THREE'S A CROWD [preview].

THREE'S A CROWD — [preview].

SYNOPSIS. three of your friends fight for your affection, totally not because they like you— but simply because they can’t stand the idea of you liking someone else.

PAIRINGS. jung sungchan, park wonbin, hong seunghan x female! reader. GENRE. college! au, rom-com, reverse harem, just a bunch of arrogant and silly little boys in denial, a collection of italicized oh moments in succession, featuring the rest of riize and nct. WARNINGS. swearing, explicit language, mild possessiveness, so much petty and childish behavior, drinking, breaking and entering, may add more in the full fic. WORD COUNT. preview: 3.2k | full fic: est. 15-18k.

RELEASE DATE. november to december. TAGLIST. send an ask/dm/reply to be added.

NOTE. i said i'd do it. so i did. i am. and i'm having so much fun writing another shitstorm of a harem so i hope you find this as fun as i do HAHAHHAHA. sick and tired of seeing nothing but smut under the riize x reader tag so here is my contribution to society. you're welcome.

preview under the cut.

THERE ARE CURRENTLY THREE HEADS IN THE MALE DORMITORY LOUNGE. One is Sungchan, tinkering with the foosball table by himself because the other two heads are refusing to play with him. Second is Wonbin laid comfortably on the couch, headphones on and using his lap as a drum set. Last is Seunghan, on the floor for some reason, and eyes trained intently on his phone with his thumbs tapping on the screen like a madman.

The number gets added when Sohee rushes in from the front door, a large McDonald’s paper bag in hand and four large cups of soda in the other. “Order’s here!” he announces. The three heads quickly pop up from their respective businesses and congregate to the dining corner of the room.

“Fuck,” Sungchan groans, following the scent of the warm, freshly cooked mcnuggets on the table. The other three are already seated and poking holes in their soda cups. Sungchan is still groaning like a zombie. The two open nugget boxes are enticing him. He won’t . He must not. “I can’t eat. I forgot I had dinner plans tonight.”

“With a girl?” Sohee asks. The number of nuggets is depleting by the second. If the rest of the guys come down, there will be none left for him.

“Yes,” Sungchan replies. He swallows hard. Wonbin takes the boot shaped chicken right before his very eyes. This is torture.

Seunghan scrunches his nose, mid-nugget. “Boo. You whore. It’s guys night. How can you do this to us?” 

“A few nuggets can’t hurt,” says Wonbin. He pokes the box closer to Sungchan. 

“You’re right. Move over.”

They snort at his flimsy conviction. Sungchan argues that he is simply experiencing the delicacies of both the east and the west tonight. You’re supposed to have Japanese with him tonight. There is nothing wrong with cross-cultural enjoyment. He is simply diversifying his palate.

“So, is it a date?” asks Seunghan.

“No. I’m just eating out with a friend.”

“Just the two of you?” 

Wonbin raises a brow with the question. Sungchan counts the numbers in his head. “Yeah.” If he eats another nugget, then that would make it five. Five can be counted with only one hand. That isn’t a lot. This is fine.

“Oh man,” Sohee snickers. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure that’s a date.”

“No way!” he defends, the fifth and final nugget stuffed in his mouth. Sungchan swallows before continuing, wiping his hand on the pile of tissue papers on the table. “It’s not a date. I mean, she did tell me that she has a little crush on me, but it’s not a date.”

The three don’t miss the slight curl of his lips— a bastard’s sly grin. It’s a date. It’s definitely a date. Seunghan gives him a hard smack on the back. “The girl has a crush on you, how is it not a date, you piece of shit?”

“Ow! Hey!” he glares at him. “It really isn’t! We even had a whole talk we’re keeping it strictly platonic. I’m not interested in her in that way and she knows that. I’m not doing anything wrong here!”

There’s both disappointment and judgment in Wonbin’s face. “Quit leading her on.”

Sungchan gasps. “I’m not!”

“Who is it anyway?” Sohee asks right before taking an obnoxious sip on his soda. “Maybe I know her.”

“Well, I doubt it,” he starts. “I’m pretty sure you guys don’t know her, but she’s—”

Your name stumbles out of Sungchan’s mouth. It falls quiet, save for Sungchan’s explanation that he met you through the soccer team’s captain, Nakamoto Yuta, and that he’s known you for around half a year now. You’re in different majors, but it turns out you have quite a lot of friends from his team, so you bump into each other a lot. Sungchan knew about your crush on him early into your acquaintanceship— which is why having dinner with you and just you isn’t, “and shouldn’t be that big of a deal! It’s not a date. Seriously.”

“Okay, it’s not a date,” Sohee relents. Sungchan nods proudly at his victory.

“Yes. It is not.”

“But you know what’s funny—” Sohee’s eyes move to Seunghan. “The girl you told me about has the same name. What a coincidence.”

Seunghan is sitting on the table like a mound of stone. He’s got a half-eaten nugget in his hands. He’s not putting it in his mouth. “That’s right,” he simply says. There’s a faraway look in his eyes. “That is pretty funny. What a coincidence.” Coincidence, Seunghan repeats in his head. Yes. It must be a coincidence. He nods to himself and throws the nugget remnants into his mouth, satisfied with that conclusion.

“What girl?” Wonbin rouses. Seunghan turns his head to him sharply.

“Oh,” he says. “A friend from highschool.”

“A friend that’s had feelings for him since highschool,” Sohee grins. “You said she was pretty. Why didn’t you two start dating?”

Is this the chicken’s fault? Why the heck does everything keep circling back to dating? “I don’t know. I’ve just never seen her in that light,” Seunghan explains. He doesn’t know why he’s getting riled up, but he is. “And just because someone confessed to you doesn’t mean they want to start dating. Dude, I feel like you’re the one that should go and find a date. Being single is getting to your head.”

Seunghan has been friends with you since eleventh grade, being classmates and all. You confessed to him early into grade twelve, and even though he didn’t return your feelings, it was never awkward because you never acted differently. In fact, sometimes he second guesses if it actually happened. Just a few days ago, he asked if you still like him to confirm. All you said was, “yeah, why?” and continued working on your assignment. That’s why sometimes he forgets. That’s why it’s not worth bringing up.

Until now, when your name suddenly keeps popping up. Wonbin utters the same. Seunghan and Sungchan’s head quickly snap towards him. “You guys aren’t talking about SM-ARTS Chairperson, right?”

SM-ARTS is an art organization in your university. It’s been a well known org since its foundation— half because of its achievements, half because of its stupid (smart) name. “That’s...yes, that is her.” Seunghan gets a bad feeling. A really bad fucking feeling, and it’s not just having too much unhealthy chicken nuggets from McDonald’s. “Why? Do you also know her?”

“Of course I do. I’m literally her Vice Chair,” Wonbin furrows his brows. This is strange. He’s been working with you since the beginning of the year and you’ve never mentioned a Jung Sungchan nor a Hong Seunghan before. What’s even stranger is their assertions that you have feelings for them. You. For them. It’s a ridiculous thought to entertain because, “she literally told me that he has a crush on me. What are you two talking about?”

Wonbin couldn’t get a more direct confession than yours. It’s typical for the rest of your org officers and members to tease the both of you— the snickers and hollers when you’d call him to discuss something in private, the teasing saying you two look good together. Hell, some of the kids even call you both mom and dad and it’s gone to the point where he’s told them off to quit it because you might be uncomfortable. But you’d always say, “it’s fine,” and “you didn’t mind,” with a sweet smile on your face. Now, he’s no stranger to those insinuations, and for the sake of your professional relationship, he needed your denial or agreement.

Turns out, you do have a crush on him.

So this has become very, very awkward.

“Maybe—” Sungchan stammers. “Maybe...maybe we’re each talking about a different person, maybe there’s actually three different— oh, hey. What are you doing here?”

Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

“Hey!” 

The sound of your voice bouncing around the male dormitory walls feel foreign and jarring, especially after the conversation that had just transpired. You set down your bag on their couch, walking up to them with a bright smile that doesn’t match their vibe at all.

There’s tension in the air. A very thick and palpable tension and the three are exchanging glances and looks as if to say, ‘Go on. Go say hi to her first if she’s the girl you’ve been talking about.’

But you beat them to it. “Wow. I didn’t think you three knew each other!” you exclaim, skipping over to the dining corner where you find yourself in the gap between Sungchan and Seunghan. The two flinch at the closeness of your presence. Wonbin tightens his jaw. “Anyway, is Shotaro around? I need to talk to him about our trip this weekend, but he’s not replying.”

“He’s in his room. Upstairs. Fourth floor.” 

It’s not a competition, but hearing how quickly the response falls out of Wonbin’s lips sure does makes it seem like it is. Sungchan has his mouth open, gives Wonbin a look, before closing it again. Seunghan never even got the chance, and Sohee is looking at the scene unfold like it’s a goddamned trashy movie.

“Great, thanks!” you beam. “Oh, and we’re still up for dinner tonight, right?”

They can’t go for another speed contest because the question is reserved for one person only— Sungchan, who seems to be caught off guard. “Yeah. Absolutely,” he manages to squeeze out. You smile.

“Sweet. Wonbin, have you prepared the documents I asked for tomorrow’s meeting?”

It’s like a question carousel. “I’ll send them later for you to review.”

“Perfect! Right, and Seunghan—” There goes another rotation. “Mind driving me to the reunion this Friday? Jaeha bailed on me at the last minute, that son of a bitch.”

Seunghan blinks at you, in a daze. “Sure.”

“Nice! And you—”

Your attention lands on the last person at the table. Sungchan, Wonbin, and Seunghan didn’t expect you to even entertain him. “Sohee,” their friend fills in, a little taken aback. You flash him a bright grin.

“Sohee! Nice to meet you! Love your necklace. Very chic.”

For some reason the smile on Sohee’s face is annoying to the other three boys. “Thanks!” he says. “Have a nugget before you go.” They didn’t think it was possible, but somehow your face glows even brighter and you lean down, still between Seunghan and Sungchan, to pick up a piece from the box. 

“Thought you guys would never offer. Thank you! I’ll see you around!”

With that you disappear up the stairs, and you take all the noise and the life in the room with you. It’s quiet. So quiet— almost like there’s a standoff. That is until Sohee clears his throat, still pink from the compliment you gave him, and says, “Well. Seems like she’s the same person.” 

No fucking shit, she’s the same person. They can’t keep making excuses anymore. 

Seunghan tries to play it off with a laugh. “I can’t believe you guys would lie and joke about her having a crush on you.” His laugh isn’t well taken by the other two. It spirals down to shit all too quickly.

“What do you mean ‘lie’?” Wonbin narrows his eyes.

Sungchan hollers in. “Yeah, if anything, you’re the one that’s lying! You and him both!”

“Why would I lie?!” Seunghan protests.

“I don’t know— maybe because you’re jealous that she likes me and not either of you?”

Before they can start throwing fists, Sohee interrupts by making himself the collective target. “Have you guys considered,” he starts, hands solemnly pressed together above the crumb littered table. “That she might have a tinge of feelings for all three of you? Not just one?”

They pause in consideration. It takes them five seconds to brush him off.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“No way.”

“Why would she?”

Sohee sighs and gives up. He hears a set of footsteps rushing down and hopes it’s you, so that his three friends would finally quit it. It is you, and Sohee lifts up. Your timing is impeccable. He’s almost convinced you’ve been listening the whole time.

“Hey,” you greet them once again, flashing a smile once, before going off to retrieve your bag from the couch. The three quiet down instantaneously and have resigned to glaring at each other in seething silence. Seunghan isn’t very good at glaring at people, so he reorganizes his strategy instead.

“How’s the thing with Taro hyung?” he asks, twisting his chair to face you better. Sungchan and Wonbin give him a dirty look. That bastard. He’s even considering body language into play.

“Oh! The trip is canceled.” You sling your bag over your shoulder. “So my Sunday has been cleared. Do you guys want to make plans?”

Crap.

You just tossed them a bone.

Sohee is sure this isn’t gonna end pretty.

“Why don’t we go on a date?”

All eyes are wide. Their heads snap in the direction of Wonbin— the fast bastard. His expression is nonchalant, but his shaking knee from under the table says otherwise. “There’s a contemporary art exhibit opening downtown. Let’s check it out together,” This bitch, Sungchan’s expression seems to say. Seunghan’s disappointment seeps through the air.

“Like. A date, date?” you confirm, eyes batting expectantly, as if you have a barrier against the palpably sour and rotten mood flooding the room in ominous swirls.

“Yeah,” Wonbin confirms. He’s lucky you’re too far away to notice the sweat dripping down his neck. “Is...is that a problem? You said you liked me. Why don’t we give it a shot?”

All hell breaks loose the moment you entertain them with flustered cheeks and a shy smile.

“No! Don’t go!” Sungchan’s had it. He can’t take this anymore. “If there’s anyone you should be going out with, it should be me! You like me! Not them!”

Seunghan has left his seat and has scrambled over to you. Wonbin and Sungchan’s eyes widen. They aren’t letting him do this. They quickly follow suit but Seunghan already has a firm hold on your arms and is looking deep into your eyes. He’s put up an invisible barrier. Fuck, that sneaky bastard.

“Were you actually serious when you said that you had a crush on me since eleventh grade?” His voice cracks. If he’s trying to tap into your pity, then it’s definitely fucking working. “But why are these two saying you like them? What about us?! Am I nothing to y—”

Your index finger finds its way over Seunghan’s lips. Silence befalls. Your blank face settles into a sound smile.

“Well,” you pry Seunghan’s hands off you, still smiling pleasantly at all of them. What is this ominous feeling? Why doesn’t it seem like you’re actually smiling at them? “As far as I remember, none of you returned my confessions.”

It’s like a hammer hits all three of them at once.

“And I still like you Seunghan. We literally talked about it the other day.” You gave him a two word answer then brushed him off your essay. That was hardly a conversation. Seunghan feels wronged beyond words.

“How—how about me?”

You look over to Sungchan, who looks arguably like a kicked puppy. “What about you?”

“Well,” he clears his throat, a faint blush coating his ears. “Do you still, uh, have feelings for me too, or—”

“Sungchan, do you think I’d have kept asking you to have dinner alone with me every week if I didn’t like you?” He blinks. Beside him, Wonbin points a finger to himself. You let out a breath. “I’d be blind and tasteless if I wasn’t into you, Wonbin. Especially after working closely together since the beginning of the year. Why are you guys asking me this?”

