#then you make us call you because you were feeling left out despite you specifically saying you didn’t want to hang out with these people | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chocosvt · 2 years

Text

best friend’s brother

⚬ pairing: joshua x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 37k ⚬ warnings: alcohol, mentions of unsafe sex/unplanned pregnancy ⚬ genres: timestep, romance, angsty angst, major feels abt having a crush, lots of flirting, smut, drama, happy tears.

✧✎ synopsis: joshua happens to be your best friend's older brother. he's pretty, and he's got a lot of cool details about him that you pay a concerning amount of attention to, but he’s just a friend (if you could even call it that). still, what does he think of you, anyway? that is—if he thinks of you.

✧✎ a/n: this is a rewrite of an old fic that i uploaded in 2016. keep in mind the original version was only 13k! i've made so many changes to this story and i really hope those who read it enjoy it! thank you sm!

⇢ here is this fic’s inspo playlist ⇢ smut section is marked! ⇢ taglist included in final author’s note

13.

You flipped to the next page of the plastic binder and squiggled a small ‘seven’ inside the margin. Then, your eyes wandered back to the math textbook sitting in between you and your best friend. It was difficult to study on Jennie’s bed, but she liked it that way, and there definitely wasn’t enough room at her desk.

“Okay, this part shouldn’t be too hard,” she said, using the tip of her pencil to trace the question, “we just have to graph this line, and we already know the y-intercept is going to be negative three.”

“This would be so much easier if the teacher handed out graph paper. Look at this grid I just drew, it’s so ugly.”

Jennie leaned over her left shoulder to look at your binder and started laughing. It was probably the saddest grid in history.

“I have a ruler somewhere,” the girl offered, pushing up onto her knees and patting around the bed, “at least, I think I do… or—maybe he took it. Yeah, of course, he definitely has it, stupid idiot.”

“Who? Joshua?” You asked.

She huffed again, sliding back onto her stomach.

“Mmhm, told me he needed it for his physics homework,” she uttered the word in a fancy-established way, as though she were making fun of it, “he never gives back any of my stuff.”

The only thing you could do was swallow and nod your head, meanwhile this awkward smile was slapped onto your mouth. You loved Jennie, you really did, but the only reason you agreed to homework and supper at her house was because of a very specific reason—this was the one night her older brother didn’t have any guitar or baseball lessons, or some outing planned with his friends. And, well, you hadn’t seen him at all since you’d gotten here, but he’d inevitably have to come down for dinner. Joshua, that was his name.

He was about two years older than you, and despite never having a conversation with him before, there was a lot you already knew about him. For example, Joshua always wore the same beat-up pair of white converse sitting in the front foyer. He liked collecting these weird, colourful band t-shirts and he routinely made Jennie bring him a piece of Double Bubble whenever he didn’t have any. It was pretty unimportant information, actually, but not to you.

“Shoot, it’s almost time for to eat,” Jennie announced, looking back at the alarm clock on her bedside table, “my parents will probably call us down any minute. Guess no more homework.” She flipped the textbook shut and cleared all her notes away. “Also, what do you want to do after dinner? My mom said we can walk to the river. We might be able to catch some frogs.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, we should do that.”

“Totes,” Jennie smiled, “okay, I’m gonna see if they need any help setting the table. Hey, do you wanna grab Josh from his room? Tell him to come down?”

Almost immediately, you shot up onto your knees.

“Me?” You reiterated, aiming a finger at yourself.

Jennie threw on a small wool cardigan from the spine of her desk chair, tilting her head at you in amusement.

“Mmhm. Yeah, you. Who else is in here? Just grab him, ‘kay? And make sure you knock kinda loud ‘cause sometimes he’s got his earbuds in, so he can’t hear.”

Before you could even hope to oppose, she was already out the door and skipping downstairs, and you listened to the sound of her socks sliding against their hardwood floors until everything was silent. Okay, yes, you’d wanted to see Joshua and maybe find an excuse to say even a word to him, but as your docile, thirteen-year old self, asking him to join you for dinner was like…like asking you to take the sun out of the sky—very much impossible. But you were also too worried to not do anything, so you settled for a nervous walk down the hall, where Joshua’s door was covered with posters.

You knocked, though not that loudly.

When there was no answer, your face exploded into heat and you already questioned just leaving him to his devices.

But you tried knocking again, harsher this time, only to be met with the same poster of a woman wearing red, star-shaped glasses. You pressed your ear to the door. It sounded a little too quiet. And for some god awful, stupid reason that you could not compute, you decided to open Joshua’s bedroom door and just waltz right in like it was second nature. Except, there was no one. His room was empty, the shades fully drawn so everything was tinted dark, and surprisingly, it was quite neat for a fifteen-year-old boy. You saw his guitar propped in the corner, and some shiny medals dangling above his bed from baseball competitions.

He had a lava lamp sitting on his desk, purplish and hot yellow, which left a very impressionable dent on you, because you’d always wanted a lava lamp and this cute boy just happened to own one. You even saw Jennie’s ruler sitting next to a massive textbook on his desk, beside a tiny glass and acrylic cube of the solar system.

His room seemed like the most fascinating place on Earth.

“Uh, did Jennie tell you to come in here?”

Shoot!

It was horribly audible, that embarrassing suckle of breath you heaved in through your teeth, and when you turned around to meet the boy who was looking at you so concerningly, you realized he wasn’t mad (which was wonderful, since you already felt on the verge of tears and having this boy snap would definitely be the hand to push you over the edge). He reached out to flick on a light.

“Dinner’s ready,” you told him, your voice shaking a little.

“Okay,” Joshua answered, “are you… looking for something?”

“No, sorry, I’ll leave now. I’m really sorry.”

You didn’t know what you were saying as you stumbled past the boy blindly, but he’d moved to let you shuffle by, even tapped the door open a bit wider for you. By the time you were downstairs, you grabbed a large glass of water and chugged it, knowing that was the first time you’d ever felt this winded—the fact it had made the air simultaneously thicker and harder to breathe. Joshua came down about a minute later to grab a soda can from the fridge, meanwhile Jennie and her parents were adjusting the table.

“Do you like cream soda?” He asked you.

“My mom says they’re not hea—um, never mind.”

Yeah, say that, you thought, and he’ll think you’re a big loser.

“I’ll leave one in the fridge,” Joshua responded with a shrug.

When he popped open the tab to his drink, it started foaming and spilling orange soda onto the rim, which he slurped up quickly over the sink. You just stood there idly, watching him, thinking he was the most attractive thing in the universe, and you didn’t begin to question these feelings until you were standing alone in the kitchen.

What did it even mean to be attracted to someone? And should you really be this giddy about your best friend’s brother?

14.

You were standing outside, balancing on the edge of the curb, trying not to sway backwards due to the immense weight from your backpack—stuffed with two textbooks, a gigantic binder, and the big thermos that had held your lunch. Jennie was crouched down beside you, twiddling her thumbs as she stared at her phone. Exams were starting in the middle of June, so you two decided to get a leg up and take the study sessions to her house. Joshua was supposed to come around front and pick you up, but he was pretty damn late.

“Bet he’s fooling around in the parking lot w’Hansol,” Jennie grumbled, clicking off her phone and shielding her eyes from the bright summer sun, “I’m gonna melt. It’s so freaking hot out.”

“Do you want to go back inside and use the fountain?”

“No, ‘cause that’s when he’ll show up. He left me here once, y’know? All because I went back inside to get my gym shoes.”

“That doesn’t seem like him,” you said, smiling.

Jennie reached out her hand and you pulled her up.

“Mmhm, he just pretends to be all cute and Mr. Polite when my friends are around,” the girl rolled her eyes, “but he’s so mean.”

Mean? You couldn’t imagine Joshua being mean. You suppose he did order Jennie around sometimes, nagging her to do his chores or grab him another can of soda, but that just seemed like normal sibling behaviour. Besides, there were times when Joshua was plenty sweet, like when he’d come into the basement to bring you and Jennie ice cream (though you might’ve heard his mom urging him to do it, because there’s a ‘guest’ over). With a voice like his, you couldn’t even imagine him yelling.

“Oh! There! Finally!” Jennie flung out her arm to point at the silver-bullet car approaching the curb. “Gosh, took him forever.”

The passenger seat window rolled down, and you recognized Joshua’s best friend, Hansol, who wiggled his fingers to wave.

“You’re late,” Jennie barked through the window.

Joshua turned down his radio ever so slightly, only to shake his head and gesture for her to hurry up and climb inside. When you wriggled into the back, there was hardly enough room between your knees and Joshua’s reclined seat, forcing you to sit the uncomfortable backpack on your lap. Jennie leaned forward before she clicked on her seatbelt, giving her older brother a whack on the head.

“Pull up your chair, dummy. Give the girl some room.”

“Oh—shit, sorry.” He mumbled, and it seemed like Joshua hadn’t even realized you’d climbed into the car until his eyes glanced into the rear mirror, and suddenly, the seat was yanked forward.

Hansol turned around, “are you guys thirsty? I’m trying to convince Josh to stop at Joe’s Corner Store for some alcoholic beverages.”

“Why did you whisper it?” Jennie asked.

“Because it’s illegal.”

“Yeah, no duh. We’re all underage.” She folded her arms.

“Pretend I meant sodas,” Hansol smiled wide and gummy, revealing his rows of brace-covered teeth, “so what’chya thinking?”

“Yeah,” Jennie obliged, “I guess I’m thirsty. Let’s do it.”

Joshua was already at the stop sign, shaking his head.

“No, alright? Mom wants us home by two-forty-five. If we stop at Joe’s then we’re gonna push it, and I just got back car key privileges. Can’t you drink something when we get home?”

You were fully inclined to stay out of their sibling disputes, so you settled for looking out the window instead, watching a sprinkler shower a garden. That is until you felt a nudge against your elbow and Jennie was gesturing at you with her head to say something.

“He won’t say no to you,” she whispered between her teeth.

“U-Um,” you piped up, feeling hotter than the blacktop, “I’m, uh, really… I’m really thirsty too. Can we stop at Joe’s?”

Jennie pinched the back of your hand, murmuring, “y’have to add in ‘please, Joshua’, and sell it too.”

You were blinking at her awkwardly the entire time.

“Um… please… Joshua.”

Even though both directions were clear, her older brother still hadn’t turned yet, and from the way Jennie was clasping her hands together expectantly, you were hoping that pathetic ask was enough. When you glanced toward the rear-view mirror, Joshua was already looking at you. Honestly, you didn’t think you had the power to sway him even relatively, but then he flicked his signal to the right.

“Yes!” Hansol shouted from the front, “I’m gonna mix the cherry slush with the blue raspberry, and no one can stop me!”

“No one wants to,” Jennie remarked.

She then sent you a wink, which seemed unnecessary and kind of confusing because it felt like she was saying, ‘see, I told you.’

At your age, it was easy to take Joshua’s compliance as a gesture much bigger than it actually was, and for some reason, you already knew that. He was just being nice, is all, sweet, like he had to.

You were his little sister’s best friend.

“A large? Your brain can’t handle a large, Hansol.”

Jennie was standing behind Hansol at the slushie machine, watching him with a judgemental expression as he bent down the little handle and a bunch of icy, cherry red slush fell into his cup. You didn’t really know a lot about Hansol, minus the best friend to Joshua part and the fact his shaggy brown hair desperately needed a trim, but you did pick up that Jennie was always bickering with the boy and trying to get his attention. Most times, you ignored them.

Despite bending to your friend’s plea and asking Joshua to stop for drinks, you didn’t have any extra change lying around, even in the crevices of your backpack. Jennie was using money she earned from her allowance, and Hansol had just gotten payed the other day due to his first job at the bowling alley. You were staring at the glass display of bottles and cans across the store when Joshua came around the corner, holding onto his usual—an orange cream soda.

Pretending not to notice him seemed like a definite way to erase his presence, but you surely weren’t that dumb at fourteen.

“Are you almost ready to go?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Joshua reached into his pocket and checked his phone.

“Five minutes to get home,” he sighed, “it’ll be close—hey, didn’t you say you were thirsty or something? Changed your mind?”

You shrugged, “I realized I don’t have any money.”

“Oh,” Joshua responded, and the silence that hung in the tacky, air-conditioned sweat lodge that was Joe’s Corner Store was suddenly palpable, “I, um, I don’t have any extra on me, sorry.”

The only thing you could do was smile at him, and it must’ve creeped him out or something, because Joshua decided to turn around and go find Hansol who was inquiring about lottery tickets at the front counter. You waited outside while everyone paid, sat down in the shade provided by the cute, kitschy overhang painted with soft green and spring flowers. Joshua came outside first, which you noted from the pair of white converse that had just stepped beside you in the stones. And then, a can of cream soda was lowered to your face.

“Do you want this?” Joshua offered.

You glanced up at him, but only for an instant.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded.

When everyone shuffled back into the car, Hansol was already jabbering at Joshua to crank up the air while he rolled the slushie against his cheek. Jennie was just about to poke a straw into her cold tea when she noticed the bright orange can in your lap, which you’d wanted to hide from her. It was just that, one time she begged Joshua for about half an hour that he give her the last can of cream soda in the fridge, yet he wouldn’t relent no matter what.

But today he let you have one, no problem.

The rest of the day went pretty accordingly. You weren’t allowed in the basement because Joshua and Hansol were apparently watching ‘scary movies’ that weren’t suited to anyone younger than sixteen, even though Jennie assured you she’d already seen them and they were mild at best. You finished the can of cream soda, and you nearly had a heart attack when Jennie went to throw it in the trash.

“N-No! I, um, I’d like to keep it, actually.”

“Really?” Jennie sounded too surprised. “It’s just a can.”

“I’m—” quick, think up a reasonable lie that won’t mislead her into suspecting you only want the can because of her brother, “I’m collecting cans, like Elsie Bolger. She gets money back from them.”

“Oh, okay then,” Jennie shrugged, “it’s all yours.”

Because of that dumb lie you told Jennie, you were stuck with a hobby you didn’t even want over the summer, and a gigantic plastic bag lumped in the garage half-filled with tin. Your mom proposed that you start going on ‘neighbourhood walks’ to pick up any extra cans people might’ve throw into ditches or left at the parks, which was how Joshua drove past you at seven in the morning, on his way to baseball practice, catching a glimpse of you wandering through a slippery trench that you’d quite literally fallen into.

Great, you were now probably the biggest loser he knew.

The neighbourhood walks didn’t last too long though, as you came to realize there were a lot of disgusting, unsterile things that got thrown into ditches, besides coffee cups and soda cans.

Your safest bet was to ask the neighbours on your block, and by the end of July, you’d gotten a few people to start saving their cans for you. Additionally, Jennie offered to pitch in, and thus every Saturday you rode your bicycle to her house hoping that she’d remembered to save at least one can so your journey wasn’t futile.

Last week, you’d stopped by on a Sunday.

And not much could’ve really prepared you for that.

That morning, it wasn’t Jennie who answered the door, still dressed in her pyjamas with the little flamingos on them because she would sleep into lunch if she could—nope, it was Joshua. Shirtless Joshua. Shirtless, only dressed in sweatpants, with damp and mussed back hair Joshua. You couldn’t even whimper out one word. It was so obvious that you were trying not to let your curious, adolescent eyes roam that tanned torso of his like he was a dessert pamphlet. Your bike was resting against the garage—you could make a run for it.

“Jennie isn’t here,” Joshua said, “doctor’s appointment.”

“Oh,” you still weren’t looking at him, but at this pebble on their doormat, which was clearly very interesting, “I was supposed to come yesterday, but, uhm… never mind. I’ll just grab my—”

“You’re doing the can thing, right? Like, you’re collecting them to exchange at the corner store? I know about it.”

For some reason, your mind immediately lurched to that rainy morning about two weeks ago, when you were caked with mud and humidity from slipping around in that stupid ditch, rather than the far more logical answer of Jennie simply telling him you were collecting cans because they were siblings and lived together.

Joshua opened the door wider, “she has them in a bag somewhere. I can go look for it—uh, come in, if you want.”

Of course, sweet Joshua would never let you stand outside where it was slightly too windy and slightly too sunny and slightly too fragrant because of the lilac pots beside the front door. You definitely weren’t overthinking that gesture at all, and your mind was definitely working exactly as it should. So, you slipped off your sneakers and took a seat on the couch, waiting in complete, stifling silence as Joshua disappeared into the house. You got so nervous and fidgety that you rearranged the coasters on the coffee table and used the shiny edge of the fake fruit bowl to check your reflection.

Not long after that, Joshua came back to the living room.

“Hey, I’m sorry but I can’t find where she keeps that bag. I checked the garage and everything. You should phone her.”

“No, that’s alright. I’ll just come back next week.”

Honestly, you didn’t want this to be it. Gosh, you’d daydreamed so many different scenarios in which you were alone with Joshua, exactly what you’d say to him, how you’d laugh, and, oh—maybe you’d playfully bump his shoulder, or accidentally brush his hand, and the touch would create this insatiable, romantic spark between you and—all of those things seemed impossible.

As you bent down to re-tie your shoes, Joshua stopped you.

He then walked over to their fridge and pulled out a can.

“Cream soda,” the boy shrugged, “I mean, once you drink it, it’ll be empty and you’ll have a can for your… can thing.”

He tossed the soda to you, which you almost didn’t catch because it immediately slipped between your fingers, but somewhere along the struggle it managed safely into your hand.

“It’s cold,” you said, a very dumb observation to point out.

Joshua opened the front door. And then he smiled at you—just, a dazzling smile, so soft but kind of teasing and seraphic at the edges and made one-hundred percent worse by his lack of shirt.

“It was in the fridge, and fridges’ make things cold.”

The moment felt like it was too much. You were burning up, hardly even breathing as you slipped past him to hop outside and grab your bike off the garage door. That smile, those eyes, his voice, it was all you thought about during the ride home, feeling the sun kiss the back of your neck and imagining the warmth as Joshua.

You didn’t even use the can for your exchange.

Instead, you kept it beside the last one he’d given you.

15.

Unironically so, the day had just started and it was already shaping up to be one of the worst yet, even worse than the time you got stuck in that child’s swing at the park and lost your shorts trying to wriggle out of it. At least you could partially hide the water-lined eyes and trembling lip by stepping as far into your locker as possible, but that wasn’t going to save you from the bell.

That first physics test had kicked your ass.

Sure, you wasted last Saturday cleaning out and redesigning your entire room, and maybe you could have stayed home Monday night instead of going to the Laser Tag Center with Jennie, but you still studied. And you still got a whopping fifty-four percent. To make matters worse, this tumultuous feeling had been sitting in your abdomen since breakfast, a twisty type sensation, like someone was squeezing your insides using their fist. It made you sweaty hot, and then colder than ice, and at one point you swore something fucking trickled out of your body when you sneezed on the bus.

Great, just great.

Bad grades, possibly poisoned, holding back a meltdown—it would have been the complete trifecta of misfortune and general misery.

But it became more of a “quad-fecta” when you glanced down the hall.

Joshua was poised at his locker, talking to Hansol, with his arm lounged comfortably around Elsie Boulger’s waist, the autumn-haired sweetheart of his grade whom everyone only had wonderful things to say about. They were laughing, and Joshua suddenly nudged Elsie in closer against his side to pop a kiss on her cheek. You didn’t want to be jealous, because jealously felt awful, like something icky and slimy crawling around in your gut that you wanted to throw up. Jennie said that Elsie was cool, and inspirational (whatever that meant), and that she smelled of a juicy, clean citrus.

Maybe Jennie was in love with her too.

It seemed like the whole world was in love with her.

Or maybe it just felt like that because Joshua had been making an increasingly bigger impression on you as a person.

He sort of became your world.

When the bell to second period started clanging, you made a snap decision to skip and escape into the music room, which was always open and empty at that time anyways. You melted into the first chair you saw. The lights were off, and everything was pleasantly dark in a way that made you feel invisible. No one could hear you snivelling or see those thick blobs of tears on your cheeks, and it occurred to you that this room was a lot more enjoyable when there were no freshman screaming through their trombones.

But then you spotted a silhouette outside the door. Your first thought was that someone had squealed on you, and now a teacher had sought to find the juvenile foolish enough to skip Careers of all courses and send them straight to detention. God, what a shitty day.

Except… oh no, Joshua.

There was nothing you could do to hide. Was he better or worse than a teacher? You didn’t know. Neither had seen you cry, and like he’d even want to console you when you’d just shoved a tissue up your nose and tears were dribbling off your chin.

“…Uh, are you oka—”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off to save the awkward space.

Joshua tilted his head, clearly not believing you because the evidence was sitting right in front of him, pretty damning.

“Well, not to be rude, but I think that’s a lie. And—” he let the backpack slide off his shoulder, “you’re sitting in the dark. I suppose if I turned this light on, you’d want to rip my face off.”

Dabbing the crumpled tissue under your nose, you laughed half-heartedly. You were surprised he was even tolerating you.

“Something like that.”

“Can I sit next to you?”

A pulse of energy shot straight into your chest.

“Why? Don’t you have class?”

He snickered, “don’t you? This is my spare, and the only acoustic guitar in the whole school is sitting in here.”

“… I excused myself,” you tucked your knees close together, and tipped your head to the chair on your right, “you can sit there.”

This was abnormal. This was electric. This was… almost too good to be true. Why should Joshua want anything to do with the girl who probably annoyed him each time she was over at his house, taking up the couch and always giggling at the top of her lungs and drinking all his cream soda? You weren’t really friends, but it could be considered more than acquaintances—enough for Joshua to drop into the seat beside you and then proceed to edge closer.

Rubbing a palm underneath your eye, you heaved in a big breath and sighed out, “I failed my first physics test. I failed it.”

Joshua pulled one foot onto the edge of his chair to tie his shoe, and you watched him shove the loose ends down his ankle.

“Almost everyone fails that test,” he said, “no one really takes it seriously, no one studies, and about four people drop. Guaranteed.”

You swallowed. There was that obnoxious rush of heat again.

“If it makes you feel any better, I got a sixty.”

“Joshua—” your voice wobbled, another tear wetting your cheek, “I got a fifty-four. And you were probably way smarter than me!”

Despite his innocent intentions, that comment did nothing but take any ashes of, ‘it’s not so bad’ and blow them into a wispy scattered dust. Leaning over into your hands, an emotional torrent gushed through you, unlike anything you’d experienced before. It wasn’t doing you any good to keep sitting here. Maybe outside would be better. Some fresh air to get your endorphins buzzing.

Once you got up, so did Joshua.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he stumbled, “I wasn’t trying to be a jerk.”

“I know, I know. I’m just having a crappy day. I mean, obviously. Everything is all over the place and I would so rather be at home crying than here.”

