Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1. jeonghan usually loves having soonyoung around, really, but not when it’s been weeks since he’s last been around you.
2. jeonghan and you are quite adept to sneaking around and peering over your shoulders for cameras and photographers, no matter what all your members say.
3. jeonghan’s an actor at the set of your drama. it’s not as dramatic as it sounds.
4. jeonghan and you can always be found in a secluded corner during house parties. your friends draw lots on who has to call you to leave. (m!, nsfw)
5. it’s been almost six years since you last saw your high school sweetheart. the fact that you see each other at a wedding makes it hurt even more.
6. jeonghan has done some insane shit in the time you've been his best friend. but this has to be the craziest thing yet.
7. the only thing jeonghan has to do is tell the press he’s not iron man. you can imagine how swimmingly it goes.
8. all jeonghan has been good at lately is making you cry.
9. if we had been closer in age maybe it would’ve been fine.
10. jeonghan can't keep his damn tongue in his mouth. it becomes a problem.
11. the one where you freak out over possibly having a jeonghan junior.
12. this is nothing more than it is. (m!, nsfw)
13. at the bottom of your heart, despite everything, you hope he comes again.
14. keep your head held high, don’t let them see past your smile. or do. may the odds be ever in your favour. (m!, graphic depictions of violence) - hunger games #1
15. jeonghan doesn’t like that his sister is growing up too fast. you’re his unlucky best friend who he enlists on helping him stop it.
16. the four times pro volleyball player yoon jeonghan interrupts your livestreams and the one time he makes a video with you.
17. you take a deep breath and learn to let go of the things that don’t belong to you.
18. you hate nationwide sweetheart yoon jeonghan with every fibre of your being. unfortunately for you, his spreads sell out the quickest when they’re done by you.
19. the one where you and jeonghan realise you aren’t just friends with benefits after all. (suggestive)
20. you don't get it. (the anatomy of a break up)
21. you were so going to get fired for this. (suggestive)
22. the thing about new york is—
23. jeonghan’s the star quarterback. you’re the medical intern. can i make it any more obvious?
24. one heart broke, four hands bloody.
25. you’re not stupid enough to call whatever it is you and jeonghan have love, but you think it’s better than love anyway. (implied violence) - hunger games #2
26. you really had to learn how to say no to people.
27. he doesn't love you, but he could. (m!, graphic depictions of violence) - hunger games #3
28. after jeonghan leaves with dr. kim, you take your broken heart to the one place jeonghan will never return.
29. treat me soft and tender, love me hard and true. (implied sexual content, suggestive)
30. "fuck, wrong timeline."
31. it’s not that you meant to hide whatever it is you were doing with jeonghan from soonyoung. (suggestive)
32. jeonghan will always be your what-if.
33. it’s been him all along.
34. clear the searches!
35. “let’s get married,” jeonghan proposes over dinner.
36. “some part of me will always hate you for this.”
37. you didn’t miss jeonghan often.
38. it takes an ill-thought-out runaway plan for king-to-be yoon jeonghan to embrace how he truly feels about you.
39. you’re too young to have loved and lost, and so young to have believed this was some sort of second chance for you. (m!, graphic depictions of violence) - hunger games #4
40. you, your ex-boyfriend slash forever friend, and the mortifying ordeal of getting him to date your roommate.
41. the four times jeonghan spends a little too much time thinking about loving you forever and the one time he does something about it.
42. a conversation through a closed door.
43. you were okay with taking it slow. really. (m!, nsfw)
44. "drop your pants, it's go time." (implied sexual content, suggestive)
45. "if she cries, i'll kill you all." - mafia #1
46. it’s one thing to hear from your ex-husband. it’s another to still be his emergency contact post-dinosaur excursion. - jurassic park #1
47. on the 23rd of may, jeonghan falls asleep in an empty bed. on the 24th, he wakes up in a world where he stayed.
48. jeonghan isn't offended at all.
49. at the end of everything, you saw jeonghan everywhere.
50. "i'm bleeding, by the way." - mafia #2
51. it’s jeonghan’s second wedding, and it leaves an unpleasant taste in his mouth when he sees you’ve moved on. - jurassic park #2
52. “you’re crazy.” jihoon states in awe as you furiously rummage through the drawers of jeonghan’s oak desk. - mafia #3
53. jeonghan’s first love is racing. his second is you. he balances them until he can’t. - formula one #1 (verse1)
54. you're lying to your therapist.
55. an engagement story for the ages, you'd say.
56. jeonghan goes home and finds that some things really never change.
57. she got her own thing, that's why i love her.
58. loving you too much isn’t real, it’s not a thing. i just love you.
59. he's so, so soft when it comes to you.
60. monaco is for redemption. - formula one #2 (verse1)
61. before jeonghan belonged to the stage, he belonged to you.
62. lookin' at you got me thinkin' nonsense.
63. best man and maid of honour duties bring you and jeonghan to all too familiar sight. (or: of second chances)
64. jeonghan starts rubbing your tummy. that must mean you’re pregnant. at least that’s what hoshi thinks.
65. surrounded by the people he loves, jeonghan reflects.
66. like we were in paris, like we were somewhere else.
67. you always wondered. jeonghan never did.
68. jeonghan loves when he gets to do this.
69. you can be everything to jeonghan, and you have been, but you can never be queen.
70. because one thing jeonghan never will, is get it. (appropriate tws in chapter notes)
71. it all culminates at your wedding. (the groom is not jeonghan)
72. the in between. - formula one #3 (verse1)
73. “i have your sweatshirt.”
74. jeonghan fools around with his best friend’s little sister, and falls in love with her in the process.
75. jeonghan plans ahead while you deal with what’s right in front of you.
76. friends break up, friends get married.
77. you’re a college student. jeonghan’s a model. no one believes you’re dating.
78. scenes from a life together.
79. berlin isn't paris, but it's everything with you.
80. jeonghan cheats death and earns a nickname. - formula one #4 (verse1)
81. if there was one thing you knew from being childhood-friends-to-roommates with kwon soonyoung, it was that he couldn’t cook for absolute shit.
82. jeonghan loses his daughter (“it’s a plant.”), he makes it your problem, too.
83. evetything about love you know from mingyu. everything about the sea you know from jeonghan. somehow they are the same.
84. the four lives you don't make it, and the one that you do.
85. you can't stop giggling.
86. there’s a certain inevitability that comes with having sex with a misaligned, conceited lead bassist of a band.
87. uh oh, i'm falling in love.
88. the rolling stone ranks yoon jeonghan eighteenth in their list of the best musicians of all time. he has no one to celebrate with. (or: the illustrious rise and infamous fall of yoon jeonghan, as explained by his former bandmates’ experiences of you, his hometown sweetheart.)
89. friends help each other, right?
90. it’s too far gone. too fucking late.
91. it’s not easy being the person left behind. it’s even harder being the person who leaves.
92. the countdown to the inevitable. (or: the enlistment chapter)
93. seungkwan’s been dreaming about his wedding since you were children.
94. jeonghan’s so in love that he might stop breathing. (or: the paris trip.)
95. between redemption and forever. - formula one #5 (verse1)
96. jeonghan's commitment-phobia meets its match when he falls insanely in love with you. too bad he doesn't realise until it's too late.
97. your first meeting with yoon jeonghan is horrible. your second is worse. your third? you can't say. - formula one #6 (verse1)

Chapter Text

don’t get jeonghan wrong. he usually loves having his dongsaengs around, especially hoshi. he had said so so many times that soonyoung was his favourite dongsaeng, and for the most part that was true. but if there was one thing hoshi wasn’t good at, it was getting a hint.

it had been weeks since jeonghan had been able to see you, much less hold you. the fact that you were basically sprawled across his lap didn’t seem to be a deterrent to soonyoung, though, who continued his recap of the practice jeonghan had painstakingly gone through with the single goal of being able to see you after.

you made a noise of acknowledgement, asking soonyoung a follow-up question to something the younger man had said about some dance move. if jeonghan was being honest, he had lost track of the conversation a while back, getting distracted by running his fingers through your hair. it got worse when he noticed how the bottom of your shirt, well, his shirt, had ridden up, revealing bare, smooth skin. jeonghan had barely stopped himself from reaching out to touch.

“—so i thought maybe it’d be cooler if we changed the formation for the chorus so cheol-hyung would have more time to move to the other side of the stage for the second verse!” soonyoung finished brightly.

you smiled, and not for the first time, jeonghan’s breath is knocked right out of his chest. something about seeing your smile always made him act like this. “that’s a good idea, soonyoungie.” you reply, muffling a yawn and snuggling into jeonghan’s neck. jeonghan’s arms wrapped around your waist instinctively, letting you manoeuvre yourself around his lap as you pleased.

when you finally stopped fidgeting, you peered up at him, reaching up to poke his nose. he kissed his teeth and widened his eyes, feigning annoyance. you just grinned at his response before looking back at soonyoung, who had continued his tirade.

“then i think we might move channie’s part to the beginning? i’m not sure how that’ll work with the song, though, i might have to ask jihoon.”

you nodded, trying very hard to stay awake. “sounds good. you’ll figure it out, soonyoung, you always do.”

soonyoung beams at you, eyes making little crescents and cheeks puffing out. “thanks, y/n.”

you couldn’t help but lean forward and pinch his cheek, cooing. jeonghan missed the weight and warmth of you against his chest instantly. he tugged you back, wrist locked in his grasp and made you fall back against him. you just made yourself comfortable, and jeonghan held you close, entangling your legs together. jeonghan thought if this wasn’t the biggest hint that could ever be dropped that he wanted to be with you alone, soonyoung would never get it and stay here all night.

jeonghan shot a deadpanned look at his dongsaeng to emphasise his intentions. soonyoung just let out a high-pitched laugh before exaggerating a pout, lips protruding so much he resembled a duck. “if you wanted to go so bad you should’ve said so.” he whined and got up from the bed.

“soonyoungie,” you called from where you were smushed against jeonghan’s collarbone. you managed to waggle your fingers at him. “see you tomorrow morning?”

soonyoung scrunched his nose at you. “goodnight, y/n!”

jeonghan gasped. “and me?”

the younger man stuck his tongue out and shut the bedroom door behind him, making your boyfriend let out an overdramatic grunt of pain. you just rolled over into the now-empty space on the bed, pulling the covers over you and inhaling the smell on the sheets— distinctively jeonghan, soft and delicate and home.

at your movement, jeonghan pressed a hand to his chest in mock hurt. it only took two seconds before he slid under the covers and slid behind you, encasing you in his arms. you sighed into his touch.

“you didn’t have to be so mean, yoon jeonghan.” you murmured into the pillow.

jeonghan huffed. “is it so wrong to want to spend time with my girlfriend after weeks of not seeing each other? did you not miss me? is that it?”

you rolled your eyes before turning around so you could see the affront on his face. you just pushed the sides of his mouth up with your fingers, making his pout turn into a lopsided smile instead. jeonghan shook away from your fingers, knitting his eyebrows together. at the sight, you giggled and pressed a kiss against the middle of them.

before you knew it, your back was to the pillows and jeonghan was towering over you, his hands on either side of your head, the faint light radiating around him like a halo. you grinned up at him.

that was enough for him to lower himself to your lips, kissing your smile away. you wrapped your arms over his shoulders, pulling him down over you. when you finally pulled away for breath, jeonghan just cupped your cheek, pecking it one last time before reaching to turn off the lights.

you snuggled into his chest. you had missed his quips, his little attitude, but you would never miss anything more than how he was when he was with you— loving, caring, just a tad bit mouthy. you’re overwhelmed by your affection for him, and you need to say the words aloud.

“i love you.” you say into his shirt.

jeonghan makes a sound of inquisitiveness. “suddenly?”

“i just wanted to remind you.”

you feel his smile more than you see it. he presses a kiss onto the top of your head, gathering you closer to him. you go willingly, throwing a hand over his waist. like this, you don’t know where you end and he begins, and you think it wouldn’t be terrible if you could be like this forever, if you could wake up like this for the rest of your life.

jeonghan echoes your sentiments.

“i love you.” he says.

then you sleep, knowing home was a person, not a place, that home was not found through distance but by the fondness of the heart— love.

the next door over, soonyoung pouts at his plethora of tiger plushies and curses his life of singledom when he hears a thump and giggles.

Chapter Text

“i’m leaving!” you call out over your shoulder, stuffing your feet into your favourite bunny slippers. you hear a shuffling in your shared dorm before xiaoting appears with her hands on her hips. your leader looks at you with a nonplussed expression. “what?”

she sighs, and pushes back her newly-dyed hair. “be back before one please, y/n. and don’t let anyone see you.”

“i never do.” you smile at her before pulling on your hood. “i’ll be back soon, okay? do you want anything from the store?”

yurina pops her head in from the side of the doorway. “melona, please!” behind her, youngeun nods with bright eyes.

“honey butter chips!” reverberates from chaehyun’s room.

“beer!” jiwon says in jest. xiaoting gives her a frown anyway.

“you know we can’t. mashiro might—“

“think it’s soda, i know, tingting. i was just joking!” the older girl pouts. since debuting, all of you had sworn off of alcohol, though you’re sure you’ve seen yale and yujin smuggle bottles of soju into their room. you weren’t all that innocent either, always taking sips of his beer on the days your schedules allowed you to have dinner together.

you give a quick thumbs up and open the door, closing it tightly behind you after whispering a, “please cover for me.” to xiaoting, who just rolled her eyes fondly at you.

you pull your mask up higher on the bridge of your nose and briskly leave your apartment building. the cold autumn breeze of seoul greets you, making you shiver even underneath your thick layers. you’d never get used to the weather here and how different it was from where you had grown up.

you make your way to the convenience store a few blocks away from your dorm, shivering a little from the cold. you know the amount of steps and the turns you have to take by heart. it took ages for you and mashiro to remember, your hands tucked together while you navigated this new area you know had to call home.

at least you weren’t as young as hikaru, who had to juggle learning a new language alongside a whole new area. you were one of the older members, and tried to help xiaoting, yujin and bora as best you could. in an apartment of 12 girls, it was bound to be hectic sometimes, and more often than not you had to break up arguments about who had left their curling iron plugged in or who forgot to close the door to the room but you wouldn’t have it any other way. you had learnt to think of these girls as family.

you open the door to the convenience store, smiling at the cashier through your mask. that was one of the pros of being relatively newly-debuted, you think. no one really knows who you are. yet echoes in your head, a habit you had picked up from optimistic suyeon who kept you on your toes.

he’d have a more difficult time coming in here without anyone noticing. you make your way through the aisles, pushing bags of honey butter chips and packs of melona into your basket. you drop some ramen and a rabbit sheet covered candy xiaoting always insists she doesn’t want but always makes googly eyes at. the label’s written in chinese and you know she must miss home. once you’re done making your rounds through the store, you check out at the cashier, passing them a few notes and picking up the bags. then you cook a few packs of ramen and wait in a secluded corner.

not three minutes pass before the bell at the entrance of the store jingles, and you meet his eyes, immediately smiling underneath your mask. you see the same expression mirrored in his eyes, the lower half of his handsome face covered by a black mask as well.

jeonghan walks towards you briskly, and luckily for you, the cashier can’t seem to recognise him. jeonghan sidles up in the chair next to you and peers around before pulling down his mask and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

“have you eaten yet?” you ask, reaching out to hold his cheek. he snuggles into your palm, making your heart pang with affection.

“no, i’m starving.” he whines, pouting at you. you sigh in mock exasperation.

“you work too hard.” you say, words countering your previous actions. you pull down your mask as well, and peck his cheek. jeonghan smiles, left arm going around your shoulders to hold you closer to him.

“so do you.” he says, before passing you some chopsticks and motioning for you to eat as well. “jal meokkessumnida.”

you copy the sentiment before digging into the food before you. once you’ve chewed and swallowed, you look at jeonghan, whose cheeks are stuffed with the noodles. you giggle at how cute he is, an action he clearly finds a little embarrassing as he flushes a pretty pink.

“what?” he mumbles.

“you’re cute.”

“so are you but i don’t make you shy while you’re eating ramen, do i?” he scrunches his nose at you. you just scrunch your nose back at him. “how are your comeback preparations?”

you groan, slumping into his shoulder. “awful. tiring. yesterday seonsaengnim made mashiro and kotone stay back and yujin-unnie was tired so i had to stay up and wait for them so we could go back home together.”

jeonghan hums into the top of your head. “but everything else is going okay?”

“i guess so.” you lean up to look at him, watching him turn away, trying to hide his shy smile. “you’re—“

“if you say pretty i’ll leave right now.” he groans, making you laugh. “you’ve known me forever, sweetheart, i have no idea where all this bravery is coming from.”

you scrunched your nose at him. “if you must know, i’ve always thought you were pretty, i just didn’t have any excuse to go up to you and say ‘sunbaenim, i think you’re so gorgeous and i can’t concentrate when you’re in the room’.”

jeonghan covered his head in his hands. “you’re embarrassing me.”

you just press a kiss to his covered shoulder and take another bite of your food. “what about you? how’s your comeback going?”

“good, i think.” your boyfriend replies when he finally deems himself not-red enough to look at you. “we’re filming tomorrow, though, so i might take a while to reply.”

you roll your eyes. “you’re the one who replies quickly. don’t think i didn’t see you on your phone all throughout in the soop!”

“can’t help that i want to talk to you all the time.” jeonghan pokes your cheek.

“now who’s being brave?” you feel yourself start to blush. jeonghan just coos.

“you’re the only person i let bully me, y/n, be honoured and expect me to fight back.”

you two spend the next half an hour reacquainting yourselves with each other. speaking to each other through the phone would never be as good as this. you’d much rather see the wrinkles around jeonghan’s eyes and hear his tinkly laugh without facetime ruining the quality of it. before the show and your debut it was easier to see him, but you couldn’t deny that you preferred it this way— with you on your way to achieving your dream and one step closer to walking the same path he was.

sometime between jeonghan complaining about joshua’s teasing and seungcheol’s unsubtle attempts at trying to hide mingyu’s relationship (“and mingyu replied ‘manager-hyung’? he should’ve said another member, now everyone’s just suspicious!) and you whining about not being able to sleep well because of how yurina keeps sneaking into you and xiaoting’s bedroom, he laces his fingers with yours, and you can’t help but wonder how this would work if you two weren’t who you were in this exact moment.

if you weren’t trying to reach the highs jeonghan was already at and if jeonghan wasn’t one-thirteenth of a chart-topping group with a sizeable cult following in japan. but you shook those thoughts away. if you hadn’t fought your way to pledis you wouldn’t have met him, and if he hadn’t too, who knows how you would’ve been able to even know him.

“what are you thinking about?” jeonghan asks when he catches you spacing out.

you just smile, and pull him closer to you with a smooth tug of your intertwined fingers. he yelps a little before letting out a noise of approval. “wow, you got so smooth, y/n. remember when you couldn’t even look me in the eye?”

“i’m about to get a lot smoother. also, shut up, that was before i caught you staring at a picture of me on the company sign—“

“you brat, i was just admiring the lighting work.”

“sure, you were. and to answer your question, i was thinking about you.”

jeonghan purses his lips. “should i ask why or will you say something to embarrass me again?”

you lean your head against the hand not held in jeonghan’s. “i was thinking about, you know, how it would be if things turned out differently.”

“what do you mean?”

“if i didn’t debut, if we hadn’t met, if i didn’t come here.”

silence ensued, and you were about to wave off your concerns before jeonghan reached out to smooth down your hair and lifted up your chin. “i would’ve found you no matter what. and don’t think too much about that, regrets are a bottomless pit and what-ifs are just around the corner from there. you made it, you’re here, and you’re here with me. nothing else matters.”

he always knew what to say to make you feel better. but you didn’t say that aloud. “look who’s being cheesy now.”

your boyfriend just looked over his shoulder before leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. you grinned into it, throwing your arms over his shoulders. from afar, you two would look like just another couple on a thursday night. jeonghan pulled you closer to him, his hands wrapping around your waist. he was about to slip in his tongue when your phone suddenly started vibrating on the counter.

you pulled away reluctantly, but not without jeonghan pressing another one, two, three pecks against your lips and cheeks, making you giggle. yujin’s name lights up your phone, and you quickly swipe up to accept the call.

“hi, unnie.”

“yah, y/n, come home soon! it’s past one, we have a schedule tomorrow at seven!”

“hello, yujinnie.” jeonghan calls out obnoxiously to the phone.

“jeonghan-oppa, you don’t mind me interrupting your little date to ask you to maybe take her home if you can, right?” yujin asks, her voice dripping honey that had caught more than a few people in the trap of her convincing.

“i was going to anyway, yujinnie.”

you sigh. “i’ll see you in a bit, jinnie-unnie.” you hung up before facing jeonghan, and pouted at him. “it was just getting good.”

jeonghan sputtered. “you! you’re getting naughty!” he whispered the last word like it was blasphemous.

“we’ve been together for almost two years now, yoon jeonghan—“

he pushes a finger against your lips before taking your hand, your shopping bag, and standing up. “come on before yujin murders me.”

you allow yourself to get dragged out, pulling jeonghan’s mask up above his nose before doing the same to your own. then you push his hair under his cap and stuff your joined hands into the pocket of your puffer coat and begin making the trek back to your apartment.

you spot a bichon, all dressed up in a tiny onesie and clip, letting out a squeal and nudging jeonghan with your shoulder. “it looks like kkuma! i’m gonna find that strawberry clip and give it to her the next time i see her.”

“pretty.”

“hm?” you look away from the dog only to meet jeonghan’s soft gaze.

he smiled under his mask, and pull out your intertwined hands to kiss the back of palm. “you’re pretty.”

you blush, huff, and walk faster, his laugh echoing behind you.

before you know it, you’re standing in front of your apartment door. jeonghan sets the shopping bag on the floor and pulls down his mask. you do the same and rush forward to smush yourself against him. you shove your head into the juncture of his neck. you two would get very busy very soon and you don’t know the next time you’d get to spend time doing absolutely nothing with him.

jeonghan holds you close, kisses the top of your head. “i love you.”

he’s said it more times than you can count— when you pass him some snacks your mother had sent over especially for him, across the dinner table on the rare nights you could go on a proper date, with your hands in his hair, pressed against the column of your neck, when his hands draw mindless shapes into your hand. but every time he does, you can’t help the lightheaded feeling of absolute ecstasy from coursing through your veins.

you reach out to run your thumb against his bottom lip. “i love you, too.”

then he’s kissing you, cradling the sides of your cheeks like you’re precious gold, like he wouldn’t be able to live without you. you give as good as you get. you love him just as much.

the door swings open, but you’re unphased. you’re in jeonghan’s arms, and everything is perfect in this moment. there are no regrets, no what-ifs, just now.

yurina just sighs, takes the shopping bag at your feet, and leaves the door open. from their perch on the couch, mashiro averts her eyes while suyeon openly stares. youngeun rummages through the bag when yurina sets it down, pulling out the melona with a grin and passing the bag of white rabbit candy to xiaoting, who gives you a fond smile.

you’re none the wiser, obviously, still luxuriating in the waves of adoration jeonghan was exuding. he tucks your hair behind your air, and gives you a push to the open door. you peck him on the cheek one last time.

“i’ll miss you.” you say.

“i’ll miss you too, lovely.” he smiles.

“text me when you get home.”

with that, jeonghan waves, peering into the house to yell out a, “bye everyone!”

yujin screams out a, “thank you for bringing her home!” in response.

jeonghan takes one last moment to take you in before caressing your cheek. then he walks off.

you shut the door behind you, feeling very hollow very fast.

xiaoting seems to sense it in the way she always does, and pulls you into her arms, rubbing your shoulder. “you’ll see each other at the end of year shows.”

“i know.” yurina pushes herself on the other side of you, effectively sandwiching you between them. youngeun joins, and suyeon and mashiro do too.

“cuddle pile without me?” you hear chaehyun gasp. then you feel another body pressed against your side. another one joins and another and another and two more, finally making you grin.

yujin shoos you off into your rooms after a few minutes, reminding everyone to wake up before seven and clucking her tongue when youngeun dramatically crashes down onto the floor. hikaru manages to drag her into their room.

and when you’re tucked up in bed, a message pops up on your phone.

from: hannie
got home. hoshingie says he misses you.

you let out a laugh at the selca attached to the message— hoshi horanghae-ing with jeonghan and what looks like jihoon blurry in the background, the latter’s face exuding as much disgust as a 480 pixel photo could exude.

another message pops in.

from: hannie
goodnight, i love you.

and just like that, all your worries cease. everything’s fine, and everything will continue to be fine.

Chapter Text

you trudge onto set, mood ruined and worse, cold. the light coat you had put on was an inadequate defence against the harsh winds of the outdoor set. you hurried to the writers trailer, bowing to the staff on your way there. just because you were annoyed didn’t mean you’d lose your manners, unlike some people on set.

you shoved the trailer door open, letting out a relieved sigh at the toastiness inside. on the director’s seat, yoongi shot you a deadpanned look like he was ready to throw the thick script in his hands right at your face.

“i’m not gonna apologise.” the man said stoically, slamming the script against the table and folding his arms across his chest. “who the fuck thought it would be a good idea to cast im nayeon as the main lead?”

“yoongi, you know we can’t fight the broadcasting company.” you sat on the seat across him, nodding to jihoon, who just closed his eyes and laid his head back against the wall.

“i knew i should’ve just directed for netflix, at least they’d fucking listen to me.”

you held your head in your hands. if you could, you’d have written for netflix too, not some cable television company that cared more about their current starlet than the state of the show. you had proposed someone far better and experienced than im nayeon, who required more handholding than a five year old and cried about how unfair it was that she had to work around the clock as if the staff didn’t have to either, but the company had shot you down without explanation. but you had an inkling, not even an inkling, you knew it was because nayeon’s mother had shares in the broadcasting company. ones she would be willing to pull out if she knew her daughter wasn’t cast for one of the year’s most anticipated dramas.

you weren’t going to brag, but you were a pretty big deal, too. you weren’t as good as kim eunsook or the hong sisters, but you were up and coming, and this drama was supposed to be a big deal. you had even casted—

“what about yoon?” you asked, lifting your head from your palms. “please don’t tell me he had a hissy fit, too.”

jeonghan had his moments. there were times he was so sweet everyone praised his name and called him an angel and there were times he’d just. have a meltdown and not leave his trailer unless someone pried him out with the promise of a quick take and a salchisal dinner, like he was a kid who needed to be bribed.

“he barely blinked.” jihoon replied, shoving himself off the wall. “he just walked off like he knew it was gonna happen.”

yoongi snorted. “he’s smart enough to expect it. she called a time out when she fucking tripped over air last week.”

“he asked for you, actually.” jihoon continued, like yoongi hadn’t spoken at all. he fixed his gaze upon you, catlike eyes sinking into your soul.

you fidgeted under his stare.

“yeah.” yoongi seconded, looking over to you as well. “he hasn’t asked for anyone this whole time except his manager and his sister.” he tilted his head.

it was like two felines were staring down at you. you hated cats.

“can you stop staring at me like i’m the blair witch or something? god!”

yoongi acquiesced, but jihoon persisted, squinting a little. “i just think it’s suspicious that yoon’s asking for you. he hates his co-star. he’s nice, sure, but he doesn’t do anything beyond idle chit-chat with everyone. he’s a private person. he doesn’t go out of his trailer unless it’s time to shoot and he—“

“maybe you’re the one he should call to his trailer, jihoon.” you raise an eyebrow. “you’re awfully observant of jeonghan’s actions.”

“ha!” yoongi suddenly exclaimed, making you jump. “you just called him jeonghan. everyone calls him baewoo-nim or yoon.”

you sputtered. “i-what, am i not allowed to call people by their given names?”

jihoon just looked at you before shrugging, like you were the insane one. “just go to his trailer before he blows a gasket. then byulyi-noona and seungcheol-hyung wanted a word.”

you muttered under your breath, “fucking cable dramas. fucking actors. fucking directors.” then you got up obediently, giving the co-directors a dirty glare before walking out the trailer.

immediately, a rush of wind rustled through your jacket, making you shiver. you swiftly walked across the lot, hugging wheein on the way and high-fiving a despondent looking wonwoo. once you reached the actors’ section of the lot, you stopped, willing your heart to stop beating so fast.

this was just yoon jeonghan, who played 1/13th of a boyband from that webtoon that was wildly popular in japan, who played an unsuspecting villain-turned-second-love-interest in a teen kdrama, who appeared alongside park seojoon in a daesang-winning movie two years ago, who was one of the country’s most popular actors.

that didn’t help at all.

still, you continued walking, knocking on the trailer’s aluminium door when you finally reached. not a few seconds later, the door swung open, revealing a panicked seungkwan. you emphathised with his feelings. if you were him, you’d probably be stressed all 24 hours in a day.

“come in!” seungkwan ushered you into the far more spacious trailer, nudging you towards the figure slumped on his chair, aimlessly scrolling on his phone.

you walked over begrudgingly, clearing your throat to grab jeonghan’s attention. the man in question whirls around. he looks over your shoulder and gestures for seungkwan to leave with his chin. you hear the manager’s exasperated huff before he obeys.

you plop down on the chair opposite jeonghan. you don’t even know what to say. do you apologise for nayeon’s behaviour? should you offer to cut the scene out of the script? do you plan to kill nayeon off within the next two episodes?

before you can open your mouth, jeonghan intercepts you. “did we wake you?”

you blink. “excuse me?”

“did we wake you? by needing you on set?”

“yeah.” you run a hand through your hair, suddenly self-conscious. “why? can you tell?”

jeonghan shakes his head, smiles beneath his brown hair. it’s grown since the last time you saw him. it was a stylistic choice, you knew, meant to signify how his character had grown from this terrified man to a more mature, individualistic one, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t admire him. just for a bit. he was dressed for his scene, in a gaping white dress shirt, collarbones peeking out, his oversized brown coat slung over his chair. you watched as he rolled the sleeves up to his elbows.

“of course not.” he replies dryly. you scowl, and pet down your hair once more before smoothing down the front of your pleated skirts. the fact that you weren’t wearing stockings in eight degree weather reminded you of how much of an idiot you could be.

you continue fiddling with the front of your sweater until you were happy with how it hung on your frame. you peered over at jeonghan, only to find him already looking back at you.

“nayeon’s insane.” he says bluntly. “i’m trying my best, i swear.” he adds quietly, like you wouldn’t believe him. as if it wasn’t obvious, what with the numerous times you’ve watched him try to reason with her.

“i know.” you sigh. “she wasn’t my pick either. but she’s a pretty good actress, and she’ll get over this little meltdown. it’s in the contract. you don’t have to like her—“

“i don’t.” jeonghan interrupts. “sometimes i look at her and wonder how spoiled you have to be to grow up like that.”

you muffle a snort before composing yourself. “at least she’s on set today. so let’s just. you know?”

he bites his bottom lip. you ignore how you catch the motion and focus instead on the script on the table. jeonghan catches your gaze, following it.

“help me?” he says. “just… go through it with me?”

“the scene?” you ask stupidly, as if he could be talking about anything else.

“i need to refocus. before i cause a scene and no one hires me again. so if anything, i’d be doing you a favour. you might have to fire nayeon. what if you had to fire me too? for calling nayeon a—“

“okay!” you cut him off before he says something that could possibly violate the terms and conditions of the three page contract you had him sign before shooting started.

then you remembered your own contract. not the one you had to sign in a room full of lawyers watching your every move like you were being handed control of nuclear weapons instead of a romance-mystery drama that would air every friday at 9pm. but the one you had promised yourself.

you could be nice to the actors on set. you could even befriend them, lest you wanted them in a future project or you genuinely enjoyed their company. but you could never, ever practice the lines you had written with them. you drew the line there, painted bright red in case you ever wanted to cross it. but something about yoon jeonghan graffiti-d right over it.

you open your mouth. close it. jeonghan offers the script to you, but you just shake your head. “i… i’m good.”

he shrugs.

then something almost otherwordly happens. jeonghan looks at you, really looks at you. you can feel the intensity of his gaze, and then he speaks.

of course he’d pick this scene. it’s the newest, the freshest in your mind and undoubtedly his. it’s where everything comes together and—

“i don’t understand why you’d keep this a secret from me.” he says, his voice steady and strong and the look in his eyes piercing through you. the room feels like it’s closing in on you.

“it’s not about you.” you respond. “it’s about me and you shouldn’t have to be pulled into some situation meant for me to solve. it’s my problem. i don’t have a sign on my forehead that screams ‘help needed. a knight in shining armour required’. i’ve always been fine on my own—“

jeonghan grabs your shoulders, making you fall against him. you wrote this scene. you know what’s about to happen and yet your heart starts to race. your throat dries and every rational part of you screams that this is exactly why you write and not act. this is why you sit behind desks and not in front of a camera.

this is why you avoid yoon jeonghan at all costs when you’re on set. because he makes you feel like the female lead. he makes you exhilarated with just a smile in your direction, with every coffee he sets on your table, insisting he got it himself and didn’t make seungkwan grab it. he makes you feel like you’re soaring above the clouds with every character of yours he brings to life, with every arm he tosses over your shoulders when yoongi and jihoon call ‘cut’. he has your stomach in knots when he remembers how you hate having tea in the morning and would rather have it in the afternoon, when he calls you by your given name, behind the scenes cameras be damned. when he stares wistfully past the camera and at you when he’s shooting a scene.

the expression on his face changes softly, smoothly, like every actor you’ve seen on television. he reaches out to you, stopping halfway like he’s hesitating, before letting his thumb stroke your cheek.

“i’m not here because i don’t think you can take care of yourself. i’m here because i’m in love with you.”

then he kisses you.

he tastes like that stupid bangtan coffee he drinks between takes— buttery from the ghee and slightly bitter. but it’s not unpleasant, it’s sweet. his hands rest at your waist, tugging you closer to him and biting down on your bottom lip, making you gasp. he slips his tongue in your mouth, and it’s like he’s trying to learn who you are, know every piece of you until he’s had his fill. it unnerves you, almost as much as the fact that you’re kissing him back.

you don’t know which one of you pulls apart first, but you do anyway. it shouldn’t even matter, but you look at jeonghan, wide-eyed, confused. he just smiles at you, tilts your chin up like he’s about to lean in again—

a knock is the only warning you get before seungkwan rushes in. “nayeon’s over it. we’re starting again.”

you’re almost relieved. but then jeonghan presses a kiss to your forehead, and seungkwan gawks. then the manager just sighs and rolls his eyes.

they’re done in three takes. the kiss is short. you wonder if yours was too before inwardly smacking yourself in the face. by the looks of it, yoongi’s going to ask wonwoo to do the typical slow-mo shot to make it seem longer even though he detests it. jihoon gives you a suspicious squint when you babble out an excuse for having to leave.

before you even get three steps to the exit, seungkwan stops you, hands you a little note with a self-important huff. “if it’s any consolation, i lost the bet.” he says, wiggling his fingers goodbye.

you only open the note when you get home. it’s a set of numbers in looping script, then a little footnote on the bottom that says, “sorry for my handwriting. i swear i’m practicing.” you let out an unsuspecting laugh.

two weeks later, you meet jeonghan at a cafe. the date goes swimmingly. he makes you laugh and holds your hand and this time, you kiss him from across the table. this time, his hands cradle your face, and you get a repeat performance of the fluttering feeling in your stomach. when you pull away, he has the same dazed expression on his face, and you high-five yourself for it when he drops you off at your apartment, his jacket resting on your shoulders.

when the end of year shows come around, jeonghan arrives with nayeon on his arm. he’s blonde now, and the reporters speculate that he’s going to be in that unconfirmed drama opposite han sohee, or even in that thriller movie with gong yoo and kim soohyun. maybe that netflix original with song joongki and jeon yeobeen. the tweets screaming that jeonghan and nayeon look like they’d be the next song song are overwhelming. he even gets on that list, ‘famous people i’d like to divorce’. you laugh over how some accounts says he’d look pretty whether he’s mad or happy. they’re right.

a picture is leaked the day after the baeksangs. it’s of you two in the hallway. jeonghan’s lips are pressed against the back of your hand, and you’re smiling up at him like he’s adonis himself.

jihoon is the first to call.

you’re wrapped around jeonghan’s torso, one of his hands is petting your hair, the other intertwined with yours. your cheek is smushed against his chest. you’re dressed in one of his oversized pastel sweaters, the one you stole from his apartment. he’s never getting it back. you won’t say a thing about the extra toothbrush in your bathroom or the drawer in your closet filled with his things. you barely pay attention to jihoon’s rambling.
“what are you even talking about?” you yawn, cuddling into jeonghan’s hold. the man in question lets out an amused noise, tucking your hair behind your cheek before leaning down to kiss it. you push him away half-heartedly.

“you made the news desk, you idiot.” jihoon sighs. “i bet he’s there. congratulations on your first scandal, you two. byulyi-noona and soonyoung are cashing in on the bet. you two couldn’t hold off for another three weeks?”

you just laugh before hanging up. “goodbye, jihoon!”

jeonghan pushes you onto your back, grinning at you. you grin back.

“i knew you liked me.” you say.

jeonghan plops himself down on top of you, making you squeal. “i don’t know what could’ve made you think otherwise.”

Chapter Text

“i went last time, i’m not going again!” seokmin whined, his voice barely heard over the music blaring from the speakers.

seungkwan just shook his head like it wasn’t his problem. “scissors paper stone, now!”

the group was crowded around mingyu’s kitchen island, the host himself mysteriously missing, though they could all assume he was probably in one of the bedrooms upstairs with minghao. the couple hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks since minghao had went home to visit his parents.

seungcheol extended his hand onto the cool marble. “hands in, now, or all of us have to do shots.”

jihoon sighed, following suit. “let’s just do it. we’ve seen the worst. it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“it sounds like you’re volunteering, hyung.” vernon said, hooking his chin on seungkwan’s shoulder and taking his boyfriend’s hand. he brought their joined hands to the centre of the table.

“nononono.” the older man insisted.

a loud cheer was heard from a few yards away, and a quick look in that direction was enough for chan’s eyes. soonyoung was doing body shots again, wonwoo’s lips trailing suggestively down his torso.

“it can’t be worse than that.” joshua gagged at his two friends, extending his hand as well.

except jun, who had volunteered to reel in his exhibitionist friends, the boys started the round.

“annae myeon jinda, gawi bawi pooh!” jihoon imitated the fart noise soonyoung had a habit of doing.

joshua and seokmin roared with excitement, hugging each other like they had won the world cup, not barely scraped off of jeonghan-and-y/n collection duty.

you see—

as much as the others liked to whine that you and jeonghan were basically an old married couple who didn’t know how to have fun, you two were admittedly the best at holding your liquor and knew how to have a good time at parties. there were times you and jeonghan were up to it, drinking everyone under the table with your fingers intertwined on his lap and grinding on the dance floor like you were freshmen and not seniors on the brink of graduation, your head tucked into his neck and his hands lingering right above your ass.

but those times weren’t the worst.

it was the days you two had to be lugged out of your shared apartment, both of you whining and making up excuses. jeonghan had tried to get you two out of it by saying your sister was in town but a quick text to her had seungkwan banging on your door, yelling about lying hyungs and noonas who didn’t care about their precious dongsaengs.

finally, just to get him to stop screaming, you had poked your head out of the bedroom, jeonghan’s hand in yours, dressed in what was deemed as appropriate clubbing outfits and joined your friends at mingyu’s house.

the second you two had given minghao hugs and pecks on the cheek, you two had disappeared somewhere, jeonghan’s smirk tantalising and full of intent chan didn’t want to think about.

and now the boys were competing to see who would be the loser who had to collect you two from your corner of sin.

the last time seokmin had done it, well. let’s just saw he saw things he never thought he had to, namely jeonghan’s orgasm face and you on your knees before him. then there was the time hansol walked in on you on jeonghan’s lap, grinding down onto his clothed nether regions desperately, his hands planted firmly on your hips. who knows what obscenities you two would be engaged in today? normally they’d just leave you two be, but there were no other sober designated drivers, and jihoon would rather die than sit behind the wheel of soonyoung’s car.

“gawi bawi pooh!”

vernon let out a sigh of relief, pressing a kiss onto seungkwan’s forehead to tease. seungkwan just let out a shout of indignation. only him, chan and seungcheol were left, and he would be throwing a hissy fit if he lost.

“gawi bawi pooh!”

chan and seungkwan screamed with joy, joining the other winners. seungcheol opened his mouth to complain, only for jihoon to shoot him a victorious smile.

“we won, fair and square. go get our designated drivers!” he waved cheerfully.

seungcheol huffed, grabbed a shot of the counter and slammed it down with a grimace. he’d need it for whatever position he’d find you two in.

he scoured through the house, whining about his predicament to kyulkyung and nayoung when he passed them. the girls just smiled at him pitifully before directing him to the bedroom on the far left. just as he was about to turn the corner, wheein stopped him with a hand to his elbow.

“i wouldn’t if i were you.” the red-haired girl said, her cheeks tinged pink. “they—“

a strangled moan echoed through the hall.

wheein just patted him on the back before making her way back to the living room, no remorse for him.

another moan.

seungcheol cursed his friends, sending the verbal equivalent of a keyboard smash to whatever was up there and knocked on the door, loudly. “we’re leaving!” he said. he heard a thump, a rustle, jeonghan’s potty mouth cursing.

“give me a minute!” your voice sounded flushed, breathy, and seungcheol did not need to ever hear it, not when you were basically a sister to him.

“a minute?” jeonghan asked, tone suggestive. faintly, seungcheol can hear something squelch. he wants to bury himself in the backyard outside. “you think you’ll last—“

“oh my god, just hurry the fuck up!” he banged against the door. “the kids want to go home.”

“i said give me a minute!” you growled out, before it tapered into a moan. “c-cheol, we’ll be ri-right— oh my god.”

“that’s not my name, sweetheart.”

seungcheol wants to bleach his brain and ears. he also wants to propose a new way of determining who had to collect you and jeonghan.

“i’m going! if you two aren’t out in five minutes i’m bringing in a fire extinguisher, i don’t care!”

he stomped away, muttering under his breath.

-

you tried to curl away from jeonghan, hiding your face into the pillows and tilting your hips. your boyfriend just followed your movement, snug against your back while his hand continued its treatment on your entrance, making you keen over. the liquid gushing down his wrist and onto the bedsheets was almost comical, and you were sure a hungover mingyu would be demanding you for compensation for new ones. you’d forward it over to jeonghan, seeing as to how he just smirked at the pool of your wetness and kept pounding.

“don’t run from me, sweetheart.” he cooed into your ear. “what a good girl you are, so tight around my fingers.”

the sound of his fingers sliding out of your core was so impure and salacious, and eventually the feeling of jeonghan’s tongue against the bottom seam of your mouth was enough for you to tip over and cum.

he helped you ride out the waves of pleasure, letting you roll onto your back when you were done. you flushed at the coat of wetness on jeonghan’s hand, watching as he caught a trail and licked it back up like juice from a melted popsicle.

“you’re a menace.” you said, your throat hoarse from your earlier activities.

jeonghan just propped himself up on his elbow, smirking down at you. “says the one who did the thing with their tongue—“

you groaned, interrupting your boyfriend’s salacious comment. “we should go before the kids yell at us.”

“the kids will yell at us anyway.” he kissed your forehead, but he got up to pick up your skirt and top from where they were discarded on the floor, as well as his own shirt, jeans and jacket.

you took the clothes, sliding them on and wincing a little when you got up. instantly, jeonghan sidled up to you, hand wrapping around your waist. despite this, he had a shit-eating grin on his face. “wore you down that good, huh?”

you slapped his chest, but curled into his hold nonetheless, leaning your head against his shoulder. “shut up, yoon.” wordlessly, he slung his jacket over your shoulders, leading you out of the room. you passed wheein, who just rolled her eyes at you two. you gave your friend a smile.

“next time, we’re doing it in the living room just to prove a point.” you muttered to your boyfriend. “when will they learn that when we say we don’t wanna go, we really don’t want to?”

jeonghan hid his laughter in your hair, before kissing your temple. “noted.”

when you two made your way to your gaggle of friends, seungkwan huffed, placing his hands on his hips. “what took you so long?” he demanded.

“oh, you don’t wanna know.” seungcheol said before knocking back the remainder of whatever concoction was in his shot glass. “can we leave before they decide to fuck in another room?”

jeonghan stuck his tongue out at his best friend. “maybe if you finally gain the balls to ask ahn hyejin out—“

“shut up, wheein is right there!” seungcheol hissed, grabbing you by the shoulders and steering you out of the house, jeonghan’s fingers slipping from where they were perched at your hip. “don’t know how you put up with him—“

you sighed, twisting out of his hold and reaching out to jeonghan again with a pout, waggling your hand at him to tease. you ignored seungcheol’s gasp of exaggerated betrayal. your boyfriend took your hand with a smile. god, you were it for him.

“let’s go kids. one complaint and we’ll leave you here to listen to soonyoung and wonwoo and minghao and mingyu’s… activities.”

the boys needed no other persuasion, filing out of the house quickly like little ducks.

Chapter Text

the last time jeonghan had heard from you was through a five minute phone call. it was four months after your awfully optimistic and unrealistic proposal of trying long distance when you were accepted to a university so far away from seoul jeonghan wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to see you in all of the four years. now, he can laugh about it. how you two had planned your weeks in advance so you could spend time talking or calling each other until the sun had begin to rise again. then, all he thought was— this wasn’t going to work. but he was willing to try for you.

it was clear jeonghan should always listen to his gut, because not even two months later, both of you were too busy catching up on academics and extracurriculars to have time for each other. jeonghan would steel himself up to do it, to just break up with you then your face would pop up on your facetime dates and he’d feel himself fall all over again while you rambled about your subjects and how everything there was so different and how was his sister, she hadn’t called you in a while and his father sent you a little basket of vitamins, he didn’t have to do that!

in the end, it was quick. he had interrupted you in the middle of your recount of how your professor had raved about one of your essays and within a minute, you and jeonghan were over. he’d never forget how your face had rumpled when he said he had been feeling it for a while. he would also never forget the last words you had uttered to him.

“if you were going to break up with me, at least say it to my face the second you think of it. you didn’t have to be so insincere.”

then you had hung up before he could even think of defending himself.

jeonghan’s reckoning came via a silver-embossed wedding invitation in looping script announcing the matrimony of jeon wonwoo and myoui mina. he flipped open the thick paper, made a mental note of the date and time and confirmed that he didn’t have anything to do on the day.

now, jeonghan thinks he shouldn’t have come. the idea of never knowing what had happened to you would haunt him less than the scene in front of him right now.

you were laughing, your head thrown back and your hair cascading down your back. your grin was so bright he swore you were the sun itself, and your cheeks were full and rosy. a man with dark brown hair, a straight nose and a complexion that seemed to be sculpted by michelangelo himself twirled you around, giggling with you in unison. with the light hitting you two just right, jeonghan felt like a side character in your story, which he guessed he was now.

as the song came to an end, the man stopped twirling you and you beamed before mock curtsying. then you looked right over at him.

it was like time had stopped, like you were still the same girl who whispered you loved him in his ear, tucked his hair behind his ear while you listened to him speak. like you were still the same girl who strung fairy lights in his room because you liked the way he looked in the glow, sat beside him as he played video games even though you knew nothing about them, your hands intertwined with his on the controller.

then you looked away, and the facade was ruined.

you had slipped away from him, and he couldn’t blame anything or anyone but himself and the situation. he was so caught up in lamenting that he didn’t notice you making your way to his empty table, securing a wine glass. you plopped down next to him, placing your glass on the surface before reaching down to unclasp your heels.

jeonghan turned to you, hiding his surprise. “tired from dancing?”

you took a sip of the alcohol, making a face at its sweetness. “something like that.” you met his gaze, and jeonghan swears he feel his heart stop. “so what have you been up to?”

jeonghan makes a mirthless laugh. “really?”

“really.”

“i graduated.”

you hummed. “i saw the pictures. you changed your hair. you were blonde then.”

“i’m working at the firm.”

“that firm?”

“yup.”

“just like you always wanted.” you smiled tightly. if the years hadn’t changed you, jeonghan would think you were disappointed at his curtness.

the only thing i’ve ever wanted is you.

you took another sip. you hated wine, if jeonghan remembered correctly. then you made a move to stand up, and he wouldn’t have that, not when he’d probably never have a reason to see you again.

“what about you?” he blurts out, reaching over to grab your wrist.

you glance at his hold, before settling back in your seat, an undecipherable look in your eyes. “i graduated.” you said, copying his earlier sentiment.

“i didn’t see any pictures.”

you flipped your palm up, and if anything, jeonghan always knew what you wanted. he put his own hand over yours, lacing your fingers together. “yeah, seungkwan said i should block you from seeing them. something about moving on and not letting jerks see how you’re doing so they die of curiosity.” your voice tapered off.

jeonghan felt cold. “seungkwan’s your… boyfriend?”

at that, you let out a snort before nodding over his shoulder. jeonghan turned to meet the eyes of the michelangelo man from just now and a shorter, round-cheeked man with light blue hair, whose brows were knitted together. the two men were standing beside chan, sana and junhui, engaged in an absentminded conversation.

“seungkwan was in pediatrics. vernon’s his boyfriend.”

an unabashed rush of relief swept through jeonghan. his fingers held on a little tighter to yours.

“so you became a vet after all?”

“i moved back a few weeks ago. i’m working at—“

“that hospital.” you two said in unison. you smiled faintly.

“just like you always wanted.” jeonghan returned it.

and just like that the melancholy overwhelmed you both. neither of you made a move to continue the conversation, lest it would ruin the moment. so you stayed as you were, with your hands interwoven as if no years had gone by and you were just two nineteen year olds desperately in love. if you closed your eyes and ignored the ache in your chest, he’d just be yoon jeonghan, the boy you fell in love and never fell out of love with, the one who held you in your arms for no reason at all, who loved teasing you until you bit the bait, who knew every inch of your soul like it was his own.

but soon, the party began to die down, and one last dance was announced. jeonghan looked over at you. “wanna dance?”

you’d make a joke about his nonexistent left feet, or how the years must’ve changed for him to want to dance in public, but you just smiled, and let him guide you to the dance floor.

jeonghan swayed you softly, and you dared to press your cheek against his shoulder, breathing him in. he still smelled like home.

“was there anyone else?” he asks, before immediately regretting it.

you were quiet for a while, and jeonghan lamented over ruining the moment before you answered. “yeah.” he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to be hurt over it. it was hypocritical and childish. “min yoongi. he was in cardio. we were together a year and a half. what about you?”

he hummed. “kim sojung. on and off throughout sophomore and junior year.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, shoved down all the questions you had. did she treat you better than me? is she prettier than me? did you love her? and stopped moving. jeonghan paused.

“why’d you break up?”

from the corner of his eye, jeonghan could see joshua try his best, and fail, and subtly listening into your conversation, elbowing jeongyeon and taehyung at your question. jeonghan almost chose not to answer.

he looked at you, really looked at you and gave you an indecipherable raise of his eyebrow. “why do you think?”

you felt an insurmountable rush of relief, and sighed. “me too, i think.”

“still in love with me, hm, sweetheart?” jeonghan said teasingly. you rolled your eyes.

“speak for yourself, mister seungkwan’s-your-boyfriend.”

you two swayed more to the music, and jeonghan held you closer against him, his chin curling over the top of your head, as if he could shield you from everything that could ever hurt you. ironic, given how he had done so.

“why’d you do it?” you asked, your voice muffled into the fabric of his suit.

he stiffened. he knew exactly what you were asking. still, he took a second, feigned dumb.

“what are you talking about?”

you lifted your head up and gave him a deadpanned stare. “jeonghan.”

“it was going to be hard. it was already hard. i just wanted to stop us from having to go through all that to end up just—“

“breaking up.” you finished. “that’s a stupid reason, i think. because without you it was a lot harder for me.”

“yeah.” he cradled your waist closer to him. pressed flush against his chest, you could look at him all you wanted, drink up the sight you had been robbed of for the past six years. “it was a lot harder for me, too.”

“you know,” you tucked his hair behind his ear. it was brown now, curling past the nape of his neck. you knew he’d be complaining about it in a week or two. “i know you better than anyone in the world.”

jeonghan leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. “and i know you better than anyone in the world.”

“i think maybe you were right. it was a stupid reason, but maybe we needed to—“

“grow apart before coming back to each other?”

he smiled, his nose bumping against yours. you mirrored it, feeling your eyes get misty.

“you do know me better than anyone else in the world, yoon jeonghan.”

with that, jeonghan captured your lips with his. he was just a boy in love with the same girl, even after six years. you were just a girl in love with the same boy, even after years of wishing and wondering and what-ifs and worries. you were just two people in love. if you imagined it just right, it was like your very first kiss— in the sanctity of his bedroom, under the very fairy lights you set up, feeling like this was the best thing that would ever happen to you, the one thing you don’t think you’d ever get tired of.

neither of you notice how wonwoo and mina cheer. jihoon just slaps some notes into the palm of nayeon’s hand, and seokmin and yongsun lead a chant. soonyoung and momo giggle at the scene you two make. wheein and joshua continue sipping their wine, completely unbothered, like they had known this would happen all along. seungcheol, minghao and chaeyoung sit back as mingyu and byulyi take pictures.

but none of that matters to you.

because right here, in jeonghan’s arms, is where you feel the most complete. and it was only you, the person who knew jeonghan more than anyone in the world, who would know jeonghan felt the exact same way with just a look in his eyes.

he pulled away, radiating love and adoration, before leaning down to kiss you again.

you two would still have so many things to talk about, so many things to iron out, so many years apart, so many things to relearn, but one thing was for sure—

nothing in the world can stop you from starting over.

Chapter Text

yoon jeonghan is the bane of your existence. which is ironic seeing as to how he’s been your best friend for almost the entirety of your life.

you were next-door neighbours, and had hit it off. you two were absolute menaces, trampling on your mother’s rosebeds and scaring his sister half to death when you mentioned seeing a monster underneath her bed.

the thing is— you grew out of your brat phase the second you got to middle school and jeonghan remained a delinquent, albeit a much handsomer, much more angelic one who was able to get away with everything he did with a bat of his long eyelashes and crinkly smile. which is why you weren’t surprised, no actually, that’s a lie. jeonghan’s range was beyond your comprehension.

you were really fucking blown away when jeonghan had announced, seokmin and joshua by his sides, a horde of fangirls surrounding them, on the top of his lungs, which mind you actually wasn’t that loud, that:

“well, it sucks to be you, ‘cause y/n and i have been dating for the past three months!”

you stopped on your way to meet them on the park bench, mouth hanging open. unfortunately, before the ground could swallow you up, jeonghan met your flabbergasted gaze, having the audacity to beam at you and raise a hand to beckon you over.

“oh, look! there she is! come here, baby.” he called out cheerfully, his brown hair furrowed by the wind. absentmindedly, you thought it’d only take a few months before his hair was back to how it was when he had first gone off to college without you, long past his shoulders and always getting in his line of sight. you’ll always remember the way he looked at you when he had left, reassuring you that you’d be right there with him in a year and a half.

“y/n?” joshua asked, waking you up from your reverie. the sides of his mouth quirked up in the customary way it was on the occasion that he was able to see past jeonghan’s bullshit. holding back a laugh, he continued, “you okay?”

and it was only years of covering for jeonghan’s mischief that made you slap on a scarily wide smile and resume walking up to them.

“of course i’m okay!” naturally, you slid into jeonghan’s embrace, looping your arm around his waist akin to his around your shoulders. “babe, you didn’t tell me we were going to start telling people!” once you were sure no one was looking, you pinched his side, hard , making him yelp and direct a pout at you. you stared back, deadpanned, completely immune to his charms.

“i don’t want to keep you a secret, y/n!” jeonghan whined, his tone high-pitched. you scoffed. as if anyone was going to buy that.

then you remembered you were friends with seokmin, who was gullible and trusting to the t, and were surrounded by a pack of jeonghan’s self-proclaimed ‘angel squad’, who lapped up his every word.

seokmin looked at jeonghan’s arm around your shoulder, his thumb rubbing it gently, then to your arm around his waist, then up to your faces, where you were engaged in an intense stare-off, before proclaiming, “i knew it! see, shua-hyung, pay up!”

you paused from where you were trying to incinerate jeonghan from the face of the earth through the power of your heated gaze. “excuse me, what?”

“i’m not paying anyone a thing.” joshua crossed his arms, looking entertained. you huffed. at least someone was having fun.

“babe,” jeonghan piped up, drawing you even closer to him, making you let out an undignified squawk. your best friend gave you a warning look for you to calm down, which was easier said than done when his face was only a couple on inches away from yours and you were able to count every single eyelash on it and could feel his breath on your cheeks. “apparently the boys have a bet going on.”

you sighed. this again. this is what you get for befriending yoon jeonghan at age five and expanding your social circle to include his twelve nosy friends.

“really, seokminnie?” you withdrew your arm from around jeonghan’s waist and rubbed your hand against the bridge of your nose, displeasure radiating off of you in waves.

at least seokmin had the decency to look slightly ashamed. joshua just continued smirking at you.

when you enrolled in university, jeonghan, being one year older than you, already had a tight knit group of friends. call it luck, call it his obscene amount of charm, or call it the universe gravitating towards his every wish and want. that being said, his friends, especially seungcheol, seokmin and joshua, had heard a lot about you from your frequent calls and text messages. they had also called bullshit on your platonic relationship, and once soonyoung heard about it, he immediately put down a wager.

then the wager expanded in the only way it could when it concerned a group of snooping, overgrown men— into a wide betting pool including lots and lots of money, embarrassing pictures, and several unexplainable items. mingyu had bet his monthly allowance on some picture of minghao but you guessed the boy had his own reasons.

you never knew seokmin would stoop so low!

“anyway, shua, hao, wonwoo, jihoon, jun and chan bet we weren’t together, and shua said that their collective wagers add up to…” jeonghan paused for dramatic effect before leaning in and whispering into your ear. “nine hundred thousand won.”

your eyes widened.

“and how is this money split up?” you wondered, interest peaked. you snuck a glance at your best friend, who was now sporting a look of contempt. you stuck your tongue out at him in response.

“me, soonyoungie, gyu, seungkwan and seungcheol-hyung would divide it amongst ourselves.” seokmin listed. “wonwoo-hyung’s the neutral area, he was playing pubg when we were discussing it.”

“and hansol?”

“he didn’t care.” shua supplanted.

that was very hansol of him, you noted.

“but how could you guys profit from our feelings for each other?” jeonghan pursed his lips, batting his eyelashes. from where they were still staring at you attentively, jeonghan’s fangirls swooned in unison. you rolled your eyes at their antics. it was like they had never seen an attractive man before. “it took us this long to discover them!” jeonghan nudged you subtly.

“yeah, how could you?” you added, mock sadness seeping into your tone. then you pulled out the big guns. “i’m very disappointed in you, seokminnie.”

it had the desired effect. seokmin’s brows furrowed before he latched onto your side.

“noona, i’m sorry!” he tugged on your arm. “i didn’t even want to join the stupid bet anyway!”

“sure, mr. i’m-betting-one-hundred-thousand-won-they-got-together-over-christmas-break.” joshua exposed.

“yah! how could you sell me out like that? as always, my words have no power in this world.” seokmin said dramatically. “noona, please. forgive me? you’re my favourite.”

“i’m standing right here.” jeonghan whined.

“hyung, noona lets me use her netflix account. and brings me pretty things!”

“sounds like you’re just using her as a sugar mommy.”

“i would never!” seokmin gasped, sounding scandalised. slowly, daintily, your friend pressed a hand against his chest as if he was clutching a nonexistent string of pearls.

you snorted. “seokminnie, you know how you’re supposed to make it up to me and hannie, don’t you?”

jeonghan made a small noise, high-pitched and excited. he wrapped both his arms around your waist, leaning down to rest his head against the column of your neck. you tried your very best not to seem affected by it.

seokmin tilted his head, confused.

“you’re going to let us cash in on that pool, my sweet, favourite dongsaeng.”

and from where he was now perched on a bench, phone in his hand and opened to your groupchat, joshua shook his head.

Chapter Text

“say it again, jeonghan.” joshua says from where he’s perched on the sofa.

jeonghan rolls his eyes, blows his hair out of his face. you hide your chuckle behind your palm. jeonghan can’t find out you think he’s funny. his ego is big enough.

he walks to the full length mirror, tilts his chin to the side to inspect the cuts on his cheek as if he thinks they hinder his beauty. as if. people magazine didn’t name him the sexiest man alive six times for nothing. jeonghan fiddles with the front of his tie, and you groan. you told him not to touch it.

“i am not iron man. last friday, one of my bodyguards donned one of the suits engineered by yoon industries to stop han seongsu. i was on a yacht on the way to jeju island.” jeonghan recites, voice monotone and lifeless, meant to irk, and judging by the look on joshua’s face, he’s succeeded.

joshua shakes his head, sighs. “just stick to that, please.”

“it makes no sense! why would my bodyguard take one of the suits without my permission? this is a press conference, people!” jeonghan whines, stamping his foot. you rolled your eyes, much to his displeasure. “what’s so wrong about telling them about iron man?”

“not a damn word, jeonghan.” joshua warns. “the military backed me into the corner and—“

“it’ll be a press nightmare.” you say succinctly. “it’d be terrible for all the parties involved so if you could just make all of our jobs easier.”

joshua’s phone rings and the man picks up, leaving the room with one last look at jeonghan. your boss just pouts at him, sticking out his bottom lip.

you walk towards him, reaching out to redo his tie. this close to him, you can feel his breath against your skin, the coolness of the arc reaction under your palms. you’re reminded of a not-so-unfamiliar moment just a few days ago before your entire world was turned on its head.

“i’m a superhero, y/n.” jeonghan insists, looking down at you. you keep your gaze firmly on his tie, deftly crossing one end over the other.

“yes, mr. yoon.” you reply, just to appease him.

“no, but a superhero would need a very pretty girlfriend.” he has the audacity to say, a grin forming on his face. you hold your breath, trying not to react. yoon jeonghan is easily the most frustrating man you know. “worried sick about me. needs me.”

you finish up the knot, pulling on it cleanly and smoothing all the creases before you look up at him, having calmed down. “you don’t have one, mr. yoon. so please do not go out there and tell the world you’re iron man.”

jeonghan just smirks. “mr. yoon now, huh? a few days ago it was jeonghan.” his smile turns downright mischievous, and you brace yourself for the impact. the last time he smiled at you like that was when he was finalising the blueprints for mark 1. “and i could have one.”

“have one what?”

“a girlfriend.”

you snort. “don’t think so.”

jeonghan inches closer to you, as if he’s daring you to do something. in contrast to that, you can spot the slightest bit of anxiousness in his eyes. “tell me you never think about that night.”

you smile up at him mirthlessly. “what night?” you leaned closer to him, enjoying the way his breath hitched. “the night we danced, and you brought me up to the roof?” you let one of your hands trail suggestively down his chest. it made you feel vaguely empowered, having the great yoon jeonghan at your mercy, knowing you were probably one of the very few he allowed himself to let his guard down. “and you were gonna lean in and kiss me.” you lean in even closer, just until your lips are a hair’s breadth away from his. you almost want to say fuck it and give in. but you pull away, watching his gaze go dazed. “and then you left me up on the roof? my birthday? that night?”

and it seems you’ve rendered jeonghan speechless, because all the usually witty blonde man says is, “mhm.”

you grinned. “thought so.”

jeonghan sighed, before tucking a hand into his pocket and bringing out a jewellery box. it’s your turn to be surprised.

“i got you something.”

“did you now?” you watch his hands as they open the box up and offer it to you. you’re blown away.

you pick up the necklace. it’s dainty, understated. you didn’t think yoon jeonghan did understated. at closer glimpse, where the pendant’s supposed to be, a little fragment of the old arc reactor is.

he’s giving you his heart. the notion isn’t lost on you.

“it’s very pretty.” is all you can say once you’ve processed this. this is the closest to commitment yoon jeonghan’s been to in all the eight years you’ve worked with him.

“you like it?” jeonghan takes it from your hands, motions for you to turn around. you do obediently, and try your best to control your breathing and he places it across your chest, clasping it easily. you can feel his chest against your back, and his lips almost graze the junction between your neck and collarbone before he pulls away.

tease.

god, you want to kiss him.

instead, you look at this insufferable, gorgeous, insanely intelligent man before you and extend your hand. “come on, mr. yoon. let’s get this show on the road.”

jeonghan smiles at you, bright with his teeth, and takes it, only dropping it just when the line of journalists is in sight.

he winks at you once before he steps onto the podium.

you’re wholly unsurprised when he announces with a clear, strong voice, “i am iron man.”

Chapter Text

jeonghan rests his cheek against his palm, boredom splayed across his features as his eyes rake down the boy who shakes before him. seokmin, hestia had whispered into his ear before. when he had tilted his head to the side, jihoon had shook his head and clarified, “orpheus.” jeonghan watches as the boy brings his instrument to his chest and inhale a tremulous breath.

“king of shadows… king of shades…” seokmin’s unsteady voice echoes throughout the onyx cavern of jeonghan’s throne room. jeonghan’s eyes flick away from the boy and to you instead. your glittering black dress reaches past your feet, extending past the steps before your own throne and the off-the-shoulder neckline paints you in a devastating likeness. you always dress in black when you stay with jeonghan now, like you’re in mourning. for what, jeonghan would rather not think about.

“oh, it’s about me.” jeonghan mutters against his fist, rolling his eyes. you remain transfixed on the side before you. either that or you’ve decided jeonghan’s quips are unworthy of your attention this cycle.

“but he fell in love with a beautiful lady, who walked up above in her mother’s green field.” jeonghan’s jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow, depicting himself in an even crueler light. from where he’s tending to his hearth, jihoon pauses. this mortal clearly did not know jeonghan’s wrath firsthand.

of course jeonghan’s heard the stories. the stories of the king of the underworld meeting his bride in domain beyond his own and trapping her in a cycle of everlasting separation and waiting. he sees how you stiffen, sitting up even straighter. cycles ago, or what has felt like an entire eternity to jeonghan, ago, he would’ve reached out, clasped your hands together until all the tension had been drained out of your shoulders.

instead, he just watches this trembling boy sing this last song before he’s separated from the woman he loves until his time.

but then jeonghan hears a melody so old he thinks he’s mistaken. he frowns, eyebrows knitted in confusion and it seems like this exact moment is the one that you decide is worthy of your attention. you look at jeonghan with something akin to bewilderment. jeonghan doesn’t even realise he’s stood up until he feels your hand wrap around his wrist, like you’re afraid he might stop the boy before the song concludes.

“where did you get that melody?” jeonghan demands, but his voice falters. as it does, seokmin’s grows stronger. jeonghan feels overwhelmed with an emotion he had thought he’d forgotten how to feel.

“let him finish.” you say quietly, yet it pierces all the same. you tug on jeonghan’s wrist, and it is the feeling of your touch for the first time in millennia that causes him to stop where he stands instead of taking another step towards the insolent boy. jeonghan stills, and allows the wretchedly familiar melody transport him to cycles, lifetimes before this.

jeonghan had been so young the first time he ventured beyond his domain. where the sprawling underworld was jagged obsidian, the world above was filled with rolling fields of golden wheat that swayed with the gentle winds, shone under the undying light of the sun. he had even dared to imagine a life in the warmth of the soil, where he would be able to hear the tranquility of nature, the rush of a babbling brook, and simply be.

he had smiled at the sprawling expanse of life before him when he saw someone kneeling at the edge of the field.

you were crouched over a patch of flowers, hands gently picking pink and yellow chrysanthemums and placing them into a woven basket. your dress was a deep green, not dissimilar to the emeralds that jeonghan had sometimes seen in the mines of his kingdom. despite being a god of unparalleled powers, jeonghan was helpless to do anything but stare, mesmerised by the soft smile on your face, the small flower tucked behind your ear, the tenderness at which you handled each plant, and jeonghan had wondered what it must feel like to be touched like that.

“oh.”

jeonghan realised with a slow blink, that you were half turned towards him, your smile getting brighter and brighter. jeonghan would usually have a quip ready, a well, don’t let me stop you or something equally as tantalising, but all he can muster is a, “i didn’t know anyone else was here.”

but instead of stammering through an apology like people were prone to when in the presence of the king of the underworld, you just combed a hand through your hair with delicate fingers before walking towards him, gaze unafraid and unwavering as you extended the basket to him.

come home with me, jeonghan had nearly said aloud. instead, he remained as he was, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers. “they’re beautiful.” he commented at the lustre of the flowers. “these are a rare sight in the underworld.” he said, as if to test you.

“here.” you picked up a single pink stalk and handed it over to him. your fingers brushed, and jeonghan nearly flinched at how warm you were. how could he have even wished of taking this freeing soul away from a world bathed in sunlight and sprawling with life and into a kingdom with nothing but death and ashes?

jeonghan brought the flower up to his face and inhaled, and when he did, he could help but notice an expression of longing on your face, and was comforted by the fact that it seemed like he was not the only one who wished for something forbidden.

he did not realise until much later that he had hummed out a quiet tune as he took in the sight of the sky with you splayed out on the grass beside him, your fingers loosely interwoven in a mockery of what you two had been picturing. it was only when you had become his wife and whispered the tune into his ear as you danced under the flickering light of hestia’s hearth in your bedroom.

“it was a song from my heart, i suppose.” jeonghan had mumbled into your temple, before pressing a kiss onto it and cradling you closer to him. you had smiled in response to it, cupped his cheek, and you two continued to sway, helplessly in love.

now, you and jeonghan stand side by side, watching orpheus sing his ballad, tone so lilting and melancholic it makes your chest ache. jeonghan wrenches his gaze away and stares at your profile, watches as your eyes begin to fill with tears. all jeonghan has been good at lately is making you cry.

the boy croons out the melody once again. jeonghan’s song of devotion for you.

jeonghan is helpless to do anything but repeat it back, his voice scratchy from disuse.

you flinch at the sound, and your tears spill down your cheeks. but you turn more fully to meet jeonghan’s gaze, take in this god, this king, this man before you and think of days where you would perch on his lap instead of on the cold onyx of your own throne, where you would sleep held in his arms, his voice humming the sweet tune he’s uttering now.

you raise a hand, palm up. swallowing, jeonghan, king of the underworld, god of the dead, whose domain stretched far beyond any of the others, feels tears well in his eyes as he holds your hand at last and sings for you.

Chapter Text

it’s fall, threatening to turn winter, when you meet him again.

you’re pushing open the door to your favourite takeout place, cold from the air outside and cursing yourself for leaving your apartment without your scarf. at least it’d be a quick half an hour before you’d be able to curl up on your couch under a blanket, you consoled yourself.

the interior of the restaurant is homey, warm. that’s why you like it so much. ever since you moved to this neighbourhood, it had been a frequent haunt of yours, and you’re so familiar with it that the hostess just gives you a knowing smile before jotting down your order.

“it’ll be twenty minutes.” nayeon says, and you engage in some small talk. you’re so wrapped up in a conversation about her new puppy that you barely realise someone’s calling out for you.

“y/n! is that you?” you turn around slowly, and it takes a few seconds, maybe too many, given how soonyoung’s face falls, like he thinks he has it all wrong.

“yeah, it is.” you wave, and the older man beams, walks up to you. you give nayeon a last furtive smile before accepting his hug. “hi, how are you?”

he grins once he pulls away, cheeks bunched up. he’s grown older, you note. when you had met him, your first and last encounter, he didn’t have crow’s feet around his eyes, he moved smoother. but you guess you’ve changed, too. if there’s one thing that hasn’t changed, though, is that soonyoung was always a memorable person with an even more impeccable memory.

“i’m doing good! do you remember jihoon, wonwoo and jun?” he asks. it takes a while again before you can conjure the image of a darkly lit dinner table. contrary to what you expected, they were nice, they laughed, they mentioned going on a trip upstate with their friends, they didn’t comment on how much you didn’t belong with them.

“yeah, i remember.” you reply. “you guys were all really nice.”

“do you wanna join us for dinner? they’re right over there, actually.” you follow the direction of his finger to meet the gaze of someone with circle-rimmed glasses and a vaguely panicked expression on his face.

“oh, i wouldn’t want to intrude.” you try to say, but soonyoung won’t have it, ushering you to their table.

“nonsense! you’re not intruding! come sit for a while, at least until your order’s ready. guys, do you remember y/n?” he says, and you spot a flicker of remembrance in jihoon’s eyes before he lets an unsure smile form on his face.

“hi, come sit.” jun waves you over, scooching to wonwoo’s side. you sit down unsurely, feeling like you’ve been transported back to over seven years ago. except this time, you don’t think you have anything to prove, not really.

“how’ve you been? the last time we saw you you said you wanted to go into oncology?” wonwoo asks carefully, eyebrows scrunched together like he had to think about it.

you’re slightly touched he remembered. “yeah. i’m finishing my residency this year, actually.” a still, uncomfortable silence falls over you before you try to keep the conversation going, feeling like you were still far, far too young to ever be on their level. “what about you guys? soonyoung and jihoon were going to go on tour, if i’m right.”

jihoon nods. “we went a few years back, before soonyoung got married.”

you gasped. “you’re married?” like you had any right to know. like you were more than just once-acquaintances. if anything, you were complete strangers, brought together by one person. you haven’t thought about him in forever.

soonyoung smiles shyly, tapping on his ring finger, where a silver band rests. he shows you pictures of his partner, the other three men groaning like he’s boasted about how gorgeous and kind they are over and over again. you enjoy the spotlight being off you, though, going along with his story while silently begging the universe to quicken things along.

then, it happens like a bad movie.

the door to the restaurant opens, and a young woman walks through. she looks no more than twenty, maybe twenty-one, bundled up in a tan coat, and you’re about to look away when jeonghan steps in.

it’s like the ground is dissipating right under your feet as you meet his eyes. and as always, he looks away first. you forgot how much you hated when he used to do that. you forgot about him completely actually, forgot how much you needed to. your eyes linger on the scarf wrapped around his neck, red and knit, then down to the keys in his hand, dented and slightly scratched but all the same. a laminated ‘fuck the patriarchy’ rests against his palm like a beacon of mock solidarity. you’ll never forget the way he threw them into your hands roadside.

they make their way to your table, and you watch as he lets go of her fingers, pocketing his hand. a flash of betrayal appears on her face, but she shoulders on, plastering a hesitant smile on when jun calls them over.

“hey, guys.” jeonghan says, his voice the same melodic sound all those years ago as you sung on the top of your lungs on your way to his parent’s house, uncaring of the wind in your hair or of how childish it was. childishness, you thought, was something only jeonghan could afford. “this is yuna.”

the group choruses their hellos, and you sit there dumbly, unsure if you were supposed to chime in with a greeting. jihoon notices, though, and speaks up, “we bumped into y/n and asked her to come with.”

jeonghan gives you a dismissive glance, and you choke back a scoff, because of course. how could you expect it to be any different? the whole time you were with him, you were kept a secret. you kept him like an oath, holding him carefully in your too-young palms like he was a treasure, or like he could scald you with a flame.

yuna sits right across you, smiles at you. you return it. you’re right, she’s barely twenty. she has to pull out her id to show the waiter when he comes around to write down their orders.

“so how do you all know jeonghan?” she asks, her tone nervous, slightly stammery. poor, poor girl, you think. if you’re anything like me, you’ll feel like you’re walking through a new hell.

“we used to work in the same department.” jun answers, fingers dancing along the rim of his glass of wine. “before jeonghan got tenure at snu and ditched us all.”

you felt a shower of shame run over your body, because you were a walking cliche. it didn’t comfort you that yuna probably was as well. it was stupid, falling for your TA in your second year of university simply because he had a pretty smile and was skilled in comforting young girls with empty promises and fanciful words, carrying his supposed maturity like a weapon.

yuna looks at you expectantly.

“i was one of his students.” you say deliberately, sick satisfaction pooling within you when jeonghan tilts his head to the side, his jaw clenched. “it was a few years back. i’m a lot older now.”

her smile falters, and you want to take it all back. slowly, you note the way her hand reaches out for his when soonyoung steers the conversation into something about going back to namyangju for christmas. she stretches out her fingers over his, like he’s meant to intertwine them, but he pulls his hand away, twisting hers over and patting the back of her palm before dropping it unceremoniously on her lap.

you look away, and jihoon does as well. he had seen the same thing when it had happened with you, too.

yuna’s bottom lip stutters, and she has the unfortunate predicament of not being in jeonghan’s apartment for this meeting, because while you had the comfort of shedding a few tears in the privacy of his kitchen, she does not. instead, she stands up, excuses herself.

when the bathroom door shuts resolutely behind her, jeonghan takes a sip of his drink. “what are you doing here?” he then asks, his voice deceptively calm. he looks at you for the first time since leaving your old too-small apartment seven years ago, the view of his back tattooed into your twenty-one year old mind.

“like jihoon said, i was here for my takeout, which i assume is ready by now.” nayeon catches your eye, lifts up the paper bag. you stand. “contrary to popular belief, the world doesn’t revolve around forty-something year olds with the emotional maturity of someone at twenty, who then blames this on their flavour of the month.” jun widens his eyes behind his fist. none of his friends object, and you give jeonghan a sickly sweet smile. “have a good day, professor.” you turn to his friends. “enjoy your dinner.” soonyoung waves at you weakly.

you’re about to walk over to the counter when you decide to take a detour. instead, you walk into the bathroom, where sure enough, yuna is crouched over the sink, trying to dab away at her eyes without smudging her eyeliner. when she sees you through the mirror, she stands upright.

“what are you doing with him?”

“excuse me?” she sputters, before realisation sets in. “y-you and jeonghan—“

“yeah.” you interrupt her. “and let me tell you something: you don’t need him. it doesn’t matter how good he makes you feel. when is he bringing you to his parent’s cabin?”

“next week, what does this have to do with anything—“

“his mother’s going to be nice. his sister’s going to be even nicer. they’ll tell you stories about him on the t-ball team, he’ll tell you about his dad on the drive over. he’ll feel proud of himself for letting someone in with that bit of information. you’ll feel even more special when he asks you to take the wheel. don’t.”

“w-what? jeonghan’s not like that. he’s sweet! he-he…” she stammers, trails off.

“yuna,” her head snaps up. “you’re kind, you’re beautiful and i’m sure you’re smart. you don’t need someone like yoon jeonghan to prove that to you. not when he drops your hand in the middle of dinner with his friends. when’s your birthday?”

“december nine.” she responds, folding her arms around herself.

“it’s supposed to be fun turning twenty-one.” you say gently. “i wouldn’t know.” yuna leans against the counter, staring resolutely at the tiles. you reach out, touch her arm. “i was twenty when i fell in love with yoon jeonghan. he was thirty-one then.” you laugh a little, like it’s a punchline. “the thing with men like him is that we get older, but his lovers stay our age.” the first of her tears drip down, wetting the marble. you pass over a tissue. “you don’t need him.”

yuna peers up at you through wet eyelashes. you give her one last smile and leave.

you pick up your order and brace yourself for the cold. the wind rustles through the trees, and the autumn leaves fall like pieces into place.

then the door swings open from behind you, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who’s walking after you. jeonghan’s hand wraps around your wrist, and you shrug it off, turning on your heel to face him.

“what the hell did you tell yuna?” jeonghan demands, breathing out in anger.

“that’s none of your business.” you respond, amazed he thinks he has the right to even question you.

“look, i know we didn’t work out—“ and you feel your patience snap.

“you think this is about us?” you spit out. “of course you do, because everything is always about you, isn’t it?”

“why else would you be lashing out?”

it takes you a few moments to realise that he means it. jeonghan has no idea. he has not a single clue why you would rather die than ever be in the same space with him ever again.

the thing with jeonghan is— he’s beautiful. he’s gorgeous. he hears those praises day and night and thinks that means people owe him something. he’s blunt. but he uses that as an excuse, a shield. he’s casually cruel in the name of being honest. he has no idea at all. you wonder if he cares. if whatever you two had, whatever sick love affair you made up entirely in your mind, maimed him too.

and it hits you right there are then that you owe him absolutely nothing. not even an explanation.

“maybe you’ll know when you’re older.” you say instead, your voice dripping with utter mockery, and watch as he grows even angrier. “if we had been closer in age maybe it would’ve been fine.”

you turn, but before you do, you say one last thing. “nice scarf.” jeonghan looks down at it, completely clueless.

you walk away, watching the first fall of snow glisten as it fell. you could forget now, you think. you wouldn’t need to remember this all too well.

you giggled as jeonghan spun you around, the warmth of the kitchen’s wooden floors hugging your feet. he’s glowing in the refrigerator light, beautiful and oh-so untouchable to anyone else but you. you throw your arms over his shoulders, lean into his chest, allow him to sway you around.

being with jeonghan was like a masterpiece. you wondered how this would end. but for now, you laughed as he leaned his forehead against yours, his smile bright. when he kisses you, you think you’d remember it all too well.

Chapter Text

you have a problem. a jeonghan-sized problem to be exact, and it’s so pressing you can barely stand being in the same room as your best friend.

it’s his tongue.

let’s backtrack.

-

you first noticed jeonghan’s… oral fixation while you were sat across him working on your assignment. you liked writing down your outline and answers on actual paper before typing them out on a word document, something jeonghan liked teasing you for. but this time, he acquiesced to trying out your method, and was scribbling away on his notepad.

“jjong, can you—“ you trailed off when you realised the end of his pencil was stuck in between his teeth. usually you’d smack his wrist and try to get him to stop, you’re not ten years old and there are germs! but you caught a glimpse of his pretty pink tongue and all the thoughts just melted into a puddle in your mind.

you were so lost in the image of his tongue elsewhere that you hadn’t noticed how jeonghan had looked up from his notes and smirked. “hm?” he hummed, feigning ignorance. your head snapped up and you willed your flush to rescind before you cleared your throat.

“can you hand me your notes on chapter eight?” you asked, your voice slightly scratchy. jeonghan passed them over, making sure your fingertips brushed. you barely compressed a shiver, and just smiled at him through gritted teeth. “thanks.”

-

see, it would be easier if your feelings for jeonghan were just a lust thing, not, well, feelings feelings. somewhere between being paired up for a drama project and cuddling on a ratty couch, much to the displeasure of jeonghan’s roommate, you had developed the want to kiss jeonghan senseless every time he laughed his tinkly laugh or scrunched his nose at you or winked at you by closing his eyelids with his fingers.

jeonghan was everything you ever dreamed of— he walks you home after your friend-dates (when jihoon found out about those he scoffed right in your face, which you thought was kind of rude.), he treats your parents like his own (which your mother was very pleased about. to this day, she wonders when you’ll be able to bring him home for christmas break.), he holds your hand when it’s crowded (and when it wasn’t so crowded, but you weren’t going to complain.), he brings you snacks and hugs you when you’re feeling particularly overwhelmed by school.

but he had also made it clear that he hated cliches. it was during one of your movie sleepovers, your head tucked into his neck while your other friends were littered across seungcheol’s dorm room, when he pointed a finger at the screen (soonyoung had picked the princess diaries. not a single person contested.) and said, “see, that’s unrealistic.”

“i don’t know about that.” you chew on the piece of popcorn you plucked from the bowl balanced precariously on your lap before feeding one into jeonghan’s mouth when he nudged you to. “i’m still waiting for a hidden country to declare me their princess so i never have to sit through another finance class ever again.”

jeonghan rolled his eyes, barely visible if not for the flickering light of vernon’s projector. “no, you dummy. i mean the weird michael and mia subplot.”

“yeah, they totally don’t look good together and they break up before the next movie and chris pine is way hotter than he is—“

“i mean there’s no way all best friends actually do fall in love with each other.” jeonghan interrupted you. you paused, and looked up at him.

“what do you mean?”

“all these dumb movies—“

“princess diaries is a classic!” mingyu gasped.

“all these movies,” jeonghan corrected himself. “are such cliches. what happened to regular friendship? to calling someone and them coming no questions asked for the sake of friendship and not because of your underlying romantic feelings for them?”

from where he was sprawled across seokmin’s lap on the floor, soonyoung pouted. “i think it’s cute.”

“it is, but i would rather walk into snow in flip flops than see that play out in real life.”

“are we going to keep talking or are we going to watch the damn movie?” jihoon said, his voice somehow causing everyone to be quiet. while he was wrapped in a fluffy comforter, resembling a grey marshmallow than anything else, he still managed to exude as much annoyance as a person was allowed to expel.

jeonghan never did get why you were quieter after his little speech that night.

-

“so what, is your master plan just to hide here until you graduate?” wonwoo asked dryly. he was sprawled on his bed, hunched over his laptop and typing up his literature assignment.

you sighed, curling into his beanbag chair and imagining just how much more peaceful your life would be if it just swallowed you up. “not until i graduate.” you grouched. “just until i get over these stupid. these stupid—“
“just say you love him, god.”

you whined, flapping your arms around. “shut up! shutupshutupshutup, jeon wonwoo, you’re not helping!”

wonwoo sighed, snapping his laptop closed. “y/n, it’s not that big of a deal. just tell him.”

“i can’t, okay! he’s my best friend—“

“rude.”

“and i’m not gonna let something as stupid as my feelings get in the way of that! no matter how pretty his smile is, or how warm his hands always are or how his tongue—“

“oh my god, stop.” wonwoo covered his ears with his hands like the immature fifth-grader he was. it was a mystery to you how people were so intimidated by this six foot nerd. “stop. look, let’s just go out tonight, okay? i can’t stand another second of hearing you complain and these poems aren’t helping.”

“you hate going out.” you mumble into your arm. “and i hate going out.”

“but you know who doesn’t?” your friend egged, trudging across his bedroom to pull your arm away from your face.

“your boyfriend.” you deadpanned. “you’re going to try pull soonyoung away from the dance studio right now? he’d break up with you for not knowing him at all.”

“he’ll get over it when you tell him why.” wonwoo tugs you up onto your feet, making you squawk. you miss the days when he was a skinny little shit. now that he’s bulked up it’s been detrimental to your wellbeing. soonyoung keeps trying to tell you how he applies his newfound strength in bed.

“soonyoung has a big mouth! and he can’t keep secrets, especially from jeonghan!” nevertheless, you let wonwoo drag you to the front door, grabbing your coat and closing the door behind you two.

“at this point, i’d take mingyu if you could just stop talking about jeonghan’s lips.” wonwoo mutters.

-

“this was an awful idea.” you said, watching as seungkwan tried to get the throng of people in the surprisingly packed college bar into doing a flash mob to orange caramel’s catallena.

surprisingly, soonyoung was completely down to ditch his self-moderated dance class and race to the bars to get wildly drunk. when you and wonwoo knocked on the door, both half scared to death, the soft-cheeked boy just grinned and ran into wonwoo’s arms, much to your displeasure. you were counting on his veto so you could go back to wonwoo’s dorm and hide.

so now here you were, sitting on a barstool waiting for seokmin to stop showing videos of himself grilling meat to random passerbys while soonyoung and wonwoo made out beside you. usually you’d be out there making a fool of yourself right next to seungkwan but you weren’t feeling any of it today. you sighed, twirling the straw of your long island peach tea.

“w-why’re you sad, my pretty baby?” seokmin blubbered, throwing himself over you. you remained unfazed, holding his waist as he sunk lower and lower. “dance! have another long island!”

you sighed, standing up and pushing him down to sit instead. “someone has to watch you before you throw up all over yourself, seok.” you took a cursory glance and soonyoung and wonwoo and promptly looked away. “and it clearly isn’t going to be them.”

seokmin just garbled into the counter. you peered out at the crowd. seungkwan was teaching the nobody dance to a bunch of amused seniors, chan was engaged in what seemed to be a very serious conversation with tzuyu while sipping his little cocktail and jun and minghao were nowhere to be found. you assumed they hauled ass and sneaked home before any one of you could notice. you were so jealous.

now how were you going to convince a bunch of drunk dance and theatre majors to pack it up and just go home already? you pulled your phone out of your pocket, and pressed on seungcheol’s contact. it only took three rings before he picked up.

“what’s up?”

“cheollie,” you started, slurring your words a little and making sure he could hear the bass of whatever song was thumping in the background. “can you come get us?”

seungcheol cursed, and you heard the vague rustle of his sheets. a pang of guilt resonated through you, but how else were you going to get them home? minghao and jun were definitely not going to come back, hansol wouldn’t be much help for anyone but seungkwan, jihoon would kill you before he had to step foot into a rowdy college bar, mingyu would probably join in on the fun, and joshua would just call jeonghan, the last person you needed to see right now.

“the regular place?”

“yeah. thank you! let’s get dinner next week? my treat.” you added.

“you said that! you can’t take it back!” seungcheol said, notably more excited. “no takebacks!”

you rolled your eyes. how were you friends with boys dubbed the campus heartthrobs but in actuality were nothing but overgrown golden retrievers?

“yes, cheol.” you said placatingly. “i’ll see you in a bit.”

then you turned your head to see seokmin fast asleep. soonyoung and wonwoo had disappeared, no doubt to one of the dinky bathroom stalls. seungkwan was now on the phone with someone. vernon, you hoped, so you’d have one less person to worry about. chan was downing shots, and you spotted your first immediate disaster, rushing towards him.

-

it was twenty minutes after you convinced chan he didn’t need to do any more shots when you spotted seungcheol in his newest leather jacket. oh, he’d regret that.

you were about to wave him over when you noted another figure trailing behind him with a head of brown hair you could spot in any crowd. then jeonghan, deliberately, like he knew you were watching them, licked his bottom lip. and you were dead.

you curled your head behind chan’s, groaning.

“wha? what’s it?” the younger man mumbled. “what’s wrong?”

“chan, you love me, right?” you asked.

chan made a face. he wasn’t exactly an emotional drunk. if anything, the alcohol made him brainier and more observant than he usually was. and it removed his filter, which you guessed was the reason why he said, “yeah, but probably not as much as you’re in love with jeonghan-hyung.” of which you promptly gasped and covered his mouth with your hand.

seungcheol finally saw you, walking up to you with a stern look on your face. “it’s a weekday!”

“it’s wonwoo’s fault!” you complained childishly. “he wanted to go out and soonyoung was apparently down for that, which is awful because now they’re sucking face in the bathroom and i need someone to call them—“

“you’re not drunk!” seungcheol pointed a finger at you like you had done something blasphemous. “jeonghan made me pick him up and you’re not drunk?”

chan jolted down onto the table, making you grab him and push him upright. “why did you even bring him, you traitor?” you said angrily. “you’re not attached at the hip, i only needed your help!”

“you think i can tell him you’re wasted in a club and make him not come? and you two are attached at the hip, why didn’t you ask him to come with, you heathen?” the boy demanded, pulling chan onto his feet.

“yeah, why didn’t you ask me to come with?” jeonghan asked, from behind you, seokmin under his arm and a cold expression on his face.

you were in trouble. jeonghan had only ever been mad at you twice, the first time when you got sick after midterms and the second when you raced over to his apartment and got distracted on the way, not answering his calls.

you could do nothing but look down at your feet, slinging your arm over chan’s shoulders. seungcheol narrowed his eyes, but with a look to your face backed down and went off to grab seungkwan, soonyoung and wonwoo.

“yah,” chan started, swaying on his feet. you almost doubled over at his weight. jeonghan reached out to grab your arm, steadying you before letting go. you felt strangely hurt at that. “you guys are being weird.”

“and you’re drunk.” jeonghan replied bluntly. “just get into the car.”

you obediently manoeuvred through the crowd, opening the door and feeling the rush of the cold. you bemoaned the loss of your jacket, which soonyoung had stolen off your person and confirmed that you’d probably have to burn it after whatever happened in the bathroom.

jeonghan unlocked the car, and you deposited chan in the backseat, pushing seokmin in after him and closing the door.

then it was you and jeonghan in the cold.

you shivered a little, both from the weather and the look he was giving you. he kissed his teeth, shrugging off his coat.

“i always tell you to bring your own jacket but you never listen—“

“i did! soonyoung stole it!” you defended yourself, blocking him from draping the coat over your shoulders. “keep it on, yoon, you know you get colder than me.”

“who said i was going to give it to you, you little brat?” jeonghan sniped, putting it back on. “come here.” he spread his arms.

you just stared at him like he had grown another head. “excuse me?” you said dumbly.

jeonghan rolled his eyes. then he tugged on your arm, making you fall into him with an ‘oof!’. he wrapped his arms around your torso, effectively shielding you from the cold. you willed your cheeks not to redden. this close, you could count every one of his eyelashes, the pouty curve of his bottom lip. you could breathe in the scent that was distinctively jeonghan, and all you’d have to do is go up on your tiptoes to kiss—

nope. no. see, this is exactly why you needed to get away from jeonghan.

“why are you avoiding me?” jeonghan murmured into your hair.

“i’m not avoiding you.” you said weakly. “i’ve just been busy with my assignments and—“

“nice try, we share a google calendar, and unlike soonyoung, i actually do know how to use it.” he scoffed, wiggling a little in the coat you two were sharing like penguins. you inwardly wailed at that. he was so cute.

“i just wanted to be alone for a little bit.” you stared definitively at a pile of snow on the pavement. where was seungcheol? surely it wouldn’t take him this long to wrangle all the boys out the bar. you once saw him trample over six people. “you know?”

jeonghan sighed, detaching one of his hands from your waist and instead tucking it under your chin so you’d have to face him. you swear right there and then is the most beautiful jeonghan’s ever been— with little snowflakes in his hair, his cheeks a little pink from the cold, and his big pretty eyes blinking down at you. “i know. but you used to want to be alone with me.”

when you were sad, there was nothing that made you feel more comforted than jeonghan’s presence. whether it be your head on his shoulder while he commented on trashy tv shows or his arms around you while you cried out your frustrations, he was always there. he made you laugh so hard you forgot why you were even sad in the first place.

you missed that, but you didn’t want to ruin everything you had with him by being selfish.

“i still do. want to be alone with you.” you replied, easing the tension in jeonghan’s shoulders a little. “i don’t know. everything’s so weird right now with me, and i just think it’s something i have to deal with.”

“what’s wrong, hm? tell me.” he says gently, so so gently because jeonghan is nothing if not gentle.

you just smile up at him, albeit sadly. “i can’t.”

“y/n, i don’t get it.” he pulled away from you, stepping back. you reached out to take his hand but he flinched.

oh.

“jeonghan,” you called out pleadingly. this was exactly what you hoped wouldn’t happen. “jeonghan, i—“

“and you never call me jeonghan.” he said, visibly angry. “what’s gotten into you? stop shutting me out. you never used to shut me out, or avoid me. was it something i did? did i do something—“

“no! of course not!” you cried. “hannie, you didn’t do anything—“

jeonghan laughed not unkindly. that was something he had never done to you before.

“i can’t do this with you.” he said, shaking his head. you felt panic and despair grip at you. “this is insane. you’re your own person, i don’t have the right to ask you these things. i don’t know why the hell i’m acting this way.”

“you do!” you walk towards him, grabbing onto his hand. when he moves to shake you off you just hold on tighter. “you do have the right to ask. you’re my best friend—“

“yeah, well i don’t feel like your best friend right now.”

you feel tears start to form in the corner of your eyes, and. you blink them away quickly. “jeonghan, i…” you trail off. were you really going to do this? were you really going to tell him how you felt about him?

fuck it, you’d rather know than wonder.

“jeonghan, i’m in love with you.” you say, feeling your heart about to beat right out of your chest. there’s a flicker of an emotion you can’t quite place on jeonghan’s face as you say it. you barrel on. “i’m so in love with you it makes me crazy. y-you just smile or look at me and i feel like i could sit through six hours of calculus without complaining.” that gets him to giggle a little. “and you’re so nice for no reason, even when i’m being difficult. you’re so, so, so annoying when you whine and complain but i deal with it anyway because i think it’s the cutest thing. and you do that stupid thing with your tongue—“

jeonghan laughed, a complete juxtaposition to the one he let out before. this one was happy, bright.

“shut up, you know exactly what i’m talking about! and i’m so stupidly in love with you. i know you hate those cliches, so i’ll get over it. really, i will, and we can go back to being best friends but for now you have to let me breathe a little.” you finished, breathing out. you feel like you’ve just run an entire marathon. jeonghan’s still looking at you.

then he steps closer to you. one step. two.

and he cradles your face with his hands and leans down to kiss you.

his lips are soft, slightly cracked from the cold but you’re sure yours are too. but that doesn’t matter to you because holy shit, jeonghan’s kissing you. he nips your bottom lip, and you open up for him. then you feel it. his tongue traces against your lips, and you let out an embarrassing moan. jeonghan doesn’t take that as a deterrent. in fact, he smirks, you can feel it, and just kisses you longer, more languidly, like he’s savouring it.

when you finally break away, you’re out of breath, a little dizzy, and mostly confused. you peer up at jeonghan, who’s looking at you so fondly you might burst. his arms wrap around your waist.

“but you said you hated cliches—“

“cliches have never mattered to me. you do, though.” jeonghan smiles, and you take it in. “i love you. god, i’ve been waiting for you to notice. i didn’t know the pencil would get you.”

“y-you did that on purpose!” you sputtered, and he giggled, the prettiest sound you know, your favourite noise. “you little heathen!”

“i love you. i love you. i love you. i love you.” he just says before he tugs you up and kisses you again.

you’re so happy you could explode. you throw your arms over his shoulders, pulling him closer.

only to pull away when you hear hollers from the doorway. you and jeonghan break away, and you hide your face in his neck when you spot soonyoung and seungcheol whooping. wonwoo just sighs, shaking his head. seungkwan is absolutely hammered, but even he cheers. jeonghan just smiles like the little shit he is and pats your back.

“get in the car, you asses.” he says, but there isn’t any bark to his words.

seungcheol gives you a shit-eating grin as he passes and shoves the boys into the backseat, squishing them all together. jeonghan slides into the shotgun, and takes your hand, pulling you down onto his lap. he makes space for you between his legs, letting you lean back against his chest. you feel a rush of joy as he smiles at you with completely unfiltered adoration.

jeonghan loves you. you love him, and nothing would ruin this for you.

“you two better not do anything funny in hyung’s apartment. shua-hyung would murder you.” wonwoo says obnoxiously. seungcheol barks out a laugh.

you definitely spoke too soon.

and to think all this was brought on by your inner turmoil about jeonghan’s tongue. you wouldn’t know it until later that night, but it turns out that wicked tongue was good for other things beside quick quips.

-

(bonus scene!)

“look, it was a stupid thing to say and i know that now! when else are you going to hear me backtrack on my words?” jeonghan said, as close to a plea as he could possibly get, his eyes widening in alarm as soonyoung approached.

