Jeonghans Guide To Insurance Fraud (And Falling In Love)

Jeonghan’s Guide to Insurance Fraud (And Falling in Love)

reader x jeonghan

summary: your best friend offers a way for you to get your wisdom teeth removed without going into debt. the only catch? you can’t fall in love

genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, elementary school teacher!jeonghan, f2L, fake relationship

warnings: swearing (jihoon needs soap), one suggestive joke?, mentions of insecurities??? (is that a warning)

wc: 11.2k

a/n: this story (probably obviously) is based on the fact that i have aged out of my parents dental and i still have my wisdom teeth and this gives me anxiety - if you live somewhere with actually decent healthcare what’s it like 😭 (we can call this 100 follower special sure yeah uh huh)

“Marry me.” 

You eyed Jeonghan from across the couch. Having been friends with him since childhood, you knew what it looked like when he was going to say something completely insane. The corners of his mouth would turn up (as if even he knew how ridiculous what he was saying was), his eyes would glint with mischief, and when he was really messing with you, he’d sit back and fold his arms. 

The thing was, he wasn’t doing any of that now. 

It’s only because you knew him so well that you realized he was actually nervous, blinking just a little bit more than usual and popping his knuckles. 

“You’re serious?” You finally said. 

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance as he leaned back against the arm of the couch. “It’s a solution.” 

“It’s marriage, Jeonghan,” you said. “It’s not something you do on a whim.” 

“It’s not a whim,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I thought it through. You’d be able to get your teeth out without going into debt.” He poked your left cheek, almost to your jaw, as if he could reach your teeth. 

“But marriage? That’s like—a whole commitment and everything,” you sputtered. “You don’t just marry someone for insurance!” 

He shrugged. “Why not? It’s half the reason I took this job and my wisdom teeth have already been taken out. I need to make full use of it!” He knocked his knee against yours. “We’ll get divorced as soon as your teeth are fine. Don’t you want to do something fun and stupid?” 

“Fun and stupid is for people that didn’t lose their parents’ dental insurance,” you said with a sigh that even you knew was dramatic. 

“And this is a solution to that!” Jeonghan paused. “You really won’t even consider it?” 

You turned to him, seeing how earnest he was. For whatever reason, he really believed in this. “Why? What does this do for you?” 

“Contrary to what you and Seokmin think, not everything I do is give and take,” Jeonghan said. He placed a hand on your wrist, warm and familiar. “Yn, you are my best friend, and I want to help. I can help, I have a legitimate solution. If you want.” 

For the first time, you actually contemplated it. Fake marrying Jeonghan wouldn’t change anything. He’d still be the idiot you met in elementary school that somehow convinced you for an entire year that humans came from Mars, and who had talked you into joining the Shakespeare Club in high school before abandoning you to join the soccer team. And he’d still be the first person you’d called when your first boyfriend had broken up with you and you needed a shoulder to cry on, the person who kept you up all night so you could write your final paper last minute your senior year, the first person you hugged when you finally graduated college. 

“I’m not marrying anyone that doesn’t ask properly,” you said, not quite able to hide your smile. It was quickly wiped away when he slid off the couch, kneeling in front of you and scooping your hands into his. He looked up at you without a hint of a lie, his smile hesitant and nervous. 

“Yn, my love.” He paused for dramatic effect. It wasn’t the first time he’d called you ‘my love,’ but it was different when he was immersed in the act of a man in love, making your heart skip a beat. “Would you please consider marrying me?” 

You were tempted to say yes right away, your heart beating much louder than it should have considering it was just Jeonghan and not an actual proposal. You opened your mouth to answer, but the door flew open and Mingyu walked in. You whirled around to see him, Jeonghan’s hands still wrapped around yours. 

Jeonghan’s roommate clearly had walked in without looking, now frozen with his bag hanging in his hands and one shoe half off. “I can come back.” 

“No need!” You said, as he tried unsuccessfully to wiggle his foot back into his shoe. “Jeonghan was just proposing.” 

“Oh, is that all,” Mingyu said. You were tempted to keep the joke going but you were a little worried at Mingyu’s frown, a mixture of shock and concern. 

“He’s just trying to marry me so that I can get my wisdom teeth out,” you said. “It’s just insurance fraud.” 

“Oh, is that all,” Mingyu repeated, sounding rather disappointed. He finally shut the door behind him, tossing his bag into a corner and taking his shoes fully off. “Don’t let me interrupt.” You watched him cross the room, barely glancing at you and Jeonghan, and disappear into his room. 

Jeonghan squeezed your hands to get your attention again. “So? How about it?” 

You smiled. “Sure. On one condition.” 

.

.

You would have had a lot more fun if the waiter wasn’t still staring at you. It was starting to get uncomfortable. Since you sat down, you hadn’t felt him look away, his eyes burning into you throughout the entire meal. 

You wondered if Jeonghan even noticed, sitting across from you and frowning at the menu. You tapped his foot under the table and he finally looked up and smiled at the man. 

“Are you ready for dessert?” The waiter took his eyes off of you and you finally felt like you could breathe again. Some of it was your own fault. As Jeonghan ordered, you decided that it had been your idea and you couldn’t really be mad at him for being oblivious to your discomfort. It wasn’t like you were actually on a date. 

“Anything else?” The waiter turned back to you and you tried your best not to squirm under his gaze. It felt like he was trying to undress you with his eyes. You wished you had worn a jacket and less form-fitting clothes. 

Jeonghan reached across the table and squeezed your hand, making the waiter shift his eyes away from you for a moment. You glanced at your fake date and he smiled. 

“We’re good, thank you,” you said, not taking your eyes off Jeonghan. You waited until you heard his footsteps leading away before you sighed in relief, letting go of Jeonghan’s hand. 

“What is up with that guy?” You muttered. 

“We’re almost out of here,” Jeonghan said. “We can bail if you want, though.” 

You shook your head. “I want to see the look on his face when we walk out of here.” 

Jeonghan laughed. That was why you were best friends. You understood the little voice in his head that whispered about petty comebacks so well because it sounded a lot like yours. 

“So,” he said louder. You realized he was starting, fixing any stray hairs that had wandered into your face and sitting up a little straighter. “We’ve been together for a long time.” You nodded, smiling and finding it easy to pretend to hang on to every word as if you were in love. “Yn, you have been by my side through the most important parts of my life. I can’t imagine my future without you in it. Even before we were dating, I always knew it was going to be me and you.” 

He paused, stepping out of his chair to kneel on the hard tile floor, reaching into his suit jacket and pulling out a box. He opened it, revealing the simple gold band you had picked out together. With his free hand, he found yours, squeezing your fingers gently. 

“Yn, will you please marry me?” 

Your hand flew to your mouth, as you stood up, sputtering his name, trying to pretend like a flustered date, buying time so you could blink out the real tears in your eyes. Teaching those children was making him too good of a liar. 

“Yes,” you finally said. “Of course yes.” His smile was so big as he slid the ring onto your finger that you knew you had the entire restaurant fooled, maybe even yourself. There was applause when he pulled you into a hug, and you wondered if you were supposed to be this excited about a fake marriage. 

You caught a glimpse of a uniform out of the corner of your eye and had a terrible idea. You pulled away until your face was only inches away from his, playing with the lapels of his suit jacket while his hands came to rest at your waist as if this were natural. 

“You wanna kiss?” You asked softly. You were, perhaps, a little too entertained by how wide his eyes got, his hands suddenly tight. “It’ll be funny,” you said, leaning a little bit closer. “And I think it’ll look really weird if we don’t do it now because it really looks like we’re about to kiss.” 

He stared at you, glancing at your lips then back to your eyes. You realized that this was the closest you’d ever been to him, in all your years of friendship. Your breath hitched as he leaned forward, and you closed your eyes. 

Just when you were beginning to think he chickened out, you felt his lips on yours, a gentle and chaste kiss that was supposed to end in a heartbeat. Your hands curled into the fabric of his jacket as you leaned closer, chasing him before he could pull away. For a moment, he didn’t react. Then he was kissing you back and you forgot what you were supposed to be worried about.

You were both breathing heavily when he finally pulled away. You felt a little light headed, grateful he didn’t let go of your waist as you tried to remember why you had been kissing your best friend, and why it felt so good. 

“I can’t wait to marry you,” he said, reaching a hand up to brush some hair out of your face. Right. Marriage. Fake marriage. You finally pushed out of his arms, sitting back in your seat, though you kept your dazed smile. 

“Congratulations,” the older couple sitting at the table next to you said. “You two make a lovely young couple.” 

“Thank you,” you said. 

“Take it from someone who’s been married for fifty-one years,” the man said, “the only right way to do marriage is to find someone that loves you and hold on to them.” 

You smiled at them, feeling a little guilty that you weren’t really getting married. You did love Jeonghan, though not in the sense that he meant. 

“It’s been fifty two years, dear.” 

The man frowned. “No, I counted this morning.” 

“Well, you counted wrong.” 

You turned back to Jeonghan as they continued to bicker, raising your eyebrows. He smiled, picking up your left hand that now bore the “engagement” ring, running his thumb over your fingers. The kiss was messing with your head, that was why your heart was pounding at such a simple movement. 

You sat in idle silence as Jeonghan laced your fingers together and you both eavesdropped on the fighting couple next to you. For a couple moments, it was nice, and you let yourself pretend you really were engaged. You wondered what it would be like to be so certain in your love that you would commit to every day with them. Maybe you were just young, but you couldn’t imagine the strength of that love. Except maybe you could, because you knew for a fact that your future held Jeonghan. And Seokmin, and Seungcheol, and Mingyu, and all of your friends. They were fixtures in your life even if it was a different kind of love. 

Jeonghan tapped your hand, bringing you out of your daydream. “Free dessert incoming.” You turned around and saw a waiter, not the one who had been staring at you, carrying a large slice of cake with a candle in it. 

“Congratulations!” He said, setting it on the table. “Please enjoy your dessert complimentary as a sign of our hope your love will be everlasting!” His enthusiasm was fake but the free dessert was all you cared about anyways, the entire reason you had Jeonghan propose a second time. 

You cut into the cake, excited to see if it really was as good as the reviews said. The fork was halfway to your mouth before you paused, smiling at Jeonghan. He seemed to know exactly what you were thinking, rolling his eyes but opening his mouth. You leaned over the table, delivering the cake directly into his mouth. You tried not to think about his lips as you pulled the fork back, remembering how they felt against yours. 

You quickly cut your own piece, focusing on the sweet chocolate. It really was delicious, definitely worth the fake engagement. You savored each bite, not daring to look at Jeonghan for fear of your thoughts betraying you again. 

The cake was finished quickly, leaving you full and suddenly nervous with nothing to look at other than Jeonghan. Since when did he make you nervous? 

Because you weren’t looking at him, you didn’t notice him lean forward, and nearly jumped when his fingers brushed against your chin, thumb rubbing against the corner of your lips. 

“You had some chocolate on your face, idiot,” he said, dropping his hand and leaning back. It’s because you haven’t been on a date in a while, you decided. That’s why the simplest actions from Jeonghan were making your heart flutter. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, trying to see if the waiter carrying a check was headed your way. 

You hoped the awkwardness would go away after a few minutes, but even after Jeonghan paid (and stared down the waiter) and you both walked to his car, you couldn’t think of anything to say to break the awkward tension. It was as if you had forgotten everything you had ever spoken about, your mind completely blank. 

You sat in the front seat of his car, tapping your fingers on the armrest and looking anywhere but at your best friend. You tried to remember the last time you had been with him and didn’t have anything to say. How did you normally act around him? Make fun of his driving? Tease him about…Well, usually about his lack of a love life but you were definitely not bringing that up now. 

You were relieved when his phone rang, saving you from spewing any of the awkward conversation starters you were coming up with. Jeonghan answered with his fancy steering wheel button, making you reminisce about the days when you would have to answer for him. Sometimes you missed his old car, as beat up and shitty as it was. 

“You bastard.” You grinned at Jihoon’s greeting. 

“Hi, Jihoon, my night is going great, how’s yours?” 

“Hi Jihoon!” You said so that he’d know you were there too. 

“How dare you fucking leave me?” Jihoon said. “You heartless, spineless, dickless, motherfucker.” 

Jeonghan laughed. “I see the dance went well.” You stifled your giggle. You’ve met Jeonghan’s work friends a couple times, though this is the first time you’ve experienced Jihoon’s full wrath (Jeonghan has told you many times how scary the man could be and you’ve seen firsthand that he has not skipped gym day in years). 

“I sent Joshua,” Jeonghan said. “It couldn’t have been that bad.” 

“Yeah that bastard is next, he switched too,” Jihoon said. “I had to chaperone with motherfucking Seungkwan.” 

“Oh come on, it couldn’t have been that bad,” Jeonghan says. “Seungkwan is nice.” 

“You better have a good goddamn excuse.” You could hear Jihoon’s glare. “Any second I wasn’t dealing with a kid crying bc they couldn’t get a goddamn muffin or pissed their pants I was listening to that fucking idiot gush about how cute the kids are. I haven’t had a second to hear my own fucking thoughts.” 

“Stop laughing!” You said. “Green light, dumbass!” Jeonghan wiped a couple tears from his eyes and stepped on the gas before the cars behind you honked. 

“Yn?” Jihoon seemed to finally realize you were there. 

“Yeah, I’m with Jeonghan, he’s driving,” you said. 

“Are you the reason that motherfucker ditched me tonight?” He asked. You wondered if it was safe to answer the question, but, catching a glimpse of the ring on your finger glinting under the passing streetlight, you realized you had a perfectly good reason. 

“Well, we did get engaged,” you said. 

Jihoon was silent. Jeonghan’s head whipped to you for a moment before turning back to the road. When you winked at him, it took him a moment to return a smile. 

“Took you long enough,” Jihoon finally said. 

“It’s not an actual engagement,” Jeonghan said, rolling his eyes at your groan. “Yn just wanted free dessert.” 

“You canceled on me because you scammed a restaurant?” Jihoon sounded pissed again. 

“We could have kept that going so much longer,” you muttered as Jihoon began to curse him out again. Jeonghan pulled into your driveway, leaving the engine on. 

“I’ll see you on Monday, Jihoon,” Jeonghan said. 

“Yeah, looking forward to it,” Jihoon said. You frowned as the call disconnected. 

“I think he might be planning your murder,” you said. 

Jeonghan laughed. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll just call Joshua and make sure he’s there to witness it.” 

“I’m pretty sure it’ll just end up being a double homicide,” you said. “Is it weird that I’m a little scared of him?” 

“It’s a common reaction,” he said. “You get used to it, especially when you see him with the kids. He’s an entirely different person.” 

Just like you, you thought, barely catching yourself before you said it out loud. You saw Jeonghan exactly once at school, picking up a work paper he’d accidentally taken with him when he was grading at your dinner table, and immediately forgot to be mad because you got to spy on him teaching in front of a bunch of eight year olds who were actually listening to him. He might have been your best friend, but even you couldn’t deny the way he could make the entire class burst into giggles with just a wink was at least a tiny bit adorable. 

You looked at him now, dark hair getting so long it was falling over his eyes. As he reached a hand back to try (and fail) to tuck it behind his ear, you remembered how they pressed into your waist when you kissed. You pushed the horrible thoughts away, realizing you had been quiet for way too long. 

“I’ll go inside now,” you said, opening the door. You turned around as you got out, facing him. “Thank you for indulging me tonight.” 

His eyes flitted between the ring on your finger and back to your eyes. “You know I love free food just as much as you.” 

You laughed. “Thank you anyways.” You chewed on your lip for a moment before adding, “Seriously, thank you. I… I really don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

He blinked before smiling. “You’d probably let Soonyoung pull out the teeth with pliers.” 

“Oh my god, I totally would,” you said, covering your mouth. “You’re saving me from complete mutilation!” You both laughed, though it faded quickly and you found yourself lingering at the door. 

“Goodnight, yn,” Jeonghan said softly. 

You take a step back, returning his smile. “Goodnight, future husband.” You closed the door on him, though you didn’t miss how he rolled his eyes. 

He waited for you to get inside before he finally drove off, headlights flashing in the windows then disappearing as you watched him drive down the street. You stayed standing by the window for too long, staring at the street long after his car was gone. 

.

.

You found yourself in the front seat of his car again, clutching the piece of paper. It felt… flimsy. You turned to Jeonghan, who had been about to start the engine. 

“That was ridiculously easy, right?” 

He shrugged. You agreed to dress up today, and Jeonghan had decided to wear a suit which made it very hard for you to look at him and think properly but you were doing your best to ignore that. 

“It’s not like it’s a green card marriage,” he said, turning the key and starting the engine. “Plus we’ve been friends for so long I don’t think they’d be able to ask anything we couldn’t answer.” 

You sat back against the chair, still unsatisfied for some reason. A courthouse marriage wasn’t exactly romantic, but you reminded yourself this relationship wasn’t romantic. Still, you thought being married would feel different. 

“So, what do married people do?” You asked. 

“Seatbelt,” Jeonghan said, tapping your leg. You ignored the shivers that traveled down your spine. He turned back to the wheel, though he didn’t put the car into gear until your seatbelt clicked. “I don’t know, get groceries? Run errands?” 

“We do that all the time anyways,” you said, frowning. 

“You do remember that this is a fake marriage, right?” Jeonghan asked. 

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, I am well aware of that. I just thought that this might feel… I don’t know, different.” You held up the piece of paper. “Even if it isn’t actually real, this still legally links us together and that’s kind of monumental.” 

“Are you getting nostalgic on me already?” 

You stared out the window, watching the trees pass by. Maybe you were. You couldn’t help but remember when Jeonghan first got his license, six months before you could get yours. You spent so much time in the passenger seat of that rundown vehicle, seeing him nearly every day. 

You both had grown up. Well, Jeonghan had, with an actual adult job (complete with benefits!). You were still working a part time job and struggling to figure out what you wanted and spending every day terrified that you might never find out what that is. Sitting in his front seat, you wondered if you would ever know. 

“I don’t know,” you finally said. “I just want to do something fun today.” 

“Don’t tell me you want to scam another poor restaurant,” Jeonghan said. “We’ll never be able to go there again.” 

“I didn’t say anything like that!” You said. 

“Then what is something fun?” Jeonghan asked. It was a Monday and he had gone straight from work to the courthouse. You realized he was probably tired and wanted to go home and be done with the day. 

“Laying in bed and taking a nap?” 

“We’ve been married for like twenty minutes and you’re already trying to get me in bed?” Jeonghan whistled. “That’s low even for you.” 

You smacked his arm. “I literally said taking a nap.” 

“Well if you’re not going to suggest anything, then I will,” he said. You frowned at him, but it quickly turned into a grin when you heard his suggestion. 

An hour later you were wearing cheap plastic armor and held a phaser to your chest. You glared at Jeonghan from across the room. He raised his eyebrows and you knew he was saying, good luck with that. 

It had been a little concerning how quickly you and Jeonghan were able to round up friends for laser tag. It was always a struggle to find a date to meet up with everyone but a random Monday afternoon and a last minute invitation somehow managed to bring over half your friends together. 

On your team was Seungcheol, Jun, and Chan, while Jeonghan had Mingyu, Jihoon, and Soonyoung. A fair enough split, in your opinion (you learned years ago that as long as Jeonghan and Seungcheol weren't on the same team it was fair). Chan and Jihoon would both have to prove themselves, the only two invited that hadn’t been friends with you and Jeonghan since high school.  

The “safety instructor,” a kid that couldn’t be older than seventeen, finally finished explaining the rules and the group split up on opposite sides of the arena to begin the battle. 

“Okay, listen up,” Seungcheol said, rounding the group up. His competitiveness hadn’t changed since high school. “I’ll die before I lose to Mingyu and Jeonghan. Keep your eye out for them, Soonyoung is Soonyoung, we don’t have to worry about him, but Jihoon is a wildcard and I don’t trust him, he looks like he’s wielded a gun before.”

“Is it really this deep?” Chan asked you a little too loud. Seungcheol rounded on him. 

“Listen up kid,” he said, ignoring Chan’s protest that he was only a couple years younger. “This is about honor. Respect. This is war, and I’ll be damned if I lose.” 

“Did he watch Braveheart last night or something?” Jun whispered in your ear. You shrugged, adrenaline already pumping through your veins. It had been so long since you’ve gotten to do something fun. 

“Alright, yn and I should split up since we’re the only ones who have a chance at taking down Jeonghan, so Chan, you’re with me, Jun either stick to yn or find high ground.” 

Chan yelped as Seungcheol dragged him to the far entrance. “Why am I with you?” 

“I don’t trust you not to die,” Seungcheol said. 

“Dude, we met today,” Chan said. 

You glanced between Jun and the bickering boys. “Should I save him?” 

He shrugged. “He looks like he can handle it.” 

“You’re still mad that he finished the popcorn when I invited him to movie night.” 

“If he can handle Seungcheol’s wrath he can be invited again,” Jun said. “Otherwise I don’t trust your ‘work friend.’” 

“Oh my god, I can have friends other than you guys,” you said, pushing him to the middle entrance. “Go be a sniper, I don’t want to deal with your sulking more than I’ve already had to put up with.” 

Jun laughed, letting himself get pushed into position as you took the opposite side, already mapping out your plan of attack. From the little map they gave you, it hadn’t changed much since the last time you had been here, though it had been years. You smiled, remembering the last time you had dominated the competition. Jeonghan had been on your team that time, and there was a huge argument about whether that team was unfair. 

