My Daisy Special: Little Flower | Kim Mingyu

my daisy special: little flower | kim mingyu

➝ CEO!Mingyu x Reader

➝ fluff // slice of life // marriage!au // est relationship // a little angsty // hurt comfort..?

➝ warning: mentions of pregnancy (it's literally the plot jshdbf), mentions of sex (no smut scenes), soft Mingyu D:

➝ word count: 4.6~k

A/N: hi! it's been some time since i write this couple. ngl i miss them so much and it gets me a little giddy to see them still popping up in my notif haha. anyway! i'm posting this as a celebration for my 3k milestone, i really i wish i could've written more but i'm happy with how this turns out and i hope this suffice hehe thank you for the love you've been giving to my daisy and please enjoy!! do tell me what you think about it🩷

my daisy masterlist

[✾✾✾]

You have a set of problems.

You’re pregnant.

You don’t know how to tell Mingyu and Gyuri. 

And, last but absolutely not least because it’s the one that you think is the biggest of them all:

3. Gyuri just told you she doesn’t want a sibling anymore.

Biting your lip to the point where it almost bleeds, all sorts of feelings run through you as you stare at the three pregnancy tests in front of you. All of them are positive, which didn’t come off as a much of a surprise, if you’re being completely honest.

You noticed the symptoms almost immediately weeks ago, but you didn’t want to jump into conclusions and a part of you wanted to brush them off as something else–everything else. Oh, you threw up? Perhaps you ate something wrong. Oh, you’re lightheaded? You definitely didn’t sleep enough the night before. Oh, your period is late? Happens sometimes when you’re a little too stressed.

You were just delaying taking the test. But, deep down, you knew.

How could you not when you and Mingyu haven’t been using any sort of protection for the past year? It’s not that you’re trying for a kid, but the both of you have decided that whatever happens, happens. You’ve seen a lot of people hoping to conceive and unfortunately not get pregnant even after years have passed.

If you somehow get pregnant without even trying, you’ll just accept that it’s what you’re meant to do. 

Plus, you don’t think the both of you would ever be ready for a kid if you plan to have one–nor the emotional baggage that would come if you decide to try only to find out you’re not pregnant just yet.

So, after a lot of thinking and Gyuri’s 7th birthday last year, the both of you agree to just forego protections since. If you end up getting pregnant, it’ll just be a pleasant surprise. You both would love to be pregnant, and you’d like to think you’re mentally (and financially) prepared enough from that point onwards.

Okay.

First thing first.

“Baby?” Mingyu knocks on the bathroom door, wondering if something’s wrong because you’re way too silent and it’s been a whole ten minutes since you’ve excused yourself to the bathroom. “You okay?”

You blink back the tears at his voice, still staring at the pregnancy tests in front of you. You’re happy, you really are, and you know Mingyu would be elated.

But Gyuri?

It was just last month that she declared she’s not up for the sister life.

“Ma, I don’t think I want siblings anymore.” She said out of nowhere when she was cuddling with you. Mingyu was outside the city for a business trip, so the two of you decided to have a girls’ night; complete with the disney movies, pizzas, ice cream, and everything else that definitely left Gyuri too high on sugar by the end of the night.

“Yeah?” You tried to indulge her, though something inside you dropped at the revelation. Gyuri had always been excited at the prospect of being a sister, and she played the older sister role very well with Junseo, Jennie’s son. What changed? “Why?”

“Junseo is enough.” She shrugged, playing with the material of your pajamas. “Also… I don’t want to lose you.”

You laughed at that, but quickly got concerned when Gyuri seemed to be fairly serious about what she had just said.

“You wouldn’t lose me, Flower.” You reminded her with a kiss and a tight hug. “What made you think so?”

“You’d need to take care of the baby all the time…” she trailed off, and you once again wondered what made Gyuri to be this much attuned to her own feelings when she’s only seven. “Dunno… I just want you and Papa for myself.”

“Oh, my little Lili.” You pulled away at her words, cupped her face and reminded her that you’d never abandon her, siblings or not. She didn’t look convinced, though you couldn’t blame her because you kind of understood where she’s coming from.

Gyuri had been an only child for all her life. It was probably a little lonely, but she received all the love she needed and wanted from every single person around her. When Junseo came around, she was just excited that she finally had a friend, some sort of distant relative, and she readily took the older sister role for him.

But you knew sometimes she found him annoying. They’re kids, could you blame them? But Gyuri was a little too mature for her own good, and she’d just run to you or Mingyu when Junseo annoyed her instead of fighting him like any other child her age would. She wouldn’t even cry out of frustration.

She’d frown, try to tell Junseo off, and if he still didn’t listen, she’d just leave and settle by her parents’ side.

It worried you, if you’re to be completely honest. You and Mingyu had never asked her to suppress her feelings, but Gyuri rarely threw a tantrum and the both of you had been worried that it would eat her inside out at some point.

“Just me, you, and Papa.” She closed the discussion, hugging you tighter and eventually falling asleep on your lap.

“Daisy?” Mingyu tries once again, and even calls your name when you still don't answer. You take a deep breath and straighten your posture. Okay, no use doing a grand announcement to Mingyu. He’d be happy either way and you’d rather tell him immediately. You both have more important things to think about than a surprise: Gyuri’s possible reaction to this.

“Coming,” you finally answer before opening the door.

Mingyu looks concerned, not wasting any second to ask if you’re okay. He’s a little startled when you grasp his hands, holding them tight before asking him not to freak.

“Daisy, you’re scaring me.”

You manage to give him a smile though, because despite the worries, you are happy to know you’re pregnant. There’s a life growing inside you–a baby that is both a mix of you and your husband.

As much as you worry about Gyuri, you’re still giddy at the fact that you’re finally pregnant–that your family is growing. And a part of you is relieved that Gyuri’s reaction is the only thing that seems to be of concern. Everything else is fine. If there’s any problem, they’re not big enough for you to think of them now.

Perhaps seeing Mingyu helps too. Because now you’re biting your lip to stop yourself from grinning too hard. You just knew his reaction would be priceless and you can’t wait to let him know about your current situation.

“Daisy, don’t play with me.” He frowns at the sudden change of your mood, but complies when you pull him into the bathroom. 

He’s a little confused when you keep your silence, and he’s just about to ask again when he notices the sticks in front of the mirror. You feel him freeze for three whole seconds, and you finally grin when he turns to you, as if making sure that it’s what he thinks it is.

You nod even if he’s not saying anything, and it’s him who surprises you because Mingyu tears up and he almost whimpers if not for the fact that you jump to hug him. The whole situation is a little funny, but it’s not appropriate to laugh just yet so you let him have his moment. Years from now when your kids are old enough to understand, you'll definitely bring this up just so you can all tease him together.

He sniffles as he buries his head on your shoulder, which you’re sure is very uncomfortable due to his height. Mingyu doesn’t seem to care though, and he hugs you tighter like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t.

“Gyu?” You finally call him after a while, and he lets you pull away so he can look at you. He’s not crying, but his eyes are glossy and he’s still sniffling as if to hold back his tears. 

You've seen this before. Twice, to be exact. The first time was when he finally proposed properly (whatever that meant) even though he already knew you'd say yes. The second time was on your wedding day, when you finally reached him at the end of the aisle with Gyuri holding your hand.

