Girl Dad (b.c)

girl dad 🎀 (b.c)

i had seen a tik tok with chan and the twins, and how he's a girl dad 🥹 so, i had come up with this idea 🫢 i hope you guys like it 🩷

feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰

~

You've been sitting in your car for twenty minutes, trying to get yourself to stop crying. One hand covers your mouth, quieting your sobs while the other gently rubs your tiny baby bump. You're fourteen weeks pregnant, and you just found out what you and Chan are having.

Your phone vibrates in your vehicle's cup holder, seeing Chan's name on the screen. You wipe your tears and take a deep breath before answering his call.

“Hey, baby,” you greet him, smiling to yourself.

“Hi, my baby,” Chan's voice makes your heart flutter. “Have you made it to the studio yet? How did the appointment go? I'm sorry I couldn't go with you.”

You giggle and lean back against the seat, turning your head to look out the window. “It's okay, baby. I forgot you had a schedule this morning. It went well. I have another sonogram photo to show you,” you inform him on how it went, leaving out the part where you learned whether your baby’s a girl or a boy.

“That's good. I can't wait to see our bean,” he giggles into the receiver, making you giggle as well. “We're just about to start filming, so I wanted to let you know that you're free to come in. I gave your name to security.”

You turn your vehicle off, feeling yourself calmer after talking to your boyfriend. “Okay, baby. I just pulled in, so I'll be there in a few. I love you,” you smooch.

“I love you so much. As soon as I have a free moment, I'm kissing you,” he mentions, having missed his morning kisses due to both of you being busy.

You're walking towards the building, and you shake your head. “I'm not going to complain,” you laugh, bidding him goodbye.

You slip your phone into your back pocket, giving the guard your name. He lets you in without any trouble, thankfully, and you make your way towards the room they're recording in.

When you finally reach the place Chan and Felix are in, you notice that they've already started recording. You look through the window of the door, seeing your boyfriend sitting cross-legged on the floor with the twins in his lap.

Tears pool in your eyes as you gently rub your belly, thinking of how it'll be when she's born. “Is this what parent life will look like?” You ask no one in particular, taking a quick glance down at your barely noticeable bump.

You chew on your lip as you walk into the room, the squeals of the girls reaching your ears. Chan's eyes meet yours, and he smiles at you fondly.

You wave at him before crossing your arms over your chest. Felix and Chan's manager grabs a chair for you to sit in, knowing that you're pregnant. You thank Skijigi quietly and take a seat.

The recording didn't last much longer, the two boys having a snack with the twins before they headed out. You stay in your seat when Chan walks over to you, greeting you with a kiss.

“Have you been crying?” He asks, noticing the redness around your eyes. His fingertips gently stroke your skin, a frown etching onto his lips.

“I can't get anything past you, can I?” You chuckle, shaking your head. Chan shakes his head as well, looking around to see the staff slowly filtering out. “It's nothing bad, I promise.”

Your hand grabs his, intertwining your fingers together before squeezing his hand. “The baby's okay?” He asks, stroking the back of your hand.

“Yes, absolutely,” you tell him, standing up from your chair. You bring your conjoined hands to your stomach, letting him feel your bump. “She is doing fantastic.”

His head snaps up, a gasp leaving his plump lips. “She? We're having a girl?” Chan whispers, his hands moving to your waist. “Are we really having a baby girl?”

Tears pool in both of your eyes, and you nod your head, confirming. “We're gonna have a little girl,” you cry out, laughing as you do. “You're going to be such a wonderful girl dad.”

Your fingers stroke his cheek, smiling up at him as you wipe his tears. Chan's lip quivers, bringing you into his chest. “I can't believe we're gonna have a girl,” he sniffles, gliding his hands on your lower back. “I hope she looks just like you.”

You pull back enough to look at him, smiling softly. “I hope she has your smile and dimples,” you giggle, leaning on your toes to kiss his lips.

“I can't wait to tell the kids,” he laughs, pressing chaste kisses on your lips. “They were so convinced that we'll have a boy.”

You burst out laughing, combing your fingers through his hair. “Let's go prove them wrong,” you wink, pulling away from him completely. Chan swiftly grabs your hand as the two of you walk out of the room together.

“After we tell them you want to get dinner?” He asks, kissing the back of your conjoined hands.

Your heart flutters in your chest, nodding your head, yes. “I'd love to, baby,” you grin, leaning your head on his arm. “I love you.”

Chan kisses your head and squeezes your hand. “I love you, baby.”

~

tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n

🌊 ೃ‧₊◜ sea may rise, sky may fall chapter V

pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung

summary: Han Jisung is the bane of Minho's existence. Fuck Han Jisung.

word count: 7.1k

warnings: swearing, nudity

author's note: oooooh things are getting spicy bestiessss. thank you for all the love and the feedback, i appreciagte every single word. let's see where this goes 👀

this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI

series masterlist // skzms masterlist

< chapter IV - chapter VI (coming: friday, april 12, 3pm CET) >

Fuck Han Jisung.

Minho’s scalp is on fire, the midday sun bearing down on him where he sits at the bow of the ship. His hat lies forgotten in the captain’s quarters, but she’s currently having a strategy meeting with Hyunjin, so he doesn’t want to barge in just to get it. So here’s forced to bear it, beads of sweat accumulating on his brow, his skin burning under his black hair until he thinks he can feel the sunburn develop.

Then he hears it again. The stupidest fucking laugh he has ever heard, echoing across the deck, loud and shimmery and unabashed, as if its owner didn’t have a care in the world. What’s Han Jisung got to be so fucking happy about all the fucking time? Literally every time Minho sees the guy, he’s smiling. Or well, he is, until his eyes fall on Minho and then his smile always, without fail, dies a swift and painful death, crumpling until he’s looking at him with a barely contained scowl.

Minho flinches where he sits, lifts his arm and sinks his knife deep into the wood of the ship next to his legs with a dull thud. It shouldn’t affect him so much, the fact that Han Jisung arrived on the ship one day, as a prisoner, their biggest enemy’s nephew no less, all fancy clothes and expensive boots, pouty lips and flushed cheeks, and somehow wormed himself into everyone’s heart.

Minho has to admit he wasn’t very … focused that first day when they dragged Jisung into the room, his mind, and his dick, very preoccupied with the taste of his captain on his lips, the thundering of his heart as he allowed himself to leave his hands on her waist. Possessive, satiating something hidden deep in his chest that he didn’t allow himself to indulge in often, all too aware of the invisible line between them.

But he remembers Han Jisung’s arrogance, the scowl painted on his face that looked more like a petulant child than anything else. He also remembers the curl of familiar hatred in his guts when he spoke about his old crew, what they would try to do to him, remembers filing the knowledge away for later, to know just how painfully he would kill them once he got his hands on them – though Han Jisung somehow managed to sour even that with that fucking attitude of his, like he didn’t ever need Minho, quite the opposite. Arrogant asshole.

Minho lets his eyes wander over the deck, skimming the few groups of pirates sitting or working, until his eyes meet Jisung’s where he’s leaning against a mast, chatting to Felix. As per usual, the bright, gummy smile on Jisung’s face dims as soon as he sees Minho, the corners of his mouth falling, eyebrows furrowing and Minho suppresses the urge to snarl, spit onto the planks. Instead, he forces himself to look away, wrests his knife from the wood and drives it in harder, the plank splintering from the impact. When he looks back, Jisung has shifted, half of his perfectly shaped back now facing Minho instead of his face. And he seems to have recovered from Minho’s unpleasant presence, nay existence, his broad shoulders jumping with a silent giggle at something Felix must’ve said.

Felix. Felix, who had joined them after the captain had found him in that horrible whorehouse in Nassau two years ago, that still makes Minho shiver when he just thinks about it. He remembers the captain’s face when they heard his screams from the outside, and she had rushed in without a second’s hesitation, Minho himself hot on her heels, pulling the man who was forcing himself onto Felix off with a violent shove. Minho remembers because he had dragged the man out the door, hatred tickling his fingertips as he slit his throat and left him to bleed out slowly and painfully in an alley. By the time he’d come back, still wiping his knife clean from the filthy scum’s blood, Felix was already part of the crew, thanking him with sparkling eyes and a disarming smile.

Felix, who, for this reason, had never had a cabin mate – until Jisung. Minho doesn’t know how it happened, and he likes to pretend he’s not dying to know. But, of course, nobody volunteers the information. They’re all more than aware of Minho and Jisung’s … differences.

And they’re all on Jisung’s side, his brain supplies unhelpfully. Minho scowls at the surf. Jisung and Felix are inseparable. Seungmin greets Jisung with a soft smile, the rarest thing Kim Seungmin could hand out, patting Jisung on the back when he brings him food. Changbin and Chan sit next to him and pat him on the head when he offers them his leftovers. Hyunjin seems halfway to a serious crush on the guy, always making clothes for him and then dressing him up and running his hands all over Jisung’s body, gushing about his trim waist and thick thighs. And he’s pretty sure he heard Jisung’s stupid fucking laugh from the top a couple nights ago while he and the captain were … it doesn’t matter.

He just doesn’t get it. What’s so fucking special about Han Jisung?! Out of the corner of his eye he sees Hyunjin’s mop of black hair emerge from below deck and make for where Felix and Jisung are chatting and Minho decides he’s just about had enough of the sun scorching his head, of Han Jisung’s stupid laugh.

He swings his legs onto the deck, wrenches his knife from the wood and sheathes it. He feels three pairs of eyes on him as he walks past the little group of them, but he doesn’t spare them a single glance.

Hyunjin will probably give him an earful later about being a grumpy asshole, but he doesn’t care. He’d take that over having to watch his mere presence drain all happiness from Han Jisung’s eyes for the second time in half an hour.

His legs carry him to the captain’s quarters almost on autopilot. Changbin gives him a nod as he raps his knuckles against the heavy door twice and pushes it open.

And God, she’s a sight for sore eyes. Legs propped up on the edge of her desk, her knitted coat wrapped closely around her, what he assumes is Hyunjin’s ration list for the next stopover resting on her knees, her plump bottom lip worried between her teeth.

She only briefly raises her head when he enters, gives him a small, entirely radiant smile, before she turns her attention back to the paper in her lap. Minho closes the door behind him carefully. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots his hat, sitting on the low settee next to her desk. But he doesn’t need it any more, ignores it in favour of walking over to her, coming up behind her until he can lean over her, his hands supporting himself on the armrests of her chair. His eyes run over the words on the paper, but he’s not even going to pretend like he’s reading it, his focus entirely on the way his chest is pressed ever so slightly against her shoulders, his arms resting on hers. The smell of rosemary and lavender and her that emanates from her hair much too faint for his liking from where he is, leaving him aching for more.

“We could afford two or three more crew,” she says, pensively, underneath him, “could really do with them, too, to upkeep the ship and have a better chance with attackers.”

He hums in agreement as she keeps talking, but he’s not really listening as he allows himself to succumb to the siren song of her presence, leaning down a little bit more until he can take a quiet, deep breath of her.

Her chuckle jolts him out of his reverie.

“Are you even listening?”

Minho absentmindedly hums again, a lazy grin spreading over his lips as he leans down, presses a kiss into her hair.

“Something something we should get more men, but you don’t know where to find them,” he mumbles, drags his lips down until they’re ghosting over the shell of her ear. Her little chuckle gives way to a delicious sigh that Minho wants to bottle for a rainy day.

“Like Jisung, he’s been a great addition. I wish they could all just wander into our hands like that …”

Minho freezes, his lips stilling on her warm, rosemary skin. The bliss of their bubble, her skin under his lips, burst suddenly and violently. Han Jisung. Again. He pulls back abruptly.

“Right.”

It comes out acrid. He turns around, busies himself picking up his hat from the settee, dusting it off carefully. He can feel her eyes boring into his back.

“Why do you hate the guy so much, Minho?” she suddenly asks, and he’s taken aback by the directness of her question. He scoffs, turns around and meets her eyes. She doesn’t look angry, just … like she’s trying to figure something out.

“Why do I hate him? Why does he hate me?”

The captain gives him a withering look.

“You literally nearly got him killed a couple weeks ago.”

“Yeah? And he punched me for it, in front of everyone, so I considered us even,” Minho sneers, and he knows he’s being petty. But he’s had about enough of everyone being on his ass about not liking Han Jisung when Han Jisung has been fucking recoiling from him since the very first day …

“Well, did you ever apologise? I know we’re not the most conventional with our customs, but last I checked that would still be a decent thing to do,” the captain chides, and Minho feels anger bubble in his chest. Of course. She’s on his side, too. It hurts more than he can allow himself to admit.

“I did not,” he spits, the stiff felt of his hat crinkling between his tightening fingers, “I don’t know how I would, considering the guy flees every time I set foot into the same room as him.”

The bitterness rises in his chest, and he turns around, makes for the door before he takes it out on her and regrets it later.

“Fine, you win, we won’t talk about it,” she sighs, “I’m about to go over those maps we took from Han Yujun’s ships with Seungmin, do you want to stay?”

Minho recognises the olive branch she’s holding out, but the olive branch reeks of pity, and he’d rather die than suffer that from her. He doesn’t turn when he reaches the door and opens it.

“No, thanks, I’ll see you at dinner.”

And with that, he walks out and straight to his own quarters, where he locks the door and buries himself in his book and his self-pity until the memory of Han Jisung stings a little less.

And by the time he makes his way back to the captain’s quarters a few hours later, he does feel better. He also feels more than a little sorry for how he reacted earlier. He could’ve been with her this whole time, just the two of them in their world. Maybe she would’ve leaned against his chest as they looked at the maps, allowing him to bury his face in her neck, pressing wet little kisses against her irresistible skin until she went pliable in his hands, ignoring Seungmin’s knock in favour of sinking between her legs and making her cum on his tongue.

But instead he had let Han Jisung get to him, again, and what did that get him?! He vows to himself that he won’t ever let it happen again, but that is easier said than done when he walks into the empty corridor and the person he sees through the half open door is most definitely not Seungmin.

“Could it be somewhere super specific? Like the Indian Ocean or the North Sea or something?” Jisung’s voice floats through the air. It’s deeper than Minho’s own, he can’t help but notice.

The captain hums, quietly, thoughtfully.

“Because … I mean, I’ve only ever been once, but I’ve seen maps like these of … of groups of small islands or archipelagos.”

Minho noiselessly tiptoes closer, until he has a clearer view of the room.

Night has fallen and the candles in the sconces all around the room bathe the desk, the settee, the captain perched on the corner of her desk and Jisung leaned over it in a warm, sensual light. She looks like a dream, the candlelight giving her an ethereal glow, softening the hardness in her features, softening everything about her usually wound taut body until Minho thinks he can feel her under his fingertips. Minho should know. This is his time to be in her room like this. But now the flickers of the flames instead bathe Han Jisung in their warmth, radiating off his soft, wavy hair, dipping the planes of honeyed skin exposed by another one of Hyunjin’s creations in a layer of gold so undeniably attractive, Minho wants to throw up.

“Seungmin has cross-checked them with every single one of our maps,” the captain mumbles, pointing to a stack of paper on the edge of the desk, Jisung follows her finger with a thoughtful look on his face. “And none of it lines up. Our maps are only a few years old, and Seungmin is one of the best cartographers out there …”

She slides off the corner of desk and walks over to Jisung and reaches across him to rifle through the papers and Minho watches Jisung’s eyelids flutter, gaze dragging over the expanse of her neck, then her back where her shirt has ridden up to expose the smallest sliver of the skin of her waist; watches his lips part when her arm brushes against his chest.

“Ah. Look,” she exclaims, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, entirely oblivious, and pulls the map towards her. She grabs another one to place next to it, gesturing between them and looking back at Jisung, who blinks at her for a second before lowering his gaze to the maps again. “This one seems to look really similar to this one we found on your ship. But, as Seungmin pointed out, it’s still not right. It’s not the same. And the scaling of these maps we got from your uncle’s ships just doesn’t … make any sense. From a cartography perspective.”

Jisung huffs, shifts his weight from one foot to the other and glares down at the desk with a deep furrow between his brows. He fixes the paper with a mean glare, like he’s trying to force it to give up its secrets by sheer willpower alone.

“I don’t even …” Jisung mumbles, a frustrated huff falling from his pouted lips, “I’ve never understood why he did this anyways. He would send these big ships, with crews of 20 people and someone like me on board, but the ships would mostly be empty … Well, except for these maps, it seems, maps that he didn’t even tell me about …”

He shakes his head incredulously, leaning over the desk again to inspect one of the maps, lingering on the meticulously painted edges of them with his ringed fingers. He leans his cheek in the cradle of his hand and sighs, absentmindedly shrugging off his jacket, throwing it over the back of the chair behind him and shoving the sleeves of his ruffled white shirt up his arms.

Minho watches the captain’s eyes follow Jisung’s movements, drag over his arms, his collarbones, the exposed V of his chest before it flutters up to his profile, lingers on his lips. Minho’s heart hardens into something unrecognisable.

The captain looks back at the maps, sighs, but it’s lighter now. She reaches out, gently pats Jisung on the shoulder, letting her hand rest there for only a second, but it’s enough for Jisung to straighten up with a start. He blinks down at her, stares.

“Just think about it, will you? Because Seungmin and I are at our wit’s end. You’re kind of our last chance …” she says, and Jisung turns to her, his face full of the same stubborn determination as that day when he had screamed at Minho to untie him.

“I promise, I’ll figure it out … we’ll figure it out,” Jisung asserts.

The captain gives him a devastating, lopsided smile, one that makes the tips of Jisung’s ears turn pink and Minho’s heart drop into his stomach.

“Give me some of your optimism, please,” the captain chuckles, but it’s soft, her cheeks warming in a way that makes Jisung’s pout stretch into a sweet, conspiratorial smile. He leans into her, bumps her shoulder with his playfully.

“Hey, you’ve got me now. How could we ever lose?” Jisung chokes with another sickeningly sweet smile that makes his cheeks puff up and Minho watches his fingers brush against hers where they hang next to one another, how he extends his pointer finger to drag over the back of her hand, watches their eyes catch on each other for just a broken moment too long and Minho burns.

He turns abruptly because he knows he can’t stand any more of it, his mind filling with images to torture himself, of Jisung leaning in, kissing her in the golden candlelight that’s his, running his tongue over the seam of her lips, her soft sinful hands on Jisung’s body – his world spins, legs uneven as he stumbles down the hallway, the throbbing wrath in his guts driving him down the stairs, through the living area where he ignores Changbin’s incredulous call of his name and straight through the mess and into the kitchen.

The swinging doors slam against the wall with a loud crack and Felix nearly jumps out of his skin, drops the wooden spoon into the pot he was stirring. Sauce splatters all over his apron, and he curses, gives Minho a dirty look, but Minho has no patience left in his body. The captain. His captain. Not her. Why her?!

“Your little charity case is trying to get into our captain’s pants,” Minho barks out, probably loud enough for anyone lingering in the mess to hear. He doesn’t care. They should all know the audacity of their new favourite.

“Who?!” Felix asks, incredulous, fixing Minho with an infuriatingly patronising look.

“Your little charity case. Your pet. Fucking Han Jisung,” he spits out and Felix’s eyes widen before they narrow again, this time much less friendly.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you, Minho, he’s not my … what the fuck?!”

“Whatever,” Minho interrupts him, waves his hand dismissively rolls his eyes, “what matters is that he’s trying to get into the captain’s pants.”

Felix’ eyes narrow even further.

“I don’t understand what you of all people are trying to say with that.” Minho’s clenches his fists so hard he hears a knuckle pop.