You took a deep breath as the countdown dropped to five seconds. You had a reputation to uphold and a husband to destroy. 

Three. 

Two. 

One. 

You were moving as soon as the doors opened, blinking through the machine-generated fog and advancing down the right side of the arena, to where you knew an outpost would be. You could hear Jun’s light footsteps in the catwalks above you, though they soon vanished as he turned to the middle of the map. 

You peered into the darkness, looking for any flash of the green light that signified your enemy but found nothing. You got to the tower, pulsing white light that you shot down before it could damage you. Your armor blinked once, twice, then faded, and a two minute timer began counting down on your phaser. Two minutes of invisibility. You grinned. 

You crept along the side, taking extra care to be quiet. Finally, you caught your first glimpse of a victim, a flash of green light a few paths to your left. You ducked behind a pillar to follow, stepping out and taking a shot. Your phaser buzzed with victory, and you darted back before your victim could spot you and expose your invisibility. 

You moved quickly, glancing at your phaser to see you had gotten Soonyoung. An easy kill, but it made you smile anyways. You were nearly across the arena now, and decided to climb up and see if you could get a better angle for the arena. You knew there was another outpost nearby and heard the unmistakable clanging of someone fighting it. After a couple seconds it stopped, and you guessed it meant someone else had a power too. 

From above, you spotted another green light, taking the shot before it could vanish and feeling the satisfaction of another buzz. You heard Jihoon curse and smiled, ducking behind a wall before he could see you. 

“Fuck you, yn,” he said. 

“Language!” You called back, laughing as he cursed at you again. 

You started to cross a bridge but froze when Jun appeared from the other side, pointing behind him. 

“Jeonghan has unlimited ammo,” he said, ducking behind a barrier. You step behind a wall just as Jeonghan comes into sight. He didn’t see you, but he must have known you were nearby from Jun’s warning. 

“Oh yn,” he called in a sing-song voice. “I know you’re out there.” You still had a chance. He knew you were there, but he didn’t know that you were invisible (for 30 more seconds), which meant he was looking for a blue light. You figured it would give you a couple seconds of surprise and maybe you’d get a good shot off before him. 

You heard Jun groan as he got shot and knew this was your only chance. You stepped out raising your phaser before you spotted him, aiming at nothing- nothing- nothing- then at the bright green light at the end of his phaser as he turned to face you. 

You didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. 

You felt the buzz of your phaser and cheered as Jeonghan’s armor blinked. 

“All these years and you still can’t beat me,” you said with a laugh, crossing the bridge to gloat over him. He rolled his eyes. 

“I can’t believe you’re using the same strategies,” he said. You passed him, walking backwards because you didn’t dare turn your back on him. 

“And yet they still work!” You grinned, until you felt a new buzz, your armor blinking. You whipped around, finally finding Jihoon standing below you with a smirk. 

“Oh fuck you,” you said. You ignored the laughter you heard from both Jihoon and Jeonghan, retreating to hide until your armor recovered and you were back in the game. 

You could hear Seungcheol and Chan bickering from somewhere to your right, followed by Mingyu’s shout as they apparently managed to take him down. Once your armor was glowing blue again, you ventured out, taking extra care to be aware of your surroundings. You stayed on the floor, making sure to check above you for any green light. 

You were able to take out Soonyoung two more times, Mingyu once, and you nearly got Jihoon a second time but Jun got to him first. Though there was only a minute and a half of the game left, you were determined to catch Jeonghan one more time, listening for his laugh, then for his coughing as the fog machines billowed out giant clouds. 

You were all the way around to the entrance you had come in through, the fog making it difficult to see any farther than a couple feet in front of you, which seemed like a safety hazard to you. You moved slowly, trying to pick out any light in the darkness. 

“Hands up.” His voice came from behind you. You cursed, raising your hands in the air. “Turn around.” 

“Just shoot me already,” you said. 

“I want to see your face when I beat you,” he said. “Come on.” 

You turned to face Jeonghan, rolling your eyes at his satisfied smile. “Are you going to shoot me yet?” 

“No, I’m going to enjoy this moment,” he said. You knew he was running down the clock so that you had less time to get revenge. It didn’t make it any less annoying. 

“You’d really shoot me?” You gave him your best betrayed look. “When we were married today? Only a few hours ago?” 

“Save it, you didn’t hesitate when you shot me,” he said, phaser trained at your chest where the blue light gleamed. You caught a glimpse of something behind him, a flash of blue light. 

“I regretted that,” you said, stifling a laugh. “Give me a chance to redeem myself.” 

Jeonghan paused and for a moment you thought he was actually considering it, eyes turning soft. “Fat chance-” 

His armor buzzed and flashed. 

“Who the-”

You bursted into laughter with Seungcheol as Jeonghan turned to face him. You had caught a glimpse of him while begging for your life and somehow managed to keep your face straight until he was in range. Chan trailed behind him, smiling but looking slightly concerned at the pure glee that you and Seungcheol shared. 

Jeonghan glared at you, turning the corner without a word as you high-fived Seungcheol. 

“I owe you,” you said. 

“Ready to hunt down the rest of them?” He cocked his head to the arena. “We still have a minute.” 

“Sure, I could go for a new record with Soonyoung,” you said. 

“Take the right side again, Chan go up and meet up with Jun, I’ll take the left,” Seungcheol said. Chan saluted him, though you didn’t miss him shaking his head as he climbed the stairs. He’d fit right in. 

You got Mingyu one more time just before the timer ran out, then all of the lights on your armor flickered and turned off, the arena lights turning on. You grinned at him, bumping your shoulder into his. 

“You nearly got me that time,” you said. 

“Whatever,” he said. “I still don’t think it’s fair that you got to team with Seungcheol.” 

“Would you rather me and Jeonghan were together again?” 

Mingyu hesitated. When you turned to face him, his brow was furrowed. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“You and Jeonghan are really married?” 

You held up your left hand, gold band still sitting. You hadn’t taken it off since the night he proposed. “Apparently.” 

Mingyu was quiet as you walked beside him, still frowning. 

“Okay, spill.” 

“Spill?” 

“Whatever’s wrong,” you said. “Clearly you don’t approve of me and Jeonghan, so tell me why.” 

“It’s complicated,” he said with a sigh. You stopped him just before the exit. 

“Jeonghan said it was fine, but if it’s messing up something in his life, I want to know.” You waited until he met your eyes. “He’s my best friend, you know I wouldn’t want to do anything that hurts him.” Mingyu stared at his feet and didn’t answer you. 

“Is there someone else? Someone he should be dating for real?” You were surprised at how difficult it was to say, the words leaving a foul taste in your mouth. 

Mingyu tilted his head. “Something like that.” 

It was your turn to frown. Jeonghan had dated plenty of people before and it had never bothered you. You even liked most of them, until things inevitably went wrong. Why did the idea of him having feelings for someone feel so… wrong? 

“Oh.” 

“Are you lost?” You heard Seungcheol shout. You followed Mingyu out, trying to find your smile again. Even when you saw your name at the top of the leaderboard, it was hard to really smile. 

“As expected,” you forced yourself to gloat over Jeonghan, dropping beside him on the bench. He was taking off his armor, and didn’t react to your shoulder pressed against his.  

“You’ll get ‘em next time, champ,” you said, patting his knee. He shook his head, watching Seungcheol and Mingyu argue. 

“Hey,” you said. He turned to face you, and maybe it was the way the sunlight filtering through the windows made him glow or maybe it was just the way he looked at you, but you forgot what you were going to say. 

“What is it?” He asked with a little frown. 

You blinked, trying to push the weird feelings away. “You’re a simp.” 

Jeonghan scoffed. “Since when?” 

“Since you had an easy shot and let me live,” you said. “Seriously, marriage has made you soft.” 

“You think that’s why I didn’t shoot?” He asked. He laughed at your frown. “Oh, yn,” he said, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you close to him. “You may have won the game and you may have beaten me, but you betrayed your husband, and for that you at least owe me dinner.” 

“You’re so full of it,” you said, but you didn’t push him off. “You would have executed me.” 

“I’m hurt,” he said, patting his chest. “You shot me, right here. It still hurts, I’d never do that to you!” 

You rolled your eyes but you leaned into his embrace, tucking your head onto his shoulder. You remembered what Mingyu said, about his heart belonging to someone else and it sent a pang through your heart. Whoever that person was, they were going to be very lucky. Once you got out of the way. 

.

.

Your teeth hurt. Actually, your whole face ached. You struggled to open your eyes, finally managing to pry them open only to squint them closed because the lights were so bright. 

“Ah, you’re awake,” a calm voice said. You frowned at the blurry shape standing over you. “I’ll get your pick-up person.” The nice voice disappeared, leaving you to blink alone. 

They weren’t gone for long, returning with another figure that was familiar. 

“Jeonghan!” You tried to say, except there was gross stuff in your mouth making it difficult to make sounds. 

“Hey toothless,” he said, stopping beside you. He glanced at the nice-voice, who you were pretty sure was some sort of nurse since they were wearing bright green scrubs, then picked up your hand and held it. “How are you feeling?” 

“Mouf hurt,” you said. Jeonghan laughed, squeezing your hand. 

“We’ll get out of here and pick up your prescription, how’s that sound?” 

You nodded. You couldn’t tell if the tingly feeling spreading through your body was the anesthesia wearing off or from Jeonghan beside you. You stared at him, studying his face, eyebrows, nose, jawline, everything. Had he always been so handsome? 

You didn’t turn away when he caught you staring. He seemed to think it was funny, smiling down at you. Since when was his smile so sweet? 

The nice-voice nurse returned. “Okay, yn, you should be good to go, we just have a little paperwork for your husband to fill out.” 

“Huthband?” You tried to say. “I don’t have a huthband.” 

The nurse laughed. “I’m sure you can’t forget marrying someone like him.” You followed their finger, pointing at Jeonghan. 

You frowned at him for a moment, then laughed. “Jeonghan ithn’t my huthband.” 

You frowned at him as he shook his head, patting your hair. “I guess we know how well you handle anesthesia, dear.” 

Dear? You kept staring at him but the nurse handed him paperwork and he seemed to think that meant it was the end of the conversation. He let go of your hand to fill out, which made you frown even more, reaching a hand to rest on his arm. He glanced at you and shook his head at your pout. 

He scribbled on the paper, frowning a couple times but finally put the clipboard down, turning to you. He smiled at you, a warm, fond smile. Is that how married people looked at each other? You tried to return it but your swollen, gauze-filled mouth made it impossible. 

“Let’s go,” he said, returning his hand to yours. You let him pull you to your feet, leaning into his shoulder until the dizziness passed, and then you kept leaning on him because it felt nice. He didn’t protest, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and gently massaging your shoulder as you left the suite. He handed the clipboard to the nurse with a smile. 

“I see you’ve remembered your husband,” they said, winking at you. You glanced between Jeonghan and the nurse. You remembered Jeonghan—he was the boy who sat next to in second grade that never shut up about the World’s Worst Jokes (literally, it was his favorite book), the boy you finally decided to call a friend in fifth grade after he helped you catch up your schoolwork because you missed a week with strep throat. He was the boy you were no longer allowed to pair up in assignments with in middle school after you were dubbed the ‘demon duo’ by all your teachers (it was affectionate, but the Lollipop Incident of seventh grade could not be forgotten), the boy you followed around all through high school because your senses of humor just matched. 

You remembered spending countless university nights beside that boy as he kept you awake until your essays were finished, more than once saving you from the back pain of sleeping slumped over a table by forcing you into a bed. That boy had been your roommate, until a year and a half ago, spending nearly every second at your side, bickering with you about how many holes are in a straw and holding you while you cried over everything from bad grades to heartbreaks. 

You thought you would definitely remember marrying that boy. 

“I couldn’t ever forget him,” you finally said. You wished your words weren’t turned to mush by your mouth. You looked up at Jeonghan, who was smiling down at you again, squeezing your shoulder. 

He thanked the nurse, pulling you outside. You waited until the doors shut before lifting your head off his shoulder. “Are you sure we're married?” 

He laughed at your frown. “Last time I checked.” He lifted your left hand and held it with his own, matching gold bands knocking against each other. 

“Such boring rings,” you said. It was a lie; you loved the simplicity. It just seemed right for you and Jeonghan. 

“I’m never going to let you live this down,” Jeonghan muttered with a crooked smile. He walked you all the way to his car, letting go of your shoulder to open the car door for you. It was strange to see him opening doors for you, but maybe you really had forgotten dating and marriage, and maybe this was normal. You fell into the seat, exhausted from the short walk, barely working up the energy to pull your seatbelt across your shoulders. 

You felt fingers brush against your forehead and you opened your eyes to see Jeonghan brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes. He held your gaze, fingers lingering on your brow. 

“Get some rest,” he whispered. “I’ll pick up your prescription and take you home.” You nodded, the movement finally causing him to drop his fingers. You could feel the ghost of their light touch against your brow, just as you could still feel his fingers laced with yours, even as you watched him drive, both hands gripping the steering wheel. 

You closed your eyes, resting your heavy head against the seat. You were not going to fall asleep, your mouth hurt too much for that, but for once Jeonghan seemed to be avoiding the potholes so it was at least a smooth ride. You wanted to ask him about your marriage, about how you could forget crossing the line between friends and lovers. 

Somehow when you opened your eyes, he was on your street. You definitely remembered him moving out, so why was he taking you back here? 

“If we’re married, why are we going back here?” You asked as he pulled into the driveway. 

Jeonghan fought another smile. “Are you asking me to move in together?” 

“No, I’m asking why married people don’t live together,” you said. He left the car, walking around to your side and helping you out. You leaned on him again as he walked you to the door, feeling exhausted. 

“Maybe we don’t have a happy marriage,” he said nonchalantly. He pulled the keys, your keys, out of his pocket and let himself in, half-carrying you to your room. “I mean, you literally forgot we are married.” 

You shook your head as you crawled under your blankets. “No, I don’t think so. I’m really happy we’re married.” 

He pulled the blankets over you, tucking you in. “Why’s that?” He paused over you, dark hair falling into his eyes again as he looked down on you. 

“I really like you,” you said. He leaned over you, and all you wanted was to melt into those beautiful brown eyes, but your eyelids were getting heavier with each heartbeat. The last thing you remembered was Jeonghan pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

.

.

You watched Jeonghan at the bar. He was getting drinks but he had been stopped by some girl whose name you couldn’t quite remember. You turned to look at the dance floor; Jeonghan could talk to whoever he wanted, you didn’t have any right to care. 

The rest of your friends were scattered around the dance floor at different tables, being normal humans and socializing. Mingyu had tried to drag you into a conversation, but Eun Woo was at the table and there was no way you would deign to be anywhere near that man. 

However, that left you alone at the table your group had claimed when you arrived together, watching everyone else having fun. Names floated around your head, occasionally matching the faces of the people wandering around. Thankfully, no one you didn’t know came to say hi. 

Just last year you had been excited to go to your first high school reunion, tracking down all of your friends and making sure they kept the night free. That had been before you realized everyone else had grown up and gotten adult jobs, leaving you and your part time job to feel tiny and more than a little bit like a failure. 

Your friends got their revenge and dragged you to this year’s reunion. The worst part was, you were stuck. Because of the incident last year (which had nothing to do with you and Jeonghan and the intercom system), your former student body president (turned CEO) decided it would be best to host your reunion at a hotel under the guise of promoting safe drinking habits. They’d booked rooms for everyone and even had free (cheap) beer. You’d be impressed, if you weren’t suspicious that half the funds were from the embezzling scandal you’d heard his company had gotten caught in. 

You found Seungcheol chatting with a couple members of the baseball team. You debated joining him, but they were probably reminiscing about the games they’d played and you’d only gone to a few, so you doubted you’d be able to really contribute to the conversation. 

Seokmin and Soonyoung hadn’t left the dance floor since you arrived, though that surprised no one. The only difference between high school and now was that the alcohol in their system was legal. You were much too sober to think about joining them. Plus it had only been a couple weeks since your surgery, and though you were technically allowed to do physical activity, you used any excuse you could to avoid the chaos of Seokmin and Soonyoung on the dance floor. They were a hazard to society. 

You stood, seeing Jun walking towards his ex, but Mingyu roped him into his conversation. You glared at Eun Woo, as you were now standing awkwardly. 

A quick glance told you that Jeonghan was still stuck in line at the bar, still chatting with the same girl. Not that it bothered you. Maybe you should join him. 

You took a step, but a voice made you freeze. “Who left you all alone?” You spun, finding Minghao standing in front of you, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket. He managed a nonchalant expression until you threw yourself in his arms. 

“You came?” You half shouted with your arms around his neck. 

He laughed, catching you before you toppled him over. “Miss me?” 

“Don’t even joke! Of course I did! You left me with a bunch of idiots!” You took a step back, though you didn’t let go of his hands. Minghao. He’d gone abroad after high school and never came back, leaving a hole in the friend group that could never be replaced. Mingyu liked to call it losing the only braincell you had ever known. 

He caught your left hand, lifting it and raising his eyebrows at the gold band. “I will confess that part of the reason I came was to see if the rumor Seokmin was raving about was true.” 

You let go of his hands, leaning against your seat. “Yeah… A lot has happened since you left.” 

“Clearly.” Minghao raised his eyebrow. He scanned the room, picking out your friends, pausing at Jeonghan at the bar before turning back to you. “It’s good, though. I’m, and don’t you dare make fun of me, happy for you.” 

You frowned. “What are you talking about?” 

“I mean, Jeonghan has things figured out. Like, he has the stability that you need, he’s got a real-life job and everything, and he’s just good for you.” 

What had Seokmin told Minghao? Did he think you were married for real? 

“I’m not saying that you need to change or anything,” Minghao said quickly. “I just think it’s good for you to be with someone that isn’t… figuring out his life still.” 

“Yeah,” you said. You slid into your chair, trying not to think about how even though Minghao lived thousands of miles away, he could still see you struggling. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t invite me to the wedding,” he said, still standing beside you.  

“Oh, we just had a courthouse thing,” you said. You don’t know why you didn’t tell him the full truth. “It wasn’t a big thing.” 

“Well, when you have the real party, I better be invited.” 

Despite feeling like your heart had been crumpled into a ball, you rolled your eyes. “Minghao, you’ll be my best man.” 

He nodded. “I’d better be.” You managed a few more minutes of small talk before he slipped away to find the rest of your friends. 

His words rang through your head. Maybe you really shouldn’t be with Jeonghan, fake or not. Minghao was right, he had his life figured out; as much as he complained about his job, you knew he loved the kids and he was going to spend the rest of his life teaching. You could barely decide on what to wear every morning. Figuring out your future was something you just weren’t ready for. 

You liked Jeonghan. You knew that. You remembered your anesthesia induced dream, where you managed to tell him your feelings, the soft kiss he placed on your forehead, but it was just a dream. He didn’t feel the same way, no matter how much you wished it could be true. There was someone else he pined for, and if it was anything like the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm you now, you couldn't help but pity him. 

Your feelings didn’t matter, you decided as you watched Minghao join Soonyoung and Seokmin with a backflip in the middle of the dance floor. You wouldn’t mess up Jeonghan’s life any further. You would ask for a divorce. Tomorrow. 

Jeonghan finally returned, setting a drink in front of you and laying an arm over your shoulders. “Bear with me,” he whispered into your ear, lips almost brushing against your ear. “I can’t remember her name but she’s been flirting with me all night and even when I told her we’re married, she wouldn’t leave me alone, so, you’re stuck with me for the rest of the night.” 

You nodded. You hoped you were looking serenely on your friends, but Jeonghan gently tapped your arm until you turned to face him. “What’s wrong?” 

You shrugged. “Tired.” It wasn’t technically a lie. You were tired, but that wasn’t why you didn’t want to be here. 

He pulled his chair a little closer, resting his chin on his shoulder. You knew he was just putting on a show to drive away girl-whose-name-was-a-mystery and that the way he was looking at you now wasn’t real. It didn’t make it any easier to bear his gaze. 

He tilted his head to the side and smiled, eyes twinkling with the familiar glint that you knew meant trouble. “You want to get out of here?” 

You felt your face flush. “Stop joking around.” 

He cocked his head and you followed it to where the girl (whose name you thought started with a S) was still eyeing Jeonghan. “If we disappear into a hotel room for a couple hours maybe she’ll get the point.” He’s right, but you can’t stop yourself from imagining what he was implying, making your blush deepen. 

“You said you’re tired, you can just hide up there for the rest of the night if you want,” he said, apparently not noticing your embarrassment. “Or you can sit here and avoid everyone for the rest of the night and we can pretend like that girl isn’t eye-fucking me.” 

“Let’s go,” you said, standing. Jeonghan took your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your hand that sent shivers up your arm before tugging you across the room, playing the part of a lovesick husband perfectly. You weren’t as good, but you kept your eyes on him and found your smile wasn’t as hard to force as you expected, letting him pull you back into his embrace as you passed through the doors. You cast one glance at S, who looked rather offended. You grinned at her as the doors swung shut, winking even though she probably couldn’t see it from across the room. 

Though the show was just for her, it wasn’t until you were alone in the elevator that he finally disentangled himself from you. “Looks like it went pretty well.” 

You nodded, staring at your feet rather than facing Jeonghan at your side or in the mirrored walls of the elevator. “She looked sufficiently shut up.” 