You smile softly as you search for his face, then you cup his face to pull him down for a gentle kiss. The feel of his breath against your face still makes you fuzzy inside, and when Mingyu presses his lips deeper into yours, a giggle escapes your lips until eventually he joins in, bringing you back in time and to some other universe where you go to the same highschool together, and you're a high-school couple still fresh in love.

“When should we go to the doctor?”

“We can go tomorrow?” You offer, reminding him his parents are in town. “Leave Lili with your mom? And then we can tell her too after.”

“Tomorrow it is.” He squeezes you once more with a happy grin, but only then realizes that you’re holding something back. “You okay?”

“Lili is in the living room with Wonwoo and the others, right?” He nods. “Let’s talk in our room, then.” 

You haven’t been able to tell Mingyu about your talk with Gyuri that day and now seems like the perfect time to do so. He listens to you quietly, and you see the way his face falls as you tell him everything, the way it clicks to him why his daughter seems more reluctant to play with Junseo nowadays.

“I’m happy, Gyu. I really am. But Lili…”

“We’ll talk to her. Let’s think about it after the doctor appointment tomorrow, okay?”

You nod. It’s almost magic the way you relax at his words and his touch. And as you catch Mingyu looking at your stomach with a dazed smile, you let yourself be happy and push your worry to the back of your mind.

[✾✾✾]

Mingyu cries when the doctor does the ultrasound and confirms you’re pregnant.

[✾✾✾]

“What about names?”

You laugh at the big puppy that is your husband. Sometimes you wonder what would Seungkwan do if he ever catches Mingyu like this. For someone that is practically a big pile of mush when it comes to you, Mingyu is unexpectedly very good at keeping it low at work.

You thought he’d crack with Seungkwan eventually. But no. Even when you’re out for a friendly dinner after work, Mingyu would keep the PDA to a minimum. There’s some sort of pride battle going on between the two men that you’d never be able to figure out.

“I think we’d need to find out about the gender first before starting to pick names, Gyu." 

“I mean… we can always just look for unisex names first…” He pouts a little, which urges you to kiss him. So you do exactly that, catching him by surprise though he’s definitely not complaining.

Mingyu hums into the kiss, his palm cupping your face and his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek.

“You’re very excited about this, aren’t you?” You pull away, just enough distance between your lips to talk.

“Mhm.” He drops another peck before entirely pulling away. He pauses before he continues, his palm never leaving your face as some sort of melancholy fills his eyes. “I didn’t… get to do this during… well, Gyuri’s pregnancy process.”

Your lips drop open to say something–anything. But nothing comes out, and you also know that anything you might’ve said regarding that part of his past wouldn’t help. So you decide to talk about what’s to come instead.

“Well, now we get to do this together for the first time.” You grasp the hand that’s on your face to give it a squeeze. “As long as we’re together, right?”

He tears up again, and you hold yourself back from teasing him and instead grin before you pull him into another kiss.

As long as you’re together.

[✾✾✾]

It’s almost a month later that you decide it’s time to let Gyuri know. You’ve told both of your families and your close circles, and while you initially thought you’d tell Gyuri once you start showing, after talking to your mom and Mingyu’s, they both agree that it’d be better to tell her sooner rather than later.

And here you are in her bedroom, sitting beside her as you break the news.

“But… I told you I don’t want a sibling.” She tears up. And as much as you’re ready for this reaction, it still breaks your heart to hear her say this again.

Mingyu drops to his knee to look into her eyes, his palms grabbing her small hands as he carefully chooses his next words.

“Can you tell me why?” Ha asks softly, and when Gyuri sniffles, her lips trembling as she stares back at him, he’s suddenly reminded of those years he had Gyuri all by himself. The time when he insisted that he could do it alone, that he didn’t need anyone’s help, and that Gyuri was his so he’d do everything on his own.

That he owed her that much.

It’s… been quite some time since he spent some time with her, huh? After you come into the picture, it never occurs to him that he might need to spend some alone time with Gyuri. The kid also seems happy with you around, and the last time he had gone out only with Gyuri had probably been… months ago when you went on a business trip.

“You told Mama already, yeah?” he tries one more time, and when she nods, he continues. “I want to hear from you, though. Can you tell me?”

“I don’t… want to share you and Mama.” 

Mingyu nods, then tells her how you’d love her still, that none of you are leaving her behind, that you need her to be with you.

“We will need you more because of this, Lili.” You caress her head. “I will need you to help me. Not only because of your sister or brother. We need you. Mama and Papa always do.”

“But–but you’ll still need to take care of the baby a lot…”

“Flower, we will take care of you both. No favorites, we promise. Please don’t think we’ll stop taking care of you because of the baby, okay?”

Gyuri shakes her head, and this time she drops her gaze to avoid yours as her lips start to tremble again. You share a worried look with Mingyu. You know Gyuri doesn’t want a sibling, and this is actually a problem that a lot of families have, but you still don’t have a clear grasp of how much this actually bothers her.

The both of you watch as Gyuri turns and falls into Mingyu’s embrace then circles her arms around his neck. She’s not sobbing, which is good, but it’s concerning just how upset she seems to be.

“Lili?”

She shakes her head, seemingly done with the conversation.

Mingyu throws you a look, then signs you to leave for a bit because, at the end of the day, Gyuri is still more honest with him than she is with you. Perhaps he can coax her a bit more like this. Just like the old times.

He takes her in his arms and sits on her bed, simply holds her on his lap as he lets her have her moment.

“Flower, will you look at me?”

She’s reluctant, but she pulls away and Mingyu almost regrets asking her to because she looks crestfallen. Is the idea of having a sibling that upsetting?

“It’s been long since it’s just us two, huh?” He says instead, smiling a little. Does she even remember the time when it’s just the two of them? She was three before you came into their lives. “I always share you with Mama now.”

“Papa miss Lili?”

“All the time.” He answers without missing a beat. “But Mama also does, that’s why I don’t mind sharing you with Mama. Do you want me to be selfish and take you for myself instead?”

Gyuri frowns and shakes her head. “No. Lili wants to be with Mama too.”

“You like Mama a lot, huh?”

She nods but doesn’t elaborate.

“Do you think we will stop loving you if you share us with your sibling, Li?”

The words from her lips come out as a mumble. Mingyu doesn’t really get what she’s saying, but he’s satisfied that she’s open to talk now.

“You know, when you were a baby, I didn’t want to share you with Grandma and Grandpa.” He says, thumb rubbing against her cheek. “I was afraid they’d take you away from me.”

“Why would they steal me from you?” She giggles at the prospect of her grandparents taking her away from him.

“I was just afraid I was not a good Papa for you.” Gyuri seems to have a hard time understanding this, tilting her head adorably that earns her a soft kiss on the forehead. “But Grandma and Grandpa just wanted to help. They didn’t want to take you away from me.”

She blinks at him, trying to see where this is going.

“The baby… won’t take us away from you, Lili. I know you’re worried, but I promise we will always, always love you. It’s because of you Mama and Papa are together, you know?”

Her eyes dim at the mention of the baby once again, and he tries to be patient for her sake, caressing her hair as he tells her a thousand reasons why you, him, and the baby need her. That she’s not getting left behind in any way.

“That’s not it.” She starts, her voice small. But her next words are never ones he expected.  “Lili… is not Mama’s baby.”

