to pull your mug out of the microwave. You take a sip of the warm milk as you stew quietly, waiting for their laughs to die down.

“Okay, okay, seriously,” Jisung pipes up after a moment, stifling another giggle. “If you just look at high school…” he glances at you, his mouth quivering into a teasing grin, “she’s only seen guys in tuxedos, like, three times.”

“It was more than three!” You exclaim defensively, placing your mug down before you list off… every single time you’ve seen a boy in a suit.

You can’t believe you’re having this conversation.

“There was junior prom,” you hold up a finger, “senior prom,” you hold up another finger. You hesitate, then add, “the one time I went to homecoming—”

“Hey, that homecoming one doesn’t count!” Jisung protests. “You volunteered for extra credit!”

You groan and throw your hands up in defeat. Okay, maybe it was only three times, but you’d rather do anything else than admit it..

“Then what else is there?!”

Jisung shoots you a challenging look, eyebrows raised as one corner of his mouth threatens to twitch into a smirk. Your exasperated look immediately drops. You know, Jisung knows… and a quick glance at Jeongin tells you he just figured it out.

“Don’t tell me it was the formal?” The taller boy watches you with wide eyes.

“Jeongin!” you whine.

He gasps, a hand slapping over his mouth as he leaps over to smother you.

“It was!”

His name escapes you once again as you use his shoulder as a way to try and shield yourself from the embarrassment—and him seeing the bright red tint currently burning your cheeks.

“You thought I was cute when I wore that oversized suit?” he chuckles, letting his arms go around you.

“Shit up,” you continue to whine.

Jeongin’s deep chuckle basically vibrates through you, it makes the butterflies in your stomach scatter. Your ear tingles when you feel his hot breath brush against it.

“If it's any consolation, you looked really good, too.”

You smack his chest and turn your head away from him in hopes of him not seeing your blush. It fails miserably.

“Oh my god, you’re blushing so hard,” Jeongin coos, using his free hand to try and get you to face him again. “Look how cute,” he hums.

With his fingers on your chin, you shut your eyes tightly. There was no way you could look him in the eye and have a rational thought. Not now, not when he was being so open and—dare you say it—flirty with you.

“You’re so annoying,” you mumble, your eyes still closed.

On the contrary, you don’t know how much more your heart can take. You don’t even have to open your eyes to know Jeongin is still smirking his ass off.

“You don’t mean that, right, Miss Tuxedo Effect?”

Your eyes snap open, your jaw tightening in an attempt to glare at him. He did not just go there. But at this point, with this new cocky attitude, why did it even surprise you he’d stoop so low?

“You—” Your mind lapses and you’re unable to finish your sentence.

Jeongin tilts his head slightly, his smile still crooked. “You?”

Maybe it’s by sheer luck on your part or utter stupidity on Jisung’s, but a small noise makes you both turn and look at the older boy, who has his phone held up at the two of you.

click.

He backs away slowly, retreating to the living room door. “You'll thank me for these later.”

Rolling your eyes, you stare at him. “Why? Because the magic snow told you so?”

Jisung gasps, pointing at you with a glare.

“It’s not magic snow, it’s fate and I’ve already proved it enough times!” He yaps on. Huffing, he crosses his arms over his chest and his eyes narrow at you. “By the way, Jeongin will have to sleep in your room.”

You freeze at his statement and feel all the color drain your face.

“Uh…” you gulp. “Why?”

“Well you see,” Jisung starts. His eyes flutter around the room, unable to stay on you. “The… the pull-out is broken!” He snaps his fingers before pointing at you. “Yeah, yeah, last time Hyunjin was here, he totally ripped it to shreds, sugarplum.”

You blink slowly. The last time Hyunjin was here was last month, and Jisung was using the pull-out last week just fine.

“It’s just so broken now,” the older boy continues on his tangent, making a tsk noise and shaking his head. “He said he’d replace it, but he hasn’t yet, so it looks like Jeongin is going to have to bunk with you.” Jisung tries to laugh as he shrugs his shoulders.

“Uh…” you repeat.

It’s not that you didn’t want to share your room, let alone your bed, with Jeongin. He’s been your best friend for fifteen years—if there’s any guy on the planet you are comfortable doing that with, it’s him. Not even Heeseung or Yeonjun reached that level with you.

But even though you and Jeongin are attached to the hip, you two were never this close. Especially not when your parents shut down every attempt to stay for Christmas growing up. Why didn’t they just let you two do it? Surely, if they did, this wouldn’t be making your palms sweat as much as they are right now.

That wasn’t the only issue now, though. Not when he could be moving away any day now, if it weren’t for the blizzard outside. Not when it took you this long to realize what you would give for him to stay.

Not stay for Christmas. Just stay.

“I can sleep on the normal couch,” Jeongin suggests, breaking your train of thought. Jisung feverishly shakes his head.

“No!” He yells, his eyes wide. “I mean, you can’t, it’s so uncomfortable, you’ll have a bad back. It’s better to share with Y/N!”