Joshua nodded, his eyes seeming glittery and sympathetic.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make you feel better. I thought having a little sister would make me good at that stuff, but Jennie is like a honey badger when she’s upset. No one can get near her.”

You laughed, and it cleared the weight in your throat. But, laughing also triggered that same trickling sensation you experienced earlier while sitting on the bus. And it wasn’t a little trickle, it felt like it was flowing and—what the hell, this? Of all fucking days, of all moments, your body decided now was the perfect time to get its first period. No wonder you were a mess with icy fingers and toes but a shiny sweat down your back. No wonder you couldn’t handle even the tiniest bit of pressure or stress without feeling like a being made from porcelain glass.

And why the hell did you decide to wear light blue jeans. They were in the laundry hamper and you still pulled them out because the black ones didn’t suit your top the way you wanted.

That moon-eyed look on your face was as good an indication as any something had happened, if the firmness that had planted itself into your body wasn’t already noticeable. Joshua chuckled a little, most likely confused by your comportment.

“What’s happening? Do you need me to—”

“This is…” you heaved through your teeth, “the worst…”

He tilted his head and pursed his bottom lip.

“Seriously, if you need to go home, or— if you need a ride or anything like that, I’m okay with it. Like I said, I’ve got a spare, so…”

Your gaze wandered back to his face, prompting Joshua to shift his weight from right foot to left as you stared almost through him, like he was a piece of plastic. Even if it was tempting, you couldn’t just whip out the door with that blood staining your pants, because the way your luck was going, someone would step right behind you and how could they not notice a gigantic red patch—Oh my god! There’s something wrong with this girl’s pants!—which would undoubtedly cue everyone rushing out to see you humiliatingly crumble.

You swallowed, fumbled with your fingers, only for Joshua to bite his lip.

“Did something else happen today?”

“Yeah,” you answered, sucking in sharply, “but, I’m not sure if I can… I just don’t want to—Joshua, I—I think I just got my period…”

He was quiet at first, and that small gap between his mouth pressed shut. You were even more rigid than before, almost quivering, and it was quickly dawning on you that maybe he didn’t want to hear about your body and how it was literally leaking blood.

“Oh, that’s it?” Joshua exhaled, almost seeming… relieved?

Were you hearing things correctly?

“I thought you were gonna like, confess to a crime or something,” the boy then rubbed his neck, laughing, “jeez, you were scaring me a bit—but, uh, okay, you’ve got your period, unexpectedly I’m guessing. Have you got any pads or tampons? Or spare cloths?”

“N-No, I—” your unstable emotions, they were spilling all over again and closing up your throat and thickening your voice, “I don’t have those. I-I don’t know what to do. It’s bleeding through.”

He flitted you a careful smile, passing his hand up and down your arm for a moment, “hey, it’s alright. Just relax. Why don’t you stay here, and I’ll grab Jennie from class? She always keeps stuff like that in her locker. Here—” Joshua then wriggled off the black windbreaker he was wearing, “tie this around your waist.”

You sniffled, biting the inside of your cheek before you accepted the jacket, still feeling uncertain despite his hospitality.

“Are you sure I can use this?”

Joshua was already picking up his knapsack from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder while he nodded his compliance.

“Yeah, I can get it back later. I won’t be long, okay?”

“Okay.”

He flashed you another smile, and then slipped out the heavy door which closed with a metal squeal, narrowing the ray of light that had split across the tiles. You breathed out shakily, nose still somewhat runny and your eyes bleary, as you tied the windbreaker tight around your waist. That day was officially awful, you were certain of it, though Joshua had managed to make things a little less messy, and while it could have just been the influx of hormones twisting in your abdomen that influenced your thoughts, you were starting to really, really like him. More than what it was before.

This spark you had—it was growing.

It was turning into something much bigger than attraction.

You hauled the smooth blanket up to your chin, making no move to help as Jennie crouched by the system box underneath the television. She was trying to figure out something technical, which involved pushing random buttons and clicking her remote every time the screen flickered. It wasn’t like you knew the television any better than she did, so you settled back against the couch, throwing cheeze-it’s into the air and poking out your tongue to catch them.

“This is all Josh’s fault,” she grumbled, wiping her hands along her pants, “he always screws up the settings to play video games, and never bothers to switch anything back.”

“I thought your mom made him draw up an instruction card thingy on how to fix all that,” you answered, flicking another cheeze-it into the air, “don’t tell me you lost it already?”

“He was the one who lost it.”

“Okay, so let’s just ask him what to—”

Jennie held out the remote after tampering with the system box for the umpteenth time, and the television blipped, revealing the proper screen with the little sparkling logo. She nearly sent the remote flying from her hand when she hopped up triumphantly.

“Or, I’ll fix it,” Jennie smiled, jabbing a thumb at herself, “I’m clearly not the most tech-savvy person—and that’s probably why I kept hitting the applause sound affect during the funeral scene at our school’s last play—but I do know my way around some things… even if it took me…”

You checked your phone, “fifteen minutes?”

Tossing the remote onto the couch, Jennie laughed, and remembered to grab her bowl of party-mix off the floor (with everything but the baby breadsticks included because she always said they were most useless part of the snack). You were supposed to watch this movie for your English class, though you couldn’t even remember the name, something about a vendetta. However, before the introduction scene could even play, the door squeaked at the top of the stairs and Jennie immediately pressed pause, groaning.

Joshua bounced off the last step, rubbing his hair.

“Don’t give me that look,” he nagged, “I’m not down here to bother you, I’m just looking for our soccer ball.”

“Well, chop chop. We need to watch this movie ASAP.” Jennie said, craning her neck around to glare at Joshua as he rifled through some storage bins shoved near the basement corner.

“Yeah,” you agreed (not really, but only to back up Jennie), and stuck out your tongue, “you’re making a lotta noise, too.”

“I can’t be any quieter than this,” Joshua responded, taking off another storage lid to sort through the contents, “I still have all my notes from that movie, y’know? Not that I’d give them to you.”

“That’s why I didn’t bother asking,” Jennie retorted through a mouthful of party mix, “I jusfftt knew you’d be a dick about it.”

Finally, Joshua dug out his soccer ball.

“Does mom know you swear like that?” He smirked.

“Does mom know you lied about staying over at Hansol’s last Friday so you could actually meet Elsie at some stupid party?”

The boy stiffened, meanwhile Jennie gave him a falsely sweet grin, dropping another handful of snacks into her mouth.

“I literally payed you to keep quiet about that.”

“Oh, pfft—five bucks! Thanks Mr. Charity.”

You weren’t entirely sure if you were supposed to be hearing this conversation, though neither Jennie or Joshua seemed concerned about your presence. It’s not like you would tell, anyways, and you already knew Jennie had quite the fair share of secrets up her sleeve that she’d convinced Joshua to keep.

“This conversation is over,” Joshua stated with a smile, snapping the lid back onto the storage bin, “oh, and—” he then pointed his finger at you, “I know you won’t say anything, but pretend you didn’t hear about the party. Seriously. I’d be screwed.”

“Okay,” you gave him a reassuring nod, “I promise.”

Joshua positioned the soccer ball under his arm and ran upstairs, to which you heard him softly click the door shut. The moment he was gone, Jennie’s head slumped back into the couch.

“I sense that he’s got a dangerous influence on you.”

“He doesn’t,” you giggled, whacking Jennie harmlessly on her shoulder, “now, just start the movie before I fall asleep.”

“Fine,” the girl huffed, sticking out the remote and clicking resume, though you didn’t miss how her eyes remained on you for that extra breadth of a second, like she had questioned your answer.

You lied, of course. Joshua did have an influence on you.

But you didn’t think it was dangerous.

A few weeks later.

“Ow!”

Pulling the wooden spoon out from the pot, you shot a scornful look over your shoulder, realizing that it was Joshua who’d just bumped the top of your head with the ladle in his hand. You couldn’t help the harsh expression flickering into a wide smile.

“How’s the sauce? Is it almost done?” He asked impatiently, coming to stand beside you at the burner while breathing in the flavourful smells, wafting up and sizzling from the pot.

You sighed, shaking your head.

“It’s getting there, alright? I’m just stirring it for as long as Jennie told me to. She’s the one who knows this recipe.”

However, it seemed like Joshua wasn’t absorbing a word you’d said, rather he dipped his ladle into the sauce and stole a small amount to drink. You screeched at him, switching the spoon to your latter hand while the other just grazed his shoulder. He’d escaped to behind the kitchen island, continuing to blow at the thick sauce.

“No tasting until it’s done!” You laughed, wanting to sound as serious as possible, but utterly failing because it was Joshua.

“Too late,” the boy replied, licking at his index finger where he made a bit of a spill, “I already tasted it. Sucks to suck.”

Reaching out to the dial, you turned the heat down a little more until the sauce frothed a quiet, bubbling simmer. There was a towel next to the stove that you grabbed, using it to wipe a pretend smudge off your hands, though you lashed it across the island to nip Joshua on the chest, which had been your intent from the start.

“Well,” your arms folded, “since you betrayed my trust and tasted the sauce anyways, what do you think? Missing anything?”

Joshua leaned to the right, tossing the ladle into the sink.

“Don’t think so, but I’m also too hungry to care ‘n—hey, is anyone gonna start making the pasta?” He came to your side of the counter and poked at the rolling machine used to thin the sheets.

You leaned a palm into your cheek, “Jennie said she was gonna start, but then one of our friends rang her up, saying they desperately needed her notes for our English essay. She’s been upstairs for like, almost half an hour. D’you know how?”

He straightened his back, “how to make pasta? Uh…” he flicked the handle on the machine, watching it spin, “I haven’t done it in a while, but I don’t think it’s hard. We just need—” Joshua suddenly spun around, opening the fridge and then delving into another drawer, “eggs, some flour, salt, and, olive oil, I think.”

“Oh, so you’re going to make it?”

Joshua smiled as he organized the ingredients on the island and cuffed up his sleeves, “it’s not that I didn’t want to help. Jennie told me to stay out of the kitchen. But, she’s not here right now.”

Chuckling, your eyes danced after Joshua as he moved over to the sink, switching on the water and cleaning his hands.

“Why’s that? Are you secretly a fire hazard?”

“No, she said I’m a distraction,” he scoffed, using quoted fingers and heightening the sound of his voice to mimic his sister.

“Really? A distraction?”

You twisted your body to follow Joshua’s every movement, watching as he opened the door to a small broom closet in order to grab an apron hanging off a hook. He nodded his head.

“I find that hard to believe. Jennie’s pretty good at blocking you out, and, well, she’s had lots of practice at it.”

Joshua pursed his lips, blowing at some loose, black hairs that had shifted over his forehead. As he was tying the strings behind him, the boy glanced up, catching your gaze for a very brief, peculiar second before he was back at the island, measuring out the flour.

“Um, yeah…” he exhaled, “she said I’d be distracting you.”

At that, you froze. Even the dreamy smile that was constantly stretching wider and wider from one corner of your lip to the other had flattened, meanwhile Joshua was already concentrated on patting the flour into a bowl shape that would support the eggs. As if directly on cue, the sauce left to simmer in the pot changed from pleasant herbs and garlic to something a bit too crispy and… burnt.

“Shit,” you coughed under your breath, quickly removing the pot off the stove and giving the sauce a thorough stir.

“I think you’re the fire hazard,” Joshua softly laughed from behind, pushing and kneading the sticky clump in his hands.

As much as you hated admitting it, Jennie had been right.

You needed to get these feelings more under control.

Later in the evening, it was almost supper time. The ribs had just finished brazing in the oven, and the pasta that Joshua went through immense effort to make (as detailed by the speckles of flour on his cheeks and the hairband he borrowed from Jennie to keep his hair pushed back) had been strained and deliciously buttered up.

Joshua whizzed by you in the corridor, still dressed in the apron as though he were orchestrating his own restaurant.

“There’s a little something on your face!” You called out to him, each word clearly sung by a much too happy smile.

“I realize that!” He shouted from inside the washroom, and you heard the sound of water gushing into the sink.

“Oh—” their mom caught you in the hallway, one hand occupied by the sauce pot and the other with a bread plate, “I’m sure I just heard a knock at the door. Do you mind getting it, dear? This sauce is superbly warm and kind of burning me right now.”

“Yeah, sure thing. Please don’t drop it!” You giggled while rushing toward the main entrance, “I worked so hard on it!”

Jennie popped up from the basement, heaving hard and dragging an extra chair as she sighed, “y’mean, you stirred it.”

“Close enough.”

Honestly, you’d never been more excited to eat. When you first began staying the night at Jennie’s house, family dinners terrified you, and no one could get you to speak more than a few words (which basically consisted of saying yes or no to seconds or dessert). But Jennie had been your best friend for a long time now, and her family seemed to adore you like a daughter. Yet, the second you’d pulled open the front door, all that energy and luminance drained from your body so quickly it was almost disorienting.

You were standing face to face with Elsie Bolger. She practically beamed upon greeting you, and presented a glass bowl that was sealed with a plastic film. Inside, you were sure there was strawberries and sliced-up bits of yellow cake.

“Elsie?!” Jennie poked her head around the corner, “oh my gosh! I totally forgot you were coming! I’m such an idiot. I’ll get another chair!”

“Oh, it’s no worry at all,” Elsie assured, “I brought something for you guys, it’s a dessert my mom makes.”

At this point, everyone except for Joshua had filed into the main living area. Jennie’s father took her jacket while their mother accepted the bowl. For some reason, Jennie handed Elsie a fork.

“That’s the special fork,” she said, “the last prong sticks out weird. I think it’s finally your time to use our most sacred utensil.”

God, that stupid fork—you briefly recalled the memory of Jennie almost squashing Joshua down onto the floor a few years ago, simply because he’d managed to swipe it before her.

“You used it last time!”

“That didn’t count!”

“What do y’mean it didn’t count?!”

“Just give me the fork, Jennifer!”

“Ow! Mooommmm! Joshua just punched me in the boob!”

“No I didn’t—my hand—you—you’re such a liar! Mom, she’s lying!”

Jennie actually had lied, though she believed it was a justified lie considering her brother had just called her Jennifer, which was a bridge no one should cross. You were glad that era was over and done with.

“Uh, thanks, Jennie,” Elsie smiled, ruffling the girl’s hair, “and, as I was saying about the dessert—it’s like a strawberry shortcake thing. It has strawberries of course,” she paused to laugh nervously, “angel food cake, and this homemade custard.”

“It looks so freakin’ good,” Jennie salivated.

Her mother lit up in an appreciative smile, “that’s wonderful, thank you so much. Joshua’s just cleaning up—he’ll be out soon!”

“Oh, perfect,” Elsie stuttered a sigh of relief, “I’m ready to eat.”

In that moment, you weren’t sure what you despised more—the half of yourself that wished Elsie had never showed up, or the crushing amount of internal guilt that felt like it was going to destroy you for being so… jealous. Elsie was clearly nervous, and sweeter than sugar, and there was no plausible reason to treat her coldly.

“Is this your first dinner?” You asked her on everyone’s way to the dining room.

“My second,” she said thickly, “I’m not very good at this stuff.”

“It’s okay. Jennie and I will try to steal all the questions, so you can just relax and eat. It’s gonna be really tasty, I promise.”

She looked at you gratefully, “that would be amazing.”

It wasn’t long until Joshua entered the dining room before everyone settled down to pass out plates. You didn’t want to stare, but at the same time, you were itching to watch as Joshua rested his arm around Elsie’s waist and pulled her in for a light kiss as well as a whisper, probably something to ease her nerves. He hadn’t taken off Jennie’s hairband yet, to which Elsie pinched his cheek.

“I like this on you,” she cooed, “it lets us see that forehead.”

“Ah, it’s blinding!” Jennie teased, using her placemat to cover her eyes, “dear god, it’s been ages since it’s seen the daylight.”

However, Joshua pulled it out, giving his head a shake.

“I only wore it when I was making the pasta.”

Elsie raised a brow, her smile tiny but clearly impressed, “oh, you made something? Now I’m even more excited to eat.”

Joshua flushed, and suddenly, he was pointing at you.

“She made the sauce—”

“Ahem,” Jennie coughed into her fist, “she stirred the sauce.”

“Which has to be the most important part,” Joshua added, pulling out Elsie’s seat before taking his own, “critical, in fact.”

“Sorry,” you then whispered to Jennie, who gave your hand a gentle slap under the table as she shook her head lightheartedly.

Dinner went by in a flash—mostly because you hunkered down into the plate and gobbled everything like some neanderthal who’d been introduced to food for the first time. The sooner you finished, the sooner you could escape the table, as well as all the little laughs and sentimental gazes passed between Joshua and Elsie. Her dessert was delicious, but you ate that quickly too, crunching your hand fiercely around the napkin on your lap when Elsie grabbed Joshua’s face to swipe some custard off his lips. Clearing your plate before everyone else was somewhat awkward, though it gave you an excuse to wash up alone in the kitchen.

Afterward, you and Jennie went into her room. The girl collapsed onto her bed with a gigantic huff, groaning in delight about how stuffed she was as she stretched into a starfish. You took a seat at her desk chair, fiddling with some coloured pencils, trying to ignore the laugh you just heard echo from Joshua’s room, followed by a yelp that seemed to be abruptly silenced in the middle. Jennie shoved herself up.

“We can go the basement if y’want,” she offered, “that way we don’t have to hear their dumb playfighting. We can watch a movie. Or if you don’t want to do that, we can take out my paint set and do those Mandala rocks. My mom said she really wants more for the back porch.”

You didn’t respond right away, instead rolling a sky-blue pencil under your palm until it slipped out onto the floor.

“How serious do you think they are?”

Jennie scrunched her nose, “what?”

“I mean your brother, and Elsie,” you winced, sensing how dramatically your stomach had bloated when you bent down to pick up the pencil, “does it seem like they’re super serious?”

“Serious how? Like, I-love-you serious? That’s the only serious I know. Unless you’re asking if they… if they like—if they’re—y’know, doing the thing. Because I have no idea and I really don’t want to know—”

“Never mind—stupid question. Forget I asked.”

Bringing a palm up to your chin, your eyes fluttered to Jennie’s windowsill, decorated with an assortment of different rocks she’d been collecting from her trips to the science museum—pink, sparkly granites that looked like hardened sugar and the tiniest angelite stones, which were an ashy sort of blue. Joshua once told you they were candy and tried to get you to bite one (which you might have done if Jennie didn’t burst in). Then, the watercolour paintings she’d taped over the glass. Your favourite was the butterfly with holographic glitter wings. It stained her floor in an opal tint whenever the sun shone through. Joshua always hated it, because he said he found sparkles all over the house for weeks after she’d finished, even in his backpack and on his pillow.

Jennie rubbed her neck, her face soft and sleepy.

“Can you be honest? I have to ask something.”

Swivelling in the chair, your toes curled, and you nodded.

“Do you like J—”

At random, Joshua threw open the door and came into the bedroom.

“Jesus Chr-crickets! Gosh, can you knock?!” Jennie shouted, shuffling up hurriedly on the forest colours of her bedsheets.

“I did.”

“No, you didn’t!”

“Not my fault you didn’t hear it.”

Jennie lopped her head back and groaned.

“You’re so—you’re just so—,” she crumpled her hands together as though she were imagining her brother’s head as a squishy grape, “—bleck! I don’t even have the words. What do you want, anyways?”

Twisting in the chair, you noticed Joshua holding onto a cream soda and a squishy packet of blue raspberry juice that he tossed to his sister. You couldn’t tell if it was obvious or if you’d been intentionally searching for anything odd, but his hair seemed messier, with strands flicked out all over his head, and you were certain Joshua was hiding something when he pulled at the collar of his shirt.

“Mom just wanted me to bring you guys drinks.”

Jennie jammed the straw into her juice.

“Was this the last blue raspberry?”

“I think so—don’t even think about taking the cherry.”

“Woah, I’m not!” Jennie lifted her hand defensively. “Slow your roll, idiot. The cherry tastes like medicine, anyways. You can have it.”

He merely furrowed his brow at the girl before turning to you, sticking out the can of cream soda. Jennie sunk into her pillow with her head propped up, sipping loudly at her juice and narrowing her eyes.

“How come she gets your stupid cream soda? Where’s my cream soda privileges? I’m your blood. I bet you don’t even let Elsie have any.”

Joshua looked like he might snap, “can you shut—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted, “I’m not thirsty.”

If you were anyone else, it wouldn’t have been a big, dramatic deal to decline wanting a soda, but you knew it would definitely seem questionable and possibly hostile and cultivate the weirdest tension because you always accepted it whenever Joshua offered. Even Jennie was shocked, lifting herself off the pillow to stare at you in confusion, meanwhile Joshua had actually flinched, his head leaning to the side limply as though you’d just uttered some alien dialect.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“Elsie still collects for the recyclable can drive, right? You should give it to her. I can always come down later and get a water.”

Joshua breathed out sharply through his nose.

“I’ll just put it back in the fridge,” he said, almost stuttering in his movement when he turned around, trying to compute the situation.

As soon as the door closed, Jennie cackled.

“Did you break him or something?”

16.

You whacked the tip of your shoe into a pebble, struggling to track its explosive path down the sidewalk until you decided it was lost for good. But now you wanted something else to kick. Chiefly because you were frustrated. And moody. And hating the supposedly celebratory milestone that was turning sixteen. You didn’t exactly know where you stood in all the changes. Everyone around you seemed to be morphing akin to tree leaves in the midst of autumn, though you felt somewhat like a crinkled, dry leaf—one that always got stepped on just to hear the crack.

And maybe that was normal.

Maybe everyone was experiencing the same sentiments beneath all their new personalities. Except, you didn’t know who to approach or how to express this. Jennie had made friends with these two girls from her health class, and it wasn’t like she’d forgot about you, but there was something to note about how she was suddenly into white-gel tips and miniskirts and drinking an almost obsessive amount of caffeine when she used to express how much she hated all of those things combined.

If you were to be completely candour, you missed how she was before. Jennie loved critiquing movies and painting in watercolour and could never keep a polished manicure because she loved turning up rocks or bark to catch beetles and frogs. You missed that girl so much.

But, had you changed too? Without being conscience of it?

Folding your arms tightly, you were on the cusp of punting another rock into the sun itself when a silver car pulled in close to the curb, maintaining a barely-there pace to keep in tune with your walking.

The passenger window rolled down.

“Hey!” He called from inside, stretching his neck over while flittering his focus between you and the road, “want a ride home?”

Even worse—you still hadn’t gotten over Joshua. He was eighteen now, less gawky, more piercings, a voice that was smoother than butter, but the same pair of eyes that were deep and calm and undeniably heart aching. His relationship with Elsie was rather intact. You saw them kiss every morning before slipping into your calculus class, and it was only yesterday that you’d been seated behind them during the school’s monthly assembly, a bitter taste in your mouth whenever she leaned into his side to whisper or giggle. He even slipped her an earbud so they could listen to his music instead of the principal’s boring, monotone speech.