It takes Mingyu a few seconds to understand what she’s saying, and when he does, he’s cold with the realization that this scenario is also possible.

You were insecure about being a mother figure to Gyuri, afraid that you’re not enough for her. He has never imagined the same kind of insecurity would be present on Gyuri’s end.

She’s… insecure because she’s not your blood and this baby would be?

“Oh, Kim Gyuri…” He hugs her again, the puzzle finally clicking. “You’ll always be Mama’s baby. She loves you a lot. Remember when she took care of you when you were sick a long time ago? She wasn’t your Mama yet but she played with you and took care of you anyway.”

Gyuri probably doesn’t. But Mingyu does. How could he not when it’s probably the start of his relationship with you? 

“Do you want to talk about this with Mama?” He tries softly. “I think she will be able to understand more if you do.”

“Mama won’t be mad?”

He smiles at her worries, shaking his head and assuring her you wouldn’t be mad at all. “She will be sad if you’re upset, though. Do you want Mama to be sad?”

“No…”

“Let’s go?”

She nods and asks him to carry her. When they arrive in the master bedroom, you look up from the bed, looking concerned still.

Gyuri doesn’t say anything, but leans to you and reaches out her arms so you’ll take her instead.

“Hi, baby.” You kiss her head. “How are you feeling?”

She shrugs, but she leans on your shoulder and lets you caress her hair. Mingyu sends you a look. Apparently, whatever talk they had hasn’t really resulted in anything, not that you expect her to change her mind just like that. Still, Mingyu mouths something about asking Gyuri, so you do.

“You wanna tell me something?” She hesitates, so you do it first. “Can I share something with Lili, then?”

At her nod, you take a deep breath before you start.

“I’m afraid Lili won't like me anymore because of the baby.”

“What? No… Lili always like Mama.” She frowns. “Lili just… Baby…”

Mingyu sits on the bed next to you, encouraging Gyuri to continue as he tells her it’s okay. You look at him in question, but he doesn’t give you any answer. Perhaps the talk did result in something, after all.

“Mama won’t be mad, I promise.” He adds, making you even more confused. “Do you want me to tell Mama instead?”

She nods, burying her face on your shoulder to hide.

You urge Mingyu to talk, hugging Gyuri closer to reassure her that you’re not going to be mad at all.

“She said she’s not… your baby. But the baby will be.”

Huh.

What?

You need a moment to take that, Gyuri–what?

“Lili, what makes you think you’re not my baby?” You ask sadly, wondering if it’s okay to pull her away from your embrace. “I choose to love you, baby. And I will need you to help me take care of me now, not only the baby. Having this baby means I will need you around me more often, you know?”

You and Mingyu spend about another thirty minutes reassuring Gyuri nonstop, thirty long minutes that is luckily not spent calming her tears down. You don’t even know if that’s what you’re supposed to do; should you be giving her space instead?

But that’s always the thing about parenting, isn’t it? Sometimes you make the wrong choice and Gyuri gets the end of it, and sometimes you think you’ve pushed her too much only for Gyuri to actually get the message and fix her mistakes.

“And, you know, I think baby told me that they’re already very excited to see you.” You try another approach. “When this baby is born, you would need to teach them how to play and to draw and to use the bubble bath. Mama and Papa are too old for that.”

This seems to get her attention, and she asks if she can ask them to play with her big barbie house that Junseo seems to hate with all his heart.

“Anything you want, Flower. This baby is going to be your sibling, you can ask each other to play everything if you want, would you do that?”

“Hmm… Is it a brother or a sister?”

You share a smile with Mingyu at last. She’s no longer declining the idea, at least.

“We don’t know yet. Do you have a preference?”

“As long as they’re not annoying like Junseo.”

That you can’t be sure of, but you laugh with her to ease her mind. For all its worth, you’re actually a little touched that Gyuri cares that much about being your flesh and blood. It’s going to be different, your love for her and your love for the baby growing inside you. But you don’t think it would have anything to do with one of them being your own blood.

No.

It’s true. You choose to love Gyuri. She’s not your biological child, and you practically fell in love with her from the first time you saw her by herself in SVT Inc.’s building. But it’s not as easy as people believe it to be to keep on loving her. You have to constantly think about the line you need to keep as someone who’s not her mom, but you definitely care for her and love her too much to be just another person in her life.

Gyuri also depends on you a lot, sometimes even foregoing her father just so she can bask in your comfort. And after the whole fighting episode that ended up with Mingyu proposing to you, she’s even more clingy after it’s clear that she’s allowed to call you her Mama.

“So there’s… a baby… inside you?” She asks after a while, looking at you with wonder.

You take her hand with a smile and place her palm on your stomach. Obviously, none of you can feel anything just yet, but you tell her you’ll be able to in a few months and you'd like it if she’ll be there for it.

“You will have a lot of big sister things to do.” You tell her seriously. Gyuri likes having responsibilities (it’s definitely the perfectionism and hard-working tendency from her father), and if there’s any way where you can make her feel that she’s needed, you’re ready to let Gyuri do whatever she chooses to do. “Decorate the baby’s room, buy new toys, hmm… What more do you think we need to do, Gyu?”

Mingyu grins as you ask him this, and he pretends to think also before throwing the question to his daughter instead.

“What else, Li?”

She takes her time to think, which melts your heart to the point of nonexistence because you didn’t expect her to take things this seriously. And when she finally knows what to say, you almost tear up because you didn’t expect her to say that at all.

“Buy Mama a lot of food?” She offers, a frown on her face. “Eunji says her mom eats a lot when pregnant, is that true?”

“Oh, my baby.” You hug her hard and melt against her body. Gyuri is going to turn eight this year, and whilst she’s almost too big for you to hold now, sometimes it feels like she’s just the small girl you met five years ago. Has it really been five years since you’ve met her and Mingyu? “That is true, alright. And I think some people eat sooooo much ice cream during their pregnancy, will you eat them with me?”

Gyuri giggles at your exaggeration, though of course she happily nods at the prospect of too much dessert.

“I will make a list!” She suddenly jumps in excitement, wiggling on your lap. “So many toys to buy. Can I sleep with the baby? When will the baby come? What do they like?”

You tear up at the change of attitude, so it’s Mingyu who answers even if he wants to tease you about it.

“In nine months. And they will like whatever you get them. But don’t buy too much just yet, okay?”

“That’s so long!” She gasps.

“Yeah, but that means we’ll be all prepared, right?” He grins at her, one arm going around you while his other hand ruffles Gyuri’s hair. “You need to practice to be a big sister, too! Will you be able to do it?”

Gyuri nods vigorously, promising that she will be the bestest sister ever. “And I will help you too, Ma. You will call Lili everytime you need help?”

At this point, you’re already crying as you nod. Gyuri panics a little, tries her best to wipe your tears when Mingyu assures her that you’re crying because you’re happy.

“Do you want to see a picture of the baby? You can’t see them clearly, though.”

Surprisingly, Gyuri shakes her head. But before you can worry yet again, she beams and says she wants everything to be a surprise. “But tell me when you find out if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“You can come with us to the doctor when we find out, Flower.”

She squeals in excitement, the previous stand on wanting to be a big sister seems to have returned. Gyuri starts to ramble about the amusement parks and all her favorite places that she wants to visit with the baby, and you finally share a relieved smile with Mingyu.