The doors dinged open and you followed Jeonghan. “We’re rooming together, by the way.” Seungcheol had been in charge of the rooms, setting everyone with roommates and even dropping off bags. There was no reason to think that he would mess anything up. 

No reason until now. 

“There’s only one bed,” you said in a tiny voice. The door clicked shut behind you, Jeonghan at your side. You stood in the hotel room, bathroom door to your left, closet to your right, king sized bed right in the middle. “I’m going to kill Seungcheol.” 

“Actually, it was probably Mingyu,” Jeonghan said, sounding not nearly as unsettled as he should have been. “He called about our rooms and probably mentioned we were married. People I don’t even know were talking to me about it.” 

“I’m going to kill them both.” 

“It’ll be fine,” he said. “It’s not like it’s the first time.” He’s right, you had shared a bed before, when you were thirteen, and there were four other people shoved onto the bed because having twenty people in one sleepover meant you slept where there was space. “If it really bothers you, I’ll sleep on the floor, or crash with Mingyu and Seungcheol.” 

You shook your head. “No, it’s fine, they’ll just make fun of me, and you’re right, it’s not like it's the first time.” No, it was nothing like then. Your heart didn’t pound when he was next to you back then, you never looked at him and wished what was fake could be real. 

You flopped onto the bed, legs dangling off the side as you laid on your back. Your heart was beginning to ache thinking about Jeonghan, so you thought about what Minghao said instead. Most of the time you could pretend you were okay with watching everyone you knew move on with their lives and grow into actual adults, but a night like tonight made you feel small. Insignificant. You were yn. Just yn, and normally that was enough, but not tonight. 

You felt the bed dip as Jeonghan sat next to you. “Do you want to talk about it?” Of course he knew something was wrong. You turned your head towards him, studying his frown which had concern etched into every crease on his forehead. 

You didn’t think you were choked up, but when you said, “No,” in a tiny voice, tears were suddenly threatening to spill onto your cheeks. You turned your head away from Jeonghan, sure that you would fold under his gaze and start crying. 

“You should just go back down,” you said. “I’ll be fine.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, voice gentle but firm. “You’re stuck with me.” You felt a tear slip away, angrily wiping it off the side of your face. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I won’t leave you alone, yn. I—I won’t.” 

Why? Why did he have to be so kind, and sweet, and loving, and the perfect best friend, fake fiancee, fake husband? Why did he make it so hard to do anything but love him? 

Love wasn’t fair, you always knew that, but it felt cruel now. You couldn’t stop the tears now, turning fully on your side though it was too late to hide them from Jeonghan. He slid next to you, pulling you off the mattress and into his arms, and you knew it was dumb to sob into the arms of the very person that was making you cry but you did it anyway because maybe that’s what you were doomed to suffer. You clung to him, even as your heart was breaking. 

.

.

You woke up to the sun in your eyes. You frowned as you opened your eyes, blinking against the light. Usually you closed your blinds so that you could sleep in. It took another moment for you to remember that you were in a hotel room, not your bed at home. That didn’t explain why Jeonghan was wrapped around you, his arm acting as your pillow. Your frown deepened as you met his eyes, finding him staring down at you. 

“Why are we cuddling?” 

He snorted. “I should be asking you that, since I clearly remember telling you this is my side of the bed last night.” You lifted your head off of him enough to see that you had indeed crossed onto his side. But he wasn’t innocent either, with one arm tucked under your head and the other wrapped around your waist, holding your bodies together. You decided not to mention it because you didn’t want him to let go just yet. 

“How long have you been up?” You asked with a yawn. 

He shrugged, shoulder lifting your head. “I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes?” 

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” You said, gently slapping his chest. 

“You looked peaceful,” he said. You looked at him, peering down at you with a soft smile. The morning sunlight that fell through the window cast a halo around him, making his dark hair glow. There was something in his gaze, something you had seen so many times but suddenly felt new, and for the first time you let yourself wonder what it would be like if your feelings weren’t unrequited. Maybe you were still dazed from waking up, but you thought maybe it wouldn’t be very different from how he was with you now. 

“Jeonghan,” you said slowly. “Mingyu mentioned something to me.” 

“Oh boy.” 

“About you.” Your heart was pounding as you forced the next words out. “About how there’s someone that you want to date. For real.” 

He was quiet, though he didn’t break your gaze. Finally, he said, “Yes.” 

It took all of the courage you had in you to say, “Who?” 

He stared at you and because it was Jeonghan, you knew he was trying to figure out what to say. You could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to get the words out. The longer it took the more your heart sank. 

“We should get divorced,” you said, turning your head to stare at the window, the wall, anything but those damn eyes. “Teeth have been successfully removed, I’m not in debt, and there’s no other reason to stay married.” Especially not when there’s someone else. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to say it. 

You peeked at Jeonghan and found you couldn’t decipher the frown on his face. It felt wrong to not know what he was thinking. But maybe it was your own fault. You had been keeping things from him yourself, bottling up the emotions and pretending the love you felt wasn’t head over heels idiocy. You couldn’t be hurt that he was so far away when you had built the distance yourself. 

“I love you,” you whispered. “I’m in love with you. I know that there’s someone else, and I’m not saying this to try to win you over or anything, but I think you should know. That I love you.” 

 You’ve seen Jeonghan speechless three times in your life. The first was in elementary school when he was wrongfully accused of stealing candy from the teacher, the first time he found out there were consequences for his “harmless” pranks. The second was when his girlfriend dumped him, the only time in your entire life that he didn’t tell you what happened. This was the third time, opening his mouth and trying to answer but unable to get any words out. 

“I’m an idiot, I know,” you said. “Who falls in love with their fake husband?” Even as the final stake was driven into your heart, you tried to joke. You started to push off his chest, fully prepared to run away and avoid Jeonghan for the rest of your life, but his arm tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer. 

“It’s you,” he sputtered. “There’s no one else, it’s you that I want to be with, that I want to date, that I want to marry, one day. Yn, I have loved you for so long, I don’t know what to do, so please, just give me a second?” 

It was your turn to be speechless. “It’s me?”  

He laughed, face finally breaking into a wide smile. “Of course it’s you, who else could it be?” 

“Maybe one of those moms that Mingyu says are always flirting with him, or one of your coworkers, or anyone that’s ever met you because, seriously, how could anyone not be in love with you?” You rested your head back onto his shoulder. 

“Well, it’s you. It’s always you.” He leaned a little closer, brushing his nose against yours. You swallowed, remembering your first kiss with him. You wondered if your second kiss would be as good. 

“Can I kiss you?” You asked when he didn’t move any closer. He nodded, though the movement caused your lips to brush against one another. You leaned into it, arm snaking from his chest to his neck, feeling his hand digging into your waist, trying to pull you impossibly closer. You don’t know how long the kiss was, feeling like a lifetime had passed when you finally pulled away. 

“Not quite as good as the first time, but it’ll do,” you said, grinning at Jeonghan’s frown. “You have stinky breath.” 

“You have stinky breath,” he said, “But if you’re talking about the restaurant, that wasn’t our first kiss.” 

You thought back, trying to remember any other kiss. There was none during your fake marriage (other than the anesthesia-induced dream that you were beginning to think might have been real) and nothing had ever happened before that. Except… 

“When we were twelve?” You laughed. “That does not count.”

“A kiss is a kiss,” he said. “In fact, I remember you saying it was your first kiss.”

You slapped his chest. “It was your first kiss too!” 

“So you admit it!” Jeonghan was laughing, clinging to you as you pretended to push him away. He wrapped both arms around your waist, tucking his chin onto your shoulder. He waited until you met his eyes. “I love you.” 

You kissed his nose. “I love you, too.” You didn’t run away when he pulled you close again, sliding cold fingers to the back of your neck and pressing his forehead to yours. You were certain he was going to kiss you again. 

“We really do need to get divorced, though,” you said, laughing when he sighed. “I want to do things in the right order, date you for real.” You kissed him again, just because you could, watching the smile quickly return to his face when you pulled away. 

“I do want to marry you, one day,” you said, resting your head against the pillow for the first time. You held up your left hand, studying the way the gold caught the morning light and seemed to glow. 

“You better not say that in front of Joshua,” Jeonghan said. “He’s had our wedding planned since he found out I was in love with you.” 

“Wait, he knows?” You frowned at him. “How long have you been in love with me?” 

Jeonghan’s eyes wandered to the ceiling as he scratched the back of his head. “Been in love? No idea. Too long. But when I realized, we were still living together, and ever since then I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you.” 

“That’s why you moved out?” You wrapped your arm around his waist, tucking yourself onto his side. 

He nodded. “I needed to know if I was actually in love or just spending too much time with you.” He played with your hair. “I am in love with you. And I’m sorry I was too much of a coward to say it sooner.” 

You found yourself staring at the ring again. It was such a simple thing, just a band of gold that you and Jeonghan had agreed on with the intent to return it when the ruse was up. You really had only gotten them because you were worried someone might call out the insurance fraud. 

“I don’t want to take it off,” you confessed. 

“Then don’t,” Jeonghan said softly. When you looked at him, he was without his usual smirk, eyes serious. 

“Five minutes and you’re already proposing?” You asked. 

“Well, I already got you into bed,” he said with a grin. “But seriously, I don’t want to take off my ring. I’m going to marry you, someday.” 

“I think that sounds nice,” you said, tucking your head back onto his chest. “So, Joshua is our wedding planner? Do we really trust him?” 

“You know, if you told me a year ago, I would have said ‘fuck no,’ but he’s dedicated. He has a pinterest and everything, a color scheme, a list of the best rated bakeries and catering services, photographers, videographers, venues, anything you can think of, he has it. I can’t prove it, but I swear he has a date reserved already.” Jeonghan continued to describe his friend’s vision for your wedding, but you found yourself staring at him, watching him talk. 

 Jeonghan has been by your side for most of your life, your best friend. You knew everything about him, from the way he liked his tea to his obsession with tiny utensils. Still, being friends and being lovers were two very different things. You should have been scared at how much was going to change, but in the little bubble of your hotel room and the magical glow of the morning sun, you felt nothing but hope.

a/n2: thank you for reading!!! I hope you had fun, I truly love this story <3 enjoy this meme I found after i came up with the idea and couldn’t find anywhere to throw it into

a/n3: i am incapable of letting this story go so here are some snippets of stuff that didn’t make it into the story/after the ending 1 //

Come back to me

---

Best Hoshi fic ive read!!!

What? Like It’s Hard?

gn reader x soonyoung

summary: With the help of a little bit of bleach, Soonyoung is certified legally blonde–complete to last minute-dedication to scoring as high as Elle Woods on the LSAT. While he has no interest in law school, he’s notorious for never turning down a dare. So how does a frat bro in serious danger of failing his senior year get a 179? He asks the smartest person he knows. 

Or, studying for a law test has never seen this much chemistry.

genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, uni au, friends to lovers, opposites attract

warnings: swearing, drinking, food, arguing, a couple sex jokes, one spicy scene at the end but no actual smut, refusal to acknowledge feelings, what's the word for beyond oblivious????

full wc: 24.3k

playlist! - i'm not very good at this but i tried to add songs alternating between yn and soonyoung :)

a/n: hello!! first of all, sorry this so long! it's been a very very busy summer. thank you to everyone who has continued to show interest in the story, it's really kept me going. i honestly have no idea what this is anymore but i hope it does not disappoint :) as always i appreciate feedback of any form <3 thank you again for reading and have a lovely day! finally, happy scoups day :)

a/n2: a special shout out to @chocolatemilk139 for being my beta and for helping me fact check... why do i keep writing about lawyers when i know absolutely nothing about the field.......

“Nope.” You grab your backpack, shoving your laptop inside, but he gets to your water bottle before you can reach it. 

“Come on.” Soonyoung pouts his lips. 

“I won’t do it,” you say. 

Soonyoung hugs your water bottle hostage against his chest, dark blue hiding in the crook of his elbow, bright against the pale pink sweater he wears. It’s an unusual choice for him, normally clad in baggy jeans and loose t-shirts. Still, the color highlights his new hair, blonde bordering on white. Hardly the first time he’s done something insane for a bet. 

“Please! I’m desperate!” He cries again, stepping closer, though he keeps a firm grip on your water bottle. You never should have told him how emotionally attached you are to it; you should have known it would be held against you. 

“No,” you say. You sling your backpack on, just in case he gets any other ideas. The other students shoot dirty looks at you, actually in the library to study (like you were, until Soonyoung arrived). So you grab him by the arm, rolling your eyes at how he jerks the water bottle out of reach. 

“Walk and talk, we’re not doing this here,” you say, folding your arms over your chest. 

“Come on, how hard can it be?” Soonyoung asks. “It’s just a test.”

“Just a test?” You snort. “Soonyoung, you are aware that most people don’t apply to law school on a dare?” 

“I don’t have to get into law school!” He says, “just get a 179 on the LSAT.” 

As if that makes it any better. You eye Soonyoung and his tight grip on the plastic. Maybe it’s a lost cause and you should just swing by the bookstore to get a new one instead. But that water bottle has butterfly stickers that have survived since freshman year and a dent from the time Jun tried to use it as a weapon in a fight against Jihoon (that was declared a draw when the bottle busted open and doused both of them equally); it holds memories better than water and you’ll be damned if you let Soonyoung hold it hostage. 

“That’s actually harder,” you mumble. From the corner of your eye, you can see him tucking the blue bottle under his right arm, farthest from you. This won’t be easy, especially since you saw the poorly disguised thirst trap of him and one of his frat bros at the gym: those arms are not to be underestimated. 

“I’ll pay you!” 

“With what money?” 

Soonyoung pauses. You’ve reached the exit by now, sunlight warming you through the glass doors. He turns to the sunlight, and you know he’s pretending to be a main character from an artsy film (not that he’s ever seen on). He takes a deep breath, as if he already regrets what he has to say next. 

“Okay, I’ll offer you the only services I have.” He turns to face you, eyes on the floor. 

“Oh my god, Soonyoung!” You shove his shoulder. “You are not selling your body for a test!” 

“But it’s all I know!” He says. He pokes your arms. “You could have so much muscle if you lifted just twice a week.” 

“Oh.” You blink at him. “You meant working out?” 

“What did you think I meant?” 

You feel heat rush into your cheeks. You push the door open, praying Soonyoung doesn’t notice. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, not daring to check if he’s following. “I don’t have time to workout.” 

“Then what do you want?” Soonyoung asks. He stays just out of reach, adjusting his grip so that the water bottle hangs from his hand. “Please, I’ll do anything!” 

“Why do you need me?” 

“Because you’re the smartest person I know,” he says without hesitation. In the three years of your friendship, you’ve learned that the only time Soonyoung isn’t serious is when he flirts. 

“You are,” he insists. “Plus you’ve already taken it, so you’re my best chance. My only chance, it’s not like I have a good track record with tests.” He gives you a lopsided smile as he tries to pretend like he’s joking. But Soonyoung has always been easy to read. You see the sparkle in his eyes dim, and you remember freshman Soonyoung–when he failed the midterm and holed up in his room in the frat house for two full days, not even venturing out to drink. It’s that damn sparkle that gets to you. He isn’t paying attention anymore, water bottle hanging loosely from his hand, but you can’t bring yourself to snatch it. 

“You can pass it,” you say with a sigh. “It’s about studying correctly.” 

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung says. “I’ve never really studied.” 

“Well, that’s what I’ll teach you.” 

Soonyoung freezes, grabbing your arm. “Seriously?” When you turn to face him, his smile is so bright it warms you from the inside out, hotter than the actual sun on your skin. He throws his arms around you, wrapping you in a hug so tight he lifts you off the ground. Your heart does this strange thing where it hops into your throat. Your arms come up as a reflex but his embrace is too tight for you to even hug him back.  

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He shouts. He doesn’t let go, even when he sets you back down. He loosens his arms just enough to look at you, the full force of his smile directed at you. “I swear you’re welcome at the frat house any time, I’ll buy you anything you want when I have money, I’ll drive you wherever you want if I can get Seungcheol’s car, I’ll do whatever, just thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

You know you should answer, or say something, but thinking is too much when he’s so close you can smell the strangely sweet combination of laundry detergent, cologne, and sweat. You push out of his arms, snagging your water bottle on the way out. 

“It’s whatever,” you mumble. Though his arms aren’t around you anymore, you feel strangely hot, like your blood is boiling, and your heart still pounds. 

“It is not whatever,” Soonyoung declares. “I swear, whatever you want, I’ll do it.” He holds a hand over his heart and if it was anyone else you’d think they were joking but it’s Soonyoung: he’s deadly serious. 

You can’t handle his gaze anymore, turning to study your beat up sneakers. “Really? You’ll get my first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice from Jun?” 

“I’ll get that book back.” He glances at you. “It is a book, right?” 

“Yeah,” you say. “Though there’s been some good adaptations.” 

“That’s the one with the zombies?” 

“Zombies?” You frown. “Oh my god, do you mean Pride and Prejudice and Zombies?” 

“That’s not the original book?” 

“No,” you say, laughing. “The original is Jane Austen, in the 1800s.” 

“Oh,” Soonyoung says. 

“I’ve actually never seen that one,” you say. “It’s the only adaptation I haven’t seen.” 

“How many movies are there?” 

“Well, there’s the 1940 adaptation, the BBC series that’s widely regarded as the most faithful adaptation, the 2005 Kiera Knightley movie that’s iconic, plus the Lizzie Bennet Diaries, which is a vlog-style Youtube adaptation. Then of course there’s Jane Austen’s other works, like Persuasion, which, the new one, for the record, was a terrible adaptation.” You stop when you realize you’re dangerously close to going on what Jihoon calls ‘an Austen tirade.’ 

“I liked the movie,” he says after a pause. “I don’t know if it was that good, or close to the books. But it was fun.” 

“I’ll have to watch it, then,” you say. “I know it’s the obvious choice, but Pride and Prejudice really is my favorite Jane Austen novel. Good luck getting it back from Jun though. He’s studying abroad this semester.” 

“He’s the friend from your history class?” 

“No, that’s Jihoon, my roommate,” you say. “Jun was in my language class.” 

“I thought you hated everyone in that class.” 

“Oh, I did,” you say. “But Jun is friends with Jihoon, so he sort of just became my friend too.” 

Soonyoung hums, saying nothing else. You don’t recognize the song, though you tend to mostly listen to classical music when you study or whatever Jihoon blasts from his room, so it’s not that surprising. The melody is nice, though. Well, Soonyoung’s voice is. 

“I really am grateful,” Soonyoung says. “I know I was begging, because I don’t think I can do this without you–well, I don’t know if I can do it with you, but you’re my only hope and–I’m rambling again.” He flashes a smile. “The point is, thank you.” 

You shrug, feeling shy under his gaze. “It’ll help me study anyways,” you say. “You learn a lot when you teach.” 

“I thought you already took it?”

“I only got a 150,” you say, sighing. “I need at least a 165.” 

Soonyoung nods, forehead creasing like it always does when he’s lost in thought. “Thank you anyway.”

“Well, you swore to do whatever I tell you,” you say, desperate to change the subject. “Don’t think I won’t abuse that.” 

“Oh, YN,” he says, “I’m counting on it.” He even winks. 

You cough, choking at the outright flirting. Soonyoung hasn’t tried a line on you in so long you thought he’d used them all. He isn’t serious–it was engraved in his DNA the second he became a fully fledged member of Sigma Beta Tau but it’s not like many people flirt with you, so it’s hard to stop your heart from jumping. 

You check your phone, unable to look him in the eyes. It’s 2:18 now, prime naptime if you can get back to your apartment before Jihoon gets back. But if it’s past two, unless he lied to you at the start of the semester, that means Soonyoung should be in his data ethics class. “Hey, don’t you have class right now?” 

Soonyoung glances at the time on his phone. “Shit.” He takes off, sprinting across the grass, dodging three picnics and narrowly avoiding getting rocked in the back of the head by a frisbee. He pauses at the edge, turning back around to wave wildly at you. 

“Thank you!” He shouts. The picnickers glance between you and him and you can feel the blush returning. Soonyoung doesn’t notice all the eyes on him, waving like a goofball one final time before sprinting off again. Like a whirlwind, he’s gone again, leaving you to stroll across campus and wonder what you just signed up for. 

.

.

Soonyoung’s brow furrows into a frown, lips pulling together in a pout. He rests his chin on his hands, looking up at you from the table like a puppy that knows he’s in trouble. “That bad?” 

“Your analytical reasoning was good!” You say, not wanting to destroy him just yet. “The logical analysis wasn’t that bad either, you just need practice.” 

“Wasn’t there a third section?” 

“The score for reading comprehension was pretty bad.” Horrendous, actually, but you can’t tell him that, not when he’s deflating faster than a balloon at a knife throwing contest. He sits back, head knocking lightly against the back of the stiff library chairs. 

“We can work with this! It’s really not that bad,” you say. You reach out instinctively, wrapping your hands over his hands. Your thumb rests against the soft smooth skin of the back of his hand, the rest of your fingers brushing lightly against his calloused fingers. You jerk back when you realize what you’re doing, patting his hands once and grabbing the workbook in front of him as if it’s what you meant to do all along. You study the upside down words, not daring to look at the disgust that’s probably painted on Soonyoung’s face. 

“You can start with practicing the logic problems,” you say, flipping through the work book. “I’ll figure out a strategy for the reading portion.” 