Sohee has stopped liking all these ominous periods of silence because they’re signs that even more chaos is about to ensue. His three friends’ eyes look empty and hollow as they stare at you. Oh god, they’re far gone.

“So,” Wonbin starts.

“You like us,” Seunghan follows.

“Like all three of us,” Sungchan finishes. 

You give them a smile reminiscent of a kindergarten teacher feeling a swell of pride after her student finishes reciting the alphabet. Sohee feels sympathy pains for his friends. “Yup. I also have a crush on Johnny from med, but he’s graduating soon, so that’s a bummer. Oh! And our TA Jung Jaehyun! He has the face of a god!” Oh, dear. You stomp on them then finish it off with a spit on their faces. Sohee bites his lip, feeling both horrendously bad and curious as to how this shitshow will conclude. 

The three simmer in silence. You give them a raised brow.

“Why? Is there a problem?”

Oh, there’s a fucking problem, alright.

“Why are you guys looking at me like that? I did confess to all three of you saying I have a crush on you, but I never said I was in love with you.”

Well, damn.

Neither of them like you like that, but that shit hurt for no fucking reason.

“Don’t think too much of it, sillies! And I don’t get why you’re all so affected when you’re the ones who didn’t return my feelings.” 

Your laughter is poison and your smiling face is tearing them apart. You’re heartless. You’re a devil disguised as an angel. You’re from the deepest depths of hell and have come to earth for the sole reason of tooth-achingly sweet and strawberry scented torment. If they can fall to their knees right now, they would, but their pride is tattered enough already— ripped to shreds by your unapologetic bluntness and honesty.

“Anyway, since I already have plans with the three of you within the week, Sungchan’s later this evening—” The man in question is pouting. He’s pouting very hard when your eyes skip over him, and zones into the person that’s been quiet this entire time. “Sohee! Wanna go bowling with me and my bio friends this Sunday?”

That was a bomb. A large and dangerous bomb. “Sure?” Sohee responds unknowingly. You give them one last sweet smile of torture before finally leaving.

“Great! Get my number from any of them. I have to go meet some people. Later! Thanks for the snack!”

With that, you leave them behind, but not without a trace of disaster. Once they’ve confirmed you’re gone and out, signaved by the tight shutting of the door, Sungchan, Wonbin, and Seunghan look at each other. Then at Sohee. Then back at the closed door once more.

It’s quiet again. They don’t need to talk to settle with three mutual conclusions.

One. Sohee isn’t getting shit after the emotional massacre they went through. He can go crawl and scavenger for your number elsewhere for all they care.

Two. There’s no doubt. They all know you and you all know them. This is something they can’t ignore anymore, so they have to figure out how to behave in case a run in like this happens again,

And three—

You like them. All three of them. At the same time. 

Their pride can’t stand the idea of sharing that affection. Absolutely not. Therefore three must drop down to one. Sungchan, Wonbin, and Seunghan are dead set on making sure that that one is going to be him.

THREE'S A CROWD. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.

warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

word count : 20k

Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)

part two

You have always been first in your class.

Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.

You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you. 

A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence. 

Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.

At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.

You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl. 

You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone. 

On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake. 

You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.  

That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you. 

Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.

You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.

So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.

But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.

Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.

It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.

And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties." 

"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."

Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice." 

"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"

Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."

You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts. 

That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.

He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm. 

Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory. 

"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.  

"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy. 

That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them. 

He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.

"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"

"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."

"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.

This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.

Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out. 

Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.

"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

✹✹✹

The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.

Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better. 

You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. 

"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.

He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this café to study in."

"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day. 

From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face. 

You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.

Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.

But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.

You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.

True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.

During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance. 

To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.

That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.

Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.

You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.

✹✹✹

Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.

On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.

"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?" 

"I have an idea."

"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.

"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.

 "Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."

"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"

"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"

"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.

"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."

"But-"

"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."

"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.  

"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet." 

"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.

That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.

"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you. 

"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."

You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him. 

Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably. 

Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.

But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.

Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before. 

You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.  

As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.

That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.

So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.

You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.

"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.

"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."

"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."

"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year. 

"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.

 "Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food." 

"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display. 

"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."

"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."

"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"

Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces. 

"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."

"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.

"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."

Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."

"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."

Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.

"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"

"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."

"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"

"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."

His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"

"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?" 

"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn. 

"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring. 

"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."

You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?

You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"

"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."

Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."

"And right now, how do you feel?"

"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."

"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."

Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"

"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."

"I do too."

You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.

"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.

"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.

"Please tell me you won't be cooking."

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face. 

"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout. 

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down. 

"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."

"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."

Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.

But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner. 

You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit. 

Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting. 

"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.

"It's pitch black, I can't see."

"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice. 

"What's there to miss?"

"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden. 

"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you. 

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words. 

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly. 

"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"

"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"

"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."

"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 

"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."

"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. 

"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."

"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story. 

"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."

Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.

He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.

He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on. 

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.

You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems. 

You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant. 

Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.

“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you. 

“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”

“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only. 

“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.

With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it. 

You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.

You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.

"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.

You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"

"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."

"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.

"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.

Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.

The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.

You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it. 

"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.

Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.

He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.

"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."

"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."

You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"

"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."

"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."

You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place. 

But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."

"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."

"I’ll ask her."

You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.

"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.

As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face. 

"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."

"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."

"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."

"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.

"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"

"I only tell my friends."

"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."

"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.

"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.

"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.

"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”

Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.

"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.

"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."

"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods. 

"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."

"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.

"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."

This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.

"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."

"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.

"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"

"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.

"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.

"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."

You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."

He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.

"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."

"Of course. Don't dream of me."

"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.

For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.

✹✹✹

It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study. 

Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.

That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is. 

You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning. 

As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.

But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.

He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.

"Yeah."

"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."

You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it. 

"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.

"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"

"You'll catch a cold."

"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."          

"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."

"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."

"Yn, I don’t-"

"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."

"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."

You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his. 

You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.

He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.

"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."

You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."

He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."

You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.

Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.

But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.

He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you. 

Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room. 

He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile. 

"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.

"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.

You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.

You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.

You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.

Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.

"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.

"Sure."

You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.

As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.

When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."

✹✹✹

Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.

Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him. 

And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.

That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.

But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue. 

That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.

But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.

He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.

"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."

"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname. 

"Never."

"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."

"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.

Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow. 

Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips. 

"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.

"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat. 

“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.

You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.

This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles. 

“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands. 

“What are you doing?” He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.

“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it. 

This was something friends think about, right? 

"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.

"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?

"I’ll still cut it."

Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.

He didn't cut his hair.

The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.

That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.

He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.

He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-

"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.

"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.

"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.

You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.

"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.

"Yeah?"

"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.

"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.

“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you. 

"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.

"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.

Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.

He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again. 

You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.

✹✹✹

2 months later

"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading. 

"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."

You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time. 

"What are you doing?"

"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me." 

"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"

"Nope."

"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too. 

Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course. 

Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.

It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving. 

So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere. 

You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin. 

It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.

As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you. 

His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into. 

"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him. 

"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own? 

"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again. 

"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you. 

He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?

"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.

"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey. 

"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed. 

His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly. 

✹✹✹

You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it. 

You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.

Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe. 

You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body. 

You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.

You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago. 

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now. 

You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly.  You hated how weak you felt in that instant. 

"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds. 

You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him. 

You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."

"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.

"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?

"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?

"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.

 "Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.

You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people. 

Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.

In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."

"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly. 

"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.

"Remind me to never cry in front of you again." 

Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will. 

"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment. 

"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."

"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up. 

"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie. 

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone. 

"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you." 

True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.

Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.

You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.  

You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.

When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you. 

Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now. 

"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him. 

Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down. 

No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves. 

You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic. 

Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you. 

He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"

"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?" 

"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face. 

"Not like that you look scary."

"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music. 

"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key. 

'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing. 

You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance. 

"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."

"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck. 

"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.

You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?

You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life. 

"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.

"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again. 

Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you. 

"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity. 

"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features. 

"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it. 

"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome." 

"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."

"You don't like it when people touch you, right?" 

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?" 

You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you. 

"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him. 

"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."

"You didn't," you reply instantly. 

"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"

"I will." 

"Okay." 

"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.

You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer." 

And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply. 

Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds. 

That's four seconds more than the first time. 

Progress.        

✹✹✹

You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days. 

Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting. 

You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her. 

The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her. 

You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold. 

You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are. 

With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called. 

"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.

You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay. 

“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart. 

She deleted your number.

You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain. 

Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her? 

Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.

To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.

"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.

"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."

"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"

"Yn-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.

The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself. 

Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.

But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-

"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.

You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."

"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."

"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."

You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing. 

You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.

Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.

"Please, let me make it better." 

You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure. 

Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob. 

He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug. 

You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho. 

The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.

You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.

Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along. 

Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm. 

"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace. 

"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head. 

 "I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.

"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.

"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry." 

"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."

You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."

"I know."

Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.

In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.

You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first. 

There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.

"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.

"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."

To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore. 

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.

"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.

"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.

"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.

"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"

Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.

"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."

"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."

Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.

"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."

Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.

He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.

But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.

Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.

"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."

His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?

"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.

You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.

Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.

Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."

You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.

You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.

"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."

"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"

"It will take time."

"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.

"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you." 

"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.

"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."

"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.

"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.

"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.

The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."

Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.

The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.

As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.  

You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'

Epilogue

You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.  

But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.

And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.

It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.

The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.

---

in my head - yjw

; pairing - jungwon x fem!reader

; synopsis - you’ve hated jungwon ever since you two met on the train to hogwarts back in first year; he’s self-centered, lazy, and always coming out for you. now in your seventh year, you’ve been named head girl (woohoo!). unfortunately, the head boy position was given to the one and only yang jungwon (boohoo…). with no other choice, you’re forced to face the annoyingly attractive boy and work with him for the rest of the year - if you can even last that long.

; tags - fluff, angst, crack, ravenclaw! headboy!jungwon, slytherin! headgirl!reader, rivals to lovers, enemies to lovers, hogwarts au (with a modern twist), bc they have tablets and stuff

; warnings - a little bit of swearing, a lot of hostility between yn and jw, lmk if i missed anything!

; wc - 12.9k words (umm.... have fun!)

teaser

everyone’s eyes are on you as you stand up at the front of the great hall while the headmaster - professor bang si hyuk - introduces you as this year’s head girl. looking at all the students staring back up at you, you almost feel proud of yourself (keyword: almost). 

you’d think someone would be overjoyed at being acknowledged and recognised enough to have been given such a high position, but you aren’t. 

instead, you’re silently fuming, just barely keeping your temper in check as you plaster a fake smile on your face. your eye twitches as you hear a low chuckle from-

“the head boy, yang jungwon!” the headmaster announces. cheers erupt from around the room, all clapping for their new heads. 

“i can feel the waves of anger practically radiating off of you,” he murmured quietly.

yang jungwon. 

the boy you despised so much. 

listen, you don’t really hate anyone, but you’re pretty sure that what you feel towards the boy you called ‘yang’ is close enough.

in all your six years at hogwarts, you two have constantly been at each other’s throats. arguments often broke out between you in corridors; fights wherein one would end up stupefied or thrown against the wall; even little sabotages against each other that were subtle enough that teachers could pass off as an accident or your own fault rather than the other’s. 

for example, back in third year, yang had tripped you on your way into the great hall after everyone got off the hogwarts express. you had flashed everyone behind you and scraped your knee when you landed on the ground.

although no one saw him do it, you immediately knew who the culprit was, especially when he smirked down at you over his shoulder as he walked ahead. oh how badly you wanted to slap that smile off his face in the moment.

you retaliated the next week by mixing his white laundry with red clothes, so he was forced to attend his classes with pink uniform until he got new shirts. nothing satisfied you more than the glares he sent your way throughout the first day of his pink week, you could feel him boring holes into the back of your head even when you weren’t looking.

making your way back to the slytherin table, you thought back to when you got that fateful letter a few weeks back.

you slid the window open after spotting an owl from afar flying towards your house.

the bird flew in gracefully, and dropped your letter from hogwarts on the kitchen island counter, accepting the treats offered from your hand.

“y/n, please. close the window, would you? it’s so windy outside - it’s blowing away my papers!” your mother scolded from her seat at the table.

“sorry, my bad! i just got my grades.”

“ah really? let’s see it then.”

you scanned the letter, satisfied to see an O on all your subjects. although they weren’t your final NEWTS grades, they were an indication of how you did throughout sixth year according to teachers’ assessments. 

you’d been nervous at seeing anything below an O, but your friends had told you not to worry all summer.

“you’ve never dropped from the top rank in our year ever since first year, why would you now?”

“hiyyih, it’s only because of how much i’ve studied, but what if the expectations this year are higher? what if it’s not enough? what if i spent too many free periods sitting with you guys by the lake instead of-“

“be for real, you only did that twice! you’re the only person who’s actually spent their free periods studying,” rei said.

“well that’s what they’re supposed to be used for!”

“who actually does that! besides you, of course.”

“rei’s right, even yang jungwon often spends his frees with his friends.”

“that’s why he’s number 2,” you roll your eyes. “maybe if he studied during his frees, he’d finally get that number 1 spot he's been telling me he'd get for years.”

“it’s the fact he doesn’t have to study as hard to easily get second top student in our year. besides, weren’t you just worrying about not being first this time ‘round?”

that set you off into another episode of wailing and worrying about your results.

reading the letter, your eyes zeroed in on a shiny gold badge attached to the bottom.

  dear kim y/n,  we are pleased to inform you that you have been chosen as head girl for this upcoming academic year. you will be working alongside the head boy, yang jungwon, and all prefects across the four houses. you and the head boy’s duties will be relayed to you after the sorting ceremony. congratulations once again, you are well deserving of the title. sincerely, headmaster bang si hyuk

you still remember your mother questioning you after watching your figure suddenly go from jumping around the kitchen all giddy, to sulkily dragging your feet to the table.

of course, you were honoured to be picked, but did they really have to choose your enemy as your partner? i mean, the whole school knows about your rivalry, and you guys have been told off countless times by teachers! so was this really a smart idea?

when the ceremony ended, one of the professors led you and yang to the head dormitories.

(a “benefit” of being one of the heads was getting your own room, separate from your own house dorms. but you’d still be sharing the common room with yang, so that wasn’t exactly the biggest plus in your books.)

“as you can see, you will have separate private rooms, each with their own bathroom,” the professor pointed at the doors on opposite sides of the common room.