When you didn’t respond to him, Joshua cleared his throat.

“Just—I know you don’t always take the bus, and Jennie went home with Marina, and—” his eyes shot back to the road, narrowly avoiding a pothole before he straightened the car again, “um, as I was saying, I can drop you off at home. I don’t have guitar today.”

You kept nibbling a sore patch on your bottom lip, trying inconceivably hard to pretend he wasn’t there. It was for his own good, honestly. One slip-up and your anger would pull you under.

He continued steering the wheel with one hand, the other resting almost irritably against the top of his backward baseball cap. He sighed.

“Okay, I can understand ignoring Jennie, but what did I do?”

Still, nothing.

“You’re making me look like an idiot.”

That one almost got you to smile.

“Or some weirdo who’s trying to seduce you into his car. Please, I’ve gotten the silent treatment before, and it fucking sucks. Especially when I don’t know what I did. If you don’t want a ride then—”

You finally slapped your fingers onto the handle and pulled the door open with a gigantic huff, to which Joshua stopped the car. He watched you collapse into the passenger seat, maneuvering your bag to your lap while you pressed your shoes to his dashboard. Neither of you uttered a word as he steered away from the curb. While Joshua allowed the wheel glide under his palm, he shot you a speculative glance through the rear-view mirror, teeth sunk into his lip like he was contemplating.

But then a minute or so passed, with the boy drumming his hands restlessly at the stop light, and you knew he’d ask regardless.

“Did you have a bad day?”

The silence stretched itself thinner.

“Look, that’s understandable. I can get not wanting to talk as well. I’m only being annoying ‘cause I care, actually.”

Your head tilted in the direction of the window.

“I know I’m not the first person you’d run to with all your problems, so I won’t ask you to spill them. But I’m not completely useless when it comes to advice n’ all that. I’ve gotten way better at it.”

He eased his foot over the gas pedal as the light changed. And you heard him chuckle before heaving a sigh of disbelief.

“I guess I’m not gonna get one word out—”

“You know what I don’t get?” Slipping your shoes off the dashboard, you shuffled up in the chair and rolled the window further down, feeling a gentle breeze massage the edges of your face, “I don’t get why everyone is being so fucking insufferable. Like, everyone. Even my teachers. I’m on the verge of failing calculus right now, just because Mrs. Panek is so awful at teaching. She boasts about her low class averages like it’s something to be proud of. She only pays attention to the geniuses, thinks everyone else isn’t trying hard enough.

Oh, and it makes me so mad whenever Jennie blows me off to hang out with Marina. Like, it was literally just a few months ago when she told me she loves laser tag, but suddenly it’s not her anymore, and now she’d rather fucking blaze with Marina in the washroom before class and talk about how hot her art teacher is. I mean, she used to like slasher films and stupid crystals and weird, nerdy science-y stuff which makes me think Marina’s brainwashed her. And if I have to see that one couple shove their tongues down each other’s throats on the stairway right outside the library one more time—I’m gonna fucking lose it! You didn’t just get your hormones yesterday! I’m so sick of—of everyone!

But then I’m confused too. About myself. It’s been fifty-one days since my last period. I was so scared, I bought a pregnancy test, even though I’ve never even had a boyfriend. Can you believe that? And I can’t even change comfortably in the locker room now since some girl made fun of the fact that my bra is like—it basically looks like a middle-aged woman’s bra, but I just wear them because of comfortability, y’know? But the funny thing was, that got to me, so I bought a new bra, and it’s so stupidly itchy. I’m wearing it right now and my chest feels like it’s gonna burn to bits if I scratch it again—”

You slipped a hand up the back of your shirt, undoing the clasp to the undergarment, which you squirmed off and threw out the window.

Sucking in a long, quivering breath, you felt the heat tingle across your face and melt your cheeks. With an elbow digging into the car, you rubbed two fingers against your temple, which was now pounding terribly as though someone had clocked it using their fist. A salty taste hit your tongue, and you realized that a few tears had trickled down to your jaw during the rant—that Joshua had pulled his car into the empty lot just beside the lake, overlooking the stillness of the water.

And that’s when you tightened every bone in your body, twisting your head around painfully slow to gauge his expression.

But he didn’t appear anything other than relaxed.

“W-What’s wrong w’you?” Came your very slurred, clogged-with-emotion question. “You should be telling me to get out.”

Joshua huffed, furrowing his brow.

“You’re asking me to punish you for feeling like a teenager?” He pulled up his knee, extending his elbow across it. “Why the hell would I do that? You clearly had some stuff building up.”

“I basically cursed out your sister. And I just threw my own bra out the window—there’s no way you should be calm about this. ”

He rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

“She’s not exempt from criticism. Just because she’s your best friend and my sister, doesn’t mean we have to like her all the time. And, yeah, can’t say I was expecting that. But now you’re not itchy and uncomfortable and shit, right? I’d probably do the same.”

Turning back to the window, you sought for the breeze and sunshine, closing your eyes wetly and inhaling deep. Joshua was right, you were merely human, and sometimes things irritated you. And like anybody else, you let them accumulate and fester and take up space in your chest where you were supposed to feel weightless.

“Well…” you exhaled, flicking the zipper on your backpack, “at least I’m not pregnant. I really thought, maybe I was… I dunno.”

Joshua groaned as he stretched an elbow behind his head.

“It’s probably stress. You should talk to your doctor.”

“I really just feel like falling into a hole, if I’m honest.”

He smiled at you, “want to do something?”

“Like what?” You responded tentatively.

Without bothering to elaborate, Joshua kicked open his door and whipped it shut before proceeding to your side of the car. He folded his arms on the open window, causing you to move back ever so slightly because he didn’t seem to care about how closely he leaned forward—you just knew there was a dangerous spike in your heartbeat when his gaze ensnared your own, almost pulling you into his warmth like a riptide.

“Get out,” he said, smirking, “and I’ll show you.”

And that’s when you remembered: Joshua was oddly exceptional at skipping stones. You followed him down to the rocky shoreline, in which he politely extended his hand for you to grab when you nearly face-planted your way to the water instead. He instructed you to start collecting stones that were tiny, flat, and smooth, which you organized into a pile beside your shoe. At first, you let Joshua demonstrate, closely monitoring his stance whenever his wrist sharply flicked and the stone would practically bounce its way across the calm sheets of water, leaving the neatest ripples to disrupt the surface, almost hypnotic.

“I’m not going to be good at this,” you told him.

He shook his head.

“Not about being good or bad. It’s just, a mindless task, something to relax you. Or, think of the rocks as your… problems, or—yeah, think of them as all these little irritations you just expressed to me, and each time you throw a rock, you’re getting rid of some stress.”

You breathed out hopelessly, wearing a flustered smile.

“Fine. Who knew you were so full of wisdom?”

“Wisdom is one of my many attributes,” Joshua grinned, sending another rock to dance across the water, “as you’re just understanding.”

Picking up a round, purplish stone, you flipped it between your fingers, getting a feel for its weight and texture.

“Well, doesn’t that also mean you’re getting older?”

“Nah, I think I’ll stay forever young. Isn’t that a super power?”

“No, that’s like flight and stuff. Invisibility. Heat vision—”

“Oh!” He snapped his fingers at you, “heat vision—I want that.”

“Why?”

“Because you can like, burn stuff with your eyeballs. It’s in the name. I’m guessing you didn’t watch a lot of cartoons.”

“No, I did,” you laughed, “it’s just that, heat vision isn’t usually what people would pick. Like, it’s not the first thing in their minds, y’know?”

“Okay. So then tell me what you’d want.”

“Um... flighhh—no! Actually, telekinesis.”

“Oh, so mind-reading?”

“Why’d you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“You said it so disappointedly.”

“No, I didn—you’re just wasting time so you don’t have to skip that rock in your hand. It’s easy once you get the hang of it. Try it, at least.”

Of course, you weren’t expecting much from your first throw. It vanished straight through the surface in a depressing plonk. You weren’t sure if he was mocking you, but Joshua tossed his rock next, accomplishing three perfect skips before it bubbled under the water. He retreated a few steps back, rolling up his sleeves and scanning the shore for another suitable rock. Your eyes drifted after the boy like they were attached by a lure. Everything he did felt necessary and gentle.

“What if I can’t get it to skip even once?” You complained.

The next attempt didn’t fare any better, and served to prove your point. That’s when Joshua decided to hand you his next rock.

“I can show you again,” he offered.

You broke into laughter, “I’m standing exactly like you stood!”

“No, I’ll guide you, is what I mean.”

At first, you were still a little hazy on what he intended to do, but then you immediately understood the very second Joshua moved behind you, and every single nerve in your body had positively lit up like the flashing lights on a pinball machine. For some embarrassing reason, you couldn’t calm down no matter how slowly you breathed, and this visible shudder wracked down your spine as Joshua pressed himself against you and slid his fingers to your wrist. His touch was like silk. His voice beside your ear was warm and delicate and you were burning ash. You didn’t process a word he’d softly spoken. You breathed in mint and aftershave.

In fact, when he helped to guide the angle of your wrist and the stone made one very prominent hop across the river, you hardly noticed.

Because then Joshua had squeezed your waist with both his hands, giving you an excited, innocent shake. For you, your world nearly went black. It was merely a teaspoon of what it could be like to have a relationship with him, and it was intoxicating you dauntingly fast.

“—told you it wasn’t that hard!”

He was away from your backside, already picking some more stones into his palm when you caught the end of his exclamation.

“W-Well, you helped…”

Dammit—you sounded so stupidly breathless—

“Just do as I showed you, n’ you’ll be stress free in no time.”

But little did he know, you’d already forgotten all about that wild rant in the car. Now, your mind couldn’t conjure up any sort of thought other than what it would be like to know Joshua the way Elsie did—to whisper in his ear and kiss the edges of his kitten mouth and nuzzle your head into his shoulder while you listened to his music. To constantly breathe in his scent and feel his hands anywhere you desired. He mumbled something else to you, though you didn’t quite catch it.

You were floating far too high.

Rather than home, Joshua drove you back to his house. He’d told you his parents were going to be out late for a business dinner and you already knew Jennie was staying the night at Marina’s—not that one single part of you cared. Spending time with him was better than heating up some artificial, frozen dinner in the microwave while you waited in tears for your mom to return from her placement in the city.

Joshua toasted a sandwich for you, and you observed him with adoring eyes as he busied himself about the kitchen, washing and slicing the ingredients. He set the plate down in front of you, then filled up a glass with some juice.

“No cream soda today,” he frowned, reading the large bottle of juice, “Ocean Spray’s the special…. uh, Very Berry or something like that, with no artificial flavours or colours.”

“You’re such a restauranteur,” you laughed, forcibly stopping your feet from swinging under the island like a giddy child waiting for their ice cream sundae. He excited you in ways that should be magic.

He flipped the dish towel over his shoulder and winked.

“I want all these compliments going into my tip, ma’am.”

Joshua settled with leftovers from the fridge. Neither of you really spoke while eating, but there was no pressure in the air that suggested you might need to—it was cool and quiet. The boy flicked through a few texts on his phone meanwhile you slumped back into the chair with a satisfied puff, one hand rubbing along your shoulder blade.

“Are you also a massage therapist by any chance?” You whined. “I have a knot like, right around here, and I can’t get it at all.”

He slurped some noodles into his mouth that had been hanging from his chopsticks, and swallowed with a peculiar smirk.

“Pushing your luck just a bit, aren’t you?”

You felt an invisible jab against your stomach.

“I am?”

But the boy just huffed, shaking his head.

And you that’s when you realized the jab against your stomach had actually been fear. Joshua had a girlfriend. Joshua was in a happy relationship, and just because he’d kindly comforted you didn’t mean it was deemed suitable to edge the situation beyond that. In that moment, you’d shrunk in shame. It had just been so… reassuring, and validating, to pretend this boy could be more than just the brother of your best friend who only looked out for you because it felt like an obligation.

You were about to apologize when Joshua beat you to speaking.

“D’you wanna go my room?” He asked.

Hardly able to breathe, you uttered out a very quiet okay.

Joshua didn’t close his door all the way, instead leaving it about a quarter open. You took a seat at his desk chair, hands folded in your lap.

His room hadn’t changed much over the years—the walls were still the same dark grey, there were more medals hanging above his bedframe and he’d taped up a few new posters, but he’d kept the lava lamp and his acrylic cube of the solar system. Teeth rubbed over your bottom lip as you watched Joshua pick his acoustic guitar off its stand in the corner. He returned to his bed, propping one leg on the edge.

“This is my favourite one to play,” Joshua said, plucking a few strings, the sound which resulted softly tuned and as pleasant as birdsong, “the wood’s Nordic cherry. It’s such a deep and rich colour, don’t y’think? I had the lacquer redone a few days ago.”

“It’s really pretty,” you agreed, keeping your feet on the floor.

He was tying together a song, swaying his body back and forth to match the gentle nature of each chord. There had been a number of school assemblies where they asked Joshua to play the guitar, mostly to accompany the choir or the band. You always thought he was the best part, even if you had to watch him from between heads and shoulders.

You were lucky enough to sit at the front one time. He’d frequently whisper to the percussion player whenever the principal was speaking (usually Hansol, who was either awkwardly holding his symbols or maracas or whatever instrument the conductor trusted him with), leaning over his guitar with his earbuds dangling out from under his collar. It had intrigued you to know what they were saying. And then there was the way he’d chuckle quietly to himself afterward, licking his lips and proceeding to put on a bored face as his eyes swept into the crowd. You assumed he must have been looking for Elsie.

“What d’you think of the melody?” Joshua asked.

Clearing your throat, you stated simply, “calm.”

“Right? I thought it would be nice to play something like this.”

You didn’t say anything more, but glanced down into your lap with a smile that was imploring to burst at the seams. It brought you to wonder why Joshua did the things he did for you—give you rides home when it would’ve been easier to breeze right by, submit his favourite drink again and again because there was something about the way you glowed when you had a cream soda in your hand. Lend you nothing but normalcy at times where you or your body felt nothing but normal, listening to all your quarrels about the confusion of growing up, feeding you dinner and reminding you of all the ways there was still tenderness and compassion waiting to smooth the soul of its roughness.

Tapping your ankles together, you mumbled his name.

Joshua lifted his hand from the guitar.

“I can’t hear you if you’re gonna whisper,” he said before slapping the spot beside him, “come here, right next to me. It’s fine.”

And so you rose up cautiously from the chair and took your place on his bed, sitting atop your hands to stop their apparent fidgeting. He strummed his guitar once, almost like a prelude to your demure smile.

“I just wanted to say thank you.”

Joshua looked at you, raising his brow.

You shifted again, sucking in a breath, “like, for tolerating me today, even when I was being kind of an asshole. I guess I just needed someone to talk to but I didn’t know who. It’s just—I feel like I can talk to you, I guess. Even though I probably overshared and said a lot of things I shouldn’t’ve said, especially about myself…” you chewed into your cheek, angling an embarrassed glance toward the floor, “so, I’m sorry about that, but I’m glad you listened to me anyways. Really, thank you.”

He watched you for a moment with his delicate eyes, until he decided to remove the guitar from his lap, leaning it against the bed. His thigh pressed slightly into yours and you tried not to squeak.

“You can come to me, y’know?” he said softly, folding his arms low across his chest, “you’re not some stranger. And I’m also not a judgemental jerk, so if you have to be a bit dramatic, I don’t care.”

A small huff of laughter left your chest, and you nodded to show how much you appreciated the sentiment, because words just wouldn’t perform the right justice. Closing your knees together, your brow stiffened, and you thought it was a good time to ask the question.

“D’you think that I… that I’m different? From when you first remember me? Or that I’ve changed a lot?”

“Of course you have,” Joshua answered so obviously that you cocked your head back and nearly bulged your eyes out at him, “when I first met you, you wouldn’t even look at me, or speak, really.”

“Can you blame me for that?”

“No,” Joshua chuckled, “I know you were shy. Most of Jennie’s friends were like that. But if you’re worried on whether or not you’re seeming fake, or coming across as an asshole for thinking Jennie switched up on you—whatever it is that you’re wondering—it’s okay. It’s fine. You’re not doing anything wrong. You’ll probably meet different people and someone will say you changed, too. It’s not a bad thing. In fact, just about everyone’s thinking the same things.”

You swallowed, heavy and bitter.

“What if—what if Jennie like, forgets about me?”

Joshua shrugged, “I can tell you confidently that won’t happen. She’s stubborn. Just give her time. She probably feels pressure to make it seem like she’s maturing by doing what feels grown to her. I promise she won’t forget about you,” he smiled, “you’re not someone people forget.”

And your whole body seized up with laughter.

“Please forget that I threw my bra out your car window.”

He grinned at you, splaying his arms behind him and nudging his knee against yours. A surge of heat throbbed throughout your face.

“I said I don’t judge. We can always go back and get it.”

“Nope, no way,” you sighed, “I’ll stick to my middle-aged woman undergarments. But it is an unfortunate fifty bucks down the drain.”

“Seems like you’ve got it all figured out,” Joshua said.

“Oh, and—is there a chance you cannot mention any of this to Jennie? Like, even the fact I was here? Is that okay?”

The boy nodded his agreement, “yeah, ‘course.”

It’s not that you wanted to start keeping secrets. But today had been important, and special, and sometimes it felt necessary to keep such moments between you and whoever else was concerned. A day geared to end horribly had turned into a memory so perfect you wanted to encase it in amber, take it into your dreams even, and preserve it until the end of infinity. Maybe you meant more to Joshua than you initially thought.

You stood at your locker, wriggling in the textbook that you’d nearly forgotten in the geology classroom. The lunch bell was going to ring any moment now, though your teacher had wrapped up the lesson early and dismissed everyone with very little homework (which you were most likely going to procrastinate because the newest drama you’d picked up definitely wasn’t going to watch itself). Just as you were about to close the door, you noticed Jennie walking down the hall, thumbs tapping a flurry on her phone while she chewed something that was undeniably a stick of Double Bubble. You panicked, and nearly sank into the locker.

But she strutted right past you, not even glancing up once or forcing a greeting under her breath, and you truthfully couldn’t decipher if she hadn’t noticed you or was clinging to her phone as a scapegoat.

Not that you wanted it to be either of those things—your relationship was already wearing thinner by the day, and you always wondered which interaction between you two might end up as the last.

Jennie stopped at her locker down the hall, seemingly typing out a few more texts before she finally tore her gaze from her phone and nudged the door wide open with her foot (she always forgot her combinations), beginning to rifle around inside. And for a moment, you weighed the options of approaching her. She looked especially gorgeous today, with her long midnight hair in loose curls, almost falling to the belt that wrapped around her white-buckle skirt—you were still adjusting to her in such attire. For the five years you’d known her, she was always wearing knee-length shorts and Joshua’s plethora of old soccer jerseys.

It felt unnecessary, practically performing deep breathing exercises at your locker just to ruminate a conversation with the girl who was supposedly your best friend. You decided to give it a shot.

No harm, no foul, right?

“Hey Jennie,” you said, clutching your hands awkwardly.

She tossed an orange folder to the top shelf of her locker, her eyes remaining forward as she replied, “I don’t know where Joshua is.”

Visibly, your entire body stuttered, like a printer trying to force out its last bits of ink. Without hardly any breath, you stood there stiffly.

“I’m not, uh, I wasn’t looking for him,” it came out sounding like a question, “I thought I’d ask you about our geology homework.”

“Oh. What about it?”

She’d pulled out a small tube of lip gloss, quickly running the applicator across her mouth before stuffing it back into her bag. You struggled to comprise a response, watching the girl readjust her hair in the magnetized mirror, hardly paying you a lick of attention. It felt like a slap in the face. You couldn’t help touching your own burnt cheek.

“Well, I—”

The lunch bell rang, and almost instantly, the halls gushed with students, the static of everyone talking at once remarkably loud. Before you could inch out another word, Jennie had slammed her locker door shut, swinging a black lunchbox over her shoulder.

“Text me about it,” Jennie said, already beginning to walk away and disappear into the crowd, “I’m going to see Marina right now.”

No—it wasn’t just a slap, it was a brutal, fist-flat punch.

You didn’t really know what to do, frozen in place until the tenth grader with the locker right beside Jennie’s came trudging up and barely muttered an ‘excuse me’ before grabbing at their lock.

During lunch, it was usually less hectic on the second floor, so you grabbed your plastic-wrapped sandwich and headed upstairs, trying inconceivably hard to ignore the trademark couple who were too busy devouring each other’s tongues and groping. You went back to the geology classroom. Thankfully, it was empty, and so you took a seat at first counter on the left while bracing through the overbearing amount of mayonnaise your mother had slathered across the bread.

When the door creaked, there was an electric burst in your chest, thinking it could be Jennie who’d finally come to decide that hanging out with the purple-haired, face-studded Marina wasn’t as interesting as you (even though you assumed it was probably better—she had a pet tarantula for god’s sake, and her own car). But you definitely weren’t disappointed to realize Joshua had entered the geology room instead, shouting a goodbye to Hansol before the door heaved shut.

You didn’t want to smile so eagerly, fearing that it might weird him out, though you were helpless to stop the automatic stretch which always appeared at the sight of him.

Turning around on the stool, your eyes fluttered.

“What’re you doing in here?”

He paused, scanning the classroom almost frantically.

“I forgot my pencil,” Joshua answered, approaching a desk and picking one up that clearly wasn’t his, about as short as his pinky.

“Yeah, right.”

“I have my physics in here, first period.”

You folded your legs and smirked, “but you don’t even sit there.”

“How would you know that?”

Tilting your shoulder to the right, you directed Joshua to the black surface of the workbench, where his name was poorly etched.

“Okay—I didn’t do that,” he laughed, “it was Hansol, with a pair of scissors, and I literally begged him not too. He didn’t care, obviously.”

You squirmed back around on the stool.

“Right, and that’s not a random pencil someone just forgot?”

“No, not at all… that, and I might’ve seen you slip in here before I walked Elsie to her Envirothon meeting. But make no mistake. I didn’t come back here for you.” He was acting fidgety as he said it, and though the room was dark, you wanted to believe he’d blushed.

Nonetheless, Joshua slid onto the stool beside you, his fingers attempting to untangle the wire earbuds he’d just pulled from under his collar. You watched dotingly while he struggled, only to surprise the boy as you pulled your seat closer and batted his hands away.

“Let me, since you’re lacking the dexterity for this.”

He huffed, leaning his head to the side, his fawn eyes bouncing to every corner of the room as though looking directly at you was a sin. But once you’d loosened all the knots, Joshua seemed to relax.