Soonyoung heaves a sigh, sitting up and hunching over the workbook. You flip open one of your old workbooks and try to pretend like you’re not trying to melt away from embarrassment. 

“This isn’t very much teaching,” Soonyoung says without looking up. “Lots of problem solving.” 

“I don’t really know what I’m doing either,” you say. “I just watched a lot of youtube videos when I was studying last year. I should have known better than to take it over the summer, though.” 

Soonyoung glances up. “How come?” 

You chew on your lip. You’ve known Soonyoung for a while now, but you’ve never talked to him like this, mentioning any real things other than complaining about roommates. Soonyoung would listen, probably say the ‘right’ things, but it’s a study session, so you just say, “Just not good timing.” 

He nods, returning to his humming. You turn to your own workbook, trying to figure out how to get Soonyoung to actually read the passages for the reading comprehension. Twenty minutes pass in an instant and Soonyoung drops his pencil, sliding his journal with the answers back in front of you. You flip to the answer key, scanning between the two. 

“When are you taking it again?” Soonyoung asks while he waits. 

“Just before Halloween,” you say. Exactly 38 days from now, according to the IMPENDING DOOM countdown clock on your phone. 

“That soon?” 

You shrug. “I wanted to give myself time to take it again in case I bomb it and it had to be before midterms, so, yeah.” 

“Is it really that bad to take all your tests at once?” Soonyoung asks. 

“I mean, finals week pretty much kills me every semester. I actually thought I was cutting it close with only two weeks between it and midterms.” 

“Is November cutting it too close?” 

“Depends on when in November you plan on taking it,” you say, “though you probably won’t be able to take it again if you don’t like your score.” 

“Not a problem for me,” Soonyoung says. He doesn’t waver against your raised eyebrow. “I’m getting that 179, first try.” 

“You’re that confident?” 

“In you.” He winks. “Also the bet is off if I don’t get it on the first try.” 

You nod. “Yeah, that makes more sense.” You glance at your calendar. “

“November 18th.” 

“That’s not too bad, you dodged between midterms and finals, there should be plenty of cram time.” 

Soonyoung shrugs. “I just scheduled it so that I would get the results before the Christmas party.” 

“I didn’t think you would be the religious type.” 

“Oh, I’m not,” he says. “The frat has this annual post-finals party before people go back home for holiday break, usually on the last day of finals. There’s no way I’m letting Seungkwan get away with my hard earned Playstation, and there’s no way he’d miss the party.” 

“You can’t just buy your own game?” 

“It’s a console actually,” he says, “and that’s not the point.” You prepare for some lecture about honor or frat code or something overly dramatic and inspired by any of the countless war propaganda movies he loves, but he closes his mouth. 

“I guess it doesn’t really matter,” you say. You turn back his sheet, half the answers marked with a dark blue X because red feels too cruel. “You’re clearly committed.” 

He sighs at the answers, flipping back to the first question and frowning. You think the conversation is over, but without looking up from glaring at the right answers, he says, “You should come.” 

“To?” 

“The Christmas party.” 

You stare at the top of his head but he doesn’t seem to notice. You wonder how he manages to keep his hair so blonde without ruining his scalp but you don’t see any dandruff. “Me?” You finally say. 

“You said you’d come, like, freshman year,” he says. “You never did.” 

You did promise, back when you saw him for class every day. But frat parties weren’t your scene back then. They aren’t your scene now. Nothing about blasting music and binge drinking appeals to you, and yet Soonyoung peeking at you from his notebook makes you feel guilty anyways. He looks at you like he really doesn’t understand why you wouldn’t want to go.

And that’s the worst part: for Soonyoung, you would go. When he looks at you with the damn Soonyoung Sparkle, you’d do anything. 

“I’ll… think about it,” you finally say. 

He looks at you for a moment longer, then nods, like he didn’t really expect you to say yes. You try not to feel like you’re letting him down. 

“Can you explain this one to me,” he asks, turning the book so you can see it from across the table. 

You skim the question, which turns out to be a series of questions about stained glass windows. You take a moment to glance between Soonyoung’s answers and the correct ones. 

“Walk me through your process,” you say. 

“Okay, I start with…”

.

. 

“Soonyoung, are you even listening?” 

He blinks at you, lifting his head from his arms. “Something about strategies? For reading?” 

You snap the book shut, shaking your head. You open your mouth, speech on responsibility and studying on the tip of your tongue but one look into Soonyoung’s Sparkle Eyes (patent pending) and all the words are gone. You really need to figure out how to get around that super power. 

“Come on, it’s so nice out,” he says. “We should be outside.” He grabs your hand. “This is not studying weather, this is dating weather.” 

“Soonyoung your test is in two months, you seriously want to skip?” You don’t dignify the second part of his complaint with a response. The idea of Soonyoung on a date makes your stomach flip. 

He sighs. “No, but it’s October, we won’t get many more nice days, so can we at least go outside?” 

You hesitate a heartbeat too long and Soonyoung jumps up. He closes the workbook, knocking loose papers off the table and sending highlighters of every color flying in every direction. The chaos earns a couple side eyes from the people around you and a full on glare from the person directly next to him, but Soonyoung, as Soonyoung as ever, doesn’t seem to notice. He picks up the papers and highlighters, shoving them into his backpack without a folder and slinging it over his shoulder. You can only follow him, grabbing the drinks before he tries to carry them along his laptop. When it comes to Soonyoung, mixing liquids and technology is more dangerous than mixing alcohols. You haven’t forgotten The Coffee Incident, flooding his backpack at 8 in the morning. 

He drags you out of the library, though you don’t put up much of a fight. Soonyoung makes you want to relax, just a little, and when he smiles back at you as soon as he steps out of the sunlight, you find you don’t regret a thing. 

Soonyoung pulls his emergency blanket out of his blanket, passing it to you. He’s more prepared for naps than any class he’s ever taken but the thin fabric is soft so who are you to judge? He heads straight for the quad, which is already filled with people, some groups of friends, too many obvious couples with heads in each other's laps or arms wrapped around each other. Soonyoung settles down in a relatively unpopulated corner, taking the blanket back to shake it out the blanket a few times before laying it flat on the ground. 

Soonyoung groans when you pull out the workbooks as soon as you sit down. “There isn’t anything more fun to study?” 

“Soonyoung, it’s the LSAT,” you say. “It’s not really meant to be fun.” 

“But–” 

“You’re the one that wanted to go outside,” you remind him, tapping his arm with a pen. “If you’re too distracted we’ll have to go back into the library.” 

He gazes at the other people laughing for a long moment before turning to face you again. You raise your eyebrows and he takes the workbook from your hands, flipping it open to the sticky-note bookmark. 

The next twenty minutes are relatively quiet, the only noise coming from the chatter of the people around you, too far away to clearly hear, and Soonyoung humming while working through practice problems. You’re not sure if he even realizes he’s doing it, though he bobs his head slightly. You wonder what Soonyoung is like when he isn’t trying to get out of studying–even outside of the party invites you’ve avoided, you rarely see him on campus (because you aren’t on campus when you don’t have to be). You almost went to dinner with him to celebrate passing the business class freshman year where you met him, but you got food poisoning and he never rescheduled. 

It’s for the best, though. Even like this, tutoring him minus payment of any kind, you can tell that spending too much time with him will be dangerous. He flirts so easily it feels genuine, and even though he can be ridiculous, he’s never been anything but lovely to you. And it doesn’t help that he’s hot. He glances up, as if he can feel you staring, but he just flashes a smile at you and ducks his head again. Damn frat bros with endearing charms that melt you like the perfect grilled cheese. 

Perfectly blue without a cloud in sight, the sky is an empty canvas above you. The air is just the right temperature, just between hot and cold, the sun ensuring that it never dips into the latter. Just the slightest breeze kisses your skin, lifting the edges of the papers but never flipping them. Soonyoung was right: the perfect date weather. 

“Soonyoung?” You turn your head to see a dark haired man standing over you. Wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and sides ripped open, you figure there’s a 80% chance he’s one of Soonyoung’s frat brothers. 

“Seokmin?” Soonyoung frowns. 

“You were actually serious?” Seokmin asks, gesturing to the books. “You know Seungkwan said it as a joke, right?” 

“Yeah, but a bet is a bet,” Soonyoung says. “And I really want his Playstation.” 

Seokmin snorts. “You know he only said it because he knows you can’t do it.” 

“I’m not like I’m losing anything by trying.” Soonyoung sets his lips in a sharp line of determination (which you recognize from the dining hall when he sweet talks his way into free cookies). Seokmin raises his eyebrows at his aggression but eventually decides it’s not worth the fight. Instead, he plops down on the blanket, making a little triangle between the three of you. 

“You must be YN,” he says, extending his hand. His easy smile and the way he sat down without waiting for an invitation reminds you of Soonyoung. Unlike the faux blonde, it feels foreign and you shift a little closer to Soonyoung instinctively. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you lie. Seokmin’s eyes curl into little half moons when he smiles, apparently not noticing your awkwardness. You can’t help but feel like he’s intruding as he turns to Soonyoung and asks him to explain what he’s doing. Soonyoung explains it well, though it helps that he was working on the analytical reasoning section. 

It’s because he’s interrupting Soonyoung’s studying. That’s why it bothers you that he’s here, even though Soonyoung doesn’t seem to mind and Seokmin seems genuinely interested. Unfortunately, the revelation doesn’t stop you from wishing Seokmin would just leave.  

“I don’t know how you do any of this,” Seokmin says after Soonyoung explains the next problem. 

“It’s easy!” Soonyoung says. “Half the time the answer is in the question, you just have to know where to look!” 

“Quoting me?” You raise your eyebrows. 

“Well I did learn from the best!” 

“So cliche,” you mutter but the compliment gets you smiling anyway. You look up to find Seokmin looking at you. He has a strange look on his face, frowning, but not angrily. He looks a little bit like when Soonyoung can’t decide between the right answer and the second best option. He doesn’t look away when you catch him staring. 

“What?” 

He pauses a long moment before answering, as if pondering how to answer. Finally, he says, “I like you.” 

You stare at him. Soonyoung had been diligently working on practice problems but his head jerks up at the words. 

“I mean, you’re a cool person,” Seokmin quickly says. “Good tutor for Soonyoung.” After hearing his name, Soonyoung grins and turns back to underlining in the workbook. 

“Tutor?” You say. “I really don’t think I’m doing all that much.” 

Seokmin shrugs. ”I don’t know many people that would spend this much time with someone if they aren't helping. Besides, either way, I’ve never seen Soonyoung this dedicated before.” 

“That’s because you don’t dare to bet against me,” Soonyoung says without looking up. 

“He might have a point there,” you say. Soonyoung takes a moment to smile at your support. 

“What I’m trying to say is that you’re cool,” Seokmin says. 

“Thank you?” You wait for him to say something else but he sits back and rests his hands behind him, stretching out in the sun a little more. Sighing, he tilts his head toward the sun. 

“Seems like the weather will turn cold soon,” he says. “This might be the last warm day of the year.” He glances at Soonyoung. “And you’re spending it here instead of pre-gaming the Tau party.” 

Soonyoung’s pencil freezes. He peeks up at Seokmin, then at you, then shrugs. “I take my bets seriously.” 

“Whatever,” Seokmin says. He lays back fully, half of his body sticking off the blanket into the grass. “What are the Ke$ha lyrics? ‘The party don’t start ‘til Soonyoung walks in?’” He doesn’t wait for a correction. “I think I’ll wait until you're finished and we’ll tear it up together.” 

Soonyoung glances at you, then unsuccessfully tries to hide his laughter at your expression. You don’t mean to be rude, but Seokmin really just invited himself all on his own and crashed your picnic. Study date. Outdoor study session. The name doesn’t matter, what does matter is it’s only supposed to be you and Soonyoung. 

“He’ll fall asleep in about five seconds,” Soonyoung whispers. “He doesn’t actually care about the party, he just likes my nap blankets.” On that point you can’t really blame Seokmin. 

“As long as it doesn’t disrupt your studying,” you say. 

“Right,” Soonyoung says, more to himself than you. “That’s what’s important.” 

You aren’t so oblivious that you miss his bitterness, but you are enough of a coward to decide not to ask about it. How do you even ask about something like that? You can barely answer his questions about the LSAT, so feelings? No chance. 

You flip open your own workbook and set a pencil case down to keep the book open and ignore the soft snores from Seokmin. Soonyoung hums, the soft breeze carrying the gentle tune to you and easing you into a false sense of comfort, planting the idea that it’s always been like this and it always will be. But Soonyoung will take the LSAT in November and you will graduate in the spring and there won’t be any more excuses for seeing him, let alone laying out in the sun with him. Letting yourself enjoy this moment has dangerous consequences for your heart. 

And yet you enjoy the warm sun on your skin and hum along with Soonyoung anyway. Seokmin is right: this kind of day won’t last long. 

.

.

You jump awake at the sound. It takes you a moment to register where you are, to blink the sleep out of your eyes and recognize the stiff library chairs, the yellow tinted lighting of the study rooms on the third floor. Built like a prison cell with no windows and stained linoleum floors, you aren’t entirely sure how you fell asleep. The last thing you remember is working on your essay on Sense and Sensibility, which was rather difficult since you haven’t had the time to finish rereading it. Your book rests on the table next to your open laptop, screen dark. 

A second knock reminds you why you woke up in the first place and you turn to the door. Through the glass door you see a student with a backpack hanging off their shoulder, half smiling. They turn the knob, opening the door just enough to stick their head in. 

“Hey, sorry, I think I have the room scheduled,” they say. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I lost track of time,” you say, slamming your laptop shut and shoving everything into your backpack. To their credit, the other student doesn’t rush you, even apologizing and telling you to take your time. But if you’ve lost the room, that means the two hours you had booked the study room for–the two hours you designated for writing the essay and doing problem sets–were spent asleep, which means the LSAT cram schedule has been completely thrown off with only three days before the test. 

You groan as you step into the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor. The farther up, the more intense the quiet levels get. Hopefully it won’t be so quiet that you fall asleep, but since you got a nap, you should be able to power through an all-nighter. It wouldn’t be the first time. You brace yourself to check your phone for the time, though being kicked out of the room means you already know your fate. 9:08 means that you have a little less than three hours until the library closes. You’ve done more with less time. 

The first couple desks are occupied by students but you don’t stray, heading for a familiar corner, ignoring the empty desks that line the stacks. Your corner, that you found freshman year during finals season when you couldn’t find an empty desk, is perfect: hidden behind the encyclopedia shelves with a light directly above it, only three dicks carved into it–all on the underside (discovered on a particularly bad day where you found it most comfortable to lay underneath and rethink your entire life). You smile at the small comfort, striding through the stacks with Sense and Sensibility still in your arms. 

You nearly drop the book when you see the backpack, abruptly turning despite the fact that it must have been obvious to whoever stole your corner that you were headed there. You feel rage boiling up and threatening to spill. You close your eyes, reminding yourself that the corner isn’t actually yours. Still, as you settle into a desk facing a giant window that reveals the dark campus, you can’t help but feel bitter. Your thoughts stray to the desk that should be yours, even as you pull out your computer. 

BATTERY LOW

The words light up your screen, mocking you before the screen falls dark again. You dig in your backpack for your charger that you always slip into the main pocket. You feel your underused pencil pouch, the single journal since you keep most of your notes on your laptop, LSAT prep book, your three folders, and no charger. Even when you look inside and lay the entire contents of your backpack on the desk in front of you, the only charger you find is for your phone. Which means the longer laptop cord is probably sitting on your desk, all the way back at your apartment. 

A twenty minute walk back, twenty minutes less for writing your essay. You can start it on your phone, maybe, though the thought of switching between reading the Sparknotes and typing already exhausts you. It’s moot anyways, since all you can do is sit and stare at the desk, covered in the contents of your soul. This is what your life has become: a stack of paper that weighs less than the digital universe on your laptop that’s all contingent on a $15 charger that abandons you when you need it most. 

In the end it isn’t the rage that gets to you. It’s the hilarity of it all, how silly it is that your life is dictated by something so stupid. 

The fifth floor decrees silence, so you make sure that your sobs don’t make a noise. You can’t control the tears but you can hold your breath. When your head starts to feel light and your lungs are desperate for air, you can breathe through your mouth and inhale as slow as you can to keep the shakiness to a minimum. You can do everything you can to hold it together, even when you’re falling apart. 

Someone taps you on the shoulder. You lift your head, ready to face a tired librarian kicking you out but instead you see bleach blonde hair and a forced smile over a furrowed brow. 

“What are you doing here?” You whisper, glad for the quiet because you don’t trust your voice to support you. 

He holds up a thick, leatherbound book. LSAT for Dummies. “Extra reading couldn’t hurt, right?” 

You blink at him. The only times you’ve seen Soonyoung in the library on his own has been with a thick blanket and closed eyes (it’s how you know he sleeps with his mouth open, just a little). You can’t quite believe he’s in front of you and yet he takes a step closer and doesn’t vanish. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks. 

“Shhh,” you say, holding your finger to your lips to get him to quiet down, even though there’s no one in sight. “Quiet floor.” 

He nods, looking around as if he’s waiting for someone to kick him out. He turns to look at your desk, the contents of your backpack still strewn about. He tilts his head but doesn’t dare raise his voice to ask. You know he hasn’t missed the tears, still wet on your cheeks. 

You done? He mouths. 

Not even close, you think, but you nod anyways because it’s the easier answer. Soonyoung doesn’t hesitate, gently closing your laptop and sweeping everything into your backpack. You watch as he dumps it all into the biggest pocket, zipping it up and slinging it onto his back. He tucks the law book under his arm and holds out his other hand for you to take. 

“Come on,” he whispers. And you take it, let him pull you out of your chair. The walk to the elevator; out of the library; toward the edge of campus; nothing feels far when Soonyoung doesn’t let go of your hand. You follow him in a daze, clinging to his hand in the off-chance that all your luck rides on him–like if you let go, you’ll lose your tether to this planet. 

Soonyoung rarely walks in silence and today is not an exception. He rambles about the only member of the frat capable of cooking that apparently can’t do anything without creating a giant mess. Even as he complains about the guy, Soonyoung can’t help defending him, explaining in mouth-watering detail how good his food is. 

“One time he crowd sourced some steaks and did a grill for the new pledges and they all thought it was a prank or something and nearly cried when he actually let them eat them. I think they burnt their mouths from eating it too fast, afraid someone was going to take it away from them.” Soonyoung stops at the edge of campus. He glances at you, a question in his eyes. Where are we going? 

“Soonyoung,” you say. Squeezing his hand feels natural. “I don’t really want to go back right now.” 

He nods, squeezing your hand back. “You want to go for a ride?” 

“You have a car?” 

“Nope.” Soonyoung fishes his phone out of his pocket and makes a call. You can only hear Soonyoung, who says, “I need a ride,” and “Pick me up by the duck statue,” and then he hangs up. 

The edge of campus that Soonyoung drags you to is right next to the athletic fields, which explains why there is a giant statue of the mascot that towers over you. It has three of its own personal spotlights and shiny claws from fans rubbing them for good luck, despite there being no official tradition. You only went to one game, mostly to confirm you would rather be anywhere else (except maybe the bathroom of the stadium). Either way, the only thing you do know about the statue and mascot for your school is that it is not a duck. 

“That’s a raven.” You point at the statue. 

Soonyoung frowns between you and the hunk of metal. “Oh, Larry?” 

“It has a name?” 

“Well, there’s the official name, which is like, Midnight Rain or something, and the frat name.” 

“And the frat name is Larry?” 

Soonyoung shrugs. “I didn’t choose it.” 

“And you call it a duck, too?” 

“It looks like a duck.” 

You study the statue. You aren’t an ornithologist, but you’re pretty sure ducks have webbed feet instead of talons, and different beaks. Plus you’ve never seen a pure black duck. But you’ve spent enough time with Soonyoung to know it doesn’t have to make sense when the frat is involved (in fact, you’ve found sense is rarely involved in their decisions). 

“We just call it the duck. Or Larry, when we want to be formal.” Soonyoung jumps at the honk of a horn. You turn around with him to find an obnoxiously red convertible parked against the curb. The driver’s smooth black hair is styled to look effortless, hair falling just above his eyes, and he wears sunglasses despite the fact that the sun went down three hours ago. He might be attractive, if he wasn’t trying so hard. You never thought you had a type, but someone like Soonyoung, who wears clothes that he likes and sticks his hair straight up because he thinks it looks funny–that’s more your style. 

“Here’s our ride,” Soonyoung says. He starts walking, pulling you with him, still holding your hand. You aren’t sure if he even realizes, but you’re in no hurry to remind him. 

“Hey Josh,” he says. 

Driver (Josh, apparently), finally pulls off his sunglasses. “Soonyoung, you have a friend.” 

“I’m YN,” you say, wishing your voice didn’t sound so scratchy from crying. 

 “Oh, I know,” he says, a twinkle in his eye that flirts between danger and fun. “I’m Joshua.” You try not to feel unsettled by it. He raises an eyebrow as Soonyoung slides into the backseat and you sit beside him. “Am I just an Uber to you?” 

“Seungcheol is out and I knew there was no way you would let me drive your car,” Soonyoung says. 

“So, yes?” 

Soonyoung shrugs and laughs at Joshua’s expression. 

“Where are we headed?” He asks with a resigned sigh as if he’s used to Soonyoung’s antics. Has he done this before? You frown. Why does it matter to you if he’s done this with someone else? You’re so busy with the internal war, you miss Soonyoung’s answer. 

