Bang Chan [& Berry] Eternity
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Bang Chan [& Berry] ⧠Eternity
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More Posts from Yooniebub
in your arms | chwe vernon

a/n: thanks anon for the request! | warning: nsfw content ahead
âfuck. you feel so good, baby.âÂ
vernon grunts near to your ear as he slowly rocks his hips against yours. you let out a whimper at his praise. You love the way his cock felt against your tight walls. This is your first time with your boyfriend of 3 months. And, heâs taking it slow but deep.Â
you pull him down to press your lips against his, and he immediately accepts it. wrapping your arms around his neck, you slowly move your lips against his. his tongue brushes against your lower lip and you open your mouth, letting his tongue wander. vernonâs hands grip your hips securely as he drills his cock in and out of you, slowly.Â
itâs like heâs trying to memorize every inch of you. The way your core snugly hug his cock, the way you whimper when his tip brushes against your cervix, your pretty moans, how you hold yourself so close to him like you wanted to merge as one with him. he grunts again, this time into your mouth. he pulls away, tucking a stray hair strand back. and he lets his hand stay there, his thumb softly caressing your cheek.Â
âso pretty,â he whispers, and stars of adoration dance in his eyes. A soft smile decorates his face as he looks at you. youâre his. all his.
If someone had said that youâd have vernon on top of you, spilling praises while heâs softly making love to you, you wouldnât have believed a single word. well, fate has its way of playing. vernon and you have been in the same friend group for years. But never have you ever thought that the shy and sweet boy (whom you couldnât help but like) was actually head over heels for you. and a drunken night of confessions has led you both here.Â
you whine his name, your nails slightly digging into his shoulder muscles and vernon senses your neediness. his heart floods with warmth. a moan breaks through him and he feels your neediness seeping into him.Â
âwant me to go rough baby?â he questions, to which you shake your head âno.â âjust go on like this. you make me feel so good,â you draw out the last word, looking up at him and biting your lips.Â
âas you wish, pretty.âÂ
he continues his rhythm but adds on a little momentum when heâs meeting your hips, and you feel yourself go insane at how heâs making you feel. warmth tingles all over your body and it pools in your stomach. vernon lifts you and encases you in his arms, as heâs trying to draw out your climax and his own. you once again wrap your arms around him and kiss him, feeling your orgasm shuddering through. he rests his head on your shoulder blades, emptying his fill inside you and you shiver at the feeling of his cum painting your walls. securing your arms around him, you also rest your head on his shoulders.Â
and you wish you could freeze this moment, forever in the arms of your lover.
[ 05:55 ] - c.hs
pair: vernon x fem!reader. w/c: 2k content: pwp/smut. (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT). married au. christmas drabble. warnings: swearing. bad jokes/festive innuendoes throughout. smut tags UTC. notes: yes this is several days late. no i am not taking questions. notes 2.0: at the time of writing i am stuck in a very grim post-xmas limbo (see: entirely too full of cheese and also regret), however i remain down horrendous for this loser so here we are. enjoy. <3
smut tags: spooning -> forking. fingering, nipple play, talk of spicy dreams incl. a blowjob. piv sex. breeding kink (see: hills i will die on). creampie! cockwarming. itâs all very domestic. barely proof read. please let me know if i have forgotten anything.
![[ 05:55 ] - C.hs](https://64.media.tumblr.com/7966edee57872cd7aab4f8977d9aeca3/2fc68f8e91fff7ff-0a/s500x750/466550cbc85020f5d7b2a619f0239cf1c69ad147.png)
Soft lips against the shell of your ear accompany you on your return to the land of the living, several hours earlier than youâd ideally like to be awake and definitely long before the sun decides to make its own face known. Your room is dark and the air is bitterly cold, even wrapped up under your bedsheets, even tangled in the arms of your husband.Â
But you donât need to be able to feel your toes, nor see six feet in front of you to know exactly why youâve been woken up this early. All you need to be able to do is hear, and thereâs certainly nothing wrong with your ears at this ungodly hour.Â
âMorning,â Hansol murmurs huskily when your hands place themselves over his, low on your stomach beneath your sleep shirt. âHappy Christmas, baby.â
âHappy Christmas,â you say back, smiling serenely, your brain still fogged with the last wisps of your retreating slumber. The tone of his voice alone is a dead giveaway to what he wants, but you decide to play with him a little first anyway and feign innocence. Lazy mornings like this where neither of you are in a rush to get straight out of bed are a little bit of a treat, so who are you to not indulge him? âWhy are you awake?â
Itâs no secret that your partner likes to sleep in whenever gets the chance, but with a toddler in the room down the hall and a demanding job that has him leaving home before sunrise, most days, thatâs something of a rarity now. He answers you silently, pressing his hips into your backside and you feel him â all of him â thick and hard and warm against the flesh of your ass. Ah. Just as expected. A warm chuckle escapes you and you move to turn over in his arms, but his strong hold traps you in place and you just wiggle back against him instead.
He barely stifles a groan and, still laughing, you roll your eyes.
âSâthat a candy cane in your pocket?â You ask, feeling him shuffle down a fraction and rut against the seam of your thighs over and over, quiet grunts betraying the pleasure he tries to conceal. Close enough to feel your coreâs heat, yet separated enough from it to only feel more frustrated. âOr are you just happy to see me?â
Hansol laughs despite himself into the smooth skin of your neck, shaking his head. He slides one of his hands up from your stomach to your chest, his warm fingers finding and dragging around one of your nipples with practiced accuracy.Â
âYou can find out,â he says, feeling goosebumps raise on your skin as the bud hardens under his touch. âIf you want.â
âWhy donât you tell me what got you all worked up, first?â You ask.Â
Morning wood is one thing, but to make him initiate all this? It mustâve been something really special. He proves you right as he pinches at your nipple, his other hand dipping below the waistband of your pyjama pants, his blunt nails dragging down your belly. You bite your lips to prevent yourself whining.Â
So sue you. Itâs been a while.Â
âHad a dream about you,â Hansol says, peppering kisses down the side of your neck. You arch your back, simultaneously pressing your ass against his clothed cock again and your chest harder against his hand. âYou were all dressed up for me. In this pretty little red outfit â you know the⊠sexy Christmas ones? With the white fur along the skirt?â
You nod, dropping your hand down to where his fingers are stroking, mercilessly slowly, against the cotton of your panties. To where heâs giving you hardly anything. On purpose. You shunt his wrist down a little, feeling him smirk into your skin. Finally though, he starts to thumb over your clit and you gasp appreciatively at the relief. âOh yeah? And what was I doing?â
âItâs just funny you mentioned candy canes,â he tells you, rubbing at you a little faster. âYou were suckinâ on me like I was one.â
You groan a little at his description, feeling your cheeks heat up. Arguably, this shouldnât be sexy at all, but his rough morning voice and the way his skillful hands are working you up to a soaked, wriggling mess already has you flustered. Youâre convinced nobody else in the world could turn a line that corny into auditory foreplay.
Leave it to you to marry the worldâs biggest dork.
âAll the way back into your throat,â he goes on, finally now slipping past the barrier of your underwear. He dips between your folds, dragging through your arousal before he moves his sickened finger back to your clit. âDressed so naughty, but Iâd have put you on the nice list for sure.â
âEnough with the damnâ,â you snort, but your amusement dies and you clench your jaw as he starts to play with your other tit instead. You have to be quiet; you canât afford for this to end before either of you manage to get off. Not now. But itâs so difficult when he knows your body better than he does his own. âYou know sheâll be awake any-⊠oh.â
âThen get these off,â he whispers. He opens his palm fully then, pushing your thighs apart and pressing just the tips of two of his fingers against your hole. All the while, he fights to try and push your pyjama pants down with his other hand.Â
He fails, naturally, but you come to his rescue and slide them down over your hips for him. He joins you again in an effort to kick everything all the way off though, sliding one leg between yours and stamping a little impatiently at your sleepwear with his foot until theyâre bunched up at the end of your bed. His boxer shorts, meanwhile, donât even make it to his knees; as soon as he can pull himself free of their confines, he does, stroking along his length as you open your thighs for him.Â
He presses his lips against the curve of your shoulder while he settles into position behind you. Then, itâs just moments before you feel his head dragging through your slick in place of his fingers.Â
âOkay?â he asks, lining up with your entrance and pushing forward just enough that you feel the familiar stretch of his intrusion.
âPlease,â you nod, grabbing the sheets in an attempt to anchor yourself, to hush the moans he always draws out of you. Hansol slides into your cunt slowly, pressing until his cock is buried all the way inside you, until his hips rest completely against your ass. Your whole body shivers at the feeling.Â
He barely moves for a little while, letting himself get used to the sensation of your walls hugging him for the first time in⊠weeks? Months, even? Too long, is the only real answer. His hand lays over your hip as you relax it and your thighs come back together, making you squeeze a little tighter around him. He fills you up so perfectly, too. So much that you feel warmth creeping to each of your extremities already. So much you canât keep your mouth closed no matter how hard you try.Â
âMissed you,â you sigh, laying your hand on top of his, threading your fingers through the spaces between his own. He brushes his thumb over the side of your hand soothingly. âMissed this.â
âMe too,â he agrees, slowly starting to turn those cute accidental jerks of his hips into real thrusts. But he doesnât move quickly. Not at all: quite the opposite, even; he fucks into you slow and deep, making sure you feel every inch of him on every single stroke.Â
It continues on much the same, but youâre not sure how long for: kissing your shoulders, your neck, the back of your hand when he lifts it up to his lips, breathing hot and heavy on your slowly warming skin. He murmurs sweet little praises. Rolls into you, dragging the tip of his cock against the sweet spot inside once he finds the angle that makes you hiccup your next breaths. He loves you, he makes love to you: quietly and intimately, and youâre so lost in this rarely seen, sweet, needy side to your husband that you barely realise youâre inching closer to your high until heâs the one to tell you you are.Â
âClose?â he asks, with a new rough edge to his voice that has nothing to do with the sleep his fantasies woke you both from. Itâs not a question, despite the little lift he says the word with. He knows what it feels like. He knows you.Â
âMhm,â you nod, swallowing back another whine as his hand dips between your legs again. âF-⊠yeah. Just like thatââ
âI know, sweetheart,â he hums. âGod, mâso lucky to have you. Feels so good.â
Your brain floods with static and itâs a miracle you even hear what he says next. Heâs a man of few words (though one of many grunts) in the bedroom, but when Hansol starts getting overwhelmed in his pleasure, he babbles more than anyone youâve ever met. You do hear him, though. Loud and clear.Â
âGonna put another one in you,â he says, hushed but still undoubtedly desperate. âWanna give you another babyâ oh, youâre gonna look so pretty. Can I? Pleaseâ?â
And if his fingertips rubbing tight circles against your puffy clit, or his cock spearing into you with unsteady, shaky movements, or his throaty moans of your name hushed by the skin of your back werenât enough to get you there? This is. You squeeze your eyes shut and cry around your fist as it hits, as ecstasy pulses through you in waves that never seem to end.Â
âYes,â you gasp in the midst of it all, as he keeps asking â no, keeps begging. âPlease, âSolââ
âFuck,â he groans, then, letting his own high wash over him and he starts to spill ribbons of white into your hot pussy. âYou feel so fucking-⊠ahââ
He squeaks the words out. Right into your ear, fanning hot breaths down your now slightly sweaty neck. Even when heâs spent and stops rocking into your hips, he keeps rambling. âThank you, shit, thank youââ
You donât hear him swear much anymore. Not since you had your first baby; the suddenness of it makes you giggle, and the resulting clamp of your walls around his twitching length makes him hiss as he comes down. But he doesnât pull out of you, even when he starts to soften. You realise after a few seconds what heâs doing, though. Heâs keeping you plugged full of his cum; heâs not going to let any of it go to waste. (You both know itâs starting to dribble out of you down the sides of his length anyway, mixed with your own wetness. Neither of you are too worried about that right now.)
He meant it, then. All of it. Your stomach twists in delight as he taps your waist and you look back at him, an eyebrow raised.