“someone get this on camera.” seungcheol grinned, following behind his friend, much to jeonghan’s displeasure.

“baby.” jeonghan said, looking over at you with panic in his eyes.

you just smiled innocently at him. “what you said really hurt me, you know, han?” you pouted. “think about how much time we would’ve saved if you hadn’t said that!”

“yeah, but that was ages ago! we’re together now, and i love you so much!” your boyfriend said, inching away from seokmin, who was dangling the pair of flip flops at him in the most menacing way a near twenty-three year old could. while your heart did pang a little in your chest, as it usually did whenever jeonghan reminded you that he loved you, you couldn’t help but want to see how this would turn out.

“i love you too, babe.” you called out. “but i do want to see you walk into the snow in flip flops.”

the look jeonghan gave you was laughter-inducing. you had never seen such pure devastation and betrayal on his face since the time seungkwan lathered gochujang on his eyebrows for gags. with as much dignity as possible, jeonghan allowed soonyoung to take off his comfy boots and stick his feet into the mart flip flops.

you followed the group, joshua trailing behind you with his phone on record. you shivered instinctively when you stepped out onto the porch of mingyu’s parents winter cabin, bundling yourself deeper into your coat. jeonghan cried out at the cold and you almost called off the deal right there and then.

then, without warning, seungcheol shoved him into the snow, and his screams got even louder. “YAH! WHO DID THAT?” jeonghan yelled, before running back up onto the deck. he took off the slipper, throwing it at seokmin, who had the unfortunate disposition of being the closest to him and raced back inside.

he shoved his feet as close as he could to the fire, and you brought over a blanket, plopping down beside him and covering his feet with them. jeonghan leaned into your side, a pout on his face and a whine evident in his voice. “you’re lucky i love you, or i’d be planning your murder like i’m doing right now to everyone else.”

you just wrapped your arms around his shoulders, snuggling into him. it wasn’t often yoon jeonghan would let someone off the hook for doing something like this to him. “i love you, too. now do we need to bring you and your feet to the hospital?”

Chapter Text

it was a stupid fight. you regretted even opening your mouth. tensions had been running high for a while now, with jeonghan getting busier at the office and you had been feeling under the weather lately. that and the fact that you hadn’t even spent time together longer than a few hours, most of which were spent sleeping.

so when you did finally get time to yourselves, you were looking forward to a cozy night in with your head resting on jeonghan’s chest while you two watched some chick flick you were supposed to enjoy a few weeks back. you did not expect a full on fight.

you and jeonghan didn’t fight often. it was rare that either of you would ever raise your voices, especially since the two of you hated loudness. but this. this was a fight.

you don’t even remember what triggered it. maybe it was the fact that jeonghan just wanted to sleep instead of watching the movie, or that you were unwilling on changing the night’s schedule, but before you knew it, he was yelling at you for not being considerate of his feelings and you were yelling back at him for not wanting to spend time with you.

then when you had had enough of the screaming, you grabbed your phone and coat and walked out of the apartment clad in your strawberry-printed pajamas and all. once the cold seoul breeze hit your hair face, you felt the first rush of tears drip down your cheeks. you let out a stuttered breath, wiping your face before making your way to your friend’s house.

three taps on mingyu’s door was all it took for him to swing it open with a smile, only for it to drop when he saw your tear-stricken face and red eyes. he ushered you in, fretting over you immediately.

“is everything okay? that’s a stupid question, of course it’s not. that’s why you’re crying. is jeonghan-hyung okay—“

you let out another wail.

“okay, so it’s jeonghan-hyung!” the man concluded, face vaguely panicky. if it were any other situation, you’d probably laugh at how distressed he looked. out of all your friends, mingyu and seungkwan were probably the most emotionally apt, but you didn’t go to them for comfort often. that was jeonghan’s job. he guided you to the couch, prompting you to faceplant into it. “what do you need me to do? are you hungry? did you have dinner?”

you lifted your face from the cushy fabric of the sofa. “just come here.” you tugged on his hand, pulling him onto the couch as well. unceremoniously, you plopped your face onto his lap. “i did something stupid.”

“i’m sure you didn’t.” mingyu tried to console you. you glared at him through another pool of tears.

“i did. i picked a fight so he fought back and now we’re probably gonna break up or something!”

you’d been so tired and sensitive lately, more prone to anger and sadness than usual. you couldn’t help but feel like you were a stranger in your own mind. you didn’t know why you were so emotional. you dreaded what jeonghan would say to you when you got back. if he would even be there.

you wiped your face.

“you’re not gonna break up!” your friend insisted, petting your hair. “jeonghan wouldn’t let you break up with him.”

“excuse me?”

mingyu sighed. “you know what i mean! he loves you and you love him and stuff. so just apologise.”

you groaned, sitting up. “can’t you be more like jihoon and just assume he was the one in the wrong?”

“no, he’d ruin my reputation, i think.” he took a second to think before his eyes widened comically. “wait, do you think he’d get even madder that i assumed it was your fault?”

“probably.”

mingyu let out a whine like the overgrown puppy he was. “i’m gonna get some wine.”

“no.” you grumbled. “i haven’t been feeling well. it’ll make me sick.”

he made his way to the kitchen anyway, rummaging through his fridge for something more tame. you had just gotten used to the sound of the clinking bottles before seven words ruined the clearness of your mind.

“what, are you knocked up or something?”

-

three kits and three sets of two pink lines later you were sat on the floor of mingyu’s bathroom, your friend pacing outside.

“are you done?” he bellowed. “i didn’t know which one to get so i just got whatever the cashier recommended. do i need to get some more?”

you continued staring at the latest test, memorising the sign. an unknown emotion overcame you. you weren’t sure if it was fear or love— an accelerated heartbeat and expanded pupils were characteristics of both. you couldn’t distinguish if the fluttering in your chest was excitement or horror.

you placed a hand over your still-flat stomach. you knew you wouldn’t feel anything yet, but the thought of something, someone just being there amazed you. someone you made together.

you felt uncertainty over the situation. while it was something that made you happy, you weren’t sure if this was too unplanned. figuring the best way to know what to do was to finally text jeonghan, you pulled out your phone, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat, only to see a few messages he had already sent.

from: hannie
where are you?
are you okay?
come home please

a space, before—

mingyu said you’re there. i’m coming over

then all you felt was panic. you hauled yourself up, unlocking the door. mingyu let out a sigh of relief.

“i thought you passed out or something! do you know how scared i was? i was gonna give it two more minutes before i smashed the door open!”

“you told jeonghan i was here?” you demanded.

“of course i did, what else was i supposed to do?” he said, exasperated.

three knocks on the door resonated through the apartment.

mingyu motioned for you to get it. “i’ll be in my room. please don’t have make-up sex in my living room!”

you barely had enough time to elbow him before jeonghan knocked again, louder this time.

bracing yourself, you took a breath before you opened the door. once jeonghan’s eyes landed on you, he exhaled in obvious relief, pushing into the apartment, kicking the door shut and pulling you into an embrace.

an inhale of his usual fabric softener was all it took for you to cry again. you sniffled into his shoulder. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to say all those things. i-i love you, and i know you’re really tired and i should’ve—“

jeonghan silenced you with a peck to your forehead and cupped your face with his hands. “i’m sorry, too. i want to spend time with you, and you’re the most considerate person i know. and i love you, too.” he wiped your tears away gently, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “don’t cry, okay? it makes me sad when you cry, sweetheart.”

neither you nor jeonghan say it often, ‘i love you’. but it doesn’t matter, you’d have to blind not to see how much you loved each other. it was seen in the way you left warm towels out at night when jeonghan would come home late, how jeonghan wordlessly set out your painting set on afternoons your brows were far too furrowed, your gazes across the room, how he held you at night despite telling his friends how much he hated how you hogged the covers. neither you nor jeonghan say it often, ‘i love you’, but you love each other louder through your actions than any word in the dictionary.

your bottom lip stuttered, and you felt more tears pool in the corner of your eyes. jeonghan frowns. “what’s wrong? are you okay?”

you took his hand, lacing your fingers together. “you won’t get mad?”

“you’d have to tell me what happened first, baby.”

you led him to the bathroom, ignoring his little inquisitive hum. once you passed the latest kit to him, though, it seemed so much less climactic than you thought it would be. jeonghan just glanced at the test and placed it back on the sink.

“okay, so are you coming home?” he asked.

“i-what? a-are you mad?”

jeonghan shook his head. “what? of course not!”

“do you wanna keep it?”

he reached out to take your hand. “i love you, and i’m always gonna love you the most. i’d pick what we have right now over any what-if. i won’t let that be swayed by something you don’t want, or something you have doubts about. if you do want to keep it, i’ll be there and i’ll love them as much as i love you. if you don’t want to, i’ll be there anyway and love you the same.”

tears spilled down your cheeks before you punched him in the arm. jeonghan yelped in pain, shooting you a betrayed look. “y-you can’t just say stuff like that, asshole!”

“well, it’s true.” jeonghan said, flabbergasted.

you mused it over. a baby was something to be happy about, you think. and you’ve always wanted to know what kind of demonic hell-spawn would be erected from a mix of you and jeonghan. but all jokes aside, this was something, someone, you and jeonghan had made together, and someone you would love unconditionally. you have more than enough space in your heart for that, right next to the growing space that belonged to jeonghan.

“i want it, i think.”

jeonghan beamed, before swinging you into his arms, twirling you a little before pressing kisses onto your cheeks. you laughed at how he snuggled into the crook of your neck, bending in what has to be the most uncomfortable manner.

“you’re happy?” you murmur into his hair.

“are you?”

you think about everything you have and how everything dulls in comparison to what you have right here in mingyu’s bathroom. all you ever needed was jeonghan, and now you had something more.

“of course i am. i’m always happy with you.” you reply truthfully.

jeonghan pulls away, tucks your hair behind your ear, and places his hand carefully on your stomach, eyes glimmering in awe that used to be meant only for you. you don’t mind sharing.

“i’m always happy with you, too.” he rubs your tummy carefully.

you’re overwhelmed with adoration.

“don’t laugh. you have to do something for me. and you can’t laugh! just do it!”

jeonghan nodded. “what’s up?”

“tell me you love me.” you said, voice shaky.

he smiles, like you’ve just asked him to do the simplest thing in the world. “easy. i love you.” jeonghan said, in a tone slightly teasing. he kissed you on your nose, and brought you back into his arms.

you felt his heartbeat, pressed your ear against it, and sent a silent thanks to the instrument that pumped life into the man you loved.

from the hallway, mingyu grinned, clicking the shutter of his film camera. in a few months, the picture would be framed on your bedside table.

Chapter Text

the sound of the rain hitting the glass windows was a pretty accompaniment to the slow, sensual atmosphere of your apartment. you had the perfect view of jeonghan’s face settled between your thighs, tongue lapping irritatingly leisurely at your folds and bringing you to euphoria. you couldn’t help but moan and tug at his hair. it was getting long, nowhere near how it was when you had first met him, but longer than you had seen him last. he laughs against your core, a delightfully sinful sound, as he watches you fall apart for him.

meeting was always on his terms, and you had never felt like you could initiate these rendezvous yourself. jeonghan had complete and utter control— over you, over this nameless arrangement, and the irony of it all was that he had never even needed to assert himself to get it. with jeonghan, everyone fell to his feet wordlessly, like he was a puppeteer and those around him were willing participants in his little show. you lost all sense of time, all your predetermined rules when you were with him, and right now, it paid off, because the way he took you to heaven with his soft hum of his tongue, the smooth pad of his fingers and his tender kisses made you feel like there was some meaning to it all.

jeonghan never went down on you like he was starved. he did it like he wanted to savour every second of it. he knew your body better than anyone else ever had, and when your thighs began to quiver, all he did was smirk and slide two fingers into you.

“oh, fuck.” you moaned, pushing your hips forward onto his fingers.

“come for me, sweetheart.” he demands, “come.”

and it’s only a few more thrusts of his fingers before you do, clenching around them and lifting your hips off the table you were propped up on.

“you’re ready.” he says with a devilish smile on his face, removing his fingers from your core and lifting them up to his mouth to taste. you let out another moan at that. did he have to be so dirty?

your eyes roll back as he slides his length into you, slowly pulling back only to slam into you hard. he pulls you towards him, thrusting deep into you.

“you feel perfect, sweetheart. like you were made for me.” jeonghan whispers into your ear, like it was a secret only for you two.

your heart swells at the praise, but deep down, you know him far too well. you only allow yourself to indulge in his compliments before you brush it off. all jeonghan’s ever given you is false hope and broken promises.

“m-more. please.” you plead to distract yourself from your thoughts. “jjong, please.”

jeonghan groans, pulls out and flips you onto your front so your cheek is smushed against the cold marble of the counter. “i’m going to ruin you.”

he slams into you, making you scream. from this angle, he hits you even deeper, one of his hands tangled in your hair. he pulls you up, flush against his chest, and his other hand slides down to your waist. he rubs small circles there, and you want nothing more than to succumb to every mark that this could be something more.

instead, you focus on the pleasure of him pounding into you, and the open-mouthed kisses he’s leaving against your neck, and allow yourself to hurtle over the edge, stars exploding behind your eyelids as you come. it doesn’t take long for jeonghan to follow, his moans emanating from behind you as he spills into you.

he presses a kiss against the back of your neck before pulling out to grab a towel. you two clean up, make a quick trip to the bathroom and get back into bed. jeonghan pulls you towards him, your back against his front, and smooths down your hair before leaning in to kiss your forehead.

“you always smell so good.” jeonghan muses sleepily, hands travelling to wrap around your waist.

you let out a small laugh at that, because if anything, jeonghan’s the one who carries around the scent of the prettiest thing you’ve ever smelt. it’s either that, or you’re entirely biased. “do i now?” you lean up to kiss him.

jeonghan just kisses you back, softly, tenderly. if it were possible, you think you can physically feel your hopeless yearning for him growing. jeonghan pins you underneath him, and your night dissipates into the feeling of jeonghan’s hands on your body and his smile against your neck.

-

you wake up next morning to the familiar emptiness in your bed. jeonghan’s never stayed, this time shouldn’t have been any different.

and yet, you feel a pang of disappointment, like the walls guarding your heart are caving in. you turn on your phone. he hasn’t even left a message, and you’re reminded— jeonghan doesn’t love you. you don’t love him (you liar).

this is nothing more than what it is.

Chapter Text

the sound of five sharp taps against your door resonates throughout your empty, save you, apartment. it takes a second, then two, for it to fully sink in. it’s a rhythm you learned so long ago you know you should’ve wiped it from your mind. but someone like him’s always been difficult to forget.

it takes you by surprise. your heart starts beating a mile a minute in your chest, acting as a reminder that yes, you still have a heart, despite everything the person on the other side of the door did to you, whether unconsciously or consciously.

from where you’re propped up on your countertop, you balance the options— to open the door like an absolute idiot with nothing but your sheer adrenaline to count on in case things got ugly, or to not, and have him make you. you decide that you’d rather not be a slave to your own mind, or his really, and trudge over to the entrance of your home, slower than you have ever moved.

it’s funny, ironic, if you think about it. just think about it.

the handle feels heavier than ever when you push down and swing it open. you know exactly who’s on the other side.

jeonghan blinks at you, like he’s surprised, before a familiar, slow smile spreads across his face. lazy, but tantalising enough to serve as a prompt of just how powerful he is. it thrums within him, waiting to be used. you wonder if it’s being used right now. if he’s doing it right now.

“i’m not.” is the first thing yoon jeonghan utters to you in more than eight months. he quirks his head to the side. “you’re home.” he says, the words flowing out of him with practised ease, a shadow of the ones he used to announce every day. the memory is branded in your brain with fire.

you flinch, and the smile drops from his face.

the blood is the first thing you notice. it stretches along jeonghan’s forehead, covering his neck and smudged below his lower lip. then the bruises, one high on his cheekbone, just above a cut deep enough for you to wonder if it’ll scar.

“can i come in?” jeonghan asks, “or are you going to send me away?”

wordlessly, you let him in. you take his word that he’s not reading you, and think, i couldn’t send you away if i tried, yoon jeonghan.

he toes off his shoes, placing them in a spot he left vacant since the day in front of the bank. you don’t want to think about that. it’s been a year and a half since sojung died, a year since seungcheol was put into forced retirement. a year since you stopped smiling at him when you see him at the agency. a year since you’ve stopped wanting him to. you don’t think you’ll ever get over his betrayal.

you close the door behind him, glancing covertly at the hall to make sure no one’s seen, and then at jeonghan himself, whose now sauntering around your apartment, looking at all the pictures on the walls like he’s at an exhibition and not dripping blood on your floors. they’ll take ages to clean.

“you don’t have to worry about that.” jeonghan’s lilting voice tells you. you look at him, and it only takes a moment for you to understand. of course he did. of course yoon jeonghan took over the minds of every single person in your apartment building just to sneak in.

then he turns again, and you see a gash along his back, long and curved, from under his ripped shirt. you feel your heart in your throat, whether it’s fear for you or him is something that’s entirely your business. no one’s been able to touch jeonghan. in all the years you’ve known him, this is only the second time you’ve seen him like this.

the first time—. well, you don’t want to think about that. the image of his mangled body on the concrete, his spine twisted in such an unruly angle you wanted to look away, blood splattered across the pavement pooling far and jeonghan’s scream of pain is something you don’t think you’ll ever be truly free from.

“sorry for dropping by unannounced.” he continues, like he’s your friend. like he’s soonyoung or byulyi dropping off a bottle of wine or asking you to come for dinner. “but there aren’t many places in this city willing to house a criminal.”

“for good reason.” you say. “and that’s a lie. there are many places in this city you could make want to house a criminal.”

the ends of jeonghan’s mouth quirk up like it’s an inside joke. “and i chose to come here. you should be honoured.”

you roll your eyes. words get stuck in the back of your throat traitorously, though. who did this to you? why are you really here? why me, after all these years? why me, again? why is it always me?

instead, what comes out of your mouth is, “sit down.”

jeonghan follows your orders without any quips, a first for you, but with a deep grimace, and practically falls onto your couch. still, he crosses his legs and stretches out his left arm, the good one, the one devoid of scratches and cuts, and motions for you to sit. you don’t know if he realises it’s from your old apartment, the one you used to share with him. it’s the same one he used to lay his head in your lap, the same one you used to kiss on, his hands cupping your face like you were a benevolent treasure. you know better now.

you leave him there to grab the first aid kit you’ve taken to putting underneath your kitchen sink after chan’s stopped by a few times too many, a sheepish smile on his face when he tells you he can’t have his mom worrying about him. he is so, so young. far too young to ever experience what you have. you hope he never has to.

then you turn back to jeonghan, and the memories hit you with full force, and they’re just as painful as jeonghan’s wounds, you’re sure of it. jeonghan used to hold you in his arms. jeonghan used to be your safe haven. jeonghan is now an internationally wanted supervillain with a rap sheet that was probably longer than the entirety of remembrance of the things past by marcel proust.

“you’re not going to ask me what happened?” jeonghan asks once you return.

you just shrug and sit beside him, farther than what’s necessary. that’s answer enough. jeonghan kisses his teeth, clearly annoyed by your silence, but doesn’t try to get more words out of you. he grits his teeth when you press disinfectant into the cut on his cheek and forehead. they aren’t too deep, despite looking like they’re the result of a slash from a blade. maybe a knife, or a sword. jeonghan hasn’t let anyone that close to him ever.

you stop yourself from wondering how it happened. you don’t need that on top of everything you’re dealing with right now. you trust jeonghan to get his desired revenge. he always does. you wonder if this is yours.

“i haven’t heard anything about you, lately. i was starting to think someone got you.” jeonghan said, hissing when you push a little too hard against his cheek. he glares, but you ignore him to press gauze over his forehead.

“i’m retiring.”

jeonghan’s eyes narrow. “excuse me?”

you sigh. you don’t want to have this conversation.

“take your shirt off.”

you can tell there’s a joke on the tip of jeonghan’s tongue by the way he smirks, but the dead look in your eyes must be deterrent enough for him to refrain himself from saying it aloud.

far too slow for it to be anything but a show of how much it hurts, jeonghan pulls off the ragged cloth, revealing more blood and cuts. you’re not surprised when you see another gash across his abdomen, a makeshift bandage soaked with blood and staining his skin.

“it’s infected.” you announce once you’re done inspecting it. you pour more disinfectant on another piece of gauze, and jeonghan makes a sharp breath when your fingers make contact with it. “relax, i’ll tell you when i’m doing it.” then, before he can say anything to defend himself, you press the gauze against the wound, making him yelp.

after the pain subsides, he looks at you with a crooked grin. “you always did love taking me by surprise, sweetheart.”

“it’s so much easier dealing with you when you’re speechless.” you mutter, and make quick wipes on the skin surrounding the laceration. “you’ll need stitches, what the fuck, jeonghan.”

“i would’ve gone to the hospital. but, you know.”

you don’t. you really don’t. because someone of jeonghan’s calibre, power-wise, would be able to. you don’t question it. sometimes you don’t need all the answers.

the silence is deafening, but you busy yourself with cleaning the cut as best as you can. jeonghan makes shallow breaths, winces a little when you start disinfecting the gash on his back. one of his hands are grasping weakly at nothing, the other one buried in the cushion of the sofa.

you click your tongue, pause from where you’re soaking another pad with disinfectant, and take his hand. for the first time the entire night, jeonghan looks at you, not disguising his surprise. you leave it on the crook of your arm, and he accepts it, clutching on you as you continue. he holds you like a lifeline, and you let him, because the pain must be intolerable, and jeonghan’s always been kind of a lightweight when it comes to it.

“i’ll get you some painkillers.” you say, and he lets go. you dismiss how you instantly feel his absence.

you make your way to your bathroom, pull out a large bottle of pills, and bring it to the living room. jeonghan’s eyes widen at the size of it.

“how many superheroes are you patching up on a daily basis, flux?”

“more than the ones you fight, dream.” you hand the bottle to him, and he shakes out three. “is that enough?”

jeonghan begrudgingly shakes out another one before setting it on the table and swallowing them down dry. you’re seconds away from piercing his skin with a needle when you notice the quiver in jeonghan’s jaw.

“tell me what happened.” you say, and you only start sewing him together when he opens his mouth.

“made some bad decisions.” he replies in short phrases. “someone was supposed to have my back, and they didn’t.”

you bite down on your tongue, and put jeonghan back together, piece by piece like you used to. there’s a hollow pain in your chest that resembles the one on jeonghan’s skin, but it cuts right through your heart instead. i always had your back. we always had your back.

“i didn’t know you were thinking about stopping.” jeonghan says, his voice quiet. “you didn’t seem like the type.”

“you don’t know me well enough clearly.” you reply, but what you really mean is that you don’t think you can do it anymore. any of it.

besides, you’re sure you wouldn’t have been strong enough to do what the agency has been clearly begging you to. you had yoon eating out of the palm of your hand, once, they had said, you can do it again. you scoffed at the memory of the conversation. jeonghan’s always done what he wanted. it was sheer coincidence that what he used to want was what you wanted too. now he has different priorities. as do you.

“i know everything about you.” jeonghan responds, and just for that, you jab him a little carelessly, making him let out a soundless groan. “i do.”

you shake your head. “you used to. you don’t anymore.”

jeonghan turns to you, eyes filled with something you can’t quite place. you’ve never known how to read him. that’s always been his forte. “i still do.”

you know he’s not talking about his power, and it’s choking you, all of a sudden. to avoid looking at him, your gaze moves down, to his lips. it’s the wrong choice.

jeonghan’s mouth opens. closes. he licks his bottom lip. a flash of an unwanted memory flickers through your mind. a year ago, you were dumb and lonely and he was there, fresh out of the mission that took you forever to wipe clean from your conscience. you had pushed him down onto your bed, pressed your lips against his, ignored how it felt like coming home when his arms wrapped around your waist, and spent the night reacquainting yourself with him. the next morning he was gone, like you expected him to be, and you hoped to never see him again.

perhaps your emotions are too transparent, or maybe jeonghan can read you as well as he was able to all those years ago, when you were kids against the world. it’s most probably the latter, because jeonghan does know everything about you. every little thing— what makes you furrow your brows, what you need after a long day at work, what makes you gasp in the dark, grasp the sheets between your fingers.

this makes what comes out of his mouth next even more painful. because he knows.

“i missed you.” he says, a confession that feels like too little, too late.

you don’t respond. what could you say to jeonghan that he doesn’t already know? you’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve, and look where it got you. eight months since you’ve seen him, seven years since he broke away from you and everything you believed in.

when you’re done closing the wound, you’re on your feet before you can be stopped.

“you can sleep here, or you can go back to wherever you came from. i don’t care.”

“sweetheart—“ jeonghan starts, but you put your hand up to stop him, looking everywhere but at him. if you look at him sitting on that stupid couch you used to rest your head on his chest on, you will be overcome with the need to close the space between you two and kiss him, until your entire life is ruined right in front of you, for the third time.

you can’t do this today. or ever. again.

“spare your words for someone who cares about them.” you recognise the hurt in jeonghan’s eyes before they’re glazed over by the cool indifference jeonghan usually sports with everyone. good. it’s good to be reminded that jeonghan doesn’t give a shit about you.

“i know you care.” jeonghan says, but it’s weak. it’s not definite, his tone lilts up like it’s a question. you don’t give him the satisfaction of a response.

a long time ago it was you, him, seungcheol and sojung against the world. and then one rogue mission and they were no more. jeonghan chose his side, made it, really, when he decided he was above all of this.

it made it to every single newspaper— of course it did, because when a hero turns into a villain, everyone is there to point their fingers and yell, “i told you so!”, because power will always overthrow justice, and pretty lies are better than ugly truths. then there were the rumours— that he had snuck into your mind at every mission, that you were waiting for the perfect opportunity to ruin everything the agency had worked for.

“you’ll never understand.” jeonghan had told you when he left you broken and bleeding in sojung’s arms, and you agree. you’ll never understand. you’ll never understand why jeonghan is here, either, after you had explicitly told him that the next time you saw his face you’d make sure someone would get rid of him.

“you’ll never understand.” you tell him now, and watch as his expression melts into brokenness. “you weren’t here when i had to leave everything i believed in behind for something as stupid as my feelings.”

it’s the first admission you’ve made to him that’s entirely truthful, and jeonghan knows it. he knows what you mean.

“i’m sorry.” he whispers, but it’s not enough. just as it’s not enough the kiss he presses to your lips that you’ll never remember before leaving right as the first strike of day arrives, a shadow of the past that comes to visit you in what feels like a feverish nightmare.

you wake up the next morning and don’t call the agency.

at the bottom of your heart, despite everything, you hope he comes back again.

Chapter Text

when caesar asks you about your home, you falter. you want to talk about the early morning sun, how the sky stretches for days and days, the omnipresent sound of the paper mill and the chirping birds, the sight of the forest at midday, the smell of the pine trees and the soft blades of grass under your fingers. but those are your memories, and for some reason, you can’t give them up. not when they’ve taken everything else.

“i…well… i’m from district seven and—“

“yes, can you tell us about it, y/n?”

when you were young, you used to sit in the sun for hours and hours at a time. when you got older, mark would sit by your side, your hand tucked in his as he talked about how he wanted to explore the land that stretched beyond the district. it was an impossible dream, but mark was always a dreamer.

he died in the games last year, and there was no body to collect.

from the corner of your eye, you can see yeonjun’s million dollar smile start to wane, and caesar’s eyebrows imperceptibly furrow. no one at home would be able to tell, but you can. and so can tiffany, who’s furiously waving your cue cards, right outside the frame of the camera. it makes a comical sight, because she’s so small in her billowing red dress and and so pale the angry flush of her cheeks likens her to an overripe tomato.

you recover, quickly enough for caesar’s face to brighten up again and for yeonjun to continue smiling like the golden retriever he is. you talk about the people, and how kind they are, how thankful you are to them for always taking care of you and for their support. you talk about how you loved growing up there, surrounded by love and laughter and the forest. you don’t say you’ll return when you win like yeonjun had, because you think everyone, up to those watching at home, would break into boisterous laughter.

caesar seems happy enough with your answer and doesn’t continue asking questions, moving onto the next tribute. you smile as best you can, don’t let the sigh in your chest heave out. you feel like a trapped mouse, but you wave to the camera when it flashes past you, and do your best to act like you think you belong here. but you know everyone can see the blind fear in your eyes. the eyes of someone who’ll be dead in less than two weeks.

tiffany had given you the rundown of every tribute, going through the list with a flick of her perfectly manicured nails, painted brown and green and completely unlike her. for solidarity, the papers had read, and she had giggled like it had been her plan all along. you’re sure it was.

park sooyoung from district one is a fucking monster. she doesn’t do anything to hide her blatant readiness to murder, and you’re sure the sponsors love her even more for it. she had looked at you before the cameras started rolling, interest flashing in her eyes like she was a big cat. she calls herself joy, and the audience eats it up.

jeong jaehyun from district two looks like adonis himself, and that’s entirely enough for the capitol. the slashes of his blade and the sharpness of his gaze add to it, and you’ve seen him eye yeonjun like he’s sure he can crumple him up in his fist.

it’s far too hot in the television studio, and you feel a bead of sweat trickle down the side of your forehead. you don’t know when you’ll be able to return to your room but you can hardly wait. you want to flop down on the bed, feel the warm, soft blankets under your fingers, a luxury unknown to you before, and you want to cry.

“do you wish someone would have stepped in and volunteered to take your place?” caesar asks, and it’s only when yeonjun nudges you that you realise he had been talking to you.

yeonjun sighs, like he thinks you’re a fucking idiot, but caesar just laughs and repeats the question.

do you wish someone would have stepped in and volunteered to take your place?

you’re so angry. you’re so, so angry. you look sharply at tiffany, who looks back blankly like you should’ve seen this question coming.

mark had shook on his way up to the stage last year, pretty and afraid but so, so brave. he had definitely seen you fidget during the reaping right after his name was called, seen your hand shake as you tried to lift your hand to volunteer in the place of the girl who had been reaped alongside him. rosie was delight to be around. she didn’t last a day in the arena, and mark didn’t last two.

you’re angry because you know mark must have wanted you to, and angry because you know he would’ve hated himself for wanting you to.

there’s silence for a moment, but you look right up at the camera, your voice clearer than it’s ever been during this livestream, and say, “i wouldn’t want anyone to sacrifice themselves for me. i think i would’ve been happy about it at first, but i wouldn’t be able to live with myself and the burden that came with it.”

yeonjun in his loose white shirt, buttons undone and brown vest, the most handsome you had ever seen him, looks at you almost jealously. you suppose you must’ve sounded cool.

you hope mark, wherever he is, is happy with your answer. you don’t believe in god but he had, desperately had, and you hope god keeps him safe.

you look out at the audience, and they’re cheering so deafeningly as if they aren’t a bunch of hypocrites. it makes you even angrier, but you don’t say anything else. you’re not strong, you’re awful with weapons, and are more likely than not to die alone for the entertainment of a bunch of strangers. instead, you straighten up in your seat and smile, trying to look as pretty as you can because you need sponsors. you don’t have the slightest chance of winning, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t going to pretend you do.

-

you have nothing to worry about. anything can happen. you can win. you repeat to yourself in your head, over and over again hoping you’ll believe yourself.

“you’re an idiot. what were you thinking, spacing out like that like a nuisance?” yeonjun demands. he’s a few years younger than you, can wield an axe like it weighs nothing in his hands. if the other tributes were half as dangerous as they are, he might have a chance, but you’ve seen kim jisoo, and she’s half his size and twice as good.

“it was overwhelming.” you say softly, and he holds his head in his hands.

“overwhelming?” he spits out like you’ve insulted him. “in less than two weeks everyone in this room will try to kill you and you think you have time to daydream and feel overwhelmed?”

yeonjun looks over to tiffany, but she just plasters her bright smile on and mutters under her red lips, “don’t make a scene. cameras could still be rolling.”

the mentors flit past you, their tributes following behind them like little ducklings. choi sooyoung presses a hand to tiffany’s shoulder, and your mentor softens to a genuine smile before her mask returns. eight years ago, she had killed six tributes at once by setting up an electric fence around the perimeter of the weapons shed. joy and taeyong give tiffany deep bows, and tiffany grins back.

tiffany is easily the most gorgeous person in the building. you were young when she won, but not young enough to forget how she had shone under the scrutinising gaze of the camera. everyone knew she was pretty, and that when she smiled she was guaranteed to win twice the amount of sponsors the other tributes had, but they hadn’t thought much of her. that is until she weaponised their disregard and returned it with a snap of her outrageously sharp loppers. you’d never shake off the scream of her competitors when she had broke their bones one by one and you were watching it through a television. you wonder how she lives with herself.

you think she’s trying to do the same with yeonjun and his more ostentatious choice of weapon, and it’s working. yeonjun’s pretty, and smiles wide. panem is bound to fall for him, if they haven’t already.

tiffany tells him as much when you two have settled back in your quarters. you don’t miss the way her eyes move dismissively past you. she’s already decided which one of her two horses is most likely to win, and it clearly isn’t you, but you couldn’t care less about panem, who’ll laugh and point as you die. you don’t care about these games at all.

“i’m taking a walk.” you say abruptly, and tiffany barely nods before you get up and leave the room. let them strategise, their plans won’t include you, and it wouldn’t matter if they did anyway.

-

you find a little latch on the side of the building, a blind spot without cameras, and step out, finding a perch on the roof. you stare at the stars until your breathing regulates, and imagine the imprint of mark’s hand in yours, the steady weight of it.

it’s only when you can’t stand the memories of mark’s smile and mark’s laugh and mark’s everything that you make to walking back to your room.

you meet him like this, on your way to your room, right in front of the elevator. one moment you’re walking and hoping mark will forgive you and the next you’re nearly slamming into someone, only managing to pull back at the last moment. when you look up, you’re met with the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen. you’re wrong. tiffany isn’t the most gorgeous person in the building. he is.

“are you alright?”

you know yoon jeonghan. everyone knows yoon jeonghan. he won four years ago, is tragically and ethereally handsome, has a devastating smile, and is undoubtedly panem’s golden boy. you have to restrain yourself from gawking.

then you’re reminded that you really shouldn’t be gawking at a boy who had killed at least twelve others with nothing but his trident. for a shameful moment, you wonder what it’d be like to fall at the hands of someone like yoon jeonghan. he looks like he’d make everything look pretty.

yoon jeonghan blinks, like he can read your thoughts, and you straighten yourself up.

“i’m alright.” you reply.

“you sure?” jeonghan asks, leaning down to look at you.

you’re so close to short-circuiting at the distance between you two that you look away, instead glancing at his badge. he must’ve come here as a mentor, and you briefly remember karina and jaemin, who had both been so articulate the absence of their mentor hadn’t influenced how quickly they swayed over panem. you couldn’t have imagined their mentor was yoon jeonghan, who won four years ago, and is now standing in front of you with a dashing smile, his blonde tresses long and wet and his shirt almost entirely translucent.

“jeonghan.” he stretches out his hand, and it takes you a moment before you realise he means for you to take it. when you do, you get a whiff of the ocean you’ve never seen.

“hello, jeonghan. i’m y/n.” you shake his hand, and he smiles again. you’re sure he smiled like this to his enemies too. he had won allies as easily as joy had, and killed them all within two days. you try to take a step back, but he doesn’t let go of your hand.

“you don’t know what you’re doing, do you?” he says, his hold on your hand tightening. you feel your hands go clammy. you don’t know a thing, and you’ll die the second you step into that arena, perhaps at yeonjun’s own hand, but you hadn’t thought everyone could see it as easily as you. your mentor has given up on you, no one would want you as an ally, and you’re not a killer. you work in a paper mill and spend time in meadows thinking about your deceased best friend. it’s largely unfair that you’re were chosen. it’s the kind of feeling yoon jeonghan— with his lithe frame and quick movements, like water, would never understand.

you almost want to scream at him. this privileged boy who had volunteered and won within three days, but you just say, “you tell me.”

jeonghan grins. “i know who you are. you’re cute. it’s a pity you’re here.”

“isn’t that the truth?” you reply, tone mock lamenting and something mark would definitely laugh at. jeonghan does too, but sadness seeps through his tone. you smile back, because you don’t know what else to do. you know exactly how jeonghan is. you had watched his game, seen the way his eyes flashed with a hidden sorrow every time he speared through a tribute, but that hadn’t stopped him. he walked into that arena knowing he would win, and did. it didn’t matter how pretty he was, or how gorgeous he was when he smiled, he couldn’t be trusted. not with his allies, and especially not with you, a tribute who wasn’t even from his district.

“listen,” jeonghan says, quietly. “listen. i’m an asshole, but i can help you.”

you’re shaking your head before the words even leave his mouth. “no, you can’t. no one can.”

“i could, if you let me.” he pierces you with a gaze you’re not quite sure is meant to hide his intentions or not. “i saw your interview. you were terrible, but you were better than that pathetic partner of yours. you’d be surprised at the things i can do when i want something.”

“and what do you want?” you respond quickly, barely hiding your curiosity. you curse yourself for it.

jeonghan cocks his head to the side, letting out a soft chuckle, and tilts your chin up with his finger. you’re reminded just why people fall at his feet. “this. this is a waste.” you brace for it, thinking he’s going to insult you like the other tributes have, only for him to say, “tiffany hwang is a fool. she’s focusing on that brat when she has you. if you were mine, i’d have made the entirety of panem fall in love with you.”

your breath hitches, and jeonghan’s other hand rests upon your waist.

“you’re pretty, and i think you know it.” he continues. his gaze falls to your throat, your collarbone. his hand follows, splayed across the juncture between. “if only tiffany had shown you how to use it, you’d have the most sponsors. even more than the jeong boy from district two. or jaeminnie and jiminnie.” jeonghan presses on, and you can see your own reflection in his dark irises. you look dazed, mesmerised. your mouth is partly opened, and he drinks up the sight. “you’re not a liar. that’s refreshing. when you said you didn’t want anyone to sacrifice themselves for you, everyone could tell you weren’t lying.”

it takes you a moment to shake out of the reverie that is just jeonghan, jeonghan, jeonghan , but when you do, you clear your throat, look him right in the eye. he grins at that, baring his teeth.

“what do you want?” you ask again.

the hand on your waist glides up to your hair, and you’re putty in his hands. if he were to snap your neck right now, you wouldn’t notice until you were lying on the floor.

“nothing you don’t want.” jeonghan murmurs, and you hate that he’s right. in the midst of it all, you’d rather die having gained something you wanted than die fighting against a system you could do nothing but lose to.

you nod, short and succinct, and jeonghan leans down. your lips are a hair’s breadth from each other, and you gain the bravery to reach out to hold his face. he almost startles at the sensation of your touch, but smiles instead. all he ever fucking does is smile.

just before his lips can fully descend upon yours, the elevator chimes, and you’re only given a second before tiffany sees you. luckily for you, jeonghan’s fast. faster than you think he could be, but you guessed that was a perk of being from the water district. he puts his hands at his sides, stands upright, turns you to face the metal doors.

“y/n, there you are! oh, jeonghan, you found my lost child.”

the way she walks forward is intentional, no matter how subtle it is. she forces you two apart, takes your wrist in a cold, dainty hand and starts leading you to the elevator.

“they were lost. you should watch them better.” jeonghan says, tone dead and completely unlike how breathy and passionate it was just a few moments ago. you wonder if you’ve imagined everything. “the waters are dangerous here, there’s a storm coming.”

tiffany glares, a mean glint in her eye that has made grown men fall to their knees before her, but jeonghan just stares back.

“thank you for helping y/n.” she says snootily. “we’ll be heading back.”

jeonghan nods to you, and not to tiffany, and you nod back, feeling her glare re-direct itself to you.

“i’ll see you later, y/n.” jeonghan says, and it sounds like a promise.

the elevator doors shut, and tiffany turns to you. “what did yoon say to you?” she demands.

“nothing.” you respond, and watch as the red digits on the elevator rise.

tiffany doesn’t look convinced. “be careful with him. you shouldn’t trust him to have your best interests in mind.”

you don’t, either. you almost say, but you hold yourself back. you don’t need tiffany to tell you not to trust yoon jeonghan. but you have less than fourteen days to live, who cares if you’re making unsavoury alliances? yoon jeonghan can’t fuck you up more than your own destiny has already.

-

you don’t see jeonghan for the next two days. you spend your time in the training court, trying desperately to become adequate at something. tiffany tries to get you to learn how to use her loppers, but you know it’s second rate help. if she thought you could win, she’d have taught you to use something else. yeonjun is progressing well with his axe, but is still nowhere as good as kim jisoo, who throws her mechanised axe with a deftness only someone from district three could possess. it drives yeonjun insane.

you don’t sleep at night. you’d think with the comfiest bed you’ve ever had and nothing but the tinny silence that you’d be able to fall asleep, but you just can’t. it’s when you’re on one of your nightly strolls down the hallway that you catch district two’s jeong jaehyun sneaking into district one’s lee taeyong’s room. the next night, taeyong goes to jaehyun’s room. you file that information away, but you doubt it’d be of any use. they’re careers, and could probably slit your throat before you could say a single word.

on the third night, you’re weighing between going down to the training court, where you’re sure yeonjun is, practicing as if jisoo won’t always be six steps ahead of him, or forcing yourself to shut your eyes when your door slides open. it’s soundless and that’s enough to tell you that means trouble.

you curl your fingers around the dagger you keep under your pillow, old and rusted and practically useless, and wait. you’re sure there are rules against tributes murdering other tributes before the games, but you’ve seen the glint in jung wheein’s eyes. she’d murder every single person in that arena to keep her family safe.

you can feel another person’s presence as the door slides shut, and they creep closer and closer, before settling down at the foot of your bed.

“i know you’re not asleep.” jeonghan says. you blink your eyes open, let go of the dagger and sit up. jeonghan’s long blonde hair is tied at the nape of his neck, and his billowy white shirt gapes open at his collarbones. not for the first time, your breath is taken away at just how staggeringly handsome he is. you’re one of many, you’re sure, who think this of yoon jeonghan. “that wouldn’t help one bit.” he gestures to the dagger from where its peeking from under your covers.

you pull it out entirely, hold it in your palms. “i know.” you run your fingers down its blunt end, rub the garish green gem at its hilt.

“your friend.” jeonghan starts, and at first you think he’s talking about yeonjun. you’re about to say that he isn’t until you catch the way jeonghan’s gaze remains locked on the harmless weapon in your hands. “he was in the games, wasn’t he?”

you feel cold all of a sudden, and pull your blankets up to your hips. “yes.”

“what year?”

“last year. shin ryujin’s.”

“ryujin was a surefire win.” jeonghan comments, as if your best friend’s death was nothing. like shin ryujin was going to win no matter what, and mark was just a meaningless obstacle standing in the way of her victory. “what was his name?”

you don’t want to tell him. he can tell as much, but he insists, “tell me.”

“mark lee.”

jeonghan repeats the name a few times, like he’s testing its weight on his tongue. “the one with the hatchet.”

“what are you doing here? you’re certainly not here to discuss my dead friend.” you bite. mark’s death isn’t something for capitol dogs to make a mockery of.

jeonghan smiles, like he hadn’t expected you to be angry. you want to slap it off his stupid face, want to kiss him even more.

“i told you i was going to help you, didn’t i? i can give you a chance.”

you roll your eyes. “i’m still not going to make it even if you help me.”

jeonghan closes his eyes, shutting the thought away. it’s funny, you think, you’ve known him for less than an hour. maybe less than fifteen minutes, and he’s shown you more compassion than your own mentor and partner have in the past four days. “everyone has a chance.” he says when he opens his eyes. “even you.”

you swallow. it’s not true. people like you aren’t good at things. you can barely carry tiffany’s massive loppers around.

“why are you doing this? why me?”

“because you’re beautiful and i want you.” jeonghan says simply, closing the gap between the two of you. like this, you could reach out and have his neck in your hands. if you were brave enough, you could probably apply some pressure. that is, before he killed you first. “and because you’ll probably die,” it’s true, but coming from out of someone else’s mouth stings. “and i think it’s a fucking waste of someone like you. you could probably kill every single one of those tributes, if you were pushed harder. i think you could do it now, if only you weren’t so holier-than-thou and saintly.” he says it and it feels like an insult.

jeonghan leans in closer, until there is no space between your back and the headrest. jeonghan’s an asshole, of course, because you want to survive and so you will say yes. but deep inside, you know that even if you can’t make it, you want this. jeonghan could’ve offered you nothing in return and you would’ve still said yes. you want to take as much from the capitol as you can, and you’ll take yoon jeonghan if yoon jeonghan wants to take you.

“okay.” you say softly, putting a hand onto jeonghan’s chest. you watch as his eyes flicker to interest, and then to something darker. it’s the same gaze you saw on the television at mark’s grandfather’s house. it’s the gaze he wore as an eighteen year old boy from district four who took the world by storm. jeonghan is a fighter and you’re a battlefield he wants to conquer. “okay.” you say again, and it’s all jeonghan needs.

he leans down, presses you against the headrest, and kisses you.

jeonghan kisses well, you think. he kisses with the seasoned profession of someone who goes without a shortage of partners, but you’ve had a lot of practice at this. you’ve done this before, with mark behind his parents’ paper mill, with pretty yeji on the grassy plain beside the factory. so you tilt your head, and lean back against the metal of the bed frame, forcing jeonghan to chase you. you part your mouth, and let him in. you reach out and join your hands behind jeonghan’s shoulders, pulling him deeper.

you must be doing something right, because jeonghan groans into your mouth and bites down on your bottom lip with a vigour. he doesn’t kiss like he moves. when he moves, it’s languid, quick like water, with the aura of someone whose won.

he kisses like he’s still fighting.

soon enough, you’re parting for air, but not before jeonghan leans in for another nip. he stares at you as you try to regain your composure. you want him so bad it hurts.

“that wasn’t the first time you kissed someone, was it?” he asks, and you take in how disheveled he is. his hair is running loose from the length of rope that had held it, and his shirt is now wrinkled. your doing, you realise delightfully. you’d love to do more damage to him than a few stray presses against his clothing. he grins at you, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“of course not.” you laugh. “with a face like this? everyone was waiting in line for a chance to kiss me.”

jeonghan laughs. “i knew it. wasted.” then he dives in again, claiming your mouth with his like a brand. his hands travel from where they were cradling the back of your head down to your waist.

by the time the first rays of light shine in through the obnoxious glass window just above view, jeonghan’s kissed you until your lips were red and swollen, and your sleep shirt’s ridden up to your torso. you had thought—

next time. jeonghan had winked before leaving your room, uncaring of the red mark right underneath his collarbone that you had found the courage to suck.

you finger the handle of the dagger, eyebrows knit together. jeonghan thinks you have what it takes. you’d love to prove him right.

Chapter Text

you were watching the screen of your laptop intensely when jeonghan burst into your room, swinging the door open before falling down onto his knees dramatically. you give him a cursory glance before returning to song joongki’s shaky, murderous eyes.

song joongki pulls out a gun, blood spattered tastefully around his eyebrow. jeonghan lets out a melodramatic groan.

“y/n!” jeonghan cries out indignantly when he sees you’re still deeply invested in your drama. song joongki starts a monologue, then shoots at ok taecyeon’s shoulder. “pay attention to me!”

the episode flashes to an end, and the preview for next weeks rolls up. you gasp a little, before jeonghan springs up and smacks your laptop closed.

“i was watching that!” you whined, but set your laptop aside so jeonghan can throw himself horizontally across you. your best friend thrashes, letting out another groan. you acquiesce with his dramatisations and start running your fingers through his newly blonde tresses the way he likes it. his hair’s rough, dry from the bleach, and he complains as much. “what’s wrong?” you finally ask, sighing.

“jiyoon.” is all jeonghan says before shoving his face into your comforter. you don’t even want to ask how he got into your apartment without calling you to ring him up. you’re sure the bellman just let him up after he whined a little. you’d have to have some words with him.

“what’s wrong with jiyoon?”

“nothing. she’s an angel!”

you rolled your eyes. “then why are you at my apartment at 1pm on a tuesday? don’t you have a schedule today?”

“it got cancelled. hoshi has the stomach flu from drinking expired milk.”

“and how did he drink the milk in the first place?”

“i dared him.”

“so you got hoshi to have explosive diarrhoea so you could sit in my apartment on my day off and complain about nothing?” you gave him an unimpressed stare. jeonghan just jutted out his bottom lip.

“jiyoon’s going on a date.” he finally says, like he’s announced he’s gotten someone pregnant or that he wants to shave all his hair off. he looks at you expectantly.

“that’s great!” you say, and try to take your laptop so you can continue watching the next episode of your drama. jeonghan stops you with a quick wrap around your wrist. you let out another long-suffering sigh, like you were prone to doing far too often when you were around jeonghan. “what is it?”

“why don’t you see the problem with this?” jeonghan whined.

“jiyoon’s eighteen. she can do what she wants.”

“she’s my little sister. my flesh and blood. my—“

“who’s the lucky person?” you interrupt before he continues on with his tirade. what you get in return is the most scathing look.

“hwang injun.” he spits like he’s the worst piece of scum. “the worst piece of scum.” whoop, there it was. “the slimiest shit—“

“do you even know him?”

“i’ll know him when i’ve pummelled him to the ground!”

you give jeonghan a once-over, one that he clearly catches because he directs a glare at you. while jeonghan was probably stronger than he looked, he wasn’t exactly the strongest person.

“if you wanted muscle back up, you should’ve asked seungcheol or mingyu. mingyu could probably relate.”

jeonghan rolled over so his back was pressed against your bed. “mingyu’s on hoshi duty. and cheol laughed in my face.”

“understandable.” you said. “you know, when sofia got a boyfriend vernon was super chill about it.”

“this guy’s different.” jeonghan insists, sitting up. “i know it. he has impure intentions with my sister—“

“you sound actually insane.” you note, but finally allow him to pull you up from where you were reclined on your pillows. “you let me go out with jaehyun, remember—“

“do not remind me!” jeonghan slapped his hand over your mouth. “i can’t believe i let dokyeom introduce you two, i had to deal with your yapping for eight months.”

“he’s pretty.” you said defensively.

“and i’m not?” jeonghan batted his eyelashes at you, leaning into your space. you’re proud to say it doesn’t affect you nearly as much as it did a year ago, when you had the biggest puppy crush on him. that was actually what made dokyeom introduce you to jaehyun. he was sick and tired of you lamenting the depravity and death of your love life.

you push his face away. “so what do you want to do about jiyoon?”

“stop her from going on that date. save her from that disgusting man. this is for the children—“

“jiyoon’s eighteen.” you reminded. “she’ll be legal soon.”

“and when she is i’ll back off but now? she’s still my baby sister. so are you in or not?”

you tapped a finger against your chin. “what’ll i get from it?”

“i don’t know, another date with one of mingyu’s friends? myungho told me jungkook from bts is single—“

“i don’t want a date, what do you take me as?” you smacked him with your pillow.

“i’ll treat you to dinner.” jeonghan pleaded, hands clasped together like he was at an altar. “whatever you want.”

“we already do that—“

“and i won’t complain.”

you gave him a scrutinising look, then extended your hand hesitantly. jeonghan took it instantly, shaking.

“deal.”

-

“i don’t understand why we had to come here. we look like stalkers.” you said, as you and jeonghan loitered outside of the university. “or agency recruiters.” you two shuddered.

“she’s going on that date right after this.” jeonghan said, pulling you to his side when a bunch of students started exiting the hall. you let yourself be dragged, tucking your head into his neck as you did so. just because you got over your crush on him didn’t mean you weren’t going to reap the benefits of being friends with a furnace.

“why didn’t you ask seungkwan to come? he has sisters. or vernon? wait no, vernon would totally disagree with this.”

“seungkwan just glowered when his sister went on a date. and then asked her if he was cute. he wouldn’t be on my side.”

“fine, what about chan? doesn’t he have a girlfriend?” you pressed. “i’m sure he’d understand this best.”

“why would i pick chan over you?” his face scrunched up with genuine confusion. you let the warm feeling in your chest radiate for a bit before subsiding. you didn’t need the feelings that came along with being in love with jeonghan to come back again.

instead, you just poked him in the rib, making him yelp. “if i tell him that he’ll spend the next two weeks in radio silence before texting you.”

“see, this is why i picked you. you’re just like me.”

“oh my god.” you look up at him with dread in your eyes. “never say that to me ever again.”

“it’s true.” jeonghan insists. “you’re all perfect and gentle and pretty on the outside but on the inside? you’re batshit crazy.”

you ignored the warmth that rose up from the pit of your stomach at his words, and gave him another poke. “just because you’re on your day off doesn’t mean people won’t recognise you. what if you wake up to headlines saying you’re a hypocrite for making wonwoo make everyone take that video of you swearing down but are actually a habitual swearer in real life?”

“if anything, the article would say i’m in a scandalous relationship with someone from university.” he bumped his hip with yours.

“me?” you pointed at yourself incredulously. “why would they think i’m—“ you cut yourself off, noting how close you two were pressed together before sniffing and releasing yourself from jeonghan’s grip, much to his amusement. “anyway, this hwang injun guy—“

“scum of the earth. dipshit of all dipshits—“

“is a seventeen fan, isn’t he? he’s been to a few of your concerts.”

“that was when i thought he was jiyoon’s friend not a prospective lover.” he hisses like the old man he is.

“who’s his favourite member? if it’s you you can just—“

“it’s woozi.”

“oh, cool. i like woozi—“

“he wants to date my baby sister and he doesn’t even have the courtesy of saying i’m his favourite member?”

you rolled your eyes, before catching jiyoon’s eye from the inside of the lecture hall. she smiled, waving at you. “look, there she is.”

jeonghan’s scowl melted into a soft smile, but you barely had a second to admire it before it returned. you followed his gaze to see jiyoon and a boy, taller than both you and jeonghan, who looked vaguely like a younger and less chiseled doyoung from nct. you knew doyoung, and he was nice, so this guy should be too.

you watched as jiyoon laughed at something he said, throwing her head back and scrunching her nose not unlike how jeonghan giggled. “look how happy she is.” you whispered.

“she’s happy because of me. because i’m her brother and i’m coming to pick her up from school. and saving her from the demonic clutches of that gongmyung wannabe.” he sniped, turning his back against the glass.

“you see the resemblance too!” you said excitedly, “i think he looks more like doyoung.”

“that’s not the point. the point is— wait, they’re coming out. glare!” jeonghan said before breaking into a mask of impassiveness. you looked at him for a second, then two, very clearly exuding your judgement before waving jiyoon over.

“hi, oppa!” jiyoon bundled into jeonghan’s arms, and you were greeted by the sight of his gentle smile before he looked over at injun-doyoung-gongmyung, who was lingering behind her hesitantly. “hi, y/n!” she waved, before lugging injun-doyoung-gongmyung to her side. “this is injun. injun, this is my brother and y/n.”

injun folds himself into a bow so deep you want to pull the poor boy upright again.

“h-hello, jeonghan-hyung, y/n! i’m hwang injun!” he says, a little too loudly.

jeonghan just narrows his eyes. you sigh, and nod back at him, smiling kindly. “hi, injun. it’s nice to meet you, but keep it down a bit, would you? it’s his day off.”

injun-doyoung-gongmyung straightens up. “of course! i’m sorry. i-i’ll be more careful.”

“come on, jiyoon. i’m walking you home, it’s my day off.” jeonghan said, snootily looking away from the poor boy. you watch the conflict in jiyoon’s eyes before she straightens up.

“i’m actually going to the dessert house with injun. mom and dad said i could go.” she adds quickly when she sees jeonghan open his mouth to contest. “so you and y/n can go. thank you for saying hi.”

“yoon jiyoon.” jeonghan starts, placing his hands on his hips like he was a middle-aged single mother and not 1/13th of one of the biggest boy bands in korea. “it’s my day off and you don’t want to spend time with me? who are you and what have you done with my little sister?” he gives injun-doyoung-gongmyung the side eye, as if he wasn’t clearly referring to him.

“oppa.” jiyoon stamped her foot against the floor, and the similarity between the siblings had never been so apparent to you as this moment. “stop being weird. mom and dad said i could go so i’m going!”

jeonghan didn’t let up, huffing down at her. once, mingyu and soonyoung thought it’d be a good idea to open up new ice cream bars on his bed, dripping chocolate all over his soft yellow sheets and brand new bedding. jeonghan had walked in on soonyoung furiously rubbing on the fabric, which had done nothing but inadvertently cause the stain to smudge instead of disappear, and had promptly thrown the closest thing that was within reach at the younger boys. unfortunately for you, it happened to be the cup of iced americano you had been holding for seungkwan. wonwoo had to buy seungkwan a new cup and seungcheol had to show them the company-mandated powerpoint about using your words instead of resorting to violence. it took mingyu six embarrassing photos, a new set of pillows and blankets and a case of his favourite snacks for jeonghan to forgive him. you wonder if this was going to top that tantrum.

“that sounds really good!” you say, trying to break the tension. the two pairs of eyes go to you instead, and you wish you hadn’t said a thing. deflecting one yoon sibling’s gaze was already work enough, much less two of them. “dessert! i saw that they have really good waffles.”

then jeonghan starts to smile. the most terrifying, predatory smile you’ve ever seen, and turns back to jiyoon. “waffles sound good, y/n. should we,” he looks to injun, who lets out an honest to god whimper. “go get some waffles?”

“no. we said dinner, yoon jeonghan, and that you wouldn’t complain—“

“waffles sound really good. didn’t you and seokmin go for waffles and not invite me—“

you rolled your eyes. “no, you said you were too tired to come and got mad we went without you.”

“waffles it is!” jeonghan announced.

“i-i don’t mind getting waffles with everyone.” injun-doyoung-gongmyung offers meekly, only for jiyoon to let out a huff and drag him bodily in front of you two.

“let’s go, injun!”

you watched as she looked over her shoulder to stick her tongue out at jeonghan before purposefully interlacing her hands with injun’s. jeonghan let out a scandalised gasp, as if he hadn’t lived with soonyoung, who liked to walk around naked more often than not.

then his gaze hardened, and he interlaced his hand with yours. “let’s go, y/n!” he said, mimicking jiyoon’s tone.

you let out a sigh.

-

“look at them.” jeonghan said venomously, trying to stick his fork into the yogurt-filled peach. it didn’t stick, and the peach just rolled off to the side instead. you took a cursory glance at him from your own dessert, and pushed his peach back to the centre of his plate.

another burst of laughter came from four tables away. jiyoon laughed at something injun said again, a monstrosity of a green tea waffle-parfait concoction with copious amounts of cream and pocky you knew you had to ask jiyoon what it tasted like between them.

“they look like they’re having fun.” you said, taking a bite of your peach.

jeonghan looked at you like you had insulted him. “they do not look like they’re having fun!”

another round of laughter.

“what does she even see in him? he’s not in love with her—“

“they’ve only been on like, two dates, and she’s eighteen—“

“two dates?” jeonghan narrowed his eyes at you. “how do you know that?”

you shoved another forkful of peach into your mouth, this time topping it off with the crunchy granola at its base. your best friend continued glowering at you.

“what do you know, traitor?”

“jiyoon just asked me what to wear on the first date so—“

jeonghan stuck his fork into his peach. this time it stuck. “and you didn’t tell me?”

you lolled back in your chair. “it’s not a big deal.”

“of course it is!” he hissed. “you’re my best friend—“

“shua would be so betrayed right now—“

“one of my best friends.” he corrected before continuing on his tirade. “and she’s my sister! y-you two are going behind my back! for a kid who doesn’t love her—“

“they’ve been on two dates.” you said again. “it’d be weird if he loved her already.”

“who doesn’t love jiyoon right the second they meet her?” jeonghan demanded. “who?”

“you, probably.” you stirred your iced tea. “remember when you sent her to cram school? you spiteful little—“

“he should worship the ground she walks on! anyone who wants to date jiyoon should love her at least as much as i do—“

“jeonghan.” you reached out across the table, covering his hand with yours and ignoring the little warning bells in your mind that reminded you of exactly what happened the last time you were so easily susceptible to his complaining. that’s right, you ended up falling in love with him and had to date jeong jaehyun for eight months to get the thought of jeonghan out of your head. jaehyun was super nice though, and still sent you messages for you to approve before he sent them to his bubble account. you were subscribed to it, and jeonghan rolled his eyes every time you giggled at the notification. “jiyoon’s a smart girl. and injun seems like an okay guy. if he wasn’t, don’t you think she wouldn’t have wanted to go out with him?”

jeonghan paused, mulled your words over. you peered over to the kids, smiling at the way injun was looking at jiyoon like she had hung the stars in the sky. at the very least, it was puppy love, and at the very most, jiyoon had met someone who would do anything for her. you couldn’t believe jeonghan’s little sister was going through this before you. you shoved another piece of granola into your mouth before the thoughts could continue corroding through you.

“it’s just weird to me.” jeonghan finally said. you made a noise of acknowledgement. “my little sister’s growing up, and i’m too busy to see it happen.” you sat up, resting your head against the palm of your hand. “and now she’s replacing me with some second-rate gongmyung lookalike who will never love her even a fraction as much as i do.”

“she’s not replacing you, you drama queen—“

“it’s literally happening right now.”

you shook his hand a little. “it’s not. she’s not going to replace you with him.”

jiyoon beamed as injun showed her something on his phone.

“what if he breaks her heart?” jeonghan said, pained, making the question sound more like a statement.

“if she’s anything like you, she’ll break his heart, not the other way around.” you licked up a stray dollop of cream from your spoon.

“i just don’t want her to get hurt.”

“jeonghan,” you levelled a look at him. “you can’t protect her from everything. she’s a teenager, let her experience regular teenager things, hm? this is what she wants. it’s inevitable.”

the blonde man crumpled into his seat. “so you’re saying i can’t stop it?”

“of course not.” you said matter-of-factly. “she’s a stubborn girl. do you know what happened when my dad told me i wasn’t allowed to date jaehyun because he was too pretty and pretty boys are never any good?”

“wait, your dad said jeong jaehyun was too pretty and not me?”

“i went out with him anyway.” you ignored jeonghan’s question. “and then i almost said yes when he asked to move in together.”

“he asked you if you wanted to move in together?”

“anyway, the point is: you’re doing a good job, okay?” jeonghan stayed quiet at what you said, much to your satisfaction. “you want to take care of her, and you’re there for her no matter what. that matters the most.”

the silence continued, and right as you were about to offer maybe to throw an egg at injun-doyoung-gongmyung’s bike because of how unnerved you were by jeonghan’s behaviour, he stood up. “let’s get dinner.”

you scrambled up to your feet, pulling on your coat. “what about—“

jeonghan walked up to the cashier, handing her his card and smiling kindly at her. you watched as she swooned. typical.

“just the two yogurt peaches?” she said.

“actually,” jeonghan looked over his shoulder to where jiyoon batted injun’s shoulder. he frowned slightly, “can you put that table’s bill on my card, too? thanks.” he said when she handed him the receipt, before nodding at you to go.

you walked over the door, watching as jeonghan walked over to his sister, his fists curled up at his sides.

“we’re going for dinner.” he informed her, unclenching his palms.

“okay.” jiyoon started, but jeonghan interrupted her.

“injun, you’ll walk her home? i don’t want her walking alone once the sun’s down.” he said, giving him a smile. it was a bit too wide to be genuine. like one of those smiles he offered fansites who got a little too close to the other members, or when he was far too tired to be shooting something at the crack of dawn, but it didn’t fail to make you smile because you knew he was doing his best.

“yes, of course, hyung!” injun said, getting up and bowing quickly. “i’ll make sure she gets home safely!”

“make sure you do.” jeonghan started walking over to you, taking your arm. “i’ll call you later tonight, jiyoon.”

“no, i’ll call you once i get home, oppa.” jiyoon said, smiling softly at him.

-

“i’m very proud of you.” you said, shivering a little at the gust of wind that blew through the trees. jeonghan just pulled you close to his side, his breath coming out in cold puffs.

“you should be. i almost throttled that kid.” jeonghan gritted out.

you patted his shoulder consolingly. “and we’re all so grateful you didn’t.”

“besides,” jeonghan said, a small, satisfied smile forming on his face. “it’s not a date if he doesn’t pay for it, right?”

-

you smiled happily around your spoonful of rice. “you should bring jihoon here next time. he’d really like it.”

jeonghan just hummed, continuing to flip the meat. “why didn’t you move in with jaehyun?”

you nearly choked, coughing out. when you composed yourself, you looked up to see jeonghan’s blank expression, like he had asked you about the weather and not a break up.

“i’m not the type to wait around for some idol to come home from work every day.” you answered once he made it completely clear he wasn’t taking a fumbling excuse as a response. you took a sip from your glass of tea. “he’s too busy to ever be home, and i’m not kind enough to want to wait for when he isn’t.”

“did you really like him?”

you narrowed your eyes. “why are you so curious all of a sudden? when i was with him it was always ‘be quiet, y/n, i’m trying to eat’.”

jeonghan blinked innocently at you. “is there a problem with me wanting to know things about you?”

“i liked him.” you say, before chewing on a piece of meat. “but probably not as much as he deserved, which was awful because he was such a cute dork. and he was hot. and super nice and—“

“okay, i get it.” he muttered. “you sound like seokmin in high school.”

“why’d you ask?”

“would you wait if it was for me?” jeonghan said instead of answering, but it was honestly an answer enough.

you pinched the skin on your thigh. this had to be a fever dream or something.

“excuse me?”

“if i asked to be with you, would you wait?” you searched jeonghan’s face for any sort of joke that you weren’t in on, and found nothing but sincerity. he just continued looking at you, completely unfazed.

you coughed.

“maybe if you asked like, a year ago—“

“i knew jeong jaehyun was a rebound!” jeonghan said, shoving rice into his mouth. “but seriously? not anymore?”

you leaned back against your chair, weighing your options. jeonghan was an enigma, even after all these years.

“if you pay for dinner.” you decided. if things didn’t work out, the least you could do was milk him dry of the entirety of his wallet. you waved over a waiter, ordering more beef.

jeonghan just smiled. “you know this counts as a date, right?”

you put meat onto his plate. “you know you might regret this, right? and if we break up and you take all of our friends in the divorce i’ll be very sad.”

he laughed, leaning forward on his elbows. you nearly moved back, but held your ground as his gaze dropped to your lips. then he pushed the tiny bowl of kimchi towards you, like it was his plan all along, and moved away. he was little menace.

jeonghan grabbed his chopsticks. “we won’t break up.”

you sniffed, trying to appear unaffected. “you say that like it’s a guarantee.”

“i’m pretty sure i’ve been in love with you for years,” he says like it’s the simplest thing in the world. you watch his expression carefully. honesty. “and i only realised when jaehyun came over for dinner.”

you snorted. “no wonder minghao kept making those faces at you.”

“that little piece of shit injun might not be the love of my sister’s life but you definitely are mine.” jeonghan continues. “and i’m not dumb enough to let go of you twice.”

“you’re so cheesy.” you rolled your eyes, making him whine. he jutted out his bottom lip, and you were very aware you shouldn’t find a twenty-something year old man adorable but yoon jeonghan had that effect on you. “and you’re mine.” you say when he starts shaking his shoulders like a kid.

“good.” he says primly, and starts eating.

you observe him for a while, watch as he shoves a wrap that’s far too big into his mouth, fill your cup of tea when he notices its only half full, shield you from the smoke of the charcoal. jeonghan may have only realised it now, but you think he’s been taking care of you for a while, and inwardly laugh.

there was no getting over yoon jeonghan, that was for sure. and luckily for you, you wouldn’t have to try to ever again.

Chapter Text

“good evening everyone!” you chirp at your phone, which is perched precariously on top of a bunch of old books and propped against the wall. people start entering your livestream, commenting and saying hello back. “i said that i’d be holding a livestream on my last video, so here i am! i’m going to be getting ready for my day and answer a few of the questions some of you dropped on my instagram story.”

“i put on all my skincare already, so we’re ready to go!” you picked up your primer, dotting it onto your skin and reading the questions you had typed onto your laptop. “horanghae_96 wants to know if i have any plans for christmas! that’s a very sweet question, i’m visiting my family on christmas eve and then spending christmas with a few of my friends! if soonyoung is on here, please leave. i got soonyoung a very cute tiger plush…”

you continue reading through the questions, stopping every now and then to explain what you’re putting on your face. you’re halfway through doing your eyeshadow when someone interrupts.

“i’m picking this darker pink for my outer corner…” you look away from your phone screen off to the side, where jeonghan’s pushed the door open. “sorry, give me a moment guys!”

you slide out of your vanity chair, walking up to jeonghan. the man in question rubs his eyes lazily, clearly having only woken up from his sleep.

“you don’t have practice today?” you ask quietly, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“no.” he replies, voice croaky from disuse. his arms go around your waist, pulling you into his chest. you know you must look ridiculous with only one eye covered in shadow but you go anyway. jeonghan could pick on you later when he wasn’t so tired. “i missed you.”

you smile into his collarbone. “i missed you too, baby. but i’m live right now, i have to get back.”

jeonghan whines, cuddling into the top of your head. you laugh a little.

“i’ll only be twenty more minutes.” you say into his ear. “go back to bed.”

he acquiesces after you press a kiss to his cheek, pouting out his bottom lip. he closes the door behind him softly and you return to your phone.

“sorry about that. anyway, i’m doing pink for my outer corner…”

wonungie_123 did yall heard that or was it just me
abcdefgh boyfriend??????????
hihellohihello dont be weird maybe it’s her friend or something
ro938291 why does that voice sound familiar

-

“hi everyone.” you say tiredly at your computer screen, waving. “i’m a little sick so i might sound a little weird, but i said i was going to show you guys my island today.”

you log into your animal crossing, making sure the screen’s hooked up so your viewers can see. “this is my island! it’s a little ugly, to be honest. i’m not too good at decorating.” you roam around a bit, going through the villagers’ houses. “look at my outfit, though! isn’t it cute?”

you pause to read through the comments.

anna_12123 girl u sound awful

“oh, i didn’t know i sounded that bad.” you scratch your cheek. “sorry about that, guys.” you keep walking around your island, going over to the edge. “if anyone wants to be friends, my user’s on the top left corner of the screen. oh, and there’s a giveaway if you want to join. the details are on my instagram.”

the longer you go on, the scratchier your throat feels. you take a few sips of water, clearing your throat every now and then.

“sweetheart?” jeonghan calls out. you hadn’t heard him come into the apartment. you crane your neck a little, watching him pull out the groceries and putting them into the fridge. “do you want me to order dinner? or do you want to be graced with the glory of my cooking?”

you giggle, but it turns into a hacking cough. “order, i think.” you try calling out, but your voice sounds thin and weary. “soup?”

jeonghan clicks his tongue when he realises what you’re doing, glaring at you when he sees your setup. “i thought i told you to just go live when you weren’t feeling like absolute shit?”

you frowned. “but i promised—“

he walks behind your computer, starting to turn off the game and begins speaking, “hello, people in y/n’s computer! she’s very, very sick and i will be ending this live now. if you want to see her, uh, what is this, sweetheart? zoo crossing? pet kingdom? animal crossing! yes, thank you commenter. if you want to see her animal crossing island thing she’ll post it on instagram or something. say bye, y/n!”

v_v000 wtf who’s that???????
wooahaevobo get well soon y/n
sound_of_coups see u when u get better!
angel0_0 is that her boyfriend????? does she have a boyfriend???????????

you wave, a little dazed at the speed jeonghan is speaking. “bye, everyone. see you next week!”

jeonghan slams your laptop shut, giving you a look. “go to the bedroom—“

“kinky.”

he rolls his eyes at you, smushing your cheeks together and frowning. “you’re burning up. go, i’ll wake you up when the food’s here.” you stay put in your seat. “carry?” you nod, raising both your arms. jeonghan sighs, tucking his arms under yours and hefting you out of the seat. “you baby.” he drags you into the room like that, huffing along the way. “you’re lucky i love you, you menace.”

jeonghan tucks you into bed, pulling the blankets up to your chin and fluffing out your pillow like the mother hen he was. you snuggle into your pillow, reaching out a hand to him.

“what now?” he deadpans. “you want me to incense the bed first? it’s too late, you brat—“

you tug on his hand, making him yelp and fall on top of you. jeonghan’s about to whine when you caress his cheek, thumb rubbing his cheekbone. “i love you.” you say, your words slurring a little. “before i fall asleep. thank you for taking care of me.”

jeonghan’s face softens. “go to sleep.”

georgia @lastordr
omg who was that guy on y/n’s last stream

hi @youtuber_his
this is such a stretch but idk why that guy on y/n’s last stream sounded like yoon jeonghan

wi @paintme_by
yoon jeonghan??? ur right that’s a stretch

mari @sunflow3r
yoon jeonghan the volleyball anime looking dude???
wait choi seungcheol was on y/n’s stream???? look he commented
[image attached]

georgia @lastordr
what the fuck lol

-

“hellooo!” you waved at your phone. “hi, welcome! i’ll wait for a few more people to come in!” you busied yourself with organising the food in front of you, making sure they weren’t on the edge of the table. if you spilled like last time jeonghan would have your head. once you were sure the food wouldn’t topple over, you looked back to the screen. “hi! sorry about the last stream, i was really sick out of my mind, i can’t believe i was dumb enough to go live when i was feeling so bad. thank you for everyone’s well wishes! i’m okay now, and i thought it’d be fun to do a mukbang! i’m not too good at asmr, so maybe that’ll be for next time.”

you brandished the container of food. “this is an avocado salmon roll.” you picked up another one. “and this is an eel roll. i have some soba and tempura too, but i’ll get to that later.” you frowned. “or should i start with the tempura so it isn’t soggy? i’ll do that, dummy.”

“we don’t usually order japanese.” you say through munches of the battered shrimp. “we usually do korean all the time because we’re picky like that but i thought this would be a good change of scenery. soonyoung recommended me this place actually! the owners are really sweet to him. i knew i should’ve gotten japanese lessons like him!”

lastordr_georgia WE?????
rachel101010 she so has a boyfriend what the heck
ho5hi_kwon that looks good. u should be thankful i recommended it

you rolled your eyes at soonyoung’s comment. “yes, i’m very thankful. it tastes really good, everyone. and now i’m going to get into the avocado roll.”

you were unwrapping the little container of soy sauce when your phone rang. “oh, give me a second guys, sorry about this.” you picked up the phone behind you. jeonghan had told you it would’ve been smart to invest in one phone only for business and another for your personal life, and you hadn’t thought of an idea so clever in a while.

speak of the devil.

you slid accept on the call, an unconscious smile forming on your face. “hey!”

“hi, sweetheart.” jeonghan said, sounding slightly out of breath. you could hear the telltale squeak on sneakers against the court behind him. “cheol tells me you’re live again? don’t call yourself a dummy, brat.”

“what’s the point of saying that when you call me a brat right after, huh?”

“you’re my brat. only i get to call you that. also i love you and that’s incentive enough. now tell me what you’re eating.”

you take a dramatic bite of the tempura. “i ordered japanese. if you want some i’ll order more for when you come home later?”

“y/n, hiiiiii!” you heard seungkwan yell into the phone.

“hi, kwannie!” you responded, before you heard jeonghan move somewhere quieter. “so what about it, yoon? are we eating something other than doenjjang jjigae tonight?”

jeonghan laughed a little. “go for it. get me something nice, princess.”

“you know i always do.”

“i’ll see you when i get home, hm? miss you.”

“you saw me this morning, you charmer.”

“are you ignoring me? am i not allowed to miss you anymore? is romance dead?”

you let out a laugh at his overdramatic tendencies. “i miss you too. i’ll see you later, babe.”

jeonghan smacked an obnoxious-sounding kiss against the receiver, and hung up. you smiled to yourself for a few more seconds before remembering the other phone.

you felt your cheeks burn at the onslaught of question marks in the comment section. “sorry about that. i have no idea why all my lives get interrupted. anyway, this is the avocado roll…”

annie @sunflwrannie
OKAY Y/N DEFINITELY HAS A BOYFRIEND

georgia @lastordr
is it whoever kwannie is??? i heard her say something like that & ‘yoon’????

hi @youtuber_his
I WAS RIGHT?? she said yoon that’s YOON JEONGHAN!
kwannie is boo seungkwan

mari @sunflow3r
for everyone asking who yoon jeonghan is:
- born on 4 oct 1995
- is on the korean national mens volleyball team
- plays setter which is the hardest role
- friends with choi seungcheol who was on y/n’s stream a few weeks ago
- known as anime boy because he changes his hair colour often and somehow always looks like an anime character

wi @paintme_by
oh wow he’s really pretty fuck

hi @youtuber_his
they’d look so good together i can’t believe i was right

-

“hiiiii.” you greeted the stream. “i’m playing this horror game today and i’m very scared so please be nice to me and comment nice things.” you showed them the game, very astutely named ‘the ghost’. “i’m already awful at games and this is a horror game on top of that so. i’m on my bed because i feel safest here. please do not make a compilation of every time i scream or something, for the sake of my dignity.”

you nervously start the game. “oh, oh okay. why am i in a garage? what do i do? i’ve never played this before, holy sh— no swearing, sorry. yup. it’s fine, i just need to look for car parts and avoid the ghosts, okay.”

you move along, going through the map before starting to stalk around the location. “does this game have jump scares? please comment if you’ve played it before. does it have jump scares? i told you guys i’m terrified of horror stuff, right? once we went to an escape room and all jjong and soonyoung did was laugh at me while i screamed and befriend the actors there. it was so bad for me, i swear i lost my voice for the next week.”

ho5hi_kwon LMAO i remember that that was so funny
lastordr_georgia jjong… jjong as in jeonghan…
v_v000 aw thats so cute that jeonghan went with her and soonyoung
wooahaevobo YES THERE ARE JUMP SCARES

“oh, there are jump scares.” you noted. “earphone users, i’m so sorry.”

you kept going through the location, flinching at every dark corner. “fuc— fridge i’m so scared.”

wonungie_123 omg she’s in the hallway
abcdefgh wait does that mean soonyoung approves of jeonghan
ho5hi_kwon ur such a wimp
joshu_acoustic lmao turn down ur volume guys
min9yu_kim OK I WILL JOSHUA

you let out a scream when your screen showed a zombie-like creature. almost immediately, it was replaced with the words ‘game over’.

“the game’s over and i didn’t even do shit, what the hell.” you threw your phone to the side. “i’m very sorry that i’m terrible but what the fuck, that was so scary i’m never doing that again!”

the door to the bedroom swung open, revealing jeonghan, his hair still wet from the shower. absentmindedly, you noted that he was wearing the matching pastel blue pajama set as you were.

“why’re you screaming?” he asked, rubbing his right eye. “are you live again?”

you threw your arm over your eyes. “jjong, be nice to me, i almost had a heart attack.”

dk_is_dokyeom hi jeonghan hyung!!!!
v_v000 holy fuck is that jeonghan
ho5hi_kwon hyung play a round
lastordr_georgia THATS JEONGHAN

“scoot, you big baby.” jeonghan pushed you to the other side of the bed, climbing in and pulling the sheets up to your tummies. “do i read the comments or do you want to?”

you sigh, leaning closer to him to scroll through. “soonyoung says you should play another round with me.”

jeonghan extends his arm behind your pillow, pulling you to rest your head against his chest. “okay, give me the phone.”

you tossed the phone to him, briefly explaining the rules of the game. “i’m gonna close my eyes, tell me when you get killed.”

he makes a noise of affront. “you don’t think i’m gonna win? me?”

you dug your elbow into his side, making him yelp. “you’re so cocky, i swear to god. i hate you.”

jeonghan leans in to whisper into your ear. “that’s not what you said last night.”

pledis_boos oh my god i hate u guys
pledis_boos i enter the stream and THIS is the first thing i see??????
hihellohihello FUCK THEY’RE SO CUTE
ro938291 OH MY GOD THEY’RE ADORABLE?????????????

you push his face away, willing the red in your cheeks to lessen. “shut up and start already.”

jeonghan acquiesces with one final smug look, immediately arriving at the creepy garage. “so i just look for the car parts, right?”

you hum, petting his stomach. “yeah. and you have to come back to the garage to assemble.”

you close your eyes, jeonghan making comments every now and then to make sure you were awake and that your stream was well-entertained. somewhere between a story about his sister’s cram school and the time he threw his bag out the classroom window to try to ditch class, he lets out a cheer.

“i win!”

you sit up instantly, grabbing the phone from him. “you win?” the screen repeats his sentiments. you look from the screen to his victorious face.

hihellohihello theyre so cute but im more amazed at how jeonghan won
wonungie_123 bruh how did he win on his first try
vernon_98 👍
junhui_moon i’m not even surprised anymore

jeonghan smiles at you. “you should’ve known better than to doubt me, sweetheart.” he sang, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “it’s 9, i want to watch—“

“volleyball reruns, yes, i know.” you grumble, still looking at your phone screen. “how the heck did you win on your first try?”

“what can i say?” jeonghan grins. “i’m the luckiest man in the world.”

wi @paintme_by
guys. did y/n just do a boyfriend reveal without even meaning to

annie @sunflwrannie
Y/N AND JEONGHAN ARE ADORABLE I SHIP

Xu Minghao @xuminghao_o
I leave for 10 minutes and Jeonghan hyung & Y/n break the internet

georgia @lastordr
i feel so single did u see the look in his eyes

Seungcheol @sound_of_coups
why is jeonghan trending
did he dye his hair blonde again

Joshua Hong @joshu_acoustic
Lol, I guess it was about time

Hoshi @ho5hi_kwon
stop tagging me in y/n and jeonghan edits!!! i don’t want to see my sister look stupidly in love!!!!!!

-

“hello everyone!” you waved at the camera, jeonghan snickering beside you on the couch. “um, so apparently we trended after my last livestream so we’re here to answer some questions.”

jeonghan peers at the list of questions curated from your instagram, laughing hysterically at one. “why do they want to know if we’ve had se—“

you slap your palm over jeonghan’s mouth. “shut up, this is a family friendly channel!”

jeonghan keeps talking, removing your hand. “of course we have, have you seen her? why wouldn’t i want to—“ you kick him, making him yell out. “ouch, what the hell, you brat!”

you flush. “i’ll have chan cut out that part, you menace.”

(chan doesn’t. jeonghan and your name trends on twitter for a second time.)

“how did we meet?” you read off your phone once your massive blush subsides.

“soonyoung went to one of my games because he was friends with seungkwan.” jeonghan answers. “then he brought you to the next one even though you said, and i quote, ‘could care less about some dumb ball sport’—“

“i hate you so much.” you groan into your palms.

“and you saw me and were all starstruck because of how gorgeous i was—“

“in my defence!” you called out. “it was when jeonghan had long blue hair, who wouldn’t be starstruck? inserting a picture of how he looked here.” you motioned to the top left corner. “and then he asked me out on a date because i too, am gorgeous.”

jeonghan grinned, poking your cheek. “not gonna deny that.”

you stuck your tongue out at him. “how long have we been together?”

“four years in january.” he answers quickly. “but we’ve ‘been together’” he makes bunny ears with his fingers. “for almost five. she was stubborn the first few months.”

you rolled your eyes. “you try getting into a relationship with someone who trains six days a week for hours at a time and then has to disappear every competition season. do not even get me started on olympics season this year—“

jeonghan cuddled you into his side, kissing your cheek and forehead in succession. “and i am very grateful you took time off to come with me to tokyo.”

you huffed, looking pleased. “you’re welcome. you’re very lucky i love you.”

he presses one last kiss on your cheek before reading off your shoulder. “are we getting married?”

you laugh. “not yet, no.”

jeonghan smiles cheekily at the camera. “i’m working on it.”

wi @paintme_by
THE BOYFRIEND REVEAL WAS EVERYTHING TO MEEEEEE

annie @sunflwrannie
get someone who looks at you the way jeonghan looks at y/n

hi @youtuber_his
omg no wonder y/n stopped uploading during olympics season SHE WENT TO TOKYO WITH HIM

mari @sunflow3r
lol look at this picture of scoups talking to y/n three years ago LOOK AT JEONGHAN IN THE CORNER
[image attached]

annie @sunflwrannie
oh my god i completely forgot about their ‘dating scandal’ JEONGHAN WE’RE SORRY

Yoon Jeonghan @jeonghaniyoo_n replying to @sunflwrannie
No worries, I got the girl after all, didn’t I? :)

Chapter Text

do you ever want to disappear? you asked wonwoo one friday night. you had wanted to leave the rowdy bar early that night, too tired of the everythingness and the absolute nothingness. wonwoo had noticed, said his goodbyes to the rest of your friends, pressed a kiss to soonyoung’s cheek, and offered to walk you home.

on your way back to your apartment, you had stopped by a playground. it was quiet, a liminal space you were unsure you wanted to fill, but wonwoo had just nudged you over to the swing set, and took the seat beside you. he could tell, you think. he can always tell.

sometimes, he had answered. not as often as i used to, though.

was it awful that you were jealous of that? probably. but that wouldn’t be the most selfish thing you had thought of in a while.

-

you have been in love with yoon jeonghan for as long as you can remember.

you’ve loved him since you were kids riding wobbly bikes meant for larger, older occupants. you’ve loved him since he went through that awkward phase where his smile was too wide for his face. you’ve loved him since he grew out his hair in secondary school because you told him you had always wondered if he’d be prettier than you if you had the same length hair. he was. you’ve loved him since he walked into the lecture hall at half past eight, eyes drooping with sleep and tiredness and thought he was the most beautiful person you had ever seen.

you’ve loved him for forever, and you’ve definitely loved him for longer than he’s loved sojung.

it’s cold when you get home, and you take off your coat and hum at the pleasant warmth of the heated floors. you pad towards the living room, and three years of your life are easily shaven off when you realise minghao’s lounging on your couch, a glass of wine perched on the table in front of him. when you let out a yelp, the man just looks over his shoulder and waves you over like it’s his house.

you do so anyway.

“what are you doing here?” you ask once you’re sure your heart’s stopped threatening to bounce out of your chest. minghao gives you a look, and pours you a glass. you take it with clumsy, unpracticed hands. you’ve always been good at pretending, but minghao’s the one person who you think can look you straight in the soul.

“you haven’t been answering anyone’s calls.” he says, once he’s taken another sip of whatever bottle he’s brought. “jun ge was starting to think you were dead in your apartment or something.”

you sigh. “i’ve been busy.”

“so busy that you can’t return a phone call?” minghao raises a single judgemental eyebrow. “come on, you can’t possibly think i’ll believe that.”

you place your wine glass down on the table with a louder clink than what’s necessary. you don’t want to get into this.

“y/n,” your friends calls out again, softer this time. gentler. “we’re worried about you.”

“i’m fine.” you stand up. “i’m completely fine, and i will continue to be fine. so stop worrying.”

minghao doesn’t move an inch. his eyes, though, flicker over to the messy pile of mail sitting on your kitchen island. if you squint, you can see the creamy thick envelope, golden embossment on its edges with looping script.

“you haven’t opened it.” minghao notes. you feel the judgement again. “it’s been—“

“two weeks, i know.” you say through gritted teeth. “i don’t need you here to remind me. i know.”

“y/n,” minghao stands up, a full head taller than you, and takes your shaking palms in his sturdy ones. “i just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

you rip your hands away from him, heed no mind to the sudden panic in his voice and pull the envelope from under the stack. the pile crumples down.

carefully, you open the envelope, making sure not to crease it, and flip open the invitation.

together with their families,
yoon jeonghan
&
kim sojung
cordially invite you to their event of their matrimony

december fifth, saturday
at two in the afternoon

it’s all it takes for you to fall onto your knees. minghao gets there just in time before you hit the ground.

-

sometimes i think it’d be so easy to disappear, you say.

wonwoo pauses from where he had been aimlessly kicking the ground beneath him. his swing comes to a stop. what do you mean by that? he asks cautiously. it rolls off of him in waves.

i don’t know. you let the breeze sway through your hair. it’s just a thought.

-

“i’m a selfish person.” you say into minghao’s chest. his hold on you is tight, like a vice. you’re both still seated on the floor, your backs against the legs of your table.

“you’re the most selfless person i know.” he counters. his thumb traces circles on your arm.

“sometimes i look at jeonghan and think that i want him to feel what it’s like to hurt as much as i do.” you whisper. you fiddle with your fingers, picking at the skin around your index finger. minghao’s hand comes to stop your actions. he covers your hand with his, laces them together. “sometimes i look at sojung and wonder why he fell in love with her and not me.”

your phone rings, shrill and loud. neither of you move to pick it up, but you do catch the flash of jeonghan’s name. minghao flips the screen downward, and not a second later, it pings with message after message.

you pry the device out of his fingers, scroll down on each and every message, and slide it back across the room.

won’t you come to the party
i know you said you were busy but it’s my bachelor party lovely
i’ll tell on you if you dont
you’re my best friend u have to come!

“you’re not going?”

“no.” you sigh. “i need some time, i think.”

minghao hums. so gentle you think you might’ve made it up in your head, he drops the ghost of a kiss onto the top of your head. you lament over could-haves and what-ifs. maybe if you weren’t so stupidly in love with yoon jeonghan, you would’ve loved minghao instead.

-

you finally pick up jeonghan’s calls a week before his wedding.

minghao had left your apartment the next morning, waved off your apologies and told you he’d be dropping by in a week. since then, you had been spending your lunch breaks with him. last weekend, you had even mustered up the strength to meet up with your friends, the ones who hadn’t already gone off to hwaseong for jeonghan’s bachelor’s party, at least.

“you.” he spits venomously when you slide accept on his call. “you’re a little menace, you know that?”

you continue typing on an email. “hello to you too, jeonghan.” you click on loudspeaker, and the scratchy background noise is magnified instantly. you hear him fumbling with his phone, and a fond smile almost makes its way onto your face.

almost.

“you’re the worst best friend ever.” jeonghan sulks. “you know even joshuji made it? joshuji who had to fly in from LA?”

“yes, i know.” you say, as you click send on the email. then you open another tab and keep typing. “he texted me when he landed.”

“and you replied to him but didn’t bother picking up any single one of my calls?” he presses on, his voice getting whinier and whinier.

“i told you i’m busy. a text is easier to respond to than a phone call.”

“if i didn’t know better i’d think you were avoiding me.” jeonghan says, ever so astute. you pause for a second before you continue typing.

“that’s ridiculous.” you scoff. “i’m swamped with work, okay? you’ll survive without me.” you hear him let out a deep sigh, so you let out a giggle, like this was all a joke. “i’m kidding. tired?”

“yeah.” he admits. you didn’t have to ask, you already knew from how weary he sounded. “you can’t come sooner? i don’t care if you won’t be able to go to the bachelor party or if you have to stay at home until the day of. just… you know? come here. i miss you.” he says, trailing off hesitantly. it wasn’t like him to get so vulnerable. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to race to hwaseong right that moment, but you just steeled yourself up.

“you’re just stressed.” you respond, “i can’t leave work right now. i’m sorry.” it’s quiet on the other line, and a pool of guilt builds up in your stomach. “hey, why don’t you tell sojung about it?” her name doesn’t carry the same bitterness it used to. it’s something you’ve been working on. “i’m sure she’d understand if you told her.”

“i can’t.” jeonghan says. “i don’t want to disappoint her.”

“i don’t think you could. she loves you.” i love you. you close your laptop, suddenly feeling very tired. “it’ll be okay. hey, i gotta go. i’ll be there in a few days.”

“y/n,” he interrupts before you can hang up. “did i do something wrong?”

you let out a quiet laugh. “of course not.”

you end the call.

-

you have to tell me whenever you feel this way, okay? wonwoo says when he drops you off at your door. i won’t be angry. call me any time.

but soonyoung—

soonyoung is as much your best friend as i am yours, the man pushes up his glasses higher onto the bridge of his nose. promise me.

i promise. it feels like lead in your throat.

-

“hey,” you say into the phone. “remember when you told me to call when i felt. you know?”

“do you want me to come over?” wonwoo asks.

“i dunno.” you curl into the arm of your sofa. “i was just thinking.”

“about what?” you can hear the vague rustle of sheets, soonyoung’s hum of question.

“are you coming over?”

“should i bring soonie?”

“if you are, then yes, please.”

“okay. we’ll be there in ten.”

-

“maybe you shouldn’t go.” wonwoo says. soonyoung’s got his feet on his lap, his head on yours. you busy yourself with carding your fingers through his hair. “if it makes you feel this way— if it makes you hurt—“

“i’m going.” you respond firmly. “he’s been my best friend for my whole life, it’d be selfish if i didn’t go.”

“you’ve been in love with him for your whole life, too.” soonyoung pipes up, looking up at you through sleepy eyes. “don’t you think it’s a little unfair for him to make you do this?”

you sigh, leaning your head back against your sofa. “you think he knows?”

wonwoo gives you a look. “it’s jeonghan. he always knows. which makes this completely selfish and unfair of him, not you.”

“minghao thinks i shouldn’t go either.” you say. “he doesn’t say it outright but i know he does.”

“then don’t.” soonyoung raises his arms to push the sides of your mouth up. “i miss you happy.”

you take it all in. soonyoung and wonwoo in your living room, your best friends who love you and want you to be happy. minghao who has proven time and time again that he will always be there for you, tough love and soft love and everything in between. you compare it to jeonghan. you don’t think you’ve ever known happiness not synonymous to jeonghan, and that in itself is an awful realisation. how have you become so tethered so someone who does not put you at the same level of priority as you do to him?

“i am happy.” you finally say. “i’m happy when i’m with you guys.”

wonwoo bumps his shoulder against yours. “you deserve to be happy all the time.”

you smile, and poke soonyoung’s cheek.

-

“jeonghan.” you say when he picks up the phone.

“y/n, thank god you called, i’m dying!” jeonghan whines. you can vaguely hear the commotion of people around him. you can imagine it from here, jeonghan in a secluded corner of the room, phone pressed between his shoulder and cheek as he tries to make himself as small as possible. “where are you? i know you said you were busy but the wedding’s tomorrow and you’re not here yet.”

you lean back against your chair. “how’s everything going? have you seen sojung’s dress yet?”

jeonghan snorts. “are you kidding? she didn’t let me six feet near the room they’re keeping it in.”

“your parents? how are they?”

his voice noticeably drops at that. “they’re happy, i think. my mom keeps muttering about something, and dad keeps saying really weird things but besides that, you know. they’re normal.”

“and jiyoonie?”

he brightens up. “she’s good. she graduated last summer, remember? she said you sent her flowers.”

it’s quiet. and then—
“you’re not coming, are you?”

jeonghan always knew you scarily well. suddenly everything wonwoo said makes sense.

“and you’ve always known, haven’t you?” you whisper.

you hear him take a breath, and that’s all the confirmation you need. tears begin to prick at the corner of your eyes, and you wipe them away before they get the chance to drip down your cheeks. you’ll never cry for yoon jeonghan again, you promise yourself. you won’t forgive yourself if you do.

“yes.” jeonghan finally admits. “i’ve always known.”

“then i know you’ll understand why i’m not coming.” you say, voice slightly croaky. “you know what the craziest thing is, yoon jeonghan?” you don’t wait for an answer. “i wouldn’t have changed a single thing. isn’t that fucked up?”

“i’m—“

“if you apologise, i will never forgive you.” you interrupt. malice bleeds into your tone. you don’t think you’ve ever spoken to jeonghan like this. you hear him sniffle, the same way he usually does when he’s trying not to cry. terribly, something like satisfaction shoots into you. you’re glad you aren’t the only one who feels like shit. selfish, again. then you hear a door being pushed open, sojung’s pretty voice asking if everything’s alright.

“it’s fine, i’m just talking to y/n.” jeonghan answers quietly. the phone rustles a little, but you can hear her whispering, can imagine her hands on his cheeks and her fingers in his hair and you can’t stand it.

“look, jeonghan.” you say, before you break. “i have to go.”

“no, y/n—“

“i have to go.” you repeat. “i hope everything goes well tomorrow.”

“will i—“ jeonghan cuts himself off, before continuing. “will i hear from you again?”

you tuck your hair behind your ear. “i hope so.”

he lets out a breath at that. whether its relief or disappointment, you can’t tell. you don’t want to know. “okay.” just as you’re about to hang up— “i hope so, too. please.”

-

disappearing doesn’t feel like an option anymore. you say into the crook of minghao’s neck. he rubs circles where his hand is holding your waist like an anchor. i don’t want it to be an option anymore.

isn’t that good?

i think so. i hope so. you lean up to look at him. the ache in your chest has long disappeared, too. you don’t think you’ll ever stop loving yoon jeonghan, but you’ve learnt that there is space for more than one person in the depths of your heart. i like where i am right now.

minghao smiles. it’s pretty. you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything prettier.

i like where i am, too.

you don’t kiss him then, but you do three weeks later, with his hand in yours over a shared wine bottle. this time you aren’t splitting it between ruined promises and broken hearts.

-

minghao’s hands are soft, his fingers are long and they’re laced through yours. you two walk along the river, bundled up in your coats. minghao’s white scarf is wrapped around his neck, his nose barely visible from under it. you barely resist the urge to go up on your tip toes to kiss it.

you don’t notice a familiar silhouette standing to your far left.

jeonghan smiles when he sees you, and is about to call out when he sees minghao’s hand in yours. something indescribable lurches in his chest when minghao notices your staring and laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you close to his chest. it traps his heart when you laugh right back, your cheeks rosy and your smile wide. you used to look at him that way.

jeonghan looks away when you lean up to kiss him. the ring on his fourth finger feels that much heavier. he hasn’t heard from you in eleven months, and he doubts he ever will again.

he doesn’t know if he’s selfish for wanting to.

Chapter Text

“again?” you slam the printed email onto mingyu’s desk.

your boss just gives the words a cursory glance before looking back at you. “his agency booked you specifically. so yes, you again.”

you slink onto the chair across his desk, cradling your head in your hands. “mingyu, i can’t fucking stand him. can’t you have minghao take him?”

the man huffs, crossing his arms. every now and then, not that you’d ever admit it to his face, you’re reminded of why models came onto shoots surprised that he was their photographer and not their costar. but not now. right now you’re busy trying to stop yourself from jolting across the desk between you two and wringing your hands around his neck.

“y/n, i know you don’t like him, but yoon jeonghan’s team hired you. so you’re going to set on wednesday.” taking in your frown, mingyu softens, jutting out his bottom lip at you. “i know. look, i’ll treat you to dinner. please? don’t be mad at me.”

you took in the hilariously whiney six foot man before you. mingyu was technically your boss, but he was your friend first, and you knew his malewife tendencies wouldn’t be able to handle you being cross with him. whatever, it’s not like you could hold a grudge against him for that long.

