Hoshi Angst - Tumblr Posts

Him.

pairing - mafia au! hoshi x reader genre - angst angst angst angst word count - wip warnings - blood, murder, guns, killing, death synopsis - "I trusted you. You shouldn't have." a/n - SHIBALLLL 😈😈 hbd to this man 😭😭🙏🙏

"Agent y/n."

"Agent kwon."

"It was nice working with you." He says and gives you a smug smirk. Your confused, you just finished a mission and he began to act so weird. You suddenly feel a sharp pain in your chest, blood starts to pour out staining the cement crimson. You immediately fall to your knees, only to be met up from above with his sadistic smile.

"W-what" Is all that leaves your lips. You feel shocked, no, more than shocked. He.. Your mission partner of 1 year had shot you.

"I thought you would figure out my true intentions with your intellect, but I guess I'm wrong." He smirks bending to your level as you shoot him a venomous stare. He had.. betrayed you.

"All those missions meant nothing to you? All those politicians we killed together?" You spit out, hot blood rushing through you, your eyes brimming with burning tears. A knot grows in your throat, making it impossible for you to express the extent of his betrayal.

"I never thought you were the one for sappy bullshit." He remarks and you want to slap him hard. An unfiltered rage, a rage that leads one to murder. But you can't, the bleeding doesn't stop it further leads you to your demise.

"I.. I trusted you." You muttered, at this point you couldn't control your tears anymore letting them fall, hitting the hard concrete.

"Well, you shouldn't have." He laughed heartlessly before walking away. Leaving you to your inevitable death.

So.. this is how nearing death feels like? You've killed hundreds of people in your lifetime but this is how it feels to be the one getting killed. For the first time your the prey. And.. as your nearing the end of your life, you feel somewhat peaceful as if all the rage dissolved. Your back meets the cold concrete as you sigh, eyes meeting the stars. A cold gust of wind blows and you laugh weakly. You find solace in your ending moments. The moment before you meet your doomed fate.

FLASHBACK

"Why do you keep fighting?" Hoshi your annoying mission partner asked, taking a seat on the unwashed couch in the gym.

"If I don't fight I'm weak." You replied, hands balled into fists as you punched the punching bag for the 30th time.

"That's a basic reason, I thought you were going to say some cool shit." He jokes and you let out a dry laugh.

"Damn you kwon.." You curse him, voice weak and unsteady. The question lingers in your mind, "why do you keep fighting?" You hate to admit it but since he asked, you had been thinking about it. And now when your inches away from deaths cold embrace you find your answer.

Him.

Comfort In You (1)

Pairing : Kwon Soonyoung x Reader

Genre : Fluff, Angst

Warnings : Jihoon is rude

Dates Like You (2)

When you fight with your best friend, it drains you emotionally and you fall asleep in your car only to wake up to your crush's face. Thankfully, he's good at comforting people.

You were kind of nervous when you enter Jihoon's studio after not meeting up with him for almost 3 weeks. Part of you wanted to blame him for not answering to any of your calls or messages. The other part knew that he was probably just busy, being a song producer.

Jihoon had been your friend for literally 10 years. When you met him he was just the cute, shy boy who had a big passion for music. That passion led to him being one of the best song producers in South Korea. And you were with him throughout all of it. It wasn't like him to ghost you all of a sudden.

You clench the plastic bag filled with Jihoon's favorite food as you walk to his room. You knock on the door and you hear some rustling noises from inside.

"Yeah, coming"

When Jihoon opens the door, you can barely recognize him. His eyes were covered with dark circles and his hair was a mess. He looked like he hadn't slept for days.

You expected him to at least smile at you but what you got instead was a hard glare.

"What are you doing here?" Jihoon asks, his voice cold.

"I brought you food. You weren't answering my calls or texts so I got worried," you say with a smile.

"Who asked you to bring me food? Do you think I'm a child? I can get myself food if I want"

You stare at him, trying to process what he just said. It was fine if he was busy but he didn't have to show his frustration towards you, right?

"Well, I just bought these. You can eat them later or something"

"Gods, why are you so annoying?"

Upon hearing this, your chest burns with anger. Why was he acting like you weren't suddenly friends anymore?

"Annoying? Me? I was worried about you, you bastard. How dare you call me annoying?"

Jihoon's eyes didn't even have a hint of regret or guilt.

"You're wasting my time"

Your eyes burn as tears threaten to fall. You wipe them away with your sweater.

"You," you point as finger at him ,"are not worthy of being my friend anymore"

"I'm glad. You were a pain in the back anyways"

Those words hurt like a slap across the face. How long was he thinking like that? Were all those moments you had fun just fake? Millions of questions swarm in your head.

"I was there for you when you were at your worst. Let's see who's going to collect shit up for you from now on," with that being said, you leave Jihoon's place.

When you get in your car, you cannot help yourself but cry. He was your friend of 10 years. How can he suddenly be so rude and break your heart? You didn't deserve it. You rest your head on the steering wheel and close your eyes.

As the night sky stays calm as always, you fall asleep, tears staining your cheeks.