âMake me a promise?â he asks, sweaty forehead pressed into your shoulder, still trying to catch his breath.Â
âAnything.â
âLetâs never leave it that long again,â Hansol whines. You canât help but flutter around him again, this time at the mere thought of him being so desperate to fuck you more often. He lets out a slightly pained laugh, overstimulated.
âI promise,â you agree, feeling all of a sudden like your bones are made of lead. You could fall back asleep like this, quite happily.Â
But, you realise with a sigh, someone didnât take care of the milk and cookies on the kitchen counter before they crawled into bed last night. Thatâs about to become your problem.
âGood,â he nods. âWeâre gonna do this every day âtil you have another one, okay? Twice. And extra on weekends.â
âMhm, sure we are.â You laugh, finally now feeling him pull out of you with a kiss to your temple. (Twice a day is his upper limit, and both of you know that. But it doesnât hurt to play along.) âIn that case, Iâll save your special gift for later.â
![[ 05:55 ] - C.hs](https://64.media.tumblr.com/7966edee57872cd7aab4f8977d9aeca3/2fc68f8e91fff7ff-0a/s500x750/466550cbc85020f5d7b2a619f0239cf1c69ad147.png)
tysm for reading!!! likes, reblogs, comments & feedback are, as always, super appreciated.<3
Bluff and Nonsense - she/her ver.

genres: romance, angst, some fluff, university au, not a fake dating au pairing: female reader x hoshi words: 17.0k (01:08) warnings: cursing, alcohol notes (orig, 2020): "so the title is fluffy and this was a title fic, but then it ran away on me. I really like this one so... yeah. Enjoy!â update, 2023: this is the she/her version of Bluff and Nonsense. other than the pronouns, nothing else has been changed. you can find the original they/them version here, and the he/him version here
âSoonyoung? Yeah I know him, you should too. Heâs on the uniâs dance crew, and ever since he joined them, their popularityâs skyrocketed. Iâve met him a few times, great guy â got a tendency to run his mouth but hey, no oneâs perfect. Heâs smart anyways, probably knows how to deal with the consequences, right?â
or
Soonyoung never thought one bluff could lead to so much nonsense.

Kwon Soonyoung is a man of many talents. Heâs the guy who could fit a whole orange in his mouth in fourth grade, the guy who always knew how to make the social studies teacher talk about his divorce instead of the world wars, and the guy who brought a live pigeon to school with no one questioning him whatsoever. Heâs also the head choreographer of the universityâs dance crew â you barely knew there was a dance crew until he showed up with his hand-drawn posters â as well as a totally well-rounded fine arts major. Câmon, who takes a chemistry course in the fine arts? Kwon Soonyoung, apparently.
Of his many talents though, lying is not one of them.
Which is why, when asked if he likes anyone, Soonyoung says your name instead of simply saying ânoâ (a much better option in hindsight). He actually likes a girl on his dance crew. Cute, funny, has those eyes you can just get lost in â lord knows Soonyoung has. But, at this relatively quiet party, with half the guests crowded on Seungcheolâs couch and the other half on the disgusting carpeted floor of his apartment, Soonyoung canât admit his real crush because sheâs sitting just a few feet away.
It wouldnât be such a bad lie if you werenât also sitting a few feet away.
Youâre on your phone when he says your name in his heartbeat-induced panic, but you look up at the sound of it, as does Seungkwan, who was reading something on your phone from the beanbag chair youâre both sitting in.
A chorus of low, teasing âoohâs rises throughout the room, almost like itâs eighth grade again and Soonyoung just got called down to the office. Except now, he might actually be in trouble. He gets a few claps on the back from his friends close enough to reach, commending him on his bravado even though he doesnât deserve it. Really, the whole situation only dawns on Soonyoung after 6.8 seconds, which is a bit too long considering he made the situation in the first place. Blood rushes to his cheeks, not because of the alcohol in his red cup heâs yet to drink, but because youâre looking right at him, and he has no idea what to do.
Soonyoung doesnât know you very well. In fact, heâd almost say he doesnât know you at all.
Youâre Seungkwanâs friend from one of his classes â computing science, if Soonyoung remembers correctly, but heâs not totally confident. The only reason you came tonight is because of Seungkwan. You donât know anyone else.
With a tilt of your head, your face scrunches with question, and you look to Seungkwan for help. You know Soonyoung said your name, but you missed hearing the context. It looks like Seungkwan missed it too, seeing as the conversation you two have only makes your brow furrow more as the room chatter picks back up. Everyone else is already over Soonyoungâs sudden confession when Jeonghan starts talking about something else.
Except Soonyoungâs friends, of course. That would be too easy.
Mingyu turns to him with a stupid smile, his cheeks red from both the free opportunity to tease his upperclassman and the light beer heâs been sipping and pretending to get buzzed on all night. He nudges Soonyoung with his shoulder where they sit on the floor, leaning in to speak under the conversations surrounding them. âYou didnât tell me you like her,â he says, the jesting tone in his voice clearer than water.
âYeah...â Soonyoung doesnât know why he doesnât just retract his confession, itâs not like Mingyu is close to you or anything, heâd understand. But then again, heâs bad at lying, and the girl he likes is still sitting on the couch. He scratches the back of his neck. âItâs sort of a recent thing.â
Mingyuâs smile only widens at Soonyoungâs response, his eyes turning to slits with the rise of his cheeks. âSoonieâs in looove~!â
And Soonyoung doesnât know what to say. Nothing like this has ever happened to him before, not exactly like this, anyways. So he just looks down, scratches the back of his neck again, looks at one of his dance crew friends when she calls his name.
He doesnât dare glance your way for the rest of the night.
Turns out you do know someone else other than Seungkwan, because once most of the guests have cleared out, leaving only half the boys to clean up, Seokmin approaches Soonyoung as he scrubs the sink of whatever that weird green stuff is.
He asks how Soonyoung knows you and says off-handedly that heâs never even seen the two of you talk. (Which is right.) He says these things shouldnât be joked about, that youâre a person with feelings, and Soonyoung should leave you alone if heâs just doing this for comedyâs sake.
Soonyoung thinks heâs never seen Seokmin so serious.
Itâs probably fine. You havenât said anything good or bad, and other than the occasional tease from his friends, no one has taken anything too far. Maybe youâll forget about it tomorrow. Maybe heâll forget about it tomorrow, and it will all be okay.
Besides, itâs not like he actually likes you. And his real secret is still safe and sound.
âą
Of Soonyoungâs many talents, making people sad is also not one of them.
Itâs not that he actively tries to cause misery only to fail, itâs that he canât stand upsetting anyone. Heâs a people-pleaser by nature, thatâs just how it is.
So he doesnât say no when you ask him out for coffee.
And he smiles at you when you try to make conversation, even though itâs awkward and hesitant despite having a mutual friend like Seungkwan. Itâs not so bad, he thinks. Youâre trying, at least, and when you ask him about his interests, you actually listen, which isnât common when he tends to over-explain his love for dance and performance. He has a coffee in his hand too, so thatâs a plus.
You ask him if what he said at the party was true, and something in your eyes makes him say yes.
âą
There are a few more coffee dates after that. Itâs nothing official, and Soonyoung is hesitant to call the meetups âdatesâ because heâs not interested in dating you. But itâs a little late for that.
You seem brighter, though, every time he sees you again; he canât bring himself to take that away, to cut the cord, to clean this mess he made.
Something about the way you two talk is nice, at least. Soonyoung canât quite put his finger on it, and he tells himself thatâs whatâs drawing him back every time, not the guilt he feels sunken in his ribcage whenever you smile his way. Itâs not that deep, he repeats to himself whenever you wave to him on campus, making him feel obligated to walk you to class. Itâs not that deep.
Heâs in the library one day when he spots you at one of the tables, books open and spread out as you scribble down notes, a pair of earbuds dangling from your ears. You havenât seen him, so he doesnât try to approach, just ducks back behind the bookshelf heâs been exploring. His hand is on a book he might like when a voice stops him.
âYou know youâre an idiot, right?â
Minghao leans against the opposite bookshelf, his arms crossed, locked and loaded for judgement. Soonyoung looks around, but of course heâs talking to him. Theyâre the only ones in the row.
âUm, how do you want me to answer that?â he asks, unsure of exactly what Minghaoâs talking about. Yeah, he knows heâs a bit dense sometimes, but not all the time.
Minghao rolls his eyes. âI know you like Sehee. You haven't stopped laughing like an idiot at her bad jokes." He nods his chin outwards, gesturing over Soonyoung's shoulder and through the bookshelves towards where you're sitting. "What are you doing messing with Seungkwan's friend?"
Itâs not too surprising that Minghao knows â heâs an intuitive guy, but Soonyoung is still caught off guard. He asks first, under his breath, âDoes anyone else know?â
âIf you mean dumb and dumber, then no.â Minghao jerks his head to swing his dark bangs out of his eyes. Everyone keeps telling him to just cut his hair shorter, but he refuses for the aesthetic, or something. âChan is way too focused on dancing to notice your dumbassery, and Jun is about as observant as a fishcake when it comes to feelings.â
Soonyoungâs shoulders fall in relief, though he didnât even realize theyâd tensed up.Â
âBut thatâs not the problem here. Why are you playing around with her if youâre into Sehee?â
âIâm notââ Soonyoung pauses, thoughts deliberate, ââIâm not playing around, okay? I just... I donât know. You were all looking at me, and I couldnât just say Sehee's name, she was right there!â
Minghao cocks an eyebrow at that. âBut you could say hers?â
âIt was a moment of weakness.â
âYouâre an idiot.â
âIâm aware.â
Soonyoung groans quietly â heâs still in a library after all. He covers his face with both hands, not wanting to look at Minghao nor have Minghao look at him. For a second, itâs blissful, awkward silence, which Soonyoung would take over Minghaoâs scolding any day. But of course, no haven lasts forever.
âYouâre gonna have to tell her,â Minghao says, and heâs probably right. No, he is right, Soonyoung just doesnât want him to be.
âI canât do that! I said I like herâ twice!â
âTwice?â
âTwice!â
Minghao only drops his head for a second, scoffing at the whole situation. Soonyoung wishes he could do that too, just laugh it off because itâs someone elseâs problem.
âWell, youâre going to have to say something sooner or later.â Meeting his eyes, Soonyoung realizes Minghao might actually be worried. About you, or him, or something else, heâs not sure, but the subtle fold of Minghaoâs eyelids tells Soonyoung this is about more than just calling out idiocy. âAnd I think sooner will hurt less.â
Soonyoung knows heâs right. But he doesnât like it.
Before he can come up with a rebuttal, though, Minghaoâs hands are on Soonyoungâs shoulders, and heâs pushing him out of the row of bookshelves and straight towards your table.
âYou can do it, Soonyoung, just rip the band-aid while you still can,â he whispers in Soonyoungâs ear right before one last push at his back.
Soonyoung stumbles a bit, but once he regains his footing, Minghaoâs already gone and youâve already noticed the ruckus. You pull one earbud out with a bright smile. Itâs so jovial that Soonyoung almost forgets why heâs here.
âHi Soonyoung, I didnât see you come in,â you say, and thereâs no way youâre this energized just from studying in a library.
âUh... hi.â
âYouâve actually got the perfect timing.â Waving to him, you gesture for him to sit next to you, and he does. You pull out some sort of planner, opening it to a few months from now. âI wanted to ask when exactly your showcase is? Seungkwanâs no help at all because he only cares about his concerts and stuff. Honestly, there arenât that many...â
Youâre going to have to say something sooner or later.
Soonyoung picks later.
âą
âSo when are you gonna ask her out?â
Jihoon stands in front of the stove, watching his hot water simmer, a bag of dry ramen in one hand and long cooking chopsticks in the other. Itâs Soonyoungâs turn to make dinner tonight, but since he says he isnât hungry, Jihoonâs scrounging it out himself.