He leans forward to peck your lips, whispering that he’s excited for another beginning for your family. The smile on his face is the most beautiful you’ve ever seen. With his heart full, he hugs you both tighter into his chest and simply laughs when Gyuri whines, asking him to let go.

[✾✾✾]

©wonwoonlight – all rights reserved. I don't allow any translations or reposting of my works.

A/N: thank you again for 3k!! see you on mwty special <3

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when you're not into PDA but you kiss him absentmindedly in front of everyone

Mingyu x Reader // no plot whatsoever just fluff. Want myself a boyfriend please 😭

Mingyu has always been whiny.

Sometimes it's for show, and others it's just in his nature to be so.

But he's also considerate. Some things he'd whine to no end about while some things he'd immediately shut up the moment you say 'no'. He's perceptive like that and sometimes to a scary amount.

You have no idea how he's able to read you that well; to know when to push and know when to stop just through a glance. Even you can't do it as well as he does and it's your own feeling.

One of the things that he never pushes you for is public display of affections. Mingyu is a big pile of mush, he can't stay to himself if someone he's remotely comfortable with is next to him. He'd grab their shoulder, punch their arm, curl himself small to fit in their shoulder, hug them from the back--just about anything physical that the other party would allow him to.

You love to bask in his embrace, to relish in his kisses, and to feel the shape of his lips in any part of your body. But only when there's little to no people watching, and Mingyu respects you enough to never push any kind of affection when you're together with other people, even his members.

Your affection with him in front of watching eyes are usually limited to hands holding and his arm around your waist or shoulder. Occasionally, you'd lay your head on his shoulder too. And very very occasionally, you'd let him steal a kiss on your cheek or your forehead.

That much, you don't mind.

As much as he respects you, it's only right for you to do the same for him. And while you don't think you'd ever reach the place where you'd be comfortable enough to let him give you an actual kiss in front of anyone, you know how much Mingyu likes to be able to show his affection.

That's just how he loves.

So, even if you're still a little uncomfortable (maybe conscious is the right word?) letting him cuddle you in front of his members, you bare with it because that happy sigh and the small smile he's trying to hide when you settle on his chest is worth it.

"Why are you staring?"

You blink at the question. Have you been staring?

"You didn't even notice, huh?" You mean it when you say he reads you like a book.

You smile sheepishly at him, which he just grins in return and hugs you a little more to himself before he continues whatever he was discussing with Seokmin, Shua, and Chan.

Of all things that make your heart flutter, it's always the way his thumb softly caresses your arm that contributes the most. You're not sure why, but it does and sometimes you feel like purring like a cat everytime he does it.

Like right now.

Your eyes suddenly fall to his lips, a smile automatically falls into yours when you see his do the same.

He's so fucking beautiful it's unfair.

You don't even register what he's saying, and thankfully it's not you he's talking to. The only thing in your mind is how perfect Kim Mingyu is and how you've probably lucked out with him by your side.

He turns to you once again when he feels your eyes on him, this time with a tilt in his head. Seokmin's face fades to the back of your mind when Mingyu raises his eyebrows to ask if there's something wrong.

Your bite your lip before you dive into his for a quick peck, which you pull away from a second later like you're in a daze.

Mingyu seems to be in one too, surprised at the turn of event. And when it registers to him that you've just kissed him in front of his members, he cheeks puff like a kid on a Christmas day.

You don't know if the three witnesses the featherly kiss you shared earlier, but when you see Mingyu biting his lip to contain his grin even if the giddiness is way too obvious in his eyes, you don't think you care even if they do.

A/N: wow im actually satisfied w how this turns out..a feeling ive not had in so long when it comes to my writing

A/N 2: pls drop by and share ur thoughts thank u🤍

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shiny star / yoon jeonghan

➝ Jeonghan x Reader

➝ shiny star!au // university!au // non idol!au // strangers to lovers // fluff // slice of life

➝ word count: 6.1k~

➝ inspired by: Shiny Star (2020) - KyoungSeo

➝ Shiny Star masterlist (can be read as standalone)

Seungcheol // Jeonghan // Joshua // Junhui // Soonyoung // Wonwoo // Jihoon // Seokmin // Mingyu // Minghao // Seungkwan // Hansol // Chan

➝warning: curses, food, this one is pretty much peaceful but reader is a little insecure towards the end, NOT PROOFREAD IM SORRY, also it's been so long since i write i feel like my ability is deteriorating sdjfhbjsdhf

➝A/N: happy birthday, han, i forgot ur bday is so close by so i literally finished this like 5 hrs before ur bday 😭😭 i hope you guys enjoy this and pls do tell me what you think about it <3

널 좋아하는 내 마음이 표현이 안 돼

My feelings for you are hard to explain

꿈이 아니면 좋겠어 자꾸 웃음 나와

I hope it’s not a dream, I keep on smiling

When you first meet Jeonghan, you fall asleep on his shoulder on your way home.

You didn't sleep well the night before, having stayed up for a quiz that thankfully wasn't for nothing because you felt quite confident the moment you stepped out of the classroom.

That said, you still believe now that's the reason why you managed to somehow fall asleep on a stranger's shoulder on the subway. Like that's not embarrassing enough, you didn't even get to apologize properly because you woke up right after you missed your stop and you panicked, hurriedly stepping down the next one without missing the sound of airy chuckle from the man beside you.

He didn't even seem bothered, just very amused.

It’s definitely not the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you because the guy is totally not the most beautiful person you've ever encountered in your life (after Jisoo, that is).

Yep, not the case at all.

At least you can rest assured you would never see him again. He does look familiar for some reason, but you mix people up all the time and you're sure it's going to bite you back one of these days.

Unfortunately for you, when you’re finally about to forget the absolutely-not-embarassing-incident,  the universe decides it wants to to play a joke and you somehow do meet him again when you’re waiting for your subway home almost a month later.

You contemplate on thanking him, but, at the same time, you hope the ground would swallow you whole because the man is even more gorgeous now that you have the time to actually look at him. Like that’s even possible because you already think he was beautiful before and you didn’t even get to see him properly.

Fortunately for you (or not, you’re not sure), he looks your way and he raises an eyebrow at the sight of you; like he’s amused and like it’s some kinda game for him. To put it short, you’re annoyed. So you copy his action and the guy shamelessly grin at your acknowledgement.

Much to your horror, he comes closer and you have nowhere to go unless you want to make a scene, which really isn’t worth it. (Also, you may or may not enjoy the gist of attention he’s throwing your way.) He moves from his line to stand behind you, and the two of you unknowingly play the game of wits in silence.

Who’s going to make the first move?

The voice inside your head tells you to thank him, because it’s the decent thing to do and… you actually did have a good nap thanks to that episode; it was probably the most well rested 30 minutes nap you have ever taken in a subway. But, then again, you can just pretend you don’t recognize him and leave it that way. 

You jump at the arrival announcement, having been too deep in your thought that you didn’t realize you’ve been spacing out for almost 5 minutes already. You could’ve sworn you heard a chuckle quickly followed by a cough from the man behind you and you’re this close to asking him what it is he finds funny; but you have no proof he’s laughing at you and you do realize you’re probably way too conscious for your own good. 

Seriously, all this can simply be a coincidence and you’re putting meaning into nothing.