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You wake up to the sound of someone knocking on your window. Your eyes flutter open and you immediately blink, trying to get used to the sudden brightness.

As you rub your eyes, you turn to look at your window only to find Soonyoung with a concerned look on his face.

Soonyoung was your and Jihoon's friend. You had a tiny crush on him but never told anyone. He was this cute, shy and hyper guy that never failed to make you laugh.

You open your car door and Soonyoung crouches down so that he was on eye level with you.

"Let me drive you home"

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The silence wasn't uncomfortable. That was for sure. You didn't say anything when he offered to drive you but moved to the passenger's seat which indicated that you agreed.

He didn't question you, asking what happened which reminded you once more why you really like him.

"Do you want to eat?" he asks and before you can say anything your stomach started to rumble. Great timing.

Soonyoung laughs, "I guess that's a yes". Your face flushes in embarrassment.

"What do you want to eat?"

"Ramen"

"Okay"

You look at him, surprised. Usually the type of reaction you get from people(mainly Jihoon) when you say you wanted to eat Ramen for breakfast was a mortified look.

Soonyoung must have noticed your widened eyes because he immediately says, "I know what you're thinking. It's fine. You've had a hard day. You deserve to eat something you like"

You were already starting to feel a bit better. You smile, happy that Soonyoung was there for you when you needed someone. Still, Jihoon had been there for you all those years. Suddenly, removing him from your life seemed like something impossible.

You turn to look at Soonyoung and noticing his faint yet contagious smile something clicks in your mind.

With this boy in your life, anything was possible.

"So, do you know any good place to get Ramen?"

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"I'm glad you decided to do this for me today. Thank you so much," you pat your stomach which was full from all the Ramen you had eaten and some macarons you had gotten from a cafe nearby, "Do you want to come in?"

"It's okay. I have to go for dance practice right now anyways," Soonyoung says, rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks dusted in pink, "I had a lot of fun even if my plan was only to make you feel better"

"In that case, I'd say it worked very well. I had fun too"

"Just so you know, Y/n, you don't deserve whatever that made you cry"

You look at him, silently deciding whether to tell him about your fight with Jihoon or not. You decided to go with the former.

"Jihoon fought with me. Called me annoying and a pain in the back. I'm not sure if we can ever go back to being friends anymore," you tell him. Soonyoung looked like he couldn't believe it.

"I don't know what's gotten into him but I am not talking to him until he apologizes to you," he huffs and you try to keep yourself from pinching his cheeks because he looked so adorable.

"It's okay, Soonyoung. You don't have to do that. I'm the one he doesn't want to talk to. I don't want your friendship to be ruined because of me"

Soonyoung gives another huff, "Leave him. He'll come back to you once he gets a brain surgery done. I mean ho-," you didn't know what had gotten you so bold but you had already pressed your lips against his to shut him up. Soonyoung gives a startled squeak just before you pull away.

"I'm sorry. I think you have to get to practice. See you some time later. Bye," you say and before the poor boy could say anything you had already closed your door.

You lean your back against the door, trying to calm your racing heart. Did you just ruin everything?

On the opposite side, Soonyoung had a hand covering his flushed face and a small smile appeared on his face.

"I do have to go to practice now but I'm taking you out tomorrow. Get ready," he shouts before walking away, his lips still lingering from the kiss you had given.

Inside, you were grinning like a baboon. You thought about how bad everything had started but now the fight with Jihoon was fading from your mind.

Something about Soonyoung was just so comforting that it made you forget everything else.

Maybe, that's why you liked him so much.

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Make It Make Sense [Part 4 - Final]

pairings: soonyoung x fem!reader, wonwoo x fem!reader, (implied seokmin x fem!reader

synopsis: you’re hopelessly in love with your roommate and best friend, wonwoo, yet you’re fucking his least favorite person, kwon soonyoung? make it make sense.

genre/warnings: implied/mild smut (minors still DNI!!), pillow talk, afterglow, clubbing, drinking, use of profanity, mentions of food, implied that reader had a hard life, EVERYONE IS HEARTBROKEN, angst, fwb, one-sided pining, jealousy, love triange/square(?), unedited once again

wc: ~5.5K

a/n: remember when I told you seokmin is hot? yeah. same. my sincerest apologies @sleeplessdawn for not fulfilling your wishes, my dear friend :')

previous || masterlist || fin.

Nervously pulling at the hem of your leather jacket, you teetered on the balls on your feet in front of Jihoon’s and Soonyoung’s shared apartment. It was midnight, the hallway of their apartment building lit only by a single lamp by the elevator and the moonlight spilling through the window. Eyes trained on the peephole, you gnawed at the inside of your cheek, raising your hand tucked into a fist ready to knock. 

Your fist had all but met the roughened surface when the door swung open and Soonyoung tugged you inside his apartment. Your body was unceremoniously pressed up against the wall by the door. Your vision adjusted to the dimly lit room; you noticed Soonyoung hovering over you, his hands planted on either side of your head. An old episode of ‘Reply 1988,’ played softly from the TV behind him. 

“You came back,” Soonyoung said softly. 