“He hasn’t even been here for a year, and he’s already trying to seduce the only woman on the ship. It’s preposterous, it’s disrespectful, it’s …”

Felix shakes his head and turns back to the pot, decisively grasping the spoon, stirring whatever he’s cooking with all the calm in the world. He doesn’t even look at Minho when he finally speaks.

“Well, does she want him, too?” he asks nonchalantly, and Minho’s vision goes blood-red. When he comes to, there’s sauce spilled all over his shirt and his hands are wrapped around Felix’s throat, straining against him where Minho has him pinned against the wall, harder than he knows he should. But Felix is just glaring back at him, coughing, but unfazed in his fury. His foot kicks out and painfully catches Minho in the knee. Minho almost welcomes the pain.

“I can’t believe you would take a stranger’s side over all of us, over the captain who saved your fucking life,” he screams and Felix’s eyes narrow to slits. Behind Minho, the kitchen doors slam open again, and then he’s being dragged back, away from Felix whose voice cuts him deeply.

“Don’t pretend like this is about the captain, you fucking hypocrite,” Felix yells, “you’ve been fucking her for years.”

Changbin is in front of him, his hands on his chest, pushing him away from Felix and muttering calming words when Felix delivers the final blow.

“You’re just scared she won’t want you any more when she finally realises what an asshole you are. When she realises there’s someone much nicer out there.”

Minho thinks everyone in the room might hear his heart crack cleanly in two. He shoves Changbin to the side and lunges at Felix again, shoving him into the wall so hard he hears Felix’ head thunk against the wall, hears Felix’ hiss of pain. He can’t see Felix’ face, can barely make out the contours of the kitchen, tears of rage in his eyes blinding him. Changbin grabs him again, his arms locking around Minho’s middle, lifting him off the floor as he carries him away.

“I fucking hate you,” Minho screams, legs thrashing, trying to get out of Changbin’s iron grip. He barely recognises his own voice, so shrill and vengeful. Another tear makes a track down his burning cheeks, “we should’ve fucking left you there.”

The last thing he hears is Felix scoffing out in disbelief before Changbin is dragging him from the kitchen, through the mess and the living room, Minho kicking and screaming in his hold all the way up the first flight of stairs, until Changbin kicks open the door to Minho’s quarters and throws him onto his bed unceremoniously. He crosses his arms and fixes Minho with a look so stern that it makes Minho falter, stare back at him petulantly.

“Minho,” Changbin warns, his face harder than Minho has ever seen it. He suddenly feels very small. “Minho, whatever it is that’s got you so fucked up that you’re fighting your friends, sort it out before you do any more damage. This isn’t cool.”

Minho’s vision is blurry with tears, and he tries, but there’s no way to will them down any more. When he opens his mouth to speak, a pathetic sob tumbles out.

“What is it about Han Jisung that has you all so fucking infatuated?” he chokes out, venom spilling out between the tears that are now running down his cheeks freely, “why is everyone on his fucking side?”

“Huh?! Nobody is on anyone’s side, there are no si–“

“Yes, there are!” Minho screams, sits up enough so he can jab a finger in Changbin’s direction. “Ever since he arrived, he’s been turning everyone against me. Prissy little pretty boy waltzes in and I question his motivations, and you all make me out to be the bad guy? When all I wanted was to keep you safe, keep us safe, like I have done for years. Does that mean nothing to you? Do you know what I’ve given for this crew?”

“Minho, …” Changbin mutters, and Minho thinks he can see a flicker of uncertainty in Changbin’s eyes. It adds fuel to the fire burning him from the inside out.

“It’s good to know what you all fucking think of me. Go canoodle with your new boytoy. I hope he’s as good with a knife as I am because next time one of you gets jumped you better not count on me any more …”

Minho knows it’s extreme, knows deep in his heart that he would never abandon them. But he’s tired. He’s so hurt, his heart feels like it’s bleeding.

“Minho, …” Changbin says again, and it’s even softer this time. “We don’t … we don’t want to choose sides. We don’t hate you. You’re … Minho, our Minho. Yes, you made a wrong call the other day, but we all know why you did it. We never held it against you. We just don’t understand why you hate him so much. He’s a good guy. Actually, I think you two would get along really well, if you just gave it a chance.”

Minho tries to scoff, but it comes out as more of a hiccup. He refuses to look at Changbin, just shakes his head at the floor.

“Well, I’m glad he’s a good guy, hope that works out for you,” he spits, bitterness laced in his voice.

“How is that what you took from what I just said?” Changbin asks, but then gives up. The fact that he does is a dull pang in Minho’s heart. “Fine, we won’t talk about him now. I just need you to know that you’re loved. By us. By all of us. Do you understand?”

Minho hears the allusion to her, but he knows that Changbin’s wrong. Because she doesn’t love him. Not like he loves her. Suddenly, he’s bone tired, his whole body aches with it as he turns away.

“Get some sleep, Min. And tomorrow, you’ll apologise and Felix will apologise and all will be well again.”

There’s silence, like Changbin is waiting to see if Minho will find anything else to say, but he doesn’t. He sniffles into the silence, his body aching with a pain so deep he doesn’t know what to do with it. Before he can even look up, door closes softly and Minho crumbles.

When the captain knocks later that night, calls his name, her voice a soft balm that he wishes he could let soothe him to sleep, he’s still sitting on the floor next to his bed, his limbs shivering with the ache in his chest where his heart should be. He doesn’t respond, lets her think he’s asleep. She leaves after a few minutes and Minho hates himself.

Jisung had never seen Felix angry before and god, he hadn’t thought it could be this bad, not with Felix’s usual soft, sunny demeanour. But no. It was terrifying. His sugary sweet smiles replaced by withering scowls, all turned inwards, muttering curses under his breath.

Jisung had come to dinner and found Felix like that, refusing to speak more than a few words, staring at his plate stony. Jisung was just about to succeed in wordlessly staring at Seungmin for long enough to get him to ask Felix what had happened, when the doors opened and Changbin made his way to their table. His eyebrows were furrowed in worry, and it made Jisung even more worried.

“Did you throw him overboard?” Felix asked, bitterness laced in his voice. Changbin gave him a pointed look and shook his head. Felix scoffed, rolled his eyes. “Too bad.”

Changbin, faced with everyone else’s puzzled eyes boring into him, heaved out a sigh.

“Felix and Minho had … a fight,” he explained, but Felix almost immediately cut him off.

“We didn’t have a fight, Lee Minho barged into my kitchen and picked a fight, there’s very distinct difference,” he spat, but Changbin seemed to have had enough. He slammed a fist onto the table. Felix’ eyes went wide.

“He may have picked the fight, but you also said some more than nasty things, Felix,” he rebuked Felix, a whose face turned an angry red. “And now we are going to stop talking about this, before more people get hurt, got it?”

Felix gave him a nasty glare through the burning of his cheeks but didn’t fight Changbin, only picked up his still mostly full plate and disappeared into the kitchen. Jisung met Hyunjin’s eyes, but even he just shrugged, and Jisung did his best to drop it. Later, he quietly helped Felix do the dishes, ignoring the questions and worry burning on his tongue. Then he quietly followed Felix into their cabin, quietly undressed and got ready for bed, peeking out from behind his book as Felix climbed into his bed and murmured a good night.

But now it’s the morning and whatever Minho had done to upset Felix must’ve cut deep because when Jisung arrives at breakfast, Felix is glaring at the slice of bread on his plate and barely speaks, slamming the kitchen doors closed behind himself when he’s done.

So when Jisung is in the bath later that morning and Minho walks in? The tension in his body pulls tight, and he can feel the confrontation coming from a mile away.

Jisung had chosen the middle one of the three bathtubs in the bathroom today, had washed almost half a bar of the pine scented soap into the water before he sunk into it, his back to the door, letting the hot water soothe the strain right out of his muscles. He doesn’t open his eyes when he hears the door open and shut behind him. It was morning, after all, not unusual for the rest of the crew to start washing up. Though when the seconds tick by and there’s no other movement, Jisung starts wondering.

When he turns around, he makes eye contact with Minho, and Jisung’s body tenses up all over again.

He didn’t like being in the same room as Minho on any given day, but being here, in this small room, alone – it was more than uncomfortable. But true to his resolution, Jisung refused to budge, staring back at Minho defiantly, daring him to do something. After a few more seconds, Minho seems to make up his mind, his face hardening as he walks to the low bench and kicks off his boots.

Jisung frowns and settles back into the warmth of the water, sinking in until he can feel it tickle his earlobes. He forces his eyes to shut, but it’s hard when he can hear Minho move around the room, lighting the logs, passing by right behind Jisung to pick up a bar of soap, pouring water from the heater into the tub until he deems it full enough.

Jisung’s pretty sure Minho wouldn’t drown him in the public bathroom, but he can’t help but crack a careful eye open. Minho is facing away from him, testing the water with the tips of his fingers. Jisung is just about to close his eyes again before Minho can catch him, when Minho pulls his shirt over his head and Jisung’s eyes fly wide open.

His back is broad, milky skin pulled taut over planes of muscle that shift as his hands work the strings of his pants. With a shudder he notices the faded red tracks of nails running down from his shoulder blades, between the myriad of small, lighter scars dotted over his skin, and his whole face flushes when Minho shoves down his pants and the red marks trail down over his ass, round, perfect, flexing and jiggling a little as he moves in a way that has Jisung’s brain short-circuit a little bit, and then Minho turns around and …

Oh.

Oh, wow.

Minho’s hung. Even flaccid, his cock hangs hard and heavy and thick between his thick, muscled thighs, and Jisung blinks at it entirely stupidly for entirely too long before he forces his eyes up, past Minho’s abs and chiseled chest and dusty nipples (and a collection of love bites around his collarbones that make Jisung feel lightheaded) until his eyes meet Minho’s, who’s staring straight back at him with a condescending, shit-eating grin. There’s a darkness in his eyes that makes Jisung slightly uneasy, and he flinches, embarrassment flushing his face. But he sets his jaw, pretends he doesn’t care, glares at Minho, dares him to say something, but Minho just quirks an eyebrow and kicks his pants off the rest of the way and gets into the tub – facing him? Jisung blinks stupidly. Why the fuck is he facing him?!

Dumbfounded, Jisung tries not to, but he still watches every movement as Minho throws his leg over the side and gets into the tub, sinking into the hot water with a happy sigh that shoots straight between Jisung’s legs and makes his traitorous cock twitch slightly. Jisung gives Minho one last dirty look before he leans back, closes his eyes again, does his best to look calm and collected as he spends the next five minutes trying to talk down the semi he’s sporting just from looking at Minho. Stupid fucking Minho. Why did he have to be hot?! Though he supposes if the captain was sleeping with anyone, she would be …

The nail marks, the love bites. It confirms it, doesn’t it, Jisung thinks, and there’s an ugly stab of jealousy in his heart. Well, technically, they could be from anyone, but with everything he’s heard … Jisung has to suppress a shudder when his brain conjures up the image of her sinfully beautiful body under Minho, her heat, her soft, plush lips, object of his own wet dreams, wrapping tightly around Minho, fingers digging into his skin as he fucks her deep and hard with those thick thighs and that giant fucking cock of his that would probably feel so good against his prostate …

His traitorous cock responds happily, chubbing up even more, and Jisung huffs out in annoyance.

“Wow, you’re so annoying you’re annoying yourself? Go figure,” Minho ribs from the other tub. Jisung’s eyes fly open. Minho is lying back, annoyingly muscular arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed, an annoying smirk on his lips.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Jisung just grumbles out. He closes his eyes, leans back again, affecting an indifference as if his cock isn’t half hard and Felix’ anger isn’t bubbling through his veins.

“What? I’m not the one huffing and puffing at my own thoughts,” Minho says casually and Jisung snaps. He knows this will not end before he even finishes his first sentence.

“What is your problem, actually?!” he hisses, props his arms on the side of the tub and pulls himself up to a relaxed seat. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me, too, like you did with Felix last night?”

Minho’s eyes shoot open at that, and Jisung notes with satisfaction that his confidence wavers for a split second. But before he knows it, Minho’s eyes narrow again, and he leans back, pretending to get comfortable against the wooden wall of the tub.

“Jesus, it’s worse than I thought,” Minho says, “you’re like his little lapdog. Yap yapping away. All bark, no bite.”

Oh, this asshole.

“No bite, huh?” Jisung spits, sits up so fast the water laps against the side of the tub dangerously. At least it gets Minho to finally open his eyes properly. “The bruise on your jaw you carried around with you for two weeks told a different story.”

Minho huffs out a laugh.

“Nothing more than a pin prick. I’ve been stabbed, kid, your little fist hardly did any damage.”

“Well, that’s great to know, then next time I won’t hold back when you pick a fight with my friend.”

Minho raises an eyebrow at Jisung, fixing him with his dark eyes, and it’s a little intimidating, to have Minho’s whole attention like this. But

Jisung stubbornly refuses to waver.

“Your friend?”

Jisung falters, and Minho catches it immediately, digs his finger deeper into his weak spot.

“You’ve hardly been here for three months, you don’t know what friendship means on this ship, princess.”

Jisung is half out of the water before the hated nickname is even fully past Minho’s lips. A wave of water splashes onto the floor and Minho’s eyes seem to dip down to his newly exposed stomach, the dip of his waist, for just a split second. At least Jisung’s not hard any more.

“Fucking stop calling me that,” Jisung hisses. Minho raises both his eyebrows.

“Why? I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

“You know full fucking well, why,” Jisung replies, his fingers digging into the side of the tub almost painfully, “you heard that fucker call me that the day you tried to get me killed, and you still decide to say it. You really are just a bad fucking person.”

Minho blinks at him, his face an unreadable mask. Without another word, he sits up, supports both his hands on the side of the tub and heaves himself out of the water. Jisung is speechless. Is he just going to walk away? He watches Minho towel his hair and scoffs out a disbelieving laugh. There’s no humour in it.

“What? Nothing?”

“I didn’t fucking try to get you killed,” Minho says, quietly, harshly.

Jisung shakes his head, heaves himself out of the tub as well, grabs his towel to wrap around his waist.

“Sure you didn’t,” he scoffs and Minho whips around, stares him down.

“All I do, everything I do, is to protect this ship, the captain, and the crew, okay? I didn’t know if I could trust you, so I kept you somewhere I could keep an eye on you. I was not going to let anything happen to you.”

Minho turns from him again, bending down to pick up his pants. Aggressively, he pulls them over his still damp legs. Jisung’s trembling with rage now, his fist balled at his side.

“Why would I believe you? You let that fucker punch me, you let him touch me.”

Jisung watches as Minho’s movements falter, watches his fingers tremble as he does up his pants. What does he have to be upset about? Jisung takes the moment to grab his own shirt, shrugging it over his shoulders, though it does little to quell the trembling of his body. He feels nauseous. The moist heat of the room makes him dizzy.

“Well, if you would stop fucking flinching away from me like I’m dangerous …” Minho starts, but his sentence trails off. Jisung scoffs in disbelief. He feels poisoned. Poisonous.

“You know, the captain always tells me that everyone on this ship is family, that you … we keep each other safe. Everyone keeps saying that you keep them safe. But I don’t feel safe.”

The sentence tumbles into the silence of the room, and Minho freezes. He looks like he’s been slapped. But Jisung isn’t done yet, the heaviness in his chest finally abating a little bit with every word of this he finally gets off his chest.

“I know you didn’t like me when I arrived. And that’s fine. But ever since then, you’ve shut down every single attempt of mine to bridge the gap between us. And then you tried to kill me …”

“I didn’t …” Minho whispers, but Jisung interrupts him, roughly.

“… you torment me by calling me what he called me, you leave every room I enter, refuse to even fucking look at me.”

Jisung would laugh at the fact that Minho even refuses to look at him now, only blinks at the floor, but there is no humour in this situation at all. Jisung feels broken open, red, and raw, in front of the guy who’s been making his life a living hell. Suddenly, Minho turns, grabs his shirt and pushes past Jisung. He shoves his feet into his boots and Jisung angrily realises that he just plans on leaving.

“Say something, you coward,” he curses, and Minho finally looks up at him. He looks devastated.

“I didn’t try to kill you, I … I didn’t realise that’s what that fucker called you … after my … after Felix … I … fuck, I_gut_ people like that, I cut them limb from limb, I would never … fuck,” he curses and rips open the door, makes down the hallway without even bothering to put his shirt on. Jisung follows him before he can think better of it.

He catches up with Minho only a few feet down the hallway, pulls him back by his arm and pushes him into the wall, hard.

“No, you don’t run away from this,” he spits and stares up at Minho, who’s unfortunately still a few inches taller than him. “Why do you hate me so much?”

Minho blinks at him, his lips slightly parted in surprise, bunny teeth peeking out from underneath his top lip in a way that makes him altogether less intimidating and then clamps his lips shut, furrows his eyebrows, stares at Jisung with a frustrated desperation in his eyes.

“I don’t fucking hate you!” he hisses out, “You’re one of us now, and I would give my life for you just like I would for every other person on this ship, but you hate me because you’re scared of me and I can’t even blame you because everything I do somehow … ends up wrong with you.”

Now it’s Jisung’s turn to stare blankly and Minho shoves him back until Jisung’s back hits the wall. Except this time, it doesn’t feel threatening, not when there are tears of frustration glistening in Minho’s eyes. He lifts his hand, jabs his index finger into Jisung’s chest, his erratic breath fanning over Jisung’s face and Jisung’s heart rabbits in his chest. A drop of water drips from Minho’s raven locks, runs down his neck, pools in the dip of his collarbone.

“I don’t know what it is about you, but you drive me fucking crazy,” Minho breathes out and Jisung’s body moves before he can even realise what he’s doing.

Both of his hands wrap around the back of Minho’s neck, and he pulls him down, straight into his own parted lips. Minho makes a choked sound in the back of his throat, but Jisung doesn’t let up, digs his fingernails into the skin of Minho’s neck, presses his lips against Minho’s harder. When his brain catches up to his body, he tries to pull away, but Minho doesn’t let him, pushes closer, crowds him against the wall, trapping Jisung’s body between his strong arms and slipping his tongue into Jisung’s mouth. Molten hot need bubbles in Jisung’s gut and he moans pathetically. One of his hands skates down Minho’s chest, smoothes over his hot skin, thumb catching on Minho’s nipple and Minho hisses into his mouth. But it seems to shock Minho out of whatever it is they’re doing because suddenly, he pulls back, stumbles back a few steps and stares at Jisung with wide eyes.

Where Jisung is flushed and embarrassingly hard underneath the towel around his waist, Minho is deathly pale, and he doesn’t look okay at all. Jisung’s stomach drops.

“Minho?” he whispers, as gentle as he can.

Minho blinks rapidly, shakes his head, takes a few shaky steps backwards, before he turns and flees, runs up the stairs.

Hurried footsteps sound behind you as you push open the door to your office. You whirl around and come face to face with a flushed, wide-eyed Chan.

“Jesus, is everything okay?” you ask, your heart in your throat at how panicked Chan looks.

“Captain, I …” he starts, before he turns around, checking if there’s anyone behind him, “you have to promise me you won’t be angry with me for telling you this, but I can’t not tell you. Like, you’re our captain, you have the right to know, even though he will kill me for this.”

There’s a blind panic running through your veins as you stare at Chan.

“Chan, if you don’t tell me right now…”

“I saw Minho and Jisung kiss. Downstairs. Outside of the baths."