Soonyoung, on the other hand, sits at their tiny dinner table, his forehead pressed to the cool surface, arms hanging limp at his sides. He mumbles something of a response, but itâs nothing more than a questioning grunt, if anything.
âOh, you know.â Even when Jihoon says your name, Soonyoung stays still. âOnly the girl youâve been on several âdatesâ with ever since you confessed to her at Seungcheolâs party. When are you gonna ask her on a real date?â
Tired, Soonyoung groans. âWhen the time is right, I guess.â
âą
You work on campus. Itâs some part-time job you donât care about enough to even complain over, despite the fact that you have to deal with annoying university kids every day. Soonyoung finds this out when he has coffee with Minghao in one of the buildings he doesnât normally frequent, and only goes to today since Minghao has a class nearby in the next hour.
The coffee isnât great, and itâs too expensive, but Soonyoung drinks it anyways. He much prefers the coffee from the cafe he goes to with you. Because the coffee is better. Obviously.
He hears your voice first, words indiscernible with distance and overshadowed by a much louder, angrier one, but still. Minghao sees you first, though, and he points past Soonyoung to the student printing center, where youâre standing behind the counter and arguing with some guy. You donât seem too riled, but Soonyoung can tell you want to be anywhere but there, especially when the angry guyâs voice keeps getting louder and louder.
Soonyoungâs feet bring him over before his brain can register what to do. You havenât seen him yet, he could just walk away, but he doesnât. Your voice becomes clearer as he approaches.
âListen, the printing center is for education, art, or business. I canât print this for you.â
The guy goes off about personal freedoms or whatever, Soonyoung isnât really listening.
âNo, I get that this is a student printing center, but I really donât think your big tiddie anime gf poster has anything to do with education, art, or business.â
And thatâs when the guy grabs your arm. Which results in Soonyoung grabbing his arm. Which results in the accusatory question, âWhat are you, her boyfriend or something?â
Now, in a perfect story, this would be the first time Soonyoung meets you. Or maybe youâve been close friends for a while. And this would be when Soonyoung says that, yes, he is your boyfriend, and he would save the day. Except youâd be all âwhy would you do that?â which would result in you both having to fake date to keep that guy off your back. In this perfect story, there would be no Sehee to like and no Minghao to judge, just you and Soonyoung fake dating. Eventually, youâd both catch real feelings instead of fake ones, and then boom, happily ever after.
But this isnât a perfect story.
Soonyoung still says yes, and the guy still backs off. In reality though, because Soonyoung never thinks before he lies, you momentarily duck behind the counter and bring a hand up to your face to cover your ever-brightening smile. In reality, Sehee still exists at the forefront of his mind every dance practice, even though youâre the one he just promptly claimed to be the boyfriend of. In reality, Minghao watches from a little ways away, sipping his coffee and shaking his head in what can only be called disappointment.
Soonyoungâs never been good at lying. One would think heâd stop by now.
âą
So, itâs official.
Youâve put a heart next to his contact name. Heâs put one next to yours â red, because he doesnât know your favourite colour. Seungkwanâs done the whole if you break my friendâs heart I break you spiel and Soonyoung finally realizes heâs in too deep.
It's almost too natural, how easily you bring him into your life and how easily he finds himself fitting. It's all so wrong.
Soonyoung feels like an imposter, like there's someone meant to be by your side, but it's not him.
You pluck up the courage one day to hold his hand, and he can't pull away because the lies tying him to you are too strong. The small bluffs he's spun have weaved themselves into a net he's tangled himself in.
His dance crew congratulates him when Jun spills the news. It's all mundane, really â dating in university isn't all that uncommon. Mostly, Soonyoung gets casual "you go, dude" comments or the like, but then Sehee says nothing. She smiles, and it has to be one of the most tragically beautiful things Soonyoung's ever seen. His heart fractures, just a little, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to fix it.
He smiles it off. Tries to, anyways.
Chan complains that Soonyoung's too harsh that day.
âą
Jihoon likes you.
Not in a "Mister Steal Yo' Girl" way, but he laughed at one of your jokes the first time you came over to Soonyoung's apartment, and ever since then, he's been convinced.
"You must feel like the luckiest guy on earth with her around," Jihoon says once you leave for the night.
Soonyoung has no idea how to tell him he's felt nothing but unlucky these past few weeks, so he doesn't.
âą
He polishes up on his acting. As awful as it is to think, Soonyoung has gotten really, really good.
His smile looks genuine. It has to â he shows it to Minghao, who says it's "adequate," which basically means perfect to the lowly humans beneath him.
He's gotten good at responding to you too, copying how the male leads do it in dramas and movies. It's sort of easy.
He hates how easy it is.
Soon enough, you try befriending the whole group. Being Seungkwan's friend, you've always wanted to, but apparently this is the push you needed. The boys are quick to warm up to you because, as Soonyoung's new girlfriend, you're now a new teasing target besides Chan. The youngest was always the brunt until you came along.
You say you don't mind â that his friends are amazing despite all the jokes and chaos. He believes you.
Minghao keeps his distance, saying he doesn't want to get himself involved. He's still the only one to know the truth, and his judging stare only grows worse as the days pass. Soonyoung wants so badly to make it go away, but he knows the only way to do that would be to tell you the truth, and he's just not ready.
Soonyoung's never broken a heart before. He's never planned on it.
Sometimes life makes its own plans.
"My shift got moved to tomorrow," you tell him when he picks you up from class, one hand in his and the other in your pocket. He knows it means something, but he doesn't know what. Your lips purse into a line as you stare at your shoes. âI was thinking... could I come watch your dance practice? If thatâs okay?â
Now, Soonyoung loves dancing. He loves dance. He loves to dance. Performing sends an unparalleled thrill rushing through his veins like the solar system hurtling through the universe, and itâs something heâs never felt doing anything else. Dancing with others is a beautiful connection, an emission of silent truths communicated through the body. Practice, however, is the dirty version of dance. It has to be built up first â polished. Which is why Soonyoung says what he says. He doesnât even think it over.
âNo.â
Itâs what he says every time someone asks. He doesnât invite people to practices â never has. Even after his prompt refusal, he doesnât register his mistake until the light in your eyes wavers. It doesn't disappear â just ripples. Comes back weaker than before.
"Oh," you say. The word should sound dejected but it doesn't. There's a smile at your lips, and Soonyoung can't help but think it looks kind of like his. "That'sâ that's okay! I was just â I don't know, I guess I just thought... I wanted to..."
Meeting his gaze, you look at him with shaking eyes, almost as if it takes great strength to keep them on his. He tries to backpedal, but you continue.
"I'll be going home then. I've got an assignment due soon anyways, so..." You pull your hand from his grip and, from where you two were walking toward the fine arts building, turn the opposite way. Your dorm is on the other side of campus. "See you tomorrow, Soonyoung. Have fun at practice."
Something about your smile haunts him.
It's hollow; feels empty when you flash it at him before going. He thinks fake smiles all look like that â insincere. His smiles at you must be the same way.
For an awful moment, he's hopeful. Maybe this will be the trigger. Maybe you'll end this tonight â whatever "this" is that Soonyoung has with you. Maybe he won't have to tell any harsh truths at all.
He turns and walks to practice.
The routine feels lighter tonight, though Soonyoung canât pinpoint why. His body almost floats, and while that sounds good, itâs not. The rhythm is off. Heâs not landing when he should be.
His crew notices, especially Chan, who complains that Soonyoungâs too much of a cocksure choreographer to be making repeated mistakes like this. They tell him maybe everyone should take a break. He agrees, but only because heâs frustrated â and he shouldnât channel his anger into dance. Not this one, at least.Â
Everyone spreads throughout the studios to the edges, where they lean their body weight on the walls and slide down, water bottles in hand. The room reeks of sweat and feet, but Soonyoungâs used to it by now. He guzzles down half of his water in one go and pulls out his phone.
[â€] Sorry about earlier, I didnât mean to react all... cold? Seungkwan told me you never invite anyone to practice, so it makes total sense why you said no
[â€] If Iâm ever crossing any boundaries, let me know, okay?
Of course youâd be understanding. Soonyoung wouldnât be that lucky.
He tosses his phone haphazardly in his bag, groaning and throwing his head back so it hits the wall with a dampened thud. The pain is dull compared to the thoughts top-spinning in his mind.
Across the studio, Minghao clears his throat, raising an eyebrow at Soonyoung when he opens his eyes to look at him. It only takes two reluctant nods for Minghao to understand the source of Soonyoungâs groans, and he does nothing to react but look away. Soonyoung thinks thatâs almost worse than the judging eyes. At least at that point Minghao thought he was something other than a lost cause.
He doesnât text you back. By the time he thinks of something a boyfriend would say, the time to say it has passed.
âą
How much longer is he going to let this go on?
Soonyoung wonders that to himself as he sits, returned to Seungcheol's apartment for another one of his "getties" as people are so apt to call them. He's never understood the difference between a getty and a party, and he's always been too stubborn to ask, knowing he'd be mercilessly made fun of for not knowing something apparently all university students knew.
This one isn't so different from the last. More or less the same crowd, the same atmosphere as the night goes on. Only this time, when everyone's settled down in what can hardly be called a circle, Soonyoung's on the couch, sunken into the too-old cushions with an arm wrapped around your shoulders. You're far from your last claimed spot with Seungkwan on that ratty old beanbag chair, sitting comfortably under Soonyoung's arm with a plastic cup of whatever Jeonghan concocted for you â which you've yet to drink much of.
Sehee sits across from you both while she laughs at something Wonwoo says. You laugh too, but Soonyoung barely notices, eyes glued to the girl they've been stuck on since she joined his dance crew over a year ago. He wants to tell her how beautiful she is when she smiles, even under the light of Seungcheol's dingy apartment, but he can't. He wants to tell her how he's felt for months, but you're next to him. He wants to have a fucking drink but all he has in his cup is fucking iced green tea because he knows if he drinks he'll fuck up again.
Just like last time.
"You okay?" you whisper in his ear at one point.
He turns to see your concerned expression, and it only makes Soonyoung hate this even more. He doesn't deserve your concern.
"I'm fine."
But he's not fine.
He doesn't participate in much conversation â only speaks when spoken to, and even then with few words. You seem to become tense next to him, but he does nothing to try and fix it. Just tonight, he's going to let himself be tired.
Three times, you offer to leave, and all three he refuses. You give up eventually, though he can tell you know something's off. God, if he were drunk, he wouldn't even have to think about you for a whole night.
Somehow the topic of discussion turns to couples, and suddenly, an entire room of eyes is on you and Soonyoung. He barely catches the question before you're already pondering your answer.
What do the two lovebirds love most about each other?
You look at him. At him, at him. He feels your stare in the dip of his throat because he can't seem to swallow anymore. It's like his soul is being scanned for viruses.
"Hmm..." You let your chin fall into your palm with a smile. It's real. Too real. "I like his resolve," you finally say. "If he wants to do something, he does it." With a loud exhale through your nose, you tilt your head, still meeting his eyes with your own. Soonyoung's mouth slightly parts, slack with something he can't name. "I could learn a thing or two from him."
The room bristles with your answer, various response piping up around. Soonyoung sort of registers Chan saying, "That's cute. I wanna vomit," but he's too busy thinking about you, about how you've come to like something about him as deep as that when all he's done is pretend to even like you at all.
And even when his mind swims with that, Sehee asks again.
"Then Soonyoung, what do you like about her?"
It sort of hurts. Soonyoung's not afraid to admit to himself that hearing Sehee ask what he likes about you sends pain straight through his ears to his heart. There's an awkward pause and everyone's looking at him expectantly and, god, he wishes he stole your drink when he had the chance.
"I..." His throat goes dry. His lips part, but there aren't any words to slip past them. "I, um..." He looks to you, and your eyes speak volumes. Everyone else in this room has a sort of... hungry look. They want to know Soonyoung's answer for one reason or another, maybe to tease with or to ridicule or even wish for themselves. But you, your eyes meet his and he knows you're not expecting anything. That hurts too. He doesn't know why. But even then, he can't think of the words. Any words. He steals a glance at Sehee, whose expression is curious, doe eyes slightly giddy from alcohol. She's pretty.