“but you two will share this living space. there’s a little library in the corner as well. 

“now for rules..." he started listing a bunch of obvious rules - like what's allowed in the head dorms and what isn't, when you can bring your friends, etc.

“and last but not least, you aren’t allowed in each other’s private quarters,” he paused before glancing at both students. “although, i don’t think that’ll be a problem.” 

he’s right there, you thought bitterly.

the idea of even sharing the common room with the boy irked you, let alone entering his own room. you could only imagine all the stupid tricks he was planning on you right now - but you were doing the same.

after the whole ordeal, the professor finally left you two alone, but not before telling you that you should start planning out the prefects’ patrolling schedules so that you could meet up with them as soon as possible.

you and yang stared at each other for a moment, apprehension hanging in the air. this is the first time you two have directly looked each other in the eye tonight.

“so… i guess we should get to sorting out those schedules,” he breaks the silence, gesturing to the scroll of names in your hands, which the professor had left with you.

nodding, you followed him to the large table in the middle of the room, where you’d hold a meeting with the prefects tomorrow morning.

“here’s the list of all the prefects, plus their student ID numbers.”

“okay, we can use those to add them all into a group chat on hog-messages and inform them of the meeting tomorrow.”

one of the newer developments at hogwarts in recent years was the addition of electronic tablets given to every student, so they’d be able to communicate faster with each other. it had an app programmed within it called ‘hog-messages’ where students could message each other or their teachers, and create group chats, all activity being monitored by staff.

the tablets also allowed the students to be able to write notes down on it, but most teachers often preferred all homework to be written on paper scrolls anyway. 

all this was provided by yang enterprises.

yup. yang was the son of the wizard who introduced muggle electronic devices into the wizarding world, instantly boosting their family into riches and success.

the world was given to him on a silver platter, so he’s always had it easy. and unfortunately for you, the boy not only grew up snobby and privileged, but was smart too. 

coming from the muggle world, you entered the wizarding world with an open mind. despite this, you hated the ravenclaw almost as soon as you met him. 

his ego was high up through the roof way before he’d even been placed in the house, and he emanated a strong intimidating aura. as soon as yang saw you on that hogwarts train, he turned his nose up at you like you were dirt before you’d even spoken a word to each other.

nonetheless, you managed to work out a schedule together smoothly. but the lack of clashing heads for once put you on edge, you felt like something was just wrong.

“alright, i’ve sent a message to the group,” he said, staring at his screen.

“okay…” you trailed off, unsure what to say. “um, let’s be civil this year, yang,” you say instead, putting a hand out.

the boy looked up at you, before glancing down at your hand then laughed in disbelief. as if you had said you were going to run 100 laps around the castle.

“duh, i knew that when i got the letter. that doesn’t need to be said. are you an idiot?”

now it was you who stared at him in disbelief. there’s the yang you know.

lowering your hand, you scoffed and stormed into your room, which was luckily closer so you didn't have to spend another second looking at his pretty face.

you should have known nothing would ever change. you can’t believe you almost thought that yang had changed. of course he’d never grow up, maybe he was just made this way. 

on the other hand, the return of his ugly personality brought you some comfort. it was just something you were more familiar with. you weren’t used to the driven and focused attitude he had on earlier when sorting out the schedule, and you’d prefer to keep it that way. 

unpacking your bags and showering before changing into pajamas, you set an alarm for 6:30am, so you’d have time for the meeting at 7:30 and can end it before classes began at 8. you went to bed feeling prepared for tomorrow.

the next morning however, you woke up late. 

the sunlight seeped in through the curtains, and after a moment, you checked your phone for the time.

8:34am

crap.

you practically jumped out of bed and began to frantically get ready, pulling on the first shirt and skirt you could grab from your closet.

why hadn’t your alarm woken you up? you set the alarm two hours earlier. had you accidentally typed 630 into the calculator app instead from a tiring day?

however, when you check your alarm clock, you saw that it had been turned off. although, you clearly remember pressing save and checking that it was on before tucking yourself into bed.

you pause as you brush your hair, your thoughts coming to a stop.

it was yang, you realised. 

is this his idea of civil? you wonder what he's on as you slip on your uniform in panic. 

quickly brushing your teeth, you put on your tie as you ran out the room, a chill hits you when you remembered the prefects’ meeting you were supposed to have this morning.

oh my god, they probably think i'm an irresponsible head girl. there’s no doubt the bad impression being late on your first day as head girl would leave on not only the students, but the teachers as well. 

will they revoke your position? will they give the badge to another, more responsible girl? who preferably doesn’t have beef with the head boy? 

you cringed at the thought you might be punished because of something entirely yang’s fault, and he’d get away with it. as he always does. 

you ran down the moving stairs, almost slipping off the edge when it suddenly changed paths, towards your first class as you cursed out the head boy in your mind. 

but soon enough, nervousness took over as you neared the classroom.

there was only about 15 minutes left of the period, so was it even worth it to go? and besides, yang was in this class too. you’d hate to see the gloating smirk on his face when you enter and get scolded by the professor.

before you could decide however, the door opened, revealing the very boy you’d been planning revenge on all morning.

yang didn’t look surprised to see you there, evident by the grin on his face.

he faked a shocked tone though, when he announced your presence to the professor (and the whole class).

it goes without saying that you definitely had a bad morning, being held back in class for another half hour to make up for what you missed that morning. 

thankfully, you had a free period next, so you weren’t missing your next class this time.

although you hated yang jungwon with every fibre of your being, you weren’t a snitch. you wouldn’t dare expose him - mostly because it would be useless. who would really believe you, when you were already messing up so early in the year? and certainly not when it accused the school’s beloved heartthrob. 

so you took your punishment on without a complaint, pointedly ignoring yang the rest of the day, who didn’t even try to hide his smile.

you sighed as you made notes on griffin claw substitutes, all alone in the potions classroom.

september and october rolled by; even though you and yang continued your little pranks and tricks on each other, you guys managed your head duties just fine. he did his work and never slacked, so you were satisfied.

you had gotten your revenge on yang by charming his wand to vibrate uncontrollably two days later. you remember barely being able to hold in your laugh as you watched him struggle to conjure a flock of birds, an explosion of feathers popping from the tip instead.

from what you heard, he also struggled in his other classes you didn’t share, which delighted you to no end. 

“what are you skipping around all giddy about?” hiyyih asked you sceptically.

“just that yang seems to be struggling in herbology class, according to jang wonyoung.”

“what did you do?” rei eyed suspiciously.

“how could you accuse me of doing something?” you gasped.

“it’s pretty obvious - head boy and student #2 wouldn’t just struggle in a class he’s always done well in,” minji shrugged.

you rolled your eyes at your friends, but then smiled cheekily when you admitted how you’d snuck into his room that morning and cast a charm on his wand with a spell that would only stop after twenty-four hours.

“okay, that’s pretty funny. i’m gonna have to ask wony about it later,” rei laughed. 

your phone buzzed, and upon checking it, you were surprised to see a text from the one and only yang jungwon.

Hog-Messages YANG JUNGWON (ID: 78395) professor kim wants to see us

“speak of the devil,” you tell your friends and show them your screen. 

you watched as the three glanced at each other, equally surprised.

“wow, a text! from yang jungwon! and it’s not some evil curse or cryptic message!” hiyyih remarked, which you nodded to in agreement. 

rei laughed. “you guys act like he’s incapable of simple communication; he’s just relaying a message.”

“sometimes rei, i think he is,” you joked.

YANG JUNGWON ID: 78395 professor kim wants to see us

KIM Y/N ID: 78384 when?

YANG JUNGWON ID: 78395 after classes today at his office

KIM Y/N ID: 78384 ofc it’s at his office, you think he’d want to meet us in the restrooms?

YANG JUNGWON ID: 78395 i hope u fall off your broom on the pitch also come un-charm my wand or something right now.

KIM Y/N ID: 78384 can’t 🤷‍♀️  sux 2 b u

"honestly, if i didn't know better, i'd think you two had a hate-love relationship," minji teased.

"ew, anything above dislike is something i will never feel for yang jungwon," you scrunched your nose in distaste. how could minji even think something like that?

"whatever," she snickered.

arriving in front of the professor’s office door, you opened it to find jungwon already inside and seated on one of the chairs opposite the teacher’s desk. you bowed in greeting before taking the other empty seat.

“so,” professor kim started. “we need to talk about your behaviour as the head students.”

you gulped. had you done something wrong? were those threats to revoke your position on the first day real? 

looking over at your co-partner, his face was unreadable, as always. he looked perfectly calm, which infuriated you.

“as head boy and girl, you two are setting the standard for the rest of the school. you guys are supposed to be role models. but i’m sure you already know this.” professor kim paused and looked at both of you intently before continuing.

“so why is it i’m finding out that you two have not been doing your patrols together?”

oh. so that’s what this is about.

you and yang had completed one patrol session together on the first week of school, and it’s safe to say that it was… horrific. without going into too much detail, you guys had practically argued the whole two hours that night; although it was unlikely, if there were any couples making out or young students causing trouble, they probably heard you two from a mile away and hid before they were caught.

at the end of the night, you both agreed that you’d just swap your schedules and patrol with other prefects - possibly the only thing you two had ever agreed on.

“we weren’t aware that we had to patrol together,” you replied when the head boy was clearly not going to speak up first. what a pussy.

it was a lie; you guys obviously knew that head students were supposed to patrol together. having been prefects in previous years, you knew how things worked. it was why you had done the first patrol together after all. 

but you figured that since it wasn’t a specifically given instruction, you didn’t actually have to do it together.

professor kim stared at you two incredulously for a moment, his expression somewhere between exasperation and disbelief. a pool of anxiousness swirled in your stomach at the way he sighed and pinched his nose bridge frustratedly.

“listen, i don’t know what si-hyuk was thinking when he had chosen you two as the heads, given your history and all. but he chose you. so please show that you’re worthy of the title - let go of your childish rivalry. otherwise, we may actually have to find new head students.”

“you could just let go of her, professor. i’d be able to work with any other girl,” yang finally spoke up. of course the first thing he'd say is an insult.

you gasped and glared at him. 

“clearly, you’re the one who’s childish and immature here. maybe you should be the one to get replaced.”

“enough!” the teacher slammed his hands on the desk. “if you two keep this act up, we will not hesitate to replace you both.”

and so with that, you and yang left the office in uncomfortable silence. not a word was spoken between you until just before you parted ways.

“guess we’ll use the old schedule again,” he said. you nodded.

being the end of the day, you were both too tired to argue. the heavy workload that comes with NEWTS in addition to the responsibilities of your positions, you both left for your own common rooms without sparing another glance.

the dreaded patrol round came sooner than you would have liked, and you found yang waiting by the castle doors. you always seemed to be the later one, as if he’d placed a curse on you with that trick at the start of the year.

he kicked himself off the wall he’d been leaning against when he saw you, and began to walk without so much as a ‘hi’ or ‘let’s go’. you had to quickly jog to catch up to him.

the air between you two as you walked around was silent and tense, so thick that you could probably cut it with a knife.

surprisingly, yang was the first to break the silence.

“i was thinking - we should plan the first hogsmeade trip for this term.”

“mhm,” you hummed in agreement. “i think it’s best to have it after the quidditch match in november.”

“yeah, at the end of the month. and people would be able to go before the winter break.”

you fished your phone out from your pocket and opened the calendar app.

“when should we have it?"

yang leaned over your shoulder to look at your screen. “let’s have it on the twenty-seventh," he says, pointing at the date on the calendar. "it’d be good to have the week between the match and the trip free so we can prepare.”

you nodded as you listened, typing up a reminder to speak with the professors about it. 

“hey!” the head boy suddenly shouted, causing you to jump. “what are you kids doing here?”

you looked up to find he had opened a classroom, in which three students in around 4th or 5th year were standing. they stared up at the pair of you with wide eyes, like a dear in headlights.

“what are you doing?” you asked, regaining your composure. looking at their ties, you realised they were in slytherin, like you.

the students glanced at each other worriedly and slowly backed away from the two of you. you noticed them hiding something behind them on the desk.

pointing your wand at the items behind them, you summoned it nonverbally, yelling ‘accio!’ in your mind. the items flew into your arms.

“you all better go back to your common room. it’s way past your curfew,” yang warned them. “20 points from slytherin.”

the group shuffled out of the room and quickly ran back to the dungeons.

“isn’t 20 too many?” you grumbled. maybe you were a little biased since they were in your house though.

ignoring you, yang sighed as he turned back to look at the contents in your hands.

“what is it?” he asked.

upon closer inspection, it seemed to be the plannings or blueprint of a large snake puppet that moved on its own, the quote ‘slytherin slays’ painted along its body.

you held back a giggle as you read the notes on how to make the snake glare and breathe flames out when faced with a ravenclaw. yang snorted as he read them as well.

“you slytherins are always so immature when it comes to quidditch matches.” you rolled your eyes and glared at him, imagining you were breathing flames like the puppet snake.

“at least we have a strong sense of support for our house. what’re you birdies doing? painting little flying banners that the players won’t be able to read on the pitch?”

“my team doesn’t need to read our house’s support. we’re good enough and know if.”

“sounds like there’s just no house spirit.”

“say that to me when your team loses,” he challenged.

“you’ll be waiting forever then,” you retorted.

“let’s place a bet. 20 galleons that ravenclaw wins.”

“fine! if we wins, i want you to pay my monthly subscription in an online game for a year."

“what?”

“i need money," you huff, crossing your arms indignantly.

“you need muggle money.”

“well, yes. but i mean, you can convert your wizarding money into muggle money, then pay for my monthly subscription in a game so i get game money.”

“that sounds useless; for a kids’ game? and you called me the childish one?” he raised a questioning eyebrow.

“i wouldn’t need to find peace in an online game if you didn’t bother me all the time, you know," you complain. "you’re like a piece of gum i can’t get off my shoe.”

“you could just cast a spell to get the gum off,” he shrugged.

“you’re right, i’ll just cast a spell on you!” you smile brightly. “stupe-“

“oh my god, okay! i’ll pay for your stupid game - if slytherin wins, which you won’t.”

you smiled to yourself, a skip in your step for the rest of the patrol.

soon, the day of the match arrived; ravenclaw against slytherin (because of course it was). 

the morning of the match was lively as usual, everyone split between green and blue. 

you watched the large snake float above everyone’s heads in the great hall, breathing (harmless) flames into every ravenclaw’s face. 

just at that moment, you bumped into the trio of students who’d been planning the little surprise. you sent them a discreet smile.