“Seriously?” Joshua asks. “It’s a weeknight.” 

“Like that’s ever been a problem for you.” 

Joshua glances at you. “You’re okay with this?” 

You pause. You don’t actually know where Soonyoung said to go. But it’s Soonyoung, your heart says. You're inclined to agree with it tonight. “Yeah.” 

He shakes his head and mutters something you don’t catch and kicks the car into gear. Before long, you are flying down a two lane road you didn’t even know existed. The wind starts to pick up with the top of the car down, blasting your face. Though your nose is still stuffed from crying, the air fills your lungs, tasting like dead leaves and unnatural warmth courtesy of climate change. For the first time tonight, you can breathe. 

.

.

The clock reads just shy of 1 am by the time the car stops. As soon as the rumbling engine cuts out, another noise takes over, drowning everything else out. Crashes too rhythmic to be thunder, the blows softened by tall dunes illuminated by the car’s headlights that Joshua didn’t turn off. 

Soonyoung turns to you with a grin. “Ready to have some fun?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, jumping out of the car instead of opening the door, ignoring Joshua’s shout. He sprints toward the crashing waves. 

Joshua shakes his head, opening his door and ushering you out from the back. He even closes the door behind you, folding his arms over his chest and walking slowly to the beach with you. The headlights cut out but the moon and stars shine enough to see where the boardwalk ends and the sand begins. Soonyoung’s movement gives him away more than any light, running alongside the water and dancing with the tide. 

You clear your throat. The ride cleared your head enough for you to feel properly embarrassed about meeting someone right after sobbing. You shudder to imagine how terrible you looked when he first picked you up, clinging to Soonyoung like he was the only thing keeping you alive. A blush forms just at the thought of it. 

“So, you do this often?” You ask. 

“Do something truly insane because of Soonyoung? All the time.” Joshua laughs. “We don’t usually end up this far away though, and usually someone’s life is in imminent danger.” 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you say, watching Soonyoung strip his socks and shoes off and toss them behind him. One sock gets caught in the wind and blows back toward you and Joshua. 

Joshua stops before the two of you can catch up to him. You turn to look at him. It’s difficult to read his expression in the moonlight but he frowns like he’s not sure he should say something. Eventually he says, “I’m going for a walk down the boardwalk.” He glances at Soonyoung, then back at you and smiles. “Have fun with him.” 

You watch him turn around and trudge back up the sand, wondering if all of Soonyoung’s friends are this strange. Maybe it’s just being in a frat. You grab Soonyoung’s sock and set it with his shoes, smiling when he turns around and waves like a maniac. 

“It’s the ocean!” He shouts over the crashes. 

“You’re soaked!” You shout back. He glances down and apparently finally realizes his shirt is wet, clinging to his shoulders already. He strides back toward you, grabbing your arm and pulling you closer. 

“My shoes are not coming off!” You warn him. 

“Just come closer!” He says. “It’s amazing!” You stand with him at the edge of the water, watching it rise in the darkness and draw closer and closer. It crashes on the sand first, a violent move, kicking up wet sand and mixing it with white water. The frothy white water creeps forward, until you have to dance backward. Soonyoung stays in the water, letting it wash around his feet. 

“It feels better like this,” he says. 

“My feet are covered in enough sand,” you say, though he does look like he’s having fun. The water must be freezing this time of the year–it would feel so nice running over your skin. But you’d end up with wet socks and even more sand in your shoes to clean out. 

Soonyoung holds out his hand. “You’d like this.” 

You chew on your lip. Normally you’d laugh in his face and say ‘not a chance.’ But normalcy has never been running three hours away to the beach in the middle of the night when you have class at 9 in the morning. You pull off the sneakers without untying them and pull your socks off, setting them next to Soonyoung’s and joining him at the edge of the water. His hand isn’t out by the time you return but he slips it into yours when you join his side. 

Another wave crashes and you watch the water creep forward, faster than you expect it to be–and you’re right, it’s freezing, but Soonyoung’s right too, it sends an icy shock throughout your body that sends a tingly rush up from your toes to every nerve in your body, setting them on fire. You squeeze his hand and laugh. 

“Good?” He asks.

“I love it.” 

You don’t know how long you stand there, holding onto Soonyoung’s hand and letting the water wash over you. After a few waves, it doesn’t feel cold anymore. You stand until your feet are buried in wet sand, each wave sending you lower and lower. 

“My feet are freezing,” Soonyoung eventually says. 

“Mine, too.” You lift your feet reluctantly, already missing the coarse sand and cold water. You have to let go of Soonyoung’s hand to put on your socks and shoes, shuddering at all the sand in your socks. The cotton became damp from sitting too close to the water, your shoes faring the same. Yet you don’t regret a second of it. 

You stand up and stretch, feeling your spine pop. When you turn back around, you almost scream. You manage to contain it to a gasp, a wheezing Soonyoung’s name. He blinks at you innocently, like he isn’t standing in front of you with his shirt in his hand. 

“What are you doing?” You choke out. 

“We’re at the beach,” he says. “I have to take pictures.” 

“And you need to take off your shirt for that?” 

“Why? Does it bother you?” He smirks. 

Muscles have never been a selling point for you. The “people” you’ve crushed on have all been smart or kind, crushes of intellect rather than bodies. His toned abs, sculpted shoulders, the way his body curves gently as he allows you to stare at him–normally it wouldn’t get to you at all (other than the embarrassment of being this close to a shirtless man for the first time in a long time). But it’s not just the muscles. It’s Soonyoung, your Soonyoung who calls you at four in the morning to tell you about the movie he just finished and is too endearing for you to truly be annoyed at. It’s the Soonyoung that gets lost in the Engineering building even as a senior. It’s the Soonyoung that drags you to the beach in the middle of the night just to make you smile. Yes, it bothers you. No one should be this incredible and hot. 

“No,” you mumble, failing to convince yourself of the lie. 

Soonyoung seems to be done teasing you, dropping his shirt into your hands. He walks a little closer to the waves, apparently not bothered by the chilly ocean breeze. He starts to pose, then raises his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to take pictures?” 

“Where’s your phone?”

“The camera’s broken,” he says. “Just use yours and you can send them to me.” He continues to pose, flexing his arms as subtly as he can which isn’t particularly subtle (though the muscles are even more impressive in person). You are tempted to reach out and feel the tension, before you realize you are staring again. 

You numb to Soonyoung in this half-dressed state as you take the pictures. The frat must have a professional photographer or something, because Soonyoung knows how to pose. Despite some of the angles and positions seeming awkward, each picture comes out as if from a photoshoot. He only gives you a few instructions on taking pictures, and compliments you way beyond your talents. 

“Just like that!” Soonyoung says, breaking his model face to grin at you. “You’re really good at this.” 

“You can’t even see the pictures,” you say. You bite your lips so you don’t smile. Apparently that doesn’t matter, because he keeps posing. It’s a good thing you just upgraded your phone storage because you estimate at least a thousand pictures are taken for each pose. 

“Are you guys done?” You jump at the voice next to you. Apparently Joshua returned from his walk, sneaking up using the crashing waves as cover. “We should head back soon if you want to make your morning classes.” 

“Definitely want to,” you say. You haven’t gotten any work done, but that’s no excuse to skip class. Soonyoung pouts but doesn’t argue. 

“Perfect!” Joshua claps his hands together. He shoves you toward Soonyoung and grabs your phone. “One more picture together and we’ll go.”

Being at a distance worked perfectly fine but those muscles have you frozen in place again. Soonyoung throws an arm over your shoulders and grins like you do this all the time. His biceps press through your jacket, the flex of the muscle exactly as you imagined it, not that it stops your heart from thundering. 

You can’t help but steal a glance at Soonyoung. Despite feeling like you’ll malfunction at any second, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. Soonyoung’s features look soft this close, even the sharp cut of his jawline. You want to study every line of his face, each curve, memorize it until the way his lips slowly curl into a smile is carved into your heart. Spending the rest of your life here doesn’t seem too bad. 

“Let’s go,” Joshua says, breaking whatever magic froze time for you. You are left with cold toes and sand in your sneakers as you march up the dune and back to Joshua’s car. 

“I just cleaned it,” he groans, looking at all the sand you and Soonyoung tracked in. 

You mumble an apology but when you try to offer to clean it for him, he shakes his head. “Nobody touches my baby.” 

You glance at Soonyoung, who followed you into the backseat again. He rolls his eyes at Joshua, smiling in a way that you know means he isn’t serious. You smile back at him and click your seatbelt into place. 

“Address?” Joshua asks, handing you his phone. You punch it in and hand the phone back. 3 hours and sixteen minutes. 

Joshua whistles, seeing the arrival time of 4:53. “Remind me never to do this again.” 

“The beach was your idea,” Soonyoung says. His words slur a little. 

“Just go to sleep already,” Joshua says. The engine rumbles on and he pulls away from the empty boardwalk. 

“‘m not even tired,” Soonyoung says, fighting a yawn. He slouches and leans against the headrest, rolling his head to look at you. “You have class in the morning?” 

“Not until nine.” 

“That’s good.” He doesn’t succeed in fighting the yawn this time. His blinks become longer and longer, eyes closing more than opening. It’s like watching the energizer bunny shut down. 

“Soonyoung?” 

He opens his eyes and you think maybe he’d wait for the rest of his life for you to say something. 

“Thank you.” 

“Always.” He smiles lazily. “I swore I’d do anything.” 

His sworn loyalty. It should be fun, having a boy like him dedicated to fulfilling your wishes. But what would it be like if he wasn’t sworn to you? If he did these kinds of things just because he wants to? 

You didn’t think you were tired but the next thing you know, Soonyoung gently shakes you awake. 

“We’re here,” he says in a quiet, very un-Soonyoung voice. 

You blink at him, trying to figure out why your neck hurts so much, frowning at the unfamiliar surroundings. From the rear view mirror, Joshua watches you. Right, instead of writing your essay, doing the problem sets, or any of the readings, you went to the beach. You wait for the guilt to set in but it doesn’t come. None of the anxieties from earlier in the evening (the technical part of your brain reminds you it was the night before) overwhelm you. 

“Right,” you say, clearing your throat. Your mouth tastes nasty but before you can say anything, Soonyoung hands you a water bottle. You take a sip before saying thank you. 

Soonyoung unbuckles his seatbelt. “I’ll walk you up.” 

You nod, grateful you don’t have to ask him. The night has been a full adventure on its own yet you aren’t quite ready for it to be over. At least you aren’t ready to say goodbye to Soonyoung. 

There’s still something you want to tell him. You want to tell him that you like his blonde hair, even though everyone else thinks it’s ridiculous. You want to tell him that you lied earlier, you nearly lost your mind seeing him shirtless. You want to tell him that you feel proud when he gets the right answer on the first try, that you think his concentration frown is cute, that you’ve never enjoyed studying like you do when he’s by your side. You want to tell him that on your worst days, days like today, just being Soonyoung makes it better. 

But you learned a long time ago tired ramblings and drunk confessions are siblings. They both end in heartbreak and twelve packs of ramen. 

So you ride the elevator with him and watch the lights flicker. You never cared when Jihoon brought his friends (well, Jun) over, but the carpets that look dirty no matter how many times they’re cleaned and beige walls are even worse tonight. You can stand to live in a boring apartment, but not a dirty one. 

“This is me,” you say, gesturing to 808. You turn your back on the door, facing Soonyoung instead. He looks radiant under the fluorescent hallway lights, which really isn’t fair. They make his bleach blonde hair look natural, highlight the blemishes on his skin, easy to see when he’s this close. 

You should go inside and he should go back down but neither of you move. For the second time tonight, you are frozen in time with Soonyoung. 

The floor creaks and you jump, turning around at the same time, accidentally knocking into Soonyoung’s chest as you turn to face the noise behind you. Jihoon, gym bag over his shoulder, frowns at you across the hallway. 

“Are you seriously just getting back now?” 

Shit. You never texted him. “Um, Jihoon, this is Soonyoung,” you say. He waves behind you. “Soonyoung, Jihoon.” 

Jihoon folds his arms. “I’ve heard about you.” You glare at him, which he ignores. “You’re taking the LSAT on a dare?” 

“You’re the one that wants to be a music producer?” 

Jihoon raises his eyebrows and looks at you. “You’ve mentioned me?” 

“Only the worst,” you say, smiling at him. 

“I thought you were at the library all night?” Jihoon says. 

“We went on an adventure,” you say. You show him your sandy shoes. He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. It’s clear he knows he interrupted something, but the stubborn asshole doesn’t move. 

You turn back to Soonyoung. “Goodnight,” you say, resisting the urge to hug him. 

“It’s morning,” Jihoon says. 

“Goodnight,” Soonyoung says, glancing at Jihoon. He pauses and fidgets with the hem of his shirt but finally gives you a half hug that feels more like a bro hug than anything else. He disappears into the elevator then pops his head out a final time “Send me the photos!” 

You turn to Jihoon. “I forgot to text you.” 

“I figured I’d wait until the morning to call,” he said. “Even if you were kidnapped there’s still a 90% chance you’d figure out a way to show up for class on time.” He turns the key in the lock and strides into the apartment. You’re too tired to argue back, especially when he’s right, so you just follow him into the apartment. 

“I like him,” Jihoon says before you vanish into your room. 

“Should I find you a wedding dress?” You say. “Soonyoung is single.” 

Jihoon rolls his eyes and grabs a protein shake from the fridge. “Why do I even bother?” 

You don’t wait for him to leave first, peeling your shoes off in the entryway where you can sweep up the sand and practically fall into your room. It’s race to change into an old t-shirt before you collapse onto your bed. 

You set an alarm for 8:30 and check fifty times to make sure it’s actually set. Then you open your camera roll, shaking your head at the countless pictures. You choose twenty non-blurry ones before your eyes start to droop. You scroll to the bottom and click on the pictures Joshua took. Soonyoung grins for the camera, his easy smile as captivating on your phone as it is in person. You are staring at him, a soft smile on your lips and hearts practically bugging out of your eyes. It’s so ridiculously obvious how you feel. You send him his thirst traps and keep that picture for yourself. 

It takes a week for you to realize Soonyoung never posted the pictures. 

.

.

The weight of the world has the decency to wait until you’re home to fall on your shoulders. You hold your keys up and can’t push it into the lock. If you didn’t do well today, it means the past two months have been a complete waste–all the studying, the assignments you got low grades on because you were studying, the nights you spent at your desk–wasted and doomed to repeat. 

All but the time you spent with Soonyoung. Even if you fail (again), he should at least score decently, and you can’t consider that a complete waste. 

You raise your key to insert it into the lock but the door flies open. Jihoon glares at you, arms folded over his chest. “What the hell is taking you so long, your boyfriend is here.”  

You peer past him and find Soonyoung lounging on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table. He sits up when he sees you, grinning and waving. You wonder if he’s been there since you told him you were finished. You make a mental note to get Jihoon his favorite protein shakes. 

“How did you know I was here?” 

“Me and your boyfriend heard you shaking your keys in front of the door for like twenty minutes,” Jihoon says.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you mutter, praying Soonyoung didn’t hear either of you. You push past Jihoon, letting him lock the door behind you. Soonyoung jumps off the couch as soon as you drop your bag, almost tackling you in a hug. You pretend not to hear Jihoon’s scoff as he locks himself in his room again. 

“How’d it go?” He asks, squeezing you one more time before letting go. You try not to feel disappointed about it. “I mean, I know you did amazing, but how do you feel? Was the room super hot or super cold? Did the proctor give you the evil eye when you turned in your paper because they were secretly trying to sabotage you?” 

“No?” You frown. “And the room was fine, I felt pretty good about it, but I felt good last time, so I don’t really know, I just really don’t want to take it again.” You sigh. “I know you want to know as many details as possible for your test, but I really, really don’t want to think about it right now.” 

Soonyoung grins and pulls out a package of White Claws and a bottle of vodka from a plastic bag that you just noticed sitting on your coffee table. “That’s perfect because I brought a gift from the whole frat.” 

“That seems pretty on brand,” you say. 

“And a gift from me.” He digs again and pulls out a DVD. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. 

“You’re kidding.” You say. “I think I have to be drunk to watch that.” 

“You don’t have faith in my taste in movies?” Soonyoung asks but he pops open the first drink and slips something shaped concerningly like a knife out of his pocket and stabs the can, chugging it before it can really spill on your carpet. Before you can register what he did, he tosses the empty can on the coffee table, immediately scrambling to straighten it. “Sorry, force of habit.” 

“Soonyoung, I don’t think I can keep up with you,” you say, sitting slowly onto the couch. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m a lightweight,” he says. “I definitely should not have chugged that.” 

“I guess I better catch up,” you say, unscrewing the vodka and pouring a shot in the little paper cups that Soonyoung brought. The acrid scent curls your lip but you knock it back as fast as you can, forcing it down when you miss the back of your throat and it burns your tongue. Soonyoung hands you a can, the lime flavored seltzer pushing the nasty flavor out of your mouth. 

“Yeah, I’m terrible at that,” you say. 

Soonyoung shrugs. “I’m not one to judge. You should have seen me as a pledge.” 

You grin at the mental image of Soonyoung wearing a fake toga made of bedsheets. “I bet you were adorable.” You take another sip of the drink (which tastes significantly worse when you aren’t comparing it to straight vodka) and miss Soonyoung scrambling for words. 

“I can’t drink this,” you declare, setting the can down. You cross the room to the fridge, opening it and studying the contents. Soonyoung follows you, resting his chin on the door and glancing inside. 

“Jihoon does most of the cooking,” you say, feeling self-conscious. Not much populates your fridge, a package of chicken breast and a carton of eggs. A couple containers of take out that are either two days or two weeks old sit in front, and the drawer of fruit that is filled with apples from Jihoon’s mother definitely smells funny. 

“I live in a frat house, this is heaven.” 

You flash him a smile and grab the orange juice, shaking it as you grab a glass from the cabinet (thank god Jihoon did the dishes last night). Soonyoung follows you back to the couch and waits for you to pour a glass and add two shots of vodka. You raise the glass and he takes your rejected White Claw and clinks it. 

“Cheers,” he says, sipping this one instead of chugging it. He sets it down and leans against the armrest so that he can face you. “How did you meet Jihoon, by the way? He seems like a pretty reserved dude.”

“Yeah, sorry if he was short with you, he isn’t half as mean as he pretends to be,” you say. 

“We actually talked a lot.” He pauses, tilting his head as he thinks about it. “Well, a lot about working out. I think I could turn him into my gym buddy with enough pressure.” 

“I would pay to see that,” you say. Jihoon tried to bring you to the gym exactly once, and you have regretted it ever since. The soreness haunts you, but you think Soonyoung might be one of the few people on the planet that could keep up with him with those arms. 

“I didn’t know you were into that,” Soonyoung says with a giggle. You roll your eyes. 

“You know for a fact that’s not what I meant,” you say, “and to answer your question, we lived in the same dorm freshman year. He was next door, and both our roommates were psychotic, so we ended up trading. We’ve been living together ever since because I’m the only one that can put up with his annoying ass. Also he cooks and keeps me alive during finals.” 

“I can’t believe I was a dorm assignment away from living with you.” Soonyoung shakes his head and pretends to sigh. “Fate isn’t on my side.” 

“Don’t you live in a frat house?” 

“Semantics,” Soonyoung says. He pauses. “Semen-tics.” He starts to laugh and though the joke is far from funny, you find yourself giggling too. 

“You’re drunk,” you say. 

Soonyoung points at you. “I’m pretty sure you’re drunk too.” 

You tilt your head from side to side, trying to think at first but the motion feels nice, toeing the line between dizzying and comfortable. Right, you were checking if you were drunk. You have your answer, but you don’t want to stop spinning just yet. 

“Do you really want to be a lawyer?” Soonyoung asks. You freeze with your head on your right shoulder, frowning at him. “I mean, like, how do you know?” 

“It makes good money,” you say. “Well, corporate law does. Everything going according to plan, I’ll be out of debt before I’m thirty, retiring at 65.” 

“But how do you know that’s what you want?” Soonyoung asks. You wonder if he’s asking you or himself. You think about the first day you met him. 

It was the first day of your sophomore year, 8 in the morning in the worst classroom in the Armhayer Building at the end of a dead end hallway with no windows. The business program had a required career building course and some cruel administrator decided to make the other available class clash with the other required business class for the year, so half the class was people you were stuck with for the full year. Despite its reputation, the business school at the university seemed to only accept idiots. 

You settled for a long semester of biting back your eye rolls and yawning through class, choosing a seat in the front so that at least you won’t have to look at anyone else. And for fifteen minutes, you struggled to keep your eyes open. 

Then Soonyoung walked in. 

He was out of breath, telling the professor that he got lost several times and someone gave him the wrong directions. You didn’t really pay attention to him until he dropped into the seat next to you. Fully prepared to give him a side eye and judge him for the rest of the semester, Soonyoung flashed a smile at you and apologized for disrupting you. He was so obviously not your type, yet when his head dropped on your shoulder, you didn’t wake him up. Two classes later when the professor told the class that you would be in a semester-long partner project, you didn’t hesitate to say yes when Soonyoung asked you. 

Soonyoung hadn’t ever taken the class seriously, going through the motions and doing the bare minimum for most of the assignments. You never paid any attention to it, but you realize that he never actually told you what he planned to do with his life, always asking you what you planned to do with your copious amounts of money. Now you wonder if it was because he really doesn’t know. 

