Could I Please Request HHU With Keeping Their S/o Close In A Festival/crowd? How They Hold Them Like

Could I please request HHU with keeping their s/o close in a festival/crowd? how they hold them like are touchy and possessive or are YOU the one keeping them from getting lost

this is so cute ☹️ hope u like it anon!!

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SEUNGCHEOL

seungcheol doesn’t really hold onto you at all, he’d let you do your own thing at a music festival or event.

he does, however, keep glancing at you to make sure you’re doing okay, if he sees the cup of lemonade you’re holding in your hand running low he’ll wordlessly slip away to get you a refill.

he’d let you enjoy yourself freely. however, if he spots someone attempting to get too comfortable with you, he’d silently slide beside you. either resting a hand on your waist or acting as a barrier between you and the stranger. his heart swells when you smile up at him gratefully.

WONWOO

he’d hold your hand in a crowd tightly. more for his sake than yours. your tendency to wander after things that catch your attention has been a source of worry for wonwoo one too many times.

he’d let your hand go only when you’re planted right next to him and chewing on the stick of cotton candy in your hand, the other on your phone busy documenting your 3rd snack of the day. wonwoo would offer his arm to you as you both start walking again, making sure your arms are linked tight while you work your way through the cotton candy.

and when the crowd finally thins, he’d slip his arm around your shoulders and you’d slide your hand into the back pocket of his jeans. and this is how you’d go about the rest of your day.

MINGYU

this one is protective like it’s a full time job. at a party while you mingle with other guests he’d have his eyes trained on the people around you, scanning the room for any unwanted attention.

mingyu would hold both of your drinks in his hands, not trusting other people to go near what you’d been sipping on throughout the night. if you needed the bathroom, best believe he’d be standing right outside.

but he wouldn’t be overbearing, choosing to keep an eye on you and your surroundings while you freely chat to others and dance to the music. sure, he’s a touchy boyfriend, but any skin ship could wait until you two were home. for now he’d just be on guard as you enjoyed your night.

VERNON

hand holder #2. he’d have your hand in his all night, especially considering you were the only reason he’d come to the market in the first place. as you make your way through the crowd, vernon is behind you the entire time, fingers interlocked.

he wouldn’t interfere beyond gently tugging you away from objects you may bump into or picking fluff out of your hair. he’d be content just letting you do your thing and tagging along.

keeps your hand in his even when the crowd thins. not for worry of you wandering about, but just for the comfort of knowing that you’re beside him. bonus boyfriend points because he’d smile sweetly into the camera when you ask him to, despite being in the middle of a busy market.

KIDULT ½ | Y.JH

꒰ synopsis ꒱ jeonghan always believed he was never fond of children, especially when he took the job at your daycare. little did he know the child in him was playing hide and seek, finally revealing itself after growing to love the kids. oh, and you too

꒰ pairing ꒱ daycareworker!jeonghan x genderneutral!reader

꒰ genre ꒱ strangers to lovers, daycare au, slow burn, fluff, angst, features minghao and the rest of seventeen as children

꒰ warnings ꒱ children, car accident, major character death, descriptions of blood, sprinkled bits of profanity and capitalization, and an overall merry bad ending

꒰ word count ꒱ 26.9k+

꒰ perspective ꒱ 2nd person omniscient

THIS IS THE FIRST PART OUT OF TWO

‘ author’s note!! 🍃 — FINALLY AS PROMISED a seventeen, revised version of kidult :D i doubt this one will receive a fraction of what the original received, but i still really enjoyed seeing jeonghan take over changmin’s position. the second part will be posted eventually because again, i doubt this fic would reach carats 😅 but if there’s high demand, i’ll work on revising the second part immediately!! a reminder that this is a revised version, so there may be mistakes as it was a tbz fic turned into svt. if you spot any, such as names/surnames, please inform me

NAVIGATION | KIDULT COLLECTION | PART TWO

Keep reading

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HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [MASTERLIST].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. GENERAL WARNINGS. too much swearing, references to/jokes about sex but i will not write smut, an awful amount of secondhand embarrassment, all of the boys are pathetic (check each chapter for specific warnings).

UPDATE SCHEDULE. there is no update schedule. i'll update whenever i want so send an ask/dm if you wanna be tagged in future chapters!

NOTE. i am very passionate about my asshole/loser idol agenda. this reads like a bad sitcom in written form so don't expect anything to make sense.

questions about the bitchless gang are very much welcome. feedback is also very much welcome and appreciated. hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER 1 — this is too much underwear for a first meeting. CHAPTER 2 — the inevitable disasters of living with six men. CHAPTER 3 — it takes a lemon related accident to get a man to talk. CHAPTER 4 — kisses? kisses. CHAPTER 5 — staring contest of death. CHAPTER 6 — the obligatory pool episode. CHAPTER 7 — sexy goth jellyfish. CHAPTER 8 — hot, drenched, and sweaty.

. . . more chapters tba!

tracking tag: #home for the bitchless

click here to check out the house layout.

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

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2 ... With mingyuuuuuuu 🥺

break the curse, break my heart

pairing: cursebreaker!mingyu x cursebreaker!gn!reader rating: M (mostly for reader's potty mouth) wc: 5.1k prompt: ‘things you said through your teeth’ (from this list) summary: what's supposed to be a simple hex job turns into something much deadlier, and suddenly the two of you are fighting just to stay alive warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, near-death experiences, exorcisms (kinda), convulsing, blood, hospitals, but there's a happy ending friends no worries!!!, mingyu is self-sacrificing, self-harm (mingyu cuts himself so he can use blood for magic reasons), descriptions of a panic attack tags: modern magic au, curse-breaking as a career, they’re partners (in the business sense AND romantic sense), non-linear narrative, alternating pov, reader calls mingyu stupid approximately a billion times, but he absolutely deserves it so *shrugs*, seungcheol also makes a guest appearance as #1 hyung a/n: sorry this took approximately 84 years to complete (it was only supposed to be a drabble lmao) but i hope you enjoy it despite the wait!! also a quick note on the magic in this world: hexes are the equivalent of small pests and are more annoyance than anything whereas curses are Extremely Dangerous and often deadly

Hex hunting is not what you expected to be doing tonight.

Well, it was your job, of course, but usually you weren’t called in on a case so last minute, and especially not on one of your few days off.

But apparently whoever owns this house-turned-antique shop called in a favor or two at the guild, and everyone else was busy, so here you were — hauling yourself up a ladder and into a dusty attic at nearly midnight on Saturday night because there was pesky little hex on the loose that apparently couldn’t wait until morning to be taken care of.

Whatever. Jeonghan would owe you one, and you plan to save that favor for something big. Plus, it’s not like you’re doing this job alone.

Right on cue, Mingyu’s voice filters through your earbuds in a petulant whine. “Jagi-yahhhhhh.”

You roll your eyes even though you know he can't see it, a hint of fondness trickling through the exasperation in the form of a smile, and you continue your scan of the first room of the attic. The bright teal glow at the end of your wooden staff is your only source of light as you look for any signs of the wayward hex.

"Why did I have to be the one to search the basement,” Mingyu continues. “Why couldn't we have switched?"

You snort, peering around a stack of old moving boxes that tower over you and seem to be more duct tape than cardboard, miscellaneous protective runes scribbled all over them in sloppy permanent marker. "You lost rock-paper-scissors fair and square, babe, I don't know what else to tell you."

Besides the faint scorch marks you've found that match the ones throughout the rest of the house, you haven't had any luck in finding traces of the hex.

"But it's so creepy down here," he whines, pout audible through the phone call. He's right, of course — you suppress a shudder at the thought of having to face the numerous shelves lined with antique porcelain dolls stored down there, and thank the stars for letting you win that particular battle of rock-paper-scissors.

Even still, you can’t help but tease him just a little. “If you stop complaining and actually clear the basement, you can get out of there much sooner, you know.”

There’s a moment of silence over the line, and you take the opportunity to do one last sweep of the haphazard piles of boxes and broken artifacts — your staff’s glow unwavering — before heading to the door that opens into the attic’s second room.

“Wow,” Mingyu deadpans. “I think I hate you and everything that you stand for, actually.”

You bark out a startled laugh, loud and carefree in the way that only seems to happen with Mingyu, and you feel a smile bloom across your face. “Oh, wow,” you giggle. “Whatever did I do to deserve such sweet words from you?”

The teal light flickers slightly as you trace your staff in a familiar pattern in front of the door, checking for traps and finding none. Satisfied, you push it open with a creaking groan and step carefully past the threshold.

“You know exactly what you did,” Mingyu scolds indignantly as you step fully into what appears to be an empty room. “And you will get sweet words when you stop forcing me to go down into scary basements, y/n. I swear, some creepy possessed toy is going to be the death of me one day.”

“Sure,” you reply, distracted. Something about the room is…off.

There’s nothing immediately amiss — boxes and antiques just like the previous room propped up and shoved against the walls — but there’s something, a feeling, that you can’t quite seem to put your finger on, and it sets you on edge. “Should’ve picked a different career if you wanted to avoid scary basements, though.”

“Funny, we have the exact same job description and yet somehow you never have to go into the basements — only me.”

“Yeah,” you murmur quietly. “Funny.”

Something’s wrong.

Your bad feeling coalesces into a pressure that starts to build in your chest and the hair on your arms stands on end as goosebumps race across your skin.

“Gyu, something’s wrong.”

Belatedly, you realize you’d just interrupted him in the middle of a sentence, but you’re too busy tracing a quick series of protective sigils in the air around you to care too much.

His tone turns serious in an instant. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Not sure yet, bad feeling.” There are only a few strokes left for you to complete when the teal light at the end of your staff flickers and then goes out.

“Shit,” you whisper.

“Y/n?”

Before you can open your mouth to answer, the end of your staff lights up again. But it’s not the calming teal blue that you’re used to. It’s red — deep, dark, and ominous — and the implication sends dread coursing through your body like liquid lead.

“Fuck, it’s not a hex, it’s a curse.”

You pivot to run out of the room, but before you can make it two steps away, something slams into you with enough force to knock you down to the floor. And then you’re screaming — the dark magic coursing through you in an agonizing wave that makes you feel like you’re on fire.

You realize you’re on your hands and knees and Mingyu is yelling in your ears and you feel like you might be dying, and for a few moments you forget that you’re trained for this. You might not have any of your usual equipment since it was supposed to be an easy in-and-out hex job, but you grit your teeth and remind yourself that you’re fucking trained for this.

"—cking answer me, y/n, please."

“Here,” you sob. You’re not sure how much time you lost, probably only a few seconds, but you think you can hear Mingyu pounding his way up the stairs.

“Fuck, thank god, okay. Hold on, I’m on my way. Just hold on.”

You can feel the curse trying to tear you apart from the inside out, an enraged wildfire with scorching claws, and it takes all of your concentration to pull the sharpie out of the pouch attached to your belt. You yank the cap off with trembling hands, and then another wave of agony courses through you and you collapse onto your side, unable to hold yourself up any longer. Doesn’t matter, you think. You don’t need to be sitting up for this, anyway.

You drag one of your sleeves up and shakily start to trace out a series of banishing runes — the ones you’ve known by heart for years now. But it only takes you a few strokes to realize you’re shaking too much to be able to draw anything legible. It doesn’t stop you from trying though, tracing wobbly shapes even as you can’t see them through your tears. And then the painful spasms get so bad that you can’t hold onto the pen anymore, and you’re left shaking on the floor feeling like every single one of your cells has become a raging inferno.

“Gyu, ‘m sorry,” you slur through your cries. “Love you, ‘m sorry.”

You don’t know if he responds, but you blink and suddenly hands are turning you over and clutching your shoulders, cupping your face, and — Mingyu is here.

He’s here and he’s saying something, his face a portrait of fear and worry, and you know deep in your gut that he’s too late. He’s too late and he’s going to have to watch you die right in front of him and that thought is almost more painful than the curse searing its way through every fiber of your being and then—

For a moment, the agonizing fire within doubles, triples, in intensity — the curse hooking its claws within you and coalescing into a pain so severe you didn’t think it was possible. The agony is so all-encompassing that you don’t even have the ability to think any last words, let alone say them, before the darkness claims you.

Mingyu has always hated going down into creepy basements.

It’s his least favorite part of the job and he makes sure that everyone knows exactly how much he hates it whenever he’s forced to go down into one. (Especially when he lets you win at rock-paper-scissors, because even though he’s fond enough of you to go down into the basements in your stead, he’s not at all above whining about it.)

He knows it’s all psychological, of course, that any other rooms of the houses they’re called out to are just as likely to be affected by malignant magic. But — there’s something that always feels so sinister about descending a flight of rickety stairs into unknown darkness.

And of course, tonight’s last minute hex job just had to have a basement full of creepy dolls that seemed like they were trying to stare directly into his soul. Because the universe hates him and he loves you too much for his own good.

The blue glow of his dual war picks isn’t helping the situation either, casting ominous shadows wherever he turns.

He comes around a corner and finds himself unexpectedly face to face with one of the dolls — the porcelain cracked excessively at the corners of the mouth, making it look like its face is stretched into a smile straight from hell. Mingyu shudders.

“God, I hate dolls so much,” he tells you. “Especially this one. I swear it’s going to come to life and try to eat m—”

“Gyu, something’s wrong.”

Your voice is completely void of all the lighthearted bickering from just a moment ago, and Mingyu’s tone hardens to match. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Not sure yet,” you continue, distracted. “Bad feeling.”

He tightens his grip on his picks and turns to make his way out of the basement, but your whispered “Shit” stops him in his tracks. Worried, he calls out your name.

You gasp, loud and crackling over the phone call, and dread drips icily down his spine. “Fuck, it’s not a hex, it’s a curse.”

Before he can process how truly fucked that makes the both of you, you start screaming, and Mingyu promptly loses his goddamn mind.

His feet move faster than he can think, sending him rocketing up the stairs. But one of his boots catches on the top of the basement steps in his haste and he goes sprawling across the wooden floor.

He shouts your name as he scrambles to get up, and the longer you keep screaming instead of answering, the more desperate he becomes — begging you to just answer him, please, god, please.

You sob out a “Here” just as he’s making it up to the second floor, hating the house for being so huge it’s practically a mansion.

He curses in relief at the sound of your voice and says, “Hold on, I’m on my way. Just hold on.”

Soon the ladder to the attic is in front of him and he quickly sheaths his picks, practically flying up the worn wooden rungs. His movements turn frantic when he hears you slur an apology over the line, something that sounds an awful lot like a final goodbye, and when he sprints across the attic to the far room and finds you convulsing on the floor, his heart stops.

His worst nightmare is playing out right in front of his eyes, and he feels like he can't breathe when he falls to his knees next to you.

Your staff is glowing a deep, hellfire red off to the side, and from the shadows in the room he can tell that his picks are glowing the same sinister color. He grabs you by the shoulders and rolls you onto your back, flinching at the heat emanating from your skin.

“Baby, look at me. Hey, look at me, baby, c’mon—” You don’t respond verbally, but your tear-filled eyes open a fraction and lock onto his. He moves his hands to cup your face — it feels like you’re on fire, fuck — and vows, “I can fix this, baby, okay? I’m—”

Too late, something traitorous whispers in the back of his mind. You’re too late, and they’re going to die, and it’s going to be your fault.

“Just— just hold on, please, hold on, baby, I’m gonna fix this.”

He sees the sloppy runework on your forearm, knows in his gut that even if he redid them himself, it would be unlikely for you to survive the banishment. Devastation chokes him for half a second, freezing and unyielding and all-encompassing, before he realizes: you probably couldn’t survive…

But maybe he could.

Again, his body starts moving before his brain can fully catch up, snagging your dropped sharpie from the floor and scrambling to trace a transference rune on the unmarked skin of your arm. He copies the matching rune onto his palm, and with one more desperate plea for you to hold on, he slaps his marked palm over your rune.

He already knows the curse is a nasty one, but the way he can feel it digging its claws into you, ripping and tearing as it’s forcefully dragged through the rune on your arm and into his, brings bile to the back of his throat.

You scream your loudest yet before going scarily, horrifyingly limp, but Mingyu doesn’t have enough time to do anything but try not to pass out as the curse sears its way into his body.

It’s agony, and Mingyu knows he has a very limited amount of time. From the way it already feels like he’s being boiled from the inside, it’s probably even less than he thought.

Maybe I won’t survive this, a quiet, scared little part of him whispers.

He bites back a scream between his teeth and starts drawing a binding rune on his arm, taking another glance at where you lie crumpled on the floor.

Maybe I won’t survive… but you will.

Consciousness, when it comes, is slow, syrupy.

For some reason, the fact that you’re conscious at all comes with a sluggish sort of surprise, a groggy, Huh. Not dead.

And then you realize just how freezing you are. It’s like your entire body has suddenly turned to ice. A voice in the back of your mind mumbles something about fire, but all you can focus on is how cold and how empty you feel, and—

Everything comes back to you with the force of a meteor — the curse, the pain, Mingyu, “I’m gonna fix this,” Mingyu, Mingyu, Mingyu — and you’re jolting into motion with a choked gasp.

It’s not the unthinkable agony of before, not even close — but it hurts.

Your body feels like its insides have been scraped out with icy, rusted spoons and your bones have been replaced with lead that’s been left to freeze in the arctic tundra. Just getting to your hands and knees feels like climbing Mount Everest, and dizziness threatens to send you sprawling back onto the attic floor.

But you push through it with a grunt, and from your right you hear Mingyu gasp out your name in question. You turn, almost falling over in the process, and find him curled up against a beat up old trunk and a pile of small cardboard boxes, one of his war picks tossed to the side and casting him in a haunting red glow.

He looks awful, sweat dripping down his face and expression scrunched up in misery. His entire body is tensed, strained with the amount of force it's taking to hold all of the pain inside, and one arm is pulled tight to his chest while the other is pressed to the floor, his fingers coated in something wet and shiny. 

You scramble as quickly as you can to him with a worried croak of his name, but he shoots out the hand he’d been holding against his chest and shouts, “Wait, stop!”

You do, but only because he sounds so scared. “Gyu, what…”

Your eyes trail from his worried face to his outstretched arm, to where a large burn sits in the palm of his hand, smudged with ink. More ink further up his arm catches your eye, and it’s with a dawning horror that you realize what exactly he’s marked there.

It’s a binding rune, and you think you’re going to be sick.

“What did you do?” It comes out as a whisper, and Mingyu doesn’t respond, just clenches his jaw and starts moving the hand he has on the floor.

You follow the movement, and you realize he’s drawn something on the floor with that shiny substance, a set of runes like the ones you tried to complete, and then something clicks in the back of your mind and you realize it’s blood. It’s his blood, judging by the equally dark and shiny tear in the knee of his pants.

No… no no no no no.

“What did you do?” This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real.

You already know the answer to your question, the lines drawn in blood on the floor matching the ones you tried to draw on your arm. Since he used a binding rune on himself — stupid, stupid, stupid — the only way to complete the banishment is with a blood ritual. A stupidly dangerous, stupidly deadly blood ritual. “What the fuck did you do?”

His eyes flint with a steel-lined determination. “Took the curse,” he grunts.

All at once, all of the fear and worry coursing through you ignites into a righteous fury. You force your frozen limbs to move — careful not to smear his stupid, stupid runes — and clumsily crawl close enough to grip him by the shoulders as tightly as your shaking hands will allow.

"Kim Mingyu, why the absolute hell would you do something so fucking stupid?!"

You’re angry, furious, but it’s only a mask for the fact that you’re the most terrified you’ve ever been in your entire life. Desperate tears start dripping down your face, momentarily blurring your vision.

When you blink them away, you see him looking at you. No, not at you, into you — into your heart and into your soul.

And through gritted teeth, he vows, “Because you're the love of my fucking life, and like hell was I going to sit back and let this curse take you away from me."

A wounded sound punches out of you, and you twist your trembling hands in the fabric of his shirt. "So you're gonna let it take you away from me instead?"

Your fury melts into devastation, into grief, so quickly it leaves you lightheaded. You sway forward until your forehead makes contact with the burning skin of his neck.

“ ‘S not gonna take me.” He pants, pressing a searing kiss to the shell of your ear. “I promise.”

You can feel the way his arm moves as he traces out the final strokes of his blood rune, and you know the instant he completes it because his entire body tenses beneath yours. And then he’s screaming, raw and guttural, and then you’re screaming, and the curse fights every second with metaphorical claws and teeth until the banishment is complete—

And then, with a blinding flash of red, the house is silent, still, and dark.

It takes Mingyu much longer than what’s probably considered normal to realize that he is, in fact, awake.