< chapter IV - chapter VI (coming: friday, april 12, 3pm CET) >

series masterlist // skzms masterlist // kofi

🔖 series taglist and general taglist open! be 18+ and have your age in bio when you ask to be added

taglist part 1: @puppyminnnie @like-a-diamondinthesky @lyramundana @laylasbunbunny @minsflannelwrap148 @caitlyn98s @straystays2345 @3rachasninja @maximumkillshot @sungprotector @stayconnecteed @mellhwang @chlodavids @kookiesbunny @noellllslut @warren-thedarkangel @kidrauhlschik @anyhow-everything @krishastumblernow @cutiespaghetti @hobi-szn @usagi---mochi @stolasisyourparent @steadysuitenthusiast @queen-in-the-shadows

@ayoitschannie @starsandrqindrops @redstayrosie @vitrealisbunny @seukijeuxq @bakedlilgoonie @bookworm731 @jazziwritesthings @katsukis1wife @minhos4thkitty @gbskzlover @armystay89 @chuwii3o @foivetimesacharm @palindrome969 @luvyev @binnies-binna @gimmeurtmi @ashareeboobear @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @staysinbloom @f1wh0r3 @mnwrld @linocz @linosssss

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Girl Code - HHJ - OneShot

pairing: art professor hyunjin x admin femreader

genre: office au, university au, coworkers to lovers, angst, fluff,

romantic trope: enemies to lovers (I DID MY BEST OKAY?)

word count: ~4k

rating: T (for at least one objectifying comment)

warnings: hyunjin in glasses, with paint streaks on his clothes and person; mc is kinda rude to him; someone is actually a horrible person in this; characters drink but everyone is of age; hyunjin is older (about 28), mc is 24; probably some cursing because it's me and cursing is my native language;

a/n: story #5 in the skz as romantic tropes collab with @jl-micasea-fics. this is a little bit of her fault too as when the magic school photos dropped she mentioned hyunjin as an art professor. i chose this trope (e2l) to challenge myself as it's not my regular jam annnnnnd i don't know if i really did it all that well. i did try. please be kind to this chronic f2l writer. i apologize for any typos or mistakes. i am my own editor.

-----

Pretty Privilege.

It’s not a thing you personally have experienced, to your knowledge. Maybe you have. Maybe once amongst your friend group, you were considered the stand out and someone gave you a pass because they liked the way your eyes are shaped, or how you smile with teeth, or whatever.

You’ll allow that.

But generally, you hate that it even exists. Pretty privilege. Isn’t it enough to get to be pretty in this world? Without the world groveling at your feet and simultaneously pushing any obstacle out of the way for you? 

So when Professor Hwang is hired as the new art professor at the university where you admin, you take an immediate dislike. After, at first, the overwhelming surge of attraction because he truly is the prettiest human you’ve ever seen outside of screen. 

Even when your work friends discuss romance, and when Juhye from the Performative Arts department (she has basically the same job as you, just different department) mentions that she thinks he might be interested in her, you join in that yes, he’s very attractive and seems nice, and of course he’d be a great partner for her.

Even if you kind of hate him. 

And since you admin in the same department as he teaches (Fine Arts, obv), it’s your job (according to your friends and the unspoken rules that you really wish were spoken and written down) that you hype her up when he’s in the vicinity. You have to.

Girl Code: requiring you to promote her, and not be too friendly with him because one does not want to violate Girl Code.

Once in undergrad was enough and you would do anything not to experience that ostracization ever again. 

Unspoken rules that make life more difficult that it already is. You feel very much like you hyping Juhye is as subtle as a truck, and in doing so you are as awkward as well, whatever is very very awkward.

“You locked yourself out again?” You do your best not to hiss at him, but in over one semester of him being on the faculty, the man has locked himself out of his Canvas account at least a dozen times.

Hyunjin, Professor Hwang, as he is to his students, gives you the most sheepish smile, and deep down you acknowledge that it’s cute as hell. This man who could be art himself, looking self-conscious that he can’t be trusted with the basics of technology. 

“I know. I don’t know how I do this.” He shrugs, straightening his wire-rimmed glasses. “Isn’t my laptop supposed to save that info for me, so I never have to try and remember?”

“It is.” You think to offer that he can bring his laptop and you can look to see if Google, or whatever browser he uses (probably like Firefox or something equally horrendous), is saving his passwords, but you don’t. Because it’s not in your job description and: “Juhye’s pretty good at that kind of stuff. I’m sure she could make sure it’s doing that. Saving your passwords, login info.”

He hums in lieu of a response, moving from in front of your desk to behind you to see what you’re doing. He doesn’t ask, which makes you bristle, but you’re not doing anything confidential and he’s not really breaking your personal bubble, so you can’t say anything. 

“I’ve never asked,” he begins as though talking to you while you’re working isn’t annoying. “But I assume, this isn’t what you went to school for. Did you study tech…stuff?”

You’re mildly amused that he doesn’t use the official term ‘computer science’. But just mildly. You can still dislike someone and still find them amusing on occasion. 

“No.”

There’s silence, minus the sounds of your typing and mouse-clicking. 

“What did you study?”

You don’t like lying. It’s not a thing you prefer to do in life. You do, everyone does, but you try avoid it as much as possible. So even though you know this might interest Hyunjin and you know you should not interest him, ever, you tell the truth.

“Photography. I mean, I studied business, too, but mostly photography and mixed media art.”

There’s silence yet again.

“Which is why I’m here. In this department.” The silence has become unbearable. 

“Photography?”

He’s going to ask to see something.

“You good at it?”

You turn to look at him. He seems genuinely curious, not like he’s about to pass judgment. But, he’s hard to read. That perfect face can look very RBF according to Juhye (which she thinks just makes him all the more mysterious and sexy) and even blank which gives you less on which to assess him for. 

His hair pulled back in a ponytail and black textured turtleneck make him seem even more aloof, like the rich pretty boy in an anime. 

“My grades and graduating GPA said I was.” You put very little stock into quantifying art and creativity into numbered grades, but you did graduate well enough to please your parents. 

He rolls his eyes. “Oh okay then.” 

God, he’s annoying. 

“Anyway.” You turn back to your computer. “Everything is reset. Your email has the links to come up with a new password. Try to write it down somewhere, or you know, memorize it.”

“No space,” he replies. “No space for memorizing meaningless words and numbers and symbols.”

“Really? What’s your brain full of then? Creative genius?” You don’t even hide your sarcasm.

He laughs. “I hope so. Mostly just images of all the greats I studied. And then my students and what they do. It’s a photo album that never ends and changes order. Often.”

He’s slipping by you toward the door that leads out of the Fine Arts offices. You stare at him, his words lingering. 

“Thanks again,” he says, halfway through the door. He smiles at you, a small one, a polite ‘this is how we socially interact’ type smile.

It’s still so stupid beautiful. You hate it.

–

At the next day’s lunch, you dutifully let Juhye know about how you encouraged Hyunjin to bring his laptop and technology woes to her and she brightens and preens, and you almost feel like maybe you don’t hate him. 

It’s a small consolation. 

One of the benefits (there are just a few) of working at the school that you attended, in the department you majored in, is use of the facilities. Not whenever you want as the current students and professors get first claim on any studio, extra supplies, or the dark room. 

In two years of working post-undergrad, you’ve learned when the down times, the lesser claimed times were. Certainly not before midterms or finals. Nor right when the semester begins because all the overachievers feel like studio or dark room time will somehow make all the difference. 

But right now, in the in between times, you can book some dark room sessions which encourages you that someday you might ‘make’ it as a professional photographer, that you aren’t losing your skills. 

You’d taken a day to drive up to the nearest mountains to one; soothe your soul with nature (and pollen sadly) and two: take a new set of photos. As with everyone else in the 21st century, you use and manipulate digital photographs as well, but you also do film because it’s its own thing. 

As you turn on the red light bulbs in the darkroom, negatives now fully developed, you smile because film and the process of getting from undeveloped roll of film to tangible photo makes you happy. It’s a comforting process that you can almost do in your sleep. With how late it was when you went to bed last night is a good thing because two cups of coffee is not doing its usual thing. 

There’s a knock on the door of the dark room and your smile immediately drops. 

Damn students (it’s a fruitless grievance because it is their right as they are paying a ridiculous amount for this education, but ugh, it’s annoying to be on the bottom rung of the hierarchy).

“Occupied.”

“I left something in there that I need.”

It’s like every muscle of your body tenses, and every nerve sets alight. 

“Professor Hwang?” Like you need to confirm. 

There’s a pause, like he’s registering your voice before he says your name. 

“Yes, I’ve got the safe lights on, but if you make sure everything is off out there, I can open the door.” Sooner he comes in, the sooner he can leave. 

There’s a low chuckle. “I know the drill.”

You bristle at the patronizing tone.

“Everything is off.”

You open the door and mentally curse him. Even with the lights which you’d considered an unflattering shade of red, he still looks like art. 

Art like a rendition of a fallen angel or romantic vampire with the shadows on his face and red tinge his neck-length brown hair takes on. His glasses are horn-rimmed today, his white shirt pink in the light and sleeves rolled up, black slacks. There are at least three paint smudges on his forearms.

He nods and gives you a polite smile. It’s the most reserved he’s ever been with you, at least since first meeting. You would never describe him as outgoing by any means, but certainly friendly, amiable. He doesn’t hold any of the underlying snobbery of other art professors who have lived so long in the ivory towers of academia and the art world, that any one not well-versed is unworthy of such allowances as kindness or care. 

For all his faults, Hyunjin is not the worst. 

You step back, aware that you are essentially, just staring at him like a moron. He slips in, glances at the negatives out that you’ve just developed.

“Pleased?” he asks as he moves toward the shelves of chemicals and random items (things left and abandoned by years of students and professors - your favorite is a tiny figurine of the black cat from Kiki’s Delivery Service. No one has taken it back, as though left here on purpose by someone in the past six years. He’s the official mascot of this particular dark room and therefore your favorite). 

“Pleased?” you repeat.

“With your work?” He grabs some acrylic paint tubes off the shelf. “What you just developed?”

Now you feel stupid. Obviously that’s what he’s asking about. Not if you’re pleased to see him. That would be stupid. You aren’t. Surely even he can see that.

“Um, not sure.” You return to the film and its small images. You set one image over the projected enlarger so it’s visible to the both of you. It’s not much, a solitary tree, slightly off center in the frame. “Haven’t had a chance to see if it was a total waste of roll or not.”

Even though you don’t look to see him move, you feel him stand slightly behind you to also take in the image. 

You hold your breath for a number of reasons. 

One; because you don’t need to breathe in his cologne which is actually really lovely (so you hate it).

Two; because his nearness is off-putting as he’s not really breaking any social rules by being too close and darkrooms aren’t exactly spacious, but dammit he’s close. 

Three; because you actually want to know what he thinks.

That last one pisses you off the most. You and he don’t dabble in the same medium (he’s painting and drawing; you always stuck with photography, sometimes mixed media) so who is to say his thoughts are at all valuable.

Not that he isn’t skilled. Every professor in the Visual Arts department is, even the ones you dislike the most.

Like him. 

“It’s lonely.”

You flinch at his words, his voice seeming loud in the quiet of the room. 

“Being asymmetrically composed, the tree feels even more out of place and lost.”

You force yourself to continue staring at the project and not turn to see his expression. Because you might show your thoughts and those don’t need to be discoverable by Professor Hwang Hyunjin.

“I like it. Even if it’s a bit out of focus.”

You lean into the projection to see that he is correct. There is a slight blur to the edges, fuck it all. 

You straighten back up. “Intentional.” Not that you moving in and checking it wasn’t a damn giveaway that you are lying like a lying liar, but maybe he’s stupid.

“Ah.”

Maybe a little. Or he lies too. 

“Are you entering any contests or doing a showing?”

Does he truly want to have a normal conversation right now? In the dark room? Alone? When you are working on your own stuff?

You take a few steps away, turning off the projector. 

“I don’t have anything specific in mind. Just keeping a hand in, you know?”

He nods, the shadows lengthening then shortening on his face. “Not that this subject matter is relevant, but you know our theatre department is looking for a photographer? Dr. Kim mentioned it just yesterday.”

“They are?”

“You can do action and work with that type of lighting?”

You work hard not to sneer. “Yes. The photography program here is pretty thorough.”

He shrugs. “I would hope so, though I must admit I know little of Dr. Cha’s work with students. And only the bare essentials of the craft.” He’s smiling, looking far less like a work of untouchable art and more like someone who regularly laughs; at himself and at the absurdity of the world. 

The dried paint on his cheek is wrinkled and breaking with that smile. 

You mentally shake yourself. 

When you don’t say anything, making the silence veer on awkward, he clears his throat. 

“You should apply. I think you’d do well.” He laughs now. It’s silly. “Not that I have much understanding the ins and outs of course, my recommendation is probably worth little.”

“You’d say something?”

“To Kim? Sure.” 

“With one photo?”

He now looks amused. “I’ve seen your instagram, too. Dr. Cha often shares his former and current students’ work and I follow her.” He starts to the door. “I’ll say something.” He holds up the paint tubes. “Thanks for letting me in.”

He opens the door before looking back. “Have a good night.” And disappears through it. 

The room feels strange now. The red hue seems not as striking, and the air carries that hint of piquancy of his cologne.

You do a physical shake of yourself now before returning to make some prints. 

–

When you see Juhye out for drinks with the rest of your compatriots Friday night, you ask her. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about the theatre photographer position?” She works in the Performative Arts department, even updates the website. Of all people, she would be one of the first to know. 

She’s had about two more cocktails than you which means her eyes take several moments to focus on you. You lean against the bar next to her, waiting. 

“Why would I?”

You bite your tongue to retort. “Because I’m a photographer.” 

She wrinkles her nose, saying your name in the most patronizing tone you’ve heard since high school. “They want professionals.”

You jerk back as though she swung a dagger at you. 

But you try again. Because friends. And Girl Code. “I applied though. Would you say something to Dr. Kim please?”

She takes a deep breath that you can hear despite the loud house music pumping in this bar. “Honey,” The sickly sweetness of the condescension makes you want to gag. “We’re friends and all, but I am not risking my name just because you think you can do something like this. Real friends tell each other the truth.”

As she finishes this quasi-sermon, the bartender produces another drink for her, and a receipt to sign. She does, scrawling also her snapchat username. He takes the slip, makes eye contact with her and smirks before moving to another patron. 

“What was that?” you ask, still processing her apparent disregard for your dreams and talent. “I thought you were ‘in love’ with Professor Hwang?” You are petty enough to do finger quotation marks. 

She rolls her eyes and shrugs, already looking past you for the rest of your group. “I am. But wanting a luxury car doesn’t mean that one can’t ride in a station wagon.”

If you’d had more liquor, maybe you could have thrown up on her as you currently feel ill, both disgusted and horrified. 

To equate humans to cars reeks of objectification and lack of seeing someone as a whole person. 

And you might hate Hwang Hyunjin, but you know he’s more than just a beautiful (on the surface) man. 

Juhye slips by you to find the others as you realize how incredibly shit of a friend she is. Of a person. In fact, you turn to stare at her back in astonishment because you thought you were good at reading people, at sifting through the kinds of people you want to surround yourself with. Juhye has never been someone you were incredibly close to, but you thought she was decent, even if her taste in men was lacking.

“I didn’t know you came here.”

As though your life is a full-on drama, you turn back to see that in her place is Hyunjin. He’s got a martini glass in hand, the liquid a vibrant green. 

“Rarely,” you answer tonelessly, your brain still trying to understand the revelations of the last five minutes. You nod to his drink. “What’s that?”

He grins, alcohol having warmed his smile. “Appletini.”

A surprised laugh exits your mouth before you realize it. You assumed he’d probably drink something like fancy single malt scotch or absinthe (the green). Here he is, this impressive and young art professor, one who has had an extolled art showing in the last year (you might have researched him some when you realized how much you hated him), drinking the equivalent of Apple Jacks in a martini glass. 

His smile is a little cute.

He isn’t wearing glasses right now, which is a shame, but his t-shirt and jeans give him less of that art prof vibe, and more of the cute guy you meet at a bar. 

“Good?” you ask, finding yourself bewildered and amused.

He nods emphatically, offering it to you as though you’re friends who share.

You shake your head, even though you sort of want to. 

“Thank you. I should go.” It might be the lighting, but he looks way too cozy with his hair tucked behind his ears, the wind from outside making it tousled. 

You look around to see Juhye and several of your friends over at a booth. They are watching with piercing eyes. 

Juhye whispers to another.

You feel it. The momentary terror of doing something wrong, the violation of the code in talking to your friend’s crush.

“Before you do.” He sets down his drink, inching a bit closer to you. “I talked to Dr. Kim. About the job? I can’t say for sure, but I think he was definitely looking forward to talking with you about it. I showed him your series with the cyclists by the Han River, from your insta. One of my favorites of yours.” 

You feel your eyes itch all of a sudden, a sudden tightness in your throat. You force back the tears that threaten. 

“I…thank you.”

His smile gets even bigger, his eyes nearly squeezed shut in his joy. 

You need to go. Like now. 

“Of course. What are friends for? Or at least, coworkers.” He giggles. 

Friends. The spike of anxiety lessens. Because you know what real friendship is. And it’s not in whispers and unspoken rules and carelessness. 

It’s thoughtfulness, it’s giving without asking for anything back. 

“If you get the job, I expect you to buy me a drink.” His playful words make you tense all the more, because you see it. You see how kind he is.

He sees you.

“I’m kidding,” he says almost as quickly. “I just–”

“I know.” You meet his eyes and smile though you imagine it’s more teary than warm right now. “I’ll definitely buy you another appletini if I get it.”

There’s no RBF right now. Only sparkling eyes, turned up lips, and kindness. 

And you need to go.

“Sure. Um, bye.” You race out of there like being chased by a supervillain. 

–

It’s the end of the school year, and even though you still work during the summer (a lowly admin’s job is never done), you feel the excitement.

Because you’re changing departments. After photographing and doing promotional shots of the university’s spring musical, Dr. Kim wants you on staff full-time, to capture all of the Performative Arts department; the classes, the productions, even the silly open mics that the students and professors do every month. The website, the newsletter, the alumni magazine; all have a credit of yours by the time May ends. 

You feel like maybe you haven’t been treading aimlessly post-university as much as you thought. 

“So,” Hyunjin says, before taking a sip of his luminescent green cocktail. He leans on his elbows across from you. “We aren’t in the same department any more.” There’s a pout at the end, a small, silly thing that makes you roll your eyes, but deep down, you think it’s (he) is adorable. 

“I know. You’ll have to bug someone new when you forget your password. Again.”

His pout doesn’t leave. “They might be nicer to me.”

In the months that followed that night at the bar, you decided to apologize to him. It was in his office, when he was sorting through papers and you were nearly on your way home for the day. You had succeeded in avoiding Juhye and him for three days when you got the email from Dr. Kim for a quick interview. 

So you stopped by to thank him, then apologize for being rude.

“You hated me? Huh. I thought you were just kind of grumpy. It’s cute.”

To say you were simultaneously both flattered and outraged (he’d not even been offended, once?) would be understatement. 

He likes to tease you about it now.

“But to go back to my original thought,” he continues, reaching out to steal a fry from your plate. “No longer in the same department. We’ll have to try and see each other instead of just happening to run into each other.” He raises one eyebrow at you.

“Yeah. Ugh, are you a clingy friend?”

“Not really.” He pauses, taking another drink before setting it back down. “I am…a little bit of a clingy boyfriend.” 

You’re holding your breath again. 

You can acknowledge that you and Hyunjin aren’t just coworkers, he’s not your enemy (if he ever was) anymore. You’re definitely more friends with him than anyone else from work (you’ve pulled away from Juhye and her little group and honestly, you don’t miss them). 