“I want stability,” you finally say. “This plan is stable. Safe, as long as everything goes according to plan. I guess it’s not as cool as dreaming about being an astronaut or whatever, but it’s what I want.” 

“I think it’s cool. Knowing what you want to do.” Soonyoung says with little enthusiasm. 

“You don’t have any idea?” 

He shrugs. “I have to be smart to do the things I want to do.” 

“You are smart.” 

“You don’t have to pander to me, I’m not looking for your pity.” 

“Soonyoung.” You wait for him to look you in the eyes. “You are smart. This isn’t pity. Sure it takes you a little longer to read things, and you have to work a little harder to answer some questions, but that doesn’t mean you’re not smart. You’re just as capable as me, more capable when it comes to emotional intelligence. Have you ever noticed that wherever you go, someone is always waving to you? I don’t think there’s a single person in this world that doesn’t like you. Don’t downplay how important that is.” 

He chews on his lip and you know he doesn’t believe you. How many people have told him he’s dumb? You want to drag every single one of them here and make them apologize, make them realize how special the boy in front of you is. Eventually he shrugs. “I’ll just end up being an intern, and then I’ll be so charming they’ll promote me without realizing I don’t know what I’m doing and I’ll become a CEO that pays people to do the job for me.” 

You smile and shake your head. “We can vacation together in the Bahamas.” 

“Please, that’s where the semi-rich people go,” Soonyoung says, lifting his head from the back of the couch. “We’ll have our own islands and sail past each other.” This time when he smiles, the sparkle glints, just a little. His bleach blonde hair sticks in strange angles from rubbing against the couch, looking a little like a fuzzball. You reach a hand out and pat it down, except the hair is fried from being bleached so many times and almost breaks under your hand. 

When you pull your hand down, Soonyoung is staring at you. Except staring isn’t the right word. He looks at you like no one else ever has, a thousand unsaid words behind his eyes, a language like no other that maybe only you can understand. Those dark eyes, so soft and warm, begging you to drown in them. He’s a siren, luring you in with a song of desire that only you can hear. 

You don’t realize you’ve leaning closer until you fall forward, catching yourself on his chest. Soonyoung’s hand flies to your waist, moving so fast it must have been reflex. 

“Sorry,” you mutter but you don’t get off him. Resisting his eyes from this close is impossible. Soonyoung blinks at you, frozen. It occurs to you that you’re almost kissing him. All you have to do is lean forward, press your lips against his. Would his lips be chapped? Would he kiss you back? Would he make fun of you for being a terrible kisser? You hold your breath, wondering if you are about to find out. 

You jump at the bang of a door slamming shut. You push off Soonyoung’s chest, back to your side of the couch until your back slams against the armrest. The pain is almost enough to sober you up and you realize exactly what you were about to do. You can’t bear to look at Soonyoung staring at you so you look at Jihoon instead, who doesn’t seem to realize that he interrupted anything by walking into the kitchen, headphones blasting music so loud that you can hear it. He grabs one of the takeout containers from the fridge and finally notices you and Soonyoung staring at him. 

“What?” He shouts over his headphones. You shake your head and he stares at you all the way back to his room, slamming the door shut behind him with enough force to make you jump again. 

“We should probably start the movie,” you say, turning to face forward, anywhere but Soonyoung. “I’ll get my laptop.” He doesn’t say anything but you can feel Soonyoung’s eyes on you as you jump up. Ignoring the spinning in your head, you walk to your room. You lean against the door as soon as it shuts behind you, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. 

You wish you could blame the idiocy on the alcohol, but you aren’t drunk enough for that. Besides, regardless of the reason, it was a mistake, it would be a mistake, to kiss Soonyoung. No matter how badly you want to do it. 

Your computer sits on your desk. The longer it takes for you to get back, the stranger it will be, so you grab it and return to the couch. Dizziness gives you an excuse to peer at the floor, perfectly valid reason to avoid Soonyoung’s eyes. 

“Are you ready to have your mind blown?” He asks when you insert the DVD into your laptop. 

You raise your eyebrows but still don’t have the courage to face him. “It’s that good?” 

Soonyoung laughs easily, as if nothing happened. “You have no idea what you’re in for.” 

You peek at him from the corner of your eye. He faces the computer, sitting back against the couch. Other than his red tinted cheeks, you can’t tell he’s drunk at all. You have no idea what you’re in for, he said. He has no idea how right he is. 

.

.

You hold Soonyoung by the shoulders, staring him down. Your eyes begin to water but you hold them open, determined not to lose. Soonyoung squints, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. You just have to hold out a little longer, but your eyes begin to ache and the air pierces into them. 

“Damn!” Soonyoung cries, throwing himself back onto the couch and squeezing his eyes shut. You let go of his shoulders and resist the urge to rub your eyes, settling for blinking as fast as humanly possible. Your eyes burn but you smile anyways, wiping tears away with the back of your hand. 

“How are you so good at that?” Soonyoung asks. He gives into the impulse, hands pressed against his eyes. 

“I’m really not, I think you’re just bad at staring contests,” you say. “Now hurry up, you lost so you have to answer.” 

He sighs as if he didn’t beg you to help him study. With only a day before his test, you’re not sure how much this is really helping, but at least he isn’t partying with the rest of his frat (who do a pre-finals bar crawl, apparently). Instead, Soonyoung is on your couch, again. You try not to think about the last time he was here. Not productive thoughts, especially not when Soonyoung is one day away from taking the most important test of his life. 

“Is it B?” 

“Are you asking or telling?” 

“I hate when you say that.” He peers at the paper, eyes moving slowly as he rereads the line. “No, it’s C! Wait, no, B. No, A!” 

“Pick an answer.” 

He chews on his lip. You have to force yourself to keep your focus on his eyes. “B,” he finally says. 

You’re tempted to drag it out and make him wait but he puts on the Soonyoung Sparkle so you go ahead and nod. 

“I knew it! Trust your gut!” 

“You’re quoting me now.” You pretend to wipe tears from the corner of your eyes. “You’ve grown up so quickly.”  

If it were Jihoon, he’d roll his eyes but Soonyoung perks up, as if you’ve given him a real compliment. He pauses before asking his next question, eyes flickering to the papers separating you from him. 

“You really think I’ll do well?” He asks softly. 

You study him, the way his unnaturally blonde hair has been strategically gelled to stick up in all the right places, the way his plain white t-shirt hangs loose on his shoulders. You wonder what he sees when he looks in the mirror because the way he sits now, waiting for an answer as if you’d actually say no, breaks your heart a little. He really has no idea how brilliant he is, in every sense of the word. You don’t know how to make him see it so you just take his hand and wait for him to look you in the eyes. 

The second the glittering dark irises meet yours, you see the desperation. He tries to smile, to hide the fear but Soonyoung has always been easy to read. You fight the urge to brush your fingers against his cheek. 

“Soonyoung.” You squeeze his hand. What you feel isn’t a passing crush, you’ve known that for a while now. Admitting it doesn’t give you the bravery to do anything except pull the shield of cowardice around your heart a little tighter. “I’d be an idiot if I said I didn’t.” 

He holds your gaze a little longer, until it almost looks like he believes you. Then his eyes light up. “I have a surprise for you!” 

He digs into his backpack, pulling out a blanket (not the one he used when it was still warm enough to sit outside in the grass), a plastic water bottle half-full of bright green liquid, three crumpled flyers for events on campus, and finally, a small rectangular item, carefully wrapped in paper towels. 

“I was a little worried it would get damaged in my backpack,” he says. “I really, really tried to walk gently and didn’t bring it near any coffee.” 

You choose not to point out the unnatural liquid in the plastic water bottle, instead appreciating his efforts to protect whatever your surprise is. Besides, it’s not like he didn’t try. He carefully pulls the paper towels off, revealing a navy blue leather bound book with gilded lettering. Not just any book. 

“You got it back?” You cry. Soonyoung pulls the rest of the paper towels off to reveal the intricate design on the cover, the golden pages, with Pride and Prejudice inscribed on the spine. “My baby!” 

You hover over the book, not wanting to ruin it with the dirt and oils from your hands but so desperately wanting to caress the beautiful book. It’s just as you remember it, down to the tiny dent on the front cover where you accidentally knocked it against a railing. You can’t wait to put it back on your bookshelf where there has been an empty space ever since Jun managed to snag it. You remember Soonyoung is there when you hear his laughter. 

“You like it that much?” 

“Of course,” you say. “It’s my baby.” 

“It’s a book.” But he smiles and you know he’s just teasing. So you figure, why not? 

You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. His frat-bro instincts must take charge because he doesn’t hesitate to hug you back, pulling you against his chest and squeezing you like he’s the one getting a gift. 

“Thank you,” you say. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

“This is my thank you,” he says. You can feel his voice rumbling in his chest, a strange sensation that sends butterflies tumbling around between your stomach and your heart. “It’s the least I could do for you. 

The awkward position isn’t exactly comfortable, twisting your body to face him with your shoulder overtop of his forcing your face into his neck but you don’t want to let go. You give yourself five more thundering heartbeats before you let go, turning to study your book again so you have an excuse to avoid his eyes. 

“How did you get it back?” 

“Same way you lost it,” Soonyoung says. “I made a bet.” 

“On what?” 

Soonyoung shrugs, turning to look at the book that still sits in his lip. He gently places it into yours, using the paper towels to prevent smudging with his fingers. 

You frown. “How? Jun is in another hemisphere.” 

“Don’t underestimate the power of video calls and express shipping,” Soonyoung says. “By the way, I’m wearing your friends down. Pretty soon they’ll like me more than they like you. 

“Oh really?” You raise your eyebrow. You ignore the vole gnawing at your gut whispering that he might just be right. 

“I got Jihoon to go to the gym with me and I got him to admit I was friends with you before he was,” he says, holding a finger out. “Jun says that he wants to meet me the second he returns to the country.” A second finger goes up. “Who else can I add to the list?” 

He’s only joking. He doesn’t mean it the way it sounds, but your skin wants to crawl inside out. The truth is, they are pretty much your only friends. Jihoon, Jun, and Soonyoung, the latter two having wormed their way into your life. My only friends. 

“You’ve got to start going on the offensive,” Soonyoung says. He avoids your eyes and you know he didn’t miss your discomfort. Great, now he pities you. “I’m serious, Seokmin and Joshua have been asking about you, and Seungcheol keeps complaining that he hasn’t met you yet.” 

You snort. “They’re frat bros, they just want more people to party with.” 

“I’m a frat bro,” he says. 

“Yeah, but…” But what? He’s Soonyoung? Once again, you wonder why he is so different to you–why the epitome of frat boy chaos doesn’t repulse you like he should. But he isn’t some one-dimensional steroid-infused party boy, not the type to bully the freshman trying to join just because he can. He gets drunk after two shots and makes his pledges follow him for 24 hours a day as “hazing,” only to take them for a dinner he can’t afford and skips his own classes so they don’t miss theirs. 

He’s not a typical frat boy. But Soonyoung loves his frat, and you can’t find a way to tell him this without making it sound like you are looking down on the rest of the members. 

So you just say, “Isn’t this supposed to be a study session?” 

Soonyoung sighs, pulling the book in front of him and staring at the words. Even though you can see that he isn’t reading, he doesn’t say anything else. 

“Your test is tomorrow,” you say. 

“Yeah, I know.” He doesn’t pick up the pencil. 

You’ve never struggled to read Soonyoung. He can’t hide when he’s upset, shoulders slumping, a little pout forming over his lips. He doesn’t fully frown but his eyebrows comes together, just a bit. And it’s usually easy to figure out what’s wrong–he’s tired, or wants to be at a party instead of studying. But now? He was fine just a moment ago, even while he was cramming earlier. 

“Is something wrong?” You don’t know why you’re so scared of the answer. 

“I just thought that… nNever mind.” He sighs again. “You’re right, this is a study session. I should be studying.” He doesn’t look at you and you can’t help but feel like you messed up. But Soonyoung eventually picks up his pencil and asks you to check his answers and the feeling slowly fades. 

Will the rest of your feelings fade when you aren’t with him like this anymore? When he takes his test and has no reason to see you every day? Will your heart still beat at the mention of his name? Will you spend the rest of your life thinking about all the almosts with him? Or will it fade until Soonyoung is just a boy that you helped because of a silly bet?

Even as you consider it, you know the answer. He isn’t just a boy, and he never will be. Maybe that’s what really scares you. 

.

.

You glare at Soonyoung. “Do you know what time it is?” 

Jihoon glances at his watch. “7:43.” 

Soonyoung grins beside him, arm over his shoulder. Both boys stand in your bedroom doorway looking far too composed for this ungodly hour. 

“It’s a Saturday.” Just two minutes ago you were in blissful sleep. Okay, maybe not blissful, since you stayed up until three in the morning because you couldn’t fall asleep, and you were having a weird dream where you were looking for something and ended up by the stadium staring at a giant duck statue instead of the raven. But the point is you were asleep until two fists banged on your door so loud you thought it was going to fall apart. 

You can’t even be that mad at Soonyoung, not when he smiles like that. So you glare at Jihoon.

“Honestly, I figured you would be up,” he says. “You were the one that said you didn’t think you were going to get any sleep.” 

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung says. “I really just wanted to help distract you for the last hour.” Right. The last hour until your entire future would be determined by a triple digit number. No biggie. 

“Let me get dressed,” you say. They step back before you have the chance to slam the door in their face. You’d like to be able to dress up nicely, but you’re already shivering, so you grab your comfiest sweatpants and the sweatshirt Soonyoung lent you (that still smells like his cologne). You dart into the bathroom and meet the two boys in the doorway of the apartment, pulling on your sneakers. 

You pull the hood over your messy hair and tighten the strings. Soonyoung grins at you and taps your nose. 

“Ready to go?” 

“How did you get out of bed this early?” 

“Oh, I never got in,” he says. “Long story, but we gotta go, they won’t wait much longer.” 

“They?” You ask but Soonyoung doesn’t hear you. He turns to Jihoon, waving. 

“See you tomorrow!” He says, throwing an arm over your shoulders to pull you out the door. “I’ll let you know how it goes!” 

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” But he looks at you and smiles. “It’ll be fine.” Before you can thank him, he shuts the door. 

Soonyoung doesn’t let go of your side, pulling you to the elevators and squeezing you against him. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I should be asleep.” 

Soonyoung smiles, as if your grumpiness is funny. You decide it’s moot since there’s no way you could fall asleep now that you are an hour and seven minutes away from finding out the results of your future. 

“I figured I’d save you from wallowing in worry,” Soonyoung says. “We can do fun things while we wait. I planned out the whole morning, we have options! There’s going to the gym, or for a job around campus, breaking into the science lab and petting the rabbits, going to Barb’s for breakfast–”

“Breakfast,” you say. You aren’t a huge fan of getting in trouble with the college when you have just over a semester before graduation and though you aren’t sure if your stomach will accept food, working out is a guarantee for throwing up. Besides, a hot cup of coffee could clear a little of the fog in your brain. 

“Barb’s it is,” Soonyoung says, practically bouncing on his toes. He really seems to only have two settings, and today he’s at 120%. 

He lets go of your side when the elevator opens and you step to the ground floor of your apartment. You rub your arms and pretend like the chill is from the weather even though the lobby is still warm. He holds the door for you pretending to be a doorman, bowing and gesturing with his arm for you to pass. You turn so that he doesn’t see that the silly gesture made you smile. 

Parked outside is a white jeep that looks larger than normal, and is apparently the asshole that’s been blasting their music for the past ten minutes. You aren’t surprised in the slightest when Soonyoung strides up to the car.  

“I don’t have a car,” he says, belatedly apologetic. The two men in the front seat don’t seem to mind, though you suspect they have been up all night along with Soonyoung as soon as the door opens and you hear their voices singing off-tune over the blasting music. 

“Boy, you got my heartbeat runnin' away,” The driver cries, using a water bottle as a mic. You recognize Seungcheol from Soonyoung’s descriptions, half from his voice and half from the back of his head. The person riding shotgun is also familiar, a mess of dark hair that must be Joshua. He doesn’t look much different in daylight, sunglasses resting on his forehead. Thankfully they turn the music down a little and stop singing when you get it. 

Seungcheol grins at you through the mirror. “So I finally get to meet the infamous YN. You know, you still haven’t shown up to any parties.” 

“I’ve been busy,” you say, glancing at Soonyoung who focuses a little too much on his seatbelt. 

“Hi, YN,” the passenger up front says, waving at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Joshua,” you say. “Get into life and death scenarios with Soonyoung recently?” 

“Well, Soonyoung jumped out of a car window.” He pauses. “It wasn’t moving,” he adds when Seungcheol jerks his head towards him. “Though I wouldn’t put it past him.” 

“I have done it before,” Soonyoung says solemnly. It takes him a moment to realize everyone is staring at him. “It was a dare.” 

“Why am I not surprised,” Seungcheol grumbles, turning back around and putting the car into drive. Though you were thinking something along the same lines, the way Soonyoung deflates a little makes you wish Seungcheol hadn’t said anything. 

The rest of the drive is quiet–at least in terms of conversation. Seungcheol cranks his stereo up to the loudest setting and blasts the Spice Girls until Joshua starts singing along. Apparently car karaoke for “Wannabe” is sacrilegious to the frat leader. 

You can hear yourself think again when the car pulls into the parking lot and he finally cuts the engine. A few cars line the parking lot of the 24 hour diner that sits on the outskirts of campus. The giant neon red Barb’s that hangs over the entrance flickers in the cloudy morning light teeters the line between quaint and electrical fire waiting to happen. 

The workers, a host and three waitresses, wave at the boys, and do a double take at you. You swear you hear the host whisper “Is that really them?” to Joshua as he leads the group to a table in the corner but Soonyoung distracts you with the menu. 

“I had this thing memorized since freshman year, I can’t believe you’ve never been here. The pancakes are my favorite for hangover cures, not that I’m hungover by the way, I’m actually running on my third energy drink.” He taps the picture, a golden stack of perfectly fluffy pancakes that can only be photoshop. 

“Aren’t energy drinks bad for your heart?” 

Soonyoung shrugs. “Joshua invented this to get through finals, you mix Red Bull, Bang, and Coke and it keeps you up for three days straight. Great for when you’re nervous because you physically have to do something about it.” 

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you say. “Wait, why are you nervous?” 

“Your test results come out today,” he says too quickly.  

You consider debating with him but a waitress approaches, wearing a fifties frock and a high ponytail with a ribbon that probably looked like a bow at the start of her shift but has drooped down and now just looks sad. Her face is a mask of emotions, not a smile, not a frown, just emptiness, a contrast to the button clipped to her collar making her “Happy.” 

“The usual?” She asks, pausing at you. She tilts her head and you can see the mask twisting at the edges, a frown almost forming on her brow. She glances at Soonyoung. “Is this who I think it is?” 

“Who do you think it is?” Soonyoung asks at the same time that Joshua and Seungcheol say, “Yes.” 

The corner of Happy’s lips turn into a tiny smile that seems to be her equivalent of a grin. “I’ve heard so much about you.” 

“Okay, haha, very funny,” Soonyoung says. “Stop harassing my friend. We’ll order when we have a chance to look at the menu.”  

Happy raises her eyebrow just slightly at the word “friend,” but closes her notepad. She returns to a pastel pink bar where you can clearly see her whispering and gesturing to you. 

“Why do so many people know me?” You mutter, shrinking into the corner of the booth. 

“The thing about Drunk Soonyoung is that he doesn’t really shut up,” Seungcheol says. 

“That’s being gentle,” Joshua says. “One time he spent four hours describing Finding Nemo. That’s longer than the actual movie.” 

“It’s a good movie,” Soonyoung says. 

“The point is,” Seungcheol says, glaring at Joshua, “he tends to talk when he’s drunk. Usually about good things, things that he… Well, things that he likes.” 

You turn your head to look at Soonyoung, who is once again pretending to study the menu. “You like studying for the LSAT that much?” 

Joshua unsuccessfully tries to hide his laugh with a snort while Seungcheol gains slightly more success with a fake cough. Soonyoung doesn’t react at all, staring at the painted flowers on the menu. Eventually, he shrugs. “I’m dedicated to the bet.” He points at a stack of pancakes covered in bananas and chocolate. “That’s what I usually get.” 

“Isn’t against all rules of gym core and muscle building to eat decadent things?” 

“Did you just call working out ‘gym core?’” Seungcheol asks. 

“Am I wrong?” 

“Nope!” Soonyoung says brightly. “And cheat days are a thing, so do you want to split it or not?” 

“You know I can’t say no to bananas and chocolate.” 

“And pancakes!” He waves down the waitress and points to the stack. 

“Ah, the new Soonyoung,” she says. “You guys getting your actual usual?” 

Joshua and Seungcheol nod and she doesn’t bother to write any of it down. Then again she already knows their orders. Except she called Soonyoung’s “new.” Before you can ask what she meant, a shout makes you jump. You turn around to see a stream of boys entering, enough of whom you recognize that you realize at least half the frat has rolled into the diner. The waitresses roll their eyes and groan but somehow they don’t look all that upset. 

“Mr. President!” The tallest boy, Johnny according to Soonyoung’s Instagram tags, holds a fist over his heart and pounds it a couple times. Seungcheol nods and greets each of the boys, most of whom seem to still be in various stages of inebriation. Almost all of them glance at you and whisper to each other, and you get the feeling they know exactly who you are. 