He thinks he feels like he got hit by a bullet train, but mostly he feels so floaty that it’s hard to tell anything at all.

“That’d be the drugs.”

Hmm. He knows that voice. He wonders what Seungcheol is doing in his dream. Usually his dreams have more color, though, not whatever this endless black is.

“Not dreaming. And you’d know that if you opened your eyes.”

What a revolutionary concept. One that proves much more difficult than anticipated, because somehow when he wasn’t paying attention, someone switched his eyelids out for anvils. It could take him minutes or even hours, but eventually he’s able to peel his eyes open a fraction. It’s enough for him to see… beige. Just— a whole lot of beige. And then a really blurry face.

“Hey, hey, Mingyu,” the face says, suddenly eager. “Are you in there? Are you actually waking up this time?”

Mingyu blinks, and opens his eyes a bit more, and the blurry form above him morphs into the worried face of Seungcheol, his dark eyebrows pulled together in hopeful concern.

Mingyu blinks again. “No,” he pouts.

Seungcheol barks out a laugh that almost sounds like a sob. “Oh, thank fuck.”

Mingyu feels a hand slip into his and squeeze — oh yeah, hands, I have those — and another gently brushes his bangs aside. “Hey, kid. It’s good to see you,” Seungcheol sniffs.

“Why’re you cryin’?” Something must have happened to Mingyu’s face if the mere sight of him brings Seungcheol to tears. Did he trip and fall down some stairs or something? He vaguely remembers a set of rickey stairs. “Wha’s wrong?”

For a moment, Seungcheol just looks at him, biting his lip like he has a million and one things to say and no idea which ones to start with. Then he sighs, deep and long, and shakes his head. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Kim Mingyu.”

You're gonna be the death of me.

Something in the back of his mind freezes, tugging at a connection, and then clicks into place.

All of a sudden, Mingyu is no longer in front of Seungcheol. He’s back in the basement, surrounded by shelves of porcelain dolls as he tells you over the phone, “I swear, some creepy possessed toy is going to be the death of me one day.”

And then memory after memory starts fighting its way to the forefront of his consciousness — red, sickly and glowing, the entire room bathed in it  — his war pick in hand, the sharp end slicing into the flesh just above his knee — you, lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, not moving, not moving, are you even breathing — the curse, ripping and tearing and shredding its way through the both of you — you, screaming, you, you, you—

He gasps out your name, body moving even as the memories continue to slam into him.

“Woah, hey! Calm down,” Seungcheol shouts, pushing Mingyu back down onto what he now realizes is a hospital bed. But he can’t calm down, not when he doesn't know where you are and the last time he saw you, you were— you were—

“Hey, stop it!” Seungcheol is practically laying on him, each of Mingyu’s wrists pressed to the mattress in a firm grip. “Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

Mingyu’s wild gaze snaps to Seungcheol’s as he continues to struggle. “Y’n, where’s y/n," he begs. "Hyung, where— they were hurt, they were d— please, I need to find them. I need to make sure they’re okay, please, hyung, please, they have to be okay, they have to, please, I need—”

Hands suddenly grip either side of his face and Seungcheol is almost nose to nose with him, eyes wide and imploring as he orders, “Breathe, Gyu-ah. C’mon, breathe with me.”

Mingyu doesn’t realize how irregular his breathing has become until he tries to take a deep breath and ends up choking on it.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Seungcheol assures. “Let’s try again, okay, Gyu-ah? Just follow me; you can do it.”

He continues to talk Mingyu through the panic attack, words as gentle as the fingers he uses to wipe Mingyu’s tears from his cheeks.

Eventually, he gets his breathing under control, and all Mingyu can do is grip Seungchol’s wrists where they still cradle his face and plead, “Hyung.”

“They’re okay, Gyu-ah,” Seungcheol confirms with a crooked half-smile, one that’s cracking at the edges with leftover fear and worry. “Stuck in another bed just like you, but they’re okay.”

Mingyu’s relieved sigh is shaky at best, and Seungcheol doesn’t complain when Mingyu pulls him closer so that he can bury his still-dripping tears in Seungcheol’s chest. He just carefully adjusts their positions so that he can fully wrap himself around Mingyu without messing up any of the wires or sensors. “It’s okay, kid, let it out. I’m here, hyung’s got you.”

And somewhere in between Seungcheol’s comforting words and the most cathartic crying session Mingyu’s ever had in his life, he falls asleep. He doesn’t even realize he’s fallen asleep until he’s waking up to some kind of commotion happening outside of the room.

Between one blink and the next, Seungcheol launches himself out of the bed and Mingyu watches as he jumps about ten feet in the air when the door slams open right as he’s about to reach it.

And then Mingyu’s breath catches in his chest because — there you are.

You’re standing in the doorway, silhoueted by the fluorescent lights of the hallway, looking like some kind of avenging angel. The bottom of your wrinkled hospital gown barely peeks out from beneath the extra large hoodie that looks like it’s trying to swallow you whole (his hoodie, he’ll realize later — one that someone must have brought for you), and you’re wearing a pair of purple fuzzy socks pulled all the way up to your knees.

None of that detracts from the look of pissed the fuck off that you’re wearing like battle armor, though. And if he weren’t so absolutely, joyously relieved to see you, Mingyu would almost certainly be terrified.

It’s as if the whole world freezes for a moment as the two of you lock eyes. The grumblings of the irritated nursing staff fade into the background, and all Mingyu can feel is the beating in his chest calling out to you.

Home, home, home, it seems to say, and he breathes out your name in awe.

Your face goes from furious to relieved to leaking a constant stream of tears so fast that Mingyu almost gets dizzy watching it.

“Fuck, Mingyu,” you choke out, eyes roaming over his form like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you look away. And oh, the sound of your voice, even as it’s clogged with tears, is the most wondrous thing he’s ever heard in his life.

“Y/n,” he repeats, holding your name in his mouth like it’s something holy, something ephemeral and reverent and a syllable away from cracking.

And somehow it breaks whatever spell the two of you were under, because then you’re stalking over to the bed and throwing yourself into his embrace as you sob, “Kim Mingyu, you absolute piece of shit, I hate you so fucking much.”

He laughs wetly as he clutches you, pulling you so close that anyone would need a crowbar to separate the two of you. “I know, baby, I know,” he says.

“I’m so fucking mad at you.”

“I know, baby.”

“If you ever do anything like that again, I’m going to fucking castrate you, I swear to fucking god.”

He feels like his chest might burst with all of the happiness trying to shine out from between his ribs. “I love you, too, y/n.”

“I’m just gonna…” Mingyu looks up at the sound of Seungcheol’s voice and sees him standing awkwardly by the door with a finger pointing out towards the hall. Mingyu nods, and Seungcheol nods back before walking out. He steps out of the door before popping his head back in and saying, “Oh, also, you probably have around fifteen minutes at the most before the rest of the boys realize you’re both awake and storm the castle.”

You snort softly against Mingyu’s shoulder, and he smiles wide enough that his cheeks ache. “Thanks, hyung.”

Seungcheol just gives him a thumbs up before finally making his leave, and Mingyu sighs, soaking up the feeling of holding you in his arms. He quickly tucks his arms up and under your sweater, wanting to hold you even closer, and involuntarily shivers when he feels how cold you are.

“God, you’re freezing,” he murmurs, using one hand to pull the thin hospital blanket over the both of you.

“Mmm,” you agree, wiggling until you’re tucked under his chin and wrapped around him like an extra-clingy koala. “And you’re my new favorite space heater.”

Mingyu grins. “I’m honored.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you grunt. He starts rubbing gentle circles on your lower back, and you melt against him with a drawn out sigh. “You’re still number one on my shit list.”

“Just as long as I’m your number one.”

He lets out a high-pitched yelp when you pinch his side. “Ow, jeesus, you’re pissed, I get it.”

“Good. Know your place.”

(If he blushes at those words, no one is around to see it.)

You lay together in silence for a few minutes — simply basking in the feeling of holding each other — and then Mingyu’s brow furrows as he realizes that you haven’t gotten any warmer. Also, he hadn’t really noticed before because he’d been too focused on you, but he’s feeling warm. Like, really warm.

“Hey, y/n.”

You grunt in acknowledgement.

“Is this Katy Perry hot-and-cold thing we’ve got going on a fun new side effect of the curse?”

“Oh my god, Mingyu,” you groan, untucking your face from his chest just so you can glare at him.

Mingyu holds back a grin as he raises an eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”

You glare even harder before huffing and tucking your face back into his chest. “No,” you murmur petulantly. Before Mingyu can hold his victory over your head, though, you power on. “And to answer your question: probably. We can have Hao and Shua check to be sure.”

Mingyu hums in agreement and presses his cheek to the top of your head. A moment later, a thought occurs to him, and he grins as he says, “We’re even more perfect for each other now.”

You lift your head again, eyeing him with a hint of suspicion. “Why?”

He tilts his head down so your foreheads are resting together, and his eyes crinkle with the force of his smile. “Thermodynamic equilibrium,” he whispers.

Your eyes soften, filling up with so much fond endearment that a few more tears decide to trail down your cheeks. “My baby is such a fucking nerd.”

And when you press your lips to his, the whole world goes quiet.

Home, home, home, his heart sings inside his chest. Home, home, home.

---

Hits Different (...'cause it's you) (1)

«« I trace the evidence, make it make some sense Why the wound is still bleedin' »»

PAIRING: kim mingyu x reader

SYNOPSIS: Kim Mingyu was the first friend your brother had brought home for dinner. Fast forward a couple years, his toothy smile and pierced ears would wedge their way into a permanent place in your heart. Nail to a coffin, never to escape.

or;

in which you get rejected by the only boy you've ever loved; a rejection you can't quite shake off.

GENRES: based off of 'Hits Different' by Taylor Swift, brother's best friend!au, brother!seokmin, fluff, angst, smut (in part 2) [MINORS DNI], friends(?) to lovers, university!au.

PLAYLIST: right here!

WORD COUNT (full fic): 40k (im actually embarrassed)

Part 1: 20.2k | Part 2: 20k

masterlist

WARNINGS : slowburn, angst, fluff, mingyus a bit of an airhead and an ass, reader has a hard time managing her feelings, lots of frustrated tears, one sided pining, user toruro x minghao make an appearance, swearing, there's another woman (gasp,,,,,but shes cool so), Nayeon is a darling, Seungcheol is kinda annoying here but we love him, smut tags in part 2

(Comments from @toruro): "oh shizzle", "yeah bitch", (on jihyo) "mother", "ME X HAO FIRE EMOJI", "men (derogatory)"

[A/N]: Tumblr is annoying and won't let me post the entire 40k in one go so i have to break it up (part 2 is out tomorrow!!!) i hope you guys enjoy this, thank you for all the love on the teaser, i hope this is able to live up to the hype, thank you so much for being patient with me <33 (ty @toruro for encouraging me when i felt shit ab this gkjnrgvkjrng and beta-ing ofc)

As someone who could vomit at the mere thought of throw-up, you tried not to stare into the toilet bowl as you emptied your guts in this questionable club bathroom. 

It was proving to be easier than you’d anticipated, naturally, when your eyes were blurred with bubbling tears. Were they because of your wretching or the feelings that churned in your heart? You can’t be entirely sure, nor can you find yourself having the mental strength to figure out. There’s a banging on the door behind you, one that sends your already aching head into a hurling spin. 

“Open the door, I have water for you, it’ll help!” You hear Mika blare from the other side, concern lacing her voice. 

You try to blink the tears away but they cascade down your cheek anyway, rubbing at them furiously before preparing to haul yourself off the disgusting bathroom floor. Taking a deep breath was a horrible idea, you realize when an atrocious mixture of scents hit your nostrils, cringing visibly. 

Washing your hands at the sink took you another five minutes, scrubbing furiously at your palms and nails with the dollar store soap the club graciously placed in a fancy dispenser, pumping more than a normal amount to rid yourself of the paranoia of tainted hands. 

Unfortunately for you, your palms were tainted with entities beyond mere soap and water’s powers. 

It was evident with the way you exited the bathroom feeling perhaps worse than you went in. Mika was nowhere to be seen in the hall, moving along to the private room where the rest of the group was to find her springing up as you enter. 

“You weren’t answering, so I left. Here, water, I told you to be careful with what you drink; you haven’t had a bite to eat either.” She reprimands. 

“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly, not having a reasonable excuse to give her. 

Joshua peeks over her shoulder, “You feeling any better?” 

The water is slow to go down as you sputter before replying in a hoarse voice, “Yeah. Way.” 

To be fair, the water did help. But it was you who was the problem, blaming the alcohol for the behaviour all your friends knew perfectly well where it was stemming from. Not a word was said though, for your sake or their own. You wrap up quickly after that, Joshua insisting to drop you off home himself, quoting how Seokmin would have his head if he left you in the hands of a taxi driver in this state — age gap be damned. You can only thank him as he pulls up to your destination, hoping you’ll remember this in the morning to return the favour in the future. 

“Before you go, can we talk for a second?” he piques, halting you as you remove your seatbelt. 

“Sure, yeah. What is it?” 

“I’m not gonna ask if you’re doing alright, not when you’re gonna give me the same answer as always. But…please take care of yourself. You’ve been drinking quite a bit lately, and it can’t be helping you at all” 

You listen to him silently, not a thought in your brain. But you nod anyway. 

“Thanks for looking out, Shua. I’m…I’m probably not gonna be going out for a while, you’re right,” you reply, quietly, a small smile on your face that you can only hope is reassuring. 

“I don’t mean lock yourself up, either. You don’t give yourself a break and then try to make up for it by drinking your self faint every week, that’s never gonna help you. You know that.” He speaks in a soft, soothing voice, a hand coming up to pat your hair before landing on your clasped hands on your lap. “You know what, I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, we can go the fair just me, you and Seok-” 

“I have class tomorrow.” 

“Like showing up hungover is gonna help you retain any information. Just skip.” 

You sigh a deep exhale, deciding to simply be upfront. “I kinda just wanna stay home for a while, going out’s kinda making it worse. I think rotting in front of my laptop’s what I really need right now” 

Throwing in a tinkle of a laugh, you hope you’ve sold yourself.

“Alright,” he sounds slightly unconvinced but doesn’t push you further, “I’ll drop in to bother you tomorrow though, don’t try stoping me”

“Okay,” you say, smiling a little wider. “I’m gonna go now, goodnight.”

“Wait!” he stops you once again, right before your about to shut the door. “Have you talked to Mingyu at all?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Shua. Night” 

With that you’ve slammed the door of his car shut, missing the ghost of a “goodnight” that leaves Joshua’s lips as he watches you walk inside the building. 

“And stop staying out so late at night! What were you supposed to do if Joshua wasn’t there?” Seokmin rants as he walks back and forth grabbing you water and pills as you finish your forced breakfast.

“Take a taxi?” you suggest sarcastically. 

“What? And get me called to the station to identify your body parts when some dude decides he wants to play cannibalistic butcher?” he screeches, and it has you wincing and grabbing onto your head at his volume. You dramatize it a little, hoping he’d shut it with his nagging if you gained some extra sympathy. He doesn’t stop talking, but he does tone it down. 

“Whatever, I’m not going out anymore.” You push your plate and bowl away as you hop off the stool and stalk off to your room, making as much noise as possible in the process. 

Your brother calls after you, but you don’t stop. Your head was pounding, 

“Are you gonna take your meds? HELLO? Or do you enjoy the feeling of having your head split open?” he slams open the door of your room mid-sentence, going on at your blanket-clad figure on the bed. 

“I’m going back to sleep.”

“No, you’re taking your fucking meds.” A cup of water is thrust into your hands as you pick up the pills from Seokmin’s open palms, swallowing before he decides to shove it down your throat himself. 

He waits on the edge of the bed, checking to make sure you actually swallowed the pill instead of hiding it under your tongue like you’ve done since you were kids. 

“I’m not stopping you from going out if that’s what you think I mean,” he starts, a lot softer this time, and you’re taken back to your conversation with Joshua last night. “You’ve been going out and coming home wasted a lot more than normal lately. I don’t know if it’s because your college agendas are finally catching up to you or what.”

“I’m just…My friends are always out and I wanna be with them, it’s normal,” you grumble, disappearing deeper into your sheets.

“You’d tell me if something was bothering you, right?” 

‘Yeah, yeah, now shoo. Your voice is making my head hurt worse, I doubt Advils are immune to your yapping.” 

“Fine, fuck you too” he mumbles, leaving the room only to pop back in a second later. “Mom called last night, told her you were at a study group. Might wanna call her back before she catches a flight herself.” 

You wave two fingers up in a salute from your flat position on the bed, hearing him close the door. You don’t sit up until you hear the TV blare from the living room, knowing he had parked himself on the couch and has his attention diverted. 

The headache wasn’t actually that bad, you just really wanted to be left alone, and your brother had a habit to do the opposite when asked, so it had to be done. 

What on Earth were you supposed to tell him, anyway? That his best friend in the whole world rejected his sister on the spot when she confessed her decades long feelings? That she was ruining her liver and kidneys every weekend over a rejection? By his best friend in the whole world?

Yeah, that’s an easy conversation. 

Snuggling into the covers you try not to think back to the abomination that was your birthday party just a few weeks ago, but your thoughts yank you there anyway, as if to remind you of every wretched detail of the encounter like it was wasn’t already burned into your frontal lobe like a brand. 

You were on a high; too happy, too excited. It’s not like you were expecting anything for your first birthday at uni anyway, you were too old for pink blowout parties and too young for the madness of college level clubbing. You were excited for takeout with your brother, to sit in front of the TV for the rest of the night, maybe even stick a candle in one of your burgers and call it your cake. Plans were changed when you walked into your home, ready to wind down for the night and celebrate in your own way. 

It was a full house, food and drinks everywhere, complete with a loud “SURPRISE” as you walk through the door. You remember hugging both your brother and Mingyu when they tell you they did all of this for you, an overwhelming feeling overcoming you as you grip them tight, hoping it’ll transfer all the gratitude you couldn’t express. 

You’re breathless as the night progresses, trying hard to focus on the conversations at hand, trying to be a good host. Failing miserably, you can’t force your gaze from wandering every few minutes, searching for Mingyu in the crowd, watching him move his mouth as he talked, throw his hair back as he laughed, smile that beautiful, beautiful smile of his, perfect teeth on display. 

It had been bliss these past few weeks, the lingering smiles he would give you, the flirtatious attempts never gone unnoticed. The smoothest of words slipping right off his tongue as he gave you eyes that twinkled and sparkled and blew air directly into the embers in your heart. You would still yourself as they would happen, like the mirage would crack and shatter if you even dared to breathe; it felt unreal. After all these years, you realised soon, Kim Mingyu may have began to like you. 

You’d be lying if you said you were completely sober when it happened, drinks were passed around and as the birthday girl you didn’t seem to have a choice to back down, already a little hot and wide eyed barely halfway through the night. 

And when Mingyu doesn’t interact with you all night, you go to him as the numbers in the house dwindled, cornering him as he collected bottles in the kitchen.

“Hey!”, he sounds enthusiastic, “You having fun yet?”

“Yeah, thanks again for doing this.” your remember fidgeting with your fingers and nails, digging them into each other as you let yourself spew. 

“Are you gonna say thank you at every chance for the next six months? It's your first birthday away from home. Besides it was Seok’s idea, I just helped out.” He had said, beaming.

“Mingyu, can I talk to you about something…?”

You sigh loudly as you replay the memory, face pushed into the covers as you bite back a scream at the blood rushing to your head. 

Stupid. Idiot. Absolutely brainless.

“Oh.” He had breathed out when you had spilled your entire heart out to him standing in that kitchen, visibly taken aback at your abruptness. “I…I’m sorry I’m not quite sure what to say.” 

You still remember that sickening feeling, that big ball of junk and emotions that sank lower and lower in your abdomen, settling a deep hurt in your chest that made it difficult to breathe. 

Laying in your bedroom, weeks after the fact, you can still feel your breathing go slightly erratic at the memory, hot tears springing your eyes, burning before you wipe them away. You were aware how baffling it was, how you were letting it affect you to this degree, but you justified it with the years you had remained quiet, yearning on the sidelines. 

You deserved to wallow in this pit. 

At least that’s what you thought. But after last night you wonder if you had stopped indulging in the sorrow and let it ruin you instead. A sigh escapes you at the thought of ending yet another night in a dirty bathroom, makeup smeared and guts removed, misery becoming the only thing you were allowed to feel in the aftermath. 