"I like her laugh," he says. It's not about you. "Whenever she laughs, I think to myself, 'What I wouldn't give to see her laugh again'."
Your eyes move to the plastic cup you've got gripped between two hands in your lap, and Seungkwan points out your flustered state to the entire room despite the fact everyone can see it as long as they've got working eyes. You purse your lips together to contain a smile, but it doesn't work. Even Soonyoung can see that.
He needs a drink.Â
Having to go to the bathroom is a lousy excuse, and Soonyoung knows it, but he whispers that in your ear anyways and retracts his arm from your shoulder before escaping. He does go to the bathroom, a small thing with a shower and no bath, but all he does in there is stare at himself in the mirror. And when that becomes too much, his feet.
Someone else eventually has to use the bathroom for its actual purpose, so he opens it to the banging fist outside and slides past the person back into the hallway. He pauses before walking all the way back. You're caught up in some other conversation now, laughing and dramatically waving your hands as you deny some crazy embarrassing story Seungkwan's trying to spill about you. Seems you've already integrated yourself with his friends more than he thought.
Since your attention is occupied, Soonyoung instead ducks into the half-kitchen â not necessarily out of sight, but no one's really paying attention anyways. He knows he shouldn't take any chances, but he really, really wants to let go. He's been wearing a facade ever since he said your name that night.
"I wouldn't, if I were you."
Minghao's voice has Soonyoung jerking up and banging his head on the door of the open fridge he was rummaging through. He winces in pain, kneading his fingers into his scalp as if that will do anything.
"Wouldn't what?" he snaps.
"I dunno." Minghao shrugs, and it's almost infuriating how nonchalant he is. "Do something you might regret, I guess."
He takes the yet unopened bottle from Soonyoung's hands, reaching beyond him to put it back in place. There's no point in fighting against him since he's undeniably right, but Soonyoung grumbles anyways. His eyes glance every few seconds to you on the couch. If you happen to hear anything...
Well, he doesn't know exactly. But he doesn't want to find out.
"You have to end it."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"I justâ" Soonyoung takes in a breath, too loud for his liking. He lowers his voice. "I can't, okay? I don't want to hurt her."
"So you're just going to date her based on false pretenses because you're too much of a coward to admit your mistakes?" Voice laced with sharpness, Minghao places his palms flat on the counter.
Soonyoung takes a deep breath through his nose, lips twisting in frustration. "Yeah, okay? Yeah," he whispers. "That's exactly what I'm gonna do."
A second passes. Minghao's brow furrows.
"And quite frankly," Soonyoung continues, "I'd rather you keep your nosy ass out of my business from now on."
He nearly storms off right then with the last word, but Minghao's fingers around his elbow stop him.
"You're going to get yourself hurt," Minghao warns through his teeth. He nods towards you. "And her in the process."
"We'll see about that."
Soonyoung has acted on impulse before. It happened with the pigeon, it happened with your name, and it's happening right now. Nothing is compelling him other than the absolute need to prove Minghao wrong, and even then, he doesn't know why.
He sits back down next to you, his spot saved by some miracle considering the surrounding company. The look on your face is happy, jovial. You must be having a right old time. His nerves strike with a feeling he's never quite experienced before.
When you study his face, no doubt not nearly as cheerful as yours, the expression you held falters to worry.
"You okay?" is once again the question on your lips, quiet, meant for his ears only.
Impulse is a scary thing. Soonyoung hates it almost as much as lying.
He leans in, crashing his lips on yours with his eyes half closed. His lips move and yours don't. Soonyoung can't even be sure you've closed your eyes, but at this very moment, he doesn't care. All he knows is he's angry and Minghao is watching.
This isnât your first kiss â he knows because youâve talked to him about this very topic. This is, however, to your understanding, the first ârealâ relationship youâve ever been in. You told him yourself that you donât really count that past kiss as your first, that you felt a bit... violated when it happened.
Soonyoung thinks this isnât all too different.
He steals your second first kiss, and later, staring at the water-stained stucco ceiling of his bedroom, he kicks himself so hard it hurts.
âą
You show up to movie night. Apparently Jihoon invited you â explained it like this:
âYou wonât have to be so clingy with me if sheâs here.â
At first, Soonyoung thinks Jihoon just wants to drop their roommate movie nights because heâs always complained about them, but Jihoon sticks around during Anastasia; sings along with you during Once Upon a December despite the fact that neither of you really know the words. He sits right in front of you two on the couch, cross-legged on the floor with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, that of which he only offers to you twice and Soonyoung once.
Whatever. Youâre a better cuddler than Jihoon anyway.
Somehow it doesnât feel forced when you lean your head on Soonyoungâs shoulder, or when he wraps his arm around your waist to get comfortable. He blames it on how tired he is, how he always gets on movie night after a week of classes and practices and too much work for one person to handle. Jihoon complains all the time that heâs too touchy when tired.
You absentmindedly play with his fingers for most of the movie. He doesnât mind.
Itâs been about a month now.
Soonyoung doesnât kiss you again after the first time. Doesnât stop you, either, but youâre more of an on-the-cheek kind of person. He thinks you think he wants to take this slow, even though he initiated the first big step (as convoluted as it was). He lets you think what you want.
Nasty business, it is.
Cleaning a bowl that once held popcorn. All the grease that sticks to the side because Jihoon likes to use too much butter. All the grains of salt that get underneath Soonyoungâs fingernails. Heâs washing, Jihoonâs drying. Itâs an arrangement of sorts.
Youâve already left for the night, gone back to your dorm since itâs only a five minute walk or so through campus. Jihoon insisted on Soonyoung escorting you, but you only smiled sweetly and refused. Maybe Soonyoung shouldâve argued harder against you. He didnât though. Thatâs why heâs scrubbing a bit too harshly now â he doesnât like messing up.
Seems thatâs all heâs good for lately.
âYouâre unhappy.â
Soonyoung stops scrubbing. The only noise in the whole apartment is the slow gurgle of the sink because even with a plug, such an old thing just lets the hot water seep away as the seconds go by. Jihoonâs gaze is on the pan heâs drying, but Soonyoung knows his heart is in the question. It always is.
âIâm not,â he tries to deny, but itâs difficult to fool a person like Jihoon. (Especially since Soonyoung canât even convince himself.)
The non-stick pan from yesterdayâs dinner clangs against an older one when Jihoon puts it away. He looks at Soonyoung, but by then heâs turned back to washing the popcorn bowl, so their eyes donât end up meeting.
âIâve known you since tenth grade. You think I canât tell when youâre upset?â
Soonyoung finds it hard to read Jihoonâs feelings most of the time. He didnât realize he was such an open book the other way around.
Sighing, he continues to scrub the bowl, which has probably been clean for a minute already. âIâm just... stressed.â
âAbout?â
Minghao already knows; already thinks lowly of Soonyoung for it. If Jihoon knew... Soonyoung doesnât know if he can take that.
So he lies. Again.
âJust the dance showcase.â
It isnât a whole lie, not really, but he canât call it the truth either.
Jihoon takes the bowl from Soonyoungâs grasp and rinses it under the tap. Since thatâs the last dish, Soonyoung is stuck with nothing for his hands to do. They rest on the edge of the sink, but his fingers ache for a task.
Jihoon, the friend that he is, says, âThatâs not for three months, though. Iâm sure youâll be perfect by then.â
âI donât know...â
âWell I do.â Eyes meet eyes, a pair determined, a pair apprehensive. âEverything will work out.â
â...Okay.â
âą
Soonyoung measures time in terms of you now.
When he last texted you. When he last saw you. When he last spoke to you.
Itâs all a very elaborate calculation â how much time heâs spent on you versus how much time he should spend on you. No relationship is quite like this one, he thinks, and itâs quite the romantic notion out of context. The fact remains, every interaction he has with you only pulls him further and deeper into his lie.
Soonyoungâs time moves a bit slower now.
Faster, sometimes, but only when he doesnât want it to.
âą
You tell him you might be in love with him.
He says he might be in love with you.
Heâs never hated lying more.
âą
Jihoon is cleaning out the fridge when the buzzer goes off, so since heâs close by, he picks up the old corded phone attached to the wall. From his spot on the couch, Soonyoung looks up from his phone to see Jihoon cover the receiver and mouth your name. Jihoon makes some sort of gesture with his hands, and somehow Soonyoung understands that as, were you expecting her?
His eyes widen as it settles in that no, heâs not expecting you. The apartment is a mess.
Jihoon buzzes you in, hangs up, and immediately moves from the fridge to the coffee table, throwing the laundry he was planning on folding back in the plastic hamper and shoving the pile in Soonyoungâs lap.
âTake care of this,â he says. âIâll clear up the kitchen.â
Right. Canât have you thinking your boyfriend and his roommate are slobs.
Soonyoung reacts quickly, standing from his spot on the couch with the laundry basket in hand. He dashes to his room, where he plans to stuff the laundry in his closet and save that problem for later, but once he gets there, he realizes his room is even worse. There are dirty clothes dispersed all over his bed and old coffee cups littering his desk. Scrambling to shove the new laundry in his closet, the dirty clothes in the now empty hamper, and gather all the paper cups in his arms, Soonyoungâs breath starts to catch.
When he emerges from his room with two armfuls of garbage, he finds you at the door with Jihoon, your face hidden in his shoulder and your arms wrapped tight around his waist. Jihoonâs arms are up, almost like heâs being held at gunpoint, and his eyes widen even further when he catches sight of Soonyoung.
âUhh... itâs for you.â
Soonyoung can hear your quiet hiccups even though theyâre muffled in Jihoonâs shirt. He canât bear it when people cry.
Yeah, maybe heâs been pretending to like you for a long time now, but heâs not a monster.
Right?
He likes you as a person. As a friend. And thereâs no way heâs letting his friend go through pain like this.
Soonyoung swiftly discards his trash into the garbage bin and approaches you and Jihoon. At the commotion, you lift your head from Jihoonâs shoulder, eyes all red and puffy. Your lips press together, emotions nearly bursting at the seams, but they finally break out when Soonyoung opens his arms wide.
âCâmere.â
You practically flail into his embrace, arms wrapping around his torso in a vice grip as you hide your face again. He doesnât ask if youâre okay â he knows youâre not.
Jihoon stands in the doorway for a few seconds, just looking at you and Soonyoung clutching at each other in the middle of the apartment before he shuts the front door and clears his throat.
âIâll just, uh, Iâll be â um. Mhm. Yup.â
He escapes to his room.
Soonyoung squishes his cheek to your temple as you both stay there. Youâre shaking, and his arms squeeze tighter. If only he could make it stop. He doesnât know what to say or do to make you feel better.
âDo you want to talk about it?â he asks, though quiet and hesitant.
You shake your head, mumbling something he canât quite make out. He pulls back a bit, just enough to see your face and gently cup your cheeks in his palms. His thumbs rub at your cheeks, smoothing any stray tears across your skin.
âWhatâs that?â
âJust...â Your eyes glisten. His heart beats. âCould you please just hold me?â
And he does.
Decidedly, his bed is much more comfortable than standing in the living room, so he sways, rocking side to side with small steps that force you to walk backwards. His smile, though, is reassuring, and you follow his guidance without much complaint. He sits you down on his bed, thankful that he cleaned up beforehand, and slowly leans you down so youâre both on your sides, facing each other. Pulling you closer, he lets you rest your head on his chest. Your hand lies flat on top of him, but eventually your fingers curl, clutching a bit of Soonyoungâs shirt between them. Silent tears fall from your eyes to his chest, but he doesnât care.
His arm underneath you wraps around, hand landing on your back so his thumb can rub soothing circles.
Itâs quiet.
Funny. Soonyoung used to dislike silence with you â always felt the need to fill it with conversation or jokes or laughter. He wonders when it was last since he felt that way.
Soonyoung doesnât know how much time passes. His eyes stick to his bedroom ceiling as he holds you close, thoughts on everything and nothing all at once. Are you asleep? Your tears stopped some time ago.