Jeongin’s cocky attitude seems to dissolve in seconds. His smirk melts into a small sheepish smile, the tips of his ears turn pink, and he can barely look you in the eye.

“Is that okay?” he asks in the smallest voice ever.

It’s now or never, Y/N.

“Sure,” you smile. “It’s fine.”

Jeongin shuffles out of the room, leaving you to glare daggers at the boy who’s gone back to nonchalantly snacking on Felix’s leftover desserts.

“You are so full of shit,” you grumble, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks again.

Jisung just gives you a tilted smile mid-munch.

“Would it help if I said the snow told me to do it?”

You slam your hand on the kitchen island, throwing your head back in despair and frustration. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“I didn’t, the snow did!” Jisung yells after you as you stomp out of the kitchen.

As Jeongin hogs the bathroom and gets ready for bed, you replay your words over and over in your head as you pace back and forth in your room, creating a small draft. ‘It’s fine’?! Are you crazy?! It’s not fine. It’s not fine at all.

Why did you agree to let Jeongin sleep just centimeters away from you? Is it too late to back out and hide in Jisung’s room for the night? If anything, Jisung deserved it for a multitude of reasons, the primary one being his ongoing snow escapades. You don’t know why you didn’t try fighting back on that earlier.

Running a hand through your hair, you heave out a sigh and flick the lights off. You pull your duvet up and shuffle under the covers, bunching the blanket around your chest and letting your arms rest on top of it. A strange feeling swirls in your stomach as you stare up the ceiling, and you truly think about what you just signed up for.

After fourteen years, you’re finally getting that Christmas sleepover you and Jeongin have been joking about since you were ten. Well… the one you’ve been joking about since you were ten. Jeongin started it, then attempted to forget it existed for a while, then he started joking along with you. However, at some point… it didn’t feel like you were joking anymore.

You don’t remember when, specifically—if there even was a specific moment. You just remember that at some point, despite years and years of endless teasing on your part, you genuinely wanted this sleepover. With all the roadblocks you two had endured during your childhood and teen years, though, you thought it’d never happen.

And now, here you are.

The soft click of the door opening causes you to look up. Light from the hallway floods into the room and Jeongin smiles warmly at you. His hair is fluffy and he still has a few drops of water on his forehead from washing his face. He smooths out his oversized black t-shirt a little as his eyes meet yours, then he looks down and dusts off his gray sweatpants. You can’t help but smile fondly at the sight.

His smile fades into something more timid as he closes the door behind him and shuffles over to the bed. Before climbing into the covers, he looks at you, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Is this…” he hesitates, “Are you sure this is oka—”

You chuckle, gently cutting him off. “Just get in the bed, Jeongin.”

A bittersweet feeling cascades over you as he tucks himself under the covers. It’s really happening. Your first Christmas sleepover has finally officially begun, after fourteen years of waiting. Somewhere in the back of your mind, though, you’re plagued with a brutal reminder that this could also be your last Christmas together. Ever.

You feel Jeongin move around a bit, soon settling and facing you. You shift onto your side after a moment, smiling tightly at him before letting your gaze drift out your window. Snow continues to surge down, and the wind rattles against the glass. If it weren’t for the dim glow of the streetlight outside, you wouldn’t be able to see a thing.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Jeongin mumbles after a beat. You don’t need more light to know he has a cocky grin on his face.

“I’m not even looking at you, dummy,” you scoff, pointing past his ear and out the window.

He turns his head around, following your finger. Once he lands his eyes on the window, his jaw drops slightly and nods in understanding. “I didn’t think it would snow this hard.”

His voice is soft but gentle, and it makes your heart skip a beat. You force out a chuckle in an attempt to ground yourself. “Should’ve known Jisung would’ve gone mad.”

Jeongin snorts, “He’s long gone, you know this.” He turns around again, the corners of his lips lifting up slightly. “But… at least I get to stay for Christmas.”

You can't help but smile back. “After all these years,” you muse.

“Yeah…”

A beat of silence. “Is this what you imagined it would be?” You ask, your voice quieter.

Jeongin purses his lips together, looking down for a second. “When I was ten? No.”

You both chuckle.

“I thought we’d be knocked out on the couch after eating too many cookies,” Jeongin continues before adding as an afterthought, “Well, after you ate too many cookies.”

You gasp in fake offense, lightly swatting at his chest. “Hey, you were just as bad!”

He scoffs, and another chuckle slips out. It’s like music to your ears.

Then another beat of silence.

“Was this what you imagined it would be?” He repeats your question back to you.

Your eyes meet his as you shake your head. ”No.”

It wasn’t… at least, not until you got older, but he didn’t need to know that.

Feeling some of the tension melt away, you and Jeongin continue to lie down next to each other in a comfortable silence. You aren’t sure how quickly you became accustomed to feeling his body heat seeping into you. In so little time, this image of Jeongin lying next to you, you want it burned inside your mind. The image of his hair so fluffy, you want to reach out and run your hands through it. The silhouette of him under the covers so cozy, you want to throw yourself into his arms.