Just what has Soonyoung said about you? 

“How are we doing on time?” One of them calls out. 

“46 minutes,” Joshua says. You frown. 46 minutes… until 9? Do they all know about today? 

You tap Soonyoung on the arm. “What’s going on?” 

“You see, the thing is,” he says, “apparently I was nervous?” He tries to fake a laugh but it sounds strained. “I don’t really know but the guys made me tell them about today and then I didn’t really know what was happening but I guess they followed us here? Thought you might like moral support, or something.” 

You peek out at the booths crowded with frat bros and cringe back into your seat when they grin at you. “They’re all looking at me.” 

“Well, I guess I do talk about you a lot,” he says, only loud enough for you to hear. He won’t meet your eyes. 

Ask him why. You want to be brave. You want to be right about the answer you think he’ll give you. You chew the inside of your cheek. 

“Because of the bet?” 

Soonyoung doesn’t answer for a moment. “I guess.” 

Coward. 

“Why are we whispering?” Joshua asks, leaning across Soonyoung towards you. “Are we gossiping?” 

Soonyoung pushes him off. “Butt out.” 

“Just telling Soonyoung that I’ve never had an army of drunk guys rooting for me before,” you say. 

“Could have had it sooner if you came to a party,” Seungcheol says. 

“You really want me at a party that bad? We just met.” 

Seungcheol glances at Soonyoung, who shakes his head. He sighs. “If only I could tell you why you need to come.” 

You frown between the three men. “I don’t like when people talk in circles over me.” 

“Just promise you’ll come to the Christmas party. It’ll all make sense then,” Seungcheol says. You’ve heard a lot about Seungcheol from Soonyoung, and the more you listen to him, the more you believe it. He’s a strange man. 

“I’ll think about making an appearance.” 

“Really?” Soonyoung whips around to face you and you know that you have to come now. You haven’t seen him this excited since you let him skip studying to party. No, he’s even more excited now. “You’ll come?” 

You can’t stand his gaze so you study the placemats. “Maybe.” 

He grabs your hand until you meet his eyes. “Please?” 

The Soonyoung Sparkle. You never win against it. “Fine.” 

“Get a room,” Joshua says behind a very fake cough. You pull your hand back into your lap and pretend like you aren’t embarrassed. 

“How long now?” You shout out.

“40 minutes,” someone answers. You groan and lean back into the sofa. Studying was hard enough but waiting makes you want to pull out each individual hair on your head. You stare at the ceiling, trying to decide if the stain looks more like a horse or a flower. 

“Look at this.” Soonyoung passes his phone in front of you, forcing you to look down. His Instagram is open to a picture of a kitten looking drunk, face covered in milk. Such and obvious attempt to distract you but you smile anyway. 

“Sweet,” you say and even you aren’t sure if you mean the cat or Soonyoung. He shows you cat pictures until the food finally arrives (33 minutes to go). You have to wait another five minutes because Soonyoung insists on having a photoshoot, despite your protests that you look like you just woke up (he raises his eyebrows at that). You stop fighting when Joshua makes him cut a piece of the pancake and feed it to you. Chocolate nearly drops in your lap but Soonyoung shoots his hand out at the last second and catches it. 

“Okay, can we please just eat,” you say. Joshua and Seungcheol shrug and pretend like they weren’t instigating the pictures and telling you and Soonyoung how to pose. 

Soonyoung was right about the bananas and chocolate. Rich and decadent, they’re delicious. When he cuts you a slice and pushes it toward you, you can even forget the countdown to the end of the world. Or, more accurately, the end of the world doesn’t mean anything to you when Soonyoung smiles at you like that. 

You eat slowly enough to bring you to the ten minute mark. Fear mixes with the dessert for breakfast in your stomach, twisting it until it threatens to jump out of your throat. Soonyoung takes your hand under the table and holds it. You don’t run away this time. 

He holds you to the planet again, keeps you from floating away and disappearing before you can reach the stars. It’s Soonyoung that keeps your heart beating. Always Soonyoung. 

Seungcheol and Joshua chat, Soonyoung piping in a few times, but their words don’t reach you. Stuck somewhere between crushed beneath the weight of the world and floating away, you focus on the clock, watching the seconds tick closer and closer. 

“Last minute!” Someone behind you finally shouts. Soonyoung squeezes your hand. You pull up the website on your phone and put in your login information and hover over the SUBMIT. At thirty seconds, they start shouting it out. 

“Ten!” 

“Nine!” 

“Eight!” 

“Seven!” 

“Six!” 

“Five!” 

“Four!” 

“Three!” 

“Two!” 

“One!” 

Half the guys start cheering already, probably forgetting the count down doesn’t mean as much as the results themselves. You hit SUBMIT and watch the little wheel spin around and around and around until it finally refreshes. The number stares back at you, impossible to read right in front of you. 

169. 

“Congratulations!” Soonyoung shouts, throwing his arms around you and squeezing while you try to comprehend what that means. 169. The number should be all you can think about but Soonyoung holds you, shouting how proud he is, how he always believed in you. 

“169!” Seungcheol shouts, miles away from your bubble. You can hear the guys break out into cheers, hear them chanting the number (which turns into 69) but it’s just you and Soonyoung. The world didn’t end and Soonyoung is still by your side. 

The rest of the morning is a blur. Every member of the frat insists on congratulating you, which mostly means a lot of hugs, though one of the more drunk guys tried to spin you around on his shoulder. You laugh when you’d usually frown and find your way back to Soonyoung’s side like a magnet. 

Maybe it’s the euphoria that gives you courage. 

“Hey Soonyoung?” 

“Hm?” 

You say it before you can think too much. “Maybe just the two of us next time?” 

He grins before you can finish speaking. “I’d love that.” 

.

.

You have the courtesy to let Soonyoung sleep in as much as he wants. You wait for him at Barb’s, trying to figure out how to call this a date. 

You’ve seen him a couple times since you got your score back, but you needed to study for finals and he had to make up for missing a lot of frat activities. You’ve only seen him in passing, nothing to fill the Soonyoung shaped hole in your heart. But today that will change. You will celebrate together and you will tell him how you feel. And then… you have no idea. 

It’s just Soonyoung there’s nothing to be nervous about. Too bad your body doesn’t agree with you. Every nerve stands at attention, jumping at the bell that rings when the door opens. You don’t worry when Soonyoung doesn’t get to Barb’s by 8:30 like he said he would. Even at 8:45, you aren’t worried. 

It’s only at 8:55 that you really start to wonder where he is. Maybe you should have picked him up. Knowing him, there’s a 50% chance he’s lying in a ditch after a failed attempt to recreate an impossible stunt from Fast and Furious. At 9, you call him. Between each silence in the ring, you wait for his voice but it never comes. He uses the automated voicemail, so you don’t even get his voice telling you to leave a message. 

The anxiety turns to fear while you wait. The door rings and you see a fluff of bleach blonde hair and jump up. But though you recognize the face, it isn’t Soonyoung. 

Chan, one of the younger members of the frat, with Mingyu and a guy whose name you forgot. They all have the same look in their eyes when they see you, far too much like pity. 

“You’re YN, right?” Mingyu asks. “You’re supposed to meet Soonyoung?” The two guys with him, easily identifiable as frat members between their unkempt hair and sweatshirts plastered with Greek letters, stop mid conversation and glance at each other. 

“Is he okay?” You ask, still standing in the awkward position in the booth. 

“He’s got his score back,” Mingyu says. 

“We were supposed to–” 

“Yeah, I know,” Mingyu says. “It was a 167. You should really talk to him yourself.” He pauses, glancing at his frat brothers but they shrug. “He’s at the house. See if you can talk some sense into him.” 

You’re too afraid to ask any other questions so you just watch Mingyu and the other two walk past, and pretend that they aren’t whispering and stealing glances at you. 

Going to a frat house was never on your bucket list but your feet travel without guidance. You find yourself in front of a rather nondescript house. No bodies hang out from windows, no one is passed out in the yard. Then again it’s a weekday. 

You pause at the door, wondering if you should knock. You tap your hand on the door and it slides open, the latch bolt pushed completely in. You step inside tentatively, peeking around but it’s quiet. You turn the corner to find an open room and Soonyoung sitting on a couch, glass with a bright liquid in his hand. He doesn’t even look at you. 

“Are you seriously drunk right now?” 

Soonyoung just shrugs, taking another sip from the glass. Even from here you can smell that it’s more tequila than fruit punch. 

You shake your head, crossing the room sitting beside him even though he didn’t invite you to sit down. He was considerably cuter the last time you saw him drunk. You’ve gotten used to the power of Soonyoung’s facial expressions, his smiles, his frowns, the way his eyes glaze over when he’s bored, the way they gleam when he daydreams; they’re as precious to you as Soonyoung himself. But his face is a clean slate now, not a smile, not a frown, just a blank stare. 

“You know a 167 is still insanely good, right?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Soonyoung.” He doesn’t look at you, so you grab his drink. Any other day and you would have failed miserably but his alcohol-impaired senses make him slow enough for you to get a hand on the half-empty glass. He glares at you but you don’t yield, tightening your grip and pulling the bottle even harder. 

“Let go,” you growl. “Talk to me like a normal human.” 

He shakes his head, pulling on the glass so you yank back, except you overestimate how weak he is like this, and the glass flies out of his hand, the contents spilling all over you. The red liquid sinks into your blue sweater, soaking you through all three layers. 

“What the hell?” Soonyoung says. 

“That gets your fucking attention? Spilling your drink?” You say. “You know, I really thought you were different.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re acting like a child. So you didn’t win the bet. Who fucking cares? Do you know how hard it is to get higher than a 160? Soonyoung, you are smart, and you worked so hard for this. You could go to law school with that score. You could graduate above a 2.3 if you stopped acting like a stereotypical fuck bro and actually studied. 

“You know, you could actually be something if you wanted. You don’t have to get a degree and work at a corporate job that sucks your soul away until the Soonyoung that actually matters is gone. I know it’s easier this way, but if you actually tried to dream, you could do something. I don’t get it, honestly. Because everyone thinks you’re an idiot you act like one? Is that what it is?” 

“You don’t have to pretend like you don’t think the same thing.” 

You snort. “I don’t, but clearly you won’t believe me. You think that if you have to work for something then it’s not worth it when you could be so much more.” 

“Why do you even care?” Soonyoung asks, looking you in the eyes for the first time. For a moment, you think you might actually be wrong, because all you see in his eyes is pain. A physical force that constricts your heart and makes you weak in the knees, Soonyoung looks at you like he’s been fighting a war you never knew about, like he’s been suffering in silence for a lifetime. He looks at you like you’ve broken his heart. 

Why do I care? You could scoff. Because I’ve been in love with you ever since you fell asleep on my shoulder. I’ve been fighting this stupid crush for so long that I don’t know who I am without it. I don’t know who I am without you. I care because every day the world proves that we aren’t worthy of this planet, that love can’t solve all problems yet you make me question it all. You don’t just bring light into my life, you make it glitter. And I can’t tell you any of this. 

“I don’t know.” The lie tastes bitter but it’s still sweeter than rejection.

“Then why are you here?” Soonyoung looks away. Without his eyes pinning you down, you can breathe again, but every inhale still drags against your heart. You stand up. Afterall, you don’t have an answer for him. 

“I take it back. You are an idiot,” you mutter over his head as you walk past him. You make it to the corner of the street before the tears finally spill over your cheeks, and all the way back to your room before you can’t breathe. 

.

.

Without the distraction of finals, you are left with your own thoughts, your words and Soonyoung’s floating around your head. You have always been something of a hermit but you’ve become J.D. Salinger himself, only leaving your room to sneak into the kitchen and scrounge for scraps of junk food that Jihoon hasn’t thrown away yet. You watch so much reality TV that you start to dream about it. 

Every episode the people, a family living on a homestead that just happens to dress in brand name clothes and drive a Benz, fight and cry and make up. You yell at the mother when she forces her daughter to change because she didn’t think polka dots are appropriate and cry along with the daughter when she starts to sniffle in her confessional, wondering if her mother would ever approve of her choices, whether it was clothes or the people she wants to date. 

You bet your confessional would be a hit if it was ever filmed. Tears run down your cheeks as you practice it in the mirror, choking out an apology for calling him an idiot and telling the whole world what you aren’t brave enough to tell him. 

Jun calls but you can’t answer. He leaves three voicemails: an apology, a goofy one telling you he’ll be back soon, and a final one, yelling at you to pick up or at least let him know you’re alive. You text him an apology you don’t know if you mean. He says thank you anyway and doesn’t call again. 

You have no plans to change your schedule (wake up, steal food, cry, sleep) but on the third day you run out of goldfish and can’t find anything in the kitchen that doesn’t make you nauseous. To make matters worse, despite the fact that it’s seven in the morning (the earliest you’ve woken up since the Fight), Jihoon catches you. 

You’ve successfully avoided him and his inevitable lecture, slamming your door shut and ignoring his knocks but he catches you off guard today. He sneaks in from his morning workout wearing a black t-shirt and slides that he somehow manages to walk stealthily in, scaring you when you close the fridge and find him standing where the door was. 

“Are you done hiding?” 

“I’m not hiding,” you mutter. 

He folds his arms. 

“Fine,” you say. “I’m not done hiding.” 

“Well too fucking bad,” Jihoon says. You try to step past him but he holds his arm out. You’ll never beat him in a physical fight so you step back, shaking your head. 

“Have it your way. Go ahead.” You wave your hand. “Get it all out. Yell at me or lecture me or whatever, I don’t care. You’re going to tell me that I’m an idiot? That I shouldn’t be so afraid of rejection, that I’m blind to how he feels? 

“Or are you going to tell me that I shouldn’t trust someone like him? That I shouldn’t be crying over a goddamn frat boy, I’m better than this, I’m better than him.” You choke back a sob, not sure what words are coming out anymore. You wipe at the tears in your eyes and are so focused on trying not to cry that you don’t notice Jihoon walking away. You do see him come back, blurry shape coming into focus as you blink away the tears. He holds something in his hand, a navy blue square. A throw pillow from the couch? 

He shifts it in his hand until he holds the corner with the zipper, swinging it a couple times back and forth. Then he yanks his arm back and arcs the pillow in a wide loop, landing directly on your head. 

“Ow!” You cry but Jihoon just swings again, hitting your arm this time. He hits you so hard it knocks you off balance, sending you to the floor. Jihoon doesn’t hesitate, swinging the pillow into you again and again, every inch of you. 

“You. Are. An. Idiot.” He grunts out each word with a blow. “You really think you’re better than him?” 

He finally pauses, not even breathing heavily. You shake your head to answer him. “Of course not.” 

“Good,” he says. Then he hits you again and again and again. 

“Ow, Jihoon, what the hell?” You bury your head in your knees and hold your arms over you, trying in vain to protect yourself. 

“I’m not your babysitter,” he says. “I’m not your father, or your brother, or any of that shit. I’m your best friend and you’re being an idiot and I’m not going to stop hitting you until you get some sense knocked into you.” He freezes, as if realizing exactly what he said. “Wait, no–that’s not what I mean, shit, sorry, but–” 

You peek out from your arms and find Jihoon opening and closing his mouth, trying to figure out what to say. He looks like a fish out of water, and it occurs to you he is a fish out of water. He’s never had to comfort you before, probably never had to comfort anyone. No wonder he’s so bad at it. 

You wouldn’t laugh at him and borderline abuse, but your emotions are beyond fried, and he just looks so funny standing over you with a pillow raised, still sputtering half apologies. You try to stop the laugh before it comes out but it turns into a snort and then you can’t stop laughing, tears that you tried to push back falling freely. You lay back on the floor and laugh until your sides hurt, only vaguely aware of Jihoon laughing above you. Eventually he joins you on the floor. 

“You know what I meant,” he says. The pillow rests on the floor between his legs, all the fluff on the far end from the one-sided pillow fight. 

“I knew what you meant without the pillow.” 

“Too bad,” Jihoon says. “I’m tired of listening to the theme song of that god awful show. You could at least watch something like–” 

“I swear if you bring up an anime, you’ll feel exactly how hard that pillow can hit.” 

Jihoon laughs, patting it a couple times. “I saw him the other day. He looked tired.” He pauses but you don’t dare speak. “We didn’t speak. I don’t even think he saw me. But it doesn’t matter because I’m not the one he needs to talk to.” 

“I know,” you say. 

“Then why are you still on the floor?” 

Because you’re scared. Because it would be easier to just give up now, for once to ignore putting in the hard work and just let it pass. But just because it’s the easy option doesn’t mean it’s the right option. At the very least you need to apologize to him. 

“What if he hates me?” 

Jihoon snorts. “Then he’ll get some pillow violence too.” He pauses. “He doesn’t, though.”

“It doesn’t mean that it will turn out okay.” 

“No, it doesn’t,” Jihoon says. “But no matter what happens, you’ll deal with it. And even if it absolutely sucks in the moment, eventually it will be over, and it sure as hell will be better than that stupid fucking show.” 

You nod, setting your chin on your knees. Your stomach turns in anticipation for what you will have to do, but he’s right. It’s time to stop running. Tonight is the Christmas party, and you were never formally uninvited. Somehow you doubt Seungcheol will throw you out. It’s time to get off the floor and get ready. 

“Have you ever thought of being a life coach?” 

“Hell no.” 

.

.

What am I doing here? You fake a smile at Seungcheol and swallow the shot as fast as you can, grimacing as the vodka burns everything from the inside of your mouth to the depths of your stomach. You should have just stuck to your mixed drink only policy but Soonyoung always has you breaking your rules. Even when he isn’t with you. 

Seungcheol disappears as soon as you take the drink, and you don't see anyone else you are comfortable enough to chat with, though that list is quite short. You do a turn of the house, which looks marginally better than the last time you saw it ,the benefit of bad lighting. It’s already crowded with more people than you’ve ever seen on campus. You make your way through each room on the lower floor, finding more than a couple bleach blondes. None are who you’re looking for. You stop in the living room, where you saw him last. 

“He isn’t here.” You turn at the voice. An unfamiliar boy stands next to you, holding a half-empty Smirnoff Ice. “He went to visit family or something.” He pauses, looking you up and down. “At least that’s what he said.” 

You nod. You find it doesn’t surprise you that he seems to know who you are. You suppose you’ve grown used to it, just one of the side-effects of being close with Soonyoung. Though it’s still strange, it doesn’t make you uncomfortable anymore. Or it wouldn’t, if you didn’t think this stranger is implying that it’s your fault Soonyoung isn’t at the ‘Party of the Year.’ 

You can’t stand his gaze so you make your way back towards the drinks, grabbing the first bottle you could find and chugging half of the lukewarm drink. It tastes like a fruit you can’t recognize and carbonation and the more you drink the harder it is to swallow but you force it down. 

You came to apologize. He isn’t here, so why do you stay? Because you promised him? Do you really miss him that much? That you would come here and suffer through all this chaos, just for the memory of him? It doesn’t make any sense but you think that might be a side effect of the alcohol. You get another drink just in case you’re still sober. 

.

.

Your head pounds, the aching feeling of the stage between drunk and sober. Normally you’d like to be sound asleep by now, or at least in the comfort of your home, but you can’t bring yourself to leave. It’s hot and sweaty, the music is way too loud, and you can’t find water anywhere, but you stay anyway, because you’re an idiot that fell in love. 

You curl up on the couch, opposite of a couple making out as if the room isn’t full of people, waiting for just a glimpse of him that will never appear. Even drunk, you think it’s pitiful, but you can’t stop. 

You didn’t think you could fall asleep in all the noise but you open your eyes when you feel the world tilt sideways. You’re vaguely aware of the arms underneath your legs and back, cradling you against someone’s chest. No, not just someone. 

Because you aren’t enough of an idiot, you can tell it’s him, his sweet scent, maybe even just his arms. Soonyoung carries you out of the living room and up the stairs, the blaring music fading only slightly. 

“I thought you weren’t here,” you mumble. 

Soonyoung frowns down at you. “You okay?” 

You shake your head, suddenly realizing there are tears in your eyes. No, I’m not okay, I love you, you want to say. He squeezes you a little tighter, trying to hug you while still carrying you. 

With your head resting against his chest, you can fully appreciate his beauty. His hair is black, which suits him even though he looks nothing like your Soonyoung anymore. You reach up and trace the lines of his face that are unchanging, the sharp straight line of his jaw, the gentle curve of his nose, his soft eyebrows. You drop your hand when you realize he’s staring at you, belatedly realizing you never got to his lips. You can only imagine how soft they’d be, soft like Soonyoung himself. 

“You’re crying,” Soonyoung says softly. You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or not. He pauses in front of a door, struggling to open it without dropping you. Finally the door swings open and he sets you down on a bed, taking a deep breath and sitting beside you. 

He brushes the tears from your eyes, as Soonyoung as ever. Sweet as ever. Sweet and Soonyoung. They should be the same word. You make a mental note to email Merriam-Webster’s dictionary and make the suggestion. 

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything, just watching you with those perfect eyes. His hand rests on your face even though the tears are long gone, thumb tracing shapes on your cheek. 

“You swore you’d do anything for me,” you say. 

“Anything,” Soonyoung repeats. 