His question is answered when your voice, small and unsure, breaks the long-standing silence.
âSoonyoung?â
âYeah?â
âCan I tell you about it?â
He cranes his neck to look at you, but it doesnât really work. âOf course,â he says. âWhy wouldnât you be able to?â
You sigh. âI donât know. I just... I donât want to be a burden.â
âYouâre not.â
âI know, butââ
âYouâre not.â
You look up at him finally, and seeing your smile sends warmth through his blood. Your face is still looks wrecked from tears gone by, but your smile pushes all that out of the way.
âThank you,â comes past your lips in a whisper. Then, after a moment of waiting, you say, âItâs just that... I... this â ugh.â You hide your face in his shirt again. âThis is so embarrassing. I donât even know why I got so worked up.â
Soonyoung doesnât respond to that, just pats your back a few times and encourages you to keep going. You toy with the fabric of his shirt.
âThis guy I used to know â I thought Iâd never see him again, but he showed up today. Ran into him when I was walking back from the convenience store.â You bite the inside of your lip. âI havenât thought about him in a long time, but, I donât know, I guess seeing him just brought all these memories back all at once.â
âBad ones?â
A breathy laugh escapes you. âSure, you could say that.â
The silence comes back, and your brows furrow, almost like youâre trying to solve the problem all on your own. But you donât have to. Soonyoung is here.
âDo you remember when I told you about my first kiss? Like, my real first kiss?â
Soonyoung hums. Of course he remembers.
âBack in high school, I used to have this friend. Sammy. She was â god, she was beautiful. And kind, and smart, and just... amazing. I miss her a lot. Sheâs abroad now, travelling the world with her sister. I think sheâs in Peru now.â You chuckle at the mention of your old friend, but soon your smile twists into a frown. âThis guy... I donât like saying his name, but he liked Sammy. Everyone did, I donât blame him for that, honestly. He was pretty popular back then â one of those sports boys, you know? Thinking about it now, he couldâve easily gotten with Sammy if he hadnât been so conniving.â
âConniving?â
âYeah, he was... I donât know how he got the idea in his head, but he came to me first. He kept hanging out with me, taking me on these... dates? But they werenât really dates, all we did was talk about Sammy â what she liked, what she didnât like. I knew he was using me, but I just... let him, I guess. Maybe back then I was just so caught up in being needed that I didnât really mind being used.â
Soonyoung hugs you tighter.
âI guess he felt sorry, maybe? Right before he went to go ask Sammy out, he just... laid one on me. It was stupid. Like a pity kiss for my service or whatever. I wasnât in love with the guy or anything, but it felt so... degrading. Like all I deserved was some action from a conventionally good-looking guy."
Your tears come back, brimming at the edge of your eyelids.
âI donât know, it just â it just made me feel so...â
You take a breath. Exhale.
â...worthless.â
Soonyoung doesnât fail to see the irony here, at least, but he feels slightly lifted. Whoever this guy is, Soonyoungâs a million times better.
âYouâre not worthless,â he says â because he knows itâs true.
âI know.â You readjust yourself curled around him, wiping away the tears which havenât fallen. âI mean, I know now.â Sighing, you wrap your arm around his waist, somehow pulling him closer than he already was. âThank you.â
âFor what?â
âFor being here. For being you. For letting me be me.â
âIt is my absolute pleasure to serve you, your majesty.â
You wack him with the sleeve of your sweater. âYouâre such a dork!â
Your laugh is nice. Soonyoung hopes to hear it again soon.
âYou know,â you say, eyes closed as you lie there with him on his bed. âNormally I wouldâve gone to Seungkwan with my problems, but tonight...â
âTonight?â
âYou make me feel safe, Soonyoung. Thank you.â
His eyes close. âReally?â
âYeah,â you breathe out. âThat, and if I told Seungkwan, he wouldâve found the guy and beat him to a pulp.â
âWhy can I see that?â
âBecause itâs true.â
You stay the night.
âą
With a group of friends as big as Soonyoungâs, itâs about once every blue moon that the boys find a time that works for everyone, especially coming up on finals season. They all have their own worries around this time: the dance showcase, the big play, last-minute assessments, and â of course â finals.
So when theyâre all free for barbecue one night, everyoneâs ecstatic. Reservations are made, gratuities are calculated, and the group chat blows up every few hours with various changes to plans. (Mostly from Mingyu, whoâs eager to show off his grilling skills.)
But of course, university is university, and itâs inevitable that someone has to bail out. That someone being Soonyoung.
The dance showcase creeps up a bit faster than anyone likes, and now Soonyoungâs professor is forcing him to choreograph an entire song for some freshmen only a month before the whole thing goes onstage.
First of all, who signs up for a showcase only four weeks before the performance? Who lets them sign up?
And second of all, doesnât his professor realize Soonyoung has a life? Heâs got other dances to work on, other classes to study for, friends to have barbecue with. How is he supposed to cram an entire choreography â not the mention the time itâll take to teach the freshmen â into his already hectic lifestyle?
But Soonyoung is a people-pleaser. He doesnât say no.
Instead, he regretfully messages the group chat, saying he canât hang out tonight in favour of attempting to choreograph at least a quarter of the song in one sitting. He gets the usual whining, but they all know they canât change his mind, so it fades out fast.
What he doesnât expect is for them to invite you instead.
âItâs a thirteen person reservation,â Seungcheol reasons. âBesides, sheâs basically one of us by now.â
Soonyoung canât exactly argue with that.
So, you go to the restaurant with them while Soonyoung heads to the studio. Minghao picks you up along with Vernon and Chan, which sends an anxious bit of worry down Soonyoungâs spine, but he does nothing about it. If Minghao wanted to tell you, he wouldâve by now.
You send him a good luck text.
[đ„] Donât let those kids work you into the ground!
He stares at your words for a bit, distracted from finding the song heâs supposed to use. Your contact name is different now â one of those naruto fishcakes because of that time you took him out for ramen. That night had been full of laughter and loud, borderline obnoxious slurping, ending with the beautiful finale of Soonyoung throwing a fishcake straight into your open mouth.
You were the one that sweet-talked you both out of getting banned.
Soonyoung finally opens his music app and finds the song the freshmen requested (a rather boring one, if you ask him) which he sets to max volume. He doesnât bother plugging his phone into the speaker system, not when heâs the only one in the studio.
Maybe he can do this.
âą
âThe trick is to add eggs and use less water,â you say as you scoop more batter onto the waffle iron.
Jihoon snorts from where he sits at the table, still shoveling more whipped cream and strawberry-smothered waffle in his mouth. âAre you sure the trick isnât to just not be Soonyoung?â
âHey!â Soonyoung pauses his own eating just to pout. âMy waffles are good!â
âSure, you keep telling yourself that.â
Both you and Jihoon laugh at Soonyoungâs expense, only further accentuating the pout on his face. You and Jihoon are too alike in that aspect. Well, actually, Soonyoung knows youâd never laugh at him, but he still canât be sure about Jihoon. One time, back in high school, Soonyoung tripped over (what he thought was) a dead bird, and Jihoon laughed for hours â though Soonyoung always exaggerates the story into him laughing for days.
You sit down next to him with your own plate of waffles. Thereâs flour dusted on your arms, but you donât seem to mind.
âYouâve got a little...â You point a finger at the corner of your mouth.
He knows. Soonyoung can feel the cool whipped cream right where you say it is.
He smiles wide. âIâm saving it for later.â
âHmm...â
You say nothing, just smile as you lean in, kissing the corner of his lips. Itâs quick, chaste, and barely a real kiss, but Soonyoungâs heart bounces in his chest. Heâs never been kissed like that before.
He wonders if this is what itâs like to be loved.
That thought, though, he pushes back for another time.
âGross. You guys made me lose my appetite,â Jihoon says. He keeps eating.
âą
With eyes drooping shut every few seconds, Soonyoung decides itâs time to call it quits on the chemistry homework. Itâs nearly one in the morning, anyways. He flips his textbooks shut and gathers up all his notes, putting them all in a haphazard pile that heâll worry about in the morning. Swivelling in his chair, his eyes land on you.
Oh. He forgot youâre here.
Youâre snuggled up on top of his covers, one arm wrapped around the pillow your head should be on, eyes closed as even, slow breaths come past your slightly parted lips. One of his hoodies is draped over your legs like a blanket. He wonders why you didnât just get under the covers.
Well, he has been walking you home ever since he hadnât some time ago. Maybe you were waiting.
He feels a bit guilty as he brushes his teeth and washes his face, but not too bad since you only have afternoon classes tomorrow. Maybe he can treat you to something in the morning to make up for it.
After he tucks you under a fluffy throw blanket, he crawls into bed and lies on his side, facing you.
Your other hand is lax, palm up and fingers curled, almost like youâre holding something invisible.
His hand would fit perfectly.
The tips of his fingers graze over the lines on your palm. Slow. Trepidatious.
You shift, fingers unconsciously curling around Soonyoungâs hand.
He closes his eyes.
âą
The moves arenât working.
The moves arenât working and the music isnât working and the dance isnât working and nothing is working.
Soonyoung groans in frustration, almost screaming with his fingers threaded through his damp hair as he messes up yet another landing. Heâs drenched in sweat, and itâs only been so many hours since the rest of the crew left for the night, not that heâs kept track.
Itâs less than a week until the showcase. Six days, as Chan is apt to remind everyone with his stupid holiday countdown app.
That freshmen choreography is already over and done with â Soonyoungâs made it, heâs taught it to those over-eager nuisances, and if they need anything more, thatâs on them. Theyâre no longer his responsibility.
Thatâs not what has him in such a state right now.
His solo â the one heâs been planning for the entire semester â it just doesnât... feel right. Heâs been slaving over it for days now, reworking the steps, figuring out what to take out and what to replace. But the more he fixes it, the more it feels wrong.
He canât get the steps right. He canât get anything right.
What is wrong with him?
He starts the music again at exactly one minute, thirty-eight seconds. The moves are clear in his mind. One step. Two steps. Sweep. Spin. Jumpâ
He falls.
The music goes on.
Soonyoung slams his fist onto the softwood floor, cursing at his ineptitude. He stays like that for a moment, eyes screwed shut and fists clenched so tight his nails dig into his palms. The song ends, only to restart again, but Soonyoung barely notices.
Screw the music. He stands; positions himself; tries again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
He falls.
He yells out at the floor, at his feet, at whatever is holding him back.
His reflection in the mirror stares back at him.
Mind blank, he sits there, legs stretched out in front of him as he hunches over, eyes closed to the world around. His breaths come out shaky and uneven, but even though every moment sitting still feels like eternity, his lungs fail to calm.
Someone knocks on the door, and for a second, Soonyoung thinks itâs Jun coming to tell him to go home for the night. He doesnât want to, so he doesnât look up.
The door opens, he can hear the quiet shuffling of hesitant feet that have removed their shoes just because the sign on the door told them to.
âSoonyoung?â
Your voice is clear â like a single drop of water coalescing into a whole â and it cuts through the sound of blood rushing past Soonyoungâs ears.
He looks up to see you standing a good length away, almost like youâre scared to approach. Youâre wearing pyjamas, a thick sweater pulled over your shoulders and fuzzy socks donning your feet. Something bulges from the pocket of your sweater.
âWhat are you...â
âMinghao called me.â
In the back of his mind, a small part of Soonyoung wonders exactly when you and Minghao have gotten close enough to call each other, but the thought doesnât stay for long. It canât, really, not when youâre in front of him.
When Soonyoung says nothing more, you take another step forward. âWhatâs wrong?â
To anyone else, he might say nothing. Absolutely nothing is wrong.
His voice breaks when he tries to laugh.
âEverything.â
Your eyes soften, a small smile tugging at your lips. Itâs not one of those pitiful smiles, he can tell, but itâs not fake, either. You bring your hands together in front of you, fiddling with the tips of your fingers as your eyes move from them to his gaze again. âIâm coming over. Is that okay?â
He nods.