“fine.” you say, before pointing a finger at him, halting his cheer. “but it better be meat. lots of it. don’t you dare make a double entendre if you value your life.”

-

if you walked up to a stranger on the street and promptly informed them that you loathed yoon jeonghan with every fibre of your being, they’d probably look at you like you were the crazy one.

unfortunately for you, yoon jeonghan was beloved by the general population, from squealing thirteen year old girls to twenty-something professionals to forty year old single mothers to seventy year old grandfathers. his appeal wasn’t just his pretty face and delicate features but also the fact that he was undoubtedly one of the funniest and most charming people in mainstream media. with a permanent gig on boo seungkwan’s castella and a job anchoring ‘a cup of warm milk’ every thursday night, it was safe to say yoon jeonghan had the entire country wrapped around his dainty little finger.

everyone but you.

you had first met jeonghan on your first official photoshoot. mingyu and minghao were on set in case you needed anything, but it was the first time you’d be the boss and call the shots. when yoon jeonghan walked in, his then red hair falling into his eyes and resting gently upon the nape of his neck, dressed in a v-necked black button up with a camel-toned jacket over it, you took one look at him and promptly hid yourself in the supply closet for three whole minutes.

three minutes and a self pep talk later, you left the closet, chanting to yourself that it didn’t matter how he was the most attractive person you had ever seen, or that you had been tragically enchanted with him since you had seen him in his first singles cover back when he had flowing blue hair.

then you got to directing him, and found him the most infuriating man alive. you wondered how someone could be an entire 180 degree difference from who you thought they’d be. not only did yoon jeonghan slack off and chat with the staff onset, he also spent half the time in front of your camera poking fun at you. (minghao called it flirting once and you shot him a look so scandalised he backed off instantly.)

you had never gotten over a crush so quick. it turned out that yoon jeonghan was a two-faced liar who you think would’ve been better off if he swivelled into an adjacent acting career instead of a radio hosting gig. by the end of that shoot, mingyu had nearly pulled the hair out of his head, minghao had left to his office, no doubt to pace and retrieve his tea ceremony tray in an attempt to calm himself down and you were two seconds away from smashing yoon jeonghan’s pretty head with your camera.

and yet all he did was smile at you, his eyes crinkling gorgeously before skipping off set. “bye, y/n! it was a pleasure working with you. i hope to work with you again soon!”

you shared dumbfounded looks with wonwoo, who was putting away the lights. you were never going anywhere near yoon jeonghan for the rest of your life if you could help it.

only when the cheque came in for the profits of the shoot, your eyeballs nearly popped out of their sockets. you had never seen that many zeroes. apparently the ‘flirtation’ and ‘pure playfulness’ in jeonghan’s eyes, as commended by the korean times, was one of the most enchanting things the critics and marie claire audience had ever seen.

then you got another invitation to shoot for yoon jeonghan, and your downfall continued from there.

-

you trudge onto set, dragging your feet unwillingly. from beside you, soonyoung and seokmin could barely contain their giggles.

“why are you here again?” you bite out when soonyoung lets out another unsubtle snicker.

seokmin just looks at you with a mock empathetic expression. “mingyu said we could be here for moral support.”

“you never listen to mingyu.”

“now that’s a lie!” soonyoung gasps, placing a hand on his chest as if he was clutching a string of pearls. “i always listen to the best boss in the world, kim mingyu!”

you roll your eyes so hard you’re unsure why they don’t just stay at the back of your head. you start setting up, seokmin and soonyoung dutifully assisting you. around three minutes later, moonbyul enters, waving at you before taking her place behind her own camera, turning the blinker on to let you know she was recording. first look did like having behind the scenes content, and every time yoon jeonghan was on set, a videographer was sure to follow.

“good morning, my lovely y/n!”

you let out a long-suffering sigh before turning around and plastering a megawatt smile on your face. jeonghan sauntered onto set, dressed in an oversized jacket and white shirt. it was absolutely annoying how you knew he had probably just rolled out of bed.

“good morning, jeonghan.” he closed the gap between you two, chivalrously pulling you into a hug that lasted seconds too long. (you ignored how good he smelled.) his touch lingered at your waist, and you resisted the urge to slap the pretty little smirk off his pretty little face. instead, you pointed towards moonbyul’s camera and waved. “my gorgeous model has arrived on set!”

jeonghan grins, waving. “please, it’s all thanks to everyone here! i’m just the person lucky enough to work with them.”

you can feel more than half the room swoon, much to your displeasure. that included soonyoung and seokmin. those two were always weak for pretty men.

jeonghan beamed at the reception, his cheeks tinting a pretty pink. when you watched the video later on, you’d note how it complimented the pink in your cheeks. only yours was from controlling yourself from letting out a scoff.

“well, off you go to hair and makeup!” you removed his hand from your waist with a laugh that moonbyul winced at. jeonghan returned the gesture with a smile, waving at the camera again with wiggly fingers. you waited for moonbyul to call cut with bated breath, and when she finally dead, you basically shot to the other side of the room where soonyoung and seokmin were.

“it’s good to see you, my lovely y/n!” jeonghan called out to you. you looked back with a glower, only to see him being ushered quickly into his dressing room.

you leaned your head against the wall, resisting the urge to just bash it in. “he’s so annoying!” you groan.

seokmin and soonyoung exchange glances before soonyoung opens his mouth, “jeonghan-hyung?”

“who else?” you bit out.

“he was so nice to you, what are you talking about?” seokmin asked, features contorted in confusion.

you scoffed. “you wouldn’t understand, you assholes. he does this on purpose all the time! he gets in my head and it ruins my mood for the rest of the shoot and then it goes awfully!”

“and yet every single spread you’ve shot for him goes to the top of the sales chart.” soonyoung whispers, but loud enough for you to catch. he returns to his regular volume, which you wished he really wouldn’t. “have you stopped to consider that jeonghan-hyung’s been flirting with you this whole time and it’s just your tsundere self that won’t let a nice guy be nice to you?”

you gaped at him. “w-what the heck are you talking about? have you lost your mind? yoon jeonghan is not,” you lowered your voice. “interested in me!”

seokmin gets that look on his face. the one that only pops out when you know he’s going to be an absolute piece of shit. “we didn’t say he was interested in you. are you interested in him?”

soonyoung makes a cooing noise, which unfortunately for you, attracts the attention of moonbyul, whose been fiddling with her video camera. she slides over to your side, poking you in the waist. “you like yoon jeonghan?”

you sputtered. “w-what the hell, byul? o-of fucking course not, he’s the second coming of the antichrist!”

moonbyul laughed, loud and obnoxious ‘hahaha’s that just spur soonyoung on. soon enough, he’s joining in, high-pitched and giggly, and seokmin is as well. you shrink into the corner as more and more people on set start giving you four looks. not mean ones, they were too fond of you all for that, but curious ones, and you didn’t want to have to field off questions later, so you cleared your throat. “we should start prepping for the shoot, you idiots.”

moonbyul’s the first to recover, clearing her throat a few times and wiping away a few stray tears. seokmin follows suit, and soonyoung never really gets over his giggles, but the tame laughter is enough for you.

“let’s go.” you push soonyoung and seokmin over to the lighting section, and moonbyul waves you away.

it’s only ten more minutes before jeonghan emerges from his dressing room, dressed in a billowy white button up, his long blonde hair draping his face artfully. with stalks of white roses cradled in his hands, he looked every bit the prince charming this shoot claimed him to be.

“okay, let’s get started.” you announced, and everyone moved into position. jeonghan’s makeup artist dabbed red onto his lips, spreading it evenly. when he caught you watching, he lets his lips quirk up into a teasing smile.

you fumed.

it’s just one shoot. you reminded yourself. just sit through this and then you’re going to ask for a break. and a raise. a big one. mingyu won’t say no to you.

“alright, lay yourself down on the couch, jeonghan.” you said, picking up your camera. “seokmin, lights.”

seokmin turned on the giant light, and jeonghan, uncharacteristically, obliges with your instruction without a snarky comment. he spreads himself artistically on the couch, right hand clutching the flowers and the left stretched out on the arm of the sofa. he pins the camera with a seductive gaze, and you clutch it tighter.

“and three, two, one.” you count down, and moonbyul starts rolling again. “move as you please.”

jeonghan tilts his head to the side, showing off his jawline before resting his face against his palm.

“bring the flower up, please.” you say.

jeonghan gets that glint in his eye. the one that you imagine smacking off at night. he lets the flowers droop down to his side, making you have to crouch down on the floor to still get them in the shot.

you get up before looking at him. “i said up, jeonghan-ssi.” you say through gritted teeth. behind you, soonyoung winces, mouthing words over to moonbyul in panic. “do you not know the difference between up and down?”

he grins. “of course i do, lovely. i just like seeing you up close like this.”

you step back, doing nothing to conceal your eye-roll. “perfume.” seokmin passes jeonghan the pink bottle. “to your wrist.”

dutifully, but with eyes filled with mirth, jeonghan spritzes the perfume onto his wrists, and brings one up to his nose. you inch closer to him, taking the shot. one frame away from ten, his eyes flicker from the side to yours. you click on your shutter and inspect the image. that one’s the winner, you can tell.

“pretty?” jeonghan eggs.

you let your lips straighten into a grimace. “the prettiest. up against the wall now.”

his eyes sparkle, and he opens his mouth to say something before moonbyul cuts in, bless her soul. “not now, yoon.” jeonghan pouts before slinking towards the wall, letting an arm rest on the asphalt and his other one bring the bottle of perfume up to his neck.

you bend at your knees, taking pictures from below his chin. you move backwards, ignoring the intensity of his gaze and focusing resolutely on your camera. unfortunately for you, you miss the stray light cable lying on the floor, and feel the ground give up from beneath you.

seokmin lets out a gasp, reaching out to steady you, only for another pair of hands to pull you up. before you can lament the loss of your favourite camera and your dignity (you’d never be able to face moonbyul ever again, dear lord), you trip forward instead at the jostle, smacking into a sturdy chest.

jeonghan tucks your hair behind your cheek. “are you alright?”

you gawk. the look on his face isn’t of cheek or mischief as it usually is. it’s of worry. somehow, that makes you even more annoyed. once he realises you’re fine though, he lets his usual expression of absolute intolerability return to his face.

you move away. “i’m fine.”

soonyoung takes your wrist. “maybe we should take a break.”

you nod dumbly and let him drag you off to the side. jeonghan’s makeup artists immediately take over the space you were just now, but his eyes don’t leave yours.

“are you okay?” seokmin asks, taking your camera and placing it aside. he passes you a bottle of water, watching intently as you take a few sips.

“peachy.” you look back at jeonghan. only now he’s giggling. probably at your misfortune. at how utterly unprofessional you are. he’s probably going to tell this story to a bunch of other models and they’ll laugh behind your backs every time you have to shoot with them.

without you even comprehending yourself, you start stalking over to yoon jeonghan and his annoying smirk. behind you, you vaguely hear moonbyul’s panicked voice and soonyoung’s yelp, but you have a mission and a one-track mind right now. you grab jeonghan’s wrist and start bodily dragging him away from the set. jeonghan follows along, not even putting up a fight. if anything, it makes you even more irritated. all he does is shrug at the staff.

you hear moonbyul quickly telling everyone to take another five. god, you hope she shut off her camera.

you spot a supply closet at the side of the lot, swinging the door open and pushing jeonghan inside before entering yourself. you close the door behind you, and turn to face him.

“you—“

“me?” jeonghan smiles infuriatingly at you, looking even prettier than you thought was possible under this dinky light. you wonder how he even does it.

“you are the most irritating man i have ever met!” you continue your tirade, pushing your thoughts away. you needed to say these things now before you made an even bigger fool of yourself. “does it kill you to shut up? does it? does it kill you to listen to my directions for more than 10 minutes at a time? does it kill you to stop saying all those things—“

“what things?” jeonghan chooses to interrupt. he leans back against the shelf of lightbulbs. you hope to god there isn’t dust on that, or his stylist would have your head. his shirt’s white for goodness sake. “that i think you’re pretty when you’re angry?”

pause.

“or is it that i think you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever met? or that i always wake up stupidly happy on shoot days when i remember that i’m meeting you?”

you gape. you’re sure you resemble a fish by now.

jeonghan inches towards you, closing the gap between you. you have half the mind to step away, only for your back to hit the door.

“or that i think,” he leans down, pushes your chin up with a finger. this close, you can see how clear his eyes are, the little mole under his eye, how his lips are slightly cracked. it doesn’t deter you. “you hate me just as much as you are enamoured by me?”

you think back to every single thing jeonghan’s ever done that’s irritated you. there was that one time his hand lingered a little too long on his female costar’s waist. then there was the time he disregarded your instructions to go farther away from the camera and opted to go closer instead, his right leg extended over to touch your thigh. there was the time he winked at you pre-shoot. he didn’t even know how to wink properly, both his eyes blinking adorably instead.

wait.

adorably?

have you stopped to consider that jeonghan-hyung’s been flirting with you this whole time and it’s just your tsundere self that won’t let a nice guy be nice to you?

you make up your mind. you’re sure jeonghan’s back is aching by now with how he’s leaning down, and you don’t want to explain to his manager why he’s got a crick. so instead, you push yourself up on your tiptoes, link your arms around his shoulders, relish in the widening of his eyes, and press your lips against his.

for a second, he doesn’t react. then you see your entire career flashing before your eyes and move to pull away. only then does jeonghan wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him, and kisses you back.

you inwardly roll your eyes. little menace. of course he’s as good at kissing as he is at everything else. jeonghan seems to know exactly what you’re thinking, smiling against your lips. that doesn’t annoy you as much as it should.

when you finally pull away to breathe, he pouts petulantly at you. “you couldn’t have figured all that out months ago? we could’ve been making out in supply closets ages ago.”

“yoon jeonghan, you’re the most infuriating man i know.” you shake your head, but don’t do anything to remove the fond smile off your face. jeonghan beams at it, and tugs you in again.

a month later, moonbyul uploads the behind the scenes footage of jeonghan’s ‘aurora prince’ cover onto first look’s youtube page and cackles at the influx of comments that wonder why exactly south korea’s it boy yoon jeonghan looked positively disheveled after a suspicious cut. the camera then pans over to you, a new red mark under your neck and shit-eating smile on your face.

the internet breaks, and the next time you do a yoon jeonghan spread, every news station in south korea dubs it a partner special.

Chapter Text

jeonghan presses on the doorbell of your apartment, shuffling from foot to foot. he’s sure you just got home from work, and was probably just about finished showering. he barely suppresses the shiver that runs up his spine. just because you two have been doing this, whatever this was, for the past eight months doesn’t mean he’s ever going to grow tired of seeing you. jeonghan’s a weak, weak man after all.

he sighs, leaning against the doorframe. he knows he could just procure your spare key from under your little welcome mat, but he also knows that you like opening the door for him when he gets there. something about liking to see his face when you do, you had told him. jeonghan made sure to tone down the feeling of elation he knew he was probably mirroring on his expressions after that.

jeonghan presses on the doorbell again. he’s not a patient man, either. he waits another minute, then two, before knocking. no response.

he pulls out his phone from his pocket. there, dated today at eleven were texts that confirmed you two were still on for eight o’clock. jeonghan frowned, deciding fuck it, you’d have to be deprived of seeing his reaction and taking out the spare key to unlock the door for himself. it was a safety hazard he nagged at you a million times to remedy, but you were stubborn.

jeonghan pushes the door open, closing it behind him and announcing, “i’m here!”

no response again. if jeonghan didn’t know any better, he’d think you weren’t home. but he spots your favourite pair of work heels tossed haphazardly on your shoe rack, your pretty sequinned blazer draped over the arm of your sofa and your car keys in the fishbowl you used to house all your trinkets.

he frowns, kicking off his shoes and setting down his overnight bag on the counter. he’s not presumptuous by any means, you’ve just said you’d rather him stay the night than wiggle out of bed whining about the cold and trying to drive back to his apartment half-asleep. you also like to cuddle afterwards, and no matter how much jeonghan complains about it, he always gives in when it comes to you.

jeonghan pads past your living room and into the hallway. he notices how your bedroom door is slightly ajar, a smile sneaking onto his face. the last time he came to your apartment with your door like that… let’s just say it was a very fulfilling weekend.

he pushes the door open, anticipating just what you have on your sleeve, only to see a you-shaped lump underneath your huge comforter. jeonghan walks towards your bed, not exactly disappointed. he likes you like this just as much. plus, that just meant he’d get to—

jeonghan sits down on your bed, pulling the comforter down. he’s greeted with your sleeping face, your breaths coming out in even puffs. you’re adorable like this, he thinks, right as he leans down to press a kiss onto the apple of your cheek. you don’t even startle. jeonghan moves to your nose, kissing the tip of it softly. that’d usually get him a scrunch but you stay wilfully asleep.

jeonghan sighs, smooths down your hair a little. you unconsciously furrow deeper into your covers at that, making him break into a fond smile. then he presses a kiss right to your lips. it’s short, basically a peck, but you blink awake at that. at first you’re a little alarmed, but jeonghan watches as you hazily realise it’s him, your face settling into something peaceful again. your eyes are bright, though a little tired.

“that’s a nice way to wake up.” you say, your voice a little croaky from disuse.

jeonghan boops your nose. “you’re just spoiled.”

“and whose fault is that, hm?” you reach out a hand, and he easily intertwines your fingers with his, kissing the back of your palm.

okay, so maybe jeonghan has a soft spot for you that stretches rivers wide, and definitely one that’s been poked fun at by his friends, joshua and seokmin especially, but he’d deal with the teasing for as long as he could see your face.

“it’s not my fault you’re cute.” you flush pink, and jeonghan can barely resist the urge to squish your cheeks. so he does. only when he does, he jostles you a little, making you let out a groan of pain. he immediately retracts his hands, looking to you in panic. “are you okay? did i dig into your ribs—“

“no, no.” you wave it away, taking his hand and bringing it up to your cheek. “ugh, it’s stupid. ten left a bunch of fabric in the workroom and i wasn’t looking so i slipped.” jeonghan frowns. that little shit, ten. he always knew your best friend was a little clumsy but this was crossing a line, didn’t you think? “it’s no big deal, but my back is kind of wonky right now.” your brows furrow at that, before your bottom lip juts out. “shit, i forgot to tell you. you came all the way here for nothing, i can barely move, how am i gonna ride—“

“your back’s wonky because of ten and he isn’t here to help you around?” jeonghan demands.

you sigh. “first of all, it wasn’t because of ten. i was preoccupied and didn’t see the fabrics. second of all, it’s friday which means it’s ten and johnny’s date night. third of all, he did ask if i needed help but johnny would come too and i know for a fact that they’d be willing to get to third base with me still in the room. so if anything, he’s doing me a favour by not being here.” jeonghan keeps frowning, making you laugh. “shut up, you just don’t like ten.”

“i do not not like ten—“

“oh yes you do!” you snort. “remember when you came along for brunch and all you did was glare—“

“that was because he glared at me first! and he started talking about the sanctity of brunch as if it’s an actual meal—“

“do not finish that thought if you want to get anywhere near me in the tentative future, yoon jeonghan.” you say, though your giggles aren’t exactly supporting your case. jeonghan just feels his heart grow soft at the sound of your laughter. “brunch is an actual meal and ten was glaring because sunday brunch is our thing.”

“johnny was there though?” he plays along, knowing exactly where this conversation was going to go. he likes it when you’re flustered.

“that’s because unlike some of us, ten’s in a committed relationship and his boyfriend gets a pass to our brunch dates!”

“it’s not my fault you couldn’t walk—“

“oh, it so was!”

jeonghan smiles slyly, and there it is. your little flustered gasp. you’re still splayed out against your pillows, and this is an angle jeonghan knows you very well in. “you’re the one who kept asking me to go faster—“

“shut up, is this how you treat the sick and injured?” you whine, covering your face with your hands.

jeonghan smoothed down your hair again before asking, “how bad does it hurt?”

you sigh. “the doctor—“

“you went to a hospital?”

“i mean, yeah, if you fell so hard your back kind of made this weird crack noise—“

“excuse me?”

“i’m off work for the next two weeks. and i’m wearing this thing.” you peeled your blanket off of you, and jeonghan saw the waist contraption you had on. you pouted. “not sexy, huh?”

he let out a garbled laugh. “on the contrary, this might be the sexiest thing i’ve seen you in.”

“i find that hard to believe.” you outstretched your hands, and jeonghan slowly helped you up. you made a face at the pain in your back but he took it in stride, carrying most of your weight for you. once you were up, you shot him a look. “remember the work thing you brought me to?”

jeonghan rubbed his forehead, over-exaggerated and dramatic. “you’re going to remind me of that when we can’t do anything?”

you rolled your eyes affectionately, and jeonghan helped you stand up, supporting you when you winced.

“how long do you have to have this thing on, anyway?”

“a week they said.” you answered, as jeonghan guided you to the living room. “if it isn’t any better probably another week.”

he helped you sit down on the couch, turning on your tv and passing the remote over to you. “i feel kind of disappointed in myself.” at your hum of question, he continued. “i’ve never blown your back out this bad—“

you throw one of your decorative pillows at him unceremoniously, cheeks burning red at his cackling. “you’re a menace, you know that?”

jeonghan just smacks a kiss onto your forehead before getting up and making his way to your kitchen.

“wait, what are you doing?” you ask, your voice carrying to the stove.

“making you dinner, you brat. i’m assuming you haven’t had any.” he replied, peering at the contents of your fridge.

“you don’t have to do that!” you protested. if you could, you’d be on your way to where he was right now, closing the fridge behind you. but alas, you’re stuck on your couch, flicking through your (johnny’s, really) netflix account halfheartedly. “ten’s supposed to be dropping by in like, an hour to make sure i’m alive.”

jeonghan resisted the urge to tell you exactly what he thought of your best friend before responding. “i’ll text him that i’m over. now sit tight and let me cook you something, you big baby.”

“you? text ten?” you guffaw. “ten’s gonna eat you alive—“

“no, i’m gonna eat him alive.” he muttered to himself. “it’ll be fine.” he says, loud enough for you to hear. “you just have to tell me exactly what to say so he doesn’t accuse me of kidnapping you or something. now where the hell do you keep your pans?”

“top right cabinet.” you reply mindlessly, pondering over the chances of jeonghan actually being able to disarm your best friend. it’d be entertaining to watch at least. you always wondered why those two didn’t get along particularly well. you’d chalk it up to their respective dramatic pisces and libra energies. “fine. do you need me to narrate what to cook, too?”

a beat passes. two. before jeonghan says in a sheepish tone. “yes.”

your ensuing laughter shouldn’t have been as pleasing as it was to jeonghan’s ears. he wonders what joshua would say about this. cooking dinner for his friend with benefits, taking care of them because he wanted to. jeonghan didn’t do things halfheartedly. he always had a reason behind it, a carefully thought out explanation.

he knew exactly why he was doing this for you, and the word started with a ‘l’ and ended with an ‘e’.

unbeknownst to him, you were watching as he busied himself in your kitchen, thinking the exact same thing.

Chapter Text

you don’t get it.

you stay awake through the night, and you think about it, and you replay the conversation over and over again in your head, replay the relationship in your head, replay the years of friendship that came before it in your head, and you still don’t get it.

you talk to jihoon, whose been far too patient and far too kind and far too unlike himself and everything like himself because he’s nothing if not a good friend, curled up on the couch in his studio, your cheek smushed against a pillow, and you still don’t get it.

you suppose feelings don’t have to make sense, but you wish they did. you wish for a lot of things actually, but articulating and listing them is a fruitless task, so you ignore them and just sit with your heartbreak.

there’s no space for recovery. you’re in some kind of close proximity with jeonghan all the time, even if he isn’t technically in the same place as you. it’s the friends that you share and the photos mingyu took that are up on the walls of your house, and it’s the group chat that still buzzes on your phone. it’s sunday brunch and soonyoung’s video updates and seokmin’s instagram and seungkwan pretending he isn’t in the same room as jeonghan when he’s on the phone with you.

the world can’t just stop because you’re sad, but you just wish that so much of the world didn’t have jeonghan in it.

you have another wish. it’s the same amount of impossible.

so you take the heartbreak and you let it sit like a weight against your ribcage. you go to lunch at joshua’s and the opening of minghao’s gallery and chan’s recitals, and you smile at jeonghan and treat him like you used to. like you’re friends. because you are, you are friends. you were before, you have been, and you hope you’ll continue to be. the weight only bothers you when you let it, but if you immerse yourself in poking fun at seungcheol or sharing steaming bowls of hotpot with junhui or with one of vernon’s earbuds in listening to his hyperpop, you can gloss over the fact that jeonghan hurt you so badly.

it gets easier as time goes on. days pass first, then weeks, and by the time a month has passed, the silence between you two when the others are gone isn’t so stifling. seungkwan stops hiding when he’s gone out with jeonghan, and jihoon stops treating you like you’re going to break right before you step into the restaurant everyone’s already huddled into.

you know for a fact that you’re fighting yourself to pretend that it’s fine. you’re staying close to jeonghan and turning away your common sense that tells you not to.

but jeonghan.

jeonghan isn’t even trying. he’s so… he’s so normal. you know jeonghan, you do, better than anyone in the world, better than you know yourself, and so you can tell there’s no internal conflict when he sits himself down between you and wonwoo during movie night and throws his arm over the back of the couch. jeonghan is just… fine.

you suppose it makes sense, because jeonghan was the one who broke up with you, not the other way around, so why would jeonghan feel the ghost of your touch every time you sit beside each other? why would jeonghan feel the phantom of your body curled around his at night? why would jeonghan agonise over something he decided to end?

the weight on your ribcage wouldn’t be so unbearable if you thought jeonghan had one to match, but he doesn’t. you’re unbalanced. jeonghan is fine, you are not.

you sit in your bathtub, water up to your chest and your head pressed against your arms, and you don’t get it.

Chapter Text

when you wake up, it’s to the ridiculous pounding in your head and an obnoxious ray of light shining in through a gap in the curtains. you take your time blinking awake and rubbing your eyes, sighing out when you get rid of the knot in your shoulders. only, when you reach out your hand to take your phone from the nightstand, you come into contact with another body instead.

your eyes widen.

slowly, you peer over to the left, and it takes everything in you not to start screaming.

because sprawled right beside you blissfully asleep is one yoon jeonghan. one-thirteenth of one of the biggest bands in korea, the nation’s angel and resident troublemaker and your employer. technically you were his stylist but still.

you were so going to get fired for this.

what if sooyeon unnie found out about this? you’d be sacked immediately and no one in the industry would hire you ever again! you’d get blacklisted for you know, sleeping with your clients.

and yes, you were sure you had slept with jeonghan, because not only did last night’s activities return to your mind in flashes (leaving the hybe christmas with his arm around your shoulders, his hands on you on the car ride back, his skin on yours, his lips trailing down to your neck, the deftness of his fingers and the fullness of his—), but you were also naked. you pressed a hand to your neck, where sure enough, you found a burgundy hickey.

carefully so as to not wake him, you look over to jeonghan and find his shoulders bare as well, and if you squinted just enough you could spot a bite mark right below his collarbone that you know you’re going to have to cover up for him. in any other setting you’d laugh, truly.

but now, you carefully peel off the blanket on top of you, barely suppressing a shiver at the coldness of his room and pick up your clothes from where they’re littered across the floor. you shimmy on the dress you were wearing the night before after giving it a cursory sniff, thanking whoever was up there that it didn’t reek of the drinks you had shovelled back. you had no such luck in tossing out your drinks this time, and neither did jeonghan.

unfortunately for you, the zipper of the dress was completely jammed, and you mourned the loss of your prettiest outfit. you sighed quietly to yourself, glancing back at the bed to make sure jeonghan was still asleep before nabbing one of his oversized sweaters from his closet and pulling it on top of your dress.

then, you padded across the room to open the door as quietly as you could, picking up your purse and phone on the way. you closed the door behind you with an inaudible click, letting out a breath of relief when you did.

now to navigate their apartment.

you peered over the corridor. it was quiet, and a quick look at your phone told you it was seven o’clock, which was an ungodly time to be awake after a night of festivities. you knew they had a schedule later in the day, so you doubted any of them would be awake at this time. still, you tiptoed across the wooden floors, chilly from the lack of heater use (which you scoffed at by the way. you were sure they made enough money to make full use of their heater.).

you were sure you were out of the woods once you passed all the members’ bedrooms, only to stop on your heels when you realised someone was in the kitchen.

seungkwan was humming along to a song. straining your ears a little, you recognised it as an aespa song. he was a little girl group supporter through and through. you’d think of that fondly in any other situation, but now you absolutely had no way out of the apartment unless he magically fell asleep on the counter. he’d have to pass you to go back to his room, and unless you had the stealth of a ninja it was improbable that you could ever sneak past him.

you mulled over your options. saying you were here for a check would be absolutely idiotic of you. he’d just ask where the clothes were, and why were you wearing jeonghan’s sweater? you cursed the universe.

it was just your luck that seungkwan suddenly got up from where he was drinking his coffee and made towards the corridor. you felt your heartbeat race and your palms start to get sweaty. it was over for you. you were going to get fired and you were never going to find another job in the industry. you’d have to go home and mooch off of your parents for the rest of your life and sit through your extended family making jokes about that one time you slept with a kpop idol and fucked up your career.

however, before you could brace yourself for seungkwan’s questioning, a hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you back through the hallway and into a room. you barely held in your squeak of surprise.

jeonghan looked at you with mirth in his eyes. it was unfair that he’d look that good two minutes after waking up. with a hangover no less. it didn’t help that he was still shirtless. you averted your eyes from his chest.

“were you about to sneak off without saying goodbye?” he asked, his voice deeper and scratchier than you had ever heard it. you gulped back the feeling of arousal that was building up within you.

“of course i was.” you hissed, smoothing back your hair and still not looking at him. “why wouldn’t i?”

jeonghan had the audacity to press a hand to his chest like he was surprised. “i thought we had a good time last night. i didn’t know you were so heartless, y/n.” he said, tone dramatic.

you sputtered. “i-what, it was fine! it was alright.”

“just fine?”

he smiled at you slyly, not dissimilar to the expression on his face when he was about to do something downright mischievous. usually you’d laugh at it, but right now you were at the end of the joke.

“okay, it was good. really good.” you admitted, much to his pleasure. his smile got brighter. “but you’re my employer! this is terrible for me!”

jeonghan leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. you sneaked a look at him, only to catch him staring right back.

“are you going to tell anyone?” jeonghan asked.

“what, of course not!”

“neither am i.” he replied, like it was no big deal. “i don’t see why this has to be a problem.”

“the problem is i had a one night stand with my employer—“

“a one night stand?” jeonghan repeated, eyebrows furrowing.

“yes!” you whisper-yelled.

he frowned. “is that what you think of me?”

you gaped. “what else am i supposed to think? we were both drunk off our asses last night!”

“that doesn’t mean i don’t like you.” jeonghan argued.

you couldn’t believe the utter presumptuousness this man had contained in his body. how was it that a man could fit that much ego into his body? his audacity, truly. you were so caught up in fuming to yourself when you—

wait.

like?

“you like me?” you asked stupidly. you were sure you looked just as stupid.

jeonghan laughed a little, kicking off the wall to look down at you. he tilted your chin up with a finger. “i wouldn’t have slept with you if i didn’t like you, silly.”

you opened your mouth. closed it. you don’t doubt what jeonghan’s saying. he barely has the time of day for people he dislikes— one of the makeup artists who spent too much time complimenting his lips for it to be anything but inappropriate, the fansites that got a little too close for his liking, a videographer who slighted the members a few too many times. jeonghan doesn’t do things unless they’re carefully calculated, inebriated or not.

“so what do you propose we do?” you ask. to be honest, you’re a little dazed by your close proximity. you like to keep your touches with all the boys light, not wanting to intrude into the personal space they were so clearly deprived of in the industry. jeonghan smiles, tilting his head to the side.

“well,” he starts, leaning down. with his head to the side, all he needs is a few inches before his lips are upon yours again. “first, what about we do a recap of last night? there are many things i’d like to remind you of.” your cheeks tint pink. “and then i help you sneak out of here, meet you on set for the schedule and we have dinner tonight?”

you let out a sigh, pretending to mull over the options. by the look on jeonghan’s face, you weren’t fooling him. you rolled your eyes before nodding. “only if you don’t make a scene on set today.”

jeonghan grins. “no promises.” then he kisses you.

you throw your arms over his shoulders, allowing him to steer you back to his bed. it’s safe to say that you two don’t leave the bed for at least the next hour.

when it is time to go, jeonghan intertwines his fingers with yours, pulling you out of his room and into the hallway. you follow behind, now clad entirely in his clothes.

“it’d be a crime to not let you keep my clothes when you look so pretty in them.” he had said, tucking your hair behind your ear. you swatted his arm, but accepted the compliment with a kiss to his cheek.

jeonghan paused when he realised jihoon and soonyoung were in the kitchen, making you collide with his back. at your glare, he kept going, pulling you into the tiger’s den.

soonyoung chirped out a, “good morning!”, far too cheery for someone who had drank as much as he did the night before, before his jaw dropped when he saw you. jihoon, from where he was perched on the sofa with his phone in his hand, just started cackling.

“good morning!” jeonghan responded. you waved hello. “don’t mind us.”

soonyoung followed you two out to the door, openly gawking. “y-you two—“ he cut himself off. “that was you? i thought the radiator was just broken again. oh my god, the thumping—“

you groaned into your hand, the one not occupied in jeonghan’s pocket. “you can’t tell anyone, hoshi—“

he mimed a key across his lips and throwing it away. “i won’t, i just thought you two would get together like, next year! not on christmas right before the concert—“

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you hiss. jeonghan tried, and failed, to suppress his giggles, and you’d find it adorable, in fact you still do, if you weren’t busy trying to get to the bottom of what soonyoung was saying.

“please, everyone could see you two were all over each other—“

“we— what— you’re insane!”

jeonghan tugged you towards him, wrapping both arms around you and putting his chin onto your shoulder. “he’s not insane. you keep eyeing me—“

“dear god.” you muttered to yourself.

“and i don’t do anything to suggest i dislike it.” jeonghan makes a shooing motion at soonyoung, who gets the gist and toddles off, manically laughing. you can hear him already telling jihoon what had happened, completely unwarranted.

you turn in his hold, pouting. he just pokes at your cheek. “you know i like you a lot.”

you roll your eyes fondly. “i like you too.”

“okay. you’re so easy to tease.” he says, opening the door for you and ruffling your hair. “i’ll see you later?” he kissed you again, chaste and quick.

“you’re such a brat.” you say, but you smile as you step out. “i’ll see you later.”

jeonghan waits a second, two, before he closes the door, a sappy smile on his face.

you let out a long-suffering sigh, sliding down against the wall. yeah, you were so going to get fired for this.

Chapter Text

the thing about new york is—

new york doesn’t sleep. the streets are still as loud as ever at two in the morning as they are at one in the afternoon. the gaggle of teenagers on the sidewalks are still laughing, the businessmen are still shouldering past people, the lights and the billboards still burn bright. you used to think they exaggerated it, that new york would settle down with you, that eventually after dark it’d fall into a slumber, soothing and warm, before it woke up again.

it doesn’t.

the thing about new york is—

new york doesn’t wait for anyone.

you wonder if it’s any prettier from a view that isn’t your apartment fire escape. you wouldn’t know. you’re afraid of heights. you think you’re more afraid of falling. jeonghan wouldn’t be able to relate.

but you don’t want to think about jeonghan right now, much less talk to him. it doesn’t matter that he’s currently sat beside you, holding a bag of frozen peas to his forehead as you fiddle with the roll of gauze in your hands. you haven’t gotten any better at this since the last time (two weeks ago) and all the last times before that (a month ago, a month and a week ago, three months ago, a year—). you’ll never get any better at this.

“talk to me.” jeonghan says, nudging your leg with his foot. instead, you pull on the roll, stretching out a piece of gauze and cutting it off, making him wince at the noise. you motion for him to come closer, and he follows your instructions without any of his usual sass. you’ll take it as a win.

you raise his hoodie (yours, really), pushing the hem into his hand for him to keep it in place. you ignore the hum of electricity that twitches through your fingers as you begin patching up the gash that stretches across his abdomen. it’s sloppy work, and not for the first time you wonder why jeonghan still comes back to you after all this time.

he hisses, and you flounder, peering up at him. his bottom lip is sucked between his teeth, and you can tell he’s trying not to worry you when he just smiles, reaching out to ruffle your hair. “sorry. was surprised.”

you huff. “stop fidgeting.”

“yes, ma’am.”

true to his word, jeonghan stays as still as he possibly can. with his hand occupied with the fabric, he has something to toy with. people think jeonghan’s lazy, slow-paced, but you know better than that. he needs something to do, always. he’s itching to move, you can tell. when that spider bit him it was like everything was multiplied. he went from tapping his pen against the desk to shaking his leg to scribbling in the margins of his notebook. you used to reach out to still his hand. he used to say your touch was like an anchor. you wonder if that’s the reason why he’s so obedient right now.

then he hisses again. “ow.”

you look down at his stomach, where you’ve pulled too tight. you kiss your teeth, unravelling the tape and pulling out a fresh roll.

“not even an apology?” jeonghan eggs. “you could’ve hurt me worse, you know?”

you roll your eyes. “you want to hurt worse? i’ll bring out the alcohol.” you say, though you don’t move from your perch. it’s an empty threat. even after all this time and all this space you’d never want to hurt jeonghan. you can’t say the same for him.

jeonghan pushes out his bottom lip. you want to kiss him. you want to hit him even more. you just wrap the wound carefully, fingers light and quick. you don’t want to touch him for longer than you have to.

when you’re done, you pass him the cup of coffee on your windowsill. he takes it gratefully, taking a sip of it before making a face. “decaf.”

“a ‘thank you’ is more customary.” you respond, picking up your own cup of tea. the liquid is warm down your dry throat.

“thank you.” he says. you can feel his eyes on you, but you keep your own firmly placed on new york. the city’s bustling underneath you. you spot a couple crossing the street, their hands tucked together as they laugh. it must be nice. there’s fog coming out of a grate. any other day you’d make a joke, a mad scientist in the sewage system again? was he going to try to turn the entire city into lizards again or would he pick a more original animal this time? now you just keep your lips shut, ignore the gaze boring holes into your forehead.

jeonghan lets out a sigh, long and soft. somehow that’s the thing that sends you into a spiral. he used to do it from across the sofa, your legs on his lap as he read through some of his papers. when he pressed a kiss against your forehead before web smacked against the side of a streetlight and he flew away from your sight. when he held you close to his chest, his nose nestled in your hair and his hands drawing slow circles against your stomach. it’s insufferable. it’s all your best and worst memories wrapped into one sound.

“we should stop doing this.”

“doing what?” jeonghan asks, but he knows exactly what you’re talking about. he does this all the time. it used to be cute. now it just grates on your nerves.

you level him with a look. “stop playing dumb. you know exactly what i’m talking about, jeonghan.”

his calm expression falters, and for half a second you swear you see some semblance of truth in them, before it returns, as impenetrable as ever. “i was in the area.”

you scoff, tilt your chin in the direction of the television in your room that declares in bold block letters ‘spiderman deals with bank robbery in manhattan’. “you need to stop this. whatever this is.” you gesture at the roll of gauze before you, the first aid kit you still keep in the shelf of your bathroom cabinet at your feet. just in case, you had muttered when you collated it. just in case. you don’t want to have to think about ‘just in case’ anymore.

jeonghan leans his head against the brick. “you don’t mean that.”

you let out a disbelieving laugh, begin picking up the clattered bandaids and pincers, arranging them into their proper spots to avoid his gaze. “i’m not your nurse anymore, jeonghan. i can’t keep cleaning up your messes.”

it felt good to be needed at first. you were seventeen and the boy you had loved forever trusted you with a secret he didn’t share with anyone else. the boy you loved needed help and looking after and it made you feel like you were doing something for the greater good. it fed your sick little saviour complex and the pit of desperation that wanted jeonghan to want you back. eventually, he did. eventually, he fell as in love with you as you were with him.

but now it feels terrible. it feels like you’re trying to stitch together what is with what could’ve been. it feels like two years ago. it feels like when you were still together and you spent every night by your window waiting for him to call or tell you he was alive. it feels like the days you sat by your television waiting for it to tell you spiderman was killed in battle.

jeonghan stays quiet, hands stretching out the bottom of your hoodie. the silence is uncomfortable, like you’re two strangers and not people who’ve known each other your entire lives.

“i can’t keep dropping everything to fix you.” you continue while you’re brave enough to. “we’re not seventeen anymore. i have a life beyond being spiderman’s girlfriend. i have a job, and friends, and yesterday someone asked me out and for the first time i actually thought about it.”

the silence is choking. you wonder what he’s going to say. good for you, with a little feigned chuckle. are they better looking than me? with a roll of his eyes.

but “…i missed you.” is what jeonghan responds to you with. you’d rather him stab you. “i wanted to see you.”

you close the first aid kit with a definitive snap. “you can’t say those things.”

“what things?”

he’s doing it again.

you stand up, pick up the first aid kit and your cup. jeonghan can do whatever the hell he wants with your other one. you pull the window up, and slide into your room. jeonghan slides in right after you, wincing a little and clutching at his side.

“what things?” he repeats. he settles onto the side of your bed, and it makes you sick just how much you want him to belong there. he sits back against your pillows, crosses his arms over his chest.

you turn away, your back towards him. “you need to stop telling me you miss me, and that you want to see me.” you place the kit onto your table top with sharp clang. “we’re not together anymore. i thought that meant you’d give me space.”

jeonghan takes his time responding to you. “you said we broke up because we wanted different things. that doesn’t entail me giving you space.”

you laugh incredulously. “that’s selfish.”

“no,” you hear him move from the bed, but you don’t want to see what he’s doing, so you busy yourself with padding towards your kitchen to put the cup in the sink. his footsteps follow after you, quiet but sure. “you didn’t specify. how could i have possibly known you wanted space?”

the grip you have on the handle of your cup is terrifying. you’re white-knuckled, jeonghan notes.

“we broke up because i can’t stand doing this.” you place the cup into the sink, turn on the tap and let the water flow. it should be calming, but jeonghan rarely ever makes you feel that way when you’re around him. “we broke up because i’m not a fixer. i thought i was, but years sitting by the window with bandaids and a phone in your hand will do that to you.”

“so i’ll stop coming home hurt.” jeonghan replies, like it’s a quick solution. he says it like it’s no big deal, as if he wouldn’t throw himself into the nearest battleground. you know him better than that.

“you’d never be able to.”

“you don’t know what i’d do for you.”

“we broke up because we grew up. i want more from a relationship than just hoping you’re still alive.” once you start, you can’t stop. it spills out of you all at once. you have been holding back for a while now. “you missed four birthdays and four anniversaries getting the shit beaten out of you and one of those years you were in space doing something you still can’t tell me about even now. you made me wait two hours in the rain more times than i can count. it’s important in a relationship for you not to take the other person for granted and just assume they’ll be there forever.”

jeonghan sucks in his cheek. “i don’t think that’s fair.”

“it’s not fair to me, either.”

“i can’t help that i have to do this, you know that.”

and you do. you know that more than anything, jeonghan’s stupid moral compass is both the best and worst thing about him. you just hum robotically.

he takes it as his cue to keep going. “people depend on me for things. and i’m sorry that i did those things, but i miss you.”

what the hell is that supposed to mean?

“so what you’re saying is— thank you for bringing up my faults to my attention. sorry for years of absolute bullshit, but i need you to patch me up every time a bad guy fucks me up.”

“now you’re just putting words into my mouth.” jeonghan walks over to you like you’re a bomb that’s about to detonate. more than anything, you hate this the most. when he makes it seem like you’re the crazy one for wanting some semblance of normalcy. like you’re the insane one who’s being unreasonable. like you’re the selfish one.

there’s a little wiggle space between ‘selfless’ and ‘selfish’ in the dictionary, and if you looked it up there’d be a blown out picture of yoon jeonghan, better known as spiderman.

“you want me to stop being spiderman—“

“i didn’t say that.” you interrupt, running a hand through your hair in irritation. “when did i ever say that—“

“then what is it? what do you want?” jeonghan steps right in front of you. there’s nowhere to look but into his eyes. they’re as calm as ever. you wonder if he’s ever really known what it was like to be on the other side of the conversation. the one where he’s the crazy one.

you push at his shoulder to get him to move, but he just catches your wrist. you try to pull away, but his hold just strengthens.

“what do you want?”

“i want you to leave.” you finally spit out, wrenching your hand away. “i want you to leave me the hell alone. stop coming here. stop assuming i’ll be here to help you. stop making me clean up after you. stop saying shit like ‘i miss you’ and ‘i wanted to see you’. stop fucking with my head!”

jeonghan looks at you like you’ve shot him. like he’s holding his bleeding heart in his hands and you’ve just thrown it to the ground. for the first time since you’ve broken up, jeonghan looks at you like he doesn’t love you.

you don’t know whether to feel victorious or mournful.

then something washes over him. this happens when he’s backed into a corner, when he wants to fight you as much as he wants to breathe.

“did the novelty wear off?”

you’re surprised your neck doesn’t snap at the force at which you raise your chin. “excuse me?”

jeonghan laughs, his tone tinged with cruelty. “did the novelty of dating a superhero wear off? what, was i not fun enough? should i have told the entire world you were my girlfriend? sorry, i can’t fight an intergalactic monster because i have to be home for dinner!” he says mockingly. “should i have told iron man that i couldn’t make it to bleecker street because my girlfriend doesn’t want me getting hurt—“

your hand moves before you even realise it. one second you’re listening with burning ears as jeonghan makes a mockery of your love for him and the next he’s cradling his cheek from your slap.

you can barely see from the tears welling up in your eyes. they’re blurring your vision terribly.

you push jeonghan away from you. “get out. get out, now.”

an attempt at your name is made, but you’re too busy shoving him to the door to care. “get out!”

he’s at the doorway quicker than you thought he’d be. you even slam the door open for him.

“look, i-i’m sorry.” jeonghan sputters out. “i don’t know what came over me but—“

“i don’t care.” you wipe the tears off of your cheeks. “i don’t care about anything you have to say, yoon jeonghan. you can fuck off and fight any space alien you want to. go fuck off with iron man and the avengers, i don’t give a shit! just leave me the hell alone.”

“i love you.” he says, before you can shut the door in his face. he says it like it’s one last plea. like it’s a reason for his behaviour, not a fact.

you’re tired of excuses.

you don’t reply, and close the door.

you don’t hear any footsteps.

this is the worst thing you’ve ever felt, you think. breaking up was nowhere near as hurtful as this.

but after some time, you hear a sniffle before the sound of sneakers kicking off your door.

you make your way back into your bedroom, shut the window, ignore the dent in your bed and the extra cup on your windowsill, and look at the view before you. you almost let out a broken cry when you see a familiar figure dressed in red and blue swing past your building, clutching at their abdomen.

the thing about new york is—

new york doesn’t wait for anyone. not even for spiderman.

so when jeonghan sees you crossing the street two weeks later, your hand tucked into another man’s, he gives himself all but a second before he disappears into the skies.

when you tilt your head upwards, you don’t see a thing. you could’ve sworn there was someone there.

Chapter Text

“y/n, your favourite patient is here!”

you groan, closing your laptop shut and begrudgingly standing up. soon enough, jeonghan is ushered in, arm wrapped around mingyu’s shoulder as he hobbles on his left foot.

“what happened this time?” you ask, your hands on your hips.

jeonghan pouts up at you. “is that any way to treat an injured man, y/n?”

mingyu rolls his eyes and sets the older man on your examination table. “i barely touched him and now he’s walking around like a hurt war hero.”

“you tackled me to the ground, kim mingyu!” jeonghan says insistently, lying down and pulling on the lever to incline the angle of the backrest in a swift, practiced motion, like he’s done it a hundred times before. you wouldn’t say jeonghan’s found himself at your office a hundred times but it’s starting to feel that way, given as to how he drops by once almost every practice.

mingyu just shakes his head and gives you an apologetic wave before leaving you two be. you sigh and sit on your rolling chair, pushing yourself towards him. jeonghan smiles prettily at you.

“what hurts?”

“my heart. how could you ask me that so carelessly, y/n?” the shameless man clutched at his chest, as if he was actually wounded. at your blank stare, he acquiesced. “my ankle. i think i twisted it when i fell.”

you glided over on your wheeled chair, motioning for him to roll up his joggers. he did so, thankfully without one of his perfectly-insinuated innuendos, and you got to work. the area was a bit bruised, growing a faint blue and a touch at the bone and a hiss told you he was right.

“you did twist it.” you confirm, before taking out a bag of ice and holding it against his ankle. “you’re going to have to take it easy for the next few practices or i’m not going to clear you for the game next week.”

jeonghan gave you an unimpressed look. “i’m going out on the field no matter what, sweetheart.”

you rolled your eyes. boys. “no, you’re not. doctor’s orders.”

at that, his demeanour melted, and he pouted up at you. “doctor? i thought we were friends, y/n!”

“i’ll see you before practice tomorrow, jeonghan. don’t lean too much on your side, and ice your ankle so it heals quicker.” you dismiss, patting his head and making him grumble in disgruntlement.

“that’s it?” he whines.

“what else do you want me to say?” you ask, giving him a deadpanned expression.

“y/n, you look very pretty today.” jeonghan goads. “do you have anything to say to me?”

“jeonghan,” you lean forward on your elbows, and he does too, smiling eagerly. “go home, you menace.”

he gasps like you’ve just insulted his mother, but pulls out the keys to his car. “at least help me up, doctor.” you let out an exaggerated sigh before acquiescing, helping him up from the chair. he leans onto you, ignoring your squawk at his weight and resting his chin on your head. it makes for an awkward position, but you can’t find it in you to shove jeonghan off.

“you’re lucky you’re—“

“devastatingly handsome?” jeonghan interrupts, looking down to shoot you a winning smile.

at the sight of his silly expression, a smile threatens to work its way to your face, but you keep your composure. “the quarterback and therefore indispensable.”

“i’m indispensable for other reasons too.” he gestures to the left with his fingers, the arm resting over your shoulders staying put. you acquiesce, guiding him to where he’s probably parked his car. “don’t you wanna find out what other reasons?”

it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what jeonghan’s referring to. you just wrinkle your nose. “go tell one of your fangirls instead.”

“are you jealous?” jeonghan says with a gasp, meant to irk you.

“yes, i’m so jealous. please marry me.” you respond monotonously, before reaching up to click on the keys of his car, the beeping noise resonating through the lot. when you do, your fingers brush his, and you barely contain a shiver.

you help him unlock the door and deposit him in the drivers seat. “you sure you don’t want me to call seungcheol or someone to drive you home?”

jeonghan just winks. “it doesn’t hurt. i just wanted to hold you.”

you slam the door. “good to know. goodbye, jeonghan.” you turn, ready to walk back to the clinic.

“see you tomorrow, y/n! you look pretty today!”

Chapter Text

waking up to last night’s regrets is not something you’re in the business of making a habit out of, but you have to admit, the feeling of jeonghan’s arms loosely wrapped around your waist, his bare chest against your back, is not entirely unpleasant. it’s still early, you note, as the morning light filters in through the white blinds you had taken from your last apartment. it was the only thing you had voluntarily pilfered, the rest of the trinkets having been haphazardly thrown into your overnight bag by your friends. you didn’t want to hold onto the memories (as if they hadn’t already been burned into the backs of your lids when you closed your eyes).

blearily, you remove yourself from jeonghan’s hold with a finesse that would be absent if this was just some meaningless one night stand. but you know jeonghan better than the back of your own hand, better than the back of his, so you slide out of the bed, watching as he, not for the first time, proves you correct by burrowing into the sheets, greeting the empty space like a lover.

you’re instantly reminded of all the ways you and jeonghan don’t work. but you’re willing to turn a blind eye to that until you finish what you were supposed to do last night before you succumbed to jeonghan’s call.

the early morning ambience has you tiptoeing to the bathroom. you flick on the lights, illuminating the room and yourself to the sight before you. you wince at the litter of hickeys trailing down the collar of the shirt you slipped on after and move closer to the mirror to inspect them. it had been a while since you had to hide marks like that. your friends and coworkers would be suspicious.

sighing, you start the shower, hopping in and trying your best to scrub away the mistakes of the night before. once you’re warm and clean, you set out your extra toothbrush on the sink and make your way to the living room, feet stuffed into your trusty bunny slippers. you turn on your coffee maker, making yourself a cup of decaf and saving an amount you know will barely reach halfway of a small cup. (jeonghan can only drink coffee in small doses. you remember sitting beside him in a doctor’s office, the elderly man telling him his stomach couldn’t handle even the decaffeinated americanos he drank.) when the little voice in your head chastises you for caring, you soothe it with the excuse that old habits die hard. you’ve gotten more proficient at lying to yourself over the years, after all.

then you settle onto the kitchen island, open up your laptop, and start typing. time blurs after that, and before you know it, it’s a quarter past eleven, and jeonghan rouses from his sleep.

you hear him make his way to your bathroom, spending a while in there before he closes the door behind him. his footsteps travel across a place foreign to them, and you ignore how your heart aches as he steps on the wrong floorboard, the one that creaks, the one he’d know to avoid if this place of yours was his too.

you force yourself to stay perfectly still as he steps into the kitchen, dressed in his boxers and the flowy button up he was wearing last night, blonde hair longer than you remember, resting past the nape of his neck in a way you know he hates. you wonder if his next haircut will be within the month, or if he’ll stubbornly keep it long until the end of the next. sunlight hits the back of his head, radiating around him like a mock halo. figures he’d still be able to gain mother nature’s approval without having to do a thing besides wake up every day.

you’ve braced for it, but when jeonghan drags a chair over, its legs screeching against the floor in protest, you seize up. then he attaches himself to your side like a limpet, clinging onto your arm while his head quickly finds rest in the junction between your neck and shoulder, and you relax. it’s almost ridiculous how he manages to curl into your side when he’s a head taller than you, but you welcome him instinctively.

six months apart mean nothing in the grand scheme of almost five years together.

you manage to keep working despite the twenty-six year old leeching off of your body heat. for a second, you indulge yourself in an ill-thought out fantasy— that you and jeonghan are still together, and this is just another sunday morning. jeonghan wordlessly points out where you’re missing a comma, and you hum in thanks. you’re content with doing this for as long as you’ll allow yourself.

but then jeonghan yawns against your neck, mouth stretched open so wide you marvel at the structural integrity of his face and makes that little sound when his lips smack together and you can’t take it anymore.

you close your computer with a click and jostle your shoulder in a silent request for him to sit up. luckily for you, jeonghan understands, and stands while he’s at it, making his way to the counter where the pitcher of coffee is, probably cold and in need of a reheating, and pours it into the cup you had left for him. a very large portion of you knows you did it because you don’t think you can handle the ache of him asking where you keep them. but old habits, remember?

once he downs it, he opens the door of your refrigerator, rummaging through it while you pick at your fingernails.

after a while, he peers over at you. “you don’t have any strawberry milk.” he says in an accusing tone, as if you hadn’t moved out of your shared home months ago, as if you still go on supermarket dates, where one of his hands rests on the trolley and the other on the small of your back.

“we need to talk.” is what you reply. you sound meek, and you hate that.

jeonghan gives your fridge one last disapproving huff before he sidles back into his seat, resting his head against his hands. when he looks at you, he looks as if he can’t figure out exactly why you even need to talk. it’s not like just a few hours ago, you two were intertwined in the bed you always thought of as too large, in the throes of passion, his lips making bruises on the side of your neck, his cock reaching places your fingers never could. it’s not like he wasn’t cradling you in his arms, whispering sweet nothings that meant everything into the shell of your ear. it’s not like you didn’t blur the lines between exes and—

well.

“you had a few drinks.” you stated, your throat a little scratchy from disuse and nervousness.

“i wasn’t drunk.” jeonghan countered, tilting his head to the side, blonde hair curling around his eyes. “you know i don’t get drunk.”

“but you did have a few drinks, and we made a mistake.”

“a mistake?”

jeonghan throws you off every time.

“i-is that not what you think it was?” you curse yourself for sounding so unsure.

“no.” he replies simply, in a tone so blasé you’d think you were discussing something mundane, not your relationship. jeonghan leans back against the chair, folding his arms across his chest. “do you?”

for a moment you want to say no too. all you want is walk into his arms, ridding yourself of the nights spent missing him and the empty space on your bed where another body should be. you want to hold his hand again, feel his lips press against your fingertips, have the smile reserved for you returned.

but while you liked the idea of thinking with your heart, you’ve always been more realistic than jeonghan.

“jeonghan, we don’t work.” you say, fiddling with your fingers. “i nag too much, you nag too little. i wake up early, you wake up late. i care too much, you—“

“you don’t think i care?” jeonghan interrupts.

“not enough to want to marry me.”

the reminder sits in the silence.

eight months ago, you had asked, a little tipsy from the wine minghao had sent over, a note saying, “tell me when the wedding is and i’ll send you a better bottle!” in his sloped handwriting.

“do you want to get married?” you giggled into the crook of his neck. instantly, the hand carding through your hair faltered, before it stopped completely. you sat up. “jeonghan?”

and he had just looked away, and asked if you could revisit the topic later. you said it was alright. the next morning, you asked again, and it resulted in weeks of avoidance and radio silence, the house you two shared reeking of an unspoken refusal.

in the end, it was quiet. you decided you hated the silence that came with it. the awkwardness jeonghan seemed to exude around you, the way his arms wrapped more loosely around you, his clear hesitance with commitment. when you left, you did so with half of your heart carved out, splayed across the space that had been home.

“i told you before, just because i don’t want to get married now doesn’t mean i never will.” his voice repeats the sentiments he had uttered months ago, his hand carefully splayed at his sides, like he wanted to reach out but couldn’t. before, you spent days wondering if you were the one in the wrong, if you were the one who was asking for too much. a drinking session with jihoon set you straight.

you never thought you could hate jeonghan. he proves to you every day that he defies the impossible.

“look,” you clench your fists against your pajama shorts instead of saying your thoughts aloud. you’d rather stiff politeness than fighting. fighting with jeonghan takes more energy that you could ever comprehend, and he was more likely than not to win. “i’m not the kind of person who’ll wait around for someone who isn’t even sure if they want me.”

“wanting you has never been the problem.” jeonghan interjects. his expression, as always, is blank. as if you’re the crazy one. jeonghan’s always been good at making you feel like that.

“no, but wanting me forever is.” you ran a hand through your hair. you’re so, so tired. tired of not being enough for him, for yourself. tired of not being able to sleep at night without thinking of the ghost of his touch. tired of coming home to a barren apartment. tired of your friends calling you for a night out and no longer being surprised of your excuses. “we were both sad and alone last night. we shouldn’t make any more rash decisions.”

jeonghan opens his mouth, closes it. he looks at you with an inscrutable look on his face, takes a sip of whatever’s left in his cup. then his eyes harden, and you know you’re in for a fight. before you can begin to appease him, he says, with clear precision, aimed to bite. “then you shouldn’t have come when i called last night.”

you chew the inside of your cheek, feeling the anger rise up from within you. “if anything you shouldn’t have called. you should’ve called nayeon.” the brief surprise on jeonghan’s face is worth the hands shoved in your chest, ripping the cavity apart and taking your heart with them. “your assistant? really? that’s too much of a cliché, even for you.”

“as if you’re any better.” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “seungcheol saw you with kim mingyu—“

you let out a laugh at that. trust choi seungcheol to report everything to jeonghan. maybe if he had a fucking backbone he would’ve been the one completely ruined by jeonghan, not you.

“it’s pathetic. he follows you around like a fucking puppy.”

“you know what your problem is, jeonghan?” you don’t wait for him to answer before continuing. “you like having people be yours. you like being able to control exactly what they do. but i’m not yours anymore. and you don’t get to question my decisions when you slept with your assistant barely a week after we ended things.” you willed yourself not to cry. jihoon would never forgive you if you cried in front of him. instead, you steel yourself up, give jeonghan a sardonic smile, and ask, further wedging the knife into whatever was left of your heart, “how was she, anyway?”

“y/n—“ he tried to say, sounding like he was warning you. like he was trying to save you the hurt. you hate that. you hate it. you hate him.

“no, i wanna know.” traitorously, tears begin dripping down the sides of your cheeks and you quickly wipe them away with the back of your palms. “tell me. was it easy to do it after being with me for four years? was it fun? was it—“

“it was simple.”

jeonghan averted his eyes for the first time. that just made you angrier. if anything, jeonghan should be running into this headfirst, not pretending he gave a flying fuck about your feelings. if he did, he wouldn’t have brought his assistant back to the house you had shared, making his intentions clear in front of a group of your mutual friends. you’d never forget the clear embarrassment and heartbreak you felt when soonyoung had told you the next day, his head hung low. you had drowned out his excuses, his apologies for not getting him to stop, locked yourself in the bathroom and cried until he had to send someone in to make sure you were okay.

“why? because she didn’t know any of your friends? because you didn’t have to meet her parents every christmas? because she didn’t dedicate half of her life to you?” you spat. “you’re such a fucking asshole, jeonghan. i never should’ve trusted my gut when everyone was telling me you weren’t it for me.” your voice tapered off, and you covered your face with your hands, letting out a choked sob.

“because she didn’t make me question every single thing i’ve ever done.”

that’s not enough for you. to your anger, jeonghan reaches out, curls his hand around your wrist. you want to jerk away, you swear you do. and yet.

yet.

“before i met you i was so sure of everything i was. everything i’ve done. everything i wanted. i was going to get promoted, have drinks every weekend with the same group of friends i’ve had since college. i was going to go home to an empty apartment and not mind because it was safe. i like safe.” slowly, he pulls your hands away from your face. when you meet his gaze, it takes everything in you not lash out, scream. he knows. he can tell, so he lets go. “then i met you and i knew everything i thought my life would be would change. i wanted to be different. it was the first time i’ve ever felt that.”

“i’m not your goddamn redemption arc, yoon jeonghan.” you bite out. “i’m not here to make you realise what an asshole you are and i’m not going to let you try to be holier-than-thou and see yourself as some kind of saviour for sparing me of all your bullshit, because you’re not.”

the word settle between you two like broken glass.

“you’re just a coward who’s always been afraid of a good thing. we were a good thing.” jeonghan looks at you with something akin to despair in his eyes. it’s the first time he’s ever looked at you like that, you think. you deliver the finishing blow. “i need you to leave. i can’t even stand being in the same room as you anymore, jeonghan.”

then you watch as the familiar jeonghan, the one no one can touch, the one you’ve spent the better part of your adult life trying to see past, return. his eyes glaze over before they harden. you barely recognise him as he sets his jaw, pushes the chair back, and gets up.

he walks across your kitchen, picks up his things, puts on his pants, and makes his way to your front door. you don’t move from your seat, hands folded on your lap. you suppress the worst part of yourself that wants him to stay. that wants him to fight for something you both know is long gone, and will never be again.

as much as you lo— had loved jeonghan, you would never understand him.

the world doesn’t end with a bang, with an explosion. it ends like this— quiet. a voiceless scream. an empty seat in a table meant for two. a lonely bed. the ghost of a touch. two people giving up.

but jeonghan isn’t jeonghan without him wanting to have the last word, so right as he opens the door, he turns back to you, and says, “i’ll see you around.” the door closes firmly behind him.

“no,” you vow to yourself, your voice echoing throughout the now-empty room. “you won’t.”

your phone rings the next week when you’re in bed, laptop opened to some thoughtless tv show. you glance at the screen. yoon jeonghan is calling flashes on the screen. you push down the ache in your chest and press decline. while you’re at it, you erase his number from your contacts.

you’re not going to magically un-love him like this, but it’s a start. when you look back at your laptop, it feels like a small victory.

on the other side of the city, jeonghan’s lips settle into a grim line. he shoves his phone back into his pocket and orders another drink. the alcohol provides a burn down the sides of his throat before settling into the pit of his stomach— a pathetic replacement for the warmth you exuded when he wrapped his arms around your waist in the shy glow of the morning, when your fingers tangled together as you walked down the street.

when someone asks him to dance and leads him to the dance floor, he tilts his head back and laughs, unheard in the crowd of faceless strangers.

“y/n y/l/n,” jeonghan says, a sardonic smile stretching across his beautiful face. “i hate you.”

then he mourns.

Chapter Text

you find yourself with jeonghan’s arm slung over your shoulders the night before the games. he hasn’t touched you, and you don’t know if you want him to. you’re sharing a cigarette. you know better than to ask jeonghan where he got it.

“thank you.” you say, when it’s clear he isn’t going to break the silence between you two. he looks over to you like he’s about to tell you the words you’ve heard countless times before (you are going to make it. i’ll make sure you do.) but you keep going. “you’re many things jeonghan, but you’re not all-knowing. and you know you can’t make sure i live.” you smile a little. “besides, if i had to pick a way to go it’d be through jaemin’s sword.”

“don’t talk about that brat. i saw him sending a letter to a boy from four.” jeonghan glowers. “should’ve known he was too good to be true.”

“he’s in love.” you grin. “that must be nice. it’s another incentive for him to get out.”

jeonghan takes a drag of the cigarette and passes it over to you. you tuck your head into the crook of his chin, inhaling the smoke.

“what about you?” he asks. “are you?”

you peer up at him, finding nothing but blankness in his eyes, and laugh. “please.” you bring the cigarette to your lips. “don’t flatter yourself so much, yoon jeonghan.”

jeonghan smiles mirthfully at you. “guess i’m not as irresistible as i thought i was.”

“definitely not.” you breathe out the smoke, then tap the stick against the ashtray. he watches you, gaze calculating. you don’t think he ever shuts his mind up. “what?”

he takes a moment, two, before he says, “when you get to the cornucopia don’t look for your pack.”

“excuse me?”

“don’t look for your pack.” jeonghan repeats, tone serious and vacant. “look for water and hide. go back once the bloodbath’s done.”

“what if someone takes my pa—“

“no one’s going to look for tiffany hwang’s loppers. they’re all too obsessed with making an impact. those career kids have their own shiny, new weapons. jaemin and karina are water-based. the only person you should be worried about the second you get into that forest is wheein.”

“the morphling.” you mumble.

“remember—“

“oleander. nightshade. european yew. foxglove. aconitum.” you say dutifully.

“and which ones are you good for?” he asks.

“oleander and aconitum. jaemin with nightshade. karina with european yew and foxglove.”

“good.” jeonghan nods. “do as i say.” his fingers dance along your arm. “i haven’t let you down yet, have i?”

you look over at him, a strange feeling of fondness growing in the pit of your stomach. “no,” you say. “no, you haven’t.”

“i’ll take care of you.” he meets your eye. “as best i can.”

you smile, sling yourself across his lap. his hands find purchase on your waist like he’s done this a million times, like he hasn’t just given you advice on how to kill, like he’s just a boy. you shake that thought out of your head, cupping jeonghan’s cheek instead.

“i don’t love you, jeonghan.” you whisper just as you lean in. you can feel his breath against your lips, the thrum of his heart reminding you he’s alive. “but i could swear you’re in love with me, like the absolute fool you are.”

it’s a joke. a very bad one, but jeonghan laughs anyway. you can tell he’s humouring you, giving you this last memory to hold onto before you walk to your death. and for once, you don’t hate the pity.

jeonghan tilts his chin up, captures your lips with his.

the next morning, you gather your clothes and start running yourself a bath. you sit in the tub, feel the running water under your fingers. you’ve left the bathroom door open, and seeing jeonghan’s sleeping frame makes you feel strangely at peace.

your eyes wander to the clock. you’ll give yourself fifteen more minutes.

the water splashes dangerously close to the rim of the marble. the sound rouses jeonghan from his sleep, like a siren call. he is from the sea after all.

his eyelashes flutter awake, gentle and sweet. for a second, with the glow of the sunlight streaming in from the window, he looks ethereal. an angel, your mind provides. then the sides of his mouth stretch into a small smile when he sees you. it knocks the breath right out of you.

what you said last night was true—

you’re not in love with jeonghan. you’re not stupid enough to call whatever it is you and jeonghan have love, but you think it’s better than love anyway. it’s hope. it’s security. it’s a pair of hands that have taught you how to survive.

and you’d be damned if you’d never feel it again.

Chapter Text

you really had to learn how to say no to people.

it was bad enough when you were a kid— constantly saying okay to helping your friends fill in their bottles, following your teachers to the lounge during your break times so you could help them carry a particularly heavy set of books, going to the supermarket in the morning when your mother asked even when you had an exam first period, but now, when you were a fully grown adult with a demanding job, it was so much worse.

you always knew you wanted to become a doctor. if your sixth grade obsession with grey’s anatomy wasn’t telling enough (even though you stuck around for the drama), then your all-consuming insistence to watch every single hospital playlist episode was sure to confirm your dream. you had even liked visiting the hospital when other kids your age hated it. so when you declared your want to enrol into med school, no one in your family batted an eye.

no one was shocked when you chose pediatrics as your concentration specialty either. everyone knew how much you loved children, how your eyes lit up when you spent time with your little cousins and your nieces and nephews. they knew you’d want one of your own someday too, but your long shifts at the hospital definitely prevented you from having a dating life and starting your own family. your siblings had often joked about finding someone at work to date to your vehement refusal. dating a coworker was nothing but bad news, you knew.

but that didn’t mean the thought never crossed your mind.

it was just difficult trying to find someone you were interested in, and every time you thought of a certain someone who you were interested in, those conversations were always cut short by a sudden rush of patients, or one of your little cousins calling for your attention. saying no to their puppy eyes and pouts was a feat in itself.

as was saying no in general.

which was why you found yourself in the locker room of the hospital scrubbing in an hour before new years. you were supposed to be hanging out with a bunch of friends from university, people you hadn’t seen in months for more than an hour due to your busy schedule, but one of your interns paged you saying one of the resident’s had to take off due to a last minute emergency, so you had decided to come in right at eleven o’clock.

many of your coworkers were leaving for the night, greeting you with pity when they took in your appearance— a short sequinned dress with matching killer stilettos. you brushed their looks aside, telling them to take an extra shot on your behalf before they rushed to the bar just around the corner from the hospital.

now alone in the room, you changed out of your dress, putting on your scrubs and taking out your extra stethoscope. a sigh escapes you as you see your own reflection in the small mirror attached to your locker door. you were a sight. it wasn’t often that you got to dress up, so you really went all out tonight, your eye makeup flawless and your lips stained red. at least you were the hottest person on the floor tonight, you consoled yourself pathetically before slamming the locker closed.

you walked over to the nurse’s station, waving hello to some fo your friends minding the computers, their interns crowding around them like a gaggle of ducklings.

“i thought you were off tonight.” joshua said, before double-taking at your face. “oh, you poor thing, you went all out too, huh?”

“you look pretty, doctor y/l/n!” seungkwan, joshua’s intern, says, far too cheery for someone who’s been on call for the past six hours.

you smiled. “thank you, seungkwannie.” sliding behind the desk, you grab some charts to look over. “that’s what i thought until i was paged. apparently sooyoung had to leave, so.” you grimaced, flipping through the pages. “i’m pretty sure she went to see her boyfriend, but at least one of us is getting some.”

vernon and chan snickered.

“you could totally be getting some too if you stopped being so oblivious.” seungcheol said absentmindedly as he clicked on something on the computer.

“excuse me?” you set your chart down, though a telltale flush started spreading through your cheeks. you knew exactly who your friends were talking about.

“he means doctor yoon, doctor y/l/n!” johnny says as he places his own chart on the desk, his two interns looking delightedly at you, mimicking the grins of little mischievous siamese cats.

“oh my god,” you groan, resting your forehead on your palm. “why are you bringing him up, i just got here!”

one of johnny’s interns, jaemin, just grins even wider. “he’s one of the on-call residents for tonight, doctor y/l/n.”

“you’re joking.”

“his name’s on the board.” joshua nods over to the scheduling board, and sure enough, your name, along with joshua, seungcheol, johnny, ten, eleven interns and dr. yoon jeonghan, is written sloppily in seungcheol’s handwriting. if there was one person who had the known doctor’s handwriting, it was him. you eyes stay glued on the board, your mind going into crisis mode.

doctor yoon jeonghan was one of the other pediatric residents at the hospital, known for his excellent bedside manner, the enticing way he captured children’s attentions through his ridiculous fairytales and honeyed tone, and his honest to god runway model features. you wonder how someone can make a lab coat and dark blue scrubs look good. it feels extremely unfair to work in the same department as him, especially when you’re clocking off of work together after an eight hour shift and he still looks as handsome as he did when he clocked in.

it was only natural that you’d develop somewhat of a crush on him.

you could chalk it up to hours spent together doing rounds or in surgery, or having lunch breaks that coincided with each other far too often for it to be anything but purposeful (you were looking directly at jaehyun and mingyu, who you knew had ins with whoever was in charge of scheduling), but you knew better. it was the way his eyes softened when he saw your little patients, how his voice got more high-pitched and sweet, the little teddy bear he kept fastened to the front of his shirt to calm scared kids.

at first you were sure it was just a schoolyard crush. jeonghan was an attractive man who was nice to you, offered you bites of the chocolate bars he hid in his pockets, and flirted with you more times than you could count with all your fingers. but then as time went by, you began looking forward to seeing him, even if it was when you were assigned to the pit, or stuck in the lab watching doctor kim’s test tube subjects. needless to say, you were screwed, and your friends teased you mercilessly for it.

you break your stare with the board and lay your head down on the counter.

joshua and johnny laugh at your misfortune, their interns sharing knowing looks. you’d never live this down.

“patient in room four.” seungcheol suddenly piped up. “doctor y/l/n, that’s you.”

you sighed, picking up the chart. “doctor chwe, doctor lee, you’re with me.”

the two men scrambled to walk after you, and you just as you were about to round the corner, johnny called out, “be back five minutes before midnight so we can, you know!” johnny stops the sentence, pretending to take a shot with a click of his tongue and a gesture with his hands.

you laugh, nodding. “thank you, doctor suh!”

your shift runs smoothly enough. no one’s puked all over you, a feat you’re quite impressed by seeing as to how many drunkards were in the hospital for new years-related injuries, and your makeup is still intact, which makes you think you could probably swing by a bar and get completely wasted with either joshua or ten after your shift ended at four.

soon enough, your first hour is almost over and midnight is only twenty minutes away. vernon and chan have scuttled off to check on more patients, barely concealed excitement rolling off of them in waves at the trust you have in them, and now you’re basking in the silence of the stairwell opposite the cityscape. the lights are as bright as ever, and if you listen closely enough, you can hear the sound of excited cheering and gaggles of people on the streets below. it makes you slightly jealous. you wish you were among them, surrounded by your friends. you could’ve ticked off one of the phrases on your bucket list.

a new year’s kiss was barely original for a bucket list, but you hadn’t experienced one yet, and it’d be nice to check that one off your list so you could focus on more important entries— becoming an attending, publishing your first medical paper, getting married, starting a family.

suddenly, the door to the stairwell pushes open, and you glance up to find jeonghan with a surprised look on his face. “oh, you’re here? i thought you weren’t on call today.”

“you and me both, yoon.” you sigh, before looking back at the window. it didn’t even occur to you that he knew your schedule.

jeonghan takes it as an invitation to settle beside you on the same step. he suddenly feels too close, with his arm resting right beside yours. you feel his eyes on you, grazing over your figure. you continue staring out at the view of the city, not knowing what to do or say, his soft gaze lingering on your face still.

“did you have plans?” jeonghan asks, resting his chin on his palms.

“dinner and dancing.” you hummed, “thus, the makeup. you should’ve seen my dress, what a waste.” you weren’t exactly sure why you added that bit in, mentally smacking yourself for doing so.

“i’ll bet.” he says, something akin to mirth in his eyes. “you’d be sight for sore eyes walking around the hospital in your dress.”

“i’d basically be begging for some drunk twenty-something year old to throw up all over me, you mean.”

he laughed at your quip. you two sit in amicable silence for a moment, and just as you think jeonghan’s about to stand up and go back to the halls, he says, “guess your date’s disappointed you left early, huh?”

you can’t help but snort at his assumption. “sure, my non-existent date.”

you fail to notice how jeonghan perks up a bit at your response. he hopes the smile he’s biting back isn’t too obvious. “i find that a little hard to believe.”

“believe away, yoon.” you lean back on your elbows, tilting your neck to the side to get the knots out. you glance at your apple watch. “ten minutes to january first and i’m partnerless. no one’s going to kiss me and i’m going to have to wait another year before crossing that off my bucket list.” a look of horror formed on your face. “unless i’m on call again next year and then i’m going to have to wait until i’m an attending, dear god.”

god damn it, why are you still talking? are you purposely trying to make the hottest doctor alive pity you? are you still drunk? were those shots you threw back at the bar still in your system?

you need to leave this stairwell immediately.

being alone with jeonghan, without your gaggle of interns and no seungcheol or mingyu to keep the tension light and airy is doing things to your brain and body and you’re not too fond of his effect on you. he has your heart racing in your chest and your face flushing. you’re sure your temperature has shot up a few degrees. you’re sure johnny and jaehyun would be making fun of you horrendously if they saw you right now.

“anyway,” you say, standing up. “i should go. i told the guys i’d go to the lounge for the countdown.”

“i’m headed the same way, actually.” jeonghan stands up as well, mischief in his eyes. you don’t doubt he knows what you’re trying to do. which is to, you know, escape.

“great.” you cringe, falling into step with him and leaving the stairwell into the hallway. vernon, jaemin, chan, seungkwan and renjun are spread out across the floor, and you have a pang of both sympathy and fondness at how hard they’re working.

just before you can swing the door of the resident’s lounge open, however, a light grip finds itself on your wrist. you turn back to see jeonghan’s hand there.

“are you going to kiss any of them at midnight?”

you respond with the most flabbergasted laugh you can muster up. you immediately clamp your palm over your mouth to muffle your hysterics. from where he’s tending to some charts, jaemin gives you a curious look. then it turns into absolute sinistry. that was the same look you saw when he tricked chan into taking his nine o’clock shift so he could photoshop johnny’s face onto a picture of a bikini-clad model and print out a giant standee to place right at the reception on his birthday. you rip your face away from his direction when you see him unsubtly gesture over to seungkwan for his attention.

jeonghan is still looking at you. except this time, the omnipresent humour in his eyes is missing, and he’s staring you down solemnness.

“i didn’t mean to laugh at you, jeonghan, but jesus. i could never— maybe jaehyun if he offered to take my shift next week, but no, thank you.”

you move to open the door, but the grip on your wrist tightens ever-so-slightly. “jeonghan?”

the man’s bottom lip is tucked into his teeth. it’s a look you easily recognise after working alongside him for several months now. he’s thinking of something, trying to find the best way to word his sentence. “what if—“ he pauses.

“what if what?”

“what if you kiss me at midnight?”

you gape. from the corner of your eye, you see vernon, chan and renjun join jaemin and seungkwan in their gawking. his question leaves you absolutely speechless.

“i-what?”

“kiss me at midnight.” jeonghan repeats, but this time as a statement, not a question.

his shoulders straighten up from his slouch and his eyes are filled with determination. he looks right into your eyes as he does so, making you freeze in place, your hand still on the handle of the door. the phone in your pocket is buzzing with notifications, probably text messages from the rest, but you ignore the vibrations and focus on him. jeonghan offers you a soft smile and slides his palm to meet yours on the door, pulling it away softly.

he gently laces your fingers together.

“i’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to but i would very much like to kiss you.” his smile grows wider at his confession. “i’ve wanted to for a while, actually.”

“since when?” you force yourself to ask.

jeonghan lets out a quiet laugh. “do you remember our first case together? jung nayoung and the—“

“tracheoesaphogeal fistula.” you complete, feeling slightly dazed. “that long, really?”

he pouts. “what, do you not want to kiss me?”

“no, of course, i do!” you say quickly. “i mean, yes, i want to kiss you. i just didn’t know you liked me.”

“are you kidding?” jeonghan asks, dainty features twisting into disbelief. “shua shoves me every time you come into the room. cheol once told you that i have a massive crush on you!”

“i thought he was joking!” you defended yourself. your phone continues to ding with notifications, but you pay them no mind. all you can focus on is the man in front of you, a pretty smile on his face and backlit by the lights on the ceiling.

“so?” jeonghan says as he plays with your fingers. his hand feels nice against yours. they fit perfectly.

“so, what?”

“how about that midnight kiss, doctor y/l/n?”

the door between the resident’s lounge and the hallway does nothing to muffle the sound of the countdown. you can hear johnny’s excited voice lead it from ten, nine, eight, seven, six…

at five seconds, you grin at jeonghan.

at four seconds, he grins right back, tension leaving his shoulders.

at three seconds, you close your eyes and move onto your tiptoes.

at two seconds, he leans down, his nose brushing against yours.

at one second, his soft lips press onto yours.

“happy new year!”

lips on lips, the long-awaited kiss is perfectly timed with the cheers of your colleagues. and even when the happy rallies start to dwindle, jeonghan’s hands are still cupping your face, a gentle expression on his face. his hands slip down to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

he kisses you again, softer this time, before the obnoxious hoots and hollers of your interns interrupt you.

“doctor y/l/n, doctor yoon, i’m so happy for you two!” seungkwan says from across the floor, vernon watching amusedly behind him.

“i can’t believe you two couldn’t hold off until valentine’s day.” renjun grumbles, passing a twenty dollar bill to jaemin, who pockets it smugly.

“doctor yoon, will you still be making it to the twelve-forty surgery? doctor suh said he’d scrub in if you couldn’t.” chan says.

jeonghan rolls his eyes, and the door swings open to reveal joshua, a shit-eating grin on his face when he takes you two in.

“well, you two look cozy.” jaehyun says, winking at you exaggeratedly. jeonghan raises his middle finger pointedly at the fellow doctor.

“shut up, jeong.” you close the door on joshua’s face.

jeonghan laughs, pulling you into a hug. his warm scent envelops you and you sigh into his hold. your arms curl around his neck, and he sways you to an unknown melody.

“you’re off at four?” the question he asks is mumbled into your hair.

“yeah. you too?”

“grab breakfast with me when we get off? i have the whole day off tomorrow and i know just the right place.”

you smile up at him. “sounds perfect.”

jeonghan swoops down to kiss you again. it’s a little inappropriate for the workplace but you don’t mind, and by the increased screaming of the interns, they don’t either.

Chapter Text

everything’s numb now.

you don’t remember what it was like before the games, and you doubt you ever will. every single memory of laying down on the grass, feeling the earth beneath you and the faint sound of the quaint paper mill have been replaced with shrieks and screams, the stench of coppery blood and the bodies of your peers. sometimes, when you close your eyes, yeonjun and karina’s dead eyes are all you see.

you remember the cannon as it announced your win. tiffany’s shell-shocked expression when you were finally picked up by the helipad, taeyong’s blood sticky and dried on your skin, before she pulled you into a hug, the most humane you had ever seen her. the look in her eyes promised you everything would change.

you’ve spent the past three weeks on your winners tour smiling and waving and pretending that you don’t see jaemin’s unnatural stillness and hear wheein’s heart-wrenching scream at every corner. you can’t bear to be home, or sit in your childhood bedroom, or be around your family anymore. not when they look at you like a monster. hell, you probably are one. no, you know you are one.

you’re a far cry from the person you were when you were reaped.

and now, dressed in a waist-hugging floor-length gown made of peach chiffon, looking the prettiest and most ostentatious you’ve looked in your entire life, surrounded by the wealthiest and most powerful people in panem, you’ve never felt more alone.

tiffany’s long abandoned you for martinis with choi sooyoung in a discrete corner, and you’d never want to be anywhere close to irene. the feeling of jaehyun and jennie’s corpses, still warm to the touch, is still too fresh in your mind to greet her with anything but guilt and self-hatred in your eyes. and if there’s one thing you’ve learnt about these victors, it’s that those emotions are what marks you as weak in their minds.

so you pick up a champagne flute, down it in one go, and make your way to the bathroom. the mansion is large and sprawling with people, but you manage to find a wing that’s quieter than the rest. tiffany had guided you through the halls when you had arrived, one hand on your back and the other cradling a little clip she had later fastened into your hair. it was small, simple. you didn’t think tiffany did small and simple. then you noticed the design, a small paper mill, and allowed her to put it on. yeonjun would’ve loved her even more if he knew she was sentimental. he didn’t have the chance to know now.

once you’re sure no one’s there, you sink to the marble floor of the bathroom, kicking off your heels and massaging your aching joints. you run a careless hand through your hair, leaning your head back against the wall. it’s bad being alone, but it’s worse being surrounded by company far too nonchalant with themselves being murderers.

you had to get rid of this self-serving act. you were one of them now.

you sigh at the thought. y/n y/l/n, winner of the forty-eighth hunger games. it tastes like ash in your mouth.

you don’t know if you like this. surviving. sometimes in the middle of the night with nothing but the memories keeping you company, you think about drinking mark’s dagger straight into your jugular. it’d be quick, instant, and it’d send a message. but one look at the garish emerald and you’d race to the bathroom, emptying your stomach. you’re everything mark would never want you to be.

mark was your first love, you think, pressing your hands against the cold floor. he’s also probably your last. you don’t think you’re capable of any emotion beyond this emptiness.

and when you contemplate this, it’s difficult not to remember him.

in all the three weeks since you won the games, you haven’t heard so much as a peep from jeonghan. he was there when you were dropped off at the headquarters, but you were too hysterical and desperate to get the blood off of you that you hardly noticed him. he hasn’t made an appearance here at the party either, though jeonghan was notoriously known for never being able to get anywhere on time.

you crush the little sapling of hope in your chest that wishes he were here, and continue sitting in your self-loathing, your dress pooling around you like a blanket.

jeonghan was probably messing with you before, you think. he probably did that with all tributes who were naive enough to trust him, or accept his help.

the worst part is that you don’t love him.

it’d make more sense for you to miss him if you loved him, but you don’t. you missed his friendship, his camaraderie. the safety that came with him. the security and the hope. the little quips and the secretive smiles. but you guessed it was all for show.

suddenly, the door of the bathroom swings open, and you’re face to face with one shin ryujin. to her merit, the former winner doesn’t outright show the surprise on her face, but you catch the slight widening of her eyes. then you notice how they’re red-rimmed.

“i just wanted some privacy.” you say, and get up from the floor.

“no, no.” she says, motioning for you to stay. you wouldn’t entertain it even if she chained your leg to the sink. “i thought it was empty, i can go somewhere else—“

“it’s fine. i was just leaving, so.” you murmur, picking up the skirt of your dress and making your way across the bathroom to reach the door. halfway, your shoulder brushes against hers. then before you can step out to the cold, lonely hallway, she catches your elbow.

your instincts kick in, but so do hers.

you slam your elbow upwards, and you hear a crick of her hand. but she quickly detains you with a swing of her foot, and soon, you’re on the floor. you drag her down with you.

“what the hell is wrong with you?” ryujin hisses.

you want to laugh. “you’re the one who was stupid enough to think i’d even want to be touched.”

she has the decency to look chastised. she’s been there before, but she isn’t going to apologise, you can tell. so you two just sit there in silence, her inspecting the unseemly bend in her wrist and you looking up at the high ceiling. once you’re sure she’d let you walk out of the bathroom, ryujin opens her mouth.

“i’m sorry.” her voice echoes through the vast room.

you already know what she’s apologising for, but you ask anyway. “for what?”

the pink-haired girl turns her head to the side, facing you. “your friend. mark.”

“it’s not your fault.” you say, resolutely still looking up. “you don’t have to apologise.”

ryujin lays her head against the palm of her hand. “it could not be my fault but i can still feel bad about it. you didn’t kill taeyong but you still feel bad about his death, don’t you?”

you can’t answer that. at your core, you understand her. it was difficult not to. you turn your head and finally look at her. it surprises you when you don’t feel the overwhelming strike of resentment in your heart that you had carried before, aching when someone mentioned her name in passing, or when you saw her face on the television. you’ll never forgive her, that you’re sure of, and you’re sure she knows that too, but you understand her. you were a hypocrite in your own right, you supposed.

“anyway,” she continued on like this was a regular conversation. this, you could appreciate about her at least. “i was going to sit here and cry, but it looks like you beat me to it. so i just wanted to tell you that it’s okay. it’s almost time.”

you quirk your eyebrow. “time for what?”

for a second, alarm is written all over ryujin’s face. her skin gets pale. “jeonghan didn’t tell you?”

you sit up on your elbows, and she follows, wincing a little at her wrist. you make a mental note to apologise for that later when your emotions aren’t so raw. “i haven’t even seen jeonghan since before the games.” you say, exhaling with a little laugh. “what makes you think he tells me anything at all?”

ryujin shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “he’s such a fucking idiot. how could he base his entire plan on you and not tell you about it?”

“tell me what? what plan?” you ask, beginning to feel frustrated at being out of the loop.

ryujin looks at you like she’s gauging whether or not you’re lying. when she doesn’t find what she’s looking for, she says, “not here,” getting up on her feet and offering her hand (the unbroken one) to you. you take it, and she smiles, pulling you up to your feet. “you can’t trust the rooms. meet me tomorrow at ten’s.”

“the tailor?”

“yes.” she nods.

“okay.” you agree, and she lets go of your hand and makes towards the door. before she can wrap her hand around the handle though, she half-turns, making her face visible to you.

“about jeonghan…” she starts. then stops, looking contemplative. as if she’s pondering on what word to use next. “go easy on him.”

“excuse me?”

“you know, when i first met him i thought the exact same thing as you.” ryujin leans her back against the door, crossing one ankle in front of the other. “he’s standoffish.” wrong. “he’s an asshole.” wrong. “he doesn’t care for anyone but himself.” wrong, wrong, wrong. your head screams. “but,” she pauses. “he… he’s broken. the same way all of us are. he just shows it differently.”

that you know. jeonghan carried about his grief gracefully, whereas so many others carried it like a weapon. you don’t think you’ll ever be like him in that sense, though the headlines say otherwise.

“it got worse since sowon.”

your head perks up. “sowon?” you ask, the name unfamiliar on your lips. you had to wrack your head to remember where you had heard it before. “the winner.” you recall. “forty-sixth.” the games were an utter fail that year. something about no one pulling enough sponsors, a bad arena, all the way to a boring win cultivating from a leakage in the riverbed. a flood. “from district…”

“four.” ryujin answers for you, and it all falls into place. “i only know this because joohyun told me. but he,” she laughs to herself. “he loved her. probably more than he had ever loved anyone.”

“isn’t she,” your voice drops to a whisper, but you know ryujin can hear it. “dead?”

“yeah. she killed herself after. she couldn’t deal with it. jeonghan hasn’t been the same since.”

it makes sense now. why he was so… almost loving towards you when you talked about mark. you remember the time he had carded his fingers through your hair, the first time you hadn’t been afraid to let him, and talked to him about the days spent behind the machines in the paper mill, spent stealing kisses and holding pinkies. days unabashedly in love. jeonghan had let a smile form on his face, the first one you noticed didn’t hold anything back. he knew the exact same thing you were feeling, because he had probably done the same with sowon.

“but you,” ryujin says, breaking you out of your reverie. the marble of the sink feels cold against your palm. “i saw the way he looked at you during the games. there was something there.”

you’re shaking your head before she even finishes, sardonically smiling at her. “no. whatever you saw… it-it wasn’t real.” the words feel like ash on your tongue. “i think it was just… i wanted to feel something true.” you finished honestly.

you let the words sit between you two. ryujin’s face tells you she remains unconvinced, but before she can open her mouth, her eyebrows furrow. she motions for you to be quiet, and you do so, your heart beginning to scream against your chest. you were going to throw up if anyone tried anything today.

but ryujin swings the door open, fearless, only to reveal jeonghan, hand poised against the door to knock.

she sighs. “you almost gave me a heart attack, yoon.”

“nice to see your reflexes are still intact, shin.” jeonghan responds, voice dry. he looks over her shoulder to meet your eyes. you look away.

ryujin glares, tosses her hair over to one side and moves past him. “tomorrow, 9 o’clock at ten’s. don’t be late.” she says to you before leaving.

when the door closes behind her, you feel like suffocating. jeonghan doesn’t try walk towards you like you thought he would, he stays where he is. like he doesn’t want to startle you.

“how much of that did you overhear?” you ask when the silence becomes far too loud.

“not much.” he replies. you can tell he’s lying just from his tone. it’s the same one he would use when you’d ask, foolishly in the quiet of the night, if he thought you’d get out of this alive.

when it’s clear he won’t continue, you do. you haven’t the slightest clue why, but then again, you’ve always questioned everything when you were around jeonghan. “you’ve been busy.” you note.

this time, jeonghan smiles. you finally look up, and meet his gaze square on. “so have you, if you’re all chummy with shin ryujin now.”

with your best friend’s killer, goes unsaid. you hear it all the same.

“i wouldn’t have to if you just talked to me.”

jeonghan hands his head for a second, the only show of emotion he’s shown you this far, before his eyes snap back to you. you wonder if everything that happened before the games was a figment of your imagination. maybe this is the first time you’ve ever spoken to yoon jeonghan, or everything before was a bubble, because right now, even as you’re in the same room, he feels like he’s a million miles away.

“she told you about the plan?”

“not the specifics.” you answer truthfully. “stupid of you to centre your little plan around me and then proceed to tell me absolutely nothing about it, by the way.”

that gets you a sliver of a smile.

“all you need to know for now,” jeonghan says, pushing off the door and beginning to stroll lazily over to you. now this jeonghan you’re familiar with. the predatory glint in his gaze, the corners of his mouth lifted, the long, blonde hair your hands have combed through and tugged on. “is that we’re going to change the world.”

you tilted your head to the side, pretending that your heart isn’t racing in your chest when he stops right in front of you, his frame towering over yours even with you in heels.

“and how exactly are we going to do that?” you ask, raising your chin defiantly.

jeonghan doesn’t touch you. you’re grateful for that. instead, he bends down, hair cascading down his shoulder like a waterfall.

“marry me.”

and your whole world shakes.

“excuse me?” you spit out. “are you insane?”

jeonghan sighs, like you’re being dramatic, like he hasn’t just tilted your entire world on its axis, like he’s asking you for something as simple and nonplussed as the weather.

“marry me.” he repeats.

you search his face for any sign of a joke, though you know deep down that you won’t find any. jeonghan is calculative, every move he makes is carefully thought out. he doesn’t rush into things without considering every single outcome. his expression doesn’t change.

traitorously, your heart thumps wildly.

just a few moments ago, you were sure there would never be a happily ever after for you. you were too far gone, never naive enough to picture yourself with anyone but mark. but now here yoon jeonghan is, offering himself up on a silver platter. you’re not in love with him, you remind yourself. not even a little bit.

you know your answer, but you want to make him sweat for a bit.

“oh, you fool…” you say, your throat dry. the words come out raspy. “you’re in love with me.”

for a second, you think jeonghan will play along, but instead, he responds with, “i love the way you fought.”

the small smile slips off of your face.

it was the wrong thing to say. jeonghan knows it, which is why he quickly rectifies the problem. he extends his arm, offering his hand, palm up for you to take. the ball’s in your court.

“i’ll take care of you.” he murmurs. “you just have to take care of the rest.”

you look down to his palm, then back to his face.

this is jeonghan, who presented you with a lifeline when you were sure you were going to be nothing but cannon fodder. this is jeonghan, who pressed kisses to your shoulder blades like you were worthy of worshipping. this is jeonghan, who risked his life and loyalty to his home by teaching you the ways of their poison. this is jeonghan, who gave you two friends in jaemin and karina, who reminded you of the flame that still lives inside of you. this is jeonghan, who hasn’t let you down yet.

he doesn’t love you, but he could.

“okay.” you reply.

slowly, you put your hand over his, palm down. when he interlaces his fingers with yours, you notice just how well you fit. it feels a lot like coming undone, but it feels even more like coming together.

Chapter Text

when you arrive outside the door of the house you’ve rented, you hesitate at the threshold, wondering what on earth you’re even doing here.

you should be back in seoul, picking up the pieces from the fallout of the case. there’ll be an inquiry, and without jeonghan’s testimony, it’ll be difficult for the legal team to even come up with a defence if the parliament or the media decide to press charges. the office doesn’t have an airtight case, not yet, and you’re not helping by being here.

instead of being back home going through years and years worth of aggregated data and information and combing through every single security camera feed that could possibly build a proper defence, you’re in normandy, exhausted from a turbulent flight and a long train ride, and jet-lagged out of your mind.

you fidget with the keys in your hand, wondering if you should just return them to the lovely elderly couple who you had retrieved them from. but then you remember the way seungcheol had looked at you when he said you should go somewhere for a little while, maybe a trip. use up your vacation days., and you fit the key into the lock.

it’s just a week. you reason with yourself.

the house isn’t large, more of a cottage really. it’s quaint, with windows that are thin and walls that are cool to the touch. you wheel your suitcase into the bedroom, kicking off your shoes before settling onto the bed, clothes and all. you were usually cleaner than this, but the tiredness seems to have creeped in. you feel it all the way into your bones.

you haven’t slept, not really, since that night. when you close your eyes, you see fire and smoke, and the outlines of jeonghan and dr. kim: separate, and then not, and then gone.

“he’s gone.” you say into the empty room. it doesn’t echo. it sits.

you pull the sheets over your body, and you’ve only just slipped off when you’re back at the bridge, seeing jeonghan lit by flames, gun cocked and unflinchingly fired. and then, through the smoke, you see her, and you know that jeonghan sees her too. and it’s so obvious it’s almost cliché, this choice he has to make: dr. kim on one side and you on the other.

you wake up before he moves, before he chooses to walk away without looking back, and it’s such a relief to not have to relive it again that you almost cry. instead, you laugh. it’s weak and a little bitter but you laugh, because it’s much better than the alternative.

it’s always a shame, when it’s not a clean break. those tend to heal the best. this one might hurt for the rest of your life.

you press your thumb hard into your ribcage, flinch slightly when you dig too hard. this is what jeonghan’s done to you.

and this is all you have left of him.

-

later that evening when you’ve finally emerged from the shower, cheeks pink from the warm water and bundled up in your fluffy bathrobe, your phone rings.

you consider ignoring it, but the caller id is bright and you know better than to do that.

“hi, shua.” you say.

“hi, you.” he says. the tinge of relief in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “how was the flight?”