How it had been a measly fifteen minutes, but this scenario with him… of you two being together… you want it forever.

“Are you okay?” Jeongin’s voice breaks the silence, as well as your train of thought.

You let out a sigh. “I… I guess.”

You can’t help but feel like this is some cruel twist of fate. That maybe the snow isn’t magical or special, but rather cruel and cunning—teasing you by giving you what you’ve always wanted, your stay for Christmas, only to rip it away from you so ruthlessly in a few days.

All of the words you want to say, that you wish you could say, becomes a bitter pill in your mouth. It leads you to wonder if it was worth spitting it all out, or if you should swallow and shove it down instead. If anything you say in this moment, if you tore your chest open and bore your heart out for Jeongin to see… would it really change anything?

You already know the answer, but it doesn’t mean you can’t try.

“I…” you start. “I don’t want you to leave.”

While you were lost in thought, Jeongin had shifted himself so he was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He exhales and you can practically see his breath in the air.

“Honestly?” he sighs. “I don’t either.”

“Then…” you hesitate. “Then can’t you just stay…” your voice shakes. “…with me?”

It feels weird not asking that he stay for Christmas, but you have that covered right now. You know it won’t last forever if you’re not careful, though, so it’s pointless to try.

So it’s not stay for Christmas, for once in your life. Just stay.

He rolls over onto his side so he’s facing you and he places his hand ever so near yours. “I wish I could. but hey, we’ll work it out.” He smiles reassuringly. “Just like you said, we can text, we can FaceTime, we can visit…”

Pushing your lips into a thin line, you nod. “R-Right. Yeah.”

Gently, he grabs your hand in his, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. “We'll make it work. We’re…” He pauses. You can’t pinpoint what in his eyes changes in the dark. “We’re best friends for a reason, remember?”

You sigh. “I… I guess.”

But was there a reason? Sure, you may have asked him if he wanted to be your friend when you first moved to the neighborhood, but you didn’t plan any of this. Nine-year-old you just needed a friend to ease your mother’s worries—you had no way to know what fate had in store for you two when you did get that friend.

Now Jeongin is way more than a friend to you. More than the awkward boy in an obnoxious purple sweater you met all those years ago. He's, to keep it short, home. And you don’t know if you can handle losing your way home a third time.

Maybe the reason was simply fate, because all of this—it just kind of happened. And now you’re stuck, unsure what to do next… or maybe you do.

You hesitate for one moment, then take a deep breath.

“But it— it’s more than that.”

You stare at your entwined hands, watching how Jeongin continues to caress the back of your hand with his thumb. Swallowing your nerves, you look up to catch his eyes.

Here goes nothing.

“Jeongin, I really don’t want this to mess up what we have, but I…” you pause. “I fell for you.”

You attempt to gauge his reaction. You can’t read the look in his eyes, but somehow, it urges you to keep going.

“I’m sorry this is so sudden,” you start again, your voice shaky, “it’s just— you’re such an important part of my life, you always have been.” You feel your eyes prick with tears. “And even when you were gone, I always found myself wanting to run back to you.”

You pause again, softly biting down on your lip as you struggle to swallow down your pounding heart. You take one more deep breath.

“It’s… it’s always been you, Jeongin.” Your voice cracks, a small whimper escapes your lips. Your eyes continue to well as the floodgates open in your heart, and you look down before you completely break. “I-I can’t lose you again.”

You attempt to blink your tears away, but a few manage to slide down your cheek, seeping into your pillow. Shaking your head, your lower lip quivers, and you choke out a sob.

“Y/N…”

Jeongin slips his hand out of yours and you try your best to calm your breathing. He slowly moves his hand up, gently brushing away a few stray hairs that stick to your face, and you look up at him through glassy eyes. Your vision blurs, but you sense a feeling of longing, an almost-bittersweet swirl of warmth and affection radiating from Jeongin as he gazes down at you.

As he moves to cup your cheek, wiping away a tear with the pad of his thumb, the sound of your pounding heart rings in your ears. The sensation seems to fade into the background when he begins to speak.

“I fell for you, too. I… I have been for years, actually.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at his words. He smiles tenderly at you as you sniffle, wiping away another tear.

“It’s always been you, too, Y/N, and I hate that it took so long to realize it,” he breathes out after another moment. "If anyone should be apologizing here, it’s me.”

“Jeongin…” you mumble, but he shakes his head firmly.

“I never should’ve left the first time without saying goodbye.” The boy sighs, remorse pooling in his eyes as they meet yours. “It— it hurt so much to think about, but leaving you like that hurt even more.” His gaze drifts down for a moment and he slips his free hand into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. Smiling lightly, he looks back up at you, his regrets replaced with a newfound conviction. “I’m not letting that happen again.”