…or so you thought.

Because now that you’re inside the train, you’re sure this guy is definitely messing with you. There are plenty of empty seats in the subway but he decides to sit right beside you for some reason and, at this point, you feel like he’s taunting you and it’s annoying you inside out.

You considered telling him off, but he addresses you first and you’re annoyed for exactly two reasons: 1. His tone is annoying 2. Your heart actually skips a bit because he’s addressing you. 

God, are you that desperate for attention? You’re fully aware you’ve been whining to Jisoo about wanting a boyfriend way too much these days, but you need to get it together because this isn’t it.

“Gonna take a nap again today?” He grins, and you actually have to hold yourself back from rolling your eyes because this is your chance to finally thank him and you’re not gonna miss it now that the chance has presented itself.

“For the record, I slept late that night for a quiz, and I want to apologize and thank you for that day.” You managed to say it as calmly as possible despite your (mock) annoyance. The heat seeping up your neck is betraying you though, and you will your heart to calm down because it’s embarrassing to have a crush on him just because he’s bothering you (and because he looks like an angel).

Or perhaps you’re just in denial (not that anyone needs to know).

Unexpectedly, he shrugs and tells you it’s nothing, that you really did look tired and, as a university student, he knows exactly how it feels to be exhausted to the point of falling asleep on a subway.

“Plus, you’re Seungcheol’s friend, aren’t you?”

You blink in confusion, asking him how he knows your close friend or the fact that you’re his friend.

“I’ve seen you on his instagram. Plus, he talks about you and your friends a lot.” He shrugs nonchalantly, though he tells you he’s not actually sure until he gets a good look at you just now. “I’m Jeonghan, by the way.”

“Yoon Jeonghan? I think Cheol mentioned you and… uhh… Joshua? as a package usually.”

“Ah, I see my reputation has preceded me.” He grins in amusement, and you return the esture. How can you not realize he’s Seungcheol’s friend? That friend of yours has mentioned Jeonghan so many times even though usually it’s just him complaining that he’s being bullied by his two friends who're studying in another university.

Huh. Has Seungcheol never posted them on Instagram or are you just that ignorant?

You really would've known if Choi Seungcheol has a friend as beautiful as Jeonghan, but, then again, you suck at remembering people’s faces and you’ve never been really interested in what people post on social media so that might be why.

“Seungcheol complains about you and your other friend all the time,” you say before you know it and Jeonghan is more than happy to continue the conversation from there. 

If he’s being honest, Jeonghan isn’t sure either why he’s entertaining a conversation with a stranger–someone that accidentally fell asleep on his shoulder almost two weeks ago, someone that turns out to be his own best friend’s close friend.

He recalls Seungcheol talking about you, another girl called Jisoo, and a guy called Jinhwan; the small circle he has in university consisting of people he genuinely considers friends and would often hang out with even outside university. He has never really paid much attention when Seungcheol talks about his university friends, but now that you’re in front of him, he sees why Seungcheol seems to like you; he can tell you’re embarrassed as hell just a few moments ago, yet you still swallow it in to thank him and apologize for nothing at all.

It was pure spontaneity that drove him to mess with you, he was bored and you were there. He wasn’t sure you were going to recognize him, but he got his answer the moment he locked eyes with you and you challenged him into a stare down. That’s when he decided he’s going to annoy you; he’s in one of his weird moods, anyway. Else, he wouldn’t be finding fun talking with strangers.

“Oh!” You jump at the announcement, thankful that you catch it just in time. Has it really been thirty minutes already? “This is my stop.”

Jeonghan turns to the tiny screen announcing your stop and looks just as surprised. His stop was three stops ago. Did he really have that much fun talking to you that he forgot about it? Him? The one person always eager to go home?

It’s then that the train stops, the announcement once again broadcasting your stop and you pat his shoulder and wave your hand, telling him you’ll see him around before getting out of the train to wherever you need to be.

On the train back home, Jeonghan wonders if he’ll get to see you again.

A month later, Jeonghan still hasn’t had it in him to ask Seungcheol about you nor tell him about his encounter. He doesn’t even know why he hasn’t told him about it, but, then again, he’s never the type to talk about stuff like that and he knows Seungcheol would be suspicious which is just plain annoying.

But by the look of it, you probably haven’t told Seungcheol either because the guy definitely would’ve said something if you have. Wait. Why is he even thinking about this? Christ, he’s probably more bored that he thinks he is if his train of thoughts ends up there. Where on earth is Choi Seungcheol, anyway? The guy really told him to wait by the park of his university but has the audacity to not take his call when they’re supposed to meet fifteen minutes ago.

He’s about to get up and leave when he hears a familiar voice calling his name, your confused smile greeting him when he looks up, like you’re hesitant about talking to him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Seungcheol told me to meet him here,” he sighs, telling you he’s been there for fifteen minutes. Is it weird that he’s pleased you’ve made your way to sit beside him instead of standing around like you’re ready to bolt after making small talk? “Have you seen him? He’s not picking up my call.”

He can see something clicking in your head, and you offer him a small smile as you scrunch your nose like you’re about to deliver bad news.

“Well… Jisoo said he’s going to the library with his girlfriend?”

Frankly, Jeonghan would be annoyed as hell had he found out from someone else. But it’s you in front of him so he’s more intrigued about your presence despite everything.

“That ass,” he murmurs to himself. “He probably forgot he asked me to come here.”

“I can take you to the library if you want?”

“Mmm. What if you accompany me somewhere instead?” He asks, surprising himself. When has he ever just invited someone he barely knew out? “I actually went here to try this new cafe. I think Cheol wanted to see if he could bring his girlfriend there, so I’m going to piss him off by going there first because he bailed on me without saying anything.” 

You laugh at his suggestion, and then agree because you only have to finish an assignment that could probably be done in the cafe Jeonghan has just mentioned. You recognize the name, and as you both walk there, you tell him you’ve been meaning to try it also but never has the chance to because it’s either your party is too large that there’s no table, or something comes up when your friends ask if you want to come with.

Thankfully, there are still a few tables left when you arrive; all of them only fit for two people. This cafe is full of couples, you notice as you skim the cafe. No wonder it was hard to find a table when there were five of you.

“Welcome, how may I help you?” The cashier happily greets you both. Jeonghan asks for her recommendation as you flip through the menu, faintly, you hear him telling her he’s not too keen on something overly sweet. Her next question brings you to a stop though, and you almost choke on nothing if not for your pride. “Are you two a couple?”

“Why does that matter?” Jeonghan asks back, his voice far from hostile, just plain curious and full of questions.

“Ah, we actually have a seasonal couple set which includes tiramisu and a slice of lemon pound cake and two drinks of your choice. Those two are our best sellers and may fit your taste if you prefer something less sweet.”

Jeonghan asks if you want any of the two, and you shyly nod, having actually been eyeing the lemon pound cake since earlier. He bites a smile at the obvious shyness painted on your face and tells you to find a table as he finishes paying; you’re about to protest, but quickly swallows back your words when he suddenly gets close and whispers in your ear.

“We’re a couple, remember?” His soft voice tickles your hair, and you can feel heat creeping upon your whole face so you quickly nod and turn around to find a seat.