“20 points to slytherin,” you awarded for the clever trick, but also to make up for the twenty that yang had taken.

suddenly, you screech when a flock of small origami birds flew and pecked at your hair, ruining the braid you’d put your hair in for the match. 

looking up, you noticed the small paper birds flying about the hall, pecking at every slytherin-supporter. this was definitely ravenclaw’s idea; no doubt yang had gotten inspiration from the those students you two had caught.

“you good, kim?” a familiar voice greets you. you turn to see the devil himself smirking at you, pleased with the mess you are.

“i was, until you got here.”

“maybe it’s a sign that you’ll lose today.”

“maybe it’s a sign you should shut up.”

the match started without a hitch. 

you scored the first 10 points of the match within 6 minutes, and by the first half hour, slytherin was ahead by 30 points. 

you enjoyed the thrill of being a chaser, trying different ways to get the quarrel past the keeper. in fact, you enjoyed flying in general, and being on the pitch.

that is until, you started getting pestered by the other team’s seeker.

you noticed yang seemed to be flying around you after a few laps, and sent him a questioning look.

“what are you doing, yang?”

“looking for the snitch, it’s my job.”

“well, i’m not the snitch. so keep looking!”

“well i’m certainly looking at a similar word.”

it took time to process what he meant, but when you realised, you glared at the boy.

“focus on the game- if you keep your eyes on me, you’ll be paying for my subscription soon!”

yang scoffed and looked away, searching the pitch for the snitch, sending you a glare before zooming away.

the game ended in slytherin’s favour, your team’s seeker barely clutching the golden ball in his hands before the head boy could reach it.

cheers roared across the stadium when it ended with your team’s success, students running onto the pitch in excitement to congratulate you and the other players.

“seriously, the way you threw the quaffle into the hoop while gliding through the air - it was so smooth!” minji gushed as rei nodded in agreement. 

“let’s go, there’s going to be a congratulatory party in the common room!” rei says, taking your hand to drag you.

“can i come?” asked hiyyih excitedly, who was a gryffindor.

“duh!”

you laughed as you followed your three best friends, when you caught sight of a certain person in the corner of your eye.

“wait, i have to do something real quick,” you pause to tell the girls. they stopped as well and looked at you curiously.

“what is it?”

“wait for me. i just need to talk to yang - head stuff,” you tell them off-handedly, before running off to the ravenclaw team.

“it’s definitely not about ‘head stuff’,” hiyyih nudges rei, who nods as they watch you leave.

you make your way to the losing ravenclaw team, even congratulating some of them on a good game. 

when you reach your target, you tap on his shoulder to get his attention, before smiling triumphantly up at him (wow, you never realised how much taller he was than you until now).

“what is it, kim?” he drawled with an eye-roll.

“the bet. i won.” you gloated, the smile never leaving your face, widening instead when he wore a look of disbelief.

“oh, right.” he sighed before scratching the back of his head, looking around thoughtfully. “let’s sort it out tomorrow, at patrol.”

“okay! don’t back down from your end of the bet.” 

“i may hate you, but i’m not a sore loser. see you tomorrow night, kim.”

“with my monthly subscription payment!” you say, waving tauntingly as you ran back to your friends.

“what did you need to talk to him about?” minji asked, putting her hand out to hold yours as you four made your way to the slytherin dungeons.

“we’re making monthly plans to help a student who needs it,” you say smugly.

“sounds like you’re twisting the truth,” rei laughed.

“but it is the truth!” you protested.

you found yourself happily scrolling through the game's catalog, looking to spend your newly-bought robux.

ever since your deal on the match, you found yourself slowly warming up to yang.

well, not to the point you’d consider each other friends, but you acknowledge each other in passing with a nod or quick wave instead of pointedly looking the other way like usual.

you also argued less, much to the relief of the entire school. however, they were still apprehensive, waiting for something to blow up eventually. it was simply too suspiciously calm and quiet without your voices yelling down the hall or in the corner of a classroom.

as the weeks went on, you two learned to get along better and better everyday, even willingly becoming partners in potions once.

sometimes, you would walk to the great hall together for lunch or dinner after a meeting. you even spent your free periods with yang, which you told your friends was because ‘they didn’t have any frees with you’ so you ‘might as well spend it productively’ with the head boy who coincidentally shared the same free periods schedule.

you did lots of stuff together, as expected of the head girl and head boy.

yet, you always avoided studying together.

others might think it’s because of your rivalry; how one might copy off the other’s or something.

sure, you laugh to yourself. let people think what they want.

but the idea of studying with yang again brings back memories of fifth year.

you didn’t tell anyone about it, not even your own friends. 

at the end of the year, you’d been practically glued to the library for two months, studying for your OWLs.

“mind if i sit here?” 

you turn up to see a familiar face.

“yang?”

“there’s no other free space in the library,” he rolled his eyes, making up an excuse.

looking around, you realised he was right. the only other free spots were next to students that were notoriously weirdos who everyone avoided. maybe he doesn’t want them to copy off his work, you think to yourself.

“um, okay,” you agreed hesitantly while sucking on a sugar quill, moving some of your books to make space for him. those sweets often helped you focus.

yang pulled the seat out and sat down, before beginning to study himself.

you tried to continue as you were, but had lost focus. not even the green apple-flavoured sweet in your mouth could help you concentrate.

you were hyper aware of his presence - the way he hunched over the table with his hair falling over his face. you watched him from the corner of your eye.

why had he chosen to sit with you? were there seriously no better places to go? what about his room? the astronomy tower? the little corner window by the potions classroom downstairs?

“relax. i can feel how tense you are from here.”

“does your oh-so-precious pure-wizard blood give you the ability to sense emotions like a dog?” you scoffed. he looked up sharply and gave you a serious look.

“i just want to revise for my OWLs; let’s keep our disputes outside the library, where we won’t get hexed by madame park over there.”

you rolled your eyes and kept your head down, going back to your own business.

over the course of the month, a routine slowly began wherein you would often study together in the library. 

sometimes it was you joining him instead, and you would just wordlessly take the seat opposite him. even when there were other spaces to sit, you two always chose to sit together in the corner table, hidden from the rest of the school.

a word was never spoken between the two top students. and you never told your friends about the little arrangement either.

his presence quickly became something of a comfort for you - it was easier to focus on your studies when he was there. and if you ever needed help with something, he’d give you a few pointers when you finally begrudgingly asked.

he never asked you for help though, which always reminded you why he was number 2. it infuriated you how you had to work twice as hard than him just to barely surpass the boy.

whenever you heard people talking of him in passing, he was always nicknamed ‘the prodigy boy’. what were you called? ‘the girl that was good for a muggle-born’.

he was your rival, but you weren’t his. and he’s made that clear since the day you met.

and yet, despite all the resentment you held for him, you enjoyed his company. OWLs were stressing the life out of everyone, but it felt like you could get through it with him sitting across you.

maybe it’s because he motivated you to keep working harder, to try more so you could widen the gap between your ranks. seeing him everyday reminded you of why you tried so hard. maybe you wanted to show him (and everyone else) that being muggle-born doesn’t mean you’re any less than those born in this world. 

at least that’s what you told yourself. 

but it doesn’t explain why you began to glance at his lips every time he sat across you. 

it doesn’t explain why butterflies began to flutter in your stomach when you felt the warmth of his body close to yours as he’d lean over your shoulder and point at the book when you asked for help. or why you felt giddy when you’d play with each other’s feet under the table.

until one day, he’d dropped his smart-quill on the floor, and you were quicker to kneel down from your seat to get it. 

“here,” you said, handing him the quill, still on your knees on the floor.

as you faced him, you realised the close proximity only then. 

you stared into his eyes that pulled you in, keeping you locked and unable to escape from his gaze. he stared right back, the quill forgotten in your hand, which now lay on his left knee.

you didn’t even realise the way he slowly leaned down until he cupped your cheek.

his touch was soft; you leaned into it. 

“is this okay?” you could barely hear him whisper over the rapid beating of your heart. all you could do was nod.

your eyes fluttered shut as your lips finally connected. a mix of pretty emotions burst in your stomach, filling you with a giddiness you never knew before.

it might have been just a few seconds, or it could have been hours - you didn’t know. that first kiss was everything you ever imagined it to be.

you pulled away first, finally running out of air. but he chased after your lips, kissing you again. 

the memory of your first kiss will forever be cemented in your memory. you were just two 16 year olds, softly holding onto each other in the corner of a library, hidden from the rest of the world.

you scrunch your nose at the bittersweet memory. who would’ve thought your first kiss would be with the person you hate the most in this world. 

when you returned to school for sixth year that september, yang acted like nothing happened between you two. 

he ignored you for the first month of school, not even bothering to taunt you like he used to. everyone had been stumped, including you, but he eventually went back to his usual tactics, albeit with a noticeable lack of ‘stupid muggleborn who can never be on our level’ comments. soon you two were back to your regular bickering as if he didn’t ignore your existence for the first month of school. 

as if you hadn’t shared a kiss just three months before.

now, your developing friendship scared you. you didn’t want a repeat of last time; his actions had really hurt you back then.  

you remember all the nights you spent in the library, waiting. waiting for him to come, to explain why he was acting like that. waiting for something.

thoughts ran through your mind, trying to reason why he might do this. maybe he realised he didn't feel for you the way you felt for him. maybe he went back to his room that night and wiped all the muggle germs off his face. maybe he realised he was too good for you.

you remember all the times you cried yourself to sleep, eyes puffy for weeks that even your teachers asked if you were okay. if maybe you’d eaten something bad or been cursed. that maybe you should go to the infirmary to fix it.

hiyyih, rei, and minji had no idea how to help you, because you refused to tell them what was wrong. 

and you never did. it’s simply too embarrassing. explaining that you kissed your number one enemy and then he ignored you for month and acted like nothing happened between you two was humiliating. you knew your friends wouldn’t, but surely if other students found out, they’d laugh at you.

yang probably laughed with his friends about it. you were just waiting, dreading to hear the rumours of how you’re a bad kisser and how no one should ever want your muggle-born, good-for-nothing ass. 

every time you walked past him and his friends, you’d walk faster and look everywhere but their direction. you imagined their snickers and smirks as they watched you run by like a pathetic loser.

the rumours never came however. 

no one ever looked at you weirdly, or laughed at you. you ended sixth year with a big sigh of relief, releasing a breath you didn't realise you'd been holding the whole year.

now, you found yourself standing next to the very boy who you had spent the end of your 5th year with, walking a big group of students towards hogsmeade.

you sigh as you think about your astronomy test on monday, which you’d rather spend the weekend studying for.

unfortunately, as the heads, it’s you and yang’s duty to chaperone the students on their trip to the village. 

you sigh and pull on your strap, hiking your heavy bag higher up your back. you think of the long day ahead, studying in the corner of one of the quieter cafés, freezing your toes off. it’s not preferable, but it’ll have to do.

yang watches you, eyeing your heavy bag of books.

“what the hell? don’t tell me you’re spending this trip studying.”

“alright, i won’t,” you roll your eyes at him as you two trudge behind the large crowd of students. it was 9 in the morning, and you were too tired to reply.

“wouldn’t you rather spend your time with your friends? you somehow have those,” he teased.

“well yeah,” you huff, a little irritated at his care-free attitude. “but not everyone can pass an astronomy test without needing to study like you. some of us actually have to work our butts off for good grades.”

yang stopped in his tracks, causing you to follow and look back at him questioningly.

to your surprise, he wore a serious expression, glaring forward and refusing to look at you. you must’ve struck a nerve.

“stop acting like you’re the only one in the world that has to fucking work hard,” he fumed. you’ve never seen him this mad, even in all your arguments throughout the years. 

“you’re always going on about how much you have to study this, how you need to work harder than me that - blah blah blah. 

“why do you always feel the need to undermine my work? always downplaying my accomplishments to ‘mere talent’. what about the tens of hundreds of hours i’ve poured into my own studies? the hours i’ve spent sat by a tutor since i was 6?”

surprised by his outburst in combination with your own irritation and jealousy, you couldn’t help but retort.

“are you serious right now? do you have to make everything about yourself?”

“oh because the world revolves around you? you are so fucking entitled!”

“me? entitled?” you laugh in disbelief. “you’re talking about how i undermine and downplay your work, when you’ve always been the one to yell out to the whole world how i’m a ‘stupid, pathetic muggleborn who’s lacking and can never fit in this world’!” students were beginning to notice your argument and were looking behind as they walked at you two now.

“so that’s what this is about? some shit i said two years ago?” he scoffed.

“some shit you threw at me for 5 years!” you throw your hands up in frustration.

“well maybe you’re proving me right with all your talk about just how much you need to study because you’ll 'never have it as easy as us'!” he yelled right back, mocking you. “you don’t know a thing about me.” 

you stared at him, panting heavily. everyone’s attention was now on you two, people watching instead of walking.

“kim y/n! yang jungwon!” you hear the booming voice of professor kim shout over the crowd. 

he stormed to you two, face red and veins popping out his neck.

“this behaviour is incredibly inappropriate of role model students! you two are supposed to be guiding the students towards the village, is that such a difficult task?” he scolded you and yang in exasperation.

“could you at least keep your feud behind closed doors? it’s incredibly selfish to ruin everyone’s day with your constant fights!”

you looked down ashamedly as your friends took this as their sign to finally drag you from your spot. jungwon’s friend, nishimura riki from 5th year copied their actions.

professor kim looked at the crowd which had now completely stopped to watch the show. 

“keep moving kids!” he sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.  