A new sensation overwhelms you: one of relief, of euphoria. It fills the empty gaps in your chest, and causes the butterflies in your stomach to take flight. It’s as if you had been stranded at sea for years and finally found land, as if you had one puzzle piece left before everything seamlessly clicked into place. For the first time in years, everything feels right. Jeongin’s gaze, so sugary sweet like honey, makes you crave more.

His smile widens, causing yours to do the same. “I guess we have one more reason we have to make this work, then, right?”

A small giggle escapes you so quickly that you can’t even catch it. Jeongin catches the few tears—tears of happiness this time–that slip from your eyes, before pulling you into his embrace, fully immersing you in his warmth. You hug him back tightly, tucking your head into his shoulder and never wanting to let go.

“I love you, Jeongin,” you whisper.

You feel Jeongin press a light kiss to the top of your head. When he pulls away, he reaches a hand up, gently cradling the back of your head as he brushes his nose against your hair.

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

This image of you and Jeongin… all snuggled up, warm and safe in each other’s arms throughout the night... this feels right. This feels like home.

You’re home.

...to 25. (epilogue)

The bitter air churns around you as you step out of Jisung’s car, and you immediately regret not wearing a larger coat instead of just your cardigan. However, before you can pull it closer to you, you feel Jeongin slide his hand into yours, entwining your fingers together. Sighing contentedly, you lean into his shoulder and gaze up at him.

“You okay, there?” He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. “I know I look dashing, but still.”

You scoff lightly. “‘M just cold, Jeongin.”

Smiling, he turns his head to face you, his breath warm against your ear.

“Okay, but try not to fall too hard for me, Miss Tuxedo Effect.”

Rolling your eyes, you use your free hand to hit his chest. “Shut up.”

His chuckles are like heaven in your ears. You want to hear more of it, even if it’s at your own expense. And you knew he was never going to let you live “tuxedo effect” down. Just like Jisung and his “sugarplum” ordeal, this was just another nickname you’d have to put under your belt—not that you minded much, not when you got to hear Jeongin laugh in the way he does.

Your attention gets brought back to him once you feel him squeeze your hand lightly. Your eyes linger on him and shift to the subtle light shining from your front porch. You notice how stiff he’s gotten, wide eyes staring blankly at your house like a deer in headlights.

“You okay?” you ask quietly, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb.

He sighs and hesitantly nods. “Just… nervous.”

You smile. Following the events from last Christmas Eve, Jeongin moved into his new apartment close to his job at the end of January. By the beginning of summer, he and Jisung helped get you a job closer to him so you could move in with your now-boyfriend.

Despite having an extra month together after Christmas, neither of you exactly… broke it to your parents that you two got together. You don’t remember if it just slipped your minds or if you two wanted to surprise them, but either way, they’ll find out in just a few moments. Given your history with the Christmas party and Christmas as a whole, you both agreed there’s no better place to break the news.

Getting up onto your tippy-toes, you place the lightest kiss onto his cheek, but pull away far too quickly in Jeongin’s opinion. “It’ll be okay.” You squeeze his hand. “I’m right next to you.”

He glances at you, a smile playing at his lips. “Always?”

You hum, nodding. “Always.” Then you give him a quick once-over and huff, a grimace twisting your mouth. “But do you really need to wear that?”

Jeongin looks down at his outfit, and his smile slowly grows more bashful as he fixes the tie of his tuxedo. Meanwhile, you’re left to painstakingly replay the events from five minutes ago in your mind.

The scene itself mirrored the one from when you were sixteen: Jisung in the driver’s seat, you in the passenger seat, and Jeongin trying desperately hard to get changed in the backseat, Mariah Carey taunting him from the speakers. Every now and then, Jisung tried to push his luck by jolting the car forward.

It was all way too similar, except this time, there was no sneaking Jeongin out of the house. Also, there was really no need for an emergency tux this time around. Yet, somehow, Jisung still convinced him to put it on.

“I just want to make a good impression,” you hear Jeongin squeak out a moment later. You look back at him and he’s frantically smoothing out his suit jacket, and a light pink blush dusts his cheeks and the tips of his ears. You have to restrain yourself from smothering the boy with kisses at the sight.

“Babe, you already have a good impression,” you chuckle adoringly, “you grew up here, remember?”

Your boyfriend gazes at you with wide eyes, uncertainty glazing his features. You step closer to him, taking his hand in yours again.

“It’ll be okay,” you repeat, allowing Jeongin to lace your fingers together. “And Jisung did not need to bring the suit with us.”

“But it’s an emergency tux, Y/N,” Jeongin says. “You have to keep it around you in case you need it, it’s in the name!”

“This isn’t even a fancy emergency!”

“But Jisung said it’s a romantic one! That counts!”

You let out a deep sigh, but you can’t be too mad at Jisung for trying to help. “Fine, fine.” You wait a moment then wonder aloud, “Speaking of, when do you think Jisung will get back?”

Since Jisung still lives in town, he welcomed you both back to his apartment with open arms and, in true Jisung fashion, an excessive amount of babying. He had taken the liberty of not only driving two cities away to pick you two up (he claims he came for a job interview anyway—you don’t not believe him, but you think he also just missed you two), but also dropping you both off at your house before driving off to get coffee.