Being friends, being friendly and open with Hyunjin has its own drawbacks because now you have to contend with how lovely a person he is; how talented, funny, goofy, and compassionate. Which makes it difficult. When you hated him, he was easy to keep at a distance.

Now that you like him, you might really like him.

“Uh, we aren’t dating.”

“What do you call this?” he asks, nonplussed that he’s brought up your entire relationship as a topic of conversation, as though you’re discussing the weather, or the latest student’s project. He points at your mostly empty plates, his martini glass, your half-full gin and tonic. Then he points at you and then himself.

“I’m paying though.” Spring in academia is a sprint to the finish and though he’d been joking about you owing him a drink if you got the job, you are currently owning up to it now that the semester is over. 

“So? Is it only a date if I pay?” He tsks at you. “I thought you were a feminist.”

Your glare doesn’t have the same bite as it used to. It’s too fond. 

“This is a date?”

He leans across the table, adjusting his glasses as though it’ll help him see you better. Even with familiarity, you still feel a bit overwhelmed by him. 

“I want it to be.”

There is no policy about coworkers dating at your university, just that professionality reigns at the school. There is no reason why you and Hyunjin cannot date. Even though you often feel like professors are on another level compared to the administration. 

He’s not even that much older than you. 

Perhaps it’s remnants of being so worried that you might break ‘Girl Code’ if you’re at all nice to him because of Juhye’s ‘claim’ that you are hesitant. Maybe you need to acknowledge that he is so much more than what you or Juhye reduced him to in the beginning.

Maybe you realize that you have been ‘dating’ him awhile without even comprehending it.

Maybe you also lean across the table, letting your lips brush against his stunning ones (if you painted like him, those lips would probably show up in a piece) and hear his soft exhale as though he relaxes. Because he realizes it too.

You like each other. A lot. 

His soft kiss in return gives you actual heart flutters.

“I guess I don’t mind a clingy boyfriend. Especially one who is still marked with paint on a date.” You point to the streak of white at his jaw. 

He takes your hand in his, gaze dropping to look at his drink, but his smile can’t be hidden.

“Good.”

---

(c) yoongihan 2024. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

When Fire meets Ice Masterlist

Genre: BL

Paring: Hyunjin x Felix

Warnings: the content in this story may be +18, please consider it before reading

Authors note: that’s the first BL story I have ever written in my life. I hope you would enjoy it. It’s not a long story it’s divided in six parts. There’s no Y/N here. The story is about Hyunjin and Felix. I was inspired by one TikTok I saw in winter. Each chapter will be uploaded on Tuesday

Synopsis: When the cold hearted Prince of Fire meets sweet litttle sunshine, The King of Winter, everything changes

—————————————

“Love? What is love? It’s something unexpected that comes and goes. Sometimes it’s fast and warm like a summer rain, and sometimes it’s deep like an ocean. Love can be anything. It can be a word, a touch, a smell. You can love unconditionally or under the worst circumstances. But the truth about love is that you cannot force it. If you are meant to be, it will come. So let’s not force it, Felix. Let’s just it be.”

—————————————

-> Part 1

-> Part 2

-> Part 3

-> Part 4

-> Part 5

-> Part 6

-> Main Masterlist

---

I just really love angsty ninth member fics

Feeling Drained.

That's where you're at. Being in a co-ed Kpop group was never a breeze; you knew that from the get-go. It was clear early on that you'd have to put in double the effort to earn even a fraction of the praise your bandmates effortlessly received.

But reality hit harder than you expected. You didn't foresee that people could be even nastier than the judges during evaluations.

And the relentless criticism you've faced has you second-guessing everything.

"Will they slut-shame me again if I hug Chan on camera?"

"Will they enforce another diet if I have a slice of pizza?"

And let's be real, it's made you withdraw even more. You used to share everything with your bandmates, but now, you're keeping everything bottled up, waiting for the pressure to burst.

You've been spending late nights in the practice room, trying to tweak your dance style to match the other Stray Kids members. You've been on strict diets and occasionally hit the gym with Changbin.

Your manager keeps pushing you to keep it up, saying it's for the "album's success" and to make your bandmates "feel less obligated to look after you".

But in trying to meet those expectations, you've convinced yourself you're taking care of yourself, when really, you're just safeguarding your reputation at the expense of your mental health.

At first, nobody noticed-until you kept turning down your favorite foods your bandmates offered, lost five kilos in a week, and started acting more formal around them.

In the end, it was the concern and support of your bandmates that truly made the difference.

Despite your efforts to conceal your struggles, they sensed your distress and rallied around you, determined to help you find healthier ways to cope and thrive.

"It breaks my heart seeing you like this," Jisung admitted one evening, his voice soft with empathy as he reached out to squeeze your hand. "We're here for you, no matter what."

Hyunjin chimed in, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "And we've got a plan to help you feel better.

Step one: unlimited servings of your favorite comfort food!"

Felix nodded in agreement, his eyes alight with determination. "Step two: we find fun ways to stay active together. No more punishing workouts, just good times with the Stray Kids crew."

Chan, ever the pillar of strength, wrapped you in a warm embrace, his voice gentle yet firm. "And step three: we drown out the haters with love and positivity. You're so much more than their words, and we'll remind you of that every step of the way."

Slowly but surely, their efforts began to chip away at the walls you'd built around yourself. They listened without judgment as you poured out your fears and insecurities, offering empathy and understanding in return. They reminded you that you were so much more than the harsh words of critics, that your worth was not defined by your appearance or achievements.

Together, you embarked on a journey of self-discovery and healing, finding joy and fulfillment in the simple pleasures of life. You danced not to meet impossible standards, but for the sheer joy of movement. You savored delicious meals without guilt or shame, knowing that nourishing your body was an act of self-love, not indulgence.

And as you embraced this newfound sense of freedom and self-acceptance, you found the courage to confront the toxic voices that had held you captive for so long.

"No more listening to those voices in your head," Changbin declared, his eyes ablaze with determination. "From now on, you listen to us. We've got your back, always."

With the unwavering support of your bandmates by your side, you learned to love yourself fiercely and unapologetically, embracing every aspect of who you are with open arms. And as you stood tall, a beacon of strength and resilience, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, as a family.

feel me

pairing: non-idol!han x gn!reader, some non-idol!felix x gn!reader

genre: angst with a happy ending. slight fluff.

word count: ~21k

warnings: angst with a happy ending. mutual pining that’s fully believed to only be one-sided by both parties. temporary relationship with felix. heartbreak. no communication at one part after jisung ghosts reader for almost three weeks. big brother-figure chris having serious talks with reader. fluff in certain parts, though. food mentions. hyunjin is kinda ready to throw down at one point tbh.

daisy’s notes: title origin from the golden child song bc the lyrics kinda fit haha <3 anyway rewrite of this old thing!! also sorry felix but if u get the sequel fic i'm thinkin of... u will be happy <3

Most people looked at the friendship you had with Chris and assumed that he was your best friend. The two of you had grown up down the road from one another, after all, and that had been why you ended up befriending one another. His family all knew you by name and knew all of your favorites (because Chris had learned them first and made sure everyone knew them), and they all watched you follow Chris around like a duckling when you were small. Pictures of the two of you littered the walls of both your childhood home and his, all from vacations your families had taken together. Plus your parents always made enough food for Chris on any given day, since he always found his way over for dinner at the most random times. If anything, Chris was family to you now, the big brother you never had (and, occasionally when he was being a little overly affectionate, he was your big bother). Before college, Chris Bang was one-hundred-percent your best friend…

Until you met Han Jisung on the first day of freshman orientation.

Sure, the reason you came to this school was partially because you knew you’d have a friend in the area (you liked the literature program a lot more), but things changed the day you met Jisung. The two of you had been a little wary of the other people in your group, all bragging about how they wouldn’t let anyone stop them from the party life they were craving. On one hand, you kind of admired the tenacity that took… but on the other, they were the rowdy bunch out of all the groups that were around. Even though you weren’t much of a party person, your annoyance at the time firmly came from the fact you were sinking so much money into this school—even without the financial aid and scholarships you’d managed to get. Partying was fun, but denying everything in favor of it? You couldn’t wrap your head around it.

And, apparently, neither could Jisung. He’d been separated from his friends, all in the same orientation group without him, and looked a little lost. You quietly moved your chair over to him after you grew annoyed with two people hardcore flirting with one another and ignoring the poor orientation leader who was just trying to tell you all about the general education program. He’d looked up at you, and you introduced yourself to him quietly—trying not to catch the attention of your orientation leader. She was too busy waiting for the novelty of it all to die down for a minute so she could do her job, so… Why not take the chance to introduce yourself to him?

He’d gazed at you for a moment behind his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose a moment later. “Han,” he’d said in a quiet voice. Then he cleared his throat, speaking a little louder, “I’m Han Jisung. Music management and music composition major.”

Already, you were impressed by him. Chris was in the music program himself, and you’d heard about how rigorous it could be at times—especially with the heavy course load that came from both programs. Chris had gone into it because he was… Well, he was Chris. Chris who was on the swim team and in the theater and the band and somehow found time to do community service, too. Jisung was a stranger to you in all the best ways, someone who already intrigued you. When you told him your own major, he had nodded along, no push to question your future career.

“Is that what you like?” He’d asked instead. “Books?”

It was one part of what you liked, at least. You nodded. “Do you love music?”

He’d smiled at you, and it was as if he’d become a different person for a moment. “It’s my passion,” he’d said, voice clear and bolder than before.

That had been what the two of you ended up talking about until your orientation leader managed to get control of the group again. She’d finally been given the go-ahead to give you a tour of campus, and you noticed that Jisung had decided to stick with you near the back of the group. He never said anything then, the two of you opting to listen to your leader instead, but you saw the tiny smile on his face when you were walking through the music floor of the arts building. Once you were released from your schedule for the day, he’d kept glancing at you, as if unsure of what he was about to do. Then he finally stepped up, holding up his phone.

“My friends and I are getting coffee off campus,” he said. “Do you want to come?”

That had been the moment that solidified the two of you as friends. You had happily agreed, exchanging numbers on the way as he told you about his friends. There was Felix, who he said was a sweetheart. Everyone loved Felix, and you’d eventually realize in time just how true that was. Hyunjin could be charismatic, although sometimes he could be a little sharp-tongued with people. Apparently, he and Jisung once hated each other before getting over their school rivalry—you’d never understand it, but everyone swore by it. And then there was Seungmin, who was witty and funny in all the best ways. The group seemed to accept you into their circle pretty quickly, and you honestly contributed that to Jisung…

Who you very quickly learned was incredibly funny in his own right. With the orientation group and with you alone, he’d been quieter. Polite and sweet as he could be. Yet you saw the way he loosened up over time when with his friends, genuinely funny and a bit louder with them. Maybe that was why you would end up clicking with him so well: he was versatile, conscious of the mood and finding a way to fit it well. You saw the way he seemed to naturally return to a quieter state when on his own, and you were happy to match that energy any day. 

When you returned to your dorm that day, Chris had been waiting for you. He’d watched you part ways with your new friends and decided to celebrate by squeezing the life out of you.

“You’re making friends!” He giggled, and it suddenly reminded you of the loving way your step-mom always treated you. He swayed with you, never letting you go. “You’re growing up!” 

This was definitely something he was reporting to your parents. Not that you cared: his family asked for you to look out for him, too, and you fully intended to follow through on the request. He’d already been giddy when you showed him your acceptance letter and announced you’d picked the school (he’d nearly squeezed the life out of you that day, too), gushing about how he’d have to introduce you to Minho and Changbin. That was why he’d been waiting for you that day, actually: the four of you were getting dinner together, Chris’s treat. The two of you had decided to call off any embarrassing stories (both of you had plenty of ammunition, the same way that both of his siblings had even more on you both), and you’d spent that dinner realizing just how much love you had for Chris.

That was why you had agreed to live with him come sophomore year. Regardless of whether he was being a brother figure or a bother figure, you’d agreed quickly when he gave you his clearly premeditated offer of taking the open room in his apartment. His old roommate had just moved out, and Chris apparently told him he “already had someone interested” when he brought the topic up to begin with. So he helped you carry your boxes into the apartment and the two of you enjoyed your takeout that night, giddy to be close once again. He’d invited Minho and Changbin over that night, too, to toast to your first day of living with Chris. It was at that point that you decided to introduce Jisung to them, inviting him over, too. 

Things came together from there. Minho recognized Jisung from a photo that Felix had shown him while he (and Hyunjin) were sitting around before dance practice started. Seungmin ended up getting pulled into the group through association with the rest of you, and it was you and Seungmin who pulled Jeongin into this circle. He’d been in your general education classes, and he seemed to get along pretty well with Seungmin. Seungmin introduced you to Jeongin, and you introduced Jeongin to the group, and everyone seemed to fit together in this sweet way. Even with all of you having friends of your own, you always seemed to come back to one another when times were rough.

By some stroke of luck, Hyunjin and Seungmin ended up moving in a few doors down from you and Chris. Despite Seungmin’s very vocal complaints (always made with love… you were pretty sure, at least), both of them seemed glad to have familiar faces nearby. The two always seemed to drop in when Chris was making dinner, always telling some story about their own lives. You realized that your stories almost always had Jisung and Felix in them after Seungmin pointed it out to you one night.

When did you start spending so much time with Felix? Jisung was naturally there because he was your best friend (officially now: the two of you had matching beaded bracelets you’d made for one another just to rub it in). But Felix…

Chris had picked up on how quiet you’d grown that night. But he waited to bring the topic up until one Saturday when the two of you were alone. He’d passed you the bowl of popcorn he’d made once before throwing himself onto the other end of the couch. “So. You and Felix...” 

You rolled your eyes. Your love life had always been pretty off-limits as a topic to anyone but Chris, and he was fully going to take advantage of that, wasn’t he? He’d given you a few much-needed days to figure out how you felt, and they were… Well, far from platonic. Felix was sweet as he could be, and you’d become so, so endeared to him when he started showing up to your apartment with baked goods. Everyone loved Felix, and you weren’t sure when your love for Felix became more than what it was before. Long before senior year, that was certain: every time you tried to pinpoint a beginning, you found yourself moving it further and further back to something else he’d done.

“I’m just curious!” Chris chuckled. “You always deny feeling anything for Jisung—I should have known it was Felix the entire time!”

Despite having the urge to, you didn’t roll your eyes that time. Your feelings for Jisung weren’t important. Not when he was your best friend, and having them would jeopardize that. Han Jisung did not love you the way you’d begun to love him, and you were more than happy to ignore that crush. It’d go away eventually once you stopped fantasizing about what a relationship with him would look like. And if it didn’t… Well, you’d figure that out when you came to it.

“You should go for it,” Chris said, shifting so he was slightly closer to you. “Felix is a good kid! He’s nothing like the last guy you dated—”

Oh, not this shit again. There was a reason you hadn’t dated in a while, and Chris was too aware of it. He’d been ready to get into a fist fight and call your friends as back-up. “Christopher—”

He ignored the use of your birth name, “I mean it. That guy was gross, and you deserve better than someone who thinks you should move in with them after a few weeks because living with a guy you aren’t dating is ‘weird.’” 

That had only been part of the reason you dumped the guy. You’d never told Chris any other parts because you knew what he’d say. Your ex hated Jisung because of how close the two of you were, and you weren’t going to date some insecure loser who thought he could control who you hung out with. He’d always been “fine” with the rest of your friends (begrudgingly so), but he’d targeted Jisung for some reason. Jisung was always too close to you, or he was too soft when around other people, or he was “obviously” in love with you and you were too blind to see it. If you’d let him take Jisung out of your life, you knew he’d eventually move on to someone else. It’d be Jeongin, and then Felix, and then Hyunjin… It had taken a while for you to realize it and accept it, but it was just a gateway for him to control you and your life. When you ended things with him, you told him he needed to grow the fuck up because you’d never ask him to do the things he was pressuring you to do. 

When you told Jisung that same day that you broke up with him, he’d watched you curiously for a minute. When you didn’t cry or say anything further, he smiled at you and asked if you wanted to celebrate. Jisung had treated you out for dinner that night, telling you about how he’d always thought you could do better. That guy hadn’t respected you enough to trust you, and all he could do was hope that he would eventually change for the better. It wasn’t your job to fix him, after all. You’d only left out the part where he said Jisung was in love with you: he didn’t need to know that, and  you didn’t need to hear him laugh it off as the joke that it was.

“I mean it.” Chris had moved closer to you when you never spoke up again, one hand squeezing your shoulder. “Felix is like a little brother to me. I think if you want to ask him out… The two of you would work well together.”

Maybe he had a point. But… “I thought I was your sibling.”

He rolled his eyes, moving back into his spot at the end of the couch. “Ask Jisung for help. You said they’ve known each other since high school, right?”

They have. They ended up rooming together their freshman year, and you’d almost always be spending at least a little time with Felix whenever you went to spend time with Jisung. He’d always be studying or on his way out, but he always made a point of hanging back just long enough to say hi to you and chat for a moment. Chris had a point, then. If anyone could help you, it would probably be Jisung.

(You wouldn’t know that Chris regretted the suggestion once he saw the way Jisung looked at you. He’d held his feelings to his chest for three years, and the mask slipped once when he thought no one was looking. The soft way he smiled at you, the tender look in his eyes when he heard you laugh… Chris would have taken the moment back if he could.)

Which was why you ended up in the MinSung apartment a few days later, sitting in Jisung’s computer chair. When you asked him for help, he’d agreed all too easily, saying something about how Felix did keep calling you cute. While he claimed to not know for sure (which you suspected was a lie), he’d been up front with you when he said he thought Felix might feel something toward you. Feelings in their vaguest form, but still something to give you genuine hope.

Minho had waited until you left to step into the doorway of Jisung’s room. “You’re an idiot.” 

Minho was the only person Jisung admitted his feelings about you to. He’d already picked up on it long ago, seeing the looks that everyone else seemed to not notice, and outright asked him about it. He never understood how no one, outside of himself, knew about the affection Jisung harbored for you. He’d never been all that subtle about it in Minho’s eyes, always so lovingly doting on you. He saw the way you clearly cared for Jisung, too. When he’d quietly asked Chris once whether you felt something for Jisung, he’d said you denied it every time. But while Minho had his dumb moments… He knew you were lying. You had the same loving look on your face whenever you looked at Jisung, dreamy-eyed and oh-so-tender when you engaged with him. You gave Jisung a safe place to hide when his anxiety was too much, always willing to leave with him and get him the space he needed. 

Surprisingly, Hyunjin called him the next morning, just to tell him the same thing Minho had said: you’re an idiot. Hyunjin always somehow seemed to pick up on Jisung’s feelings, too, but eventually believed him after he denied it enough times. You were Jisung’s best friend: was it really fair for him to love you so much when all you ever saw him as was a friend? 

It wasn’t. So he told Hyunjin to mind his business, causing the short-lived spat that the rest of the group heard about in the vaguest terms. Hyunjin had argued with him about it, saying that pushing you toward Felix was cruel to everyone involved. Jisung knew Felix liked you, though, and now he knew that you liked Felix. If Jisung was the only person to get hurt, he could live with it. Maybe he’d turn it into a song if he really needed to. It took a few days, but Hyunjin finally agreed to keep his mouth shut now that he’d spoken to Felix and confirmed that Felix genuinely did like you as more than a friend. If Jisung knew that you were genuine, then Hyunjin could live with it as long as Jisung took care of himself.

It wasn’t your fault that Jisung had fallen in love with you. He agreed to Hyunjin’s terms, and decided that he could live with the heartbreak if you were happy with Felix. Felix was a good person, always so loving and warm. He would treat you the way you deserved, loving you openly and affectionately. All it would cost Jisung was one heartbreak in exchange for your happiness. 