“the flight was awful. it’s nice here, though. pretty. you’d like it, i think.”

joshua laughs, “don’t tempt me. i’m one stupid question away from visiting you.”

“is it that bad?” you ask, a wave of guilt flushing through you. you should be there.

“it’s all going to be fine,” he replies, and that helps a little. you can tell he isn’t lying, that he has it all under control. “i’ve got it sorted, okay?”

“that’s… good.”

“really,” joshua reassures you. “your data is good. we have testimonies. we went through the security feeds, wrapped up all the loose ends and everything. it’s going to be fine.”

you feel yourself relax, but then you feel some of the tension returning.

“jisoo,” you begin. you can imagine the way his shoulders stiffen up at the way you say his given name. you stop, then you start again. “why did seungcheol send me off?”

the other end of the line is quiet for half a second too long.

“he just thought you could use a break, after everything.”

“after everything.” you repeat.

“you were shot at.”

“so were you.”

“you saw a man die.”

“so did jihoon.”

he doesn’t say anything more, and you know.

“this is about jeonghan, isn’t it?” you ask, and the silence stretches on for too long for the answer to be anything but yes.

you sigh, and run your fingers through your hair, feeling suddenly ashamed. seungcheol didn’t send you away to recharge after a stressful mission gone rogue, or to relax before months of a tumultuous trial. it had been about jeonghan, and what he’d done to you.

“should i even ask how long seungcheol’s known?”

“y/n,” joshua says, like it hurts, and your eyes feel hot with embarrassment. you wonder how you can face anyone when you return, when they all know you’ve been sent off on holiday to emotionally recover from a one-sided relationship gone wrong. honestly, you’d rather have everyone think you’ve gone off the rails after getting shot at, after watching a man plunge to his death than know you’ve been mooning after a man who’s driven off into the sunset with someone else. it’s pathetic. you’re pathetic.

“well.” you say thickly, and try to think of something funny or witty to say, but nothing comes to mind.

the lines goes quiet again, but this time, you think you can hear the rustle and rumble of people walking around joshua. he must still be at the office.

“are you okay?” joshua asks, and his voice is tight, serious.

“i’m not going to kill myself, if that’s what you’re thinking.” you promise. “i never would for a man. especially that one.”

he’s able to laugh at that, so you count it as a win in your books.

“i’ll be okay.” you tell him. “i just need a little time.”

“okay,” joshua says, and then, “if you need me, i’m just a plane ride away.”

“as if they could spare you.” you reply, half-teasing, half-serious.

“they could spare me if you need me.”

it catches you in the throat, his utter sincerity, his earnestness. you don’t have a lot of friends, and you definitely hadn’t expected to find someone who would become your closest one in an agency of spies, but here is joshua hong, who infiltrates terrorist cells with a smile and can kill a man eighteen different ways with a pencil, saying he’d come if you needed him. you love him for it.

“thank you.” you say, and you know he understands.

-

the problem with normandy, you soon discover, is just the amount of water there is.

the entire region is a coastline of white chalk-cliffs and beachheads that oversee miles and miles of blue. it’s not much of a problem during the day, when it’s lovely and there are families laughing along the shore, but it is during the night, when it comes grey and dark.

it reminds you far too much of that night, of the taste of smoke on your tongue and the smell of oil on wet concrete. it reminds you of the surge of relief when you had seen jeonghan among the destruction, alive and unharmed. it reminds you fo the betrayal afterwards when he turned away from you, walking over to dr. kim with unflinching surety. then it’s replaced with a hollowness somewhere between your two lungs: the realisation that jeonghan had never been yours to lose, but you had lost him all the same.

you know that this is a kind of grief, and that grief, like all things, will pass in time.

until then, you dip your toes into the water, feel the sand beneath your feet. you pick up the stray seashells and feel the breeze ruffle through your hair.

once, twice, you think you see jeonghan in the distance, and your heart climbs into your throat with something that falls messily between anger and longing. but then it’s replaced with a strange sense of reassurance, because you know it’s not him, and will never be him. there is a reason you had chosen normandy, after all.

it’s the one place you know yoon jeonghan will never return.

-

when you’re not lounging on the windowsill of your rented cottage to people-watch, or walking along the coast, you wander the area around the beaches, paved roads and smooth sidewalks. it should make you nervous, to be so exposed, to be walking with no particular goal or direction. you’re still the quartermaster, someone who’d be valuable captured or dead, but as you take in the sweet smell of lavender and sage, you feel no sense of trepidation.

on one of your adventures, you come across an old museum. it’s a little run down, the walls slightly cracked and the glass covers in need of a dusting, but you walk in anyway. the owner lets you peer into the cases unbothered, and your eyes linger over the dried coral and shiny seashells.

towards the back of the store, there is a wooden cabinet with many shelves. you walk towards it, and feel your heart begin to tremble in your chest.

when she notices you stare, the owner insists that you’re allowed to touch.

so you do, your fingers running over the slope and roughness of every stone. you pick one up, feeling its weight in your hands, and for a moment, you do not see it, but instead, the collection in the lounge back at the office.

it had all started as a joke, when soonyoung had dared jeonghan to do something so outrageous everyone would think he’d lost his mind. so jeonghan had walked in cradling a rock in his hand, and declared to everyone at q branch, this is doljjong, he’s my son. everyone had been absolutely gobsmacked, one of your braver interns even asking him if everything was alright.

but you had let out a laugh so loud you felt your ears burn when you felt eyes on you, and jeonghan had smiled so bright you didn’t mind.

after that, the stones kept coming from all over the world. jeonghan had even insisted he had picked one up from inside buckingham palace. the other double-ohs caught on, and then, after some time, even your interns and staff brought their own when they went on their personal travels, and there was an entire corner of the q branch dedicated to the collection of rocks and stones.

when you get back, you’ll take the corner down. we’ll need more space for the new computers coming in, you’ll reason. you’ll send out an email, a call to come collect any stones your staff may want to keep. after they’ve come and claimed what they want, you’ll take the rest, and then—

what then?

you think of all those stones, not all of them from jeonghan, but all of them because of jeonghan. you imagine dropping them into a river one by one, looking at how each and every one of them drop down to the riverbed, never to be seen by the light of day again, knowing that jeonghan’s hands had been on them, that he had taken a moment between shooting and getting shot at to lean down to slip a rock into his pocket to bring home to him. it’s a comical thought, but it’s so painful that you think you might just put them all in a box, secure the lid so tightly that not even air can get inside, and shove it into the back of your closet. maybe one day when you’re stronger, when the scabs have healed over and you won’t bleed if you pick at old wounds, you’ll look at them again.

you wonder if that day will ever come.

-

at night, when the sun goes down and the temperature becomes more bearable, you decide to walk to a small, nearby plaza for dinner and entertainment. it isn’t as crowded as some of the others off the coast, but there is still plenty to do and see.

you find a little stand of souvenirs as you weave through the crowds, and pick up a small bottle of calvados. apple brandy, the label declares. something to bring back that will age well on a shelf or fridge. something to bring back to someone who you’re not quite sure to bring back as a souvenir. it makes you think of the little things jeonghan had brought back to you over the years: starting from bottles of soju, even when you had told him you could just cross the street to the mart and buy some yourself, to matryoshka dolls with bright painted faces, a clunky rabbit figurine. in comparison to all those trinkets, the bottle is far more distinguished, sophisticated, and you buy it, feel the weight of it in your bag as you walk.

it won’t sit on a shelf in your office, but rather on the windowsill of your rented cottage as a reminder of what you need to do.

when you can drink from the bottle without pausing, without smelling smoke, without looking for jeonghan in the haze, then, and only then, can you go home.

-

but you’re not quite ready yet.

you’re due to return in a few days, and joshua has began sending you messages that hint both incredibly subtly and not at all, that they may need you back sooner rather than later, but you don’t think you can.

so you book a day trip to a chateau, and breathe in the grass instead of the salt. you’re taking in all the lush green and comfortable shade when a peel of laughter to your right makes you turn.

it’s a man and a woman, their features indistinct with the distance. all you can see is that the man is broad-shouldered, if not a bit lanky, and the woman is fair and delicate. it could be jeonghan and dr. kim for all you know, enjoying the life jeonghan had promised you not that long ago.

what do you think you’re going to do after all of this? he had asked you once, on a failed stakeout. he was holed up in a little apartment just across chigi palace with you in his ear as you always were.

you had paused from where you were going through the blueprints of some prototypes your interns had conjured up.

i don’t know, you had admitted quietly. i’ve never given it much thought.

well, i have. jeonghan said definitively. i’m going to live in the countryside. somewhere with lots of trees, but not too far from the beach.

that sounds nice. you continued rifling through the papers, ignoring how you had begun to smile. i can imagine you there, like the old man you are.

can you? jeonghan asked, a hint of humour in his tone. well, it doesn’t matter if you can or can’t, anyway, you’ll be there with me.

you had felt your heart stutter, and put down the papers altogether. you’d deny the trembling of your hands till the day you died. what?

please, jeonghan snorted. you think i could stay there alone? i’d get so bored. you’re the only one who can keep up with me, anyway. we’d have fun.

i suppose we would. you responded, before a rustle in the curtain from the building had stopped the conversation from going any further.

you look away from the couple when they begin to laugh. a piercing flash of white-hot anger thunders through you. jeonghan had promised you nothing. it had just been a teasing conversation, something to keep jeonghan from dozing off, nothing more than that. it had always been that. you had just been a fool to think otherwise.

you feel your anger burning away, and you let it go like a wave pulling away from the beach. it centres you. jeonghan had never been yours.

you’ll be fine, you think to yourself. in the end, you are always fine. you think of broken statues in museums and the restoration of old, peeling paintings. even broken things can be beautiful. even broken things can be made new again. it’s all a matter of time.

you breathe in deeply.

what do you think you’re going to do after all of this? jeonghan had asked.

you hadn’t had an answer back then, and you don’t think you have one yet, but you put the question into your mind for safekeeping. not as a wound, but as a souvenir.

a lesson.

-

“how’s the holiday?” joshua asks.

you can tell he’s in the quiet of his office, and that he’s picking at the little container of beads he keeps in the drawer when he needs something to do with his hands.

“it’s fine.” you say, shoving a spoonful of gelato into your mouth before you can say anything more.

“liar.” he says, tone not unkind.

you feel tears threatening at the corners of your eyes, and is grateful jisoo can’t see you.

“i think i’m going to come back early.”

“you still have another two days.” joshua reminds you. “i know i’ve been texting you, but it’s nothing we can’t handle until you come back.”

“i miss the office.”

“just the office?”

“and you, of course.”

he laughs, but he’s gentle when he says, “stay a little longer.”

you sigh and stab at your gelato. “i think i’d feel better if i was at work.” you admit, even if it’s not entirely true.

“you’ll have plenty to do when you get back.” joshua promises you. “enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”

you can’t help but smile, wondering what sort of havoc soonyoung and seokmin are wrecking in your absence, or what sort of shenanigans your interns are getting into without your intervention. if chan’s previous experiments were a tell of how things were right now, you do agree that you’d like to soak in the normandy sun for a little longer.

“i’ll stay the two days.” you reply. “not any longer than that.”

“two days.” joshua agrees. “and then you’ll be back to long hours and budget meetings again.”

then he makes a sound. there’s something halting about it, like he wants to tell you something but doesn’t know how.

“shua?”

“it’s nothing. just remembered something i forgot to do.” joshua says, though you don’t believe him.

“you’re sure everything’s okay?” you ask.

you hear a bead clatter. “nothing for you to worry about.” it’s the way he responds when there might be a crisis, but he’s going to handle it, and that you absolutely cannot question it further. “now, enjoy the rest of your holiday. and bring me back something nice.”

“i wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

-

since you’ve arrived, you’ve been telling yourself that you will be fine when you can down the bottle of apple brandy, and walk through the museum without stopping to look at the stones.

you’re ready, you think. your aimless wandering is making you restless. you miss seoul and the overarching skyscrapers, nights out at wine tastings far too expensive to indulge in with mingyu, the pasta at the takeaway place around the corner from your apartment, the sound of rain against your bedside window.

you also know that returning will make you miss other things, like the tread of jeonghan’s foot on the stairs outside your office at two in the morning, the hum jeonghan would make over the comms when he was thinking, the half-smile he’d make when he thought you weren’t looking, the way he snored, softly, when he would nap on the sofa in the corner of your office.

it’s time to return, even if it’s to a place where jeonghan never will.

you make your way to the beach one last time, and the water is cool when you slip your sandals off and dip your toes in. you hike up the skirt of your long dress, feel the lick of salt in the air. you can hear the bustle of families packing up their beach umbrellas, picking up their baskets of food and trudging back to their cars.

you don’t hesitate.

you pop open the cap of the apple brandy and take a long sip. it’s not too strong, and the bottle is just smaller than the palm of your hand. you’re proud of yourself in that moment, for not feeling the tug of anything but the burn down your throat. there is no sadness, no longing.

but then you put close up the bottle again, place it down, and dig your toes into the wet sand, because wading into the water to your side is jeonghan.

jeonghan should’ve never been a spy, you think, because there is not a single way that the man does not stand out. it’s not his clothes— an immaculate, light coloured linen suit, the jacket draped over his shoulder, the shirt beneath without a tie, unbuttoned, exposing the sharpness of his collarbones, but the way he wears them, how he positions himself, to draw eyes and attention. and both are on you now, you know.

you know it’s not your imagination, because when it is, it’s always jeonghan turned away from you, always jeonghan walking away.

this time, jeonghan is facing you, hands in his pockets like he’s been waiting, and your heart crawls into your throat with want, and then despair, because jeonghan would only be here if he needed something, nothing more.

you can’t move. you’re stuck, like you always are when it comes to jeonghan.

walk away from me, you demand. because if jeonghan comes to you now and asks something of you, you know you cannot, will not say no, and it will all go back to the way it was at the start of things: back to a life of unspoken, undefined things; half-promises from either end of the comms line; all that desperate, aching wanting with no place to go. and you know it will end like it did before: with jeonghan walking away, with you watching the line of his back as he disappears with someone else. and you know if that happens, clean break or not, you will never recover. there will be nothing left of you to salvage.

but jeonghan is here. he wades another step, and then another, until he’s standing right beside you.

don’t say my name, you think.

“y/n,” he says, and even though it’s soft, almost gentle, you feel like you’re about to break.

but then, a sudden flash of anger rises from within you, so blindingly hot and fast that you barely understand what it is until after, when you’re nearly shaking from the recoil of it. who is jeonghan to show his face now, when you have come here to try to put the pieces of yourself back together? who is jeonghan to say your name like that, so familiar, like he hadn’t taken your heart and shattered it into a thousand pieces in one go?

“what are you doing here?” you manage to ask, still determinedly looking at the water.

“looking for you.” jeonghan replies, like it’s simple, obvious. like you haven’t come here for the express purpose of not being found by him.

“what,” you manage, and hate the way you sound out of breath, “what do you want from me now?”

jeonghan moves to stand in front of you, and it’s like all those times before when jeonghan had come to you for equipment or a dossier, standing so close it was almost unprofessional, the sliver between you narrow but defined. the intensity separating two opposing magnets, desperate to touch but too polarising to ever do so.

you put a step and a half between you two, and jeonghan is wise enough that he doesn’t follow.

“i don’t want—“ jeonghan starts, and then stops, as if he’s trying to find the right words. then he huffs a laugh, short and self-deprecating and hurtful. “i really— i’ve been cruel to you, haven’t i?”

you don’t know what to say, don’t know what jeonghan wants you to say. so you look back down at the rippling water, biting the inside of your cheek.

“i was going to say i didn’t come here to ask anything of you, but i did.” jeonghan continues.

at these words, you force yourself to life your head, to meet jeonghan’s eyes, so when jeonghan asks, you can look at him directly and say no. whatever it is, jeonghan can no longer ask favours of you. you’ve crossed that bridge and burned it. there’s nothing left to salvage.

“what do you want?” you ask again, your voice strong.

“your forgiveness.” jeonghan says.

those are the last words that you expect to hear, and you press your fingers into ribcage like you had before, hoping the ache will bring some clarity. but there’s nothing but confusion, because jeonghan is looking at you, really looking, and there’s no smoke. there’s no barrier between you two.

“i made a mistake,” jeonghan says. “and i’m sorry.”

jeonghan looks at you, expecting a response or a reaction to his words, but you cannot muster the strength to do anything at all. he reaches out, but stops halfway, his hand half-raised out to you in the air.

“you left.” you say, hating that you sound weak. you hate that there’s one last, unspoken word that hangs between you. me. an admission of weakness. you left me.

“i did.” jeonghan replies, and with a quiet sort of sincerity. “and the moment i left i knew i shouldn’t have.”

you swallow hard, press your fingers even deeper into your ribs so that you feel the pain more than the hot, fluttering thing in your chest that wants to believe, to forgive. there is another lesson here, one that will cause more pain if you are not careful.

“then why did you leave?”

“i made a promise,” jeonghan explains. “to get sowon somewhere safe. after that, i came back. and you were gone.”

“you could’ve called.”

“i did,” he says, and then laughs, this time with actual amusement in his voice. “seungkwan picked up once, and screamed at me for four minutes before blocking my number. then he cancelled all of my credit cards and blocked my bank accounts. i think there are warrants out for my arrest in at least six countries.”

“sounds like someone’s getting a raise when i get back.” you mutter.

“i also tried wonwoo, but he’s apparently got a secretary now—“

“vernon.” you remember.

“and he keeps sending me directly to voicemail—“

“smart boy.”

“seungcheol said if i ever called him again, he’d authorise a kill on sight order on me. he also told me there’s apparently a lengthy list of agents who’ve applied for that pleasure—“

“minghao and junhui are probably at the top of that list. they’ve never really forgiven you for xiamen.”

“and joshuji told me, in no uncertain terms, to never call him that again, and to go fuck myself. and when i went to your apartment to look for you, he held a gun to my head.”

you make a mental note to bring joshua back a very pretty, very expensive gift as a thank you.

“you can’t blame them.” you say, and you finally raise your eyes to jeonghan’s. “you left us to clean up your mess like you always do. you can’t just leave without a word, break our trust, and then expect us to forgive you. actions have consequences.”

you hate that you experience a brief bit of pleasure in this: in hurting jeonghan, even if it is a mere fraction of the pain that’s been inflicted on you, because now jeonghan knows he can’t hurt you anymore— with his lies or those bright, wide eyes begging for favours, and get away with it unscathed.

“i know.” jeonghan says, and he suddenly looks tired. “i know.”

the part of you that loved him— loves him, aches to see him now, more remorseful than you’ve ever seen him before. but your ribcage throbs where you’ve dug your fingers to the bone, and that pain serves as a reminder of that old, unclean break. jeonghan’s hurt you, and you need time to offer forgiveness.

you’re quiet for a time, watching the sun dip into the horizon, painting the sky a vivid orange. jeonghan finally drops his hand. you do the same, finally leaving the spot on your ribcage alone. he steps closer to you, and you don’t move away. your hands are an inch apart, such a small distance, but still miles away.

“i always forgive you.” you whisper, “even when you don’t deserve it. and you just hurt me again and again. that’s not fair to me.”

“i won’t,” jeonghan says, like it’s a promise. “i won’t hurt you.”

but you know that promises, especially his promises, are made to be broken.

“you will.” you say, but it’s without malice. it’s matter of fact. “it’s in your nature.”

jeonghan’s been built this way: trained to use without regard for what it means. it’s not even his fault, you think. it’s not his fault he doesn’t know any different.

“i know it is,” jeonghan says quietly. “but i don’t want it to be.”

jeonghan was trained to be a blunt instrument, a weapon to be wielded and discarded. but it’s strange now, to think that you see not a blade, not a barrel of a gun, but the rare glimpses of a man. the same man whose sent you flowers on your birthday no matter what country he’s stuck in, who brings you cups of coffee on the mornings he’s in the office, whose told you stories about his childhood, his sister, on your private line, where no one but you two can hear. that same man whose offering now the last piece of himself to someone else.

“i want to be better,” jeonghan continues. “i want to be someone who deserves you.”

he says the words like foreign on his tongue, and maybe they are. maybe jeonghan’s never been so honest with anyone, not even himself. you feel a rush of affection for him, even after everything. but still, you remember the nights looking out at the dark sea and being afraid.

“i don’t know if you can be.” you say, trying not to sound cruel.

jeonghan’s shoulders droop, a minuscule shift, before he says, “i want to try.” it’s so earnest you feel your chest ache. “i want to.”

you’re quiet for a while, and the sky becomes dark. you’re wading in grey now.

“i need time.” you finally say.

“then i’ll wait.” jeonghan says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

you look at your hands, then to the water again. dark. grey. the silence returns, but it’s not like those moments before, when you could sit comfortable in the same room for hours without speaking. there’s a rift now, a wound. you wonder if it will ever heal.

“it might be a long time.” you warn him, giving him the chance, now, once, to run away before this all starts, before jeonghan says he will commit and doesn’t.

“i know.” jeonghan says.

you look at your hands again, the space between them, and move yours towards jeonghan’s. you can’t forgive him, not yet, not entirely, not when jeonghan has hurt you so badly, not when all you can think about is letting yourself love joenghan, only to have him walk away again. but you can try help this wound heal, if jeonghan will do his part, too.

if jeonghan will meet you halfway.

and jeonghan does: moves his hand the remaining distance to close that forever-gap between you. slowly, he laces his fingers with yours. it burns, but in the way that feels more like a promise of something that, for once, isn’t pain.

“take as long as you need.” jeonghan says, and holds your hand in his. “i’m not going anywhere.”

Chapter Text

jeonghan has never been good with feelings.

he feels everything tenfold, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but his go to process is to remain cold-headed, and compartmentalise. he stores his emotions in different boxes in his head, each of them labeled with a different, distinct name.

jeonghan’s never been a disaster of a person: he knows exactly where everything goes. his sweaters are folded neatly onto the third shelf of his wardrobe. his phone never strays too far from his hand, which is a terrible habit he’s been trying to kick, he swears.

but that’s the material. emotionally, jeonghan’s the exact opposite. despite the colour-coded system in his mind, he can never quite place what and how he feels. this is why he abandoned his pet rock within three weeks. this is why he, a grown man, had a pet rock to begin with.

jeonghan tries not to bleed feelings because it’s a recipe for disaster, he knows. he tries to separate everything with a clear line in the ground, but what is he to do when the ground becomes sand, and trickles away at the faintest sight of water?

and by water, he means you.

you’re his exact opposite, and maybe that’s why you work so well. jeonghan tries to suppress a thought, you bring it out of him with nothing but a smile, or even a glance in his direction. the words just come out of him completely filterless. he doesn’t pause for a moment or take a breath, it’s unlike how he is with everyone else. sometimes he thinks he doesn’t make much sense, but you always look at him encouragingly, patiently, like you know exactly what he’s trying to convey.

you know exactly how to pull at jeonghan’s strings. you paint jeonghan’s skin pink with the way you talk, the way you move, the way you look.

jeonghan is about to snap today, and not in the right way.

you’re wearing one of his oversized shirts, the one you borrowed the first time jeonghan ever kissed you, slightly wine-tipsy from the dinner he once-in-a-blue-moon hosted. you had volunteered to stay behind to help him clean up, because that was just the kind of person you were, and had accidentally spilled whatever was left over in that bottle onto your outfit.

when you emerged from his bathroom, the plain white shirt hanging loosely over your frame, jeonghan swore he saw lightning strike behind your lidded eyes.

now, the collar of the shirt is all stretched out. jeonghan is the one to blame, really, with the amount he’s pulled on it, eager and desperate to reach more of your skin, to trace over your collarbones and neck with his tongue.

you’re also wearing those pants. they aren’t that short, but you keep balling your hands at the ends, rumpling the hem between your fingers and riding the cloth up your thighs unconsciously.

and jeonghan. jeonghan is trapped and bubbling up with something he would call desire, but the word seems to fall short.

he feels entranced: his eyes keep falling to your legs, travelling all the way up to your neck, to the curve of your smile and the way your skin seems to shine under the light of his living room. he can’t help himself, he keeps staring, watching the way you run a hand through your hair, tucking it behind your ears.

you’re doing it on purpose, jeonghan is so embarrassingly aware of it. embarrassed of the fact that you know exactly each and every button you have to push to get jeonghan’s undivided attention to yourself. you finally stop feigning ignorance, glancing over at jeonghan, pursing your lips and raising your eyebrow knowingly.

it’s been three months since your waist brace incident, and four weeks since jeonghan’s been completely integrated into you and ten (and johnny)’s sunday brunches. ten’s finally stopped giving jeonghan the stink eye from across the table of food jeonghan’s begrudgingly admitted tastes heavenly, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t a little pleased.

it’s also been three months since you’ve gotten a drawer in jeonghan’s closet, a toothbrush resting on his sink, and his bedside table’s been overrun by your hair ties and phone charger.

three months since the line in the sand’s been washed away, and jeonghan’s perfectly-organised mind’s been run into overdrive.

desire is a feeling jeonghan’s so familiar with, so intertwined with the idea of you that he can’t think of you without feeling it. but that’s not what he’s feeling right now. even though he wants, he yearns, he needs you under his thumbs, hovering over your lips, curling against his chest.

but there are far too many words piling on his tongue, and they are so far away from desire and a lot closer to four letters he hasn’t dared let his mind wander to since that moment three months ago.

jeonghan’s never been a messy person, which is why he agreed to the friends-with-benefits thing. he’s always been strong-willed and level-headed, so he wonders why he isn’t firm enough to deny you of anything.

and now he’s here, losing his mind in his own living room, with you trying to turn him on while all jeonghan can think about is how badly he wants to hold your hand, and kiss your cheek, and wake up next to you every single day. move in together in a couple of years, maybe, and share clothes and a bed and the shower. and keep count of the years you spend together to celebrate them, not as a victory for staying together, but as an opportunity to keep making memories.

jeonghan swears under his breath. because who in the world doesn’t even have a good enough grasp of their own feelings to feel horny without making it so damn cheesy?

your eyes meet his for what feels like the first time today, and your lips are touching the rim of the cup that’s become yours despite it being jeonghan’s kitchen, and jeonghan cannot handle it anymore.

he walks over to you, taking the cup from you and placing it onto the counter, ignoring your yelp of contest before his hands land on your waist and he’s hauling you up right beside it.

you sigh exaggeratively, like it’s a chore to indulge jeonghan, but the slight upturn of your mouth proves you otherwise. your legs dangle over the edge of the counter, and you spread them enough for jeonghan to stand between them.

“what?” you ask, trying not to smile. you lean back on your hands, tilting your chin upwards at him. jeonghan wonders how much you can see. wonder if you’d be surprised if jeonghan ends up overflowing, spilling everything in his heart messily right here, right now.

he gets on his knees.

the coldness of the floor seeps through the thin material of his sweatpants, but it does nothing to cool his body down. he’s burning up everywhere as he curls his fingers around both of your knees, digs his fingers in the soft skin of the back as he dares to glance up.

you’re staring down at him with wide eyes and a half-parted mouth. the blush on your cheeks is so dark, jeonghan can see it from down there. he keeps looking up as he leans closer to press his lips against your right knee. your legs shake under his touch. jeonghan feels so powerful when you are this close, as if he has the whole damn world under his fingertips. and in a way, he does.

he takes his eyes off of your face to focus on the skin in front of him. your legs are so pretty, so smooth and begging to be bruised and marked. so he does just that.

jeonghan slides his hands up slowly, secures his fingers in the back of your thigh. his other hand remains in the air, and it’s a testament to how well you know him that you tangle your fingers with his, intertwining them softly.

he peppers soft, closed mouthed kisses up your leg, as far as he can go until his nose gets trapped in the fabric of your shorts. then, he balls a hand in the material, the way you’ve been doing it unconsciously all day, and pull up, up, up, revealing more skin.

his nose presses into the soft flesh of your inner thigh, so dangerously close to where you want him most. he sinks his teeth there without warning, and you let out a startled moan. it’s such a pretty sound, high-pitched and breathy. with your free hand, you try to push him closer to you, as if you can’t help yourself.

when jeonghan pulls away, there’s already a purple mark blooming there. you bruise so easily, so prettily. he wants to mark you all over. wants to mark you forever. he brushes his lips over the same spot again, sneaks his tongue out to trace the teeth marks there, and you pull at his hair, making him muffle a groan against your hot skin.

“fuck.” you whisper brokenly from above, fingers moving carefully in jeonghan’s hair, smoothing it down. “you have no idea how good you look down there.”

jeonghan can’t help it, he has to look up, and you’re looking right back at him, with your lips shining red and your eyes twinkling gold.

jeonghan leans his head against the inside of your thigh, presses his flushed cheek there as he keeps staring. you’re so beautiful, with your hair falling over one shoulder, the blush on your cheeks travelling all the way down to your neck, hiding under your loose shirt, his loose shirt, the same shirt you were wearing the first time you kissed.

and jeonghan can’t help it anymore. he blurts out:

“date me.”

silence falls between you two with such a force that it almost knocks the breath right out of jeonghan’s lungs. and it stretches out for so long the warmth in the pit of his chest is turning into something sharp, something that feels like anxiety.

“what?” you say, looking at him dumbfoundedly.

jeonghan pulls away, your fingers slipping out of his hair.

“you can’t just—“ jeonghan starts, feeling so very unlike himself. “you can’t look like that and expect me not to—“ he shakes his head. “you can’t look like that, and sound like that, and talk like that, and expect me not to—“ jeonghan gestures with his hands towards you. “don’t pretend you didn’t know i’d end up falling for you.”

jeonghan hates the way he sounds, defeated and scraped around the edges. but what can he do if that is exactly the way he feels? stripped down and vulnerable.

the silence stretches out for a few more moments, and jeonghan is about to get up and walk into his bedroom when he feels more than sees you slide down the counter and sit in front of him. your back is still against the legs of the counter, and you reach out for his hand.

and jeonghan lets you take it. he always does.

“hey,” you whisper, and there’s humour laced between your words. jeonghan’s stomach uncurls a little. you tug him closer to you, press your forehead against his. “i thought we were gonna have sex in your kitchen, you can’t blame me for being a little surprised.”

jeonghan looks at you for just a second before he’s averting your gaze again. he knows his cheeks are tinging pink, and he’s all cracked open and exposed in front of you. he’s a little embarrassed, but there is no room for fear inside of him. he’d trust you blindfolded.

“so, where are you going to take me on our first date?” you keep talking, still quietly, softly. “are you gonna take me to a fancy dinner and tell me all about how you fell for me?” jeonghan makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, muffled and exasperated. because of course you’d react like this. he shouldn’t have expected any different. you keep going between giggles and the smile that spreads across your face. “are you gonna tell me how pretty i am and talk about the way i sound and the way i—“

“shut up,” jeonghan pushes against your forehead, a small smile making its way to his lips. his eyes are bright, sparkling despite his words. “do you always have to be such a smart mouth?”

“oh, yoon jeonghan,” and jeonghan loves the way his names sounds from your lips, all close and personal like this. “don’t act as if you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into when you decided to fall in love with me.”

jeonghan’s mouth hangs open, and he leans back away from you, watching you with an expression of flabbergast.

“i never said that, did i?” jeonghan manages, but you just laugh.

“stop being so dramatic, you big baby.” you say, pulling him back to you. “don’t act as if you don’t know i feel the same way.”

and, the thing is, jeonghan doesn’t know. because if he isn’t able to understand his own emotions, how is he supposed to read someone else’s? but he isn’t about to start arguing over it, not when your lips are brushing over his, and he feels so damn full of light he thinks he’s about to burst into tiny twinkling stars.

you kiss open-mouthed, deep and languid. it’s the best kind of kiss, one where jeonghan can feel and savour everything. he places his hands on your cheeks, feeling how warm they are, heated up all because of him. he bites down on your lower lip and he can feel how your breath catches in your throat, your arms making their way over his shoulders to bring him closer. you feel like spring pressed up against him, blooming and wonderful.

when you finally pull away for breath, you hide your face in the crook of jeonghan’s neck. jeonghan would laugh at the irony that kissing is all it takes to make you shy, but he can’t, because he gets it. it feels way too real, intimate and tender and familiar and real and exactly what jeonghan wants. forever.

so he presses a kiss on your forehead, pulling you onto his lap, and everything blooms inside of him when you giggle. he kisses you again and again, over your cheeks and your nose and your forehead and your neck. kisses you again and again until you have to pull away from laughing too hard.

jeonghan has never been good with feelings. but who cares, you get him anyway.

(when you walk into the brunch place with your fingers intertwined with jeonghan’s, ten lets out a dramatic sigh. jeonghan feels another four weeks of silent judgement coming again, but this time, he doesn’t mind.)

Chapter Text

you know how every single protagonist in the adventure slash coming-of-age slash romance genre starts off the book with a ‘i’m just like every other person, i’m not meant for anything bigger than what i have, there is no cosmic destiny for me’ before being completely shown otherwise?

this is not that story. because you’re not the protagonist. more on that later.

in this world, you’re just a barely functioning university student approaching their third year, working shifts at the campus coffee shop despite being terribly underpaid. but hey, it has its perks. namely, the free americanos your manager lets you pilfer, very graciously turning a blind eye when you unsubtly fill up your tumbler. you also get croissants fresh out of the oven on the days your coworker actually bakes and not just reheats already stale bread.

but your absolute favourite thing about working at the coffee shop is the late night shifts.

you’re not big on partying— you’re not too good at handling your alcohol and are more likely than not to make a fool out of yourself on your instagram story, and you’d much rather get drunk in the comforts of a friend’s apartment. so you signed up for the late shift on tuesday, wednesday and sunday night, and get a whole three hours of basically free time, save for the occasional sleep-deprived college student who left an assignment to be finished right before the due date.

you’re sitting behind the cashier, laptop open to the latest episode of euphoria, which was honestly something you’re incredibly sure you weren’t supposed to watch in public so freely, but it was almost eleven and your earphones were in, so you were sure it’d be fine, when it happens.

now, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t listen to k-pop. there were groups you anticipated comebacks from, and shows you tuned into on weekends. there were groups you preferred over others, and shows you preferred over others, and well, people you preferred more than others.

yoon jeonghan is most definitely one of them.

which is why you startle when someone appears right in front of you just as maddy is about to fuck cassie up, gape in shock when said person sidesteps the counter over to your side to hug you, and nearly lose your fucking mind when you realise the person who’s hugging you unwarranted is yoon jeonghan.

you flounder, having half the mind to close your laptop screen and move away.

jeonghan, who has pretty, dark hair frowns when you do so, standing up straight. “what, are you not happy to see me, sweetheart?”

your jaw drops.

“what the fuck?” is what you so very eloquently say. “y-you’re yoon jeonghan!” you add on, like an absolutely idiot.

he raises an eyebrow, leaning an arm against the counter. “yeah, and you’re y/n y/l/n.”

you’re running out of words and ideas as to how to describe your own confusion, honestly. “how the heck do you know who i am?”

“why wouldn’t i know who you are?” jeonghan asks, a pout making its way to his lips. then his expression changes into one you could only describe as understanding. “oh. fuck, wrong timeline.”

and weirdly enough, that isn’t the craziest thing he’s said to you today. you’re still reeling from the ‘sweetheart’ bit.

“excuse me?” you blubber out anyway.

jeonghan gives you a considering look before pulling out the chair behind the register beside yours and plopping down, resting his elbows on the counter and reaching out to steal a pastry from the display.

“you don’t mind, do you?” he asks, biting into it before you can even respond.

“um,” you meep. “no, but i’m still going to charge you for that. i get paid minimum wage.”

jeonghan laughs, full-bellied with his head thrown back and everything. mentally, you give yourself a pat on the back for it. he really was cute as hell.

“i’ll pay,” he says once his giggles subsided. “and i’ll tell you how i know you.”

unconsciously, you lean towards him. the motion doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“i’m a timeline hopper.”

silence ensues. it goes on for one, two, three seconds too long before you let out a snort. “sure, and i’m the president.”

“i’ve been to that universe, actually.” jeonghan says, completely unfazed by your downright incredulity. “it was cool. you reformed the prison system and abolished the police.”

“i what?”

“anyway, believe it or not, it doesn’t change the fact that i’m a timeline hopper. i fix anomalies in the multiverse.”

“…multiverse? as in doctor strange and the multiverse of madness?”

“what’s that?” jeonghan asks. you scan his eyes to make sure he isn’t pulling your leg.
“you know, like marvel? the superhero movies?”

“what’s marvel?”

“dear god.” you whisper under your breath. “you’re not fucking around with me, are you? i’ve seen how you are in going seventeen. is this a prank? am i gonna be rick rolled?”

“going seventeen?” jeonghan asks again. his features are twisted into complete confusion, not unlike your expression just a few moments ago. “am i an actor here?”

“no, you’re in a band.” you answer mindlessly, still trying to process everything. timeline hopping. a multiverse. he was the living embodiment of the loki miniseries. “do you work for the time variance authority?”

“what the hell is that?”

“nevermind.” you say quickly when jeonghan looks at you like you’re the crazy one. but then again, this could just be a complete and utter hallucination from being sleep-deprived. you did have class all day and barely got a wink of sleep the night before. you pinch the inside of your thigh, jolting at the pain. nothing.

“i’m in a band.” jeonghan repeats, leaning his cheek on his hand and facing you. you ignore how your heart stutters in your chest. he was so pretty. “what instrument do i play?”

“no, not that type of band.” you rub the skin of your thigh. “you’re in a boyband. like you sing and dance and perform.”

“oh,” he looks considering. “with who?”

you open up your laptop again, hastily closing the tab opened to euphoria and tens of others opened to your research papers before giving up completely and just opening a new window. you type in ‘seventeen’, letting it load to the wikipedia page, and tilt the screen over to jeonghan. still, he crowds closer to you to take a closer look at the screen, making your cheeks flush just a little.

he scrolls down on the page, grinning a little when he sees the other names under the ‘members’ subheading, and clicks on the image. “oh my god, i’m blonde.”

you laugh. “why? do you not like it?”

“my poor scalp.” he bemoans. he spends a few more minutes reading through the page before sitting up straight again. “are we not together here?”

you look at him in disbelief. “together? as in, together together?”

“i mean are we dating here?”

you choke. “i don’t even know you?”

jeonghan folds his arms over his chest, the corners of his lips downturned. “not yet, then.”

“huh?”

“nothing,” he waves away. “i just have a running joke with the others about how many universes you and i have found each other in.”

“found each other?” you repeat, your tone high-pitched. “like…?”

“how many universes we’re together.”

“and how many universes were we? together, i mean.” you cough out, trying your hardest not to lose it completely.

jeonghan hums, “well, there was the one where you were president, like i told you before. i was the head of security. then there was the one where we were spies.” he winces. “that was a bad one. we got married in one—“

you wheeze. “ma-married?”

a small smile forms on jeonghan’s face, and his eyes go all soft, like he’s reliving it. “yeah. that one was really nice.”

a comfortable silence settles between the two of you as jeonghan fiddles with his fingers. you, on the other hand, are trying not to hyperventilate, because what the actual fuck was happening right now? you’re still not completely unconvinced that this isn’t a prank. you’re half-waiting for someone to pop out from behind you with a camera and say, “haha, sike, you complete loser! did you really believe all that?”

but it doesn’t come. what does, however, is a little beeping noise from jeonghan’s pocket. he pulls out a little contraption, not unlike a compact mirror, only it has little buttons and a little screen, like one of those cartoon ones from totally spies or kim possible. your eyes turn as wide as saucers when joshua fucking hong shows up on the screen with a nonplussed expression on his face.

“where the hell are you?” the man in the screen demands. “i said earth-674, not earth-574, you idiot!”

“earth-574.” you say to yourself. “earth-574.” wow, is everything wavy or are you just dizzy?

“shut up, mingyu was distracting me.” jeonghan whined. “but look who i found!” unceremoniously, he shoves the little device into your face.

joshua’s face goes from annoyed to pleasantly surprised. “oh, y/n!”

“hi.” you manage, before you have to rest your head against the cold counter. “i’m going crazy. this is a hallucination. maybe i’m high. or this is a dream.”

“not in this one, huh?” joshua asks. jeonghan laughs, reaches out to pet your hair.

“not yet.”

“jun’s coming to get you.”

“okay.” jeonghan responds, before closing the device and pocketing it again. “will you be okay?” he asks you. you press your cheek against the granite.

you look at him with an unimpressed expression. “you try being told by a k-pop superstar that there are different universes and timelines and that he’s a timeline bouncer!”

“timeline hopper.” jeonghan corrects. “don’t worry, you won’t remember any of this.”

“i won’t what?” you demand.

jeonghan pulls out a spray bottle. “this won’t hurt.”

“you— i— what?”

“i’ll find you in this one. just wait for me, okay?” he grins, before pressing a quick peck to your cheek. you feel yourself go completely red from that. then he spritzes at you, and you collapse against the counter.

told you you weren’t the protagonist.

-

“shit!” you swear, groggily getting up from the counter. it was half past twelve, and you were meant to close up an hour ago. you must’ve fallen asleep.

quickly, you shove your laptop into your bag, throw off your apron and shove it into your locker. you had a nine o’clock class tomorrow, and now your sleep schedule would be absolutely fucked.

just as you’re about to shoulder your bag however, you spot a crumpled ten dollar bill on the counter. you don’t remember that being there. you shrug, folding it into the tips jar before leaving the shop.

-

your eyes are watching your laptop screen intently as nate holds a gun against maddy’s temple. you swear to god, if you ever saw jacob elordi in real life, you’d mess him up. he played an asshole a little too well for your liking.

suddenly, the bell at the entrance rings, and you quickly pause the episode and close your laptop.

“hi, welcome to starbucks, what can i get you—“ your voice trails off as the person walks up to the register, face hidden behind a mask and hair secured underneath a bucket hat. he looks vaguely familiar.

“three americanos, please.” he responds swiftly, pulling out his card.

you tap it against the machine dutifully, ringing his order up.

“it’ll just be a minute.” you say. “can i get a name for the order?”

you can see the way he pauses and seems to hesitate, fidgeting a little. odd, you think to yourself. it’s just a name.

but then he looks back up to you, and you know exactly where you know him from.

“jeonghan.”

Chapter Text

it’s not like you meant to hide whatever it was you were doing with jeonghan from soonyoung.

it was just… well, complicated. it was, like you said before, ‘whatever it was you were doing with jeonghan’. you think labels are stupid, anyway.

you’re tracing nonsensical shapes onto jeonghan’s chest, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulder, bringing you so close to him your nose is practically tucked into the crook of his neck. it’s a little after one of your… sessions, and you’re wondering just how bad it would be if you admitted that you liked what happened after sex as much as you liked the sex.

“i’m going to get some water.” you mumble, untangling yourself from him to stop your mind from going any further. jeonghan whined, making grabby hands at you as you shrugged on his discarded shirt and pulled on some sleep shorts. you tie your hair up, making a face at him when he pouted.

“come back.” he frowned.

“i’ll only be a minute, you big baby.” traitorously, a fond smile makes its way to your face, and you lean down to press a kiss onto jeonghan’s lips. he tugs you closer, kissing you slowly, languidly, his tongue dancing across the seam of your lips.

you pull away when one of his hands begin to wander up the side of your shorts. “menace.” you say with absolutely no bite. jeonghan just grins at you, pulling his blanket up to his shoulders.

“bring me some, too!”

you shake your head, leaving a crack of his bedroom door open, much to his distaste. you can hear him complaining as you make your way to the kitchen, and shake the enamour from your expression.

you’d have to be quick. you didn’t tell anyone you were coming over and it’d be such a hassle if you had to explain yourself. you filled the cups with water, leaning against the wall as you waited and letting your mind wander again.

what you had with jeonghan was nice, simple. a mutual agreement that was convenient for you both. you liked hanging out with him and hanging out with him. you liked how easy conversation flowed between the two of you, how silences were never awkward and how warm his bed was. you liked how he smiled at you, how pretty his laugh was, how he made you laugh.

you were so lost in your head that you hadn’t noticed soonyoung walking over, rubbing his eyes and double-taking at you and the now overflowing cup.

“y/n?” he called out, making you jump. you fumbled for the cup, cursing under your breath when it spilled over to the floor. “what’re you…” his eyes narrowed. “did you just—“

“no.” you answered quickly, placing tissue paper on the wet floor and wiping it with your foot. you filled up the other cup, mentally smacking your head against the wall when you realised how incriminating it would be.

“you did!” soonyoung exclaimed. “you, you,” he flounders for a word. “with my band member, really?”

“what with your band member?” you asked innocently, picking up the cups.

“you!” your friend just keeps saying, pointing at the cups. “two?”

“incredible observation skills, kwon soonie.” you say, bumping your hip against his. “now will you quit it?”

“you’re having sex with one of my band members?” soonyoung continues anyway, lowering his voice slightly. you laugh at just how in shock he seems to be. “without telling me?”

“do i need your permission? i’m a grown woman.”

“who is it?” soonyoung demanded. “is it jihoon? if it’s jihoon i’m going to throw a fit.”

“why are you two being so loud?”

jeonghan emerges, thankfully dressed. soonyoung’s attention is momentarily diverted, and you take the opportunity to slink past them both and race towards jeonghan’s bedroom, closing the door resolutely behind you. you take a sip of water before placing both cups on the table, slinking back into the warm sheets.

not two minutes later, the door opens, making you peer out from your cocoon. jeonghan scrunches his nose at you.

“did you have to abandon me with soonyoung?”

“as if you wouldn’t do the same.” you stuck your tongue out at him. “did you tell him?”

he sank down to the bed beside you, pulling your back to his chest and nosing at your neck. “i barely got a word out. he was busy speculating who you’re sleeping with.”

you look back at him. “he didn’t connect the dots?”

jeonghan laughs. “nope. he didn’t even consider me an option, which i’m not sure whether or not i should be offended by.”

you turn in his hold, pressing a kiss to his nose. “there, there,” you reach out to smooth down his hair. he leans into your touch, and you ignore how your heart races in your chest. “should i be worried about jihoon coming to kill me?”

-

it’s safe to say soonyoung’s not any closer to uncovering who you’re sleeping with now than he was three weeks ago.

he interrogated jihoon once he got home, much to the younger’s annoyance. his eyes had flickered between you and jeonghan in absolute disbelief. thankfully, he understood the pleading look in your eyes and rebuffed soonyoung, simply walking away when he demanded if he knew who you were fooling around with.

he’s made up an insane amount of theories too, namely:

1. it had to be wonwoo. you could’ve just been at his dorm because the water dispenser upstairs was broken. evidence: you mentioned that you liked wonwoo’s new glasses at dinner the night before.
2. it was definitely joshua. evidence: you two got along a little too well and had the same hobbies. joshua gifted you a bracelet last week.
3. soonyoung was such a fool, it was minghao! evidence: you always go out drinking together. one thing could’ve led to another.

you just laugh at soonyoung when he brings it up, squish his cheek, and then disappear into jeonghan’s bedroom.

you think soonyoung has to get it when he drops by unannounced, and you’re up against the headboard, jeonghan’s eyes looking up at you from between your legs with something only distinguishable as desire.

“hyung, you have to know something!” soonyoung barges in, barely giving you and jeonghan enough time to scramble upright in a position not as incriminating as before. instead, jeonghan leans up against the headboard next to you, leaning his head against your shoulder. “tell me!”

jeonghan just sighs. “hoshingie, it’s so obvious.”

“it really, really is.” you deadpan when you realize he in fact, hasn’t gotten it.

soonyoung pays you no mind, beginning to pace before the foot of jeonghan’s bed.

“it’s not wonwoo. it’s not shua-hyung. jihoon would kill me if i ever insinuated it was him again. can’t be any of the maknaes, you said they’re like your kids.” he listed. “can’t be mingyu.”

soonyoung shoots you a desperate look. “are you sure it’s not myungho?”

“you have to be kidding me.” you say as jeonghan giggles into your neck. to make things even worse, he wraps his arms around your waist, bodily pulling you closer to him and shooting soonyoung a pointed look.

“fine, i get it!” hoshi pouts dramatically. “you two wanna spend some time alone. some best friends you are.” he mutters. you inwardly slap your forehead.

with one last exaggerated sniff, soonyoung leaves jeonghan’s room, closing the door behind him.

you two sit in silence before you turn to face jeonghan.

“‘best friends’? i’m basically on your lap and he thinks we’re best friends?” you say, voice veering on a touch of insanity.

jeonghan laughs. “leave him be. he’ll get it soon enough.” his gaze drops to your lips. you roll your eyes. “now where were we?”

at the living room, soonyoung gasps, catching seungkwan’s attention.

“what is it, hyung?” the younger asks curiously.

“it’s seungcheol!” hoshi announces, beginning to cackle.

seungkwan lets his head fall against the table top.

-

“what do you mean it’s not you?” hoshi whines. “it has to be!”

seungcheol rolls his eyes, presses play on the paused drama he was engaged with before the younger had interrupted him.

“hoshi, at this point you have to be wilfully blind to not know who y/n’s fooling around with.”

soonyoung collapses onto his friend’s bed, waving his limbs around. “whoooo is it?”

seungcheol sighs, pauses his drama again, lamenting at nam joohyuk on the screen.

“list out whoever’s left from the possibilities.”

“it’s not you.” soonyoung says. “it’s not shua-hyung. not wonwoo or jihoon. not mingyu or myungho. none of the kids.”

seungcheol looks at him, trying to convey the message through his eyes.

soonyoung sits up quickly. “IT’S DOKYEOMMIE!”

seungcheol presses play.

-

“it is not dokyeom.” you say, making a face. “he’s like, my brother. that would be so weird!”

soonyoung narrows his eyes. “i’m sure it’s dokyeom. you’re lying to me!”

from where he’s lounging on the sofa, jeonghan snorts.

you glare at him in response before looking back to hoshi. “soonyoungie,” you say gently. “it’s really not dokyeom.”

“then it’s junnie!”

sensing your distress, jeonghan says, “hoshi-yah, come have a snack with hyung. leave y/n be.”

he stands, takes hoshi’s hand, and with one last smile to your direction, the two men leave the dorm, putting on their masks and slipping on their shoes.

once they leave, the silence is absolutely palpable.

you sigh. to be completely honest, you’re confused. at first, you hadn’t wanted soonyoung to know because it would complicate things. but you’ve complicated everything for yourself.

you’re falling for jeonghan.

it’s so cliche to fall for a friend with benefits, but how could you not when jeonghan looks at you like that, and smiles at you like that, and holds you so close you’re not sure where you end and he begins?

but isn’t it a show of how incompatible you are that hoshi chooses not to even consider jeongahn as an option for the person you’ve been seeing?

you’re falling in love with yoon jeonghan, free-falling in fact, and you’re beyond terrified.

-

when jeonghan comes back to his room, it’s past ten at night. you’re a lump on his bed, your head barely peeking out of the mess of blankets.

he smiles fondly, putting down his things and walking to the bathroom.

you stir awake when he finally slides into bed beside you.

“hi.” you murmur, sleep-addled brain leaning into him. he’s warm.

“hi, yourself.” he presses a kiss to your hair, and curls around you. “how was your day?”

“went to bother vernon after you left.” you loosely link your pinky finger with his. “he showed me his song. it sounds pretty.”

“he hasn’t even showed me it.” jeonghan whines, but it has no bite.

“it’s not my fault i’m so irresistible.” he mock gags, and you sleepily paw at his chest. “i’m too tired to get mad.”

“go to sleep.” jeonghan says, running his hands into your hair. you hum contentedly. “tell me about it tomorrow.”

“okay.” you yawn, resting your head on his chest. he holds you like you belong with him. “love you.”

jeonghan freezes.

the silence goes on for far too long, but when he looks down at you, you’re already fast asleep, breathing even.

the corners of his lips quirk up.

“love you too.”

-

soonyoung grumbles as he trudges to jeonghan’s room. why does he always have to be the one to wake him up? would it kill seungkwan or jihoon to do it once in a while?

“lazy butts.” he harrumphs. “little weasels. why me?”

nevertheless, he walks down the hallway, and knocks on his hyung’s door twice before walking in.

“hyung, wake u—“ he stops himself.

oh.

you’re so perfectly entangled with jeonghan that soonyoung doesn’t believe you haven’t been there all your life. for someone who claims to hate cuddling or sharing a bed with someone, jeonghan doesn’t seem to mind you in his space. in fact, he even has an arm around your waist, his fingers curled inwards like he’s scared you’ll slip away.

soonyoung smiles to himself. you were all right, he really should’ve gotten it straight off the bat.

you two were perfect for each other.

soonyoung takes one last look at you two, and slowly closes the door. he’d give you another fifteen minutes.

Chapter Text

“do you ever wonder,” you start and then stop, hesitance rolling off of you in waves.

“do i ever wonder what?” jeonghan asks, his voice guarded, strong, like it’s never been with you before. you turn over to look at him from where he’s lounging in his own lawn chair, pathetic and barely carrying his weight.

you think of him.

jeonghan at eighteen on the first day of o-week, dark brown hair curling around his eyes like a dream. a stuck up, annoying dream. one where you wake up irritated by. jeonghan at nineteen stuck in the car with you in a highway with so much traffic you can’t see to the city, his fingers making that tap-tap-tap sound you hate against the window pane. jeonghan at twenty at his first part-time job with newly pink hair tucked underneath a beret. you called him strawberry shortcake for a week and he giggled and took it in stride. jeonghan at twenty-one when he first met sojung, the happiness in his eyes so foreign to you. not that you had never seen jeonghan happy before, because you had (when you slipped on a puddle on the linoleum floors of his bathroom, when you got him a coffee during an all-nighter, when you recounted an outrageous story from your politics class), but because you weren’t the cause of it.

jeonghan at twenty-two with looking up at the sun melting into the ocean, with lips so pink and cheekbones so high and the first time you think god, i want to kiss him. jeonghan at twenty-three with his arm over your shoulders the first time you had ever seen him cry. jeonghan at twenty-four with a full-time job he hated and a new apartment he shared with sojung and scarce, barely replied to text messages. jeonghan at twenty-five broken up with sojung and nursing the bottle of soju you kept under your kitchen sink for occasions like this, your hands carding through his hair as he remained still on your lap.

jeonghan at twenty-six the first time he kissed you, like coming home. like he was meant to be there all along, like he was meant to be with you as more than just your best friend. like he hadn’t gotten back together with sojung just the week before. jeonghan at twenty-nine after three years of radio silence, saying okay to your stupid request of going on a trip together when he had all the reasons in the world to say no.

“do i ever wonder what?” jeonghan asks again when your silence goes on for too long.

what can you even say that won’t make you sound like a pathetic, pining fool in love with their forever friend who has shown very clearly, all throughout this lacklustre and terrible trip with awful jeju weather and early closing times, that he does not regard you with the same fondness he had when he was twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five (, twenty six)?

do you ever wonder what it would be like if you weren’t so scared of ruining everything? do you ever wonder what it would be like if you hadn’t let that fear ruin us completely? sits on the tip of your tongue. you scratch that off. do you ever wonder what if would be like if my timing wasn’t terrible?

do you ever wonder what it would be like if i had told you i loved you when we were twenty-six instead of ‘we can forget this ever happened’?”

you don’t know which question you want to ask the most, but it all suddenly comes tumbling out of your mind like vomit. you open your mouth, and—

jeonghan’s phone rings.

your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. you’re always, always too late.

sojung’s name lights up the screen, a picture of her smiling at you like she’s mocking you. look what i have, her bright eyes say, look at what you never will. jeonghan picks up his phone. there’s no hesitation or reluctance in the way he slides on accept, glancing over at you with a silent apology and walking out of the room and out to the balcony, closing the glass door behind him so you can’t listen.

you take a sip of wine. the truth of the matter is this—

jeonghan will always be your maybe. and even sadder, he will always be the person you don’t mind shouldering the pain for. because first and foremost, before you are in love with him, he is your best friend. there is not a single person in the world who you think knows you, sees you, like jeonghan does. that comes with years and years of companionship, of nights spent talking about nothing and everything, of days walking by his side in the hot summer sun, of toes in the sand with water nipping at your ankles.

one day, you think to yourself as a hint of a smile forms on jeonghan’s face as he speaks into the phone, one day, you’re gonna look back and realise i’m the one who got away, that is, if he doesn’t know that already.

you down the rest of your glass and get up off of the chair, placing the glass on the countertop and heading into your own room. the air conditioner is still broken and the room is still dustier than dirt, but you collapse onto the bed all the same, ignoring the bedsprings that dig into your back.

you don’t think this can ever be saved.

you asked jeonghan to go on this one last stupid trip in an effort to remind him of how great it all used to be. how fun it was when you were twenty-somethings eager to trapeze through the world with the courage only present in youth. but now all there is are stilted conversations and quiet resentment.

you turn onto your side when you hear the door of your room creak open just the tiniest bit, and shut your eyes. four years ago, jeonghan wouldn’t have even hesitated before he climbed into bed beside you. he knows when you’re sad, knows when you’re feeling like the loneliest person in the world. which is why it hurts more when all you hear is a muted sigh before the door closes again.

yoon jeonghan, the first tear slides down your face, fading into your pillow and disappearing like it had never been there. i wish i never met you. i would rather have never known you at all than to know what it felt to lose you.

the next two days pass by in a blur. you don’t bother engaging jeonghan in the mindless chatter you know he hates. instead, you two drive through the city in uncomfortable silence, so choking you’re sure your twenty-two year old self would grab onto your shoulders and shake.

when you reach the airport, you’re sure this is it. this is all of yoon jeonghan that you will ever be able to have— through awkward interactions and words that have no more weight. through mutual friends and eye contact from across the room. through quiet ‘hellos’ and unwarranted ‘goodbyes’. he is all but a stranger in a familiar body.

and you would just have to be okay with that, because no matter how much you want to scream and yell for jeonghan to wake up and remember that your feelings be damned, you’re the only person he’s ever told about his mother, his crippling need to strive for perfection because that’s all he’s ever known, how he punched his sister’s ex boyfriend so hard his knuckles split, you don’t know him anymore.

“well,” you say, voice slightly croaky from disuse. you haven’t spoken to jeonghan beyond a ‘good morning’ and a ‘what do you want for lunch?’ since that night. he hasn’t protested. “this has been… enlightening.”

the corners of jeonghan’s mouth lift, but not in the cute, endearing way you’ve seen. it looks like resignation. “it has.”

you fiddle with the handle of your carry on. after today, jeonghan will go back to hwaseong, to his perfect life with his perfect girlfriend and his dreams of two and a half kids and a white picket fence and you will go back to seoul, to your not-so-perfect life with your not-so-perfect job and roots that will never stay in the ground for too long for them not to be ephemeral, fleeting.

“i—“

“i—“

you laugh a little, and jeonghan does too. he’s so gorgeous like this, backlit by the sun streaming in from the glass windows of the airport, black hair a stark contrast to the white walls.

“i’m going to miss you.” jeonghan finally decides on. you can see how carefully he’s chosen the words. “i hope you take care of yourself.”

it’s as jeonghan of a ‘goodbye’ as you’ll ever get.

“yeah,” you settle on, ignoring how your heart twinges in your chest. “you too.”

then you take your suitcase and turn away first, because you don’t want your very last memory of jeonghan to be his back to you, walking away and leaving you in the loneliest place in the world.

every step away from him feels like torture. you don’t want to know if he feels the same, if he regrets that this is his very last view of you.

“you’re like the sun,” jeonghan had said at twenty-five, two shots too far with his hand curling onto the side of your hip.

“if you’re calling me a big ball of gas, yoon jeonghan, i swear to god i’m going to shove you off right now.”

“no,” he doesn’t laugh at your joke like you thought he would. instead, he turns over to lay flat on his back and looks up at you, vulnerable, without a hint of humour in his eyes, “i would be lost without you.”

it’s funny because the only person you’d ever feel lost without is jeonghan, and he seems to be doing just fine without you.

you’re about to walk into your boarding gate when a hand grabs your wrist. on instinct, you shrug it off, but when you turn around, jeonghan is holding onto you, breathing out heavily like he’s just ran past six boarding gates. which clearly, is exactly what he’s done.

“i—,” jeonghan cuts himself off, before shouldering through, looking at you with determination. “what were going to ask me that night?”

“what?” you ask stupidly.

“that night before sojung called. what did you want to ask me?”

you feel so, so tired, and so, so old. “that doesn’t matter.”

“it matters,” jeonghan insists. “it matters to me.”

“it shouldn’t.” you clutch the ticket in your hand, the edges of it crinkling. “and it doesn’t have to.”

“y/n,” he says, desperation lacing his tone. “tell me. please.”

you sigh, look up at the announcement board above his head. your flight’s on time, and you’re supposed to be boarding now. he’s supposed to already be on the plane.

“i was going to ask you if you ever think about me.”

jeonghan furrows his eyebrows. “of course i do.”

“if you ever think about us.”

“always.”

“and if you ever regret how we ended.”

“we ended?”

“jeonghan, don’t be stupid.”

he kisses his teeth, annoyed. “how could we have ended when we never even began?”

you roll your eyes, “jeonghan, let’s not get into this here. you’re supposed to be on a plane. i’m supposed to be on a plane. this trip was a pathetic attempt at trying to be friends again—“

“you’ll always be my best friend.” jeonghan interrupts you.

“no,” and somehow this hurts more than that night you pushed him away, the day after when you insisted you could forget the kiss ever happened, “no, i won’t. and you won’t be mine.”

the silence that settles after that is loud. there is too much history on the line here. there are too many memories, but how have they all been tainted? you guess this is what happens when everything is too little, too late.

jeonghan will always be your what-if.

a boarding announcement for your flights rings through the airport speakers, and you take a step back, doing your best to ignore the look of hurt on jeonghan’s face.

“jeonghan, go home.” you say as gently as you can. “there’s nothing left here. sojung’s waiting for you back home.”

it takes a second for him to process what you’ve said, but once he does, he takes a step back as well.

then he turns and walks away, and when you’re in the seat of your too-empty plane, you tuck your face into your knees and start to cry.

almost is the worst way to love someone.

but that wasn't the case at all for you and jeonghan. you were two people who loved each other.

just at the wrong time.

Chapter Text

as most things do, it all starts with seungkwan.

you’re all sprawled around the table in the living room of seungcheol’s frat house, the party around you dwindling down. this wasn’t usually your scene, you’d have to admit. the crazy levels of testosterone and the free flow beer was enough to to deter you, but jeonghan insisted that you come, and you were nothing if not weak to his requests. it was seungcheol’s first party since he was voted president after all.

“truth or dare, soonyoung-hyung!” seokmin said, voice far too loud for him to be anything but drunk. if his pink cheeks weren’t show enough, he was also upside down on the couch, and you’d be surprised if vernon wouldn’t have to move him back upright before all his blood rushed to his brain.

“dare!” soonyoung bellowed, equally, if not more, drunk. from beside him, wonwoo sighed, though his fond eyes gave his whole act up.

seokmin hummed as he tried to think of a dare, and mingyu unconsciously hummed along.

“i wanna go home.” you whispered into jeonghan’s ear. your best friend snickered, taking another sip of whatever awful concoction jihoon had come up with. just because he didn’t drink didn’t mean he couldn’t make it a terrible experience for everyone.

“ten more minutes okay, sweetheart?” he replies, fingers dancing on your shoulder.

“jump into the pool!” seokmin finally screams, making you flinch. “naked!”

“no, no, soonie, don’t do that—“ you start to admonish, but soonyoung pays you no heed, standing up and wobbling slightly before whipping off his t shirt.

“deal!” soonyoung bellows, and races out the door, wonwoo and seokmin hot on his heels for entirely different reasons. you can hear a cheer and the telltale splash of water.

you just lean back against the couch, beginning to play with the ends of jeonghan’s hair. he had dyed it back to brown a few days ago, and the strands were infinitely softer than when he sported a head of pink.

“your turn, y/n!” seungkwan said.

“nope. i’m just here for another,” you tapped on the phone of your screen. “six minutes before jeonghan can drop me off.”

jeonghan shrugs when seungkwan pins him with a look. “what she said.”

“that’s enough time for one question.” mingyu insisted, his cheeks flushed and his hair ruffled. seungcheol nodded, doing nothing to fix his shirt, which was now entirely gashed on one side, revealing the hard planes of his arm.

jeonghan looked over to you. you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.

you pondered it over, before acquiescing. “one question.”

“truth or dare!” seungkwan asked, smiling at his win.

“truth.”

“that’s no fun.” jun whined.

“i said one question, not that i was doing to jump into the pool or something.”

“fine!” seungkwan huffed, crossing his arms. his lips formed a pout as he thought over what to ask you, muttering under his breath quietly before he looked back at you with a victorious glint in his eyes. “when was the last time you went on a date?”

“huh.” you stated, sitting up. you wracked your brain, trying to come up with an answer to his question. to be completely honest, you don’t think you’ve been on a date for a while. it had to be normal, you were in your last year of university and you couldn’t go out every weekend like you had when you were a freshman. instead, you swapped nights out at clubs and kisses with strangers for your laptop and slaving away on your thesis. luckily for you, jeonghan had opted out of the same thing, keeping you company on most days. “i think my last date was with…”

then the horror set in.

wonwoo walked back into the room, his jacket draped over a sopping wet soonyoung. from behind them, seokmin was videoing the whole thing on his phone.

“…wonwoo.” you said, mostly to yourself, in absolute dread.

“what?” seungkwan asked. “i can’t hear you.”

“wonwoo.” you repeated, just a tad bit louder. you watched as his eyes widened, before he shared a look with seungcheol and minghao. “before he started dating soonyoung.”

before. he. started. dating. soonyoung. you held your head in your hands. wonwoo had been dating soonyoung for the past two years. you hadn’t been on a date in two years.

from beside you, jeonghan, like he had sensed the distress in you, slung an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his chest and placing his drink onto the floor.

“it’s fine.” he tried comforting you. “you’ve been really busy with your thesis.”

“two years, jeonghan!” you blubbered. “two! years! oh my god, i’m gonna die alone in an apartment filled with nothing but the stench of the person i used to be before i stopped being fun!”

“you’re still fun.” jeonghan insisted, petting your hair as you tucked your head into the crook of his chin. “remember last week when we got wine drunk in my apartment instead of finishing the last of the research paper?”

“oh my god, you’re both boring and old.” mingyu said, pouring himself a shot. he downed it quickly, making a face. “how is getting wine drunk at home fun?”

“shut up, jerk!” you threw your arms over jeonghan’s shoulders. to his merit, your best friend took it in stride, quickly moving his hands from your hair to wrap them around your waist. the angle was a bit awkward, but he made it work, rubbing circles onto your back.

you know it might’ve come off as overdramatic, but you swear you used to be a fun person. you used to be the type of person who stayed out past midnight, dancing surrounded by your friends and not giving a single thought to your early morning lecture the next day. you guess you were mourning your adolescence.

“look,” seungkwan started, expression pinched and slightly guilty. “if you feel so bad about it, y/n, i could set you up with someone.”

you paused in your dramatics to peer over your shoulder. jeonghan’s hand on your back stopped its motions.

“what do you mean?” you ask warily.

“i could set you up on a date with someone.”

you thought about it for a second before shaking your head definitively. “you don’t even know my type.”

“that’s easy. what’s your type?” seungkwan asked, pulling out his phone. “i probably have a friend that matches the exact description.”

you didn’t underestimate seungkwan’s social circle. it honestly seemed like he knew everyone on campus, and even some people off of it and from other schools. once, you had left him to go to the bathroom and when you came back, he was exchanging numbers with the part-timer at the sunglasses kiosk.

jeonghan made a noise of interruption. “kwannie,” he started in a warning tone. “don’t pressure her do something she doesn’t want to.”

“obviously i won’t do it if she doesn’t want to, hyung.” the younger man said. “but she’s the one who’s having a quarter life crisis about not going on a date in two years.”

“two years.” you say to yourself again in horror. you look down to where seungkwan’s nestled on the floor. “i’ll do it.”

he cheered. “okay, so tell me what you want.”

suddenly, you felt all the eyes on you. even jeonghan, who thus far had been very accommodating to you and your hysterics, leaned forward on his elbows to listen closer. which was a bit stupid of him since he was quite literally pressed against you on the couch, your knees touching.

“um, well,” you ignored everyone’s curious gazes, beginning to fiddle with the edge of your skirt. “someone who has a good sense of humour, i think? someone who i’ll be able to have a good time with. like, we won’t necessarily have to go out clubbing or something to have fun.”

seungkwan nods, humming as he begins scrolling through his contacts list. “give me more.”

“someone pretty.” you continue. “okay, that sounds superficial. i mean someone who has a pretty smile.”

another hum.

“someone trustworthy. who’s good at taking care of people. but quietly, if you know what i mean.”

mingyu makes a choking noise, but minghao silences him with a look. you wonder what that’s about.

“okay, i got it.” seungkwan says.

“already?” you sidle back into jeonghan’s arms, your best friend accepting you easily. he flashes you a quick smile when you make a questioning noise at why he was being so quiet. you’d have to ask him about it later.

“kim doyoung from econ class, na jaemin from management—“

“isn’t he like, a year younger than chan?” jun interrupted. “renjun’s age?”

“they have to be around my age.” you add quickly. “i can’t go on a date with jailbait.”

jeonghan snorts.

“crossing him off the list.” seungkwan says dutifully. “jeong jaehyun—“

“my friend, jeong jaehyun?” mingyu interrupts. “my jaehyun?”

“your jaehyun?” a shit-eating smile starts to form on seungcheol’s face. “is there something you want to share with the class, mingyu?”

the boy shakes his head, cheeks tinging pink. “whatever, i didn’t mean it that way.”

“i’m not going on a date with mingyu’s boyfriend.” you say teasingly. jeonghan laughs into your ear, and you look up to smile at him. he returns it, lacing your fingers together and placing them onto his lap.

seungkwan follows the motion like a hawk. minghao meets his eyes, and they look exasperatedly at each other. are you seeing what i’m seeing? he goes back to his contacts list.

“min yoongi the ta for music production, and nakamoto yuta from modern art.” seungkwan finishes. “those three, what about it, y/n?”

you look at jeonghan. he shrugs. it’s your call.

“okay.” you agree.

-

“how do i look?” you ask as you enter your living room that wasn’t quite a real living room. it was really just a sofa on one corner that jeonghan had claimed as his own when you began leasing the apartment and enough space between it and your kitchen.

“pretty.” joshua says from where he’s perched on the floor, sorting through his beads.

jeonghan looks up from his laptop, giving you a once-over. you twirl, your dress flowing around your knees.

exaggeratedly, he presses a hand over his heart, doubling over. “you’re so gorgeous you’ve sent me into cardiac arrest.”

you laugh, picking up your purse. “i’m leaving.”

“text me when you get there.” jeonghan instructs. “and if you ever want to leave.”

“i know.” you say, beginning to slip on your shoes. “hopefully this turns out good.”

“are you nervous?” joshua asks.

“a little.” you admitted, adjusting the strap on your ankle. you gave him a small smile. “but mostly excited, i think. see you!” with one last wave, you close the apartment door behind you.

once you do, jeonghan slams his laptop shut. “we have to go scope out that date.”

joshua rolls his eyes. “doyoung’s a nice guy. we have social psych together.”

“still!” jeonghan stands up, but his friend just tugs him back down onto the couch.

“don’t meddle.”

“i’m just looking out for our best friend!” he defends. “what if he’s actually a creep—“

“best friend?” joshua cuts in.

jeonghan knits his eyebrows together. “do you not think of y/n as your best friend?”

“do you?”

“of course i do—“

“just your best friend?” joshua stresses.

“you’re being weird.” jeonghan says after a moment’s silence. if joshua didn’t know him any better, he’d think jeonghan was completely nonchalant and unaffected by his words. but he knew jeonghan so much better than that, and caught the quiver in his gaze. he returned to his bracelet.

-

“how was it?” seungkwan asks right as he opens the door.

doyoung had just dropped you off at seungkwan’s apartment, where you had dinner plans with him, vernon and chan.

you considered his question, toeing off your shoes and placing them onto the shoe rack. doyoung was… nice. he was gentlemanly, had pulled out your chair for you, and paid even though you had insisted on splitting the bill. he had a wide, kind smile and pretty-sounding laugh. he was so nice you didn’t mind the date going overtime, going past the afternoon and into the evening.

“it was okay.” you answered. “hi, guys.” you ruffled vernon and chan’s hair. the two had their headphones on, their gazes fixed on their laptop screens.

“just okay?” seungkwan demanded. “shua-hyung said he was a shoo in! what was wrong with him?”

“there wasn’t anything wrong with him, seungkwannie, don’t say it like that.” you admonished, settling onto the sofa. “it was just…”

“just?”

“i don’t know.” you ran a hand through your hair. “we didn’t click, i think. the jokes didn’t really land, and i think we’d be better off as friends.”

“but—“

your shrill ringtone interrupted whatever seungkwan was about to say, and you swiped accept once you saw who the caller was.

“hey—“

“why didn’t you reply to my messages?” jeonghan whined. “do you know how worried i was? joshuji had to stop me from going to that stupid cafe!”

“i’m sorry, hannie.” you laughed, angling your body away from seungkwan’s scrutinising gaze. “i forgot to check my phone.”

“where are you now?” you can hear the rustling of his bedsheets. a small smile forms on your face when you imagine what your best friend must look like right now, all sleep ruffled and cozy in bed.

“seungkwan’s. i told you i was having dinner with the kids, remember?”

“i remember.” he said, sounding pouty. “i just missed you.”

“i missed you too, you big baby. we can watch that drama when i get home, okay?”

“okay.” jeonghan responded, still sounding a bit put out. “don’t be too long, i don’t want you walking alone in the dark.”

“okay.” you said, unaware of how wide your smile had gotten. seungkwan nudged vernon in the abdomen, and the younger man took off his headphones and looked over at you, a contemplative expression on his face when he realised what you were doing. “i’ll see you later, hannie.”

“bye, sweetheart.”

you hung up, tracing down the side of jeonghan’s face on the contact picture you had put of him. it was back in sophomore year when he had silver hair, grinning at you as he cradled a camera in his hands. when you looked back up, having had your fill, you met seungkwan’s eyes.

“what?” you asked, looking behind you.

“nothing.” he stood from the sofa. “i’m ordering pizza.”

-

“jjong,” you called out from your room. “can you come here?”

from where he was splayed out across his bed, the man stretched before finally acquiescing. he padded to your room, feet in his trusty bunny slippers.

when you heard him at your doorway, you turned, “help me put on my necklace?”

jeonghan sighs exaggeratively, but walks over anyway. “what would you do without me?”

“not wear this necklace.”

he pinches the side of your neck, making you jolt. this close, you can feel his breath on your skin. his fingertips are soft as they soothe over the red mark.

“all done.” he murmurs after a while.

you shake yourself out of the reverie, and turn to smile at him. “thanks, jjong. drop me off?“

“of course.”

-

“this is so not what y/n meant when she said to drop her off.” jihoon commented as he slid into the booth beside jeonghan, who was discretely watching you and your date.

so far, min yoongi had three flaws:

1. he didn’t pull out your chair for you, opting to slink into his own without regard for you.
2. he offered to order for you, which you absolutely hated. jeonghan noticed that your smile had wavered, but you accepted anyway like he knew you would. you were far too nice for your own good.
3. he was now slurping down on his iced americano, the conversation had lulled into a standstill, and he wasn’t making an effort to keep talking to you.

“is it just me or do they seem awkward as hell?” jihoon said.

“if he hits the bottom of that cup before opening his mouth to speak to her i will walk over there.”

“so,” you said, trying to keep the conversation flowing, “seungkwan said you’re the ta for music production.”

“yup.” yoongi keeps drinking.

when it’s clear he won’t be continuing, you ask, “how’s that?”

“it’s grading a bunch of college kids’ mixtapes. it’s fine.”

“okay then.” you mumble, fiddling with the straw of your drink.

it returns to complete utter silence, and you decide it’s really not worth it to waste your thursday evening away with someone who so clearly doesn’t want to be spending time with you. you need to finish up your finance paper anyway, so you get up, making yoongi peer up curiously.

“well,” you say with a tight smile. “this was… fun. i’m gonna go. thanks.”

yoongi doesn’t even try to stop you or apologise, and you roll your eyes, turning on your heel and walking out of the coffee shop. the air is cool against your skin and you begin the trek back home.

“what the fuck was that?” jihoon hissed.

jeonghan swore he saw red, standing up and beginning to make his way over to the table yoongi was occupying. it was only jihoon’s hand on his wrist that stopped him from giving him a piece of his mind. which was filled with insults and expletives, by the way.

“you can’t make a scene, hyung.”

“and why not?”

“he’s the ta for my music production class.” jihoon reminded, and jeonghan deflated, sighing. “y/n would be embarrassed, too.”

“fine.” jeonghan bit out, though he did give min yoongi the hardest glare he could when he passed by him. jihoon just waved and led his hyung out. “i’m gonna head home and find y/n. you’re good to go alone?”

jihoon rolled his eyes. “i’m not a kid.”

jeonghan cooed, ruffling his hair. “of course you’re not.” he ducked away from the younger’s attempt to sock him in the shoulder and started briskly walking back to the apartment.

it took less than five minutes to do so when it should’ve taken seven, a feat jeonghan was quite impressed with himself for until he realised he couldn’t brag about it to you without you finding out about his stakeout. instead, he slowed down his ascent up the building and kicked off his shoes leisurely when he got past the door. joshua was still holed up in his room, undoubtedly working on his art history paper, so it gave jeonghan the perfect window to scope you out without his other best friend making snarky comments.

he knocked on your door quietly, and you called out a soft, “come in.”

you were perched on your bed, laptop before you and opened to your word document. “hey.” you said when you saw him. “how was your day?”

“it was okay.” jeonghan shrugged, “how was the date? i thought you’d be home later.”

you gave him a deadpanned look. “i saw you and jihoon in the corner, drop the act.”

he doesn’t even try to defend himself, instead slumping down into bed beside you. wordlessly, you scooch over and let him throw his arm over your shoulders, bringing you to his side easily. you sigh, moving your laptop from the bed onto your lap and continue typing.

the silence between you and jeonghan is always comfortable, and this time is no different. jeonghan thinks he can fall asleep like this, warm and cozy, your typing providing background noise. but before he can drift off, you finally speak.

“do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

he straightens up and looks over at you, but your eyes are firmly placed on your word document. you’ve written another lengthy paragraph.

“of course not.” jeonghan responds. “i mean, you drink too much coffee for your own good and always forget to put in fabric softener but—“

“jjong,” you close your laptop, moving it aside, and jeonghan knows you’re being serious. “i mean it.”

“hey,” he tries to coax you to look at him, but you stubbornly turn away. “is this because of what happened with yeonnie?”

“yoongi.” you corrected.

“whatever his name was he was an actual asshole, okay? and i’m not just saying that because i’m your best friend. he was rude and didn’t want to continue conversations and drank his coffee black. he was a jerk. there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“then why doesn’t anyone like me?” you collapse back into your pillows, shoving your face into them so you don’t have to look at jeonghan’s expression.

he curls himself into you, poking his head into the blankets and pulling them up over you. in freshman year when you were too tired to even wash your face, jeonghan would lay beside you. he’d claim it was to watch over you, but you always knew it was because he was tired, too. he was just much better at hiding it than you were. but now, you wonder if what he said was true.

“i like you.” he says quietly. “you’re the kindest person i know. you take care of other people. you make sure people know they’re loved. and i’m sorry for not showing you that we love you just as much, too.”

slowly, he reaches out, and when you don’t shrug him away, he pulls your back to his chest, wrapping his arms around your middle. traitorously, his heart thumps in his chest. this isn’t the first time he’s thought about kissing you, and it won’t be the last. through everything— bad exams, finals week, that argument you and your mother had for two months straight, jeonghan’s known he’s in love with you. he’s just been a little afraid to close the gap, and he certainly won’t do it now when you’re feeling down.

but you turn around and rest your head on his chest. your eyes are still shut, but you start to draw little circles on jeonghan’s chest.

“i like you, too.” you whisper. “thank you.”

you feel the ghost of lips against your forehead. “anytime.”

-

your date with nakamoto yuta goes a little too well for jeonghan’s liking.

for starters, when you get home, you’re grinning from ear to ear, and while happiness looks gorgeous on you, jeonghan’s always been too much of a selfish bastard not to feel the inklings of jealousy for not being the cause of your smile. but he shoves the feeling aside anyway, and smiles softly at you as joshua asks you questions.

you gush on and on about how nice he was and how all your jokes landed. how he walked you home and held your hand over the dinner table. how he had a pretty smile and pulled your chair out and worst of all, how you have a second date with him next week.

safe to say, jeonghan sulks.

joshua can’t stand it.

“just tell her,” he insists, poking jeonghan in the leg. the man just grunts in response, continuing to scroll through his instagram feed. seungkwan had just told him that apparently you can see it when someone views your story, and so he’s avoiding looking through yours in the case that it has a certain modern art major in it.

“jeonghan,” joshua kicks at him, and finally he looks up. “just tell her you like her.”

“i did.” jeonghan huffs, throwing his phone off to the side. it stumbles off the couch. “she told me she likes me too.”

“did you specify that you liking her means that you want to date her and kiss her and meet her parents—“

“i’ve already met her parents—“

“and hold her hand and i don’t know, make out with her—“

“okay, first of all,” jeonghan sits up. “you need to get a life. stop worrying about mine.” joshua rolls his eyes. “second, that would ruin everything.”

“ruin what?”

“our friendship. you think we could ever go back to being best friends if i told her i want to kiss her?”

his question is met with silence.

“exactly.” jeonghan leans back down onto the couch cushions. “i’d rather have her like this than to not have her at all.”

-

the whole jeonghan sulk monster issue reaches its climax when you look over to him, a soft expression in your eyes, and ask, “do you want to meet yuta?”

to which jeonghan responds, “fuck no,” in a room full of all your friends, gets up from where he’s sitting beside you, and walks out of soonyoung’s apartment.

for a second, you sit there dumbfounded, not quite processing what’s just happened, before jihoon starts to laugh awkwardly as he’s prone to when he knows something you don’t. beside him, minghao just watches with apt attention as you go through an entire plethora of human emotions.

it’s seungkwan who finally nudges you. “um, do you think maybe you should go after him?”

before he’s even finished with his sentence, you’re on your feet and racing out the door. jeonghan couldn’t have gone too far, and you’re bloody cold. you didn’t bother taking your coat with you or your proper shoes, and your toes feel like they’re about to freeze off your feet.

finally, after a few minutes walking briskly down the main road, you find jeonghan sitting on a park bench, a bunch of bunnies at his feet. it should be a comical sight, one that you definitely have a lot of questions about, but for now, all you do is march up to him. the bunnies disperse back to their burrow.

“what the hell was that?” you demand, breathing out intensely. there’s a reason why you barely passed track and field.

“what?” jeonghan asks blankly, as if he hadn’t just rebuffed you and escaped.

“you— what—,” you blubber for a while, “i asked you if you wanted to meet yuta and you said—“

“i said fuck no.” he says casually. “and i still say fuck no.”

“excuse me?” you feel yourself starting to get pink from indignation. “why not?”

“i don’t like him.”

“you haven’t even met him!” you exclaim, a tone of slight hysterics in your voice. “you don’t even know him!”

“and i’m happy to keep it that way.” jeonghan crosses his arms over his chest, and you feel the insane urge to just clobber him over the head with one of your sandals.

“you’re unbelievable.” you mutter, before pushing him to the side and sitting down yourself, crossing your legs so you can tuck your cold as hell toes into your thighs. “you’re my best friend. i want you to meet my—“

“boyfriend? you two are dating now?” jeonghan asks.

“what, no! we’re not together, and he has an ex he’s still hung up on. we’re friends!”

“good.”

“good?” you ask in disbelief. “good? good, what? that he’s hung up on his ex?”

“good that you’re not together.”

“why?”

“so i can do this.”

jeonghan leans over, cups your face, and brings his lips to yours.

warm is the first thing you register. right, is the second. it feels right. you realise you’re just sitting there stupidly, so you bring up your arms and join them around his shoulders, bringing him closer to you.

oh.

no one knows you like jeonghan. no one loves you like jeonghan. no one knows jeonghan like you, and no one loves jeonghan like you.

it’s been him all along.

when you two finally pull away for air, you’re shivering, and jeonghan pulls you closer up onto his lap, covering you with his oversized coat.

“i’m in love with you.” you two say in unison, before you both erupt into laughter.

jeonghan hides his face into the crook of your neck, and you run your hands through his hair.

“i’m sorry i didn’t see it sooner.” you whisper, pressing a kiss onto his cheek. when jeonghan looks back up at you, you’re blown away by the look of absolute adoration in his eyes. has he always looked at you like that?

“that doesn’t matter. you’re here now, aren’t you?” he says, before pulling you back in for another kiss. you’re sure he can feel your smile, but you don’t care because he’s smiling just as widely.

when he starts pressing kisses onto your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, your neck, you think— it’s funny. people search their entire lives for a love like this, and look at you— you managed to find it in your best friend, of all places.

Chapter Text

if you had to blame this whole debacle on one thing, you’d blame it on whatever group mark lee was from.

you knew the name of his group, you swear. you had to shout it out on one of the swoon’s interviews where you had to answer questions about your costars. it was something that was shortened to three letters, which seemed to be the norm in kpop groups. now, it wasn’t the first time you had to act alongside the newest kpop it person, but it was the first time that kpop it person was this bad at acting.

you had heard of mark lee before, who hadn’t? sm’s modern day golden boy who had debuted a staggering five times, six if you counted the drama you were working very hard to make sure would make the papers for more than just his pretty face. and everyone who had ears knew that he had talent when it came to music and the pen but when it came to crying in front of a camera, or reciting words with something other than a blank face? mark lee was absolutely hopeless.

more than once, you’ve wondered how someone so animated and endearing offscreen could be so stiff onscreen, but you guess there was a first time for everything.

now, where were you?

ah yes, the blame game.

you’d blame this all on mark lee. and buzzfeed. fucking buzzfeed.

-

when joshua told you you were trending, you grinned from glee. it was about time you did. not to sound conceited, but you knew you rising from the b-class to the a was a long time coming.

instead, your manager shoved his phone in your hand, and you swear your jaw dropped down the floor. because opened onto a random twitter page was the words:

did mark just expose the fact that y/n and jeonghan don’t get along… that’s so embarrassing for them omg

you gaped, looking from the sixty-eight thousand people who liked the tweet to your manager and back to the screen.

“how the fuck did this genius come to that conclusion?” you gritted out.

joshua sighed, plopping down onto the sofa beside you. “i have no idea, but that buzzfeed interview was a terrible idea and i knew it.”

“shua, this is not the time for an ‘i told you so’! i am not going to let my career die because of some fifteen year old on the internet who wants to hype up someone who didn’t even want to be here in the first place!”

“y/n,” joshua said, his tone disapproving. “don’t be so harsh on mark.”

“don’t tell me you think he’s as adorable as me.”

“i’ve never found you adorable a day in my life.”

you shoved a pillow in your face and screamed into it. your dermatologist was going to hate you.

“what the hell are we going to do?” you asked once you had screamed all your frustrations out. you were still on your press tour for the drama, and there was absolutely no way you could halt activities without it being suspicious and career-ruining.

“jeonghan mentioned his manager thinking of something, so we should head over to his agency.” joshua answered, typing on his phone and not paying attention to your scowl.

you forgot that before joshua was solely your manager, he was jeonghan’s. he used to work at pledis, where jeonghan was handled, before leaving and taking care of you. if anything, you should probably accredit your ascension to stardom to him. well, him and yourself.

“why can’t they come here?” you whined.

joshua finally looked up from his phone and gave you a very pointed look. then he moved his judgemental gaze across your apartment, which was littered with a bunch of your clothes and unopened pr boxes.

“noted.” you concede.

-

the thing is—

what twitter user marksluv0802 said about you and jeonghan wasn’t entirely untrue.

okay, you know what? marksluv0802 had hit the nail on the head.

you hate yoon jeonghan, and you’re sure he hates you too. if it wasn’t for how well you were getting paid for playing yet another second female lead in a romcom with sentimental melodrama undertones, you’d happily spend the rest of your career not crossing paths with him, but alas, he too was bribed by the fat paycheque that downgraded him from a leading man to a supporting one.

so you had been spending a lot of time in jeonghan’s vicinity, and thus, have been reminded of just how much you despise him. not only is he rude and condescending towards you, but he’s also a slob. he leaves his sweaters everywhere in the trailer you two share, never rinses his coffee cup and the stench of his body mist fills the room. you’ve had to ward off several suggestive looks towards you and open-ended questions about what you two do in there when the cameras aren’t rolling.

“sleeping. and not together.” you’ve answered over and over again, the most deadpan expression on your face.

anyway, you and jeonghan do not get along, but the worst part is that you haven’t been as good of an actress as you claim you are, and someone’s caught on.

it isn’t your fault, honestly. mark lee was terrible at interviews, leaning heavily on his natural charm instead of actually answering questions with merit, so you and jeonghan had to pick up the slack. arin, the female lead, was equally awful, except she didn’t have the endearment mark had. suffice to say, you’ve very little sleep the night before an interview, and are pretty cranky before and after it.

you didn’t know buzzfeed’s stupid camera was still rolling when you moved out of frame, jeonghan on your heels. you had kissed your teeth when he nudged the back of your heel with the front of his shoe, and barked at him to be careful, to which he replied, with nothing but absolute patronisation,

“after you, princess.”

and now the internet was calling you a godforsaken diva and jeonghan unprofessional and rude. you want to go back in time and smash that camera with a rock. you also want to march up to the editors’ room and throw their computers away.

but most of all, you want to wipe the smug grin off of jeonghan’s face when you enter the room behind joshua. unlike you, who had a spotless clean record, jeonghan had been known to stir up a bit of controversy. whether it be calling out a terrible director, or a rude costar, or the terrible conditions he had to work in, he was always basically in a permanent pr and brand reform.

so when he had said that to you on the buzzfeed set, his fans were quick to assume you were one of the many truthful accusations of rudeness jeonghan had publicly proclaimed. which wasn’t true at all! well, did it count if you were only ever snappy with him?

“let’s just get down to it.” seungkwan said, his head in his hands. you slid into the seat opposite jeonghan, joshua sitting beside you. you did not envy seungkwan one bit, and neither did joshua. there was a reason why the man resigned, after all. “you’re both getting terrible press. the tempter wants to rescind their contract—“

“why is this the first time i’m hearing about this?” jeonghan demanded.

“and innisfree wants to delay their brand ambassador announcement—“

“why didn’t you tell me that in the car?” you hissed at joshua.

“looks like you‘ll be stuck with dull skin.” jeonghan comments, twirling around in his chair like the absolute kid he is.

“and looks like you’ll be unemployed for the next six months—“

“both of you, stop it.” joshua said. you two straighten up. years of working with joshua made you know when he meant business. “you’re both brats and menaces and i don’t know what me and seungkwan did to deserve working with you two—“

“you were probably a huge bitch in your past life.” you couldn’t resist saying to joshua.

“and you probably annoyed a bunch of people to death.” jeonghan added, looking at seungkwan with glee in his eyes.

“i’m going to kill you.” seungkwan swears. “the company will never fire me. i have the equivalent of tenure.” you guffaw, taking in jeonghan’s offended expression.

“and i’m going to make your hairstylist dye your hair bright orange.” joshua threatens. “you’ll look like candace from phineas and ferb.”

you promptly shut up.

“like i was saying before i was so rudely interrupted, me and seungkwan have a plan.”

“and what’s that?” jeonghan asks, leaning forward on his elbows. he still looks amused, and you want to kick him in the shin, so you do. the resulting hiss of pain is worth the glare joshua shoots you.

“a relationship.” seungkwan announces.

“you’re dating someone?” you ask jeonghan in horror. “oh, that poor girl.”

he scoffs. “i should be saying that to whatever deranged soul wants to be in your vicinity without being paid.”

“oh, fuck off, you man child!”

“make me.”

“i need a promotion.” seungkwan laments. “why did you quit, shua-hyung? i could be managing ahn hyoseop instead.”

“i need to retire.” joshua covers his eyes with his arm. “i should be in a beach in la.”

“you’re such an unprofessional little asshole—“

“are you reading articles about me, sweetheart? you’re saying what pann wrote about me, ad verbatim.”

“and your ego is fucking massive! are you making up for a lack in your pants—“

“okay!” seungkwan cuts in, slamming the table in front of you. jeonghan jolts, but his eyes remain on you, fuming. good, you think. you love getting under his skin. “we meant a relationship between you two.”

in unison, you bark out a, “what?”

“we can play it off as a couple flirting instead of costars who hate each other on top of being unprofessional on set.”

“you could offer me a million dollars to kiss him and i’d say no!” you exclaim, beginning to fan yourself with the back of your hand. was it just you or was it getting hot in here?

“i’m not doing it.” jeonghan said, leaning back in his chair. “i don’t care what anyone says about me. i don’t care about the tempter, or any of it.”

“y/n,” joshua says, pushing your chair to face him. “you need this. innisfree is just the beginning. what if your sponsorships drop you? that’s less pretty things and more working on projects you might not even get.”

“joshua,” you say just as seriously. “if you put me in a room with him, all i’ll do is think about how much i want to wring his neck and smack him.”

“are you going to let all your hard work go down the drain? what if the baeksangs pass over you again?”

“they can’t!” you blubber. “everyone said i was amazing in our beloved summer! it’ll be an obvious snub!”

“do you think anyone will care if you’re a rude actress?”

you feel absolute horror wash over you, from the tip of your toes to the top of your head. you don’t want to go down without having tasted the success, or the glory. you don’t want to lose your sponsorships, or have to go back to playing background characters and getting thin paycheques. god, who was going to pay for your parents’ retirement, now?

“y/n, you have to do it.” joshua says again. “you know i wouldn’t be suggesting this if i didn’t think this would work.”

you sneak a glance over at jeonghan. seungkwan seems to be giving him the same talk, because his face pales. he looks back at you, and you resist the urge to stick your tongue out at him. you think that’s progress, at the very least.

“okay.” you whisper. you can suck it up, pretend to be desperately in love with yoon jeonghan for a few months. relationships were meant to be private, anyway. no one wanted to see you and jeonghan making out or anything. that would just be inappropriate.

“good.” joshua turns back to face seungkwan. “she’ll do it.”

“and he’ll do it.” seungkwan nods. “you two have a photoshoot next week.”

“excuse me?” jeonghan grits out. “the two of us?”

“first look was kind enough to indulge us in a couples photoshoot. it’ll do wonders for both the drama and you two. mark and arin already had one with cosmopolitan, so you two should have one, too. they’ll film an interview and you can laugh off the buzzfeed thing.”

you’re going to die. right here in jeonghan’s company’s meeting room.

a photoshoot with tens of people around you to watch your every move. you’re going to have to amp up any positive feelings you have for jeonghan and make sure your eyes sparkle with love, instead of the usual disgust. your career will die.

you nearly jump at the touch of a leg against yours. from across the table, jeonghan looks at you.

“what?” you bite out.

“i’m fine with it if you are.” he replies. only this time, there isn’t the usual mischief or condescension in his voice. he seems to… actually mean it. he seems sincere.

you can’t have him out-acting you already.

“i’m fine with it.” you say. “it’ll be good.”

“good.” joshua says in approval.

and dear god, do you want to walk over to sm entertainment and throttle mark lee.

Chapter Text

“let’s get married,” jeonghan proposes over dinner.

this, like most things jeonghan says, requires clarification.

“you want to do what now?” you ask. you barely bother to look up from your plate as you shove another bite of of the godly cha siu bao minghao had sent over to the apartment.

“cheol mentioned that there’s a wedding exhibition happening next weekend,” jeonghan replies. his bowl of wonton noodle soup, which you were surprised he even wanted at all given his affinity for korean food, is still largely untouched, and you worry it will cool while he’s staring intently at your face. at least the soup is still mostly steaming. “at that big banquet hall near the old louis vuitton building.”

you blink, waiting for him to continue. when he doesn’t, you ask, “and this is relevant because…?” neither of you two are engaged, and you’re pretty sure you haven’t missed any recent news. even if you did miss something, jeonghan would’ve sent you the instagram post and cross-posted facebook announcement within minutes of the upload. just because he spouted to people that he was ‘new to social media’ and ‘unwilling to learn’ didn’t mean it was the truth.

“so jiyoon got married in june, right?” jeonghan says, spearing a piece of har gow with his chopstick.

“i know, i was there.” you reply patiently, as you always are when it comes to jeonghan. if you were less of a patient person, you wouldn’t be both his best friend and his roommate. jiyoon’s wedding was a massive affair, and most of it was accredited to jeonghan’s micromanaging and his parents insisting that this was the wedding they were going to absolutely splurge on, knowing the private person their son was.

“anyway, she wanted to go to this wedding extravaganza thing because her stupid florist bailed on her and that gremlin mark lee—“

“you should really be nicer to him, he’s your brother-in-law now—“

“that gremlin mark lee,” jeonghan repeats, looking completely unrepentant. “couldn’t make it because of work, so i went with her. they were raffling off cruise tickets, y/n. cruise tickets!”

“i still don’t see the point.”

“y/n,” jeonghan says solemnly. “there was so much free shit you would not believe. cake samples, gelato bars, coffee stands. i think i drank a month’s worth of wine in a single sitting. there was a chocolate fountain!”

“i mean that’s great and all but—“

“they had little outfits for puppies and beef sliders during the trunk show—“

“hannie, i’m really not sure where you’re going with this. we don’t know anyone who’s getting married, and your food’s getting cold. shua hasn’t even asked wheein out on a second date—“

“we should get married.”

“and soonyoung isn’t even sure if jihoon likes him like that— wait, what?”

jeonghan’s words sit between you two, and you’re left wondering if you’ve heard him right or if this is some very realistic dream.

jeonghan barrels forward. “so the tickets are only $30 if you pre-register online, but the event is only opened to couples who are engaged.”

you stare at him, not even flinching when your bao drops from your chopstick onto your plate. “jeonghan,” you say slowly. “we are not getting married so you can gorge yourself on free samples.”

“we’re not really getting married, idiot.” jeonghan rolls his eyes like you’re the one being ridiculous. he finally starts shoving the noodles into his mouth, chewing quickly. “it’s just to get into the door.”

“you already bought the tickets, didn’t you?”

“that cake shop you’ve been lusting over is going to have a booth there.”

“…fuck you.”