Jeongin shrugs. “Who knows? He does love his coffee.”

You chuckle fondly. “He’ll catch up later.”

Pulling Jeongin by the hand, you lead the way up the pavement and to the confines of your house.

Even though it hadn’t been long since you were last here, you missed it dearly. You also missed the way your house was now adorned with Christmas lights. Every year, your dad always seemed to outdo himself with putting up better and better lights. You are sure he had been planning it since last year, that maybe he had already started on next year’s lights, too.

When you walk through your front door, you’re met with the smell of cinnamon and sugar cookies. There’s light Christmas music in the air and everyone is scattered around, laughing, drinking, and having a merry time. Your mom and dad are nowhere to be seen—you assume they’re in the kitchen somewhere, checking on guests or snacks. You figure you’ll bump into them eventually.

You find countless familiar faces in the sea of people. You see old families that have lived in the neighborhood since before you moved here, families that you have come to view as part of your own. You spot the kids you grew up with; some who are freshly-turned teenagers, and others who have since grown up and started their own lives. You even see Yeonjun, sharing a drink with his girlfriend.

While it was awkward between you at first, you both came to terms with what you had and what you were. You two loved each other, but not in the way that the other wanted or needed. He was a memory, carved into you like stone, but a cherished one that you will hold deep in your heart.

Your eyes meet and you both smile instantly at the sight of each other. His eyes glance back at the boy beside you and you can see how he laughs, his smile growing wider. His eyes meet yours again, he nods his head and you nod yours.

There’s no need for spoken words. You’re both happy, and you’re both happy the other is happy. Everything you two went through, from your journeys together to your journeys apart, has led you to this moment.

Ultimate happiness.

Jeongin pulls your attention back to him, leading you through small groups of people, and you turn back one final time to send Yeonjun a smile. When you look back around to see where Jeongin is guiding you, you see his mom sitting at the dining table, munching away on some snacks on a paper plate.

She looks up with a bright smile; you’re sure it’s where Jeongin got his from. However, her smile soon melts into confusion at Jeongin’s peculiar outfit. Rising from her seat, she pulls her son into a hug.

“Hey, sweeties,” she hums, pulling away from Jeongin after a second, keeping her hands on his shoulders as she looks down at his ‘emergency tux’. “Why are you wearing a tux? It’s just the Christmas party.”

“I told you,” you mumble from beside him.

He huffs, pulling and lossing the tie around his neck. “I just… it’s dumb.”

“No, no,” you pout. “You look great, don’t worry about it.”

Chuckling, Jeongin runs a hand through his hair, his eyes landing on you as he smiles.

“Of course you’d say that, Miss Tuxedo Effect.”

Rolling your eyes, you mutter to yourself as Mrs. Yang giggles.

“Well, for whatever reason you’re wearing it,” Mrs. Yang pinches Jeongin’s cheek causing him to attempt to pull away. “You look very handsome, honey sweet.”

“T-Thanks, Mom.”

Pulling on Jeongin’s hand, you fish into your bag, pulling out a pair of black jeans and an almost-obnoxious shade of purple sweatshirt. Dubbing them an ‘emergency change of clothes’, you now know you were right to pack them.

“You packed spare clothes?” Jeongin asks as you shove them in his hands.

Humming, you nod your head. “Of course, I knew Jisung would try and fill your head with some foolish idea.”

“It wasn’t…” You cut him off with a look. He doesn't finish his sentence.

He puts the jeans over his arm, pulling the sweatshirt out to see. You almost fail to notice the way the tips of his ears, once again, turn pink as he smiles.

“I thought you hated this color,” he laughs.

Pushing him forward and in the direction of the stairs, you concede. “Eh, it grew on me. Now please change.”

Jeongin continues to laugh as he struggles against you. “I’m going, I’m going!”

When he comes down a mere five minutes later, the now-discarded tux in his hands, you can tell he’s far more comfortable than before. He leaves it on the couch and takes his place beside you once again, slipping his hand into yours. This time, you take the initiative to thread your fingers together.

A gasp leaves Mrs. Yang’s parted lips when she notes the way her son beams down at you. A warm glow seems to encircle him, and you can almost count the specks in his sparkly eyes when you look up. There’s nothing but affection swimming in his loved-up smile—just pure endearment for you.

“Did you two?” She watches you two with wide eyes.

You and Jeongin suddenly look away from each other. Bashfully, you let your gaze fall to the floor, and you feel a tinge of red tickle your ears, but you don’t bother to let his hand go.

He doesn’t, either. He just squeezes your hand lightly as he nods, letting out a shy giggle.

Mrs. Yang gasps again, her hands flying over her mouth. Like mother, like son.

“You did!”

Without warning, she springs up from her chair. “Oh, I have to go find your father, now!” she gushes, pulling Jeongin into a bone-crushing hug. When she lets go of your startled boyfriend, she turns to you, squeezing you tight. “And your parents, too!”