First, you find his phone and turn down the music until itâs gone. You sit right behind him, legs spread on either side of his body, and you wrap your arms around his waist, pressing flush to his back and resting your cheek between his shoulder blades. He squirms a bit.
âIâm all sweaty,â he tries to argue, but you only squeeze him tighter.
âYeah, you are.â
He stops resisting. Itâs much too hot, what with his hours of constant exercise and your thick layers, but he canât complain.
âDo you want to talk about it?â This time itâs your turn to ask.
â...Just hold me?â
And you do.
You press a kiss to the back of his neck. Slow, soft, and when your lips leave his searing skin, your forehead replaces them.
Thatâs when the dam breaks.
Hot, fat tears roll from Soonyoungâs eyes down his cheeks as sobs rack through his chest. The vibrations shake him and you all at once, but your hold never falters. He canât see anything, only a blur of what should be his legs and your arms wrapped around his stomach. His hands go to clutch at your arms, desperate to hold onto something; to not let him sink.
Itâs ugly, the way he cries, but you let it happen. You hold him.
This is what itâs like.
Eventually, his desperate hands find yours, his arms crossed so his right is over your right, his left over your left. His fingers roam over the smooth backs of your hands until they reach your fingers and interlock. The palms of your hands are warm compared to his fingertips.
Youâve locked onto his body language by now â youâre fluent, so you know to continue pressing reassuring, slow kisses into his skin. You know to whisper little words that should mean nothing, but coming from your lips, mean everything.
Heâs going to be okay.
For some reason, coming from you, he believes it.
You hold him until the hiccuping stops, until the tears are just dry streaks on his face, until his breath comes out in long streams instead of bursts.
His eyes stay shut as he feels you shift. One of your hands slips out of his grasp, your arm reaching back, and Soonyoung almost whines until he feels its return.
âLook,â you whisper.
It itches to open his eyes, but when he does, he sees whatâs in your hand, right in front of him. A small stuffed tiger sits in your palm, positioned anatomically incorrect like a teddy bear, a velvet heart between its paws. Stitched white letters read:
Go get âem, tiger!
You chuckle lightly, repositioning yourself so your chin hooks over his shoulder. âCheesy, I know. I was going to give this to you the day of the showcase, but I think you could use it right about now.â
Gingerly, Soonyoung lifts his hands together, and you place the plush in his awaiting palms.
His voice is slow to restart, but he manages to say, âThank you.â
Hands now free, you wrap yourself around his waist again. âAnything for you.â
Such a simple sentence, that, and yet the confession sends blood to Soonyoungâs ears in the form of an awfully embarrassing blush. He runs his thumbs over the fuzzy fabric of the tiger plush.
âSoonyoung?â
âHm?â
You press your lips to the crook of his shoulder, voice muffled in the fabric of his shirt. âI wonât force you to stop practicing. I know this is important to you.â Soonyoung feels your breath fan over his skin. âBut I also want you to rest â you shouldnât overwork yourself.â
One of your hands rises to his chin, guiding it up so he looks forward at the studio mirror and meets your gaze in the reflection.
âWhaddya say we do, hm?â You tilt your head, and Soonyoung thinks his pupils may be heart-shaped. âDo you want to practice more? Or can I take you home?â
âJust...â He swallows whatâs left in his dry mouth. âJust once more.â
You smile. âOkay.â
As you get up, you run your hands up to Soonyoungâs shoulder and down to his hand, where you playfully pretend to pull him up with you. He laughs, hiding his face behind the tiger plush for a second before he stands, tugging your hands as he does so you fall into him when he rights himself. Both your hands are squeezed between him and you, while his unoccupied arm finds its way to your side.
Another smile tugs at your lips at the proximity. You shift your hands up so they wrap over his shoulders, linking behind his head. Leaning closer, your eyes gleam under the fluorescent lights. To the sound of silence, you sway together, waltzing in the dead of night.
âIâll be outside, okay?â
Soonyoungâs expression tightens, eyebrows shifting in confusion. âWhy?â
âWell,â you say. âI know how you feel about audiences during practice.â
Something about your smile right now makes Soonyoung feel so undeniably safe. You understand him. Never once have you questioned him over why he doesnât invite you to practices, never once did you pressure him to change that.
âDo you know how I feel about you?â
âHmm, do I?â
Do you?
âStay.â
And you do.
âą
Hereâs the thing about dance showcases:
Theyâre big, theyâre flashy, they take the entire year to plan, and theyâre over in one night.
Soonyoung stands in the wings, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, hopefully not loud enough for anyone to hear. He watches as the group performing before his solo finishes up their dance, though he knows there is at least a minute before heâll have to go on.
A tap on his shoulder makes him turn his head, and he sees Seheeâs smiling face.
âNervous?â she asks, her voice hidden beneath the music.
Sheâs all dolled up, dressed in her costume with a sleek leather jacket to bring everything together. Her eyes glimmer just as much as her eyelids.
âYou have no idea,â Soonyoung jokes, but his heart isnât really in it.
Sehee tilts her head; blinks a few times. âYouâll do amazing. You always do.â
For what itâs worth, Soonyoung hasnât forgotten his attraction. Seheeâs words soothe him to some extent, pump him up, even. Itâs slightly terrifying â how much she still affects him even now.
Youâre in the audience tonight, third row from the front, somewhere in the middle. Your seat is between Seungkwanâs and Jihoonâs, whereas all the other boys came (almost) too late and had to find seats elsewhere.
The music ends, applause erupts, and Soonyoung knows itâs his turn. He waits for the group to exit on the opposite side, and when the resounding claps quiet down, he takes the first step onstage.
Something Soonyoung has almost always known: stage lights are blinding. If theyâre set up right, anyone onstage will have a damn hard time seeing anyone in the audience. He canât see you â couldnât during his previous performance with the crew, either. The only reason he knows youâre there is the million assuring texts you sent him before you had to turn off your phone for the show.
But he knows youâre there. He knows youâre watching.
Soonyoung stands with his left foot on the spike mark, right where heâs practiced time and time again ever since they transitioned into the space. Music floods his veins, and the world is gone.
He wouldnât call it an escape. Soonyoung doesnât use dance to get away, itâs not like that. This world he creates with dance â this other space where nothing exists except him and the music and the floor and the feeling â he chooses to go there. Euphoria, he thinks it might be called. Euphoric.
The space takes him. He lets it.
And then itâs over.
Soonyoungâs breath leaves him in bursts, his shoulders heaving despite how hard he fights to keep them still in his final pose. His back faces the audience, his right arm stretched out and up, fingers curling around nothing. Stars dance before his eyes â which he fails to catch with his outstretched hand.
He thinks he can faintly hear applause, but itâs nothing compared to the heart beating in his chest. Your voice plays in his ears, yet he knows itâs simply his imagination â his recollection.
I like your dance, youâd said that night. Iâm no expert, no judge, but I like it. I love it, honestly. Your dancing... I donât know. I wish I had the words. Itâs like... a little box.
A little box?
Youâve got a little box in your hand. Brown, maybe the size of your palm. You open it and thereâs no bottom, no sides, no shape, just an expanse of universe in blues and pinks and purples and whatever colours we donât know exist. You look inside and reach your hand in, somehow fitting in the tiny yet infinite space. Your fingers brush through starlight like strands of silk, like the rays are minnows youâve met during a summer dip. Like that. A little box.
I thought you said you didnât have the words?
I donât. Not enough.
Soonyoung vaguely registers the lights going black, the way his feet drift him offstage, the music of the seniorsâ finale.
At some point, the lights are back on. Not the stage lights, but the harsh fluorescents once the audience has fully filtered out into the lobby. Most of them will leave, but the family and friends of performers are sure to stay, waiting there to congratulate and fawn over the dancers as soon as theyâre let go for the night. Somewhere in his mind, Soonyoung knows his friends are outside waiting for him â him, Jun, Minghao, and Chan.
Roses are passed around. Heâs never seen a blue rose before, but some dancers walk around with them as they change out of costume and gather their things. He points out a yellow rose from the bunch presented to him, but it turns out to be a bouquet for him specifically, and he takes the whole thing with his jaw slightly hanging. Everythingâs a bit... slow. Soonyoung feels like heâs wading through water.
He hasnât changed yet, simply standing in his costume as he watches people go back and forth. Other performers move from dressing room to dressing room, cleaning up what they have to while simultaneously patting each otherâs backs. Techs go around making sure everythingâs in order, nothing lost or forgotten. They put away the MCâs microphones and bother the dancers for not taking proper care of props even though itâs only been one night.
Another tap on his shoulder; itâs Sehee again.
âCan I talk to you?â she asks.
He follows her to a corner of the stage, where the curtains hang and hide the two â for the most part.
She turns almost too abruptly, causing Soonyoung to stumble over his own two feet to avoid bumping into her.
âThis is really hard for me to say,â she starts. âBut I have to get it out.â
Soonyoung nods, maybe saying something close to a confirmation, but he canât really tell. Heâs a little lightheaded. Sehee has changed out of her leather, instead now in a pair of grey sweatpants and a simple t-shirt. Thatâs the thing about Sehee, though, she has that unnamed sort of... effortless beauty. Even with her stage makeup wiped off, she glows.
âThis might be one of the last times I ever work with you, you know? Next year, my parents are making me quit dancing so I can focus on my major. It sucks, yeah, but theyâre right. I need to focus if I want to succeed. You know that too, donât you? The need to succeed?â She takes a breath; laughs bitterly. âSorry, Iâm getting off track... I just â I wanted to tell you this because if I donât tonight, I might never get the chance again.â
Maybe Soonyoung has dreamed of this moment. He canât be sure, not yet, so he lets her continue.
âI like you, Soonyoung. I have for a while. But things happened, and you got together with...â her voice trails off. âAnd you seemed happy, after a while. I thought maybe I could just keep it hidden but, I donât know, I think I need to tell you, to get closure because I'm not sure if I can go on without at leastââ
Choices. Soonyoung â and everyone else in the world â has only made it through life with decisions. Heâs made good ones. Bad ones. Heâs had regrets and heâs had none. This, though, this choice is intensely apparent.
Apparent in the way he knows it will affect much more than he wishes.
He kisses her.
God, this is what he wanted, right? What heâs wanted for so long. He used to toss and turn at night over the thought of Seheeâs eyes; her smile; her lips.
And on his, they were heaven. Plump and soft just like the romance novels say, moving at the exact pace of his heartbeat.
The hand holding his bouquet drops to his side as the other goes to cup Seheeâs cheek. Faintly, the sound of paper fluttering to the ground reaches his ears, but nothing can distract him from this moment.
Until, of course, it ends.
Sehee pulls away. âWe canâtâ I donâtââ
Someone clears their throat.
Soonyoung turns, finding Minghao standing just off from the curtains, arms crossed and face contorted in thinly-veiled anger.
And you.
Youâre standing next to Minghao, obviously shocked â over being seen or what youâve seen, Soonyoung doesnât know. Hands fisted and held close to your chest, your eyes widen as they meet Soonyoungâs.
Itâs not so dramatic as the movies.
Soonyoung stares at you, tongue unmoving with nothing to say. You stare back, almost frozen, until Minghao gently takes you by your shoulders, forcing you to turn and leave the way you mustâve come. Nothing happens in the time it takes. Soonyoung simply watches.
Heâs never been good at reading lips, but he thinks he knows exactly what Minghao whispers in your ear.
Thereâs something you should know.
Sehee mutters, âSorry,â and leaves. She looks guilt-ridden as she does, but even in his half-frozen state, Soonyoung knows all of this is on him.
He stands alone in that corner of the stage, the only noise being the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sound of the last stragglers in the dressing rooms. His hands clench, and the brown paper of the bouquet crumples. He looks at it then, at the yellow roses and babyâs breath, at the beige note thatâs fallen to the floor.
Slowly, he crouches, picking up the note with his thumb and forefinger.
Congratulations Soonyoung!! I know how hard youâve worked for this night, which is why I ordered these to be delivered. Joshua told me yellow roses represent happiness, or something. Pretty, right? You deserve every happiness, so I decided to start with flowers. Tonight may be over, but who knows, maybe weâll find happiness in tomorrow, too.