You nodded, peering up at him innocently through your lashes. 

He smirked, raising his eyebrows playfully. You noticed his eyes flickering to your lips. Suddenly, they felt parched and dry; instinctively you swiped your tongue to moisten them. 

When you didn’t reply, Soonyoung leaned closer, his lips merely centimeters away from yours at this point. One small move and your lips would meet – not that you would mind. 

“Must’ve fucked you good for you to come to me,” he chortled playfully, his breath fanned across your face, feeling cool and fresh of mint. 

Your eyes traveled down the gentle slope of his nose to the slight dip of his philtrum, landing on the pucker of his lips. There was an oily sheen over them, presumably petroleum jelly, you knew he liked to put on at night because they dried out when he slept. 

His hand slipped off the wall, gingerly coming up to cup your jaw. Soonyoung tilted your face towards him, still maintaining the miniscule distance between your lips. His eyes flickered up to you, his mischievous grin now replaced with the gentle lop-sided toothless smile that made your heart skip a beat. 

“Can I kiss you?” Soonyoung asked. There was a glint of hopefulness in his eyes. 

You nodded once, slowly. 

“No words, baby?” Soonyoung poked fun, “Cat got your tongue?”

He didn’t let you answer, however. Slowly, Soonyoung pressed his lips against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, relishing the touch of his soft lips against yours. It was so simple compared to any other kiss you’ve had in the past, yet the soft tingle in your chest since deciding to come here transformed into something like that of lightning. He was patient with you; his lips never leaving yours, but letting you take the lead on the kiss. You tilted your head to better mold your lips against one another. Soonyoung’s free arm snaked around your waist, his body coming up to press against yours while leaning against the wall. Your hands pressed into his chest, feeling the ridges of his pecs. You pressed your legs together, heat starting to emanate from your core. It was almost as if he was pouring his unspoken words of love into you – almost. 

The fact you were genuinely enjoying this and had to consciously remind yourself that this was ‘no strings attached’ terrified you, but the thrill of it was intoxicating and blinding.

 That’s why they say, love is blind, right?

 And it just wasn’t this second time you hooked up with him in which the kiss made your heart flutter. It was later that night when he placed a light peck on your nose during the first of many pillow talks to come. It was when your friends went out to the bar and the two of you lingered behind, and he drunkenly snuck a brush of his lips against yours. 

It wasn’t even the sex, but his kisses made you feel light and airy, yet secure and comfortable. 

Yet, when you found yourself in the same position with Wonwoo so many months later, the same feeling you had come to take for granted was absent.

Though your eyes did flutter shust when Wonwoo pressed his lips against your, it was darkness and then nothing. 

Wonwoo pulled away, pausing for a moment before continuing on to make sure you were okay. Much to his surprise, fear and uncertainty was written all over your face. He could feel the pressure of your hands on his chest, gently pushing at him away as you struggled out of his hold. Never wanting you to feel uncomfortable, especially with him, Wonwoo let go of you, his feet stuttering backwards. 

Your chin trembled, your chest rising and falling as your breathing grew heavy. The room was suffocating even with Wonwoo giving you space already. Vision growing blurry from the tears welling in your eyes, you gulped down the lump growing in your throat and forced yourself to look up at him. 

Wonwoo’s heart ached at your crumbling state. Despite your best efforts, tears were already streaming down your cheeks whether you knew it or not. Your cheeks were blotchy from heat, not sure if it was embarrassment or anger. Wonwoo balled his fist up and shivered at the frown that etched your face; your usual carefree face smile that brought him warmth and comfort gone. 

“Y/N,” Wonwoo approached you. 

You whimpered back and swiped at the wetness on your face, holding a hand out to stop him. “Please don’t.”

“I-I never meant to make you uncomfortable, I j-just –”

You shook your head furiously and swallowed the sob dancing on your tongue. You wanted to tell him it was fine. You wanted to tell him it was your fault because you had just confessed to him and just maybe, for once, he was reciprocating your feelings. 

Yet, you couldn’t. 

The situation too overwhelming, you raced past Wonwoo and down the hallway to your bedroom. You locked the door behind you and buried yourself into your bed. Even then, you couldn’t escape. The smell of Soonyoung’s scent, a mix of citrus and rosewood, permeated through your sheets. 

You loved Wonwoo, right? 

You wanted this, right?

So why did it feel so wrong?

. . . .

Soonyoung’s bedroom was dark, only a few streams of light from the streetlamps outside his apartment building slipped through the cracks of his blinds, casting lines of shadows across the navy-colored comforter laying over both of your naked bodies. Nestled into his side, you rested your head on his chest, the sounds of his steady heartbeat filling your ear as it lulled you to sleep. Mindlessly, you traced circles along abdomen, his breath tinkling the tops of your head as he too laid awake, relishing in the comfortable silence. 

Sex was great, but the moments afterwards in the depths of the night, laying in his arms that made your heart swell more than it should. 

“Do you ever think about the future?” Soonyoung asked softly. 

You replied with a soft hum, followed by a small sigh. “That’s a loaded question, Soonyoung.”