You reach for your phone on the bedside table, flicking through your unread messages, barely registering a word as you leave them opened and unanswered. There wasn’t an ounce of willpower in you even after a full night’s sleep, turning your phone off before shoving it in your bedside drawer, forgotten. You take a moment to stare at the ceiling, having no energy to get up to turn your lights off. Until the doorbell sounds. 

Of course you knew who it was the second you heard, but the voice paired with your brother’s conversing outside was enough to have you catapulting out of bed. You slap your hand over the switchboard, turning off all your lights, moving across the room to pull your curtains shut, cascading complete darkness in the room. You fly under the covers as a last effort to convince, covering your face with the sheets just as you hear a knock. 

The door creaks open slightly as Seokmin calls out your name. 

“Are you up? Mingyu’s here, he brought coffee.” He whispers slowly. You don’t respond. 

He calls out your name one more time before you hear the door click shut. You don’t move till you hear his muffled voice on the other end, “She’s knocked out, her head was hurting, better let her rest.” 

Heat pricks the sides of your face as your body finally relaxes, borderline embarrassed at how you were hiding from him like a middle schooler who thinks she’s in love. Which you were at one point; now you're a college kid who thinks she’s in love.

You try not to focus too much on the sounds coming from outside, burying under the covers to attempt at sleep for real this time. Eyes screwed shut, you can’t help but open them at every other intonation. There was no way you could figure out what they were saying if you tried, between the door and the TV, it was all a taunting buzz in your ears. 

You do end up falling asleep. But only after you hear the droning of the TV turn off, and the distinct goodbyes as the front door clicks shut. 

Keeping to your promise, you stay away from late nights for the next couple of weeks. Joshua so far as commends you for declining invitations, offering dinner on him on one particular phone call. 

“You know, I was serious when I said I was proud of you.” Joshua voices solemnly as you attempt to cut a strip of meat onto the grill. You snort as a response. 

“I wasn’t like, an alcoholic, you’re making it sound worse than it was.” 

“It was still bad for it to affect you in that way. Takes a lot to get back up from heartbreak”

“Especially one that’s lasted for nearly a decade.” You sigh as you give up on the meat, handing the scissors and tongs over. 

“Are we still talking about that?” He raises his eyebrows. 

A smile makes its way to your face, nibbling on a radish, “No.”

“Good. Because we need to talk about if we want our noodles hot or cold.”

“Seok! SEOK! Where the fuck did you put my pimple patches?” Your screams echo across the house yet garner no response. Opting to yank open the fridge, you dig through through the box of face masks to find them possibly laying at the bottom, forgotten. Seokmin bounds into the kitchen, towel in hand as he pats at his damp hair.

“What?” 

“Nothing,” you huff, shoving the unfruitful box back into the cabinet, "you used up all the patches.”

“Patches? Pimple patches? We’ve been out for a month, just use this tube in the drawer.” Pulling open the drawer, he rummages for a moment before emerging with a sickly yellow tube of what looked like poorly marketed toothpaste.

“You want me to put this on my face?” 

“Yeah, it works, zit on my nose was gone by morning.” He stuffs the tube back in the drawer not before squeezing a small amount on his fingers to dab on your face.

“Ew, get your dirty hands away from my face.” You grip his wrists before he tries to move in further. 

He does nothing but shush you, shaking off your hands as you grumble in silence, letting him finger paint on your face. You move up to fix a roller on your head, undoing it before rolling the bit back in, resulting in another “tsk” emitting form your brothers concentrated face.

“Okay, enough! I don’t have that many zits.” You pull away as Seokmin moves to wash his hands. 

“Are you going to bed right now?” He asks as you move over to the door.

“Yeah. I’m not going to sleep, though.” 

“Gyu’s coming over, you were asleep when he was here last too.” 

It seemed as though every bone in your body rattled against your flesh. 

“When is he coming?” You ask quickly, frozen in your spot. 

The doorbell rings. 

“Right now, I guess.” He snickers to himself.

You can only watch in mild horror as he moves to open the door, words escaping you. You follow behind him, trying to stop him, yet not doing much other than reach the front door yourself, fingers frozen yet mildly trembling. 

“Wait!” You finally whisper-shout, “Don’t open it!” 

Seokmin pauses to give you a look, “Why? He’s seen you look worse, it’s fine”

The door wrenches open before you can protest any further, a cartoonish moment of the hunched figure of you, hands out in a nearly there grip. You’ve failed, and the chorus of ‘hey’’s reach your ears in almost a mocking manner. There’s a conscious effort on your end to not look up too high, keeping to chest eye level for your own sanity. What you find once your vision clears from the white blur, is that there’s not one, but two people at the door. 

Mingyu’s brought a girl. 

Standing behind the door meant there was no immediate attention on you, which should have been a perfectly good opportunity for you to book it to your room, but you don’t. You stand there instead, staring at the back of their heads like a child in wonder.

Once you are noticed by your brother, he winces at your appearance, a silent apology, like he didn’t know about this new guest either. Or he was apologising for what he was about to do next, you wouldn’t know, because you wouldn’t be hearing him out when you throttle him later. 

“This is my sister” 

All three sets of eyes are on you now, a moment of silence as they take in your appearance. The grandma nightgown, in all its blue and collared glory, does absolutely nothing to boost your confidence in front of the very pretty lady, whose hair cascades down her back, whose skin stands as clear as a summer sky. 

“Hi!” She breaks the awkward silence first, “I’m Jia, it’s nice to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about the both of you.”

What?

“Mingyu has a hard time keeping his mouth shut, I’m not surprised.” Seokmin tries to joke as he motions for the couch in the centre of the room. You catch him kicking a stray sock out of the way as he urges them to sit. 

With the way your brother is acting, you don’t doubt this is his first time meeting this girl. Mingyu is yet to clarify why he would bring a friend to the house unannounced, but something tells you you already know. You remain on the sidelines, inching away to the hallway slowly, trying your hardest to not bring attention to yourself.

“I haven’t seen you around campus ever, are you new?” Seokmin prods, his voice slightly on edge. 

“Oh, um-” Jia begins but is cut off by Mingyu as he speaks for her. 

“Jia doesn’t go to our uni, we met at Seungcheol’s, we’ve been dating for a couple months.” 

There it is. 

“Oh! Couple months? How come I didn’t know?” You don’t miss the hurt laced in your brother's words, your fists clenching slightly at the oncoming silence. 

“That’s on me, sorry. It’s just…I didn’t want anyone to know ‘cause I thought he was playing around when he said he liked me, I wanted to see if he was being real or not.” She laughs nervously, and you see the back of her head move as she talked. You can’t help but note the arm that’s swung across the back of the couch where she sat. “Please don’t be mad at him! I promise it was me that stopped him.”

You don’t hear too much of what happens afterwards as you slip away into the crevice of your bedroom, standing in the entryway in absolute silence, attempting to absorb what you had just witnessed outside. Approaching the full length mirror on the other end, it takes a lot out of your to bring yourself to look straight into it, regretting it immediately as you acknowledge your appearance. 

Of course, the woman who actually succeeded in winning over the man that rejected you had to witness you in the unappealing yellow paste that your brother graciously dotted all over your face, not leaving the giant rollers in your hair to cut you any slack either. You could cry about it, but you don’t. Instead you lay back in your bed, sniffling in the dark, just as you had the last time Mingyu was over. 

It’s significantly easier to drown out the voices this time round, especially when your mind is preoccupied with a couple months. Your birthday was a couple months ago, does that mean they started dating right after that conversation? Or were they already offical and you had waltzed in with your princess dreams about your brother’s best friend being in love with you. 

It made perfect sense at the time, and no sense at all anymore as you wonder why on Earth he was being so forwardly flirty with you if there was another girl all along. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you recall how he had quit perceiving you altogether after that night, and you can’t help but mentally commend Jia for testing him by keeping it quiet. Especially when he was going around flirting with his best friend’s sister. 

It didn’t take long for you to guage Mingyu’s reputation when you first dropped into university, the senior having made himself a reputation none less similar than he had in high school. He was popular, but with his outgoing personality and a face like that it was hard not to be liked. Your brother was right there beside him, living it up as carefree college kids, suddenly remembering he now had a little sister to tend to. You were grateful for the both of them for being there to help you take your first baby steps, all the rites of passage and which professors sucked the least, not leaving the leaky water fountain to never drink from. 

That was when Mingyu’s (supposed) advances had begun. 

You’re projected back to first semester, when both of them had dragged you to the same couch outside, talking about an “important thing you should know”. 

“You walk into class one day, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. Your professor drones on as usual, your classmates look bored as usual, you’re tired as usual. But then!” Seokmin breathes in sharply, and you hear Mingyu bound to the other side of your vision, emerging on the opposite end of the room with a backpack swung over his shoulder. 

“The man of your dreams walks by…” Seokmin continues and you snap your head towards him in a panic, suddenly afraid he had found you out. He’s busy though, making ethereal hands in Mingyu’s general direction, while the latter walks in comedic slow motion like he’s in a K-drama b-roll, complete with passes over his hair and a nonchalant yet controlled expression. 

“What is this about?” It comes out snappier than you had intended, but you’ve had one scare already. 

“Just!” your brothers hands turn from graceful to clenched, like it was you he was trying to squish you for interrupting him, “Listen, alright?” 

“The man of your dreams walks by,” he goes back to his narrator voice, “and you wonder where he’s been all your life. You start talking, you’re enamoured. You start thinking about introducing him to your parents, what your wedding’s gonna look like, what your kids are gonna look like!” 

Your face is becoming increasingly warped the more you listen to him speak, not being able to fathom where this was going. 

“But no!” It’s Mingyu that speaks this time, pushing a jolt out of you as he slams the backpack on the floor, pointing directly at you for added effect,  “You’re better than that!”

“What the fuck-” you start, but are shushed by a physical finger on your lips as Mingyu shushes you. Seokmin slaps his hand away. 

“Our point is, that you’re probably gonna come across someone who you think is your next boyfriend.” Your brother continues, “But lucky for you, you have two seasoned professionals here to tell you that it’s nothing but fresher’s fever.” 

“It’s a new place, new people, loads of new experiences; you’re bound to latch on one of the first couple pieces of meat. Our advice is don’t, because it will happen to you. But you also now know that your just in a deluded stage right now. Give it a semester before you start dating people, trust.” Mingyu finishes for Seokmin as he thumps down on the couch next to you. 

“So all of this was just another stay away from boys lecture?” You raise your eyebrows. 

“Yes and no. You can date whoever you want,” Seokmin answers coolly before quickly adding, “but not right now.”

It was laughable, the thought of latching onto another person when you’d been trying exactly that for years. To have anyone catch your eye, to have anyone sweep you away from this madness that came in the form of Kim Mingyu. Neither of these seasoned professionals had a thing to worry about though, because you weren’t latching on anything that came out of this institute. You had already done so, in a stage more impressionable than this, years and years before any of them knew of the dangers of young girls and new boys in their vicinity. 

“Okay, I know you’re like on a self inflicted party ban and all that…” Joshua starts the second he places himself at your table, still haggard looking from jogging across campus.

“Don’t even try.” You warn with filled cheeks.

“Girl, let him finish.” Nayeon chides next to you. 

You exhale through your nose heavily, going back to pick at your tray as Joshua continues.

“Cheol’s throwing a little party tonight to celebrate the end of midterms.” He starts, “You should come, it's only gonna be a handful of people.” 

“A handful?” You repeat, unable to bite back the amusement in your voice. 

“Come on, your brother’s going as well! You’ll be fine, I promise we’ll keep you in check.” 

“I don’t need to be kept in check, I’m fine.” You grumble.

“Perfect! Nothing stopping you then, I’ll pick you both up at 8.” The words are barely out of his mouth before he’s back to sprinting out the vicinity, garnering looks from oncoming traffic, off to his next pestering destination 

“I don’t think I’d explicitly agreed.” You voice. 

“He got what he wanted.” Nayeon snorts, “Whatever, we’ll get ready at my place after this.”

“Weren’t you guys worried about me? Now you’re actively dragging me to parties.” You drop your utensils onto the tray.

“Too much of either isn’t a good thing, you went from forgetting what home looks like to exclusively holing yourself up in there.” She stabs a piece of potato with a chopstick and tries to pry it in your mouth. “Besides, Cheol’s parties are always super intimate, they’re all gonna be people you know, don’t worry.”

‘Super intimate’, as Nayeon had put it, had amounted to at least fifty people as you take in the crowd at the floor of the house. Despite not being packed to the brim, it was still coming out to look like a full house, random items already scattered across the floors in true frat party fashion. 

“Do you want a beer?” Nayeon asks, dragging you to the kitchens by the hand as you crane your neck to spot people.

“Uh, no. Is there juice?” 

“Um, there’s a questionable looking fruit punch.” she wrinkles her nose at the blaring red bowl on the counter. 

You sigh, grabbing a cup, “I’ll risk it.”

Joshua was air the second he had walked in with you, whisked away to socialize with his own hoard of acquaintances, leaving both you and Nayeon to fend for yourselves. You’re yet to spot your brother, granted you’d only been here a mere five minutes, his rowdy demeanor making him quite easy to spot in usual circumstances. 

Taking a casual sip of the electric red liquid you’re forced to make a face as you register the flavour, alerting Nayeon, who was too busy fiddling through multiple crystal bottles. 

“What? Is it bad?” 

“What the fuck is that?” You sputter in astonishment, wondering how the bowl was already half empty. “Who’s drinking this stuff?” 

She grabs the cup from you before taking a gulp herself, emerging the same gagging mess you were, eyes watering at the taste. It seemed almost comical when Seokmin shows up behind her, waiting to greet only to find both of you doubled over. His eyes move over to the potion in Nayeon’s hand and passes a knowing look.

“He’s brought The Whole Shabang out of retirement.” He states like it was the obvious answer.

Nayeon spits first, “Are we supposed to know what that means?” 

“Cheol got drunk one time in freshman year and mixed every ounce of alcohol he owned into one big bowl of despair. We retired it last year when the bowl broke and stained his counters. But anyway, beginners are supposed to dilute it before downing it.”

“That’s great and everything but why is it so red?” You ask.

Another voice speaks from behind you, turning around to find Seungcheol himself. “There’s an entire thing of food colouring in there, gives it an edge don’t you think?”

“I’m scared of you.” You deadpan, a sour expression remaining on your face. 

Seunghceol is quick to suggest the backyard for some fresh air to distract from the flavour it’s left in your mouths, commenting on the nice weather. Neither him nor your brother stick around for too long though, dipping at the holler of their names somewhere inside. You’re comfortable though, despite being blocked off by a concrete railing, the stairs make a nice haven for the both of you to lie down and stare into the clearer than usual sky. Cheol was right, it was nice outside. 

“I can’t lay down like this, I need to get a drink.” Nayeon announces not even five minutes later. 

“Why didn’t you get one when we were there?” You groan, but she doesn’t respond as she hops back inside, throwing a promise to be quick in the air behind her. 

The wall supports you as you deflate into it, legs sprawled across the steps in disarray. Nobody could see you anyway, taking full advantage as you practically manspread. The side of the pool that’s in your vision is empty by grace; calm save for the giant flamingo floaty that bobs itself into view from the edge of the wall you lean against. A breathy laugh leaves you at the sight. 

The railing on your other side is mostly concealed, you can still make out the wicker sofa set, complete with an unlit fireplace. It’s unoccupied, for the time being, as you register a conversation floating closer and closer to your ears. Wondering if Nayeon had brought friends, you stand up quickly to look over the railing to check for her face over the sliding door that leads inside. 

There’s no Nayeon in sight. 

But there is Mingyu. 

His mere presence knocks your butt back onto the concrete the second you see him stumbling over the threshold with a hoard of his friends, nothing short of his picturesque party strut. There was little reason for you to hide from him at all, considering the very possible notion that he would look right past you if you happened across his line of sight. Space floating in, he’d ignore you for your sake or his own, perhaps even both. 

For now, he’s seated himself with a few other people on the wicker sofas, leaving you hugging your knees to your chest, head on the concrete wall with the lingering feeling akin to that of a trapped mouse. Closing your eyes, you blow out air in an attempt to relax yourself, take light of the situation you’ve found yourself in. You could get up and leave in this very moment, possibly go unnoticed if you stalked back inside before they began their rattle not meant for your ears. 

And yet, you find yourself unable to move, not even when you hear their topic shift to Mingyu’s new beau. Suddenly you wish you’d moved inside the moment you saw him. 

“Was it you that stopped Jia from coming to parties?” You hear somebody ask.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Mingyu grumbles, he pauses and you assume he’s taking a swing of his drink. “We started going out and suddenly she didn’t wanna come, that’s fine though, it isn’t her vibe anyway.”

There’s a snigger that moves across everybody seated, you hear loud thwack before Mingyu speaks again, “What’s so fucking funny?” 

“This girl’s made you work for it, huh?” 

“Isn’t that like, his brand? Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one yapping about liking a challenge all the time.”

“Yeah, remember Minji?” 

“I still think she was only pretending to not like you, her clique was always smacking at her to straighten up when you’d come over like we couldn’t see everything.” You could almost hear the eye rolling.

“Change the subject, will you?” Mingyu proposes, sounding exhausted at the prodding already.

“I apologise for the ex talk and nothing else.” 

There’s a pause for another choke of laughter across the group, and you wonder what it was that they found so funny. 

“I don’t know if I should say this…” Somebody begins, but is cut off by Mingyu.

“Then don’t say it.” He snaps, but you don’t miss his own jest. 

“I honestly thought you were gonna date Seok’s sister at some point. I mean, common consensus is that bagging your best friend’s sister is… what you’d call a challenge.”

What the fuck. 

You feel your eyes drifting closed at the turn this conversation has taken, wishing to simply fall asleep at what it’s come to. Somebody speaks up. 

“Nah, that’s like, the grand slam prize, that one comes after he’s done hanging with the side quests.” 

The situation is making itself out to be something out of a fever dream. 

Mingyu tsks, and you note a jostle happening through the gaps of the railing. “I’m leaving.” 

You find yourself hugging yourself tighter, eyes shut like he wouldn’t be able to see if you couldn’t see him. Not that it was possible unless he peered directly through the railing in his peripheral. 

“OKAY! Okay! We’re kidding.” There’s a pause. “Okay, but really…”

Another pause, this time longer. You hate how you can picture the ghost of an exasperated smile on Mingyu’s face, a bite of his lip perhaps, dejected at the shoulder with his longing, distant look. You hate how your mind fills the gaps of him the railing won’t allow you to see. 

“Seok’s not the type to beat me up if I dated his sister. And besides…” He sighs, halting his words.

“Besides what?” Somebody chimes in.

“I’m not interested in going after someone who’s chased my tail for the past fifteen years.”

There’s a chorus of hisses and oh’s, a few bounts of laughter in their disbelief. You can feel your stomach twist, heat pooling your figure. 

It would’ve been better if his words had hit you like a gong, maybe the aftermath wouldn’t have felt as horrid. But the connotations crept up on you like a million spiders making their trek up to your brain, waiting to stick their crawlers in the bits that would allow those words to hold meaning for you. You can feel the electric red of Seungcheol’s god awful concoction begin to rise up in your throat like bile; burning, imprinting. 

Mingyu had said what he had said. And everything was in it’s place, in finality. 

Despite the nearly four year age gap, you and Seokmin had co-existed without the semblance of an older-younger duo. It was mostly owed to Seokmin's shy nature, and his difficulty making solid friends. That, however, didn’t last long as your brother progressed through middle school. 

You had met Mingyu for the first time when Seokmin brought his first ever friend from school home for dinner. 

Despite being barely nine years old and half spoon fed by your mother at the same table, the prospect of Seokmin’s new friend was equal to you having a new friend – which caused enough excitement as you brought your favourite cartoon books into your brother’s room to show this new person after dinner. 

As the following year progressed, you saw less and less of your brother, and more and more of newer faces of ‘friends’ that you weren’t allowed to play with. It was distressing enough to be told by your mother that something of your brother’s was not yours, but even more so when you were kicked out of the room by Seokmin himself for the very first time.

It wasn’t as trauamtising as it felt in the moment, because you grew to find your own group of friends, doing the same as you’d kick your brother out for being annoying – except unlike you, he was doing it on purpose. 

Mingyu was a recurring face, one that was nicer to you on the days your brother was meaner, more forgiving on the days your relatively new middle school was relentless. He fit himself in your life easier than you had realised, more comfortable than you soon found you were comfortable with.

“Did you take my guitar picks?” Your brother bursts into your room just as your about to fall into your after school nap, grip loosening on the book in hand. 