-

pulling into the parking lot is a trial of patience.

“how many people are at this thing?” you ask as jeonghan ‘aha!’s and finally parks his car into the only empty spot you’ve seen in the past thirty minutes or so.

“a lot,” jeonghan responds, opening his door and getting out of the car. you follow suit, and instinctively, jeonghan takes your hand, hooking your wrist into the crevice of his arm and guiding you into the exhibition hall. you two barely manage to dodge out of the way of a bride holding the most massive flower arrangement you’ve seen in your life. “they said this was the biggest wedding show of the year.”

as if on cue, a harpist begins playing a melodic tune. you’d pretend to be a classical music connoisseur, but you have to be honest and admit that your spotify rewind was entirely filled with red velvet. you’d argue they were worthy of classic status as well.

jeonghan hands your tickets over to the booth, and you take the time to inspect the hall. the chandeliers are much sparklier than the ones you saw at your cousin’s wedding, and those chandeliers were sparkly. they kind of hurt your eyes. you miss the fond look jeonghan shoots you as he collects the hoard of adverts and coupons the attendant hands him.

“come on,” he says, and you blink back at him, letting him walk you two over to a stand of cupcakes.

by the time the hour’s up, you’ve eaten your fill of lemon meringue tarts and listened to more jewellers explain the amount of carats there should be in a wedding band than you’ve stuffed your face with s’mores. and you had a lot of s’mores. you’ve entered all the giveaways and sipped on enough wine samples for you to feel your cheeks heat up. you don’t need it in the slightest, but jeonghan snags the free bridal magazines and puts on a show of checking things off the wedding timeline provided.

“sweetheart, what about this photographer?” he turns to you.

your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “um—“

“i know mingyu said he would, but do you think we might need another one just in case?”

eventually, you get caught up in it too, seduced by the unlimited times you’re able to frequent the gelato bar. you’re not really getting married, you remind yourself, so you give yourself allowance to be as shameless as you want. it’s not like you’re going to see any of these vendors any time soon.

to be quite honest, you didn’t expect to see the range of businesses available. there’s even a corner dedicated to mattress sellers, and jeonghan immediately zeroes in on a memory foam king size and scrambles to lay down.

“holy shit,” he groans out, his neck slowly disappearing into the mattress. “i’ve never been so turned on.”

“jesus, jjong, could you be a little less embarrassing?” you hiss, giving the vendor an apologetic smile. she just waves you off.

jeonghan pulls you down to lie beside him in response, and you’re about to complain before your back touches the white cushion.

“fuck,” you swear. “the sex would be incredible.”

“noted.” he snickers, and you can’t even find it in you to kick him.

after you’ve lied down on the mattresses for longer than socially acceptable, you two make your way to the bar, where jeonghan politely smiles at the man trying to sell him raw lemongrass shots and tosses the contents into the bin behind his back. he’s midway into feeding you a champagne-flavoured macaron when you hear a familiar voice call out of you.

“y/n!” jeonghan pauses, and you turn to see—

“motherfucker.” you say under your breath, and jeonghan places the macaron back into the box, wiping his hands on a napkin before placing a protective arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him. “hi, johnny.” you grit out from behind a feigned smile. “didn’t expect to see you here.”

your ex-boyfriend just beams in response, brandishing who you presume is his leggy fiancé. “sooyoung and i are getting married in april. when are you guys getting married?”

“i—“

“june.” jeonghan cuts in. “we wanted a summer wedding. the weather’d be nice enough for an outdoor ceremony.”

you take a second to look at jeonghan in awe before smiling back at johnny. “exactly. my parents are always saying it’s good luck to marry during summer.”

his grin just grows wider, “when did you guys get engaged?”

“last month.”

“three months ago.”

you two answer at the same time. you let out a nervous laugh. “we agreed that we were going to get married three months ago, but he only asked last month.”

“you’re telling me,” johnny whistled. “honestly, we all thought you two’d get married straight out of uni.”

you cough, and the hand on your waist tightens. “sorry? ‘we all’?”

“you know,” johnny gestures, and no, you really did not know. “all of our friends! we had bets and everything.” you’re sure you’re gaping by now. too much fucking wine, you think. “joshua swore you two’d figure it out by senior year.”

you’re going to have a very serious conversation with joshua hong once you get home.

“well, we wanted to finish our masters.” jeonghan responds, seemingly unfazed, but you can see the lines of tension holding up his spine. unconsciously, you begin to run your hands over his back, smoothing them out. he relaxes.

“makes sense.” johnny nods. “get a steady income before settling down with the two and a half kids and white picket fence.”

thankfully, sooyoung begins tugging him over to an array of flowers, and johnny calls out a, “don’t be a stranger!”

“it was nice seeing you.” you reply, still feeling vaguely woozy.

“no, it wasn’t.” jeonghan says, herding you off to the other side of the hall. “i’ve always hated that guy.”

“what, johnny?” you ask in surprise. “you guys were friends in college, too.”

“only because you dated him in sophomore year.” you’d dig deeper into this if you weren’t so distracted by how you’ve never noticed how well your hands fit together. he holds your hand like they were meant to, fingers tucked together like anchors. you walk past the gelato bar, and the boy who runs it— seokmin, you remember— lifts a hand in greeting.

all of this filters through your periphery. your vision tunnels to your clasped hands and the image of your and jeonghan’s matching cartier rings pressed flush against each other. it had been an offhand joke, that you should get couple rings to show how strong your friendship was.

when jeonghan had casually slipped the velvet-lined box into your hands months later during brunch, you had laughed until he cajoled you into trying it on. it suddenly occurs to you that you’ve never taken it off since.

“jjong—“

“look, wedding dresses!” he points out. absentmindedly, you notice that you’re standing in the middle of a boutique, a bunch of white dresses littering the hangers. jeonghan shoots you a mischievous look. “you wanna try one on?”

you sputter. “what?”

“come on, just for fun!” he starts pushing you over to an attendant, whose eyes light up when she sees you.

“oh, what a gorgeous couple!” she coos, and it’s a testament to how long you’ve been at this exhibition that you don’t even blush anymore.

“please, it’s all her.” jeonghan says, “she wants to try on a dress.”

“of course!” the saleswoman pulls you away from jeonghan, and you have barely a second to glare at him before she’s guiding you into a dressing room and asking you if there’s anything in particular that you’re looking for. you thank the heavens that your mother once spent an entire afternoon rifling through bridal magazines and helping you decide what you want on the off chance that you’d get married to your then-boyfriend.

she manages to find an exact dress with what you want, and you’re a little gobsmacked when she zips it up.

“you look beautiful!” she gushes, and under the light of the room, you have to admit that you do. the dress is breathtaking, hugging you in all the right places, and understated enough to not make too much of a commotion. you’ve always liked things simple, after all. “do you want to show your fiancé?”

“sorry?” you ask, like a complete idiot.

“if you don’t like it, we can keep looking, but i just thought— that’s usually the face brides make when they’ve found the one.”

“no, no,” you say, unwilling to go through more of a hassle than you already have when you have such a pressing question in your mind. “i want to show him.”

she helps you off the platform, and through the throng of other brides to where jeonghan is lounging on a purple velvet couch, nursing a glass of champagne. his attention’s taken by the juggling acrobats at the next booth over when the saleswoman coughs out.

you’d love for time to stop when jeonghan turns to look at you.

he looks at you with adoration. with love. like he’s in love with you. you wonder if he’s always looked at you like that. his eyes are bright, surprised. his mouth hangs open a little before he realises, and walks up to you. the woman scurries away.

“you look incredible.” he says, reaching out. you take his hand, letting him give you a little twirl. you laugh, but when he curls the hand onto your waist, you remember. “you’re beautiful.”

“jjong,” you whisper.

“hm?” he blinks out of his single-minded daze. i did that, you think to yourself. i made him speechless. your hands are still tucked together, and you’re regularly affectionate— cuddles on movie nights, knocking knees at the library, jeonghan kissing your knuckles and forehead when you’re stressed— but it’s different now.

you look at jeonghan under the silver garlands of the overhead lighting decor. the electric candles shine down on the slope of his nose and against his soft cheeks.

god, has jeonghan always been this gorgeous?

he tilts his head. “y/n?”

“are we married?” you blurt out ineloquently.

jeonghan looks around and laughs. “no, we’re engaged, remember?” he smiles indulgently like you’re in on the joke. “keep up.”

“no, i—“ you halt. you look down at your joined hands, reach out with your thumb to twist the ring on jeonghan’s finger. you look back up at jeonghan’s lovely brown eyes and whisper, “are we married?”

jeonghan freezes, all previous mirth draining from his body.

around you, brides are still haggling through the racks, and you can faintly hear a horde of bridesmaids having a screaming match, but it’s all white noise to you.

in your mind, there are empty banquet tables filled with your friends and family. there are shiny plates and clean tablecloths and loud laughter. there are glasses of champagne and sweet music. there is jeonghan and a ring on his finger that matches the one on yours.

you grasp jeonghan’s hand tighter and feels all the ridges of his fingers against yours.

this is a hand i’d like to hold for the rest of my life. you think.

“jjong?” you venture again, voice small. jeonghan is as still as a picture. one wrong move, you think, and this could all break. your fingers begin to tremble, but just as you’re about to let go, jeonghan reaches up to cradle your face in his hands.

he rubs on your cheek lightly. “do you want to be married?” he asks. his voice is as soft as baby’s breath in a bouquet.

you choke out a wet laugh. “you can’t answer my question with another question.” your voice breaks. “that’s not fair.”

“isn’t it?” jeonghan asks, his mouth twisting in a rueful turn. “you’re not the one who’s been waiting in the cold.”

even now, jeonghan is gentle. he’s always gentle when it comes to you.

“how long?”

“does it matter?” jeonghan counters.

it does. it should. jeonghan doesn’t deserve to be hurt, especially by you.

“why—“ you start. why stick around? why suffer? why you?

“because i wanted to. because you’re my best friend.” jeonghan responds easily, like you’ve just asked him with one plus one is. “because i want you in my life, in any way you’ll keep me.”

once, when you were younger and sillier and a bit drunker than you should have been, you dragged jeonghan away from seungcheol’s birthday party and towards the river.

“let’s grow old together.” you said, when you saw an elderly couple on a bench.

jeonghan stumbled over a crack on the sidewalk before giving you scoff, “bold of you to assume i’ll put up with you for that long.”

“won’t you?” you pouted. “we can grow old together and get wrinkly and go to a retirement home together.”

jeonghan had laughed, a pretty sound you’re sure is your favourite in the whole world, and said, “only if i get to steal all your cafeteria jello.”

looking at jeonghan now, steady and solid before you, you remember: you’d like to grow old with this man.

“yes.” you whisper. “yes.” you repeat, a little louder, a little more sure. your own hands glide up to cup jeonghan’s face like a compass needle leading you home.

he shakes under your palm, and you think of invisible emotions. you think of waiting and still being kind. you think of silent love, bursting and lively all the same.

you won’t ever let jeonghan be cold again.

“yes,” you say, “yes, i want to be married.”

jeonghan smiles like the breaking of the sun.

slowly, surely, you reach to take his hand off of your cheek. you slide off the ring on his pinky finger, and slide it onto his fourth. you do the same with your own, and bring your hand up to the sky. the ring glints gold in the gallery light, and when you look back at jeonghan, his eyes are watery.

“i love you.” he says, and you know he means it in the way you want.

“i love you, too.”

and he pulls you in and presses his mouth against yours and it feels like coming home.

“still have those business cards?” you ask against his lips when you have to pull away to take a breath. his hands are still wrapped around you, tight, like he thinks you might disappear if he doesn’t.

jeonghan hums an affirmative. “and the coupons and raffle ballots. why?”

you smile, and press a kiss to the apple of his cheek. you settle your blushing face into the crevice of his neck, and feel his thumb rubbing circles on your waist. “guess we’re going to need them after all.”

Chapter Text

“some part of me will always hate you for this.”

you glance up from where you’ve been carding through minseo’s soft hair, feeling her breath pan against the pillows, ignoring the fact that you’ll never see her grow up, never really get to know her, and look at jeonghan.

his eyes are planted firmly on the sleeping girl, and the quiver in his hands tell you he wants to reach out and touch. so, as much as it pains you to do so, you remove your hand and let him take over. he curls around her, like he wants to memorise each and every part of her perfect face.

the truth is—

you wanted to tell jeonghan the day you found out you were pregnant. you wanted him to smile and tell you you’d work this out together. you wanted him to promise you a future and a life.

but you also knew jeonghan wanted to sing more than anything. that he loved performing and the twelve people that fit into his heart so tightly you were afraid there wouldn’t be any space left for you and a baby. that if you told him and he turned you away, you weren’t sure there’d be any pieces of your heart left for you to pick up.

a month before you found out was the last time you had seen jeonghan. it wasn’t a screaming match, or hysterical tears. it was quiet resignation and a mutual agreement that your relationship wasn’t going to go anywhere. and if you had decided that a month ago sans baby, what other understanding would you come to now?

so here you are, and here jeonghan is, six years too late, staring at the daughter he doesn’t know, and will never get to know.

“that’s okay,” you respond quietly. jeonghan touches minseo’s hand, and she unconsciously curls it around two of his fingers. “some part of me will always hate you because i know that if it wasn’t for the fact that we’ll all be dead tomorrow, you wouldn’t have come at all.”

he lets out a gruff breath at that, a silent agreement so jeonghan of him, and you trace a finger across minseo’s cheeks. selfishly, you wish she would wake up so you could talk to her one last time. she should’ve been able to grow up. she should’ve had the time to learn how to ride a bicycle, and then her first car. she should’ve had time to graduate high school, and then college, and learn what she loved to do. she should’ve had time to find the person she’d love forever, and tell them that. and you should’ve had the time to see her do all of it.

you don’t notice you’re crying until you feel wetness on your cheeks. you wipe them away quickly, sniffling as quietly as you can. jeonghan watches you, aching to reach out and hold you, but regrets and anger are holding him back.

he doesn’t want to die with hatred in his heart.

“what do you think she’d be like?” he asks instead.

you let out a broken laugh. “i don’t care. she would’ve been perfect. she is perfect.”

“she is.” jeonghan agrees. “i wish i could’ve known her.”

you don’t know what to say to that, because the reality is that if the world were to continue spinning, and that solar flare wasn’t coming, you would’ve never told him, and he would’ve never known her. but alas, what you wish for is all but a pipe dream, and minseo will never be a day older than five years and seven months.

“she won’t even have the chance to turn six.” you whisper. “six, jeonghan.”

“i know,” jeonghan swallows the lump in his throat. “but she’s had quite the life already, hasn’t she?”

you think of the very first time you held her in your arms. she was tiny, pink and snotty, and you were so sure you couldn’t raise her on your own but you did. you were so sure you’d never love her as much as that day but every one that followed you were proven wrong again and again.

“yeah, she has.”

there’s a resounding pang in your heart that jeonghan will never know her laugh, or the pouty expression on her face when you refuse her an ice cream. so you do the next best thing and take out a worn purple book from under the bedside table, and hand it over to him.

jeonghan takes the book, reluctant to let go of minseo. he flips it open, and bites the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood.

the first page is a sonogram. minseo’s sixteen weeks, no larger than the size of a pear. next to it is a picture of you grinning at the camera, a disgusting concoction of what looks like apple slices doused in chocolate syrup and pickle juice in front of you. he goes through the pages slowly, fingering at one taken at your baby shower. you’re wearing a white floor-length dress, and jeonghan has to flip to the next page before his mind starts to wander and imagine what could’ve been.

the last page is you right after getting discharged from the hospital, sitting on a park bench with minseo in your arms. you’re staring down at her like she’s the answer to all your problems, and jeonghan begins to feel an itch in his throat. this is how much he’s missed, and this is what he will never get back.

you’re laying down completely now, your nose so close to minseo’s you can hear her every inhale and exhale. the tears on your face have dried completely. jeonghan looks at the clock across from the bed, ticking towards three in the morning, and feels the exhaustion of driving up from seoul sink in. if he goes to sleep now, he’ll never wake up.

“jeonghan,” your voice awakens him from his thoughts. he closes the book. “go to sleep.”

so he places it on the floor, and moves under the blankets.

“y/n,” he calls out. you hum, eyes closed. “do you think we’ll have time in the next life?”

you laugh. “yoon jeonghan,” you open a single eye, and jeonghan sees the faintest of smiles on your face, and feels his heart grow twice as large. “always such a romantic.”

“that wasn’t an answer.”

“i think,” you close your eyes again, perfectly content with the last image of jeonghan in your mind— his gaze soft and questioning, his cheek squished against the pillows, arm around your daughter like he’s been there all along. “that wherever she goes, i’ll be there with her. and wherever i go—“

“i’ll be sure to follow.” jeonghan completes.

“though you do have a penchant for being too late.” you snuggle closer to minseo, and feel jeonghan’s hand on your hip.

jeonghan sits up for a second, and leans down to press a kiss against your temple. you savour the feeling one last time. before he lies back down, he promises, “next time, i won’t be.”

jeonghan goes to sleep, and at five in the morning, the world burns.

Chapter Text

you didn’t miss jeonghan often.

that came out wrong. of course you missed him sometimes, like when he was busy with comeback promotions and had barely enough time to text you back or call you in the middle of music shows or in dance practices, or when he was so tired after the promotions all he does is sleep for a solid fourteen hours straight. you remember when that had happened for the first time since you two started dating. he hadn’t been replying to your messages since the day before, where you two were embroiled in a semi-hostile conversation about texting etiquette, so you had rightfully assumed that he was ghosting you and promptly dumped him over text.

what? it’s not like you were going to wait for him to do it.

only you were surprised the next day when jeonghan had showed up at your doorstep, still looking groggy and half-asleep as he demanded to know why you did so. since then, jeonghan’s made a point to call you every day and text you as soon as he could, not because you had told him to (after a long conversation about it, you two agreed on scheduling and how to communicate properly), but because he had a tendency to like to prove you wrong.

thus, you didn’t really have a reason to miss jeonghan. not when you two were in constant contact and met up regularly and were talking about buying an apartment together where he could stay during non-promotional periods.

but right now, you miss him more than anything.

touring was an exciting thing, you know. it was days of rigorous practice and rehearsals and nights in stadiums with screaming, adoring fans. but it was also days of near absent communication, and barely enough time to talk on the phone without someone interrupting.

it’s much, much worse now that jeonghan’s in america. the time difference was terrible. when he was awake, you’d be asleep, and vice versa. on the rare chance of him being awake, he’d basically be dead on his feet, or too tired to do anything but stay on the line with you, his eyes droopy and threatening to close.

which is why you haven’t called in a while. or texted. you think you’d like to respect his space and not bother him when he’s so busy. you two discussed this after that fight, about respecting boundaries and not pushing. you were both people who valued your freedom and individuality, and knew it was better to grow together than to grow apart.

that doesn’t make missing him any better.

you miss his little tinkly laugh, the way his eyes become crescent-shaped when he smiles, the way his fingers feel entangled in yours, the way his arms feel like the safest place in the world. you miss his smart mouth, his snark and wit, the way his jokes always seem to land and how you feel like you can do anything when he tells you so.

it’s a friday night, and instead of heading over to where your friends were undoubtedly getting drunk off their asses and partying like there was no tomorrow, you were at home, flicking through netflix pathetically swamped in the largest, comfiest sweater jeonghan had allowed you to pilfer from his closet.

“stupid yoon jeonghan.” you muttered as you cued up a new tv show everyone just seemed to be talking about. “stupid yoon jeonghan and stupid america and stupid timezones.” you brandished your can of beer, opening it with a satisfying crack and taking a long pull.

you miss him.

forlornly, you glance at your phone, tapping on the screen. no new messages from him, but a bunch from your inebriated friends. two from your mother that you’d reply to when you weren’t feeling so terrible. an email asking you if you could come in to work early on monday. a hell no to that, you think to yourself.

you abandon your phone and begin to immerse yourself in the television series. something about a fake german heiress and some silicon valley wannabe boyfriend and paris fashion week. a stolen yacht and an entitled journalist. the same actors from all the other shonda rhimes shows.

you’re elbow deep in the chips you brought out mid-episode when your phone suddenly lights up with a notification. you ignore it, turning over the device and redirecting your attention to the screen. it’s only when you’e finished the episode when you look back at your phone.

your heart nearly drops.

from: hannie
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you click on the pictures, and your screen immediately lights up with a picture of jeonghan bundled up in a brown coat, cheeks pink from the cold with a pair of earmuffs on. the slightly blurry quality tells you the photographer was more likely than not to be soonyoung.

right before you can reply though, your phone begins to vibrate with a call from the man himself. without much fanfare, you press on accept.

“hi.” jeonghan’s voice greets your ears like a hug.

“hi.” you say back, closing your laptop and submerging your room in darkness. “where are you?”

“new york.” he replies instantly. “vernonie went off to look at those big cds. what are they called again? the ones you like to keep at the apartment?”

“vinyls.” you snuggle into the sweater some more, breathing in jeonghan’s barely-there scent. “i’ll text him to ask which ones he got. he usually gets all the cool ones.”

jeonghan hums, and you can hear the faint rustling of his phone against his ear. “how was your day?”

“okay,” you answered truthfully. “i got off work early and decided to stay in. ryujin asked me out for dinner but i was too tired, i think. wanted to recharge.”

“you know you have to take care of yourself, right?”

“coming from you, that’s rich.”

“i’m serious,” jeonghan says. “i’m stuck all the way across the ocean right now, i’m going to have to take your word for it.”

you move onto your side, “what about you? how many hours are you sleeping?”

quiet, and then— “that’s not fair.” he whines. “you’re being mean!”

“takes one to know one.” you reply with no bite. you play with the hem of the sweater. you can faintly hear the sound of jeonghan’s breathing, and that’s all it takes for you to blurt out, “i miss you.”

the noise of surprise on jeonghan’s end is embarrassing enough for you to curl into the sofa cushions a bit more. “that’s new.”

“i know.” you groan. "it sounds so stupid—“

“i like it.” he interrupts. “i like that you’re telling me.”

“i know you’re on tour and you’re busy, and space is something both of us are comfortable with but i miss you so much.” once you start speaking, you can’t stop. “i miss waking up next to you, and i miss how you smell, and i miss kissing you, and i miss having dinner with you, and i miss cuddling with you.”

jeonghan laughs, and you can imagine him with pink cheeks and his mischievous smile and you feel like you’re sixteen all over again.

“i miss you too, sweetheart.” he responds. “so much. probably more than you.”

“not possible.” you mumble.

“very possible.” jeonghan disagrees. “today hoshi had to push me because i was staring at a fountain for too long. it reminded me of our first date.”

“the bad fine dining restaurant with the indoor fountain.” you remember, smiling softly at the memory. jeonghan had been so nervous, accidentally spilling his wine all over the white tablecloth, and you had slipped on your way out, breaking your heel. jeonghan had to hold your shoes in one hand, the other around your waist as you wobbled back home with a twisted ankle. “that was fun.”

“it was, wasn’t it? we should go on a date when i get back.”

“that’ll be forever.” you whine.

“i’m sorry, i know.” jeonghan replies, voice tinged with sorrow. “i swear i want to come home to you as soon as i can but—“

“i know what i signed up for when i started dating you, yoon jeonghan.” you said. “don’t be apologetic now. just do your job and call me more often and then come home.”

he breathes out into his phone, and you can hear it through yours.

“how did i get so lucky?”

you feel your face beginning to burn up, and are very thankful jeonghan can’t see you right now, or he’d tease you immensely.

“i love you.” you whisper.

jeonghan hears it all the same, and doesn’t waste his time in responding. “i love you too.”

“you’re going to do amazing.” you feel yourself start to get sleepy, tiredness from work kicking in. “take care of yourself for me, okay?”

“okay. you too?”

“of course.”

“i’ll call you tomorrow.”

“and i’ll pick up. miss you.”

“miss you most.”

the connection ends, and you barely have the sense to place your phone and laptop on the table before you fall asleep. when you do, you dream of jeonghan, and somewhere across the ocean in a concert hall, jeonghan dreams of you, too.

Chapter Text

“of all the ridiculous, irresponsible things to do!” jeonghan fumes as he walks briskly down the hallway, his dress shoes making clacking noises against the marble floor.

“you can’t tell her i told you where she is. she’ll kill me!” soonyoung begs as he follows closely behind, his head in his hands. the younger man catches up, blocking jeonghan’s path. when the prince tries to nudge him aside, he stands his ground. “jeonghan-hyung, she really doesn’t want to be found—“

“and i really don’t want to have to deal with her and her immaturity at seven in the morning on the day of our wedding but here we are, aren’t we?” jeonghan thunders. he takes a moment to breathe, before softening. “i’m sorry for yelling, but i swear to god that woman infuriates me.” he grits out.

soonyoung sighs. “she has good intentions, alright? she’s just looking out for herself.”

“well can she do that without getting on my nerves?” jeonghan continues walking, much to soonyoung’s dismay. “can she stop making me look like a complete idiot?”

“stop asking me questions i don’t know the answer to!” soonyoung cries out, finally giving up on trying to keep up with jeonghan. “her majesty wants me to tell you that if you don’t get her back in time for the ceremony she’s going to chop off your head!” he calls as his hyung rounds the corner and walks out towards the stables.

“she’s known her for nine months and already she loves her more than her own son.” jeonghan mutters to himself. “and we abolished that rule in the joseon dynasty, mother needs to quit it.”

the prince gets on his trusty horse, sans saddle, and begins galloping away, much to the distress of the stable steward. if he was being entirely honest, jeonghan saw this coming from a mile away. running away on the day of your wedding was something so you of you to do.

the first time you two had met, jeonghan took one look at your defiant expression and your upwards-tilting chin and decided that he’d have to be dragged and tied to the altar if he had to marry you. how the tables have turned. you were just some rich spoiled heiress whose last name was deemed proper and respectable enough to be the future queen, and jeonghan just knew you’d be a headache and a half.

he was wrong, you were a migraine and a half.

the problem was that you didn’t care for him at all. it was clear in the way that you avoided him at all costs, even going so far as to taking your dinners in your room and only meeting him for public events where you hung onto his elbow at all times, a pretty smile plastered on your face.

so he cornered you at midnight two months after you moved into the palace right as you were leaving the kitchen, a strawberry donut in hand, and demanded to know why you were being so difficult.

“me? difficult?” you said in that irritating tone jeonghan despised so much. “what about you? you look at me like i’m a social pariah! i don’t have a contagious disease, jeonghan, you can stand closer than two meters away from me at all times!”

“well,” jeonghan stammered for words, a feat so rare he was feeling quite ashamed at his lack of eloquence. “you always look at me like i’m a rat!”

“who’s to say you aren’t?” you asked, biting victoriously into the donut when he was at a loss for words, gaping uselessly at you. “now if you excuse me, you have a charity ball tomorrow, which means i can’t afford to have a puffy face.”

but before you could slither past you (like a snake, which jeonghan wasn’t completely sure you weren’t), he took your wrist, pulling you towards him. you rolled your eyes.

“you said i could stand closer than two meters away from you, didn’t you?” jeonghan mused. it was your turn to flounder. jeonghan took the donut from your hand, placing it on the marble table. you mourned your midnight snack momentarily before jeonghan tilted your chin up with a careful finger.

he had realised why it was so hard for him to be so close to you—

because as much as he abhorred you, he wanted you, too.

slowly, giving you enough time to pull away, he brought up your wrist to his mouth. jeonghan heard your breath hitch when his tongue came into contact with your sugary fingers. he lapped up the sweetness, watching as your eyes grew dark with something he could only classify as lust. a stroke of satisfaction rushed through his veins as you inched closer.

he wasn’t sure who leaned in first, but the next thing he knew, you were naked underneath him and making such pretty, pretty noises he was sure if he died right there between your legs he’d die happy.

it was cliché to say that all you two needed to find was common ground, but it was true. after you had got out all your frustrations, you two had gotten along so well it was almost laughable to remember how much you had clashed initially. jeonghan’s mother was so happy with the change in events that she began inviting you out for her weekly tea sessions with her friends, and jeonghan’s father had invited you fishing. strangely enough, you accepted, and jeonghan’s father came home laughing at something you said.

jeonghan was sure you two were happy. he was sure you were falling as fast and as hard as he was every time you smiled against his lips, and when you formally moved into his bedroom instead of the one you were occupying across his.

which is why he is downright confused as to the reason he’s riding across the forest and into the countryside in search of you. he thought you were falling in love with him, just as he was with you.

after a few more minutes of riding and waving off some villagers’ bewildered expressions and hasty bows, jeonghan finally reaches where soonyoung had confessed you were residing. a tiny little cottage with a stone path leading to the sea. not terribly your taste, he thought to himself, dismounting his horse and tying it onto the gate.

he jumps over it, and knocks on the wooden door quickly and loudly, thumping again when you don’t immediately open it.

he hears footsteps, and the door swings open to reveal a sleepy you. once you realise who’s there however, you try to close the door, but jeonghan sneaks his foot in before you can, sneaking in.

“what on earth are you doing here?” you demand. “who told you— oh, soonyoung.” you mutter, inwardly berating yourself for believing your friend could keep a secret.

“no, what are you doing here?” jeonghan asks, his voice raised. “do you know how much of a ruckus you’ve caused at the palace? everyone’s searching for you, y/n. we’re supposed to be getting married in three hours!”

“i know that!” you say just as loudly. you’d stomp your foot if you weren’t so aware of your own dramatics. “why do you think i ran away somewhere no one would find me?”

“i do not understand you at all.” slight hysteria enters jeonghan’s tone, and you’d revel in your ability to fluster and draw out emotions in him no one ever has if you weren’t so surprised by his arrival. “i thought you were happy.”

you scoff. “happy? you thought i’d be happy while you galavanted behind my back with your ex-girlfriend? you think you could disrespect me like that and i’d just take it?”

jeonghan lets out a laugh of disbelief. “galavanting with my ex-girlfriend? when the fuck have i ever done that?”

“don’t play dumb with me, yoon jeonghan. i’m not an idiot.” you fumed, “i saw you and sojung yesterday—“

“and that’s why you’re exaggerating today? that’s why you ran away?” he interrupts, “y/n,” he lowers his voice, exhaling. jeonghan’s expression softens, and he reaches out to take your hand. when you don’t pull away, he intertwines his fingers with yours. “y/n,” he repeats, “sojung was just telling me how much she liked you.”

you rolled your eyes. “as if i’m going to fall for that, you jerk—“

“she was saying how she always pictured me with someone like you.”

“someone like me?” you levelled him with a look of incredulity. “and who exactly is ‘someone like me’?”

“annoying.”

“hey—“

“stubborn as hell.”

“oh, fuck you—“

“whiny and loud and irritating—“

“i should’ve left the palace ages ago—“

“with no sense of direction and is always lost somewhere—“

“the palace is huge, you need to install some kind of map on every floor—“

“and gorgeous and funny and witty.”

“wait, what?”

jeonghan sighs, and tugs you towards him. he looks down at you, and for the first time, you don’t see anything reflected in his eyes but.

but love.

“someone who knows me better than i know myself.” jeonghan continues. “someone who challenges me, and calls me out on my bullshit.”

“well, someone has to.” you mumble. “can’t have you walking around with a big head.”

he laughs at that, and you crack a smile. he cups your face in his hands, rubbing against your cheek lightly. “you shouldn’t worry about anyone else, because the only person i have eyes for is you. you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like this.”

“like what?” you dare to whisper.

“y/n,” jeonghan smiles, “i’m in love with you. i can’t say i’ve been in love with you since the moment i saw you, because that would be a complete and utter lie. you’re the bane of my existence and a pain in the ass—“

“hey—“

“but you’re my pain in the ass.” he continues. “and i want to marry you today. so please, come home with me.”

you look down to the floor, feeling your cheeks start to burn. “i’m going to keep being a pain in the ass.”

jeonghan laughs again. “good,” he crouches down a little to meet your eyes. “i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

and you lean up to kiss him. he opens up for you immediately, and you throw your arms over his shoulders. his hands are a steady warmth against your cheeks, and when you two have to separate for air, he pecks you one, two, three more times.

“i love you too.” you confess into his chest. you feel his arms wrap around you, and another kiss pressed to the top of your head.

“let’s go home and get married.” jeonghan says, and he leads you out of the cottage.

when you arrive at the palace, you’re instantly whisked away to get ready, and with one last grin, jeonghan walks back to his own chambers with a bounce in his step. inside, soonyoung is pacing as seungcheol and joshua converse in the corner.

“oh my god, you got her back.” soonyoung says in amazement.

“the wedding’s still on?” joshua asks, rolling up his cufflinks.

“of course it is.” jeonghan replies, cheeks beginning to hurt from how hard he’s smiling.

he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with you.

Chapter Text

it’s only been less than a year, but to you, it feels like it’s been an entire lifetime ago since you last sat on this couch opposite caesar, his bright purple hair garish and tacky and everything the capitol is.

only this time, yeonjun isn’t smiling blankly at you, his eyes promising a deep and horrendous death, and tiffany isn’t shaking her head from the corner of your eye. she’s situated at the back of the room with all the other victors lucky enough to have escaped this fate, her face grim. this time, jeonghan’s arm is thrown casually over the back of the sofa, and your knees are crossed under the light blue confection ten had made you put on. to remind them who they’re dealing with, he had said. you don’t know whether you should’ve been offended or thankful people saw you as an extension of jeonghan.

your shoes, however, are the shade of dark oak. ten had suggested a silver or white, but tiffany insisted, and you trusted her judgement. it’s funny what a year can change.

“our favourite sweethearts,” caesar swoons at whatever effortlessly charming thing you knew jeonghan had said. you briefly glance over at him, your eyes purposefully soft so the papers can capture the ‘look of innocent love’. jeonghan looks back, smiles, and rubs your shoulder. “so adorable i could just eat you up! now, i have to ask what everyone’s been dying to know— how was the wedding? and why wasn’t i extended an invite?”

you laugh politely, and reply distinctly, perfectly, “we’re very sorry for that, caesar. if i had known you’d wanted to come you’d be the first name on the list, promise.” caesar grasps your hand quickly before letting go with a cheerful guffaw. tiffany nods appraisingly. “we just couldn’t wait.”

“i mean, look at her,” jeonghan continues seamlessly, gesturing to you. you pretend to hide a smile behind your hand, and watch as the studio audience melt. “do you think i could’ve waited any longer before making her my wife?”

he leans over, and perfunctorily, you press a kiss against his lips, chaste and to the point. you two look like something out of a goddamn movie, you know, because when you break away, cheeks a dainty pink, even ryujin looks enamoured.

“oh, you two!” caesar gushes, “who knew we’d be able to see a fairytale come to life right before our eyes? you know what,” he doesn’t wait for a response. “i think you should thank the capitol, and our benevolent president snow for bringing you lovebirds together! he always knows best, doesn’t he?”

an untrained eye wouldn’t be able to catch the stiffness that rises in jeonghan’s shoulders for the first time since the interview began, but you, and all the other victors do. slowly, you take his hand in yours, and thumb across the back of his palm softly. he takes a second to compose himself, and you turn over with a beatific smile.

“of course,” you agree through gritted teeth. to the viewers, you’d look like a besotted woman. to snow, you’re a threat, a predator, and everything jeonghan’s trained you not to appear like. but you’ve thrown every single thing he’s said to you out the window. now that you were married, you get to call the shots, too. “thank you for all your love and support, first and foremost,” you say, addressing the crowd before you. “we wouldn’t be here without your time and commitment in honouring this tradition. and to our beloved president snow—“

“thank you for bringing me this wonderful woman,” jeonghan interrupts, staring directly at the red dot on the camera. “thank you for bringing my life some semblance of happiness. thank you for everything.”

caesar claps again, and the studio bursts into joyous applause. jeonghan takes the time to brush his lips against your ear, “you’re pushing it, today.”

you cup his cheek, and you hear a camera click before a bright flash nearly blinds you. “and you’re being incompetent.”

“now, as much as i’d love to go into more details about your matrimony,” you two break apart, and jeonghan fingers the end of your hair, “there has been a question i’m sure everyone at home has been dying to know.”

jeonghan leans forward, “and what’s that, caesar?”

“there isn’t a polite way to say this, so i’ll just,” the interviewer mimics throwing something over his shoulder, “leave out the decorum!” you laugh for show, dreading the question already. “it isn’t a secret that you two’ve been, well, involved with others in the past.” jeonghan tenses again, and you feel your heart begin to hammer in your chest. from the back of the room, tiffany sends you a stern look akin to the ones she used to when you were all but a tribute, and not the winner you are. you straighten up. “have there been difficulties in mending those bridges?”

to your surprise, you don’t need to answer first. jeonghan just shrugs, the poster boy of perfection, and says, “i think no matter what, all my paths would’ve led me to y/n. sojung was,” you barely conceal your shock when he says her name. you cannot count on your fingers how many times jeonghan’s mentioned her name because there hasn’t been a single one. “incredible. but i think she would’ve wanted me to be happy. and i am— happy, that is. y/n saved me.”

caesar nods at that answer, before expectantly looking over to you. you can feel the audience wait on your response with bated breath. while jeonghan and sojung’s relationship was public news, yours and mark’s had never been discussed. there was only scattered mumbled-out statements, an awkward interview moment with ryujin, hushed words overheard.

“mark,” you say steadily, bracing yourself agains the sofa cushion. jeonghan doesn’t touch you. “he was my first everything. nothing will ever change that. i know what it is to care for someone, and to love someone because of him. but jeonghan, he—“ you allow yourself to look at him, and find him looking back with an unreadable expression on his face. “he saved me, too.” and the final nail in the coffin, “i love him for it.”

you look away before his expression can change. the room bursts with thunderous applause, but all you can taste is ash in the back of your throat.

“beautiful! gorgeous!” caesar says, pretending to wipe a tear off of his face. you wished you had his audacity. but he sobers quickly, and the mood becomes somber with the disappearance of his exaggerated smile. it’s only now that you realise the question was a precursor. “it’s been wonderful hearing about you two, but now, i must ask what is to happen during the quarter quell? have you two thought out a plan, or will i see only one of you on this sofa a year from now?”

jeonghan takes your hand in his, practiced, smooth, and presses a kiss onto the back of it. you will tears to form in the corner of your eyes, acting every bit the demure wife. the crowd, as always, eats it up. then jeonghan directs his gaze to the camera, and your breath hitches in anticipation for what he’s about to say.

“i want my wife by my side as much as i wish to breathe. and for that, i implore you, president snow,” the crowd gasps, and tiffany rolls her eyes. “to make an exception this quarter quell.”

“an exception?” caesar asks, voice beginning to veer on nervousness. “what exception, mister yoon?”

“an exception for my wife and i,” jeonghan holds your hands to his heart. you can feel the faint badump, badump under the white silk shirt ten had tossed over at him, barely hiding his distaste, a very tangible reminder of why you’re about to face the atrocities you are. you feel a surge of resentment bubble up within you, but tamp it down to smile sadly at the audience. “two winners, instead of one this quarter quell.”

the crowd erupts in conflicting conversation, and caesar downright gets up from his seat, not bothering to hide his panic. calmly, you and jeonghan stand, and lift your joined hands up. the other victor-tributes do the same, and from the back of the studio, the unchosen victors do as well.

the cameras cut, and everyone’s ushered offstage. once you’re safely backstage, you rip your hand away from jeonghan’s walking past him and putting as much distance between you two as possible.

“well,” ryujin says once her mic’s been taken off, “that was fun.”

“was it?” you ask, a deadpanned expression on your face.

“it was a disaster.” tiffany says, leaning against the wall, the skirt of her deep red dress blanketing the floor like a puddle of blood. “you were too aggressive, and jeonghan was more of a blubbering idiot than he usually is.”

you look down. somehow your mentor’s disapproval still cut more than anything.

“you need to watch yourself,” tiffany continues, her irises dark and gloomy. “or there won’t be a winner at all this year.”

-

deja vu will be the death of you.

it’s still two weeks until the games, one since your disastrous interview and one and a half since you were reaped again, and you’re perched on the same spot on the roof, the one without cameras. you’re still thinking of mark’s hand in yours, only this time the image of his face is slightly blurred. you fear the day you forget what it looks like completely.

these days, jeonghan’s face has been replacing his in your dreams. you don’t know if you’d rather dream of jeonghan’s blood underneath your fingernails or mark’s.

“good evening, princess,” you turn around so quickly you’re surprised your neck didn’t snap. it’s rare that anyone can sneak up on you now. but there choi seungcheol stands, still dressed in the black leather ten had shrugged on him. good proportions, he had commended, nodding his head and making jeonghan scoff.

the victor from five sweeps his eyes up and down your figure quite obviously, a cocky expression on his face. “your husband lets you walk around on your own often?”

you roll your eyes at him. “my husband doesn’t let me do anything. it might be surprising to you, choi, but i’m not a dog.”

“i never said you were,” he responds, smoothly letting himself up the latch and sitting beside you. you narrow your eyes, and untuck your legs. “i’m just saying— if i were yoon, i would never let you out of my sight. you’re too pretty, someone might snatch you up.”

“do you use that on all the girls?” you snort, “do they fall for it?”

“only the girls strong enough to kill me.”

“you’re funny.”

“thank you,” seungcheol says, “i’m funnier when i’m not about to sacrifice my life for some prick who doesn’t deserve it.”

“ouch,” you wince, “i don’t think you know me well enough to say that about me.”

“not you,” he smiles, a flash of teeth and soft cheeks moving upwards. he’s pretty, you think. prettier than he was onstage. “i don’t know enough about you to call you anything.”

“y/n’s good,” you reply. some part of you screams that this is toeing the line of something more sinister, but right now, you don’t care. there are no cameras rolling, no jeonghan to police your actions, no tiffany to criticise. who cares if you want to be careless for a few minutes? “i don’t like being called princess.”

“noted, y/n,” seungcheol’s smile widens. “i watched your game.”

“so did the rest of the world. i’m afraid you’re not that special, choi.”

“seungcheol, please.”

“seungcheol.” you rectify. “i’m afraid you’re not that special, seungcheol.”

he mimics an arrow to his chest, holding it and groaning exaggeratedly. “do you use that on all the boys?”

“only the boys strong enough to kill me.” you repeat, smiling for the first time in forever. “what brings you up here?”

seungcheol leans back on his arms. “isn’t it nice to get away from it all once in a while?” he looks over at you, and your eyes meet. pretty. “even better that i get to see what you’re like without the cameras rolling.”

“and what do you think?”

“you’re more beautiful when you’re not thinking about what the capitol wants to see.”

seungcheol keeps his eyes on you, but you turn away. the last time you fell for such words, you were sent to your death, and only lived because of someone else.

“i’d be so much more inclined to believe you, seungcheol,” you say, “if i hadn’t heard those words before.”

“well, yoon’s always been one step ahead of me.” he shrugs, “but that doesn’t mean i can’t win by taking what he doesn’t know he’s left behind.”

-

“where were you?” jeonghan demands when you return to your shared room, hours after the sun has set. your husband’s standing, the floorboards a clear show of how much he’s been pacing. his silky shirt’s been shucked off and his hair’s tied up. you’d salivate if you weren’t so annoyed at him.

“where else do i go when i don’t want to be around you?” you say, beginning to unzip your confectionary of a gown. you step out of it, hanging it up carefully so ten won’t yell at you for creases. jeonghan settles onto the bed, his tongue in his cheek.

“alright,” he says, before, “so tell me why i had to hear from hong that choi seungcheol was spotted leaving the same corridor he had seen you pass?”

you scoffed, making your way to the bathroom. “you’re spying on me now?”

“i wouldn’t have to if you just fucking listened to me—“

in a bout of childishness, you close the bathroom door behind you with a resounding thud and lock it.

you can hear jeonghan huff under his breath, and sink down to your knees.

you shut your eyes, and will yourself not to cry. you’re too young for this game of master manipulator jeonghan’s made you play. you’re too young to watch all these people die for some cause that isn’t even definite. you’re too young to want to die, and too young to want to kill people to survive. you’re too young to have loved and lost, and so young to have believed this was some sort of second chance for you.

as much as you wished otherwise, what you said before wasn’t a lie— jeonghan did save you, but now you were wondering exactly what that meant. were you willing to do all this for someone who won’t even look at you when the cameras aren’t on?

for now, you gather yourself up and wash your face, stepping into the shower and ridding yourself of those thoughts. for now, you think of mark’s hands, mark’s words, mark’s mouth. for now, you forget you’re in a sterile wasteland of a building, stuck in a room with a husband you tricked yourself into thinking you wanted. for now, you’re nothing but the girl you used to be.

and then you walk out the bathroom, and slip into bed, facing away from jeonghan, who watches you with an irritated gaze.

“i don’t care what you do—“

“really? because it seems like you do.”

“i don’t care what you do,” jeonghan repeats. “but don’t be stupid and fall for the first person who tells you pretty nothings.”

you laugh, and pull the blanket up to your chin. “it wouldn’t be the first time.”

the room resonates with your words, but jeonghan’s always been a coward, so all he does is turn off the lights, and turn away from you.

Chapter Text

you had to be honest—

when you and jeonghan broke up two years ago, you didn’t expect to still be going over to his apartment every sunday afternoon for lunch. you expected stone cold silence and then a hasty reunion, then maybe to only ever see him when your abnormally large friend group agreed on meeting without excused absences. but here you are, sitting across jeonghan, sipping on a glass of water while he goes to get your delivery from the man at the door.

seungkwan had brought up how your relationship was odd, whispering to you that surely it wouldn’t be good to be this close to an ex. and if it were anyone else but jeonghan, you’d agree entirely. but after a semi-awkward first sunday lunch with jeonghan, you were sure that what you had with him was something you wouldn’t sacrifice for anything.

before jeonghan was your ex-boyfriend, he was your best friend. sometimes you think even more. soulmates didn’t have to be romantic, did they?

the phrase ‘better off as friends’ had never bugged you. you had said again and again into your friends’ ears that you would rather have them over any romantic conquest any day. they’d be there at your wedding, should you choose to have one, but the attendance of the your flavour of the month was not guaranteed.

just because you two were broken up didn’t mean jeonghan wasn’t your soulmate.

and maybe it was different to know what your soulmate sounded like when he woke up, or to remember what his lips felt like against yours, but you weren’t complaining. familiarity, at least, would stop you from risking any more than you already had.

“what’re you thinking about?” jeonghan asked, placing down the bags of takeout in front of you. he took his seat, immediately rifling through them to pick out his meal.

“when am i ever not thinking of you?” you respond, overexaggerated and dramatic, taking the offered container from jeonghan.

he replies in the same tone, “did you just fall in love with me again? are we going to stage a taylor swift song right here, right now?”

you roll your eyes at his obnoxiousness, and start to take bites of your food. “in your dreams, yoon.”

“how’d you know i dream of you, lovely?” he says right back, grinning behind his mouthful of rice.

you’d argue that things were better now between you two. there were no expectations like there were when you two were together, and no one to raise eyebrows if you’d rather stay in and rewatch that season of emily in paris just to annoy joshua instead of going out for fancy dinner dates. no one wondered when you’d get married, or how many children you wanted. no one asked when you’d eventually move to the suburbs, or that were you really sure you wanted to buy that car? you wouldn’t be able to put a baby seat in it, no matter that you’re years away from wanting a child.

like this, on a sunday afternoon with your voice devoid of makeup and jeonghan still wearing his panda-printed pajamas, was where you felt the most at ease. and really, wasn’t that what having a soulmate was all about? being the most comfortable with them, knowing they know you better than anyone else in the world, not having to say anything for them to know you understand?

-

chaeyoung is avoiding you.

you know you may not be the best roommate— sometimes you forget whose turn it is to do the laundry and have to be reminded, sometimes you forget the world around you exists and you actually need to feed yourself instead of immersing yourself entirely in your essay, but you’re not the worst. you get chaeyoung’s almond milk, you buy her her favourite gummies when she’s not feeling too hot and you splurge on mani-pedis for you two when you can.

you can’t think of a single thing you might’ve done to possibly offend her, so the second week she leaves the house before you wake up and comes in when you’re fast asleep, you stay up on the couch waiting for her. it’s half past two when she walks into the apartment, closing the door quietly behind her and toeing off her shoes. you notice how her nose is pink from the cold and how she’s shivering a little, shaking your head.

“hey.” you say, breaking the silence. she shrieks.

“oh my god, you almost gave me a heart attack!” chaeyoung presses a hand to her heart, leaning against the wall. “you’re crazy!”

you stood up, pointing a finger at her. “no, you’re crazy! why are you avoiding me?”

she froze minutely before shrugging off her coat. “you’re being dramatic—“

“no, i’m not!” you say, quite dramatically. “you haven’t been in the apartment for two weeks.” you quieted down. “did i do something wrong?”

chaeyoung sighed, putting her things on the counter and walking over to you, pulling you into a short hug before collapsing down on the couch. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

you plopped down beside her. “is everything okay?”

she started picking at her fingers, a nervous tick you had spotted a few times. you stopped it with a touch to her wrist. chaeyoung looked at you, a strange expression on her face. it took you a few seconds to decipher it as guilt.

“you can’t hate me.” she said quickly once she realised you knew how she was feeling. “please. i don’t know what i’d do if you hated me.”

“you’re scaring me.” you quirk your head to the side. “did you throw out my crystals by accident?”

“no, i’d be dead by your hand by now if i did.” chaeyoung laughed, the stress oozing out of her slowly. she bit her bottom lip. “you won’t be mad?”

“if it isn’t worse than the crystals thing i’m sure i’ll be fine.”

your roommate fidgets before taking a deep breath. “ithinkilikejeonghan.”

“what?”

“i think i like jeonghan.” chaeyoung repeats, much slower.

oh. oh.

“okay.” you nod. “what does that have to do with you avoiding me?”

“what do. you mean ‘what does that have to do with you avoiding me’?” chaeyoung demands. “everyone knows you and jeonghan used to, you know—“

“what?” you say, amused. “fuck? date? be in love?”

“all of the above.” chaeyoung mumbles.

you laugh, startling chaeyoung. once it subsides to stray giggles, you look over at your roommate, who looks like she’d very much like the ground to swallow her up. “you know me and jeonghan broke up like, two years ago right?”

“i mean, yeah, but i don’t want to break girl code. you’re my friend first before jeonghan is whatever he is to me.” she said, her cheeks tinging pink.

a pool of fondness grows in your stomach. you reach out to take her hand. “look, what me and jeonghan had, it was awful towards the end. we’re much, much better as friends.”

“but you guys aren’t friends.” she says, though she doesn’t pull away. “you guys are like, best friends. you don’t go a day without texting him and sometimes he drops off your coffee order at work and he still sends you flowers every sixteenth—“

“to celebrate our break up, not us getting together!” you laugh. “look, chaeng, i wouldn’t lie to you, would i?”

she’s quiet for a bit. “no, you wouldn’t.”

“it’s fine, really.” you say, right as a brilliant idea pops into your mind. chaeyoung still looks unconvinced, but you’ve got bigger problems. like the idea forming in your head right now.

-

“hey.” you slide into the chair opposite jeonghan. he smacks a kiss onto your forehead, and you make a face. “i just did my makeup, you dick!”

“hi, baby.” he says. you make another face.

“you know i hate it when you call me that.”

“and you know that’s why i do it.”

jeonghan calls over a waitress, ordering for you both. you’ve been friends for long enough that you trust whatever he picks for you. you’re far too indecisive to ever choose anything off the menu.

once the orders are settled, he pulls out his phone, sipping on the straw of his coffee. you rake your eyes up and down his frame, watch the way his eyes crinkle up before he starts typing. he looks happier, like the weight that was always on his shoulders is lifted. he doesn’t look nearly as tired as he used to.

“what?” jeonghan asks when he finally notices you staring. “are you about to confess your undying love for me?”

you ignore him, instead asking, “who were you texting?”

you watch as his cheeks tinge a faint pink and he takes another sip of his coffee. “no one.”

“you’re lying.”

jeonghan bites his bottom lip. “don’t get mad.”

you sit up, interest piqued. “tell me!”

“chaeng.”

“chaeyoung? my roommate chaeyoung?” you demand. maybe your plan wasn’t so hopeless after all! maybe it’d be easier than you thought it’d be.

he squirms in his chair, looking a little uncomfortable. “yeah.”

you lean forward on your elbows, a mischievous look forming on your face. “do you like her?”

jeonghan sputters. you basked in the glory of being the one of the only people who could make the almighty and ever-composed yoon jeonghan falter.

but soon enough, he calms himself, and sneaks a peek of you from behind his drink. “are you mad?”

“why would i be mad?”

“you know,” he shrugs, starting to gnaw at the straw like you know he’s prone to when he’s nervous. you smack his hand, and he stops. “because of us.”

“because we used to date?” you lean back in your chair. “i don’t know why everyone thinks it would bother me. we broke up for a reason, and a very valid one.”

“i know,” jeonghan says. “but i don’t want to make it weird for us. i’d rather give this up than you.”

you soften, and sit up. you place your hand down on the table, palm up, and jeonghan laces your hands together like second nature. “i want you to be happy. and i couldn’t care less about whether it starts with you dating my roommate, or getting a cat.”

“that doesn’t seem fair.”

“why not?”

“because if you suddenly got a gorgeous, six foot boyfriend i’d be jealous.”

“jealous like you’re in love with me or jealous someone might be taking your place?”

“the second one.”

you smile. “then you have nothing to worry about.”

jeonghan looks at you again, and when he finds nothing but honesty in your eyes, he relaxes. then his expression turns sinister, and you’re bracing yourself.

“fine, now tell me about your huge, fat crush on na jaemin.”

-

jaemin peers over your shoulder to look at your phone screen, where chaeyoung and jeonghan are happily grinning at the camera. jeonghan’s smile is so wide you wouldn’t be surprised if his cheeks hurt afterwards.

jaemin looks back at you, carefully looking at your features. “how does that make you feel?”

“what do you mean?” you ask absentmindedly, tapping on the picture twice to like it and then going to the comment section. before you can type out a variation of ‘adorable!!!!’, jaemin stops you with a hand to your wrist.

you turn to meet his gaze, heart thumping a little when you realise just how close his face is to yours. if you inched forward a little you could—

“how does that make you feel?” jaemin repeats. “seeing jeonghan-hyung look at someone else the same way he used to look at you?”

you pause, swipe out of the comment section and turn your phone face down. you hadn’t really thought about it that way, and it’s clear jaemin knows it. he sighs, plopping down onto the couch beside you and loosely intertwining his fingers with yours.

“do you maybe think you’re rushing into this too fast? i know you say you and jeonghan-hyung are much better off as friends, and i agree, but that doesn’t mean it can’t hurt.”

you consider jaemin’s words, along with the gentle expression on his face, and think that if anything, it should be startling how much you want to kiss jaemin, not the man in your phone.

“no,” you respond, and jaemin’s expression morphs into one of surprise. “i really—“ you start laughing, and you’ve no idea why. “i really, really think it’s great for him, and that it’s even greater for me.”

“why?”

“because i think i’ve been missing what’s been in front of me this whole time.”

you’re not sure who leans in first, but jaemin presses you against the sofa, and you welcome the weight with a smile.

-

so yeah, maybe you and jeonghan didn’t get the happy ending you thought you would, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t get your own version of a happy ending.

and the happy ending is this— chaeyoung sits across you as she picks out the cilantro from her plate and moves it over to jaemin’s. jeonghan’s foot is making little tap-taps against the leg of the table, and you kick him to make him stop. jaemin kisses your temple when you lean into his side while you discuss the merits of induction stoves versus gas stoves with chaeyoung. jeonghan doesn’t do anything to mitigate the discussion when it starts to get heated, and laughs instead. jaemin ends it by telling you that induction is better for boiling and gas is better for grilling.

you and chaeyoung make mimosas and jaemin shoos you out of the kitchen to do it himself when you get the measurements wrong. jeonghan does the dishes, and chaeyoung puts her feet up on the coffee table in a way you know jeonghan hates, but he lets it go because it’s her. jaemin watches you with fond eyes when you help him with the glasses, and puts his arm around your waist to bring you closer to him.

this is better than any other version of happily ever after you could ever dream of having.

Chapter Text

1.

“hyung?”

soonyoung’s bewildered voice shook jeonghan out of his trance. the younger man followed his gaze, and his jaw dropped.

“do not say anything—“ jeonghan warns, but soonyoung rushes to interrupt.

“hyung, y-you can’t! you’re so young!” he sputters, attracting the attention of joshua, who’s only a few feet away. he, too, looks over at the glass case jeonghan was so unsubtly staring at, and laughs.

“already?” joshua asks, raising an eyebrow. “i thought you two only really got together three months ago.”

“shut up, i wasn’t thinking about it.” jeonghan rolled his eyes, tugging both members away from the shop before the salesperson could walk up to him. the two men acquiesced to drop the conversation only when jeonghan glared at them sternly, promising a world of pain if they didn’t.

he was lying. he had been thinking about it.

the band was simple, thin with small embellishments around it, and a round cut diamond in the centre. jeonghan couldn’t help but imagine how pretty it would look on your fourth finger. the smile on your face as he slid it onto your fourth finger. the kiss you would press onto his lips when he stood up.

seungcheol accidentally sent a volleyball hurtling towards his head.

his thoughts were then filled with getting back at his friend.

2.

“you miss me so much you’re going crazy.” you laugh from the blurry screen.

jeonghan traces the side of your cheek, only for his fingers to touch the cold glass of his phone and not your soft skin.

“shut up, brat.” he says instead. “you’re the one wearing my sweater.”

you squawk in surprise, tugging down the hem of the aforementioned article of clothing so he wouldn’t be able to see the logo across your chest. “t-this is mine!”

“sure, it is.” he nods along, making your cheeks grow pinker. he wants to reach out and squish them, but for now, he settles with smiling at his phone camera.

“well, i’d be lying if i said i was doing good without you here.” you sigh dramatically. “yesterday i almost crossed the street without looking both ways and a cyclist nearly killed me—“

“i told you to stop assuming all vehicles will stop just because the light turns red—“

“i know.” you say, prolonging the last syllable like an overgrown teenager. “i’ll be more careful!”

from his side, seokmin pokes him, mouthing that they had to go for a rehearsal.

you catch the motion, letting out a displeased sound. jeonghan’s about to apologise for cutting your call short when you shake your head, “go on, superstar.”

jeonghan pouts. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay.” you wave away, “i was about to watch criminal minds anyway.”

“i’ll be back soon.”

“make sure that you are. or i’ll have replaced you with a body pillow or something.”

your smile is the last thing he sees before you end the call, and he stares at his blank screen for longer than necessary.

“hyung.” seokmin pokes him again, and he jolts. “are you okay?”

“fine.” jeonghan replies, and stands up with him. how was he supposed to explain to him that he wanted to marry you just so he could see that smile every day for the rest of his life?

3.

“don’t you dare say anything. i’m serious.”

“okay, jeonghan-hyung, i won’t tell your girlfriend of like, six days that you want to marry her so much it makes you look stupid.”

jeonghan glares at jihoon, and the younger just smirks back victoriously. if he was any other member, jeonghan would’ve possibly already ruined their life, but jihoon was too scary for him to do that. the younger man leaned back on his chair, momentarily abandoning the work on his computer.

jeonghan would be honoured that he was willing to put his work aside to talk to him about his stupidly-in-love feelings for you if he wasn’t so busy hiding his burning face behind the sleeve of his jacket.

it hasn’t been six days. it’s leaning more towards six months now, but only four since you’ve officially been together. but jeonghan wasn’t going to tell jihoon that.

“i don’t want to marry her,” jeonghan shoots back when his cheeks have returned to their regular colour. he tries not to let the stench of ‘dirty liar’ exude from his pores. “it’s just a ring. she likes rings and i want to get her a present, and i might as well get one for myself because sets probably cost less. win-win.”

“sure,” jihoon snickers, completely disbelieving. jeonghan couldn’t believe his audacity. “let’s say you don’t want to marry her: then why are you getting her the equivalent of a promise ring?”

“it’s not a promise ring!” jeonghan laments, crossing his arms over his chest. jihoon’s returned to working on his monitor. valid. “it’s just… a ring.”

jihoon hums, and for a while all that can be heard in the studio is the faint sound of jihoon’s clicking and the same melody playing over and over again. then the silence is broken.

“two rings.”

jeonghan groans, and jihoon laughs.

4.

seungkwannie: hyung u don’t even know her ring size
seungkwannie: and what makes u think i’ll come with you to buy a ring after knowing that it might not even FIT

jeonghan: i’ll buy you food tomorrow

seungkwannie: u can’t buy me off so easily
seungkwannie: why can’t u just ask her what her ring size is

jeonghan: what concept of ‘surprise’ are you not getting dummy?

seungkwannie: first of all i’m not the dummy here YOU’RE the dummy for doing this and second of all why is it even a surprise

jeonghan: seungkwaaaaan [sticker attached]

seungkwannie: hyung just explain to me why you want to get her a ring INSISTING it’s not because u want to marry her

jeonghan: fine.
jeonghan: this isn’t a proposal or a promise ring. at least not yet.
jeonghan: but she’s the only one. if it was for a wedding she’d be the only one i would ever do it for.
jeonghan: it’s not binding or whatever but it’s more like a reminder that we have time. and we’re good with each other and where we are now.
jeonghan: and that this is something good that i shouldn’t mess up because i know i want there to be something more one day. not now but one day.
jeonghan: ugh i need to do a shot.

seungkwannie: HYUNG I’M CRYING
seungkwannie: UR GROWING UP SO FAST
seungkwannie: still don’t know her ring size tho :(
seungkwannie: but do not worry ur super dependable dongsaeng will get it for u!

jeonghan: NO i regret asking
jeonghan: DO NOT DO ANYTHING
jeonghan: BOO SEUNGKWAN ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME
jeonghan: I’M GONNA RUIN UR LIFE U GREMLIN

[Jeonghan🌟 created a new post!: everyone enjoy this picture of boo seungkwan 🍊]
[Seungkwan🌟 commented on Jeonghan🌟’s post: HYUNG]

“so, minghao said something interesting to me just now—“

“oh my god, do not finish that sentence.”

you laughed, moving yourself to straddle jeonghan’s lap. he closed his eyes, ignoring the force magnetising him to look at you. his thumbs trace soft circles onto the skin of your waist.

“okay.”

he opens an eye. “okay?”

you smile and shrug. “okay. six.”

“six?”

“my ring size.”

“y/n.”

+1

“jjong,” you poke at his cheek, making him grumble.

you’re splayed across his chest, his arms wrapped around you in the comfort of his bed. the curtains are drawn completely shut, and the only source of light is the little mushroom lamp you bought him.

“jjong,” you say again when he doesn’t respond.

“what?” he grouches, opening his eyes. he’s still sleepy from the drive back up to seoul.

“nothing.” you smile. “i just really like you.”

jeonghan feels a burst of fondness in his chest, and knows that this is the moment. he stretches out an arm to open the bedside drawer, and rummages through his various knickknacks to pull out a small velvet box.

your smile grows even wider as you sit up and take the box from him. you peer at him for permission, and jeonghan just nods.

you snap it open, revealing two thin silver rings, diamonds around the band. you motion for him to give you his hand, and he does albeit shyly. you slip his onto his finger without much fanfare, and press a kiss to his cheek when it blooms pink. he takes your hand and puts yours on as well, and you lie back down in bed.

he topples back on top of you, making you giggle.

“love you.” he whispers into the juncture of your neck and ear. you laugh, a bright and brilliant sound jeonghan is sure he wants to listen to for the rest of his life.

“love you too.” you say back, and jeonghan soars, bringing his lips to yours for a long kiss.

it’s just a ring, but on you, it’s so much more.

Chapter Text

there’s a knock on the door.

then another. and another. one. two. three.

you sigh, pull a sweatshirt over your pajama top and pad over to the door. it’s almost three in the morning, but you wouldn’t be surprised if your manager wanted to say something to you. lately, that’s all you’ve been getting. curt words and untrusting looks. like the second you stepped back onto korean soil that you’d run into his arms and ruin everything you worked for in china.

as if.

but before you can even turn the handle, a voice comes from the hall, right in front of the door, and it doesn’t belong to your manager.

“don’t open, wait,” the voice says, and you feel your heart sink down to your gut, splintering into pieces on impact. “you should be in quarantine.”

“what are you doing here?” you ask so quietly you’re not even sure you’ll be heard from the other side, but you’re tired, and your voice is failing you, and you’re being subjected to speaking with the person you’d rather not speak to again.

“it’s valentine’s day.”

you want to hit him. you want to thrash on the floor and scream. in the rush of scheduled shoots and airport queues and months and months of working yourself to the bone, you’ve lost count of the days. it’s been a year. and now, out of all the things that you wanted jeonghan to say for months, he chooses the least important one.

“you shouldn’t be here.”

he should be at home, the door of their dorm locked shut and bound from the outside to make sure he wouldn’t repeat the mistake he did last year. one slip up, one hour spent outside holding hands, one hour spent giggling behind your masks, one kiss pressed to the side of your head. one year spent apart. one sea between you two, and not a single word exchanged.

“are you happy to see me or not?”

“i don’t see you,” you laugh mirthlessly as tears begin springing in your eyes, uninvited. there isn’t a peephole in the hotel door, and he knows it. it’s such a jeonghan thing of him to say. you take your hand off the door handle to wipe your tears away before they can seep into your voice.

“yeah, that’s shitty.” jeonghan sighs, slightly muffled from the door between you. he still has a potty mouth. “wanna facetime?”

“no.” you can’t help the snort that bubbles up from within you, slightly hysterical. yes, of course you want to, but fuck, did he have to wait until there was all but a door between you two? he couldn’t have done this when you were up at two in the morning waiting for him?

“i missed you.” is what follows.

you kick the door so hard it rattles.

“what the hell?” jeonghan yelps from the other side.

why the fuck are you only doing this now that i’m back? “i missed you too.”

“are you crying?” now his tone becomes concerned, all the humour gone and replaced. you can always trust jeonghan to come to the rescue at the very last moment, not a minute before. “are you okay? did something happen?”

“no,” you murmur, finally leaning against the door and sinking down onto the floor. “i’m just tired.”

“me too.”

you hide your face in your palms and take a deep breath. then another, and another, until you stop feeling like you’re about to scream.

there’s an audible thud from outside the door, and the thin strip of light seeping from under it breaks in half in the middle as jeonghan sits down, just like you.

“i thought there’d be a wider crack under the door,” jeonghan says, so painfully close that you can almost feel through the door how his back vibrates as he’s speaking.

“for what?”

it’s silent for a bit, and you can picture the slight pink in his cheeks when jeonghan finally responds, slightly bashful, “so we could hold pinkies or something.”

motherfucking shit. then it’s hit you more slowly— mother-fucking-shit.

trust yoon jeonghan to push through and break down all of your defences with a simple phrase. the worst part is, you know he knows the weight of his words. yoon jeonghan is a lot of things, but he is not stupid. that’s how he was able to escape from the dispatch headlines so easily, how he was able to dismiss the rumours with a single joke on going seventeen.

you can recite the subtitles with your eyes closed. good at making friends and drama.

friends.

you couldn’t even refute it, because you and jeonghan have been toeing the line of more than friends, less than dating, for ages. for as long as you can remember. for longer than you’ve been singing and for longer than he’s been performing.

“that’s not how you’re supposed to quarantine,” you respond.

“y/n?”

“hm?”

jeonghan’s quiet. you wait. you’re not very patient by nature, but you’ve had years to learn to be. you’re very good at it now.

instead of words, what you get is the sounds of fumbling from the door, and then something slides under the door. a white piece of paper.

“jeonghan, what the fuck is this?”

“a receipt.”

“a receipt?” you tug on the paper, and in the half-light, you can make out the tiny letters and numbers. it’s a regular receipt, probably from some cafe he went to with seungkwan or jisoo. you flip over the half that’s shoved under the door, and there isn’t even anything written on it.

“that’s all i have.”

you let go, releasing it, but jeonghan doesn’t pull it back. “and what?”

“hold it?”

jeonghan pushes it back with a purpose until you catch its corner again, sighing, “i don’t get it.”

“pinkies,” he replies, a little awkwardly. “if we both hold it.”

you don’t touch it.

“why didn’t you say anything?” you whisper at last, powerless to hold it back any longer.

“when?”

“ever.”

you’re not an idiot. you know there were limits to your fantasy, however sweet they were. that movie nights and sneaking into dorms and holding the crook of his elbow under thick padded coats and caps and black masks and last minute goodbye kisses in the bathrooms of award shows and music shows wouldn’t just magically set everything right. you’ve known for years that opportunities were sparse, that every next spring would only last until autumn. you didn’t expect to be talked to sleep every night you had felt alone, didn’t wait to be caught in someone’s arms the moment you walked through border control on your way back. but still, you wanted something.

something but the absence of everything at all. jeonghan had made you believe you deserved that much.

the last message he had ever sent you in your chat log was the morning of february fifteenth, after your manager had yelled and your group members looked at you with both pity and resentment. a short are you okay? that went unanswered. nothing about going through this together, not a single safe flight or how are you doing? when it was announced that you’d be taking a hiatus from group activities and doing your own solo work in china, japan having been scrapped out because it could’ve been arguably worse for you in japan than in korea considering jeonghan’s fanbase.

no don’t listen to what people are saying or don’t look at the comments when people were calling you names just because jeonghan kissed you on the forehead. just because you wanted to be normal for a single night, and walk in a park with a boy you were sure you loved, and who loved you back.

“i was busy,” jeonghan says, “i thought you were too.”

there was once a time you would believe anything jeonghan said, if only because you had no other option. you miss being young and stupid.

“i need you to stop doing this,” you say hoarsely, shoving your end of the receipt towards the door so it’s crumpled, but stuck there. “i can’t… like this.”

“i’m sorry,” jeonghan finally cracks, and you can hear the beginnings of tears in his voice too. good, except it doesn’t make you feel any better. “i just—“

you know jeonghan will never finish the sentence. you don’t expect him to. there’s not much to say anyway. it’s always been like this: jeonghan would start saying something, then would stop saying it, and you’d get into your head about it, and then jeonghan would always come back, and you’d ask yourself if there was any point in talking in the first place. there’s only a point in talking when you’re looking for something and haven’t found it yet. when you’ve found it, you just sit and fear the moment it’s taken away from you.

you’ve been doing it all wrong.

“why did you come?”

jeonghan bangs the back of his head against the door. if he was in the room with you, he’d be leaning against yours as you tuck yourself in the crook of his neck. “i wanted to see you on valentine’s day.”

“so now we just wait till the next one?” you can’t resist saying. you didn’t want to be cruel, but sometimes jeonghan does this— backs you into a corner until you can’t help but lash out. because at the end of the day, yours was the career that was damaged, and his continued on without repercussions. you still get calls from unknown numbers no matter how many times you change your phone number, and people still find your hotel rooms and bang on the door until security comes. you were the one whose brand reputation fell forty spots after an initial surge, and your group was the one officially uninvited to any hybe sponsored events.

jeonghan’s side of the receipt goes limp.

“i’m sorry.”

you bite back the thought: that doesn’t mean anything. it must mean something. it has to.

“i miss you.” jeonghan continues. so it’s in the present tense now.

you wrap your arms around yourself, knees up to your chest, and bang your head against the door, too. you match.

“say it again.” you breathe out.

“i miss you.”

“will you say it tomorrow?”

“would you want me to?”

you laugh out loud, incredulous. “would you want to say it?”

the silence stretches out before jeonghan mumbles out, “yeah.”

you want to hug jeonghan so bad your bones ache. you want to scream at him just as much.

“can you please just say it?” you make yourself speak, even though the words refuse to leave your mouth. “when you miss me. can you just say it? when you’re sorry, can you say it, and can you be there?”

jeonghan pushes the receipt back again, and your hand presses flush against the door. “will you say it, too?” he asks, voice soft. you missed his voice so much.

“yeah,” you give up, willing your voice to stop shaking. “i just don’t want to always be the first one.”

“okay.”

“i hate it. i have no idea what’s going on in your head.”

“me neither.”

you tug the receipt to your side of the door so quick jeonghan doesn’t have the chance to grab onto it. “go home, jeonghan.”

“can i call you? when i get home?”

“i don’t want to facetime.”

“we don’t have to.”

“okay,” you agree. you want to see his face. “okay.”

it takes a while for jeonghan to finally leave, but after he does, you pick yourself from the floor and return to bed, tugging the covers over your head. the receipt is all crumpled, but you lay it beside your phone, next to your face, anyway. you wait, wait, wait, and wait, like you did so many times over the past few months. a part of you believes that you’re still in china, in another hotel during another restless night hypnotising your phone for what will never come until you either fall asleep or text someone else to distract yourself until the morning. but you’re not there anymore.

you’re back, or well, as back as it currently gets. you don’t know if you’ll be included in the next group comeback, or if you’re waiting like a sitting duck for your company to fire you altogether. but whatever comes— you’ll deal with it. and you’ll deal with it alone if you have to, if jeonghan breaks yet another promise. you’ve never needed him, and you won’t start needing him now just because he’s promised to change.

you’ll deal with it, get used to it again, and with time the answer will become easy and natural again: no, jeonghan has never made me sad.

at 3:56 a.m., your phone screen finally lights up with a call. you let it ring thrice before picking up, but you don’t say anything. when jeonghan exhales, the speaker-fried sound of his breathing mixes with your own, and the trapped air under the blanket gets a fraction of a degree warmer.

“i miss you. i’m sorry.”

Chapter Text

you were okay with taking it slow. really.

but did jeonghan have to take it this slow?

you’ve been together for over three months now, and still there hasn’t been anything beyond make out sessions. you’ve been sopping wet on jeonghan’s lap more times than you can count from nothing more than kissing. isn’t that embarrassing? and yet every time you try to trail your lips further down than his jaw and neck, jeonghan stops you with a soft hand on your wrist, kissing your knuckles gently.

while you appreciated that jeonghan was taking it slow because of your lack of experience, you were so desperate for some action that you had to stop yourself from spreading your legs every time your gorgeous boyfriend walked into the room, or bending over every possible flat surface and beg for him to just fuck you already.

you had only had one boyfriend before jeonghan, and it hadn’t ended too well from what jeonghan had collected from thinly-veiled threats from minghao and stern telling-offs from jihoon. he had been a prick and an asshole that didn’t deserve you. jeonghan had cradled your cheeks in his hands when you finally told him about just how awful your ex-boyfriend was, like you were some type of fine china, precious porcelain that couldn’t bear be broken, and told you that he’d take care of you.

and well, you wanted him to take care of you. downstairs.

“so, what, you want jeonghan-hyung to give you some under the skirt action or something?” soonyoung asks from across the table, munching obnoxiously on his sandwich.

you rolled your eyes at him. “no, you idiot, i want him to rail me so hard i can’t walk.”

soonyoung started choking horrifically on his bite, and you couldn’t even find it within you to feel bad for him. the gall of your friend to not take you seriously in these trying times! what did a girl have to do to get laid these days? you slid a bottle of water towards him.

once he had stopped coughing, soonyoung stared at his half-eaten sandwich, avoiding your gaze, a wild flush on his cheeks. “y-you want jeonghan-hyung to, um—“

“i want to have sex with him, soonyoung.” you say bluntly, taking a sip of your matcha latte. “sex so good i get wobbly knees.”

“can you stop saying that?” he hisses, looking around as if anyone else was in the near vicinity. it was four o’clock on a wednesday evening, and the cafe you and soonyoung were in was inhibited by absolutely no one else.

“stop being such a prude.” you snorted. you crossed your said knees at the ankle. “are you going to help me or what?”

“help you do what?” your friend gasped out, voice becoming more and more hysterical.

you levelled him with a look that screamed ‘duh’. “help me make jeonghan realise how much he wants to fuck me.”

soonyoung held his head in his hands. “you need to stop talking before you send me into early cardiac arrest.”

you let out an annoyed sigh. “you’re so annoying, kwon soonyoung. this is just one thing i’m asking you to help me with! how many times have i helped you call in sick when you were actually hungover? or gotten you out of sunday brunch with your parents? hm? and this is how you repay me? see, now i’m going to have to walk around saying minghao’s my best friend instead of you—“

“shut up, myungho is not your best friend!” soonyoung squawked, offended. “i am!”

“then, prove it.” you egged him on, leaning your elbows against the table.

“fine!” soonyoung pouted, pushing his bottom lip out. “say i’m your best friend first.”

your features twist into a faint smile. “you’re my best friend.” you school it back into a serious expression. “now help me get fucked.”

-

you regret everything. you shouldn’t have asked soonyoung for help, that blabbermouth.

“honestly, i’m a bit offended you didn’t ask me, y/n.” minghao sniffed.

“i’m going to kill you.” you growl at soonyoung, who just cowers behind minghao’s taller frame like the little girlfriend he is. “no one will ever find the body.”

minghao ignores you, stalking over to your closet and beginning to rifle through your outfits.

“what was the point of getting mad when i said minghao was my best friend—“

“he’s not!”

“i am.”

“—if you were just going to tell him anyway?” you crossed your arms. “you’re a dick!”

“no, you’re trying to get jeonghan-hyung’s dick,” minghao corrected, pulling out a skirt and passing it over to you. “put that on.”

you stared at the too-short skirt in mystification, then looked back at minghao, who was now looking for a matching top. “hao, i can’t wear this. my ass will hang out.”

he looked over his shoulder, looking unimpressed. “isn’t that the point?”

“but—“

“but nothing!” minghao hands you a matching checkered tank top with a bow in front. “don’t you want to get railed? look, this shirt even has a ribbon on it! like you’re a present for him to untie or something!” soonyoung pretended to retch. he passed you the necklace on your dresser that jeonghan had got you for no reason. “i don’t need an occasion to give you nice things.” your boyfriend had said, eyes crinkling and his smile so soft you couldn’t help but kiss it off of him. it reignites the fire inside of you (and your thighs).

you shook your anxieties away. “you’re right!”

“i am!”

“i’m gonna change!” you announce. soonyoung grunts from where he’s now disinterestedly pressing on his phone like an uncle. you tug on the skirt in your bathroom, smoothing down the front and trying to pull on it to no avail. you turned around to look at how it rested from behind.

oh. oh.

maybe minghao was onto something. you pull on the top and carefully tuck it in. holy shit. minghao’s fashion degree was so worth it.

you exited the bathroom in a flourish, arms outstretched like you were the second coming of christ and twirling around. “everyone, look at me!”

“don’t flash me!” soonyoung whined.

“i’m looking,” your eyes snapped open at the foreign voice. minghao was sat beside soonyoung on your couch, and jeonghan was looking at you with a fond smile on his face. “you look so pretty, bunny.”

minghao made a disgusted face, but you paid him no heed, walking over to where jeonghan was perched on the edge of your dining table and settling in the space between your legs. he looked so fucking good clad in a silky white shirt, the top buttons undone and a delicate black choker around his neck. you had forgotten he was going to pick you up.

“you don’t look so bad yourself.” you murmur, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. he smiled into it, carefully winding an arm around your waist to pull you closer, his other hand cradling your hip. you sighed contently, and opened up for him. jeonghan got the hint, his tongue running along the seam of your bottom lip. if your friends weren’t in the room, you’d start rutting against his thigh, but that was for another time.

“ahem!” reluctantly, you two broke apart when soonyoung let out a cough. his beet red face was cute, you thought to yourself. “our friends are waiting and you two want to go to second base in front of us?”

jeonghan just laughed, getting off the table and intertwining your fingers.

“as if jisoo isn’t going to be late.” you replied primly. “bet you seungcheol’s pregaming right now.”

“an idiot would take that bet.”

“exactly.” you stuck out your tongue, before jeonghan took the necklace from you and turned you around.

he clasped the piece of jewellery on, and kissed your exposed shoulders, making your breath hitch.

soonyoung shoved his face in a pillow.

-

“can i—“

“nope.” you cut the stranger off. “i have a boyfriend.”

“but—“

“no buts.” you sucked on the straw of your daquiri. “i’m with my friends. leave me alone.”

he backed off, muttering under his breath. you sighed. that was the third guy you had shot down within twenty minutes. it was clear all these random dudes thought you were hot enough to want to buy you a drink, one had even forwardly asked if you wanted to go home with him, and yet your own boyfriend didn’t share the same sentiment. the second you entered the club, seungcheol had dragged jeonghan off to do shots, and soonyoung and minghao had deserted you for the dance floor with junhui. it was okay when vernon and wonwoo were around, but now even those two were nowhere to be found.

seungkwan was in the corner with chan, play-fighting over something or the other, while mingyu and seokmin got redder and redder from their continuously flowing pints of beer. just as you predicted, jisoo was running late, and you were stuck sitting at the bar with a watered down daquiri and far too many men approaching you for your liking.

your plan was going terribly. how was jeonghan supposed to find you so sexy he wanted to fuck you into next week if he wasn’t even here? you huffed petulantly, noisily finishing your daquiri. before you could ask for another, a hand landed on the table.

“not interested.” you said roughly.

“who says i wanted to buy you a drink?” the man asked. you turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “okay, you got me. can i get you another,” he paused, looking at the pink droplets that remained on the ice cubes of your glass. “strawberry daquiri?”

you rolled your eyes. “i have a boyfriend.” you repeated. “i’m here with my friends. and i’m not interested.”

the man shrugged. “okay. i got abandoned by my friends too. i came to shoot my shot and got let down. now i’m here trying to make a new friend. i’m jaehyun.”

he signalled for the bartender to get him a drink, and you mumbled out your drink and name. he seemed like a nice enough guy. pretty dimples.

“so where is this infamous boyfriend of yours?” jaehyun asked, turning around in his chair to survey the dance floor. “and why’d he leave you alone?”

“shut up.” you said. “our other friend dragged him off and ruined all my plans.”

“what plans?”

you sighed. you were probably a few drinks over your limit if you were even considering telling this random stranger how much you wanted to get bent over and railed until you couldn’t walk by your very attractive and gorgeous boyfriend.

jaehyun choked on his drink.

“did i say that out loud?”

“yeah, you did.” he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “holy shit.”

“whatever,” you sighed. “it’ll never happen at this point. i’ll die an old nun in a convent and lament my lack of promiscuity.”

“well.” jaehyun said, and didn’t continue. his rapidly red-growing ears gave away his thoughts.

“okay, perv.”

“hey,” he interjected, voice a little higher-pitched than before. “i respect the hustle.”

“you’re a guy.” you said, facing him.

“what an astute observation.”

“have you had a girlfriend before?”

“do i give off the vibe of someone whose never had one?”

“what made you want to have sex with her?”

“you should not be having any more drinks.” jaehyun said, cheeks growing as red as his ears. he moved your daquiri out of your reach.

“answer me!”

“just, y’know,” he shrugged. “the heat of the moment?”

“we’ve had a lot of moments.” you say seriously. “like, a lot.”

“what do you want me to say?” jaehyun squeaked out. “you asked a question and i answered it.”

you sigh, crossing your legs. the motion jostles your skirt up a bit, showing even more of your thigh than before. you’re too tipsy to feel the eyes on your skin from across the room. jeonghan watches as you grab your drink from beside jaehyun’s arm, your fingers grazing his sleeve, and suck at the straw.

it’s obscene.

one look at jaehyun and jeonghan knows he’s thinking the exact same thing jeonghan is. the only difference is that jeonghan’s your boyfriend, and allowed to think that. jaehyun is not.

jeonghan isn’t going to lie. this whole ‘taking it slow’ situation’s been frustrating him. he wants to treat you gently, he really does. you’re so precious to him. if he let his thoughts wander long enough, he’s sure those three words would make their way out of his mouth. but sometimes you look up at him through your pretty, pretty lidded eyelids and coquettish eyelashes, and he wants. the way you look so fucked out just from kissing, your lips swollen and your cheeks flushed makes him strain in his jeans. and the one time your hand had braved its way to the front of his pants, he swears he almost gave in. instead, he pressed a kiss to your temple and jacked off in the bathroom, reeking of shame and guilt.

and now.

now you’re sitting with some chump at the bar in a skirt that’s too short for his own good and your pretty tongue lapping around a thick straw like it’s the head of a cock. jeonghan can feel the beginning of a hard on in his tight pants.

from beside him, seungcheol follows his gaze, a knowing smirk forming on his face. “go. eye-fucking her won’t get you to horizontal tango.”

“fuck off.” jeonghan says, swinging back his shot and getting up. “it won’t just be horizontal if i get to have a say.”

seungcheol gags, affronted, but jeonghan’s too busy making his way over to you. he barely escapes soonyoung’s grasp, the younger whining at him to dance, before he’s standing in front of you. in the time it took for jeonghan to cross the dance floor, jaehyun’s leaned closer to you, though it could be because of the alcohol. four glasses are littered in front of him. but jeonghan won’t take that as an excuse.

“hi, sweetheart.” jeonghan greets, watching your eyes light up, albeit a bit slower than usual. “having fun?”

“hannie,” you whine, reaching out for him to pull you up. your boyfriend acquiesces, and you all but fall into his embrace, tucking your head into his neck and breathing in. jeonghan’s hands make their home in the curve of your hips, holding you flush against him. “i’ve been so boooooored. wonwoo and vernon left me, those jerks! oh,” you say like an afterthought. “this is my new friend, jaehyun.”

“nice to meet you.” jeonghan says dismissively, and jaehyun snorts into his drink. your boyfriend rolls his eyes before kissing your temple. “say bye to jaemyung, baby. we’re leaving.”

“bye, jaehyun!” you say obediently, waving. jaehyun waves back, and jeonghan guides you to the exit, one hand on the small of your back. you sigh loudly.

“what’s wrong, angel?” jeonghan asks, unlocking his car. he helps you into the passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt for you.

“it’s embarrassing.” you respond.

“i won’t make fun.”

“you’re lying.”

jeonghan tilts your chin up with a finger. “i won’t. i told you i’ll take care of you, didn’t i?”

“you did say that.” you allow.

“take your time, bunny.” jeonghan hums, and quickly makes his way to the driver’s seat. the drive home is filled with mindless chatter. jeonghan tells you about the cute guy seungcheol’s been flirting with at work, and you mention how vernon thinks he’s going to finally ask seungkwan out. the groupchat dings with jisoo’s arrival, and soonyoung’s drunk keyboard-smashing.

jeonghan helps you get ready for bed once you reach your apartment, taking off your shoes and your makeup with careful hands. you want to cry at how gentle he is with you. you also want to cry at how much you wish he’d just rip off your clothes and fuck you in your nice bed. you even wore your pretty underwear. but jeonghan walks you to the bathroom and waits outside the door as you put on his sweater and sleep shorts.

you’re tucked into bed with jeonghan curled around you when he speaks again, “what you’re dealing with,” his hands run through your hair softly. “it’s not bad, is it?”

“of course not.” you mumble into his chest. “not at all.”

“i shouldn’t be worried?”

“yoon jeonghan,” you say, looking up at him. “you’re far too good to me.”

jeonghan just smiles, and thumbs your cheek. “i’m just treating you the way you deserve, baby.”

you sigh blissfully. “god, i want you eat me out until i cry.”

jeonghan pauses, hands stopping in your hair.

“what?”

he gets no response. he looks down to see you dozing peacefully.

well, he definitely won’t be getting any sleep tonight.

-

you wake up with a splitting headache and a mouth so dry it feels like sandpaper.

you throw an arm over the right side of the bed, where jeonghan usually occupies on the nights he stays over, but the bedsheets are cold. you frown, sitting up despite how much you don’t want to. you swallow down the glass of water and advil on your bedside table, and make your way to your bathroom, brushing your teeth and washing your face. you don’t look as ratchet as you thought you would, and vaguely remember jeonghan helping you. he was so sweet. you wanted him so bad.

you walked out your bedroom, the faint smell of burning toast filling the air. you find jeonghan staring blankly at the wall above the stove instead of the stove itself, two slices of bread smoking on the pan.

“hannie,” you call out, making him jump.

“oh, fucking shit.” jeonghan swore, turning off the stove and flapping at the smoke with his hand. “fuck.”

you laugh, taking the pan from your boyfriend’s hand and sliding the bread onto plates. they’re not completely burnt, so.

jeonghan sat dejectedly across you. “i wanted to do something nice.”

you’d never understood the whole ‘your heart felt warm’ thing until that very moment. you took jeonghan’s hand from where it was laid on the table. “you’re always nice to me.”

you passed him the less burnt piece, munching on the not so burnt parts of the other before he could try to convince you to switch. jeonghan usually pokes fun at you the night after drinking, his socked feet prodding at your own in a little play of footsie under the table. but today your boyfriend was silent, lost in thought as he chewed mindlessly.

“hey,” you toed at him. “are you okay?”

jeonghan looked up and smiled at you. “of course i am, sweetheart.”

“did i do something?” you asked hesitantly. “how stupid did i get last night?”

“no, no,” jeonghan assured you, holding your hand tighter. “you didn’t do anything.” he paused. “you did say something though.”

you felt dread rise up from the pit of your stomach, racking your head for memories of last night. everything was so fuzzy. “oh no, what did i say?”

pink tinted jeonghan’s cheeks as he looked away and said, “youwantedmetoeatyououtuntilyoucried.”

“w-what?”

“you said you wanted me to eat you out until you cried.”

you had never known mortification until that very moment. that time you tripped over nothing in front of a full lecture hall on your first day at uni? child’s play. that time you spat out your first sip of liquor into your first crush’s face? absolutely nothing. that time your mother was helping you move and found your ‘sensual glide hands-free for pillow princesses’ vibrator and sat you down for a conversation about safe sex? well, that one was still pretty mortifying. but nothing matched this.

you were so sure your face was red as seungcheol’s was when he was wasted. you held your head in your hands, cheeks burning as you tried to come up with a response. “o-oh my fucking god. i’m so— jeonghan, i’m— oh my god.”

“did you not want me to do it?”

“i’m so— wait, what?” you dared to look in between the crevices of your fingers. jeonghan was watching you. and for the first time it wasn’t just fondness and affection in his eyes. it was something darker.

you pulled your hands away from your face to get a better look.

it was lust.

“did you not want me to eat you out until you cried?” jeonghan repeated casually, like he was asking you where you wanted to eat, or if you had a good night’s sleep.

“…i do.” you finally replied guiltily. “i—“ you hesitated, “i want you to do more than that.”

“what do you want me to do?”

“i can’t say it to you, it’s embarrassing!” you whine, but jeonghan just smiles again, nudging you with his toe. from across the dining table, his hair was ruffled, like he had been running his hands through it all night. and in his oversized sleep shirt and shorts, he looked like every bit of your domestic fantasy.

“tell me, pretty girl. i won’t judge.”

“i want you to fuck me.” you mumbled, suddenly finding the corner of your chair very interesting. “until i can’t walk.”

you hear a rough exhale, before jeonghan’s chair is pushing back against the floor and he’s crossing over to scoop you into his arms. you squeak, legs going wrap around his waist as he manoeuvres you back to the bedroom. “you are not strong enough for this!”

“of course i am,” jeonghan said, laying you down onto the bed and making a home between your spread legs. “i’d do anything for you, angel.”

“you’re not mad?”

jeonghan pauses. “why would i be mad?”

“you know,” you fiddle with the end of your, well his, sweater. “because i want you to treat me. you know.”

“just because you want me to treat you rough in the bedroom doesn’t mean i won’t be gentle with you outside of it.” jeonghan kisses the inside of your thigh, and you feel a gush of wetness in your panties. “we can go as far as you want, bun. just tell me what you’re comfortable with.”

“oh,” you say, then look at him through your eyelashes. “can you take off my pants?”

jeonghan grinned. “i can do more than that, sweetheart.” he tugged your pants off, and you thought you’d feel exposed under his gaze, but you didn’t. he admired the endless expanse of skin, beginning to press kisses up until he reached the bottom of your panties. you let out a moan when his teeth grazed just above where you wanted him the most, right over the lace. “you want these off, too?”

“y-yes.” you lifted your hips, and jeonghan pulled them off as well, leaving you completely bare in front of him.

“pretty.” he stated, “you’re so, so pretty.”

then he delved in.

-

“they’re late!” soonyoung kicked out his legs. you’d made it a tradition with your friends to get a very late lunch after a night of drinking. jisoo paid soonyoung no mind, sipping on his long island iced tea primly. unlike the others, jisoo was completely unaffected by the copious amounts of alcohol. the LA bitch in him was so strongly bred.

“be quiet.” mingyu groaned.

“i’m hungry.” soonyoung continued.

“just order already.” jihoon said, handing his friend the menu. “they’ll understand.”

the bell of the dingy diner rang, and all twelve heads turned over. jeonghan had a shit-eating grin on his face, his arm around your waist as you limped over to the booth. once you were safely squished between jeonghan and wonwoo, minghao snorted.

“what?” you asked, clueless.

“did you get mauled by a bear?” seungkwan asked, face contorted into an expression of disgust. “jesus christ, jeonghan-hyung.”

your hand went up to your neck, and you brought your phone camera up before slapping jeonghan’s arm. “you didn’t tell me!”

jeonghan just sighed happily. “you’re so pretty, baby.”

“pussy-whipped.” seungcheol muttered under his breath.

“you got some!” soonyoung squealed. he made grabby hands at you like the absolute child he was. you indulged him, if only to get him to stop squealing. the other patrons began looking over. “i knew the skirt would do it!”

“the skirt, huh?” jeonghan smirked. you pulled away from soonyoung as your boyfriend pressed a kiss onto your shoulder. “i guess it did work.”

“no, it wasn’t the skirt, idiot.” wonwoo said, “me and vern totally ditched her on purpose so hyung would get jealous.”

“oh my god, how many people did you tell, kwon soonyoung?” you hissed at your best friend.

“he didn’t tell us, we figured it out after you started bending over to grab your pens.” chan answered. “it made me sick, by the way, but i’m glad i don’t have to see jeonghan-hyung eye-fuck you anymore.”

“i think it’ll just happen more now, actually.” seokmin said.

“was the dick as bomb as you wanted?” soonyoung asked, completely shameless to your humiliation.

you just hid your face in the crook of jeonghan’s neck as he laughed. “better, i think.” jeonghan replied for you, before tapping your arm. “wasn’t it?”

“shut up, yoon jeonghan, i’ll end you.” you mumbled. “i will never have sex with you ever again.”

“now, that’s just a lie.” jeonghan said close to your ear. “we haven’t even gotten you bent over yet, bunny.”

“can i get your order?” a completely clueless waitress asked, walking up to your table with a bright smile on her face.

your friends’ mouths snapped shut.

“yes,” jisoo closed his menu, smiling at her brilliantly. “three of the salmon. two of the alfredo pasta. six of the steaks. three of the chicken. and one more long island iced tea. make it very strong. thank you.”

Chapter Text

jeonghan looks up from the endless paperwork on his desk. ever since it was announced that he was going to be taking over the company in his father’s place six months ago, he’s been drowning in meetings, site visits, mergers and everything in between. seungkwan had made sure everyone on the sixty-fifth floor knew to move as efficiently and as quietly as possible.

which is why he’s bewildered at the commotion that seems to be happening right outside his office. he’s just about to reluctantly push against his desk and walk out when the door slams open.

jeonghan lets out a laugh.

you’ve barely closed the door in seungkwan’s face when you turn around and demand, “drop your pants, it’s go time.”

jeonghan looks at you fondly. “right now?”

“did you not hear me, yoon?” you shot back, shrugging off your coat to reveal the black dior blazer dress you had on underneath. “drop your pants.”

“as much as i’d like to i’m on the clock, sweetheart.” the infuriating man responded, gesturing to the papers in front of him. he checks his watch. “and you are, too.”

you rolled your eyes, marching over to his side of the desk petulantly before plopping down onto his lap. jeonghan accepted your weight easily, curling his arms around your waist like it was second nature. you pout down at him, and jeonghan’s never been the strongest at denying you something, so he leans up to press a kiss onto your lips.

you use it to your advantage, joining your hands behind his neck and pulling him closer, inadvertently rubbing against his pants. jeonghan nearly groans, but pulls away just as you’re about to push your tongue into his mouth.

“sweetheart,” he says warningly. you just smile winningly at him. “as much as i love being graced by your presence, what are you doing here?”

you sigh, “my parents came to visit.”

“ah,” that made sense. your parents were conservatives. wait, jeonghan just thought of a better word. they were absolute assholes. it didn’t matter to them that you basically rebuilt their name into the fashion industry, or went against all stereotypes and prejudices to establish yourself as the youngest ceo of one of the longest living fashion houses in the world. to them, all you were was a woman, and a woman had to get married. jeonghan rubbed his thumb against your waist. “are you okay?”

“no.” you answered, a tinge of sadness in your voice that made jeonghan want to wrap you in his arms and hide you away from everything that could ever cause you pain. “can you take off your pants now?”

“baby,” jeonghan said, cupping your cheek. “why are you doing this?”

you fidget with your hands before giving up, ultimately tucking your face into the crook of jeonghan’s neck. “they want to marry me off.”

“what?”

“i know.” you huff. “i’m not a fucking cow. i’m a grown woman and they just— i can’t even—“ you cut yourself off, taking deep breaths. jeonghan runs his hands across your back. “i need you to take your pants off and knock me up so they won’t marry me off to kim mingyu—“

jeonghan choked, beginning to cough horrifically. you passed him the glass of water on his desk.

“you want me to what?” he asked again, like an idiot.

“i want you to knock me up.” you repeated, much slower this time. from outside the door, jeonghan heard a laugh that sounded suspiciously like seungkwan’s.

let it be known that yoon jeognhan does not get tongue-tied very easily. he racked his brain for a rational explanation for your request. it made absolutely no sense. you and jeonghan have been fooling around for what seems like forever. your families ran in the same snooty, upper class circle, and you grew up together, but it wasn’t until you two got to university that he started seeing you in a more than friendly light. and it was clear his sentiments were shared, because not two weeks after your freshman orientation, you were underneath him at some frat party.

he expected it to be a one time thing, but here you were, nearly eight years since said party, still hanging out with each other on weekends and free days. sometimes you wouldn’t even sleep together, you’d just curl up on the couch and catch up on whatever drama your friends raved about, or cook dinner and fall asleep in his bed right after. jeonghan ignored all of jisoo and seungcheol’s suggestive glances and less than subtle questions about the status of your relationship. he was content with what he had with you and didn’t want to mess it up.

“okay, baby,” jeonghan started placatingly, “but why?”

you looked at jeonghan like he was the one being unreasonable here, and made yourself more comfortable on his lap and the tent in his pants harden. “if i get knocked up, you have to marry me.” you say like it’s very clear what’s going on.

jeonghan can’t find it in him to understand. “but you don’t want to get married.”