You let out an embarrassed chuckle as you hug her back. When you both part, Mrs. Yang turns on her heel and scurries to the kitchen.

Jeongin snaps his head towards you as his mother’s figure disappears into the crowd. His lips twitch up to an amused grin—it only grows wider when you match his expression.

You shake your head to yourself, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. You feel Jeongin’s hand snake around your back, and you let out an exasperated sigh as he pulls you into his own hug.

“Parents, am I right?” he comments. His other arm hooks snugly around your waist, bringing you in closer. You shake your head into the crook of his neck as your own arms go around the boy.

“If that’s how your mom reacts, imagine what mine’s gonna do,” you mumble into his skin.

For better or worse, you’re quickly proven right.

“Ohhh, look how cute!”

You know exactly what happens next without even moving your head. Your mother, amidst her endless gushing about how she’s been “waiting for this day for years!”, scrambles to pull her phone out of her pocket, making a beeline straight for the camera app. Her mouth is probably gaping up and down like a fish, and she’s most definitely shuffling around the crowded space for the best angle. If your and Jeongin’s fathers were dragged along, they do nothing to stop her (not that they could to begin with, but still).

You don’t need to look up to know, and you don’t want to. You’d much rather her not see how red your face is, anyway.

“Okay, don’t move!” your mother orders. “One, two…”

“Mom!” you whine, burrowing yourself further into Jeongin’s sweater.

As your mother fulfills her need for pictures, Jeongin’s giggles ring in your ears. You try to focus on that to will your embarrassment away.

“Are you done yet, Mom?” you speak after a moment. A pout forms on your lips when she tuts.

“Uh uh, I need more!”

“You don’t have enough yet?!”

“There’s never enough photos!” A hearty, teasing laugh leaves her throat, chiming over the music for a second. “You know this, sugarplum.”

“Wait, so that’s why Jisung calls you ‘sugarplum’?!” Jeongin questions. He almost pulls back to get a better look at you, but you grip onto him tighter before he has the chance.

“Yes, and that’s my sugarplum!” Another familiar voice cries out.

Stepping back from Jeongin, you turn to see Jisung standing there with a childish frown on his face. He holds a take-out cup in one hand, and lets go of a girl’s hand to point at Jeongin with the other.

Wait… who’s the girl? You’ll have to get back to that.

“You’re her boyfriend, call her ‘baby’ or ‘boo-boo’ or something,” he adds, exaggerating his pout. “I claimed ‘sugarplum’ years ago!”

You roll your eyes. Technically, your mother claimed it first, but you know she’ll let Jisung go.

“Please don’t call me ‘boo-boo’,” you say, blankly staring up at Jeongin. Instead of responding, he reaches a hand up to pinch your cheek.

“Aww, is someone blushing?” he coos.

You push his hand away with a whine, earning a giggle from him and both of your moms. “Not you, too!”

The girl next to Jisung leans over to him and whispers something in his ear. You aren’t sure what, but the boy responds to her with an “I told youuu,” a whimsical ring to his voice.

Jeongin glances at the girl, then at you, his face twisted in bewilderment. All you can respond with is a shrug.

“Ah,” Jisung pipes up, sensing your confusion, and he gestures to the brunette next to him. “This is Lia.”

She gives you all a small wave, quickly looking down and smoothing her maroon sweater with one hand. You all exchange greetings back, and Jisung continues, a sheepish smile on his face.

“We met during college, and, uh, I ran into her at the cafe just now.” The older boy scratches at the back of his neck, and a rosy glow rises to his cheeks. “She told me she just moved here, actually, and I figured I’d show her around… make her feel at home, you know?”

A warm smile paints your lips. You think of when you first moved here, how the community welcomed you and your family with open arms. Even if your grumpy nine-year-old self didn’t appreciate it, your twenty-five-year-old self couldn’t be more grateful. “You’re gonna love it here,” you say to Lia.

Lia smiles back, and she seems to relax at your words. “Thank you.”

“Oh, aaaand,” Jisung cuts in again after a moment. He tenderly takes Lia’s hand in his, sending her a bubbly, heart-eyed grin as he swings their hands between them.

“Do you really have to open with this?” Lia says softly.

“Yes, I do!” Jisung squeaks, his voice jumping higher than normal. “They’ll get it, trust me!”

He glances hopefully at you and Jeongin, his eyes wide and bright. The two of you exchange confused looks with each other. What could he be talking about?

A second later, it clicks. Why else would Jisung be hopping up and down so eagerly, about ready to jump out of his hoodie any minute now?

“Don’t tell me you met during—” you begin.

“During the first snow!” Jisung finishes your sentence in a singsong. He tapers off with a dreamy sigh, and his eyes seem to sparkle more when they land back on an embarrassed Lia.

“He just means the second time around,” she clarifies with an awkward cough. “The first time was during spring.”