Jolting awake at the sound of loud voice, you don’t respond as you attempt to orient yourself. 

“Well? Did you?” He demands again.

“What? No, I don’t know where your stupid guitar pick is.” You grumble. “Get out.”

“It’s not in my room that has to mean you took it, where is it?” 

Mingyu emerges from behind him, hand on his arm as he tries to pull his iron grip off of your doorway. “It’s probably just in your bag, you haven’t even looked!” 

Kicking the covers off, you sit up in a disarray, progressively annoyed at your brother for ruining your perfect descent into dreamland. 

“I don’t have shit, you just suck at keeping tabs on your stuff!” You grit. 

There’s a stagnant pause as he stares at you from the doorway. You can sense it coming. And it does. 

“MOM! SHE JUST SWORE!” He yells into the hallway, bounding to where your mother was, leaving an unsure Mingyu in your doorway.

Surprisingly, you were just glad he was gone, wanting to melt back into the covers. You make eye contact with Mingyu. “I really don’t have it.” 

“It’s probably in there somewhere, he’s just not looking.” He mumbles, standing a little awkward. “Um, go back to whatever it was, I’ll close your door.”

He does so, allowing you to finally slump back into your pillows to go back to your nap.

You find out quickly that you couldn't sleep after that.

The controller is becoming increasingly uncomfortable to hold. It doesn’t help that you’re brother is chewing on his four additional pieces of gum behind you on the couch, making obnoxious comments about your gaming form. 

You’re also sitting a foot away from Kim Mingyu on the floor, with whom you’re forced to battle out on Mario Kart. 

“Why’re you clicking the buttons so hard, chill out.” You heat Seokmin say, continued by his wet chomping right by your ear. 

“How hard is it to chew with your mouth closed?” Mingyu grits.

“What? Like this?” Seokmin leans over to Mingyu, chewing even louder, mouth wrenched open and closed right into his ear. Mingyu makes a sound before falling to his side, covering his ears at the ghastly sound, pushing him back with his free hand to shut him up.

You barely crack a smile at the unfolding, watching them continue to wrestle half on the floor. It’s noisy when you set your controller down, chest heavy, unfolding your legs to walk into the hallway to your room. Unnoticed. 

You only reemerge to feed yourself, inspecting the fridge for possible leftovers. Settling on an apple, you’re closing the fridge when you see Mingyu walk in, seemingly taken aback to see you there. You freeze with your mouth still attached to the apple to take a bite. 

“Oh! Where’d you go when we were playing? Didn't notice you gone till I got him to spit that wad of gum out his mouth.”

“Uh, just tired. Took a nap.” 

He hums in response and you're just about to leave when he starts talking again. 

“Hey, did you move the popcorn somewhere else? Could’ve sworn it was in here last week,” he mumbles as he rummages through a cabinet. 

“Oh. Um. It’s in the pantry.” You move before you can think, grabbing the box and slamming it on the counter, pausing briefly before reaching for the popcorn bowl and setting it on the counter next to it. “Here.”

You don’t wait for a reply before grabbing your apple and moving out the kitchen, only to bump into your brother at the door. 

“Where’ve you been?” 

“Napping,” you say, moving around him to go your own way but are stopped yet again as he calls for you. 

“We’re gonna watch a movie! You can lie on the couch.” 

Turning around, you catch sight of your brother still in the doorway, and more intriguing, Mingyu also expecting an answer from inside the kitchen behind him. You gulp as you attempt to remain casual.

“Nah, I’m good. You guys have fun.” 

You’re nearly at your door when you hear your brother speak. “She didn’t even ask what we were watching.”

Nayeon catches up with you before you notice, pulling your headphones away from your ears to announce her presence, not slowing down as you walked to campus. 

“Are you still upset about that Mingyu thing?” She asks when noting your silent demeanor. “We talked about this, come on.”

“Yeah and we concluded that it’s not an easy thing for me to just get over.” You huffed.

“You know what he’s like…” 

“Which is why I should’ve seen this all coming.” You turn around the corner with her.

“That’s not what I meant either.”

“I don’t know what came over me that day. I was doing so well for so long and I had to go ruin it because I’m – I deluded myself into thinking I had a chance.” You’re breathing heavily when you find a table in the air conditioned common room, yanking your bag off and slumping into the sofa. “None of this would’ve happened if I just shut the fuck up.” 

“What wouldn’t have happened?” Seungcheol plops down next to Nayeon, butting into the conversation. 

“Aren’t you intrigued.” Nayeon muses. 

“Especially when it’s none of my business.” 

“Charming.” 

“Anywho,” he sighs, throwing himself back against the couch. “I’ve been tasked with rounding people up for an assignment.”

“Are you gonna experiment on us?” you ask, referring to his chemistry major. 

“Nah, this is for an elective. Faculty needs volunteers for a photography class.” 

“So they need models?” You ask.

“I mean, anyone who signs up is automatically a model, so yeah they need models.” 

“Are we getting paid?” 

“You get to say you modeled for me.” 

“How convincing.” Nayeon deadpans. 

You’re stifling a snicker as you see Joshua walking up to where you were sat, planting himself next to you. 

“What’re we talking about?” He asks, pulling his laptop out almost immediately.

“Nothing, just how Seungcheol needs a reality check,” you sigh. 

He barely acknowledges the comment, going straight to business typing away. “Hey, you're staying for the summer right?” 

“Ew,” Seungcheol voices. 

“I am,” You confirm. 

“For what?” He sputters. 

“Is this you offering to pay for a round trip?” 

He silences quickly after that, giving room for Joshua to ask his next question. 

“Are your parents coming for your brother’s grad?” 

“Mhm, only for the night, though.”

“Oh, did you hear back from the bookstore too?” he asks. 

“I’m gonna apply right before break, I’m swamped right now.” 

“Let me know when you do, the restaurant might need another hire, you could work there if you want.” 

You make a face. “Appreciate the sentiment but I don’t think I’m in the right state of mind to be working in customer service.” 

Joshua’s hands freeze over his keyboard as he breathes out a delayed laugh. Nayeon mimics him.

“Right state of mind?” Seungcheol’s eyebrows are furrowed. “Wait, what were you talking about before I sat down again-” 

He’s cut off by a voice bellowing your name from across the common room. All four of you perk up at the sound, locking in on Mika aggressively pointing her wrist at you from yards away. You sit up with a jerk, checking the time. You were nearly thirty minutes late for your lecture.

“Josh, move.” You basically climb over him to get out of your seat, waving a hasty goodbye as you sprint to an exasperated Mika. 

“I’ve been waiting outside the hall for ages, you said we’d go in together!” she chides as you both speedwalk. 

“Sorry, I lost track of time…” You huff out a breath. “I just started talking about…whatever.” 

“Why’d you have that face on in there?” she asks.

“Huh? Oh, I was-”

“Nevermind, I don’t wanna know.” She picks up the pace and reaches the door before you do, rendering it impossible for you to speak to her after that. 

You’ve forgotten about it by the time you come home to an empty house, both Mika and Nayeon in your arms. It doesn’t take long for them to make themselves comfortable on the couch, looking at you expectantly like children waiting to be fed. You do that, courtesy of the half eaten pizza that sits on the coffee table. 

“I think you need to get drunk,” Nayeon voices from her end of the couch. 

Mika is immediate with her response, “Don’t encourage her.” 

“Hey!” You pout, “I haven’t gotten drunk in a while.”

“Keep it that way,” she shudders, “don’t need another Mingyu fiasco.” 

Your chewing slows at the sound of his name, a strange feeling settling in your stomach at the thought of him. Setting down your half eaten slice, you brush off your fingers. 

“I mean…” Nayeon starts after a long pause. 

“We don’t. Need another Mingyu fiasco, I mean.” You cut in. 

“If only he’d learn to shut up.” Nayeon grumbles, a sour expression on her face. 

Mika’s been shifting looks between the both of you, seemingly confused. “Am I missing something?”  

Despite not having the intention, you find yourself telling her what you heard while enclosed in the staircase. You attempt to keep it concise, for the sake of your own sanity, but Nayeon’s grumbling is only pushing you deeper into a rant. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t let a couple frustrated tears make their way down your face. 

Mika’s response as brisk as your explanation was passionate, brushing over the topic quickly before you got too heated. You appreciated it. 

“Have you considered signing up for the photography thing?” Mika asks.

“You know, I was thinking about that too.” Nayeon pulls a finger up in signed patience to wait till she finished the remaining pizza in her mouth. “You should do it. It’ll put your mind off…him. You’ll be busier too.”

“I have a million things to do, I’m busy enough.” You retort. 

“You’re busy studying at home. Where he could drop in at any point of day.” She points. 

Your open your mouth to rebut again, only to close it as you fail to find a reason to deny her point. “Okay, still!” 

“Just – think about it, okay. It’ll put more on your plate but maybe it’ll help.”

That was the last of your Mingyu talk, not that you could carry on when your brother comes slumping into the house after his class, stealing a slice of pizza as he makes his way to his room. He’s slumped at the shoulders, and you egg him to take a nap before he collapsed on the living room floor. 

Both Nayeon and Mika are quick to leave after that, leaving you with leftover pizza and your thoughts.

You sprawl your things out on the coffee table, taking advantage of the silent house to get some work done. Nayeon was right, as you think of the prospect of Mingyu entering at any given moment to bother your brother as a constant threat. 

It’s not until your prepping dinner with Seokmin that the project is brought up again.

“There’s leftover Chow Mein Mingyu made yesterday, shove that in too.” He yawns as he pushes the box over. 

You can only stare at the box in mild agitation, contemplating if you should simply chuck it into the garbage chute. Unfortunately, by experience, you knew Mingyu made really good Chow Mein, so you begrudgingly slide the opened box into the microwave to heat up, deciding you’d push Seok to eat it before you have a chance to take a bite. 

It’s silent while you eat, Seokmin still in a daze from his earlier nap, shoving spoonfuls of noodles in between bites of pizza. It’s not until your halfway through eating before he jolts up slightly like he’d just remembered something.

“Did you hear about that volunteering thing from the photography department? They want models for some project.” 

“Oh, yeah.” You pause, thinking back to what Nayeon had proposed. “Are you gonna sign up?” 

“No, but you should.”

“I don’t know, I still have a lot of prep for finals.”

“You get extra credit if it helps,” he notes. 

That was news to you. There’s a frown on your face as you deny, “No, you don’t.” 

“They’re doing it ‘cause they weren’t getting the response they wanted. I found out just now too, they’re gonna put it up on the bulletin tomorrow. Might wanna decide before then.” 

There were no questions asked after the realization, blue light of the laptop casting your face aglow in the darkened room as you hit the big blue Confirm button on the website. Skimming through the subsequent email, you find you won’t be needed till next week, the date and time making it’s way to your calendar. 

Now, if you had known what the next week truly held for you, there was no doubt you’d be sending in a cancellation email at first chance. 

But you didn’t know. So you simply went to bed, falling asleep to the vague idea of searching for modeling tips on youtube during the coming weekend, entertaining the mild possibility that this might be the thing that puts you at peace at last. 

The photography classes are held in regular lecture rooms, as you find out as you file into the sparingly filled hall at the date your calendar has graciously alerted you for. There was an image of a larger, more spacious area for a discipline pertaining to the arts, yet to be fair, the idea of having to create this form of art within a four walled containment did seem a little counter productive. 

Nonetheless, you find yourself seated in a spare chair, waiting for the clock to hit nine on a Saturday morning for the shuffling professor at the front of the room to begin. Your eyes make passovers across the gradually filling room, searching for a semblance of Seuncheol’s bright blond hair to wave him over. There’s no sign of him five minutes before the minute hit twelve, and you’re thinking about slipping to the restroom before it can to kill the remaining time. 

There’s another person filing into the room as you rise from your chair, and you pause in attempt to recognize Cheol in the grey zip up.

Except you don’t find Seungcheol, not at all. 

Mingyu is walking into the classroom, gaze sweeping across the hall as he seats himself in the front bottom row, head thrown back as he sifts through his perfect hair with his fingers. 

You aren't sure why your brows furrowed like they did, or why you planted your butt back onto the chair with the force that you did; especially when all you wanted to do was book it out of the room in full velocity. 

He was taking this class. Of course you knew that, especially when it was all he would yap about at any point he graced your presence. 

You can feel your purpose in the room fade to nothing as you register him as a unit. You want to blame someone, but you know it’s all you fault. You knew he’d be here; if your mind had only thought fit to remind you at any point in the past week. 

In regular Mingyu fashion, if he’d seen you, he does nothing to show it as you find him unraveling a loose thread off of his jacket. You keep your eyes on him, remaining mortified at your blatant disregard to the information that Mingyu was also in this class. Come to think of it, it was probably Mingyu who told Seokmin about the added credit in the first place. You want to kick yourself for not questioning your brother’s apparent magical source of information. 

There’s nothing that can be done as you feel Seungcheol finally slip into the seat next to you just as the professor in the front of the room begins to speak. You’re not in the right headspace to make conversation, so you're grateful for the small acknowledgment as the professor begins to drone. 

“Each student has been given a theme to work with, they’re all different and given to the people whom I saw fit for the job. You’ll be receiving your packets with your theme today, so remember to pick them up from the front desk before you leave,” she begins. 

“As for your models,” she switches to the next slide over to reveal a spreadsheet full of names. “Their names will be right next to yours, the photography students.” 

The entire room lurches forward as a unit, eyes squinted and whispers exchanged as they search for their partners in the sea of names. Seungcheol is zooming in on the picture he took with his phone, eyes zooming over to find his name. 

“Hey, I found yours!” he announces, moving the phone over to you. 

He’s zoomed into your full name on the screen, and your moving the picture aside to see the name across from it. Except, you find you wish you hadn’t. 

—Kim, Mingyu. 

If you needed more confirmation that the universe was simply against you, you’d gotten the message as you prayed the letters would morph into something else before your very eyes. 

You seem to have been staring at the name for too long, because Seungcheol snatches his phone back from your grip to see for himself after you refused to answer his questions of what the name next to yours was. 

“Oh, it’s Mingyu! That’s easy, you're basically related.”

You wanted to slap him. 

Before you can stop him, he’s yelling the boy’s name across the room amidst the growing chatter, the biggest, stupidest grin on his face. “Mingyu! I found your model, she’s right here! 

You wanted to squeeze Seungcheol’s neck till his head popped off. 

Mingyu turns around at the call, registering his friend’s words despite the growing noise. He registers you and you watch as he turns his head back at the projection, like he was confirming it was true. 

Of course he’s as petrified as you are, if not more. But the embarrassment of his apparent disbelief made its hot way into your stomach and chest nonetheless, your breakfast threatening to make its way back up. 

By the time the professor’s done with her bit and the room has begun to file out, you’ve found yourself standing outside the lecture hall in uncomfortable movement, shifting your weight between both feet and fiddling with the straps of your bag. Every passing face sends a jolt though your stomach as you calculate how jarring it would be if you left right this second without seeing him. 

You're counting his steps inside your head, how he’d shuffle for his name on the packet he’s meant to receive, counting in any conversation he’d start with a friend or with the professor. A thought occurs to you, and you wonder if he was searching for you inside. You’re weighing between walking inside and leaving altogether when he makes the decision for you, walking out of the room, booklet in hand. 

There goes the toast blaring its way back up your esophagus. 

“Hey,” he says unceremoniously. 

You respond with an unreasonably meek “Hi.” 

“Seok didn’t tell me you signed up for this.” He points casually. 

Well, Seok doesn’t need to tell you everything. 

“Oh, I told him while he was like half asleep, pretty sure he thought he dreamt it.”

Mingyu snorts a little at that, a slight smile appearing on his face as he pictures a sleepy Seokmin. 

“I can imagine,” he says, before he’s brought back to the matter at hand by you. 

You clear your throat before you begin to talk, expression remaining neutral. “Do we need to get started right away?” 

“Oh.” He seems a little taken aback at your forwardness. Like he didn’t know why you didn’t want to make small talk with him. “Uh, I don’t even know what theme I have yet. I’ll read over the packet and plan a couple things out before you have to come in.”

“That’s great.” You hold on the straps of your tote. “Text me when you need me.”

With that, you had spun on your heel and stalked away, not leaving room for him to retort with anything at all. You don’t look back. 

Nayeon can do nothing but gape as she watches you hold back frustrated tears, picking apart the grass under you as you curse the heavens for your horrible fate. She’s absorbing the situation as you wallow, finding the words to say.

“Fuck, this is my fault,” she breathes out.

“No!” You gasp out, furiously wiping away the irritating tears. “It’s not. I just forgot, it’s my own fault. You were right for trying to get me to do it, it just…”

“You can’t ask to change partners?” she asks.

“I can’t!” You wail, “I’m supposed to not care, how is this me not caring?” 

It was ridiculous. Truly. You were sobbing like a child over this, screaming about wanting to not care. But you did care. Too much. Nayeon can do little but hold you as you sniffle into her lap, feeling sick to your stomach at your own childish behaviour. 

“Why am I crying about this, this is stupid.”

“You’re stressed, hon, that’s it. You’ve got a lot going on and this just multiplied it.” She’s running a soothing hand over your back. “Just let it out, you need it.”

You emerge from your hunched position to sit up straight, sniffling a little less as you calm down. “Should I withdraw from the project?” 

“I mean, if you really want to,” she says softly. 

“But?” You sense her apprehension.

“But, maybe you should give it a go.” 

You can only blink at her with wet lashes.

“Think of it this way. You need to… build resistance, keep yourself around him regardless. There’s bound to come a point where you start to feel…nothing.” 

“Are you trying to work exposure therapy on me?” 

“Maybe? If that’s what it means. If you take yourself out of the project, it shows that you care. You need to pretend to not care before you can stop feeling the real thing.” 

There’s a pause as you attempt to find reason in her words.

“Listen, I may be talking out of my ass, and if you do end up doing it, it’s gonna be hard – like a lot, but–”

“No. You’re making sense.” 

“I am?” She blinks, taken aback at the realisation that you may be listening to her. You nod quietly, “You’re right, I can’t keep running away.” 

“So, you’re gonna do it?” She confirms with wide eyes.

Once again, you find it within yourself to nod. 

Yeah. You were gonna do it.

Being in Mingyu’s presence and feeling nothing may be the goal, but you realise quickly it’s going to take you a while to restrain the trailing eyes that follow him wherever he goes. Nayeon had warned you, but you realise you may be slightly ill-prepared. 

The theme is light. Vague to you but he doesn’t seem too bothered by it. He isn’t looking at you as he talks, eyes darting between the laptop screen and the plethora of papers he’s scattered on the coffee table. “I don’t really have a colour preference for this one but a a deeper blue or a purple would fit pretty well with the sunlight on here.”

You can only nod along in mild understanding, most of your effort exerted on trying to keep your eyes on the screen where he’s pulling up a color wheel. “I probably have something.” 

“Do you still have that button up Seok bought you? The one with the stripes?”

You recall the deep blue shirt your brother had gotten you for your first in class presentation, picturing it hung still in your closet. “Uh, yeah I do. I’ll wear it.”

“Bring options, whatever fits the colours. No turtlenecks or crewnecks though…” Mingyu continues to talk, taking notes for you in the process. Your mind, however, is somewhere else.

You hate how your mind takes you to a murkier place, one where the thought of him retaining memory of your closet pieces unprovoked has your neck tingling and your cheeks lifting. Trying to snap out of it before he notices your dazed expression, you pretend to flip through the couple papers in front of you, noting nothing. 

“Other than that–” he’s cut off by his phone ringing on the table. Both your gazes dart to the caller ID, and you immediately wish you hadn’t as you register the pink heart on the end. Jia was calling. 

He barely spares you a glance as he excuses himself in a mumble, something about being back in a second. You watch him leave through the cafe altogether, emerging on the other end of the glass walls in your direct vision. For the nth time that day, you find it impossible to tear your eyes away from his positively elated face, teeth out on display as talks to his girlfriend. You wonder what they’re talking about, if her face is beaming like his own, wherever she is. 

You zone out as you wonder what it’d be like to be the receiving end of an expression like that. To have something within you to be worth his smile, his mumbled pardons and his uninterrupted space. There’s a part of you that wonders if its greed – you’ve gotten to see him nearly everyday for the past decade, perhaps you’ve run your tickets dry. 

You realise quickly that Mingyu is no longer in your line of sight as you feel a ruffle on the chair as he sits back on his seat. 

“I think we can wrap up here, let me take the first couple shots before I can see where to go with it afterwards.”

You sense his eager want to leave, and you cannot help but beat him to it for your own sake. 