“park gunwook,” he called. the gryffindor jogged towards the teacher. “pham hanni.” the hufflepuff followed. “you two will take over the role of chaperoning the students, since our head students are clearly unsuitable for the job,” he instructed, throwing you a dirty look. 

the two 6th year prefects nodded and began to walk behind everyone, feeling a little awkward at being put on the spot. 

you glared at yang one more time, but was met with a different expression instead.

yang met your stare with concern written on his face, as his tall friend dragged him away. it confused you; just a moment ago, he’d been furious with you, and now he looked worried? what was he worried about? what’s with the switch up?

you couldn’t ponder on it any longer, what with your own friends shuffling you away from the crime scene.

the rest of the day was spent tucked away in a little corner of a small café you found, one people didn’t go to as much.

the girls had tried to convince you to join them on their fun, but let you go when you told them you had star charts to memorise for your upcoming test. they seemed hesitant, but after witnessing your recent fight with the head boy, they reluctantly allowed you to go off on your own with promises of saving you a butterbeer.

you busied yourself with your books, not wanting to think about the weird events this morning. from your first disagreement in a while, to yang’s mood swing - it was better to spend your thoughts on what was more important.

eventually, you woke up in the late afternoon, only realising then that you had fallen asleep. the rays of light from the sunset seeped through the window, waking you up with its blinding brightness. 

how long had you fallen asleep? you could have been revising in the time you dozed off. astronomy was your weakest subject, so you really needed that precious time.

you groan in frustration, sighing as you sit up to straighten your back. but something falls off your shoulders as you do. 

you look behind you and realise it was a jacket, which had been left on your shoulders by someone. but who?

bewildered, you pick up the jacket (which had an oddly familiar scent to it) and turn back to your table of books. but before you can return to your studies, something catches your eye.

there, on top of a pile of textbooks, lay a green sugarquill. 

had my friends stopped by while i slept?

it didn’t particularly make sense though, since you agreed to meet up with them later tonight when you headed back to the castle. 

you picked it up, then noticed the note it had been sitting on.

sorry, i shouldn’t have said any of that earlier.  found you sleeping, don’t beat yourself up. you can do this. i remember sugarquills help you focus, right? don’t worry, it’s not poisoned or anything… goodluck on monday.

your heart squeezed painfully. his short message spoke volumes.

yang jungwon wasn’t one to apologise, seeing as he either never felt bad, or never really did anything wrong (in the eyes of everyone else).

you felt guilty too, seeing as it was your fault as well. you made a mental note to apologise to him in person later.

secondly, this was the first time he ever acknowledged the time you spent together in 5th year. it surprised you, because at this point you wondered if he had forgotten about it, or if it was all some sick dream you had.

heat rushed to your face and you had to put considerable effort into keeping your composure and not kick your feet and screaming right then and there. somehow, he’d remembered such a small detail about the sweet he left for you.

maybe the whole 5th year incident affected him more than he let on. maybe there really was something that happened between you guys.

or maybe you’re just being hopeful again. 

one thing you’re sure about though, is that yang jungwon is most certainly crazy.

“welcome back everyone!” you greeted.

it’s the first prefect meeting of the term, everyone who left for the winter break having just returned two days prior.

“we have quite a bit to discuss today,” you started, before looking at jungwon to continue.

“let’s start with the more interesting news first.” he paused, looking at everyone before going on.

“me and the head girl have been planning something this winter, and with the approval of the headmaster, we can finally reveal it to you: the spring ball.”

you watched proudly as the prefects began whispering amongst themselves excitedly. you were so hyped up to be able to plan and make the event come to life.

“we wanted to give the students something more exciting to look forward to. you know- before OWLs and NEWTs completely take over our lives,” you joke, pulling chuckles out of everyone in the room.

“the idea is a formal, floral-themed event that’ll take place in the great hall. it’s only for 5th years and up, but younger years may attend if invited as a date.”

“since you guys are prefects, we’re asking for your help setting up the event. let’s talk ideas for decoration,” you say, pulling out your tablet to take notes.

as you wrote down the prefects’ thoughts and input, you were already drafting a schedule in your mind for preparations. that was until, you felt someone lean over your shoulder.

forcing yourself to keep writing, you tried to ignore the way your shoulder brushed against yang’s chest. one hand holding onto the backrest of your chair whilst the other lay on the table, next to your arm as you wrote on autopilot, your mind circuiting at the proximity. straightening your back in an attempt to compose yourself, you only push yourself against the boy more.

you were sure your face was as red as a tomato. your heart was beating so hard you were scared jungwon could hear it.

judging by the way he huffed in amusement, he probably realised the effect he had on you. 

“focus, kim,” he whispered so only you could hear, leaning lower to your level. you could imagine the smirk on his face.

“i am,” you tried to say with as much nonchalance as you could.

honestly, the moment was really reminding you of all those times he’d helped in the library. deja vu was really hitting you hard right now.

the rest of the meeting went smoothly - at least, as smooth as it could be with yang constantly flustering you as he subtly kept grazing your skin. 

now that you think about it, jungwon’s been acting strange lately. more… bold? that’s the best way you could explain it.

you don’t know how it happened, but ever since the hogsmeade trip, you two got closer. after you apologised to him, the incident in question was never spoken of again, never referred to. but it’s clear something shifted in your relationship with the head boy.

gradually, he began to fill up your everyday life, seeing him more often in the day than you used to.

in the mornings, you’d bump into each other in the common room after getting ready, and go down to the great hall for breakfast together. or, if one of you seemed to be running late after breakfast, you’d make sure to save some food and leave it in the common room for the other.

in the day, you two shared free periods, and so spent it lounging in the common room, simply doing work at the coffee table or reading a book on the couch. music would play in the background as you two sat in comfortable silence, basking in each other’s company.

in the evenings, you might come back from a late class to find him napping on the couch. so you’d shake him awake with a “jungwon, let’s go get dinner.”

you could be studying in the library corner of your shared living space, and he’d always remind you to eat. even when it was past any meal time, he’d drag you off the chair for a trip to the kitchens, where he’d get a house elf to make you two a snack. he often asked for eclairs, noticing it was your favourite.

but yang jungwon didn’t just take up your daily activities, he was always on your mind too.

thoughts of how he wouldn’t like the cold dim lights of the slytherin common room, or seeing students that he’s told you he isn’t particularly fond of floated in your mind when you visited your friends.

you even found yourself comparing him to characters in whatever series you absorbed yourself in. you seriously couldn’t stop thinking about him.

the fights stopped completely, but you two continued your flirting friendly banter all the time.

once, you managed to find time in your busy schedule to sit down and watch barbie movies. jungwon (when did you even start calling him that?) had walked in to the common room to find his bag which he had left there, only to see you huddled up in a blanket while watching barbie as the island princess magically projected onto the wall.

“what’s this?” he’d asked.

“muggle movies from my childhood. this girl here grew up on the island when one day, she was found by a prince who was intrigued by her, and brought her back to the city, where she finally learns who she really is,” you explained while keeping your eyes trained on the projection.

“and who is she really?”

“why don’t you sit down and watch, kitty?” you’d always called him by that nickname during your petty fights, since his face reminded you of a cute cat. now though, it became more of an endearing nickname for the boy.

“i have to write 10 inches on the use of the lumos solem spell by tuesday.”

“that’s 5 days away! come on, don’t you wanna know? it’s really good, i promise. we can watch from the start, and i’ll help you with that charms essay, since professor song assigned it to us to, and i already got started on it,” you asked, twisting to face him with the best pleading look you could muster.

“fine, but only because you begged," he relented with a playful smile.

so that’s how you ended up binging barbie movies into the wee hours of the morning, sharing a blanket with your proclaimed enemy on the sofa.

“you honestly look more like serafina,” you tease him.

“what? but she’s a girl! wouldn’t wolfie be a better fit?”

“but serafina has more cat-like eyes! you guys have similar eyes.”

“are you serious right now? they’re both cats!” he gestures to the movie, paused at the last scene.

“but you really look like her!” you insist, using both hands to point at each corner of his eyes, shifting closer to him. “they’re upturned.”

“didn’t realise you knew that about me, babe.” he wrapped his own hands around your wrists, as they hovered above his face. “if i’m serafina, you must be wolfie.”

“why? because we’re partners in crime?” you snorted at his suggestion. “they get married at the end and have a bunch of little kitties too. you want that?”

“if that’s what you’d like,” he shrugged, his lips pulling into a downwards smile.

you stared at him incredulously, heartbeat suddenly pounding as you looked into the growing smug look on his face. his eyes that managed to shine even in the dark never failed to root you on the spot, unable to look away.

what were you feeling? you've looked at jungwon so many times over the past 5 years, but the boy's gaze never made you feel like this way before. like you were floating on air; like you could do anything with him by your side, looking at you like that.

in fact, thinking back to all your years of knowing him, it's funny how much things have changed in the past several months.

you actually giggle a bit, sitting back, further from his warmth. you immediately miss the soft touch of his fingers around your wrists.

"what are you laughing about?" he asks, but he's laughing too.

"you. me; us."

"are we comedians now or something?"

"no, but we're definitely clowns of the circus." jungwon grinned at your statement, an amused huff escaping his lips.

"penny for your thoughts?"

"i was just thinking... how did we go from having wars in the middle of DADA in 3rd year, to watching muggle barbie movies at 2am on a saturday?" you think out loud.

"when you put it like that... we do sound like the comedy act of a show," he admits, scratching the back of his neck.

"at least i do."

"what do you mean?" you ask, shifting your position on the couch to sit up. you move your cold feet so they rest between jungwon's ankles, soaking in their warmth.

"our little feud - you know, the fights, the hexes, all that. it was all because of me."

"what? no it wasn't - i instigated a lot of them too," you say, trying to reassure him. was he feeling guilty and blaming himself?

"but, it was! honestly, if it wasn't for my stupid shallow thinking, we might've been friends way earlier." you looked at him patiently, nodding for him to continue.

"i used to think that muggle-borns were stupid and would fall behind in everything - school, work, just because you had no idea of how our world worked. honestly, i pitied and felt sorry for you guys, because i thought you could never be on our level. i know now how ignorant i was, obviously," he scoffed at himself.

"so when i met you, i thought you were an idiot. you are, don't get me wrong-" he teased you, causing you to roll your eyes, although smiling lightly. "but even though you're muggle-born, you always managed to do better than me.

"you were constantly the best student in our year- no, our school. you were faster at understanding concepts than i was, immediately getting things right on the first try. hell, even when i would go flying on the pitch to relieve my stress and then got recruited into the ravenclaw team in third year, i finally thought i was better than you at something. and then you joined your team in 4th, and was called the 'ace' of slytherin. what a blow all of that to was to my ego."

"i joined the team to annoy you," you shyly admit. "but why did you even think that in the first place?" you asked, not angry. you wanted to hear him out and finally get answers to questions you've asked yourself for so many years. you wanted to understand, and know the boy in front of you.

"well, you know that my father's company is successful. so growing up, i was given the best. my parents hired the best tutors for me, so i'd be ahead of everyone else when i started hogwarts. my teachers said i was their best student, my parents showed me off to their friends as their 'pride and joy' or something dumb like that. other parents compared their kids to me, i was that kid.

"i knew i was privileged though - that i had money and could afford to have this good education. so i made the best of it and constantly told myself that others would be lucky to have my life, so i wanted to prove i was worthy of it by working hard and pushing myself all my life.

"but with that, i developed the mindset that people who don't have money like i do can't have as much knowledge as me since they don't have access to it - and that included muggle-borns. you had zero knowledge of this world, which works incredibly different to yours. we have different moral compasses; notions of common sense; understanding of how things worked.

"so imagine how surprised i was to find that you were doing better than me in school. me, who had sat beside a tutor since i was 6, who was learning OWL content at 12. all this only for a girl who didn't even know magic existed until a month before to top me in school.

"that's why i was always angry; i was angry with my tutors for not teaching me better; at you for being better. but most especially at myself. for deluding myself into thinking that way." you two were silent for a moment.

"what changed?" you asked.

jungwon breathed in, preparing himself.

"5th year. i was finally learning to respect you, so when i walked into the library that was full of students, you seemed like the best option to sit next to."

"really? still hadn't gotten over that 'i'm better than everyone blah blah blah' attitude?" you asked, smugly tilting your head to the side.

"shush," he hid his face. "but... i got to learn how hard you really worked back then. i used to think you just had some gift for learning. but watching you with your head down for hours, i felt like i was discrediting all that with something like 'innate talent'.

"i went back home that summer confused and having a mid-life crisis at 16. my dad talked to me though, knocked some sense into me.

"he said that just because muggles don't know magic, doesn't mean they can't do anything. i mean, the whole idea of smart devices that our company is literally known for was taken from muggles! without you guys, we wouldn't have that in our world either. you created it, we just used magic to expand it.

"i was pretty shaken up after that, and was in a daze when 6th year started. it took me a while to sort my thoughts out and gather myself."

it was silent for a while, now nearing 3am.

jungwon just spilled out his guts to you, in the dim atmosphere of your common room. now you were the one collecting your thoughts.

"i'm sorry too."

"what? you never did anyth-"

"but i basically did the same thing as you. you studied for years and years, and i just always thought you were also naturally smart; that you never needed to study like i did because you already knew it all."

silence enveloped the two of you once again.

"...so i guess we're more similar than we thought, huh?" he smiled softly at you. you felt like you were floating again.

"i guess so."

jungwon unfolded his legs and opened his arms out as a gesture, which you gladly accepted and fell into his embrace.

"so, are we good now?" you asked.

"hmm, i still feel like you owe me something for all those years of endless anger and feeling like shit."

"you mean for enlightening you that we stupid muggles aren't so stupid?" you asked, face still buried in his chest, your voice muffled against his sweatshirt. "shouldn't you owe me? for teaching you a lesson?"

"but i want something," he pouted, pulling on your wrist.

"what is it? as long as its affordable."

"is going to the spring ball with me affordable?"

you turn your head to look up at him, who's looking down at you with shy eyes, waiting for your answer.

"i don't know... how much does it cost?" you play along. you already know your answer anyway.

"it'll cost you about..." he pulled out the calculator app on his phone, pretending to add up a total. "one kiss."

you laughed at him, finally pulling away from his arms.

"was that at the end of 5th year not enough?"

"no," he pouted, eyebrows knitted. so cute, you thought.

"alright then, but is it okay if i pay you that hefty price later at the ball?" jungwon sighed dramatically, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

"i guess... but the price might increase to 10."

"that's okay, i'll give you as many as you want, as long as the first one is special."

"i didn't know you were sentimental like that," he smirked at you, kissing your cheek. you shrugged nonchalantly, smiling at him.

"i didn't know you were so needy for kisses like that."

"touché," he laughed, dragging you in for another hug, cuddling you until you both fell asleep in each other's arms.

since that night, you and jungwon gradually learned to be comfortable each other. and with the ball preparations, there was lots of opportunities to do so.

you realised that - without the hostility between you two, it was much easier to find compromises when you disagreed on something. jungwon did things differently from you, but listened to your thoughts and offered his too.

as the weeks went on, you found yourself looking forward to meetings with him, missing his presence when he wasn’t with you.

something in the way he’d nudge you lightly when you were worried about something, wrap his arm around you and squeeze your shoulder, or simply smile at you brightly with those cat-like eyes of his - they were all comforting.

the change in atmosphere didn’t go unnoticed by your friends either.