You felt Soonyoung shifting underneath you, turning until you were laying on his bicep. You peered up at him through your lashes, the light from outside reflecting off his deep brown irises shining like stars. Soonyoung’s hair was getting long as his messy dark bangs were starting to skim the tops of his lashes. He reached over and brushed a few strands of loose hair from your face, letting his fingers linger a little longer along the curves of your cheeks. He gave you a small smile. 

“I guess it is,” he replied, the corner of his lip quirking up into a lopsided smile. 

You shifted on your side, tucking your hands in the space between your cheek and the pillow. “But, yes I do,” you replied, deciding to entertain his question. 

Soonyoung tried to suppress the growing grin on his face, excitedly scooting towards you as if you weren’t literally thrown over half his body already. 

“What do you think about?” Soonyoung pressed on. 

“Mmm,” you hummed, “Where I’ll be in ten years, whether I’ll still be working my same job, if my friends are going to be the same, what’ll happen to my living situation if Wonwoo gets married–”

“He’d be dumb to not marry you,” Soonyoung cut you off. Your eyes trained on the blanket, you missed the way Soonyoung’s face fell at the sound of your best friend’s name. 

You smiled half-heartedly. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Soonyoung.”

Since the third time the two of you slept together, Soonyoung knew the story of Y/N and Wonwoo from front to back. He knew that Wonwoo was the shy new kid in middle school and no one wanted to be his friend except for you; how you fell for him when he took you to prom after your Mingyu had dumped you to your first heartbreak when he started dating Jiyoung in university. It was almost as if you were made for Wonwoo and Wonwoo was made for you – almost. 

There was a piece of you, however, that made you feel like the two of you didn’t make sense and were never meant to be. As much as Wonwoo disliked Soonyoung, it was common knowledge to your mutual friends that you and Wonwoo were the equivalent of night and day. 

Leather jackets were your comfort wear. Wonwoo wore suits and cardigans. 

Your body was littered with small tattoos hidden in the crevices where your mother would never find them. Wonwoo listened to his mom and preferred to keep his skin clear. 

You rode a motorcycle. Wonwoo drove a Lexus. 

You were rambunctious – volleyball was how you relieved your stress and kept you energized (also how you met Seungkwan). Wonwoo was quiet and spent his free time tucked in the corners of new bookstores or the old public library on the main street of town. 

You were everywhere and wild. 

Wonwoo was one place (home) and steady.

For that reason, when he started dating Jiyoung, you had no qualms they were  meant for each other because she was anything, but you. A dainty and petite nursing major, her outfits were always on-trend and her nails trimmed and polished with the latest color from Essie. She was calm and collected, prim and proper. 

And for that reason, when Soonyoung approached you that night after Seungkwan’s Valentine’s Day party, you drunkenly agreed to sleep with him.

Soonyoung hated the way Wonwoo made you feel so little – no, he knows it was never intended and Wonwoo may very well be oblivious, but to let you think you were less than was unacceptable. He snaked his arm around your waist and tugged you into his chest, your bare breasts pooling at his chest. You blushed sheepishly, as if he wasn’t inside of you moments earlier. 

“If he won’t marry you, I’ll marry you,” Soonyoung insisted. 

You stared at him for a moment, your eyes searching his face for any signs of mischief and teasing. Yet you were only met with a starry look, his eyes dripping with saccharine. 

And again, that terrified you. 

Feigning annoyance, you rolled your eyes, taking it as a joke and playfully whacking his chest. “Sure thing, Romeo.”

Little did you know he was quite half-serious, holding onto the sliver of hope that you’d some day see him more than just a fuck buddy. 

That time, though it hurt him a little that you weren’t taking him seriously, he decided to play along. “You’re fun to fuck – probably the best pussy I’ve ever had. Why would I want to give it up?”

“Ew,” you whined, “Stop,” you pointed a finger into his chest, “You sound like a stupid sixteen year-old boy.”

“But it’s the truth.” (that I’d marry you if you let me.)

You turned in his hold, letting your back face him. Soonyoung came up behind you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He placed a feathery kiss along your shoulder. 

“The offer still stands,” he whispered softly, “Say the word and I’ll come running after you with a ring.”

You let your eyes close, a heaviness suddenly overcoming your body. “I’ll hold you to it.”

What you had remembered that morning, you had woken up to his side of the bed empty. You had figured he had work early – and Soonyoung never stayed long enough for the two of you to wake up together. 

Soonyoung never came back, so the knocking and calling at your door that was disturbing your early morning sleep took you by surprise. 

“Y/N,” Soonyoung tried again – his voice sounded different. Why was it so deep?

You rubbed your eyes, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light streaming into your room. 

“Y/N?” Soonyoung asked more than said this time. 

You were really starting to be confused now. Soonyoung’s voice wasn’t deep, but it wasn’t high-pitched either. It was smooth like honey – this one was so baritone, a slight hoarseness to it. 

When your eyes finally adjusted, your vision landing on the blue heart sticker from Wonwoo on your bluetooth speaker, reality was finally flooding back into your consciousness. 