And for you? He would do it without hesitation.

One month into the semester, Jisung had already done a few things for you. Jisung went out of his way to ensure that you and Felix would sit together when given the chance, casually finding ways to move next to Hyunjin every time. A few weeks later, he’d casually dropped the fact that you were wanting to get into gaming more when the group was together, and you’d been confused until you saw the way Felix lit up at the topic. He’d immediately offered to let you join him and his friends, talking about free MMOs that you could play. All too easily, you managed to make conversation with him, talking about how you lacked experience with stuff like that… but you did have a Stardew Valley farm with Chris that the two of you worked on whenever you both had free time.

“Oh, really?” His eyes had been twinkling, head resting in his hand. “Maybe we could make a farm together.”

All too easily, he’d given you butterflies. “I’d like that,” you said, heart racing ever-so-slightly now. 

“Actually…” He averted his gaze for a moment, his pretty freckled cheeks turning red. “Our show is opening in a few weeks. If you want…” He paused, looking up to realize the others were still there, “I’d, um, I’d like it if all of you could come. I can reserve a couple tickets for opening night, but…”

You’d agreed, already planning to make sure your schedule was clear that day. The group had always planned to come support Felix on one of those nights, guaranteeing that he’d have his own section clapping loudly for him once he was taking his bow… but that quickly turned into something that would happen on a later night. You’d taken Felix up on the offer for an opening night ticket, and managed to convince Jisung to come with you. If Jisung was with you, you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself… and Jisung agreed, saying he’d watch the show twice to come with the others later. You had work the other day, after all: it all worked out in a way, right?

Right. Which was why he was standing in a flower shop with you, looking at premade bouquets. For the past five minutes, you’d been debating between a bouquet of sunflowers and yellow roses, frowning to yourself as you tried to pick which one best suited Felix. Jisung found himself staring at pale pink peonies. He’d looked up flower meanings once when thinking about you. If he was going to confess, he would have bought you a bouquet. Pink peonies meant something like deep appreciation, and he could easily spin it into his appreciation for you as his best friend. Would he ever be able to face you and not feel his heart flutter? Maybe one day he would, if he was lucky.

When he looked at you again, you were still deep in thought. He could hear you mumbling to yourself. Roses were too forward, too strong to be just a ‘friend’ thing—even if you were trying to impress Felix. And sunflowers felt… A little cliche knowing Felix. Everyone gave Felix sunflowers on his birthday if they were going to give him flowers. Jisung looked at the other bouquets, only to find one of yellow tulips. You looked up as he approached you with them in hand, the shyest smile on his face.

“You said you wanted to give Felix something pretty, so…” He held them up. “If roses feel too strong… Then why not these?” The paper crinkled underneath his grasp, and his heart was racing even now. This wasn’t meant to be romantic, so why couldn’t he calm down?

You’d lit up, accepting the bouquet with him. He felt the way your fingers brushed against his own when you accepted them, looking down at them. “Do you think he’ll like them”

“He’ll love anything you give him,” Jisung said, gaze softening. If it was from you, it’d be special. His hands rested over your own for a minute, and you met his gaze after a moment. “Hey… Would I lie to you?”

Other people might have. Some people might have tried to sabotage their best friend’s happiness, but Jisung could never do that to you. Not when you meant so much to him. He loved you too much to do anything that might hurt you, that would destroy your happiness. Even if he didn’t love you, you were still his best friend, and that meant he needed to treat you like one. Best friends didn’t destroy best friends like that.

“No,” you said, drawing the bouquet back. You smiled at it again. “Thanks, Jisung. If you wanna wait outside, you can. I’m gonna see if they can put a little ribbon around it when I pay—make it look cuter, y’know?”

His heart leapt at the idea. Of course you’d be cute like this. He wished that it could be him that you were buying flowers for, but he’d accept getting to see you this happy. “I’ll be waiting.”

The bell above the door jingled as he left the shop, taking a few steps away before leaning against the brick wall. With a sigh, he let his shoulders slump. This shouldn’t hurt so much, but the ache in his chest seemed to show no sign of going away. He could put aside his feelings for you, though, if it meant he could see you smile. The soft look in your eyes when he reassured you only made him feel more complicated inside. You weren’t his to give away, so why did it feel like he was losing a part of himself the more he went along with this plan? In the back of his head, a little voice kept telling him to find an excuse to go back to his apartment. A forgotten assignment that he’d overlooked, or reading he needed to do for class… But that meant abandoning you, even though Felix really wanted you to come see him tonight. Not Jisung. Jisung was coming to see him in a few days, so why bother staying?

Again, the bell chimed, and out you stepped, bouquet in hand. The brown paper that once had been wrapped around the flowers was exchanged for white tissue paper, all bound together with a bright, sparkly gold ribbon. It would fit Felix perfectly, all sunshine-y and pretty, and it was only now that Jisung realized you were wearing blue. Felix’s favorite color. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? If you were in red, then Jisung would have noticed right away, wouldn’t he? His mind wandered for a moment: would you have bought flowers for him if you were coming to see him perform? Hell, would you come alone to see him perform next semester? He had to perform solo as part of his degree plans—would you wait to come with the others, or would you be there every night if you could…? Instead, he just gently reminded you to loosen up your grip on the bouquet before you broke the stems.

“What if he hates them?” Your leg had been bouncing nervously the entire bus ride back to campus. 

Jisung just gently pat your arm. “He won’t,” he said, voice as soft as it was in the flower shop. “It’s Felix. I don’t think he’d ever hate anyone for bringing him a gift. Do you?”

That seemed to get through to you, and the tension in your shoulders eased up considerably. A moment later, you nodded, meeting his gaze. “Right…” And then you leaned against him, completely unaware that his heart was now racing all over again. “Sorry. I’m just… I’m nervous, I guess.” 

Jisung could tell. Everything about you now pointed to this need for tonight to go right. The fact you were not only wearing Felix’s favorite color, but also the way you had dressed up a little nicer, just to make an effort for him. The way you were fretting over the flowers still, even now (Jisung could see the way you  kept looking at them and readjusting your hands, all too conscious now that you might break the stems). He’d have to be ignoring you completely to not see the way your leg had been bouncing before, or the way you kept toying with your sleeve, or the way you kept checking the time even though you both left extremely early to get to the shop. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said, leaning his head against your own. “You’ll be fine.”

Despite the way he still wanted to go home, Jisung stuck by you the entire time. You needed him there to calm you, the way he depended on you sometimes, and he wouldn’t leave you to flounder. The two of you found seats a few rows back from the stage, settling in for whenever the show would begin. Jisung could see Chris sitting in the front row, beaming with pride at the whole affair. That was the nice thing about Chris: he always made a point of coming back to help wherever he could, including with productions like this. Plus, he was always there to support everyone, especially his friends. Dance showcases, theatrical performances, the art exhibits that Hyunjin’s pieces and Seungmin’s photography ended up in… Chris was there, always happy to congratulate on a job well done. Jisung didn’t need to be sitting next to him to see the way he glowed with pride every time Felix was on stage.

When the show was over, Jisung watched as you gravitated near the door the actors would eventually emerge from. He’d already passed the responsibility of congratulating Felix onto you for now (he’d tell him later) as he searched for where Chris had disappeared to in the crowd. Most likely, he’d disappeared into the back to go talk to the actors. Two years out of school, and Chris never seemed to care about the fact he wasn’t technically a part of the department anymore. Jisung admired his confidence, at least: it always felt like a line he shouldn’t cross, even though Felix always said his friends were welcome. 

He’d decided to take refuge in the bathroom instead, just to calm himself down. Chris would come back out soon when the actors did, meaning Jisung could talk to him then. He’d started to fiddle with little things as he stared at himself in the mirror: fixing a stray hair that never seemed to stay in place, adjusting the collar of his shirt, checking to see how puffy his face was… All little things that he could pick himself apart for if he felt like it, and his mind kept straying to it rather than how happy you seemed to be. He saw how engrossed in Felix’s performance you were. Maybe he should leave to spare himself from seeing this any further. He’d done his part, hadn’t he? You would understand. 

Except he didn’t leave, because Jisung was still your best friend. You wouldn’t abandon him now, so he had to do the same for you. The moment he stepped back into the theater, he saw the way you were beaming at Felix. He’d finally emerged, dressed casually again, and was happily talking to you while holding the bouquet. All he needed to do was look at Felix to know that he was smitten from the way he was smiling at you. Okay. He could deal with this. All he needed to do was find Chris and maybe he could manage.

But all it took was you looking up and waving Jisung over for him to cave, already drawn toward you like a magnet. He couldn’t just leave. Not when you were smiling at him like that. Jisung ended up rattling off some praise for Felix (genuine, because he wouldn’t half-heartedly give him praise just because you liked Felix and not him), and Felix had blushed over it. His gaze fell down to the flowers in his hands, and Felix smiled again.

“Aren’t they sweet?” The tissue paper rustled in Felix’s grasp, and he swayed toward you ever-so-slightly. “They’re so sweet.”

Jisung didn’t say that he was with you when you bought them, that he’d been the one to push them to you. “They have a really good eye for these things,” he said instead. “They fit you perfectly.”

“I know!” Felix looked up, beaming with pure joy. “They’ve never given a bad present before. I don’t really know how they do it.”

Jisung did. You kept a running list in your notes app of things that people said they liked, or things they said they wanted, or things that they needed that you constantly updated. Plus, you made a point to subtly ask about things close to holidays and birthdays, too. All the things you needed to give a good gift that people wanted and would appreciate. The only other person who knew about this was Chris, and that was because he’d caught you editing it. Even if Jisung hadn’t given you the tulips, he knew Felix would have loved the sunflowers or the roses. 

“I think I saw Chris,” Jisung said after a moment of seeing the (admittedly cute) way you and Felix kept glancing at each other. He started to move away, “I’m gonna go say hi.”

“Oh, I can come too!” You were flustered, all too aware of how much of Felix’s time you’d taken for yourself. “I mean, I’m sure Felix is tired of me hogging him, y’know?”

“It’s fine,” Felix said, smiling still. “I like talking to you.”

While his attention was still on you, Jisung made a point to nod toward Felix. Stay right there. He knew you wanted to talk to Felix, after all. You’d relaxed a moment later, planting yourself right where you were as you turned back to Felix. He’d already begun asking you something about an MMO he’d gotten you into, and Jisung turned tail to make his way to Chris. 

Jisung ended up leaving the arts building before you ever did, stepping out into the chilly night air. Chris was there to give you a ride home, after all: you didn’t need to ride the bus to Jisung’s apartment and then back to your own in the way you always insisted on doing. Chris had offered to drive him home, but Jisung waved him off. He needed the alone time to think, and the bus ride that took him home was the perfect time for it. He’d already begun writing lyrics in the notes app on his phone half-way there, and soon enough he’d put them into ink in his songwriting notebook. Just to get those feelings down while the wound was fresh and oozing ink.

You’d texted him that night to say that you were getting lunch with Felix that week. He had other shows most nights, but he’d make time for lunch with you anytime. He’d wondered for a moment until you finally said the magic word: Felix could do ‘evening dates’ with you another time. Yet you still texted him a moment later, asking if Felix meant date dates. All Jisung could say was that it might: he wasn’t Felix. He couldn’t tell you yes.

All he could tell you was that he was genuinely happy for you, even though the emotion never reached him in that moment.

When he woke up the next morning, he’d realized he fell asleep at his desk. His spine was aching at this point, and he realized that there was ink smudged on his hand and his cheek. He’d written down messy, clumsy lyrics that were nowhere near as good as he could make them. Jisung glanced over them again and again. The ink had smudged on the page, which meant he should copy them over to a fresh one after he showered. The melody would come to him while he washed off his regret anyway.

All of it was sloppy in the way a work in progress often was. But he had time to write it better.

A week later, you had curled up on Jisung’s bed while you were waiting for him to finish an assignment. The two of you had plans to go out to dinner, and you always ended up showing up a little too early. It never bothered Jisung, who was currently hard at work on a composition due for class soon. You admired him for a moment as he bobbed his head along to whatever he was working on, lips pressed tightly together in concentration. He’d already told you he wasn’t going to finish it tonight—but he just wanted a little more progress before he went anywhere with you. Which just left you to scroll through YouTube idly, eyeing the videos of ducks that kept popping onto your feed. All it took was one video from Felix for you to fall down this rabbit hole, and you were honestly fine with that. He made you happy.

Absent-mindedly, you started to reach toward Jisung’s desk. He always kept a stack of sticky notes on it, and you were hoping to blindly snag it without bothering Jisung. Yet he glanced up for half a second before pushing the cube over to you, offering a pen out to you without a word. You accepted it, thanking him out loud even though he was still entranced with whatever song he was working on. He hadn’t shared any of this one with you yet, but you weren’t going to push. He would show it to you when he was good and ready, and if he didn’t, then you just assumed it’d be more personal. All you did was roll onto your stomach, leaving your phone next to you as you began to doodle on the sticky notes. Jisung sometimes kept your silly little doodles, sticking them to his monitor before eventually throwing them out. There was still a pink one stuck to the corner of his screen with a little puppy on it, surrounded by little flowers.  You’d started drawing tulips on this new sticky note without thinking, followed by other flowers that you remembered seeing in that shop.

Jisung pulled the headphones off his head, looking over at you. He was wearing glasses again today—a rare sight since he started wearing contacts—and the monitor reflected in them. “Sorry,” he said, watching you doodle for a moment longer. “I’m almost done, I promise.”

“It’s okay,” you didn’t look up, humming to yourself as you kept drawing. “Take your time. I don’t mind waiting.”

(When other people said such things, jisung always felt a little on edge. Did they really mean it, or were they just pacifying him? But when you did it, he never had to doubt you. You always gave him this little reassuring smile. You meant it, and that was something else he loved about you.)

“I mean it,” you said, just like you always did to try and reassure him further. “I’ll be right here when you’re done, okay?”

Sometimes that promise would end in you falling asleep on his bed, always after you had a particularly long or rough day. He never woke you up: he’d just pulled a blanket over you and went to sleep on the couch for the night. He always made it up to you by buying breakfast that following morning. You did the same for him, after all.

Jisung replaced his headphones, but left one side off so he could hear you. A clear sign that he was open to conversation now, less focused on the work at hand. His way of winding down without dropping the project entirely. “How,” he said, and then paused for just a second as he clicked something else, “was lunch with Felix?”

The heat traveled to your face immediately, and you averted your gaze. “It was nice.” 

“Oh?” He swayed a little, turning his chair slightly. “So no wedding yet? I was practicing to be the flower girl, you know.”

You flipped him off, and he snorted. 

“I wouldn’t make a good one?” He faked offense. “I think I’d be cute.” 

“The cutest,” you rolled your eyes, yet still found yourself smiling. “Are you gonna show me the song you’re working on, or is this one another mystery?”

Jisung turned toward his computer again, not quite looking at you anymore. “It’s not ready yet.” 

You looked up at him, the way he sounded a little distant piquing your curiosity. It wasn’t ready yet…? You shrugged it off. What reason would Jisung have to lie to you…? Maybe he didn’t want your opinions this time around. There was nothing wrong with that, to be fair: Chris and Changbin were both better for musical analysis. But he’d always valued your opinions on something that was so important to him, and you always tried to pay attention to his lyricism and compliment him where you could.

Yet you doodled a little rose in the corner of the note. “Okay,” you dragged out the word, rolling onto your side after a moment, just to face him for a second. “If you ever want to show me, I’ll be happy to listen.”

“I’ll let you know if I need you.” A moment later, he met your eyes and smiled—just to reassure you that he was fine.

With said reassurance, you returned to lying on your stomach and doodling. You stuck the sticky note with flowers onto the side of his desk, and started doodling paw prints and hearts onto the new note. “I think we should go out.”

“Huh?!”

Immediately, your heart leapt into your throat. Fuck, that’s not what you meant—why did he have to sound so bothered by it?! Was dating you really such a weird idea…? You just prayed he couldn’t see how flustered you’d become, tugging at the collar of your shirt. When did your skin start burning…? “Felix told me about this nice restaurant and I figured we could go scope it out,” you said quickly. At least this wasn’t a lie or anything: Felix did send you the name of a nice place for a future date.

“Shouldn’t you check it out with him?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know how I am.”

Maybe it was silly, but you had this thing about scoping places out if you knew where someone was taking you. You did the same thing whenever your family was in the area and wanted to check something new out, just so you knew that there was something on the menu that you’d like. If someone else was treating you, you always felt guilty if you didn’t like what they were paying for. Jisung asked you once why you didn’t just look up the menu online and pick from there.

You had looked at him that day. “Jisung. What if they don’t make it good? What if they add extra stuff I don’t like and it’s gross after I ask them to take it off?” You frowned, hugging yourself. “Then I feel bad for wasting my money, or my date’s money, or my parents' money…” 

He hadn’t questioned you on it further and offered to be your test-date if you needed him. He’d never judge your taste, after all. If he was busy, you’d just drag Chris into going wherever with you—always offering to pay for him even though he had the better job out of the two of you. It was nice to go out with Jisung, though. He always seemed to know what you were going to pick off of the menu, the same way you knew his tastes. Speaking of…

“Jisungie?” You smiled at him, ready to sweeten the deal in a way he couldn’t refuse. “I’ll buy you cheesecake after.”

Immediately, you saw the way he pressed his lips together. You knew one of the ways to his heart and it was always through something sweet like cheesecake. A moment later, he melted, smiling as he turned back to save what he was working on. You left the sticky notes on his desk and hopped up, announcing you’d be waiting for him and made your way out. Minho had been curled up on the couch with a book, glancing up when you came in.

“Jisung and I are going to get dinner. Are you coming?”

Minho glanced over to where Jisung had emerged from his room, then shook his head. “I already ate.” 

Whatever. The two of you would have fun on your own, then. Through the power of digital maps and following directions, you and Jisung managed to find the place easily enough. The two of you ended up seated in the corner, ordering quickly enough before you were left alone. With a sigh, you’d begun to swirl your straw in your drink, mind wandering a bit. Your date with Felix had been nice, but you always felt so fluttery with him. Being around Jisung was… easier. You didn’t feel the need to force any conversation with him, the two of you were content to have a minute of quiet if that was what you both needed. It was a weird change to feel around him, to be honest. In the past, being around Felix was always easy. Now that you knew he liked you back…  It was different. You couldn’t help but wonder if things would be different if Jisung liked you back, if this were a date. Then you pushed the thought away: you needed to stop thinking things like that. 

“What’s on your mind?” Jisung had peeked up at you from where he was scrolling through social media on his phone, frowning a little.

With a sigh, you knew he’d pick up on your mood. “I feel like I’m gonna turn into one of those people who only talks about dating.” You fiddled with the sleeve of your sweater—your favorite color this time. “But…”

“I’m listening,” he said. “Is everything okay?”

Why did he have to look at you so earnestly? Jisung had the prettiest eyes, especially when they looked so shiny—like boba pearls, someone once said. You nodded a moment later. “Just… I dunno. I like Felix, but I keep getting nervous with him.” You tapped your toes against the floor, a little restless already. “I mean… I know he likes me, but… I dunno. We haven’t kissed or anything.”

“Has he said anything?” Jisung ran a hand through his hair, fluffing it effortlessly. How the hell did he always do that…? “What are you two doing next?”

“We were gonna see a movie and then get food here,” you paused, looking up from where you’d started staring at your hands. “And maybe dessert, if he’s interested.” 

“Was it your idea or his?”

“His, but—”

“Then I think you’re overthinking it,” Jisung said gently. “I think…” He trailed off for a moment, and then cleared his throat. “I think he likes you because you’re you. And… And, um,” he glanced down for just a second, “and if anyone doesn’t like you, then… I don’t think they deserve you.” 