Your first instinct is to roll your eyes at your friend’s ongoing infatuation with the snow, but a fond chuckle takes its place. You had stayed up many nights talking with Jisung when you lived with him, the two of you sprawled out like starfish on your kitchen floor as you shared thoughts about the future, the simultaneous excitement and uncertainty of it all. If there was one thing Jisung was firm on, it was his hope that he’d meet The One during the first snow of winter, that the twinkling little snowflakes would be his guiding star to his person.

“Love at first snow,” was what he called it, “…you know, like you and Jeongin.” As much as you found the phrase irritating at the time, you never bothered to correct him.

But of course, it’s one thing to have hopeless romantic fantasies, and another to have them come to life. It’s kind of endearing, maybe heartwarming in a weird little-sister-figure way, to observe Jisung’s increasingly lovestruck daze as he relives the recent memory—you can practically see the hearts dancing around his head. But that’s not the point right now.

So this is the girl Jisung always texted you about during college.

You recall countless conversations about how pretty and smart and sweet she was, and even more of him blowing up your phone at three in the morning for date ideas (“the more aesthetic, the better! :D”). Even though he successfully asked her out, he still never let it go that they never saw the first snow together before they broke up.

Despite her embarrassment, Lia seems to mirror Jisung’s loved-up smile. From what he told you, they parted ways on good terms—something about both of them graduating soon and having different mindsets, he said, but they both agreed to stay friends. But something tells you that, even after all this time, they’re still on the same page about the first snow… and maybe some other matters, too.

You can see it in their eyes: the feverish look that makes their irises shimmer as they gaze at each other, the almost-overwhelming amount of affection that swims in their pupils and makes the corners of their lips twist up. You recognize it all too well—it’s the exact same way you used to look at Jeongin. Every once in a while, you still catch yourself doing it.

It’s nothing but fate, at this point, when you notice faint white pellets of snow are still hitting the window in your peripheral. An overjoyed smile of your own quickly overtakes your features, and when you look up at Jeongin, it seems like he’s thinking the same thing as you.

With an infectious giggle, Jeongin grabs your hand, but you sharply turn to Jisung and Lia before he can pull you away. Your boyfriend's small whines fall on deaf ears, and he childishly tugs at your hand as you try to get the lovebirds’ attention.

“Hey, do you wanna go see the magic snow or not?” you call out, half-teasingly and half-genuinely.

In a snap, Jisung’s lovesick daze flips into a triumphant smile as he turns to you. “So you admit it’s magic?!”

You roll your eyes, giving Jeongin’s hand a quick squeeze to calm his impatience. “I needed to get your attention somehow,” you say, “but just this once, I’ll admit it.”

The way your friend seems to light up like a Christmas tree is enough to make you give in. You do owe him for his stunt last year, after all—you’re more than happy to let him have this one.

“Now, do you want to go see the snow or not?” you ask after another moment, a small smile etched on your lips.

“Of course I want to see the snow!” Jisung chirps.

As he looks to Lia for her response, his puppy-love daze making a return, you allow yourself to take in your surroundings. The warmth teeming around you from the Christmas party is one that never gets old, no matter how many times you come, and no matter how long you’re gone. It brings a wave of peace to your heart, even as a couple of screaming children run a lap around you and your friends.

Your chipper boyfriend begins to pull you to the front door with him, making you lose your step for a second, and you find yourself meeting Yeonjun’s eyes from across the house one more time. Before you lose sight of him, you nod to the window several feet away from him, sending him a wink to him before you turn around. Even if you weren’t meant to be his love at first snow, the least you can do is make sure he got his.

By the time you look away, Jeongin has already pulled you both to the front door, Jisung and Lia already dressed and waiting for you two. Hastily, he throws on his coat before he scrambles through the pile of shoes by the doormat to find his own pair.

You’re about to do the same, then you realize…

“Right, I forgot my—”

“Your jacket?” Jisung calls out. Without another word, he digs into his backpack and tosses you the coat you left behind at his apartment earlier. You slip it on with a relieved smile, mouthing a ‘thank you’ before getting your shoes on and swinging the door open for all four of you.

Soft, puffy snowflakes dot the ground around you as you begin your stroll down the sidewalk. You hear Jisung and Lia’s musings behind you, but they fade into a quiet buzz as all the memories from your childhood flash before your eyes. The houses you pass by are ones you used to see everyday on the way home from school, and the sidewalks are ones you used to run around on during the weekends. You never would’ve thought you’d be back now, reliving it all with the people you love most.

It gets even better, though, when Jeongin nudges your shoulder, and points to a grassy area coming up ahead. You follow his finger and gasp, immediately recognizing the spot.

Reaching for his hand, you break into a sprint and pull the boy with you to the neighborhood park, the two of you almost tripping due to the slippery snow. The park is almost the exact same as it was when you first moved. Some parts had been upgraded over time, whereas others still seemed heavily used and loved by the younger children around the neighborhood.