One: you had dreamt about a night with Soonyoung – the whole marriage conversation was real and it had happened, but he wasn’t here. He hadn’t been here for a week. 

Two: you were avoiding Wonwoo. You got up an hour early to leave for work. Most of your evenings were spent in your room. You ate out with your friends when possible, if not, then cup noodles in your room, and you waited until the wee hours of the night to do your laundry. 

Three: That was Wonwoo talking to you through the door, not Soonyoung. He had trying to talk to you for the past two days now and all you’ve ever did was give him curt replies. 

Wonwoo knew that when things got like this, you’d rather just be left alone. But he had to try; for him, for you, for the both of you. 

“Did you want to go get brunch?” Wonwoo asked softly. He squeezed his eyes tightly. “Before we meet the others today?”

Fuck.

Hyejin’s boyfriend’s birthday. 

Jun had personally invited all of your friends to join him, which was a huge deal because Jun was shy and he hardly went out unless it was under Hyejin’s insistence. 

However, you also knew that going to this party also meant seeing Soonyoung, and in front of Wonwoo. Pulling your hoodie over your head, you let out a small groan, not sure if you were ready for that pressure yet. 

With a heavy sigh, you rolled out of bed, shuffling to the door, but never opening it. Leaning against the doorframe you told him quietly, “I don’t think I’m going to go.”

Wonwoo paused, well knowing why, but asked anyway. “Why?”

“I’m not feeling well,” you fibbed, “You should . . . go without me.”

Unlike most times where he'd laugh and accuse you of being a liar, he hummed softly instead, nodding though you couldn’t see him. “Did you want me to go get anything to make you feel better? Soup?”

You picked guiltily at a loose thread on your sweater. It crushed you to know he was being so considerate of you, even after you’ve avoided him all this time. 

“No, thanks,” you muttered. 

“Okay,” Wonwoo replied. 

Silence, then a beat. 

You had thought he had left, but Wonwoo took you by surprise, calling your name again. 

“Can we talk?” Wonwoo asked, so soft, it was almost-childlike. 

You stayed quiet on your end. 

“Whenever you’re ready, let’s talk,” Wonwoo pressed on, “You’re my best friend, I don’t want to lose you.”

Best friend. 

Yet, that cursed word didn't echo in your ears and cut at your heart like it used to anymore. 

“Okay.”

When he heard you shuffling back to your bed, Wonwoo finally left your door, making his way to the kitchen to look for brunch. It was the same thought that was still heavy on his mind. 

You were his best friend and he was in love with you. 

And he hated himself for not realizing it sooner. He took your constant presence for granted, not batting an eye in your direction, blindly wondering why none of his past relationships worked out well when he and his series of ex-girlfriends seemed to be the right fit for each other. 

He was looking for you in other people – and even if the two of you had nothing but bones in common, there was a mutual understanding of respect, love, and support. You hated gaming, but you’d sit and wait for him for hours because it made him happy. Clubs made Wonwoo self-conscious, but he’d go because you loved dancing – and to keep you safe. Bookstores made you feel drowsy, but you’d wander the shelves while he read because it brought him calm and joy. Your motorcycle terrified Wonwoo, but he’d ride because it was you. 

You drove Wonwoo insane sometimes with your spontaneous ways and he feared for your life with how risky you were. Nonetheless, the euphoria of watching glow at your happiest was unmatched. Life may not have been the kindest to you, but the bouts of laughter that spilled from your red-stained lips and the way your eyes crinkled – it was a glimpse of the bright little girl who kept bothering him in middle school during lunch hour all those years ago. 

You were always precious – you still were. 

. . . .

The club wasn’t Wonwoo’s scene. 

And worse, he was here without you. 

Gulping down the lump in his throat, he pushed open the glassdoor, stopping by the bouncers for them to scan him and give him his wristband for alcohol. A heavy beat thumped throughout the dark building, rainbow lights flashed across the dancing crowd. Eyes of women and men in skimpy outfits alike scanned Wonwoo’s form clad in jeans and simple black T-shirt. Today, he traded his eyeglasses for contacts in fear of someone bumping him and dropping them to their doom on the floor. Pushing his way through the crowd to find his friends, sweaty bodies rubbed up against him. He grimaced at the brush of their skin, never being so grateful to see Seungkwan’s bleach blonde head of hair at the edge of the dance floor. He called out to his friend who returned with a wave, his bright smile suddenly drooping into a frown. 

“Where’s Y/N?” Seungkwan asked the moment he arrived. His eyes scanned the crowd behind him, waiting for you to pop up any second now. Out of the corner of his eyes, Wonwoo noted Soonyoung leaning against the bar, clad in black, swirling a shot of tequila in his hands. 

“Y/N’s . . . not feeling well,” Wonwoo muttered, his gaze returning to Seungkwan. He rubbed his hands along the thighs of his jeans. 

Soonyoung’s ears perked at the fall of your name from his cursed lips. 

“Oh,” Seungkwan nodded slowly, poking his tongue in his cheek. “Interesting. She’s not . . . sick, is she?”

Wonwoo shook his head. “Just . . . not in the right mood.”