“So,” you edged back on the stool, “are you excited?”

Joshua scratched his ear. “Excited for what?”

“You graduate this year, dummy. Are you not excited?”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I am. I made some applications a few weeks ago, and I already heard back from one. It’s not my ideal choice, though.”

Leaning your elbows onto the table and squishing your cheeks between each palm, you exhaled a big breath.

“You’ve got good grades and all that. I wouldn’t worry.”

“Mm.”

“What about Elsie? Didn’t she want to go far away?”

Joshua’s adam’s apple pointed sharp against his throat.

“Um, she’s not sure yet. We haven’t discussed it much. She said, like, if I moved really far, she’d figure it out and come with me.”

Your eyes popped wide, and you tried to dim your surprise.

“Oh, wow. She must really like you—I mean, that’s obvious. You guys are dating after all. For a while now, I guess. Over a year.”

“Yeah.”

As Joshua thrummed his knuckles a few times on the table, you sensed he wasn’t exactly keening to examine the subject, not to mention the way his voice had thickened and the rustling of his knee was a bold spelling he was uncomfortable. It was nothing to take personal, yet that didn’t stop the little fissure which struck somewhere deep in your heart and made the air harder to breathe. Joshua had said you could come to him—you merely wanted him to know that he could trust you, too.

Sitting in closer against the table, you smiled at him.

“I may be a bit younger, but I can still give advice.”

Joshua furrowed his brow playfully.

“What d’you mean by that?”

It was surprisingly difficult to push the words past your teeth, almost like your body was issuing a mechanism to stop yourself from saying anything you might regret, anything that might scare him, or nudge him to develop the inkling you were beyond interested in him.

“I want you to trust me like I trust you.”

Each his pupils dilated further than they already had in the shadily lit room, and it was so apparent that you had to clench your fist, dig in your own nails until it stung to ensure you weren’t dreaming.

His answer was simple.

“Alright.”

You rubbed nervous, excited circles against the indents on your hand.

“There’s a prom party at the end of the month,” Joshua said, pulling out his phone as it vibrated, “You should come. I know Jennie’s going.”

“Uh, that sounds fun. I think.”

Slipping off his seat, Joshua grinned.

“Come find me if you decide to go—anyways, Hansol wants to get a burger and apparently I’m the only one he knows with a car. See ya.”

There were so many butterflies in your stomach, you tried not to cough one out as Joshua made his way toward the door—forgetting that stupid pencil of course. He liked writing all his notes and homework with pen, and you hated knowing such a specific, trivial fact.

“Yeah, talk to you later.”

It didn’t take much contemplation for you to agree to the prom party, even if you had yet to configure a ride or the location or how you’d get your hands on some alcohol (because you definitely weren’t going to enjoy one of those things sober), hence your decision to entreat Joshua for his phone number.

It was only to ask about the details.

You learned the party was going to be hosted at Jeonghan’s house, probably the most popular senior in the entire school, and that there was a very strict designated driver policy. Well, at least you could scratch one bullet off your list, leaving just the ride and the alcohol. There was no way you were going to ask Joshua to be your escort—like he’d want to have his little sister’s friend stuffed in the backseat, it would be a total mood kill.

Jennie was apparently going too. You’d try to avoid her if you could help it, even if it meant locking yourself in some washroom that reeked of liquor and smoke and impulsive decisions laced with vomit.

By the time the party rolled around, you were having a severe case of thought seconds, unable to sit still and constantly checking your phone and wondering how many times you could possibly change from the black skirt back into your shorts before you decided something. Chan, a boy from your English class, was kind enough to offer a ride—even some alcohol that his older brother had swiped for him. He texted that he’d be outside your house around nine o’clock, though it wasn’t until half an hour later that his car crunched into the driveway.

“Sorry,” he apologized the instant you opened the door, “I got busted—my mom found the beer in my backpack and got all mad. She thinks I’m still in my bedroom. I had to sneak out the window.”

Clicking on your seatbelt, you threw the boy a perplexed look.

“Uh, are you sure that was a good idea? I can probably just try to mooch off people. I don’t want you to get in serious trouble.”

Shrugging, Chan ignited the engine and set his navigation system to the party’s address, seeming disproportionately unconcerned.

“No, but I wasn’t going to bail. My brother said he’d take most of the heat, anyways. Oh—I really like your skirt by the way.”

“Thanks,” you replied, inching closer to the window.

Because you didn’t know him all that well, the car ride was a little awkward, your ankle twisting in these back and forth circles conveying just how nervous you were. Only the placid voice of the navigation system broke the silences, until Chan cleared his throat and lowered its volume.

“Did you hear the big drama that’s going around?”

Your ankle paused, and you looked across the glove box.

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh, well I have the scoop. So, basically—wait, you know Elsie Bolger, right? The Envirothon girl? And Joshua Hong. I mean, I think everyone knows them ‘cause they get around and stuff. And you’re friends with Jennie so you probably know Joshua.”

“Yeah, I know both of them.”

Chan only kept one hand on the wheel, his other motioning around like he was giving some sort of speech, “okay, so they broke up, right? On Wednesday. Apparently, it was after school, and Elsie was like, sobbing, asking why and what went wrong, ‘cause it was him who broke the ice about it. I heard Joshua was saying that he saw her more like a friend, but Elsie kept adding pressure that there was another girl. Not that he was cheating or anything, but I don’t think he loved her, so I kinda agree with Elsie. There has to be someone else he likes—or, shit, maybe even loves. I think it’s that choir girl with the long arms. ”

He threw you a curious glance, as though he were anticipating your angle on the situation, though you couldn’t express much apart from an unhinged jaw and a stutter that fell to hot breath in your chest. When your tongue tapped the roof of your mouth, it was dry, and Chan must’ve thought you looked nauseous because he offered to roll a window down.

“I had no idea,” you admitted, smoothing your hand over a crinkle in your skirt, “I really hadn’t heard anything about it, so…”

“Really? That’s surprising. Who’s side, though?”

“What?”

Chan opened his window an extra inch and smiled.

“I mean like, who do you think was right? Joshua or Elsie?”

Honestly, at that moment, the idea of yanking the door open and bailing onto the dirt road seemed extremely tempting. How could he expect you to answer a question like that? When you were younger, you used to daydream about this: Joshua at long last detaching from his girlfriend, in which you could somehow swoop in to take her place and dust out his memories of her like you were cleaning a closet. But now that opportunity had actually presented itself. And you felt miserable.

Why would Joshua even decide that a party was what he needed right now? Why wasn’t he at home, heartbroken and grieving?

Chan snapped his fingers.

“Well, who’s side?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stuttered, “and I don’t want to choose.”

“Student cards, please.”

At the end of Jeonghan’s long driveway, a booth had been set up by the student council. You didn’t know the girl who’d asked you to present that pointless card you never thought would be useful, but once you flashed it to her, she grabbed your wrist and pressed a stamp to the back of your hand. It seemed that the night was really starting to take shape around ten o’clock—indecorous music echoed from the house and smoke was curling up into the blackness, courtesy of an impressive fire that crackled in the backyard. You weren’t sure what to do without Chan, who was already halfway along the driveway when you caught him.

“Please don’t wander off on me,” you sighed, taking a skittish look around the property filled with strangers, “I mean, I’m not gonna tether you to my side the whole time, but you are my ride.”

Chan pulled open the double doors to Jeonghan’s home, and a burst of heat welcomed you, steadily fanning your face. He obviously wanted to be inside, though you would have preferred to stay outdoors where it was cooler and a bit quieter and the likelihood of a guile senior cornering you against some table or couch was far lower.

The boy glanced around, stretching his neck to peer into the different rooms, “I won’t wander. I’m just looking for someone…” he mumbled, paying you next to no attention as he pardoned his way into the adjoining kitchen. Not wanting to be abandoned, you followed him.

“Oh—look, there’s Seungkwan!” Chan exclaimed, pointing his finger into the room past the kitchen.

Again, you hurried after him, squishing between two seniors who were nonetheless unenthusiastic at hearing your apology, and you were half-expecting to get a solo cup thrown at the back of your head. The friend Chan had met, Seungkwan, was gathered with a few others at this little counter in the living room, each whom you recognized from your grade. Seungkwan wasn’t one to drink, so when he asked if you wanted his cup of hard lemonade, you took it almost immediately and used it as an excuse to not fully join their conversation. Instead, you meandered more around the outside of their circle, surveilling the room and trying to catch any familiar face that presented itself. Well, not just any face.

You were specifically hoping to see Joshua.

Since Chan had told you about his breakup with Elsie, your whole demeanour shifted, and a fog had creeped its way into your brain. You couldn’t think about anything but him. Even standing next to the speaker responsible for blasting a salacious song about messy sex and drugs wasn’t doing much to distract you. Jeonghan’s house was considerably large, therefore Joshua could be anywhere. And you had yet to understand it. Was he intentionally glossing over his own misery by forcing himself to enjoy a party? Or was he happy to escape a relationship that he might’ve never truly wanted in the first place? That didn’t seem like him. He definitely loved Elsie. You needed him to be okay.

“Can you not just stand there? You’re blocking the way.”

You had no idea who they were, but this girl who was vastly taller than you appeared, holding onto the hand of a guy you assumed to be her boyfriend—either that or a quick, meaningless hook-up.

Without uttering a word, you stepped aside and let them pass.

And then you looked back at Chan, staying true to his vow and steering clear of drinking. Hovering beside him the entire night like a shy puppy wasn’t going to make you feel any better, nor would engaging in synthetic conversations with people you barely talked to at school, so you decided to break your own promise and wander. Your guesswork of the house led you out a random door, into the backyard where the bonfire was sparking and jouncing as students threw in more wood. Sipping at your hard lemonade, you examined everyone as best you could, though it was practically impossible to decipher all the blurry faces.

The very second you stepped off the deck onto the grass, someone’s arm was sliding around your shoulders, and as you were being tugged against this body you realized that Joshua had found you first.

“Aww, so glad y’could make it!” He slightly fumbled the pronunciation of his words, dragging them with a laziness that could only indicate he was inebriated, or teetering on the heated edge of it.

It took you a moment to regain your footing.

“Almost forgot y’were coming—” he paused to laugh, rubbing one hand beneath his nose, leaning on you heavily, “but I saw you n’ I remembered! M’so happy to see you, soso happy.” Joshua’s arm then tightened around your shoulders, like you were his support crutch.

“I’m, uh, happy to see you too,” you answered.

If it weren’t for the deep breaths you were subtly taking, you might as well have fainted. Joshua had never treated you like this in all your years of knowing him—even the moments when he’d come home late at night, tipsy and wobbly and Jennie would have to cover for him come morning. The fact was that there had always been an unspoken boundary between you, an invisible line, which now seemed completely erased as the boy pressed at your shoulder blades and urged you forward, something about meeting his friends, his face glowing with the surge of alcohol and his eyes completely clouded. This confused you further.

Because even though he was drunk, this was so unlike his character. You suspected that breaking up with Elsie must have shattered him. All his pieces hit the floor and he just left them there, broken.

“Are you doing alright? I, uh… I’m just wondering…”

Joshua stopped, unwinding his arm from your shoulder to fix his hat, combing back the thick hair underneath with his fingers.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Fan-fucking-tastic,” he replied, seeming unconscious of the words leaving his own mouth.

“Well, that’s… I mean, that’s good. I’m glad to hear that, really glad, because I just—I heard some stuff and—” you nervously wet your throat with another sip from the solo cup, feeling your body shake, “it’s not my business or anything! Like, not at all, and I don’t want it to sound like I’m prying, or that I don’t believe you, but I—”

“Jeonghan’s just over there,” Joshua interrupted after fixing his backwards cap on, “we have a couch outside. Come sit w’us.”

He slid an arm around you again, pulling you forward.

And you stepped alongside him, shrinking yourself as much as possible to avoid colliding with another intoxicated body, smelling the fresh charred wood and smoke that desiccated the night air. Your little heart was beating so fast that you had to talk with a second pulse.

“You do? T-That’s cool. But, like I was saying, I guess I just want you to know that I’m sorry about what happened with Elsie. And I really hope that you’re okay and everything. I’m here for you, so—”

It happened in the blink of an eye. One minute you were occupied with speaking, and the next, Joshua’s warm, soft lips had pushed to yours, effectively shriveling your next thought as he held your shoulder. The kiss was transient. Before it could even click, Joshua had already pulled away like it was nothing at all but a hair to the wind.

“I said I’m fine, ‘kay?” Joshua slurred, and you looked into his eyes with enough intensity to burn a hole, “I’m g’nna take you to the couch. We can sit down and stuff. Jeonghan’s there.”

“Okay.” You agreed quietly.

However, as you made your way to the couch propped close by the bonfire, desperately scanning the crowds and ensuring no one had seen that unpredictable moment, you caught glimpse of a face that was so familiar it made you weak. The hard lemonade nearly dropped from your hand and soiled in the grass. Because Jennie was practically glaring at you from the trees, her arms folded and her mouth uncordially slanted.

You didn’t know what to feel any more.

It was definitely an old couch, one that Jeonghan’s parents were probably on cusp of throwing out, especially with all its patches and prickly seats and burnt spots from cigarette butts. You were wedged against the arm while Joshua drank beside you, spreading out his legs and pretty much exiling you to as little space as possible—not that you really blamed him considering his lack of awareness right now. Jeonghan was decent, though you knew he would never even be talking to you if not for your connection with Joshua. So, the senior seemed to deal.

He chucked another log onto the fire, and a big swoop of sparks and ashes puffed upward like a volcanic breath. Once Jeonghan dusted off his hands, he sat himself down on an old table and cracked open another beer. Your lemonade was one sip away from being completely empty. It still felt a little strange to be drinking something that wasn’t cream soda.

“Pass me that,” Joshua asked, slumping forward and gesturing to the beer his friend had just drank from, “or pour some into my cup.”

Jeonghan chuckled, guiding him back by the shoulder.

“I think you’ve had enough, Shua,” he answered, “you had some fun. Now it’s time to mellow out a little. You’ll thank me when you aren’t stuck in the bathroom throwing up your guts an hour from now.”

“You suck so fucking much,” Joshua complained, crumpling up his solo cup and then proceeding to toss it over his shoulder.

“I suck, yeah, yeah,” Jeonghan clearly didn’t take the comment to heart, instead knocking his fist atop Joshua’s head, “I’m gonna take a lap around the house—” he suddenly pointed at you, “make sure he drinks a glass of water or something. Or at least keep an eye on him until Hansol comes back. And don’t let him mooch. You got all that?”

With a stiff, tiny smile, you nodded.

“Sorry to dump the man on you. I’ll be back soon.”

Even though you hadn’t been getting along spectacularly well with the senior, you still wished he could have stayed. You felt unprepared to console Joshua, and that it wasn’t exactly your place to start controlling his alcohol when he was evidently going through something. But, then again, your concern outweighed the uncertainty, and you found yourself grabbing the boy’s shoulder, gluing him back to the couch when a girl had shuffled by with a bottle wrapped in a brown bag. He threw his head back, sunk lower into the cushions with a groan.

“I’m sorry,” you squeaked, “I’m just doing what Jeonghan said.”

“What do y’have left n’here…” he asked vacantly, pulling at your arm and looking into the solo cup, “what is this? Can I have it?”

“There’s hardly any left. And—”

“Mm, you’re gonna say no, right?” He didn’t give you the chance to respond before he was already pushing his weighted body off the couch, stumbling slightly. “Get some myself then… w-whoa—”

“How about you just sit down? Please Joshua?”

You stood up too, planting your hand on his lower back to stabilize his toppling movement. It didn’t help that one of his friends walked by, her and Joshua exchanging a quick dap before she giggled something unintelligible. She let Joshua have a swig of her drink, and you almost fumed at her in a blind rage, because how could she not care enough about him to see that alcohol was far from what he needed? In less than a second, you’d ripped the drink away and thrust it back.

“Okay, relax,” the older girl tutted condescendingly, “this is a party, y’know? Why don’t you have a sip yourself and calm down?”

“I’m just—”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m leaving. Later, Josh.”

Like some sort of animal guarding its territory, you watched her until she disappeared into the crowds, and it was only then that you exhaled long and slow, realizing Joshua had already collapsed back onto the couch. You sat down as well, though at the very edge.

“Where’s Hansol?” You asked.

Joshua folded an arm behind his head, “dunno.”

“Well, once he comes back, I’m going inside.”

The boy’s head fell in your direction, the fire flooding his eyes with sunset orange as he questioned, “why are you waiting for him?”

“Because I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“Why?”

You shot him an anxious but stern look, “why d’you think?”

“I’m seriously fine.”

“Uh, you’re seriously not.”

Joshua laughed, a hiccup caught in his throat. His gaze traveled away from your face and back toward the fire, extremely dilated.

“It’s not even your business, so I don’t get it...”

“I know that—” for some reason, you felt yourself getting emotional, and your knees started tapping together as the nerves expanded, “but you saying that doesn’t make me not worried. I know if it were me, you’d be acting the same way. Wouldn’t you?”

Joshua was silent for a moment, but then he tensely swallowed and pushed his way back up the couch. He looked at you with the most clarity you had witnessed from those eyes all night, and suddenly, his hand had come to rest on your bare knee, squeezing it gently. He wanted to say something. It was loaded on his tongue like a bullet, but then—

“Uff—I’m back!” Hansol plopped down on the couch, sprawling out all his limbs and placing a water bottle behind Joshua’s head.

His hand was already off your knee.

And you were already making your way inside.

Honestly, you never envisioned yourself as the type to hide away in a washroom at a high school party, sat on the floor with your arms folded like some woeful delinquent who thought they were too unique for the world. Too unique? Not exactly. A woeful delinquent? Yeah, pretty much. You hadn’t bothered asking Chan to leave. The last you saw of the boy he was enjoying his time examining Jeonghan’s record wall.

Almost three hours had passed. One in the morning was just around the corner, and somehow the party was still twirling with energy.

Just Dance, that was the song, the only Lady Gaga hit on the entire playlist that somehow made the walls shake whenever it played. The heat was thick enough for you to force open the bathroom window where breeze was faint, but you leaned into it regardless. Not many people were concentrated to this side of the house—mostly because there wasn’t anything out there aside from a generator and some trees. You would hear voices occasionally, though you could never deduce what they were saying. Jennie and Marina had walked underneath the window at one point. You had pulled back so quickly that your head spun.

This had all been a mistake. Almost as if the universe willed to prove your point, an obnoxious knocking berated the door, prompting you to uncomfortably swallow and call out a hoarse, “occupied!”

But the doorknob continued to jiggle, and then there was more pounding that jerked you hastily and fearfully to your feet.

“I said occupied!” You shouted, pacing a few steps forward and wondering what was the best possible item in this washroom to defend yourself—most likely the can of hairspray (you made a mental note).

After you still refused to unlock the door, the stranger left, and you assumed they were either left partially deaf due to the music or were off their rocker on whatever drugs and alcohol had managed to circle around the house. Brought back to sitting on the floor, you checked your phone again, groaning at the red sliver of battery you were prolonging.

Hungry, tired, sweaty, and slightly sick, you contemplated lying flat across the rug in an attempt to fall asleep. It wasn’t a good idea, but you didn’t care. The thought of closing your eyes was heavenly, and before you could pick a verdict they were already fluttering shut, the music beneath you sounding incredibly distant, turned to a soft echo that seemed like it was pushing through layers of concrete.

Someone else came to the door.

When they knocked, you were convinced it was the stranger from earlier. Now, you were angry, angry enough to unveil whoever this person was (and pray the first thing they didn’t do was projectile vomit all their nights liquor onto your shirt). Yet, when you saw Joshua’s face through the mirage of dark, crimson colours mottling the corridor, you wished it could have been that stranger holding down their stomach. He looked a little more focused, though his hair was mussed up in spikes and his cheeks were visibly blotched pink in the mugginess. One of his hands braced against the doorframe. Joshua wasn’t sober, just steadier.

“Can I come in?” He asked, keeping his head angled to the floor, rubbing the tip of his nose with a knuckle.

“Were you looking for me?”

“Jeonghan said he last saw you going into the washroom.”

With a reluctant sigh, you grabbed Joshua’s arm and pulled him inside, kicking the door shut with your foot. Whoever was in charge of the music had opted to play the song even louder, and you heard the living room crowd belting along to every lyric, even from upstairs.

He sat on the edge of the bathtub. You joined him.

Joshua then leaned forward, elbows on his knees. For a moment, you questioned if it was right to ask him about the kiss—you were burning to know his intentions, drunk or not. The boy proceeded to grin.

“What?” You were intrigued—tempted to laugh, even.

“Nothing,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “I just—I feel numb, or something. Like, I feel everything: how hot it is, sweat on the back of my neck, the chills in my fingers, but at the same time, I don’t really feel it.”

You sniffled, twisting your ankle in nervous circles. Joshua leaned back a little less, though he dragged a hand through the thick strands of his hair, and you now understood why it was so messy.

“Where’s your hat?”

“Lost it,” he smiled.

“We should switch places.”

“Why?”

“So you can be closer to the window. There’s a nice breeze.”

Once Joshua had slid over, you two sat in silence, listening to each rhythmic thump. He pulled one of his banged-up converse onto the edge of the tub, propping an arm across his knee while he stared into the moonlight. You wanted desperately to know each thought in his head.

Then, he was suddenly looking square into your eyes.

“Did I kiss you?”

With a careful nod, your fingers clenched.

“Fuck, that was just a stupid, stupid accident. I’m sorry. I thought I dreamt that for a second—I keep fucking up.”

An accident? A stupid, stupid accident?

No, that makes sense. Of course it’s an accident.

But it hurts. God, it really hurts.

He was drunk. That’s why. You already knew that!

Why is it so much harder to breathe?

Your eyes are stinging. Pull yourself together, holy shit.

He really doesn’t see you like that. It’s obvious, always has been.

Don’t you dare cry. Pull it together. Pull it together.

Pull it together!

“Hey,” Joshua tapped your arm, “I’m really sorry.”

“No, I—” you pushed off the edge of the tub, leaning against the clam-shaped sink instead, taking a second to blink and force back the wetness at your tear ducts, “it’s fine. I get it. I’ve just been sitting on the floor for like, the past three hours. I need to stand a bit. But— I’m just thinking, maybe you should go home. It’s been an intense week.”

The older boy agreed, nodding his head as a lopsided smile touched at those perfect lips. You nibbled your inner cheek.

“I don’t know why I came, I just—” Joshua threw his hands up defeatedly, “Elsie and I, we wanted different things. She was amazing, and I have only good things to say about her, but I…”

You weren’t sure if you could handle this. It didn’t help that your mind was still whirling from his earlier apology, thoughts and emotions spinning and spinning like a spool of slippery ribbon coming undone. But at the same time, you wanted to be there for Joshua. He must be unraveling about this heartbreak because he trusted you, though, as he stumbled and continued correcting himself and paused every minute or so to look deeply at the moonlight, you began believing that Joshua had forged his relationship with Elsie as some sort of distraction.