Your heart skipped a beat. How was he so sweet? He seemed so nervous now, the way he always seemed to get when he was a little more sentimental with you. Like he was treading lightly, so as to not say the wrong thing. You’d told him once that there was nothing he could say that would upset you, and so far that still rang true. You had your fair share of disagreements over the years, but Jisung was your best friend. If you had soulmates in this life, then Jisung was one of them. “Jisung…”

He just silently watched you for a moment, gauging your reaction as he carefully tried to find any signs that he’d slipped up. 

You just buried your face in your hands a moment late, skin burning hot already. He’d melted your heart all too easily, dooming you to pine for him forever. No matter how far you went from him, no matter if you moved on, Jisung eternally had a piece of your heart and he didn’t even know it. Finally, you found the strength to speak, voice small: “I don’t deserve you.”

Your date with Felix was going well. The movie was fun, and dinner went great (especially going in knowing that you already liked some of the menu). He’d been gushing about video games and the movie, and now he was talking about a new recipe he was workshopping. His fingers were intertwined with yours as you walked aimlessly, no plan in place for where you were going next. You liked how warm Felix’s hands were, and the way he would run his thumb over your hand—just a tender little way of showing he was still there with you. 

“Maybe… I could bake with you sometime?” You squeezed his hand a little. “If you want an assistant.”

He lit up at the suggestion, already beaming again with joy. “I’d love that! I could teach you whatever you don’t know.” He paused, cheeks flushing red. “I think… you’d be a cute assistant, too.”

Your heart leapt into your throat at that, face growing warmer at the thought. Felix was always so cute, so affectionate, and the way he giggled at your flustered face only made you more embarrassed. Yet your mind had started to drift to the walk you’d taken with Jisung after dinner that night, heading toward your usual place for dessert….

Only to be jostled from your thoughts as Felix’s shoulder bumped against yours, getting your attention back with ease. “You okay?” He paused, and then smiled as he squeezed your hand. “You wanna get ice cream?”

Ice cream sounded perfect. You’d been wanting to bring up dessert, but you weren’t sure if he had room for it after dinner and splitting popcorn with you earlier. Then your mind turned to the brownies you’d had with Jisung… “Actually… There’s this place I go sometimes—”

“With Jisung?” Felix asked. He didn’t seem jealous or bothered in the slightest. “I’ve actually been wanting to go there with you.”

You slowed to a stop. “You have?”

He nodded. “Yeah, but… I dunno. I guess I started thinking I was overstepping since that place was always you and Jisung. You guys always take us somewhere else if we’re all going, so…”

What?

Felix shrugged, and started walking again. You fell into step with him. He continued on after a moment, “You two are really close. I mean… I’ve been places with my friends that I haven’t gone with you all, y’know? Maybe we keep stuff for our friends sometimes.”

The shop had always been a place for you and Jisung, sure, but neither of you ever intended for it to be exclusively for you two. Minho had gone with the two of you once or twice, and so had Chris. Now that you were thinking about it, this place wasn’t even the place you two used to frequent. That place closed down a little over a year ago, and you’d found this place shortly after that. The two of you had gotten a to-go order that first time to try in his apartment and fell in love with the dessert there. 

“It’s not our place,” you said after a moment. “If you want ice cream, we can get ice cream instead. I just started thinking about their brownies—”

Felix was already intrigued. “Do you wanna go?” He squeezed your hand a little, giddy at the idea. “We can split one, if you want?”

Perfect. “I’d love that,” you giggled. “They’re huge and they put a scoop of vanilla on top and drizzle it with caramel—you’ll love it.”

And he did: he fed you the first bite, just to be cheesy. His eyes always seemed to twinkle when he looked at you, so thoroughly endeared to you day after day. He’d hummed in bliss at his own first bite of the dessert before talking about how the salted caramel complimented the sweetness of the vanilla ice cream and the slight bitterness of whatever dark chocolate was in the brownie. It all came together beautifully, and all you could do was admire how pretty Felix was. He’d held your hand again after the two of you left, and held on tight for the entire walk home. 

“May I…?”

You turned your cheek to him, and he pressed a kiss against it. His lips were soft against your cheek, lingering there for a few extra seconds before he drew away. He’d already started talking about planning your next date soon, leaving it there. He took a few steps back, waiting until you unlocked the door to your apartment before he waved and made his way in the opposite direction. You retreated into your apartment with the sappiest smile on your face, already on cloud nine. In the sanctuary of your apartment, you buried your face in your hands, trying to ignore how heavily your heart was thumping in your ears.

“Someone had a good time.”

Chris had stood near the entryway, two glasses in his hands. He must have been on his way back to the living room, and you waved him on as you slipped out of your shoes and into your house slippers. Right as you were ready to tell Chris a little about how your date had gone, you spotted Changbin on the couch. With a polite way, you decided to hold off. Chris could wait to hear things tomorrow, and you told him that as you made your way toward your room.

“Did he walk you back?” Chris called out, and you hung back long enough to nod. “You could have invited him in for a minute—”

“Oh, fuck no.” You loved Chris, and maybe it would have been polite, but he had too much dirt on you. The fact you’d managed to be friends with everyone this long without having all your embarrassing stories spilled was a miracle in itself. “I love you, but I don’t need you to embarrass both of us, Chris.”

Chris only burst into giggles, knowing that you were right and that Felix would have agreed with you in a heartbeat. “I wouldn’t do it too bad!”

Big brother energy. Big bother energy, too. You opened your bedroom door. “You absolutely would,” you called back. “Love you!”

Yet it was right as you were closing the door that you heard Changbin speak up, clearly not intending for you to hear: “I thought they were…” Then a pause, just for a second. “... What about Jisung?”

You shut your bedroom door as quietly as you could, praying that no one noticed you’d caught that. You pressed your back against it for a minute, wondering where you had slipped up. Were you that obvious? Did everyone but Jisung know that you liked him and he didn’t like you back? No. No, no one else could know, right? If they knew, they would have said something by now—especially with the fact that you and Felix weren’t hiding the fact you were dating. Speaking of…

You texted him to get home safe, tacking on a yellow heart after it. He attached a little heart to the message soon enough, and you smiled to yourself. He’d text you when he got home, the way he usually did. All you could do now was start getting ready for bed as you let your mind drift back to what Changbin had been saying. If Changbin knew, then there was no telling if he’d accidentally spill it. What if Jisung found out…? He’d look at you differently, wouldn’t he? Especially since you’d asked him to help you get with Felix. What if he connected the dots and figured out that you were dating Felix because you were trying to move on? What if Felix found out and he hated you for it…? A world in which Jisung and Felix hated you was one you didn’t want to live in, and your heart began to race at the thought. Shit. What if…? You wanted to reach for your phone, to call Jisung. But Jisung would ask some questions to help you calm down, and you weren’t sure if you could be vague enough to keep him from finding out. 

Instead, you threw yourself into doing research for an essay. The less you thought about it all, the better off you’d be. The only thing that pulled you out of your thoughts was the text that popped up over an hour later from Felix. He’d sent you a picture of himself with a face mask on, dressed and ready for bed, and apologizing that he didn’t text you sooner. It was followed up with a “sleep well 💙we’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?” that left you smiling.

Felix was cute. He was sweet. He liked you, and you liked him. All you needed to do was push past your feelings for Jisung, and things would work out. Letting go was the hardest part of loving someone who wouldn’t love you back, and you needed to learn how to do it.

Maybe Felix could help you learn how to do that by loving you extra loud.

“You’re both slacking, you know!”

Jisung looked up at the sound of your voice carrying across the apartment. Barely milliseconds later, he heard Minho groan at you for pointing out the fact the apartment was a little unkempt. Fuck, you were here sooner than he thought—he’d seen your text over half an hour saying you were coming, but you were ‘taking your time’ for whatever reason. You’d given him a time, and even still he was surprised by how soon you’d showed up.

“I told you to text before you come!”

You’d stopped for a minute to turn to huff at him. “I did!” 

“Text me, not just Jisung.” There was no venom in his words, purely Minho ribbing you, but Jisung jolted from his chair. Shit, his room was a mess still. Minho had to know, didn’t he? This was him giving him a chance to tidy before you came in. “He’s been in his room all day, by the way.”

“What?” You hadn’t moved. “Really? Is he behind, or…?”

Yes, keep distracting them, Jisung shoved trash into the small trash can next to his desk—all wrappers from snacks. The sticky notes from his monitor were neatly hidden away in the bottom drawer with all the others you’d left him. Minho was rattling something off about how he knew Jisung had been hard at work, although he’d barely checked on him since he seemed to be focused. He’d tie up the bag and take it out of his room later, after you left. He made up his bed as you asked something about one of Jisung’s classes, to which Minho said a curt “I don’t know, I’m not his mom,” which earned ribbing from you considering how Minho acted like a mom at times. A second later, your voice was a little louder, having stepped closer to his room.

He threw himself back into his chair, pulled his headphones on, and pretended to be hard at work. Don’t notice the fact he’s still panting a little—he was just… running. A marathon. Really. He heard your quick knock, followed by the creak of his bedroom door a moment later. When you waved your hand in front of his face, he pretended to jolt back, pushing his headphones around his neck as he looked up at you.

With a smile, you held up the takeout. “How much do you love me?”

More than you knew. No wonder you told him you weren’t sure you’d be there on time. He accepted the bag, already working to undo the knot. “I don’t deserve you.”

You pulled over the spare chair, pulling it over to his desk. “Minho said you’ve been busy all day. Everything okay?”

He nodded. “Just working on that paper on music history,” he set aside the plastic-wrapped utensils. “It’s due in a few days, but I’m behind on it, so…”

You frowned a little. “Okay, but… Have you eaten today?” When he didn’t move, you’d been given your answer. “Aw, Jisungie…”

“I’ve snacked?”

“That’s not the same thing,” you leaned against his desk. “I guess I came at a good time, then.” 

He nodded, pulling the knot undone. He set your food aside. “I think Minho tried to check on me earlier. I don’t really remember.”

It wouldn’t be the first time, and both of you knew that. “Are you gonna share this time?”

He let out a groan. One time he ate all the steamed dumplings, and you’ve never let him live it down. “I always share,” he said, setting the container where both of you could reach it. “Take however many you want.”

“Not those,” you said, before pausing for a moment. “Well, yes those, but…” You pointed your chopsticks toward his computer. “Any of your work. I feel like I haven’t heard any of it this semester.” 

“You’re usually with Felix,” he said, voice a little quieter. “I mean… You two are usually going out and doing things, you know?” He hoped you understood him: you couldn’t be around to hear things when you were out with him. 

“Not the entire semester,” you frowned again. Then you sighed, balancing your food in your lap. “But you’re right.” Then you paused, brows drawing together. “Wait… Am I spending too much time with Felix?”

Jisung shook his head quickly. “No! No, you two are fine—I just meant—”

You reached out, squeezing his shoulder, “No, Jisung. I’m sorry.”

The way you sounded so genuinely upset only broke his heart a little. He didn’t mean to imply you shouldn’t be spending time with Felix—the two of you were dating after all. “Don’t feel bad about Felix—”

You stopped him there again. “No, I mean… I know we’re dating, but that’s no excuse to ignore you. I don’t want to be the kind of person who dumps their friends entirely, all just because I’m seeing someone. That’s not fair to you.”

His face grew warmer. Had you thought about this before…? You’d always been so conscious of your friendships when dating in the past. Sure, you spent more time with past partners, but he’d never felt neglected. No one did. “You aren’t dumping any of us. It’s okay.”

Yet that didn’t seem to stop you. “We should go out this weekend,” you said. “Like we usually do. I have to work Saturday morning, but my evening is yours.” 

His? Jisung ignored the way his heart skipped a beat at that. It didn’t mean anything. “But what about Felix?”

You pressed your lips together. “If he doesn’t understand ‘best friend time,’ then he’s not the one.” You shrugged. “My partner shouldn't stop me from hanging out with friends. I’m never going to date anyone like that. I wouldn’t want anyone to put their life on pause entirely for me, you know?”

Jisung had always loved that about you. You loved your friends wholeheartedly, and you were always so, so loyal to them. In your past relationships, you’d always found time for friends. They understood whenever you prioritized the relationship during that initial phase, sure, but it always just felt… wrong to drop them entirely during that period. You needed to balance your time, after all.

Jisung swallowed his own pain. “How are you two?”

“You don’t want to hear about us.”

“I do,” he insisted. “You don’t have to share anything, but… You’re both still my friends. Jeongin said he saw you two on a date.”

You fumbled with your chopsticks, immediately growing flustered. “Oh my god. Felix kept telling me that he was positive it wasn’t him—I knew it was! Holy shit—”

“He didn’t say anything bad!” Jisung panicked a little, carefully removing your food from your lap before it could get spilled in your movement. He moved his chair over, giving you some of his desk space so you wouldn’t have to use your lap as a table anymore. “All he said was that you two were holding hands and giggling. He said it was sweet.”

You refused to look at Jisung, still too embarrassed to do anything more than push your food around its plate. “He’s… really sweet,” you admitted after a moment. “I dunno how I feel, honestly, and I kinda feel bad about that. He’s nice to talk to, and he’s sweet, but… I dunno. I keep getting worried that I’m leading him on if I’m not all-in already.” Your knee bumped against Jisung’s. “You changed the subject, by the way.” 

Shit, you caught him. Jisung just moved the dumplings between the two of you again, trying to distract you. When you gave him a pointed look, he knew you weren’t going to drop it yet. With a sigh, he shrugged. “I’ll show you after I finish one. They aren’t good yet.” 

“Bullshit,” you said. “Your works’ always good. Even when it’s a work in progress—I can always tell that you love what you’re doing. I love how devoted you are to it… and to us, y’know.” 

Now it was his turn to be embarrassed, always so easily flustered. How did complimenting him come so easily to you? 

“You don’t have to share it if you aren’t ready or if you don’t want to,” you said after a moment. “You can tell me that, though. I’ll stop asking.”

Jisung looked up, nodding. “Later,” he promised, running a hand through his hair nervously. “When I’m ready.”

You giggled, squeezing his knee. “That’s all I needed to know,” you said. “I’ll be here for you when you want to share, alright?”

Tell them. The little voice in the back of Jisung’s mind was nagging him again, and all he could do was admire how giddy you were getting over dumplings. He loved how you found joy in little things like this, too. Tell them so they can break your heart and get it over with.

Then something clicked in his mind, something he’d glazed over entirely. “You… might not like Felix?”

You avoided his gaze, as though you were ashamed. There was nothing wrong with not being sure of your feelings, and yet you’d shrunk before him, unsure. “I don’t know. I… I like him, but I’m not sure how far it goes.”

“You should figure it out soon,” he said softly. Regardless of his own feelings for you, Felix was his friend. You clearly were, too. It was unfair if you stopped feeling things and kept seeing him. “Felix is a really good person. If you want to date him, you should be up front about it. He won’t hold it against you if you don’t feel the same, you know? Do what will make you happy.” 

You looked up from your food a moment later, a soft look in his eyes. He’d seen you and accepted you without any harsh judgment. Someone else might have told you off for being unsure, but not Jisung. Never Jisung. Feelings were complicated, after all. If you weren’t sure, then you weren’t sure. All you needed was time to figure it out. You wouldn’t drag things out to hurt Felix. You turned, leaning over the side of your chair to wrap your arms around him. He relaxed into your embrace, reaching up a hand to squeeze your arm.

“I’m really glad you’re in my life, Jisung.” You shut your eyes, squeezing him extra tight for a second. “I really, really love you, y’know?”

Why did that feel like a confession? His heart was racing, and he just squeezed you gently. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he savored this moment. “Yeah,” he said, praying that you didn’t notice how warm his face was getting, or hear how fast his heart was racing. “Love you, too.”

A moment later, you drew away, hands lingering on his arm for a moment too long. Then you were hit with realization. “Oh!” You drew away from him, “I forgot to get us drinks.” The wheels noisily rolled against the floor as you stood up. “I’ll go see what’s in the fridge, alright?”

Before he could offer to go, you were gone. Jisung watched the door shut behind you, and let out a long sigh as he relaxed into his chair. How long would it take for him to get past this? Every little moment like this with you only made his feelings burrow deeper into his chest. It felt as though he’d hit bedrock and somehow managed to keep digging. Something squeezed in his chest, and he felt as though he was going to suffocate in that moment. 

Jisung loved you too much, and now it was starting to hurt even more.

Felix was… Felix. He’d been kind to you from the first day you met him. He was sweet. Sometimes insecure, but most people were, weren’t they? He was warmer than sunshine, though, and you had always felt like you were on top of the world when you were with him. He had that ability to just spread joy in other people, that pretty smile enough to give anyone butterflies—especially when you heard his laugh afterward. He’d always drifted toward others, always ready to give a warm hug when someone needed it (or even just wanted it). Felix was sunshine in human form…

So what changed? He was smiling that cute, smitten smile that he always seemed to have when he was around you. He played with your fingers, talking about his day and asking you about your own. The two of you hadn’t been going out that long, yet those weeks seemed to shift subtly more and more until you were where you were now. The time he first kissed your cheek felt so distant now. He still liked to press little kisses against your cheek, and you often did the same to him, too. So what was wrong with you? His giggle still made your heart flutter, and the cute face he made when he got flustered was still adorable, but…

Chris had paused the movie the two of you were watching one weekend, opting to study you for a moment. You’d been scrolling through your social media feeds, too bored with the stilted leads. They were reciting shitty dialogue written by someone who clearly didn’t know what love was. Then again… What was love like?

“Hey. Can we talk?” 

You looked up, confused. When did Chris get so serious…? “What’s wrong?”

“I love you, but…” He let out a sigh. “I just wanted to say that I think you should cut things off with Felix if you aren’t interested.”

What? You never said you weren’t interested. Felix was sweet, and nice, and you felt great when you were around him still. “What?”

“I don’t know—Whenever I look at the two of you now, it looks like you’re always thinking about something.” Chris paused for a moment, and then frowned at you. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m still here for you. I just don’t want you and Felix to get hurt.” 

You hugged yourself. “I know, I just…”

“Just… Figure it out, yeah?” Chris let out a sigh. “I love you so, so much. And I love Felix, too. When you said you were interested in him, I was really excited for you both, yeah? But, I don’t know, I can’t shake this weird feeling now.” He paused for a moment, eyes searching your own now. “I didn’t push you into this, did I?”

“No! No,” you shook your head, “you didn’t. I was crushing on him for a while.” You drew your knees a little closer to you, shifting into a more comfortable position. “I… I don’t know.” 

Maybe you should kiss him. Just to see how it felt. 

“I guess…” You trailed off for a moment, hugging your blanket closer to you. “I guess I’m just not sure about anything anymore. I like hanging out with him. And… I like him. I just don’t know how I feel anymore.”

Chris frowned as he watched you. He understood, though: feelings were always complicated in some way, weren’t they? “You should tell him soon once you figure it out.” The way he was being so insistent on it meant someone talked to him. Was it Felix…? Had Felix confided in him? He sat up, reaching for the near-empty bowl of popcorn. He dropped the remote into your lap. “I’m gonna make more popcorn. Find something actually good to watch, yeah?”

“This was your pick, you know.” 