Your eyes glaze around the small park and you could almost see a vision of nine-year-old you, standing near your mother as she pushes you to speak to the other children—to make some new friends. You could practically see nine-year-old Jeongin hanging upside-down from the monkey bars, adorned in that now less-obnoxious purple sweater.

You wonder what nine-year-old you would think if she saw where you are now, with Jeongin’s hand wrapped tightly around your own. You wonder what she’d have to say about the way your cheeks tickled pink, not only from the cold, but also from the way Jeongin’s gaze lingered on you for a moment too long, and the way his lips tugged into a soft smile whenever you looked back at him.

Tugging lightly on Jeongin’s hand, you lead the both of you over towards the monkey bars, his whines falling on deaf ears as you drop his hand from your grasp to climb up the metal bars. Once you’re sat down in the most comfortable position you can, the cold metal sending shivers down your spine, you beckon Jeongin to join you.

“Sit with me.” You smile down at him, one hand keeping you steady as the other makes grabby hands in Jeongin’s direction.

Jeongin huffs. “But it’s so cold.”

However, his words fall short when he still begrudgingly makes the small climb up. He lets his legs dangle through the holes, his knees knocking against your own lightly.

A gust of cold air causes you to shiver and as a response, you pull your coat closer to you. This seems to make Jeongin chuckle fondly, and you feel his eyes linger on you for a second before he looks out at the horizon. The falling snowflakes glisten under the remnants of the sunlight, and the holiday lights emit a breathtaking glow. You’re both still not tall enough to see much above the houses in front of you, but that’s okay—you know what lies beyond it.

“You know, I never thought we’d be back here,” you mumble. A giggle escapes you as you watch the stars slowly make their appearance above you.

Jeongin has a giggle of his own as something on the monkey bars catches his eye. “I can’t believe it’s still here,” he continues to laugh, causing you to redirect your gaze.

“What do you mean?”

He runs his fingers lightly over the faded black ink scrawled across the top of the monkey bars.

Y/N and Jeongin, 2010.

“No way,” you gasp, trying your best to lean over to see it better without falling. “I thought they replaced the park equipment years ago.”

Looking up at you, Jeongin smiles. “Obviously not all of it.”

He fishes around in his pocket for a second and before you can question anything, he pulls out a black marker pen and unclips the lid.

“What are you–”

Your sentence goes unfinished, however, when he leans over and adds a small section under his own nine-year-old handwriting.

And forevermore.

Your heartstrings are played like a violin as you watch Jeongin cap the pen back up, a pleased smile etched on his lips. When he finally comes back to reality, noticing your gaze, he shrugs.

“What?” he says. “Had to add it and make it official.”

“We’ve been official for a year, I don’t think the monkey bars would mind.”

Jeongin rolls his eyes, a chuckle escaping him. “What if some kids read it? Surely, they’ll love to know the story has a happy ending?”

If you weren’t afraid of falling, you would have jumped on him, showering his face in the most kisses possible. However, for both his and your safety, you opt for words instead.

“I love you,” you breathe, beaming at him. You’ve never said anything more true in your life.

His smile mirrors your own. “I love you too.”

You look back at the sky as Jeongin shoves his pen and hands back in his pockets, the dopey grin on your face growing wider, if that was even possible. Another giggle escapes you when you feel a drop of snow hit your nose. This is everything to you—it’s ultimate happiness.

But there’s one thing missing.

“I can’t believe I forgot,” you say, your gaze falling back down.

Raising an eyebrow, he looks at you in curiosity. “Yeah?” he responds, and you stare back with a cheeky smile.

“Stay for Christmas?”

Jeongin shakes his head, but his giggles still fill your ears, sending your heart into shockwaves of emotions, like the ripples after a stone hitting the water. The tips of his ears as well as his cheeks glow pink under the streetlight that has just flicked on. You can’t tell if it’s from the cold or from you, but you wish for it to be the latter.

“You know you don’t have to say that anymore, right?” Jeongin asks, gazing at you with a look that makes it hard to catch a breath.

“I know,” you exhale, “but it’s basically tradition now, it’s a must.”

“Well, tradition or not…” Jeongin begins. He slips his hand from out of his pocket to grab and entwine your fingers with his own. His heat seeps into you as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand. “…I’m here to stay.”

He uses his other hand to tap lightly on the recently-added handwriting, his words echoing around in your ears. “Forevermore.”

Your eyes are all soft and sparkly as you smile at him, giving his hand a squeeze before letting the air around you fall silent. A contented sigh escapes your parted lips, forming a faint puff in the cold air as you watch the fluffy, white crystals above you flutter down.

Jeongin started off as a mere stranger, nothing but the awkward boy in an ugly sweater. Sixteen years later, he’s sitting with you atop the same monkey bars upon which you two met as so much more. He’s your best friend, your childhood playmate, your built-in Mario Kart partner. He’s your teenage crush, your love at first snow, your stay for Christmas—and all that only you two know it entails.

Perhaps, most important of all, Jeongin is home. And as long as you have Jeongin, you’ll always know your way back.

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