“Your girlfriend is very cute.” You hear the cashier say faintly when you turn around. Heart almost bursting into pieces at the soft chuckle Jeonghan offers her, and what he says after makes your face hot like it’s set on fire. I know, right? Don’t tell her I said that though. She hates it when I call her cute.

You’re still trying to calm yourself down when Jeonghan sits in front of you, and perhaps you look more flustered than you think because he immediately asks if something’s wrong. You shake your head though, because you definitely can’t tell him why and says that you were just spacing out.

“Did they say it’s going to take long?” Jeonghan shakes his head, then tells you probably ten minutes at most. “Do you mind if I finish my assignment? I’m about 90% done so I promise it won’t take me long.”

“Sure. Don’t mind me.” He shrugs. “I’ll just be with my phone.”

You send him a thankful smile, feeling a bit sorry that you’ve said yes to accompanying this guy you’ve met twice only for you to finish your assignment, But you’re feeling a little productive and you really only need to finish up and reread your assignment; you know yourself and you’ll probably be slacking off if you wait to go home to finish it. Plus, the cafe has a really nice vibe that helps you focus so there’s that.

True to his words, Jeonghan really doesn’t bother you at all as you busy yourself with your laptop, the small table barely even fitting, and he doesn’t look annoyed even the smallest bit when you check up on him from time to time; way too conscious about his presence until he tells you to just finish it quickly if you’re feeling that sorry for ignoring him. 

It’s twenty minutes later that you finally finish, making Jeonghan look up from his phone when you exhale a deep breath, close your laptop, and take the first sip of your peach tea.

“Finished?” He raises an eyebrow, about to make a joke about you ignoring him but decides against it when he sees how relieved you look when you say yes. “Is it a big assignment?”

“Yeah. Honestly, the first time I regretted taking a Master's is when the professor announced we have to do this assignment.”

“Are you in the same course as Cheol? I don’t think he’s ever mentioned.”

“Oh, no. We met during undergrads,” you tell him the short version of the story, about how you, Jisoo, Jinhwan, and Seungcheol ended up getting close with each other. That you’re grouped together for a group assignment during an elective subject and decided to hang out together ever since. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m still not finished with my bachelor's degree.” His grin tells you it’s not something he’s ashamed of (why should it be?), and before you even ask, Jeonghan decides it’s cool to come clear with you because you don’t seem judgemental and he trusts Seungcheol in making good friends.

“I started university late because I wasn’t sure I wanted to pursue a degree. I was convinced I really didn’t want to when I saw Seungcheol and Shua’s studyloads, and I didn’t think a formal academic setting was for me, you know? I considered taking a course for licenses, but there’s nothing I was really interested in so, in the end, I decided to study business administration because I wanted to see how they’d teach such a subject.”

You’re not sure how to answer him, but the first thing that comes to your mind after listening to him is how much you respect someone like Jeonghan who learns just for the sake of learning. You study because it’s what’s expected of you. You’re taking masters because you’re not sure what to do after university, the real world scares you and your parents are more than willing to support you when you say you want to take masters. 

“So you took like two years off before going to university, yeah?” He nods, taking a bite of the cake in front of him. “What did you do during then?”

“This and that,” he purses his lips as he tries to remember if there’s anything interesting happening during that time. It hasn’t even been that long, but it feels so long ago for someone like him who rarely looks back on things unless it’s important. “I come from a place of privilege to be able to think this way, I admit, but I’ve always thought formal education isn’t important after high school. Even during school, I feel like we’re there to be proper people, you know? Learn how to place yourself in a mock society and do your responsibilities as students. There’s definitely more than formal education, but people are so fixated on it and it kind of saddens me that we live in such society.”

You continue to have a discourse about education for some reason, but it’s fun and you don’t regret bringing it up because Jeonghan seems to be just as immersed if not more. From all the topics you could’ve been talking about with the man in front of you, you never thought this would be the one you’re on when you agree to come with him.

He’s right though, and you feel admiration growing in you the more you listen to him talk. You’ve been talking to him for about an hour now, the topic moving into something else though it still doesn’t hide the fact that this guy is easily one of the smartest people you’ve ever met in your life. You see it in the way he proposes his argument, in the way he attentively listens to you and counters yours.

Hell, he’s probably even more perceptive and critical than half your class who are promptious kids taking a master degree and always belittling people who decide their bachelor is enough.

Currently, your topic has shifted way too far than the first one; the two of you busy arguing about whether it’s better to be really short or really tall. You’re trying to keep it cool, but you’ve found that Jeonghan has the ability to rile you up rather quickly and you’re this close to knocking his head because it seems like you two have reached that stage already.

Jeonghan rejects the call, and only then realizes that Seungcheol has sent me a few texts asking where he is and if he forgets that they’re supposed to meet up (the audacity). Jeonghan scoffs incredulously at the message, truly at a loss of words and shows you the text that you burst out laughing.

It’s Jeonghan’s phone that cuts through your argument, and you both glare at the device, even more when you see Choi Seungcheol flashing through the screen.

So now he finally remembers he’s supposed to meet him?

“I’m going to video call him. Move here beside me so he can see you,” Jeonghan mumbles and you happily follow through, always giddy at the prospect of annoying Seungcheol.

Not to anyone’s surprise, Seungcheol picks up immediately, already ranting about Jeonghan not showing up and all that while Jeonghan simply nods. He wanted to wait for his friend to finish before showing you and where the two of you are currently at, but Seungcheol doesn’t seem like he’s going to stop any time soon so he zooms out the phone and shows you beside him, which shuts up the older guy real quick.

“Hi!” You make a ‘V’ at the camera, only then realizing how close you are sitting to each other because your cheek bumps into Jeonghan’s shoulder when you’re trying to move closer so the camera can capture you, none of you answering him when he asks why the two of you are together or how you even know each other.

“We’re here, by the way,” Jeonghan talks over Seungcheol’s question, flipping the camera to show him the cafe which only makes the guy whine harder for obvious reasons. “Bye, Cheol. Sucks to be you.”

And he hangs up just like that, already waiting for Seungcheol to send him a bunch of messages because if there’s anything he knows about that best friend of his, he never lets things go just like that. True to his thoughts, his phone keeps on pinging with notifications, all from Seungcheol while you both laugh at the situation.

Your phone pings with notifications too, and you show Jeonghan the notifications because of course Seungcheol would text you too. You shake your head as you move back to your original seat in front of him, almost choking on air as you’re sure the texts Seungcheol sends Jeonghan and you are different.

[15:12] Cheol🎮: why are you with jeonghan????

[15:12] Cheol🎮: youre interested in him arent you

[15:13] Cheol🎮: theres no way you agreed to go with someone ALONE else

[15:13] Cheol🎮: you better tell me everything tmrw

“Did he send you anything weird?” Jeonghan asks, concerned at the way your eyes double in size.

“Oh, no. Sorry.” You pretend to cough, avoiding his eyes as you take another sip of your tea. “There was another text from my friend and… I just remembered I promised to meet him at 4.”

This seems to convince Jeonghan, or he’s just too nice to say anything about your shitty reason though it is true that you’ve just remembered you’re meeting Jinhwan in less than an hour.

“Oh, should we get going, then?”

“Yeah, I gotta go back home to put my books first.” You scrunch your nose in distaste, a habit that Jeonghan notices you often do when you’re conflicted at just about anything. “Right, how much did I owe you? We can just split the bill.”