"what was that??" rei interrogated you when jungwon pulled you aside for the nth time this week.

"oh, he just wanted to talk about putting up decor later," you answer nonchalantly, taking a bite out of your toast.

"he has the same conversation with you practically every day," minji rolled her eyes.

"yeah, and i'm more surprised that you don't come ranting to us about every interaction you two have," hiyyih agrees, eyeing you suspiciously.

"well, i just grew up and matured," you try to defend yourself.

"if growing up and maturing means developing a crush, then yeah. you sure did." rei pauses before continuing. "is there something you aren't telling us?"

technically, yes. you weren't telling them about the development between you and jungwon - at least not yet. but you didn't exactly have a crush on the boy, in the sense that it was a one-sided thing and you were too shy to confess. but you didn't really want to tell them what was going on between you two, because you didn't know yourself.

were you and jungwon friends(-ish)? yes. but were you dating? no, definitely not. there's no doubt though that your strange, blurry, undefined relationship will develop soon enough, and you'd rather wait until everything's clear before telling your friends.

"she's not saying anything - something is definitely up!" hiyyih gasped excitedly, causing rei and minji to giggle, and you to shake your head.

you had noticed that jungwon seemed to always find reasons to talk to you, even if it's little things you've already discussed before, or silly simple questions like 'how's your day going?' or 'what barbie movie are we watching tonight?'

yeah, you two often found yourselves watching barbie movies late into a friday night.

you also ended up cuddling on the couch almost every evening after a long day of duties, particularly on patrol nights. after your rounds, you two would head back up to the head dormitories, where you'd flop onto the couch, and he'd jump onto you soon after.

the others would go crazy if they ever found out, you laugh to yourself.

the next day would be the night of the ball, so you were pretty wrapped up in helping out throughout the day.

"everything's set up," haerin, a 5th year gryffindor prefect told you.

"it looks really good," you tell her, looking at the great hall. it looked great now, and you were excited for how it would turn out in the dark of the night later.

"did you manage to complete the spell?" she asked curiously.

"i did, but i'm only 89.7% sure it'll work," you say, biting your lip. you hated not being completely sure about something, like an answer, or in this case - a self-made spell.

you turn when you hear a laugh behind you.

"i like how you have a specific percentage even when it comes to feelings," jungwon says through a grin. "your brain works weirdly"

"whatever, kitty," you roll your eyes light heartedly at him.

facing the great hall again, you take a deep breath as you cast the spell on the great hall, chanting the incantation as you wave your wand.

in a moment, the hall was filled with falling petals of different colours, though they didn't litter the ground messily, simply disappearing when they reached the ground. vines reached out from between the tiled floor, wrapping around table legs and growing bright vibrant flowers of their own. small orbs of light flickered throughout the ceiling, like fairies illuminating the scene.

"wow, it looks amazing, y/n!" one of the professors helping around praised.

"it really does," jungwon says, snaking his arm around your waist, his hand clinging onto your side snuggly.

"thank you," you mumble, as you both look up at the pretty scene in front of you.

soon, night falls and you're running down the staircase with your friends, holding up the ends of your dress to avoid stepping on it.

"careful y/n! or you might trip!" you hear hiyyih call out from behind you.

"she's just excited to see her prince charming," minji laughs, but the three of them are also running, holding up their own dresses.

the doors of the great hall open, revealing the breathtakingly decorated room, some guests already having arrived at the scene.

"wow, this is amazing..." rei gasped, enchanted by the way coloured lights perfectly illuminate the hanging wisteria flowers, and butterflies fluttering throughout the room.

"you seriously outdid yourself. how did you even do this?" hiyyih asked.

"only y/n could make a spell as complicated as this," jungwon's voice says, announcing his presence. "you look good, by the way," he adds when you look at him.

a quick one-over of his look tonight does not do him justice. so you find yourself staring unashamedly at his figure.

the way his waistcoat hugs his figure emphasises his broad shoulders, something you didn't even realise you found attractive until you saw it on him. a red tie lazily tucked into the waistcoat plus the rolled-up sleeves - it all made your mind go haywire.

"you would know, having been subjected to all the spells she's made over the years," hiyyih laughs at the memory.

"didn't know you spent so much time thinking about me, kim," he goaded.

"oh trust me, she def-" you cut rei off by covering her mouth with your gloved hand.

"thanks, jungwon," you say quickly, giving him a smile and pushing your friends away.

"he was flirting with you!" rei loudly whispers into your ear.

"and what do you want me to do about it!" you say, making sure your friends couldn't see the deep blush on your face.

"flirt back!" minji huffs out exasperatedly. "i'm sick and tired of whatever has been going on between you two for years!"

"yes, please just end it tonight! whether you get together or never talk about it again," rei rolls her eyes.

"what?" you stop, looking at them.

"rei's right, although i'd prefer for you to finally get together."

"wait wait wait, what do you mean?"

"are you being for real right now? you two have clearly had a thing for each other this whole time!" rei says like it was obvious. "we've known it for years."

"go get your man!" hiyyih sighs, turning you by your shoulders and pushing you away this time.

you try not to dwell on the thought of your friends betting on your relationship with jungwon, and pretend you never heard a word come out of their mouths.

soon, the headmaster calls for everyone's attention.

"welcome students!" his voice echoes throughout the hall, the music quietening for his speech. "first and foremost, i want to thank this year's head girl and boy for organising such an event for us. give it up for kim y/n and yang jungwon!" he shouts, a spot light highlighting your two figures in the room. you quickly turn to look at jungwon, who looks back at you with a smile, as everyone claps loudly, some even whistling supportively.

"and with that, may the spring ball begin - with the spring dance, kicking off with the head boy and girl leading the first dance," professor si-hyuk ends his speech.

everyone cheers and makes way for you two on the dance floor, which magically raises up in the middle of the hall.

music begins to play as you face the head boy, who inches closer to you every second.

time slows as he places his hand on your hips, guiding your hand to his shoulders. all other noise is drowned out by the sound of your heart, pounding so hard it might come out your chest. you don't see anyone but yang jungwon.

and he's looking at you like he sees no one else but you either.

it's crazy, how you're here, dancing, in the arms of the person who you've hated since 1st year - who motivated you to work hard during all these years.

you think back to your first meeting with him.

you could imagine the sparkles in your eyes as you stare at everything in awe, still in disbelief.

last month, a weirdly-dressed person knocked at your front door, and told your parents that you were a witch.

of course, you hadn't believed her at first, until she pointed her wand at a decorative figurine and made it float upside down. you and your family had been absolutely floored and confused. how could something like that even happen?

last month, the weirdly-dressed lady described to you a world that sounded fictional, of magic and creatures you could never even imagine. she explained why you had all these weird happenings growing up, things that were simply unexplainable.

your world was turned upside down in a few moments, and now you were here, on a train, to a magical school.

of course, you were incredibly sad to be away from your family for the first time in your life, but you were assured that you still had many ways to connect with them. and so, you set off into a new world completely alone, but with a lot of excitement.

you walked around the compartments as the train set off, peering and saying hi to other students.

until, you bumped into a boy who had the prettiest eyes you've ever seen, and the cutest little dimple that had 11-year old you's heart melting.

"be careful and look where you're going," he says nonchalantly.

"i'm so sorry! i was just so excited - i mean, aren't you? could you ever believe magic exists? i won't until i try it for myself!" you ramble enthusiastically.

you trail off when you see him looking at you with a mix of pity and boredom.

"oh, so you're a muggle-born, huh?"

"what do you mean?" you ask confusedly.

"well, whatever you think, i'm not like you. i already know what you just learned, and i already know what you still have to learn," he shrugs, picking at his nails like he ha better things to do than talk to you. "sorry, i think you're going to struggle a little bit here," he simply says, and leaves you alone in the middle of the train corridor.

what the hell? you ask yourself.

snobby rich kids isn't something you thought you'd experience in the wizarding world, but i guess somethings are just universal, huh?

something about the way he looked at you; talked to you like you were below him though - it bugged you.

"i'm gonna struggle?" you ask yourself in disbelief. absolutely not, you didn't want him to be right. you'll make sure of it.

and so, you ran back to your own compartment and pulled out your books, making a resolution to study everything and make sure you knew all the content. you wanted to show whoever that kid is that he's wrong, that you're better than him.

and so, the rest of the long ride and even your first night was spent catching up on what you missed out on, making sure you were prepared for whatever this extraordinary world would throw at you.

and most especially, preparing for whatever trouble the boy, who's name you learned was yang jungwon would give you.

gradually, more people join the dance, but you're so entranced by the boy in your arms, you don't notice how he's whisked you away from the main dance floor.

now towards the side of the room, away from all attention, jungwon looks down at you with all the love in his eyes.

it's overwhelming, you can't escape your emotions anymore. you like jungwon, possibly even more. you feel like all these feelings are about to burst out of you, and jungwon's arms are the only thing keeping you together.

"y/n, i think you still owe me something," he whispered, his face dangerously close to yours.

"and what would that be?" you naturally retort, having developed the instinct to talk back when it came to him.

"don't play with me, please let me kiss you."

"i don't think so." you pause teasingly, trying not to giggle at his pout, his dimple coming out. "let me kiss you," you say, finally leaning in, sealing your lips.

it felt just like the one back in 5th year, but better. jungwon held you impossibly closer by the waist, as if fearing you would run away. but you won't, and you never will. because in his arms, you never felt as safe and comfortable in your own skin as you did then.

you finally part for air, but jungwon's eyes never strayed from your face.

"i lied earlier by the way, when i said you looked good." you raise your eyebrows at him questioningly, before he smiles cheekily at you. "you look like the stars that put me to sleep every night."

"i didn't know you were poetic like that," you laughed lightly, leaning your forehead on his chest. "you look like my boyfriend."

"that's because i am," he says pulling you in for another kiss.

you don't think you'll ever get tired of kissing him. it's an unforgettable moment, and an unforgettable night.

you never knew you were missing something until you met jungwon, and you think you can finally breathe with him next to you (and your friends passing riki 20 galleons each two tables away). 

; author's corner! hii this was inspired by all the jily fics i've read over the years (whew i didn't even realise how long i've been reading fanfiction...) LMAO anyways may irls never find out this acc belongs to me bc my realistic self barfed at what i just wrote but my delulu self was kicking and giggling while editing but i hope you enjoyed!

; taglist @wonuslust @enhacatalog @makiswrld @forjungwons @yebin14 @lovelovelovebts @amanda-archives @beomgyusonlywife @bbinwrld@em-asian @enhamysunshines @ahnneyong @jungwonscafe bold couldn't be tagged!

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CHASING PAVEMENTS (PART I) 𓇼 (P.JS)

✎ PAIRING: park jisung x fem! reader

✎ GENRE: angst, smut, brother's best friend trope

✎ WARNING: !!sexual content!! (minors dni) fwb relationship, jisung is slightly an asshole, reader is naive, ambiguous ending, might do a part two???

✎ SUMMARY: In which jisung's derived thoughts leads him to an unlikely arrangement with chenle's sister, where he fucks up (quite literally) when he realises how deep in the feels he has for the girl he is suppose to show disinterest to, in honour of 'BRO CODE'.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: since a few of you guys voted for jisung fic, here it is! it def took longer than i expected but i hope you like this one! <3

part two

PARK JISUNG HAD NO BOUNDARIES.

A man with desired sexual hormones isn't one to back down on steamy hook-up sessions, especially ones which are deemed promising. However, he didn't exactly knew how to draw the line when he began banging his best friend's sister.

(He thanked the heavens that Chenle had gone out that night to not witness the sinister act.)

But to be fair, the male didn't exactly plan to go black-out drunk at their usual dorm party on that particular Saturday night just to wake up naked with his best friend's sister on his side of the bed.

Especially since it's the same girl who had a thing for the said boy since their childhood, so much so that it was excrutiating for Jisung to watch her poor attempts at making a move on him. Even Chenle was used to it and was completely fine with your lovesick crush for his best friend, from the way you would stutter around the boy or the fact you used to give him flowers every Valentine's day, knowing deep down that your little feelings would fade away eventually.

But now, it's different because it's no longer a one-sided pining from you, rather a completely mutual friends-with-benefits situation. Though, it's far fetch to consider you and Jisung to be friends. He was always disinterested in you and even with this new arrangement, he only seemed content with finding a buddy he could released his pent-up sexual frustations with. Despite this, Jisung wouldn't initiate anything other than sex, making it clear that his intention with you is strictly for his selfish desires. His dirty little secret to be kept from Chenle.

You, on the other hand, couldn't be more happy than to pass up the only opportunity to be closer to Jisung. It was silly for you to expect anything more, but this was better than nothing. Jisung had fuck boy tendecies, it was nearly impossible for you to make him stay committed. However, a part of you was determined to make him fall for you.

No matter how wrong it was, it seemed that both of you can't get enough of each other.

Which is how Jisung ended up in your dorm room on Wednesday night, currently his cock buried deep inside of you as you suppress your moans. His hand digging your inner thighs as he lift you up to get a better angle, half of your body up in the air.

Grunting in frustation, his hair glued to his forehead from the layers of sweat. Rounds and rounds of endless pleasure. You could tell his anger that was built up a moment ago, was slowly dissipitating from the way his thrust begins to slow down, pausing briefly to brush the strands of his hair back. The view making you squeeze around him tighter.

"S-Shit. Do that again." He demanded, his hand coming up to grab onto your tits harshly as he pushed himself further inside you.

Squeezing once again, you made an attempt to wrap your hands around his neck only to have it shoved aside. His hands clutching your wrist to prevent you from touching him.

"I'm close!" You mewled, hip trusting against his as you made an attempt to inch closer towards him— if that was even possible.

"Me too!" He groaned.

With one powerful thrust, the both of you reached the awaiting orgasm. His breath close to your face as you stared into his eyes, entranced with the way he looks. Biting your lips, you lean in for a kiss only to have his warmth ripped away from you. Standing up to get himself dressed, much to your disappointment.

"You're leaving, already." You asked, not wanting to sound too desperate.

The male could only give a brief nod, "Yup, I have to get back before Chenle suspects something's up."

But you knew it was bullshit. Chenle didn't care if his best friend didn't show up to their dorm late at night. It was normal in a college settings. You knew that he was coming up with an excuse to not indulge further and as much as that should give you a blaring warning in your ears, you were still as stubborn as ever.