“that’s not true,” you rebuke, “i just don’t want to get married to some asshole my parents pick.”

“and you want to get married to me?”

“well,” your cheeks tinge the slightest pink, and jeonghan resists the urge to reach out and pinch them. “we get along.”

“we do.”

“and we have fun together.”

“a lot of fun.”

“and we’re friends.”

“we are.”

“i know you’d take care of me.”

“i always do.”

“and i take care of you.”

“you do.”

“do you really have to make me say it?” you whined.

jeonghan leans back against the chair, “of course i do.”

“jeonghan,” you say slowly, “let’s get married so our parents don’t make us marry anyone else.”

jeonghan thought about it. his mother was nagging him to settle down, and his sister was poking fun at him for being ancient. his father wanted him to show that he was serious. but more importantly, he liked you, and it was more than logistics. it was more than the fact that he knew it was difficult to find someone who he’d fall in love with and would be accepted by his family.

he liked you because you were you— loud and unabashed, and entirely unafraid to express your opinion. he liked you because you stood up for what you believed in, and protected and took care of your friends fiercely. he liked you because you looked cute as you woke up, and because you lit up every room you walked into. he liked you because you were his best friend before you were whatever it is that you were to him now.

but he had to know if you liked him back.

“y/n,” jeonghan said, cupping your face in his hand. you leaned closer. “do you like me?”

you slapped his shoulder, making him wince. “you idiot!”

jeonghan rubbed the area, whining, “what’d you do that for?”

“i can’t believe it took me asking you to get me pregnant for you to fucking realise that we’ve been dating for six years!”

“six?” he couldn’t help but ask. “when did we start?”

definitely the wrong thing to say, because you got up from his lap and started fuming. “you’re an ass!” you huffed, grabbing your purse from where you threw it onto the couch. “you’re despicable!”

jeonghan laughed, walking a few easy steps to where you were getting ready to leave. he wrapped his arms around your waist, his front to your back, and pressed a kiss onto the juncture of your neck. you reprimand yourself for easing into his touch readily.

“the night at cheol’s?” he asked. you sighed, shaking your head. “when i dropped you off after shua’s birthday?” you shook your head again. “when we lugged soonyoung home—“

you let out a displeased sound, and jeonghan laughs, the sound reverberating. he cuddles you closer, nuzzling his nose into the back of your neck and racking his brain for the answer. it hits him like a freight train.

“the day after your birthday,” jeonghan says, and you hum, silently asking for him to continue, “i blew your back out after your party and you asked me to stay the night for the first time. the next morning you kissed me while i was cooking breakfast and we spent the rest of the day in bed.”

you turned in his arms, rolling your eyes. “it only took you ten thousand tries to get it—“

jeonghan leaned down to kiss you, licking into your mouth and making you gasp. he pressed you against his desk, trailing his kisses down your jaw. “well, i’m not wasting anymore time, am i?”

you bit your lip to muffle a moan when his hands slowly trailed up your dress. “is that a yes to my question?”

he started unbuttoning your dress. “is that an answer enough?”

you pouted. “i need you to say it.”

jeonghan sighed, aggravated, but smooched you once more. you smiled, tangling your hands in his hair. “y/n,” he said dramatically. “i would be honoured to knock you up out of wedlock and then marry you after so our parents won’t have us marry anyone else.”

“good,” you kissed his cheek, “now get to it.”

-

“so you must be wondering why we called you two here today,” your father started. you and jeonghan sat side by side, hands interlocked underneath the table. yours and jeonghan’s parents sat across you, making you feel like you were in some sort of job interview. “you’re both well beyond being of age, and we thought it would be in your best interests if you got—“

“i’m pregnant.” you blurted out.

jeonghan hid his snicker behind his other hand, biting the inside of his cheek to muffle the sound. your mother’s jaw dropped, and jeonghan’s mother suddenly looked very faint.

“what?” jeonghan’s father demanded.

“i said i’m pregnant!” you snapped.

“whose baby is it?” your mother asked, beginning to look green.

jeonghan raised his hand, smiling angelically when his parents gawked at him. “mine.”

“i-you-oh my,” jeonghan’s mother sputtered, “oh my.”

“so you can’t make me get married to anyone else!” you stomped your foot, making jeonghan finally let out a laugh. you were so cute, dressed in your little miu miu minidress, the white collar making you look like the epitome of a good daughter. “i’m marrying jeonghan and that’s that!”

your father fought for his composure, looking both surprised and ill at the thought of his only daughter… with child. “darling, do you not know why the yoons are here?”

“well,” you said haughtily. “you want to marry jeonghan off too!”

“yes, darling,” your mother said, fanning herself with her hand. “to you.”

jeonghan almost did a spit take. “excuse me?” he asked instead, voice croaky.

“i swear we told you this last month, y/n.” your father admonished. “remember when we visited you at the office—“

“i tuned you out after you started telling me about my duties and how nice it would be to come home and know i was being taken care of.” you replied, muted in shock. “i don’t need to be taken care of, by the way.”

“you don’t, baby,” jeonghan reassured you. his mother let out a sigh from under her breath at the term of endearment, “but i’ll do it anyway.”

you scrunched your nose at him before looking back at your parents. jeonghan couldn’t help but press a kiss to the back of your intertwined hands.

“w-when did you two even…” your mother trailed off.

“two weeks after freshman orientation.” you and jeonghan answered in unison.

“i can’t say i’m surprised.” your father said, rubbing his forehead. “and the baby?”

“right after you left my office last month.” you responded uncouthly, making your mother close her eyes.

“we’ll just speed everything up,” jeonghan’s father said, “they’ll get married in two months instead of six so she isn’t showing—“

“and we’ll say the baby was early—“

“a honeymoon baby—“

“and—“

you tuned everything out, looking at jeonghan. “well.”

“i guess everything worked out in our favour, after all.” he said, cupping your cheek and pressing his forehead against yours.

you smiled, sneaking a hand down to your stomach. “i guess it did.”

Chapter Text

“no, i’ll figure something out,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “you have that team meeting today.”

“you know they won’t mind,” jeonghan said, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him. you went easily, leaning up to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“yes, they will.”

“then you know they wouldn’t dare say anything.”

you let out a small giggle into the crook of his neck. that, you could agree with. “yeah, they wouldn’t.”

“stop worrying,” jeonghan pecked your temple, hugging you tighter. “it’ll only be a few hours.”

“in the company of thirteen men,” you snorted, beginning to feel a migraine coming. “the amount of possible trauma that might be inflicted. not to mention the possible hearing loss—“

“i wouldn’t let anything happen,” jeonghan whined, stomping his foot petulantly. you rolled your eyes fondly. a man in his late twenties shouldn’t be as cute as he was. “don’t you trust me?”

you softened, cupping his cheek and rubbing against the shallow cut under his eye. “yeah, i do.”

he kissed the inside of your palm. “good.”

a beat of silence passed before you opened your mouth to say, “if she cries, i’ll kill you all.”

-

“he’s late,” mingyu said, leaning back in his chair and joining his hands behind his head.

“he’s even later than seungkwan.” soonyoung noted, looking at the clock on top of the double doors. “this has to be some kind of new record.”

“hey!” seungkwan shouted, “do you want to fight, kwon soonyoung?”

“bring it on, shorty!” he got up, a purposefully evil expression on his face, “no one beats me at hand to hand, anyway.”

“who’re you calling shorty, mister ‘i-wear-shoe-lifts’?”

“is there anyone else here below five foot seven—“

“don’t push it.” jihoon said, and the room fell into silence. “or i’ll maim you.”

soonyoung sat back down, crossing his legs primly before facing joshua, “hyung, do you—“

“leave me out of it.” joshua answered, not looking up from his phone. “he didn’t tell me anything.”

“liar.” chan mumbled.

“will you all just settle down already?” seungcheol said tiredly from where he was seated at the head of the table. “i’m sure jeonghan has a good excuse.”

“yeah?” minghao prodded, “the last time he said he got distracted by, what was it again? cats?”

“a den of bunnies.” wonwoo corrected, a deadpanned expression on his face.

“and then we had to call a recess because seungkwan wanted to see—“

“be quiet, wen junhui!” seungkwan complained, cheeks turning pink. “i just wanted to know if he was lying or not—“

“we all saw you get excited, boo, you don’t have to lie.” vernon said, snacking on a bag of chips.

“can we just—“

the double doors swung open to reveal jeonghan.

only he wasn’t alone.

jihoon bit down on his bottom lip to stop himself from bursting into laughter.

jeonghan was dressed impeccably, in his usual suit and tie, a pair of black sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. the one anomaly of this particular day was that, well. he had a baby strapped to his chest, the ssc a bright pink, and her little hands grabbing at the bottom of his tie as she shoved the end of it into her mouth.

casually, as if nothing was amiss, jeonghan made his way to the empty seat beside seungcheol, taking off his sunglasses and passing it to hana, who abandoned his tie for the accessory. jeonghan patted her cheek, making a face at her and leaning down to smooch her chubby cheek before looking around the room.

“what?” he asked when no one said anything. seungkwan was barely keeping it together, already making grabby hands, not unlike hana was making a few moments ago, to pick up your daughter. “don’t we have a meeting?”

seungcheol recovered first, hiding his laughter behind his fist. “yes, we do. the arms dealing contract we have with the neos—“

“jeonghan-hyung, give her here, i want to eat her.” seungkwan interrupted, finally giving in. jeonghan unstrapped hana from his chest, passing her over to the younger and placing the carrier on the floor, stretching his arms over his head.

joshua snorted at the popping noises, “old man.”

“fuc— fridge off, shuji.”

“anyway, before i was so rudely interrupted,” seungcheol shot a look at seungkwan, who ignored him and continued to coo at hana. “the arms dealing contract we have with the neos has been violated on their part, which means—“

“raid!” soonyoung shouted excitedly.

the volume of his voice startled poor hana, who was just getting used to seungkwan’s fingers poking at her cheeks and arms. she made a scrunched up expression, like she was about to let out an ear-piercing wail.

“yoon hana,” jeonghan said in panic. “you can’t cry today, remember? mommy’s gonna kill all of us if you cry.”

“all of us?” wonwoo clarified. “why are we involved in this?”

“she said she wouldn’t put it past us to give my daughter hearing loss—“

“she was right,” seokmin muttered under his breath.

“—and she said if hana cries she’ll kill us.”

“i knew you shouldn’t have gotten married! y/n’s just a scarier version of you—“

jeonghan threw his pen at mingyu with terrifying aim, making it lodge right in the space between the buttons on his shirt, the tip hitting squarely on his chest before toppling into his lap.

“do you want to say that again?”

mingyu meep’ed, shaking his head.

“give her here.” joshua finally sighed, motioning for seungkwan to pass hana over. he did so gratefully, and joshua began bouncing her on his lap. it’s a comical sight. joshua hong who was able to kill a man thirty-two different ways with a chopstick singing softly at his goddaughter on his lap, but no one was brave enough to say anything. if jeonghan was scary, and you were scarier, joshua was scariest.

the expression on hana’s face slowly disappeared when she finally found interest in joshua’s pocket square, beginning to babble in glee. the room let out a collective breath of relief. the last time they crossed you, they had found every single one of their houses infiltrated and their shampoo replaced with shaving cream. how you, a civilian, had managed to do that was beyond them to this day.

“so, yeah, we have to stage a raid.” seungcheol continued lamely. “seokmin, seungkwan, vernon are on surveillance, tell us when it’s best for us to do it. jihoon, soonyoung and wonwoo are on stock duty—“ soonyoung let out a whine. “and if you complain, you won’t get to come. jun, myungho, chan and mingyu are going on a stake-out. jeonghan and jisoo are on,” the two men shot glares at him. “baby duty?”

“sounds good to me.” jeonghan grinned, as if he wasn’t about to commit bodily harm on his best friend if he denied him.

“why do jeonghan-hyung and shua-hyung get to—“

“do you want my wife to mix your tiger sheets with your white shirts?” jeonghan asked. “because she will do it.”

soonyoung closed his mouth, pouting and crossing his arms over his chest.

-

the day had bled into the night when you finally arrived at their headquarters, a nondescript building tucked into the busiest business district in seoul. you swiped your card at the entrance and rode the elevator up to the seventeenth floor, waving hello at the receptionist and thanking him when he led you to the boardroom they were using today.

from outside, you could hear raised voices, and you braced yourself for the scene that was about to befall you. you pushed the doors open, and let your jaw drop.

hana was strapped to the front of a rolling chair, with seungkwan and vernon playing a very light game of pushing her back and forth while the others were crowded around them like they were in a cage fight. there didn’t seem to be a penultimate winning move to the game at all. it just seemed like they were… having fun watching your daughter giggle.

“sweetheart!” jeonghan said, finally noticing that you were in the room. “how was your day?”

“fine,” you replied distractedly. “i scrubbed in two surgeries and got to put a bone back into place.”

“did you hear that hana?” seungkwan cooed when hana reached his side. “mommy got to put a bone back into place!”

jeonghan made his way to you, smacking mingyu on the upside of his head when he made kissy faces. you couldn’t help but smile back at the expression on your husband’s face, not fighting when he pulled you into a hug, kissing you square on the mouth while his friends did their best to ignore the public display of affection.

you rolled your eyes when you caught minghao making gagging motions behind jeonghan’s back, kissing your husband even harder, licking across the seam of his bottom lip. jihoon made a disgusted noise when jeonghan’s hands began to wander.

“please stop.” mingyu said. “we don’t want to see you two give hana a sibling right in front of us.”

“you wish, kim mingyu.” jeonghan spat when you finally pulled away. “now give my wife her baby before she gets an aneurysm. she’s been staring at hana since she got here.”

begrudgingly, vernon unstrapped hana from the rolling chair, handing her over to you and finally letting the weight in your chest rest easy. “hello, my darling.” you booped hana’s nose, making her smile delightedly. “did you miss me? i missed you so much.” you smooched her chubby cheek. “did uncles and daddy give you a tough time?”

“i resent that!” joshua protested. “i stopped soonyoung from buying himself and hana a matching uncle and nephew tiger onesie!”

“i missed you so much.” you continued, ignoring him. hana patted your cheek. “you missed mommy, too? thank you.”

jeonghan watched the interaction with poorly hidden admiration in his eyes. chan sighed, leaning back in his chair at the exchange.

“did she cry?” you asked when you finally had your fill of squishing hana’s cheeks. “if anyone tries to lie i’ll kill you. i’m giving fifty dollars to the first person who confesses.” mingyu shot up his hand, causing half the room to get up and stalk over to him with the intention of smothering him. “mingyu, if you say it, i’m doubling it to a hundred.”

“seokmin almost dropped her—“

you glared at seokmin, who shrunk in his seat. “y/n, i—“ he began rolling backwards. “mingyu, i swear to god—“

“first person to tell me what brand of toothpaste seokmin uses gets twenty dollars.”

“honey, maybe you should stop squandering our money—“

“first person who gets my husband to shut up gets twenty, too.”

soonyoung shot up, slapping a hand over jeonghan’s mouth.

“sensodyne repair and protect.” minghao answers.

“lee seokmin, watch your bathroom for the next week.”

“baby,” jeonghan says, smacking soonyoung’s hand away from him. “let’s go home?”

“we’re not done planning—“ seungcheol tries to interject, but neither of you pay him any attention. you thread your fingers with jeonghan’s, and put hana into her carrier, waving at everyone before closing the door behind you. “well.”

“is it just me or does anyone else think y/n could get taeyong and johnny to give up the arms?” jun proposes.

a flash of approval appears on jihoon’s face. “could be worth a shot.”

“y/n, we have an employment opportunity for you!” soonyoung yells out.

“not a fucking chance!” jeonghan screams back, voice resonating even through the oak doors.

“i’ve never heard him speak so loud.” vernon commented.

“the wonders of love.”

Chapter Text

jeonghan is many things— a world renown chaotician, a bestselling author, the youngest person to ever win a pulitzer twice, the only person permanently banned from the museum of natural history, and so much more.

but to you, he’s just your ex-husband.

which sucks, because you don’t know a single one of your friends’ ex-husbands who still have them as their emergency contact. moreover, not a single ex-husband has ever gotten attacked by dinosaurs at a sneak peek of the long-awaited jurassic park opening and need them to sign a release form.

of course the first one would have to be your ex-husband.

you sigh, heels click-clacking on the hospital floors as you look for the room jeonghan’s being kept in. vvip, the nurse at the front desk had said, failing very badly at keeping her blush at a minimum. jeonghan had that effect on people. once upon a time it had bothered you. now you just roll your eyes and walk away. your therapist did a wonderful job at effectively crushing your people-pleasing tendencies.

you don’t have the patience to knock on the door of room 2, so you just swing it open, revealing jeonghan, arm wrapped up in a cast and a cut on the bridge of his nose. you can see an unruly gash on the side of his left made by something sharp and a bandage secured on it. despite all this, your ex-husband is still beaming beatifically at you like absolutely nothing’s out of place.

“hello, sweetheart.” he coos, waving at you like a toddler. “i knew you’d come.”

you rolled your eyes, but close the door behind you and settle onto the cushy lounge chair beside his hospital bed. “i’m surprised you didn’t call your most recent ex, actually.”

“hyejoo would’ve yelled at me,” jeonghan pouted, “and you know i don’t like yelling.” a sly smile forms on his face as he side-eyes you. “plus, no one forgets their first.”

“i’m so sure that’s only supposed to count for sex, you idiot, not ex wives.”

“i’m flattered you kept up with me, though.” jeonghan continued, dismissing your comment entirely.

“well,” you pull out your phone when it vibrates in your purse, running a hand through your hair before typing out a response to the sender. “when all your mutual friends do is send screenshots of the brand new mrs. yoon jeonghans and ask you if your ex-husband has completely lost his mind, you pick up a few things along the way.” jeonghan cranes his neck in an attempt to see who you’re texting, but you put the phone face down on the couch. “how many has it been since me, hm? i lost count after jisoo told me he was going to stop being best man.”

jeonghan huffed, crossing his arms as best he could with the cast. “if you must know, it was you and then sojung then wheein then gowon—“

“gowon, josh’s ex-girlfriend from college gowon?” you interrupted.

“yeah, that was also the wedding he stopped being best man.”

“extremely understandable. i’ll send him an edible arrangement when i get home for having to deal with your bullshit.”

“then chaeyoung then hyejoo.”

you whistled. “six ex-wives. i don’t even think i own six plants.”

“what about you?” jeonghan asked, completely unashamed at your, well, shaming. “any other mr. y/n y/l/ns that i should be worried about?”

“once was enough for me, thanks.”

“i’m sorry that no one could ever compare to me, angel baby.” your ex-husband croons unsympathetically.

“more like you traumatised me and my ability to form healthy romantic relationships but keep dreaming, dinosaur man.”

“i’m not a dinosaur man! that’s mingyu. i was just there to make sure everyone was in line.”

“you?” you said incredulously. you could not think of another person who spent less time in line than jeonghan. “the chaotician?”

“shut up!” he whined. “the chaos theory is more than a butterfly flapping its wings in peking and—“

“it starts raining instead of shining in central park.” you finish. you’d heard that one more times than you could count while you were married. you’re honestly sick of having this conversation, so you nod at his leg. “how bad is it?”

“a velociraptor stabbed me and i got chased by a t-rex.” jeonghan replied blankly. “what do you think?”

“so that son of a bitch actually did it, huh?” you whistle, crossing your legs. “rich asshole. you have a bit of money and then you think the entire world is yours.”

“you get me.” jeonghan said, “i knew that sleaze bang was a dick the second i met him.”

“takes one to know one.” you poke fun, making him gasp in mock affront. your phone vibrates again on the leather of the couch, and jeonghan’s eyes move to it. “anyway, what do i need to sign to get you out of here?”

“who’re you texting?” he asks instead. “future ex mr. y/n y/l/n?”

“none of your business.” you respond smoothly, reading the message and replying swiftly. “i have to go, what do i need to sign?”

“you’re leaving?” jeonghan’s expression was incredulous. “i almost died at a theme park with live dinosaurs and you’re leaving?”

you sighed at the melodramatic man. “jeonghan, i’m not your wife anymore. i have a life. i came because you’re my friend and for reasons beyond me, i’m still your emergency contact. you look fine. the doctors said you’ll be better in no time.”

jeonghan gaped at you. “b-but—“

the door slid open, revealing jeonghan’s doctor. “ah, good, you’re still here, dr. y/l/n!”

“hi, dr. lee.” you smiled, getting up from your seat and shaking his hand. “jeonghan’s all good to be discharged?”

“just sign here.” he handed you his clipboard, and you scanned through the fine print carefully.

your eyes widened.

“what the hell is this?” you demand, underlining patient will have to stay with emergency contact, or next available kin for three weeks.

“dr. yoon didn’t inform you?”

you glared at jeonghan, who just gave you the peace sign, curved fingers and all. “what the fuck, jeonghan?”

“come onnnnnn,” jeonghan whined. “you won’t kick me out, will you?”

“i’ll get hyejoo to sign off. i have things to do at home—“

“what things?” your ex-husband bit back. “i nearly died, y/n!”

“and whose fucking fault is that?” you yelled, slamming the clipboard down on the table. dr. lee let out a surprised grunt before making his way out of the room. “i told you the second we got married when that idiot bang came to tell you about that fucking park that it was going to be a bad idea and you went anyway!”

“well, it happened. and now i need your fucking help and you won’t give it?”

“jeonghan, i have a fucking life! i can’t drop shit just because of your god complex—“

“what fucking god complex—“

“oh, you’re so full of shit—“

“i’m full of shit? you’re lying so you don’t have to be stuck with me and i’m full of shit—“

“i have a daughter, jeonghan!”

jeonghan closed his mouth. opened it again. you interrupt him before he can even say anything.

“no, she’s not yours, you self-centred prick.”

jeonghan nodded, processing the information. “well, i wasn’t expecting that.”

you plopped back down on the couch, rubbing your forehead. “i have to pick her up from school after this. and i am not doing it with my ex-husband in the back seat.”

“who’s the dad?”

you rolled your eyes. “is this important?”

“of course it is!” jeonghan insisted. “i have to know who fathered the child of my ex-wife and took my place!”

“i would never have a kid with you—“

“hey!”

“marrying you was a big enough headache—“

“kick a man while he’s down, why don’t you—“

“seungcheol.” you decided to just answer, feeling an impending migraine if you continued evading him.

“seungcheol?” jeonghan repeated, voice as loud as he could get it. which wasn’t that loud, if you were being honest. “seungcheol our mutual best friend until our divorce and he took your side and never spoke to me again seungcheol?”

“yup.” you said, popping the ‘p’. “he’s a great dad, by the way.”

“does he live with you guys?”

“no, he gets ara on weekends.”

“so i can stay over!” jeonghan said, cheery. he began getting up from the hospital bed, wincing as he moved his leg.

“jeonghan—“

“y/n,” you paused at his tone. when you looked over at him, jeonghan was holding himself up against the railing of the hospital bed, arm straining at his own weight. you softened. “you know i wouldn’t be asking for help if i didn’t really need it.”

you bit the inside of your cheek. “i know.”

“please. i’ll owe you one.”

you mulled over the options. it was very clear yours was the only marriage that didn’t end up in utter catastrophe. jeonghan would be a good enough houseguest. he was clean and never made much noise. he wouldn’t be too intrusive onto you and ara’s routines.

“okay.”

a smile formed on jeonghan’s face. “really?”

“don’t make me regret it, yoon.”

jeonghan squealed, wobbling over to you and holding your face in his hands. you rolled our eyes for the umpteenth time when he squished your cheek and pecked your forehead. oh, you were in trouble. because there wasn’t a flurry of butterflies in your stomach, but you felt something spark inside you. you slapped his hands away, huffing. you didn’t have time for that.

jeonghan just grinned, pressing the ‘call’ button to ask the nurse to help him pack his things. he had realised something at the park, sometime between running from that t-rex and getting slashed at by that velociraptor. no one had ever understood him like you, and all his failed marriages after you was proof of that. he had searched high and low for someone who’d reignite the fire in him when your hand was in his and not a single person had come close.

he was yoon jeonghan— world renown chaotician, bestselling author, the youngest person to win a pulitzer twice, the only person permanently banned from the museum of natural history, your ex-husband. but most of all— he was just a man. a man who fell in love with you years ago and never fell out of it.

Chapter Text

“i’m calling it a night,” jeonghan announced to the room, making it erupt into groans and boos, seungcheol’s the loudest. the living room was littered with beer bottles and soju glasses, twelve of the other members in various stages of disarray. jeonghan wrinkled his nose at the mess. “shut up, i have a schedule tomorrow, remember?”

“oh yeah, mister brand ambassador!” hoshi wolf-whistled. jeonghan covered his face with his palm, cheeks blooming the faintest pink. “king of japan!”

jeonghan waved the cheers away before making his way back to his floor. once the elevator slid closed, the silence was jarring. jeonghan doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to not hearing the pitter patter of feet against hardwood floors, bickering from the kitchen, the click of doors being opened and closed. it’s a scary thought.

he shakes them away anyway, walking to his bedroom and getting ready for bed. once his skin is plump, moisturised and every bit seventeen’s angel yoon jeonghan, he plops down onto his bed, pulling his comforter up to his chin. it’s still dead silent. a glance to his bedside clock tells him it’s only 12:30am. usually he’d still be in the midst of the festivities, but here he is.

it’s quiet. it’s lonely.

jeonghan turns off his lamp. the room becomes bathed in darkness. he shuts his eyes, and very valiantly tries not to think of when the space beside him wasn’t empty.

on the 23rd of may, jeonghan falls asleep in an empty bed.

-

there’s light over jeonghan’s eyes, and the first thought that comes to mind is that— that isn’t right. he was supposed to be up at 4. his second thought is— he has blackout curtains. that isn’t right.

his eyes fly open.

his breathing quickens, because this isn’t his room. the floor beneath him is carpeted, the wardrobe is white, and the dresser is clean, tidy, not the mess he had left it the night before. there’s no mushroom lamp on the bedside table, only—

that isn’t right.

jeonghan rubs the sleep out of his eyes. this has to be a dream. this has to be a—

“jjong?”

he turns, and feels his heart drop.

the sheets have fallen down to the dip of your waist, and you’re pouting up at him in his oversized shirt, eyes still shut. “what’re you doing?” your voice is still croaky from sleep, but jeonghan thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. he didn’t think he’d ever get to hear it ever again. you finally open your eyes, and jeonghan has to hold back from crying. “babe? what’s wrong?”

you sit up, reach out to cup his cheek. jeonghan lets the tears roll down his cheeks at your touch. you take it in stride, bodily draping yourself over him, legs on either side of his lap, and wipe them away. “nightmare?” you whisper.

jeonghan just nods, not trusting his voice.

“it’s okay.” you press a kiss to his cheek, and jeonghan feels more tears cascade down. “i’m here.” jeonghan cries even harder. “that bad, huh?” you ask, running your hands through his hair, smoothing down the hair that curls right at his nape. you press more kisses onto his cheeks, his nose, his eyes, his temple. you can’t quite reach his forehead, so you press one to the space between his eyebrows, and that gets a giggle out of him.

you smile softly at the sound, and it’s all the warning he gets before you’re kissing him right on the mouth. muscle memory is all jeonghan has. his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. you give as good as you get, tangling your hands in his hair. once you two have to part for air, jeonghan chases your mouth, making you laugh.

“okay?” you murmur against his lips.

“yeah,” jeonghan responds. “yeah.” he doesn’t think he’s been okay until this very moment.

“you want breakfast or do you wanna wait until the gremlin wakes up?”

jeonghan’s mouth dries. “gremlin?”

you whine, moving against his lap. “don’t you try getting all righteous now, yoon jeonghan! you’re the one who started calling seolla that. it caught on!”

“seolla?” he asks stupidly.

you knit your eyebrows. “you know? your daughter?”

jeonghan feels his heart tighten. he’s sure this is exactly what heartbreak feels like. “of course i know my own daughter,” he huffs, voice faltering. as always, you catch it.

“hey,” you take his hand. “is everything okay?”

jeonghan uses his other hand to take the photo frame sitting on the bedside table. you, jeonghan and the most beautiful little girl sitting on his lap, and shakes his head. “what if i told you this was all a dream?”

you sigh, “did soonyoung dare you to try to prank me again?”

“y/n,” somehow saying your name makes is so much realer to him. this is all a dream. this isn’t real. because you had gotten tired of all of his excuses and walked out the door four years ago and didn’t look back. “this isn’t real.”

you poke his chest, and get off his lap. “you need to stop taking bets from soonyoung. you’re being so weird. i’m gonna wake up your daughter.”

with that, jeonghan watches helplessly as you shrug on a pair of shorts and walk out the bedroom, presumably to wake up your daughter.

your daughter. jeonghan rubs his temple. now that was something he couldn’t fathom. never in his wildest dreams did he think he could ever have this. he reaches out towards the bedside table again, grabbing his phone. his lockscreen is a picture of you and seolla holding hands, matching beams painfully squeezing the remainders of his heart. he rubs seolla’s cheek. she’s the spitting image of you.

jeonghan unlocks the phone, going through his messages. he’s still in a seventeen group chat, which he lets out a relieved sigh at. there’s an unread notification from seungcheol asking to meet up for drinks tomorrow, and his chat log with joshua is filled with suggestions from him on what to do on your anniversary. he moves on to his photo album.

there are so many pictures jeonghan can’t keep count. he scrolls past park outings, restaurant dates, seolla’s first day at preschool. he looks through seungcheol’s apparent wedding, selcas from the vvip section of soonyoung’s first solo concert, blurry videos of jihoon’s second and third daesang. then he sees them.

jeonghan’s eyes widen, because he remembers taking these pictures. he knows, because they’re still in his phone in the real world. can he even call it that? your head in his lap as you nap, mirror selcas with his hands around your waist. he scrolls down a bit, and bites the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood. wedding pictures. mingyu must’ve taken them, because they’re crisp. some of them are on film, of your first dance, your first kiss as man and wife. there’s a sonogram, then two and three, and a baby shower, your hair tied up with you smiling at the camera.

“daddy!”

jeonghan shuts off his phone, puts it face down against the sheets, and is greeted by the sight of his daughter. you’re helping seolla up the bed with a fond smile, your hair falling onto your face. seolla tumbles over to him, throwing her little arms over his shoulders, and placing her chubby cheeks onto the crook of his neck.

“hi, baby,” jeonghan says in a tone he can’t quite comprehend. he doesn’t think he’s ever sounded like this. “good sleep?” he rubs her little back.

seolla snuffles, plops down on his lap properly. “yup! mommy said you’re gonna make pancakes.” she tattles.

jeonghan looks over to you, but you just shrug. “what seolla wants—“

“seolla gets.” he completes, and secures an arm under his daughter, his greatest treasure, carrying her out of the room to her absolute glee. you trail behind them slowly, watching as jeonghan makes the wrong turn.

“han,” you call out. he looks back, an expression of nonchalance on his face. but you can read him like a book. you nod towards the right corridor. he squares his jaw and follows your instruction, making his way down the stairs and to the kitchen.

you watch as he sets seolla down on the wrong chair and starts going through the cabinets with hesitancy. as if he hasn’t been here for the past four years. as if he—

as if he was telling the truth.

you shake the thought away, gently pushing jeonghan aside to get him all the pans and ingredients. seolla slides over to her proper seat, chattering on about what she learnt at preschool yesterday. jeonghan makes the appropriate hums and questions but something seems wrong.

you let jeonghan start on the batter once you’ve gotten everything out, and tie seolla’s hair back. it’s only when he almost places strawberry syrup down on seolla’s when you finally believe him.

you stop him with an urgent hand around his wrist. jeonghan furrows his eyebrows.

“seolla’s allergic.” you murmur, and he drops the bottle like he’s been burnt.

you settle down on the chair beside seolla’s and eat quietly. seolla’s enthusiastic enough to ignore the sudden drop in the mood, and knows better than to wonder why you’re letting her sit down in front of the tv so early in the morning with a snack and a promise not to do anything dangerous.

you lead jeonghan to the corridor, hands loosely intertwined, and look him in the eye.

“you’re not lying, are you?” you ask when you’ve finally mustered up the courage. “are you… not jeonghan?”

jeonghan leans against the wall, feeling his fingers shake and his breath hitch. “i-i am jeonghan. just not— just not your jeonghan.”

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“you and me, y/n, we—“ jeonghan cuts himself off, removes his hand from your grasp even though he wants to hold on. “we broke up four years ago. i haven’t heard from you since, and i went to sleep and suddenly i’m here and i have no idea what’s going on or—“

“okay, breathe.” you interrupt when he begins to ramble without stopping. you cradle your head in your hands trying to process all of this. this doesn’t make sense but.

but your jeonghan would never forget seolla’s allergy, and knows the way to the kitchen and what’s in what cupboard and what’s in what cabinet.

“you said we broke up?” you ask. your feel your heart chip away at the thought of it, even. last night you and jeonghan were talking about maybe having another child and today you’re— what? broken up?

“four years ago.” jeonghan confirms. “you— you got tired of waiting for me all the time and i didn’t want to compromise.”

“i-i don’t get it.” you mutter. “why now?”

“i don’t know.” jeonghan replies, sounding defeated. “i don’t even know how to get back, or if this is real—“

“this is real.” you insist. “me and seolla and my jeonghan, we’re real. this can’t just be some elaborate dream i’ve thought up for the last four years. this is real. what if—“ you cut yourself off. “what if you go back to sleep? do you think you’ll—“

“wake up from where i’m from?”

“yeah.”

it sounds stupid to you. but you want your jeonghan back, not this jeonghan, who doesn’t know seolla’s laugh, or your anniversary date. who is so familiar yet entirely unfamiliar all at once. who shares the same bright eyes and pretty smile but not the same memories.

jeonghan’s silent for a while. “it’s worth a shot.”

“okay.” you whisper, beginning to make your way to where seolla’s still watching, “i’m gonna—“

jeonghan catches your wrist, and you pause. he chews his bottom lip, looking everywhere but you. “can you wait for me to fall asleep?”

you ponder over it for a while. you two have been broken up for four years, according to this jeonghan. so why—

oh.

“okay.”

you take jeonghan’s hand and walk him to the bedroom, watch as he settles underneath the bedsheets and breathes in the smell. this hurts for you, to not know where your jeonghan is or what’s wrong, but you can’t imagine being this jeonghan, who has to live someone else’s life. who has to open his eyes and see what could have been.

you settle on your knees beside him, and hesitantly begin to card your fingers through his hair. jeonghan lets out a stuttered breath, and leans into your touch.

“do you miss me?” you ask quietly.

jeonghan laughs, a lonely, broken sound. “every day. more than you could ever know.”

“is it too late? where you’re from?”

“i don’t know.” he says, “but i don’t know if i’ve changed enough for you to even consider it.”

you hum, and caress his cheek. “tomorrow i want you to wake up and forget all about me.” you say, a sharp juxtaposition from the gentle touch against his skin.

“i can’t.” jeonghan meets your eyes, earnest and sad. it makes you want to hold him and protect him against all the evils of the world. “i’ve been trying for four years to forget you and i just can’t.”

“hannie,” you whisper. “it won’t be easy, but if you try maybe one day you’ll be able to think of me fondly.”

“seolla—“

“seolla can be a dream,” you say, “a dream to you. something nice to think of at night. but she’s real to me.”

“okay.” jeonghan says, and shuts his eyes. “you’ll stay?”

“of course.” you press a kiss to his knuckles, one by one. you know the ridges of his hands like you know your own, and watch as his breathing evens.

god, you hope it worked.

-

“jeonghan, wake up.”

jeonghan opens his eyes. mushroom lamp. wooden floors. messy dresser. brown wardrobe.

everything is right.

but it isn’t.

“jeonghan.” his manager says again, shaking his leg slightly. “we have to leave in twenty minutes, please get ready quickly.”

jeonghan nods, and gets up. he makes his way to the bathroom, and gives himself two minutes to mourn.

then he showers, gets ready, and leaves the dorm as seventeen’s angel yoon jeonghan. he doesn’t spare you another thought.

loving you was like going to war. i never came back the same. — warsan shire

Chapter Text

jeonghan’ll be the first to admit the group’s relationship is borderline incestuous.

he doesn’t think there isn’t a member soonyoung hasn’t kissed on the mouth, or someone who hasn’t gotten just a little bit hard from the gaze in seungcheol’s eyes when he’s bossing everyone around. no one’s escaped minghao’s fleeting touches, or the innuendo on the end of mingyu’s tongue. jeonghan’s walked in on vernon pinning seungkwan to the couch more times that he can count, and junhui with his tongue in jihoon’s mouth on three fingers.

jeonghan’s kissed seungcheol before, will even admit to starting the night with mingyu and ending it in seokmin’s bed. what happened along there is up to interpretation. needless to say, everyone in the band likes to play it loose and unattached, and everyone’s okay with that. there are thirteen of them, for goodness sake. why venture out into the unknown when there were perfect specimens right here?

but that’s not to say no one’s had their own fill of more adventurous pursuits. chan spends the night at yewon-noona’s apartment every now and then, and jeonghan sulked quietly to himself for the entire period of time seokmin had decided he was going to try to date jaehyun for real this time. mingyu runs off in the middle of the night to another group’s dorm room when he thinks no one is still awake, and wonwoo’s been sleeping with the same person for the past six years.

which is why it really shouldn’t be a big deal when jeonghan walks into the top floor dorm to see you on joshua’s lap lazily making out, thighs quivering and his big hands on your waist, thumb stroking small circles as he chases your mouth with his.

jeonghan gawks for a second, two, before making his presence known with a very deliberate cough. he watches as you two separate, and you whip your head around to catch his eye.

“yes?” you ask, expectant. you shift in joshua’s lap, making him let out a noise so obscene jeonghan feels his ears get hot. don’t get him wrong— he’s kissed joshua before, seen him entirely naked too much to even have plausible deniability, but those were all under strenuous circumstances okay?

“we have rules.” jeonghan says pointedly (bitchily, you correct), ignoring all his raging thoughts. “shuji should’ve told you before you decided to defile the communal couch!”

“no, you have rules, hannie,” joshua responds. you still haven’t gotten off his lap. “we don’t.”

“the rules apply wherever i am. and right now i’m here!”

“okay, spoilsport.” you roll your eyes, exaggeratedly sighing as you plop onto the couch next to joshua. somehow this is worse, jeonghan thinks. because now joshua’s arm is slung over your shoulders and you’re snuggled to his side. you notice the look on jeonghan’s face, because of course you do, and continue, “what, are you gonna say no touching in your good christian household?”

“bunny.” joshua says to you sternly. it does nothing to deter how horny you are.

“bunny?” jeonghan repeats, a tinge of desperation in his voice. “bunny?”

“what about it?” you ask coolly. you weren’t about to be petname-shamed by a man.

“i’m bunny!”

you paused. “um, sorry?”

“bunny!” jeonghan stamped his foot. “i’m the rabbit! the angel rabbit!”

you look over at joshua, who just sighs. “animal representative emojis.”

you nod understandingly. “i guess you do kind of look like a bunny. but that doesn’t mean you get to dictate who we can and cannot make out with in a communal area—“

joshua elbows your rib, making you yelp. “fuck off, y/l/n.”

“make me—“

“rules!” jeonghan whined.

“do your rules mean i can’t have any fun?” you scoff. “that just defeats the purpose of my visit.”

jeonghan processes that. “you came to our dorm room, where stalker fans and dispatch alike hide in the bushes, to make out with my best friend?”

“okay, first of all, like it or not we share joint custody of shua.” you say. joshua just taps on his phone, completely uncaring of the conversation. you wish you had his LA bitch tenacity. “second of all, when you say it like that it makes me look easy and stupid. third of all, yes.”

jeonghan stared for a bit at your defiant gaze. under his breath, joshua laughed. now that was interesting.

“okay, well,” you sigh, getting up like it was a chore. “that was fun.” you say to joshua, who just snorted. before the man can move away, you smack one last kiss to his lips, patting his cheek.

jeonghan makes another noise of protest. “r—“

“rules, yeah, yeah, i know.” you huff, making your way to where he was standing at the door. jeonghan doesn’t comprehend the decreasing distance between the two of you until your standing on your tippy toes to kiss him, too.

it’s languid, smooth. jeonghan wonders why he hasn’t kissed you before today. your tongue brushes teasingly across the seam of his lips and your hand is a pleasant warmth against his cheek. before he can chase it, you step back.

you take one look at the breathless expression on his face and smile angelically at him. “the rules don’t apply because i kissed you, too. happy?” you pick up your bag and jacket. “see you at brunch.” you wave at joshua, who looks similarly dazed. with that, you flounce out of the apartment, leaving the two men be.

jeonghan turns to his best friend. “you— she—“

“don’t start.”

“but—“

“don’t make it weird.”

“i wasn’t—“

“jeonghan,” joshua leveled him with a look. “you can’t tell me you have a problem with this.”

jeonghan opened his mouth. closed it. then he turned on his heel and marched out of the dorm. he pulled out his phone, frantically scrolling up in his chat log with his best friend to see if he had mentioned where the brunch place was in passing.

-

“oh my god.” you say into your mimosa.

joshua follows your gaze, sighing when he sees jeonghan making his way to the table. he’s dressed ludicrously, his yellow bucket hat and matching pants and jacket glaring in the light. he clearly did not google the restaurant’s aesthetic, because while he was bright and garish, you were dressed in a flowy white sundress, its spaghetti straps taut against your skin, and your hair was half up, secured with a white ribbon. joshua was wearing a blue dress shirt.

still, jeonghan unabashedly pulled up a chair, its hind legs screeching against the marble floor and plopped down on it, making joshua scoot over to the side. “what’s up? what’s everyone getting?”

you looked at him amusedly. “the smashed avo. josh’s getting the eggs benedict.”

“cool.” jeonghan said, fingers running through the laminated menu. he leaned over to whisper in joshua’s ear. “what’s an avo? why is it smashed?”

joshua sighed, “i’ll just order for you.”

he brightened up, “thanks!” then he turned over to you. “what’re you drinking?”

“a mimosa.” you respond, handing the champagne flute to him, “you look like a peach bellini type of guy.”

“is that bad?” jeonghan asked, knocking back the rest of your mimosa easily. “i’m more of a somaek— oh, wow this is really good.”

joshua watched the interaction with close eyes, flitting back and forth between the two of you with an indecipherable expression. this could not be happening.

“josh, you wanna order?” you hum, straightening the hem of your dress.

“yeah,” he waved down a waitress. “hi, one of the smashed avocado, one eggs benedict and one abalone porridge. two peach bellinis and one more of the mimosa, please. thanks.”

jeonghan nodded in approval, “i love abalone.”

“i know you do.”

“so,” jeonghan started once the waitress went on her merry way. “you must all be wondering why i brought you here today—“

“you went through our chat log and saw that i brought this place up and came here on a whim, actually.” joshua interjected. you snorted.

“anyway,” jeonghan strongholds. “i came here with a proposal.”

“i can’t, i’m too young.” you replied monotonously.

“shut up, you goof.” jeonghan waved his hand around. “i’m here to suggest a threesome.”

the response to his words was instantaneous.

joshua spat out the last of his bellini, thankfully in neither of your directions, and you choked on the piece of sourdough you had nabbed from the bread basket.

“what?” you asked dumbly once you had recovered. you’re sure you heard that wrong.

“let’s have a threesome.” jeonghan repeated brightly, like he was suggesting you all go the park after this or get dessert.

“you’re crazy.” joshua whispered, incredulous. “you’ve actually lost it this time, hannie.”

“no, i haven’t!” jeonghan insisted. “i thought this out super well. me and shuji have good sex—“

“oh, now that’s something i’d like to see.” you gasp.

“y/n—“

“exactly! what an opportunity to see it up close and personal!” jeonghan cheered.

you leaned back against your chair and joshua watches as your expression goes from surprised to considering. he had to put a stop to this. trust him to befriend two of the biggest idiots on the planet.

“we can’t,” he spoke up, making you redirect your gaze. “we’re all friends.”

“it’ll be a bonding experience.”

“sounds good to me.” you reply easily.

“no, y/n,” joshua says sternly. “jeonghan, don’t pressure—“

“i’m not pressured. i want to.” you continue nibbling on the end of the cut up baguette, slicing down the last piece equally and placing it on both of your friends’ plates. “sounds fun. you’re both hot. me and josh have good sex—“

“i knew it!” jeonghan cried out, “i knew you two’ve gone further than making out on the communal couch—“

“oh, we’re still on this, i see—“

“seungcheol said you two were too responsible, but he doesn’t know you like i do, you horndogs!”

you rolled your eyes, “okay, mister starts the night with mingyu and ends it with seokmin.”

“don’t slut-shame!”

“you’re both insane,” joshua muttered to himself. “what did i do to deserve this?”

“if you don’t want to participate, it’s whatever,” you shrug. “you can watch or something. or just don’t come. literally.”

jeonghan pouts. “it’d be funner if shua was there, though.”

you look at him, offended. “are you insinuating we need a third for it to be— no, yeah, i see your point, we do need a third.”

jeonghan nods, gesturing between you two. “we’re too similar. what if we both want to bottom?”

joshua cradles his head in his hands, hoping your conversation can’t be overheard by the next table. “oh my god, please shut up.”

“fine, we’ll just get a double-ended dildo or something.” you wave the concern way, completely ignorant of how joshua’s eyes glaze over and ears tinge the slightest pink. “end of discussion. i’m ready for my smashed avo now.”

“oh! i hadn’t considered that!” jeonghan claps, “it’s settled then.”

“what do you mean ‘settled’?” joshua asked, affronted. “it’s not settled!”

“yes it is,” you say, “you don’t want to have a threesome. it’s fine. me and jeonghan will just have sex—“

“what the fuck!” joshua interjected. “i didn’t agree to this.”

“you’re not part of this conversation or arrangement, remember?” jeonghan smiled. “now, when should we do this, sweetheart—“

“i’m in.” joshua interrupted. jeonghan gave him a knowing look, making his best friend knee him in the shin.

you beam. “saturday—“

“we have the repack photoshoot.”

“sunday.”

“mmtg broadcast.”

“friday.”

“sounds like a plan.” jeonghan agreed readily. “i’ll just ditch cheol.”

you look over at joshua, who nods with a newfound confidence, and lean forward on your elbows.

“well, get ready to have your world rocked.”

Chapter Text

at the end of everything, you saw jeonghan everywhere.

in supermarket aisles, on the bench at the park where you liked to sit, at your favourite takeout place. in the living room of your apartment on the right side of the couch, cuddled up against the arms. in the empty chair across yours at restaurants.

your friends weren’t much help (“i told you he wasn’t good for you,” seungkwan whispered to the crown of your hair. “i told you.”), hadn’t wanted your thoughts to linger on him for too long. offers of dates or nights out at the club were thrusted upon you so quick you wondered if this was all sacrilege. you were in love with jeonghan for years, and you had had your heart broken. that wouldn’t go away quickly.

it didn’t matter that six years was nothing in the great span of his undying immortality. those six years were everything to you.

and now they were gone.

-

“you can’t keep doing this,” seungkwan nags from where he’s perched at the edge of your bed. he tugs on your white sheets. “have lunch with me, at least. i came all this way.”

“no one told you to.” you say quietly from underneath your blankets. they don’t smell like him anymore.

he huffs, and you can hear faint rustling before your best friend is plopping himself bodily beside you, sneaking under the covers. it’s hard to be mad at seungkwan like this. you know at the bottom of your heart that he just wants the best for you, and it’s proven every time he looks at you with his sincere eyes and soft cheeks.

“i can’t say i understand because i don’t,” he starts, taking your hand. “i know i’ll never understand, but i just want you to be happy. you haven’t been happy in so long. i miss your smile.”

you bite the inside of your cheek so hard you taste blood. “but i miss him.”

seungkwan squeezed your hand. “and i miss you.”

you will away your tears and squeeze back. “okay. let’s go.”

-

you hate boo seungkwan. you hate him with every fibre of your being.

because of course the one time you agree to his request is the day he leads you to a cafe table, which, surprise surprise, is already occupied by another person. nevermind the fact that you hadn’t bothered to dress up today, just wearing a pair of sweats and an oversized top. you elbow his rib, making him wince. seungkwan schools his expression quickly though, pulling out your chair and gesturing for you to sit before you can do something drastic like turn around and run back home.

“hi!” seungkwan greets loudly, “sorry for being late, hyung!”

“that’s okay,” the other man waves away, smiling back. pretty. “i haven’t been waiting long.” he turns his focus over to you, and his eyes are bright, kind. it reminds you of— no. “you must be y/n.”

you recover from your unbecoming gawking quite quickly. “i am,” you take his offered hand, shaking gently before letting go. “and you’re…”

“this is seungcheol-hyung!” seungkwan butts in. “i met him at mingyu-hyung’s birthday party. you know, the one with all the—“

“aerial silk dancers, i remember.” you say. you hadn’t gone to the party, still freshly wallowing over jeonghan’s disappearance. you weren’t ready to face all of your friends just yet. if seungkwan’s silent confession had hurt, you couldn’t imagine the telling expressions of wonwoo, jihoon or minghao, who had all been more vocal about their unseemly impressions of jeonghan. “it’s nice to meet you, seungcheol.”

“it’s very nice to meet you, too,” the man runs a hand through his thick hair, slouches a little in his seat. he’s handsome, you note. in a rugged, attractive way. the complete opposite of— no. “it’s a shame we haven’t met until this day.”

“oh.” you can’t help but say. seungkwan’s eyes go back and forth from your expression of realisation to seungcheol’s outward smugness and confidence like he’s watching a particularly intense women’s volleyball match. “so you’re that kind of guy.”

“what kind of guy?” seungcheol asks, smirk telling you he knows exactly what you mean. he leans forward on his elbows and you almost laugh. you lean forward too, watch as he moves back slightly.

“you’re cute.” you say, and smile as he gets flustered. knew it.

seungkwan tries to contain his glee as he says, “y/n,” you two turn over to him like you’ve completely forgotten that he was there too. usually seungkwan’d take offence to that, but right now he was nearly jumping with joy. “seungcheol-hyung just decided that he’s moving to the city, and he doesn’t have a roommate or someone to show him around town—“

“yah, boo seungkwan,” seungcheol interrupts, cheeks red, “why would you say that? i don’t want to impose—“

“and you have an extra bedroom and have lived in the city your whole life.” seungkwan bulldozes on, completely uncaring of the other man’s interjections. you watch your best friend’s expression carefully. you know exactly what he’s doing, dangling an attractive, available man who seems to think you’re just as attractive, who’s cute and exactly your type.

the complete antithesis of jeonghan, who was nothing like your type when you fell hard and fast.

you ignore seungkwan and seungcheol’s arguing, thinking over the decision. it’s been nine months. you haven’t caught a glimpse of any of jeonghan’s friends. you haven’t seen joshua since a day at the bookstore, and he had shrugged off every single one of your questions like they meant nothing to him. it was clear jeonghan was going to follow through with his decision and his vow (“i won’t come back here until you’re dead,” jeonghan said, voice steeled and cold.).

why couldn’t you move on? seungkwan missed your smile, missed you, and you did too. you missed who you were before jeonghan consumed you entirely.

“okay.” you say loudly, making seungkwan and seungcheol pause.

“really?” seungcheol asked.

“really,” you confirmed, and reached across the table to tap the underside of seungcheol’s chin. “hope you clean up after yourself, roomie.”

-

seungcheol’s lovely.

it takes two months living with him for you to realise that maybe seungkwan had a point setting you two up.

seungcheol’s clean. well, as clean as you’d hope a stranger to be. he washes the dishes he uses right after eating, sometimes does your pile too when you forget. he knows how to load the washing machine and only complains a little about how your dryer takes ages to start. you don’t mind when he comes home a little smelly from the gym. you enjoy the view even. what? you can’t be blamed for enjoying choi seungcheol (“just seungcheol!” he whined obsessively.) in all his sweaty glory, his white shirt sticking against his abs obscenely.

he likes the same movies you do— ghibli and romcoms, and has an affinity for your terribly-baked chocolate chip cookies. he loves them unironically, which made mingyu guffaw when he joined you two for one movie night. he likes hugs, and likes barreling you in them.

most importantly, he doesn’t ask about jeonghan.

you’re sure he’s filled in the gaps. there’s a man’s coat in your wardrobe and another pair of plaid slippers by the door of your room. there’s jihoon’s blunt comments and soonyoung’s slightly snide ones. seungkwan tiptoes over the word ‘angel’, and wonwoo and minghao’s gazes move away when they see the bunny plush on your bed. he probably thinks jeonghan was a bad ex you had, someone you haven’t completely gotten over, and once you tried to refute it in your mind, that jeonghan can’t be culminated as a presence that was just a bad ex, or someone you weren’t completely over, but you couldn’t. because it was right.

jeonghan is a bad ex. jeonghan is someone you haven’t completely gotten over. and it’s unfair that seungcheol doesn’t quite know what to do when you get quiet and sad and want to be left alone.

“hey,” you said, once you had opened your door and leaned against the doorway. seungcheol was lounging on the sofa, looking at his phone as he was prone to do when he didn’t know how to comfort you but wanted you to know he was still home in case you needed him. he looked up at you.

“hm?”

“can you,” you paused, before continuing anyway, “can you cuddle me for a bit? just for a while.”

you were met with silence so palpable you wanted to retreat to your room and never show your face in public ever again. you wondered if it was too late to back out of your work contract and move to another country.

“nevermind, then,” you muttered, embarrassment threatening to swallow you whole. “sorry—“

“no!” seungcheol shoots up from the couch, phone dropping between the cushions. “no, no, i want to. i can, i mean. if you’re okay with it.”

you felt relief wash over you like a wave. “of course i’m okay with it. if i wasn’t i wouldn’t have asked.” you nudge the door open wider, and seungcheol walks into your room. it’s a little award. seungcheol’s only ever been in your room a few times, and doesn’t know what to do with his hands, or anything really.

so you slide into bed once the door’s closed, and pat the empty space beside you, getting underneath the covers. seungcheol does so easily. he’s warm like a furnace. it’s comforting. jeonghan was always so cold.

hesitantly, seungcheol outstretches his arm, and you lean into his embrace, curling around him and throwing an arm around his middle. he relaxes, and pulls you in closer. for a while, it’s just a comfortable silence, and you think you’d be okay with staying like this forever. but you want to say something, and you’re not backing out from it.

“i had a boyfriend,” you say. in the quiet room, your words are loud. seungcheol doesn’t respond, and you carry on, “we broke up and it was bad for me. it still is sometimes because all of my friends knew him and hated him and i loved him anyway.” you breathe in, “i’m getting over it. and him.”

you feel hands in your hair, and nearly start crying. “that’s okay,” seungcheol hums, carding his fingers through your locks. “i’m here for you. anything you need.”

“i know.” you cuddle closer to him, “thank you.”

when you wake up, disoriented and fuzzy, seungcheol’s arms are still wrapped around your waist, and the bunny plush is on the floor.

-

it was a natural progression to go from ‘he’s lovely’ to ‘i love him’.

you had resisted initially. you didn’t want to use seungcheol, he deserved better than that. better than you. but you realised that when you were with him, your thoughts didn’t linger anymore. jeonghan was a fading memory every time seungcheol’s fingers brushed yours, when he smiled at you, dimpled and bright from across the dining table.

you weren’t using seungcheol. you were in love with him. but it didn’t scare you. seungcheol wasn’t jeonghan, was nothing like him. falling in love with him felt like walking in the cold and coming home to a heated fireplace. it felt like cookies fresh out of the oven, like arms around you that didn’t let go when you were at your worst.

so when seungcheol presses his lips against yours one movie night in the middle of legally blonde, gentle and soft, all you do is smile and tug him closer.

-

the first time it happens, you think your mind’s playing tricks on you.

the second time, you look away for a split second, and you’re sure you’re wrong. the third and the fourth and the fifth time, you don’t look twice.

“i’m seeing him again,” you say to seungkwan.

for a second, his face is scrunched up by confusion. then he understands.

“are you sure?” he asks carefully.

“i’m not going crazy, kwan, i swear,” you reply, “you know i’m over it.”

“i know,” seungkwan allows, because he does. he sees the way you look at seungcheol. there’s no doubt in his mind that you’re head over heels for him even after all these years. “i’ll ask hansol about it.”

seungkwan ends up not needing to, because you’re walking home after lunch when you bump into him.

“sorry,” vernon says, fumbling to pick up his umbrella. “i wasn’t looking where i was going— oh.”

you just stare.

“it’s been a while, y/n.” he scratches the back of his head. you’d think someone like vernon, dressed in his bape hoodie and distressed jeans, rainbow sneakers bright and glaring, was just some college kid. no one’d ever expect that he was a vampire.

“is he back?” you ask plainly, getting straight to the point.

“yes.” vernon replies, not bothering with the idle chat anymore. that’s never been his style anyway.

“why? he said he’d only come back when i was dead.”

he flinches at that. “i don’t know.”

“how long is he staying?”

“i don’t know that, either. he got here last month—“

“so i haven’t been losing my mind.” you mumble to yourself. “he’s been, what? following me?”

“i guess,” vernon says, “if you’ve been seeing him around.”

you don’t know what to do with that information. you’ve spent nearly eleven years not giving jeonghan a single sparing thought, and now it feels like the past has come knocking on your door anyway. you don’t want to think about even having to explain this to seungcheol.

seungcheol who’s loving and caring. seungcheol who you love and care for more than anyone else in the world.

you steel yourself up, looking up at vernon defiantly.

“if you see him, tell him to fuck off.”

-

he doesn’t. fuck off, you mean.

you’re sitting on the park bench, kkuma perched beside you, when she starts barking.

kkuma’s a well-behaved puppy, so you startle a little, trying to pat her little head. she keeps barking, her little ribbon clips nearly flopping off at the force of them. it’s only when you look up that you realise why.

jeonghan’s standing right in front of you, black coat rustling in the autumn wind.

“dogs don’t usually like vampires.”

out of all the things you thought jeonghan would say to you for the first time in eleven years, this was nowhere near it.

jeonghan looked the same as he did all those years ago. the same sharply-cut jawline, the same doe eyes. the same sloped nose and the same black hair. his skin was still smooth, no lines of aging.

you on the other hand, have. you had to adjust your skincare routine, smoothing essence and cream on your face for it not to wrinkle. you got a new job. your parents were asking for grandchildren, and you and seungcheol moved out of your apartment four years back and got a house instead.

“hm.” you say noncommittally, continuing to ruffle kkuma’s fur. she calms down eventually, settling onto your lap protectively. “what’re you doing here? you said you’d wait until i was dead to ever come back.”

“do you still want it?”

you feel your heart lodge up to your throat. surely he can’t mean—

“what?”

“do you still want it?” jeonghan repeats.

”i want it,” you whisper to jeonghan. he hums in question, arm thrown over your shoulder. “the immortality.

jeonghan’s grip tightens, before it goes slack. he moves his arm away. “no, you don’t.”

of course i do,” you frown. “i want to be with you forever.”

”stop it.”

”no,” you say, “you said it’d be my choice. and i love you. i want to be with you.”

jeonghan gets up, “i’m not letting you throw your life away.”

you follow suit, walking ahead of him to get him to stop and look at you. “i’m not throwing my life away. i love you.”

”stop.”

”what?” you laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as wild as you hear through your own ears. “you only meant to fuck me for a few years then leave?”

jeonghan exhales through his nose. “you know it’s not that.”

”then what is it? you don’t want me around that long?”

”no,” jeonghan still isn’t looking at you. “i don’t.”

do you?

at first, you had rejected the idea of immortality completely. you didn’t have the heart to watch all your friends and family die while you remained unaged. but one year passed with jeonghan, then two and three and suddenly it was six and you couldn’t picture your life without him.

vernon, joshua and jeonghan enjoyed their immortality. they loved the people they saw, the countries they visited. loved making new memories and treasuring the old. and you had loved him, started imagining the life you two would have together forever.

but everything was different now.

you had a husband and a dog and a mortgage. you and seungcheol were discussing having kids now that you were both financially stable. you were leaving for your sixth wedding anniversary trip in a few days. seungcheol kissed you good morning and goodnight and held you to sleep every night.

the answer was easy.

“i think you should go.”

for the first time, you watch jeonghan’s facade crack. his expression crumbles, the impassive stare falling into something akin to devastation. his eyes reflect what you must have looked like an entire lifetime ago.

“y/n—“

“kkuma-yah, appa’s back!” kkuma perks up, jumps off your lap and runs over to where seungcheol’s cooing at her, crouched down with his arms outstretched. the puppy licks his cheek, and your husband’s melodic laughter makes you beam. “hi, my daughter.”

jeonghan is still looking at you. his face is still haunted, and for the first time, you wonder if you weren’t the only one left alone and wanting.

“you don’t want it?”

you look as seungcheol picks kkuma up and makes his way towards you. you don’t know if he can see jeonghan from behind the trees.

“i want you to leave,” you say quietly, not turning away from your husband. you know jeonghan hears it. “and i don’t want you to come back.”

jeonghan falters, opening his mouth but no words come out. he closes it, sets it to a grim line and turns on his heel. this time, you don’t watch as he leaves. you don’t have to.

“baby,” seungcheol says, tone whiney. “you didn’t come for me!”

you roll your eyes fondly, cupping his cheeks and kissing him. he was too cute for his own good. “sorry, cheollie.”

“who was that?”

you finally look over your shoulder. jeonghan’s gone.

“no one important.”

with that, you stand, take seungcheol’s hand, and leave the past behind you.

-

jeonghan watches as you intertwine your hand with the man’s, pinky finger curling around his like you used to do with him. he watches as you grin brightly, let out a melodious laugh. it’s still his favorite sound.

he watches as you walk further and further away with him without a single glimpse of hesitation. he watches as the man presses a kiss on your forehead, then your cheeks and your mouth. he watches as you kiss back.

jeonghan watches and regrets, for the first time in all his eight hundred years of living, his life of chosen immortality and undesired solitude.

Chapter Text

jeonghan stumbles, quite literally, into your life on a busy saturday night at the hospital.

it’s christmas eve, and you’d think people weren’t doing stupid things on such a day but you’re proven wrong. you’ve had to dig out ornaments from not one, but three butts. and that wasn’t even the worst thing that happened to you this shift. by the time the third crying toddler is thrust toward you, you feel dead on your feet. you can’t wait to curl up on your bed and catch up on well-deserved sleep.

“she’s got a fever,” you tell the pacing mother. “bathe her in lukewarm water and make sure she has enough fluids. you can get baby ibuprofen at the counter, and check her temperature every few hours. the fever should break soon, but if it doesn’t, come back here.”

“that’s it?” the mother scoffs. “what’re you going to do if she doesn’t get better? you’re just going to make me pay more hospital bills!”

you kiss your teeth, trying to remain calm. “ma’am, it’s just protocol. and you said her temperature’s only risen for an hour, so—“

“so you think my baby’s health isn’t important?”

“that’s not what i’m saying at all—“

“where’s your boss?” she demands, snatching her baby away from you. “you’re so incompetent—“

“that’s really not appreciated,” a sudden voice cuts in while you’re trying your very best not to yell back at this woman. you look up, only to see just honestly, one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen in all your years on this earth. “healthcare workers do their best to help people every day.”

the woman sputters. “she doesn’t know how to do her job—“

“she just told you everything you needed to do.” he replies, completely blankly. you gawk a little.

“you— she—,” the woman gives up, huffing and stomping away.

you blink, processing the interaction for a minute before standing up and facing the man.

“you’re welcome.” he grins before you can even say anything. “and yes, you can have my number.”

“dear god,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. of course he was too good to be true. of course he had to be a sleazebag. “i’m good without it actually.” you move to walk away, but he whines out before you have the chance to leave.

“i’m bleeding, by the way.”

your head snaps down to his shirt, where indeed, he is bleeding. in fact, there’s so much of it you know he needs stitches. you leap into action, wrapping an arm around his waist and helping him sit down on the hospital bed. “why didn’t you lead with that?”

the man just smiles prettily at you, seeming to be entirely unbothered by the literal waterfall of blood. you pick up gauze pads, lifting his shirt up to reveal the nasty gash across his abdomen.

“i usually save that for after the third date.” he says cheekily.

you ignore his comment completely, focusing on cleaning the blood up. “this could get infected.”

he winces, “well, you can fix that for me, right, darling?”

“this is gonna hurt,” you warn, before patting the area clean with alcohol. the man jerks, but you clamp a hand down on his waist to stop him from moving too much. you try to wipe down the blood as quick as you can, with him letting out little grunts of pain every now and then. you’re pleasantly surprised at his threshold of pain. people’d usually be crying by now. “i’m going to start stitching you up now.” you announce.

he peeks down at his stomach, nodding approvingly. “you did a good job.”

you put the thread into the needle and ask, “ready?”

“for you, beautiful? always.”

you roll your eyes and start. “who’d you piss off, anyway?”

“oh, you know,” he waves away, “some guy.”

“what’d you do? sleep with his girlfriend?”

“i believe in loyalty.” he responds, and for a good second you pause. the look in his eyes is intense, like you don’t know the entire story. you shake yourself out of it, and keep stitching. “do you?”

you quirk your head to the side, “odd question.”

“you look like someone who’d tell the truth.”

you hum, “i believe in loyalty.”

he smiles. “good.”

you finish up, dressing the wound before getting up to take a chart to fill in his details and a tub of ointment. you sit back down, “okay, what’s your name—“

you look up.

the man’s gone.

you sigh. great. a runner.

you put the chart down and make your way to the discharge wing, sneaking to the back exit and walking round to the front, where sure enough, your runner is sliding into a black suv. you pick up your pace, tapping on the car window before it can drive away.

the window rolls down slowly. the man from before looks up at you, another man with round cheeks and slanted eyes blinking in bewilderment.

“if you want to make a run for it at least tell me so i don’t have to waste a perfectly good chart.” you sigh, before tossing the tub of medicine into the car. the other man catches it easily. “twice a day. change the gauze after three days. dress it every night. avoid strenuous activity.”

“oh, sweetheart, if you’re offering—“

“definitely not.” you stand upright again, tapping on the top of the car, “if you rip the stitches i’ll make it hurt next time.”

with that, you walk back into the hospital, ignoring his curious eyes.

-

“y/n!” ryujin calls out from the front desk. you walk over, humming. “delivery for you. you didn’t tell me you got a boyfriend!”

you knit your eyebrows. “i don’t have one.”

“then who sent you that?”

your eyes follow her hand, and you nearly fall over in humiliation. it’s a bouquet in a crystal glass, pink and red roses standing tall and big, nearly taking up half of the table. “oh my fucking god.” you whisper, rushing over to put it down onto the floor. you crouch to pull out the tiny card wrapped around the vase, and roll your eyes so hard you’re surprised they don’t just fall out of their sockets.

thank you for your care, doctor y/l/n.
i’ll find a way to repay you, but for now, accept a small token of my gratitude.
i hope to see you soon and show you just how thankful i am.
merry christmas.
love, yoon jeonghan

yoon jeonghan, you repeat to yourself in your head. where had you heard that name before?

“this came too!” ryujin pipes up, handing you a tiny box.

god, please, anything but this, you think to yourself, snapping it open.

it’s a white gold necklace, an amethyst pendant hanging off of it. it’s gorgeous. and looks insanely expensive. you put the box in your pocket and walk into the locker room, steadfastly ignoring ryujin’s questions. yoon jeonghan. yoon jeonghan. yoon jeonghan.

when you finally reach, you open your phone and type in the name.

then you realise.

the headlines are horrific. you click on one particularly gruesome one that proudly proclaims ‘seventeen launches attack against rival gang, killing sixteen and leaving three injured’. you zoom in on the picture where, sure enough, jeonghan is depicted, clutching his side and wearing the same outfit he sat on your hospital bed in. you move the picture to the left, and find a familiar face.

you were going to kill joshua hong.

-

joshua sneezes. someone must be talking shit about him.

his thoughts are validated when his phone starts ringing, and you, his one and only civilian best friend, who he’s terrifyingly protective of and has managed to keep away from his dangerous lifestyle, are on the other line when he picks up. the other members watch him like hawks, as they’re prone to whenever you call. joshua doesn’t divulge a single piece of information about you, no matter how many times they ask.

“hey—“

“joshua hong!” he pulls the phone away from his ear at your yell. seungkwan snickers. “why is the boss of your little boyband gang professing his undying love for me?”

joshua swears he feels his blood go cold. he gets up from his seat slowly, a murderous gaze in his eyes. a solid 90% of the room shrinks in. jeonghan finally looks up in curiosity, and joshua swears to god he’s about to snap his other best friend’s neck. “what?”

Chapter Text

it’s a little unorthodox to invite an ex, let alone an ex-wife, to your second wedding, but jeonghan’s never been the type to stick to tradition.

which is why you’re dressed in a floor length lavender confection, your hand tucked into the crook of seungcheol’s elbow as you enter the lavish ballroom jeonghan’s decided he’d like to have his second round of nuptials in. it’s much more garish and extravagant than his first, and your only, wedding, which seungcheol’s taken offense to.

“what does he need a string quartet for?” your friend hisses into your ear as you pass the harp player on your way to your assigned seats. “why couldn’t he have just asked seungkwan to sing again—“

“oh, hush,” you tug him down into the seat next to you. the cushions are soft and plush where your wedding’s weren’t. jeonghan’s mother had insisted on wood chairs. you guessed she didn’t have much of an opinion this time. “let him do what he wants with his money.”

“money he so conveniently only made after your divorce.” seungcheol mumbled under his breath. you let out a quiet laugh. trust him to think everything jeonghan did was in spite of you.

“do you think i could sue him for half of it?” you ask, playing along. for the first time since he agreed to be your plus one, seungcheol grins, soft-cheeked and wide. you can’t help but sink your fingers into his dimples. “you’re so cute.”

“did i miss something?”

you look up to see soonyoung and jihoon settling in on the vacant chairs beside yours and seungcheol’s. while soonyoung continues scrutinizing as you give seungcheol’s cheek one last poke, jihoon looks around thoughtlessly.

“are you guys together now?” soonyoung presses. “does jeonghan-hyung know?”

seungcheol turns a little pink, and you stammer out a, “we’re not together! he’s my date for tonight.”

“so you’re halfway there.” jihoon concludes, nodding his head seriously.

“what—“

soonyoung interrupts whatever seungcheol’s about to say with a sly, “i’d bring cheol to my ex’s wedding, too. he’s the only one who’d compare!” he gives it a thought. “well, maybe shua-hyung but he’s on best man duties.”

“nice to know at least some things never change.” you comment. joshua had been jeonghan’s best man at your wedding as well. seungcheol was a groomsman, but that was a sore topic. as much as you’d like to say that your divorce hadn’t split your friend group in two, that wasn’t the truth at all.

the reality was that everyone had to pick sides, whether they admitted to or not, and seungcheol had picked you. he had known you for longer, and jeonghan spent the latter half of your marriage insisting your longtime best friend was in love with you. you weren’t stupid, you had eyes, and a part of you did know seungcheol harboured at least, a base level attraction towards you. you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t reciprocated now that you weren’t married anymore.

“oh, brace yourselves,” jihoon started, tone slightly snide. “incoming.”

you peer over seungcheol’s broad shoulder to see the bride and groom making their way to your table. jeonghan’s wearing a black pressed suit, hair black and parted. it makes your heart jump a little. he looks the exact same as he did on what was supposed to be the best day of your life.

his new wife is wearing white tulle, and is what you’d describe as someone with model-like godly promotions. her legs seem to go on forever, and she’s almost the same height as jeonghan. her smile is bright and happy, and jeonghan mirrors it.

it hits you right there and then that you’ve no clue what her name is. you smack seungcheol on the inside of his thigh under the table. he jolts, and pouts at you.

“that hurt!”

“what’s her name?” you hiss quietly.

“what?“

“her name!”

“how am i supposed to know? you’re the one who got invited!”

you scrunch your nose at him. “you’re useless!” seungcheol scrunches back, and you turn to demand the same thing from soonyoung. “what’s her name?”

“sojung.”

and just like that, the day unravels for you.

because it’s supposed to be nice to put a face to the name, but you never thought the face would be your ex-husband’s new wife.

the last three months of your marriage was spent with your backs facing each other in bed where you used to be intertwined, with work schedules so packed and busy you barely had time to say good morning and goodnight to each other. but one thing that did surface during that tumultuous time was the name ‘sojung’.

jeonghan had told you she was a new fellow in his department and that was something rare given jeonghan called all the shots at the deterministic law department and had to give the okay for any new hires. it was notoriously difficult to win his approval, but somehow she did it. and it seemed that now she was marrying him.

“hi!” jeonghan beamed at you, “didn’t think you’d be able to make it!” he accepts soonyoung’s excited hug and jihoon’s faint nod before rushing over to your side of the table. you pretend to not hear as sojung introduced herself to your friends, who had plastered on smiles so plastic they could be recycled. dutifully, you stand up to accept jeonghan’s hug, and are immediately hit by the scent of bergamot and geranium.

“hi,” you say into his suit jacket. he hugs the same, all enveloping, with his chin resting on your shoulder like he never wants to let go. he never pulls away first, so you do. from where he’s still firmly sat, seungcheol lets out a noise of displeasure when jeonghan presses a faint peck onto your cheek. “it was a pretty ceremony.”

jeonghan colours, and waves away the compliment like you knew he would, “sojung’s parents set it up. everything’s so… bright.”

you laugh, and the sound makes soonyoung and jihoon look back at you. unfortunately, it also means sojung starts making her way over. it’s only then that seungcheol gets up.

“hi!” sojung greets, fussing with the skirt of her dress. “you must be jeonghan’s friends.”

you dig your elbow into seungcheol’s rib when he scoffs, “friends?”

“i’m y/n.” you smile, outstretching your hand.

sojung’s smile falters, but she takes your hand, shakes and drops it. “y/n as in—“

“the ex-wife.” soonyoung pipes up unhelpfully.

“of four years.” jihoon grins shamelessly. “doctor y/n, by the way.”

jeonghan sighs, rubbing his forehead with his hand before saying, “y/n’s still a really good friend.”

seungcheol makes a face, it transcends into pure, unsubtle glee. “you guys didn’t discuss the guest list, huh?”

“cheol!” you huff. the man just beams at you, dimples and all. “ignore him, he has no filter. this place is gorgeous, and you look beautiful.” but you can’t help but add, “how’s working in the deterministic law department? i know jeonghan’s an overbearing boss.”

understanding falls over soonyoung, jihoon and seungcheol’s faces. soonyoung gets so still with anger it leaks out of him.

“i’m not working there anymore, actually,” sojung says, blissfully unaware of what you’ve just implied. jeonghan, on the other hand, seems to get it completely. “i moved to the natural law department when jeonghan and i started dating.”

“that’s nice,” jihoon said, “the non-fraternisation rule’s terrible.”

sojung nods, smiling uncertainly before tilting her head over to the side. jeonghan looks like he’s three seconds away from either launching himself at you or having a mental breakdown. instead, he composes himself and says, “excuse us.”

the couple walk away, and you catch sojung with furrowed brows as jeonghan trails behind her, waving his hands around like he’s trying to explain.

“first argument as husband and wife.” soonyoung states. “i think they have you beat, y/n. how long did it take for you and jeonghan to fight after getting married?”

“a month, i think.” you murmured, “we agreed on most things.”

jihoon rolls his eyes. “i can’t believe his rebound wife was his fucking subordinate.”

“well,” you sit back down and cross your legs at the ankle. “it was nice catching up.”

soonyoung smacks an exaggerated, wet kiss onto your temple. “my rockstar. should’ve brought your nobel with you and waved it in their faces.”

“shut up, i heard he’s getting another pulitzer.” you take a sip of the honest to god, best tasting champagne you’ve ever had. “shit, this is really good.”

“your wedding’s was better.” seungcheol said instantly. “this one just feels like it’s all for show, or something.” jihoon hums in agreement. “i’m glad you got divorced.”

“ouch.”

“whatever, you know what i mean.” he says, downing the entire flute. “it’s good that you’re single now.”

it takes a second, and then two, for seungcheol to process what he’s just said. jihoon cackles in delight when he flounders. “i mean—“

“i know what you mean.” you put at end to his misery, feeling a strange warmth in your chest. you take his hand from under the table, and intertwine your fingers with his. seungcheol smiles at that, wide and shining, before flipping off soonyoung, who’s making smooching noises. “you wanna dance?”

if you thought seungcheol was pretty before, he’s utterly enchanting when he accepts, and leads you to the dance floor, where jeonghan and his mother are dancing along with some other guests. you give a polite nod to his mother, who nods back before muttering something to jeonghan. his face screams of frustration, but you ignore that. that wasn’t your problem to deal with anymore.

right now, you have a gorgeous man with you, his hands on your hips as he whispers little jokes in your ear. you giggle at every single one of them, because even when they’re bad they’re good, and seungcheol cradles your cheek in his hand.

when he leans down to finally, for the first time in your decade-long friendship, kiss you, you don’t even have the heart to feel guilty for stealing jeonghan and sojung’s thunder.

and from where jeonghan’s standing, a few feet away, there’s an unpleasant taste in his mouth. not just because you know, you’re his ex-wife. but because he’s seen that you’ve moved on.

here’s what you don’t know—

you and seungcheol will give your relationship a try and fail and stay friends, because seungcheol will always, always be your best friend. you’ll have his daughter and love her forever in amounts you never knew was possible and seungcheol will progress from best friend to father and platonic life partner. sometime between you and seungcheol’s first date and ara turning six, jeonghan gets married and divorced four more times. he then goes to a test run of jurassic park, gets injured by a mean pack of velociraptors, and realises he’s stayed in love with you this whole time.

whatever happens next, well, you’ll deal with it when it comes.

for now, you let seungcheol press more kisses onto your cheeks, your mouth, your forehead, your neck (much to jihoon’s affront and soonyoung’s clear delight), and sway to the beat of his heart. in that moment, you are content.

Chapter Text

“you’re crazy.” jihoon states in awe as you furiously rummage through the drawers of jeonghan’s oak desk. “like, i know you had to be some sort of insane because you’re best friends with shua-hyung out of your own volition—“

“don’t talk about josh like that!” you poked your head out to interject before continuing to scour through the unlabelled papers. jeonghan desperately needed to get his things in order. you’d never think he was running a successful criminal empire with how disorganised his work headquarters (that wasn’t the gunroom or actual combat space) was.

“but you’re actually out of your mind.” jihoon continued, ignoring you completely. he watched in disbelief as you shoved the drawer close and open another one. “no wonder you get along with soonyoung and myungho.”

“fuck off, jihoon. are you gonna help me or not?”

jihoon motions to where he’s standing in front of the door keeping watch. “what do you think i’m doing?”

you glare at him as the attempt to look for a name in another drawer is shown to be fruitless. “tell me her real name.”

“you know i can’t—“

“tell me or i’ll tell wonwoo it was you who deleted his entire my anime list.”

“you think i’m scared of that twig—“

“and make him bug your entire software.” you say, “and then send your my anime list as a mass email to everyone working in this building.” you let out the finishing blow. “and i know you’re brave enough to show it to the others but what about chungha from weapons—“

“kim sojung.” jihoon answers instantly. “do not bring chungha into this.”

“or what?” you stand up, jamming the last drawer shut. “you’ll stutter and not look into her eyes again?”

jihoon gapes a little. “you’re evil.” he whispers.

you smile. “i am. thank you for finally noticing.” you boot up jeonghan’s computer, typing in his password (your hospital badge number, that sap), and open up his directory. “watch the door.” you insist when you realise jihoon’s still staring at you in shock. he does so obediently and you nod approvingly. you type in ‘kim sojung’, and sure enough, an entire profile pops up.

you skim through it. same age as jeonghan, works in intel and communication at iok, was at source for six years before moving. and there it is, under a bold fonted ‘known affiliates & associates’— yoon jeonghan, ex-partner (romantic) of two years.

“he’s coming.”

jihoon’s voice rips you out of your focus, and you feel your heart beat frantically against your chest as you write down her place of work and phone number.

“hurry up!”

you type in the last few digits before closing the tab and erasing your traces in the search bar. then you shut down his computer as quick as you can, jihoon getting more and more agitated as the footsteps approaching the office get louder and louder. the computer screen flashes black. you race out from behind the desk, plopping yourself down on the sofa and dragging jihoon with you into the seat beside it.

the door opens, and you look up from your phone, feigning normalcy. jihoon does the same.

jeonghan smiles when his eyes land on you, “hey, sweetheart. i didn’t know you finished early today.”

“surgery ran quick.” you replied, getting up to press a kiss to his cheek. his arms wrap around your waist as he brings you closer to his chest. “i thought i’d surprise you. dinner?”

jeonghan leans down to give you a real kiss, lips on lips, that makes you a little breathless and jihoon mock gag. “definitely.” he responds when you two finally pull away.

“you have a meeting with taeyong-hyung, kun and mark in an hour.” jihoon pipes up.

jeonghan doesn’t even look away, cupping your cheek and rubbing softly. a pang of guilt rides up from within your stomach when you take in just how lovingly he’s holding you. “postpone it. i have a date with my girl.”

you can’t deny how your heart skips a beat at that. jihoon just sighs.

-

kim sojung. kim sojung. kim sojung.

that’s all that’s been going through your head for the last two days. even as you’re sat across joshua on your weekly brunch runs your mind is completely occupied with jeonghan’s apparently very qualified, very gorgeous ex-partner of two years. two years. you’ve only been dating him for less than a third of that.

“okay, what’s up with you?” joshua asks when you hum through his question for the fourth time, absentmindedly sipping on your mimosa.

you look at him slowly. “what do you mean?”

“you’ve been preoccupied this whole time.” your best friend says, tone unpleasingly hoity-toity. “i haven’t seen you distracted since you had to study for your boards.”

you scan through his scrutinising gaze. you know he knows you better than to believe you if you said everything was fine.

“did you know sowon?” you finally spit out. you watch as joshua’s expression goes from surprised to unamused.

“that’s what this is about?” he says flatly. “jeonghan’s ex?”

“fuck off, hong.” you mutter, picking up your fork and knife at last and biting into your meal. “just tell me.”

“has he done anything?” joshua asks seriously once he sees how serious you are. “do you think he might be, you know, cheat—“

“no!” you cut him off, voice louder than intended. you ignore the curious gazes of the other patrons of the restaurant, repeating more quietly this time. “no, i was just— i was just wondering. he picked up a call from her the other day—“

“he did what?”

you sit up, “is it weird that he did?”

it takes a second for joshua to school his expression back to neutrality, but you catch it all the same. you haven’t been his best friend for almost a decade for nothing.

“no.” he replies shortly.

“josh.”

he cracks. “yeah. he’s never picked up any of her calls since they broke up.”

“why’d they break up?”

joshua sighs. “you didn’t hear this from me.” you nod. “she wanted to get married. he didn’t.”

well.

well that throws you into a bit of pickle there, doesn’t it? because you want to get married. and if jeonghan doesn’t want to, where does that leave you? you obviously don’t want to do so right away, but you’d like to someday.

“don’t think about it so much,” joshua says, like he knows exactly what’s going through your mind. “maybe it was just sojung—“

“he dated her for two years and didn’t want to marry her.” you say, taking a massive gulp of your mimosa, much to joshua’s dismay. you weren’t that good of a drinker. “what gives? i’m not that different.”

“y/n—“

“then what am i even doing?” you mumble. “dating a guy who doesn’t even want to commit—“

“okay, now that’s taking it a bit too far—“

“i’m screwed. this is what i get for dating a fucking mafia boss—“

“it isn’t even the first time you have—“

“shut up, yoongi was just the de facto—“

“it’s fine.” joshua said firmly, placing a hand on your wrist to stop you from downing your entire drink. “just talk it out with jeonghan, okay?”

you shrugged off his hand gently, and slowly, while maintaining eye contact with your best friend, finished your entire mimosa and signalled for the waitress. when she came over, joshua was completely unsurprised when you said, “can i get a vodka, please?”

-

“jeonghan!”

the terse atmosphere of the meeting room was broken, and all its occupants looked up to see joshua carrying a very, very drunk and slurring you in his arms with little to no effort at all. your head was tucked underneath his chin, his arms held under your back and legs. jeonghan frowned at that.

he got up, ignoring the varying shocked to amused expressions of the others. mark hid a laugh behind his fist when you batted jeonghan’s hands away, instead holding onto joshua’s shoulders tighter. your best friend sighed loudly, looking up to the sky as if it’d give him an explanation for why he had to suffer so much, and forcibly set you down on your feet. you nearly tripped, and jeonghan caught you.

“she’s been a fucking mess all day.” joshua says, looking jeonghan right in the eye. it takes everything in the older man not to bristle. “fix it now or i’ll kill you.”

taeyong’s eyes widened, and he met kun’s gaze. he would go to his grave before ever admitting the breath of relief jeonghan let out when joshua left the room. it was clear joshua was one of the only people who would dare threaten jeonghan in broad daylight, and the only person who taeyong believed would go through with it entirely.

you let out a sluggish groan, snapping jeonghan’s attention back to you. he cleared his throat, and addressed the room, “this meeting is over. any more negotiations can going through seungkwan and seungcheol. i will be unavailable for the next two days. you’re all dismissed.”

with that, the man left the room, holding you securely in his arms.

mark sighed, “does he know we don’t work for him?”

-

you woke up to a pounding head, a starch dry throat, and an uneasy feeling in your stomach that one joshua hong has ratted you out. call it a best friend’s intuition.

you’re proven right when you’re finally able to get yourself up from bed, take a shower and exit your bathroom in a fluffy robe, only to see jeonghan spaced out on the l-shaped couch, legs crossed. you have an argument with yourself over whether or not you should just slink back to the bedroom and pretend you’re asleep. once your decision is made, however, you make the rookie mistake of accidentally stepping on the one floorboard that creaks. you inwardly berate yourself. you should’ve gotten that fixed months ago!

jeonghan turns around, and you smile hesitantly at him before walking over and plopping down on the space next to him. jeonghan won’t have any of that, though, and tugs you by the wrist so your head in on his lap. you stretch out your limbs relishing in the comfort of his touch before shoving your face in his stomach. he just laughs, soft and sweet and adoring.

“how much did i embarrass myself?” you mumble, words getting caught in the fabric of his dress shirt.

“oh you know, a regular amount.” jeonghan replies, “shuji barged in carrying you during my meeting—“

you gasped, looking up at him. “the one with taeyong, mark and kun?”

“the one and only.”

you cover your face in your hands and groan, feeling your cheeks colour. “i can never show my face to them ever again, this is so embarrassing!”

jeonghan lets you flail around a bit and stew in your humiliation before continuing in a gentle tone, because he’s nothing if not gentle with you, “he also said you’ve been dealing with something all day—“ you knew it! you knew joshua would rat you out! “and that i need to fix it.” jeonghan cards a hand through your hair. “what happened, hm?”

you consider just evading the conversation completely. jeonghan didn’t need to know that you had dedicated the better part of your weekend policing all your friends into telling you more about his infamous ex-girlfriend.

but you don’t think you could live with yourself if you lied to him. or if you just shoved this to the backburner and spent however much time you had with him pretending you didn’t know this would be going nowhere.

you sit up, and jeonghan lets out a hum of question. you take his hand in yours, rubbing your thumb over the callouses on the back of his palms. this is one of the most powerful men in seoul, who cradles guns like a lover, who need only a single whisper for the city to fall into chaos. but you look into his eyes, soft, warm, and he’s just jeonghan to you. jeonghan who likes to put his chin over your shoulder no matter how many times you complain over how pointy it is, who noses your neck in the morning to wake you up, who presses kisses into your skin like you’re someone worth worshipping.

“i,” you’re not sure where you should start. “well, um, soonyoung said something in passing about someone called sowon—“ a strange expression formed on jeonghan’s face, but he nodded for you to continue. “and i heard you say that name when you went to pick up a call last week, so i asked who she was but he wouldn’t tell me. seungcheol got all weird when i asked too so um, i made jihoon help me into your office and i looked her up.”

jeonghan lets out a laugh, a completely one-eighty to what you thought he’d react with. “is that why you both were in my office the other day?”

“yeah,” you admitted. “it wasn’t that i didn’t trust you enough to ask. i was just, um, curious? and you know how i get.”

“i do,” jeonghan says fondly, tucking your hair behind your ear. he leaves his hand at your nape, and brings you closer. “i’m not mad. but why was joshua?”

you coloured. “i might have, um, been thinking about it all weekend?”

instead of the indignation you expected or the anger that you had gone through his things, jeonghan just giggled. it’s a heavy juxtaposition from how he was in a boardroom. he was commanding, firm and stern. with you, he was anything but.

“you’re so silly,” he said, pressing a kiss onto your hand, “sowon just wanted to propose a merger on our weapons front. i said no.”

“oh,” but that doesn’t quite resolve your problem. “that’s cool.”

“very cool.”

“but that’s not what i was worrying about.”

jeonghan tilts his head. “what was it then?”

“josh told me you two broke up because she wanted to get married and you didn’t. and i want to get married. not now, but you know,” you look anywhere but him, feeling the grip on your hand slacken slightly. “sometime in the future. and if you don’t see that for us, i’d rather know now than later.”

a silence falls between the two of you, and you can’t help but brace for the worst. a break up, maybe, you think. dear god, joshua was going to kill him. like, actual real life murder, then you’d have to cover it up and go on the run. how were you going to pay back your student loans? would you have to go cardless? apple pay was your lord and saviour, you don’t want to go back to carrying cash with you. and jeonghan would be dead, which meant you could never love someone ever again.

not to mention the falling of one of seoul’s biggest mafia groups. seungcheol would have to take over full time, which meant jihoon would be promoted and he would hate that. then he’d kill you.

you’re somewhere between panicking over what joshua would do if that happened and whether or not you should get your assets in order when jeonghan’s slender finger tilts up your chin. you’ve no choice but to look at his pretty, ocean eyes then.

jeonghan’s smiling a little, faint and small, and you’re, not for the first time, taken away by how pretty he is. he’s so pretty.

“with sojung it was,” he mulls over his words, “it was convenient. she was in the same job as me, and she knew how my world worked. it’d be a lie to say i never loved her, because i did, but i didn’t love her enough to want the same things as her.” you bit your bottom lip, unsure of where this was going. “you and me, we’re so different. but i can tell you right here, right now,”

he pulls you onto his lap, cradles your cheek in his hand and drops his other to wrap around your waist. “i love you so much. i love you so, so, so much i want to marry you. not now, but sometime in the future. i love you so, so much i want whatever you want.”

you don’t even realise you’re crying until jeonghan wipes the tears away, pressing soft kisses against your cheeks. “i love you, i love you, i love you.”

“i love you, too.”

and its a testament to how truthful what jeonghan’s saying is that he doesn’t even poke fun at how croaky your voice is, or how red your nose has gotten from sniffling, even though you know he wants to so bad.

-

“i assume the issue’s been resolved.” joshua says first thing monday morning.

“not even a ‘hello, how’re you doing?’ ‘good morning, how was your weekend?’?” jeonghan whined, pulling back his chair and plopping down on it. he grimaced at all the paperwork on his desk. who knew you’d have to sign so many documents as a mob boss?

“shut up, is she fine?”

he rolled his eyes. “you know, with how much you worry about her, you’d think you were dating her, not me.”

“jeonghan.”

“she’s fine, we talked about it.” jeonghan finally answered, flipping open the first pack of thick papers. “and don’t use that tone with me again or i’ll shoot you.”

joshua sat up, pleased. “good. and i’d like to see you try.” your friend made a considering face, “you know what, i’m kind of surprised you’re not going insane over this.”

jeonghan continued signing his name on the dotted line. “over what?”

“her exes.” jeonghan put his pen down. “what? you guys didn’t discuss her exes, too?”

“no.” he pushed the papers aside. joshua felt a smile grow on his face. oh, he was about to make jeonghan lose his fucking mind. “what’s wrong with her exes?”

“you don’t know who she used to date?” joshua continued, just to be a little shit.

“tell me.”

“jaehyun.” jeong jaehyun from taeyong’s gang, jeonghan thought to himself. mingyu’s friend. nice face. you had an affinity for pretty boys, clearly. “yoongi.” jeonghan raised an eyebrow. wild card. “johnny.” also from taeyong’s gang. “that’s how me and johnny became friends, actually.” joshua looked at jeonghan’s face. he was clearly processing this. and not doing a very good job at it.

“i’ll leave you to it.” he said gleefully.

when you came home from your eight hour shift later that night, you’d be greeted by jeonghan’s a million and one questions, and send a curse to one joshua hong.

Chapter Text

“hiiiiii!”

you look up from your phone to see a very giggly, very drunk soonyoung, his cheeks red from the shoey he had earlier and then the drinks you’re sure seungcheol and joshua piled him with. he finished second today, and that definitely warrants your congratulations and attention, no matter how you feel right now.

“hello, red bull’s undisputed shining star.” you say, quoting the articles that had been released post-press conference. soonyoung colours even redder, and pushes himself into your embrace. you laugh, your first one since today’s prix, and hug him back, arms wound tight around him. “you were incredible today.”

“thank you.” he replies, looking pleased. he finally gets off of you, sliding into the booth and sitting beside you instead. “you’re not celebrating?” he motions to your coke.

you give him a pinched smile. “no, not today.”

soonyoung’s face turns serious and he seems to sober up within seconds before he asks, “you’re not pregnant, are you?”

you smack him on the arm for that, “the fuck? no! you better pray no one heard that, you goof, or i’ll never hear the end of it!”

your friend pouts, rubs on the area as if you did actual damage, “then why aren’t you drinking? jeonghan-hyung won, didn’t he?”

“i know he won, i was in the paddock.” you sigh, and fiddle with the tissue that came with your soft drink can. “i’m just not really feeling it right now.”

soonyoung leans into your side, pretzeling himself so he can tuck his head into your shoulder. it makes a comical sight you’re sure, since soonyoung, despite being adorable off-track, has a few good inches on you, but you couldn’t care less. you do need a friend right now. “what’s wrong, my baby?”

“do you know what date it is today?”

“duh, the twenty-fourth.” he answers easily, “it’s a sunday— oh my god, it’s your anniversary.”

you wonder how it is that your friend, who is wholly unattached to your relationship, can figure it out in a second, and your actual boyfriend can’t.

soonyoung looks up at you, hesitance lacing his tone. “did jeonghan-hyung forget?”

you turn away, and it’s answer enough. the first time he did was in france three years ago, then two and then one and now. he’s forgotten your anniversary four times. four for four. you don’t know if you want to stick around for a fifth, but you’re not brave enough to say it aloud right now.

you understood the priorities jeonghan had when you agreed to date him. racing was his number one, and you’d have to settle for the numbers after that. you didn’t mind at first, his passion and drive were some of the things you fell for, but it’s been four years, and the novelty’s worn off. you don’t want to keep having to move your life around for someone who can’t stay in a country for more than three months, and someone who’s settled somewhere you don’t know you’ll ever go to.

“do you want me to go kick his ass?”

you let out another laugh, but this time your half-sob seeps through, and god, isn’t that embarrassing? soonyoung takes your hand away from the tissue and tucks it into his instead. he rubs the back of your palm.

your boyfriend is a three-time world champion. he’s just won his fifty-second win in monaco, and is probably off getting insanely drunk at the other end of the club mercedes has rented for their star driver and his p4 teammate. and you’re here, tucked into the corner of this establishment lamenting the potential end of your relationship.

“i don’t know,” you respond, and wipe your eyes with your other hand. soonyoung frowns at that, slings his arm over your shoulders. “i just— i don’t know what i’m doing here. it doesn’t make any sense. i have a fucking job and a fucking family on the other side of the world and i’m here,” you gesture at the raging dance floor, “watching formula one drivers get drunk and high on my fucking anniversary.”

soonyoung stays quiet throughout your rant, just rubs on your shoulder. when you finally calm down and take a sip of your drink, you face him. “sorry. i’m ruining your winning weekend. you’re so fucking good, soonyoung. p2 is fucking incredible. you—“ you huff. “you might be giving jeonghan a run for his money. your first world championship if red bull is smart enough to keep you.”

“hey,” your friend says firmly. “you’re not ruining my weekend. you’re my friend. i care about you. and i’m gonna kick jeonghan’s ass for you on the track at azerbaijan, okay? cheer for me.”

you manage a watery smile, “i don’t think i’ll be there for that, actually.”

soonyoung makes a confused noise. it takes him a few seconds to understand the implications of your words. “fuck.”

“yeah.”

“you’re sure?”

you shrug, “i don’t think i can do this anymore.”

soonyoung nods at that, albeit slowly, and gives you a small smile. “you’ll still visit? those fucking concrete cows won’t be as fun without you.”

you laugh again, feeling a little lighter with your confession. “i’ll do my best.”

“that’s all i ask.” he says, “you’ll be okay, champ. i know you will.”

you swallow down the bitterness that comes with that nickname, and try your very best to believe it.

-

jeonghan stumbles into your hotel room at half past four. you’re already tucked in bed, curled into yourself. your vision is half covered by the sheets over your shoulders, but you watch as jeonghan gets into the shower and emerges in his sweater and sleep shorts. he dives under the covers with the finesse of a baby gazelle, giggling quietly to himself. it’s still endearing to you. you wish it weren’t.

you close your eyes, and feel as he stills. his breathing evens out, and its only then that you open your eyes again.

how can someone so close feel so far away? how did this face become so unfamiliar? how did a lover become a stranger?

you decide you can’t lie there and pretend nothing’s wrong anymore. so you get up and walk out of the bedroom. you sit on the couch, and stare at the digital clock on the television stand. the numbers change as sure as you breathe.

you don’t know how its come to this.

you started dating jeonghan when he was still with renault, watched as he moved to mercedes and started winning more than he could have ever imagined. you watched as he climbed up the rankings and won world championship after world championship. you watched as he became easily the face of formula one. you watched as he slipped further and further away from your fingers. you watched as he stopped hugging you good morning and goodnight. you watched as he stopped kissing you before getting into his car. you watched as he became untouchable, even to you.

and still, you don’t know how it even happened.

it’s six forty-three when jeonghan emerges from the bedroom. he’s never been able to sleep well without you in bed, no matter that you’ve been sleeping with your backs to each other for a while now. you hear it as he hesitates when he spots you. you half wish he’d turn around and go back to bed, but he eventually sits down beside you.

the room is reflected in hues of pink, the sun beginning to rise. it’d be romantic if you two weren’t husks of the people you used to be.