Itâs stupid. Itâs not a love letter. Itâs laced with love, though, and he hates that he recognizes your handwriting.
Time moves heavily as Soonyoung turns to the backstage door. Heâs the only one left now, his station in the second boyâs dressing room is messy, unlike everyone elseâs. His reflection stares back at him while he sits in front of the mirror, motions halved in speed as he wipes off his eye makeup.
Itâs over.
When was the last time he thought about how it would end?
He changes out of costume, arms growing stiff, and stuffs everything in his bag without much care for how. His regular clothes itch; he longs to scratch at his skin, but he doesnât.
He leaves your bouquet on the counter.
His friends stand in a circle in the lobby, brows furrowed and voices hushed as they discuss... something. Soonyoung has a bad feeling he knows exactly the topic. Minghao isnât there. Nor are you.
Jihoon isnât around, either, but Soonyoung remembers he had to leave immediately after the performance. Something about an essay. It doesnât really matter now, not compared to this.
When he approaches his friends, they quiet down further. Half of them look his way with a frown, while the other half choose to avert their eyes. What do they know?
Seungkwan stands out the most. His arms are crossed, his lips are pressed together in a thin line, and anger radiates from his very being. Of course heâs mad. Youâre his friend.
The silence consumes Soonyoung as he nearly shrivels under his friendsâ gazes. He must have taken his time, the lobby is empty except for them.
âWhereâs Minghao?â he asks.
Seungkwan lurches forward, but both Seungcheol and Wonwoo bring up their arms to hold him back.Â
âWhereâs Minghao? Whereâs Minghao?â he seethes. He jabs an accusatory finger in Soonyoungâs face. âYou just kissed some girl and broke my best friendâs heart and youâre asking about Minghao?!â
So they donât know. Not really.
Soonyoung endures the scolding. The looks. The questions. The noise.
No answers are really given.
The great thing about having best friends is that they know not to pamper you when youâve done wrong. Thatâs also the worst thing about having best friends.
Seungkwan would go on and on, surely, but soon enough the boys notice how little Soonyoung is reacting â how his face and expression is slack and dull.
Joshua holds up a finger to quiet down the ones still complaining, then gestures towards the front entrance.
âMinghao left with her a while ago.â The look on his face is one of pity. Soonyoung hates it.
He nods; stuffs his hands in his pockets as he turns to the door.
âWait! Iâm not doneâ!â Seungkwan struggles against Wonwoo and Seungcheol, but heâs no match.
Soonyoung doesnât stick around long enough to hear what happens next.
He has no sense of what to do when he walks out that door. Go home, maybe.
The night breeze hits him with more force than it should, making his eyes go dry and his lips tremble. Outside, everything is almost too loud. Thereâs traffic on all sides, surrounding the lot of the theatre; the sound of humming engines and honking horns assaults his senses.
He walks â though it feels like wandering â to the parking lot, where he plans to look around for a bus stop.
Youâre there.
A mirage, he thinks at first, but youâre really there, sitting on one of those concrete barriers, legs outstretched and ankles crossed. You have your head lowered as you sit, hands braced on the cold concrete.
His held breath escapes him, and you look up.
âYouâre here,â you say. The smile on your lips, ever so slight and ever so bitter, causes a ringing in his ears. âI almost thought you forgot about me.â
âI...â
âItâs a lie, right?â Your eyes glisten, but no tears fall. âYou wouldnâtâ Iâm notâ Iâm not that naive, am I?â
Soonyoungâs lips part, but nothing moves past them. His hands itch to leave his pockets, but with nothing to reach for, they stay still.
â...I see.â
You drop your head again, bringing your hands together to fiddle with your fingernails. He hears your breath, shaky as it is, and his lungs constrict.
âGod, it felt so real. I thoughtâ I guess I donât know what I thought, huh?â A shiver runs through you. âWas any of it real?â you ask the ground.
Soonyoung longs to answer. Thatâs the thing, though.
He doesnât know.
Can any of it be real?
You laugh. Before, your laugh was spring strawberries; summer warblers; winter snowdrops. Now, your dry laughter echoes in Soonyoungâs mind like a pebble in a failed attempt of skipping stones.
âGuess not.â
You hop off the concrete barrier, wiping off your pants of dust and dirt. Still, you donât meet his eyes.
Soonyoungâs heart beats in a way he knows isnât natural. Guilt seeps through every orifice. âYouâre not... youâre not yelling at me. Youâre not crying â youâre not angry,â he stumbles through. âWhy?â
Itâs then that when you meet his eyes, he notices the dried tracks lining your cheeks. You have been crying, just in the time it took for him to come across you.
âIâm just disappointed in myself, Soonyoung,â you say. âIâm the one who fell for it so easily. Iâm the one that was tricked. Iâm the one whoââ a breath ââwho loved someone that didnât love me back.â You step closer, arms limp at your side. âOnce I get home, sure, Iâll cry my eyes out. Is that what you want to hear? Iâll curse myself for being so... so stupid.â
âItâs not your faultââ
âNo, itâs not. This is not my fault. All I did was believe the words you said to me. All I did was hand myself to you on a silver platter.â Unshed tears brim at your eyelids, but it seems you refuse to let them fall. âBut you know the worst part, Soonyoung?â
Everything?
âThe worst part is I canât yell at you. Iâm not angry because I fell in love with someone who doesnât love me back and it hurts and I canât bring myself to hate you despite being told youâve never thought about me the way I think about you.â
A breathy gasp escapes you, and you turn on a dime, the sight of your back an icy reminder to Soonyoung of what heâs yet to learn. You take a deep breath to gather yourself, shoulders rising and falling.
âIâll be going now. Iâve got a lot to think about.â
Soonyoung doesnât move from his spot when you walk away, or when you get into Minghaoâs car, which pulls away after a moment of sitting there in its parking spot. His feet are stuck in stiff mud, unable to shift, even.
Perhaps he stands there for too long. Itâs not until heâs staring down the front of his apartment that he realizes one of his friends must have dropped him off.
âą
He hasnât heard from you in a few days. He hasnât heard from anyone in just as long.
Jihoon already knew (not everything, but enough) by the time Soonyoung rolled out of bed the day after. He hasnât said anything about it, but Soonyoung can tell this silence isnât the same as usual. They rarely eat meals together anymore. Last movie night, Jihoon didnât even pretend to be busy, instead saying he simply wasnât in the mood.
Seungkwan hasnât left your side ever since... that happened. If Soonyoung happens to see you on campus, which is almost never, he backs out of approaching you because of the sheer force that is Seungkwanâs glare. Besides, he wouldnât know what to say even if he did find the courage to face you.
Classes go by in blurs. Not quickly, like scenery past a car window, but so slow that once Soonyoung leaves, he remembers nothing but hours upon hours of staring at his empty notebook, even if the lecture was only fifty minutes long. Days are kind of like that too.
âą
Sehee apologizes. She shouldnât, but she does.
Soonyoung didnât really hate what he did at first. He liked her, after all.
But when Sehee chokes on her own words, pleading to whoever will listen that sheâs not that kind of girl, Soonyoung regrets kissing her more than he ever wanted to kiss her in the first place.
âą
please let me explain
Iâm sorry
itâs been a while, but still
Iâm sorry
[đ„] Explain what?
[đ„] ...
[đ„] Soonyoung?
sorry I just
I wasnât expecting you to answer
[đ„] Maybe I shouldnât have
no
wait
Iâm sorry
[đ„] So Iâve heard
I just want you to know why what happened, happened
[đ„] But I already know why
itâs not that simple
[đ„] You lied because you suck at lying. Because you knew Sehee was there that night and panicked. I was just collateral damage
[đ„] ...
[đ„] No answer, huh?
[đ„] So it really is that simple
please wait
Iâm just trying to figure myself out
[đ„] Let me help you
[đ„] You want my forgiveness because you feel guilty. Maybe you donât know it yet, but you want me to say I forgive you just so you wonât have to carry this around for the rest of your life
[đ„] I know this isnât some romcom. I know youâre not here to get me back
[đ„] So just let it go
[đ„] Letâs just forget about this. About what happened
what if I canât
[đ„] I donât know
[đ„] Figure it out, I guess
[đ„] But do it on your own
âą
Soonyoung doesnât measure his time anymore.
He wakes up. He eats. He goes to class. He skips lunch. He goes home. He eats. He falls asleep.
When was the last time he went out with someone? When was the last time he had a real conversation?
He doesnât know.
âą
[Minghao] You should tell everyone else
why
[Minghao] Would you rather they think youâre a cheater or just an idiot?
I donât know
[Minghao] I think they deserve an explanation
[Minghao] Want me to do it for you?
does it even matter anymore
[Minghao] Itâs your choice
[Minghao] You just have to make it
then tell them
I donât care
[Minghao] Are you sure?
tell them
âą
These days, Soonyoung stays late at the studio. No one really practices there anymore, not since the showcase finished and finals have rolled around. Actually, Soonyoung should be studying too, but he canât find the motivation. He thinks it might be the guilt.
You were right. He doesnât want to carry this around.
The thing is, despite spending entire evenings in the studio, he canât remember anything as he walks home. It must be hours spent in there, and yet, when he walks out, he canât recall a thing. Like he was never there at all.
Where does the time go?
With his luck, the elevator is broken when he returns to the apartment building, so he has to take the stairs. Normally that wouldnât be a big deal, but after hours of mindless, sloppy dancing, heâs much too tired. He fumbles with his keys when he tries to open the door, and he rests his forehead on the cool wood for a moment, sighing before he tries again.
The door creaks open. Though itâs late, the lights are still on, which Soonyoung frowns at when he realizes. Lately, Jihoon is never up when Soonyoung comes home. But there he is, sitting at the table right next to the kitchen with his eyes on his hands and his feet tucked under the chair.
Soonyoung freezes after shutting the door behind him, not wholly sure what to make of the scene before him.
After a moment of silence, Jihoon looks up from his fingers and meets Soonyoungâs gaze.
âMinghao called me today,â he says.
Soonyoung gulps, but doesnât respond â doesnât know how to.
âI didnât want to believe it at first, you know.â His voice is slow, croaky; tired. âBut it sort of makes sense, doesnât it. I donât know how I didnât see it from the start.â
Slowly, Soonyoung slips off his shoes and steps further into the apartment. âSo now you know. Iâm really not in the mood for a lecture right now.â
âI just have a question.â
Soonyoung pauses, halfway through the apartment and only a few meters from his bedroom door. He turns to face Jihoon, sighing through his nose and digging his palm into his eye sockets. âFine,â he concedes. âWhat?â
âIf you never loved â never liked her, why are you acting like this now?â
âActing like what?â
âLike a dead man walking.â
Soonyoung scoffs, a dry, empty sound as he looks away for a moment before meeting Jihoonâs gaze again. âYouâre kidding, right?â he asks. âI lied to someone for months. I pretended to love someone I didnât. I used her because of my own stupidity and pride, and then I used Sehee, tooââ Pausing, he closes his eyes; takes a breath. âIsnât it obvious? Itâs guilt. I feel guilty for... for everything.â
âThatâs the only reason?â
âExcuse me?â
Jihoon rhythmically taps the pads of his fingers on the table. Itâs not loud enough to be heard, but Soonyoungâs eyes train to the sight. âItâs only the guilt?â
âWhat else would it be?â
This time, itâs Jihoon who sighs. He looks at his hands again for a second. âDo me a favour,â he says without looking up.
âLook, I alreadyââ
âJust do what I say.â
Soonyoung groans, but he knows he canât argue with Jihoon and win â not now at least. He rubs his eyes, shoulders rising and falling as he takes in a deep breath. Mumbling under his breath, he says, âFine.â
Jihoon stands from his chair, and in such stagnant silence, the sound of the legs squeaking on the floor is profound. He points to the middle of the apartment, the large bit of floor-space thatâs too big to be considered part of the kitchen but too small to house any furniture.