And this sparked a flicker in your dark eyes.

Was it easier to be with Elsie than it was to be with you?

But you didn’t say anything. Instead, you stood there silently, letting Joshua reminisce, gulp back his tears, pick up those shattered pieces he’d dropped that bitter Wednesday afternoon—as he should be doing, rather than stuffing his heart into an ice bucket and letting it numb. His smile reflected as less broken by the time he’d finished.

“Well, I sorta unloaded. I hope it wasn’t too much.”

“No, you needed to do that. I’m glad you did.”

Joshua finally stretched his leg off the edge of the tub, meanwhile he raked through his hair again, flopping it all over the place.

“I’m glad I did, too,” he admitted, steadying his gaze on you.

Your lower back pressed further against the sink.

“I mean, you’ve listened to me complain about pretty much everything under the sun. Even your sister. You’re just caching in.”

“Should I be caching in more often?”

“Wow—perfect Joshua Hong has more stuff to get off his chest?”

He huffed, “since when have I been perfect? Like, ever?”

Whoops, that had been a revealing slip of the tongue. You crinkled your nose and swung your smitten head toward the window.

“I didn’t say perfect.”

“But you did, though.”

“You’re hearing things.”

Joshua rolled his shoulders, capitulating to you easily.

“Whatever,” he said, finally rising from his seat with a smirk that felt familiar, “I’ll take the compliment, even if it supposedly didn’t exist.”

At that moment, you thought he was going to leave the washroom, and once again you would be left to sit on the floor until Chan overwhelmed your phone with texts, asking where you were. There was no way he could still be admiring the record wall. He’d probably moved onto something else obscure yet alluring. Jeonghan’s house was just as pretentious as the senior himself. But Joshua didn’t disappear.

He grabbed your shoulder, and you froze.

“Thank you, I should say before I forget.”

The mould around you crumbled away.

“Oh yeah, for sure, um—no big deal,” you mumbled awkwardly while pulling him into a hug, losing your words in a mere instant.

His arms curled around your waist, firm on each side, and there was a soft squeeze to your body that left you breathless. Your right hand landed at the back of his neck, fingers moving almost instinctually toward his black hair, feeling each lock slip through, a bit tangled and damp with sweat. Shit—your heart had never raced like this before. He could probably sense it against his own chest. Joshua had started pulling away, and so you replied with a slow, obviously unwanted retreat from his body. For some reason, Joshua left a hand on the hip of your skirt, which he seemed to be looking down at for a notable time.

You should kiss him.

Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. Don’t let him go. Pull him against you. Lick into his mouth and move his hand back to your hip. Show him he doesn’t need to distract himself anymore because you’re right here.

Except—you did none of that.

Joshua said thank you once more. And he slipped back into the misted, red lights that glowed outside in the corridor.

You had never gotten into a fight before, though you’d been a witness to one or more at school. The first fight—which your principal incessantly referred to as an ‘altercation’—was three years ago on the green, when two senior footballers had gotten into a shoving match that resulted in the meeker having his cheek rubbed against the dirt for a solid five minutes. The second fight was a year later, between two girls who were opting to practically pull the other’s hair out in the locker room.

But you, yourself, had never gotten into an actual fight.

Maybe sixteen was the year you’d throw your first punch.

You just never anticipated that the girl on the potentially-receiving end would be Jennie Hong, a former best friend since the age of twelve, now converted to a thorny stranger who’d gotten the tiniest sip of popularity and clung to it with stunning avarice. Ever since your falling-out, you always assumed this day would pull itself out from the leaves—essentially a disinterring of what had killed the friendship—though you hadn’t expected it here or now. It had only been a weekend since the party. Jennie couldn’t even keep her burning remarks until two-thirty.

Instead it was lunch, at the base of the staircase outside the library, just without its centrepiece couple to clog the path. Nobody was really filtering through at that moment, but you could already imagine how the tight space would bubble with a crowd once someone caught wind of the shouting. How the hell do you throw a punch, anyways?

“You know what—I don’t have to answer to you. It’s not like you’re my boss or anything.” Right, and when was the last time Jennie actually responded to a text message? She let the friendship fizzle.

“No, I’m not letting this slide, because what you did was one of the shallowest things I’ve seen—like, ever.”

“Ever?” You gawked, feeling an instant sharpness in your gut.

Jennie exaggeratedly rolled her doll eyes, and for some reason, you contemplated how it might feel to grab a stinging handful of her stupid, silky, coconut-smelling hair and rip it flat out.

“Yeah, ever! My brother just went through a huge break-up with the love of his life! And, you see this little window, so you come in and take it. I legit saw you kiss him. It made me think how selfish you are.”

“What is wrong with you, Jennie? That’s not how—”

“That’s basically what our friendship turned into. You’re fucking obsessed with my brother. You were supposed to be my one friend that wasn’t, but guess I was wrong. Joshua doesn’t want you, at all.”

For a quiet, hollow moment, you were speechless, meanwhile Jennie had this tart yet overtly prideful countenance, like she had so tactfully shone a beam on how horrible you were—an announcement to let the entire world know her ex best friend was the textbook definition of fake. You had noticed a few faces peeking through the doorway up the stairs, and this heat began stifling over you like smoke from a fire. She wasn’t going to listen or even reason with anything you could say.

“I-I don’t care what you think you saw. I’m not shallow, or selfish, and the fact that you have to like—even convince yourself I did something wrong is showing that you—you’re—you’re basically—”

“You can’t even say it!” Jennie threw a ridiculing finger out at you and cackled. “I’m right. I’m so fucking right about you.”

“No, you’re not!”

“Kitty got claws?”

“Shut up, Jennie!”

“No, I won’t. I have every right to feel hurt ‘cause of you! The truth is, you just like Josh ‘cause he’s the only boy that’s ever paid you any attention, so you obsess over him, thinking he’s gonna what? You’ll finally lose your v-card or something? I never wanted to think y’were just using me to know him, but that’s exactly what happened!”

You couldn’t stand listening to her, and tried to drown out the cacophony of her voice instead, rubbing harshly at your ears while you blurted, “just shut up! Shut up, shut up!” like it would make her vanish.

“Then do something to make me stop!”

And that’s when you felt the crackle skip down your wrist and bumble at the tips of your fingers. Could you really punch Jennie? The girl whom you’d once laughed with and cried with and spent a memorable chunk of your earlier adolescence figuring out the world with? God, you had never hit anything in your life, unless you counted the time you accidentally struck your mother in the jaw when she’d been trying to blow raspberries on your tummy. But that wasn’t intentional. And Jennie used to be a real outdoorsy kid, digging up snails and shaking beetles off bark. She wasn’t afraid to get her nails dirty.

You took a few steps toward her, and Jennie’s eyes widened. The slight lagging of her expression indicated that she genuinely hadn’t expected the slightest action from you, though, you’d lost the urge to strike her as quickly as it festered up. Besides, someone must have relayed the argument to the staff, because you heard the blips from the on-duty teacher’s walkie-talkie at the top of the stairway. An entire crowd of students had bunched behind them, watching a little too excitedly.

“There a problem here, girls?”

Surprisingly, Jennie was the first to cough.

“No.”

The teacher then glanced at you, folding his stout arms across his chest and pushing up the glasses on his red nose.

“No…” you repeated dully, your eyes trailing off to the side.

You took back everything you said about bad days.

This was officially the worst.

Monday.

[ don’t answer | 3:28 pm ]: hey.

[ don’t answer | 3:28 pm ]: something happen at school today?

[ don’t answer | 3:28 pm ]: jennie wouldn’t talk to me in the car.

[ don’t answer | 3:28 pm ]: thought you might know what happened.

...

[ don’t answer | 4:30 pm ]: are you taking a nap?

[ don’t answer | 4:30 pm ]: or is it physics? i can help.

Tuesday.

[ don’t answer | 3:20 pm ]: am i an idiot or were you avoiding me?

[ don’t answer | 3:25 pm ]: did i do something?

Thursday.

[ don’t answer | 5:50 pm ]: i’m trying to give you space rn.

[ don’t answer | 5:50 pm ]: just thinking about you.

[ don’t answer | 5:50 pm ]: hope everything’s okay.

Sunday

[ ______ | 2:30 am ]: im sorry. messages were being weird.

[ ______ | 2:30 am ]: i don’t think we should talk any more.

[ don’t answer | 2:34 am ]: why?

[ ______ | 2:34 am ]: it looks weird.

[ don’t answer | 2:34 am ]: i don’t want to make you uncomfortable.

[ don’t answer | 2:34 am ]: i’m not sure what happened bu

[ don’t answer | 2:34 am ]: *but if i did something please tell me.

[ ______ | 2:34 am ]: it has nothing to do with you.

[ ______ | 2:34 am ]: im just trying to respect jennie.

[ don’t answer | 2:34 am ]: are you talking about that fight? call me

don’t answer is calling…

call declined at 2:34 am.

[ don’t answer | 2:35 am ]: why not? idc what jennie thinks.

[ ______ | 2:35 am ]: well i do.

don’t answer is calling…

call declined at 2:35 am.

[ ______ | 2:35 am ]: joshua don’t i won’t pick up.

[ don’t answer | 2:35 am ]: this is easier if we talk.

[ ______ | 2:35 am ]: i don’t want to do that right now.

[ don’t answer | 2:36 am ]: find me tomorrow at school, ok?

[ ______ | 2:36 am ]: where?

[ don’t answer | 2:36 am ]: physics, at lunch.

[ don’t answer | 2:36 am ]: my grad partys coming up soon.

[ ______ | 2:36 am ]: excited?

[ don’t answer | 2:36 am ]: yeah.

[ don’t answer | 2:36 am ]: one sec. sending a picture.

[ don’t answer | 2:37 am ]: IMG.124_313

[ ______ | 2:37 am ]: new amp?????

[ don’t answer | 2:37 am ]: early gift from vernons mom lol.

[ ______ | 2:37 am ]: no way she fucking bought u that!!

[ don’t answer | 2:37 am ]: she loves me more than him.

[ ______ | 2:37 am ]: im not getting you anything like that, sorry

[ don’t answer | 2:37 am ]: nah nah your presence is enough.

[ ______ | 2:37 am ]: u want me there??

[ don’t answer | 2:37 am ]: obviously wtf.

[ don’t answer | 2:38 am ]: are you gonna skip bc of my sister?

[ don’t answer | 2:43 am ]: did you fall asleep? or are you avoiding the q?

[ ______ | 2:43 am ]: sorry, phone died.

[ ______ | 2:43 am ]: i don’t want stuff w jennie to ruin your day.

[ don’t answer | 2:43 am ]: you’re not gonna ruin anything.

[ don’t answer | 2:43 am ]: what if i told you

[ ______ | 2:44 am ]: told me what?

[ don’t answer | 2:44 am ]: that i want you there more than anyone else.

[ don’t answer | 2:46 am ]: why do you keep disappearing?

[ ______ | 2:46 am ]: you’re such a liar lol.

[ don’t answer | 2:46 am ]: you’re coming, ok?

[ don’t answer | 2:46 am ]: i’ll make you promise me tomorrow.

[ ______ | 2:46 am ]: you can’t make me do that.

[ don’t answer | 2:46 am ]: we’ll see.

[ ______ | 2:46 am ]: yeah we will.

[ don’t answer | 2:46 am ]: ngl i’m tired. but find me on monday.

[ ______ | 2:46 am ]: i know. goodnight.

[ don’t answer | 2:47 am ]: goodnight.

1 month later.

[ ______ | 6:50 pm ]: hey, answer me asap.

[ ______ | 6:50 pm ]: need extra thoughts on what i should wear.

[ joshua h. | 6:53 pm ]: wear whatever you want.

[ ______ | 6:53 pm ]: but how formal is it?

[ ______ | 6:53 pm ]: could i get away with like……

[ ______ | 6:53 pm ]: a really nice camisole and jeans??

[ joshua h. | 6:53 pm ]: yeah.

[ ______ | 6:53 pm ]: what are u wearing?

[ joshua h. | 6:54 pm ]: dress shirt and slacks.

[ ______ | 6:54 pm ]: that’s at least noticeably formal!!

[ ______ | 6:54 pm ]: i’m going to wear my skirt.

[ joshua h. | 6:54 pm ]: okay lol. see u there.

[ ______ | 6:54 pm ]: this frjdsy, right?

[ ______ | 6:54 pm ]: whoops **friday

[ joshua h. | 6:55 pm ]: yeah. come at like 8-ish.

[ ______ | 6:55 pm ]: will do.

How were you supposed to feel about Joshua leaving? Honestly, you tried not to ruminate on it. Your relationship had definitely evolved more than it ever had these past few months, and now that you were finally shaking off the thick chrysalis of being his “little sister’s best friend”, Joshua would be coasting away to university. New people, new experiences, new environment—how were you going to ensure you were the thing that stuck? That, when he was in the midst of some homecoming party with a girl sliding her fingers down his arm, in the back of his mind he was thinking of you to an annoying degree.

You didn’t know how to do that.

It felt awkward to even muse about such a thing as you stood in the Hong family living room, occasionally scraping a few pieces of crackers and cheese off the platters organized on the island while everyone buzzed and mingled around you. Jennie was somewhere. You didn’t know where, but at that point you didn’t care any longer. The fight had wedged you two apart for good. Thankfully its details hadn’t circulated much, and if Joshua had any indication the precise details of the fight, he was very polished at hiding it. His mother had swung by a few times to talk with you, and you always saw Joshua’s seraphic eyes in hers.

“Every time I walk past, you’re glued to this spot,” she smiled genuinely and gesticulated with a wave of her wine glass.

“Oh, just enjoying the crackers,” you replied, “and, um, the cheese. But it’s okay. I don’t mind people-watching.”

“Need anything to drink?”

“I’m good. Thanks, though.”

She squinched her face for a moment, “I might offer the wine, but you are by far underage. Of course, I’m saying this like you haven’t already drank before. Most teenagers find a way. Jennie uses Joshua who uses his older friend, Seungcheol. I’m not condoning it, obviously.”

“Obviously,” you grinned, flitting a wink at her.

“Oh, I miss you,” she half-exhaled, half-laughed, grabbing onto your shoulder with a touch of comfort you’d almost forgotten. “I’m still trying to figure out how to handle Jennie’s new friends.”

With a distant hum, you agreed, “that makes two of us.”

Someone suddenly called her over from the next room, and she politely dismissed herself, fitting in a graceful comment about your outfit before she strode away. And that was when you started feeling… disheartened, a bit empty, dreary about the future and how you were supposed to wake up relatively excited for school knowing that Joshua’s kind, sweet, stupidly pretty face wasn’t going to be there. It felt like a kick in the teeth, and it hadn’t even happened yet. Did he care that he was going to be leaving you here to sink further into your loneliness?

As you picked at another cracker, Hansol came up from the basement with Jennie following suit. They were holding extra paper plates and cups, and you watched from your peripheral as Hansol kept the door open for her with his foot. He was graduating too, though his family hadn’t glamorized it as much as Joshua’s, to which you figured the boy was dually enjoying the praises he got in the mix. Jennie and Hansol walked off together into another room, talking animatedly and constantly brushing shoulders and smiling a little too gleefully for two people who just got sent to the basement for some cardboard and plastic.

Where the hell is Joshua?

You got here at eight, and hadn’t seen him once.

Well, if he didn’t want to be found, then you’d just follow the very obvious trail that lead to his bedroom, the door cracked open and the aging, peeling poster of that lady with the star-shaped sunglasses still staring at you just as placidly as always. When you thought about it, she was the only one to ever see you stop and stare at his door over the many years, watching your wonder of him turn into a crush, and then whatever you called it nowadays. Using your foot, you tapped the door open slightly, exchanging a nervous glance with the star-shaped glasses lady.

Joshua hadn’t even noticed that you’d entered. He was squatted in the corner, wires snaking around his feet, some plugged into a few outlets on his amp. Of course, this is what concerned him right now.

“So, you’ve been up here, playing around with a bunch of wires, instead of like, enjoying the graduation party you forced me to come to.”

He flinched, at first jarred by your presence, but you noted Joshua’s relaxed smile as he rose up while sweeping some dust off his hands. You stood in one place, like roots were sprouting from your socked feet into the floor, hands fiddling behind your back.

Standing near his desk, Joshua gestured to the lava lamp.

“Do you want that?” He asked as a bright, yellowish gob of liquid floated gradually upward, merging into the purple.

“Why would I want it?”

“You said something to me once about always wanting a lava lamp. I don’t really need it anymore.”

Rolling back your shoulders, you chuckled. “I said that like, two years ago. And I think it’s a staple of your room. You should keep it here.”

“Good point,” he answered, reaching for a soda can on his desk.

Cream soda, obviously. Some things never change.

You sighed, though it ended up whisking out your mouth in a much sadder tone than you intended, and for a second your heart skipped a beat because you didn’t want Joshua thinking his graduation party was insipid or boring. If anything, you were reminiscing, and it just wasn’t in your nature right now to be especially pert when you knew he was leaving. Not to mention, you hated him in a crisp white dress shirt that he’d clearly been fiddling with because the sleeves were too long and the fabric was too stuffy. He’d cuffed the material up to his elbows and undid a few buttons that unveiled a deep amount of his skin.

Were collarbones intended to be that attractive?

“Everything okay?” Joshua questioned, tilting his head.

You leaned against the desk with him, the room hardly aglow in the dull heat from his lava lamp. Honestly, you did kind of want it.

“Well, you’re going off to university…”

“I am.”

“So, you won’t be here. Like, at all.”

“Are you forgetting the entire summer before I leave? And reading week? And Christmas? And whatever else? I’m not ‘gone’,” he quoted with his fingers, “you have my number, anyways.”

You scoffed, smiling at him to lighten the tension. “Pfft, yeah, like you’re even going to be hitting me back. You know you won’t, right?”

Joshua merely shook his head in disagreement, folding his arms.

“Never mind any of that stuff. I don’t mean to make it about myself—” Jennie’s face scorched across the canvas of your mind like a lightning strike, that comment about you being selfish, “how are you feeling? I mean, shit has been… a little different for you this year.”

The boy bit his lip softly as he agreed, and his eyes almost glazed over for a particular second, as though he were flicking through heavy pages of old memories. Was he thinking about Elsie? You really hadn’t spoken to her since their breakup, apart from an excruciatingly awkward encounter in the girl’s washroom where you basically expressed your empathies to a brick wall. She had been scrubbing every cell of her hands with soap, smiling and nodding and probably wishing you’d just dissipate. Since then, you hadn’t seen the autumn haired girl much.

“Yeah,” Joshua hummed, tilting his head in your direction, “I guess it has been different. But… good different…” his eyes stilled on you like they were focusing a picture, and you swore his gaze drifted up from your legs, your hips, ever so briefly along your chest and to the sort of frozen expression painted stiffly and crookedly to your face.

What the fuck does that mean?

“So… you’re ready to leave?” Experimentally, you adjusted your hand on the desk, having your fingers slightly overlap with his.

“Pretty much.”

He stared at you again, and this sitting, small frog in your chest charged into a hop as Joshua’s ring finger slid overtop your pinky, hooking the two digits together. Nervous was an understatement—you felt downright nauseous, the dry-mouthed, heart-hammering, sweat-slicked kind where fainting seemed like a possibility if you didn’t go into cardiac arrest first. Despite the guileless brushing of your fingers, Joshua’s face hadn’t budged that much. He was about as easy to read as a stone tablet, only if someone used scissors instead of a chisel.

But was it right to doubt yourself? This could be the perfect moment served on a silver platter. Maybe you didn’t know what you were doing, or how to kiss someone, or how to look at this boy’s sweetly plump lips without feeling tingly and dehydrated, but if you didn’t just make that fucking move you’ve been waiting on like a birthday wish then—

“Oh, yeah! Totally forgot to mention this but—”

“Wait, Joshua—”

He had taken a step away from the desk, and without thought, you latched onto his shoulder in an attempt to reel him back.

The boy turned around almost automatically, unable to purse another word past his lips as he realized the seriousness that had desaturated your aura, feeling the shaky hands that pulled down the smooth front of his dress shirt, arms now curling their way around his neck. You had pressed him in close against you, not a flicker of space between, and Joshua still hadn’t said a word as you touched your lips to his in a light contact. Unsure if you should continue, you almost stepped away, surprised to consequently feel two firm hands on your hips which guided you back in, his lips now eagerly pushing against yours.

But it quickly dawned on Joshua that he needed to go slower for you, and there was an almost grateful, relieved breath into his mouth when he extended each kiss into a gradual pace. Working softly, letting you pause to take in as much air as you needed, occasionally smiling against your mouth whenever he added something like an experienced touch of the tongue that you clearly enjoyed and responded to. Almost blinded by the desire you felt, you were immediately desperate for more, having Joshua sit down in his desk chair while you climbed onto him.

“Wait—” he huffed between your kisses, accepting each one and nipping back too, almost like he couldn’t stop himself, “wait just a sec.”

His calloused hands landed on your bare thighs. You couldn’t help but twitch the instant it happened, losing another fleck of sanity, chills dancing up your spine when his fingers inched further to play with the short, black hem of your skirt. To your displeasure, Joshua suddenly abandoned that idea all together. Almost like he’d contacted something burning hot, the boy chose to grasp your waist instead.

“What?” You mumbled breathlessly against his neck, exploring the skin with licks and bites.

This was something you had never done before, something you didn’t even know you were capable of, but the desire was flowing out and you didn’t know how to stop it. His addicting scent fluttered around you, making it beyond difficult to concentrate. Joshua’s fingers then grazed your cheek, pulling your face back toward him where he slotted your mouths together once more, wanting to kiss you harder but knowing he needed to stop. You sensed it too—he was confused and apprehensive.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you leaned back on his lap and frowned. “Is there something wrong? You don’t want us to?”

Joshua reached for your face again, moving you back in.

“Listen,” he said, using that satin-dipped voice of his which could only indicate he was about to let you down gently, “it’s not that… I just—you’re beautiful, and thoughtful, and as much as I want to—” he sucked in a breath that seemed deeply regretful, moving his thumb across the crest of your cheek with such fragility as he admitted, “I can’t, and I feel like I shouldn’t. I’m so, so sorry. I really am.”

“So… what does that mean? You don’t like me?”

It was akin to pinpricking a balloon—just the slightest puncture had instantly deflated you, and there was a horrible, useless feeling that soaked into your bones as this boy caressed your face so tenderly.