“you’re up early.” jeonghan finally says, his voice rough from sleep.

“couldn’t sleep.”

the conversation lulls, and you want to scream, how are you fine with this?

“i think,” you start. “i think i’m going home today.”

jeonghan startles a bit, but nods. “that’s okay. i’m gonna stay and practice for a bit then maybe i can squeeze in a trip home in two weeks—“

“jeonghan,” he stops, looks over. the expression on your face must say it all, because your boyfriend pales. “i’m going home.”

“i’m not following.”

you stubbornly keep your eyes on the clock. six forty-seven. “i wish you wouldn’t pretend you don’t understand.”

jeonghan fiddles with his hands, looks down like he does when he’s scared. “can— can i ask why?”

“are you joking?” you spit out.

jeonghan flinches. it carves the hole in your heart even wider. his hand’s wrapped around the knife, and pushing.

“look at us,” you say, and feel the familiar burn of tears beginning to form in your eyes. “we can’t even hold a proper conversation. i don’t know who you are anymore, and i’m sure you feel the same. we’re just,” you feel wetness on your cheek, “we’re just in it now because we’re both cowards who don’t want to end it, but i’m sick of it. i can’t live like this, jeonghan. i’m,” you let out a shaky breath. “it’s like i’m dying here.”

jeonghan starts shaking his head. “i’ll go home with you. i’ll visit more often. i’ll cut back on the hours. i’ll move back—“

“this isn’t about you living in monaco, you jerk.” your voice is croaky now, and you wipe at your nose with your sleeve. somehow this feels more familiar. the fighting. at least in this terrain you know what to do. “did you know today’s our anniversary?”

his face goes ashen, and he opens his mouth to explain, to apologise, but you won’t hear it. “that’s four for four now. four years you’ve forgotten, and four years i’ve just fucking pretended that it’s fine when it’s not. do you think i deserve this?”

he doesn’t answer, so you barrel on. “seungcheol's won wdc four times and he goes home after every race. he has a wife and two kids. hell, mingyu remembers every single fucking date him and nayeon have gone on. she tells me about it all the time and i have to pretend it isn’t an insult to me that you don’t put in half the energy you do on that track for me.” you cry out, “i’m not a fucking selfish person, jeonghan, i just. i want something. i want something besides the absence of absolutely fucking everything.”

it’s silent, before—

“i don’t think i can give that to you.” jeonghan whispers. it cleaves your heart right into two. “i thought i could. but now, i just—“ he cuts himself off, “i can’t slow down now.”

“i know,” you tuck your face into your knees. “i’ve never hated you for loving this, you know that, right?”

“sometimes i do.” he confesses. “sometimes i hate myself for loving this so much. sometimes i wish—“ he cuts himself off, but you hear it all the same.

“i wish you loved me more, too.”

you let your tears flow freely down your cheeks now. it’s like wave after wave of emotion are hitting you, and you can’t stop them no matter how hard you try. you want so desperately to be okay with it, to be the partner gracious and loving enough to be second place, but you can’t. you can’t.

you feel jeonghan’s hand around your wrist, feel as he pulls you into his chest for the first time in forever. you feel as he presses kisses onto your temple, your forehead, your cheeks, wherever he can reach. you feel as he starts to rock you back and forth, as his own tears drip into your hair.

you feel as you two break apart, as sure as a mercedes down a track.

-

jeonghan hasn’t got much to say as a three-time world champion. the papers say he’s got a silent confidence about him, an easy demeanour that only comes out when he’s having a good time. but jeonghan will tell you this—

he’s sorry. he’s so fucking sorry.

he’s sorry. he’s sorry his first love is racing. he’s sorry his second love is you. and he’s sorry. he’s so fucking sorry it couldn’t be the other way around.

he’s sorry when he helps you pack, and sorry when he drives you to the airport. he’s sorry when he kisses you for the last time, and sorry when he watches you disappear into the gate. he’s sorry when he searches for your face in azerbaijan before remembering you haven’t got a reason to be there anymore. he’s sorry when soonyoung sends him a glare daggers deep, and when joshua gets out of that damned yellow car, their rivalry be damned, and asks if he’s okay.

he’s sorry when he wins, and sorry when he keeps winning.

jeonghan doesn’t lose. but here’s what the papers won’t tell you— he lost when he lost you. he doesn’t think he’ll ever recover.

Chapter Text

you kick jeonghan out of your bedroom with little fanfare.

he’s groggy and whines the whole time, but obediently puts on the clothes he had oh-so carelessly discarded on the way to your bedroom and slides on his shoes with a piece of toast you had placed in between his lips. he munches on it still half-asleep, and holds it in one hand as he presses an absentminded kiss onto your cheek.

“see you next week, babe.” jeonghan calls out before closing the door behind him, uncaring of how disheveled he looks. only jeonghan would still be a proud son of a bitch while undergoing the walk of shame.

it’s only when you’re accompanied by nothing else but the silence of your apartment that the full effects of your actions are realised. you hold your head in your hands. jihoon was going to punch you in the face.

-

“you’re sure?” jihoon asks you, a critical look in his eye that told you he didn’t believe anything you just said. “that’s all you did yesterday?”

you do your best not to fidget under his judging gaze. “why would i lie?”

because you have issues and are absolutely batshit insane is what you’re sure jihoon is thinking, but professionalism gets the better of him, so all he does is put his pad of paper aside and lean forward on his elbows. “you know i’m not accusing you of anything. i’m just saying becoming involved with your ex-boyfriend again would do very little to help you.”

“i know that!” you reply, a little too defensively given how jihoon gives you an unimpressed look. “i know that.” you repeat more casually, “which is why, you know. i’m not. involved with him. i didn’t even see him. i’m over him!” you lie.

jihoon picks his pen up again, makes scratching sounds against his notebook. you want to rip it out of his hands and chuck it out the window, but you’re sure he’d just roll his eyes and get a fresh one. that’s why you like him so much. he’s the only therapist you’ve ever had who deals with your shit and not just teaches you how to compartmentalise it.

“alright,” jihoon says in a tone that tells you you’re really a terrible liar and he doesn’t believe you even a little. “then you wouldn’t mind recapping how your weekend went to me again?”

you consider just getting up and leaving, or jumping out the window to escape. you don’t even remember what you had for breakfast this morning, how were you supposed to recount a story with some completely made up parts? you don’t even know what you chose to omit besides the fact that you did, in fact, see jeonghan last night!

“well,” you say just to stall time and wrack your brain with what you started with, “i went to the farmer’s market to get—“

“apples and garlic shoots, i know,” jihoon completes, moving his hands to signal you to go on faster. his eyes scan his notebook and you nearly wither up and die right there. he wrote everything down? “keep going.”

“i went back to bed and then got brunch with my friends—“

“ten and joshua, yes.”

“um, we went shopping for a bit then back to josh’s to—“

“make bracelets.”

“ten said his boyfriend was dj-ing at a club so we decided to go and i had—“

“two martinis and two tequila shots.”

“ten and johnny went home after his set and josh went to hook up with some guy and i had to go the bathroom—“

“hah!” jihoon stopped you with a victorious, shit-eating grin. “no bathroom was mentioned earlier.”

you roll your eyes, trying to tamp down the panic at being caught. “so what, i forgot to mention i had a bathroom break!”

“okay then, since it meant nothing, keep going.”

the thing is— you can’t quite keep going. because you left the bathroom and bumped into jeonghan on your way out to the exit. he had told you the week before (shut up that you didn’t block him like ten told you to) that he was going to go blonde, but you didn’t believe him. but there he was, a pretty blonde that was curling under his ears and dressed in a gaping white silk shirt and the epitome of your worst dreams. you wouldn’t call them nightmares, you had too much fun in them.

all it took was a well-timed whisper in your ear and another two drinks for you to bring him home. then, well, you’d let someone else figure it out. you don’t understand how quickly you quickly you two get right back into rhythm without missing a step, but that’s how it always was with jeonghan. easy.

but the aftermath’s always hard.

“—y/n?” jihoon snaps you back into attention, “do you want to keep going?”

you let out a tired groan, kick off your shoes and tuck your feet under your bottom. jihoon sighs, but lets you do it. he was going to send the covers to the dry cleaners, anyway.

“no,” you answer in a quiet voice, “but i met him.”

“i figured, yeah,” he says, “do you want to tell me why you did it?”

“i don’t understand it myself,” you respond, frustration seeping into your tone. “i know i deserve better. i just,” you pick at the scraggly part of the decorative pillows. “i just miss him all the fucking time.”

“and that’s why you keep going back to him?”

you glare at jihoon. “duh!”

jihoon just rolls scoffs at you, rude and quite honestly breeching whatever code you think therapists have to say before getting their license.

“have you ever taken a second to consider that the reason why you can’t keep yourself away is because you haven’t tried to? you still have his number and text him, you lie to your best friends about it, you even go out to lunch with him when he asks.”

“…i’d miss him too much if i didn’t.” you admit, shame making a jeonghan-shaped hole in your chest.

“good,” jihoon says, and that gets your attention. what does he mean ‘good’? your life is ruined and he thinks that’s good? “you’re self aware, at least.”

“okay, hey, i take offence to that—“

“delete and block his number from your phone and plan out your week right now.” jihoon says firmly, handing you a sheet of paper from his notebook and his embossed fountain pen. “write exactly what you want to do and with who.”

“what?” you ask blankly. “but i haven’t even asked ten and josh about their schedules—“

“block him and call them right now.” jihoon says, crossing his legs. “go on.”

you study him a bit. you don’t think he’s joking.

so you unlock your phone, and slowly search up jeonghan’s name in your contacts. it’s still ‘jjong’ with an angel emoji right next to it. you wonder if your name on his phone is still ‘lovely’ with the sunflower emoji. then you block him, and delete his number, turning your screen around to show jihoon. he gives you a little round of applause, and you give him a small smile, no matter how much your heart is screaming at you right now.

you’re going to miss him. you’re going to miss him so, so, so much.

“call ten and joshua.” jihoon cuts in, seeming to know exactly what you’re thinking. well, you guess that was his job.

you sort out your schedules in the last twenty minutes of your session, and jihoon photocopies the schedule so you can have a copy and he can keep one.

“you’re going to follow this to a t.” jihoon says at the doorway. “don’t even think about straying, i’ll know.”

“okay.” you say meekly. “i’ll see you next week.”

-

god, what jihoon doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? you think as jeonghan kisses up your neck, sucking on the skin under your ear.

you let out a broken moan, scrambling to unlock your door. it takes you a few tries before you two finally topple in, jeonghan letting out a small giggle. he makes a show out of shrugging off his jacket and kicking off his shoes before leading you to your bedroom. he knows the floorplan like the back of his hand.

you’re repeating your photocopied schedule (stuck on top of your bed frame) to yourself as jeonghan kisses you, tongue wrapping around yours filthily and making you lose your train of thought. he presses you down onto your bed, and your fingers move without thought. you’re unbuttoning his dress shirt before you even realise you are.

jeonghan smirks, and pulls off your dress. he kisses you again, chaste this time, before trailing down and making a home between your legs. he licks on the inside of your thighs, intent on making you squirm.

wednesday, work and then dinner and drinks with seulgi and byulyi from marketing. thursday work and then catching up on the episodes of little women you skipped last week, ordering takeout. friday— jeonghan nips on your skin, and you jerk.

“you’re thinking about something else.” jeonghan says petulantly when you look down at him to hiss. “stop it. think about me or i’ll get upset.”

“shut up.” you kick at him a little, and he laughs. “i’m not.”

“you are,” he disagrees, before sliding your underwear off and throwing it over his shoulder. “don’t worry. it’s my job to make sure you don’t know anything but my name, baby.”

-

jihoon opens the door of his office, takes one look at your guilty expression, and just leads you to his couch.

“should i even bother pretending not to know?”

Chapter Text

if you had to be honest, you and jeonghan don’t really do dates.

most of your time together is spent having takeout on your shared couch with a trashy reality tv show as background noise as you bicker, toes digging into each others shins. you don’t really like going to fancy restaurants, or the movies, or anywhere really that isn’t your apartment of four years.

your friends dub you and jeonghan old and married every time you two pass on club nights to enjoy shots of soju in the comfort of your own living room, but you don’t really care. you have joint bank accounts, promise rings and have just dropped a deposit for house in the suburbs that you’re going to move into when your lease ends. you’re as good as married.

but, sometimes, you are compelled to take a step outside of your haven and experience the real world for once. so on a saturday night, you dress up in a pretty satin dress jeonghan’s never seen you in and very much appreciates seeing you in, given his unsubtle wandering eyes and the fact that his arm hasn’t left your waist since you left the apartment, and walk up to a quaint restaurant a few blocks away.

“is that,” jeonghan squints. he’s not too good with names, so you’re not surprised when he flounders. you just look over to where he’s staring. “mina? miyoung?”

“miyeon.” you correct with a bemused smile. “what, do you want to say hi?”

your boyfriend, as predicted, scoffs. “no. i hate meeting people in public when it’s not planned, do you even know me?”

you roll your eyes at him, and dig your elbow into his side, making him yelp. “then why’d you even point her out?”

jeonghan pouts, rubbing his side with his other hand. his other one is, predictably, still curled around your waist. he refuses to let go. “whatever, i’m not going to tell you anymore, meanie. i can’t believe you’d do this to me.”

you’re tempted to not give in and make him whine a little more, but the nosy bitch in you wins, so you make your best puppy dog eyes and look up at him, “tell me, please?”

“no.”

you sigh, and pull out the big guns. you step out in front of him and intertwine your hands behind his neck, standing on your tippy toes to press a chaste kiss on his lips. before you can pull away though, he pulls you closer with the hand on your waist, deepening it. his tongue dances along the seam of your bottom lip before slipping in. you feel yourself get a little dizzy, something you’ve discovered, embarrassingly, will never quite go away, no matter how long you’ve been dating jeonghan.

jeonghan finally lets you go when someone clears their throat behind you, not an inch of shyness on his face. you, on the other hand, are flushing an unruly shade of pink, and jeonghan thinks you’re so cute he pecks you on the cheek before resuming his earlier position. this time, you’re hiding your face in his neck, trying to get yourself to calm down.

“you’re fucking adorable.” he whispers into your ear, making you squirm.

“you’re so,” you manage, “so…”

“so?”

“stop it!” you complain, and jeonghan laughs, kissing the side of your head.

“she’s fighting with her partner.” your boyfriend suddenly says.

you look up, confused.

“just now.” he says, “miyoung’s fighting with her partner.”

“miyeon.” you correct, interest piqued. “oh?”

you sneak a peep. miyeon does look quite upset, her brows furrowed as she talked with her hands. in fact, you might even say she looks angry.

you and jeonghan meet eyes, staring each other down for a moment. you know you’re thinking the exact same thing as him, from the way his cherry-spit lips are upturned into a small smirk. “do you think the table in front of them is empty?”

you look over. it is empty, and is a few feet away from them. the lighting is low and romantic, and it’s honestly the perfect date spot. you quirk your head in that direction, and wordlessly, you and jeonghan enter the restaurant. for a moment, you can’t help but think you and jeonghan were terrible people.

“hi! just the two of you?” the hostess asks, a picture perfect smile on her face.

“yup!” you answer, clinging onto jeonghan’s arm. “do you mind if we get that table?” you point over to your desired area. you watch as her expression becomes apprehended.

“of course, but i have to warn you, i think the table near it is um, going through some type of crisis? are you sure you don’t want to sit elsewhere? we have a second floor.”

“oh, no, it’s alright.” jeonghan waved, “it’s our seventh anniversary today, and we came here on our first date. we sat there then, too, so we were hoping we’d get to again.”

she basically melts at that, looking at how jeonghan’s fingers were dancing over where your hand is clutched on his shirt sleeve, and nods decisively. “right his way!”

you and jeonghan follow after her, and she leaves you with two menus.

“we’re awful people.” jeonghan says as he flips open the menu.

you open yours too, trying to suppress a laugh. “shut up. stop being so funny.”

jeonghan smiles angelically at you over his menu. “but that’s your third favourite thing about me.”

you give in, as always, “what’s my first and second?”

“first is obviously how handsome i am,” you sigh, but don’t disagree. you won’t lie to yourself, jeonghan is completely, unbiasedly, the most beautiful person you’ve ever laid your eyes on. “and second is my huge, monster coc—“

you snort, before covering your mouth in panic. jeonghan just gleefully watches as you compose yourself.

“i’m going to kill you.” you hiss.

“you’re fucking lying!”

you and jeonghan jump a little, and you look over his shoulder to see miyeon yelling. she’s just slammed the table, and her fork goes toppling down onto the floor. a waitress seems to be trapped in the biggest dilemma of her life— whether to pick up the fork and give her a new one, or to leave them alone. she decides on the latter.

“i think you’d like the steak.” you commented quietly, turning back to your menu.

“you’re being crazy.” miyeon’s boyfriend says in a tone you absolutely hate. jeonghan makes a face. you know he hates it, too. “everyone from the company was there, alright? you can ask jongin! hell, ask joohyun herself if you’re so obsessed over it!”

“i think i would,” jeonghan replied, obviously meaning oh my god, i need her to ask them right now.

“i did ask jongin actually.” jeonghan tries to his best not to break into a grin. “and he said there wasn’t any company dinner, you fucker.”

you gasp, “jjong, wouldn’t it be so good if i got the pasta and we just shared?” obviously code for fuck, she got him!

“this is fucking incredible,” jeonghan agreed, meaning every single word he said. “i love it here.” and he sticks his hand out for the waitress’ attention.

-

nearly an hour, a steak, a pasta and a bottle of wine later, you and jeonghan are trying your very best to contain your drunk giggles. true to your predictions, miyeon had stormed out, rightfully so, with her chump boyfriend staying for another drink before leaving as well. to any worker who passed, you and jeonghan looked the image of perfectly in love, flushed cheeks and adoring eyes.

if only they knew.

“the thing about the credit card—“

“and the fucking viagra, oh my god—“

“don’t you feel lucky my dick—“

“shut up!” you giggle, muffling your laugh behind your hand. jeonghan just watches on, enamoured. his gaze is a little hazy, and he’s playing footsie with you under the table, so you know he’s a little drunk at least. “he used their money to pay her rent!”

“and gave her miyeon’s jewellery as anniversary gifts!”

jeonghan chortles, an unflattering noise, but you don’t care. he’s the cutest person in the world to you, old man laugh be damned. you love him soooo much. it might be the wine talking, or your drunk-sober thoughts, but god you want to be with him forever. where else will you ever find someone who wants to sit at home and watch bad netflix movies with you cuddled under a blanket, or someone who holds your hair back when you forget to tie it up to brush your teeth, or someone who leaves out his own sweaters for you so you can smell a little like him when you wake up? where else will you find someone who emulates ‘nosy bitch’ as much as you do?

“i love you.” you say, unable to keep it in anymore. “i love you soooo much, i can’t believe we’re getting a house and that we’ve actually been together seven years and we just spent our actual anniversary eavesdropping on someone’s break up.”

jeonghan blinks, surprised, before your real favourite thing about him happens. he smiles, eyes going crinkly and cheekbones high and raised. he takes your hand on the table, rubs the back of it with his thumb and kisses it.

“i love you more.” he says, and before you can try to refute, he continues, “i love you so much it makes me stupid. you know yesterday seungcheol had to call me thrice because i was thinking about how nice you smell when we go out?”

“is that why you keep sniffing me?”

“and once jihoon yelled at me because i spent dinner talking about how pretty you were that day. you were wearing the pink slip. the one, you know—“

“that you tore off later that night?” you finished, laughing. “trust me, i remember.”

“i love you sooooo much,” jeonghan continues, copying your tone from earlier. “i’m like, obsessed with you, kind of. sometimes i walk past something on my way home and think of you.”

you feel your cheeks redden, and it’s not just from the wine. something warm and lovely settles into your chest, the way it only gets when you’re around jeonghan. seven years and he still makes you feel like it’s your junior year in university and a pretty boy’s just sat next to you in your political economy class, his letterman on his shoulders and the most gorgeous smile on his face as he greets you hello.

you intertwine your fingers with jeonghan’s, press your own kiss on his hand.

“i didn’t want to interrupt.” you and jeonghan look up to see the hostess and waitress from earlier, trying their very best not to coo and fawn over you two. the waitress places a large piece of what looks like milk pudding and strawberry ice cream on the table. “but this is just for the earlier disruption. we hope they didn’t disturb your anniversary too much.”

“no, they didn’t, don’t worry about it.” jeonghan says, still looking right at you with nothing but undeniable affection and love in his eyes.

“it’s on the house.” the hostess says, before bowing shallowly. “happy anniversary.”

“thank you.” you have the mind to say as they scurry away. you scrunch your nose at jeonghan. “free gossip and free dessert?”

“and,” jeonghan seems to be rummaging in his pocket for something. after a few seconds, he places a velvet box next to the plate. your heart begins beating at a truly erratic speed, and your hand in jeonghan’s starts getting clammy. it’s a testament to how much he loves you that he doesn’t even poke fun. the weight of your promise ring on your pinky finger becomes unbearably light. like it’s about to be replaced. “a free husband?”

“free?” you manage to say. jeonghan just grins at you, and snaps the box open. a glimmering diamond ring stares back at you. “i wouldn’t call seven years of my life free.”

“that’s too little, yeah?” very, very slowly, jeonghan gets out of his chair and onto one knee. you can hear commotion around you. everyone’s gasping and pointing and you can’t breathe. “what about forever?”

you laugh, choked, through the traitorous heat in the back of your lids. “that’s so corny.”

“anything for you, sweetheart,” jeonghan says, and lifts the box at you. “so, what do you say? marry me?”

it doesn’t even take you a second.

“yes.”

the restaurant erupts into cheers as jeonghan slips the ring onto your fourth finger, right next to your promise ring, and pulls himself and you up to your feet so he can press his lips onto yours.

your friends would never let you guys forget that you ended up married after a date spent eavesdropping on the table behind you. jeonghan had come clean and said that he was just going to propose over takeout and the kardashians, which you honestly wouldn’t have minded, but went along with you anyway.

you wouldn’t have it any other way.

an engagement story for the ages, you’d say.

Chapter Text

jeonghan doesn’t trudge up to the doorstep of the bed and breakfast, he swears. he doesn’t.

maybe he drags his feet a little, mutters to himself, complains about the gravel and uneven rocky path in his mind, but he doesn’t outwardly huff and whine about it like seungcheol said he would. the second he lets his mind wander to his best friend and coworker however, he gets the urge to pull out his phone and text for any updates about the merger. which is exactly what seungcheol said he’d do.

so jeonghan focuses on not giving in, because he hates losing, and continues hefting his suitcase up to the farmhouse. the door is open, white with a knocker and a gold knob, and reveals a sweet wooden reception table. there’s a vase of fresh flowers and a silver bell and jeonghan nearly coos when he sees a little herd of baby goats wobble around in the backyard. he wants to pet one.

but for now, he taps on the bell, and waits for someone to come and check him in.

“hello!”

jeonghan must be going crazy. he has to be. or maybe this bed and breakfast is haunted and he should’ve just accepted his parents’ invite of staying at home instead of booking a room somewhere else.

“i’m not that small, you know!”

jeonghan looks down at that, and is greeted by perhaps, one of the cutest kids he’s ever seen. granted, the only kid he’s in semi-regular contact with is seungcheol’s son, his godson, but this kid ranks high on the list of the four kids jeonghan’s ever known.

she doesn’t look older than six, with braided pigtails tied off with gerber daisies. when she stands up on the chair so she can peer up at him easier, jeonghan notices she’s wearing a yellow shirt underneath a pair of overalls, and her feet are sheltered by a pair of bright pink rubber boots.

“mommy said she’d be back in two minutes, so you have to wait, mister.”

“that’s okay with me.” jeonghan responds when he realises he hasn’t this whole time. he sets his bag down on the floor, and leans against the counter. “you’re a little young to be a receptionist.”

“i’m five and a half!” she huffs, stomping her foot. “and mom said i can do whatever i want!”

“okay, i did not say that,” jeonghan turns his head. it takes everything in him to not let his jaw drop. “i said you can be whatever you want when you grow up, and if you want to be a receptionist, this is good practice.”

you ruffle the kid’s hair, and press a kiss onto her forehead before holding her hand so she can step down from the chair carefully. “go out back, sunnie. jimin-unnie said she’s feeding the goats.”

“okay!” the girl, sunnie, jeonghan presumes, says, and gives your legs a brief hug before running off and out of the reception area.

“no running!” you yell after her, but she’s too far away to even listen. you sigh. “i don’t know how she has so much energy, i was never like that as a kid.”

“i remember.” jeonghan replies, and you finally meet gazes for the first time in nearly a decade. your eyes spark with recognition, and you smile.

“your dad did say you’d be dropping by.” you say, “room for one?”

“if that’s fine with you.”

“why wouldn’t it be?” you tap on the computer, and jeonghan bites back the obvious response because i stopped calling after a year, and you didn’t bother texting me again. “how long are you staying for?”

jeonghan thinks about it. he packed enough for a month, maybe two if he really stretched it. but seungcheol gave him six months. he thinks he’ll go stir-crazy.

“put it down for two months for now.” he finally decides, “maybe longer depending on how long work can let me.”

you click on the mouse and nod decisively. “the infamous corporate sellout job, hm?” you don’t need to look at jeonghan to know he’s rolling his eyes.

“the very one.” your mouth sets into the oh-so familiar line it turns into when someone’s said something that distastes you, and jeonghan denies himself of the right to poke at your cheek. he used to do it to make you smile. he doesn’t get to anymore, even if the childhood, idyllic scenery of hwaseong begs him to. so he tries something else, “you got prettier.”

you let out a snort and open a drawer to procure a key with a wooden keychain. jeonghan doesn’t think he’s stayed somewhere that didn’t have automatic keycards since he moved to the city. you slide it over the desk towards him. “you were always a smooth talker.” jeonghan takes the keys, and beams angelically at you. it gets you to crack a small smile. “you’re not even going to ask?”

“what about?” jeonghan asks, feigning stupidity.

you see right through him easily. it’s almost scary how you do it. jeonghan’s been in the city for nine years and still he hasn’t met anyone able to read him like the back of their own hand the way you do. “you’re not an idiot, jeonghan.”

“oh, so you remember my name?” he says snidely, just to be a little shit. you roll your eyes. “who’s the dad?”

“johnny suh.”

it takes a while for the name to ring a bell in jeonghan’s head, and when it does, he gapes. “johnny? as in youngho? shuji’s friend, johnny?”

“the very one.” you echo his earlier sentiment.

“he doesn’t see her?”

you let out a mirthful laugh, “he sees her when he can but he lives up in chicago now. and he’s married.”

“married?” jeonghan repeats, trying his very best not to sound absolutely flabbergasted. how much has changed since he left?

“his husband’s come and seen sunnie a few times. she’s obsessed with him. he runs a fashion brand.”

now that, jeonghan believes. “husband, huh?”

“yup.” you respond, popping the ‘p’, “his name’s ten. we get brunch every time he’s here.” then you quirk your head over to the side. “come on, i’ll take you to the room. if you’re up for it, jimin might still be feeding the goats. i saw you basically start begging with your eyes the second i mentioned it.”

see? scary.

-

jeonghan settles into a routine easily. seungkwan always said it was because he was so firmly isfj, but jeonghan doesn’t know what that means. whatever the kids were saying these days, he didn’t care much for.

he gets up a little earlier than eleven, has whatever you’ve left for him in the dining area as breakfast (and no, no matter how many times you insisted, jeonghan would never call it brunch), and heads off to wander around town. it’s been three weeks, and jeonghan likes to think he’s settled in quite well. he makes small talk with yizhuo and aeri who run the bakery you buy your bread rolls and pastries from whenever he bumps into them, and has even had dinner with minjeong and jimin. it’s a feat for him, and you do look oddly impressed and proud when he brings it up.

he gets back at half past four and calls seungcheol for his daily update before napping until you call him down for dinner. he sits across you with sunnie (yongsun, you tell him when he finally asks) between you two, complaining about her pre-school homework and telling you about her friends. you’ll smile at him from behind your hands and he’ll let his foot nudge yours from under the table.

sometimes, his routine is broken so he can take sunnie to the park on the weekends and her piano lessons on tuesdays, or so he can accompany you to the farmers market in the morning.

it’s terrifying how quickly everything’s changing, and even scarier how quickly jeonghan’s adapting to them.

he’s gotten so used to your bright smile greeting him good morning as you’re tutting about the bed and breakfast and checking in other guests clad in your white sundress and loose french braid. sometimes, you weave flowers into your hair, and jeonghan has to resist the urge to reach out to touch. you used to do it to him too in high school, when you dared jeonghan to grow out his hair so it would match yours. he spent his sophomore year summer with fishtail braids and dutch braids when you finally learnt how to do them.

he’s gotten so used to the sun yellow walls of his room, the old clock above the desk that only ticks seconds and not minutes, the way sunnie giggles when she finds something funny. he doesn’t dare address how this all makes him feel.

hwaseong has always been home, but jeonghan has never truly understood the depth of that statement until now. his parents drop by weekly to bring him snacks and food, and he goes fishing once with his dad even though he hates it. his sister comes home from college for a week and they spend every day of it together like when they were ten and four. you and sunnie even join for two days, because apparently, while you haven’t kept in contact with him, you have with her.

jeonghan doesn’t think about the hurtling date of his return to the city until his mom brings it up. he’s decided to go home for dinner, and you had politely declined an invite, insisting that you didn’t want to intrude.

“only a week and a half now, right?” his mom says as she ladles soup into his bowl. at jeonghan’s hum of question, she elaborates, “until you go back to seoul?”

jeonghan chews on his rice slower at that. “i guess so.”

“it’ll be nice, won’t it?” she continues, “hwaseong’s always been a bit boring to you.”

jeonghan knows she doesn’t mean it like the way he interprets it, like you’ve always wanted to leave us behind and we don’t want you to stay any longer, but he takes it that way anyway. he grimaces, fakes a smile.

his mom purses her lips like she knows exactly what he’s thinking, but decides against saying anything, asking about sunnie and how he likes the blueberry danishes she bought from yizhuo’s earlier this morning. his dad nods along, pipes up when he has to, but mostly just places meat onto jeonghan’s plate and refills his cup of tea without asking. it makes jeonghan feel like an even bigger piece of shit. this is family, this is his home, and they think it’s not enough for him?

jeonghan returns to the b&b with heavy steps and an even heavier heart.

it takes you two seconds to realise it. “what’s wrong?” you ask, your smile dropping. you’re still wearing your sundress, and you’ve got a little dirt on the skirt of it from kneeling to repot the camellias littering the entryway. he can spot sunnie conked out on the sofa, already dressed in her pajamas with her little owl clutched in her arms.

“nothing.” jeonghan responds, and tries to walk past you. you block him from doing so. “what?”

“something’s wrong, i’m not an idiot, jeonghan.” you say, “i know you—“

and that’s all it takes for jeonghan to lash out.

“no, you don’t.” he snaps. he watches as you flinch, and feel a sick sense of satisfaction from it. “you don’t know anything about me. you don’t know me. you’re hung up on some idealised high school version of me. that person’s gone. get it through your head and stop pretending like you’re my friend.”

he walks past you, past sunnie who’s been startled awake, and closes the door to his room behind him. it’s only in the quiet of the sunny yellow walls that he lets himself cry.

-

the week trudges by slowly.

you don’t even look at jeonghan when he leaves the b&b in the morning, and he doesn’t take sunnie to piano on tuesday. yizhuo and aeri still say hi to him, but he doesn’t bother with much beyond a wave. jimin, and by extension, minjeong, must have heard about what happened from you, because they glare daggers at him when he so much as walks past them. his parents know something is up, but they don’t push him. it makes him feel even guiltier.

you don’t have dinner with him anymore, choosing to hole yourself and sunnie up at jimin’s house down the street when the clock strikes six thirty. jeonghan would be lying if he said he didn’t miss your smile, if he didn’t miss sunnie’s laugh. but it’s for the best, he thinks. he’s leaving in a few days after all.

jeonghan’s due for seoul in two days when a familiar car pulls up in the driveway of the b&b. he’s sipping on his coffee, buttery and sweet from ghee, when seungcheol steps out of his rover, dressed down in a pair of sweats and a loose shirt. he’s even wearing his dad sandals.

“what’re you doing here?” jeonghan asks, straight to the point and completely unsurprised.

“no ‘i missed you, my best friend who picked up all the slack and calls me every day’?” seungcheol pouts. jeonghan lets himself be enveloped in a hug anyway, careful not to spill the coffee onto his friend’s white shirt. “i wanted to visit! and sooyoung let me, so.”

“oh, sooyoung let you?” jeonghan says in a shit-eating tone, “must be exciting.”

“shut up.” seungcheol grumbles like jeonghan knew he would. “where can i check in?”

that makes jeonghan still a bit, but he juts his chin out to the reception, where you’ve been doing a terrible job of pretending you haven’t been listening to their conversation. seungcheol just slaps him on the arm and walks up to you, completely oblivious to the thick tension.

“hi,” he smiles, “a room for one please. preferably somewhere near this bastard.”

you nod, and make quick work of clicking on your mouse and typing before sliding over the key to the room right beside jeonghan’s. “breakfast is included, and dinner can be if you need it.”

jeonghan tries not to be disappointed at how you don’t talk about brunch.

“thank you.” seungcheol takes it, grabs his bag with an arm and jeonghan’s shoulder with his other, and steers him to the offered room. “this place is nice.”

“they have baby goat feeding every day.”

“i bet you love that,” his best friend grins before unlocking the door. jeonghan walks in after him and closes the door behind him. seungcheol takes in his own sunny yellow walls, the little porcelain bunnies littered along the windowpane, the white wood of the coffee table and the daisy print of the curtains. “i bet you love it here, actually.”

“excuse me?”

“you know,” seungcheol hefts his bag up to the table and starts rummaging through it to unpack. “this seems like somewhere you’d want to settle down. it’s quiet, and everyone here’s so nice. your parents are down the street and your sister visits when she can. it looks like the type of town where everyone knows everyone, and you’d love that.”

jeonghan takes a second, two, to understand. “i would, wouldn’t i?”

his friend turns around at his strange wording. “did i just trigger a midlife crisis?”

“no,” jeonghan replied, “i was already in one. i’m getting over it now.”

-

having seungcheol around lessens the awkward atmosphere in multiples. once he finds out you own the place and have a daughter a little too similar to his own son, seungcheol befriends you instantly, and it takes an impossible amount of self-restraint to deny seungcheol of anything. jeonghan would know.

which is why he’s watching as seungcheol shows you how to expand your website interface and set up accounts on travel websites. “this one’s okay,” his friend says. “this one cuts too much from your actual profits. the agency gets it.”

“geez,” you sigh, “maybe i should’ve stuck around in school. i’m useless at this.”

“oh, you didn’t finish?”

usually you’d take offence to that type of statement, but seungcheol’s tone doesn’t betray any ill intent, so you answer him honestly. “i thought of maybe going to college in the city but i’d hate it. i’d miss this place too much.”

“yeah, i get that.” seungcheol replies. “i miss home a lot, but it’d take too much effort to bring sooyoung and chan.” jeonghan tries not to startle at that. he hadn’t known seungcheol got homesick.

you nod, “and i don’t want to make anyone here take care of sunnie. i trust them, but she’s my daughter.”

“exactly.”

you and seungcheol smile softly at each other before he continues showing you other websites. jeonghan continues to pretend like he doesn’t exist.

-

“you’re an idiot.”

jeonghan barely reacts to it, and just continues walking. seungcheol rolls his eyes and says it again, louder this time, “you’re an idiot.”

“and what about it?”

you had finally thanked seungcheol for helping you out, and left the b&b to pick sunnie up from jimin’s an hour ago. seungcheol had watched with a slowly intriguing gaze as you brushed past jeonghan, eyes firmly looking forward as to not meet his. he watched as jeonghan opened his mouth to say something, decide not to, and let you walk away.

“you’re in love with her?” seungcheol asks like it’s a fact.

“no.” his dismissal sounds weak even to himself. “she’s just… she used to be my best friend.”

“used to?”

“we drifted apart after i moved.”

seungcheol makes a noise of consideration. “and what’s the problem?”

jeonghan sighs, and steadfastly continues leading him to the restaurant. “i blew up at her.”

“why?”

“i don’t know.”

seungcheol hums at that, makes the face he does when he’s not particularly convinced. “really?”

jeonghan has to stop at that, take several deep breaths as to not lash out at his oldest, best friend, and turns around to face him. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

seungcheol shrugs. “i think you know yourself more than anyone, and it irks you that she does, too.”

“excuse me?”

“jeonghan,” seungcheol starts, like he’s speaking to his five year old. jeonghan hates it, but he bears with it anyway, because he knows seungcheol hates treating him like this as much as he hates being treated like this. “if there’s one thing about you, it’s that you never want people to know you. you don’t like it when they do because of some twisted sense of self-righteousness. no one gets to see you as you are because you think it’ll make them feel obliged to you. but i don’t feel that way. your parents don’t feel that way. y/n certainly doesn’t.” jeonghan feels like his soul is being wrenched out of his body, tossed onto the ground for anyone to step on. but seungcheol, infuriatingly calm and thoughtful and kind seungcheol, keeps going, “you aren’t an obligation, jeonghan. you being around a gift. and when you see that and forgive yourself for the things people have a long time ago, you’ll know that we all just want you to be happy.”

seungcheol reaches out, places a hand on his shoulder. he’s always been a tactile person, and jeonghan has too, so he doesn’t fight it when his friend pulls him into a short hug, letting go as quick as he came to look him in the eye. “she makes you happy. being here makes you happy. are you going to keep waiting around until you lose her or do something about it?”

-

it’s half past seven when jeonghan finally makes his way back to the b&b. seungcheol’s gone off to say hi to his parents, and has effectively banned him from coming back unless he’s spoken to you.

you’re tending to the orchids, snipping at the wild leaves humming softly to the music playing from your phone. it’s quiet and serene and jeonghan loves it here. he loves you. he think he has since he was fifteen and he thinks he never stopped.

you don’t notice him until you have to get up, snapping your gloves off and turning around. you startle at the sight of him, pressing a hand to your chest, “jesus, you scared the living shit out of me!”

“you just looked really concentrated,” jeonghan said, laughing a little at how you were fussing with your little planting basket. your square-necked sundress flutters as you put it down and look up at him for the first time since last week. “i-i wanted to talk to you.”

you hum, tilt your head to the side. “what about?” you ask frankly, not betraying a hint of emotion.

it makes jeonghan’s palms the slightest bit clammy, not that he’d admit that to anyone. you’ve always acted like this whenever someone’s hurt your feelings, but he never thought he’d be on the receiving end of it. you’re warm and sunny and everything nice hwaseong has ever offered to him but you’re also secluded and private and leagues intimidating. a dream in his head. he wants it to come true.

“i’m sorry,” he says. you keep staring. “i was having a shit day and i took it out on you. i shouldn’t have.”

you take a second, two, before you reply flatly, “is that all?”

“no, it’s not,” jeonghan says before you can turn on your heel and walk away. you pause, and it gives him enough courage to keep going. “i think— no, i know i’m in love with you.”

you let your jaw drop, and you open your mouth to respond, but jeonghan barrels on, high off the adrenaline of finally, finally, speaking his mind.

“i’ve been in love with you since i was fifteen and i never stopped. i never should’ve stopped talking to you when i left but i thought that if i did it’d make everything there easier. the city— i—“ he takes a second to process his thoughts, and you let him. you’ve always been patient. “the city, it scares me. i don’t like it there and i should’ve come home a long time ago but i didn’t think i deserved to.”

“oh, jeonghan,” you murmur.

“let me finish, sorry,” jeonghan says shakily. and you’ve waited for so long, what’s another few minutes? “i’m terrible to myself. i don’t let myself have things, and i’m convinced everyone’s waiting for me to mess up and leave me. but you— you’ve always been there. you’ve always been here,” he corrects, “and i know you were never waiting for me to finally realise this and come back but you’ve always been here and you love it here. and i love it here. and i love you. i want to let myself have you, if you let me. you’re my best friend. you’ve always been my best friend.”

you have tears running down your cheeks now, and you let out a broken sigh. jeonghan waits.

“you’re an idiot,” you finally reply, smiling through your blinks. “you’re an idiot, yoon jeonghan.”

“i know—"

“i’ve been in love with you since the day our parents taught us how to ride our bikes and you let me have yours because i didn’t like that—“

“yours wasn’t yellow.” jeonghan finishes. “so i had to ride the barbie one until i was fourteen.”

“you’ve always had me.” you say, and it’s all jeonghan needs to close the distance between you two and pull you into his chest. you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, and breathe into his neck. “you deserve all the nice, beautiful, pretty things the world could ever offer. we’ll work on it.” you pause, look up at him. “are you staying? i’m not moving to the city, sunnie has school, but we could—“

“i’m not going back,” jeonghan says, “i hated it there. and i love sunnie, by the way,” you let out a breath of relief you didn’t know you were holding. “i knew you were itching to ask.”

you laugh, soft and loving and jeonghan’s favourite sound in the whole world.

“i don’t want to be scared anymore.” he says quietly, and intertwines his fingers with yours. “i want to be brave, and i want to take a chance. i want to say what i want and what i feel and ignore the world and run to what’s real and love you and sunnie forever.”

you tighten your grip on his hand, go on your tippy toes and press a kiss to the bottom of his jaw.

“take a chance with me.” you whisper.

jeonghan does, and finds that he doesn’t ever regret it.

Chapter Text

“can i ask you something?” jeonghan asks roughly an hour, two bottles of soju and a round of somaek into dinner.

seungcheol hums, a clear ‘go on’. his cheeks are tinged pink and he’s shown all the telltale signs of tipsiness, which jeonghan hopes means that he’ll only remember this conversation in bits and pieces when he wakes up for their schedule tomorrow.

“when you were dating nayoung did she ever ask you to do stuff for her?” jeonghan asks all in one breath.

it takes seungcheol a second to fully understand what he’s saying, and when he does, his eyebrows wiggle suggestively. “are you asking me for sex advice—“

“could you be any more obnoxious, you ass?” jeonghan hisses, lobbing a tissue at the other man. seungcheol just laughs, so loud the owners look over. jeonghan’s so thankful they’ve been polite enough just to pile on free food and drinks and aren’t eavesdropping like some other restaurants he’s frequented. “no! i mean just in general.”

seungcheol gets his laughter down to a giggle, and shoves a piece of meat into his mouth before saying in considering tone, “i guess? like she used to ask to call at night, and sometimes buy her gifts.” he chews, before narrowing his eyes. “why? are you and y/n finally fucking together?”

jeonghan takes a long sip of his somaek and admits, “we’ve been together for four months now.”

seungcheol has the exact reaction he thought he’d have. his best friend gasps, stomps his foot under the table and leans closer like the absolute drama queen he is. “what the fuck? why didn’t you tell me?” he whined.

“you can’t keep a secret for the life of you,” jeonghan replies, “and then all the kids would bombard y/n and she’d never get a day of peace in her life ever again.”

“‘ever again’?” seungcheol repeats, sounding incredulous, “you’re that serious about her?”

jeonghan rolled his eyes, “can we get back to the point? so nayoung asked you to do like, normal boyfriend shit, right?”

“yeah, mister boyfriend, jeez.” seungcheol poured himself a shot, downing it easily. “why? does she want you to get her something?”

jeonghan sighs, and shakes his head, the epitome of a resigned man. “it’s the fucking opposite.”

“huh?”

-

the thing is, jeonghan knows how to be a boyfriend, right? he’s not tooting his own horn or anything, but he’s been told he’s a good boyfriend. multiple times. he’s dated since he debuted, and all those relationships ended amicably.

he knows how to make his partner happy in his own way. jeonghan loves fiercely and quietly. he just knows, okay? he listens to them, is attentive, remembers what they say, and most importantly— knows how to take a fucking hint.

so when you send him a picture of a pretty necklace you’ve been eyeing for his ‘opinion’, jeonghan adds it to his cart and checks out within five minutes. he gets the code of it all. like he’s mentioned before, he knows how to be a boyfriend. and for the first time, he wants to be the best possible boyfriend ever. he likes you that much.

only the next time he sees you (one of the rare wednesday nights with no schedules) at your house, dressed in his oversized lilac sweater and matching shorts, he spots the necklace already hanging on your neck, as understated and pretty as it was when he saw it on his phone. he subtly shakes his arm a bit so the gift box, containing the exact same necklace, is shoved deeper into his bag.

“oh, you got it?” jeonghan asks, feigning innocence.

you brighten up, pulling him over to the couch after pecking him hello. “yeah!” you reply, pleased he remembered. see? he knows. “i said i was thinking of it, wasn’t i?”

“you did.” jeonghan says, curling around you easily as you turn on the kdrama you’ve been obsessed with and jeonghan’s been trying his best to keep up with. “it looks good on you.”

you look back at him, untucking your head from the crook of his neck, to beam. “thank you.”

jeonghan can’t help but tackle you with kisses. you’re so darn cute. he presses his lips on your temple, your cheeks, your neck, your hair, making you laugh. “you’re so pretty.” he says as he nuzzles into your shoulder.

you smile, kissing him on the mouth before straddling his lap. “you’re a fucking charmer, yoon jeonghan.”

“i know,” he responds, circling his thumb on your waist. “it’s working, though.”

you snort, but kiss him again anyway.

-

“so she actually got the necklace for herself?” seungcheol asked, looking confused. “that’s like, basically unheard of.”

“exactly!” jeonghan said, the loudest he’s been all night. “i’m not crazy! it was common sense for me to buy it for her, right?”

seungcheol nods, waving down a waiter for another serving of meat and another bottle of beer. “what if she’s gonna break up with you?” he says once the waiter’s out of earshot.

jeonghan recoils, making a face, “you’re an asshole for saying that.”

“hey! you asked me for advice, i have literally never seen this happen before?”

jeonghan runs a hand through his hair. “it’s weird, right? and the other day she…”

-

jeonghan lets himself into your apartment easily, procuring the key you hide under your potted plant to unlock the door. he’s told you numerous times it wasn’t nearly as safe and hidden as you realise, but you had just waved off his concerns, insisting that your apartment building had good security, anyway.

he locks the door securely behind him and toes off his shoes before making his way to your living room. he frowns when he doesn’t see you there, deciding to make his way to your bedroom instead. jeonghan knocks twice before you yell out a sweet, “come in!”.

he does not expect the sight he sees when he does.

you’re up on a stepladder, unscrewing a lightbulb that you wave at him when you see him. “hi!” you smile, “give me a second and we can go!”

“sweetheart, i can do it for you—“ jeonghan tries to offer, but you cut him off before you finish.

“what? no way!” you insist, “it’s my bedroom, anyway. but you can hand me that.” you tilt your chin towards the new bulb on your desk. dutifully, and still very much gobsmacked, jeonghan does as you say, handing you the bulb and taking the old one. he watches as you screw it in and carefully get down from the ladder, taking his hand when he offers it. “all done!” you say happily. “let’s go?”

jeonghan just intertwines his fingers with yours and presses a kiss onto the back of it, letting you lead him out of your apartment.

-

“she didn’t let you help her?”

“not even a fucking little.” jeonghan responds, downing a shot, looking more and more distressed by the second. “like, i wanted to help her! i offered and everything!”

seungcheol looked thoughtful, trying to wrack his brain for explanations. “i mean, maybe she’s sensitive about her things?”

“she lets me steal clothes from her closet, i don’t think that’s the case.” jeonghan cradled his head in his left hand, pouring beer into his cup with his other. “and i even tried asking to borrow her jewellery and she just let me.”

“i need to be honest,” seungcheol says, “i have no fucking clue what to say.”

jeonghan lets out a sound of distress, similar to a dying horse. the restaurant owners send another alarmed look their way.

“that’s just super unusual.” he continues, “i think she just likes doing things on her own?”

“but doesn’t that go against literally everything i know about being a boyfriend?”

“look,” seungcheol says, “maybe you’re overthinking it. maybe she’s just, you know, what’s the word for it?” he wracks his brain for a bit. the four bottles of soju in his system were not helping. “independent! there you go. isn’t it kind of hot she wants you but doesn’t need you?”

jeonghan lobs another tissue at his best friend. “watch it.”

“oh, fuck off,” seungcheol lobs it right back at him. “i’m just saying. it’s cool she does her own thing.”

jeonghan considers it. he guessed it was kind of hot, not that he’d ever admit it to seungcheol’s face. it was hot you bought yourself your own gifts, and fixed the shit in your house on your own, and didn’t expect him to help out, even if he wanted to. it was hot you were firm with your decisions and knew how to pay your bills and were working towards paying off your student debt.

“see?” seungcheol says, a shit-eating grin on his face when he takes in the look on jeonghan’s face. “hot.”

-

you get out your car, locking it before walking into the restaurant. quickly, you spot seungcheol’s head of shocking black and white hair and make your way to the table. you muffle a laugh when you see the state of the two men.

jeonghan’s head is on the table, and he’s mumbling something incoherently. seungcheol’s not much better, leaned back and eyes closed. gently, you shake jeonghan’s shoulder, “hey, let’s go home.”

your boyfriend lets out a sign of protest, but turns his head to the side so he can meet your eyes. he breaks out into a small smile and reaches out his hand. you take it easily, and he brings it to his dry lips. “hi, pretty.”

“hi, prettier.”

“i’m the prettiest.” seungcheol murmurs, blinking awake.

jeonghan flips your hands around so he can inspect yours. “your nails are so nice.” he comments, tracing along the design on your acrylics. “soooooo pretty just like all of you. sparkly.”

“thanks.” you reply, bemused. “come on. up you two go. let’s go home before someone sees you two.”

you heft jeonghan up to his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist to make sure he doesn’t stumble before doing the same to seungcheol. the other man slings his arm over your shoulders, and you pay their bill before helping them into the backseat of your car.

“you’re so hot.” jeonghan says, slurring his words as you start the engine and pull out of the parking lot.

you send an entertained look at him through the rearview mirror, and he keeps going, “like, it’s so hot you take care of me. and yourself! you take such good care of yourself! i want to do it, tooooooo. i want to take care of youuuuuu!”

you giggle, “baby, you already do.”

“noooooo,” jeonghan whines, “y’know the necklace you got? i bought it for you, too, because i thought you wanted me to!”

you turn at the intersection, letting out a laugh. “what? so you just have an extra one lying around?”

“yup!” jeonghan nods, “you’re so hooooot! i keep thinking of when you paid for our first date, like, fuck! you’re so hot!”

“what the hell, she paid?” seungcheol slurred.

you did, in fact, pay for your first date. you had sent your card over to the receptionist while jeonghan had gone to the bathroom, waving him off with an easy, “don’t worry, i got it.” that haunted him for days. he’d admit to no one that he jerked off to the memory more times than he can count.

“i like you so much.” jeonghan continued, ignoring seungcheol. “i like you!”

“i like you, too, baby.” you smile, “now can you go to sleep so you feel better when i drop you off?”

“okay.” jeonghan agreed happily, “i like you so much.” he repeated.

“i know.” you say, and watch as he falls asleep easily as you continue driving to their dorms.

Chapter Text

jeonghan knows what he should’ve done.

he should’ve gone to bed and dealt with his misery alone. he shouldn’t gotten drunk off his ass on the floor of his bedroom. he should’ve said yes to seungcheol’s offer to keep him company. he shouldn’t have let his thoughts stray to you.

he hasn’t seen you in over seven months, a new record. one disappointing rehearsal couldn’t break that hard-earned achievement. he shouldn’t. jeonghan nodded to himself, taking another swig of the can of beer from the pack he had nabbed from the refrigerator.

he was almost proud of himself. that he had thought of you and then talked himself out of it. that he was thinking rationally, despite the alcohol in his system, despite the fact that he couldn’t do anything of the sort when it came to you.

once upon a time, jeonghan would’ve been at your door already.

you two, for the lack of a better word, were toxic. jihoon swore it was because you were idiots obsessed with the idea of not letting anyone else but yourselves have the other. soonyoung said it was true love. seungkwan bonked both of them on the head and said they really should be more supportive of their friends. on a logical, good day, you’d agree with jihoon.

you’d broken up over two years ago for the final time (the only time that counted, really, because all the attempts before that failed catastrophically), and had spent the next year and a half crawling back to each other anytime something went wrong or one of you had a few too many drinks.

it always ended terribly. when he wanted you back, you were quick to disappear the morning after in what soonyoung would describe as ‘agitation’ and ‘disbelief’. granted, it was usually an ungodly hour of the morning and he was the only light sleeper in the apartment, but well. when you wanted him back, he’d freak out and ghost you for weeks.

but it didn’t matter how far the arguments went, or how long you two went without speaking to each other. one way or another, you’d end up tangled in the sheets together again, his body melded so perfectly with yours that you’d wonder why you broke up in the first place.

until eight months ago, where you ended it all and meant it. jeonghan never took your “i mean it, jeonghan, this is it. i’m done. we can’t keep doing this.” seriously. he thought you’d pick up when he called two weeks later, or show up at the apartment when mingyu let it slip that he told you they had a month off. but you stayed true to your word. no drunk moments of weakness. no late night visits. for once it seemed like things were actually over between the two of you.

but now jeonghan was sat on the floor of his bedroom with nothing but overwhelmingly deafening silence to keep him company. and all it took was a scroll through his phone gallery— of you sat in his lap grinning at the camera as he looked down at you with fondness in his eyes, for his need for a distraction to multiply. he got up, grabbed his keys, and recklessly, recklessly drove over to your apartment, giving himself no time to think twice about the poor decision he was making. he was sure the other guys would berate him endlessly for this.

jeonghan made his way to the receptionist, who just grinned and waved at him.

“haven’t seen you around lately!” she said, “is y/n expecting you?”

“yeah,” he lied easily, leaning against the counter, “but i think she’s in the shower so she can’t buzz me up. d’you think you could help me out?”

jeonghan would feel guilty if he wasn’t so overcome with the need to see you. luckily for him, the receptionist just nodded. it was something she had helped out with more times than he could count on both hands when you two were still together.

“go on up!”

jeonghan smiled in thanks before walking up to the elevator and pressing on your floor button. he ran a hand through his hair as the numbers went up. for the first time since his adrenaline jumped in, he thought it over. he could just not get off at your floor. he could go back down and drive down. he could sober up and go back to rehearsal.

but he didn’t.

instead, jeonghan fiddled with the sleeves of his button up, and memories flashed through his mind. he remembered when you threw out his stuff into this very elevator and told him to fuck off for the first time. he remembered when you pressed him up against the mirror and sucked on his neck. he remembered when you two screamed at each other, the loudest he’s ever let his voice go, and he told you you were crazy before leaving. he remembers it all.

none of it deterred him from knocking on your door and pretending none of it had happened.

it’s safe to say you had gotten far too used to not having him come over that you just swing the door open, choosing to believe whoever was on the other side was someone you didn’t have to be wary of.

for a second, jeonghan’s greeted by nothing but the sight of your pretty face stretched into a bright smile. then you realise who it is, and your expression drops. jeonghan won’t deny that it hurts.

“what do you want?” you ask blankly, hand still on the door handle in case you needed to slam the door in his face. your tone, or lack thereof, was enough to make jeonghan roll his eyes.

“nice to see you, too, sweetheart.” he responded dryly, dodging your question with ease. and he didn’t even need to tell you, if you really thought about it. you knew why he was here.

you shook your head, “we’re not doing this. you need to go.”

“doing what?” jeonghan asked, stepping closer towards the open door. your grip on the handle tightens. he was an expert at this— getting you to give in. getting you to play into his stupid little act because you were so, so, so wrapped around his finger. but you didn’t have to worry about it being a one-way street. given by the way his eyes were firmly planted on every inch of you, he was just as obsessed with you.

“this.” you emphasised, gesturing between the two of you. “leave.” you move to shut the door, but jeonghan’s hand wraps around your wrist, and he leans forward and into your doorframe.

“y/n.” he said, like he was pleading. you know he never would, but this was as close as you’d ever get to it. you huffed, ready to shrug him off, but you looked up. his eyes were desperate, and you felt your resolve slowly chipping away.

“jeonghan,” you sighed, your voice telling. not furious like you were seconds earlier, but disappointed. the fact that both of you knew better and yet still returned to terrible, old habits was frustrating to you. it was insanity.

you stood in silence for a moment, eyes holding sympathy but hesitant to make any further moves. terrified to open the can of worms you two had worked so hard to tamp down and seal.

“you shouldn’t be here.” you finally continue, biting harshly on your bottom lip. he took a deep breath, and his head falls against the doorframe.

“i just wanted to talk,” he mumbles. you know it’s a lie. there’s only one reason why jeonghan would come. you’re so tempted to let him in, but you can’t. you know you can’t.

“angel? who’s there?” a voice broke you out of your trance, and jeonghan straightened up immediately, looking at you in confusion. you grimaced.

jeonghan thought his mood couldn’t get any worse. he was wrong.

an arm slid around your waist, and the other pushed the door open, revealing someone tall and muscular and every bit a walking calvin klein model.

“did you need something?” the man asked when he recognised just who was standing in front of your door. you almost felt guilty as you stood there across jeonghan, someone else’s arms wrapped around you, even though you knew you didn’t have to.

jeonghan, as always, is prim and perfect when he lets out a snide, “just wanted to talk, it’s clear she has company.” his eyes trailed down to where jeno’s hand is curved on you, gaze dripping with discontent and condescension. “didn’t realise you were…” he trailed off, looking back at you. you want to slap the look off his face.

“dating someone.” you finished for him, pursing you lips at the pure awkwardness of the situation. jeonghan raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

“right.” he said. you could tell he was biting back a remark.

“you should go.” you repeat.

jeonghan gave you one last peer from under his lashes, like you weren’t worth his time even though he was the one who drove over. “you don’t say,” he scoffed.

then he turns on his heel and walks off into the corridor, relishing in the thud that could’ve been made by no one but your new boy toy. you hated when your doors were slammed shut.

jeonghan gritted his teeth all the way to his car, and jammed his seatbelt on. he took a second to breathe, lean his head against the steering wheel. instead of being thr drug that could offer him a high for a few, good hours, you’d been nothing but a punch to his gut.

-

jeonghan guessed he should be grateful that you managed to slice his heart into two clean parts again, because now he’s as eager as ever to return to practice.

it was like your breakup all those years ago— where he pushed himself into his work and relied on anything and everything that could get his mind off of you. seungcheol said it was awful in the long-term, that he depended on his situation with you to embrace performing wholly. mingyu nodded along, but did nothing to intervene when jeonghan nodded a quick agreement to chan’s offer of drinks after rehearsal.

jeonghan should get new friends.

because none of them, despite all their words about how you weren’t good for each other, did nothing to stop him stepping out of the shady restaurant they were in and dialling your number six bottles of soju and three beers later.

the tone rung for a bit. jeonghan squatted down roadside, listening to it and trying to ignore the ringing in his head both from the alcohol and the voice screaming at him that this was a terrible idea.

“hello?” your voice is hushed when you accept the call, and jeonghan can just imagine you pressed on your covers, eyes half-closed and your hair spread out on your pillow. it’s still his favourite view, but he isn’t going to lie— he was surprised you had even picked up. drunken voicemails and missed calls weren’t foreign to you two, and it was a habit neither of you could kick.

but still— you had answered.

“angel,” he responded, sickly sweet and mocking.

“fuck off,” your hiss came through, and jeonghan grinned. there you were. he could hear a faint rustle, a telltale sign that you were leaving your bed (and jeno, he thought to himself) to head into the living room. “what do you want?”

“wanted to hear your voice,” he slurred out, honesty bleeding out of him from your inflection. he loved you so much like this— when you were angry, when you sounded like you hated him.

“i’m hanging up.”

“no, no,” jeonghan rushed out, nearly falling over onto the gravel. “don’t go.” he whined.

“jeonghan, you know i have a—“

“a boyfriend,” he spat out, “how could i forget?” you could picture him rolling his eyes, his words dripping with sarcasm. “doesn’t mean i can’t talk to you. he’s a fucking prick, by the way.”

you just sighed, crouching down to lean against the wall, your knees up to your chest as you cradled the phone into your ear. you closed your eyes. like this, you could pretend he was speaking to you from across the room, not across town. him showing up a few days threw you off. the emotions that you thought you’d successfully drowned out came flooding back into your system.

“i bet he doesn’t even know you hate being called ‘angel’.” jeonghan laughed to himself, “angel’s for me. you like ‘sweetheart’ and ‘baby’. lemme guess, he calls you ‘honey’ sometimes, too, doesn’t he?”

jeno did call you angel and honey, but you weren’t going to give jeonghan the satisfaction of being right. “what’s your point?”

“do you love him?”

the casualness of his tone did nothing to stop your throat from drying up, from the temperature to suddenly drop a freezing cold.

you took a second to compose yourself, “yes.” you whispered. “i do.”

even with the alcohol flowing through his veins and numbing him to everything, the words almost sobered jeonghan up. it sucked up all the amusement from his system.

“he can’t love you like me,” he argued, finally deciding to just plop down on the sidewalk. from the restaurant window, mingyu finally spotted him, and got up to bring him back inside. a lump formed in your throat.

“you don’t love me.” you denied. you had heard this too many times, drunken promises and false confessions, to know that none of his words carried any weight.

“of course i fucking do,” he said, groaning as his head fell back, “shuji says i love you too much,” he continued. you felt tears beginning to form in the corner of your eyes. “but that doesn’t make sense to me. i just love you. loving you too much isn’t real, it’s not a thing. i just love you.”

at his words, mingyu paused. he was only a few feet away, but he could tell jeonghan wanted to let this all out.

“i fucking love you.” jeonghan repeated. “i love you, and i know you fucking love me too. more than you love whoever you’re fucking right now.”

you sniffled, wiping the tears off your cheeks. the sound doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“bet he doesn’t even fuck you as good as i do,” mingyu kissed his teeth, and proceeded to tap jeonghan on the shoulder to pull him up. this was getting to the ‘bad decisions’ portion of drunken nights, and not the ‘honesty’. he tried pulling the phone away, but jeonghan held onto it, “probably makes love to you all the fucking time. probably doesn’t know you’re not into that shit.”

you stayed quiet.

“tell me i’m right,” he goaded. mingyu shook his head, giving jeonghan a look. he just waved it off, laughing. “tell me, baby.”

you just compose yourself, breathe out. “good night.”

jeonghan opens his mouth to continue, but you hang up. mingyu plucks the phone out of his hand, “nice going, asshole.”

you let out a sob, covering your mouth so you don’t wake your boyfriend. crying over a man you thought you had gotten over months ago while a perfect man was sleeping in your bed was a new fucking low. you keep reaching them with jeonghan. you don’t have the power to stop.

-

jeonghan had gone home for the weeklong break. minghao had insisted it’d be good for him, having heard bits and pieces of what had happened from mingyu, and had gotten his sister to text him about it.

and it was good, for the most part. his mother got the hint and stopped asking about you after his sister gave her a look, and he had spent days in the hwaseong walking between water at jebudo, breathing in the air and trying his hardest not to think about the trainwreck of a phone call that he barely remembered.

it was three days into his vacation that he woke up in his teenage bedroom at a little past noon with your number and ”3 missed calls” on his phone screen. his breath hitched when he saw that you had left a message. it was a long one, reading 3:31, and jeonghan pressed play, despite knowing he should’ve just deleted it. it’s a running theme between the two of you— indulging in bad past times.

it’s quiet for a while, and jeonghan’s almost convinced it was an accident before he hears you sniffle.

”i’m a fucking idiot,” you let out, your voice shaky and ruined, ”i’m at your apartment, and you’re not here.” jeonghan sits up against the headboard, swallows. ”of course you’re not here. you’re never here.” you let out a sad little laugh, and he tenses. it’s not something he hasn’t heard before. distance and busyness had played a key role in the downfall of your relationship. ”jihoon looked at me like i was pathetic. a-and seungkwan and soonyoung kept trying to make me feel better but all they did was make me remember how fucking awful all of this is.”

”jeno broke up with me.” you spoke again after a while, while jeonghan was taking a second to process it all. ”said he couldn’t be with someone who’s not over their fucking ex.” your voice cracked midway, and he could just tell you were crying. and he hated it. he hated making you cry. ”you ruin everything for me. i thought i was happy. he was good to me, and he loved me, and now it’s all fucking ruined because you wanted to talk.” small sobs were let out throughout your rant, and it sent little spears into jeonghan’s heart.

”you tell me you love me, you tell me no one can love me like you do. and you’re not even here.” you whisper, ”i don’t even fucking care that he broke up with me. i just hate, that out of everything i could’ve done, the first thing i did was come here.”

”proved him right,” jeonghan felt his heart drop to his stomach at the confession, ”and you’re not even here. i hate you so much.” you let out another laugh, wet-sounding and broken. ”and you were right. i hate being called angel. i hate being called honey. i hated the cheesy, romantic love-making shit, but who gives a fuck? at least he made time for me. at least he told me how he felt.”

and those were things jeonghan could never do. he couldn’t make out the next few things you mumbled, and the voicemail stopped.

he didn’t waste a second in pressing your number to call you back, getting up from his bed to pace. it rang twice before falling through. he tried again. straight to your message bank.

it’s not even three hours later that jeonghan’s banging on your apartment door, having made the trip quickly.

he heard shuffling from the other side, and he’d bet everything he owned that you just rolled your eyes after seeing him in the peephole.

“fuck off, jeonghan,” you shouted, but that did nothing to deter him. he knocked on the door again.

“don’t pull that shit with me." jeonghan said, trying his best not to let frustration bleed into his tone.

he waited a bit, but was only met with silence, causing him to roll his eyes and huff before banging on the door. “open the fucking door.”

“you’re not fucking your way into my good books tonight.” you shouted back, your voice sounding clearer and closer to the door. jeonghan wanted to rip his hair out at your words. you were always assuming things, shutting him down before he could get his point across. he bites his tongue, mustering the self control to not be affected by your bait, and instead, childishly, begins to press on your doorbell repetitively, the sound loud across the hallway.

he couldn’t hear what you were saying over the bell, and it wasn’t long before the door flew open, revealing a very angry you.

“you’re such a piece of shit.” you exclaim, “i’m not letting you in, you can’t just show up here and try to seduce me into making you feel better about yourself. that doesn’t fucking work anymore!”

jeonghan clenched his jaw, and jammed his foot in the doorway before you could slam it shut. he pushed it open more easily than he should’ve, and stuck his tongue into his cheek. you weren’t fighting back as your words promised.

“i’m here because i’m worried about you,” he responded, “you think i’m not going to be when you leave me a voice message sounding like you’re on the verge of a nervous breakdown? just let me in, y/l/n.”

he watches as you finally sigh, all the remaining contention in you leaking out of your bones as you step aside. jeonghan walks in quickly before you can chance your mind, and you lock the door behind him.

you take your time making your way to the living room, jeonghan following behind meekly, unsure of how far you were letting him in. once you’re plopped down on the sofa, your legs crossed, he says, “i didn’t want you and… i didn’t mean for you and jeno to break up.”

you shrugged, like it was no big deal when it meant everything, “it was bound to happen.” you’re quite proud of how civil you’re being. before, you’d already throw something at him for even showing you a bit of sympathy.

jeonghan didn’t want to argue with you, either. the past week had reminded him how draining it was, how tiring it was fighting with you.

“why are you here?” you asked tiredly, lolling your head back against the cushions to avoid his gaze.

“i told you i was worried about you.” jeonghan repeated, tone betraying nothing but genuineness and concern, which only fed to brew your frustration.

“i’m fine.” you say. only your voice breaks, and lays all your hurt bare. you hadn’t been fine since jeonghan showed up on your doorstep.

“stop lying.” jeonghan said, approaching you slowly, cautiously.

“don’t act like you care.” you say, looking up so your tears wouldn’t spill down your cheeks. you tried to pull yourself together, tamping down your self-hatred.

“you know i always will.” jeonghan’s hushed voice snapped you out of your thoughts. you blinked rapidly as he took your face in his hands, willing yourself not to give into the hurtling heartbreak. his touch was the last thing you needed, but you had been struggling so much without it. it didn’t matter how many times you reminded yourself how he was no good for you— at the end of the day, he was the one you craved.

“i need you.” you whispered into the silence of your apartment.

jeonghan shook his head, thumbs wiping your tears as they finally fell, looking at you with so much unadulterated, unfiltered love in his eyes. for a second, it was like you were transported back in time. like it was just a particularly bad day, and you’d be able to go home to jeonghan’s comforting touch and adoring words.

but nothing was the same. you had to stop kidding yourself.

“no, you don’t, sweetheart.” he replied softly, heart shattering cleanly in two at the sight he’d never get used to. your anger, he could get used to, but seeing you broken was never easy. the urge to protect you was overwhelming, but not enough to let him forget that he was the one at fault. he was the one who caused your hurt.

“yes, i do.”

“you don’t.” jeonghan repeated, his voice firmer. “you were happy, and i fucked it up. you moved on.”

you protested, “no, i hadn’t.”

“yes, you had.” he cupped your cheek, relishing in the last, fleeting touches he could afford of you. he braced himself for his own next words, “which is why you’re going to call jeno tomorrow morning, and explain to him that he was wrong.” you parted your mouth in shock. the look on jeonghan’s face told you he was deadly serious. “tell him you love him. tell him he’s the one you want to be with.”

once jeonghan shouldered through, he let out a broken sigh. for the first time, he was going to be selfless with you. he was going to put you and your happiness above any of his selfish wants.

“jeonghan,” you shook your head, but he was quick to nod in assurance. he gave you a small smile, but it didn’t make anything feel any easier.

“it’s okay,” he hummed, lying to both you and himself. it was far from okay. it would never be okay. “you deserve to be happy. you told me you were happy with him, i’m not going to ruin that.”

“i can’t.” you managed, feeling the intensity of your emotions bubble up. the idea of being with someone else had never hurt you as much as it did at this very moment.

“you can,” jeonghan disagreed with you once more, his thumb still caressing your cheeks softly, “because this ends here. i’ll stay away this time. i promise." he couldn’t hide how shaky his voice had gotten, but he meant every single word he said.

you let more tears roll down your cheeks at his promise, but managed to keep yourself quiet. is this what you wanted? for him to end the cycle of drunk calls and late night visits? to have some peace of mind that even in a few years time, he wouldn’t show up even when you called?

the mere thought of it terrified you, because up till now, whenever things were over between you two, it never actually was.

“we’ll be okay,” jeonghan said, speaking with such confidence yet having so little. “it’s for the better, baby.”

the pet name was enough for both of you to cave, and he finally leaned in close to press one last kiss onto your lips. softer than anything you had ever experienced while you were still together. he broke away slowly, kissing you on the forehead before pulling you into his arms and repeating his words as you broke down in his arms.

when dawn breaks, jeonghan finally gets up. when the door shuts behind him, you’re bathed in nothing but pure silence.

you preferred the fighting.

Chapter Text

you’re not sure how you’ve managed to stumble into jeonghan’s room honestly.

you remember in a haze, how soonyoung had opened the door for you just as he was leaving for some unscheduled dance practice and tapped you on the arm in greeting. seungkwan was lounging in front of the television in the living room, had taken one look at you, and began fussing. had your eyebags always been this terrible, he had asked, and it showed just how tired you were that you couldn’t even think of a witty comeback. seungkwan seemed to get that too, because you do remember two vitamin gummies thrust into your hand and an unscrewed bottle of water handed to you that you had to swallow down before he let you walk through the hallway and into jeonghan’s bedroom.

you were shedding your work clothes on autopilot, not even bothering to fold or hang them up like you usually do, and just leaving them in a pile on the floor. you’d deal with them tomorrow. you could hear the shower running, and opened the bathroom door, slipping in quickly.

“it’s me, don’t freak out.” you mumble. it’s humid and warm and welcoming, and the waft of jeonghan’s vanilla shampoo makes everything in your body suddenly unclench all at once. you barely keep yourself from sliding down the door in a relieved slump.

“mhm, i heard kwannie nagging,” jeonghan says nonchalantly, and when you don’t respond, draws the shower curtain back a bit to peer at you over his shoulder. “you coming?” you still, treated to the view of jeonghan’s hair sticking to his neck in half-soaped ringlets, water running down the gentle dip of his spine. “baby?” he calls again, a cheeky smile blooming on his face.

“yeah.” you snap out of it, getting up to your feet sluggishly and stripping off. jeonghan tugs the curtain closed behind you. it’s dimmer inside the shower, and jeonghan being one-thirteenth of a multimillion dollar selling group has some perks, because it’s definitely big enough for two people and then some, but he pulls you close to him, and presses a quick kiss onto your lips before dipping his head back into the stream, rinsing his hair out.

“i’m almost done,” he says, running a hand through his hair to help the shampoo get out faster. his hair is much, much softer these days, back to its natural, pretty black. you’ll never forget the time jeonghan, bleach blonde, had wet his hair and took a clump cleanly off his head. for now, you swallow, mesmerised by the droplets falling off ihis eyelashes.

“i can do something more interesting,” you offer in a slightly strained voice.

jeonghan laughs, tinkly and cute, and steps out from under the shower head, wiping the water from his face and smiling at you. his eyes are crinkling with something akin to tenderness and you feel yourself sink further down into your unadulterated reverence for him.

“you can barely stand on your own, sweetheart,” he says, not unkindly, and you mean to protest, but jeonghan tugs you over to his side and into the hot water. you let out a groan of relief at the heavenly feeling, and jeonghan chuckles again, soft and lovely.

then he almost accidentally waterboards you, trying to tip your head back far enough from the stream to lather shampoo onto your hair, and you end up snorting and coughing your lungs out while jeonghan dies of laughter behind you.

“sorry,” he manages eventually, giggling still. he coaxes the shower head off the wall and scrunches up your hair in his other hand. once you’re shampooed to his liking, he washes it out with gentle hands. next comes your hair treatment, and jeonghan takes his utmost time making sure all the tangles in your hair are unknotted as softly as he can. while he lets that sit, he hands you your toothbrush, already loaded with toothpaste, and presses a kiss onto your shoulder. you wonder how you became so comfortable with this tenderness. it sneaked up on you, in between rushed meetings and clandestine rooms, and now it’s somehow okay for you to barge into jeonghan’s shared apartment unannounced to have him bathe you with infinite care and then tumble into bed together in the most boring yet satisfying way possible.

jeonghan soaps you up, not even trying to resist the urge to pinch the side of your hip to make you yelp, toothpaste foam splatting down onto the linoleum, and you whine through the toothbrush in your mouth. he just grins, and rinses off your body and the treatment, before waiting for you to wash your face.

the shower head’s turned off sometime later, placed back onto the head, and jeonghan steps out of the shower first, towelling himself down and shrugging on some shorts and an oversized shirt. he turns around to see you with your eyes barely open, leaning against the shower wall, and laughing before taking your hand and helping you onto the mat.

he does the same with you, pulls on one of his oversized sweaters over your frame and sits you down on the toilet seat.

“i can do it myself,” you half-protest when jeonghan takes out his hairdryer but he just furrows his brows and juts up his bottom lip.

“you’re not going to let me? you don’t want me to?”

you open your mouth, close it. he smiles victoriously.

“that’s what i thought.”

you let him run the dryer through your hair, tossing the strands over gently. he’s so, so soft when it comes to you. once your hair is nice and dried, he runs a comb through it, and then hair oil. you can’t help it then, and stand up to press a kiss onto his lips. jeonghan tastes of minty toothpaste and smells like cherry blossoms and home. he’s warm and gentle and perfect.

jeonghan smiles into the kiss, and wraps his arms around you. once he’s had his fill, he kisses your temple and leads you to bed, tumbling underneath the sheets and patting the empty space beside him. you plop down ungracefully, and release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. his sheets smell like him.

jeonghan switches the light off, and the room is bathed in darkness. he turns to you, and throws an arm over your waist. you curl into his chest. “sleep well, baby.”

you barely manage to tuck a tiny kiss into the dip of his collarbone before you’re fast asleep.

Chapter Text

in hindsight, you knew agreeing to visit was a bad idea.

it didn’t matter how many years it’s been, or how much you insist that no, you’re not not coming to the race because of him, you should’ve never come back to monaco. not after what its taken from you.

but soonyoung and mingyu had pleaded, and wonwoo, despite remaining entirely still, had betrayed the slight tenseness of his jaw that meant you really, really should go down there. because wonwoo, with all the stresses and pressure ferrari in monza had pushed onto him, was one race away from a nervous breakdown. mingyu’s words, not yours.

so you had packed enough for a week’s stay and hauled your ass to monaco, where they’d be while they trained for singapore. the boys had all met you at the airport, and mingyu had swung you around so much you swore you got airsick. you don’t know how he fit into that papaya car, you swear.

“we have to go train.” soonyoung said apologetically after you finished your meal. “but i’m only going to check on the car! i’ll be back for drinks after dinner!”

you waved them off, “go. i need to unpack and nap. doyoung told me to call when i got to the hotel anyway.”

that gets wonwoo’s attention. he puts his spoon down and asks, “doyoung?”

“um, my boyfriend.” you said. mingyu stopped shovelling food in his mouth to gape at you. “i swear i told you guys about him before, why are you acting like this?”

“you told us you’d been messing around with someone called doyoung,” soonyoung corrected, “messing around is not dating.” wonwoo nodded along.

“well, now we’re dating.” you say defensively. “it’s not serious yet but—“ the guys make unsubtle eye contact over their novelty plates of monegasque beignets de fleurs de courgettes, “okay, what is it, you jerks? tell me.”

soonyoung narrows his eyes at mingyu and jerks his head over at you, willing the taller man to talk. they engage in a silent battle of wits before he eventually gives in.

mingyu faces you, expression placid and patient. you already hate where this conversation is going.

“we just thought you know, that while you were here you’d want to see—“

“nope.” you interrupt before he can even finish. you know exactly who they mean. “i’m here for you three assholes, because i’m insane for being your friend.”

“but—“

“but what?” you dare soonyoung to continue. “i’m here because i wanted to spend time with my three friends who i only ever get to see when you go to albert park.”

“but he’s on hiatus this season and isn’t doing anything!” mingyu whined. the audacity of this man, you swear. “he has time to show you around and you can’t spend all this time here just watching us practice!”

“i was going to go shopping.” you defended.

“alone?” wonwoo deadpanned. “who’ll hold all your bags and give you their opinions because you’re indecisive?”

“you think jeonghan will carry my bags?” you snort, “the only time he did that was when i twisted my wrist. and salespeople exist for a reason.”

soonyoung gives his beignet another obnoxious chew before pushing his plate aside and taking your hand. you look away immediately. you were not immune to kwon soonyoung’s pleading, beady, traitorous little eyes.

“y/n,” he begins solemnly, “you know i only want you to have fun and be safe while you’re here right?”

you ignore him and continue picking at your plate with your unoccupied hand.

“and me, mingyu and wonwoo are still busy during offseason. we still have to train and test the cars, and that means we can’t always be around to have fun with you. we know you came all this way to see us and we’re very thankful.” as if on cue, mingyu and wonwoo nod seriously. “but it’ll make us worry if we don’t know you’re in good hands.” they nod again. “and who else knows monaco more than jeonghan-hyung? he’s lived here longer than all of us!”

“because he’s a little bitch.” you mumble under your breath.

soonyoung pokes you so you turn to look at him. bad move. he cranks his puppy dog eyes up to a million. he kind of looks like a baby tiger, actually. maybe you could convince him to try on mingyu’s papaya orange shirt for comparison.

“please? i’ll text jeonghan for you. all you have to do is show up, i swear! you get to do everything you want to but he’s just there to, you know, make sure you don’t die.”

you sigh, and pan your eyes over to your other friends. they both make praying hands, as if they’re not both agnostic. you hate them so much.

“fine.” you grumble, and soonyoung lets out a little cheer. “but fuck you, and you’re also going to call my boyfriend now to let him know i’m going to be hanging out with my ex-boyfriend.”

mingyu laughs, loud and uncaring of how the other customers have looked over at him. “oh, dude, dohwan’s gonna kill you!”

“doyoung.” you correct, and punch in his number into your phone before shoving it into soonyoung’s hand. the man looks like he’s about to die, and you smile angelically at him. the line connects. “go on.”

soonyoung brings the phone up to his ear with the finesse of a prosecuted criminal. “hello?”

“um, who’s this?”

“kwon soonyoung.” he answers sulkily. wonwoo tries his hardest not to break into giggles. “from red bull racing.” he adds on, as if doyoung isn’t glued to the television on sunday. “also y/n’s best friend.”

“debatable.” mingyu says.

“yes, i know who you are.” doyoung replies, sounding slightly amused. “she landed safely?”

“she did.” soonyoung responds, before taking a deep breath, “also, you know how she was supposed to spend the week with us?”

“‘us’ being?”

you rolled your eyes. doyoung needed to stop playing dumb and just say it if he was irritated you flew across the world to see three guys.

“kim mingyu from mclaren and jeon wonwoo from ferrari.”

“no choi seungcheol?” doyoung did like seungcheol a lot. you wondered how he’d react if you told him you had in fact slept with him before you even got together with jeonghan.

“he’s in paris with the wife.”

“and where is this conversation going?”

“well,” soonyoung says, making a face at you that signalled his first impression of your boyfriend— a mix of begrudging approval and sourness at his tone. you got that, doyoung was occasionally just miffed-sounding. “we won’t be able to hang out with her with all the testing happening before singapore so we thought it’d be cool if jeonghan came and hung out with her?”

quiet on the other line. you took a sip of your bellini. you love that you could day drink in monaco and no one would think you were a raging alcoholic.

“yoon jeonghan?” doyoung clarifies, as if there’s any other prominent figure named similarly right now. “mercedes yoon jeonghan?”

“yeah, yeah, five-time world champion whatever.” soonyoung waved a hand, clearly still bitter at missing the title last year, even though the gap was over one hundred and eighty points.

“obe yoon jeonghan? like medallions from the queen yoon jeonghan?”

“god,” mingyu huffs, “what other fucking yoon jeonghan is there?”

“the ex-boyfriend?”

“that’s the one.”

“can you pass the phone to my girlfriend, please?”

soonyoung handed the phone to you, and you took another swig of your drink before taking it.

“hey, babe,” you greeted, trying your very best to act unaffected by the entire ordeal.

“jeonghan? really?” doyoung just says flatly.

“look, i didn’t know either—“

“i understood when you hopped on a private jet to monaco to see three guys but—“

“oh, just fucking say it, kim.” you snap. wonwoo’s eyes widen marginally. “stop beating around the bush, already.”

“are you cheating on me?”

doyoung’s always been blunt. you’ve never shied away from that. that’s the only thing he and jeonghan have in common.

“no, i’m not cheating on you.” you respond. soonyoung nearly grabs the phone back from you, no doubt to yell in your boyfriend’s ear and defend your honour. “i told you before— i dated jeonghan, i made friends along the way. i’m not dating jeonghan anymore, i’m still friends with them.”

“i get that,” doyoung says, in a tone that suggests he really doesn’t, “but you have to understand where i’m coming from. imagine how it would feel if i was hanging around four girls, one of which was my ex.”

“i wouldn’t give two shits, doyoung.” you run a hand through your hair, and send a middle finger off to mingyu, who’s trying his best not to react too wildly to everything you’re saying. “i really wouldn’t.”

doyoung’s silent on the other line for a bit, before he opens his mouth and goes, “fine. sorry, but i don’t think we’re going anywhere with this.”

“this conversation or this relationship?”

“both.”

like you said— blunt.

“i think we should break up.” he continues.

you find that to be optimal as well. you don’t really want to be with someone who isn’t self-assured or trusting. “sure. let’s do that.”

he sighs, “alright, then. see you at work after monaco? be safe.”

another thing you like about doyoung— he’s able to keep his personal and work life separate. you were the exception, and both of you should’ve known better than to think it’d go well. you’re probably better off as friends anyway.

“i will. thanks, doie. see you.”

you hang up, and plant your phone face down on the table, right next to your cocktail. “so i just broke up with my boyfriend for this trip. you all better send me home with pretty gifts. maybe i’ll get a new suitcase while i’m here.”

they don’t even protest.

-

soonyoung drops you off at the hotel with one last squeeze and kiss to your temple, which’ll no doubt stir up the tabloids watching his every move in monaco. he’s red bull’s shining, rising star, of course they would. you just roll your eyes and shoo him away.

you get a few hours to yourself after that, unpacking and thinking about how quickly your relationship had ended over something so trivial. you wouldn’t lie and say you felt nothing for doyoung, you had liked him. you liked how he smiled with his eyes and his teeth, how cute he was when he was drunk (in another life, you know him and soonyoung would be best friends), how he had ‘gentleman’ soaked into his bones.

you’d consider the explanations for why you weren’t sad even after all of that later.

for now, you had to think about what to wear to get your knighted five-time world champion formula one driver ex-boyfriend to regret every single mistake he’s subjected you to. you’ll admit to wrecking your room for the perfect outfit. your three brats hadn’t told you you’d need to face jeonghan after all.

it’s half past seven when someone knocks on your suite door, and you’re prettily dressed up in an off the shoulder white wrap shirt and pinstriped trousers. you’re very glad donghyuck convinced you to bring your chanel flap as well, you forgot how insane monaco was.

you spritz on some perfume before taking a deep breath and letting the smell of vanilla and jasmine soothe your senses. you make your way to the door, checking your reflection in the mirror and adjusting your necklace, and open it.

then there, for the first time since that last look in the airport of nice, is jeonghan.

five-time world driver’s champion yoon jeonghan. three wins away from breaking lewis hamilton’s record yoon jeonghan. knighted by the queen obe yoon jeonghan. the second highest paid person in motorsports history yoon jeonghan. the third most decorated driver in formula one history yoon jeonghan.

it’s funny, because years ago those titles wouldn’t come to mind if you thought of jeonghan. it would just be yoon jeonghan, love of your life. yoon jeonghan, your boyfriend. and now there’s all this baggage.

“hi,” is what you settle with saying, years after he broke your heart cleanly in two.

“hey,” is what he settles with replying, years after you dealt with the final blow.

jeonghan looks older. his hair is longer now, curling past the nape of his neck in dark tresses. he must be letting it grow out while he’s on hiatus, because the second his hair grew past his ears when he was driving, he’d ask you to trim it. he’s wearing a black turtleneck under a giant brown coat, horn-rimmed glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose. he’s just as breathtakingly gorgeous as he was then.

“you look good,” he continues, eyes twinkling with something similar to mirth. “for someone who just broke up with their boyfriend not three hours ago.”

you roll your eyes, and gesture for him to move back so you can exit the suite. he does so, laughing a little when you mutter “asshole.” under your breath and lock the door behind you, swinging your bag over your shoulder. “soonyoung needs to learn how to keep his mouth shut.”

“if your boyfriend was insecure enough to break it off because you were going to hang out with your ex, he doesn’t deserve you.” jeonghan responded, trailing behind you as you made your way to the elevator. you turn to face him, narrowing your eyes.

“kiss me if i’m mistaken, but didn’t you spend half the season glaring at seungcheol when you found out we slept together once?”

jeonghan leans in to press a kiss to your cheek, making your breath hitch just the slightest bit. you inwardly chastise yourself for the slip of tongue, you had gotten too used to saying the phrase like that around your friends, who’d just laugh it off. but jeonghan wasn’t like that.

he moved away, and his scent of bergamot lingered around you, “it was three races.”

you try your very best to remain unaffected, and the elevator doors ding open, “whatever.”

jeonghan walks in after you, presses the ground button, and studies you, “i’m not joking by the way, you do look good.”

you tuck your hair behind your ears, and smile, pleased, “i know.”

“you’re not going to say anything about me?”

“your ego’s already big enough.” you sigh, “and i’ve seen you. i was at abu dhabi last year.”

you watch as jeonghan freezes from the corner of your eye, “you were at abu dhabi?”

“yup,” you say, popping the ‘p’. “saw you take home the checkered flag and everything.”

“you didn’t say you were coming.” he says, right to your back.

“why would i have told you?” you ask frankly, watching as the numbers on the little screen go down, “i haven’t spoken to you in years.”

mingyu bets it isn’t true, but you really haven’t spoken to jeonghan since your break up. not even when he won his fourth and fifth championship. not even when the tabloids had him on their cover page, headlines screaming “yoon’s new girlfriend? find out everything you need to know about the newest addition to the mercedes paddock!”. not even when you were in the same country, same city, and knew he was in town.

the fact of the matter is— you’re good at compartmentalising. you tuck your past into little tiny boxes marked ‘do not open’. you keep history where it is because that’s where it’s supposed to be. you don’t unpack, you move forward. that’s how you’ve always been. you don’t dwell much on your failed relationship, there’s not much to be said. you tried, he did too, not so much towards the end, and it fell apart.

“still,” jeonghan insists, and the door fall open. you walk out, and his presence is a steady shadow on your back. his hand moves to the small of your spine, lingering but not touching, as he guides you out towards the valet, “i would’ve come and said hello.”

you peer over your shoulder as the valet hands jeonghan the keys to his, you guessed it, mercedes, “jeonghan, you couldn’t spare three minutes with me in the paddock post-win when we were dating, why would i think you’d say hi when we had nothing to do with each other?”

you tug open the door to the shotgun seat, slide in easily. it’s a new model, one you saw seokmin test drive for, but it smells worn in. like bergamot. jeonghan closes the door for you, and walks over to his side.

the car ride is quiet as jeonghan drives you to some swanky restaurant upstate that soonyoung had sent you the link of. it’s on the smaller side, with stone walls and a pretty interior and so, so jeonghan.

he doesn’t say a thing until you’re seated across him, the candlelight warm and providing a small glow, “i would’ve made time.” he suddenly says while you’re flipping through the menu.

“what?”

jeonghan puts a hand on the glossy book in your hold, pushes it down to reach the table so you can look him in the eyes as he says, again, “at abu dhabi. i would’ve made time.”

you know exactly what he’s insinuating. maybe it comes with having been with him for four years that it makes two seem like nothing.

you laugh, quiet and a little mean, “sure.” you flip the page, “i don’t think that’d change anything.”

“you don’t?”

you close the book entirely, give jeonghan an up close and personal, front seat view to your face when you say, clearly, distinctly, honestly, “no.”

“why?” he pries, just like you know he would. you sigh. “no, tell me. why? were you already with whats-his-face then?”

you scoff, “first of all, his name is doyoung. second of all, no, but it wouldn’t matter, because like i said, it wouldn’t change anything.” you put the menu down, “i was there for soonyoung, wonwoo and mingyu, because unlike some people i know how to be there for others—“

“you don’t think i know how to be there for others?” jeonghan sneered, leaning back in his chair. now this jeonghan, you were far more familiar with. not the formula one sweetheart, not the knight, not the multiple world champion. this jeonghan. the one who lashed out when he heard something he didn’t like, the one who’s every bit as hypocritical as the rest of the world is. “it’s like you’re rewriting history. i wasn’t the one who walked out—“

“oh, you’re trying to pin this on me?” you ask incredulously. “when i was the one who supported you for years and didn’t expect shit in return?”

“but you did, didn’t you?” jeonghan said, looking certifiably smug, “you did towards the end. what was it? you wanted something more than the glaring absence of everything?”

“fuck you,” you laugh out, and push your chair back. it makes an undignified screeching noise against the marble of the floors, but you pay it no mind. you stand up, pick up your purse and throw your napkin down onto the table. you can’t believe he’s just made a mockery of one of the worst nights of your life. “you’re an asshole.” you run a hand through your hair, “i should’ve fucking— fuck.” you don’t even know what to say anymore, your vision becoming blurry with angry, angry tears. jeonghan gets up too, expression bleeding into alarm because you don’t cry. if there’s one thing you don’t do, it’s cry.

you’ve only cried, really, really cried, like heart in hands, squeezing cried, in front of him thrice— the time he was slammed into the barriers at silverstone, the day you broke up, and now.

“no,” you step back when he reaches out to touch you. you wipe the tears away with the back of your palm, uncaring if your makeup smudges, “i hope you rot in hell. i hope you spend every fucking waking moment remembering that at the end of the day, without those fucking titles and the fucking records, you’re all alone.”

you turn on your heel, ignoring the pointed looks of the waiters and maitre-d, and storm out of the restaurant. monaco this time of year is brisk, and you immediately regret not bringing your jacket. you hate this fucking city. you wish you never came.

you start walking, too caught up in your whirlwind of emotions to even consider calling one of your friends because they did this to you. they said it’d be a good idea and it wasn’t. and now all your perfectly-labelled boxes in the corner of your mind are unpacked. it’s like two years ago on a flight back home, with nothing but your raw, bleeding, empty heart for company.

you curse as you stumble on a stray pebble. these shoes were not made for terrain like this, but you don’t give a fuck. you want to leave as soon as possible.

suddenly, a hand reaches out to grab your wrist. on impulse, you shake it off, your bracelet clinking against your skin.

jeonghan’s breathing heavily through his nose, eyes wild and in disarray, “you can’t just fucking take off like that!”

“watch me.” you turn to keep walking, but he tugs you to his chest, making you place your hands on it and hitting, “fuck off!”

“you need to hear me out—“

“i don’t need to do anything!”

“can you just stop fighting me—“

“you need to stop being a fucking asshole—“

“can you please—“

“you’re such a dickhead, i never should’ve agreed—“

“i love you!”

the confession shocks you into silence. jeonghan’s eyes are blown wide. he looks every bit honest. the thing about jeonghan is— he doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. every move he makes is calculative, and it had all the papers wondering if he was the hamilton or the rosberg between him and seungcheol before they transitioned to if he was the vettel or the schumacher once seungcheol moved to the red.

jeonghan’s looking at you, really, really looking, and the cold monegasque breeze ruffles through his hair. he’s left his coat at the restaurant, you note, because he’s shivering slightly. his thin black turtleneck isn’t adept to this, and neither is your outfit. and you know all of these thoughts are stupid, worthless, compared to what he’s just presented to you on a silver platter but you need to think.

because he’s not saying anything. he’s just watching you like you’re a wounded animal about to lash out.

and you come to the easy, easy conclusion, “no, you don’t.”

jeonghan furrows his eyebrows, “excuse me?”

“you don’t love me,” you clarify, a disbelieving giggle on the tip of your tongue, “it’s been years, jeonghan.”

“you’re saying you don’t love me back anymore?” he asks. he doesn’t sound hurt like you’d expect if you were faced with the prospect of an opposite situation. he sounds considering. “that’s fine, i made you fall in love with me once, i can do it again.”

the utter ridiculousness of this makes you burst into laughter, and you assume you’re an insane sight for bystanders, some of whom are whispering to each other and nudging. surely they’ve recognised jeonghan.

“you’re insane,” you whisper once you find him staring back at you with nothing but total seriousness in his gaze, “jeonghan, you’re actually fucking insane.”

“i’m not hearing a no.”

you gape, “jeonghan we broke up years ago. we’re not the same people we were when we first started dating. hell, we’re not the same people we were when we broke up!”

“exactly,” jeonghan says, and he walks up towards you, shortening the gap between you. like this, you can count every single eyelash, the little mole under his eye, how sunk-in his eyes are, and how they’re nothing compared to how tired he was two years ago. “i’m not the same person i was, and i know i can be better for you.”

you shake your head, trying to take a step back. jeonghan just takes your hand, intertwines it with his like he has countless times before today. his fingers are the same amount of callousness, he still has a cut on his right pinky finger. he still feels like home. but you can’t be swayed, not when, “you’re just saying this because you’re on hiatus and you’re bored. the second you get on that circuit next year—“

“i’m not,” jeonghan insists, and takes your intertwined hands to his mouth. “i swear i’m not. look, i’ve been thinking about this ever since we broke up. i haven’t spent a day without thinking of you—“

“then why didn’t you call?” you interrupt. jeonghan’s grip on your hand slackens a little, but his voice is strong when he responds.

“because every single time i heard about you soonyoung couldn’t stop raving about your new job, and your new house and every time i asked mingyu he said you were doing so good. hell, even joshua knew about your life and i didn’t. so i thought— i don’t know, that you were better off without me.”

his admission settles into the air like missing pieces of a puzzle. falling into place.

“why now?” you dare to ask, your words all but a murmur into the short space between you two.

“because you’re here,” jeonghan replies simply, and slowly, gently, presses a kiss onto the back of your hand. “because monza may be for dreamers but monaco is for—“

“redemption.” you finish quietly. “monaco is for redemption.”

you think about it a little. the space between you and jeonghan, and how much you’d rather reach out and touch him than let go and walk away. you think about loving and breaking and having the bravery to do it all again. you think of home in the form of an imperfect man, a man trying to be better. and isn’t what this is all about? finding someone who makes you want to be better? for themselves and for you?

so you muster all the courage you have, and close the distance. you lean up on your tiptoes and kiss jeonghan. he wraps you in his arms once he’s realised, and holds you closer than you’ve ever been held in your life.

there is no fanfare, no screaming crowds, no jets in the sky, no champagne bottles, no trophies, no podiums. it’s just you, jeonghan, and redemption in monaco. everything and everyone else can come later.

-

“and here we are, at the first race of the twenty twenty-four season at bahrain!” the reporter announces as he makes his way around the paddock. “there was quite the controversy happening during the off-season, with ferrari’s own choi seungcheol announcing his retirement from the sport at the end of the year. jeon wonwoo has taken a step back this year as well, switching grid positions like never before. lee chan, previously of alphatauri, has since replaced him. alpine’s joshua hong and aston martin’s xu minghao have been putting pressure on lee seokmin’s mercedes seat, and team principal park jiyoung has mentioned that any replacements are possible if lee does not meet expectations.”

he walks into the mercedes hospitality, where jeonghan and seokmin are talking in the corner, mechanics and engineers whizzing around them.

“and here we are joined by mercedes’ very own prodigal son, five-time world drivers championship winner yoon jeonghan, and his teammate, lee seokmin, who managed to snag a p4 during last year’s season,” the reporter introduces. jeonghan gives the camera a two-fingered salute, and seokmin beams. “let’s start with you, jeonghan. how was your sabbatical, and do you think it will affect your races this year?”