âStand right there.â
â...What?â
Without answering, Jihoon simply points at the floor again, and Soonyoung can only groan in defiance as he moves to stand in that spot. Grabbing a throw pillow from the couch, Jihoon steps a few feet away, facing Soonyoung with the pillow held in one hand at his side. He seems to consider something for a moment.
Soonyoung has never been unable to read Jihoon this much, so he asks, âWhat is this all aboutââ
Jihoon screams. Not a high-pitched screech, but a guttural battle cry, and Soonyoungâs eyes widen. Faster than he can comprehend, Jihoon runs towards him and tackles him to the ground. Soonyoungâs legs crumble as he falls, and he feels the throw pillow pressing onto his face.
This is it, he thinks. This is how he dies.
âJihoon!â he cries, but his protest is muffled by the pillow. âWhat the fuck are youâ!â
âYou fucking idiot! You donât know shit!â
âI know that!â Soonyoung thrashes to get the pillow off, but Jihoon is way stronger than he looks.
âYou miss her you fucking buffoon! Youâre all in your doom and gloom because you had a good thing going and had to go fuck it up!â
âI donât!â
âDonât try to argue with me, fucker, I know you better than anyone. Now scream!â
The pillows squishes further down, and while Soonyoung can still breathe, itâs far from comfortable. He continues to struggle even though he knows itâs useless.
âWhat?!â
âScream into the pillow! Youâre mad at yourself and you should be! Let it all out!â
âIââ
âScream!â
And he does. He lets out a loud bellow thatâs nothing but sound roaring from his lungs. He does it mostly to appease Jihoon â so that maybe heâll finally get off.
But it feels good.
No, not good, really. It feels awful. Everything feels awful. Yet, something about screaming makes him want to do it again. He yells once more into the pillow, the sound muffled in the fabric and yet intensely remarkable. He screams and he screams and he screams until he canât scream anymore and his voice is raw and thereâs no more sound aside from the fractured gasps of his sobs. Tears soak into rough fabric, and he doesnât even notice that Jihoon isnât holding the pillow anymore â heâs pressing it to his face himself. His body shakes under Jihoon. Soonyoung feels pathetic, but he canât stop.
He tries again to scream into the pillow, but his voice cracks and all he knows is to cry.
This is what itâs like.
Quietly, Jihoon maneuvers himself so he sits by Soonyoungâs head. He slowly lifts a corner of the pillow and peeks at Soonyoungâs red face. âSo,â he whispers, voice soft and full of care. âWhat are you going to do now?â
Soonyoung wraps his arms around the pillow, hiding his face again.
âI donât know,â he says. Heâs never felt less sure of anything. âI donât know.â
âą
That night, Soonyoung cleans his room. He doesnât reorganize or anything, just picks discarded clothes up off the ground and throws them in a hamper, spreads his blankets so his bed actually looks bed-like, and takes his overflowing garbage bin out to the door, where heâll take it out tomorrow morning. As he stretches his arm between his bed and the wall, his fingers close around the sweater heâs trying to reach and... something else. When he brings his hand back up, a small tiger plush stares back at him.
Go get âem, tiger!
He stares at the words for a moment, sitting up on his bed and leaning his back against the wall. The plush feels frail in his hands, almost like the velvet heart held in the tigerâs paws could crumble at any moment. Maybe it will.
Soonyoung settles down above the covers that night, and the tiger sits on his other pillow.
The one that still smells like you.
âą
He cries. (For the second time since you left.)
âą
After everything thatâs happened, one would think it would take a miracle to fix whatâs been broken. Soonyoung thinks it will take more than that, but still; heâs no miracle worker. He thinks it will take magic to just see you again.
Turns out, it takes a coffee.
Jihoon forces Soonyoung to join him in visiting one of the campus cafes. He doesnât think about it too much, just believes Jihoonâs trying to keep him alive with a little kick of caffeine. That thought is pushed away when Jihoon blocks him from sitting at the little table, pointing instead across the space to the student printing center.
Youâre talking to a customer at the front counter, forearms rested on the white faux marble. A smile is on your lips as you say whatever it is youâre saying to the girl, and Soonyoung finds it almost impossible to tear his eyes away. But he does. He scans the rest of the building for a second. Seungkwan is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Minghao.
He turns to Jihoon, a question on the tip of his tongue.
âShe told the bodyguards to back off,â Jihoon explains without needing to be asked. âItâs been a few days.â He nods his chin towards you. âGo on. Talk to her.â
Soonyoung shakes his head, gulping down the words he canât yet think of. âI donât... Iâm not... ready.â
âIf you back out now, youâre going to keep backing out until itâs too late.â
Jihoonâs eyes blaze with an unfitting determination for such a setting. He looks stupid, like some self-made, all-knowing relationship guru who likes the coke heâs gripping too much. Still, heâs right.
Soonyoung licks his dry lips and looks at you again. Youâve sat down, relaxed after having helped that customer and now conversing with one of the other students working there. He misses the way you looked when you were happy â when you were happy with him.
What will it take to see that again?
What will it take to hold you again?
His feet move before his doubts can stop him, and the scene feels awfully familiar. This time though, Soonyoung canât help but feel like the bad guy.
You donât notice him until heâs right in front of you, and he doesnât know what hurts more: the immediate frown, or the fake smile you use to cover it up.
âHi, what can I do for you today?â
If Soonyoung had to define heartache, he might use this moment. Feigning to forget rather than acknowledging the past... itâs effective, but it hurts.
âCan...â He hesitates and curses himself for it. âCan we talk?â
âAbout printing, yes. About anything else? I really would rather we didnât,â you say under your breath. Itâs hushed, and you donât shy away when Soonyoung leans closer to hear. That has to mean something, doesnât it?
âBut thereâs something I need to say.â
âI donât think I want to hear anymore apologies, Soonyoung.â
âItâs not that,â he argues.
Your eyebrows scrunch together. âItâs not an apology?â
âNoâ I mean, well, yes I want to apologize. I donât think Iâll ever stop apologizing, butâ but thatâs not what Iââ
âSoonyoung.â
He stops at your word, knowing that speaking will only get him further into trouble. Around you, his words keep failing. Instead, he meets your eyes, which under more inspection, seem hardened.
Have eyes ever looked so hardened when brimmed with tears?
âI donât know if you know this, but seeing you makes me hate myself.â By now, your coworker has walked to the back, probably to respect your privacy. Your voice almost cracks. âIâve felt worthless before, but Soonyoung, do you even realize what that â what you did to me?â
He barely breathes before saying, âWhat if I... what if I said I fell in love with you? Somewhere along the way?â A pause. Your eyes waver, but steady themselves. âWhat if I said I love you?â
âSoonyoung,â you say after a second.
âYes?â
âIt wouldnât be the first time.â
âą
[đ„] Give me a reason to give you a chance
this is real right?
[đ„] Itâs not a dream if thatâs what youâre asking
all of a sudden??
[đ„] Minghao and Jihoon said I should
[đ„] And I think I should too
[đ„] But itâs hard
[đ„] What you said yesterday... I donât know if I can believe it just yet
will you meet me?
I want to see you
[đ„] Can you give me some time?
yes
all the time you need
but will you?
will you meet me?
[đ„] I donât want to
[đ„] But then again, I do
[đ„] Just give me some time
âą
A strange thing, time. It passes by much too quickly when you want it to last, and it drags on when all you want is to be there. There; right then; right now.
Soonyoung stays up late turning on and off his phone, waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting.
Itâs only been two days.
Jihoon thinks heâs crazy, though he hasnât said it out loud â Soonyoung can tell.
He also thinks he might be a little crazy, but thatâs okay. If it means heâll get the chance to make it up to you... maybe heâs fine with being crazy.
At some point, Jihoon barges into his room and takes away Soonyoungâs phone, snatching it straight out of his hands like the little thief he is. He keeps it out of reach despite being shorter, preaching bullshit like, âYou need to calm down and act like a normal person!â
Fine, whatever.
Soonyoung goes out for some air. And instant ramen.
Thereâs a twenty-four hour convenience store right on the edge of campus, manned by a single tired university student that everyone is aware of, yet no one really seems to know his name. Itâs one of those spots where time doesnât exist; maybe names donât, either.
Compared to the blackness of night, the blanch white convenience store sticks out like a sore thumb, especially with all the bright posters and fluorescent tube-lights. Soonyoung feels just as out of place with no people around just outside the store, but really, itâs to be expected at a time like two in the morning.
Heâs right at the door when it chimes and slides open. And so are you.
Both of you freeze where you are, you in the doorway and he just in front. His jaw slacks slightly as he takes you in.
Youâre in casual clothes again, a thick sweater and presumably pyjama pants. This version of you comes with good memories â for some reason he likes it more than he cares to admit. Maybe he liked that you could share a more vulnerable side to him, and he to you in return. Although, youâve shown this side to even the unnamed convenience store guy.
Itâs your voice that breaks him from his reverie.
âSoonyoung,â you say, and itâs softer than before. Maybe your voice is lighter from the fact that itâs two in the morning, maybe just because youâre tired, but a small part of Soonyoung wishes that itâs something else â that you sound softer because youâve missed him too.
He hopes it isnât just hope.
He says your name, the sound beautiful and battered on his tongue. A small smile passes your lips, so fast that he almost misses it, but he doesnât. Thatâs one thing he knows about you: how much you care. Even if someone hurts you, you always take the time to hear them out. You give them chances. Soonyoung should thank his lucky stars that youâve done the same for him.
âHi.â
âHi.â
You smile again, and it reaches your eyes, however sad.
âIs it time?â he asks.
âIt can be.â The plastic bag in your hand crinkles as you sway it back and forth. âDo you want it to be?â
âYeah.â His voice comes out like a breath. âPlease.â
âThen thatâs what weâll make it.â
You gesture to the ground, where the curb meets the asphalt, but Soonyoung is still a little shocked that heâs even met you here in the first place, so he watches, dazed, as you sit down on the curb before joining in. He stays silent as you pull out an ice cream cup and hand it to him. He stays silent as you procure a second one and peel open the plastic lid, digging into it with the wooden stick spoon-wannabe that comes with the package. He stays silent as you look at him, the wooden stick hanging from your mouth.
âSo,â you say, scraping the side of the paper cup. Meeting his eyes, you sport a sly smile. âI hear youâre in love with me.â
The ice cream stays unopened in his hands. He finds it so easy to smile back.
âYeah. I think I am.â
âYou think you are?â
âIâve never loved someone like this before,â he tries to explain, though the words are slow to his tongue. âI can only think.â
âI guess so.â
âButââ he looks at his fingers, fiddling with the plastic lid of the cup, and a small laugh escapes ââIâm thinking really, really hard.â
You laugh too; his heart blooms.
âIs that so?â you tease, smiling around the wooden spoon. âItâs gonna take more than that.â
âI think I can do it.â
âYou think?â
âI think really hard.â
Soonyoung might be in love with every part of you, even if he never realized. Your laugh, your smile, your tells, your habits. He wishes he knew sooner, that this laugh couldâve been his forever long before now.
You scrape the last drops of ice cream out of the paper cup and leave the stick in your mouth, a bit chewed up. Your shoes tap against the asphalt, the rhythm something that draws both his and your eyes.
âYou know...â you say, turning your head to meet his gaze once more. âYou know you hurt me, right? You know this wonât be easy?â
âNone of what we had was easy.â
A scoff runs past your lips. You bump your shoulder against his. âSpeak for yourself. I fell hard and fast for you, asshole.â
âIâm sorry.â
âYeah. I know.â You take the still unopened ice cream from his hands and stuff it right back in the bag it came from. âSay it again, though.â
âIâm sorry.â
âHmmm... maybe itâll take a few more times.â
âIâmââ
âBut not tonight,â you say. âTonight...â
Your hand beside him closes the distance, grazing over his and pulling it over to your lap.
â...just hold me?â
And he does.

Bonus (gn) epilogue: Fluff and Context Bonus (gn) blurbs: [a fate of my choosing][pick a struggle]