Perhaps it was the alcohol coursing through his veins, or perhaps, he truly was ticked off at Wonwoo. Soonyoung spun around, leaning against the bar, and raised a curious eyebrow at him. 

“Not in the right mood?” Soonyoung spat. “I wonder who’s fault that is.”

Wonwoo clenched his jaw. He sucked in a deep breath, attempting to calm himself. 

Stuck in between his two friends, Seungkwan’s eyes nervously flickered between the two of them. Seungkwan was well aware of the tension going on between the two, that reason involving you. Yours and Soonyoung’s disappearance from the amusement park last week didn’t take much brain power to figure out your situation. 

“Um,” Seungkwan licked his lips. He turned to Wonwoo hoping he was the more reasonable and clear-minded of the two since he hadn’t drank. Seungkwan wrapped his arm around Wonwoo’s. “Let’s go say ‘hi’ to Hyejin and Jun – they’re over there.”

Cursing under his breath, Soonyoung fished his phone out of his pocket. As he had told Jihoon, he was on a quest to forget you. Clearly, you had no feelings for him, so he shouldn’t waste his time right? Soonyoung had told you he wanted to end things that day after the amusement park and he would follow-through with it. 

Yet, the thought of you not feeling well and Wonwoo acting sketchy tugged at his heartstrings. At the very least, he could be a good friend and check-in on you. He knew how suffocating it was to live with Wonwoo at times. 

Soonyoung: Are you okay?

Soonyoung: Why aren’t you here tonight?

Soonyoung: Call me when you get this. Please – just wanna make sure you’re okay. 

The ‘1’ next to all his messages disappeared, indicating that you’ve read them. He stared at his screen, waiting for your reply, but as the minutes passed, nothing. 

He hissed, throwing his phone with a clatter on the granite counter of the bar. He hailed the bartender, requesting another shot of tequila – then another and another. One shot turned into two, two turned into four, and four turned into eight. The noise around him started to blend. When Jihoon asked if he was okay, his voice sounded distant. It was almost as the beat of the drum was pounding on the walls of his skull. 

His thoughts swimming of only you and muddled with alcohol, he hardly remembered the rest of the night. It was a blur; only bits and pieces were vivid. Soonyoung had danced with someone – was it you? No, they smelled of vanilla and you hated the scent, claiming it smelled too sweet. Another drink with Jun. One with Hyejin. He recalled the crunch of his fist landing on someone’s jaw, the shrieks of the crowd, Jihoon shoving him to the ground, then everything went black.

Only the sound of your giggles echoed in his ears – the one only reserved for him in the sacred moments of the night. 

Except he knew, you weren’t really there – you never were. 

You were never Soonyoung’s and you never will be. 

That was fucking sad. 

. . . .

“Soonyoung and Wonwoo got into a fight,” Seungkwan explained half-heartedly. He stood sullenly like a child in trouble with his mother in front of you, while Wonwoo’s head rested in your lap. He winced as you pressed the bag of frozen peas up against the purple bruise bloom on his cheekbone. He clenched his teeth tight – you noted how the cut on the corner of his lip split further, a trickle of blood oozing out. 

You sniffled, brushing away Wonwoo’s bangs, closely examining his face to make sure you didn’t miss any other bruises or cuts. 

“Soonyoung?” you asked.

“Jihoon took him home – got dinged in the eye, I think,” Seungkwan scratched his temple. Your eyes trained on Wonwoo’s forehead, you missed the exasperated look on your friend’s face. 

A moment of silence swaddled the three of you, Seungkwan watching you sniffle while icing Wonwoo’s wounds. The latter gentleman moaning and burying his face in your abdomen each time you tried to leave the pack on his face for too long. Seungkwan didn’t want to say it out loud, but you looked so . . . pitiful. 

Your cheeks were hollow, your hair disheveled, bags hung underneath your eyes as if you hadn’t slept well in days. He was vaguely familiar with what he assumed to be the love triangle between you, Soonyoung, and Wonwoo, and though it seemed exciting like a drama, it seemed to wear on you so much already. 

“Hey,” Seungkwan called softly. 

You looked up at him, surprised he hadn’t left yet. Swiping at your nose, you told him, “Y-you can go home. I got it from here. He’ll be okay.”

“But will you be okay?” Seungkwan asked purposefully. 

Your eyes landed on the Mickey Mouse mug sitting on the coffee table. The lip of the cup was stained with coffee in the shape of lips that wrapped around its edges. It was a truly ugly mug, but it was one of the only gifts Wonwoo had ever managed to win you from a claw machine. 

“Y/N,” Seungkwan sighed, coming to sit by your side. 

He frowned, raising a hand to your back, giving you soft pats. 

“It’s been hard, hasn’t it?” Seungkwan asked. He smiled half-heartedly, not waiting for you to answer – he knew you wouldn’t answer. If he knew anything about you, you were equally as emotionally constipated as Wonwoo when it came to feelings of love and sadness. 

“I . . . don’t know what you’re going through right now, or what’s on your mind,” Seungkwan started hesitantly, “But I hope whatever the outcome or whatever decision you make, you do it for you and what makes you happy.”