Jeonghan shakes his head, telling you there’s no need because he’s the one that asked you out of nowhere anyway.

“What? No! Come on, just let me pay you,” you try to convince him but he doesn’t budge.

“Just buy me something else next time we see each other.” Jeonghan offers nonchalantly, making your thoughts spiral into whirlwind of scenarios. Is he really implying a next time? Why are you so giddy at the prospect of it? You don’t even have his number, for God's sake! “Which reminds me, can I have your number? Who knows if Seungcheol will bail again next time I come to your campus.”

The thought still lingers in your mind until later that night, your tendency to overthink stuff has brought you to ponder if you’re attracted to Jeonghan that way or, like you used to tell yourself, you’re just more lonely than you thought you were.

Your head is already taking you everywhere as you type your number into his phone, wondering if he’ll text you first or he’ll really just call you around under the circumstances he’s already said earlier. But Jeonghan immediately texts you after he’s saved your contact, “so you have my number too,” he has said, way too casually for you to figure out if he wouldn’t mind you texting him just about anytime or what.

You don’t have it in you to ask too, too afraid to be perceived for some reason, so you say your bye because Jeonghan says he needs to drop by the convenience store while you go the other way around to the bus stop. He’s offered to walk you, but you tell him there’s no need and you don’t miss the way he softly tells you to be careful even if it’s still very bright outside.

It’s the way your phone lights up that halts your thought, a giddy smile immediately breaks into your face as you see the text from the one person that you may or may not have been waiting for.

[21:22] Yoon Jeonghan: Thanks again for today! Had been quite some time since I found someone that could debate with me lol I’ll see you when I see you?

You inhale and exhale in exaggeration, scolding yourself right after for thinking about it too much. What’s so wrong about replying immediately? He’s just thanking you.

[21:25] Thank you also for paying!!! I’ll pay u back i promise

[21:25] Yoon Jeonghan has sent an image 

[21:26] Yoon Jeonghan: reminds me of someone who said being really short is better than being really tall lmaooooooooooooo

[21:26] FUCK OFF WE DO NOT DISRESPECT THE SHORT IN THIS HOUSE

“Seriously, why is everyone suddenly in a relationship?” Jisoo whines at the table, making her three friends all look up from their phones to see her. “See? All of you are too busy texting to realize poor Kim Jisoo is being ignored.”

“In my defense,” Jinhwan starts and puts his phone down. “I was texting my mom, not my boyfriend.”

“In my defense, my girlfriend was asking if you’re busy,” Seungcheol looks at her then shows her his phone that says exactly what he’s just said.

Jisoo rolls her eyes at this, not buying it but doesn’t want to push. She’s noticed that you’re sprouting the same look Seungcheol and his girlfriend did when they’d only started seeing each other, and she figures perhaps you are still in denial like they were even though it’s clear that you’ve been looking extra happy everytime you’re on your phone.

“And in my defense, I don’t have a boyfriend,” you offer your argument, ears getting hot because you were texting Jeonghan just a few seconds ago.

You glare when Seungcheol snorts at this, and Jisoo is quick to get into it because there’s no way Seungcheol would react that way if he doesn’t know anything. When she squints her eyes in suspicion, you insist that he’s just messing around and you really don’t have a boyfriend.

“Whatever. You’re still seeing someone,” she concludes anyway, not caring about your continuous denial. “Don’t you all have someone to introduce me to? I want to be in a relationship too if you’re all in one.”

“Soo, I told you I’m not in one!”

“I might know someone,” he nods to himself, his eyes glinting with mischief finding yours. “There’s this friend I've known since I was a kid.”

Seungcheol smiles annoyingly at you as something brews in his mind then he hums at Jisoo, all three of you already looking at him like you’re waiting for him to say nonsense.

Your heart drops at what he’s implying, though you’re really getting ahead of yourself because Seungcheol has a ton of friends. The guy is great at maintaining a relationship you’re not surprised if he’s still friends with his classmates from elementary school. But still, your mind wanders to Jeonghan as Seungcheol says this and you suddenly start picturing Jeonghan and Jisoo together.

They’d make a perfect picture, wouldn’t they?

They’d probably be together by now had it been Jisoo in your place that day.

A beautiful person with another beautiful person. Jisoo is easily the smartest person you know, which makes her a great pair for Jeonghan who’s also one of the smartest people in your life.

Huh.

You jump at the sound of your name, all of your friends looking at you in concern.

“You okay?” Jinhwan asks in concern. “You just… zoned out.”

“Oh… yeah, sorry.” You smile awkwardly, feeling bad for spacing out out of nowhere. “Didn’t sleep well last night. You guys were saying?”

“Do you have anything to do after class? I want to watch this movie if you’re down,” Jisoo repeats her question, her arms hugging yours. It’s a gesture she always does when she feels someone’s uncomfortable, something that she hopes would ease whatever’s bothering the other person.

“Ah…” You exclaim, Jeonghan’s text from earlier today floating in your mind. “I already have plans, sorry. You three can watch without me, though? I don’t mind. We can go somewhere else next time.”

They probably would’ve teased you and asked you about your plan if not for the awkward smile you’re sprouting, Seungcheol’s eyes full of concerns following you even after you excuse yourself first because your class is in another building.

You don’t even realize your stance doesn’t differ that much when you see Jeonghan, the guy immediately asks if you’re okay because you seem tense and your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

“We can reschedule if you don’t feel like going anymore,” he reassures you, his fingers softly grasping your arm to let you know he’s really okay. “Or we can talk about it if you want to?”

You consider his words carefully, thankful that Jeonghan lets you think instead of making assumptions by himself. It’s been about three months since that afternoon you went to the cafe with Jeonghan, you’ve gone out together four more times since then and this would make the fifth one.

You don’t text everyday; sometimes you’d talk til late at night or sometimes you don’t talk to each other at all. But it’s so easy to talk with him that you both just randomly text each other when you feel like doing so.

It scares you.

It’s never been this easy to talk to someone, has never been this easy to get comfortable and now that Seungcheol has put the image of Jisoo and Jeonghan together in your head, you suddenly wonder if Jeonghan would still want to do this with you if he knew someone as capable as Jisoo is very much single and available.

You don’t even have it in you to be annoyed with Seungcheol.

“Can we… sit somewhere?” You say instead, if you’re going to talk about it, might as well do it somewhere comfortable.

Jeonghan looks at you in concern, but doesn’t ask until you’ve found a pretty quiet park nearby and decided it’s better to talk in an open space than a cafe with other people who might be able to listen to you.

“It’s okay too if you don’t want to talk about it,” Jeonghan starts for you, something in his heart hurts at the way you carry yourself small. “I’ll still be here with you. I know sometimes we just need someone next to us.”

“You know Jisoo, right?” You throw it out there and rip the bandaid at once, pretty much aware that your question sounds absurd. But Jeonghan nods a yes and you ask if he’s ever seen her.

“Umm. Only from Seungcheol’s instagram and yours. I’ve never met her in person though, why?”

“She’s very pretty, right?” You say instead, not even looking at him. “She’s single, you know?”

Jeonghan’s not sure where this is going, and you would’ve known what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense to Jeonghan if you had looked at him. But you’re too deep in your monologue and you’re too afraid to look at him, so you simply look at the ground as you continue to tell him about Jisoo and all of her good points.