“the break was great, actually,” he responds, fiddling with the zipper of his race suit, hung low on his hips, “put a lot of things into perspective for me, had me re-organising my priorities. but now i’m back and i think better than ever and, you know, ready to win.”

the reporter laughs, a loud booming noise, accentuated by the microphone’s screech, before continuing, “that sounds incredible! is there any pressure from kwon soonyoung of red bull racing who won last year?”

jeonghan just smiles easily, “there’s always pressure from all the drivers. soonyoung is very good, but he won when i wasn’t around, so.”

seokmin lets out a shrill guffaw from beside him, and from far back but within earshot, soonyoung, sitting in the patio of the red bull hospitality, raises a middle finger, which jeonghan laughs off.

“and already you’ve set the standard, your sixth pole position in the bahrain gp, how’re you feeling?”

as jeonghan answers the question, from the back of the shot, seokmin waves gleefully, walking farther out the shot when he sees you, dressed in a puff sleeved short white dress and matching sneakers, a pair of sunglasses on your head and a lanyard around your neck proudly proclaiming ‘MERCEDES, YOON JEONGHAN - GUEST’. you two embrace, and the reporter gasps, no doubt having recognised you.

jeonghan turns at the commotion, and just smiles. his eyes soften, and when you meet his gaze, you smile, too. you spot the camera rolling, and wave a little. you point at jeonghan, and make a number one with your finger. you’re so, so pretty. jeonghan full on beams, and reaches out towards you.

a mechanic blocks the view as he races past the rolling camera, but no one can deny how you two have leaned in. in a few hours, that will be the footage everyone on twitter rewinds and zooms into.

because the last time you were publicly seen at the paddock was almost three years ago in monaco, back when you were dating jeonghan.

the internet comes to their own conclusions, and utterly implodes.

-

nothing quite compares to abu dhabi on a grand prix night.

the lights are megawatts bright and the screams are deafening and it’s quite literally every driver’s dream to win, to be told you are the champion of the world! under the moonlight at yas marina circuit.

unluckily for them, jeonghan was already declared that six races ago at monza. and while the tifosi would have much preferred to see one of their two drivers in rossa corsa on the top step of the podium, no one could deny the utter magic that jeonghan was driving with this season. reporters and commentators and twitter accounts and tumblr blogs and every single form of journalism in between had agreed, wondered— what was it exactly that had jeonghan as intensely focused as he was this season?

but as all drivers know— you’re only as good as your last race.

and today in abu dhabi, soonyoung’s on pole position, his head of scraggly blonde hair tucked under his baclava and red and blue helmet, and as the camera zooms into him, he gives a little wave and makes a claw with his hand. from where you’re seated in mercedes’ paddock, eyes glued to the big screen, all these cars seem so small, inconsequential. but you know better than that. to everyone on the grid, this is everything.

jeonghan’s five spots behind him, having qualified p6, his worst performance all season, but when the camera moves over to him him, he just salutes, gives a little cheek heart as if he isn’t currently the undisputed best driver in the pinnacle of motorsport. you hide your smile behind your palm. he’s so freaking cute.

you weren’t going to lie and say everything’s been rainbows and butterflies since monaco. it’s been work, work, and work. but you two do it anyway, because love is a choice, and you both choose each other every day. jeonghan flies back and forth between monaco, brackley and wherever it is you are. in the time you spent apart, you had been promoted and fly out quite often. sometimes they coincide with prix dates, and sometimes they don’t. however it is, you don’t let it affect your… relationship? too much. you haven’t quite hashed out what exactly you two are, but you’re sure you’ll get there.

you also have a surprise for jeonghan tonight. but that’s for later.

for now, it’s lights out and away we go, and twenty race cars throttle towards the first turn. you watch with barely-contained nervousness as already, a haas and a williams make contact and a safety car is issued. jeonghan’s moved up three places to p3, and soonyoung’s still in the lead, seungcheol’s ferrari wedged between them.

“relax,” seokmin’s sister takes your hand, stills it from shaking. she smiles at you, “jeonghan always does good in abu dhabi.”

“i know,” you say, “it just doesn’t get any less nerve-wracking, i guess.”

she laughs, watching seokmin’s mercedes turn around the chicane, “i know the feeling.”

twenty-four laps into the fifty-eight in, jeonghan pits for tyres, and you watch the flurry of mechanics and engineers work their magic. it takes all but two seconds. soonyoung’s still in the lead, with seungcheol, mingyu and minghao following. jeonghan overtakes mingyu and minghao with a finesse that can only come with experience.

seungcheol’s more of a challenge, though. everyone watches with baited breath as the two drivers, with ten world titles between them, battle it out. but seungcheol’s ferrari is losing speed, has been, throughout this entire season, and jeonghan’s inching closer and closer to his oldest friend’s car. you grip onto the counter as he tries to squeeze between the bright red vehicle and the circuit wall.

“come on,” you mutter, “come on.”

they move through the hairpin, and jeonghan’s black and dark green car just breezes through the gap. the engineers cheer, you let out a deep exhale, and jiyoung smiles, “very impressive, jeonghan.” she says into her earpiece. “kwon’s four seconds ahead. tyre temperatures are good. choi is two point three seconds behind.”

you can’t hear what he replies but knowing him, it’s probably something silly and stupid. jiyoung cackles, and leaves him be, going to talk to seokmin.

“so,” seokmin’s sister says, inching closer to you. you hum, turning to face her. you’ve known her for years and years, seokmin bringing her to the paddock more often than not since he got signed on to the team, “what’s the deal with you two?”

“what do you mean?” you ask, feigning nonchalance.

she hits you on the arm, making you laugh, “you know what i mean! are you guys like,” she lowers her voice, looking around to make sure no one’s eavesdropping, “are you guys back together?”

you shrug, “i don’t know, actually.”

“what you mean you don’t know?”

“we haven’t talked about it,” you admit, “we text and facetime almost every day, and i stay with him when i go out for races and when i come to monaco but he hasn’t brought it up since.”

seokmin’s sister looks both surprised and considering, “to be honest, he’s probably waiting for you to do it.”

at your questioning expression, she continues, “i mean, you broke it off, and he wanted to get back together and you were kind of vague. not that i’m blaming you! you completely deserved to be, that man was a jerk.” the second williams and an alfaromeo collide, and another safety car is issued. you sink further into your seat. only twenty laps to go. “but maybe do you think he’s waiting for you to mention it? jeonghan seems like the type of guy who wouldn’t want to, you know, ruin whatever you have going on right now.”

you think about it. jeonghan had been right last year in monaco, he had changed from who he was when you were together. he left you voicemails and texts when you were halfway around the globe, and cuddled you close when you had the time to share a bed in between your work meetings and his season testing. he waved off reporters who asked questions about you, knowing how much you liked your privacy, and how much he treasured his. he kissed you goodbye at airports and brought you places during breaks and visited your parents. you gave interviews when you were cornered at the paddock. hell, jeonghan liked a few tweets theorising whether you were more than just exes who were able to be friends again. you were as good as ‘back together’. you just needed to take the leap.

“point forty-six from kwon.” jiyoung’s voice shakes you out of your reverie, and seokmin’s sister nudges you to look at the big screen, where jeonghan’s mercedes is right at soonyoung’s back. “try to overtake if possible. opportunity at next chicane.”

however, like jeonghan said all those races ago at bahrain, soonyoung was a very good driver. he doesn’t give jeonghan an inch.

they stay that way for the next sixteen laps, and with only four to go, the chances of jeonghan winning in abu dhabi is slim. jiyoung looks a little distressed, they need all the help they can get for the constructors championship, and red bull is only two points behind. if soonyoung wins, they’d lose.

your hold on seokmin’s sister’s arm is so tight she half-complains about it, whining a little. you apologise, and hold at your pant leg instead, watching as soonyoung defends with everything he has.

“y/n!”

you jump at the call, looking over to jiyoung, who’s just called for you, “yeah?”

“can you come here, please?”

seokmin’s sister raises her eyebrows, and so do you, but you do as she says, walking over to the control. “what’s up?”

to your surprise, she hands you a headset, and when you open your mouth to ask, she cuts you off, “jeonghan needs to get his head out of his ass now. he’s hesitating. say something.”

“me?” you point to yourself, like an idiot. jiyoung looks at you with a deadpanned expression. “how would i even help?”

“i don’t know!” the older woman exclaims, “but yoon always drives better after you guys talk or whatever. how do you think he got through spa?”

hesitantly, you put the headset on, and jiyoung nods for you to talk as it connects, “hello?”

the connection is glitchy at best, and jeonghan’s words are a little jumbled when he says, “sweetheart? that you?”

“yeah,” you respond, sitting down when jiyoung gestures for you to, “you doing okay?”

“‘course,” jeonghan says casually, “i’m a winner, remember?”

you roll your eyes fondly, “well, can you win here please, so jiyoung doesn’t lose her mind?”

“i’m trying, baby,” your heart warms a little at the pet name, “soonyoung got better.”

“well,” you say, an idea sparking in your mind, “i have a surprise for you.”

“any other day, i’d love to know what you’re wearing under your outfit, but right now’s kind of a bad time, darling.”

“shut up!” your cheeks pink, and several control members look away in secondhand embarrassment. you want to die. “it’s not that!”

“what is it?”

jiyoung gives you a thumbs up, and you look at where she’s pointing on the monitor. jeonghan’s getting faster. the gap between him and soonyoung is getting smaller.

you muster all the bravery in your chest and say, “i’m moving to monaco.”

for a second, all you hear is his tyres against tarmac, before, “really?”

jeonghan’s voice is precarious but worshipping. like he doesn’t want to push too hard. god, seokmin’s sister was right.

“mhm,” you say, “work approved my transfer, but i need someplace to live.”

“that’s funny,” his grip on the steering wheel tightens, and he gains point twenty-one, “i’ve got a spare bedroom.”

“spare?”

“unless you want to really, you know, move in with me. and everything.”

“i want everything.” you breathe out. “i want everything with you. again.”

“yeah?” jeonghan’s crackly voice sounds relieved, like a weight’s been lifted off his chest. “everything?”

“everything. really.” you breathe in, out, and confess, right into the headset, right into jeonghan’s ear, right in front of the world tapped in via the commentator’s box, “i love you.”

and you watch as jeonghan slowly, through the next hairpin, overtakes soonyoung with one more lap to go. jiyoung slams her fist on the table in celebration as soonyoung’s red and blue livery becomes smaller and smaller on the big screen, jeonghan’s mercedes flying through the turns easily.

“i love you too,” jeonghan says, the faint sound of wheels on hot tarmac coming through as well. “i love you. i love you. i love you. everything i do is for you. every win is for you. when we pick up that trophy later, it’s going to be for you, baby.”

you grin, and can’t contain a tear from falling down your cheek. you’re so happy you could burst. “really?”

“everything, baby,” jeonghan’s voice is firm, true, “everything.”

“yoon jeonghan’s shown us a masterclass in winning all season long. he won in bahrain. he won in melbourne. he won in miami. he won in monaco. he won in baku. he won in silverstone, hungary, spa, zandvoort, monza, singapore, and now he wins in abu dhabi! yoon jeonghan is a six-time champion of the world and mercedes wins their seventh constructors championship!”

the garage explodes in cheers.

“jeonghan, that’s p1. that’s p1.” jiyoung says, barely containing her elation. “you’re a fucking rockstar!”

the feed crackles a bit, “thank you, ji. thank you to the team. everyone, thank you so much for supporting me and believing in me. baby,” you smile, “that was for you. i love you.”

everyone cheers as the mix of foreign and current world champions, seungcheol, jeonghan, joshua and soonyoung, do donuts one last time together, smoke surrounding all their engines before jeonghan drives his mercedes drives up to the garage, ignoring the cool off room completely. you just know he's going to get fined for that, but you, and the team, could give less of a fuck. he shoves off his helmet and baclava as quick as he can, unzipping his race suit and jumping out of the car. the whole team runs up to him, you run up to him, and it’s a complete and utter scene.

cameras flash incessantly, constant bursts of light that create strobing effect. team members are slapping him on the shoulders, yelling and screaming and chanting at the top of their lungs. but jeonghan only has eyes for you.

they all get a first class view to your arms flung over his shoulders, his arms wrapped so tightly around your waist before they travel up to your cheeks as he kisses you, holds you as delicately as he did this morning in the comfort of the egyptian cotton of the hotel bedsheets.

“i love you,” he mumbles against your lips. he’s sweaty, race suit still hanging off his hips but you don’t care. “i love you so much.”

“i love you,” you say back, “i love you. i love you. i love you.”

the world will remember this moment forever— of when six-time world champion yoon jeonghan very publicly confesses his love for his significant other, of when yoon jeonghan breaks the record of the fastest lap ever recorded in abu dhabi, of when yoon jeonghan keeps winning and winning and winning. but most of all, of when yoon jeonghan does it with you by his side.

you can thank redemption in monaco for that.

and love
love is mostly ill-advised but always
brave
- bone, yrsa daley-ward

Chapter Text

jeonghan feels the tiredness right down to his bones.

it’s something he’s been feeling more times than not lately. he doesn’t want to think about the repercussions it has on his body, he already had an arm in a cast as a reminder. but he also feels guilty that he even complains. he doesn’t think he works as hard as jihoon, who’s already churning out their next album, which brings up nothing but dread in jeonghan’s stomach at the idea of more, more, and more piling up, or soonyoung who watches their performance videos with a sharp eye, or seungcheol who keeps all twelve of them in check.

but jeonghan’s so, so, so tired.

so when they get two weeks off, the first thing jeonghan does is inform the company that he’ll be going back home. they don’t put up much of a fight about it, and it’s quick goodbyes to the members before he’s driving down to hwaseong with nothing but his exhausted soul and a suitcase in the backseat.

except he doesn’t walk up to his childhood home’s door first thing when he arrives. instead, he pulls up in front of a quaint white-walled painted house like muscle memory. jeonghan parks haphazardly, doesn’t even take out his suitcase, trudges to the front steps, and knocks on the door once, twice, thrice.

“coming!”

jeonghan nearly buckles at the knees at the sound of the familiar voice.

the door swings open, and there you are— smiling in a baby pink sweater and sleep shorts. the fans call him an angel, but he doesn’t think anyone will ever match up to your radiance.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, not unkindly. in fact, you seem happy to see him. you tug jeonghan into a hug, arms linked behind his neck, and he curls into it, tucking his head over yours. you smell the same, of freesias and jasmine and everything he was too before he left.

jeonghan breathes out into your hair, tries not to let his small smile drop when you move away. “visiting.”

“come in.” you turn around to walk into the house, and jeonghan follows, closing the door soundly behind him. your house looks different from the last time he visited— the pictures on the walls have people he doesn’t recognise, there’s a stain on your white carpet, you changed the living room setup. he tries not to tense up from it. the fact that this is a show of how much he’s missed.

“do you want some tea?” you call out from where you’re busying yourself with the kettle in your kitchen.

“water, please.” jeonghan responds, fingering the frame of the picture you had propped up on the coffee table. “i’m not allowed caffeine anymore.”

he hears the click of your tongue, probably displeasure at knowing something must’ve happened for him to say that. he ignores it for now, and stares at the picture. it’s of you, jeonghan and his sister, your arms thrown around both of them as you all grin at the camera. jeonghan’s eyes are so crinkled up. he can’t remember a time where he was that happy. his sister looks half the age she is now, and jeonghan’s hit with a pang of emotion. he doesn’t remember the last time his texts with her weren’t just a what are you doing and an i’m busy right now, can i call you back later? and an empty call log.

jeonghan jumps a little when you place a cup of water on the table and sit beside him, crossing your legs and making a face at the picture, “i looked awful, my god.”

“no, you don’t,” he replies, a tad too quickly to be anything but defensive, which makes no sense. “you’re pretty.”

you roll your eyes, and lean back against the couch cushions, peering at him. “do your parents even know you’re here?”

jeonghan shifts guiltily. “i’m going there right after this.”

“you should’ve stopped there first,” you chastise, “your mom’s been asking me if i’ve heard from you. didn’t have the heart to tell her i haven’t spoken to you in months.” your tone is nonchalant, but jeonghan sees the hurt in your eyes, hidden behind casual aloofness.

“sorry,” he says, voice croaky suddenly. “i didn’t mean to.”

you wave it off, just like jeonghan knew you would. you always do, even when nothing about it is even remotely okay. “it’s fine. i get it.”

“no, it’s not.” he contends. he watches as you quirk your head to the side, and give him a rueful smile.

“do you want me to yell?” you ask bluntly, “i don’t like fighting, you know this.”

everything’s all jumbled up in jeonghan’s mind, but he shakes his head, “i don’t want you to yell. i just…” he trails off. he doesn’t know what he wants.

“you just want someone to punish you.” you finish for him, “i’m not that person. i don’t like that.”

“i know.” jeonghan hangs his head. “it just feels like someone should.”

“i don’t know what you want me to say.” you run a hand through your hair, watch jeonghan with careful eyes. he’s slumped, and his eyebags are dark and heavy. he looks like a shell of the person he was in the picture he has yet to put down, your little piece of him that no one but you knows about. you share him with the rest of the world, but not there.

“i don’t know either.” he shrugs, and sets the frame down. “i just know i wanted to see you.”

you shuffle a little so you can face him, hold your head in one hand as you lean over the back of the cushions. “why? you want me to tell you everything you’ve missed?”

and jeonghan knows knowing will hurt more, but he nods anyway.

“i quit my job and got a new one.” you start, “and i became friends with wheein from down the street. i don’t talk much to my mom anymore. your sister calls me once a week to make sure i’m not ‘old and lonely’,” jeonghan lets out a little laugh at that and your bunny ears. that does sound like something his sister would say. “your dad’s been hounding me to go fishing with him but i don’t like water. he thinks he can convince me.” you pause for a bit, and jeonghan prepares himself. “i had a boyfriend.”

“did you like him?” the question sounds stupid as it comes out of his mouth, but he can’t take it back now.

you smile a little sadly, “i did. i think i even loved him.”

your admission feels like lead on his tongue, and he swallows it down. jeonghan feels hurt, even though he has no right to be. whatever you two had, you never put a name on it, a label. he didn’t expect you to wait for him, but he always thought you would. he always thought, years down the line, you’d be the person he came home to, the person he’d marry, have a family with.

because the truth of the matter is— before jeonghan belonged to the stage, he belonged to you.

“yeah?” jeonghan asks, because he doesn’t know what he could possibly say to make this better.

“yeah,” you respond, “he was great. i think you would’ve liked him.” and it’s like a punch to his jaw because he knows you aren’t lying. whoever you were with, jeonghan probably wouldn’t have had the heart to hate him if he was making you happy.

“why’d you break up?”

jeonghan regrets it immediately. he can tell the exact moment you process the question from how your eyes suddenly become guarded, how you purse your lips. he knows you like the back of his hand.

you sigh, bring your legs up to your chest, and angle yourself away from him. you mumble something under your breath, so silent jeonghan almost doesn’t catch it, “he said it was like i was looking through him.”

“what does that mean?”

you let out a little, sad laugh, “i don’t know, that i suck at not comparing people?”

“who’d you compare him to?”

you face him, and roll your eyes, “you’re not stupid, jeonghan.”

and it sparks something in his chest. something tentative, a regrowth. hell, maybe a rebirth. that whatever he dreamed up in his mind of you, that you had felt it, too.

“we were something, weren’t we?” jeonghan asks into the warmth of your home. “did i fuck it all up?”

your expression softens. “yeah, we were.” jeonghan can hear the breeze through your opened windows, and your response feels like sunshine on his skin. “i think we have a lot of catching up to do before i answer that question.”

he smiles, “that’s fair.”

“how long’ve you got?” you ask in a teasing tone as the bolts to the doors in your eyes becoming unlocked.

jeonghan leans closer to you, “all day.”

and it feels like picking up where you left off, all those years ago. but it’s lighter now. like he’s at peace with where he is, and at peace with what it could possibly become.

Chapter Text

you love your niece more than anything in the world.

that being said, you’re not as great of an aunt as you should be. you missed drop off on her first day of pre-k, and you don’t visit nearly as much as you should, but you can’t really be blamed for it! and you’re not just making excuses for yourself, your sister knows firsthand that everything else is a distraction compared to the melody in your head, the lyrics that seem to write itself on your notes app, or restaurant napkins.

you’re, for lack of a better word, a singer. your parents still call it a hobby to this day, and it’s a contributing factor to why you don’t really speak to them anymore. your sister and brother-in-law however, have been there for you since day one. you had crashed on their couch when you decided to drop out of your biochem course to pursue music full time and were sending out demos to every label under the sun, and had been there every time you were rejected, sometimes nicely and sometimes not. they were there when you finally got signed, when your debut song charted in the mid-fifties of the billboard 200, when your first album charted even higher. they were there when you performed at an award show for the first time, when you were nominated for the first time, when you won for the first time, when you continued winning.

now you’re ‘acclaimed’, you guess. you have a decent instagram following (“eighteen point six million followers is not just decent.” your sister rolled her eyes), and you now have two albums under your belt. your last one was nominated for a grammy, and taylor swift said in a very rare interview that she listened to your music. your spotify streams had shot up exponentially since then.

but that also meant you saw your family less and less, which was something that had to change in your opinion. you couldn’t just drop everything and hang out with them six days out a working week, your label was hassling you for at least another single before the end of the month. but you could help your sister and brother-in-law this one time.

you didn’t know preschool kids even had parent teacher conferences, but apparently the kindergarten your niece is enrolled in does, and both your sister and brother-in-law couldn’t beg off work, and you happened to be free.

which is why you’re currently walking down the yellow-walled corridor, jieun’s little hand in yours as she skips her way to her classroom. your sister hadn’t told you much, just that the appointment was at half past eleven and you probably shouldn’t wear your favourite trademark bubblegum pink rectangle-framed sunglasses. you noted the first bit, and did not note the second, the said sunglasses currently resting on the top of your head.

jieun stops right in front of a brown door with white trimmings, pulling on your hand. you bend down, your other hand going up to your sunnies to make sure they don’t slip off. “what’s up, baby?”

“mister jjong’s in there.” she says, “mom said you can’t be scary.”

you laugh, smoothing down jieun’s braid, “i’m not scary.”

“not to me,” jieun says in a considering tone, “but mom said once you yelled at paparapi.”

“paparazzi.” you corrected, “but that was just because they tried taking pictures of you, remember? i won’t be scary to your teacher.”

“promise?” jieun unravels her hand from yours to thrust out her pinky finger. you nod solemnly and twist your own pinky around hers.

“promise.” you glance at your phone screen. eleven-thirty on the dot. “let’s go.”

you let jieun knock on the door, and there’s a pleasant “come in!” before you push the door open for her.

the classroom’s everything you expected it to be— the walls are white but littered with construction paper. there’s a whole tree built from scrunched-up fabric near the back of the room, and a corner with a bookshelf and bean bags. there’s a lemon yellow slab of cardboard with names and star stickers beside them.

“hi!”

you look away from the back of the room to greet the teacher hello, but stop at your tracks. because in front of you is quite possibly the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. jieun tugs on your hand again, shooting you a dirty look. you have no one to blame but yourself for teaching her that, honestly.

“hi!” you say, feeling your cheeks heat up a little. “i’m y/n, jieun’s aunt.” you offer your hand, and the teacher takes it, shaking lightly. pretty hands is the next thing you note. then he smiles.

dear god.

baby my tongue goes numb, sounds like “bleh-blah-bleh” your brain supplies unhelpfully.

“yoon jeonghan, jieun’s teacher.” he says, gesturing for you to sit down across from him. “jieunie, why don’t you continue your colouring from last week?” jeonghan hands jieun a piece of paper and points to the pack of colour pencils on a desk towards the back of the room. she gleefully does so, abandoning you completely with only jeonghan and your insane mind for company.

once jieun’s picked up a red coloured pencil and starts shading, jeonghan looks back at you.

lookin’ at you got me thinkin’ nonsense your brain says again.

you tamp it down, and smile at him. “i hope jieun’s as sweet in class as she is at home.”

jeonghan grins, and slides you a laminated paper. you take it, and read through the printed words. “it’s pre-k, so there aren’t really any letter grades.” jeonghan explains, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “but i like making these anyway so the kids get to bring something home and be proud.”

you finger the bubble text and the heart stickers and feel your chest swell with fondness at the compliments about jieun on it. “thank you, it’s very sweet of you.” you say, smiling at him. vanity fair said, ad verbatim by the way, that you had ‘enough charm to knock the socks off just about anyone’. it’s very clear whoever wrote that didn’t know shit because jeonghan just nods pleasantly, and isn’t instantly smitten like mark from nct was.

“there’s also a field trip happening next week to the zoo, here’s the permission slip for jieun’s parents to sign.” he hands you an envelope, and you take it and pocket it into your shoulder bag. “jieun’s mom usually chaperones as well, so if you could ask? i’ll send an email as well but just as a preliminary.”

“sure, i’ll ask my sister.” you say dumbly. how do you even respond to his matter-of-fact tone? not to be conceited, but you usually inspired more enthusiastic conversation. yoon jeonghan, however, was completely unaffected by your brand of charm and prettiness.

he gets up, “it was nice meeting you—“

“do you usually take the kids to the zoo every year?” you ask quickly. you don’t want to leave just yet. “because animal entrapment isn’t very cool.”

jeonghan sits back down, but crosses his arms, “excuse me?”

“zoos deprive animals of their natural habitat and companionship. and more animals die in captivity than in the wild. isn’t that unethical?”

he opens his mouth, closes it, gapes at you a little. you think he’s really fucking cute. jeonghan’s blonde, with hair cropped right at the nape of his neck, and dressed in a striped blue dress shirt with a black tie, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. he’s a complete one-eighty to how you’re dressed— in wide-legged white pants and a sleeveless dark brown shirt.

“how old are you, by the way?” you add before jeonghan can speak up again.

“twenty-seven.” he answers, looking confused.

your last boyfriend was twenty-four. whatever. i think i got an ex, but i forgot him.

“i hadn’t thought of that.” jeonghan finally says, uncrossing his arms. “i’ll take note of that.”

“cool.” you respond, sounding very uncool. you inwardly berate yourself. who were you? you literally went on a date with kim mingyu once. you had jennie kim’s phone number. you were invited to the met gala last year! and here you were— being the biggest loser in the world in the face of your five year old niece’s preschool teacher. you were so embarrassing. “cool, well, i should go. we should go.”

i’m talkin’, i’m talkin’, i’m talkin’ all around the clock, i’m talkin’ hope nobody knocks, you needed to learn to shut your brain up.

“jieunie!” you call out, and your niece obediently packs up the pencils and walks over to hand her paper to her teacher. “it was nice meeting you, jeonghan.” jieun’s already walking off towards the door, and you can’t even blame her. you wouldn’t want to be at school on a saturday either.

“wait!” he calls out. you turn. “do i know you from somewhere?”

“nope!”

-

“so you embarrassed yourself in front of your niece’s pre-k teacher and are obsessed with him.” ten says simply, not even looking away from where he was putting on your acrylic nail.

you groaned. “ten, you don’t get it. he was so fucking pretty.”

“notebook pretty?” the nail tech asks, gesturing for you to put your hand in the uv machine to cure. you do so, jutting out your bottom lip at your friend. ten just looks back at you, unimpressed.

“i wrote “i caught the l-o-v-e” in all caps.”

ten whistles. “oh, you’ve got it bad.”

“ten, he laminates reports with stickers on them so the kids can take them home.”

“so go ask him on a date.”

“ten!” seulgi, your manager, chastises. ten just smiles back angelically, and starts painting the nails on your other hand a sage green. “we don’t really need a dating scandal right now.”

“and he doesn’t even know who i am.” you say, admiring the quick strokes.

“wouldn’t that be better?” ten paused.

“ten!” seulgi says again.

you shake your head, “i shouldn’t. he’s jieun’s teacher.”

“it’s not like you’re her mom.” ten rolled his eyes, and you pull your hand out of the uv lamp to switch. he starts sticking gems on with a quick precision you were envious of, “there aren’t any rules for single aunts who fall in love within six seconds of meeting.”

“hey, i resent that!” you whine.

“please,” he scoffed. “none of us are forgetting jaehyun.”

“or doyoung.” seulgi adds, “it was so awkward with sooyoung afterwards.”

“or haechan, even though he was basically jailbait—“

“at least she got a billboard music award for that one—“

“stop it!” you stamped your foot, not unlike an overgrown toddler, before glaring at ten and seulgi. “aren’t you guys supposed to be on my side?”

“whatever, do you want to see him again, yes or no?” ten asked, taking your other hand.

“…yes.”

your quiet and swift admission made seulgi sigh, her voice laced with resignation, “this one better be grammy nomination worthy, i swear to god.”

-

it was deceptively easy to get your sister to allow you to chaperone the zoo trip in her place. she did have the day off, but acquiesced to your offer so quickly you were slightly suspicious. then you keyed together that your brother-in-law had the day off, too, and decided you weren’t going to push anymore. disgusting old marrieds, you thought to yourself as you herded the group of preschoolers onto the bright yellow school bus.

“auntie,” jieun tugs on your pant leg. you hum, crouching down to help her up the top steps of the bus. “mister jjong keeps looking at you funny.”

you turn to follow the direction she’s staring at, and find jeonghan looking right at you. to his merit, he doesn’t seem to be flustered when you make eye contact. in fact, he just smiles and waves, as if you didn’t critique his entire morality based on a single zoo trip. a zoo trip that you’re chaperoning now.

“it’s fine, baby.” you reassure, and push her gently towards an empty seat. “go sit, put on your seatbelt.”

jieun pushes out her bottom lip, but does as you tell her anyway, carefully snapping the seatbelt in place.

“hey.”

you jump a little, looking over your shoulder to meet jeonghan’s gaze. he’s made his way over to you, and gestures for you to get on the bus. you do so, and sit right behind the driver. to your surprise, jeonghan sits beside you. when you give him a questioning look, he says, “miss park is sitting at the back.”

you peer to the back of the bus, where sure enough, a frazzled-looking woman is herding everyone to their seats and making sure everyone’s sat properly.

“okay, cool.” you respond, before inwardly cringing at yourself. okay? cool? the last time you had ever acted like this was high school.

“cool.” jeonghan said back. he hid a smile behind his palm before facing you, “so.”

“so?”

“first you blow up at me for the ethics of zoos and now you’re chaperoning?”

you flush pink. “okay, first of all, it’s a valid concern.”

jeonghan nods, half-serious and half-joking, “of course it is.”

“second of all, i checked this one.” you say, and you mean it. you did google how the animals were treated in this particular zoo, and jumped only a little when your sister came up from behind you to look at your laptop screen. “it’s okay, by animal shelter standards anyway.”

“i did, too,” jeonghan confessed, scratching the back of his head a little, ruffling his blonde hair up. you’d have to ask how he bent around the rules to have bleached hair and still teach impressionable children. “you kind of had me thinking after our conversation.”

“good,” you sit up straight, “i’m always right.”

he laughs, “are you now?”

“of course.”

a kid screeches from behind you, and you’re spared only a small smile and a hand on your shoulder before jeonghan’s getting up to diffuse the situation. it’s best that he does, because you muffle a little half-squeal into your hands, the sound drowned out by one of jieun’s wailing classmates. jeonghan was so freaking cute.

-

“i have to be honest,” jeonghan started, handing you your ice cream cone. you took it gratefully, immediately stuffing your face. it had only been two hours since you arrived, and already you had a newfound respect for teachers. wrangling one kid was tough, but wrangling sixteen? that was a war zone if you ever saw one. “i kind of had a bad impression of you when we met for the first time.”

“you mean last week?” you snorted, licking around the top of the cone so the ice cream wouldn’t drip down the sides. from a few feet away, miss park was not-so discretely trying to take a picture of you. you had already taken three pictures with her, but jeonghan didn’t seem to think much of it. you don’t know whether to be offended that he doesn’t know who you are or grateful. “was it the pink sunnies? my sister says they makes it hard for people to take me seriously.”

“no, it wasn’t the sunglasses.” jeonghan says, and you catch him watching the pout on your lips. score. “you should see my glasses collection.”

“is that an invitation?”

jeonghan laughs, pretty and bright, “shut up.”

you mime zipping your lips, and throwing away the key.

“your sister mentioned you aren’t around often, so i guess i was a little…” he tries to find the word for it. “disincentivised.”

you hum, nodding, “yeah, work get busy so i’m not around as much as i’d like to be.”

then comes the million dollar question. “really? what do you do?”

you start biting at the ice cream cone, making sure your hair isn’t getting in the way. “do you want to guess?”

“are you one of those influencer types?” jeonghan asked, “you have pretty clothes.” he gestures to your ensemble, a puff-sleeved white top and wide-legged polka dot pants. your pink sunnies are still on the top of your head.

“nope!”

“don’t tell me you work on wall street.”

you scoff, “who do you take me for?”

“i didn’t want to stereotype.” jeonghan responded solemnly, “warmer or colder with wall street?”

“colder.”

“what about with influencer?”

you make a considering noise. you did have a few brand deals. “warmer.”

“actress?”

“warmer.”

“singer?”

“if you say it like that it sounds so elitist.” you cringe, and shove more ice cream into your mouth. the chocolate fudge is sweet on your tongue, but not as sweet as jeonghan’s winning smile at your reply. “i sing sometimes.”

“sorry if you’re, like, famous and i don’t know about it,” he said, “i’m not really up to date on stuff.”

you eye jeonghan’s outfit— a white shirt with black pants and a matching yellow jacket and bucket hat, and think of how contrary that is. “that’s okay. i don’t expect everyone to know what i do.”

“hah!” he exclaims, catching miss park’s attention. you two make eye contact, and she puts her phone into her pocket when your gaze drops to it. “so you are famous!”

you finish off your cone, wiping your hands on a tissue. “…i guess you could say that,” you responded hesitantly, anticipating his reaction. jeonghan’s smile turns into a full on grin, and he hands you his phone.

“what’s your instagram username? i want to follow you!”

you gawk, “didn’t you just say you’re not up to date on stuff?”

jeonghan scoffs, puts a dainty hand on his chest like he’s the fucking queen, and rolls his eyes, “i’m not that old to not have instagram!”

you said you like my eyes and you like to make ‘em roll you think.

you laugh, and type in your username and press on the follow button. your phone doesn’t light up with a notification, you have them all muted. you hand jeonghan’s phone back to him, and watch his eyes widen when he sees your follower count.

“you have eighteen point nine million followers, why are you accompanying a bunch of preschoolers go to the zoo with me?”

you smack his arm, “shut up. i wanted to.”

jieun starts screaming when a zookeeper walks by, a koala held snugly in her arms. all her classmates follow suit.

jeonghan gives you a wry smile, “did you now?”

-

sometime between the zoo and the next four times you’re in town, you and jeonghan start seeing each other.

like, seeing seeing each other.

ten says you should just say you’re dating, but there hasn’t really been a need to name it yet. seulgi tries very hard not to pull on her hair and scream into her cellphone when you make excuses on why you want to spend the long weekend at home instead of at the studio. then you show her your near full notebook and she calms down substantially, and books you a recording session for when you get back.

your sister, after a very stern talking to, has accepted that you go on dinner dates with her daughter’s preschool teacher. and sometimes lunch dates, when he isn’t too busy. jieun’s just happy you got her her own pair of pink sunnies.

if you were less of the person that you were, you’d be worried that things were going a little too fast for your liking. but then again, once you got with and broke up with someone within the span of a week. sorry na jaemin (and then johnny suh, though to be fair you spent most of that week in the bedroom, oops). so this was all a cake walk. but this—

“are you sure?” jeonghan murmurs against the span of your neck.

“oh my god, shut up.” you groan, busying yourself with untucking his shirt and tugging on it. jeonghan gets the hint, and pulls it over his head. you’re greeted with smooth planes and a hardness you didn’t expect. “i want to.”

he smiles, reattaches his lips to your neck, your collarbones, and nips. you shudder as he unlaces the back of your dress, and gets down on his knees when you’re left in your soft blue lingerie set. you inwardly high-fived yourself for thinking ahead.

“hey,” he says, one of his hands reaching up to lace his fingers with yours, a stark juxtaposition to the other, where his thumb is rubbing soft circles over your underwear. you buck into his hold, “you know i’m not doing this because you’re like, famous, right?”

something in your chest lightens a bit, and you’re sure you’re doing a terrible choice at not letting it reflect on your face, judging by jeonghan’s shit-eating grin, “i fucking know. can we get back to it?”

“bossy,” he says, but pulls your panties down. you feel a rush of cool air against your core, and it’s only at the first touch of his tongue that the brevity of the situation really gets to you. oh fuck, you think, fuck. “i dig it.”

-

jeonghan wakes up to an empty bed, but warm sheets. it takes him a while to remember the events of a few hours ago, and for a lazy smile to form on his face. he sits up, and spots you at his desk, his previously discarded shirt on your frame, scribbling on your thick, leather-bound notebook. he takes a second, two, to process the sight, and ignores the warmth spreading through his body, an emotion he doesn’t want to name just yet.

“writing a song about me?” he asked, voice croaky and groggy from sleep.

you jump a little, and turn around. your hair’s a little bit of a mess, and you look a little hesitant. jeonghan wants to poke at your cheeks until you smile. “you wouldn’t mind, would you?”

he lays back down and gives it a think. he finds that he doesn’t care, and would love to ward off the seventeen thousand requested messages on your instagram, a solid twenty-eight of them sent by people with official checkmarks, “not even a little bit.”

-

“dear god,” your sister says when you get out of the car. from the driver’s seat, jeonghan waves a hello.

“good morning,” you respond, limping up to where she’s lounging on the foyer. “how was the aquarium?”

“how was the dick?” she asked bluntly.

“one hundred out of ten, would do again.”

she sighs, runs a hand through her hair, “please tell me he’s at least notebook worthy.”

wordlessly, you pull your notebook out of your bag, and show her a haphazardly written page, reading this song catchier than chicken pox is, i bet your house is where my other sock is. woke up this morning thought i’d write a pop hit. how quickly can you take your clothes off, pop quiz? in huge, capitalised block print.

she shakes her head, and a honk makes you two jump. you whip your head around, and jeonghan beams, still looking sleep-soft and gorgeous in the morning light. your pretty, pretty muse, you think. the first and only one you think you want to keep forever.

Chapter Text

“you’re sure?”

you let out a small laugh, and turn around from where you’re trying to fasten your earring to face your best friend. nayeon’s chewing on her thumb, a habit she hasn’t quite kicked, no matter how many times you’ve bugged her to. you finally clasp on the jewel, and pull nayeon’s hand away from her face gently. you’d usually slap it off, but today’s a special day.

“of course i’m sure.” you say, and smoothen down the skirt of her dress. “i wouldn’t miss my best friend’s wedding for the world.”

“even if that wedding—“

“no ‘even ifs’ allowed,” you tut, poking nayeon’s cheek. the softness makes you smile, and her pout. “now lets get you married before your parents find out.”

“stop saying it like that!” nayeon whines, but she makes her way out of the little room the receptionist had led you two into to get ready, taking your hand in hers. “my parents know we’re getting married, they just think we’re doing it in two months!”

“oh, poor me, my big white wedding is stressing me out so much i have to have a courthouse one.” you say, copying her voice to the best of your abilities. she smacks you in the arm, making you giggle. “okay, okay. hurry up, seungcheol’s right over there.”

nayeon follows your line of sight, where sure enough, her fiancee is waiting, deep in conversation with his best man. you almost drop nayeon’s hand and run, but you steel yourself up. you can do it for her. you would do it for her.

“you’re sure?” she asks yet again. “i won’t hold it against you, you know that, right?”

it only serves to drudge up the guilt in you if you were to leave. you smile, cup her face in your two hands and squish, “i love you. i’m not missing your wedding. plus, you need two witnesses. who’re you going to wake up at seven in the morning? momo? she’d murder you.” you let go, and your best friend’s expression makes you lighten up. “i’ll be fine. this is about you. it’s your day.” you assure her.

nayeon looks unconvinced, but squeezes your hand one more time. “okay.”

“okay.” you repeat, and link your arms together. you take a deep breath, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by your best friend.

you two walk over to seungcheol, and his face brightens up at the sight of nayeon, clad in her mid-length sleeveless white dress and the bouquet of flowers you had nabbed the day before, the petals of the peonies slightly brown. he pays that no mind, though, and just takes her from your arm. you’d protest if his eyes didn’t shine pure love and adoration.

you just step aside, and pull out your phone to take pictures. you snap one right as seungcheol presses a kiss to her temple, and know immediately that that’s the one they’re going to set up at the wedding hall in two months.

“that’s a good one.”

you zoom into the beam on nayeon’s face, the tender expression on seungcheol’s face. “it is, isn’t it?”

jeonghan smiles, “they’ll put it all over the wedding hall.”

“that’s what i thought, too.”

“then their parents—“

“will wonder why the location’s different from the pre-wedding pictures.” you laugh, and jeonghan does, too, still the soft, gentle tinkle you remember. the hurt in your heart aches just a bit more than usual today, with where you are and who you’re with and what’s about to happen, but it’s nice like this. it’s nice that you and jeonghan can still be like this.

“we’re ready for you.”

you two look up at the judge, and watch as nayeon and seungcheol clasp hands and walk into the courtroom first. you and jeonghan follow, and you swallow back the phantom pain that rises when you take your place on her side, and jeonghan on seungcheol’s, facing each other.

jeonghan gives you a small smile, rueful and sad and everything you’ve never wanted to associate with him. you give one back, and the look on his face flickers, before he turns to look at your friends instead. you follow suit.

“mr. choi, ms. im,” the judge says, “you have the rings?”

you pull the matching boxes from the pocket of your coat, and hand them over.

“you guys didn’t ask me to keep one?” jeonghan asks in mock affront, placing a dainty hand over his heart.

seungcheol rolls his eyes, “you would’ve forgotten it. we all know y/n’s more responsible than you.”

jeonghan tries to defend himself, and looks at you in an attempt to get you to back him up. you just laugh, “he’s right.”

nayeon giggles, and the judge smiles. the ice is effectively broken. jeonghan’s always been very good at that.

“dearly beloved,” the judge starts, and you start to tune it out, focusing instead on how stress-free nayeon seems. wedding planning’s never been her thing, and her relationship with her mother is strained in the very least, and terrible if you were being honest. like this, with no one but the love of her life, her best friend and the best man, she looks genuinely happy.

nayeon’s been your best friend for longer than she hasn’t. has been there for you through all the good times, high school graduations and proms and job acceptances, and the bad, failed grades and college graduations and a called-off wedding. the irony of this situation doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

jeonghan shifts his weight from his left leg to his right, catching your attention. he looks good. older. the tiredness that had set in his bones years ago is gone, and he’s smiling more. there’s a little scar on the side of his jaw that you don’t know the origin story of. it hurts a little, but you guessed that was what happened when two people don’t see each other for ages— you miss out on things.

he catches your eye, and an unrecognisable expression forms on his face. you used to know him like the back of your hand.

because, you see, once upon a time, long before you had to drive down two hours for your best friend’s wedding, you and jeonghan were in love.

you were so in love you were going to get married one week before college graduation, just so you could be together forever. only you got an email a day before the wedding that your application for a job up east had been accepted.

then all it took was one conversation in the very courthouse you were watching your best friends get their nuptials confirmed right now, and so many tears cried and all the hurt in the world for it all to end.

you’d never know what it was like to grow on your own if you and jeonghan had gotten married, and that was something neither you nor jeonghan wanted.

so nayeon and seungcheol, your witnesses, had calmly told the judge the appointment would be cancelled, and you spent the week before graduation packing up your things out of you and jeonghan’s shared apartment, and trying to learn what it was like being y/n, and not one half of jeonghanandy/n.

“by the power vested in me by the state of south korea, i now pronounce you man and wife, you may kiss the bride.”

you were shook out of your reverie, and you clapped, whooping when seungcheol dipped nayeon. jeonghan was doing the same, taking pictures and smiling. you didn’t miss how his eyes, just like yours, were slightly teary.

in another life, this could have been you and jeonghan. that fact doesn’t go unknown to you.

the judge dismisses you all, and you fawn appropriately over how pretty nayeon’s ring is as she tugs you into a hug so tight you nearly wheeze. she doesn’t comment on your watery eyes, or how your voice breaks a little when you tell her how happy you are for her. seungcheol presses a kiss onto your head as you make your way out of the courthouse, and out onto the sidewalk.

“mr. and mrs. choi,” jeonghan announces proudly, “your noble chariot awaits.” he hails down a cab, making them laugh. “where are you guys headed?”

“home, i think.” seungcheol answers, cheeks pink from elation.

“will you be okay?” nayeon asks, “do you have anyone to drive you back down?”

you shake your head, “it’s just going to be me, i think. jihyo’s staying another week. i’ll see you in two months.”

“you’re going alone?”

you turn to meet jeonghan’s gaze. it’s strangely contemplative. “yeah, it’ll be okay.” you wave off.

“i’ll come with you.”

your jaw drops. “jeonghan, no way, that’s a four hour drive back and forth!”

“i’ve got nothing going on today.” he shrugs, “and i have a perfectly capable car.”

seungcheol and nayeon watch you two like they’re watching a particularly interesting game of ping pong. nayeon’s holding onto her new husband’s sleeve so tightly you’re shocked it doesn’t just rip open.

jeonghan’s exuding sincerity, genuineness. he looks… he looks like the same person he was all those years ago, when he would stay at university for hours longer just so you could walk home together, when he would pull his own sweater over your head because you were shivering, when he was in love with you.

the look on his face makes you wonder if he ever stopped. if you ever stopped.

“okay.” you say, and he smiles. “if you’re sure you’re fine with it.”

“of course i am.”

nayeon and seungcheol finally get into the cab, and the beam on nayeon’s face tells you everything you need to know about how she feels about this. you watch as they zoom off into the distance, and jeonghan turns to you, perfect and gorgeous and every bit the love of your life, still.

“ready?” he asks, extending his hand. it feels like a second chance. not a re-do, but. maybe something even better. like two people with history and broken glass between them looking at the pieces and putting in the work. like a pretty mosaic.

you take it. “as ready as i’ll ever be.”

nothing in the world can stop you from starting over. or starting again.

Chapter Text

the thing is: hoshi likes to gossip. but what’s terrible is: the whole group has somehow caught onto minghao’s holier-than-thou “it’s none of our business!” schtick, so no one ever believes him!

his downfall goes like this—

“hyung, let’s go, seungcheol’s waiting in the car—“ soonyoung cuts himself off, and takes in the scene in front of him.

you’re sprawled out on jeonghan’s bed, which isn’t really a surprise. the entirety of the members staying in the same apartment as jeonghan are used to you hanging around when you get off work, or on the weekends or odd days where your schedules align. they usually wave and say a brief hello before going about with their days. they know that you and jeonghan are notoriously private people, and only really enjoy long bouts of conversation with people who aren’t each other when its voluntary.

so it was normal for you to be dozing off in his bedroom. hoshi would even say it was normal for jeonghan to be resting between your legs, his eyes half-closed. what wasn’t normal was where jeonghan’s hand was located. and no, get your mind out of the gutter, it wasn’t like that! (seungkwan would bemoan that yes, sometimes it was like that, though.)

soonyoung watched (“i’m never wrong,” he’d insist later on when wonwoo asked him if he was sure what he saw was right, “i have 10/10 vision!”) as jeonghan’s hand rubbed soft circles on your tummy. your sleep shirt (his, really) was riding up a bit, and a small sliver of skin was visible where his thumb was occasionally hooked.

hoshi gasped, covering his mouth with his hand half to muffle the noise and half in shock.

you were pregnant!

-

“no, she’s not,” seungkwan rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his americano, “stop making up stories!”

“i’m not!” hoshi cried out, “i know what i saw!”

“run it again,” chan instructed, not wanting to get caught in the middle of a notoriously loud and obnoxious fight between the two members, “just to make sure.”

“i went to call jeonghan-hyung for dinner with seungcheol—“

“why wasn’t i invited to this dinner?” seungkwan interrupted.

soonyoung let out an exaggerated huff, his face screwed up into an expression of bewilderment, “do you want me to tell the story or not?”

“well, no, but— ouch!” seungkwan directed a glare to chan, but straightened up. “fine, tell it.”

“as i was saying,” hoshi continued pointedly, “i went to call jeonghan-hyung for dinner with seungcheol and the door to his room was open so i just looked in! and y/n was sleeping, which honestly she should be doing more often, i feel like she works so much, and jeonghan-hyung was like, on top of her—“

“good god, maybe you should stop.” chan muttered.

“not like that, you perv! whatever, he was on top of her and he was like, rubbing her tummy! in circles! and like, patting it!”

the room fell into silence, soonyoung looked between the other two’s faces to see if either of them would get it.

“that is a bit weird.” chan allowed, but before soonyoung could let out a cry of victory, he added, “but they’re just kind of weird in general.”

“maybe she wasn’t feeling well.” seungkwan said, completely unfazed by the retelling. “you know how she is.”

hoshi pouted, his bottom lip sticking out so much he looked like a penguin. then he huffed, and got up from the couch, “whatever! someone else will believe me and it’ll be the truth and you all will see!”

-

joshua snorted, continuing to string along little pink beads onto the white string, “that’s cute.”

“hyung!” soonyoung whined, sidling up to his older member, “you believe me, right? if anything, jeonghan-hyung would totally tell you first if something was up!”

“hoshi-yah,” joshua started, picking out a diamond bead to make a pattern, settling the string down on the table carefully so he could look him in the eye, “it’s not good to gossip, you know this.”

hoshi face-planted into the soft sheets, “stop it with the no gossiping thing! it’s an epidemic! you used to go to brunch with y/n solely to gossip with her!”

joshua laughed, but continued making his bracelet. “what do you want me to say, soonyoungie? ‘no way, they can’t be having a baby!’? or ‘i have to plan a shower right away!’? we’re all older now, i think if jeonghan was going to have a baby it’d be okay to.”

“i’m not saying it’s not okay,” hoshi sat up, murmuring quietly, “of course it’s okay. i just want everything to be fine. it’ll be hard for them, if it was true.”

joshua smiled softly, and patted the younger on the cheek, “it’s very sweet of you to think that. it’ll be hard for them if it was true but they’d have all of us, okay?”

“okay.” soonyoung responded, before stretching and getting up, “i’m gonna go to the practice room. see you for dinner, hyung!”

joshua waved him away, and once the door closed firmly behind him, picked up the bracelet again. he snipped off the string, and looped the two ends together before putting it in his bedside drawer.

it was tiny, baby-sized even, with pink, blue and diamond beads laced throughout.

-

jeonghan hummed softly into your hair, one hand carding through it and the other patting softly on your tummy.

“comfy?” he asked.

you snuggle into his hold, breathing in the smell of him. “very.” you huff a little when he starts drumming on you, “i’m not a percussion, you dick.”

“and the moment’s ruined,” jeonghan said, voice in mock lament, “look at me, trying to be all gentlemanly and romantic—“

“you’ve never been gentlemanly and romantic a day in your life—“

“and you ruin it all.” jeonghan continued, ignoring your words and tapping on your stomach to stress his own, “knew you’d do it sooner or later.”

you laugh, and press a kiss onto the side of his neck, turning in his hold so you can look up at him, “speaking of sooner or later.”

“joshuji told me hoshi’s been telling everyone,” your boyfriend responded, poking at your nose. “but no one’s believed him.”

“poor soonyoungie,” you say, “everyone’s still on the no gossip thing, huh?”

“not me, though,” jeonghan responded, “i like to listen and partake.”

“me too.”

“a match made in heaven,” he sighed happily, and booped you again before pulling you to his chest. “love you,” he said, so quiet you could barely hear him. “love you two.”

“love you.” you replied, “two.” and jeonghan snuck a hand between you both to press onto your tummy again.

-

“get up!”

hoshi groaned into his pillow, trying to smush his face into it some more.

“kwon soonyoung, get up now!”

“what?” he whined, voice groggy from sleep. he reached up to scratch his eye and blinked them awake. jihoon was looming over his bed, an unfamiliar sight. “what’s wrong?”

“have you checked the group chat?”

hoshi plucked his phone from his nightstand, leaning on an elbow while he unlocked it, “this better be good. like the time vernon put on a mask pack and sent a picture with his eyes closed.”

woozi let out a strange noise, and closed his own eyes in anticipation of soonyoung’s reaction.

he shot out of bed, eyes widening, “I TOLD YOU SHE WAS PREGNANT!”

-

jeonghan jumped a little when he heard the screeching from a few doors down, but settled back to where he was acting as your body pillow when you started mumble-complaining. you sighed, and awaited what was imminent.

“HYUNG!” the door to jeonghan’s bedroom banged open. soonyoung, clad in his tiger-printed sleep shorts, scrambled onto your bed, effectively jostling you two. he squished into the space he created and hugged you, “i knew it!”

you smiled, and rubbed his back. he was enveloping you entirely, letting out little noises of happiness into your ear that made you feel warm all over, “you did, did you?”

“careful,” jeonghan said sternly, though his fond tone betrayed him, “she’s carrying precious cargo.”

soonyoung let you go and pummelled his member into a hug of the same level, if not more, of ferocity. “i’m so happy for you two!”

“thanks, hoshingie.” jeonghan responded, pinching his cheek. “now maybe can you let us be before i have to break it to the company?”

hoshi gasped, and sat back on the balls of his feet, “oh i do not wish i were you.”

you laughed, and ran a hand through your hair before it rested on your stomach. jeonghan watched you fondly out of the corner of his eye, gaze bleeding pure love and devotion. soonyoung watched as it went, and asked, “can i touch?”

you propped up the bottom of your (jeonghan’s) worn sweater, showing off the smooth expanse of your tummy. if you squinted, really really squinted, you could see the faintest bump. but maybe that was just you imagining things.

soonyoung reached out and let his palm settle on your stomach, feeling his eyes start to get hot.

“are you crying?” jeonghan asked, a laugh in his tone.

“shut up,” soonyoung pouted, sniffling. “i’m gonna be an uncle.”

and when you and jeonghan did break the news to the company, soonyoung stood by you two the whole time, interjecting every now and then when someone said something that could have even implied the slightest bit of negativity.

while the role of godfather was so firmly in joshua’s ballpark, soonyoung would go on to tell every single person who wished you congratulations at the baby shower that he was the one who figured it out first.

suffice to say, the members lifted their unacknowledged no gossip ban and started listening in more often.

Chapter Text

jeonghan’s tipsy.

and that’s, well, usually alarming, because he has the liver strength of an absolute beast and has only been really, really drunk four times in his entire life, but the seoul night air is crisp and just warm enough to mellow him out tonight. jeonghan, at the heart of him, is a much sloppier drunk than you’d think (hands cradling your waist, hands caressing your cheeks, hands under your dress—), but you’re surprised to see that tonight he’s been very obediently attached to your hip, hands at an appropriate place (your hips, with no intent of wandering).

you’re not complaining at all. jeonghan’s affection is always a welcome respite anywhere you go.

there’s chatter over the campfire, and you drag your attention away from where jeonghan’s braiding your fingers together to see seungkwan and soonyoung bickering over the grill, the latter so red and obviously inebriated that he’s leaning his entire body weight on minghao, whose reluctantly become his crutch. seungcheol and seokmin are doing nothing to deter the argument, instead adding in and cackling as mingyu and chan continue working on the pork and beef they’d decided they needed more of if the night was to continue on. jihoon, hansol, wonwoo and junhui are huddled together farther off the side of the grounds, the glow of the fire reflected on their faces.

“you two are significantly less handsy than i thought you’d be,” joshua says from where he’s lounging on the beanbag beside the one jeonghan’s plopped down on, you gathered on his lap and curled into him like you’re two months into your relationship and not three years. “and present. i thought you’d sneak off the second they brought out more drinks.”

“shut up,” jeonghan snipes, with absolutely no bite. he’s slurring his words a little, and they’re mumbled against your hair. his eyes are still planted firmly on your intertwined hands like he’s trying his best to combine you two into one. “i’m having fun.” his tone is a little flat, so, so concentrated.

you laugh into the fabric of his sweater, and lean up to look at joshua to mouth at your best friend (“your best friend?” jeonghan would interject if you ever said that out loud. “mine! miiiiiine!”), “drunk. soooooo drunk.”

joshua lets out a snort, and finishes off the rest of his beer, “i like hanging out with you two more when i’m not obviously a third wheel.”

“you could never!” you gasp in mock affront, placing the hand jeonghan isn’t fiddling with on your chest. “if anything, you’re our third.”

“only in spirit, though,” jeonghan decides to add, “i would never let you see y/n naked.”

joshua gags, “i’d rather die.”

“hey!” you and jeonghan say in tandem. “that’s so mean!” you say alone this time.

“how would you rather i react? oh my god, show me your boobs?”

your boyfriend makes a displeased noise, “why would you even say that?”

joshua just rolls his eyes and gets up to join the others, tossing a cheerful, “don’t fuck on the grass!” over his shoulder. you flip him off, and his guffaw resounds throughout the field.

besides the menace that is your (“mine!”) best friend, the others leave you be. you and jeonghan aren’t as into public displays of affection as it may seem. he’s notoriously private, and you don’t like involving people in your business. it was a match made in heaven, honestly. so none of them make too big of a deal of it, soonyoung and mingyu only making obnoxious kissing noises in the beginning of the get-together.

once joshua’s far into the crowd of your other friends, you settle closer into jeonghan’s chest, letting out a little sigh of happiness when his arms tighten around you. being a couple consisting of one-thirteenth of an internationally acclaimed boy group and a so on-the-clock consultant didn’t give you as much time to spend together as a few years back when you were freshly graduated and jeonghan was still more domestically based instead of performing at a different country every day.

like he knows what you’re thinking, jeonghan presses your intertwined hands to his mouth. his lips are a little dry, but you don’t mind as he brings them up to your chest. you watch fondly as the rest continue laughing, the bags under their eyes seemingly gone as they giggle with each other, their shouts getting louder and louder. seungkwan’s brought out his karaoke machine, and everyone’s racing to have a turn. you and jeonghan stay put just as you are in your little content cocoon for two.

somewhere between the lullaby-beat of his heart against his ear, you feel his chest rumble as he speaks.

“hm?” you angle your neck to look at him, “what was that?”

jeonghan’s already turned to you, his eyes warm. he looks so, so content. his hair’s longer now, tucked behind his ears with strands slipping onto his face. with you in his arms, boneless in relaxation, he’s quite sure he’s fallen in love all over again. his heart expands tenfold at the unconscious smile on your face, a testament that you feel the exact same way he does. the soft light of the fire illuminates you, paints you into an angelic portrait. jeonghan knows everyone calls him angel, but he thinks they’ve got it all wrong, with the way your eyelashes flutter and the tip of your nose is the slightest bit pink.

in the distance, seokmin’s started up a ballad, one that jihoon’s eagerly following along to. if you focused hard enough, you could hear the crackle of the wood, the faint chirps of the cicadas. the whole set-up’s straight out of a movie, really and yeah, jeonghan thinks if he could, he’d stay in this moment forever.

jesus fucking christ, he’s so in love with you.

“nothing, just…” he trails off, starry-eyed as he finally lets go of your hands to kiss your hair, wrapping his arms around you to cuddle you even closer. “i was just thinking—“

you let out an exaggerated gasp. “that’s incredible, hannie!”

“shut up,” he laughs, pinching your waist so you yelp. he rubs a soothing circle over it when you pout, and tuck you right under his neck. “i was thinking how, i don’t know, i’ve been in love with you for so long. i don’t even remember what it was like to not be in love with you. i don’t think i ever tell you enough.” he mumbles the last bit to the crown of your head, pressing a kiss to your temple like he’s sealing the message in.

you’re silent for a while, soaking it all in; the rush of joy, of affection, of everything that comes with loving jeonghan and being so wholly loved in return. jeonghan thinks you might’ve fallen asleep, but you jostle in his lap, scrambling to face him.

your face is soft, sweet, when you whisper, “you’re so cheesy.”

“don’t cry,” jeonghan jokes, though he cups your cheek in case you do. he would never make fun. not of you, not when it comes to this.

you press your forehead against his, reaching up to loop your arms around his shoulders, and slowly, slowly, nudge your lips against his.

from across the field, the cat calls have started again, seungcheol’s petulantly loud voice whining about the sanctity of his eyesight and how they didn’t rent this cabin only for you two to make out somewhere outside of the bedroom, but you pay them no mind.

like this, it’s just you and jeonghan. like it has been for years, and how it will be forever.

Chapter Text

paris isn’t called the city of lights for nothing, jeonghan thinks.

the stars are bright and captivating, and the screams of his name and the shutters of cameras is more than he could have ever dreamed of. he’s used to this, yes, but it’s never just been him.

jeonghan smiles as best he can, as genuinely as the happiness in his bloodstream is, and waves. he signs a couple of napkins, an album or two, even takes a little box of legos with a surprised laugh. never in a million years would he have thought he’d end up here, on the other side of the world, with people that have waited for hours just for a glimpse of him.

his security usher him into the hotel, and with one last smile, he ducks into the reception, letting out a deep sigh. he’s jet-lagged and exhausted, and feels it all tenfold now. he all but stumbles onto the closest armchair, waves away the staff members who offer to sit with him, and waits.

it’s another five minutes before ten walks into the room, and beelines towards him, plopping down on the chair next to him.

jeonghan wouldn’t say they’re friends, they’re acquainted at most. through jun who’s the closest thing renjun has to an older brother. through seungkwan who calls jungwoo nearly every day. through you, who had looked past the big 3 competition your company had instilled in you. through joshua who texted johnny for restaurant recommendations when they were in chicago, though jeonghan wouldn’t mention the last one to ten’s face, what with the way he clenched his jaw when jeonghan, stupidly, had asked about the taller man when they first said hello on the plane.

“jesus,” ten says under his breath, “these shoes are killing me.”

“you’re telling me.” jeonghan mumbled, massaging his temple, “do you have more shows tomorrow?”

“i don’t even know, bro,” ten responds, the last word in english, “i just get sent places. you know they told me i’d be in china for tops 3 months and it ended up being a year?”

jeonghan winced, “seriously?” he can’t imagine being blindsided like that.

“yeah,” ten laughed, though it wasn’t funny at all, “i missed my cats like hell.”

jeonghan saw pictures earlier, and could see why. he wisely doesn’t mention the story joshua had told him over dinner, something about a falling out, missed timing and never being brought to a family home, even though he’s dying to know.

“what about you, hyung?” ten suddenly asked, turning towards him. the younger man’s outfit opens up a little more, and jeonghan thinks to himself that mingyu would probably kill to be dressed like that on the daily. at his questioning hum, ten continued, “have stuff to do tomorrow? you know, besides salivating over—“

jeonghan lets out a groan of embarrassment, and suddenly wishes he didn’t start conversation with the other man over complimentary business class sparkling wine. “shut up,” he huffed, “i shouldn’t have even told you.”

“but you did,” ten responded, mischief in his eyes. “i can’t believe she didn’t tell me! i’ve known her longer than you have.”

“didn’t you spend most of those years hating each other?”

“well, yeah,” ten inspected his nails, cut blunt short. jeonghan had seen when they were painted all colours of the rainbow. ten frowns at them, “you can blame gross company dynamics for that. we could’ve been besties way earlier.”

“if we had, i’d have ended up dating jaehyun instead.”

jeonghan looked over his shoulder to see you walking right towards them, still in your outfit from earlier. he had met eyes with you from across the dome, and had let his gaze drop to your outfit. he gets to see it up close now, how the mesh skirt flows, the pearls on your choker glimmering under the chandelier light.

ten scoffed, “i could date jaehyun if i wanted to.”

you laughed, and sat yourself right on jeonghan’s lap. he accepted your weight easily, wrapping an arm around your back to secure you. the windows were tinted, and phones weren’t allowed inside the hotel.

he lets his fingers dance along your bare arm, pressed his glossed lips onto your shoulder just to feel you squirm.

“would you now?” he mumbles, and you suppress the urge to shiver.

ten makes a face, “if i wanted to third wheel i’d watch doyoung and taeyong."

you rip your gaze away from jeonghan’s electric one to stick your tongue out at him, “boo. sorry we’re in love.” you run a hand through jeonghan’s long tresses and smile impishly, “i saw a model over six foot just now. isn’t that your type?”

“fuck off,” ten says, though there’s no heat behind it. “send me his room number.”

you have that little glint in your eye, the one jeonghan loves so much. a bunch of his members say he has the same one when he’s just thought of something wicked. “i’ll accidentally,” you make bunny ears with your fingers, “send it to johnny.”

jeonghan watches as ten mulls it over, “he hasn’t sent me anything today.”

you glower, “fuck him! i’ll make sure to specify your name in my text.”

“why are you all still here?”

the three of you nearly jump. ten’s manager looks at you all disapprovingly, “you guys have a schedule tomorrow!”

“we do?” all three of you ask in unison.

“ten has lunch at the saint laurent headquarters.” he confirms, and takes a quick look at his phone before reporting, “jeonghan has a creed showing at three. y/n has the givenchy show.” he clicks his tongue, shooing you all, “to your rooms, please. your own rooms.” he adds when he sees you and jeonghan’s intertwined hands. “do not sleep with any models who have a criminal record.” he directs that one to ten.

“no criminal record, i pinky promise!” you pipe up.

jeonghan hides his snort behind the hand not holding yours. your ponytail swishes as you beam angelically at the manager, who looks unimpressed.

“nothing that’ll get you on the cover of dispatch unless it’s about tonight’s show.”

you cross your heart, and ten rolls his eyes, “can we go before someone overhears that i’m being pimped out?”

the manager nods, rubbing his forehead, “go on.”

the three of you make your way up to the elevator, and press on the floor number. you let out a deep sigh, leaning into jeonghan’s side, “these shoes are killing me.” you complain, before you unzip the killer boots to kick them off, leaving you in your tights.

“like i said,” ten said, watching as jeonghan’s gaze ripped away from your legs at his voice, “salivating.”

you look up at jeonghan’s pink cheeks, starting to feel a little shy yourself. the arm around your waist tightens, and you feel jeonghan’s lips against your hair. “pretty.” he murmurs, and you swear you nearly swoon.

ten, on the other hand, mock retches.

when the elevator doors open, ten can’t get out of there fast enough, waving goodbye over his shoulder as he races towards his room, on the other end of the hall, “don’t fuck so loud!”

jeonghan laughs, and you let him lead you to his room. your carry-on’s still on the sofa, your makeup littered on the coffee table and your trusty kuromi slippers by the door. you spot a small lego set sitting on his bedside table and furrow your eyebrows. you don’t think that was there this morning. it hits you just how utterly domestic this all is. if someone had told you years ago that you’d be basically semi-married, you’d have laughed in their face.

but now, you just help jeonghan out of his boots and coat, and take turns washing your faces. you finally pull your hair out of your ponytail, and settle into the fluffy bathrobe jeonghan had laid out for you while you were in the shower.

he’s already half-asleep when you finally manage to tie the robe closed and settle into the king-size beside him. peering at his closed eyes, you sneak the quick text to johnny, ignoring his lightning-speed response of question marks and setting an early alarm for tomorrow.

then you snuggle into jeonghan’s neck and press a kiss onto it, feeling as he unconsciously tugs you closer, mumbling something in his sleep.

you’re out like a light within the minute.

-

for a solid minute, you forget exactly why you’ve set an alarm for nine-fifteen in the morning when you’ve got nothing to do until three.

it’s not until jeonghan starts whining, his voice laced with sleep, that you remember. you turn in his hold, watch as his chest expands and contracts, before you poke him in the rib. he jerks, “what?” he mumbles, hand going up to where you had touched him

“i wanna go on an adventure,” you say, starting to sit up. before the sheets hit your waist, jeonghan tugs you back down. you laugh as his arms bring you close to his chest, as he nuzzles his nose into your hair.

“no,” he refuses petulantly, squishing you into him. “sleep.”

“jjong,” you say through your giggles. you’re so tempted to give in, to spend the day in the comfort of the egyptian cotton but you can’t miss out on an opportunity like this. who knows when you’d get to galavant around a foreign country with your boyfriend without a watchful eye again? “come on, please?”

jeonghan makes a disinterested noise.

you sigh, and pull out the big guns. “we can have korean for breakfast.”

he opens his eyes, blearily, but he does it anyway. “really?” he asks, his voice croaky and sleep-riddled. he looks so cute like this, his long hair a mess and his cheeks pillow-smushed.

“yeah,” you affirm, “so can we get ready, please?”

“two minutes.” he bargains.

you have a stare-off, but you should’ve known with your inability to refuse jeonghan of anything how this would end.

“okay.”

-

you’re stumbling out the backdoor of the hotel nearly an hour later, two minutes having become fifteen.

jeonghan’s huddled up in a baby green sweater, his long hair hidden under a knit hat, his hand held securely in yours. you’re dressed similarly in a white sweater dress, matching masks covering your faces up to your noses. you’re both an entire one-eighty from the monochromatic black-wearing celebrities you were yesterday, and you can’t help but tell jeonghan how cute you think he looks.

his eyes crinkle up at the sides, and you just know he’s smiling underneath his mask. they could put jeonghan in all the couture clothes they wanted but he would always be his most gorgeous to you like this, with no makeup on, devoid of the tiredness that came with work.

“charmer,” jeonghan said, squeezing your hand. you squeeze back, and lead him to the korean restaurant you had haphazardly searched up on google maps while he got changed.

he ends up ordering almost half the menu, and you help him take a picture of the spread. he tucks his phone into his pocket, but not before winking at you and saying, “so i can trick everyone later.”

the meal’s demolished in a half hour. clearly, jeonghan had been hungrier than he had let on this morning. it goes to show how sated he is that he doesn’t even complain when you flit in and out of the pastry shops you had been ooh-ing and ahh-ing over, even warily taking a bite of the croissant you had bought.

“i’m stuffed,” you pat your tummy after you’ve had one too many champagne macarons, “i don’t even know if i’m going to fit in the dress later.”

“they can adjust it,” jeonghan waves away quickly. you munch on your last treat, your fingers sticky. “you look the prettiest after you’ve eaten good, anyway.”

you can’t help the smile that stretches across your cheeks and wipe your hand on a wet tissue before sidling up to jeonghan, his arm going around your waist instinctively. he pulls your mask back up, and presses his own mask-clad mouth against your mask-clad cheek.

you spend a few minutes just strolling along the alleys, jeonghan even resting his chin on your shoulder when you stop to listen to a busker, his arms wound around you, his chest to your back as he gently swayed you to the music.

“oh, look!” you squeal, and you hear jeonghan let out a fond sigh as you drag him bodily to a sunglasses stand. the frames are loud and obnoxious, different shades of the rainbow jeonghan wouldn’t be caught wearing if not on stage or for a gag, but he lets you place a pair of red-rimmed ones on the tip of his nose.

he looks in the mirror and nearly bursts into an ugly laugh. he looks certifiably insane, but he grabs a similar pair, and puts them on you, too. the legs go into your ear, and you yelp when it ends up almost falling off your nose and jeonghan thinks, this is what it’s all about. he smiles behind the abhorrent glasses, and the mask that’s itching his nose and into the mirror when you pull out your phone to take a picture of how silly you two look.

wordlessly, he hands the stall vendor a truly uncalled-for amount of money for the two pairs, ignoring when you bemoan that you probably got scammed. he doesn’t care. he wants paris forever.

you pout when you see the clock on your phone, both your sunglasses now resting on your heads. “we should head back now,” you say disappointedly. “your creed thing is in an hour and a half.”

jeonghan takes your hand, kisses the back of it through the medical mask, “we can come back later.”

“i know,” you mumble, “but, you know, it’s not the same.”

“yeah,” jeonghan says, “i know.”

you make your way back, and jeonghan starts swinging your arms back and forth just to see you laugh. you do, and somehow that’s more fulfilling than all the work he’s done so far. he just wants to see you smile.

“hello, lovebirds,” ten says dramatically when you bump into him in the hallway. he’s dressed to the nines already, his scoop-necked shirt so low you can almost see his nipples. “i can’t believe you left without me.”

“you said you didn’t want to third wheel.” jeonghan reminded him, “we spared you.”

“i guess you did,” ten responded, “i’m going back tonight, see you guys there?"

“‘course,” you say easily, “your welcome for johnny, by the way.”

ten rolled his eyes, but the pink on his cheeks was hard to ignore, “whatever. i’m making him work for it.”

“as you should.”

then it’s a quick squeeze and a half-salute to jeonghan before the other man waltzes down the hallway, his ysl bag swaying with his motions.

“you’re gonna have to tell me everything about those two later,” jeonghan murmurs, before pulling off his mask. you grin as he does the same with yours. “what the fuck did johnny do?"

you laugh, and cup his cheek, “okay. later. it’s a promise.”

jeonghan smiles, and leans down to kiss you. you savour it, letting his tongue run across the seam of your bottom lip, and tug him even closer. you’re a little dazed when you eventually pull apart, something that jeonghan loves. he presses one last kiss to your temple before lightly pushing you towards your own hotel room. he can hear his manager’s footsteps against the carpeted floors. “see you, baby.”

you snap yourself out of it, trying your very best not to look so shy, but you can just tell from the smug look on jeonghan’s face that your cheeks are burning, “see you.”

“jeonghan! there you are, we’ve been looking everywhere for you!” jeonghan gives you one last smile before he turns around to make excuses, and you walk back to your own hotel room, the bed still pristine. your own manager looks up at you, unamused, before gesturing for you to sit down. your stylists make quick work, and you’re changing into your outfit, all black again, when you’re hit with either the best, or worst, idea ever.

you pick up the red sunglasses and balance them into your hair. your makeup artist makes a face at the frames, but nods approvingly at the contrast of colours. you pose for the camera, leaning into the mirror for your shot, and once they’ve been acceded to, post them on your instagram with nothing but a red heart and a sunglass emoji as a caption. you tag the brands, and wait.

-

jeonghan gets the notification for your post within the minute, and barely resists the urge to tap twice. instead, he posts the picture you took at the korean restaurant on weverse. he gets messages from the guys within seconds, laughing when seokmin asks if he’s really back so soon.

a few days later, one after you’ve left on a four a.m. flight, jeonghan walks into incheon airport with a pair of red sunglasses covering his eyes.

the world, as always, comes to their own conclusions, you two, as always, have never given less of a fuck.

Chapter Text

the first time someone asked was jaehyun after a job in connecticut.

you’re packing your things, picking up your haphazardly thrown panties and unzipped dress from the foot of the king-sized bed when jaehyun finally pipes up from where he’s propped up against the headrest, his arms behind his head as he watches you.

“you know, you’re going to have to tell youngho he was wrong about you.”

you let out a gasp of mock affront, placing a hand over your heart before tossing the items into your suitcase. “i thought he had more class than to share what we did behind closed doors—“

“not about that, you minx,” jaehyun laughs, the sound deep and warm and settling into the pit of your stomach. you flip your hair over your shoulder and look back at him, where sure enough, his gaze is fixed on the delicate curve of your neck. “about you and jeonghan.”

that makes you pause. “what’s that oaf been saying about my business?”

jaehyun grins, the dimples in his cheeks making themselves known. he crosses his arms, the muscles bulging deliciously. you wonder if you have time for round two. by the way his eyes are sweeping over your frame, you know jaehyun would say yes if you asked.

“said you and jeonghan were together.”

you scoff practicedly, a perfect blend of laughter and disbelief, “me and jeonghan?” you’re not giving a single thing away, seeing as to how jaehyun gets a little furrow in his brow. god, he’s obnoxiously handsome, isn’t he? “we’re business partners.”

“you’re not together?”

“would i sleep with you if i was with someone else? i’d like to think you know me a little better than that, jeong.”

jaehyun quirks his head to the side, obviously pleased. “so cheating’s a no, but stealing’s a yes. noted.”

you zip your suitcase closed, and check your watch. an hour and a half until wheel’s are up. what the hell. you begin to the fiddle with the buttons of your shirt, and jaehyun’s gaze falls immediately to where the lace of your bra is peeking out. predictable. his smile turns easy, and you walk up to the bed, moving to straddle him.

“that’s right,” you murmur, and let him run his hands up your sides before they push your shirt off your shoulders, “and tell youngho that.” you rake your fingernails down his abs, over his happy trail.

“i will, baby,” jaehyun responds, breath coming out in a low moan, before capturing your lips with his.

that’s the end of all talking for the next half hour, and by the time you’re rushing out the door of the jeong mansion, the thought of you and jeonghan and together is nothing but fleeting.

-

but it keeps happening. again and again and again.

here, you’ll list down the most memorable instances:
1. a pointed comment from junhui over hotpot (“renjun said chenle saw you two at a couples retreat.” “it was a job!” “i didn’t say anything.” “quit smiling or i’ll shove your face into the mala.”)
2. a genuinely shocked one from yunjin during mountain climbing training (“what do you mean you’re not together? you’re at least fucking, right?” “i will cut your harness off, jennifer.”)
3. a straightforward one from wonwoo in the middle of hacking into a nine figure bank account (“do i have to worry about whose side i have be on in case you guys get divorced?” “i’m not married, wonwoo.” “you know what i mean.” “i will shoot you.”)

it happens so much you wonder if you should just send out a text message to every single contact you have to announce that no, you and jeonghan are not dating, or married, or sleeping with each other. it happens so much that it interrupts a job.

“so,” mark says, breaking the tense silence that only comes with trying to break into a virtually impenetrable vault in france, “i thought we were close enough for you to tell me things.”

jeonghan made a noise of confusion, because they definitely were not close enough for him to tell him things. you roll your eyes, because you are. “what things, minhyung?” you indulge him, continuing to turn the rotate key. jeonghan brushes his hand onto the small of your back, his chin pressed onto your shoulder. smoothly, he pushes down on the circular button at the centre of the key, and you wait with baited breath as the vault door, slowly, wrenches itself open.

you make a noise of excitement, and jeonghan smiles at you, squeezing your waist before helping you straighten yourself out.

“see! i knew it! chenle said he saw you two at a couples retreat—“

“it was a job.” you and jeonghan say in tandem, walking into the vault.

“and johnny said he saw you two on like, a date? at the bean in chicago—“

“we had free time in between clients.” you respond, taking out the device wonwoo gave you and press it gently onto the fingerprint scanner. like magic, the glass case slides open, and lo and behold, the biggest emerald necklace you’ve ever seen.

you pluck it out of its case, and hand it over to mark, who, with practiced ease, starts essentially clipping it down to smaller, less ostentatious pieces. “and jaehyun thought he had to like, live in his bunker—“

“jeong has a bunker?” jeonghan interrupted, looking to you for confirmation. you nodded. jeonghan looked considering before he shrugged. the jeongs were insanely rich.

“for at least six months or jeonghan-hyung would kill him!”

“why’d i have to kill him?” jeonghan asked, “i thought we were even after sao paulo.”

you shoot mark a look so cold he actually full-on shivers before cutting a small arrangement on the end of the necklace into a pair of earrings and handing them to you as some sort of one million dollar compensation for the questioning gaze in jeonghan’s eyes.

you take them, and shove them into the pocket of your pants. “that comes right out of your share.” mark just sighs and accepts it and you face jeonghan, “i slept with jeong after connecticut.”

jeonghan’s face is impressively impassive, betraying absolutely nothing (as if there was anything to betray), and he just raises an eyebrow, “and?”

“apparently,” you start, tucking your hair behind your ear and steadfastly watching as mark clips the last piece of the necklace off into a bracelet, “there have been some rumours—“

mark snorts, “there have been more than rumours.”

“there have been rumors,” you continue, “that our partnership is more than platonic.”

“jesus, everyone thinks you guys are married. or fucking, at least.” mark rolls his eyes, and tucks the bracelet into a zip loc. “so are you?”

jeonghan, probably noting down that this is going to be the last time he hires mark ever, says, “no.” he picks up the zip loc and places it into his duffle.

“yo, like seriously?”

“yes, yo, like seriously.” jeonghan responds, tone completely emotionless.

“no way! everyone—“

“and who’s everyone?”

“all the neos, basically,” mark replied, following you two out of the vault like a baby duckling. with every passing moment, you want to hide your face with your hands and scream. “seulgi-noona, yunjin, jun-hyung, wonwoo-hyung, jennie-noona. oh! and joy-noona.”

“so almost everyone we work with, then?”

“yup!”

jeonghan opens the backdoor of the bank for you, where donghyuck’s waiting in the swat van, his head of purple hair hidden underneath a cap, and shields you from ongoing cars, “interesting.”

mark keens at the motion, “so interesting.” his voice is high-pitched, like he doesn’t believe you one bit.

“can we go? i have to tell taeil-hyung you guys are still obnoxiously in love!” donghyuck whines when you open the door of the vehicle, and just for that you smack him upside his head, making him yelp.

jeonghan clenches his jaw, and nods. he stays quiet the rest of the trip back to the safehouse.

-

jeonghan’s tense when you meet at the hotel bar. he’s been tense since the vault in france, since mark opened his big mouth, since you looked at him with something too akin to hope. it oozes out of his shoulders as you talk, as he tells you about a man with too many rembrandts sitting in a sixteen inch walled basement eight foot underground a mansion with as many armed guards as area 51, as he becomes himself again.

six drinks in, you’re getting a little light-headed, laughing a little too loudly as jeonghan reminisces about the time you two got stuck in an elevator shaft for an hour and a half in canada and had to play monopoly deal in your heads to pass the time. soon enough, your gaze drops to his pretty pink mouth, how his tongue runs over his bottom lip. how the side of it quirks up when he knows he’s just said something that’s going to make you laugh.

you continue listening, because yoon jeonghan could sell ice to eskimos, and you’re not immune. you’ve never been immune, though you often pretend to be. you know that jeonghan says the most important things in the spaces between the words, with the shift of his eyes and the cant of his lips.

he comes to an abrupt halt— he can always tell when you’ve stopped listening, and hates it when you don’t, and you ask, before you can stop yourself, “have you ever wondered—“ and cut off before you can finish, because there is no good way to end that sentence in this context. because you know jeonghan knows exactly what you mean.

jeonghan clears his throat, and you hold your breath, waiting to see if jeonghan will surprise you for the first time in years.

“no.” he responds.

you nod, “me neither.” you lie, and finish your drink. you get up, tumbling a little as you do, and jeonghan holds your arm, waiting as you orient yourself. you pick up your purse, and give him the weakest semblance of a smile, “we have an early morning tomorrow, so i’m gonna—“

“yeah,” jeonghan says, and the subject is closed.

-

“sorry about the breakup.” vernon says, sliding over a wrapped box of ferrero rocher, “i’m here if you want to jam to avril lavigne and scream about what a dick jeonghan is.”

“we were never together.” you take the chocolates anyway, placing them in your tote bag before looking back at the menu, “the pasta sounds good.”

“it is, seungkwan really likes it,” vernon responds, before sidestepping past your obvious attempt at moving the conversation elsewhere, “how’re you feeling?”

you sigh, and put the menu down. vernon looks so earnest you can’t find it in you to snap at him. “fine, whatever. jeonghan can get back together with whoever he wants.”

“even if it’s sojung-noona?”

sojung’s a sore topic. jeonghan spent two years married to her. she didn’t like that he stole, which was valid. she didn’t like that his partner was a female, which was less valid and more of an internalised misogyny thing. but that didn’t matter to him because he was deathly in love with her, and spent a year in prison as a result of stealing incan matrimonial masks in an attempt to get her to not to push her divorce proceedings forward.

and now, long story short, you’re not quite sure jeonghan ever got over the whole ‘deathly in love with her’ bit of his life. and you’d just have to live with that.

you smile, because if there’s one thing you’re accustomed to, it’s being second place. “even if it’s sojung.”

-

it all happens so quickly.

one second you’re watching johnny load the last rembrandt into the bread van, and the next something’s lodged itself into your left shoulder and you’re on the floor.

everything’s a blur after that, and you can vaguely hear shouting and gunshots before you realise oh shit, i’ve been shot.

“fuck!” seungcheol gets to you first, and tries to get you up, but you feel a pain so sharp it sears through your entire body and scream, “fuck, fuck, sorry! i need you to stand up for me.”

“fucking hell, does it look like i can, cheol?” you bite out, clamping a hand over your shoulder to try to stop the bleeding. “tear off the end of your shirt.” seungcheol does as you say, and helps you wrap it over the wound, but blood continues seeping out, staining the shirt red. you grit your teeth, and nod at him. seungcheol picks you up, and you muffle a groan of pain when he jostles you.

“what the hell happened?” johnny demands when seungcheol drags you over behind the van. you pick up a discarded gun, and shoot.

“what does it look like, genius? cover!” you all duck under the door. “fuck!” you groan, as more blood flows out of your shoulder.

“we need to get you to jaemin.” johnny says.

“i’m not leaving without those rembrandts.” you grit your teeth, “now where the fuck is jeonghan?”

“en route.” seungcheol checks his communicator, “nine minutes.”

“i’m bleeding out and he wants us to wait nine minutes?” you ask, voice getting shrill. “seungcheol, i’m going to pass out in six.”

“no, the fuck you won’t.” johnny shoots at the guard blocking the tunnel, and hauls you into his arms. you let out another cry of pain, but he ignores it, and places you into the backseat of the van. “choi, let’s move! joshua, blow it up, now!”

seungcheol gets into the car shotgun, and you send one last bullet to the top of the tunnel entrance to block it before johnny’s zooming out. you all brace yourself for the triggered explosion, and you wince at the impact.

“rembrandts good?” you ask, finally sitting back onto the cushions and feeling the exhaustion settle in. the heat of the adrenaline is wearing off, and all that’s left is the wooziness. you’re so, so tired.

“fine.” seungcheol answers, before looking to see how pallor you’ve gotten, and swearing, “johnny, hurry the fuck up.”

johnny steps on the gas, and you nearly lurch forward, but soon enough, he’s out the tunnel exit, turning right into the manor staff delivery entrance, where he grins charmingly and they let you right in.

jeonghan appears from the side of the corridor, takes one look at you, and moves right into action, “what happened?”

“she got shot, obviously.” johnny responded, annoyed, “where the hell is jaemin?”

“eta eight minutes.” jeonghan tucks you into his side, half-dragging you to the backroom.

“she doesn’t have eight minutes.” seungcheol groans, running a hand through his hair.

“move the paintings,” you manage to mumble out through half-lidded eyes, “move them now.”

“like hell we will.” johnny grits out. “you’re bleeding out.”

“go now!” you say as jeonghan lays you down on the table, “go, please.” seungcheol pauses when your voice breaks, and wonders when he’s ever seen you cry. the answer is never, and he doesn’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out, lest he be haunted by it for the rest of his life. he nods, and him and johnny leave the room.

you look up at where jeonghan,s watching your shoulder worriedly, checking his communicator for updates from jaemin. “cool party trick, right? feminine rage.” you try to joke, though your laugh comes out more like a wheeze.

“very funny.” jeonghan responded dryly, before he pushes your hair out of your face. to anyone else, he’d look completely at ease, his normal self. but you see the way his hands are shaking ever so slightly, the way his bottom lip is cracked, how his jaw is clenched. he’s terrified.

“i know, should’ve gone into standup.”

“you’d be terrible at standup.”

“you don’t know that,” you argue, for the sake of having something to argue about. weakly, you open up your palm, reaching for him. jeonghan takes your hand instantly, bringing it up to his mouth. you were right. dry. you smile, grimace really because fuck, everything hurts like hell, “you remember—“

“stop that shit right now,” jeonghan cuts you off roughly, “you’re going to live.”

“jeonghan—“

“no, shut up. where the fuck is jaemin?” he presses furiously on the communicator, and it beeps. he reads the message, “three minutes. it’ll be okay.”

“jeonghan,” you say again, feeling your eyes get hot with tears, “can you look at me please?”

he does, and nearly buckles at the knees. you’re so, so pale. your hair’s fanned out around you like a halo, a sick mockery of an angel.

“what is it?” he asks, and none of you mention how croaky his voice has gotten, how aware you two are of your own mortality.

“you know how i said i never wondered?” jeonghan feels his breath escape him, but nods shortly anyway. you smile, your eyes watery as a tear escapes, “i lied. i wonder all the damn time.”

you wait to hear a response, but pass out before you get to.

-

you’re bedridden for the next five days.

it’s kind of embarrassing to wake up after the biggest scare of your life, but seungcheol and johnny and joshua are there, rushing to your bedside and fawning over you. you marinate in the power trip that is making two of some of he most dangerous men in seoul fuss over you, before it gets old very, very fast because if they had treated you like glass before, they were treating you like a bomb two seconds away from detonating now.

jaemin’s watching you with a careful eye, seungkwan and mingyu flitting in and out of your room with gifts and well wishes and wonderful, wonderful painkillers, at least when you’re awake. soonyoung pouted when he saw your bandaged shoulder, and asked sadly if you were out of commission. you shrugged as best you could with one working shoulder.

everyone’s visited— yunjin, chan, seokmin, taeyong. even ten flew down, sitting through an entire plane ride with doyoung and exchanging a very awkward encounter with johnny when he did, making you laugh with unrestrained joy. the only person whose presence is unaccounted for is jeonghan.

a tiny part of you wonders if all your years of friendship would be over just because you didn’t think you’d ever be able to go out in the field again. wonders if every look, every hand brushed against yours, every half situationship was all in your head. wonders if he’s decided, once and for all, that sojung was the one he’d want to spend forever with, not his now useless partner.

you get your answer when jeonghan finally shows up six days after you wake up.

he sets a bouquet of peonies at your bedside table, and takes a seat at the foot of your bed. “how’re you feeling?” he asks, as if he’s talking about the weather, or worse, a job.

“like i got shot.” you respond frankly. “what took you so long, jackass?”

jeonghan clears his throat, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was nervous. “had to tie up some loose ends.”

“which were?”

“killed the guy who shot you.” he says casually, “sold half the rembrandts, don’t worry i’ll wire your share. set up a house in naples, i know you’ve always wanted to live there—“

“are you kicking me out?” you scoff, “a house in naples, who the fuck do you think you are?”

jeonghan shifts, and his long, black hair covers his eyes when he responds, “no. we’re retiring.”

“excuse me?” you ask, after a moment, two of processing what he’s just said. “we are not retiring! i’ll get better, and if i don’t, that doesn’t mean you have to retire.”

jeonghan sighs, scoots up a bit so he’s sitting right by you, so you have no choice but to look at him when he says, “there’s no point in doing what i do without you.”

and isn’t that just great? because that’s all you ever will be to him— his partner in crime.

“mhm,” you muster up a grimace, and let out a huff as you sink down onto your pillows, “look, it was nice of you to come, but i’m really tired,” you press down on the button that declines your bed. “see you next— hey!”

jeonghan bats your hand away, inclines you back up again.

“this could be harassment.” you roll your eyes, “what is it?”

he looks at you, really, really looks, and says, “me and sojung aren’t back together.”

you pause. “what?”

“we’re not back together. seungkwan just saw us getting lunch because she wanted to tell me something.”

“what did she want to tell you?” you ask, trying not to sound so curious.

“that she heard from sinb who heard from chungha who heard from jihoon who heard from wonwoo that we were together. and that it was a long time coming.”

you open your mouth, close it again. “huh.”

the side of jeonghan’s lips quirk up, “yeah?”

“mark really wasn’t kidding when he said everyone thought it.” you mumble.

“y/n,” jeonghan calls for your attention. like always, you give it. “i never lied.”

“what?”

“you asked me if i ever wondered. i said no. i never lied.”

just when you thought yoon jeonghan couldn’t hurt you any more than he already has. he does.

“i never wondered,” jeonghan continues, leans down, down, down until he’s all but a hair’s breadth away from your lips. his gaze falls to them, the way yours do to his when you’ve had too much to drink, “i always knew.”

and then he kisses you, and it’s perfect. it’s not awkward, you and jeonghan have been together too long not to know exactly how the other moves. it’s like working the perfect job— smooth, easy, everything falling into place, except better. because it’s not a job, it’s you and jeonghan. his hands cup your cheeks, and you raise your uninjured arm to tug him closer.

he smiles, wide, wide, wide, and you laugh against his lips.

“so many people are going to tell us ‘i told you so’.” you murmur.

“well,” jeonghan presses one, two, three more kisses against your lips. “they did tell us so.”

Chapter Text

jeonghan doesn’t get to pick you up, off your face drunk, from a club very often, so when the opportunity comes, he jumps at it.

you two have been dating for over two years now, and jeonghan won’t lie— this whole adult relationship thing is working so smooth he doesn’t think you’ve ever really fought. you’re both people who like to fix problems head on and have no trouble communicating, something all of his members like to ooh and ahh about. but they’re kids to him still, nevermind the fact that chan’s turning twenty-four soon, what do they have to know about adult relationships?

anyway, getting back to the point. your relationship has been so adult that you can deal with the distance that comes with being a superstar’s partner. sure, sometimes you miss each other so much it hurts to breathe, but it makes him coming back all the more worthwhile. and plus, you had your own job and your own interests to worry about. you and jeonghan were very clear that while you loved each other, individual freedom was something you both valued. you didn’t want to revolve your entire life around him, and didn’t want him to do the same to you.

you respect each other’s space, and jeonghan doesn’t get to do as cliché boyfriend activities as he’d like to because of his work and yours.

but it’s a friday night, and jeonghan’s lazing around at home for the first time in what seems like months. he just got back from touring a week ago, and has found the silence and the emptiness of his week both liberating and so, so boring. he had spent the first few days of his vacation cuddled up in your bed, kissing you so much you’re almost (but never really) sick of it, and only let go so you could get ready to meet your friends at a club.

and then he gets a call from one jung wheein, and finds that his night taking a more interesting turn.

jeonghan doesn’t mind doing this, he doesn’t get to often. he’s driving to the entrance of the club wheein told him you were at, humming to a song on the radio that he only vaguely recognises, when he sees your gaggle of friends all cooped up on the sidewalk.

you’re in the centre of their little semicircle, clinging onto sooyoung like she’s an anchor in a particularly rough sea of waves, and giggling so hard jeonghan’s surprised you’re still on your feet. he parks the car swiftly and jogs out into the cold night air and towards you.

jennie spots him first, and waves a little too enthusiastically for her to be anything but drunk. she only tolerated him on a good day, so this was huge for him.

“jeonghan!” she calls out, and four matching heads look over.

“jjong!” you exclaim happily, cheeks bunching up as you beamed.

jeonghan swears to god he feels his bloodstream sing at the look on your face. he’s so in love with you, it’s embarrassing. he settles for smiling back, soft admiration in his eyes that wheein doesn’t hesitate to point and dig her elbow into nayeon’s tummy about, “hi, sweetheart.”

“oh my god, take her.” sooyoung all but flings you into his hold, and he accepts your weight with an easy catch. you put your chin on his chest, peering up under your eyelashes at him, your dopey grin still bright and beautiful.

“hi.” you say, before tucking your head into the crook of his neck instead.

“hi.” jeonghan says again, pressing a kiss onto your hair. you smell of alcohol and a little like sweat, but he doesn’t care. you’re so cute when you’re drunk.

“hi,” chaeyoung interrupts, her own face almost a cherry red, “can you go be in love somewhere else?” she sounds very, very sloshed.

“you guys are okay heading home?” jeonghan asks, “do you need me to call someone or something?”

“we’ll be okay,” sooyoung answered, “we called an uber. and taehyung.”

jeonghan mentally ransacked his mind for someone named taehyung and came up empty-handed. he shrugged, “okay, then. text me when you all get back home safe, please?”

“yes, dad.” wheein mocked, shooing you two away, “go tuck mom into bed now.”

and it’s a testament to just how inebriated you are that you just call out a “bye!”. you usually hate being called that with a burning passion.

jeonghan laughs, waves good-naturedly at your group of friends, and helps you walk over to the car. he helps you clamber into the backseat, securely fastening your seatbelt before making his way to the driver’s seat and turning on the engine.

“sweetheart,” he says when he sees your head flopping back and forth through the rearview mirror. “don’t fall asleep, okay? you hate sleeping with makeup on.”

“‘mkay,” you mumble, blinking your eyes open. jeonghan has to resist turning his head to coo at you. “d’you wanna hear the goss?”

jeonghan drums his hands against the steering wheel, “tell me. you know i’ve been waiting, baby.”

you sit up a little straighter, “jennie has a new boyfriend.”

“do we like him?”

“taehyung. i haven’t met him before.” you say, stumbling over your words. “but i think josh’s friends with him, right?”

“oh, that taehyung.” jeonghan pictures them in his head, “huh. i guess they make sense together.”

“and sooyoung’s thinking of dumping her boyfriend.” you continue, “i told her to go for it. i think he’s a tool!”

“wait, was tonight a boyfriend behaviour review?” jeonghan asked, tone slightly teasing, “you didn’t tell me! i could’ve prepared a bit!”

“oh yeah?” you giggle, “prepared how?”

“would’ve cooked you breakfast and given you another orgas—“

“you’re so dirty!” you whine, holding your head in your hands. jeonghan laughs, and focuses on parking. you’ve reached the apartment in almost no time. jeonghan always forgets how much fun you have when you’re together. “and for your information, it wasn’t a boyfriend behaviour review.” you watch as jeonghan undoes his seatbelt and gets out, opening your car door and helping you up, “but just so you know, all my friends like you.”

jeonghan gasps, “even jennie?”

you nod solemnly. “even jennie.”

jeonghan fist-pumps, making you cackle. he tugs you to his side. you go easily, and he leads you into the elevator. as you wait for the elevator to take you to your floor, jeonghan’s fingers dance along the curve of your waist.

“tickles.” you murmur into his shirt sleeve.

he keeps doing it, making you huff, peering up at him with slightly petulant eyes. he laughs, touches his nose with yours. you melt into his touch, and lean up the tiniest bit to peck him. you taste of whiskey sours, but he doesn’t mind.

the elevator doors ding open, and jeonghan walks you to the apartment, unlocking it and watching as you flop right down onto the floor once the door’s closed. you make a show of trying to unclasp the strap of your heel by yourself before giving up and looking at jeonghan pleadingly. in any other situation, jeonghan would just laugh and not do anything to help until you asked again, but this time he got down to help you with deft fingers.

before you know it, both your feet are free, and jeonghan’s pulling you up to your feet and towards your shared bedroom. you giggle as you nearly trip over the carpet under your bed, and jeonghan can’t help but laugh with you. you’re like a baby gazelle, trying to unzip your dress and pull it off your head.

slowly, gently, jeonghan makes his way to you, pushes your hair off your shoulder. you still in his hands, and he unzips the glittery fabric, holding your hands as you step out of it.

he raises an eyebrow as he sweeps down your body, “surprise?”

you scrunch up your face before you remember, “surprise!” you say back, enthusiastically. you’re wearing a lace set, baby doll pink with a garter to match. jeonghan would be drooling if he didn’t find you so damn cute.