A tear silently rolled down your cheek, splattering onto Wonwoo’s cheek. It slid down his porcelain skin into the thick of his hair. 

“You’ve . . . denied your feelings for a long time,” Seungkwan continued, “Of course, I don’t know them or what they are, but you’re always so stubborn when it comes to admitting them, you know?” he chortled lightly, twiddling his thumbs. “I can’t say much without prying into the situation, but as corny as this sounds, follow your heart – even if they’re mad now,” he gestured to Wonwoo, then the door, which you assumed he was gesturing at Soonyoung a distance away, “One day they’ll understand.”

After helping put Wonwoo to bed that night, Seungkwan left, giving you a hug as you wept into his chest, reminding you that he’s only one call away. 

When enough tears had been shed you turned to your phone, hoping to talk to the one person who knew how to comfort you most – sex aside. 

Not surprisingly, it’s almost as if he already knew you were down, an unread text message sitting in your inbox. 

Soonyoung: I’m so sorry. 

Soonyoung: I never got to say it, but I love you. 

Y/N: Kwon Soonyoung – you can’t just say that and run. 

Scrambling up from your bed, your fingers fumbled to text him back. 

Y/N: I have something to tell you – can we talk? Please?

Soonyoung: [system error – your message was not delivered. number has been blocked] 

. . . .

Eight Months Later

The soft lofi music tinkled in the background of the rustic cafe. The wide windows allowed the last bits of sunlight to spill inside, adding a golden glow to the metal furniture that contrasted the wooden floor and walls. Plants spilled from their pots, some vines that lined the furthest wall of the building. They were growing healthily under the care of their soft-hearted owner who claimed that plants brightened the air of his cafe, allowing for an aura of “freshness” amidst his customers. The sound of the espresso machine grinding coffee beans hissed in the background, the hearty smell already wafting into your nostrils.

“Yeah, Saturday dinner sounds good,” you leaned against the counter, pressing your phone in between your ear and your shoulder. A soft chortle left your prettily glossed lips, echoing through the empty coffee shop. You were usually the last one here anyways. 

With your 0.4 black Muji pen, you quickly scribbled something down in your planner. Your handwriting was equally pretty: the curve of your d’s swoop of your r’s was done so eloquently – at least in his eyes. 

“If you feel so inclined to do so, Wonwoo,” you rolled your eyes. “M’kay – I will, good night.”

The corner of your lips curled up into a gentle smile he seldom saw whenever you came to the cafe. You were always typing away at something or flipping through that notebook with flimsy blue-lined paper. Your handwriting was pressed into the white space in between. 

“Boyfriend?” Seokmin asked curiously, walking over to your counter. He wiped off a drip of coffee on the washcloth hanging from his jeans. 

“No,” you shook your head, a chortle escaping your lips at the handsome cafe owner. You closed your laptop and tucked it away in your bag.You noted the pink collared shirt he was wearing, the top two clasps unbuttoned, revealing a crisp white shirt underneath. Pink was a nice color on him. “Best friend.”

“Oh?” Seokmin raised an eyebrow curiously. 

You frowned at him.

“This means you’re still single? And I can still shoot my shot?” he teased, leaning on his side of the counter, planting his chin in his hands. He eyed you curiously. 

“No,” you replied exasperated, rejecting him for the umpteenth time. 

You had been coming to Cafe Quartz for the past few months to study for your post-graduate entrance exam. You stayed later than most customers, usually one of the last few to leave, if not the last one. One evening, when you were feeling extra stressed between work, moving, and registering for this cursed exam, the cafe owner, Seokmin, had offered you his new recipe of matcha latte, on-the-house (he noticed you never ordered actual coffee), and struck up a conversation with you, hoping to brighten your day. 

Since then, he’d been slowly getting to know you, and frankly, he was interested – romantically. Unfortunately, the first time he had asked you out for dinner, you had blushed profusely, apologizing and declining his offer, explaining you weren’t in the right headspace to start anything now. He wasn’t sure of your history or what happened to you before you came here, seldom talking about your personal life, but he wanted to, so he didn’t stop. At some point, his requests became an ongoing joke between the two of you. He had hope someday if he asked you enough, you’d finally say yes. 

The two of you shared small updates about your day. You had set your date for your entrance exam and Seokmin shared his anecdote about the new part-timer he was considering hiring – Chan, a spunky university student in a dance crew who was in need of some extra cash. 

“He sounds passionate and willing to work hard at least,” you noted, hooking your thumb in the leather strap of your bag. 

“I’m just afraid he’ll start ‘breaking it down’ in the middle of the cafe,” Seokmin joked, faking a grab at his crotch then his forehead to imitate Michael Jackson. 

“I’ll be here for the show if he does then,” you giggled, “He’ll add some nice pizzazz to the cafe.”

“I guess,” Seokmin chuckled along. 

Silence fell between the two of you. Seokmin staring at your starry-eyed and affectionately. You didn’t know how to describe it, but he was oddly so . . . pure and wholesome for a grown man. It made you forget about all the stress in your life – just good energy that reminded you’ve been long overdue for. Seokmin was a cheerful and sometimes goofy spirit that reminded you of . . . him. 