“Alright. I’ll see you friday then.” SLiding out of your seat, you make a halfhearted attempt at shuffling his papers in a neater pile, throwing him a half smile before grabbing your bag.

He isn’t watching you leave, you know that. Yet you find yourself refusing to slow down or look back till you round the corner, letting your shoulders finally slump and your pace to come to a temporary halt. It takes you another beat before you begin walking again, breathing in slowly as you navigate your way through the moderately crowded sidewalk. Nearly ramming into a fire hydrant, you shake off the seize that remains in your body, picking up the pace hoping it’d promote less thoughts.

It works, as you unlock your front door, finally shaking off the autopilot. Shifting to the kitchen is easy, rummaging the cabinets for your hidden stash of moonpies with the intention to devour the family box whole. You’re contemplating texting Seokmin to bring you actual food as you make your way to your bedroom, wanting nothing more than to let your covers absorb all the feelings that make you human. 

You find it unfortunate as you catch sight of yourself in the full length mirror and the outfit you’d put together before you had left. Your mind goes back to pandemonium as you take in the details, wondering why on earth you’d put in so much effort for a conversation that lasted less than an hour. You tear your eyes away before you begin to truly hate yourself, ripping your jewelry off as you make a beeline to wash your face clean of the makeup you’d put on. 

It becomes increasingly difficult to look at yourself even in the bathroom mirror, moisturizer going on more aggressively than what’s good for you. You feel a sting in the back of your eyes and owe it to the face wash. 

It’s easier once you’re in bed, your laptop at the ready, and a text on its way as you bug your brother to bring you your favorite burger and milkshake combo. You put your immediate faith in your moonpies for now as you rip the first one open, letting the sweetness bring you a deluded happiness. 

“His name hurts.” Your voice comes out echoey, the sound reverberating in the cavern of your chest. The shot on the table is inviting, but you can’t help but feel nauseous at the thought of downing it. Your fizzled out sprite is being good to you, so you let it.

“Hearing you talk about him hurts,” Mika slurs, slumping down onto the beanbag she’s dragged onto the scene, joining you and Nayeon next to the couch. 

Letting out a loud sigh that you doubt she can hear over the bass booming across the house, you settle to rest your head back on the couch backrest, staring into the ceiling. “Imagine what it’s doing to me then.”

“I don’t need to.” You can hear the exasperation in her voice. 

“Oh, hey, Hao!” Nayeon drags next to you and you lift your head up to see Mika’s boyfriend join her on the already tiny beanbag. He huffs out a hey between a slight smile, slumping almost entirely on his girlfriend. She pats his hair in silent regard. 

“I read this research paper about how they can delete the memories out of your brain squiggles,” Nayeon pops in.

“Since when do you read academic material for interest?” Minghao mumbles, fingers busy playing with Mika’s hair.

The pair continue to bicker as your eyes trail across the moderately packed house, the party looking more lowbeat than any other Seungcheol extravaganzas. Not that you were complaining, but when you spot a certain someone, it’s hard not to. 

Mingyu files into the kitchen with your brother in tow, beaming face evident over the island as he pours himself what looks like orange juice. Your mood is instantly soured.

“What study was that again?” You poke at Nayeon, the image of the man you wished for gone burned into your forebrain. She glances over to the open kitchen and realises what you’re talking about, coming around with a face of her own.

“That one’s gonna be a hard one to scrub out. But it’s okay, even the toughest stains succumb to bleach that’s strong enough,” she sighs. You’re barely listening to her analogy, not when he’s standing right there rendering it impossible for you to look anywhere else. 

“You sound like a commercial.” You can almost hear the crinkle in Mika’s nose as she comments, and you can’t help but breathe out a laugh. 

The rest continue with their conversation as you remain quiet for most of the exchange, eyes filling your heart heavy with the way they remain glued to the figure far out into the kitchen. It was less about the fact that you just wanted to look at him and more of how it was forcing you to think about your predicament; something that was weighing you down yet something you couldn’t help. 

You can’t be entirely sure how long you managed to stare without getting caught, but when Mika calls your name out harsher than expected, you snap around to divert your attention. 

“Huh?”

“Sixth time’s the charm, huh? Get it together, he’s not gonna look at you,” she huffs as she slumps back onto the beanbag, alone this time as you note that Minghao is gone.

It takes you a moment to gather what she had said, mouth gaping open and close as you try to conspire a proper response. “I wasn’t trying–”

“No. Save it. It was my fault for thinking I could sit here without having to sit through more of your Mingyu bullshit.” She’s shuffling out of her bean bag with mediocre difficulty, exasperation on her face as she trudges away to sit with her boyfriend and his friends on the seats on the middle of the floor. 

The air seems to have knocked out of your chest as you find the capacity to process what just happened. Seemingly forgotten Nayeon was also here, you note the hand she places on your elbow as a sober attempt to get you to look at her. 

The rest of the night passes in a nauseous blur, none that you could really make sense of. You bid Nayeon goodbye as you assured her you’d go home with your brother, waving goodbye to blurred taxi lights as she leaves you alone in front of a dwindling house. 

The breath you let out is shaky as your feet remain planted on the concrete, the remnants of tonight passing over you as they came. Deciding you owed it to yourself, you let the tears well up in your eyes. As tired as you were of crying over what was essentially the same thing over and over again, you let yourself tire yourself out once more. 

The party was over, and you knew that because you were walking home alone, hoping Nayeon would forgive you for lying to her. But you couldn’t possibly explain the tear stains on your cheeks to your brother, not when he knew nothing. It was better that way; you refuse to be the person that potentially ruins a friendship that’s lasted longer than any other.  

You try to keep your sniffling to a minimum as you trudge slowly in the dark, not bothering to wipe your tears. Your stomping grows louder the more you grow frustrated with your thoughts, and it proves not too well for you. There’s a pair of headlights throwing light onto the oncoming street, illuminating you in the process. You want to kick yourself as the realisation settles in, praying the car would simply pass you. Considering the late hour and the fact that you were alone is hitting you at the worst time, wondering if you could pretend to make a call as you walked. 

It’s a black sedan that rolls up next to you, slower than what’s considered a normal speed on an empty street. It honks and you nearly halt, owing to the shake that passes through your knees. It honks again, and you can’t help but look to the side to find a window rolled down. 

Mingyu sits on the driver’s seat, leaning over to the empty passenger side to grab your attention. 

“The Uber’s free! So is the driver,” he yells out the window. “Hop in.”

“I’m alright. I kinda wanna walk.” You shift your weight between your feet, the distance adding an awkward feel. 

“Wasn’t asking. It’s the middle of the night, I’m not letting you walk alone.” As he speaks, another car passes from behind him, slowing down. You note the look the other driver is giving you through the window, and it’s enough to convince you to step into Mingyu’s car. 

“I think we’re way past the point of formalities, don’t know why you hesitated.” He chuckles as he motions for you to click on your seatbelt. You fumble with it for a moment, his own fingers coming to the rescue to latch it on. You retract your fingers before they can brush with his own any further. 

Settling into your seat, you choose to look forward as he picks up speed. “Uhm, just wanted to walk, it was nice outside.”

“Take someone with you next time, it’s nearly midnight,” he warns. 

There’s a twinge of annoyance that emerges in the back of your mind for some reason, despite knowing full well that he was right. You just didn’t want to hear it from him.

It’s silent for a bit as the radio plays an uncharacteristically upbeat tune, prompting you to wonder if it was just you who felt the atmosphere pressing in on your chest.

“Did you not bring your car today?” he asks out of the blue, eyes remaining on the road as you glance up at him. One look at his side profile and you’re turning your gaze away.

“No, it’s at the workshop. I came with Nayeon.” 

“Why didn’t you leave with her?”

“I…” You pause. “I told her I was gonna go with Seok.”

“Hm. That didn’t happen.”

“It’s like I said,” you mumble.

He hums again in response, dropping the subject.

“Listen, are you…are you okay?” he starts again and it has you looking back up at him. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You try to hide the bitterness in your tone but it proves difficult.

“I couldn’t help but overhear but I was sitting right there. Hao was talking to Mika about something she’d said to you, about…” He trails off. “I mean, you looked a little upset, I just wanted to ask if you were okay.”

You bit your tongue. Hard. 

He knew you were staring at him, he knew you weren’t over him. He knew you were still standing on the same square confinement from months ago. Never changed. 

“I’m fine,” you reply, snappier than you had intended. 

“Are you sure? I felt like I should’ve said something but Nayeon was right there so I thought…” He sounds unsure and when you see him look at you, with eyes filled with an emotion that makes you nearly gag, you almost lose it. You did not want him to pity you. Nor care for you; especially when it came from a place that nullifies your feelings. You didn’t want him to care for you for the sole reason that you were his best friend’s sister. 

“Mingyu, I think it’s best if you drop it.”

“Of course. But it might help if you wanna, you know, feel your feelings.” 

Fuck no, you weren’t crying in front of him. Not when you're sure he’s noticed the tear stains on your makeup.

“Mingyu, I said drop it. I don’t need your help, I don’t need to feel anything, I need you stop feeling like you’re obligated to care about me because you’re not.” The words come tumbling out before you can stop them, irritation laced in every snap and dent.

He says your name in an attempt to smooth you over. It only lands him in more trouble.

“No, listen, I get it. You’re uncomfortable about everything but you feel like you need to check up on me at the same time, and I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to worry about that. What happened, happened, and it’s my job to pick up the pieces because it’s my fault. You don’t need to meddle.” You’re breathing hard as you finish, finally settling back in your seat. 

He’s already pulling up to your building, heat still penetrating the silence. You unbuckle your seatbelt, mumbling a thanks for the ride. 

“Seok’s staying at Cheol’s tonight,” he calls out as you shuffle out the door. “Remember to lock the door.” 

You stand sheepishly holding the open door as you nod quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the shoot.”

Middle school was harder than you thought. 

Not that you expected it to be easy, but you remained hopeful nonetheless. Fifth grade came plowing for you with an unexpected vigor, which you were feeling especially as you gripped your red marked paper with a vice grip. 

It was Mingyu who had found you on the kitchen island sniffling, waiting for your mother to come home and ask you for your dreaded test results. 

You drop your head in shame (even more so) when he asks you the inevitable question of “what’s wrong?” Your voice comes out as a mumble. “I failed my first test.” 

He blinks as he stops in front of the fridge, opening it to emerge with a carton of chocolate milk and two monsters. He slides the carton over to you as he takes a seat on the other chair. 

“Well, what did you get?” he asks as he pops his can open, ears studded black from the piercings he’d gotten done. 

You mumble out the number in incoherence that has him hunching down to hear you. 

“What?” 

“A fifteen!” you finally huff out in exasperation. 

“Hm. Better than me I think I got a two at some point. Don’t worry about it, it's not the end of the world.” He says. “D’you want me to turn that into a seventy five?” 

You look up confused. “How?”

“You’ll see. Get me your test. And a red marker.” 

On that day, Mingyu aided you in your first con, pulling lines to turn the one into a seven right before your eyes. 

“There. Now don’t let her look at it too hard or check your answers. And only give it to her if she asks for it.” 

He had left back to your brother’s room with the spare can of monster, leaving you to stash your test into your bag and move to seat yourself in a more natural position. You’d gotten away with it as your mother pats you on the back for your first attempt at a fifth grade paper, leaving you with a lesson to work harder, and a memory that stayed with you for years. 

The following day is met with a pit of guilt sitting in your stomach before you could even recall the events of last night. 

There’s little that you can do to prep as you’re supposed to change at the studio anyway, pushing the remnants of your makeup products into a pouch as a second thought. Your hair seemed fine, deciding you’d see to it if it needed changing when you got there. 

You push your departure as far as you could, finding more things to do and more chores to finish before you were due to leave. It takes you a final look at the time before you finally decide to trudge to the door with your things. You cross paths with Seokmin who’s only just coming home, looking worse for wear. He barely acknowledges you as he makes a beeline for his bedroom, disappearing. 

He’s probably fine. 

By the time you get to the studio Mingyu is already in the middle of setting up, immersed in the switches behind giant studio lights. It’s dark, save for the one studio light thats already on, casting a light on the white backdrop, a single stool sits at the front. Looking around, the place casts an eerie atmosphere, the unattended stations and dark back rooms casting a shiver down your spine despite the Afternoon light outside. Perhaps you were acclimated to the hustle and bustle in behind the scene videos of photoshoots, yet here it was just you and Mingyu. 

He doesn’t notice you come in right away, and you’re thankful for the opportunity to recast your words in your head, waiting to be uttered as soon as you say your hellos. 

“Oh, hey,” he says normally. 

“Hope I’m not too late.”

“No, you’re fine, I’m nearly done setting up,” he says, as he switches the second studio light on, doubling the glow in the room. 

“Oh, okay.” Your voice comes out as an uncharacteristic whisper. “Uh, listen, Mingyu, I just wanted to apologize about last night. You were only asking and I was being too harsh.”

He picks up his back from his bent position to look at you, hand coming to rub the back of his neck. “Oh, no, don’t say that, It’s me who should be apologising. I shouldn’t have pried when you said you didn’t wanna talk about it. I’m sorry, really.” 

You're opening your mouth to rebut, nails clashing onto each other as your fidgeting gets worse, but you decide to end it. “We’re both sorry, let’s just end this here.” 

Both of you have slightly uncomfortable smiles on your faces as Mingyu continues to fidget with his cables and equipment. It went smoother than you’d thought, silently thanking him for keeping it from getting awkward – more awkward than necessary anyway. 

“These ones are gonna be basic studies, establishing the usual studio lights in the beginning before we move to the more experimental shots.” He drags his own stool forward to sit directly across from you in front of the plain white backdrop. “Did you bring another black top?”

“I did, do you want me to change?”

“Not yet.” He positions the camera higher, looking like he’s ready. “Okay, relax your body. Shoulders back, chin down. Okay, now a smile, really small, barely there.” 

He snaps his first photo and you nearly knock yourself backwards on the stool, lights going off at the shot damn near blinding you. 

“You good?”

“I thought the flash was just gonna be your camera.” You frown, coming round. 

“Nah, you’ll get used to it. Okay, back in position.”

He takes a couple more pictures, urging you to make miniscule changes to your poses, whatever feels good. You find yourself loosening up, your posture aiding you instead of working against you. “Try putting your hands on the stool, yeah like that, lean forward. Chin up a little more.”

The directions continue from behind the camera as he continues to flash away, and you do your utmost to not let the lights disorient you too much. He lets you take a break when you make a comment about the pure thermal energy in the room, your face no doubt shiny and red from the lights. You’re done after you take a couple more pictures after an outfit change, rendering you free to leave within the hour. 

“I think you’re done,” he announces, stretching as he leaves his own stool. “I’ll send you deets for tomorrow, we’ll probably get a lot more done.”

“Oh, cool.” 

Gathering your stuff doesn’t take you as you go up to tell him you’re about to leave. You find him fiddling with cables, packing everything up before leaving himself. You make a split second decision, dropping your bag before announcing yourself. 

“Let me help.”

“Huh? Oh no, it’s fine. I just need to shove them in storage.” 

“That’s alright, I’ll help. What d’you want me to do?” 

“Uh, Maybe unplug all the ports, and um, turn the lights on too, I guess. It’s gonna get dark if you don’t.”

Cleaning up was easier when those god awful studio lights weren’t overheating the entire hall, collecting cables and putting equipment back into their places. It was over before you knew it. 

“Is your car back from the workshop?” Mingyu yells from inside one of the side rooms collecting his stuff. 

“Not yet, I’m getting it back on the 15th. Ordered a cab.” 

“You’re going home from here, right?” He emerges from the room, arms in the middle of slipping into his jacket. “I’ll drive you.”

“No, it’s fine I have to meet Nayeon at uni and–”

“Even better, I was going there too. Come on, I just need to kill the lights.” 

You’re out of saviours, evident as you slide into his car, yet again with no choice. It’s meant to be a short drive, considering the studio is barely ten minutes away from where you need to be, yet it feels like an impromptu road trip with the way the roads seem to stretch. 

It’s significantly less awkward than last night, perhaps owed to him not being as inclined to make conversation, unlike last night. 

By the time he’s pulling up, you already have your bag in hand, a thank you frozen on your tongue as you register who it is that’s standing outside the library. You groan internally as you see Nayeon waiting for you, immersed in something on her phone. Praying she stays occupied, you rush your, “thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow,” as you hope she doesn’t see you slip out of the familiar car. 

She does notice. Looking up at the sound of yout door opening, she catches clear sight of you stepping out of the car, Mingyu in the driver’s seat. You can tell she’s subdued her reaction, but the eyebrows gives her away as they shoot up at the sight. Trudging up to her is a nightmare and a half, dreading the questions she’s going to ask as you hear Mingyu rev away.

“Are my eyes deceiving me?” she breathes out, eyes wide, mouth open in jest. 

“Quit it, I have work to get done.” You choose to lead her straight into the library where you know she won’t be able to ask you any more probing questions.

That doesn’t seem to sedate her though as she continues to whisper a million questions, watching you pull your stuff out.

“I had a shoot with him today, he offered to drop me off and I couldn’t say no!”

“Oh my gosh!” she exclaims a little too loud, owing a couple nasty surrounding looks her way, including yours. She continues quieter, pulling your laptop away from you so you’d pay more attention to her. “How’d it go? Did you pose all sexy for him, did he look nervous?”

“I did not pose sexy, I posed normally, because I have a conscience,” you snap, yanking your laptop back from her grip. 

She’s smiling like an idiot, unaffected by your annoyance. “Is he gonna drop you off after every shoot? Oh my god! Don’t you dare get your car from the garage, give it to Seokmin, or, or, tell them to keep it!” 

“Nayeon, shush!” It’s your turn to whisper shout at her gradually increasing volume, pushing her to quit leaning over the desks. 

“Okay, okay.” She sobers up.

“I’m supposed to be getting over him, why are you so happy about this? Indifference, remember? It was you who brought it up.”

“Yes, but you can’t tell me it doesn’t look, I don’t know, like, you know!”

Once she’s a little less giddy, you finally tell her about last night – leaving out the bit where he droppped you home for the sake of the library and its inhabitants. 

“I mean, I know we aplogised and everything, but I felt a little less… on fire around him. Other than those stupid studio lights, those were turning the place into a sauna. But I could meet his eyes without hyperventilating,” you explain, eyes downcast as you speak. 

“I imagine his eyes were covered with that camera anyway, but progress, I guess,” Nayeon comments.

“Maybe I needed to get mad at him to feel better, I don’t know. But it feels like I’m making progress for the first time.” 

“I told you this would be good for you, give it a couple more weeks and it’ll be like Mingyu never happened.” 

It takes a conscious attempt to not scoff. Like Mingyu never happened to your heart. That’s a heart you can’t recognise. 

The first time Seokmin had brought girls over was a day you couldn’t forget, no matter how hard you tried. 

You were padding down to the kitchen, still bleary eyed and pyjama clad from your nap, making a beeline for the fridge to get a glass of water. Your trip is cut short, however, when you realised the living room was not as empty as you expected. It’s a crowd (to your eleven year old self, anyway) of people your brother’s age. You catch a couple familiar faces, friends of your brother who visited often, Mingyu is part of the lumps on the couch with them. 

What stumped you, however, were the girls that were seated in between, eyes equally trained on you as everyone else in the room. 

“Oh, who’s this Seok?” one of the girls asked. 

“My little sister. D’you wanna say hi?” he asked you, neck craned to look at you. 

“Uh. Hi,” you whisper, gulping. 

There’s a chorus of hi’s that came bounding at you. You could feel the embarrassment creep up your entire body, feeling conscious for the first time in your life. They were staring at you. They were smiling, but you hated it. 

You weren’t thinking as you turned around to sprint back upstairs, not missing the tinkle of laughs coming from the living room. 

“Oh, she’s cute,” you had heard. That had you nearly starting to cry. 

You’d be lying if you said your little crush on Mingyu hadn’t started blossoming for a while at that point. Being younger meant you were constantly fighting to be seen, even more so when you’d do anything for Mingyu to look at you. Hogging your brother’s bean bag until you were kicked out, putting sparkly clips in your hair before you went to the kitchen, laughing especially loud when you knew he could hear.

And yet, despite everything, for the very first time, you hated that Mingyu was looking at you, watching you idle and awkward while he sat next to a bunch of prettier, older girls. 

That night was of many firsts, including the first time you had ever cried over Mingyu.

Mingyu claimed this was the last shoot, that he’d be done after this final set of shots. 