He just rustled your hair before moving on. With a new movie picked out, Chris settled into the space next to you rather than his usual spot. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his side as he pressed a kiss onto the top of your head. He’d always given you little kisses like that when you were upset, and the habit never really died. It comforted you even now, reminding you of simpler times. He’d cared for you once when you were a child, rushing to your side when you skinned his knee. Admittedly it was because you’d been chasing after him, but he’d cared for you the same way he did for his siblings. He bandaged your knee, kissing it better the way his parents always did before kissing your forehead. His parents told him that it helped it heal faster. And, sure, the two of you had been dumb kids then, but the kisses now always reminded you that you weren’t going through things alone. Chris was always right there with you, the older brother you never had. 

It was sweet. At least you would always have Chris in your corner, right next to Jisung.

Felix kissed you.

The two of you had walked home from dinner that night with your pinkies linked together. You’d grown quieter with each step, listening to Felix as he filled the space with soft conversation until it, too, was drowned in the sounds of the night. The sound of cars driving past, the chirp of crickets, the wind as it kissed your skin. But Felix was right there with you, still tethered to you by your pinkies. Even now, he looked at you so sweetly whenever he caught your eye. He’d fixed your jacket, or brushed a stray strand of hair back from your face. When you were finally back in front of your apartment, he’d asked if he could kiss you. You said yes, and he closed that distance between you. All at once, you knew: Felix wasn’t it.

Maybe there would never be anyone like Jisung for you. But you couldn’t be upset about that. It wasn’t his fault you fell for him somewhere along the way. And now you were standing in front of your apartment, an eternity seeming to pass as Felix kissed you gently. His lips were slightly chapped this time, fingers gently holding your face. One of the neighbors must have opened their door and seen from the way it opened and immediately shut. 

A moment later, Felix pulled away since you never actually reciprocated. The hurt in his eyes told you everything: he knew. His hands were still holding your face, thumbs running over the apples of your cheeks. Shit. Fuck, you’d hurt him, all while you were hurting, too. Yet you saw the way he tried to fight back tears, blinking quickly as he took in a shaky breath.

When he spoke, his voice was strained. “This… wasn’t ever going somewhere, was it?”

Even after you’d hurt him, he was still so gentle with you. You wished he were angry with you, or upset, or anything other than the man who was forcing a smile in front of you now. If he yelled at you or started crying, then you could apologize. You could try to fix things. All he did was keep that forced smile as he drew his hands back, letting them fall to his sides again. With the tiniest step back, your worlds seemed to break apart. Why couldn’t he just  yell at you? You’d hurt him, and he just… He looked at you like he still thought the world of you.

“That’s okay.” His voice was so much quieter. It was as though his sunlight had been snuffed out. “I had fun.”

“Felix—”

“I mean it,” he said, taking another small step back. “I… I really hope this doesn’t hurt our friendship. I still like talking to you, and—and I like being your friend. And you’re kind-of good at games, so we could, um—we could still use yours if you wanted to play with us, and…”

He was rambling. All you could do was step forward, pulling him into your arms to hug him tight. All too easily, he crumpled into your embrace, holding you tight. 

“I’m sorry, Felix.” You hoped he would forgive you someday. Not today. Not too soon, not too easily. You didn’t deserve that. “I should have known sooner.”

He shut his eyes for a moment, taking in another shaky breath before pulling away from you. “It’s okay. You didn’t know.” He paused. “You should head in. I’m sure Chris is worried. I’ll probably get a text from him on my way home. You know how he is—he always worries, and, um, he… worries a lot about if I’m getting home safe, and…”

You punched in your apartment’s code, stepping back into the doorway. You turned to face Felix one last time, heart breaking in your chest. He forced one more smile as he looked at you.

“Goodnight,” he said, voice soft as ever.

You swallowed hard. “Goodnight, Felix. Get home safely.”

And then you shut the door, securing the door as you pressed your forehead against it. You waited, hoping that Felix had taken off as soon as the door was shut before you slammed your fist into it. Chris was out. You hadn’t seen his shoes when you stepped in, his house slippers left in their usual spot. All too quickly, you kicked your shoes off, heading toward your room as you started to strip off your clothes. You just wanted to be in your pajamas, curled up in bed. The heartbreak wasn’t what was hurting you more: it was knowing you’d hurt Felix, and he was going to go home, and he was going to cry because Felix was someone everyone treated with care. He wasn’t fragile, but he was gentler. A softer person. There was a reason why Minho joked with him differently, after all. 

At least you were alone now. Chris would have asked questions. Everyone would have, except… You’d picked up your phone, opening it up to Jisung’s contact. Jisung wouldn’t ask questions. Jisung would hold you and let you cry. But he was Felix’s friend first. 

All you could do now was send a final text to Felix to get home safely. A little heart popped up next to the message, a sign that he saw it, and you shut your phone off afterward. You dragged yourself to bed, chest heavy and hurting as you pulled your blankets around yourself. Why couldn’t things just be different?

Why couldn’t you just turn your feelings off?

Jisung didn’t speak to you all week. 

This wasn’t him getting busy with schoolwork and shutting everyone out to work. Jisung did that with warning to everyone, just so no one worried about him. That was the rule for all of you. Life could be hectic, but no one was to completely shut everyone out without at least some sort of heads up so no one worried too much. Jisung had always been clear with telling you when he needed his space so that you could check in with him occasionally. The one person you needed most right now wasn’t responding to your texts, and that terrified you. He was pissed at you. He had to be, right? You had hurt Felix, and Jisung decided to side with the person he’d known longer. Messaging Minho yielded no answer, too. You had expected Felix to avoid you the way he was now, but even he had been more cordial to you. Sure, he was quieter, but that, again, was something you had expected. He apparently came by one day to see Chris, and you had never known until Chris offhandedly mentioned it.

You had to figure things out, which meant asking everyone separately. Chris had claimed he didn’t know anything about what was wrong with Jisung. He never acted any differently when they interacted, although it was a little more rare nowadays. Minho only responded to tell you that Jisung needed space, but that he wasn’t sure what had happened. Felix had messaged you back to first accept your apology for bothering him and then tell you that he wasn’t sure what happened. No one did. Jeongin seemed clueless that anything had happened, Changbin said he’d see what he could find out (only to come up fruitless in that attempt), and Seungmin had been buried in his own schoolwork. If anyone had known something, it would have been Minho.

Which… admittedly was why you decided to wait outside the dance studio he worked at. He was teaching kids dance now, and it paid well enough that he could support himself. Plus he seemed happy, always getting along well with the kids according to Felix and Hyunjin when they volunteered to help a few times. You knew that he locked up in the evenings because he was the last person out, always taking an hour to himself to practice his own dancing. You listened to the jingle of keys and the loud click of the door, followed by Minho making his way down the steps. He noticed you all too easily, and slowed to a stop.

He shook his head, pocketing his keys. “I’m not telling you anything,” he said, as though he’d been expecting you to track him down. Maybe he did. Minho could have his airheaded moments the way you had your own, but he wasn’t stupid. “How long have you been waiting?”

“Maybe half an hour.” You crossed your arms, shivering a little in the cold. Maybe longer, actually. “I just want to know what’s going on with Jisung. I’m worried, Minho—he hasn’t said anything to me.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “He’s just going through a few things.” He stepped down off that final step, making his way toward home. He turned, speaking to you again, “He’s not ready to talk to you, so give him space for now. He’ll talk to you when he’s ready.” Then he turned away again, continuing his walk away.

That wasn’t enough for you. You hurried to catch up to him, “Minho!” You fell into step next to him. “Why can’t he just tell me that? That’s all I needed to hear from him. He knows he can tell me things, I just—”

Minho stopped suddenly, turning to face you. He reached up, hands resting on your shoulders. “When he’s ready, he’ll tell you. Don’t worry about him,” his fingers dug into your shoulders for a quick squeeze, “I’m taking care of him. Just wait for him.” 

Before you could question him further, Minho let go of you. All you could do was stand there, stewing in your thoughts. Minho knew, then. What he knew exactly, you weren’t sure, but he at least knew what was wrong with Jisung. You drew your phone back out of your pocket, opening it to your unanswered messages to Jisung. Maybe you shouldn’t have,  but you needed to say at least one last thing before you stopped trying to contact him. Just to he knew that you were still on his side:

I’m here if you need me, Jisung. Please take care. Love you.

And by the time you were home, he had reacted with a heart. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to tell you he’d seen your messages. 

At least he’d given you that.

Jisung still wasn’t speaking to you another week later.

He knew about Felix. How could he not know about Felix? He knew that you had ended things with him. He knew that Hyunjin was beyond pissed at you, and he knew you’d eventually figure that out. Jisung had spilled his feelings to Hyunjin when he pushed again. That he had loved you for so long now that he couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t love you. Hyunjin, to his credit,  had quietly listened to Jisung as he told him everything. Then when he was done, he scowled to himself.

“They hurt Felix,” he had said. “Because they love you.”

Jisung shook his head. “You don’t have to say things like that. I know they don’t—”

“No, they do, and you need to realize that.” Hyunjin crumpled the paper cup of coffee, getting up to throw it into the trash. “That’s why they turned Felix down.”

What the hell—Did you say something to Hynjin? “Did they tell you?”

“No.” He crossed his arms. “But I know. It’s a gut feeling. I always thought you were lying to me, but…” He let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “You deserve better than them, Jisung.”

Immediately, he was taken aback. “What?”

“They fucked with Felix’s feelings,” he said, “and I think that’s fucked up. I don’t care that they have feelings for you—they should have left Felix out of it. Why would they do this to him?”

“They liked him,” Jisung said, already quick to defend you. He was hurting, yes, but he wasn’t going to just let Hyunjin insult you like this. You weren’t some cruel person—you had genuinely liked Felix. What, were you supposed to keep dating Felix when it turned out you didn’t feel the same way? “They wouldn’t have dated him if they didn’t.”

“Did they?” He balled his hands into fists. “Or were they just trying to get over you?”

“They wouldn’t have hurt him on purpose!” Jisung hated how he teared up now. He was angry, he wanted to defend you, and yet the stress of fighting back now was already getting to him. “They were figuring out how they felt—they’re not a bad person for figuring out that they don’t like him like that.”

“I mean it,” Hyunjin said. “You deserve better. Felix does, too.”

Jisung didn’t know what else to say. Nothing he could say would change Hyunjin’s mind, would it? He was pissed at you, and nothing Jisung could say on your behalf would do anything. Only you could change his mind. 

“I’m still here for you,” Hyunjin said, voice a little softer than before. “I know it’s hard. I’m sorry, Jisung.”

Of course he was still there for him. Everyone would be—including Felix, if he knew. He saw a picture pop up a few days later of Felix out with Hyunjin and Changbin, smiling genuinely at the camera. He’d heard about how badly Felix had been hurting those first few days–. Changbin said he’d been crying for so long that night, genuinely heartbroken by how everything had gone down. Not that Changbin was upset with you at all: relationships sometimes just didn’t work out. It sucked that Felix was hurt, but everyone (excluding Hyunjin, who’s loyalty to Felix admittedly blinded him to anything you were going through) understood that the situation was complicated. It had to be, right? The two of you seemed to fit together so well…

Jisung shut his eyes, listening as he reworked this part in his song about you for maybe the millionth time now. The lyrics weren’t completely right, not flowing the way he wanted them to. But he’d never been able to get them right every time he tried to rewrite them, and it was too personal a project to ask for a second opinion on. He’d stopped working on it to console Felix at one point, only for him to ask point black if Jisung actually did like you. He denied it. the same way he always did and always would, and Felix didn’t push. Jisung couldn’t like you now. Not when it would hurt someone, and especially when it would hurt someone like Felix. Denying his feelings hurt, but pursuing you just felt selfish.

Suddenly, his headphones were pulled off his ears, and Minho stood next to him. He glanced at the screen and already recognized it to be the piece that Jisung had been working on constantly when he wasn’t working on schoolwork, and sighed. Jisung watched as Minho wordlessly made his way over to his closet, opening the doors and searching through his shirts. He yanked one off, throwing it at Jisung, who scrambled to catch it.

“Get dressed,” Minho said before Jisung could question him. “Chris is on his way.”

Jisung furrowed his brows. Chris was…? He looked down at the clean white t-shirt in his hands. “Did something happen?”

“We’re all going out,” he said, searching for a clean pair of jeans. He threw those at him, too, and then turned. “You’ve barely left the apartment outside of work and class. We’re going to sing your feelings out. Bottling them up won’t help you.”

Jisung only stared at him. Writing a song about you was the opposite of bottling it up… right? “I’m not—”

“You don’t have to tell us everything,” he made his way over, giving Jisung a gentle pat on the head. “But you can depend on us. We’re here for you.”

Jisung looked down at the clothing Minho had oh-so-lovingly thrown in his face, and nodded. He left his headphones on his desk, moving to change once Minho had left him alone. Soon enough, he had changed, and even sooner after that, Chris had shown up. If you were upset, Chris hadn’t said a word about it. He just threw an arm around Jisung, already bragging about how he’d have the highest score tonight if Jisung didn’t bring his game. It was almost nice to act as though nothing was wrong, even though Jisung saw the concerned looks Chris kept taking. 

He’d run his fingers over the smooth seats in the karaoke room, listening as Chris put in an order for drinks and snacks. All of this was his treat, he’d insisted over and over. This was entirely his idea, apparently (an idea Minho didn’t refute at all). Jisung kept glancing at the door, wondering if this was some plan they’d concocted to make the two of you talk. 

“Jisung, you should sing first,” Minho said, prodding his side to get his attention. 

Jisung looked to his two friends, who began to chant his name to motivate him further. This wasn’t a trap to make the two of you talk, then. The tension eased off of him. They wouldn’t do that to him—not like this, at least. He waved his hands, though. “No—It’s fine! One of you can go first.”

Chris stood up and began to cycle through the songs, humming to himself before stumbling across one. “Jisungie,” he cooed, “will you sing with me?”

Of course Chris had found a duet. It was from two members of a popular boy group, and Jisung had… admittedly listened to it more than a few times over the past two weeks. The song was about heartbreak to the point of begging the listener to say yes, to sing this song with them again, to let them stay again. It was easier to sing alongside Chris than to sing along, to share his pain through another song he’d had on repeat. 

And it became healing to belt out a ballad with his friends until his throat ached. To break down crying afterwards and be held by them as he sobbed. Something inside of him had finally broken down in the way it needed to. When replacing his battery once, the guy behind the counter told Jisung that it was okay to let his phone die sometimes, because even it needed rest. He didn’t know enough to know if this was sound advice, but he had always kept the advice in mind at least. Was that what this was? Had his own battery finally run out and this was his way of resting rather than tirelessly pushing forward, recharge after recharge? He’d leaned into Minho’s side, sobbing into his sleeve while Chris rubbed circles onto his back. 

By the time they left after buying another hour, Jisung felt lighter. He would always carry this heartbreak for you within him, yearning for something he needed to let go of to be better. But more importantly, things finally seemed clearer to him. He knew how to fix his song, lyrics perfected in the back of his mind. He typed them out into his notes app while sitting in the back of Chris’s car, just so he wouldn’t lose them. The melody came to him easier—something he’d need to change a little to be just right—and he tapped it out onto his jean-clad leg. The moment he was home, he would put it down onto paper. 

And when he finished his song, he could finally let go. Jisung promised himself that he would, and when he did that, he could finally let you back in if you would have him.

Almost three weeks without Jisung, and you felt like you were holding yourself together with thread. At first, you’d been angry once Minho told you to just wait for Jisung. If it was this serious, then Jisung should have told you himself that he needed space. A lot of space, apparently. Then came worry,  because had you done something to upset him? Was that why he wouldn’t so much as look at you anymore? Had you hurt Jisung without even knowing it. Or… Or did he figure out the real reason why you couldn’t be with Felix? Someone must have suspected your feelings for Jisung now. Chris had to know. Changbin already suspected something. Surely, one of them would have hinted at it to Jisung… wouldn’t they? Night after night, you found yourself searching through every text from your friend group for some answer that you were sure would never come to you. Something that someone had said to hint at what was wrong with Jisung.

And then the answer came to you in what someone didn’t say. Hyunjin had never responded to a single one of your texts. You hadn’t noticed at the time, far too caught up in trying to figure out the puzzle that was Han Jisung and his disappearance from your life. But you’d had enough, and if Hyunjin had the answers, then it was time to put a stop to this. You’d buzzed his apartment, and Seungmin let you in without much of a second thought. Hyunjin sat at their dining table, sketchbook open in front of him while he worked on thumbnails for a new assignment. He looked up, and immediately you saw disgust cross his face.

“Tell me what’s wrong with Jisung.”

You weren’t asking anymore: this was a demand. A week ago, you would have scurried in and pleaded for Hyunjin to just talk to you. But the scorn in his eyes was enough to tell you that Hyunjin knew something and, for whatever reason, he was beyond pissed at you. He scowled at you for a moment, but let it go, fading into neutrality. He leaned back after a moment, giving you a quick once-over.

“You’re being rude.”

Was he serious right now? Of all the people to deal with… “Hyunjin.” You folded your arms across your chest. “I mean it. If you do know something, then tell me already.”

His gaze was cold still, expression not betraying his true thoughts. “It’s none of your business.”

“Bullshit!” You snapped at him, fists balled as you stepped forward. “It’s been almost three weeks and I haven’t seen Jisung the entire fucking time—If it’s bad, then at least say that!” 

“What do you think the problem is?!” Hyunjin truly was pissed with you, voice now raising as he stood up. He pushed his sketchbook aside to where it would be safe, and stared you down. “You broke Felix’s heart, and it’s hurting the rest of us—and you should have thought about that before you asked him out.”

You sputtered. Was he pissed at you because things didn’t work out? “I didn’t know we wouldn’t work out! What was I supposed to do—pretend I still had feelings for him?”

“Tell him sooner.” He clenched his jaw. “Don’t lead him on when you clearly have feelings for Jisung.”

Seungmin gasped behind you, and you found yourself at a loss for words. Hyunjin knew? When—How—How the fuck did Hyunjin find out? You swore you’d always hidden your feelings well, but… “What are you talking about?”

His gaze was ice cold now, and he scowled at you once more. “You went out with Felix because you didn’t want to admit it. Now Jisung feels bad because he helped set you two up because you asked—Did you even like Felix?!” 

“I did!” You did. You truly did. But not every relationship was meant to last—and, hell, you never even became anything official. If you could turn back time, you would have ended things sooner. “I did,” you said, your voice softer as you reined in your temper. “I wouldn’t just mess with Felix like that, Hyunjin. He’s my friend, too.” You brought your arms up to hug yourself. “Hyunjin, do you really think I’d do that?”

Hyunjin didn’t say anything for a moment, the regret clear on his face. His fingers grazed the wooden table in front of him as he looked away from you, pressing his lips into a firm line. As upset as he was with you, assuming you would be so cruel to someone you both clearly cared about was… a little too far, wasn’t it? He took a deep breath as he calmed himself down, meeting your eyes after a moment. “I think you need to figure out your feelings. I’m tired of watching my friends hurt.” 

“I know.” Your lip trembled a little, and you fought back the urge to cry. “I can’t help how I feel about Felix, though. I know I should have told him sooner, but… I really, really didn’t know until we kissed. I promise.” 

Hyunjin said nothing at first, just watching you. He licked his lips a moment later, swallowing hard. “You really don’t understand, do you?”

All you could do was stare. Maybe he would give something away. “What?”

Seungmin spoke up after a moment, “Don’t you have that meeting? For your project?” He looked between the two of you. He looked at Hyunjin more pointedly after a moment, clearly annoyed at the confused look on his face. “Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin caught on for once, although you could tell that this was some sort of lie. “Right,” he said, reaching for his sketchbook. “I should go.”