You turn to the walls, knocking his hand off your cheek, not daring to look him in the eyes. Even drunk, you are a coward. He’s put up pictures on his wall, a couple Polaroids but mostly printed pictures, with the frat, some childhood pictures, and one that you recognize. The picture of the two of you at the beach that you thought you didn’t send, where you are looking at him with all the love in your heart. You trace his smile, blinding even in paper form. 

“Could you maybe try loving me back then?” You mumble. Your eyes feel heavy between the alcohol and the tears and you’ve said what you needed to say, so you let them take over, closing your eyes and letting the blasting music from downstairs drown out any thoughts. And because it’s so loud and you’ve already drifted off to sleep, there’s no way you could hear his answer. 

“I already do.” 

.

.

The first thing you do when you wake up is throw up. You make it out of the bed but not to the bathroom, mostly because you don’t actually know where it is. You grab the nearest bucket-shaped item, which happens to be a mostly empty trash can. You lean away as soon as you’re done, breathing through your mouth and looking away from the mess. Belatedly, you realize someone is patting your back, brushing hair out of your face. 

“Better?” Soonyoung asks. His knees rests against your lower back, one hand resting on your back, the other caressing your face. Thank god you already threw up because looking at him makes your stomach twist again and if there was anything in you, it would come up again. If you could throw up your heart, you would. As it is, the organ is trying to climb its way up your throat, whether it’s guilt or heartbreak you don’t know. 

 You nod in answer to his question, letting him help you up. Your head pounds and though you know you won’t throw up again, your stomach flips. Right, your policy of mixed drinks is definitely reinstated after this. 

“Sorry I threw up in your trash can,” you say. 

“Believe me, that is not the worst that trash can has seen,” Soonyoung says. “Wait, that sounds bad, I didn’t mean it in a weird way, I just mean–” He stops himself, shaking his head. “It’s a frat house.” 

“It’s your room,” you say softly. With sober (albeit heavily hungover) eyes, you take in the room again. It’s tiny, one bed pushed against a wall with a desk set right next to it. Unsurprisingly, it’s stacked with protein powder and a pile of frat flyers, laptop balancing off the edge, not a paper in sight. Except for the one next to his bed, the walls are bare, an ugly shade of beige except for a circle filled with white plaster that looks suspiciously like the reformed crime scene of a fist going through drywall. It must be from whoever owned the room before Soonyoung. 

The wall next to his bed is covered in pictures. You remember being amazed by them last night. Your eyes zero in on the picture of the two of you, right next to the pillow that’s still dented from your head. 

“Did I steal your bed?” You frown except the movement hurts your head. 

“I slept in Johnny’s room since he’s decided to disappear off the face of the planet instead of accepting the fact that he graduates next semester,” Soonyoung says. “I actually just came in here for some clothes, which reminds me.” He rummages through a drawer, pulling out a wrinkled t-shirt and handing it to you. “If you want a change.” 

You glance down and feel like throwing up all over again. Your favorite shirt is covered in stains, alcohol, vomit, and something you definitely don’t want to name. If you weren’t feeling so terrible already, you’d cry that Soonyoung is seeing you like this. 

“I’ll get you a toothbrush, too,” he mutters, disappearing and leaving you to scramble to switch shirts. The white dri-fit is meant to be a workout shirt, though it’s clear that it would be oversize on Soonyoung. Either way, the soft fabric is gentle on your skin, much better than the jeans you slept in. Too bad you’re stuck in them until you get back to your apartment. 

You could run away right now. Soonyoung probably wouldn’t be surprised. But he’s being nice to you, so much nicer than you deserve. Sweet and Soonyoung. But you came here to apologize, and though last night got derailed, you can’t keep running from it. Besides, it’s not like the morning can get much worse. 

So when Soonyoung comes back proudly brandishing an unopened toothbrush that he may or may not have stolen from Seungcheol’s bathroom, you accept it gratefully. You stare yourself down in the bathroom, fighting nausea and an impending migraine because you have a mission to achieve, a real mission unlike last night. It’s still a haze, but you don’t think you’ll ever forget how gently Soonyoung cradled you against his chest, the brush of his fingers on your cheek. If he didn’t show up this morning, you’d think it was a dream. 

Soonyoung’s door is open when you finish but he isn’t in his room. You grab your bag from the floor and venture down the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. There’s a couple people passed out in the living room, and one person snoring softly in the kitchen, head folded in his arms in a position that must be incredibly painful for his neck. But it’s where you find Soonyoung, digging through the fridge and finally pulling out a water bottle. He hands it to you, along with a bottle of pills. 

“Thank you,” you sigh, not even bothering to check the label for the brand. You take a couple and chug half the bottle, gaslighting yourself into believing that it will instantly revive you (it doesn’t work and your head still pounds). 

“Are you hungry?” Soonyoung asks. He opens the fridge again, this time wide enough to show the shelves that are filled with beer, vodka, and White Claws. There’s a pizza box and some eggs, but not much else. 

“How are any of you alive?” You ask softly, glancing at the snoring person on the counter. 

“Yuta can sleep through an apocalypse, don’t worry about him,” Soonyoung says, waving his hand. He closes the fridge, leaning against it. “And most of us keep our actual food in mini-fridges. I just cleared mine out for break, so I don’t have anything in it.” He doesn’t say anything else about vanishing. 

“I’m pretty sure that pizza has been in there since the start of the semester and I’ve never seen eggs in here before though, so I don’t think you should risk any of this,” Soonyoung says. “McDonald’s fries are a far superior hangover cure, they’ve never failed me.” 

“There’s a McDonald’s nearby?” 

Soonyoung grins, pulling keys out of his pocket and spinning them around his fingers a couple times, except they fly off and clatter on the floor. The man asleep on the counter, Yuta apparently, stirs but doesn’t move. You can’t help but smile as Soonyoung scrambles to retrieve them from the floor. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flustered. 

“There isn’t one,” Soonyoung explains, leading the way to the door. “But I have the keys to Seungcheol’s car.” 

“I’m not really comfortable with grand theft auto,” you say, though you don’t stop following him to Seungcheol’s giant white Jeep. 

“He gave me the keys last night when I walked in,” Soonyoung says. “Something about owing me. He was pretty drunk.” He darts around to the passenger side before you can, opening the door for you. He waves his hand when you frown at him, as if you’re the one acting strange. Thinking with this headache is too hard so you just get into the car and strap the seatbelt on. 

“I can’t believe you thought I’d steal a car,” Soonyoung says. He turns the engine on and scans the front of the car before finally settling his right hand on the gear shift. 

“You have driven this car before, right?” 

“Of course,” Soonyoung says a little too fast. You grab onto the door handle and hope that your stomach really is empty. 

Soonyoung’s driving isn’t the worst you’ve ever experienced; that title goes to Jihoon, who was banned from touching car keys after his Mario Kart driving. That said, you think he’s a good second place. He slams on the gas and the brakes too hard and drives altogether too fast. He blasts the radio and sings along purposefully off key. You should be terrified but it’s the most fun you’ve ever had riding in the passenger seat. 

“I’m never riding with you again,” you say, breathless from laughing. He pulls to a stop at the red light, the Golden arches of your destination still one light away. “You know yellow lights mean slow down right?”

“I stopped at this one!” Soonyoung says. “I’ll have you know I haven’t been in an accident.” He pauses. “Since I was nineteen.” 

You nod, pursing your lips to stop yourself from smiling fully. “That’s what I figured.” You peek at Soonyoung and he’s smiling too. 

So different from the last time you saw him. You don’t deserve this. You shouldn’t be able to laugh and joke around with him so easily, not when you still haven’t apologized. And Soonyoung shouldn’t be looking at you like that, genuine fondness in his eyes. 

“The light’s green,” you say. His smile fades a little when he turns his head and drives ahead, stepping lightly for once. You’re so close now, but a car going straight in the right lane prevents him from turning. 

The pain medicine must have kicked in because your headache is slowly fading, replaced by heartache that no medication can cure. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You blurt out. 

The blinker beeps a steady rhythm in the empty silence. “Isn’t it obvious?” 

“Nothing’s ever obvious with you, Soonyoung,” you say softly. 

“Oh.” The light turns green and he guides the car slowly into the parking lot, stopping in a spot instead of pulling up to the drive through. As soon as the car is in park, he turns to face you. There’s a crease in his forehead that you recognize from the rare occasions that he would actually talk to you seriously. “YN, I genuinely thought I was being clear about this from the beginning, but if you still really don’t get it, then I’ll say it straight up: I like you. I’ve liked you since the day we met and then I fell in love with you. 

“Did you know you’re the first person that’s ever genuinely believed in me? I mean, I know I have friends, and my family means well, but they always get this look in their eye whenever I talk about trying for things, like it was cute that I was trying, but they never actually believed in me. And I started to believe them too. I started to believe that I couldn’t believe in myself.” He frowns. “That makes no sense. The point is, you are the reason I started to believe in myself again. 

“No one’s ever looked at me like you do. No one’s ever told me to get my shit together–well, they have, but you’re the only one that told me it was because I could be better. 

“You say it wasn’t obvious, but I’ve tried to tell you a thousand times. I flirted, I tried to ask you on a date so many times, and I finally accepted that you’d never see me like that, so I was a dick. I told you off, even though you were right. I’m so sorry for that, and I’m sorry I ran away, and I’m sorry it took me so long to apologize.” 

“Stop,” you say. Soonyoung’s eyes widen, tears welling up, and you realize he thinks you’re rejecting him. “Stop apologizing!” His brow creases in confusion, an adorable frown. Summoning all your courage, you reach out, resting your hand on his. “I’m the one that’s sorry. I didn’t have any right to judge you and the choices you were making, and I shouldn’t have yelled at you when I knew how much the bet meant to you.”

You squeeze his hand, closing your eyes. “And I think I was a little oblivious on purpose. I’m not the kind of person that has crushes, let alone crushes that like me back, so I freaked a little and missed all the signs.” You open your eyes and grin at him. It’s easy to feel brave when he smiles back at you. “But I like you, Soonyoung. I like you so much, I don’t have enough words to express it. My whole life has been about my future, my career, and it’s exhausting, but being with you makes it all exciting again. Like, no matter what happens, if you’re with me, it won’t just be okay, it’ll be fun.” 

Soonyoung beams. “Really?” 

You squeeze his hand. “I like you.” Like the first time you took the LSAT, you can’t think of a single word, except instead of damning your future this feels like the start of it. Soonyoung sits across from you and you don’t need words. 

You don’t know how long you sit there, but reality sets in when your stomach growls. You glance outside the window and remember where you are. “Did you just confess to me in a McDonald’s parking lot?” 

“Better than drunk in my own bed.” 

“I didn’t!” You let go of his hand to hide your face. 

Soonyoung grins. “You were cute!” 

“I don’t remember it, it doesn't count!” 

“Whatever you say,” Soonyoung says, leaning over the center console. He gently pulls your hands away from your face, hand circling your wrist gently. You instinctively hold your breath, though you don’t lean away. Soonyoung leans a little closer, forehead resting against yours. 

“This okay?” He whispers, breath kissing your lips, and you remember that less than an hour ago, you were throwing up. Your head still aches and your stomach is still queasy and your whole body feels disgusting. 

“We are not having our first kiss in a McDonald’s parking lot,” you say, leaning back. Soonyoung sighs, but he sits back in his chair, settling for grabbing your hand and interlacing his fingers with yours. 

“Fine,” Soonyoung says. He rubs his thumb back and forth, and when you meet his eyes, you see a familiar glint of trouble. “You know I’m still sworn to you. Whatever you want.” 

The words go straight to your heart. You could live a thousand lives and never meet someone as genuine as Soonyoung. You know that he means it, heart and soul, that he’d do anything for you. And it should be terrifying that he’s willing to bear his heart for you, that you are willing to do the same. But it’s Soonyoung. It’s easy to trust him with it, because even though he breaks half the computers he touches and can’t hold onto a pencil for his life, he won’t ever drop your heart. 

I love you. One day you’ll be able to say it, one day you’ll scream it like you so desperately want to. But until then, you settle for his certified brilliant smile and the gentle brush of his lips on the back of your hand, only letting go to turn the engine back on. 

“Let’s get you some fries,” he says. “Then kisses?” 

You shake your head and laugh, slipping your hand back into his. 

Before he can put the car into gear, his phone rings. He stares at the screen for a moment, frowning like he can’t decide whether he should answer it or not. Finally he slides the green across, turning on speaker. 

“Hey Seungcheol, I’m with—” 

“Where the hell are you? And where is my car?” Seungcheol’s voice is somewhere between angry and concerned. “You think it’s okay to vanish and then show up only to steal my car?” 

“First of all, you gave me the keys,” Soonyoung says. He glances at you. “And I’m at McDonald’s because YN desperately needed a hangover cure.” 

“Hey,” you say so Seungcheol knows you’re there. 

The line is quiet for so long you think Soonyoung’s phone has finally given up on him but eventually he says, “You’re with YN?” 

“We talked,” he says. “And we’re good.” 

You snort. “That’s how you’re going to describe it?” 

“Are we not good?” 

You glance at your hand still intertwined with his, the Soonyoung Sparkle glittering back at you when you look him in the eyes. Good? There’s not a word to describe how you feel right now. 

“We are beyond good.” 

.

.

“Are you crying?” You whisper. Soonyoung shakes his head, chin brushing against your head but when he inhales again, he sniffles. You reach up to pat his cheek and are entirely unsurprised when it’s wet. On screen Elle Woods continues her speech, for once not wearing pink. 

“She’s just so cool,” Soonyoung says. You lift your head off his chest so you can look him in the eyes. The temptation to tease him is hard to resist but he pouts his lips and you see another tear slip out. You kiss his cheek, out of habit more than anything. Strange how much can change in two weeks, how something you’ve never imagined doing has become natural. But being with Soonyoung is just like that. New and old at the same time, the kind of comfort that has you planning how to make this last a lifetime. 

Soonyoung wraps his arms around you tighter, so you nestle back into his chest, turning away from the end of the movie to close your eyes and breathe in his cologne. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this,” you whisper, lips brushing against his neck. “The whole bet was based on a movie you haven’t seen.” 

“You’re missing the end,” he says. His voice rumbles in your ear, drowning out his heartbeat. 

“I’ve seen it before.” Your bed really isn’t built for two people to lay down together. You are laying more on Soonyoung than the mattress but it’s not the first time. From the way he holds you, you doubt it’ll be the last. 

The credits roll too quickly, but Soonyoung still doesn’t let go. He pulls you up so that your head is next to his, nose centimeters away from yours. 

“So am I officially qualified to go to law school?” He asks. 

“You are Elle Woods certified,” you say. “But you’re sure that’s what you want?” 

“I mean I have to get in. But I figure if I’m going to waste away at a desk, I might as well do it for something I believe in.” He pauses. “With someone that believes in me.” He presses a kiss to the side of your neck, breath tickling the sensitive skin. You can’t help but sigh. 

“That doesn’t mean it’s what you want,” you say, after several heartbeats of struggling to think. 

“I want…” His words “To be with you. However you’ll have me.” His arms loosen, hands sliding down to your waist. 

“Still not answering the question,” you breathe out but you can’t even remember what the question is, not when he’s shifting to lay on top of you, lips inching their way up your neck. He kisses your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your lips, then stops, pulling away and meeting your eyes again.

The Soonyoung Sparkle. The grinch has nothing on you–your heart swells so large it feels like it’s going to explode out of your chest–Alien style. Does he know what he does to you? How he’s made everything in your life shine? How happy you are when he’s with you? 

“I love you,” you whisper. 

Soonyoung blinks at you. “You…” 

“I love you,” you say again, this time with more confidence. “I really, really love you.” 

Soonyoung grins, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, moving like the world outside has stopped. He makes a bubble around you again, or maybe it’s your own heart; either way the only thing that exists is the way his hands inch up your shirt, the way his lips begin to press harder against yours. You give up on coherent thoughts, settling for wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. 

“I love you, too,” Soonyoung whispers between kisses. “If that wasn’t obvious.” 

Soonyoung who always treated you like you were enough already. Soonyoung who does everything with 100% of his heart. Soonyoung who has always been sincere with you, from the first day you met him. Soonyoung, who you are so lucky to be loved by. 

You don’t know how to say any of this in a way that makes sense so you let his fire melt you until you are putty in his arms. He pulls away, and the Soonyoung Sparkle burns, your personal stars flickering back at you.  

“You want to–” Soonyoung starts to say, but the door slams open. Then Soonyoung falls on you, pillow rolling off his head. 

“I’m taking this back!” Someone shouts while you hear Jihoon cursing. 

“Read the room, idiot!” Soonyoung pushes off of you, sitting up and pulling your shirt down as smoothly as he can. You sit up, trying to decide if you should be embarrassed or angry. Facing Jun, frozen midstep with his jaw hanging open a little and Jihoon in the doorway with his arms folded, shaking his head slightly, you opt for the latter. 

“Does no one knock in Colombia?” You frown at him. “And when did you get back? Why didn’t you call?” 

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he mumbles, staring at his feet. “And you were supposed to be alone, according to my sources.” He glares at Jihoon. 

“YN didn’t say he was coming over,” he says with a shrug. 

You turn your frown to him. “You walked in halfway through the movie, I literally shouted ‘Soonyoung’s over.’” 

“I had my headphones on,” he says, though he’s avoiding your eyes too. Typical of your friends, never claiming responsibility for their actions. 

“So this is Soonyoung,” Jun says, turning to face him. Soonyoung moved to the edge of the bed, too far away for your taste but probably an appropriate distance for your friends, especially compared to what they walked in on. Jun tilts his head. “You dyed your hair.” 

“Yeah,” Soonyoung scratches the back of his head. “Spur of the moment thing.” You miss the blonde, surprisingly fitting considering it isn’t his natural color. But the black suits him too, and probably will help him with law school interviews. Then again, knowing Soonyoung, this color won’t last long either. Good thing there isn’t a color you don’t think suits him. 

“We should do this properly,” Soonyoung says. “Go out for dinner or something.” 

“Hey, I didn’t get dinner,” Jihoon says. 

“You want to get dinner with me?” Soonyoung perks up. 

“No, I’m protesting unfair treatment.” 

“It’s not unfair, I’m just clearly his favorite,” Jun says. 

“Can you guys stop fighting over my boyfriend?” You say. 

Jihoon and Jun stare at you. When Soonyoung turns to face you, he grins, eyes sparkling. 

“What?” 

“You just called him your boyfriend,” Jun says. 

“Well… he is.” You feel your cheeks flush. “Why are you guys making it weird?” 

“It’s not weird,” Soonyoung says. He scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “It’s cute,” he whispers in your ear. “Adorable.” This only makes you flush even more. 

“Well, I don’t want to interrupt, so I’ll just grab this and you two can get back to… whatever.” Jun takes a step towards your bookcase. You grab the pillow that he threw at Soonyoung and nail him in the chest, earning a laugh from Jihoon. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

“The book is mine, Soonyoung never fulfilled the bet!” Jun says. You stand up, blocking him from your Pride and Prejudice. 

“Hey, I followed through!” Soonyoung says. “We’re dating!” 

“I remember the bet stating that you had to ask YN out after you took the LSAT.” Jun turns to him. 

“And I did,” Soonyoung says. “You never said it had to be right after.” 

Jun eyes him. “That’s cheating.” 

“That’s being a lawyer,” you say. “And I think he’s going to be really good at it.” 

Jun glances between you and Soonyoung and shakes his head. “Whatever, I’ll get my book back another day.” 

You step closer to Soonyoung and he links his pinky with yours. You glance at your friends. “Are you going to stand there forever or are we getting dinner?” 

“You two don’t want to get back to what you were doing?” Jihoon asks. 

You slip your hand into Soonyoung’s. He meets your eyes and he’s only been your boyfriend for two weeks but looking at him is like looking home. There’s no need to rush. 

“Sounds like someone doesn’t want to pick where we go.” 

“We should make them pay, too,” Soonyoung says. 

You grin at him. “You are the smartest person I know.” 

---

bet! | lee jeno.

summary. it was bound to bite both your asses eventually. just plain ‘ol comedic luck that you and your best friend’s shared tradition of petty bets get you two to finally cough up years of repressed feelings for one another. 

pairing. y/n x nct’s jeno

genre. college!au, best friends to lovers!au

word count. 17k

warnings. swearing, fem!reader, underage drinking, emotional constipation lmao, hyuck and yeri hustle often, general dreamies tomfoolery, hyuck and nana are like dumb and dumber, honestly just super chaotic since it’s slice of life :)

taglist. @donutswithjaminthemiddle @dvickyyy @jenosbliss @matryoooshka @luvenshiti @nap-of-a-starr @dojun00 @nctdom @yangsbff @bockhyun

i feel like i did a pretty bad job rounding this fic up, my bad… still hope this lives up to the hype from the teaser! to those tagged, many hugs and kisses!! tysm for the interest <3

also biggest thank you to yunn aka @kdyism for being my beta reader and just being super helpful on absolutely everything for this fic! it def got finished faster bc of ya, much love bun :3

“WAS HE DROPPED on the head when he was a kid?” 

You can’t help the snort that passes your lips, making a satisfying slap to Jeno’s arm. “Don’t be mean.” 

“You didn’t answer my question.” Jeno raises an eyebrow.

Keep reading

---

Hogwarts classrooms History of Magic / Astronomy / Transfiguration / Divination / Charms / Potions / Herbology / Defense Against the Dark Arts / Magical Theory / Beasts / Muggle Studies / Alchemy / Arithmancy / Music