You’re having a hard time though, because he’s decided his studio for the day was gonna be at the top of a mountain at the asscrack of dawn. 

“We have fifteen minutes,” he announces. 

“To live?” You heave, crouching on the gravel to give your body a break. 

“Till sunrise,” he interjects, reversing to get to your crouched figure. You feel him grab hold of the straps of your bag, swinging it over his own shoulder. “Come on, just a little more.”

“You’ve been saying that for an hour.” You groan, picking yourself up off the path to resume your trudging. Mingyu stays next to you this time. 

“Did you pack your entire house in here, the fuck is this so heavy for,” he grunts. 

“You're the one asking for a bajillion outfit changes, I’m just doing what you asked.” 

“One change of clothes and a compact doesn’t weigh this much, are you disposing a body up here?” 

“Might be yours if I don't see that damn railing in a minute.” 

“I think you're hungry,” he huffs out. 

“I think I need to never agree to do this again.” 

“Salavation!” he yelps as he sees a vending machine in the distance, quite literally glowing (with its fluorescent lights). 

“I don’t need a water bottle, Mingyu, I need to lie down.” Your voice grows more gruff by the minute, legs nearly giving away. 

“No, the vending machine means…” He bounds up the last couple leaps to the glowing box with a burst of motivation. The slope turns flat at the horizon. “We’re here.” 

Nearly falling to your knees at the sight of the long awaited arrival point, you drop to a nearby bench and lay flat on the stiff wood. 

“How long till I need to look presentable? Because if it’s anything under thirty minutes, I’m tapping out.” You declare. 

“I can give you five minutes, take it or leave it.” He barely sits down as he speaks while already unzipping his camera bag. The thought of lifting your arms is excruciating, so you rest your tongue and bite back a whine. 

By the time you do find it within yourself to swing your legs back over the bench, the sky is shifting to a smoky navy, urging you to hurry up as you dry your sweat. You’re cringing as you press powder on your unclean face, but power through the final touches as you stretch while standing up straight.  

The first rays of sunlight are just coming through as Mingyu calibrates his lenses, trying to figure out the best shots in the limited time frame you have. You listen to him as he directs you where he wants you, contorting your face into something akin to faux serene. It’s near impossible when the frown has molded itself into your face after what you’ve put your body through today. 

“Think happy thoughts.” Mingyu calls out from behind his camera. 

“Oh, I’m thinking real happy thoughts. Like the ice cold shower I’m about to take when I get home. My clean bed that’s gonna be nice to me when I lay in it. The leftover pasta in the fridge. My moonpies.”

He has to bring his face away from the camera to throw his head back in a breathy laugh, smile as wide as it could go. It does things to you, but you ignore it. 

The summit isn’t entirely empty, noting a few people leaning against the railings, rendering it mostly quiet. All the more jarring becomes Mingyu’s phone as it blares into the silence, causing the both of you to jump at the sudden sound. 

He checks the caller ID only to silence it and slip it back into his pocket. 

You don’t get to ask who it was calling him so early in the morning, but get your answer when he immediately announces he’s done with his shots. The sun is higher up at this point, casting a more even orange glow across all the eye could see. 

You suppose he’s in a hurry to get home, seeing as he has someone waiting on him. “Should we leave then?” 

He swings the camera strap around his neck, forearms on the railing as he admires the view. “Give it a couple more minutes, I need to mentally prepare myself for the next hour.” 

It’s hard for you to deny that, so you let yourself place your head into your crossed arms over the railing, staring into the glow. It’s silent for a while as the rays hit your face, warming you more than you’d like. You don’t make any effort to move though, deciding to appreciate the view while it was here, doubting you’d ever make the trek up here again. Not willingly, at least. 

There’s a camera shutter that goes off next to you and you find Mingyu fidgeting with his camera as he tries to begin packing it up. You would help, but you’ve found yourself refraining from touching anything when it comes to his actual camera setup, opting to watch as he disassembles his lenses and pushes buttons to power off. 

By the time you're trudging down the path you’d come up from, it’s bright and sunny, rendering it warmer than before. Going down, however, is proving easier as you appreciate the reduced strain in your calves, letting the recent conversation take you to a smoother route. 

“When d’you think your gonna be done editing?” You ask at some point, the thought occurring to you that you’d only seen a couple pictures that he’d taken so far, oweing to his disapproval showing you all the raws before editing. 

“Kinda have to get them edited and annotated by the due date, so probably by the end of the month.” 

“D’you think I could get the ones you edit?” 

“Why? D’you wanna kickstart a portfolio?” he muses.

“I think it’s normal to ask for my pictures you took of me,” you grunt.

He laughs it off. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll send them over.” 

Mingyu doesn’t drop you off home this time, both of you slipping into your own cars at the base of the hiking trail, bidding your goodbyes. You’d gotten an earful from Nayeon for getting your car back from the garage so quickly, and while sitting in a car with him wasn’t so bad anymore, you choose to retain that distance regardless. This was work, You’re doing this because you have to, and the stupid extra credit that roped you into this in the first place.

Alas, as you start your engine, eyes cast towards Mingyu’s number plate right up front, you can’t help but feel…sad… remembering this was your last shoot. As emotionally vexing the experience was, you had grown to look forward to his discreet location pins and outfit plans, growing more comfortable with him by the meeting. 

It almost felt like you and Mingyu were friends. 

Your brother’s graduation was an ordeal to say the least. Your parents flying in was a plus, getting to see them at least once for the summer, even if it was just for the day. 

The night is wrapped up fairly quickly, a big dinner with yours and Mingyu’s family to congratulate the freed graduates from their academic shackles. It dials back when Mingyu announces he’s gonna take a summer course for now to keep himself busy, wanting to wait a little before job hunting. Seokmin seems to express the same, wanting some time off for himself before entering the corporate world.

It’s when you get home and your brother is sending you all the pictures of today that you note one that stands out. It was of you and Mingyu, an inevitable one as your parents took turns to make sure everybody got solo shots with everyone.

You’d applaud the enthusiasm, but it was particularly unfortunate for you when the camera was thrust into your hands as Mingyu and Jia posed for nearly fifty pictures. You wouldn’t mind usually, but it just felt like a little too much in the moment.

Despite everything, you find yourself clicking on the Save button on the picture where you’re smiling a little too wide right next to him, for the sake of yourself.

Summer break rolls around with no more hiccups, if you’d count finals as anything other than strenuous. You were happy, with a new job to keep you company for the next three months as you lament not being able to go home. 

Getting the job at the bookstore was easy, your shifts were reasonable and it didn’t pay half bad. You would’ve guessed they were desperate for a hire, but you appreciate the activity regardless. It’s not really hard work, you find out quickly. Manning the desk, shelving deposits and restocking supplies. Monotonous tasks yet ones that you find yourself slipping into quite easily.

After the last shoot at the mountain, it was basically radio silence from Mingyu. Not being able to catch him the rare chance he stopped by the house, both of you swamped with the end of semester throw up. You doubt he’d noticed, and you despair at the fact that you did, even if it was just a little. 

“Oh, great, you’re here!” The owner greets you as you walk into the store, all smiles. She was a sweet lady, nicer than any other boss you’d ever had. “Was just waiting for you so I could leave, my daughter has a play she’s putting on today!” 

“Oh, sorry to keep you!” You rush to set your bag down as she picks up her own things, coming around from the table to take her leave. “Hope the recital goes well, tell her I said good luck.”

“Will do.” She smiles before adding, “Oh and, somebody called an hour ago asking about our book bundles, he said he’d come in to check but he hasn’t yet. Thought I’d let you know in case he asks about the phone call.”

“Got it,” you confirm, waving as she walks out the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow!” 

Breathing out a sigh, you find yourself relatively free this afternoon, a slow weekday as you pick your current read out of your bag to get comfortable for the long shift. You’re nearly through the halfway point when you hear the first jingle of the day, the bells attached to the door making their familiar chime

“Good afternoon!” You look up to greet the customer, dog earring your book before standing up from your seat.

The person who’d walked in wasn’t just any customer, you soon realise as you recognise the familiar shag of hair. Mingyu was here. 

“Oh.” You can’t help but let it out when you register him, his own eyebrows shooting up at the sight of you behind the counter. Your next greeting comes out a little dumbly. “Hi.”

“Hey. What’re you doing here?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed as he takes you in. 

“Um,” you glance at your obvious name tag. “I work here.” 

“Oh, right, Seok mentioned you started working at a bookstore.” He throws his head back at the memory. “Hey, was it you over the phone earlier today? Didn’t sound like it.”

“Oh no, that was my boss, my shift started like an hour ago.” You confirm. 

“Ah, I see.” 

The silence is awkward for about five seconds before you jump into action. “You asked about a bundle over the phone?” 

“Right, um,” he pauses to fish his phone out his pocket, scrolling for something. “It’s Jia’s birthday coming up, and there’s this book series she’s been wanting. Here.”

You need to remind yourself to pat yourself on the back for not shaking as you received his phone, mind remaining in the moment. “Oh yeah, we have those. Let me grab ‘em for you.” 

He follows you through the columns of shelves as you navigate to find what he was looking for, stopping in front of the shelves. “There’s three of these, I can put them in a sleeve for you. Probably put a bow on it too if you want.” 

“Okay, perfect. Do you guys have LP’s too?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah. Hold on, let me put these up front.” 

You lead him to the back of the store. “The selection’s pretty small, the first shipment only came in like a month ago. I’m not sure if you’ll find what you want here.” 

“She’s been talking about getting more LP’s after she got a new record player. Hasn’t mentioned anything she wants though,” he voices, thumbing through the selection. 

“What does she listen to normally?” You ask before quickly adding, “So I can, maybe, help pick something she’d like.”

“Uh, older stuff? I should’ve snooped before coming, fuck.” He mumbles, thinking hard. “She barely plays it when I’m around but most of her LP’s are like Frank Sinatra and…Duran Duran was it?”  

“Hm…” You hum as you flick through the dated section of the stockpile, “How’s this?’

He’s taking a look at the record you’ve handed him, scanning the tracklists on the back. “I’ll get this, I guess. I can always bring her around to get more that she likes.” 

“D’you want a bow on this?” You ask, referring to the books you’re putting into the set sleeve, “You can pick your colour.”

He’s quick to pick the lilac ribbon, watching you as you tape it prettily on the box. You’re trying to curl the ribbon at the ends when he tries to make conversation. 

“When does your shift end?” 

If the man wasn’t quite literally buying a birthday present for his girlfriend (or if you had any memory of your own birthday), you’d think he was trying to hit on you. But he’s not. You know that. 

“Ten-ish. Closing’s on me so I could technically leave an hour early and no one would know.” You snort.

“Everyday?” he asks incredulously. 

“Minus weekends, the family takes care of that. They just need someone for afternoons and evenings on the weekdays. It’s not like I’m taking summer classes or anything, and it’s easy work.” 

“Well, you’ll be pleased to find out you’ll most likely be available on the 27th of August, then.” He sing songs as he fishes his phone out to pay, a cheeky air in his expression.

You blink at him in confusion, waiting for him to explain. “Was I supposed to get that?”

He pushes his shoulders back, content expression on his face as he continues. “There’s a cultural art exhibition in two months, and I, have just found out I’ve been shortlisted for a spot.” 

“A spot? Like to display your photos?!” You drop the card machine with a thud.

“Your photos. Prof liked the project so much she submitted some of ‘em as entries. It was super short notice, but they liked them, I guess.” His grin is wide, one that you find impossible to not reciprocate. “I just need you to sign a consent form and I’ll be all set to start prepping.” 

“That’s insane, Mingyu, congratulations!” You exclaim, genuinely excited. “Are you gonna be using the same pictures?”

“Yup, I just need to fix the editing with my prof before they go up. You’re the first to find out, I just got out of the meeting.” 

There’s a mix of hesitation before you utter your next proposal, a split second of bewilderment at what you were about to suggest. “Come over tonight, we can celebrate with Seok. Bring Jia along too, we can celebrate an early birthday.” 

“I’ll see, she might be taking a bus home tonight for the weekend, might have to bother you by myself.”

The ache in your cheeks didn’t stop until well after Mingyu had left with his cargo, the elated feeling remaining for even longer after the fact. There was a point where it took you convincing to rid yourself of another intrusive, uneasy feeling, like you were taking a step back by being happy at his announcement. 

It was, however, safe to call Mingyu a friend. Safe to be happy for him. Safe to have your heart swell at his achievement, having watched him work hard for it.

It was safe to feel.

This was horrible. 

Truly. 

You were trying to ignore it, the strange thumping noises coming from under your car, like it would go away if you pretended to not hear. There was a sliver of hope for you, barely five minutes away from home that you’d make it before your tire decided it had enough of trying to grab your attention. 

But then it started screeching, and you had to stop before you caused a road fire.

“Tire? Didn’t you get them changed like last month?” Seokmin asks over the phone.

“Didn’t know new tires were immune to industrial blades, too. Are you gonna tell me I got ripped off?” 

“Mingyu has a scissor jack, I’ll tell him to come to you.”

“Wait! You have a scissor jack, too! Why can’t you come?” You sputter at the sound, glancing at the 21:42 on the dial. 

“He has my scissor jack, he’ll change it for you.” He grits back. “Besides, I’m not letting this face pack go to waste I just put it on.” 

“Seok!” 

“Stay in the car, lock the doors till he gets there.” He grounds.

“Seokmin!” 

Beep. 

The bastard hung up. 

“Ugh!” you break from a tightened jaw, slamming the car door shut with passion as you huff into your seat, waiting for Mingyu. 

Was Mingyu busy at 10:30 PM on a weekday? He was, actually.

He’d scrambled to finish up the last of his meeting with his professor, wrapped up in planning for the exhibition despite the two month time frame he’d been given. Exhibitions were a lot of paperwork, as he was finding out as he sweet talks Jia over the phone, promising to be with her within the next five minutes. Well, ten maybe, he has to grab butter from the store.

She sits on the kitchen counter as Mingyu makes her favourite. A strenuous task, but he’s willing to go through the double frying to make up for the time he’s lost. It’s not until he’s doing the post dinner dishes while Jia’s picking a movie in the living room that he’s met with another dilemma to handle. 

He’s deflating as he stands, phone to ear as he listens to Seokmin about your situation. Glancing at the near 10:30 PM hand on the clock, he finds it difficult to refuse, especially when he’s told you’re alone and stranded on a highway. He thinks to Jia in the living room as he tells Seokmin he’s leaving the house to get to you.

He’d only be gone for barely 20 minutes. He’s changed plenty of tires, this should be quick and easy. 

Slipping into the living room is easy, wrapping his arms around Jia from behind is even easier. It’s when he has to open his mouth that he begins to falter. Twenty minutes, he reminds himself.

“I have two I’ve heard are really good, you can pick which one we watch first,” she voices as she fluffs the pillows on the couch, ready to tuck in for the rest of the night. 

“Babe?” 

She spins around in his arms, coming up to fluff his flat hair too. “Hm?” 

“Seok just called…”

Her face falls as he talks despite his best attempts to assure her he won’t be long. 

“Twenty minutes?” she parrots, wanting his word. 

“Fifteen.” 

Whether Mingyu would keep his word is something he’d find out, but you had kept your word to Seokmin, staying in the car, doors locked till you saw Mingyu’s car pull up behind you in the rearview. The wretched scissor jack that’s caused all of this sits in his own boot as he yanks it out to bring it over to your car, where you stand arms crossed, face dejected. 

“Were you waiting long?” He asks as he immediately crouches to fit the jack where he wants it. 

“No, not really,” you reply. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here, if only Seok remembered to take the stupid scissor jack–”

“No, no, it’s okay. I wasn’t doing anything.” Lies. But you already sounded apologetic and he didn’t wanna hear you apologize any further.  

“No, it’s not okay. The idiot’s relaxing with a stupid face mask on while you have to come out here and change a fucking tire, God, you have class tomorrow too, don’t you?” 

“Not until the afternoon, I’m in the clear.” He springs up from his crouched position, pulling the jack with him. “Open the boot.” 

Placing the scissor jack in your boot, he continues, a little breathless. “There, I’ll tell Seokmin I left it in your car. Or, you could do that.” 

“Thanks, Mingyu. Really.” 

He does nothing but flash a smile, doing his best to convince you you weren’t an inconvenience before having to see your apologetic face again. “Alright, I wanna see you drive off before I leave, go on.” 

By the time Mingyu’s slamming the door of the house shut, it’s eighteen minutes on the dot. Jia doesn’t say much, excited to have him back in her arms. 

“Wait!” he suddenly yelps, once he’s tucked in with her. 

“What now?” she groans. 

Mingyu’s bounding back to his bedroom, emerging a few moments later with a dark paper bag. He goes back to sit next to her on the couch, sliding the bag and its contents towards her.

“Here. We’re not gonna be together for your birthday, might as well give you your present the night before you leave.” His eyes are glinting, hopeful.

Jia expresses her thank you’s commenting on the ribbon and his LP choice, grinning widely.

Your name comes tumbling out of Mingyu’s mouth before he can stop himself. “She helped me pick it out!” 

“You…took her with you?” She asks after a moment.

“She worked at the store! I didn’t know till I went there either.” Mingyu’s voice grows increasingly enthusiastic, seemingly unaware that his girlfriend was growing slightly irritated. “I’ll take you there when you get back, the selection’s small but she’ll probably help you pick out something you’d like. I only had to give her like two names before she figured it out.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” she comments, tight smile on her lips as she collects the book sleeve and the LP, placing them back into the bag and leaving them on the floor next to her.

Mingyu is blissfully unaware of the fuel he’s added to growing embers, munching away on his popcorn, eyes trained on the TV and its stimulating colours. 

“I was talking to Jihyo the other day, super random but it came up while we were talking about you,” Jia starts experimentally. 

“Huh?” He has her attention. And when she mentions your name, the part of him that’s always wondered when she’d bring it up comes out of dormancy. 

“She said she…I don’t know, she said she liked you at some point, Like a lot, and for a while.” Jia sounds unsure, like she didn’t know if it was a good idea to bring you up. 

Mingyu sighs as he rears himself for the inevitable conversation. “It’s—well, it was—just puppy love. I was around all the time and I guess she latched, I don’t know.”

Jia pauses, eyes remanging trained on the movie. “Does it make you uncomfy? That she liked you? Maybe she still does.” 

“It doesn’t matter, does it? I’m around Seok which means I’m sometimes around her by default. Can’t help it. I mean, the photography thing kinda just happened but, I don’t really care. And she seems over it.” 

Mingyu is rambling. He can feel it. Which is why he tries to end the conversation right there, tone nonchalant as he hopes the topic breezes past. 

It doesn’t. 

“You seemed pretty adamant in leaving, though.”

“Huh?”

“When she called just now.”

“Seok called, I had his scissor jack!”

“Why couldn’t he have grabbed it for you and helped his sister himself? He has a car too.”  Jia’s paused the movie at this point, moving away from his arm she was leaning on, shifting to look at him fully. 

“It would’ve taken him forever, she was alone in the middle of a highway at nearly eleven, you wanted me to leave her there?” Mingyu finds the conversation ridiculous, and it shows in the irritation that rises in his own voice. 

“Mingyu, you can’t be upset with me right now,” she breathes out exasperated. 

“I’m not? I get that you’re upset, I haven’t been around as much but you also know what this exhibition means to me. I need to put everything I have into this and it’s only for a couple months–”

“Mingyu, it’s not just the exhibition!” 

“Jia, I can’t know if you don’t tell me what’s really bothering you, talk to me.” Mingyu’s begging at this point, wondering how it’s come to this in the first place. 

“You can’t expect me to be okay with you going around wherever, whenever, when I know what kind of lifestyle you’ve come out of not even six months ago!” 

Mingyu had come a long way from his galvanizing tendencies, doing absolutely everything he could to convince Jia he was serious about her. Unfortunately, this was not the first time his past had been brought up; in an argument or in a light hearted setting, and he wasn’t particularly fond of it. 

“Are we in six months ago? Are you saying I’ve done nothing substantial for you to think I’m still fucking around? Either give me an instance or figure out what the real issue is!” 

There’s a plaster of suffocation in the room, neither soul speaking a word. Until Jia finally speaks. “I wanna go home.”

It didn’t matter to Mingyu if she was expecting him to grovel, to ask her to stay and talk about this further. It was clear she wasn’t about to talk about anything pertinent at all, and definitely not tonight. He was tired, and frankly wanted to be alone right now.

“Fine.” 