“Hey, I’m not sure I’m following you here,” he finally says after you’ve finished talking. “Why are we talking about her?”

You seem to hesitate before you answer him, and Jeonghan frowns at the way you’re biting your lip. It’ll definitely bleed if you put on just a little more pressure.

“We… were together earlier before class. Me and the guys,” you exhale a deep breath. Why do you even feel nervous telling him about all this? “And Jisoo was whining about not being in a relationship because…”

Uh oh. You forgot you’d need to tell Jeonghan about that part.

“Because we were all busy with our phones and she just assumes we’re all in a relationship because of that.”

“Are you?” Jeonghan cuts, his voice so curt that you finally meet his eyes for the first time that day. He’s never sounded so sharp when talking to you before.

“I was texting you, Han.” You shake your head, reassuring him you’re very much single as heat once again creeps upon your neck because of the way he’s staring at you.  “Anyway, she asked if there’s anyone we can introduce her to, which is stupid because she’s Kim Jisoo and guys literally ask for her number on a daily basis. But…”

“But?”

“Seungcheol says there’s… someone he knew that might be a good match for her and…”

Before you can finish, Jeonghan interrupts you and grasps your arm so you’d look at him. “And you thought it was me?”

You don’t answer immediately, and Jeonghan’s somewhere between annoyed at your assumption, at Seungcheol saying stupid shit, while both concerned and a little giddy because apparently knowing he might be a potential candidate for someone else makes you feel that way.

You play with your fingers as you think what you can say to Jeonghan at this point. Yes, you thought it was him. And then… what? What are you supposed to say so you wouldn’t say stupid and ruin whatever it is between the two of you?

“Hey, look at me,” his small voice ushers you softly, his hand finds the top of your head as if to make sure you’d actually stay looking at him. “Do you want me to be introduced to her?”

Your eyes widen in fear before you even realize, and Jeonghan definitely would’ve teased you if not for the fact that he knows he might blow everything if he decided to do so. But it’s his next words that make your heart jump out of your chest, your fingers grasping the side of his green top without you even knowing because that’s how much you need something to hold on to.

“I thought we have something going on between us here?” He chuckles lightheartedly, though his eyes don’t leave yours so you’d know he’s not kidding. “Or was it one sided all this time and I’m the only one trying?”

“I– Uhh…” You stare at him dumbly, suddenly forgetting how to form comprehensive words because of the sudden confession. It is… confession, right?

“Wow, it really was one sided, huh?”

“No!” You say louder than you intended, making Jeonghan laugh at your panicked face. Did you think he’d leave just because you’re not saying anything? “No… I mean… Uh–it’s not one sided.”

“Then why did you think that much about the Jisoo situation?” He asks with a playful smile, his hand messing with your hair. “Anyone would think you’re trying to set me up by the way you’re talking about her earlier.”

You scrunch your nose at this, and Jeonghan reaches out to pinch the tip of your nose because he thinks he’s resisted long enough at this point. He's always wanted to do that.

“There’s a reason why I’m texting you and not her, alright?” He reassures you instead, because he knows it’s what you need right now. Teasing you can wait, and while he’s happy this means you already have deep enough feelings for him to be jealous, he doesn’t want you to be insecure because of such a thing. “I choose to be with you and not her."

“Okay,” you nod with a shy smile, suddenly very abashed now that you’re in this position. Weren’t you annoyed at him, like, four months ago? Ready to fight him because he’s starting something in the subway station?

“Now, let’s not tell Seungcheol we’re dating, okay? Let’s mess with him a little bit and tell him later.” He decides just like that, takes your hand in his and declares that you both should celebrate without actually asking you the question.

The smile on your face is so wide that it hurts a little. You like it that way though, and as you look down at your hands joined together, you realize you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

©wonwoonlight – all rights reserved.

A/N 2: this.. isn't my best work and i'm sorry but i really wanted to write but i've been busy adapting in my new place and i honestly do feel like my writing is getting worse but i hope you enjoyed this somehow ;-; once again, happy birthday, han! i love u with all my heart and i wish you all the happiness the world has to offer.

permanent tag list: @kyeomjjigae @stantrash171819 @sebongmochi @luveveryonewoo @thinkinboutwonu @kpopjackie @ursweetener @lavenderautumnx @itsveronicaxxx @shuahoshiscoups @sunshinein17 @leechanniee @twogyuu @hoe4wonwoo @h3h3tm0n @noraehey @seokshook @02psh @rubyhoons @just-here-to-read-01 @listxn @janandbeyond

a/n 3: if any of you wants to be removed from the permanent taglist pls kindly fill the form again and just say your url and that you want to be removed, thank you!

---

Invisible thread

pairing : minho x reader

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

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

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

word count : 20k

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

You have always been first in your class.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

"What are you doing here?" He asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

"I have an idea."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

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

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

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

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

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

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

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

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

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

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

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

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

"And right now, how do you feel?"

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

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

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

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

"I do too."

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

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

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

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

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

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

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

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

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

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

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

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

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

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

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

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

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

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

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

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

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

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

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

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

"What's there to miss?"

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

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

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

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

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

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

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

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

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

"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I’ll ask her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I only tell my friends."

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

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

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

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

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

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

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

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

"You'll catch a cold."

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

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

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

"Yn, I don’t-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure."

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Never."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was something friends think about, right? 

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

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

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

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

"I’ll still cut it."

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

He didn't cut his hair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

2 months later

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

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

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

"What are you doing?"

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

"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

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

"Nope."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not like that you look scary."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?" 

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

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

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

"You didn't," you reply instantly. 

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

"I will." 

"Okay." 

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

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

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

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

That's four seconds more than the first time. 

Progress.        

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She deleted your number.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yn-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

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

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

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

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

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

"Please, let me make it better." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It will take time."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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not minho getting ready to attack😭😭

↬part thirty five — slow walkers

↬watercolor

↬hwang hyunjin x reader | college au

you have a crush on him, he feels nothing. you'd do anything as long as you get to spend time with him, he takes it for granted. but even those who have feelings for someone can reach their limit, and hyunjin is the only one to blame.

a/n: here it is!! sorry it took me this long to update lol, if you follow me you must know already everything that went down last week smh. anywayy, i hope you guys enjoy! i would love to read your thoughts on this<3

tag list: @blaaiissee @hyuneytoast @staysuki @tardiscompanion @princehyun-jin @hyuka-luvbot @halesandy @nattisbored @qnjayn @hibuki-chan @purenjuniverse @seungly @suhnnyskiess @midsoulz @kwanisms @esme-ordaz @perriwiinkle @firnze @soobin-chois @moon-320 @multifandomizer @elviransworld @valewoos @ktttwwn @hazzaloveschopsuey @hannahdinse8 @youngestdelacour @zoe8stay @leechanniee @phenomenalgirl9 @aeminju @threevracha @kai-maree @laryisthinking @wolfietara @iam2out @kingggjaay @cosmic-railwayxo @straykidsficsrecsbaby @marsophilia @choibeomgogi @ddaengpotate @oceanyocean @rinsdesires @jhslmhbtsskz @lixlovesworld @keenlampponyclam @yerimselgi @rubberduckieyourtheone @littlestarhyun

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he's so pretty🥺🥺

stars in his eyes

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