“No, I like you. Fuck, of course I do,” Joshua whispered, sitting up further in the chair, black tresses slipping into his eyes, “but—”

“I’m just your little sister’s best friend, right?” Damn it, tears had glistened up as you said it. “Well, not even best friend. She fucking hates me, thinks I’m pathetic or whatever. And, is she even wrong? I mean, I’m literally sitting on her brother’s lap thinking he—you’d actually want me.”

“Slow down—” Joshua reached for your wrist as you squirmed off his lap, but you flinched away from it and wiped your cheeks instead.

“Please, you don’t have to leave. I mean, I’m not gonna hold you here, and— okay, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Fuck, I’m so sorry—“

He pushed out of the desk chair, reaching toward your face.

But you stepped back at the same time, maintaining the equidistance.

“What did you mean to do, then?!”

“I-I don’t know, honest. I really don’t know. Just—not this.”

Everything was fucking sweltering and stinging and you had never hated yourself more for thinking Joshua saw you as anything else but that dorky sidekick to his sister. And, you didn’t want to hear him elaborate or try to sugar coat his truth because that would only shove the knife further into your back. You wanted to leave, chiefly because you knew he wouldn’t follow, though nothing had ever hurt more in your life than when you slammed his door shut for the very last time. As you hurried down the stairs and anxiously buckled your shoes back on at their front door, Jennie had wandered into the corridor holding onto a plastic cup, at first extremely confused to the tears caked over your face.

“Um… should I get you a tiss—”

“Actually, you were right.”

Jennie perched an eyebrow, then scratched at the bracelets on her wrist. She was too stunned by the situation to bother responding.

“Your brother doesn’t want me, at all.”

And just like that, you were out of their house in an instant.

This could be a good thing, exactly what you needed, even.

Age thirteen was the first time you had seen Joshua, and for some unshakeable reason, your brain decided that he was the only boy worth fixating over—coursing enough serotonin and dopamine through your receptors like a drug that seemed harmless enough to keep injecting until one day, it just wasn’t. Joshua wasn’t even that great. What did he do anyways, apart from having eyes as captivating as the fine details of an oil painting, and a voice that sounded what a daydream felt like, and this seemingly genuine attentiveness to your life that made you forget the blizzard that often whipped around it?

Right, Joshua was not all that.

There must be other people out there who could elicit that rush, and maybe you would have met one or two of them if you hadn’t been so tethered to the older brother character who’d pinned you as this one-dynamical permanent friend. And that’s why you had come to the conviction that he needed to be cut from your existence, not just in physicality, but in thought. The second you got home from the party—letting your bicycle crash against the asphalt driveway because it was a fossil anyway—you took every single can that you had kept over the years, shovelling them into your knapsack while trying not to blubber.

Flinging the bag over your shoulder, you saddled onto the bike and pedalled off toward the quarry near the edge of the town. There was a huge, earthy hole dug into the middle, and most people had decided to start treating the pit as a trash site. It was nearly pitch black by time you arrived, so you had to balance a tactical flashlight on a rock, your enlarged shadow cast along the big, graffitied construction boxes sitting opposite to the hole. You grabbed a soda can out from your bag and twisted it into the dirt, pausing for no less than a second as his pretty face eclipsed your thoughts, perhaps one last opportunity to weigh the scale.

No—follow through, don’t be doubtful.

Crush the can. Crush the crush.

Using your heel, you stomped the soda can, hearing the metal contort and crack like you had squeezed out its breath. Then, with a gust of the leg, you sent the flattened semblance of a disk sailing through the air into the pit, which seemed as deep and infinitely dark as the sky. You did it again. And again. Crush and kick. Crush and kick. Until there was nothing left inside your bag, emptied down to its dust and crumbs.

It would have been an incredibly victorious, fulfilling moment.

If only you had not been crying so hard the entire time.

[ joshua h. | 11:45 pm ]: this is my fault, and i’m sorry.

[ joshua h. | 11:45 pm ]: i shouldn’t have kissed you back and messed with your expectations. but it’s not that i don’t like you or think about you.

[ joshua h. | 11:45 pm ]: bc i do. i just don’t know what’s right.

[ joshua h. | 11:46 pm ]: can we talk again? please.

[ joshua h. | 12:58 am ]: i’m sorry. i hurt you. i’m so fucking sorry.

[ joshua h. | 12:58 pm ]: i’m still gonna be here for you if you need me.

[ joshua h. | 12:59 am ]: goodnight.

Are you sure you want to block Joshua H? You will not receive any of this user’s messages.

…

Yes.

17.

Being seventeen was relatively new. Jennie Hong was no longer in your life. She was past a point of dislike and stuck on indifference. You heard from your mother that it was worse to be meaningless to someone than to be hated, and… you agreed. Chan, the boy responsible for driving you to Jeonghan’s party, was your boyfriend, and you two had started dating at the beginning of September. He had an oddly thrilling personality, a small group of friends, wasn’t too clingy or detached, and, well, he certainly tried at your relationship. Chan was the perfect amount of normal—balance, could be a better word, someone you looked at and sensed their life was exactly where they needed it to be.

Contrarily, your life had never felt like that, though that could have been due to Jos—him. Just, him, because you firmly decided that he was to remain a blank, faceless cut-out in the branching cloth of your memories. Right now you were with Chan, and he was lovely.

“What if—for the spaceship scene—you have her ride in on one of those harness thingies? And just get her to hold a cardboard painted ship. We have the budget for a harness-pulley system, right? All it takes is some rope and muscle, really.”

“We’re not doing that, Chan. I appreciate that you want to lessen the burden of my stage coordinator B.S, but after the Peter Pan incident last year, harnesses were fucking stripped from any future production.”

“Oh! That’s right. Wasn’t that what’s-her-face’s fault?”

Seungkwan rolled his eyes, “basically, yeah.”

Theatre wasn’t exactly your school’s forte. It was proven year after year, beginning with the tragically iconic incident of the mattress pile toppling in the Princess and the Pea. The most recent incident—referred to ominously as the “harness” incident from last year’s Peter Pan production—nearly sent the theatre’s jewel, Lee Seokmin, straight to the hospital, though he was kept content with a hot fudge sundae and a coupon book. How that worked was beyond your understanding.

You had known Seungkwan since middle school, and it had always been his dream to be appointed stage coordinator. While it was bestowed to him under hapless circumstances, he was taking the school’s original production, Lost on Planet Smeckle, to an almost concerning degree of seriousness, constantly walking around with a pen spinning between his fingers and an “inspiration” notebook tucked at the elbow which you assumed was rather void. In truth, it was a particularly hard job to get suspended from. Jennie used to operate the sound panel for the plays. You swore she almost never hit the right button or was either incredibly delayed at doing it, and she was never admonished once.

“Are you going to contribute any ideas or not?” Seungkwan quipped, leaning back in his chair with an ankle propped on his knee.

Squishing up the sloppy remainder of your sandwich into its plastic wrap, you chucked it at him, knocking the pen out his hand.

“Like I know how to spice up Lost on Planet Smoogle—”

“Smeckle!”

“Smeckle—whatever it is. You’re asking the wrong girl.”

After sliding his pen back with his foot, Seungkwan seemed to agree that you were impracticable, therefore illuminating Chan as the rubber to bounce any incoming ideas off. Lunch was nearly over anyways. You decided to let the boys hash out whatever they could.

“I’m going to the library.”

Chan reached for your hand, fluttering his eyes sweetly.

“I’ll come find you after chemistry, okay?”

“Sure thing,” you smiled, leaning down to give him a peck.

Speaking of the library, it had finally dawned on you that the couple who routinely opted to swap spit on the staircase were gone and graduated. While you had never been fond of them, they probably had the strongest relationship in the entire school. Chan occasionally joked about taking their place—it always earned him a thwap to the forehead.

Honestly, you weren’t sure why you escaped to the library, because hanging out with Seungkwan and Chan felt… right. They offered the company you always longed for in high school—a small, concrete group that was free of toxicity, the type of friends to groan with you about how unpalatable the cafeteria food was, stand with you outside your classes when the teacher was notably late and giggle about that stupid rhetoric of skipping after fifteen minutes. They were normal and familiar and that was all you could ask for. Seventeen was boring. Good boring.

A few minutes had gone by as you picked through the spines.

You kept sliding out and re-shelving the books without any actual intention of having them stamped. But then you pulled out a thick history novel that was at eye level. It revealed a perfect gap into the next aisle—exactly where Jennie and her friend Marina were standing. It surprised you so abruptly that you had flinched, cramming the book back into place as though you were restoring a bewitched, sacred artifact you definitely shouldn’t’ve touched. You should have left too. Except you didn’t, instead hovering close to the shelf where you deeply inhaled the scent of dusty paper, eavesdropping their conversation.

“Is that the one about the Galapagos finches?”

“Nope, dunno what it is—oh, there, barn owls. Not quite.”

“Maybe I should switch my topic. I fuckin’ hate biology. You think if I paid you ten bucks and half a joint, you’d write my project?”

“Yeah, no way. I’ll help you, though.”

“C’mon! You’re the only one I know who’s getting a ninety-five in bio. The teacher fucking loved your poster on those weird frog things.”

“The poison dart frog? Those are cool. I always went to their exhibit at the nature museum with my brother. You can get them as wooden toys with a stick. They sound like the actual frog.”

“Pfft, the nature museum. You’re such a loser, Jen. Ah—since you mentioned him, how is that dude, anyways? Mr. Beautiful.”

“Joshua?”

“Mmhm.”

Okay, this has to be your exit. Even just hearing his name feels like a tiny scalpel running the length of your heart. It’s been months and that chapter has closed. You’ve sutured your own cuts and moved on.

“He’s doing pretty good.”

Wait, pretty good? You paused. Pretty good, how?

“Uh, classes are fun. He really likes his roommate. Remember Jeonghan? He’s got an apartment with him. Life’s good for that idiot.”

No—what the hell are you doing? You don’t care!

“Okay, nice. Has he gone to any like, crazy parties? Everyone says the parties at uni are unmissable and you’re guaranteed to eat an edible without even knowing it. I’m not sure if that’s good, though.”

“Uh, yeah. He’s been to a few.”

Is it just you or did someone slick this part of the floor with glue?

“Got a girlfriend yet? I wouldn’t be surprised with those daydreamy eyes of his and the deceivingly angelic voice.”

Your breath stilled, lungs contracting, nerves simmering. Jennie hadn’t answered yet. It felt like time was viscous and nearly unmoving. At first, she chuckled, sliding a book back onto the shelf until it clicked.

“A girlfriend? Don’t think so. And never say those things again.”

In one gigantic exhale, the air gushed out your nose. If not for the bell startling you into reality, you might have slid down against the shelf due to anxiety, melted into a puddle even for the janitor to scrub away.

Something inside you had embarrassingly given.

It could not happen again.

Your fork sliced into the edge of orange, mashed sweet potato until it clinked against the plate, stainless steel scraping porcelain as you dragged it up and set the prongs onto your tongue. Chan was cutting rosemary asparagus in half to your left, keeping his eyes fixed on the stalks that were glimmery in butter and sauce. Picking up her wine glass, your mother took a slow, savoury sip. She watched the both of you.

Dinner was always so fucking awkward. Your mother had insisted she throw something together despite the fact she’d come straight home from work, still confined to her button-tight blouse and knee-length pencil skirt she hated, stalking around the kitchen in her clicky heels. She had met Chan once or twice before, though he never stayed for dinner. It was her opportunity to finally pin him in place, and it was going horribly.

Maybe it was weird to think, but some people just weren’t good with mothers—not purposefully or accidentally or by unimaginative curse, but in a way that was rather ignorant. Everyone’s house was their house, and unfortunately, that was Chan. If you had known this was her plan, you would have dragged him upstairs, pushed him down in your swivel-back chair, flipped around the for-emphasis chalkboard and instructed him on exactly what not to do. Yet, there hadn’t been the opportunity for that.

“So, any ideas for college or university? A gap year maybe to secure some money? I know that you’re very interested in performance and theatre.”

“Oh, yeah,” Chan agreed, bits of green flashing in his teeth as he spoke with a full mouth, “I want to be like, a really amazing dance teacher, but work my way up to it doing tons of gigs—,” he paused to chug a gulp of water, “and um, I don’t know. I want to be like Usher or something.”

“Really?” Your mother remarked, her wine glass settling onto the coaster with a light thud. “Usher? I guess he’s more your generation.”

“Yeah, probably,” Chan answered, also placing his cup back on the table, completely missing the coaster, “there’s this one song I really love, it goes like—”

Oh no. You braced a palm against your forehead, hardly watching from the edge of your vision as Chan sat up straight and pitched his hand.

“Shorty got down and said “come and get me”, yeah, yeah, I got so caught up, I forgot she told me, yeah, yeah, her and my girl, used to be the best of homies, next thing I knew, she was all up on me scream—”

You grabbed onto his arm, disguising it as a sincere, thoughtful touch despite your nails teething down on his skin.

“That was really great. Thank you, babe.”

“Well, I just—I hadn’t got to the rest of it yet.”

“No, I know,” your nails clawed a little deeper, “that’s fine.”

It was best to stop him before he entered a whole performance number in your dining room, to which you could picture him tripping over his own feet and tearing a photo frame off the wall, or elbowing the fine china teapot that had been a gift from your grandmother. He didn’t have the best spatial awareness, or awareness of anything, really. Your mother was sitting back, smiling, one leg folded over the other with her head in a slight tilt that seemed deceivingly warm and intrigued. She wasn’t going to say it, but she didn’t have to. Chan was below your standards.

“You know, that’s good.” She pointed a finger at him. “I’d love to see the full routine one day. You’ve got that…” she swirled her hands around as though she were clearing a crystal ball, “that star factor. Very cool.”

“Thank you.” Chan grinned, setting his elbows onto the table where he then hiccupped quietly into his hands (it was more of a belch, but you were admittedly trying to water down how insensible he was in even your own mind).

If wizards were real, you were dying for one to zap you with the end of their wand, preferably into a pile of sparkly ashes.

Somehow, dinner came to an end. While Chan excused himself for a bathroom break, you stood at the sink with your mother, dutifully polishing the forks she’d set into the dry rack. It was silent for a minute or two. At least her heels were finally off, though bits of hair from that slicked updo were beginning to tickle her face while she scrubbed away at the plate. You really didn’t want to discuss what happened anyway. But after you organized the cutlery into the drawer, your mother gave you a look that felt loaded as she let the soapy water drain.

Well, here we go.

“You know, I don’t dislike him as much as you think I do. There’s definitely character. He’s just… far below you, in my opinion. And I wish I could say I understand why you’re dating him, but I don’t.”

Opting to stay silent, you wiped down the puddles around the sink.

“I won’t throw up all my inklings onto you now, especially when I know the kid’s down the hall, doing God knows what—and I can tell by this little shoulders-buckled, lip-tight thing you’re doing that you don’t wanna talk about it. Gosh… at least we’ve got leftovers for tomorrow.”

“Mmhm.” You hummed, just to acknowledge you’d heard her.

“Oh, you know who I liked? That brother, the brother of that girl you used to be best friends with. Jennie and… J-something. They both had names with J’s. Their mother is in such better shape than me. Help me out here. I know damn well that counter’s dry by now.”

Crossing your arms, you rolled the very corner of the dish towel between your thumb and pointer finger, feeling his name rise along the back of your throat like it was being summoned out, against your will.

“Joshua.”

“Yes! Him! I adored that one. I always thought he liked you, too.”

“Mom! I don’t think we should be talking about this.”

“It’s true! I mean, he drove you home from school all the time. He always bought you things. And he had these eyes that were just… he looked at you different, so deeply, like he truly cared about you. I just—I know he’s older, two years or something, but I felt safe whenever you said you were with him. I kept waiting for him to come here for dinner.”

“I said we shouldn’t be talking about this and you’re talking about it!”

“Okay well I—”

The bathroom door squeaked open from down the corridor.

Both of you sealed your mouths shut.

It was 10pm, and Chan was asleep at your side, the two of you miraculously cramped onto the twin size bed shoved against the wall with the sheets pulled a generous amount onto his half. Not that you cared. It was warm in your bedroom, and the heat from your hard backs pressed together was making you slightly sweaty. To feel uncomfortable in your own home was one thing—but in your own bedroom? The place you had perfectly cultivated over the years to always feel comfortable? Part of you wanted to crawl out from your own skin like that was something humans did. Chan was a great friend. Maybe it should have stayed like that.

Or, maybe it was just late, and you were too warm to think with clarity.

Wedging out your phone from beneath the quilt, you took a cautious peak over your shoulder, only to see the dark, dim outline of Chan’s shoulder bone digging into yours. Then, you turned back to your phone.

Instagram. That was usually what you did when you couldn’t sleep. A filtered and superficial glance into the very uninteresting lives of people who thought they were interesting was certain to make you tired.

A picture of Seungkwan with his empty script book.

Oh, there’s Seokmin eating ice cream with his girlfriend.

Marina? Since when did you follow her? Apparently, you did. Probably when you thought it was still possible to mesh yourself into her friendship with Jennie and become the triplet friend group everyone was envious of. Except you strongly disliked Marina. And Jennie hated you.

You two still followed each other.

@jennie.hg commented on @marinascapilatti’s photo: “HOT. SMOULDERING. FUCKING SEXY AS FUCK.”

@marinascapilatti replied to @jennie.hg: “LMAO. love you sm babe!!”

For some reason, you clicked on Jennie’s profile. Thumbing to the bottom, you realized she hadn’t removed the old pictures of you two together, even if they were from two or more years ago. Jennie had never been one to constantly delete pictures and reshape her account as she got older. She liked the memories. The beauty of an archive. Letting people know exactly who she had been because that was never a concern to her.

You opened a picture she had posted on your birthday three years ago.

@jennie.hg: a lot of u ppl know this girl. she’s my best friend or something. since sixth grade. it’s her birthday. so if you don’t wish her a happy birthday then you’re dead to me and you suck! xo.

That day, people you had never spoke to more than once or twice said happy birthday to you in the halls, or in the lunch line, on the way into your next class, even in the washroom. You decided to look at more comments on the picture, pausing on one in particular.

@joshua_hong_1230: it’s your birthday? happy birthday!:)

Fuck. Were you really about to do this? With your boyfriend asleep beside you, so close that he was crushing you into the wall?

A deep, deep sigh.

Yes.

First, you had to unblock him, convincing yourself it would only be for a moment or two as you quickly gleaned his account (out of curiosity and definitely not the emotion tugging your heart in a very sensitive direction). Pressing onto the most recent picture, you bit your lip.

404 likes. 51 comments. @joshua_hong_1230: clink.

Him and his university friends crowded around a restaurant table, half-emptied glasses of alcohol and dinner plates everywhere. You only recognized Jeonghan who was right beside Joshua in the photo. On his other side, a girl you had never seen before. She was leaning into him closely, her hair tousled in pretty, effortless manner that somehow reminded you of Elsie. Continuing down the rabbit hole, you opened her profile. Her name was Daphne. She was in biomed. Cute sundresses that hugged her shape in all the right places glowing from her feed.

As much as you wanted to believe you were genuinely interested in this Daphne girl’s life, you weren’t. What you really wanted to know was obvious. In fact, it slapped you in the face, filled you with shame and embarrassment and now you were stuffing your phone beneath the cold side of the pillow hoping it would disappear.

Stop thinking about him.

Stop comparing yourself to everyone in his life.

Valentine’s Day seemed to come out of nowhere. One minute you were scalding your tongue with the taste of disgustingly hot cocoa, attempting to stick together a gingerbread house using prayers and pastry icing, and peeking between your blinds at the carollers who were singing the loudest version of Silent Night that you’d ever heard. But then you had blinked, and suddenly everything was pink. Roses were being sold in the front foyer (you specifically told Chan not to purchase one because you knew that under your care, it would wilt in a week) and the number of cinnamon hearts you’d smelled on people’s breath was almost concerning. Not to mention the Stupid Cupid Dance was tonight.

At first, you didn’t want to go. Most memories you recalled of the dance were actually quite pleasant, though Jennie had still been your best friend then, and jumping around manically with her while student council showered the crowd with candy grams eased the sting of not being with him. However, Chan was oddly passionate about going. He didn’t swoon to your idea of staying home with a movie and some cheap sugar cookies. In fact, he even offered to accompany you with your dress shopping, though you both got insanely bored halfway through the process and decided to play games at the arcade instead. The best outfit you could muster was a long, oversized dress shirt with a stylish belt to wrap around the waist, alongside some thigh-high pink socks.

It was… definitely something.

The dance was roughly two hours away. You were lounging across your bed, twirling a cherry-flavoured sucker against the inside of your cheek. Chan was sitting on the floor, still trying to fix his tie.

“Do you want me to look up a tutorial or something?” You asked in a bored tone, temple feeling sore from leaning against your fist.

With his tongue curling against his lip, Chan declined. “No, no, think I’ve almost got it… just gotta slip it up and under and… there!”

You could hardly choke out a lukewarm congratulations as you completely spread out across the bed sheets, blinking up the ceiling with the sticky taste of cherry on your lips. Chan edged off the floor and sat beside you, prompting you to raise your head onto his lap.

“Dunno if it’s a good thing to bring up, but your mood is a little… it’s not doing too great, babe. Is there anything I can do?”

Obviously, you wanted to skip the dance. It’s not that you believed it would be unenjoyable with Chan—he did have the tendency to wander and was easily absorbed into conversations with friends, almost exiling you to stand there stiltedly the entire time—but other than that, he was a fantastic dancer and you loved watching him (you had never once danced with him at a party because you felt more like a hindrance to his spotlight). Besides, the gym was only so big, and since Jeonghan had graduated there was no one else at the school to host blow-out parties.

“What if we just didn’t go?” You mumbled around the sucker.

“Uh—no! We have to! Seungkwan’s gonna meet us there.”

“I know, I know. But we can do something fun that’s not the Stupid Cupid Dance! Like, um—we could—there’s always—how about we go the river? It’ll be a little chilly but we can bring our jackets. I think fresh air is what I need. You could teach me to skip rocks.”

Chan’s hand fell into your hair. It felt sympathetic.

“Skip rocks? What makes you think I can do that?”

Pushing yourself up, you groaned, “I don’t know, Chan. I just don’t want to go. Can we make a compromise at least?”

Your boyfriend paused for a moment, slumping against the wall and pursing his lips like he was tediously wracking his brain.

“We can stay for two hours. Then we can go to the river and throw rocks, or whatever it was—the thing you just said.”

“Yes, thank you, thank you!”

He seemed surprised at how ecstatic you behaved, his hands rather delayed as they climbed up to your hips, responding to the hug you had draped him in. You pressed a kiss against his cheek, then a swift one to his mouth, knowing he could taste the cherry and how sweet it was.