Silence penetrates all of his air for the entire car ride up until he’s entering his apartment for the third time that day. Not bothering to clean up the living room, he thinks he does himself a service so as to not be reminded of the past couple hours. He’s casting the place in complete darkness before moving to his room. Might as well get some work done. 

There’s a conscious effort to not start slamming things, he succeeds mostly, his graphic tablet receiving the short end of the stick. Turning on his monitor, he’s met with his ongoing project still brought up on the screen.

It’s a picture of you. One he took in a greenhouse off the outskirts of the city, something you complained about extensively as the heat ruined both your mood and your hair. You were smiling regardless; a wide, happy smile as you looked into the camera, petunia’s and dahlia’s framing an illusion around your figure.

Mingyu feels the tension in his muscles begin to relax, his breathing evening out after what felt like hours. He becomes almost excited to pick up his stylus and work on the photo, the set up allowing him to dive right in. There was barely any work left, moving on as he finishes the photo and saves it. 

It isn’t until he happens to click on the the last folder, the one where you both caught the sunrise after a strenuous hike. He can’t help but break into a hint of a smile at the memory of your broken figure at the pathway, cursing him for bringing you here so early in the morning. The pictures had come out good, especially when Mingyu opens a particular photo at the bottom of the folder, an extra from his initial round of editing for his actual project. 

It’s of you (of course) with your chin tucked into your arms as you gaze at the scene from up above, beyond the railing. The sun is up higher at that point, but the cast remains as the top half of your face that wasn’t tucked in your arms is lit in an orange glow, eyes glistening like stars during the day, wide and beautiful. 

Mingyu remembers the shot. It was an accident.

In an attempt to fiddle with the settings to turn off the camera, he ended up snapping a picture instead. The distinct click was noticed, never bothering to check what came out of it when he stuffed his camera back into his bag, nor when he sifted through his SD card. 

It was like he was seeing the picture in a new light, and the potential it had to become something worth ogling at. He wonders what had come over him when he had placed the photo as a secondary option without another thought, lamenting at what could’ve been his actual final piece. 

He stares and stares, attempting to draw maps of color rendering in his mind, yet all that comes up is his eyes zeroing in on your own. How they glisten. How they sparkle.

Part 2

---

The Cat-Parent Trap

Alternatively: Rocket, Mango, and the Idiots in Love

Vernon Chwe x Reader (gender not specified i think? i hope?)

Genre: fluff (figurative & literal)

Word Count: 8.3k

Wanings: some cursing / adult language. alcohol & drunk decisions. some mild jealousy. there are so many cats.

[Series: Serenity Street 17] You start feeding what appears to be a pair of neighbourhood cats. Turns out they belong to the cute guy living in the rooftop apartment.

Note: is this a Vernon romance fic or a typed-out version of my never-ending dreams of getting a cat with Vernon? no clue.

“Hello there, little guys.”

Your melodious greeting was met with an equally musical chorus of meows, purrs and chirps. The otherwise empty hallway filled with the soft patting of tiny feet, the footsteps getting louder as they rushed to greet you, never once forgetting to let out another chirp to tell you they missed you.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at the way the smaller black one rubbed itself against your leg, jumping up a little to reach the tips of your fingers for affection. The other, white cat was more passive, merely meowing at you impatiently as she sat down barely a metre from you.

Though you expected no proper answer, you still asked them if they were hungry and how their days had been as you made your way over to the door. The apartment door – a proud golden number 4B shining on it – came unlocked with ease, even with the cats pressing against your calves and bumping against the door frame. 

“Give me a moment,” you told them and opened the door. 

The sight of the two cats running in like it was their home to begin with greatly amused you. Before you could even blink, the black cat had settled down on your couch, snuggling into your cushion. The other one jumped onto your kitchen chair, expectantly staring at you. 

You couldn’t help but wonder where they really lived. Were they just stray cats from the neighbourhood that one of the inhabitants had let in out of pity? Or did they have an owner somewhere in this building? Maybe it was the new couple upstairs: Wonwoo did seem rather fond of cats. Or perhaps they belonged to the grumpy guy from 1B – he seemed to rather adore animals as well.

Whoever their owner was or was not, you did not have the heart to turn these cats away when they asked for snacks so sweetly. 

At this point, it was second nature to toe off your shoes and head to the kitchen cabinet to pull out a small bag of treats and a bigger bag of dry food for cats. 

All it took was just the sound of the bags being taken out and both cats were once again circling you as if you deserved all the worship in the world. They only calmed down once you had placed the food in the little bowl you had bought for them a few weeks back. 

“Eat well,” you sang, and got started on your evening routine. You liked having these cats around – the two-bedroom apartment seemed less empty when the cats visited for an evening. 

Sometimes they stayed the night, with the white one happily curled up on your window sill as the black one in a comfy spot at the foot of the bed. You deeply cherished these nights and once again a thought came to mind: who was the one that got to enjoy their cuddles on most night – on the nights when they weren’t with you?

But even with these thoughts plaguing you, you felt a little selfish. You liked these cats. Asking around for their owner could lead to never seeing them again. And then what? You’d have to get a cat or two of your own. 

Wide-eyed, you paused in the middle of washing your teeth and stared at your reflection. “That’s not a bad idea.”

A small accusatory meow came from the bathtub, where the white cat had somehow settled down for the evening. You took that as a firm ‘no’ and continued your routine. 

Once you were settled in bed, the black cat joined you. Her paws immediately got busy kneading your blanket. You concluded that she either had no sense of loyalty or she really liked you.

You now found that sleep came easier with the cats in your apartment.

The next morning, you did your routine and let the cats out as you stepped out of the apartment. Their little chirps accusing you of abandoning them for the day just about broke your heart. But the show must go on, and they weren’t your cats to begin with. You sighed and began turning the key.

“Wait…” a low voice echoed in the hallway. 

Your head whipped around to face towards the staircase. A guy stood there, eyes wide as saucers.

It took you a moment to figure out what he was looking at so intently. It wasn’t you – unless he had a thing for feet –, so it must have been the two cats standing next to you.

To your surprise, the cats seemed equally baffled to see the guy there, their chirps ending momentarily as they stared right back at him as if they’d seen a shadow of their dark past.

“This is where you guys were the whole night?” the guy finally spoke, finally relaxing his posture and frown. 

As your eyes adjusted to the light, you found yourself in awe. This man looked like someone straight off a coming of age film poster. Did someone this good-looking really live in this complex?

No. There was no way. You would remember this face. He must have been visiting someone on the 6th floor. 

But then… why would he care about the cats?

“Do you live here?” you blurted out without much thinking, barely able to keep yourself from slapping a hand over your mouth right after. “Sorry, that was kind of rude. I–”

He chuckled. “I live upstairs, in 6A.” Your knees almost buckled when he walked over to you, picking up one of the cats. “And these guys, they live with me.”

Your mouth felt incredibly dry. “They’re your cats then?”

“Yep,” he nodded and fondly scratched the black cat under the chin, “raised this one myself. Her name is Rocket.”

You really didn’t mean to snort at the name. “Your cat’s name is Rocket?”

He shrugged, completely unbothered by your evident judgement. “I like it, she likes it, … my roommate likes it a bit too much.”

“Roommate?” 

Now you put the two and two together: the elusive pair of guys in the rooftop apartment, 6A. The guys that were rarely seen outside the apartment because they – or so it was rumoured by Seungkwan and Mingyu – were unapologetic introverts. That would explain why you had never seen this guy in all your months of living here.

“What were you guys doing here?” he asked the cats so softly you barely heard it. He never once ceased to scratch them. “I was all worried the whole night and here you guys are, cozying up to the pretty neighbour.”

You wondered if it was always this hot in the hallway. When was the last time somebody opened a window here? Maybe you needed to go out and get some fresh air. 

“Oh, right!” You slapped your own forehead and locked the door, giving it one last tug to check if you had really finished the task, before dashing down the stairs. 

“It was nice to meet you!” you called over your shoulder all the while running. You’d be damned if you were late to work because of a man and his cats. 

Once you were out of his line of sight and out of the building, you paused for a moment. The moment replayed in your head like a broken record and you slapped your cheeks to wake yourself. Why did you have to be so damn awkward?

You couldn’t help but sulk as the reality sank in on your way to work. 

“I didn’t even ask for his name.”

A week passed without the two cats. An uncharacteristically depressing and boring and long week. 

You had grown so used to their chirps and meows every other day. You had even bought a new bag of treats for them like you always did on Thursdays – even though the old one was still half-full.

When you made your way home after a walk on Saturday and saw a lump on your doorstep, you froze. Anxious hope filled you as you inspected it from afar. One step, two steps… On the third step, your anxiety turned into joy. 

“Rocket!” you called out to her sweetly and rushed over to pet her head. She purred at your touch. “I was starting to fear you moved or something.”

She only meowed in explanation and stretched while you unlocked the door. She was in before you could even fully open the door – you laughed at the familiarity of it all. Even if it was just Rocket with no sign of the other cat, you were glad to have this moment.

You gave her treats and food before bringing your soft blanket to the sofa so you could commence your favourite Saturday activity: cuddling your neighbour’s cats while watching whichever TV show called to you the most. 

It seemed that Rocket was just as glad to partake in the routine. She jumped into your lap before you could even turn the TV on, already purring and kneading the fabric. Maybe she missed you as much as you missed her.

Would her owner be mad if you stole her from him?

You shook the thought out of your head and pressed play on your show. The familiar atmosphere and routine were exactly what you needed to relax after a long week.

Then, just as you reached the halfway point of the first episode, a knock sounded on your door. You decided to ignore it at first – the show was just getting good – but then a second knock sounded, a little louder.

With a sigh, you gently lifted Rocket off you – not before she could accusingly meow at you – and headed for the door. The door opened to reveal her handsome owner.

“Hi,” he started somewhat awkwardly, lifting a hand to give you something similar to a wave, “is my cat here?”

You didn’t really want to give Rocket back, honestly. But you reminded yourself that you were a law-abiding citizen and nodded. Still – maybe you could use this situation to fix a different mistake.

“I’ll give you your cat if you give me your name,” you told him. 

His eyes widened at those words. “I– What?” He laughed in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

You nodded. “You can’t expect me to give Rocket to a stranger, can you?”

He seemed to contemplate for a moment, his brows furrowing in thought. “You… don’t know my name?” Seeing you shake your head, his frown deepened. “How? We’ve been neighbours for months.”

“I know almost everyone in this block,” you informed him, “so, it’s clearly not my fault. Maybe you’re just too introverted.”

“... Fair.” He straightened his back and turned his frown into a smile. “Hi, I’m Vernon from 6A. 

You smiled back brightly. “Hi, I’m–”

“(Y/n) from 5D, I know,” he finished for you before even realising what he said. When the realisation hit, he matched your wide eyes and began spouting apologies: “Oh, I don’t mean like I’m a stalker or anything– I just– I swear I don’t–”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his awkward ramblings. Without another word, you opened the door wider and invited him in with a small gesture of your hand. He breathed out in relief and wandered inside, almost immediately zeroing in on the black ball of fur on your sofa. 

“Rocket,” he called to her. The cat’s ear twitched but she made no move to look at him. He sighed. “Rocket!” Still nothing. He turned to you with an apologetic look. “She’s usually more cooperative.”

“I’m sure she’s just very comfy,” you told him with a chuckle. “Her belly’s full and the blanket’s soft, so she’s probably just being lazy.”

Vernon’s brows furrowed again. “You fed her?”

“I always do.” You shrugged. “It’s either that or she steals the cheese off my sandwiches. I chose the lesser evil.”

He laughed at that, nodding in agreement. “Clever.”

With that, he toed off his shoes and walked over to the cat, picking her up. The cat didn’t seem to like the handling much, lowly growling before settling against his chest. Vernon made a show of bouncing her before looking at you somewhat accusingly, “So that’s why she’s been getting so heavy.”

You had no excuses. 

He laughed again. “It’s fine. It’s not like I’ve been saving on treats either.” As he put on his shoes again, his cat in his arms, he told you, “I’m sorry she got out again, by the way. I thought I cat-proofed our apartment, but she’s clearly smarter than I am. I’ll try to figure something out. Sorry again, for the inconvenience.” 

Then, with a friendly “goodnight!”, Vernon was gone again, and Rocket with him. Back to lonely weekend depression you fell.

When another week passed without a cat nor a boyfriend, you reached a conclusion: it was time for a pet. 

On your day off, you walked to the pet store and headed straight for the rodent cages and fish aquariums. The small animals scurried and swam around in their enclosures, perhaps hoping you’d choose them. 

But you were hesitating. After ten minutes of just watching them, contemplating if you were more of a hamster or a rat girl, you sighed and gave up. Sure, a rodent would be a good beginner pet, but, god, you missed the cat.

With a defeated frown, you turned around to leave. Without looking at where you were going, you walked into a warm body. Stumbling back in surprise, you began rambling apologies. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” a familiar laugh sounded. You looked up from the floor to sigh in relief when you recognised Vernon. He offered a wave and a smile. “You okay? You seemed pretty deep in thought.” 

You shrugged. “Just contemplating my options, I guess.”

“Options?” Vernon wondered and adjusted the bag of cat food in his arms. He glanced at the cages behind you before understanding dawned on him. “Are you thinking of getting a hamster?”

“Or maybe a chinchilla,” you half-joked. “They seem pretty cuddly too.”

“Oh.” His smile dropped as realisation hit him hard. “You liked having Rocket visit you, didn’t you? I stole your cuddle buddy. I’m sorry.”

For someone who you had formally only known for a week, Vernon was awfully good at reading your mind. You decided to ignore the thought and nodded, trying to seem as playful as you could. “I’m a little mad at you, actually.”

“Can I…make it up to you?” he wondered after a moment, eyes sparkling. 

For a moment, you contemplated telling him a date would be a great compensation. It wouldn’t hurt to shoot your shot, right? And then you could maybe have both: a boyfriend and a cat to cure your loneliness. A double win!

But before you could find the courage to even jokingly ask your handsome neighbour out, Vernon came up with his own idea: “You know, I volunteer at a cat shelter in the city. I’m going there tomorrow, actually. Maybe you’d like to come along? Sort of like a date, if you want.” He mistook your silent processing for hesitation, short of rejection, and quickly added, “Maybe you’ll even a find yourself a cat there. Who knows? Doesn’t hurt to try, right?”

You couldn’t have said yes fast enough.

“Ta-da!” Vernon cheered somewhat monotonously as you stepped into the shelter after him. “Welcome to Kiki’s Cat House.”

As he led you further into the lobby, he continued, “I’ve been volunteering here for years. It’s like a second family, honestly.”

“So, where are all the cats?” You looked around the empty room: only a counter, some shelves, a houseplant and beanbags. 

He chuckled at your impatience before taking your hand – you tried really hard to not think about the gesture – and leading you into a hallway. There, he opened a door, revealing a room full of spacious cages. 

“This is where we keep the spicy, the grumpy, the horny and the antisocial,” he explained as you walked into the room. “They’re gonna take some socialising before we can let them hang out with the other cats, but we’re trying our best. Some of them are just plain assholes, though. This one—” he accusingly pointed at a scruffy orange one-eyed cat, “tried to take my hand off last month. I had to get stitches.”

“Sounds painful.” 

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m sure he’s had to go through a worse life than I. I forgave him this time.” 

After letting you wander and look around for a while, he nudged you. “Do you want to go see where the fun happens?”

“And by ‘fun’ you mean…?”

He chuckled, took your hand again and led you to a room across the hall. Your jaw dropped at the sheer amount of cats wandering around the cosy room. Some were napping on a sofa. Others were climbing on carefully crafted carpeted shelves on the walls. A fluffy grey cat rushed to meet the two of you – or just Vernon, most likely – and chirped cheerfully as your companion crouched down to give her endless head pats. 

“Hello there, June,” he greeted with a smile and picked up the cat, straightening back to his full height while holding her to his chest. “She’s kind of new here but she’s a cuddly one.”

When he leaned a little closer to you, you took the invitation to raise your hand and scratch under the cat’s chin. She let out a loud purr at your actions, all the while kneading the fabric of Vernon’s grey hoodie.

“Who knows,” he mumbled, “maybe you’ll want to take her home at the end of the day?”

You chuckled. “It sounds like you have an agenda.”

“Yeah – I need you to stop overfeeding my and my roommate’s cats,” he joked. “They’re chubby as it is.”

“They’re the perfect cuddle size,” you argued. 

Vernon offered you a playful glare. “Do you want to tell that to my vet the next time I’m taking them for a check-up? I got scolded last time.”

You laughed. “Alright. Fair. I’ll try to give them less treats the next time they visit. Is the white cat your roommate’s then?”

While waiting for his answer, you crouched down to offer your hand to a black-and-white cat passing by. He gave your fingers a sniff, did a little twirl before pressing his head against your palm for a moment, and then continued on his journey to the food bowls. 

Vernon watched him closely, probably already making a list of tasks to accomplish before leaving, and answered absent-mindedly, “Yeah. Snowflake. Jun got him from this shelter. I got Rocket from here too. That’s Kiki, by the way. He’s the shelter’s mascot.”

“And here I was hoping he could be the one,” you joked, already reaching out to another curious cat. 

Vernon smiled at you before placing June down onto the floor again. “I’m sure we’ll find your perfect cat. Don’t worry.” As he was crouching next to you, his eyes searched the room for familiar faces. His eyes lit up all of a sudden. “Mango!”

“Mango?” you wondered.

He nodded enthusiastically before practically crawling over to a cardboard box with a door hole on its side. Curious, you followed after him, your heart melting when you saw exactly what had caught your neighbour’s attention: a calico cat lying in the box, on a yellow fleece blanket, nursing two adorable kittens – a black one with white socks and a fluffy orange one. The mother let out a little purr when Vernon reached over to pet her head. 

“She had kittens last month,” he whispered as if to not disturb her peace. He glanced around. “I guess the other cats aren’t troubling them too much, otherwise the staff wouldn’t have let her back here.”

“They’re so tiny,” you whispered, eyes sparkling at the sight. “I didn’t realise kittens could be so small.”

“They’re already pretty big, actually,” he chuckled. “You should’ve seen them when they were born. I could’ve fit both of them in my palm.” After another minute of watching the mother and her children, Vernon nudged your side. “Come on, we have work to do. If you do your chores, maybe she’ll let you play with them.”

“Yes, dad,” you joked and joined him in the tasks. But even as you busied yourself, you couldn’t stop looking back towards the box. You had fallen in love with the sweet Mango. 

As if, once again, reading your mind, Vernon smiled at you empathetically. “If you want to adopt Mango, you’ll have to take the kittens too. Or wait a little. They should be old enough to be adopted in less than two months.”

You pouted; you weren’t sure you could handle three cats. For the rest of the little date, even Vernon’s blatant flirting and adorable smiles couldn’t cheer you up and bring you out of your thoughts. And so, you left the shelter with a regretful heart. 

“You know,” Vernon tried to cheer you up on the way back, “if you want, you can adopt all three of them. Kittens aren’t too difficult to raise. She’ll do most of the work.”

“But I don’t know if I’m ready for that responsibility,” you whispered dejectedly as you slumped into the seat of the bus. “Three cats is a lot more than one.”

“Well,” he sighed softly and reached over to hold your hand, “if you change your mind, I’d be happy to help you bring them home.”

Little did he know the feeling of his hand in yours, fingers interlocked, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, was enough to distract you from your thoughts. 

The gnawing regret in your heart did not go away until Wonwoo and Eunmi drove you to the shelter three days later. The engaged couple was more than enthusiastic to help you bring Mango and her kittens home.

You had planned on calling Vernon and inviting him along too, but in the excitement of this new step, you completely forgot. Instead of him, you had turned to Wonwoo, Eunmi and Jihoon (the grumpy guy from 1B) who had all pitched in to help you get your apartment cat-ready. It was the three of them that had encouraged you to take this step anyway – it was only fair that they help.

And now, on this Saturday evening, you could cuddle with your very own cat as a drama played on the TV. You couldn’t stop smiling at the fact that she already trusted you enough to snuggle with you under the blanket, hidden from view, and let her kittens wander around your bedroom without supervision. Who knows, you thought, maybe she’s trying to rest from the responsibilities of motherhood. You couldn’t blame her.

Then, like déjà-vu, a knock sounded on your front door in the midway point of the first episode. Unwilling to leave your comfortable spot, you tried to ignore it. A second knock sounded louder, this time followed by Vernon’s voice, “Hey, can I come in?”

You sighed and called out, “The door’s unlocked.”

“Is it?” he wondered and tried the knob. To his surprise, the door opened immediately. He frowned. “Dude, I don’t think that’s safe. Do you always leave your door unlocked like this?”