“Well, I’ll catch you tomorrow then?” you said, shooing away thoughts of Soonyoung. 

“Where else would I be other than here?” Seokmin replied. 

You shrugged on your way out. Hand on the lever, you called back, “Maybe finally on a date with someone who’s not me?”

Seokmin pointed at you, sending a teasing wink in your direction. “Don’t count on it!”

You waved at him through the window, tucking in one of your earbuds into your ear as you set off down the street. He bid you goodbye the same, watching you disappear around the corner. Letting out a deep breath from another successful day, Seokmin relaxed his shoulders, rolling the knots out of his neck. 

Unfortunately, however, his eyes landed on a small pink faux leather wallet. Green and red credit cards peaked out some pockets. Reaching over, he immediately identified it as yours with your ID displaying on the front.

Odd, he thought to himself, someone who dressed in such seemingly dark colors carrying something so bright.

He should probably give it back though in case you needed it tomorrow before you came here.

Tucking the key to the cafe in his pocket, Seokmin raced out after you, hoping you weren't too far gone yet. Pumping his legs and arms, he rounded the corner, nearly colliding into you.

"Oh - hey!" Seokmin chuckled, steadying himself, grabbing your arm.

Except you didn't budge or look at him - your eyes trained on something, or rather someone, a few feet ahead of you. You seemed to be in such distress - the way your eyes rimmed red, the crinkle of your brows, and the way your bright smile from earlier suddenly downturned.

"Y/N?" Seokmin asked, concern lacing his tone. He frowned, turned and squinted at the person you were staring at.

He was dressed in an oversized plaid shirt paired with light wash jeans. His black locks were cut short - honestly, he looked kind of dumb with how choppy his bangs were. Whoever cut it needed to refund his money. Seokmin made note of the nick in his eyebrow. The tall, lanky man was staring back at you with an equally stunned expression - if not less melancholic. His plush lips were parted, his seemingly sharp eyes drooped in what appeared to be hurt. The girl with jet black hair in a sky blue cardigan and tweed skirt standing to him, appeared just as confused as Seokmin.

"Soonyoung?" you called out, his name leaving your lips for the first time in months. 

✶ seventeen when you take your promise ring off during a fight

ft. performance unit

-> vocal unit | hip hop unit

junhui: he only notices it when you start to walk away. there's a lull in the kitchen, the type of weighted silence that lies thick and suffocating in the air, waiting for someone to make the first move. junhui takes the knife and slices. ("we can talk about it tomorrow," he says.) it gives you both time to be angry about it, sleep it off, then apologize. except, he sees the glint of metal rolling around in your fingers, and your still-empty ring finger when you turn around to leave. junhui has always given you time, given you the space to cool off and talk about it next morning, but he feels if he lets you and the ring go to sleep like that—("your ring," junhui calls quietly, his voice almost fragile with the way he speaks it. he hopes it's just a reminder, not a plea.) the band freezes in your fingers before you silently slip it back on.

soonyoung: he goes quiet. arguments with soonyoung are agitated, barely contained words exchanged like the beginning spark of a lit match; it's never loud, always tense, but soonyoung sees the fidgeting slide of your ring on and off your finger and his match snuffs out. his words trail off into nothing but a wisp of smoke, argument dying with it as he silently walks over to you, a careful yet gentle hand on yours. ("stop." it's the ash that falls from the top of burned incense, the soaking of a matchstick in water.) if you held your breath, you'd notice the slight tremble in his hands before your fingers left your ring and entwined with his instead.

minghao: the second you touch the band on your finger, he stops. ("let's talk about it later," he amends, eyes flickering to your hand before looking up at you as a sort of silent mutual understanding, only to find a hard stubborness in your eyes.) to him, the small gesture is a sign that you need time to cool down, to talk about it civily when the fight isn't so fresh in both your minds; to you, the postponing is something he just says. when is later? when will you talk it over again? when will his words mean something more than just pacifying platitudes? ("no," you declare, firmly planted, metal burning. "we need to talk about this now." you need him to understand this, to understand that it's worth it.) and to him, nothing was worth more than you. so he sits down, and you talk it through, and you apologize.

chan: you see the panic fly through his eyes. the ring has always been a comforting presence to you, grounding you when you need it most. but in the midst of a fight, the metal feels too tight around your finger. you needed to feel the skin beneath it again. chan stops mid-speech the moment he sees you pull it off your finger, alarm in his voice when you move to put it on the table. chan says your name like a fraying thread, as if wide eyes and closing distance were the only things he could do to keep it together, to keep you with him. (he looks between you and the ring, panic barely kept within its confines as chan tries not to spiral. "what...what are you..." is all he can manage to get out, words buzzing as they leave his tongue. you pause, startled, following his shaky gaze to the ring between your fingertips, and you breathe out a single noise. "oh.") you're not, you assure him, metal band warm in your palm. you would never. chan doesn't stop looking at you with trembling eyes until he can slide it on your finger himself.