“The song—the song, they’re changing the song!”

“Yeah, I know, I can hear it—”

“Can you hold this? And this? And my phone—last time it flung out of my pocket and I got big crack in my screen protector.”

“No, Chan—can you wait? It’s almost time to go—”

“I promised that I would do this dance with Seungkwan!”

“So you’re leaving me alone?”

“No, no, no—just—it will be fun! And I’m really good at the dance for this song. Watch me and you’ll see. Thanks, babe! You’re the best!”

“The promise you made to Seungkwan,” you sagged, attempting to hold his suit jacket, drink, and phone all in one severely cramping hand, “what about the promise you made to me?” Walking over to the bench in the gym corner, you set all his possessions down one at a time, gritting your teeth. “I love how much I matter to you, babe.”

You squinted at the exit across the room and attempted to maneuver your way toward it, twisting and wriggling and tiptoeing around everyone until this girl had stepped backward into your way. She flicked a straight curtain of hair over her shoulder and you smelled tart perfume—almost nauseating—as she talked with her friend.

“I feel like these parties were so much better when they weren’t school-sanctioned! No one in student council is stepping up. Why do all the seniors suck this year? Where is everyone with surgeon parents?”

“I know. People were moving the tiles in the girl’s washroom at lunch so they could put Vodka bottles up there. It was so funny.”

“Someone will snitch and they’ll make us do the breathalyser thing—no way they’re doing that to me! It’s like, my right or something.”

“Hey guys, pardon me, I’m going that way.”

“You’re going where?”

“That way, to the exit.”

“You’re trying to leave? Are you going to the washroom? They make you write down your name, y’know, on this clipboard, and they time you. Isn’t that fucking stupid? Like, if you take an extra minute to piss or open a tampon, they’re going to call your parents.”

“Um, that’s—”

“Like, ouuu, I’m so scared. Hey, are you rich by any chance? Not even rich—just like, you’re moderately above average and it’s likely that you have an inground pool? Or, you know someone who is rich?”

“I don’t, sorry…”

“Fuck—it’s whatever.”

“Can you move now? I’m leaving.”

“Oh, yeah—sorry. But you heard the thing I said right, about the washrooms and the clipboard? I hope you’re not going piss!”

Her and her friend were now too far behind you for a response to be meaningful. Your head was throbbing, almost like there was gun powder sitting in your skull instead of a brain, awaiting the flare to thunderously ignite. You tried to slink past the vending machines on your way out, hoping to be inconspicuous and unimportant.

“Uh—excuse me, young lady. I can’t let you walk out. It’s a little loud but I know you hear me.” The teacher started waggling her finger.

“Sorry.”

“Where are you going? Washroom? You’ll need to write your name down on this clipboard as well as the time. I know students have been complaining about this, but it’s a rule and no one is exempt.”

“No, I don’t need the washroom. My head hurts.”

“At least four other girls have told me that, then I saw them all together with this big bottle, stumbling around the track field when I was supervising. Just hold on a moment, I’ll radio a teacher to go with you outside. That way you can get some fresh air, and we know you’re not up to anything that’s against the rules. Can I have your name?”

“Is it for the clipboard?”

“Yes… I have a pencil—here.”

“Well… I don’t need someone to go with me outside.”

“It’s the rule. We need to keep track of all students.”

“I don’t have any alcohol. Or cigarettes.”

“I understand that, but—hey! Hey! You are not allowed to go anywhere unless—young lady, this is not okay!”

You heard the blip on her walkie-talkie as she attempted to alert some other teacher. She’d been following you to the doorway at the front of the school, though she stopped the second you were outside, picking up your pace until you were almost sprinting away from her. It was hardly rebellious—in your eyes, you saw it as less than pathetic. You had decided to turn cheek and flee from her like you had been sent to your room.

Chan wasn’t anywhere close to the boyfriend you had been convincing yourself he was. You didn’t even take his phone or dump his things on the floor or break up with him in the middle of the dance floor as some sort of hedonistic, petty revenge that wouldn’t bare any significance a year from now. Everything had felt so colourless and dull lately. You couldn’t tell if it was your own fault or not.

Balancing your feet at the very edge of the curb, you wondered why February had to be such an awful month. Nothing good had happened since it started. And now it was chilly and wet and dark outside, with big lumps of grey, dirt-speckled snow spilling hideously all over the place. You had left your jacket inside. The thinness of your long dress-shirt let the cold prick you like little razors, and you were beyond tired at pulling up those thigh-high socks which kept shrinking down your legs. February felt like it was asking to be punched in the face.

It seemed like just yesterday you were standing in this exact spot, beside Jennie, squinching through the brightness of a summer sky. You remembered waiting for her brother to appear around the corner in his silver car, his stereo vibrating with different songs each time, the interior smelling like mint gum and foam cleaner. Hansol was always in the front seat, sticking his hand out the window, singing confidently into the oncoming breeze with the boxiest grin on his face. You remembered the intense nervousness you felt accidentally catching Joshua’s eye in the rear-view mirror—how your fingers curled from the anxiety.

The air was too cold for you to stand still. Once a shudder wracked along your arms, you decided to keep walking, kicking a pebble that had melted out from another mushy pile of snow. Upon reaching the end of the sidewalk, extremely bright lights flooded behind you and the pebble was somehow swallowed up. An engine was guzzling heavy at your side and you contemplated crossing the street despite the pixelated red hand glaring at you. Then, you heard a window roll down.

“Are you the type of girl I can p—”

“I’m seventeen,” you interrupted, refusing to acknowledge the man who was eyeing you a little too excitedly from inside his vehicle.

“Well, I have a nice warm truck right here, in case you want to hop inside if you need a ride anywhere. I can unlock the door for ‘ya.”

“I said I’m seventeen.”

“I’ve seen lots of women like you when I wa—”

“I’m not a woman, I’m a teenager.”

You looked at him once through the inky shadows and saw that merely the outline of his face was visible, with slight glints hollowing what you suspected were his eyes. Something in your chest wobbled. The second the walking-man appeared, you hurried across the street with your thumbs tucked deeply into your fists. Too afraid to continue home alone, you swung into the corner store with the spring-painted overhang you had loved so much in your past, pretending to need something. You paused at the slushie machine—the greatest contributor to all your after-school brain freezes and headaches. An ‘out of order’ sign was taped to the glass. From the peeled, slightly stained edges of the paper, you assumed no one had bothered stopping by to repair it in months.

There wasn’t anything you could buy anyways. Joshua had always bought you a drink or a bag of mostly-air packaged chips when you stopped here—either that or he would give you something he bought for himself. At times you would sit beneath the overhang together, bracing through salt and vinegar flavoured chips that stung the soft, cushioned inside of your mouths, drinking soda, throwing the little stones at your feet. For the first time in a long while, you admitted it.

You missed him.

When the clerk disappeared underneath the counter to dislodge another magazine he had most likely read for the hundredth time, you slipped out the door delicately. You then removed your phone from its very convenient spot (tucked between your bra, obviously). For a moment, you studied the number that you had once blocked in the dusk of summer—certain it would never be touched again no matter how much you could be hurting, crying, or grieving the pieces of love you had somehow lost along the way. And you stayed true to that certainty. You didn’t unblock Joshua’s number, rather you just tempted yourself with the idea of it, like smelling a piece of cake but never taking a bite.

Of course, it was unsatisfying. But you pretended it wasn’t.

The river had to be nearby, the sort of thing you could always tell was getting closer and closer because the water sounded like busy wind in tree leaves. It started appearing over a distant crest, which you eventually came to pause at, staring down unto the bank and its large slabs of rock that were now frosted with snow. This was the place you were supposed to be with Chan—if he hadn’t completely ignored your compromise. The fact he wasn’t texting you, worried sick or even an inch concerned, engendered you to think you weren’t really anything to him at all. He didn’t want to be tethered by a girlfriend, that was obvious.

You stared for a little longer, growing colder and stiffer, tracing the places you stood when Joshua had been showing you how to skip stones. But then you started hearing footsteps crunch in the snow, and as you squinted down the bank, you sucked in a dry, freezing breath.

“Jennie!” Your voice cracked. “What the hell are you doing?!”

The girl stopped abruptly, and her shoes sunk awkwardly into the snow, her face visibly flushed in the street lights shining down on the shore. She seemed almost embarrassed to be caught by you, though it should have been the other way around, considering your last words to her were about her older brother rejecting you whilst sat on his lap.

“I’m walking to the corner store!” Jennie shouted back, burying herself deeper into the brown coat draped over her shoulders.

“Why?!”

“Why does it matter?!”

“… Uh, I dunno!”

“If you keep yelling, you’ll start an avalanche somewhere!”

“You’re yelling too!”

Somehow, you successfully managed your way down the riverbank without slipping on a hidden piece of ice. Jennie huffed as you approached her, shaking snow clumps off her sneaker.

“Why don’t you just take the sidewalk?” You asked.

It felt inconceivably strange to look at her face this directly after the fight—to gauge the slow unfurling of maturity in her cheekbones and jawline—to realize how tall she suddenly was—even her impressively long hair which surrounded her like a rippling, black sea. She took a moment before answering, leading you to believe she had studied your face as well. The thought made you uncomfortable yet pleased.

“Why are you dressed like a Dollar Store hooker?”

You couldn’t help but guffaw at that—her humour hadn’t evolved much.

“I went to the Stupid Cupid Dance.”

“Oh—that.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

“Uh… I don’t know,” Jennie shrugged, her eyes drifting along the dark expanses behind you, “I didn’t have anyone to go with.”

“You don’t need a date—”

“No—like, I know that. I don’t have any… friends, I mean.”

“That’s not true. I see you with people all the time. You’re popular as shit. What about Marina? Is she sick?”

“No. We haven’t been talking lately. I don’t think I missed out on anything, anyways. You already left, and by the looks of it, the dance was so bad you didn’t even want to stay to get your jacket. I don’t know how you’re not freezing your tits off. I’m cold, and I have a coat.”

“Yeah, I am cold, but I didn’t wanna go straight home ‘cause this weirdo pulled up beside me at the crosswalk. I was actually supposed to come here with Chan—he clearly had other things that mattered more.”

“Your boyfriend’s kinda lame.”

“Okay—yes, you’re right. Ouch, though.”

“I mean, you tend to like lame guys—my brother, for example.”

The nausea in your stomach dropped. It was a very sickly swirling of butterflies and the slight urge to vomit onto the snow, though you tacked a smile upon your face that definitely wasn’t as soft as you thought. Jennie then blew a strand of hair from her eyes, beginning to shake her head at you. It seemed that she wasn’t bitter, just confused.

“Well, he rejected me,” you stated simply.

She huffed in a gloomy breath, “I know.”

It was quiet again.

“I don’t like him anymo—”

“Oh—just stop, okay?” Jennie exhaled deeply through her teeth, and her gaze burned into yours like a flaming arrow. “I always suspected you had a crush on him. I don’t care anymore. I just wanted reasons to be mad at you since we were growing apart, and there wasn’t even a good explanation for it. I thought if I made up a reason to just—I don’t know—hate you, then it would make me feel better about us. We aren’t friends anymore and that’s fine. That’s what happens. That’s life.”

You struggled to swallow. It felt like the cold air had somehow frozen your throat, and now you could only stare at Jennie, speechless.

“He was so angry at me,” the girl continued, brushing something wet and shiny from her pink-stained cheek, “when I finally cracked and told him about our fight. I mean, he’s been like, ‘mad’ before, but never angry. Until then. Almost yelling at me—just, a bunch of emotion all over his face and stuff. I knew he was in love with you. He never wanted to say it, but he didn’t have to—like I said, he’s lame.”

For some reason, you couldn’t help chuckling.

“Oh yeah, he loves me—like a friend.”

“He just didn’t want to pressure you.”

“Jennie, I was in your brother’s fucking lap, kissing him. He didn’t pressure me at all. And he said something like, ‘I can’t do this, I shouldn’t do this’, and he didn’t even try to stop me from leaving. How could I have made it any clearer I wanted him?”

“Okay—well! My brother is an idiot, then! I don’t know what else to tell you—he got cold feet, he was worried about a long-distance relationship, it all felt too soon, he wasn’t sure how I’d react—I don’t know what he was thinking. I just know he had feelings for you, and if I somehow interfered and ruined it for you two, I’m sorry. But at this point, I don’t care what happens. I honestly never did. Just don’t pretend that you’re not still in love with him ‘cause you think I’ll be mad about it.”

After a tired, musing sigh, you broke off from her eyes and stared across the river, rubbing at your cheeks that were numb and stiff. It was then you realized how fucking insufferably cold you were, to which Jennie unzipped her long brown coat, gesturing for you to huddle beside her underneath it. You didn’t hesitate—not even for a second.

“It’s atrocious out here,” she breathed unsteadily into the lashing wind, “my house is closer than yours. You can warm up there.”

“Didn’t you need to go to the convenience store?”

You heard the smile she fought to supress as she huffed, “I lied. I was just taking a walk. I don’t know why I lied about that.”

“When it’s this cold?”

“Shut up! You have no room to talk right now.”

“I know, I know. But, really—you could have just stayed home.”

With a secure grip on her far shoulder, you both made baby steps up the riverbank, back toward the street. Jennie clutched your waist.

“I’m tired of being at home. I don’t have anything to do there.”

You giggled, “why not watch a movie? Or play a video game?”

“It’s not fun by yourself.”

“Well, we should do that—watch a movie or something. I wanted to stay home, anyways. And we can make big mugs of hot chocolate.”

“I think we have marshmallows,” Jennie said while smiling.

For some reason, you thought you could cry. There seemed to be a distant, swelling sting pressing at the back of your eyes, enough for you to sniffle and thickly swallow, though the tears never actually fell. It was just… nice… to talk with Jennie again. She was the one part of your life that you believed would always stick, and having her slip so rapidly from between your fingers had been a tough knife in your back. You weren’t positive if after tonight things would still be this cordial. Maybe you two would wake up again, knowing there was nothing left but dust in all the cracks and crevices of your friendship. It was impossible to say.

Right now, however, she was the person you needed most.

You sensed it was the same for her.

Joshua came home at the beginning of June.

A little less than a year had passed since you last saw him at his graduation party—the day responsible for birthing your abruptly decided choice to weed him from your life. It was easier to commit to such an extremity knowing he was hundreds of kilometers away. Yet, that didn’t mean it was easy exiling him. How were you supposed to forgot about someone who spent the last five years comfortably burrowing in your head and heart? And—right when you thought it was possible to finally cut the remaining wire, he pulled back into the Hong driveway in that silver bullet car like he’d never left. As easy as a cool breeze.

You were walking to the corner store that day, knowing they had a help wanted sign currently hanging in their window. It seemed like a simple gig, it’s just that you wouldn’t be allowed to ring up cigarettes, lottery tickets or beer. Passing Joshua and Jennie’s house was almost inevitable, though you had officially accepted the portrait of their driveway without that silvery, shiny car. So, when you casually flicked your head left to glimpse their house across the street, you were stunned and even horrified to see the vehicle once erased from your thoughts.

It was reversed into the driveway. The trunk was popped open, and judging by their open garage, someone was lugging suitcases into the house. You didn’t move for a solid minute. Instead, you watched the trunk, as you swore that someone was digging through it. And then you saw a hand touch the top edge, running along its chrome embellishment before beginning to slam it down. You knew it was Joshua before you even saw the person’s face—he had very particular ways of doing things. At first, he didn’t notice you while adjusting the duffle bag strapped over his shoulder and the backpack hanging off his other arm. The lanyard to his car keys was cutely dangling from his mouth.

His eyes impetuously scanned the street, whisking over you like the dull detail nobody was moved enough to highlight—until something about him jerked and suddenly he was squinting directly at you. He slowly took the car keys from his mouth, continuing to observe you from across the street, most likely attempting to fill in the differences of your face and figure—decide if it was even you, he was squinching at.

Immediately, you felt sick to your stomach.

Every single emotion, thought, and feeling came stampeding back through your bones and your skin and your blood. It was almost suffocating—like witnessing a tidal wave of your own secrets looming so far above that you needed to crane your neck to find where it stopped. In your next breath, you were walking away, refusing to look back.

The worst part was feeling Joshua watch you.

The worst, worst part was knowing you weren’t any less in love with him than before he left.

[ jenn-E | 2:14 pm ]: if ur heading to the house now I prob won’t be home for another half hour. stupid dentist appointment!! >:(

[ _____ | 2:14 pm ]: do you not have a drill in ur mouth rn?

[ _____ | 2:14 pm ]: you’re being such an irresponsible patient!!

[ jenn-E | 2:14 pm ]: she left the room. and I like the drill.

[ _____ | 2:14 pm ]: weirdo alert

[ jenn-E | 2:14 pm ]: RUDE!!!

[ jenn-E | 2:14 pm ]: see u soon <3 garage door should be open

[ _____ | 2:15 pm ]: okay! byebye <3

You slid the phone back into your shorts pocket, continuing down the sidewalk with one eye pierced shut. The sun was beaming on you so intensely that you felt the warm sting along your arms and legs, and there was probably a sweaty shine brighter than the north star reflecting off your forehead. Sometimes summer was insufferable. It felt like there was nothing you could do to cool down. There better be ice cream in the fridge, you thought, or a whole package of popsicles. As you drew nearer to the house, you saw that the garage door was indeed open. Then you started walking hurriedly into their driveway.

It was too goddamn hot out.

“Yeah, I’ll try that next… Mmhm… I thought it went the other way?... No—the other, other way… Dude? Are you fucking stupid?... I didn’t mean that, I didn’t mean it… Never mind Jeonghan, I meant it.”

Oh no. Joshua wasn’t supposed to be at home today. His car wasn’t in the driveway, so you hadn’t anticipated marching straight into this astonishingly awkward predicament. You forgot about the old couch they kept in their garage. Jennie used to quip and demand for Joshua to play his guitar there since she couldn’t stand the noise of him railing on the chords. He was speaking to someone on the phone—Jeonghan, his roommate—though he was wearing his earbuds so Joshua hadn’t heard you come in. For a snap-instant, you contemplated turning the other way and making a very understandable sprint back home.

“Okay, just send me the chord progression you’re thinking of then… Oh? Wait, I have my guitar, listen to this… Good, right?... If there’s tweaks then—yeah, yeah, exactly… Just send me it and I’ll—”

Well, it was too late for that, anyway. Joshua had finally noticed you standing like some ghostly apparition who definitely thought they were invisible by the garage threshold. His eyes widened in shock, and you couldn’t help but crack a tiny smile as he attempted to push his roommate off the phone. You sighed, walking toward him slowly.

“I have to go—‘cause, I do!... No I would never do that, I really need to go, though… Send-me-the-chord-progression-okay-bye!” He chucked the last sentence together so quickly it sounded like one word and proceeded to pull out his earbuds.

You had no idea what to do, what to say, or how to piece together an expression on your face that wasn’t strained. He cleared off the coffee table of its old magazines and thick newspapers, to which you sat down across from him with clammy hands clutching your shorts and the largest lump in your throat. God—you hadn’t seen his face in nearly a year, and what a beautiful face he had. His hair was the slightest bit copperier, like it had been sun-kissed, and his skin seemed to have tanned as well. Even his cheeks had maturely sharpened out. You had trouble staring at him, especially his eyes, because you knew exactly how they made you feel—it was a drink of something warm and sweet and glimmery.

“So…” Joshua started to lean back, plucking a few soft strings on his guitar, “I’m still blocked, y’know? Just in case you forgot.”

“I haven’t,” you reminded him in an instant, trying inconceivably hard not to let the dopiest fucking smirk take over your face.

“You hate me?”

“No.”

“Do you want to hate me?”

“What’s the point of this?” Discretely rubbing off your palms, you managed to lock eyes with him, though only for a second.

Joshua shrugged, quirking his head at you.

“I’m trying to figure out why I’m still blocked.”

“Because I needed to get you… out.”

“Out of what?” He chuckled. “Your life?”

His question, you didn’t answer. These weren’t exactly things you wanted to admit aloud, let alone to the face of the person who was the subject. It seemed embarrassing, and maybe it shouldn’t be—maybe you should just own how you felt during those moments because you deserved the chance to finally just breathe. Stop holding things so tight until they popped into an explosion like the fight with Jennie.

“Yes,” you sighed after the brief silence, “I was hurt, and I was angry, and I didn’t want to sit in those feelings. That’s it.”

Joshua nodded, “because of what I said to you that day.”

“Essentially, yeah.”

You weren’t sure if he was going to apologize again. It hadn’t done him any good the last time, so you assumed he wouldn’t bother. For a moment, you contemplated asking him about what Jennie had told you that night at the river, when she revealed that he supposedly loved you.

Nothing ever left your mouth. The timing wasn’t right.

“So, do I get unblocked or not?” Joshua huffed.

Your feet crossed shyly. “Um, I’ll think about it… how’s school?”

“Uh, it has its ups and downs, highs and lows. I’m guessing you didn’t come here to ask about that. Jennie’s not home until later.”

“I know. She’s at the dentist.”

Joshua smiled, sitting up straighter and setting his guitar aside.

“Well, I’m glad you two patched it up. That doesn’t always happen. Not that there’s anything wrong with drifting away. I wasn’t sure if Hansol and I would keep talking. He’s in South Korea right now.”

“I heard, from Jennie.”

“Yeah,” the boy sighed, “they text and stuff.”

“Are you bothered by that?”

“No…?” Joshua replied ambiguously, scratching his head. “I haven’t decided yet. Hansol is cool, anyways. I’m not worried. But what about you? How’s your life been since I hit the city?”

At that, you leaned back against the coffee table and laughed, covering your mouth with a nervous hand. Upon first glance, it had been a boring yet deleterious mess—convincing yourself that you were happier and better off despite the very conspicuous hole suckling like a whirlpool in your chest. But if you looked a little deeper, it had been a journey of acknowledging said mess. You didn’t know how to explain it to Joshua.

��It was interesting.”

“Really? That’s all I get? I think you’re skirting the question.”

“Obviously,” you giggled again, “it’s a long story and not one you’d want to hear right now. I’ll tell you some other time.”

“Fine,” he succumbed, shoving his hands in his pockets, “did you get a boyfriend? Is that why you don’t wanna say anything?”

The heat engulfed you instantly, almost as though you were back outside and suffering under the density of those sun rays. The relationship with Chan had ended after the dance. He was utterly confused about the reasons why, prompting you to feel a bit of pity as you broke up him with him on his porch the next morning. Joshua tilted his head curiously, something a little playful and glinting in his eyes.

“I had a boyfriend,” you answered simply, almost whispered.

He started grinning, moving into an engaged position with his elbows on his knees. You quivered subtly at the closeness.

“Of course. Who?”