He closed the door behind himself and walked into the apartment, keeping his eyes down. 

You chuckled. “No, do you think I’m stupid? Wonwoo and Eunmi only left a little while ago – I didn’t get around to locking the door after them. Was a little preoccupied.”

He hummed, still not looking at you as he untied his shoes. 

“So,” your eyes narrowed at him, “what brings you to my humble abode?”

“Uh,” he sighed deeply and looked up, “I came to tell you something. I… I got a call from the shelter. They said that…” His frown deepened at the way your eyes sparkled with what he assumed must have been hope. “They said that Mango and her kittens got adopted today. I’m sorry," he breathed out, eyes sad as he cautiously watched you, as if afraid of your reaction. When you only shrugged and nodded, his brows furrowed even more. “Aren’t you upset? I thought you wanted to adopt her yourself…”

It was only then that you realised you had, in fact, forgotten to call him and tell him your plan. He must have thought you'd be heartbroken at the news. Maybe he had even asked the people at the shelter to keep Mango for you. Suddenly, your heart ached at the sight of his sorrowful expression. “Vernon…”

“It’s okay, though,” he quickly interrupted. “We can always go and see if you like any of the other cats." You couldn't find the words to say and once again he took your silence for sadness and rushed to comfort you. "Actually, there’s this girl called Citrus. I’m sure you would like her too. We could go see her tomorrow, if you wanted.” You remained silent, trying to figure out if you wanted to laugh or cry at his thoughtfulness. “(Y/n)?”

You couldn’t take it any more. Instead of saying anything, you gestured for him to come over to you on the sofa. Obediently, he followed your orders and approached you, sitting down next to you. 

Once he was seated, you took his hand and led it over to where your cat was snuggled into your stomach under the yellow blanket. Vernon’s brows shot up in surprise.

“Is Rocket here again? I swear she was at home…”

You laughed and rolled down the blanket to reveal two pointy ears, one grey and one orange. His jaw dropped as he reached over to pet her head. Eyes shining, he asked, “You got a cat?”

“Not just any cat,” you told him in a conspiratorial whisper and rolled the blanket down even further until he recognised her calico pattern. 

He gasped. “Mango!”

You giggled at his reaction and the way he immediately leaned down to coo at her, her purrs getting louder by the second. 

“So,” he realised, smiling brightly, “it was you who adopted her!”

You nodded proudly and gave her a little scratch on the back. “I couldn’t stand the thought of just leaving her there. So, Wonwoo drove me to the shelter and we brought her to her new home. She seems pretty happy to be here.”

“She’s already cuddling with you,” he mused. “It took me weeks to get Rocket to even let me pet her.”

“Maybe she was waiting for me,” you whispered, happy at the thought. 

“And the kittens?” he suddenly wondered, sitting up straight. You pointed to your bedroom door. 

“Jihoon and I spent the entire morning kitten-proofing my room so we could let them loose there. But I’m sure they’ve gotten to some trouble already.”

Vernon frowned, seeming almost offended. “You called Jihoon but not me?”

“I was going to call you,” you swore, “but it’s been an exciting day so I just–”

“Have you named the kittens yet?” he changed the subject suddenly, as if the previous topic bothered him too much to even consider talking about it. “I don’t think the shelter staff gave them names yet.”

You smiled. “Well, the black one is called Socks.”

“... Because of his white socks?”

“Obviously,” you nodded. “And the ginger one's called Peaches – I guess Jihoon wanted to keep her name on theme.”

“Jihoon named her?” Vernon seemed surprised before nodding. “They’re both very cute names.”

“You can go and play with them, if you want,” you offered with a smile, hoping to cheer him up because he still seemed a little out of it. “Or you can bring them here for a cuddle. I don’t mind.”

“Nah,” he sighed and reached over to pet Mango again, “I’m sure they’re sleeping already. Wouldn’t want to bother them.”

Your lips pouted at his dejected tone. “Do you… want to watch a movie with me? We can cuddle Mango together.”

He lips curled into a half-smile at the idea. “I’d love that.”

“Great,” you cheered, “you can pick the movie.”

(And perhaps he wasn’t as good at picking out movies as he would’ve liked to think: you were leaning against his shoulder in a sleepy haze half-way through the movie. 

Still, he couldn’t be mad at you – not when he’d been waiting for a moment like this ever since he saw you step into the building on a Monday ten months ago. He’d been smitten ever since he saw your smile for the first time – even if the smile had been directed at Jihoon giving you the apartment key instead of him hiding behind Mingyu in the hallway.

Even though he’d wanted to watch this movie for weeks, he couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering over to you instead: resting against his side, curled up in your blanket with Mango spread over your lap, a dazed smile on your face as you stared at the screen.

Feeling his gaze on you, you twisted your neck to look up at him from your position that made you seem impossibly smaller than him – even if your height difference was minimal to none in reality. Your smile never faded as you looked at him expectantly, waiting to hear what he had to say.

Your new position had your nose brush against his ever so slightly, but it didn’t seem to affect you as much as it did him – at least not in your sleepy daze. He wasn’t sure how you could look so peacefully cheerful while he worried his heart might break out of his rib cage at your proximity.

His eyes flitted between your eyes and your lips; he was hesitating. Just one lean and he could cross another dream off his list. Less than an inch. 

He gulped and tore his gaze away, forcing it to focus back on the screen. You soon settled back into your previous position, your head on his shoulder, cheek pressed against his collarbone. He closed his eyes and willed his heart to slow down before it betrayed him.)

Your blissfully calm day was once again interrupted by a knock on the door. You sighed and made your way to the source of the sound. 

“Coming, coming,” you called out to the person on the other side. When you unlocked the door and finally saw him, you couldn’t help but smile. “Why is it always you?”

Vernon could only offer a shrug and a hopeless smile. “You don’t seem too bothered by it though.”

“Don’t tell Rocket, but,” you leaned in closer to whisper, “you’re my favourite visitor.”

He grinned wider at that, his ears taking on a red shade, before he cleared his throat. “Um, so, speaking of Rocket…”

He didn’t need to speak another word because you knew exactly where this was going. You sighed. “Did she get out again?” He nodded. “Do you need help finding her?”

“No, I just assumed she’d be here,” he answered, smile dropping into a worried frown. “She isn’t?”

“I definitely haven’t seen her today.”

“Can you check?” he asked, looking nervous all of a sudden. Sensing your confusion, he quickly added, “Just in case? She’s good at hiding so maybe she’s snuck past you or something.”

You agreed and let him inside – if nothing else, it was at least an excuse to spend time with him. He only made it barely halfway through your apartment before letting out an excited cheer: “There you are!”

You blinked in surprise. “Found her?”

“Found her and you’re gonna want to see this,” he called back before just about running (or, really, speed walking) over to you. 

As you watched him with wide eyes, he took your hand and practically dragged you over to your bedroom. And there, low and behold, cosily snuggled up on the bed with your own cats was Rocket. 

You sighed and offered Vernon a half-accusatory glare. “Is she your cat or mine?”

He shrugged. “I’d like to think she’s mine but– Aw, she’s cleaning the kittens!”

You watched the four cats snuggle even closer together, like a little family: the adults cleaning the kittens who let out accusatory meows and happy purrs. It made you almost jealous in a way. 

“How did she even get in?” you wondered to distract yourself from the fact that you were clearly severely touch-starved.

“How did she get out?” Vernon mumbled in similar disbelief before sighing. His shoulders slumped in defeat. “Now I feel bad about bringing her home.”

You nodded. “They’re getting along so well. It’s weird, almost.”

“Yeah,” his brows furrowed in thought, “I thought they’d for sure get in a fight the first time they met. Are you sure this is her first time here since Mango came?”

“If it isn’t, I certainly was not aware of the other times.”

Vernon breathed out a little huff before nudging you. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“No, why?”

A shy smile appeared. “We could eat together. I mean, Rocket doesn’t seem to have any plans for leaving, and I’m not leaving without her, so…”

“Well, if Mingyu’s words are anything to go by, I am not letting you into my kitchen,” you declared with a chuckle as his face morphed into a grimace of offended disbelief. “I’m serious. I heard you almost burnt down his apartment once.”

“In my defence–!” he loudly started before sighing and nodding. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

You laughed and nudged his side. “Come on, you can help me make cookies.”

Dumbfounded, he raised a brow. “I thought I wasn’t allowed in your kitchen.”

“Consider it a trial period. Besides, it’s not like you have anything better to do right now.” 

(He didn’t have the heart to tell you he had a whole report due by the next day that he hadn’t even started yet. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make if it meant more time with you.)

[hey, do u have a cat tree yet?]

[this is vernon btw]

[i’ll take ur silence as a no]

You didn’t get around to answering his messages before he appeared at your door once again, this time carrying a giant IKEA bag on his shoulder. His trusty (but clearly not very loyal) companion Rocket stood at his feet also and greeted you with a meow, which Vernon was quick to mimic with a smile.

“Hello, you two,” you greeted with a laugh. “What’s with the IKEA bag?”

“Child support,” he told you simply and walked inside like he owned the place. He placed the giant bag in your kitchen and turned to smile at you brightly, proud of his work. When you only offered him a quizzical smile, he explained, “Food. A lot of cat food.”

You continued staring at him, absolutely confused. “But they’re not your kittens?”

He gestured towards Rocket who had jumped onto one of the kitchen chairs, patiently waiting for her treats. “Well, she seems to disagree, so here: at least a month’s worth of cat food.”

“I’m guessing you don’t accept returns?” He shook his head no. “Money?” He shook his head again, more aggressively, and you sighed. “Thank you, then. I’ll be sure to put the food to good use.”

“Good, because I’d honestly be a little upset if you didn’t,” he confessed before walking back out of your apartment, leaving the door open. 

You looked after him in wonder before turning to Rocket. “Should I be worried?”

Before the cat could give you a conclusive answer aside from a tired blink, you heard a grunt in your hallway. 

When you went to look, you found Vernon carrying an enormous cardboard box your way. He placed it down with a tired gasp and gave it an affectionate pat. “Your cat tree, Your Highness.”

“You–” Your jaw dropped. Not a single thought in sight; only a laugh of disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” He smirked. “You didn’t get my messages?”

“Oh, I got your messages,” you argued, “but I didn’t think you meant this. Where did you even get this thing? It looks like it’s going to be huge.”

He shrugged. “I have a friend.”

“A friend who gives out free giant cat trees?” you wondered. 

He nodded somewhat hesitantly, his eyes narrowed in thought. “He does that sometimes, yeah. So,” he gave the box another pat, “shall we assemble it?”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” you mumbled and opened the box, already eyeing the pieces of furniture in horror. “Please tell me you’ll help put this together?”

He scoffed. “You don’t trust me in the kitchen and I don’t trust you with a screwdriver. So, yeah, I’m gonna stick around and build this for you.”

Just ten minutes later, all of the pieces of the cat tree were out of the box and waiting on your floor. The box itself had already been turned onto its side and occupied by a quartet of fluffy cats, only their eyes shining out of the darkness as they scrutinised Vernon slowly assembling their new home. 

“So,” you started, while (much like your cats) watching him in fascination, “what’s the real reason?”

He glanced up, eyes wide. “For what?”

You gestured vaguely.

“I’m just trying to be nice,” he shrugged and turned back to his task. 

“No one’s just this nice.”

“Maybe I am,” he mumbled.

“Vernon,” you tried again, reaching over to place your hand on his own, effectively pausing his movements, “why did you get me a cat tree? There’s no way you got this giant thing for free either, so the least you could do is at least tell me the truth.”

"I just–" Shoulders slumping, he took a deep breath before confessing, “Hearing you talk about how Wonwoo and Jihoon helped you bring the cats home and kitten-proof the bedroom and how they named the kittens– I just want to help too.” He frowned and sighed. “I just want you to be able to gush about me the way you talked about Wonwoo and Jihoon. Is that weird?” He grimaced before you could say anything. “Yeah, it’s weird. Very weird. But… I don’t know. That’s just how I feel.”

He forced a smile onto his face and finally looked you in the eyes. “Let me put it this way: I want to be an active part of your life and of this journey of yours. So, please, just… Just let me do this.”

Without another word, he turned back to his project. As if he hadn’t just spoken words that would leave you speechless for hours. But despite not finding anything to say to him, a squeeze to his hand still resting under yours had to be enough until you could give him the world. 

Just like you, he barely said another word until he left the apartment, leaving behind a finished black cat tree. You wouldn’t hear from him again for days.

Vernon knew alcohol didn’t fix problems: it didn’t make anything disappear, it didn’t make anyone less upset, and it certainly wouldn’t magically give him the confidence to confess. But that knowledge didn’t stop him from going over to Chan’s apartment for a Friday night drink after three days of acting like you didn’t exist. 

It’s not like he wanted to ignore you – really, he wanted to do anything but that. He watched enviously as Rocket slipped out of the door and down the stairs, headed straight for your apartment. He watched from afar as the black cat scratched at your door and meowed insistently before you opened the door and happily greeted her. He watched as you glanced around after, as if hoping to get a glance at him who had hidden behind the corner, afraid that he’d say something stupid if your eyes did meet. 

He tried to tell himself that perhaps the silence that had followed his kind-of-sort-of confession three days ago hadn’t been one of disgust but rather of endearment. He didn’t dare to hope though. It was easier to just act like none of it happened. 

After all, how embarrassing is it to buy a girl a cat tree and assemble it out of jealousy for your neighbours? 

So, he drank. Shot after shot. Enough so that Chan and Seungkwan worriedly wrapped him in his jacket and gently led him back up the stairs. He vaguely remembered the latter sweetly reminding him that his apartment is on the 6th floor; not that he’d ever make it there.

Instead, to his own surprise (and the chagrin of his formerly sober self), he found himself standing in front of the door of 5D. 

Without even acknowledging his actions, he raised his hand to knock on the door. Following a rhythm like always – just so you’d know it was him and not a stranger – he kept knocking until he heard your footsteps on the other side of the wall. 

You opened the door and he blinked. Why was he here again?

“Vern?” you wondered, yawning. You glanced back at the clock on your living room wall before turning to him. “It’s like 2 am. What’s up?”

He wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying. His eyes were fully focused on your lips, so pouty and so, so soft. He suddenly remembered what had brought him to your door.

Growing worried as his silence, you waved a hand in front of his eyes to catch his attention. “Hey, did something hap–?”

Before you could finish your sentence, he leaned forward. Perhaps alcohol had, in fact, given him the courage he needed because he didn’t hesitate this time. He just leaned forward. It was so easy: one arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer, the other lifting to hold your cheek as he pressed his lips against yours just like he’d imagined for so many weeks now. 

It was as if the touch of your lips alone sobered him up and he leaned back almost immediately, eyes wide in panic. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

But you weren’t mad – a little annoyed, perhaps, but mad at him? You didn’t have it in you to do that. You only laughed a little as he rambled apologies, his hands still in position because he wasn’t yet sober enough to realise, and then you took the leap. 

You lifted a hand to grab the material of his shirt just below the collar and pulled him back towards you, all the way until his lips were against yours again. He melted into your affection, only pulling you closer as each second passed, unwilling to let this moment end.

When you finally pulled back, he was wearing a dopey smile, his half-lidded eyes sparkling with joy. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Mad at you?” you wondered and scoffed out a laugh. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I’m a dumb jealous–” He cut himself off mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing as something behind you caught his attention. “Is that Rocket?”

You followed his line of sight before humming in confirmation. “Yeah, I thought you let her out in the evening.”

“I never–” he began to argue before pausing. “Oh, I did. I did let her out. I watched you let her in. Oh.”

You stared at him. “On a scale from one to ten, how drunk are you right now?”

He frowned before whining. “I’m not drunk!”

“Vernon,” you said sternly, watching him in amusement as his frown softened into a tired pout and he nodded before confessing that he’d probably had a shot or two too many. You chuckled. “Do you want to stay over?

“I don’t want to intrude…”

“You woke me up at 2 am to kiss me dumb,” you reminded him, “I think we’re past the whole intruding debate. So, yes or no?”

He didn’t say another word, instead opting to lean closer to rest his head against your shoulder and hold you tight. You took that as the answer and led him inside.

For the first time in heavens-know-how-long, it’s the smell of waffles that wakes him up instead of Junhui’s shower singing. To his mild confusion, Vernon realises he’s woken up in your bed. Then, after a quick attempt of taming his bed hair, he stumbles out of your bedroom and over to the kitchen.

“Welcome back to life, Sunshine,” you joked at the sight of him as he slumped in your kitchen chair. The clock on the wall read 1:25 pm.

“Did I–” He frowned in confusion. “Did I sleep over?”

“You also got drunk, woke me up at 2 am, and kissed me,” you informed him with a teasing smile. His face flushed red immediately and he let out a whine before hiding his face in his hands. 

It was a whole minute later that he dared to finally look at you again. “I’m sorry… Do you hate me?”

“Nope,” you said and placed a plate full of waffles in front of him before placing your finger under his chin and tilting it to affectionately kiss his lips. His eyes fluttered closed at the contact and  memories of the previous night flooded his brain: the shared kisses, the hushed promises of real confessions, cuddles in your bed with Rocket and Mango trying to separate the two of you in a selfish pursuit of extra warmth.

When he opened his eyes again, stars seemed to be swimming in them as you confessed, “I quite like you actually.”

“I… I like you too,” he whispered back a fondly kept secret. “I’ve liked you since you first moved in – when you smiled at me because I helped Joshua carry your sofa up.”

It was your turn to feel a flustered burn on your cheeks. 

The two of you spoke no more, basking in the blissful moment of acknowledgement, trying to wrap your heads around the implications of it all as you ate brunch together, side by side. 

Rocket soon joined the two of you, yawning as she jumped onto her owner’s lap before looking at you with a look you knew all too well. You scoffed out a laugh and got up to fill her bowl. “I swear she’s going to eat me poor.”

Vernon chuckled. “You know, I think she’s here more than at home these days.” He smiled fondly at the sight of you petting Rocket’s head. When you finally joined him at the table again, he added, “ It’s like she’s decided she’s yours now.”

You saw the opportunity and took it. “You could be mine too.”

He could only smile and hide his burning cheeks. A laugh bubbled in his chest and before long he burst into joyous giggles: “This is the best morning of my entire life.”

“So, is that a no?” you teased, leaning closer to him. Tempting him.

Vernon was done hesitating. “I’d love to be yours.”

BONUS!

“I’m going to miss them so much,” you whispered, holding Peaches to your chest protectively. The orange kitten, like her brother, had grown big enough to go to a new home. 

Vernon could only sigh as he watched you cuddle the kittens. “Baby, you will still have Mango.” An accusatory meow sounded from his side. He quickly added, “And Rocket is here too!”

“But the kittens won’t be,” you whined and pouted at him as if he was the person you’d have to convince to keep them. “It’s not the same.”

Vernon fought the urge to roll his eyes. “They’re going to be living in the same building as us, baby. You can visit them whenever you want.”

“No offence but I’m not climbing all the way to the 6th floor to see Socks,” you argued with a scoff. “I’m not even doing that for you.”

Vernon felt a little flattered at the implication that he was still more important to you than Socks.

“Maybe if you ask Wonwoo and Eunmi nice enough, they’ll bring Socks over for a play date every once in a while.”

But it was as if you hadn't heard him. “And the first floor is so far away too…”

“You can drop by Jihoon’s place any time you come home from work,” Vernon reminded you. “Please. Come on.”

“But–”

“Baby,” he spoke sternly, resting a hand on your shoulder to keep you grounded, “the kittens are going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. Mango’s going to be very happy to be freed from the shackles of motherhood – I mean, she’s been practically avoiding them all week.”

“But I’m going to miss them,” you whispered, “and the apartment’s going to feel so empty without them.”

“Well, you still have me and Rocket,” he tried to comfort you.

You frowned. “Yeah, but it’s not the same. You only visit.”

“I could… move in… with you and Rocket,” he suggested after a pause of thought. “I mean, we’re here almost all the time anyways.”

Vernon swore his knees felt weak all of a sudden when you looked up at him with sparkling eyes. “You’d do that?”

“Is that a serious question?” he joked and patted your head. “Your apartment’s, like, way better than mine. I’d be dumb not to.”

“Oh.” You seemed dejected, on purpose – not that he’d know that. 

Eyes widening, he panicked. “I didn’t mean it like that! That was a joke! It was a joke and a very bad joke at that. I just meant that I– Why are you laughing?” He frowned before whining. “Don’t laugh at me!”

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