"Okay! Get back safely." You said cheerily, watching as he quickly buttons up his shirt.

Getting nothing but a hum of acknowledgement as he made his way out of your dorm, not even glancing back.

Laying down on your dishelved bed, you could only have the same feeling of regret wash over you. You wonder why you would let yourself seek love from someone who clearly could not care less about you. It had been four months of never-ending sneaky hook ups and there was still no hope that he was semi into you. You were stupid for thinking like a child.

Perhaps, you could let this go once again.

Again.

WEEK ONE.

Sitting from afar, you watch in subtlety at the disgustingly appaling view from a couple feet away. There stood, Jisung smiling with such admiration towards NingNing, a girl whom he was talking to. Her giggles echoed through the cafeteria as his friends were teasing him from the side. The sight of the sweet interaction made your heart clench, ultimately feeling defeated as you had once again expected too much of Jisung to reciprocate his feelings.

Too indulged in your thoughts, you didn't bother taking notice of the pity looks you were received by your friends. Chaeryeong glared at the audacious boy while Yunjin patted your shoulder comfortingly.

"You should move on." Yunjin mumbled.

"Yeah, you deserve way better." Chaeryeong chimed in.

You could only offer a meek shrug, "It's probably nothing, guys."

But even your own voice couldn't believe the words, knowing well enough that it was hopeless to string onto a thread that was never held onto on the other end.

It was evident from your persistence that you were determined to hold onto the shred of hope that maybe, just maybe it could work. That those years of pinning would be worth it.

"You know the guy from Econ is totally into you." Yunjin spoke up, redirecting the topic.

You perked up but remained an uninterested expression.

"Oh, come on. I'm not asking you to fuck him or anything." She said. "Maybe try get to know him, he's really sweet."

"Are you talking about that guy that helped her carry her stuff to class." Chaeryeong voice raised excitedly.

"Seungmin? He's nice to everyone." You justified, dismissing your friend's exaggerated story.

"But he's more nicer to you." Yunjin rebutted, earning an agreement nod from your red-haired friend.

"And I may or may not have heard him talking to Hyunjin about wanting your number." She added.

You scoffed playfully, "Thanks but no thanks. The last thing I need is another migraine from boys."

That was the end of the conversation. Luckily, your friends didn't push you further, allowing the three of you to eat in peace before the bell rang.

Bidding 'goodbyes' to each other as you parted ways to your assigned schedule. In some twisted way, you were glad that you were sharing this one particular class with Jisung. Both of you having similar major. Feeling the excitement rush through you as you made your way to the class. Students swarming in, looking for seats as you watched around in hopes of spotting the black haired boy.

To your luck, he was seated near the window with an empty seat beside him. In queue, you made a beeline towards his direction, only to have another bag placed itself against the wooden desk. Slightly flinching from the sudden intrusion, you looked up and saw the same girl at the cafeteria. Her sun-kissed face contorted into confusion.

"Oh, did you plan sitting here?" NingNing removed her stuff, "I can mo-"

"No!" Jisung interrupted abruptly, standing up to hold onto her wrist. "Sit here."

You couldn't help but watch with dull eyes as Jisung completely ignored your presence. His eyes gazing onto the girl as both of them shared a look of something that held a cruelly familiarity; a look of mutual liking.

"I-It's okay, I can find another seat." You stuttered, turning around quickly and grab onto a chair that was available and plopping down on it without looking back.

Biting back your tears, you didn't notice that the whole interaction was being observed by your classmate. Some whispered among themselves while others ignored it as if it was some normal occurence. You didn't have shame left to be bothered by their comment.

It wasn't news that your crush for Jisung was evident. Everyone knew, and you didn't bother to hide it because you were happy to admit it. You would broadcast to the whole street for your undying love for the boy and not a glimpse of embarassment would overcome you. However, Jisung would only continue to ignore you, of course, only on the outside. Afterall, it would ruin his pride for the class to know what he did to his best friend's sister behind close doors.

Staring distractedly at your unwritten paper, it was as if today wasn't one of your best when your lecturer had called you out, waiting for your answer.

Gulping nervously as you looked around to see students watching you, wanting nothing more than to burn a hole through the ground.

Just as you were about to utter your response, a hand swiftly moved a piece of paper towards your table, giving you a chance to catch the answer, making you read it aloud.

Your lecturer gave you stern look, as if reprimanding you before moving on to the next portion of the lesson. You sigh in relief, turning your head to the side to thank the person who helped you.

Seungmin chuckled at your flustered state, waving off as if it was nothing. He went back to his notes, scribbling down a couple of words before sliding it back to your desk.

'You okay?'

You smiled and began writing down before handing it back to him discreetly.

'I'm good :)'

He stared at the note for a moment before writting down a couple of sentence. You glanced slightly towards him, not wanting to make it obvious and pretended to focus on the lecture. Not a second later, the same yellow note slid itself towards your desk.

'Good enough to give me your no?'

You giggled silently at his bold flirting before deciding to give him your number. It was harmless, anyways. You thoughtlessly scribbled down. Little did you know, your little interaction didn't went unnoticed by the black-haired boy at the back of the class, who had been glaring holes behind you unknowingly. A sudden vision of green clouded his mind, a feeling that he hated deeply.

Jealously.

Pounding furiously against you as you were pressed up against the door to the janitor's closet. The cleaning tools were left scattered on the floor as he kept pushing himself closer to you, his hands snaking itself around your neck making your hips arched towards his cock.

Jisung moaned deliciously at the contact as he began placing love bites down your throat, slowly turning you around only to hoist you up by the thighs. You gasped at the new position, your legs wrapping around his slim waist, his hand coming to find itself in your hands, trapping you completely.

Just as you were about to release, Jisung completely removed himself away from you. His hands made is way to the zipper of his pants as he tidied himself up, you were left shocked as you watched him crossed his arms, as if waiting expectedly.

"Finish yourself for me. I want to see how you make yourself cum." He demanded, his demeanor not changing even for a moment.

You were hesitant with your moves, which only angered the male above you. Grabbing your wrist as he guided it towards your wet cunt, you maoned at the harsh contact before he lets go. His eyes urging you to continue.

If it was any other day, you would have felt shameful but considering he had denied you pleasure, you were more than eager to finish. Quickening the pace on your fingers as you shoved it deeper, scrunching your face in pure bliss, watching the way Jisung eyes were trained onto yours. His hard-on was evident yet he was more focus on the view in front of him, not bothering to fix his big issue.

Just then, the sense of euphoria came and your hand were painted with the colourless liquid. As you were about to wipe away, his hands held yours, stopping you. Inching his face closer to your cum-covered hands, he stuck out his tongue to lick it clean off. Your eyes widened at his actions, not expecting him to act so scandalous.

Once he was done licking like it was some popsicle, he gargled the remaining liquid and swallowed it down as if it was something tasteful, letting out a content sigh. Without saying a word, he left the room to leave you in a confused mess.

WEEK TWO.

Ever since that incident, you were only fueled by the same feeling in your stomach, the heart-fluttering butterflies aching your vulnerable heart. That had been the most intimate he's been and you were only craving more for his affection which, unbeknownst to you, was only the beginning. His texts were now more engaging and he seemed to want to make time whenever he would get. Despite your friend's disapproval, you were blinded by Jisung's false hope. You had even forgotten about Seungmin, ignoring his message on whether you would be available to hang out. All your mind could think of was Jisung.

Only getting disappointment when he would go back to a cycle of ignoring your existence and talk to NingNing on campus.

Oh well, it's a progress at least.

Though that meant that you were playing a very dangerous game when Chenle began suspecting the marks on your neck that were very prominent. Thankfully, he wasn't one to be nosy, passing off insults before walking off.

"Yo, could you stop staring at Jisung." Your brother snapped you out.

You had conveniently left your keys inside your dorm room and your roommate was not able to come back home as she was visiting her parents, which only gave you the only option to bunk in with your brother and his roommates. You would've slept with your friends, if it weren't for the fact that the both of them hadn't been home as well, making plans with their boyfriends. Luckily though, the boys had been kind enough to set up a room for you, which in exchange, meant that they were all sleeping outside to avoid any awkward circumstances. Hours had passed and you were getting bored with their loud cheering in the living room, struggling to tug yourself to sleep, you decide to observe the commotion.

Even without facing your way, his gaze focused on the video game in front of him, he could sense your unbearing stares for his best friend. Chenle groaned when he lost against Jisung, Mark offering the younger a high-five while Haechan cackled at Chenle's frustatated expression.

"Could you like, not be so weird around my friends." Chenle turned towards you, his friends watching you as you blushed deep red, walking off in a rush.

"Your sister's kinda hot." Haechan spoke up, earning a smack from Mark.

"What! It's the truth. Jisung, you're kinda lucky."

Chenle gagged, "Don't make me throw up. She's a nightmare."

"Well, you're saying that 'cause it's your sister. If any one of us has a hot sister, you would've totally went for it."

"I'm not having this sick conversation." Chenle dramatically declared before making his way to the kitchen, Mark following suit to grab a snack.

"You're lying if you're not in the slightest bit interested." Haechan whispered, taking extra precaution despite being away from their earshot.

"Of course not." The younger denied.

"Sure." Haechan's voice dragged on, indicating that he wasn't convinced. "So you wouldn't be bothered if she was talking to someone else, right."

Haechan provoked, smirking when he noticed that Jisung's hand tightened around the console. Despite his calm appearance, the older knew he was bothered by that thought.

"Less of a headache for me then." Jisung focused his gaze on the screen, not wanting to give Haechan the attention.

The older, of course, didn't like that. "So, if Seungmin were to make a move on her. You would be fine."

"No!" He blurted out.

That was when he could see the older's smugness through the screen, backtracking himself. "I mean— yes, I don't care! Why are you so worked up over this." He accused trying to keep the facade that was already cracked.

"Yeah, like I'm the one with the beet red face." Haechan fired back, finding humour in his reaction, happy that he has successfully got through him. "Dude, you know Chenle would be okay with it, right?"

"Shut up!"

Jisung rolled his eyes before throwing his console towards the older, facing the screen in a attempt to cover up his embarassed face. His heart accelerating from getting caught by a loudmouth like Haechan.

Luckily his embarassment was cut off short when Chenle and Mark came back in with snacks on their hand.

"So, you guys going to Sunwoo's party next Friday." Mark munched on his chips.

The sudden silence as the group checked their schedule.

1:56 am

"Oh, shit! We should probably stop soon."

"Yeah, soon!" Haechan mumbled, too engrossed in his game.

"But you guys are going, right?" Mark confirmed.

Earning a collective hum before the four of them went back to their video game, reminding themselves that it was only one game and that they would go to sleep afterwards.

Newsflash: It wasn't one round of gaming.

Which is why the three of them ended up being knocked up in the couch, Mark's loud snoring annoyed Jisung as he twisted his body back and forth, groaning when he realised he couldn't sleep.

Suddenly, a devious plan came to mind. Removing the blanket off of him, he tip-toed towards the closed door. Luckily, you were still wide awake, scrolling mindlessly on your phone. You perked up when you heard the sound of the door opening, Jisung's head peeking in. Stepping inside, you knew what he was in for...

Morning soon kicked in, rubbing your eyes. You wrapped the blanket around your bare body tightly, looking to the side to find Jisung no longer by your side. Groaning from the slight ache, you made your way to the bathroom, which was thankfully connected to the room, sparing you the intrusion.

All of your classes were in the afternoon, which gave you time to prepare breakfast. It didn't take long for you to find some ingredients, which was thankfully, not expired, knowing how lazy Chenle would get in cleaning up his stuff. The smell of freshly cooked pancakes awakened the boys. Yawning aloud as they sat down, as if awaiting for their meal. You rolled their eyes before setting a stack in front of them.

"Mm, you're the best." Haechan moaned dramatically, taking a bite. Mark humming in agreement.

"Don't you guys brush your teeth?" You asked in disgust, ignoring his compliment.

"We usually brush after."

"Gross."

A noise of protest erupt, which made you laugh. Just as you were about to make another one, in came Jisung. The last to be awake.

"Ji, come try this. She's such a good cook!" Haechan praised.

"It's just pancake." You humbled yourself.

"Yeah, you can chill out. This taste like ass." Chenle called out, which made you glare at your brother.

"Well, give me then!" You held your hand out.

Chenle only took the plate further from your reach, sticking his tongue out in mockery. Annoyed, you grabbed the spatula and whacked him across the face. Mark and Haechan laughed as Chenle began to chase you around, threatening you with a string of profanities escaping his mouth. You retaliated further by shoving him away. The sight of bickering between the siblings made Jisung smile, finding you adorable... wait, what?

"No thanks." He mumbled, quickly changing his mood back before you noticed.

"Oh, by the way, you should check your phone. NingNing's been texting you." Mark informed.

You tensed at the mention of the girl, pausing you actions briefly.

"Oh, right. I'll check it later." He said dismissively.

"So, what's your status with her?" Chenle asked, panting slightly from exhaustion.

You pretended to busy yourself in the sink, tuning in into their conversation without making it obvious.

"I don't know." He replied dryly.

"Oh, come on. She probably likes you, you've been pinning her since, what, last year?" Mark prodded.

You didn't want to hear the rest as you quickly excused yourself, telling them you had to meet your friends. Grabbing your stuff as you dashed out, in a hurry.

"Dude, we totally forgot your sister likes Ji. Oh, she's gonna be crushed." Haechan pointed out, his eyes widened comically as he pointed at the younger.

Chenle was the one to speak up, shrugging, "Who cares? She'll get over it." Chenle patted Jisung's shoulder, "Besides, we should be more worried about helping him ask the hottest chick out."

Jisung awkwardly chuckled.

"Right."

The day passed by unusually fast and Jisung still hasn't gotten a text from you. Don't get him wrong, he hated when you would get too clingy and risk the both of you getting caught but you would have usually been online by the time he opened his messaging app. It was rather impressive that you would be able to know the perfect moment to predict when he would text you. However, this time, Jisung saw that you were active three hours ago. He didn't think too much of it and switched off his phone, redirecting his attention back onto the lecture. Passing by the day as per normal.

Little did he know, that you were sulking on the other side of campus. Chaeryeong and Yunjin sitting on either side of you as you began to overthink.

"I thought we were doing okay." You mumbled, pulling your hair out in frustation.

"It's not you. You know what Jisung is like, you can't blame yourself." Chaeryeong scolded.