“Just, someone from my grade,” you prevaricated.

The boy’s gaze had fixed on you indefinitely.

“Who?”

“Someone.”

He gripped your shoulders—“Who?!”

You were burning up, and pushed him back—“Someone!”

Joshua collapsed against the couch, beginning to cross his arms while making a tsking sound with his teeth. The urge to excitably laugh hadn’t left the back of your throat, and you couldn’t stop mumbling around it as Joshua furrowed his brow at you. Having him touch you so suddenly struck a match. Your feelings hadn’t subsided in the slightest.

“I don’t think it’s important who. And, besides, you don’t deserve to know right now. We broke up back in February.”

“So, I don’t get to just know things about you now?” He asked, melting further down the couch. “I have to earn it?”

“Mmhm.”

He smirked, “fair enough… why’d you break up with him?”

“I didn’t say that I broke up with him.”

“Okay,” Joshua shrugged, losing his transient half-smile, “but we all know you did. Why? He didn’t treat you well enough, yeah?”

Your hands clenched together, pressing uncomfortably.

“We can talk about it later… what about you? Girlfriend?”

“No.”

You raised your brow and decided to poke at him, “wow—even with those eyes? Or does your sweetheart act not cut it anymore? Have you resorted to drugs, Joshua? It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking funny,” he pretended to laugh while pushing his sneaker gently against your knee, “I just didn’t want one.”

Suddenly, your phone buzzed. Taking it out from your pocket, you saw that Jennie had sent a text about how she was heading home now. You swallowed tautly, glancing up at Joshua who seemed to realize what the vibration was. He looked rather disappointed, and you felt it deep in your gut too. There was so much more to talk about and joke about and this little sliver of time in the cool, shady garage had whipped past in a mere blink. But at least there was more transparency. Jennie knew and there was no reason to play coy. The whole summer and all its vibrance was still at your feet. You didn’t have to rush anything.

“It was nice catching up with you,” Joshua said, pulling the guitar back onto his lap, “shoot me a text whenever you decide to unblock me.”

“You won’t ignore me? Even with your big fancy university lifestyle now? Greasy takeout and bags of coins for the laundromat?”

“Never,” he smiled, winking casually, “by the way—”

Turning around in the doorway, you tilted your head at him.

“You look really pretty.”

18.

Joshua’s October reading week was nearly over—he’d be packing his suitcases tomorrow morning and escorted back into the city alongside some help from his father. You’d been invited over to their house for sushi night, to which you were currently fighting Jennie off with your chopsticks for the last yam tempura roll. She decided to let you have it, muttering something along the lines of, only because you’re the guest.

It had been roughly three years since your last dinner at their house, and while it was a bit nerve-wracking, you relaxed continuously throughout the night (which could be also attributed to the saké that Mrs. Hong let you pour a decent-sized cup of). Jennie slipped back into the dining room once she grabbed a soda can from the fridge, leaving you alone in the kitchen to decide between the last fried wonton or vegetable spring roll. You sighed, pinching your chopsticks in thought.

“Save room for dessert, y’know? They gave us ice cream.”

Joshua approached the sink, rinsing off his plate and emptied glass under the water. He’d drank more from that saké bottle than you, indicated by the peach-pink glow traversing his cheeks.

“I know, but I’m greedy. I haven’t eaten sushi in forever.”

He came beside you (who still couldn’t decide) and opened one of the drawers to remove some spoons for the ice cream. Joshua then proceeded to pick up the last golden-fried wonton with your chopsticks and dropped it onto your plate. You gaped at him as he nudged a quick kiss against your temple, watching the boy now pull open the freezer.

“I hadn’t made up my mind yet!”

Joshua shrugged, “now you don’t have to. The wonton is good, anyway. It’s got this slightly sweet cream cheese filling.”

“Blah, blah.”

Mrs. Hong entered the kitchen, exchanging a few words between you and Joshua while she cleaned her dishes. She said that her and her husband would be going upstairs to their bedroom for a movie.

“You and Jennie are welcome to do anything. Joshua—I’m guessing you’ll be in the garage? Or will you start packing tonight, dear?”

“Uh, I’ll start tonight. Makes it easier.”

“Okay, perfect. Here—I’ll help you take out the ice cream.” She took two of the bowls, but stopped in the doorway, “are you coming?”

“Yeah, I will,” Joshua replied, “in a sec.”

Once she left upstairs, you felt Joshua’s body push against your spine, his hand tapping your chin and lightly guiding your head to tilt back onto his shoulder. His parents didn’t know of the relationship and neither did yours. Only Jennie was aware. She had been easy to tell.

“I want to do something with you tonight,” Joshua whispered into your ear, his breath warm and ticklish, “after hours, of course.”

“Like what?” You asked in a soft, hushed tone, smiling against your bitten lip. The depth of his eye contact was so exhilarating that you wanted to pounce on him right then and there, refraining by a mere hair.

His hands drifted down to your hips, squeezing them.

“Nothing too special. I’ll surprise you.”

“Okay,” you lilted, “I like surprises. Sometimes.”

Immediately pushing up to meet his lips, you kissed him, lifting a hand behind you to run your fingers slowly through his hair. Put simply, the relationship had ignited just before Joshua left for his second year of university. He came to walk you home from a night shift at the corner store, the both of you kicking pebbles down the sidewalk and dancing around the topic that was so evidently dying to burst. That’s when you decided to ask him about what Jennie had said.

“Was she right? Were you in love with me?”

“Honestly, at the time, I don’t think I could have given you a straight answer. I knew that I felt something, but I wasn’t sure if it was right. You were always in the back of my mind. I thought about you more than I’d care to admit. But when I look at you now, I can definitively say I loved you... I love you, still. ”

Since the fading aurora of that late summer night, you two started dating. It was a fairly covert operation, yet that made it all the more alive and electrifying. The topic of the graduation party had consequently resurfaced—Joshua said he was just overwhelmed by his feelings for you, and that he crumbled in the moment. You didn’t care about the incident though. He was kissing and holding you now.

“Okay, let’s meet Jennie back in the dining room,” you giggled, pushing him away from licking and teething a mark to your neck, “and I’ll let you know what I think of this very crispy looking wonton.”

This year you and Jennie would be graduating. She had offered to do your nails and make-up, which were skills she had picked up from hanging out so frequently with her old girly-girl crowd. You had met some of them—the actually genuine ones who you could imagine holding back your hair during a wicked hangover or offering their most treasured life advice through a bathroom stall at a party. Jennie had maintained some of her interests from them, though she still liked the things you had originally known her for. It was a wholesome change.

“What style of nails do you want? Personally, I like the really pointy stiletto ones because it’s so easy to scratch people.”

“Of course that’s why you like them,” Joshua rolled his eyes, spooning some mango ice cream into his mouth.

“Maybe you could practice a bit on Joshua,” you laughed.

“Yes!” Jennie exclaimed, reaching over to ruffle her older brother’s pretty, mussed hair, “that’s so perfect, isn’t it, Joshy Woshy?”

He swatted her hand away, “I told you to stop calling me that. I don’t call you Jennifer anymore.” A gradual smirk crossed his lips.

That was the cardinal sin. Never call her Jennifer. You opted to stay quiet and finish your deep-fried wonton while they bickered and sniped at each other. At least it wasn’t about the fork with the oddly-dented prong this time. That always tended toward a wrestling match.

nsfw warning.

skip to next divider if wanted!

“Shit, right there!”

Your hand flung into the darkness, bumping against the glass of the backseat window, its condensation wiped off in a messy, uncoordinated smudge. It felt too fucking good—his tongue, pressing up your most sensitive area, indulging slowly in each swirl and kiss and flick as if he would never get the opportunity to taste you here again. It was sometime past one in the morning, his car stalled in the empty lot overlooking the river bank, one single lamp post scattering the windows with a distant, glowing tint. You breathed in deep, closing your eyes.

“You like it that much?” Joshua laughed huskily, readjusting the leg cast down his shoulder. “You’ve got tears all over your face, baby.”

“Just give me more,” you whined in impatience, thrusting your hips toward his mouth with frustration, sensing his hovering breath.

He smirked, placing his thumb just above your clit and pulling back against the skin to expose it more clearly. Everything between your thighs had been generously drenched with your arousal and his spit.

“Are you sure? Think you can take cumming again? I won’t give you a break this time.” There was a teasing nature about his voice.

“Fuck, Joshua, I don’t care! Just keep licking me, please!”

“You’re so fucking whiney,” he murmured, suddenly jerking your body further down the upholstery, “I’ll let you drown me, then.”

In the next instant, his face was stuffed back into your heat, the touches of his tongue and the relentless slurping shooting every nerve in your body to starlight. You couldn’t help but thread your fingers into his wavy, sweat-dampened hair, holding him there as he practically drank you, feeling the pleasure tick higher and higher and higher. Even your hips adapted a mind of their own, attempting to grind against his face so that you could engulf him as much as possible. He caught onto your clit again, sliding his tongue directly into its most sensitive golden spot.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you moaned into the thick air, “like that, like that—hh-holy shit! M’g’nna cum, Joshua! Please, keep going!”

At that point, you didn’t even know what to articulate. A sheen of sweat had soaked through the thin t-shirt you wore to dinner, your skirt left in a pile in the passenger seat as it had been ripped off earlier. Joshua focused relentlessly on that one perfect spot until you tipped over the edge. The scream broke down in your throat before it could even hit the mugginess around you, not that anyone would have been able to hear you given the time. Contortions twitched through your face while your hips spasmed. And Joshua took it. He took everything. He was most definitely smirking as he slurped your pussy like ice cream—even pinned down your wrist when you began to weakly push and nudge at his head.

“Holy fuck, yy-you’re crazy, Jos—nngh!” Your voice wilted at the sensation of his tongue curling inside of you, wriggling just to ruin you a little further. Half your consciousness was floating in an intangible dimension behind your eyelids. “M’gonna be so fucking sore.”

Once he was satisfied with licking clean the mess between your thighs, Joshua ripped apart the buttons on your pale shirt, kissing up your stomach, your chest, pushing his slick lips onto yours and digging his warm tongue into your mouth. You grabbed his pants, helping tug them off while tasting every bit of yourself.

“I need t’fuck you so bad,” he whispered into your ear, his honeyed voice becoming coarser with desire, “while I still have your taste on my tongue—” your leg was then stretched over his shoulder again, “I need to be inside you more than anything—” he guided himself in with a single thrust, your gasps flushing together, “all these things I wanna do to you, all these things I wanna make you feel—” your nails carved into his back, dragging in scores across the muscle, “I want you t’keep crying for me—” his hand pressed into the slippery car window, leaving an imprint in the fog as he fluidly moved his hips against you, staring down at your wet, breathless face, “I want you to know how much I’m in love with you when I fuck your pretty body like this.”

Your lips trembled into a reverie-like smile. Gripping gently at the back of his neck, you sunk him down for a slow, thorough kiss.

“Love you too…” you whimpered, “ss-so much…”

The desperation and strength of your lust had just been too surmounting in the moment. Joshua hadn’t pulled out onto your stomach like he usually did, opting to keep himself nested inside as he shuddered and let his body release. When you came around him, there was next to nothing you remembered apart from the stars that twinkled through the open sky-light of the car and the intense convulsion you experienced while gazing at them. Joshua laid against you while he caught his breath. You couldn’t stop staring at the world above that resembled a beautiful black beach. There was something so spectacular about it—something so comfortable about quirking Joshua’s head toward the roof in order for him to see what you were seeing.

He nudged your temple with his nose.

“I didn’t plan for the stars to be out. I got lucky.” He answered in between warm breaths.

You turned to look at him with a faint simper. The tingles and throbs of pleasure were still pricking you, fading ever so gradually.

“I like to think they popped out just for us.”

He chuckled, “to see us have sex in the backseat of my car?”

You mushed a hand into his face, “don’t ruin the moment!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Joshua apologized, to which you stopped squishing your palm awkwardly into his cheek, “you’re right, they’re shining for us. Um, and, you’ve got your morning after, right? You said it was in your bag or something.”

“Yeah, I’ve got it. We probably shouldn’t be that careless.” You laughed.

“Probably. But you feel so good.”

“I know,” you poked out your tongue playfully, “let’s just not make a habit of it.”

“Fair enough.”

“It’s getting pretty late, though. Don’t you want to be home at least a little early? Catch more sleep before leaving?”

He shook his head nonchalantly, then notched you closer against his bare skin by the hip. The motion prompted you to shiver at the sensitive feeling of him still deep inside you, a soft breath exhaled from between your lips. Joshua decided to sweep his fingers delicately up and down your face to relax you, knowing your nerves were rather burnt out.

“It’s alright. I have time with you now. That’s what I care about.”

Present.

It wasn’t the most ideal day to be moving cardboard boxes of your appliances, pictures, and whatever else miscellaneous belongings into the building— especially considering the three staircases you had to climb. Unfortunately, you couldn’t control the weather, and that seemed to be proved almost spitefully as a fat, cold raindrop spat directly onto your forehead. With two boxes balanced against your chest, you let it dribble down toward your eye, until you spotted Jennie hopping out the front door to the complex and whined for her to wipe the droplet away.

“At least all the super heavy stuff was moved up yesterday,” she tried to include something positive, flipping up the hood of her plasticky-green raincoat, “this is just the knickknacks. I hope.”

“Mostly—hey, can you grab that box with the lamp? It’s sitting behind the passenger seat. Oh, thank you—you’re a gem.”

“I know,” Jennie chirped, poking out her tongue.

By the time most cardboard boxes were moved into the apartment, you had experienced one downpour and another ditzy, sweet-smelling rain shower about half an hour later. The bottoms of your feet were aching. You kicked off your wet shoes onto the welcome mat and proceeded straight to the fridge, pulling out the first drink you saw—an orange cream soda. Officially toasting to your first apartment with some fancy alcohol would come later, when you weren’t damp and hungry and ready to chew someone’s head off like a dog with a meaty bone.

Joshua then pushed open the door, carrying what you assumed was the last box. He walked over to the living area, pausing for a brief moment as he decided where amongst the brown sea of cardboard it should be placed. You watched him balance it atop another big box.

“Please tell me there’s no more,” you pouted, leaning all your weight against the island countertop, “I’m about to disassemble.”

“Disassemble?” Joshua laughed, toeing off his shoes beside yours on the mat, “are you a Polly Pocket or something?”

“Yes, I am. You’re in a relationship with a piece of plastic.”

“Hm, I can’t believe I’m just figuring this out now.”

He opened the fridge, peering around inside. There wasn’t much to look at apart from some bagged vegetables, cheese, a single carton of coffee creamer, and the orange soda cans. You had opted for takeout tonight, but Joshua insisted that he should cook something special—a little market area was just down the street, anyway. He ended up grabbing a soda can, cracking it open over the sink with a satisfying hiss.

“Well, we live here now,” Joshua said, rubbing his hand down the back of your jacket, “was it a pain in the ass? Yeah. But we have a home.”

You straightened out, peeling yourself off the counter. The terrace was most definitely going to be your favourite part come summertime. Joshua liked the floor-length windows for the sunlight.

“Do you think you can buy garlic bread? Or—no—focaccia? The rosemary kind like we had at that restaurant in the fall? Don’t you remember how good that was? We couldn’t even eat our dinner.”

Joshua grinned, his hand lingering at your lower back as he brought the soda can to his lips, “I remember that place. I’m pretty sure I could make the focaccia too. Probably not too hard… anything else?”

After taking a sip from your own drink, you raised a brow.

“What do you mean?”

“Is there anything else you want for dinner?”

You smiled at him, leaning back against his chest.

“I’ll have to think about it.”

Suddenly, Jennie had poked her head through the door, waving you over with a hand. You exchanged a quick kiss with Joshua and approached her, to which you were abruptly dragged outside into the corridor, yelping. Jennie reached into her pocket for a moment.

“What’s this all about?” You grumbled.

The girl then shoved a tiny pink and white box into your chest.

“Oh my god—Jennie, I’ve told you! I’m not pregnant!”

“Like you actually know!” She rebutted, folding her arms and moving her soaked feet about nervously. “From what you’ve been telling me, it seems at least likely. You need to try it. And tell me!”

Taking a few seconds to glance over the box, you could only upend a gigantic sigh. Sure, you had told Jennie that your period was running late (but that wasn’t particularly rare for you), and you also complained about urinating more than usual. Besides, you and Joshua were fairly careful. You couldn’t remember a time when you hadn’t swallowed a plan b pill the following morning. Massaging at your sore temple, you decided to just capitulate and shove the box in your pocket.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“All you gotta do is pee on a stick, babe.”

“I know what I have to do—” you gesticulated with a wildly flailing hand, puffing out an exhale, “I just think these changes or irregularities or whatever you want to call them are a coincidence.”

“Blah, blah, blah. Just take the test.”

“Obviously, I will.”

“Thank you,” Jennie said, patting your shoulder, “I just don’t want this to sneak up on you—in case it’s true! Note I said in case!”

“Yes, I did note that,�� a smile managed to plant on your exhausted face, “I’ll try it, okay? Are you staying for dinner?”

“Nah,” the girl waved her hand dismissively, “I’ll let you two enjoy the first night here, alone. But I will be returning, and I will be expecting Joshua to cook me an entire meal like he’s doing for you.”

“Aw, Hansol still hasn’t found his way around a grill, huh?” You giggled, recalling the last time you visited them for supper and the boy had somehow charred everyone’s burgers into measly black pucks.

“His mind wanders,” Jennie sighed hopefully, “he’ll get there.”

“I believe that too.” You agreed while taking a step forward, wrapping your best friend and her crinkly raincoat into a hug. She returned the embrace. Both of you were practically leaning on the other for stability, clearly beaten from those heavy, clunky boxes and the number of steps you’d taken since lunch. You stayed like that for a minute, until there was a mutual choice to lug your weight off each other.

“Sleep in tomorrow!” Jennie sang as she continued waving goodbye from down the corridor. “Get him to make you breakfast, too!”

“Obviously!” You called back, smiling and admittedly a bit teary.

When you returned inside the apartment, Joshua had already pulled out some things from the boxes. All the paintings were leaned up against the wall while a few of the kitchen appliances had been organized onto the counter. Looking outside, you saw it was starting to brighten up between the clouds, the still drops on the windows glistering.

Joshua then collapsed onto the couch he’d cleared off.

“So, what was that all for? Gossiping about me?”

You huffed innocuously and plopped down beside him.

“Imagine a world where we have nothing better to do than gossip about you? Can you imagine it? No? Me either, sweetie.”

He pulled your hand away from shaking his jaw.

“You’re annoying—what was it?”

Digging a hand into your pocket, you touched the edge of the pregnancy test, though you hesitated before revealing it. The more you thought into the possibility, the more your heart started pounding with the idea that it could be true—maybe you really were pregnant. No, you had to swat the anxiously bubbling feelings away. Cross the bridge when you get there. Heaving a big breath, you flicked the test onto his lap.

Joshua merely stared at it, until he picked up the box and began reading the label. His mouth fell open in a stutter, but then it closed and he quirked an eyebrow at you because his words just weren’t conjuring.

“Um, yeah. Jennie thinks I might be pregnant. So… that’s something fun I can try tonight. Dinner and a pregnancy test.”

“Are you actua—I mean, d-do you think you are?”

Pressing your head back into the couch, your eyes drifted along the ceiling in search of some concrete answer that just wasn’t there.

“I… don’t know…” you finally said, looking to your boyfriend who was glancing at the test again, “I told you about my period being late, but that’s happened before. And I’m having to pee a lot more than usual—I get headaches now and then. I just—maybe I am!” You slid further down the couch, biting your lip. “How would you feel if it was positive?”

“How would I feel?” He echoed, leaning forward to set the test on the coffee table, his hands clasping and rubbing together. “Obviously I’d be fucking ecstatic, sweetheart. But, I mean, this is your body, and—”

“Really?” That caught you by surprise.

You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest, angling your body to face him properly. “This is something you want? Like, I know we’ve glossed the topic before and we both agree that, yes, this is in our future. But… you’re okay if it… happens now?”

Joshua scooted closer to you, fitting his palm perfectly against your cheek. His gaze poured so intimately into yours, and it felt like an invisible thread was connecting your stream of thoughts and emotions.

“If it happens now then I’ll be even more excited,” his dampened hair brushed your forehead as you softly pushed your lips together, fingers skimming through his hair, “we’ll start with dinner, and we’ll see what happens afterward, okay?”

He kissed you again, pulling your body closer and firmer into his chest. “I love you.”

You nodded appreciatively, whispering, “I love you, too.”

Of course, you had no idea what was going to happen with the pregnancy test, and even if you could somehow see into the future, what was the point of spoiling things for yourself? What was the point of knowing the punches if you were better off getting hit, anyway? You just needed to be patient. You needed to take each second, minute, and half-hour at a time, because the universe always seemed to have a place for you, even when it felt like you were floating alone at the farthest perimeters of its arms. Joshua got up from the couch, grabbing his wallet off the coffee table and slipping back into his shoes. He was going to the market. At least the sun was starting to make its golden blips down onto the earth after all the rain, so he wouldn’t be walking underneath darkness.

Right, dinner first.

That was how this whole thing started, anyway.

✧✎ TAGLIST: @02psh / @ally-127 / @astersg4rden / @aunty-tiger-potato / @boowanie / @celestialpearls / @dokyeomblr / @gventaken / @hesbambi / @honglynights / @hyuckworld / @j4d / @joshuahongsfuturewife / @joshuas / @junhuilov3r / @kellyooo13 / @koishua / @lovelywoo / @quicksilverster / @rae-blogging / @sseastar-main / @ucantstopthefunk / @woozes / @wonwoonlight

Could not be tagged: @lovelacejun / @manamiyx / @notscoupy / @soonchanshua

✧✎ a/n: OKAY. I’M SO HAPPY THIS IS DONE. this fic wouldn’t have taken me so long if 2021/2022 hadn’t been as busy as they were!! again, i just want to fork out a massive apology for my inactivity! i hate producing so little writing but knowing ME and my undying urge to write questionably long fics, i somehow created a very counterproductive system LOL.

anywho, i honestly loved every opportunity i had to work on this fic since it follows the reader as they grow up, and, coincidentally, i also grew a lot during the literal fucking year it took me to finish this. there are so many new scenes compared to the og version and i personally adored writing the side-arc between reader & jennie:_) and i tried to add some humourous stuff too since it got a little angsty at times!! i hope anyone who finishes this fic develops even the slightest bit of joy that i felt while writing it. THX SO MUCH! LUV U.

#joshua scenarios #seventeen scenarios #joshua fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #joshua smut #joshua fluff #seventeen angst #joshua angst #joshua hong #seventeen x reader #joshua x reader

4K notes · View notes