There was no point in calling either of them out. They weren’t going to tell you anything now, and you needed to reflect on what had happened so far. You apologized for intruding and for coming in so hot, turning to make your way out of the apartment. While you still weren’t sure why, exactly, Jisung was upset to the point of not speaking to you… You understood at least a little more. It felt like everyone knew something that you didn’t, although the answer felt just outside of your reach. How much of it was you not knowing, though, and how much of it was you not letting yourself know? You weren’t sure. 

Hyunjin called your name before you left, hesitating before he met your gaze. “I think… I think you should talk to Jisung.” He frowned. “I’m still upset with you because of Felix, but… It’s weird that you two aren’t talking at all. So…” He made his way over, opening the door to leave with you. “Talk to Jisung soon.”

You would. Regardless of how you came out on the other end, you would talk to him no matter what it took.

Jisung had his favorite studio on the music floor of the arts building. He’d penciled in his time slot at the beginning of the week, and let himself in with the code. This room was the furthest from the entrance, and it had the most comfortable chair to settle in and work in. It was always a fight to get this room, and Jisung was good at quietly stealing a few time slots for himself. He shoved his bag underneath the table, and he put himself to work. He’d need to re-record the piano track for one piece, record the guitar accompaniment for another piece he’d been working on… And plenty more that was always best suited for working here rather than home. Using digital instruments only took him so far—there was something calming about sitting down and playing a piece himself. 

It wasn’t until he was playing a piece back that he heard the door click unlocked behind him. When he looked up, there you were. You looked tired. Far more tired than he did most days. What had happened to you? 

“Hey.” You stood in the open doorway. Non-music students weren’t allowed in here, but that had never stopped you. Someone had to drag him back home when it was getting too late, after all.

He ran a hand through his hair, hoping that he looked casual enough. “Hey.”

“Everything okay?” The door slowly fell shut behind you, and you stepped a little closer to him. “It’s been a while.” 

Three weeks, but who’s counting? Jisung was. He kept counting day by day, hour by hour, trying to whittle down the time further and further until he was strong enough to face you again. “I’ve been busy,” he half-lied. “That’s all.”

“Is it?” You frowned, making your way over to the nearby chair. “If you want me to leave, you can tell me, okay? I’m worried about you.” 

Jisung let out a sigh, nodding. “I’m okay. Just…” He looked at the piece he’d been working on, and thought back to the song he’d been writing for you. “I’ve been working on a song sometimes. But…” He looked at you. Maybe you’d have the answer he was still searching for. “What would you do if you loved someone you shouldn’t?”

“Like… forbidden love?” You tilted your head curiously, frowning. “Or…?”

He chuckled, actually smiling again for the first time in a while. Oh, how he was still so endeared to you. No wonder you were still in your literature program with cute thoughts like those. “Just someone you can’t be with. Like…” He hummed to himself. It would be another lie, but it’d throw you off his trail if you were starting to figure him out. “A friend’s partner.” 

He could see the way you started to think on that, no doubt making a list of all the friends the two of you had that were dating. It’d vex your brain for a bit, sure, but Jisung didn’t mind. He liked the cute way your brows drew together when you were thinking hard, lips always pressing into this pout. 

“That’s what my song is about is all,” he said. “I haven’t experienced it myself,” he lied again, “but I was thinking about it and I wondered what kind of song that would turn into. It’s about someone who’s in love with their friend’s partner, and struggling with those feelings. Like… They wouldn’t do anything to hurt their friend, but they still can’t  help their feelings.”

You said nothing to him. Had he said too much? You were figuring him out, weren’t you…?

“I just think it’s hard to live that life,” he said. Every time he even thought about you, there was an ache in his chest. Felix liked you, too. “I mean… Imagine loving someone so much that it hurts.” 

“I can, yeah.” Your voice had gone a little quieter than usual. Right. Had you felt that way about Felix…? Or were you talking about him now? Jisung struggled more with that one, even though Hyunjin was so confident that Jisung’s feelings had never been one-sided. 

He met your gaze a minute later, shy to look into your eyes again. He’d always loved the color of your eyes. If he could write songs about how he wanted to drown in their warm, loving gaze, he would. But that was straying a little too far into territory he’d sworn away from. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I wanted time to figure things out, but… I think Minho would tell you I haven’t talked to most people lately.”

You nodded. “Chris said the three of you went out to a noraebang.” Your toes tapped against the floor in that nervous way, as though this was a topic you shouldn’t even come close to. “Did that help?”

Wait… You weren’t mad at him for that. “It doesn’t bother you?”

“No?” You toyed with your sleeve, not quite meeting his gaze this time. “I mean… It did sting a little bit, but if you needed Chris and Minho, then I can’t change that. All I can do is just kinda hope that they helped you.”

He didn’t deserve you. Fuck the music for now, he’d finished what he really needed to do. He began to shut down the equipment, gathering his things as he stood up, facing you. “I’ll buy dessert,” he said. “Is that okay?”

it was your turn to smile at him, lighting up his world all too easily. You followed him out of the studio, and he secured the door shut to make sure it was locked. For a moment, his hand brushed against your own, and he yearned to hold it. Another feeling he would have to get used to, he was sure. But all he could do was smile at you, thankful that you were right there by his side for the first time in weeks. 

This would be hard, but he could do it. He wasn’t going to lose you again. Not if he had anything to do with it.

Hyunjin had shown up to his apartment for once, and he stood in the doorway to his bedroom. “Jisung. Tell them.” His hand curled around the strap of his bag, clutching it tight. “Soon.” 

Minho had told him the same thing ever since the two of you started talking again. If Jisung didn’t want to pursue you, then it was time he learned to let you go. And if he did want to become something with you, then he needed to talk to you. It wasn’t fair to either of you if he held onto this dream of loving you without ever trying. If Jisung couldn’t let himself do it, then why keep hurting himself by holding onto it so tightly? Why not find a new dream to pursue, a new person to love wholeheartedly? Yet Jisung couldn’t imagine a world where he wasn’t loving you in some way. Part of his heart would live and die with you one day, no matter how far away he went. This was his fate now.

“I just got our friendship back,” he said without looking up again. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Jisung, they like you.” Hyunjin said it outright. “So you need to tell them.”

Jisung looked up. He knew you liked him. But would he ever let himself fully believe it? It felt… harder to grasp that reality. He’d spent so long telling himself that it was all in his head, that the tender look in your eyes was just you caring for him as a best friend. But Hyunjin was right. Minho had been right. Everyone who had ever told him to just go for it was right. “Hyunjin, I don’t know if I can—”

“I’m tired of watching my friends hurt,” he said. “All of us see it. Why can’t you?”

Jisung swallowed hard. “What about Felix?”

Hyunjin averted his gaze, frowning. “Felix…” He took a deep breath. “Felix would want you to be happy, Jisung. He knows, too, you know.” He took a step back. “I’m not going to push you. But you should tell them.”

He said nothing else, and soon Hyunjin left him there. Jisung shut the world out again, listening to his song as it played back to him again. One step closer. Once he finished this song, everything would be okay.

Chris Bang had always been your best friend growing up before Jisung took that title away from him. He was an older brother to you in every way except blood, and that meant he was the one who would have the hard talks with you. He’d come home with your favorite takeout in hand, setting it on the dinner table before saying he’d change out of his work clothes quickly. But you knew what was coming. There were only two reasons that Chris would buy your favorite takeout on his way home from work. You weren’t upset, which meant it was time for an adult conversation. One that you wouldn’t want to have, but needed to. Soon enough, Chris had sat across from you, having poured your drink first. 

“So I think we should talk about how you’re in love with Jisung,” Chris said as he set down the bottle. “Okay?”

You stared at him, already feeling tears well up. Everyone knew, then. If Chris knew, then there was no way the others hadn’t figured it out. “Chris…”

“It’s okay.” He took your hand in his own. It was time for the two of you to dump your feelings onto the table and sort them out right then and there together. “Let’s talk about this, okay? No more running away.”

No more running away. You breathed in deep, and slowly exhaled. Where to begin…? You weren’t sure. So much of your life had become this huge mess over the past few months, and now all those strings were tangled so tightly together that you weren’t sure you could undo the knot.

So Chris squeezed your hand before letting go, turning his attention to the bag of takeout in front of you. “I know you,” he said. “So I know you didn’t want to hurt Felix, and I know that you still don’t. But… I think it’s time you put your feelings first for once.”

“Chris…” You frowned. “It feels too soon.”

“I kinda hate saying it, but we all know now. Felix included.” He set your plate in front of you, and didn’t touch his own. All he did was watch you, waiting for you to say or do anything further. When you didn’t, he decided to continue on, “You can’t tell me that you don’t want to act now because of Felix. I asked everyone and they all said the same thing: they thought you’d liked Jisung for a while before you and Felix dated. After that, they all thought that you two were just that close.”

“We are.” 

Chris shook his head, saying your name gently this time. “You know Jisung loves you, right?”

There was a spike of pain in your chest. Not because you didn’t, but because you did. Hyunjin had all but spelled it out for you before, but seeing Jisung again that day proved it. You’d always thought you were just believing in something that wasn’t there, too afraid to toe the line between friend and more. Tears lined your eyes now, and finally ran down your cheeks as you blinked. All you could do was nod now. 

Chris already reached up to wipe away your tears. “It’s okay!” He chuckled. “You’ve gotten so soft,” he teased. “But… Why did you never tell him?”

“I was scared.” You still were, to be fair. “I didn’t know for sure before, and… Now I just don’t want to hurt Felix. I don’t think Jisung does, either.”

His gaze softened so much. Of course the two of you were still thinking of Felix. Minho had said the same thing to Chris, actually. “Felix wants you to be happy,” he said. “All of us do. If that means being with Jisung, then that’s what you should do. Felix is an adult, you know. He might be more sensitive sometimes, but he’d never hold any of this against you.” He cupped your cheek gently. “And I really, really don’t think he’d want to be the reason you two never tried.”

You could believe that easily. If Felix knew, he’d feel guilty. That you knew as fact.

“And if I’m being honest… I don’t think he’s the only reason you haven’t tried.” He pulled his hand away from your face. “So… Talk to me. What’s really stopping you?”

No running away. “What if this doesn't work out and I lose Jisung for good?”

“There’s no guarantee that will happen,” Chris said. 

“There’s no guarantee we’ll work out, either.” You frowned. “I’ve heard horror stories of friends who tried to date and it ruined everything.”

“And there’s friends who managed to go back to being friends,” Chris said. “I really think that you two wouldn’t let it tear you apart. You’ve already been through so much, you know?” 

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. The last thing you ever wanted was to lose Jisung again. If the two of you didn’t work out, how hard would you fight for him? Would he fight for you, too…?

“The most you’ll ever have to do is get space from each other,” Chris said. “But I think you’d come back to each other.”

“I think he’s my soulmate.” You hadn’t thought before you said it, the words bursting out of you all too easily. Regardless of whether that was platonically or romantically, Jisung was someone you wanted to keep in your life forever. “But…”

“But?”

“Isn’t it too soon?” You frowned at Chris. “I mean… Felix and I—”

“If you don’t go for it now, when will you?” Chris held your hand again. “If you aren’t ready to tell him, I won’t push you to do it. Just because you confess doesn’t mean you have to rush into a relationship—it just means you’re finally being honest with each other. Go at your own pace… But don’t hold back because of everyone else, okay?” He squeezed your hand reassuringly. “The only people in this relationship would be you and Jisung. So don’t include anyone else in this decision, okay?”

With a nod, you decided to commit to giving yourself three days. One day to make up your mind for sure on whether this was the right move to make. If you were going to confess to Jisung, then you wanted to do it sooner rather than later. The second day was to figure out how you were going to tell him. Over cheesecake, or in through a song, or in the park… You still had to figure that part out, and you would. It needed to be special. 

And the third day was going to be the day you told him.

On the rooftop of Jisung’s apartment was a community garden. It brought a little greenery into the city, and it was nice to see the plants that several people often tended to— fresh herbs that Minho would sometimes pick with permission to use when he cooked, a few tomato plants that he often saw people tending to, Things that he didn’t fully understand the care of himself, but he still appreciated the efforts put into it. It was a nice space to sit and think alone sometimes, most of his friends unaware of just how often he’d come up here. He could see so much of the city here, too. He was just one person in this great big city—in the world, even, if he let his mind wander that far. And yet he’d found significance through the people he loved, in the passions he pursued. 

He’d finished his song for you late last night, and now he was left with this hollow feeling. He’d told himself over and over that this song would be it: one last thing he’d dedicate to you, and then he’d move on. But… That wasn’t how it was going to work at all. Han Jisung knew a few things now. He loved you. You loved him. The only question he had left was how to tell you.

Maybe he should have written you a love song instead. Then he’d have something, at least.

He’d brought a drink out here with him, settling at the picnic table. He used to bring you up here sometimes, stealing away from the world for a while to just exist with you. You’d share drinks together, and a few times you’d ended up rained on. Now, he just lost himself to the playlist he’d been listening to, head bobbing along to the music. He could bring you here and confess to you at sunset. Would that be romantic? He didn’t care for it being a grand gesture, as long as it was something memorable. All he wanted was a gesture that told you that he was sorry but ready to face tomorrow at your side, if you would let him be there. 

The door to the rooftop had this awful screech that he could hear through his headphones. He opened his eyes, reaching to pull them around his neck and politely greet whoever had come up here. And it was as if you’d heard his thoughts, because there you stood in the golden rays of the day. 

“Hey.” The door had slowly swung shut behind you as you made your way over to him.

He shyly smiled at you. “Hi.” Now it was his turn to ask: “Is everything okay?”

You nodded, coming to the edge of the table. “I think we should talk about us.”

“Us?” His heart almost skipped a beat at that. Did you…? 

Oh. You knew. 

“It’s nothing bad,” you had said to him, as if it could put him at ease now. “But…” You rounded the table, throwing one leg over the bench he’d been sitting on. Instead of sitting normally, you chose to straddle it, just so you could fully face him.

So he matched you, throwing one leg out and turning to fully face you. “But?”

“I’m in love with you,” you said, voice wavering ever so slightly now. “And… And you’re in love with me.” You’d begun to drum your knuckles against the wooden bench. “And… And I don’t know why neither of us said anything sooner.”

Jisung stared at you, face growing warmer. His gut instinct was to deny it, to push his feelings away. But Hyunjin’s words rang out in his head: he was tired of seeing his friends hurt. Everyone was now.

“I really wanna be honest with you, so…” You took a deep breath, shutting your eyes for just a moment to center yourself. “Hyunjin thought I was using Felix to get over you, and… I just wanted to say that I promise I wasn’t. I really did like Felix, but…”

“I didn’t think you were,” Jisung’s voice was soft, and he reached for your hands. His fingertips grazed your knuckles before he pulled his hands away. Was touching you, even in such a tiny way, too much? “I knew you liked him.”

You nodded slowly. “Good. Because…” You’d grown flustered, averting your gaze. “I.. didn’t know that it’d always be you until I kissed him.”

That time, the world seemed to stop around him. It’d… always be him? “What?” His fingers curled around the edge of the bench. “I don’t understand. What do you—” 

A moment later, your eyes met his own. “I think I’ve been looking for you in every person I’ve tried dating, and that’s why it’s never worked out.” He’d already begun to melt, but you continued on, “If you didn’t love me back, then I think maybe one day I would have moved on. But… If you don’t, then tell me, and we can pretend this conversation never happened.”

He shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to pretend he didn’t love you. Yet something ached in his chest. Felix. Even now, all he could think about was how Felix would hurt once he knew the two of you were something. “I… I want to,” he said, voice softer now. “But what about Felix?”

“Would you hesitate if Felix didn’t like me?”

He shook his head. Never. He swallowed hard, his emotions building in his chest. He’d dreamed of a day like this for so long, always pining over you night after night. He dreamed of kissing you, warm and tender, and saying all the pretty things that came to mind. And now that you were in front of him, he couldn’t help but glance at your lips again. Not yet. “I…” He paused, just to gather himself together. “I didn’t think you’d love me, you know.”

You frowned at him. “Why not?”

“You’re you,” he said. “And… And I wasn’t sure if you’d ever like me like that. I’ve always known you liked me, but love is… different.” The paint chips from the bench were flaking onto his fingers now, the same shade of red as your sweater. As his, too. “I know Felix is hurting now, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you. I thought it would, but…”

“I get it.” You nodded slowly. “I… I also kinda thought things would change. But if everyone wants us to be happy, then I think we’re the only people standing in our way.” 

He didn’t want to. Not anymore. Jisung reached forward, this time keeping his hands over your own. “I think we should stop that,” he said, voice growing quieter. His eyes had grown wetter, tears brimming the edges, and reached up to wipe them away. “Sorry—I’m getting emotional.”

“It’s okay.” You scooted forward a little, and Jisung felt his heart begin to race. You were so close he could kiss you. He wanted to kiss you. You reached up, caressing Jisung’s face. He already leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he savored the feeling. Your hands were so warm, even now. “I think I’ll always love Felix the way I love the rest of our friends. But… I love you more, Jisung. I know it’s early to say it, but… I really think it’s you.”

He opened his eyes, taking in the way the golden rays of the sun were kissing your face. Was it wrong to be a little jealous? Again, his eyes flickered down to your lips for just a second. “Can I kiss you?”

You said the only word he needed, and he leaned in to close the space between the two of you. His nose had brushed against yours for a moment, already smiling before his lips met your own. Your lips were so soft, and his hands found a home at your waist after a moment. He’d always wondered what kissing you would be like, and now it felt as though he’d finally woken up from the longest dream in his life. His eyes fluttered shut as he lost himself in this moment with you.

He’d heard stories before of what it was like to kiss someone after so much pining, after so many trials in the way. People talked of having their breath stolen from them, or being unable to breathe from how surreal it all seemed to be. Yet when he kissed you, it was as though he could finally breathe again. He had resurfaced after drowning in so much self doubt and fear for far too long, and kissing you was living. Yet he knew that if he was given the choice to drown in you, he would have done it without a second thought. As much as you’d given him life with only a kiss, filling his lungs with air, he’d follow your siren song to the depths of the ocean all too eagerly if it meant he could taste this feeling once more. You ran a hand through his hair, and he was already intoxicated by you, his body yearning for your touch more than ever before. Yet when he pulled away, something had plucked his heartstrings one by one. He let out that broken, stuttered breath that always served as a precursor for him crying. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he gazed at you, trying to commit every part of this moment to memory. 

“Jisung?” You were concerned for him even after kissing him, and he wanted to laugh. To cry. To kiss you again. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, his hands finding your own all too easily. “I love you, too.” He’d always love you. Whatever part of his heart you had, it was yours to keep regardless of where this went. “I think it’s you for me, too.” 

By the time the two of you had made it back inside, the sun had set, and Jisung had held onto your hand tightly the entire way to his apartment. He’d given up his bed for you in the past already, he’d happily do it again to make sure you had a proper night of sleep. Maybe one day he would fall asleep next to you and memorize every line and blemish on your face, but not tonight. Kissing you and saying those three little words he’d always wanted to hear you say was plenty for one day. Yet he’d kissed you one last time as he left you at his bedroom door, just to kiss you goodnight.

“Jisung?” You’d called to him as he made his way to the couch, and he’d turned to face you one more time. “Dream of me.”

Oh. Oh. His heart had skipped a beat yet again at you. This was his new reality, wasn’t it? He found himself smiling at you, that same shy, pretty smile you’d later tell him you always wanted to kiss. He’d dream of you every night if it meant he could wake up to you, too. Tonight would be the end of strife and stress and strain from not telling you how he felt. Now he had to make up for so much lost time.

And if that meant that, starting tomorrow, he would tell you exactly what you meant to him, then he’d do it. That was what you deserved, after all, and what he did, too.

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