Just then, you watched as NingNing made her way towards campus. Her head hung low as she was focused on her phone. You could see her smile brightly, indicating that she was probably texting someone. For some reason you knew exactly who it was from how giddy she was acting. A part of you felt guilty for being selfish.

"Do you guys think I should really move on?" You asked meekly.

The both of them shot you a deadpanned look, as if ridiculing you for asking a dumb question. But the they didn't get to answer when you sat up straight, as if a lightbulb appeared on your head. "You know what?" You stood up, "I am going to move on!"

"Really?" Yunjin asked excitedly, standing up as well.

"Yes! Afterall, he only arranged this ordeal to get over his one sided crush." You waved off.

"What!" Both of them yelled in unison. "Yeah," You shrugged as if it was nothing. "He even moaned the wrong name in bed but that's besides the point."

"And you're only telling us this now?!"

You looked confused, "I thought I told you guys already."

"Uh, no you didn't. You said you guys hooked up accidentally and that's what made him want to do it again." Grabbing your shoulders, shaking them vigorously as if she was trying to wake you up, "You didn't tell us he was blatantly using you as a rebound." Yunjin said in fury, having been shocked by the sudden discovery. Chaeryeong, on the other hand wanted to punch the boy whenever he is on sight now.

"I mean, at least he got what he wanted now." You smiled, "It's totally fine, I should be happy for him."

Your friends looked at you in pity as you try to remain cheerful, not wanting to break down.

"I say we should forget about him completely."

WEEK THREE.

A few days went by and you were out hanging with your friends. Though, it would be a lie to say you weren't tempted when Jisung were to text you. It has been days without your usual sessions but he wouldn't really push the matter further, making you think that he didn't really care. In fact, you swore you saw him walking with NingNing on campus the other day. That thought had lessened the heartbreak and you soon got better at ignoring him completely.

Little did you know that Jisung began to worry about your absence. Growing more annoyed when you refuse to look at him whenever the both of you crossed paths in the hallway, even when you shared the same class, you weren't as eager to sit beside him. In fact, choosing a seat that was far from where he could see you. But in Jisung's classic way of dealing things, he ignored it, thinking that he might be exaggerating and that you were probably busy, opting to wait for you to approach him. Like you've always have.

Which was why you were fine with going to a party with your friends, knowing that if Jisung were there, he wouldn't even make an attempt to be near you.

But boy, were you wrong.

To say you were uncomfortable was an understatement, but to be fair, you hadn't had the best experience with parties. The first time you had gotten black-out drunk that you threw up all over Yunjin (you apologised later on, of course) and was forced to go back home earlier, with a massive hangover the next day. The next couple of times were consists of awkward mingling, considering you weren't one to be social. You vow to never attend a party ever again. Of course, until a few circumstances had changed.

Now, here you are, standing awkwardly while your friends were having the time of their lives. They were quite experience with the whole lifestyle, while you, on the other hand, just watched with a forced smile and they greet other college students. The liquid in the red solo cup was left untouched in your hands.

Walking through the crowds, you had lost your path with your friends, leaving you alone. As you frantically look around you, a hand clasped onto your shoulder. Turning around, you saw a beaming Seungmin.

"Didn't know you'd be here."

"Never really thought this through." You laughed awkwardly, "I didn't know why I bothered coming here."

"Parties are not your thing, huh?" He concluded, grabbing your hand as the both of you went to a more quieter area.

You didn't answer because if was fairly obvious, instead asking him back. He looked away before giving you a cheeky smile, "My friend dragged me here."

"The one making out with that girl." You pointed, watching his blonde-haired friend, Hyunjin, getting handsy.

"Yup. That's him." He scratched his head.

A moment of silence takes place before you decided to speak up, "I'm sorry for ghosting you, by the way."

He perked up, "It's alright."

"No, I'm serious. An asshole move on my part."

"Well, I can't blame you. You seemed pretty smitten with Jisung." He said, taking a sip of his drink.

"Yeah." You admitted, "But I'm over him now, well— in the process of."

He smiled, "Finally finding dignity for yourself, huh?"

"Hey!" You hit his arm, taking an offense at his words.

His laughter fueled in your anger but you soon find humour as you too, laughed along with him. And just like that, you spent the whole party talking to Seungmin.

That view alone made both of you appear to look like a couple, which was harmless. But in Jisung's eyes, it is deemed as a threat. Having had arrived an hour prior to the party, his gaze like a hawk as he eyed the both of you laughing away, ignoring Chenle's ranting.

"What have you been staring at?" Chenle moved his head towards the male, trying to match his view.

Just as Chenle eye's landed on your figure, he hummed in amusement, "Guess she finally got over you."

He joked, patting the male. But Jisung couldn't pick up on his words, not when he was fuming in anger.

Luckily though, Chenle got distracted by Haechan calling out to him, which served as a great escape for him to march towards you.

"You want to go outside?" He heard the voice of the sickening male, Seungmin's hands carressing your arms.

In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to take you away.

Which was what happened, because the next thing you could register was a sudden pull on the arm, dragging you away. It happened to quickly that not even Seungmin could utter in protest, which resulted you getting sucked into the mysterious hand. You didn't put up a fight though, knowing deep down the hand that it belongs to.

You sigh, getting tired of Jisung's mixed signals and wanting nothing more than to end the madness once and for all.

He pushed you towards an empty room before making his way in, locking the door while he slammed it shut. His back was turned towards you and you could only let out a grumble of complaint.

"So you dragged me here to give me the silent treatment." You provoked, "If you want to fuck me, just get it done and over with."

He turned around, facing you with eyes you could never read. Jisung was hard to understand and you couldn't figure out what he was thinking at the moment.

"That's not what I want to do."

"Then what is it, surely it isn't to talk. We never talk anyways, we just fuck." You scoffed, "So, try again." You scoffed, taking a step towards him.

He grabbed his hair in frusatation, "I don't know— fuck! I don't know, okay!"

"No! It's not okay because I'm sick of you treating me like a side piece. You got yourself a girlfriend now so why the hell are you still with me!" You yelled out.

"Because I like you too!" He blurted.

You widened your eyes at the sudden confession. "I like you, okay? I always have since we were kids too and I got scared so I tried to get over you by talking to her. I didn't realise how far I have gotten."

You shook your head, "Well, that's the thing. You don't think, you just do. I have made it clear from the start about my feelings but you just use it against me to fuck! You have never liked me so don't you dare fucking lie to me!"

"I'm not lying." He took a step forward, which only made you back away in disgust.

He didn't made an attempt afterwards, his eyes pleading as he watched you shuffle away.

"Well, isn't that a fucking useful information." Your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Fuck me then."

"What."

"You heard me, I said. Fuck. Me."

For the first time, it felt that you had the upper-hand. From the way Jisung seem to be more intimidated by your voice. You wanted him to feel the pain that you felt. Used like how he used you. You wanted to get back at him.

"If you don't, I'll leave."

That seemed to set a fire alarm in his ears because he was quick on his feet. His hand coming up to harshly grip onto your shirt to pull it off. You obliged, moving your hand to his neck to wrap it around his neck. With a quick tug, you pulled Jisung onto the bed, his back landed on the soft matress as you straddled his hips.

He groaned when you hastily reached his zipper, pulling down his cock. which slapped against his stomach in an instant. Veiny and red.

He was about to lean in for a kiss before you covered his lips, pouting slightly at your refusal. A smirk played on your lips as you whispered against his ear. "It doesn't feel nice, does it?"

He was about to utter your name when you began pumping his length harshly, causing him to let out loud moans.

"How pathetic, I haven't even started putting my pussy inside." You mocked.

Sliding your panties to the side, you guided his hardened cock towards your wet slick, quickly slammed your hips against him once it was slid in smoothly. Both of you moan at the contact.

Bouncing against him with such speed, you could only struggle to let out few whimpers as he held tightly onto your hips, urging you to move faster.

You could tell he was nearing from the way his grip tightened. You were sure that it would leave bruises the next day. However, that was the least of your worries as you removed yourself away from him. He groaned in frustation at the sudden loss of contact.

"Why did yo— ah!" He was interrupted when you began sucking him without warning. His noises began to grow increasingly louder, which only made you shove your throat deeper, determined to take him in completely.

He moaned aloud your name in ecstasy, finally being able to release. His load painting your mouth as you swallow it clean.

He was panting from the pure bliss, having had one of the best blow jobs he had ever gotten.

He watched as you began to clean yourself up, slowly putting on your clothes. "Wait— where are you going?" He asked, grabbing your arm to stop you.

"We're done here." You said coldly.

"But—"

"You got what you wanted. I hope you're happy so don't ever contact me again." You began, making your way towards the door.

"Consider this our last session."

And with that, Jisung was left shock. Sitting alone in a stranger's bed as he was left defeated with the fact that you were never going to feel the same way for him again.

He knew he had fucked up. Badly.

©ruwriteshours

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VERBOTEN - LEE HEESEUNG [complete]

enhypen masterlist

VERBOTEN; meaning forbidden or banned

SYNOPSIS; a bad stroke of luck saw lee heeseung, your dads coworker, moving into your small apartment until he found his feet again. emotionally unavailable and a workaholic, you were going to try your absolute hardest to make him loosen up. even if it meant breaking a few of the house rules he'd set out.

PAIRING; reader x older heeseung

GENRE; social media au, lots of smut, angst with happy ending

CHARACTERS; enhypen members, &team members

WARNINGS; little age gap (heeseung is 28, reader is 22), jay/jake/hoon will also be aged up a little to 23/24, heavy dom sub undertones in this with heeseung being the dom ofc, daddy kink included, lots of sexual content with 02z included, swearing, will add more as the smau develops

START; 24/09/23

END; 02/12/23

TAGLIST; open! pls send an ask to be added and ensure your blog has your age clearly stated on it ^^

PROFILES

CHARACTER MOODBOARDS; heeseung | yn

ONE; is your cousin cute though?

TWO; mr song

THREE; use it in a sentence

FOUR; he's actually insane

FIVE; just some guy

SIX; bro code or something

SEVEN; look at me, this isn't you

EIGHT; mind the attitude

NINE; when I catch you riki

TEN; good girl

ELEVEN; you haven't connected shit

TWELVE; I'm not the fucking den mother

THIRTEEN; my ancestors are british

FOURTEEN; cotton wool

FIFTEEN; want to go again?

SIXTEEN; pussy so good it makes you unemployed

SEVENTEEN; maybe like 73cm

EIGHTEEN; no bitches does that to a man

NINETEEN; I might be a whore but I have standards

TWENTY; barking and shit

TWENTY ONE; happy anniversary baby

TWENTY TWO; you're scaring the bitches

TWENTY THREE; please delete this

TWENTY FOUR; losing the idgaf war

TWENTY FIVE; quit running your mouth

TWENTY SIX; you're tolerable at best

TWENTY SEVEN; day 1 of not being delusional

TWENTY EIGHT; it's like the trenches out here

TWENTY NINE; on my mind constantly

THIRTY; my eyes only

THIRTY ONE; jokes on you I like that

THIRTY TWO; ignore jake's pining

THIRTY THREE; leave my son out of this

THIRTY FOUR; treat you so good

THIRTY FIVE; polite

THIRTY SIX; jake hasn't checked his emails since 2019

THIRTY SEVEN; let me spoil you

THIRTY EIGHT; yn x 02z collab is ending

THIRTY NINE; will you guide me?

FORTY; look at him and tell me he hasn't taken a life

FORTY ONE; reporting you all to hr

FORTY TWO; epic highs and lows of high school football

FORTY THREE; sugar daddy era

FORTY FOUR; I've been yours since the beginning

FORTY FIVE; it make alpha angry

FORTY SIX; I missed you (platonically)

FORTY SEVEN; it just doesn't sit right

FORTY EIGHT; your name is written all over me

FORTY NINE; anger management lessons

FIFTY; mrs lee

FIFTY ONE; in every lifetime

FIFTY TWO: a win is a win

FIFTY THREE; post malone crocs

FIFTY FOUR; he's an ally

FIFTY FIVE; friendsgiving

FIFTY SIX; me or mark from sales

FIFTY SEVEN; let him cook

FIFTY EIGHT; riki and jake is a dangerous combo

FIFTY NINE; baby fever

SIXTY; I'll keep loving you until you ask me to stop

BONUS CHAP #1; heeseung's rules

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the roommate contract

pairing: lee jeno x fem!reader

genres: fluff, crack, angst, suggestive, one-sided enemies to lovers, roommates au, brother’s best friend au, fake dating

wc: 11341

warnings: profanity, a very flirty jeno, jaemin and mc are siblings and she sorta badmouths him oops, lot of childish banter, jeno is older than the mc by two years, some angst at the end (lmk if i’ve missed anything!) 

summary: nothing could have been worse than getting kicked out of your house and having to move in with lee jeno—resident fuckboy, annoying asshole and your first heartbreak.

playlist: click here!

note: this was supposed to be slowburn but i kinda got impatient so i ditched that plan LMFAO this is a bit fast-paced imo but i hope you guys enjoy the fic! feedback is always appreciated :D

masterlist

That day, you made three mistakes. 

First: talking about your problems in public. Second: letting slip how desperate you were. Third (the gravest mistake): locking gazes with none other than Lee Jeno. 

He perked up when you yelled at Hwang Yeji, “I’ll have nowhere to go!” 

The moment the words were out, your wide eyes met his amused ones. Jeno quirked an eyebrow and smirked, walking over to the booth you and Yeji were seated at. 

“What’s this I hear about you needing a place to crash, Y/N?” he cooed, setting his cup of coffee on the table and sliding beside you. 

You glared at him, frowning when the bare skin of his arm brushed against yours. Shifting away, you snapped, “None of your damn business, Lee. Quit eavesdropping and get out of here.”  

Jeno’s smirk grew when he saw your discomfort. Throwing an arm around your shoulder, he pulled you against him. Your head smashed into his hard chest as he teased, “Now, now, is that how you treat your brother’s best friend?” 

You narrowed your eyes and craned your neck to look at him. “That’s how I treat an egotistical bastard who doesn’t know basic manners.” 

Jeno grinned at the insult, lightly bumping his forehead against yours. “You look so attractive right now.” 

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you shoved him away, cursing loudly. He laughed at your flustered state, his eyes turning into small crescent moons. 

This was Lee Jeno—a huge flirt who thought highly of himself due to the popularity he had gained as the star player of your university’s football team, and whose only personality trait was being ridiculously attractive. 

Keep reading

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